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I have always been rather fond of the humble business card. Not in the creepy, American Psycho sort of way, but rather the sweet succinctness with which it neatly encapsulates an entire person holds immense appeal.
Who are you? What do you do? Each one a question that a person can spend their entire life answering, yet each one also a question that requires an answer that can fit on a single 3.5 x 2 inch card.
In a way, I’ve found Italy as a country to be very much like this: a culture with an outward simplicity that belies an immensely complex, rich depth that is sort of impossible to explain to anyone who doesn’t actually live there. Much like, for instance, trying to explain one’s remote job to a parent who retired before the internet was really a thing.
At the moment in question, however, I wasn’t yet aware of Italy’s delicious contradictions and complexities. At the moment in question, I was in Dublin contemplating business cards mostly as a terribly inconvenient, if creative, solution to one of several seemingly simple problems that were nevertheless creating massive roadblocks as I tried to organize our paperwork to enter our new home country, Italy.
The hammer of bureaucracy had been hovering over us for weeks, keeping all prospective travelers in a hushed, tense state of anticipation as we huddled in our respective lockdowns, and when it finally came down five days before our flight date, it smashed all of our expectations and presumptions to pieces.
Suddenly, there were a multitude of rather unclear yet absolutely essential tasks to complete before one could move between countries even within in the EU. Straightforward tasks that in normal times might take a few phone calls to accomplish or a quick trip to a shop, were now infinitely more challenging to accomplish due to the pandemic and had a huge number of very unclear caveats and stipulations attached.
For example-- it was totally understandable to require a Covid test within three days of flying, but were there any labs available that could actually guarantee results in that timeframe? Not to mention that suddenly, the concept of “three days” felt incredibly laissez faire. Was it three calendar days to the day of flights, or exactly 72 hours before flight departure? And sure, it made sense to have printed copies of certain documents, but what if one lacked a printer at home? Until now, I could count on one hand the number of times in the past year I’d needed to actually print anything out and still have fingers left. But here I was, trying to figure out how to print out a stack of mandatory arrival documents on four days’ notice in a city that was all but entirely locked down, nary a post office nor library open.
And so, I was looking at professional print companies and wondering if they’d print a few document files for me if, say, I ordered a bunch of fancy business cards overnight. And what would they say? ‘Ashlinn Romagnoli: Veteran Project Manager’, one of my actual previous job titles? ‘Ashlinn Romagnoli: Selfish Pandemic-Traveler’, how I felt in guilty moments late at night? ‘Ashlinn Romagnoli: Absofuckinglutely Determined To Figure This Out’, which was an accurate self portrait ninety eight percent of the time?
The experience of working out strange solutions to even stranger problems actually felt eerily similar to my years working as a production assistant in New York City, where impossible asks were a daily part of my existence and the reason my best friend would do laundry with me as a social activity, bless her. To all who say that New York is the city that never sleeps, the city where you can get whatever you want, when you want it— you have clearly never been asked to find an oven mitt shaped like a lobster claw or exclusively matte black cocktail sticks, like, now. There is almost no amount of money that will manifest these things when the ask is given at 10 pm and the shoot is at 5 the next morning.
And yet, the show must, and does, go on.
I didn’t order the business cards in the end, instead opting to sweet talk the receptionist at the travel medical office into printing out not only our results, but the additional required paperwork as well.
Victory was short-lived, however, and my heart sank when-- the day before our expected flight-- the rules changed yet again to require not only the within-72-hours-and-printed Covid test results and the additional printed documentation, but also a rapid Covid test within three hours of flying. Effective immediately.
Which, strangely enough, led me to Estonia.
“What do you know about Estonia? Estonia just launched a digital nomad visa program,” I mentioned all too casually to Adam. “And I’ve heard it’s great. Supposedly it’s like, super modern, really beautiful, great people. I speak a tiny bit of Russian.”
“...what are you talking about?” Adam replied skeptically as he neatly folded our laundry.
“Look, I’m just saying. If our flights keep getting cancelled, or we’re turned away at the border-- there’s always Estonia.”
Ever a good sport and indulgent of my hyper planning, my sweet husband simply smiled and said, “Sounds good to me.”
‘Ashlinn Romagnoli: Consummate Contingency Planner,’ I thought with grim pleasure. That’s what I could put on the business cards.
Satisfied, I returned to plotting a path around the latest landmines. It had taken a several false starts to arrange for a private van to pick us up the next morning. Although upon arrival we’d discovered a man who, no offense, had to be a magical leprechaun for his ability to pack two adults, eight bags, and two cats into a single tiny car, I wasn’t betting on fortune smiling in that way twice.
I called the van service back both to confirm that yes, they’d be sending a vehicle that could both accommodate our bulk (which maybe wasn’t exactly nomad backpacker light, but also I felt was pretty impressive considering it contained all of the winter essentials for two people who like wearing clean clothing every day as well as an entire mobile vocal booth) and also take us for an extra stop at the freshly formed rapid Covid testing center, which extensive research had revealed was in a converted parking lot just outside of the airport facilities. There were no convenient shuttle buses, so one had to arrive in one’s own transportation or walk about twenty minutes to get to the terminal— not really feasible with two humans, eight bags, and two cats.
“Do you want the van to arrive even earlier?” the second angel of our exodus (after the receptionist at the travel clinic) asked.
“Well, the thing is that we can’t actually get the test done any earlier. The results have to be within three hours of our flight time. But our flight leaves at 1:25, and I managed to book rapid tests via the drive through at 10:30 am, so we should be all set with that timing.” I had to have been one of the first people on the site once the announcement was made. ‘Ashlinn Romagnoli: Speed Clicker’, I thought with pride.
“Alright, then. Your driver can wait for up to forty minutes for an additional stop, is that okay?”
“That’s no problem,” I grinned darkly. “If he has to wait longer than that, we’ll end up missing our flight anyway. Hah. Hah. Hah.”
“Fine,” the van company representative said, unphased at what probably sounded like the beginning of a total mental breakdown.
Despite the twists and turns and natural anxiety arising out of such precarious circumstances, I slept pretty well the night before the flight. Another lesson from film production in New York: sleep when you can.
I awoke to the sound of a bus idling outside our window, for once grateful for the frequent transit-based wake up calls: trucks, buses, a charming tram called the Luas. We were of course already packed, but there were cats to corral and coffee to drink. I was firmly of the opinion that under these circumstances one could never have too much coffee.
I brought down as many bags as I could in one go— I’d have to wait with them on the sidewalk as my packhorse husband lugged the rest. I also took one of the cats. We had each assigned ourselves one: mine being the fabulously fluffy orange Himalayan Casanova, his being the fabulously fat grey striped tabby Ziggy Stardust, both stalwart companions since my days in New York.
I began relaying the plan for the day step by step to Casanova, recounting the many test documents and required forms the receptionist had printed for us, including the Italian entry form, which I’d been informed was absolutely critical to entry into Italy and had to be filled out in Italian, which I’d managed to do with the help of Google translate.
“This time tomorrow, Cas, you’re going to be a proud Roman kitty,” I told him in the serious, grave tones that are somewhat unique to cat owners. I’ve always found that dog owners usually speak to their pets in a more friendly, childish manner. Not so for cats. Both Adam and I spoke to our cats as though we were old law school buddies reuniting for a stiff whiskey after a decade at rival firms. Unless we were singing their theme songs, of which they each have several in multiple genres.
“Pardon, ma’am?” An unfamiliar voice interrupted in a lovely lilt.
I looked up, surprised anyone would be on the street this early and a little nervous as Adam was upstairs grabbing the last remaining bags. “Yes?”
“Are you Ashlinn Romagnoli?” I always appreciated the way the Irish said my name— for once, no stumbling over the first name, at least.
I am ‘Ashlinn Romagnoli: Cat Lawyer’ I thought to myself in my tired, early morning delirium. What I actually said was: “Oh, are you the driver?”
“Yes, ma’m,” the man responded. He was a red-faced, friendly man-- not quite elderly, but beyond the grasp of middle age, with grey hair to rival my own.
“That’s wonderful,” I said with relief. I had been a little concerned that the van hadn’t arrived yet, timing being of the utmost importance on this day. “Where’s the van?”
“Over there,” he said with a jerk of his head across the street as he reached to grab one of the suitcases.
The blood drained from my face as I looked where he indicated. “No,” I whispered.
The bus, capacity at least eighty. The huge, hulking, idling bus. Not only was our driver not late, he had been my wakeup call.
“Goodness. It’s a bit-- there’s only two of us. Are you picking up other passengers?” I asked a little nervously as I grabbed another bag. There wasn’t time in the schedule for that, but I couldn’t think of any other reason the company would send such a behemoth.
“Nah, it’s a private service,” he said, already halfway across the street with both suitcases.
The front door to the apartment building opened as Adam came out with the remaining bag and cat.
“So— that’s our ride,” I said.
“No shit,” he whistled. “Cool.”
“Yeah,” I laughed. “Cool, I guess. As long as it gets us to the test and the airport, it’ll do.”
Safely packed up and loaded into our own private party bus, we decided to lean into the experience. “I wish we had a bottle of tequila.”
“Or at least some Guinness. You know, to say goodbye,” Adam said wistfully as we whisked by the actual Guinness Factory.
“Hey, you’re okay with the extra stop, right?” I raised my voice a little bit to carry to the front of the bus. We weren’t quite at the back of the bus, but considering ourselves cool kids, we weren’t exactly at the front of the bus, either.
“What’s that?” the driver called back, so I slunk to the front of the bus, reattaching my mask to my face.
“The extra stop. For the rapid tests?” I asked hopefully.
“You mean the Express Green Long Term Car Park? Is that not where I’m dropping you?” he said with undeniable confusion in his voice.
“Ahhhh-- no. Not exactly. We just need to stop there to get our Covid rapid tests. It’s a new requirement before our flight.”
“Ah, these government !@#&s,” he said with characteristic Irish charm. “There’s always something.”
“Don’t I know it,” I tried to infuse my voice with as much camaraderie as I could muster.
“That’s no problem, no problem at all.”
Wonderful. ‘Ashlinn Romagnoli: Cool, Calm, Collected Problem Solver.’
I had no idea that the most complicated parts were yet to come.
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Arrival, or Business Cards PART TWO will be released next Sunday.
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Thanks for joining me on this journey. Feel free to drop me a line with any thoughts or questions!
Ah! Love the final version and pictures are great!! Can't wait for part two :D