Driving in Italy is scary. Getting your license is even scarier. Part One.

Seeing that it's really not safe to eat, drink and breathe the Coronavirus, I've decided to change the subject.  I finally got my Italian driver's license.

Americans are allowed to drive in Italy for the first year of residence.  I think you can drive with your normal license from the States.  And you can definitely drive with an international license that you pick up from TripleA for 15 dollars.  I can't remember why, but I had an expired one from one of my past trips and I brought it when I moved to Italy. I didn't have a car and I never drove, but I held onto the license thinking that some day I might have to forge the date.
 
Let me repeat....an American can drive for his first year as an Italian resident with one of those two licenses.  Then, one year later, they are invalid.  So, when you don't speak the language and know nothing about the roads.....go ahead and drive. And then, once it all becomes familiar and easier and safer.....it's time to stop driving.  Make sense?  When my  American visitors came and we rented a car at the airport they were always ready to hand me the keys.  It seems smart for the one that knows the lay of the land to drive, no?  No, not in Italy.

Several years ago I realized I had no choice.  I had to get an Italian license. The ink on the international license was fading so forgery would have been risky.  I decided to buy a study app from a driving school and was registered as one of their users.  That meant they had access to all of the practice tests that I took online and they could evaluate and manage my progress to help where I was having the most difficulty.

I started with great enthusiasm, but panic soon set in and I stopped.  When I was ready to give it another go, the app had been blocked.  I went to the school for help and found out that it had a one year expiration date. So, I signed up again. I REstarted with great enthusiasm, but panic soon set in and I stopped.

If you're an American reader, you're asking yourself why there's so much panic about getting a license in Italy.  In America we do it when we're 15.  I actually don't remember much, but I think it was kind of fun (except for the gory accident films). It seems like it was a three-week class taught by the cool teachers right when school got out. And it probably cost about 25 dollars.

Here's what it's like in Italy.  When you tell people that you're studying for your license the good luck comments flow.  They say that if they had to take the test now, they would never pass. They say that their friend didn't pass the first time, but had more luck the second time.  Keep in mind, these are the responses Italians give other Italians, so you can imagine the well wishes for an American. 

The test can only be taken in Italian, French and German.  Make sense? No, but we're in Italy, you just have to get used to the fact that nothing here makes sense.  There are 7000 practice questions.  7000 practice questions in Italian. 7000 practice questions prepared to trick even native speakers.

At the end of September (after a road trip through France where I couldn't drive) I decided that the only way I was really going to get serious about studying was to have a date on the calendar. I went to the school, but they were hesitant because my results on the app were far from positive.  I insisted that the only way I would get serious about studying was with a date and a down payment, and they agreed.  I paid 40 euro for a doctor's visit that is really just signing a paper.  And then 30 euro for the other doctor's visit which is really just to have me read something from afar and sign another paper.  I paid 4 euro for the paperwork for the second doctor's visit and another 'stamp' (maybe it's a tax?) for 16.  I paid 63 euros for another 'stamp' for something else and 8.50 for photos.  And the app was 12. The total before taking the test was 173.50.

As the test approached I had learned that cows are domesticated animals (I thought only dogs and cats were domesticated animals) and if you see one near the road with a look of fear in their eyes you're obligated to slow down. I wasn't sure if that meant that you didn't have to slow down if they didn't have the look of fear in their eyes, because those are the kind of trick questions thrown in everywhere.  I also learned that in order to drive a motorcycle with a certain power you need license A and to drive a motorcycle with a sidecar with a different cylinder you need license AM.  Trucks that can carry up to 600 tons require license A1 and scooters for 14 year-olds that have a 50cc but only go 35 mph hour need A2.  (I've made all of that up because I really can't remember any of it and I don't know the difference between 50cc and cylinders, but on November 4, I can assure you, I knew it all.) In any case, does it seem necessary that a little old lady that wants a license to drive a convertible in Italy should have to know all of the requirements for all 7 types of licenses (or is it 9)? Add it to the list that nothing makes sense here.

On test day, before the hour-ride in the minivan with all of the other kids taking the exam, I paid the school another 250 euros.  We drove to an official testing site run by the State and then sat and waited for two hours.  Before entering the room with 30 other students you are put in line alphabetically and given the rules.  Once inside, the scary lady calls you to the front one by one. You give her your documents and she assigns you a computer. 40 of the 7000 questions come up on your screen. You have 30 minutes and you can only make 4 mistakes.  Total silence.  Then, one by one the scary lady calls you back up to the front and tells you if you've passed.

Fortunately, all nine of the kids in the minivan passed.....the written test.