I fully realize that the news from Italy is unrelentingly grim. Nobody has to remind me of that. But the old human spirit cannot be completely squashed; I mean, the human spirit whose biggest problem is boredom being stuck at home.
At least a week ago, bits of humor — snips of videos, photos, comments — began to circulate via the usual social media platforms, and friends have been sending them on to me (and everybody else they know, I assume). Here are my favorites so far.
This may be risky, in that the old crack “You really had to be there” is a crucial element; it may be that you can’t really feel how funny some of these are unless you’re already starting to be wound a little tighter than usual. Many of them are in some way about being housebound, or as I tend to call it, under house arrest.
But I’m sending them on just to let you in on this element of life in Venice these days. It’s not just empty streets and climbing contagion counts — there’s a guerrilla war being waged for hearts and funny-bones.
To do a “giro,” or “fare un giro” (JEE-roh) is the usual way of saying you’re doing out for a stroll, going to hang out, walk around the mall or the neighborhood. You usually say it with the “not really doing anything serious” tone of voice, as she does. Translation: “Oh Aly, where are you going?” “Oh, gonna take a walk around the kitchen.”
Translation: “Meanwhile, in a house in the Veneto there are already those who can’t endure the enforced companionship of their wife.” And the bedsheet, in Venetian, is clear enough on that: “I’m telling you, I’m gonna kill her.” (Italian scholars: Ve lo dico, la uccidero’).“And then, are you really convinced that shutting up a husband and wife in their house for 15 days is really the solution for having fewer deaths?”The rallying cry/hashtag has been #iorestoacasa (I’m staying home). Here we see how that’s working out.“Vacation this year.”
He stopped too soon — he’s got to take up lacrosse, curling, sepak takraw, chess boxing… I’m afraid there’ll be plenty of time for all of that.
More signs stating that “Andra’ tutto bene” have appeared, so I thought I’d share them with you. One can’t have too many, that’s for sure.
Amazing how they color-coordinated the poster to the laundry. Does Giorgio Armani live there?Signed by the artists, as are most of them. Marco and Nora did a very nice job.Above the cash register at the Prix supermarket, everything is absolutely going to be all right. The cashier said, “Our kids made them.” They’re obviously destined for greatness.It’s like Christmas met Cinco de Mayo in here.I just have to put this one front and center. Rainclouds on the left side of the rainbow, heartclouds on the right. (Bonus: In the center, he’s written “Duri i banchi,” a very typical expression which roughly means “Brace yourselves on the benches.” This refers to the benches used by rowers in the Venetian galleys going into war — think Ben-Hur: “Ramming speed!” and then the collision). If there ever were a moment when this expression was needed, it would be now. I want Mirko to adopt me.And speaking of the cash register at the Prix, they have installed a large Plexiglas panel between the cashier’s face and those of the scores of passing customers. I’ll be curious to see if the Coop does the same.
The church of Santi Vito e Modesto in Spinea, site of the battle of the funeral directors. It didn’t look this beautiful that day, it was 3:00 in the afternoon. Also, there were cars, and a coffin, and people yelling.
As was totally predictable, some people have been scoffing at the drastic regulations to control the COVID-19 contagion, because scoffage is fun. There is a special breed of human who looks at rules like they’re the gates in a giant slalom racecourse, put there just to challenge your skill in avoiding them and provide entertainment in the process.
By now, though, some 4,000 blithe spirits across Italy have been fined for not staying at home — and more to the point, they left home to do things they’re totally not justified in doing. Somehow, meeting up with ten of your friends in the countryside in an old abandoned shed to drink beer doesn’t fall into any of the three approved categories for being out of your house (Work? Medical/health? Necessity? Or did they claim to qualify in all three?) Four members of a family in town A went to town B outside of their province to join the birthday party of their two-year-old relative. Cue the Carabinieri. People with holiday houses in the mountains are thinking of escaping there? Not a chance. A walk on the beach? The mayor of Jesolo is imploring people not to be seduced by a sunny weekend. Because Carabinieri. Because virus. Because just stay at home.
All this — the subject of skipping a rule you don’t like or understand or want to bother with or forgot — brings us to don Riccardo Zanchin, the parish priest of the church of Santi Vito e Modesto in Spinea, a nearby town; Spinea is also the legal residence of Luigi Brugnaro, the mayor of Venice. A town where you might think that the art of obeying governmental edicts would be more advanced than elsewhere, but actually, no.
Among the earliest bans affecting normal life was on public funerals; that was back when we could still be shocked. The rule was that only the closest family members would be allowed to attend, without the usual mass. Subsequent edicts on March 8 and March 11 intensified the ban, up to the one forbidding all religious services. No weddings, funerals, baptisms, First Communions, Stations of the Cross, reciting the rosary — nothing. Anything that involved more than two or three people was prohibited. But when one of don Riccardo’s parishioners passed away, the family inquired about a funeral, and he said “Fine.” Here is where things begin to get murky.
Even murkier than this; I’m sure the two pilings have a perfectly good reason for finding themselves aground in the middle of a muddy barena.
Don Riccardo doesn’t appear to belong to the sub-group of priests who like to protest (not to be confused with Protestants). There was one priest the other day who was nabbed for conducting some ceremony, and his clarion call to disobedience was reported as “God is my boss,” and God requires him to continue his sacramental duties. That would be fine in a world where extremely contagious diseases didn’t exist, but as God’s vice-boss observed in the Garden of Gethsemane, “The flesh is weak,” and people are getting sick. I imagine that God’s vice-vice-boss, pro tem, a/k/a the bishop, had something short and sharp to tell him about all this.
Back to don Riccardo, who says that he hadn’t received any instructions to the contrary from the diocese (blame the bishop? Not a good move). Therefore he was all set to conduct a funeral Thursday afternoon of a 93-year-old parishioner. Family? Check. Mortal remains? Check. Hearse and funeral director? Check. Another funeral director? Excuse me?
Alessandro Gardi was the funeral director whose company had undertaken the work and had already loaded the coffin into the hearse. But at that moment who should be driving past but Manuel Piasenti, director of another funeral home. He saw what looked like a funeral drawing to a close, stopped his car, and called the Carabinieri.
Let’s pause and think peaceful thoughts for a moment.
“It isn’t possible to celebrate funerals,” Piasenti explains, “it’s a lack of respect toward the families and also toward other funeral homes that, respecting the regulations, aren’t working.” I’d interpret that as meaning especially a lack of respect to other funeral homes, such as his, just to take an example at random. What I don’t understand is his assertion that funeral homes aren’t working — that doesn’t seem to fall into any prohibited category of permitted work, and their services are, sadly, clearly required these days. I suspect Something Else is going on here; for all I know it might have been something that happened when they were in second grade.
The Carabinieri come and discover that the situation has become a little heated. The family members are furious with Gardi, the first funeral director, because evidently they blame him for getting them into this mess. Gardi’s mad at Piasenti because “He blocked the hearse with his car,” Gardi stated, “and the people who were going to the cemetery.” That’s an audacious move. Everybody had something to say, and I’m guessing they were all saying them at the same time, and in a way that attracted the attention of the neighbors.
“I never blocked anybody,” Piasenti rebutted, “I was only waiting” (in a blocking position?) “for the arrival of the officers.” And so it went until the Carabinieri had taken everybody’s testimony and found all three contenders guilty of something.
It’s a big world out there, something that’s easy to forget when you’re stuck at home day and night. We need to keep our perspective on things.
Don Riccardo had broken the decrees banning religious ceremonies, which in point of fact had not been issued by the bishop, but by a commission headed by the Prime Minister of Italy, so the good priest was probably a bit mistaken in thinking the bishop had the final word on this.
Mr. Gardi had also flouted the decrees, though he defended himself by saying “It wasn’t a funeral, it was a strictly private ceremony. There were only eight people, all of them four or five meters apart. We spoke to the priest and he said that he hadn’t received any opposition from the diocese for the celebration of that funeral rite, so we proceeded.” Noted, but he still broke the rules.
Mr. Piasenti got two fines: One was for being out in his car even though he wasn’t going to work (one of the three reasons that justify your being out of your house; it was stopping in front of the church that gave him away), and the other because he had no authority to use his car to stop a funeral procession. Well, neither does anybody, probably, except the firemen.
So in the end, everybody was unhappy, including the grieving relatives. That flash of euphoria Mr. Piasenti enjoyed by reporting his competitor to the police was so sweet, but so brief.
So let’s review: Stay at home. In the end, it makes life simpler for everybody.
This full-page ad for a car dealership is a masterpiece of bad timing. “Escape with your new C4: we’ll give you (as in gift) the weekend.” You’re selling cars when nobody can go anywhere, then you rub it in with special offers linked to “escape”? I think this could be interpreted as a veiled incentive to break the law by not staying in your house, and “weekends,” as they’re commonly understood, have ceased to exist for the duration. I’m sorry the company paid for this ad because I doubt that “Going to buy a new car” is a valid reason for anyone to be out traipsing around. It’s all so difficult right now.
Off to a foggy start this morning. Where once I might have reviled the vaporetto for ruining the scene, I have to say that now the vaporetto IS the scene. Yes, we’re still alive…..And the headlines set out by the newsstand: “Virus, 2000 city employees at home and ACTV cuts runs.” All of that was highly predictable, especially the cutting back on the vaporettos. You see them pass and they’re like the Marie Celeste (empty, but with clear signs of recent life). I will tell you the story about the funeral and the denunciation of the parish priest tomorrow.
Our small but perfectly formed walk in the early morning is our one chance to buy the Gazzettino, to breathe some air, to walk around like normal people for about 20 minutes. And inevitably I notice the signs that are stuck on doors — there seems to be a sort of progression taking place, as if we’re all coalescing around certain tiny hard truths: Distance between people, no touching, headlines, isolation.
Here are some discoveries, yesterday and today:
The government’s quarantine comes with a catchy hashtag, since that’s how we communicate now. #iorestoacasa means “I’m staying at home,” and it seems a little more jaunty to put it this way rather than “God, we’re stuck in the house together night and day we’re losing our minds,” etc. It’s succinct, it’s civic, it’s easy to remember, and on the whole it seems to be working.The people in this shop tend to sell items which are a bit unorthodox, which leads us to this notice: “Open intermittently If open we’re in the office, come in and greet us loudly (don’t cough….). If we’re closed, for urgent matters 3351227777.” That number is a little too perfect; I suspect if I were to call it, I’d just get voicemail and they’d never call back.Via Garibaldi wakes up. The trash men are out, the fruit and vegetable sellers are setting up, and the supermarkets are receiving the daily cargo, brought in those large containers you see in the middle of the street, being hauled back to the barge by the guy who drew the short straw. At least the containers are empty now.There’s more activity than the news reports give you to believe, but it appears that many try to get the shopping done first thing in the morning.Luca is handing Massimo the scale (cash register to follow), so they’re just about ready to open. That, and the never-diminishing abundance of their stock, maintains the illusion of normalcy. Don’t ever stop, you guys.In the Prix supermarket, elves have been working overnight laying perfectly spaced strips of tape one meter apart on the runway to the cash registers. Next we’ll have the person with the huge ear protectors and flashlights moving us into position.Ditto at the Coop.At the entrance to the Coop, this innovation: ” Roll of paper towels and disinfectant to use for cleaning the carts.”Shops are beginning to work half-days. The tobacco/toy store announces that they’ll be working from 9:00 AM to 1:00 PM, closed on Mondays.Also the detergent/housewares/everything store. The owners would appreciate being at home, especially if everybody else is.On the door at the Paties glasses and eye-examination store: “Communication to our Clients Based on the recent Ministerial Decree the optical stores (with a licensed optician present, not the simple eyeglasses seller) may remain open because they furnish medical devices. NEVERTHELESS My sense of responsibility toward myself and toward others obliges me to reduce as much as possible any opportunity of contagion. For this reason, OTTICA PATIES will close for the entire period established by the Italian Government. For any necessity, for example the depletion of your supply of contact lenses and liquids, an urgent need for new eyeglasses, excluding obviously the measuring of your eyesight and the application of contact lenses, for the evident impossibility to effect these safely, I invite you to contact me without any problem at 3388790493 and on WhatsApp or by email info@otticapaties.it A hug, and good luck to everybody! I’mstayingathome. Andrea Paties”This shop takes a slightly sterner tack: “Attention According to DPCM 1 March 2020 art. 2, point ‘i,’ we invite you to respect the distance of 1 meter between persons, to safeguard the health of the clients and to avoid penal sanctions and the consequent closing of the shop. We thank you for the collaboration.” I never realized that I could hold, not only my own fate, but that of an entire commercial enterprise and several generations of the owner’s family, in my hands. It’s too much. I’m going to make it two meters, minimum.The door of the trattoria “Nevodi” is beginning to resemble a university dormitory bulletin board; the only thing missing here is somebody looking for a ride to Boston on Friday. The white handwritten rectangle contains a play on words (glad somebody’s still up to it): “We will be closed for some 40 days.” The pun is “quarantena” (quarantine) and “quarantina,” which would be the normal conversational term for “forty-ish,” “more or less forty.” Everybody knows that the word “quarantine” is derived from the 40 days imposed on cargo, ships, and people suspected of being infected with plague. So this person has taken a common expression and revised it in a charmingly frivolous way. Good for you, Nevodi Staff. Meanwhile, the bigger sign shows some improvising in light of the disruption to routine resulting from closing the restaurant: “For consignment of packages (for) Colauzzi and Nevodi (go to) the fruit and vegetable vendor across the street or call 3499021934. I’ll be here in 2 minutes Thanks.”Evening draws nigh on via Garibaldi as the latest shoppers arrive and depart. Shopping takes time now; first is the wait in line to enter the supermarket, then the checkout procedure takes even more time (you can’t approach the cash register till the previous customer has paid, packed up their stuff and left). Life now requires me to adapt and to be patient — two of my least favorite things ever. Except in this case I’m not alone. It’s everybody’s routine now, and there’s no point in muttering about it.
