Yesterday (Wednesday) afternoon: Lines now form outside everywhere because the number of people allowed inside is limited and precise. This emporium, part of the Prix supermarket chain, can’t allow many people at all — it’s two and a half long narrow aisles crammed beyond belief with stuff. It’s like a shotgun supermarket, so obviously we’re going to have to take turns. ( I didn’t urgently need anything so I just went home.) And because I know my readers love everything about Venice, I left the pigeon in the picture as well as the bag of garbage that should never have been hung outside at 11:30 in the morning, by which time the collector not only has already passed, but is probably taking his shower and getting ready to go home. I think people can follow some rules, but not all of them, and whoever was here decided to interpret “Do not put your trash out before 8:00 AM” as “Any time after 8:00 is fine.”
I promise and vow that I am not going to turn my blog into an endless series about the coronavirus. But considering how few people are out — and how we’re supposed to stay at least one meter away from them if they are out — and how, actually, we’re not even supposed to be out — the viral situation is the main thing on everybody’s mind.
She pauses to rub her nose with her arm.
Here are two definitely not-fun facts: As of yesterday, all hotels are closed until April 3, something which has literally never occurred in the history of the city. And as of yesterday, the gondoliers are no longer gondoling. I can’t conceive of this, but there it is: They all met, and concluded that the risk to everybody — gondoliers and passengers — was just too high. (They would have been ordered to shut down anyway, I have no doubt.) It wasn’t enough to have a bottle of hand sanitizer in the boat — people in gondolas are sitting closer than one meter apart, and the gondolier is helping them on and off at very close range.
And basically, considering that there are practically no tourists, there’s no sense in boating up. Venice without gondolas gliding along the canals, with their gondoliers yelling that kaleidoscopic badinage at each other, will have reached an entirely new level of strange.
Oh wait — it got stranger with the new decree last night: All restaurants, bars/cafe’s, and any stores other than the few essential ones (supermarket/food shops, pharmacies) and many offices are closed. Business in Venice at the moment is nearly in the condition of Monty Python’s dead parrot.
No bars, cafe’s or restaurants? Suddenly the line of places offering refreshment along the Riva degli Schiavoni looks like Coney Island in January. And completely apart from the desolation of this panorama, I realized that if I had suddenly needed a bathroom, there was no friendly bar every five steps in any direction. As Lino so helpfully pointed out, my only option would have been the nearest canal.Many shops have taped lines on the floor one meter apart.This is the new approach to the pharmacy, as to any of the few open shops (the bread bakery, the housewares store, etc.). A distance of one meter between individuals makes a long line in no time at all.
And speaking of lines, the enormous rush of trucks trying to get out of Italy toward Austria (and the rest of the world) via the Brenner Pass created an 80 km/50 mile backup. The police not only checked the temperature of every person in every vehicle (there were plenty of cars, too), they also verified that each vehicle had enough fuel to reach Germany without stopping. In fact, the only people permitted to enter Austria were either citizens or persons confirming that their travel did not include any stops in Austrian territory.
Back in happier days, this line of cups on the counter at the hospital cafe was enough to make me smile.
The governor of the Veneto Region, Luca Zaia, is maintaining the total shutdown until April 3. If all this seems drastic, it’s the only hope the Veneto has to somehow avoid reaching one million infected by the middle of April, if the rate of contagion continues steady. That would be one person in five.
And it’s not just closing shops that’s going to do the trick. We’re all now living whwat amounts to house arrest. Staying home is Plan A of a total list of one plan. “The people of the Veneto have to realize,” Zaia said, “that the main cure against the virus is we ourselves. Do not go strolling on the beach on the weekends, do not go to shopping centers, do not go to the piazzas, do not go anywhere that isn’t your workplace or a food shop. For me, 29 people who have lost their lives is already too many.”
We took a constitutional walk this morning (2.2 miles, 209 calories, 1 hour 6 minutes), as we have the past few mornings. One does feel the need to move, at least at the beginning of the day. We buy the Gazzettino, we do some minimal shopping, and then back into our lair.
It has been driven home a million times that we are not to touch our eyes, nose or mouth, so naturally that’s all I want to do. I have managed to compromise with myself, and only rub my nose with my sleeve, as if I were five years old. (I doubt that I was allowed to do that when I was five, though Lino remembers a number of children when he was small whose sleeves were their first line of drippy-nose defense all winter long.) Tissues were invented in 1924, but unhappily it wasn’t for the succor of Venetian urchins.
Walking along around 9:00 AM, I counted from five to seven vaporettos of various types moving around the bacino of San Marco (battello, motoscafo, the Alilaguna, the ferry between Tronchetto and Lido) but only a few other vehicles. The next bulletins about them may well have to do with limiting the service; it’s only a matter of time. Even I can see that it’s not the best idea to keep burning fuel to carry so few people around, although it does sort of liven up the landscape.
No more guessing if you fit in the shop or not — the small tobacco/toy store has already calculated the correct dimensions and stipulated how many people can enter at a time. In red letters: “Attention: Because of the new public health law only two persons at a time may enter.”Closer to San Marco, the English subtitles appear. In this glass shop in Campo San Zaccaria they can take four at a time.“Crisis of coronavirus 8 hotels in 10 are heading toward closing.” We were warned that this was likely, and considering how few people are to be seen on the streets, it seems inevitable.We saw them locking the chain on the front door of the hotel Al Nuovo Teson at 10:00 AM and it seemed fairly final. I’ve seen plenty of places closed with signs saying “Closed for maintenance” or “Closed for vacation,” with reopening dates noted. The hotel’s website accepts a reservation for day after tomorrow, so I’m not sure what to think about this chain. There’s a saying here that “Hope is the last thing to die,” so we may be reaching that point.
This is the first official notice of the day, discovered this morning at our favorite neighborhood bar. We heard days ago that we were supposed to maintain the minimum distance of one meter (roughly one arm’s length) between us, but now it’s official.It says: “Notice to clients, from 2 March 2020 based on the DPCM (Decreto del Presidente del Consiglio dei Ministri) of March 1 2020, our clients are informed that, to avoid crowding, access to this business is conditional on the maintenance of at least one meter of distance between persons. Entrance to this business is limited by the maintenance of this precautionary health measure. Thank you for your understanding and collaboration.”Distance between people means distance between tables. The Bar Mio has separated them at a little more than the regulation one meter. They’ve sacrificed some tables that used to be in demand, so much demand that they were jammed as close as possible. But with demonstrably fewer customers, it doesn’t really matter.
Greetings from the Red Zone.
People in Venice are in the grip of coronavirus, everybody in the world knows that by now. Toddlers in Kiribati must know that. But what does that mean, apart from the basic epidemiological definition? Well, every day it means something new, and today I realize it means living by a long list of rules, regulations, decrees and ordinances. Or maybe it’s not a LONG list, but just the same list repeated in more ways and in more public places.
Residents of Venice are now prohibited from entering or leaving the city, except for extremely valid and precisely defined and not-to-be-negotiated reasons. If the police stop and ask you what you think you’re doing by heading toward or away from Venice, you’d better have a really good answer ready. No more eyelash-batting, “The dog ate my blood test report,” “Gee Officer Krupke” replies. There is now an official document to fill out to justify your movements, and if you don’t have a copy with you, the police will furnish one. And sign it.
This is the self-certification form. The towns are listed, as you see, and you must state where you are coming from and where you’re going, and check the box (or boxes?) that apply to your situation: Demonstrable work demands; situations of necessity; health reasons; returning home (or as they so thoroughly specify: domicile, habitation, or residence).
But that’s only the thin end of the iceberg, as a friend once put it. Here is the list of “Don’ts” (and a few equally stringent “do’s”) for us plodding neighborhood denizens:
This proclamation was posted on the church notice-board of San Francesco da Paola: “Coronavirus: Obligations and Good Conduct for the Citizens.” Translation below.
What distance must I keep from other people? At least one meter.
What if I have a fever? Above 37.5 degrees C (99.5 degrees F), call your family doctor, remain at home and do NOT go to the Emergency Room.
Can I go to work? Yes, it is one of the permitted activities.
Can I go other communes (communities)? Absolutely NOT, save for situations of necessity.
Can I move around for health reasons? (This implies medical appointments, tests, therapies, etc.) Yes, always.
Who absolutely must remain at home? The elderly and those with compromised immune systems or pathologies.
Will mass and other religious functions be conducted? No.
Bars, ice cream shops, restaurants? Opening between 6:00 and 18.00.
Medium-sized and large shopping areas? Closed on festive and pre-festive days (note: in a normal week, this means Sunday and Saturday, respectively; if there is a holiday, such as Christmas, that falls on a weekday, that day is categorized as “festive,” and the preceding day would be the “pre-festive”) except for food stores.
Can I go shopping? Yes, one person per family.
Pharmacies and parapharmacies? Open as usual.
Schools and nurseries? Closed till April 3.
Meetings, conventions, events, manifestations (this could be a sports competition, or a political demonstration, or many other public activities that involve groups): Forbidden.
City offices? Almost all of their services are available online. Essential and urgent services are guaranteed.
In the same way that cutting the Biennale in half made me realize Things are Worse than I Thought, I had the same feeling when I just read that “Bars, pubs, and restaurants will be open from 6:00 AM to 6:00 PM” (1800 hours, as they write it here). The command “Stay at home” has been interpreted in all sorts of ways, but “Restaurants will close at 6:00 PM” is impossible to misunderstand. What’s going to be next — ration cards?
Every single one of these rules is there for a reason — I am not quibbling or complaining. It’s just that by the time you reach some kind of adult cruising altitude in life, you have prioritized a lot of the rules. You don’t put “Do not kill” on the same level in your mind as “Do not hang up on your mother,” or “Don’t go outside without sunscreen.” But these coronavirus rules are all on the same level, and it requires some effort to remember them.
If this goes on, they will undoubtedly become habit. That will be interesting.
Here we have a list from the Ministry of Health outlining other behavior we need to adopt, posted around the Morosini Naval School.
Wash your hands often with soap and water or alcohol-based gel.
Avoid close contact with persons who suffer from acute respiratory infections.
Don’t touch your eyes, nose and mouth with your hands.
Cover your mouth and nose with one-use handkerchiefs (tissues) if you sneeze or cough. If you don’t have a tissue, use the inside of your elbow.
Do not take any anti-viral or antibiotic medicine without your doctor’s prescription.
Clean all surfaces with disinfectants based on chlorine or alcohol.
Use a face mask only if you suspect you are sick or if you are helping sick persons.
Products MADE IN CHINA and packages received from China are not dangerous.
Pets do not spread the coronavirus.
If in doubt, do not go to the Emergency Room, call your family doctor and follow his/her instructions.
Sunday morning, five minutes before 8:30 opening time at the Coop supermarket in via Garibaldi. Lino and the man to the left with two shopping trolleys have known each other forever, though that doesn’t mean they’re exactly friends. They exchanged greetings and the other man muttered, “It’s like wartime.”Inside the supermarket on Monday afternoon, the line for the checkout registers stretched back forever; there may have been 20 people waiting even though three registers were working. The slowdown was caused by several innovations. A wait-behind-this-line strip had been taped to the floor (I’m standing behind one on the left). The hand-written signs say “Wait here for your turn. Thank you.” The next person in line wasn’t permitted even to move ahead to put his items on the belt until the previous customer had paid and BAGGED ALL HIS ITEMS AND WALKED AWAY FROM THE COUNTER. The cashiers were wearing rubber gloves.“Streets are deserted” is impossible in a town where there are 2.5 dogs for every 5.7 citizens (made up). Virus or no, of course you will find people outside in the morning. Every morning, till the end of time.
These are certainly not the most elaborate costumes I saw, but the glowing parasols are the point.
Carnival (or Carnevale, if you prefer) isn’t something I gorge on every year; I tend to take a few little nibbles around the edges. And this year wouldn’t have been any different except that a former colleague from National Geographic, photographer Tomasz Tomaszewski, said he was coming with a friend to make pictures, and asked if I could give a logistical hand.
For three intense days (Thursday to Saturday) we wandered around — if you can call eight miles a day “wandering” — and it turned out to be surprisingly entertaining. This doesn’t mean I can’t wait till next year to do it all again, but either the quality of the costumes was higher than in some years past, or I’ve changed in some indefinable way, or something.
You can never go wrong with dogs.
I hope you enjoy these snaps, because the story of Carnevale 2020 has not had a happy ending. Northern Italy (specifically the regions of Lombardia and Veneto) are in the tightening clutch of the COVID-19 epidemic. On Sunday there were only 20,000 revelers out of an expected 100,000.
In fact, the curtain fell on Carnevale two days early – Sunday nght at midnight, to be precise. I don’t know that this has ever happened, but missing the culmination of festivities on Tuesday (Martedi’ Grasso) has certainly made the scheduled participants unhappy. The 12 Marias are in tears because now we’ll never know who was the fairest of them all.
That’s just the beginning. The governor of the Veneto has decreed many decrees prohibiting events or places of any sort where people might gather in groups larger than (insert small number here). Until March 1 the schools, universities, and museums are closed. There will be no masses celebrated in church, even on Ash Wednesday, not even in the basilica of San Marco. Sporting events are all canceled.
But let me share a look back at a few sunny days when Carnival was fully fledged and nobody was worrying about anything more important than where to finally find a place to sit down.
Trailing clouds of glory, this couple proceeded at a stately pace beneath puffs and cherubs. The stately pace was more or less imposed by the weight of the costume (some of them went up to 26 pounds, or 12 kg), and walking slowly also made it easy for photographers to snap away. The most elaborate costumes made many stops on the stroll around the Piazza because almost all of this activity was undertaken precisely to be photographed. Just like the casinos want you to steal their ashtrays (I was told once…), people dress up here to be photographed. You can’t possibly offend them by asking. Or not asking and just going ahead, shooting away, which is more common.Photographers were swarming like freaking locusts.Everybody was happy.All it took was for one person to start shooting and there was a sudden rush from everywhere and the wild fluttering sound of camera shutters. It was like seagulls attacking a slice of pizza.She was only pretending to play but it looked like she was having a grand time.I give her credit for willingness to walk around with an entire fabric-store supply of material draped on and around her, but it makes me feel tired and slightly smothered just looking at her.The roses…..It seems slightly Zen to come all the way from Tokyo to sit by yourself, but perhaps her cavalier was out getting her cigarettes or something. Tomasz is immortalizing her and her cigarette holder; she told him that she had made the costume (or had it made; in any case, it wasn’t rented, as many people do to simplify matters).
There were far too many 18th-century-Mozart-Casanova-Marie-Antoinette costumes roaming around for my taste, but this French couple took it to a whole new level. They (or she) makes the costumes, and she told me that they changed their outfit every day — wigs and all. I secretly called her Melisande, but her real name is Charlotte and she comes from La Rochelle. She and her friends — two men were in tow — drove to Venice with their steamer trunks loaded with this glorious garb.Good from the back, as well.She was too perfect. Perhaps she was listening for the distant rumble of the tumbrels?Speaking of French, this squadron was a sight to behold– three admirals, home from the fleet after a vigorous few months of bashing the English (I imagine).These cafes are expensive, but if you can find a seat they’re the best place to give your costume a rest for a while.If there’s anywhere the standard period costume really looks good (apart from the Caffe’ Florian, I mean), it’s in a gondola.She needed a better position than a mere cafe table and she got it atop the balustrade of the entrance to the campanile.I began to yearn for simplicity, the way you yearn for a pickle after a hot pastrami sandwich. These two Italian ladies were just what I needed.As was this girl.Dotted nylons and sparkly sneakers — that’s her Carnevale outfit and I really like it.Then this vision rose from the sea, a magical naiad combining fantasy, glamour, and dazzling simplicity. Even the pose was perfect.This extraordinary headdress is all reef — coral, algae, shells.The pictures were all of Venice and water. If we have to have acqua alta, could more of these creatures appear, please?I forgot all about Melisande when I lost my heart to Ondine.At the Rialto, another breath of non-18th-century air. Very few elements involved (not like the mountain of material with the white silk roses), but all the better for that. Finding a great hat that wasn’t a tricorn isn’t deeply difficult, but you have to realize that that’s really what your outfit needs.I entertain myself by noticing reflections, and this one of the basilica’s facade was a nice change from the parade of people.You can only look at so many costumes before your eyes seek something drastically different. Here’s a shop at the end of a long sunny street with people apparently walking through it. Photographer Tomaszewski, or his shadow, has paused at the right to look at something. Or nothing. His eyes might have been getting tired too.
