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Onward to Phase 2

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General Giorgio Emo Capodilista is following orders: If you go outside, you must wear a mask. This sort of frivolity would have been unthinkable two months ago, but maybe by now we’re all getting used to living with the virus.

There’s something in the air, and it’s not pollen — it’s the sensation of imminent liberation from lockdown, at least for some.

Even as the brain repeats the refrain put out by radio and newspaper and online news that “This is going to be a gradual process, programmed in stages over the entire month of May, subject to immediate revision or revocation if the numbers of infections begin to increase,” the atmosphere is quivering with anticipation.

It’s also quivering with confusion, because unlike two months ago, when all this began, not everybody seems to be on the same proverbial page.  Information is coming from the federal government, the regional government, and the city, in the voice of its somewhat overwrought mayor.  After eight weeks of only essential businesses being allowed to stay open, the owners and employees of the less-essential businesses have been driven to the edge.  In fact, many small business owners are planning various protests for Sunday (in Mestre and elsewhere on the mainland) and in the Piazza San Marco on Monday, May 4.

The restaurant/bar/cafe’ owners are howling to reopen — at the moment, they must wait till June 1 — even though I don’t quite see how, at least in the Historic Center, they are going to begin to recoup their losses when there are no tourists to fill their seats, tables, and cash registers.  And even if and when there are tourists, the new regulations require tables to be positioned two meters (6.5 feet) apart; this obviously will slash the number of customers being served.  Hair salons are not to allow anyone in the shop without an appointment (no hanging around leafing through magazines), and stylists and clients will have to wear masks and gloves.  Disinfecting the premises — chairs, tables, even floor, for all I know — will be a major daily undertaking.

But more on the business situation later.

Disinfection continues, leaving its mark. Frequent spraying goes on: pavement, campi, railings, and vaporetto docks.
The person in the white suit wields the spray-wand, in this case drawing from a large tank on a nearby boat.
The boat and men were working their way along from stop to stop.
The large white cube contains gallons of disinfectant.
Far from the boat, he carries his little tank with him as he walks his beat, spraying disinfectant on the railings of bridges and canals.  I try to stay upwind.
Outside the pharmacy “Al Basilisco” (of Dr. Baldisserotto), just as you find at the entrance to the Coop, a bottle of hand sanitizer is ready for use. “Attention: Before entering, disinfect (hygienize) your gloves.”  I’m all for it, but am waiting to see if somebody is going to say it would be advisable to then pull on another pair of gloves over the first pair, and so on….They say there’s no such thing as being too prudent, but we’ll see.
At the entrance to the second pharmacy in via Garibaldi (Dr. Polito) are more instructions that experience has evidently rendered necessary: “No more than two persons/clients inside.  Enter the pharmacy equipped with mask and gloves.  DO NOT remove the mask when you’re in the pharmacy.  Respect the one-meter distancing.  No more than 1 or 2 persons inside.  Thank you.”  Do not remove the mask when you’re inside?  Do people still not grasp what the mask is for?

We are all trying to make sense of what we’re going to be allowed to do beginning on Monday, May 4.  Here is what we know so far.

In no particular order, we can: Stroll or run or bicycle farther afield than the previous limit of 200 meters from your house, maintaining at least one meter of space between you and anyone else.  No more than two adults, “and children” (number unspecified), are allowed to be out together.  In other words, no coming out in herds.

You can visit friends or family without having to prove verifiable necessity — that’s quite a change — but the number of participants must remain small.  It doesn’t help much that “family” is now defined as including “congiunti“; literally, it means “joined,” but indicates a second level of relative or relation.  Your spouse is your spouse, your “congiunto” could be your boyfriend whom you haven’t seen in at least a month.  There was an invigorating, if brief, exchange on the radio two days ago in which the speakers attempted to discern the boundaries of the congiunto: “If he’s your new boyfriend, how long will you need to have been together?”  “Could somebody you met a week ago qualify?”  “Is there a difference if I go to see him, instead of him coming to see me?”  And so on.  Madness.

Basically, the central concept remains: Groups are hazardous to everyone in them.  Avoid them.

You can train or practice your individual sport, even at your club’s center, but no teams.  No congregating.

Parks will be reopened, at the discretion of each town’s respective mayors, so children can get out and play.  But no groups!

Residents who have a second home elsewhere in the Veneto (we’re allowed now to travel between towns, but it is still prohibited to cross regional borders) will be permitted to go there to check on its condition, just to make sure that the house isn’t about to collapse or rot away before your eyes.  No, you can’t take your spouse and kids and dog; in fact, you can’t even stay overnight.  No being clever and turning your little inspection trip into your family’s traditional ox-roast, clambake and Highland Games.

As I try to adjust ever so slightly to a normal view of life and the world, however tentative or experimental, I have become obsessed with the company that advertises on the radio every day at noon.  It describes their fabulous kitchen redesign capabilities in the most soothing way (I guess they realize we’re all a little on edge), sprinkled with words like “hope” and “dream” that make it sound as if they are able and ready to make your life — they say “kitchen,” but they obviously mean “life” — so gorgeous and so wonderful that you will not believe you’re even still you.

And every time I hear these extravagant claims I ask myself if there is anyone who has time, or money, or desire, to think about their freaking kitchen right now.  Apart from the cost, it would seem to me that after two months of being compelled to cook twice a day — no matter how thrilled you must be to have perfected your sourdough bread or Poulet Paul Gauguin Retour de Tahiti — the last place on earth you want to think about now is the kitchen.  If I didn’t have Lino as the cook supreme here, I’d already have turned ours into a pinball arcade.

It’s 7:00 AM at Sant’ Elena and a seagull has already bagged at least one seppia. They’re coming in now, and they may be pleasantly surprised not to have to run the usual gantlet of fishermen along the waterfront. This one evidently had an entire winter’s-worth of ink stored up, ready for battle, but all his ammunition wasn’t enough.  (How do I know it was a seagull?  Because the seppia’s “bone” was lying a few feet away.)
Further up along the Riva dei Sette Martiri, more signs of epic struggle.  At least the animals have enemies they can actually see.

So are we beginning to scent the breezes of freedom, comfort and joy?  Not so fast.  Even on the verge of Phase 2, warnings abound, and if infections begin to increase, back we go into lockdown.  This has been made abundantly clear.

Even clearer than the now-world-famed water in the canals. I wish there were something interesting down there, now that we could finally see it.
Occasionally you can see an old tire, but I was dreaming of something more amazing.  Anyway, the water’s kind of low this morning, which mitigates the thrill of seeing as far as the bottom.

REVIEW CHAPTER:  If you’re not convinced that the risk remains, here is oncologist Dr. Paolo Ascierto speaking to overexcited readers of La Repubblica: “Unfortunately the virus is still circulating, and the levels of infection are identical to those of weeks ago.  The numbers have improved only thanks to isolation….it’s clear that every day it’s possible to become infected, above all if you don’t use the mask and don’t maintain social distancing.  We’ll be out of the emergency only when we have a vaccine that, however, won’t be here any sooner than a year.  We still know very little about the virus.  How long will someone who was infected remain immune?  We don’t know.  The mask doesn’t protect us but the others, so if we all wear it, we’re protected.  A concert?  Without a vaccine, we’ll watch it from home.”

Here is Dr. Angelo Pan, head of the infectious diseases department of the hospital of Cremona, one of the hardest-hit in the epidemic wave that began in Lombardy on February 21.  “This virus is a schifezza (skee-FETS-ah — nastiness, disgustingness, filth) like I’ve never seen and never thought to see,” he told HuffPost (translated by me).  “I never call it Covid-19, I call it schifezza…. This isn’t flu we’re facing … We have the sensation that this schifezza triggers new problems.  The infection leaves traces that we still have to deal with….” (not only on the lungs, but the heart, liver, kidneys, and brain).

Ranieri Guerra, adjunct director of the WHO, defined it as “a monster.”  “He’s right,” Dr. Pan agreed.  “It’s a genius of evil, capable of having different faces and causing different problems.  Its capacity to ‘put on makeup’ (disguise itself) and adapt itself to its environment makes it the worst we’ve had to deal with in decades.  I don’t want this problem to be underestimated elsewhere, because it is still dramatic.”

End of review.  Do not say that nobody told you.

On public transport, passengers must use mask and gloves and the maximum number of passengers will be limited to 30 persons on buses and 350 on trains.  This rule has already caused excitement in Naples, because when the bus is carrying the maximum permitted, it is required to skip the next stops.  But in one case, the driver continued to halt and let more people climb aboard.  Other passengers rebelled, yelling at the driver that he isn’t allowed to do this.  Astonished commentators could only say “In Naples?”

Limiting the number of passengers will obviously require more buses and vaporettos to be in service.  Well, one would assume, unless everyone needs to plan an extra hour for transit in case they have to wait for the next one.  (At the moment, the vaporettos run every 20 minutes, as opposed to every 12 minutes for the #1.) We saw a vaporetto pass this morning with about 20 people clustered in the central zone that is the entrance and exit combined.  Public transport vehicles are now required to have one door for entering and a different one for exiting.  Good luck with that with the vaporettos; I know from experience that there are people who perceive the  boarding/disembarkation point as being exactly in front of me.  Like on the subway, but somehow worse.

This morning I noticed that the impending easing of restrictions has been misinterpreted by some blithe spirit.  No, sir. Don’t let anybody take off your mask until orders arrive to the contrary.

The reckless will undoubtedly continue to push the boundaries.  A few weeks ago, a man was stopped at a checkpoint and asked where he was going in his car, and why.  “I have to go visit my mother,” was the reply.  Who could object to that?  Nobody, except that he forgot about that verification process the officers have to conduct.  They called the number he would have had to give them, and someone answered:  “Who?  She’s been dead for a month.”

On we go.  A few days ago, a man was promenading along the Fondamenta degli Ormesini in Cannaregio, dressed in snowy-forest camouflage (to conceal yourself in Venice) but without a mask.  The vigili (local police) stopped him and conversation ensued, as did a ticket for a 400-euro fine.  The man lost his mind, yelling all sorts of abuse at them and repeatedly calling them “Ignorant!” because they fined him for breaking a city ordinance while “People are dying of hunger because they have no work!”  There isn’t a discernible link between masks and hunger, but there is a good one between masks and insulting a public official, so in addition to the fine he now has been cited for a penal infraction.

This clip was forwarded to me from a friend via WhatsApp; I don’t know the source, but I think it has been circulating fairly widely.

Meanwhile, over in Milan, a man was driving along till he reached a checkpoint.  The Carabiniere on duty asked his reason for being out, and the man replied “I’m a nurse and I’ve just gotten off a 20-hour shift in the hospital.”

The Carabiniere stood back, saluted, and said “Thank you for all that you’re doing.”

It would have been touching except that the man was not a nurse, and drove away giggling.  You think that’s dumb?  He video’d the whole thing.  You think that’s dumb?  He put it on his Facebook page.  Probably many people saw it, but the most important viewer was a friend with a conscience, who reported the affair to the Carabinieri.  See above: Fine and a citation for insulting a public official, which will almost certainly see him in court and, depending on how jauntily the man defends himself, perhaps even in the cooler for a while.

And so we trek onward toward the wonders of Phase 2, armed with four masks offered by the city government.  A recorded phone call from the mayor alerted us that they would be on the way, and he took the opportunity to thank us for our cooperation.  Two days later the package was in our mailbox.  I wonder if a new mask will work the same magic as new shoes.  Or kitchen.

The Comune of Venice has acquired 600,000 masks, which they are giving away to residents.  This packet of four masks appeared in our mailbox two days ago; we’re already two months into daily mask-wearing, but as the old saying here goes, “I vovi sono boni anca dopo Pasqua” (eggs are also good after Easter).  Never let it be said that I looked a gift mask in the mouth.  And thank you, Mr. Mayor, for giving us this chance to remember that you are soon going to be running for re-election.
Written in English, stamped in Chinese. Good thing there are pictures.

 

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The Easter after-effects

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A new day, a new sign, and some new decrees.  Thanks to the bright sparks who refuse to be controlled, we woke up this morning to even more stringent regulations.  First it was wearing masks when going into a store, maintaining one meter of distance between individuals.  Then it was masks and gloves (as you recall) when entering a shop, and one meter of personal distance.  As of today, masks and gloves are required of anyone/everyone leaving their house, no matter where they’re going or what they want to do when they get there.  Personal distancing is now two meters, so only three people at a time instead of four are allowed inside the faithful detergent/cosmetics store.  It’s not that any of these requirements is so burdensome, but it’s kind of tedious to have them imposed because some people just can’t be bothered with any of them.

Despite a number of extreme measures imposed by the national government on the verge of the Easter holiday weekend (Saturday, Sunday, Monday), there are still people who just can’t be reined in.

The decree as of Friday was that nobody was permitted to leave their primary residence.  Keywords: “Nobody,” “leave,” “primary residence.”  These simple words can’t find any space in many brains because those spaces are occupied by “fun,” and “holiday,” and “break the monotony.”  Knowing this, the various order-keeping forces of the Veneto (and I assume elsewhere) fielded regiments of supplementary officers, stationing them at checkpoints  on the main roads leading from towns toward the mountains and the beaches.  Even if you were heading five minutes across town to your extra dwelling/apartment/lair, you would get fined and sent back to your primary residence.  And that fine has no connection with what you might get for perhaps not driving with a mask and gloves, or if you were driving more than one passenger, and that one passenger wasn’t sitting, as per the law, in the rear seat on the opposite side from the driver.

You see?  This is how we got from the Ten Commandments to the entire books of Numbers, Leviticus, and Deuteronomy — a simple concept has to become endlessly complicated because people just don’t want to hear it.

Either the Coop was completely denuded by closing time Saturday night, or they’re expecting extreme demand this morning.  In any case, the bulwark of boxes containing supplies is a little unnerving.  And as you see, it’s not over yet.
I think I’ll just break somebody’s heart showing this block of toilet paper: Each package contains four mega-rolls.

Anyway, back to the creative cheaters.  A few days ago (every day ago seems like a week ago), a man was stopped by the police in Mestre, inquiring as to his reason for being out walking around the streets.

“I’m going to work,” he replied.  This is good, because it’s one of the few reasons you’re allowed to be out.  And what work is that? was the natural response from the police.

“I deal drugs,” he replied.

Over the three-day holiday weekend, the scofflaws had a ball.  In and around Venice the majority of residents stayed inside, or close by; only 323 people were fined for infractions such as walking on the beach.  But elsewhere in Italy, things were humming along to the tune of 13,756 citizens or commercial activities being fined for illegally doing something.  Or anything.

On Monday (“Pasquetta”), a member of Parliament was stopped on the road going from Rome to Ostia (a/k/a the beach).  When asked where she was going, and why, she replied, “I’m a member of Parliament and I’m working.”  Because the police couldn’t establish a rational connection between Parliament and Beach on a holiday, she went home with a fine.  Which of course she is going to contest, because something.  Injustice, oppression, experts guilty of conflicts of interest, the destruction of the national economy under the excuse of the epidemic, and the danger of vaccines (none of this is made up).

A policeman in Torino stopped a man driving somewhere to inquire where he was going, and the man replied, “I’m going to make love to a friend.”  The driver got a 533-euro fine, but the policeman is now under disciplinary action for having put the video (probably via bodycam) on social media.  The friend is still waiting.

Yes, there were parties — the by-now usual rooftop barbecues with loud music, easy to detect by the patrolling police helicopters.  (In one city, one reveler actually shot at the helicopter.)  In Lodi, a young man who knew he was positive for the virus invited five friends over to his house.  Naturally they’ve all been fined; I’m still mulling over their concept of “friend.”

Then we move to the grassy embankment of the little river Piovego, near Padova.  On Easter Sunday afternoon, a young man was sitting on one of the steps leading down to the water.  Alone.  Therefore sad.  It’s wrong to be outside but he has an excellent reason, which he explained to the policemen (Guardia di Finanza, for the record).

It was on these steps that he had met his girlfriend; where they shared their first kiss; where they had spent such lovely times together.  But the separation imposed by the quarantine had somehow led her to break up with him.  And so, eyes filled with tears (I am not being sarcastic, I am reporting from the newspaper), he decided to return there to seek inspiration for a poem, a poem that would somehow win her back.

The officers recognized his predicament and were — as far as possible for someone in uniform — completely in sympathy with his plight.  They felt for him, even as they were writing out the ticket.  And so the young man was sent home, without his girlfriend, without his poem, and also without some 300 euros.

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Determined to smile

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Even though we are occupying a fairly small physical area, I’m making an effort to keep my brain and eyes open.  Funny things are not impossible to find.

A day or two before The Ordinance took over the entrance to the detergent/housewares/cosmetics shop, there was this urgent announcement: “There’s no alcohol.  For anybody who asks, A FINE!  1 spritz.”  What a refreshing breath of the air of the world that used to be.  There’s no alcohol because evidently the desire to disinfect has caused a run on that too.  So far, so serious.  But imposing a fine in the form of a spritz?  That belongs to the years of yore, when the spritz was the generally agreed-upon prize or penalty for anything.  Does anybody even remember what a spritz is?  I used to know… Now it sounds just about as foreign as “A FINE!  1 plate of flambe’d flamingo tongues.”
We had only stepped outside our house for some sunshine when Lino noticed something droll.  On the right is our Italian flag, hanging unceremoniously but not without respect on the kitchen shutter.  And above, on Donatella’s clothesline, are two bathrobes and a towel…
…which if you don’t insist on perfection you can recognize as echoing the colors of the national flag just below.  It’s a distant echo, true — the red and the green are startling Day-Glo relatives of the official hues (which as you know are Philippine Green, Fire-Engine Red, and Anti-Flash White).  And Lino also pointed out that the towel should have been in the middle.  But I’m ready to give her ten extra points  — and a spritz — for hanging out these exact three pieces, even if she hadn’t given any thought at all to the national flag.
What’s so funny about this scrap of the neighborhood?  I have been bemused by this ever since we moved down here 15 years ago.  It’s the progression of the structures.  The bridge is the widest of the elements; at some point a house was built that occupied half of the bridge.  That just baffles the hoo out of me, but in a tug of war between a house and a bridge, I suppose compromise becomes inevitable.  Moving ahead, we see that the next building has staked its claim to half of the street.  This little trick of cutting things in half had to stop there, or there wouldn’t have been any street left.
I’m sitting on the fondamenta after lunch, and a banana peel is doing the dead man’s float. Quarantine really opens your eyes, and sometimes way more than necessary.
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Now it’s masks and GLOVES

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The fruit-and-vegetable boat had to be creative to meet the new requirement of establishing a clear entrance and exit, but they managed just fine. It’s a curious sensation to be there without being smushed against the railing by 25 other people and having to somehow remember when your turn is.  The sign says “Beginning of the line for the boat.  Only 2 persons at a time.”  Massimo and Luca have been wearing latex gloves since this thing began, but today was the first time they wore masks.

By now everybody knows that anyone venturing outside should be wearing a mask.  But masks have been dang hard to come by over the past week or so.  One of our two pharmacies didn’t have them (sold out); the housewares/cosmetics store was selling them, one to a customer, for 2.50 euros (steep!); and the free masks that the evening news report had said would be available at the newsstands weren’t to be had even for ready money.  I know I said they were supposed to be free, but if they don’t even exist, that’s a minor point.

Well, I finally nabbed a package of masks at the pharmacy — they said it was the last one — then this morning there was a big sign at the newsstand stating that 5 masks would be given with each purchase of La Nuova Venezia (the other newspaper).  Naturally I bought the paper, got the masks, and so we’re set for a few days, considering how little we go out.  Lino has taken to calling them “muzzles.”

But now gloves have entered the scene.  A new decree was broadcast last night, another pump of the brakes to slow this virus down: Masks AND SINGLE-USE GLOVES ARE REQUIRED of anyone going into a store, or intending to buy anything outside, as well.  This is obviously required of the sellers, too.  Furthermore, the shop or sales area must have one (1) entrance and one (1) exit, clearly marked.  And, of course, the usual one-meter distance between the limited number of people permitted to be in the store together.

There were a few notices at the entrance of the detergent/housewares/cosmetics store.  On the orange sign: “To enter mask, scarf and gloves.”  On the yellow sign: “According to the ordinance you must use a mask or scarf and single-use gloves.  Those who don’t have them just ask for them.”  The idea wasn’t that they intended to give away free gloves forever, but they were being kind and/or savvy in supplying some for this visit only — in my case, so I could go in and buy gloves.  Virtually every shop had some sort of sign alerting their customers to the new rules, but they didn’t express themselves in the same way.  This was starting out strong, leading with “the ordinance.”

So today the neighborhood was peopled by individuals with faces concealed by all sorts of coverings — crinkly green paper, fuzzy white paper, some cloth, in assorted configurations.  But not everybody wants to accept the reason for the mask,  just as not everybody (looking at my brother-in-law) has accepted the reason for the car seatbelt.  I’ve seen people pull the belt across their chest and just hold it in their hand, without attaching it.  I have never grasped what they thought they were doing, but evidently they think windshield-face is preferable to doing what someone tells them to do, even if it’s for their own good.

Case in point: Sergio P, a very good guy whom I’ve rowed with on various occasions.  This morning, as I was walking home along the fondamenta, here he came.  We stopped to exchange hellos.  My voice was muffled, but his was not because, like a number of people I’ve seen, his mask was hanging around his neck, below his chin.  (People do this with dog muzzles, too.  “Yes,” the implication is, “my dog has a muzzle.”  The law says the dog has to have a muzzle.  Your point being?)

Maybe I looked at him funny, because he said “The mask is down because I’m smoking.”  Of course that’s logical, as far as it goes — you’ve got to be able to get the cigarette to your mouth.  But logic ends there, because if the mask is there to protect your lungs from the virus, why did you move it so you can wreck your lungs with smoke?

I didn’t ask him this.

So: Gloves and masks it is.

The bakery next door to the detergents took a slightly gentler approach: “Dear clients for the sake of courtesy enter with gloves and masks.  Thank you.”
The wine ship was slightly starchier:  “Notice to our kind clientele to be equipped with gloves and masks to enter.  Thank you.”  No invoking The Ordinance, but they didn’t say “please,” either.
The fishmongers, though, can’t quite bring themselves to order their clients around: “A notice to our kind clientele to enter 2 persons at a time equipped if possible with gloves and masks.  Thank you.”  “If possible”?  That sounds dangerously like a loophole they invented.
The bakery shop around the corner earns the prize for haiku-like succinctness, with the rules written on a bag typically used to hold your bread order:  “Obligatory enter with mask and gloves.”

 

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