Venetian Problems

Reopening report card

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Life tentatively returning to normal is perceptible in things that are the same, but different, and vice versa.  One unexpected example is the little egret (that’s its name, not my description) perched on the railing near our house. I’ve seen them on vaporetto docks, but never this far inland. I hope it doesn’t mean the world is about to end, because I really liked it.

Monday morning, things were different.  Yes, we (still) have no tourists, nor will we, probably, for an unknown stretch of time.  But it seemed like there were more locals around, somehow.  Life has begun to find its old grooves, though not always in a good way; “old grooves” means “do whatever I want.”  I was afraid of this.  More on this below.

There are still regulations, but they have evolved.  The Gazzettino published two pages of lists, according to category, of what we’re allowed to do during this phase.  (Phase 3 will begin June 3).

Masks are still required outdoors wherever it’s impossible to maintain social distancing, but gloves are no longer required inside a shop unless you intend to be touching the merchandise.  (Shops will have bottles of hand-sanitizer and sometimes gloves available.)  Clearly you can resist touching certain things, but only up to a point — I doubt that the employees will always be available to do your fetching and carrying.  And of course, if you’re buying clothing you’ll have to touch the merchandise.  Obvious.  Just plan on gloves.

Gloves are no longer required on the vaporetto.  Even more interesting is that the seating has been reassigned to accommodate more passengers.

Clearly, squads of workers spent Sunday night removing the previous seating labels and rearranging them.  No more need for the green ones, and the places reserved for the aged and variously infirm have returned.  However, rush hours have seen over-burdened vaporettos, with some unmasked passengers.  To which I say, what can one expect, even without tourists, if the vaporetto is still running only every 20 minutes?  (Note: Some of the slight increase in riders may be Italians from elsewhere in the Veneto, so yes, technically they would be tourists.)
The bottle of hand-sanitizing gel is now standard on each vaporetto, specifically the big battellos of the Lines 1 and 2. (I didn’t see any on the smaller motoscafos, such as the #6, so that’s just another thing I can’t understand.)  I admire how they’ve armored the bottle.  If there’s anything that screams “We know how people are,” it’s the weapons-grade metal bands protecting the bottle from the people we know how they are.
A closeup from another vaporetto.  Having observed the fate of casino ashtrays, the directors have taken clear steps to defend their hand sanitizer to the last squirt.

Did I say “more passengers”?  Transport is a mess now.  The number of boats hasn’t increased, and the 4.1 and 4.2 lines have yet to reappear.  A friend of mine waited 50 minutes at Piazzale Roma to be able to board a vaporetto bound for the Lido.  I think what’s so annoying about that is that the ACTV seems to have been hoping people just wouldn’t notice that they had cut service by 50 per cent.  When nobody could travel, the service could have been cut even more than that, but now people actually want to get somewhere.  Amazing, I know.  Who would have thought.

The main problem this week — and it’s a big one — is the increasing number of people not wearing masks, or with their masks pulled down below their chin.  I saw a man this morning talking with a friend, and the man had pulled his mask down to make talking easier.  I’m sure he put it back when it wasn’t needed anymore.  And social distancing?  Suddenly people here are having more difficulty than I am in estimating what “one meter” means (and they’ve grown up with the metric system)…

The Bar Torino in Campo San Luca has made the distance between tables brilliantly clear.  Of course, this works because tables stay put, unlike people, and tables also don’t have any particular desire to be closer to the nearest one, a desire that appears to have become irresistible to humans.
Tables demonstrating military precision and discipline.
It’s like the tables have been ordered to fall in by Prussian drill sergeants.
People, on the other hand, have to organize themselves, and the result is not encouraging.  Stand close together, or sit far apart?  Forget sitting.
They may have failed geometry, as I did, but unlike them I got top marks in the “How to wear a mask” course.  Still, the denizens of bar Strani (you may recall they were offering home delivery of cocktail kits) have been away from it, and their friends, for far too long, and have a lot of stuff to talk about.  Which everybody knows you can’t do with a mask.
Here’s what’s funny:  This list of rules, regulations, orders, statues, guidelines, is prominently placed at the entrance to the area pictured above.  Permit me to translate, because I think the manual of a DC-3 wasn’t much longer.  I’ll continue in the text below so as not to clog the caption.

NOTICE:  Do not overstep (this barrier), the zone is secure for persons at the tables.  To reach the restrooms, use the side door in the calle and respect the wait times.  The bar is disinfected (“hygienized”) at mid-day and at evening by means of a bleach-based solution as advised by the minister of health.  Entrance is forbidden during the disinfection!  

For your further care: Every table is supplied with spray and/or disinfectant wipes.  Clients are free to disinfect tables and seats.  Attention: The products are based on bleach solution (1 per cent).  At night an anti-bacteria lamp with ozone will be used, to guarantee as germ-free a local as possible. 

Please be aware of these and respect the rules, the customers, the owners, and the collective health.

NOTICE:  At the table please keep your gloves on till you are sure to be in a disinfected area.  You are requested to register (everybody) on our Facebook page to keep track of your presence to be notified in case of contagion.

You are requested to have your self-certification in case of any controls by the competent officers.  Specific disinfecting products will be available to you.  Remove your mask only to drink or eat.  Put on gloves and mask before asking for the bill.  Wait to be sure you have useful interpersonal space before moving around.

Avoid touching surfaces that you don’t need to use.

Please be aware of these and respect the rules, the customers, the owners, and the collective health.

Lest you think they have an extreme concern for their customers, which of course I hope they do, bear in mind that they also have an extreme concern for themselves. Literally overnight, like some diabolical algae bloom, masses of people gathering to party in public places has become a major problem.  It’s happening all over Italy. Fines for these happy-hour shenanigans range from 300 to 4,000 euros, and if that’s no deterrent to the blithe spirits, the bar and restaurant owners are enjoined to break up any groups forming in front of their establishment, otherwise they (the owners) risk suspension of their licenses and will be closed.

All this revelry is the big story these days, because groups MUST NOT BE PERMITTED TO FORM.  Front-page headline in the Gazzettino two days ago: “Spritz and folly: ‘I’ll close everything again'” (Luca Zaia, governor of the Veneto).  “The Halt! of the governor: Exaggerated nightlife and too many without masks: They should remember the deaths.”  “In Padova tens of young people drunk, carabinieri attacked” (wait, what?).  “The prefect: Stupidity everywhere, I’m astonished by such childishness.”

The Gazzettino’s headlines yesterday: “Wild nights: Maxi-fines and closures.  Bars packed and spritz without masks.  (Prime Minister) Conte: This isn’t the time to be partying.  Steep sanctions for whoever slips up and stopping the bars.”  Sorry for the translation — like so many things, it sounds better in Italian.

“Look,” Zaia states on the front page — “I’ll close everything.  We’ll go back to sealing ourselves in our houses with silicone.  The use of the mask can’t be seen as a whim, it’s a lifesaver.”

So these modest little photos of via Garibaldi are nothing compared to the locust-swarms of adolescents of every age that overnight have turned the streets and piazzas of Italian towns into pullulating masses of merriment.  What strikes me as modestly amusing is that in Venice a lot of this behavior used to be perpetrated by the much-maligned tourists.  I’m not saying that whenever the tourists return, and presumably resume their rampant rude revolting craziness, that I’m going to be glad.  I’ll be glad to see people enjoying the city, as I always have been when people come to Venice who do not act either like a herd of overstimulated wild boars or moribund water buffalo collapsing before they reach the river.

Speaking of tourists, this just in: The Biennale has been canceled for this year.  It had been scheduled as per normal from late May to late November; comes the pandemic and it was halved to run from late August to late November.  Now it will run from late never to late never.  Whatever disappointment you may feel about losing the chance to see the exhibitions is nothing compared to what the myriad tourist-tenders are feeling.  The 2019 edition logged almost 600,000 visitors, who not only paid the entrance fee but ate, slept, and did other money-intensive things here to the tune of 48,000,000 euros.  Whatever percentage of that amount the city treasury realized, it will be sorely missed this year.  Tourism to Venice isn’t just shirtless day-trippers laying siege to the Piazza San Marco.

Here is a little-sung facet of tourism: The ATM machine. There used to be three real banks in or very near via Garibaldi.  Two have closed, and three of these cash machines have appeared.  In fact, the Euronet people have scattered these across Venice like sorghum seeds in Nebraska.  But with the arrival of the virus and the disappearance of tourists, the machines are dead, blank black screens where cheerful instructions in many languages used to be.  The reason?  One merchant who has one of these contraptions told me that the company makes money on the currency conversion when operated by a foreign card.  There would be only about 50 euro cents to be earned from an Italian bank card, he said, as opposed to four or five euros on a non-Italian card.  So I guess when these machines are turned on again, we’ll know that Venice has finally turned the corner.
But miracle of miracles, the owner of the self-service laundromat thought to install an ATM in the shop and it is working just fine (probably better than the dryers after the acqua alta of last November).  This is a great thing for me, because for some reason the ATM at the only real bank in the neighborhood doesn’t accept my American debit card.  So this one dispenser here is my only convenient option for cash.  One catch: It’s only accessible when the laundromat is open……
Return to normalcy:  The Coop will finally be open again on Sundays, and I see that the closing time has been moved up from 7:30 PM to 8:00 PM.  The hand gel is still at its post, but the once-urgent notice taped to the door frame stipulating masks and gloves now seems like an afterthought.  Entry is no longer limited to just one person per family, but Governor Luca Zaia advises people “not to go with an entire busload of relatives.”

Another sign of the new times is price hikes.  Some hairdressers and bar owners are trying to make up lost ground by increasing their prices.  There have been reports of an espresso costing as much as 1.70 euros (as opposed to the normal 1 or 1.10).  Some salons have added 2 euros, marked “COVID” on the bill, to cover the cost of the single-use supplies they have had to lay in, and some have acquired expensive disinfecting equipment that cleans the air by ozone.  Some shops have a box for contributions to help defray the new costs.

There’s at least one normal thing I’d rather not see.  It has nothing to do with coronavirus, but is a sort of mine-canary for what I consider the dark side of life-as-usual here: Horrific motorboat accidents.  For nearly three months private motorboats were grounded, and at the moment motorboat traffic is still fairly modest (taxis are yet to be seen, for one thing), so accidents haven’t made news because there weren’t any.  But on May 18 there was a headline about a collision with a piling, and it brought a dank whiff of “Oh, so we’re back to doing that again,” not unlike the random shootings in the US once lockdown was lifted.

Yes, its owner/driver is in the intensive care unit of the hospital.  This bricola is between Celestia and Bacini, on Venice’s north and very busy edge, and the collision occurred at 3:30 PM (so none of the usual “speeding at night with no lights on” factors).  Accidents can happen, of course, and it’s still not clear how this occurred.  What’s important about this image, though, is that it’s obvious that the boat was going at considerable speed.  I realize that speed is what people love about motorboats (and cars), but the risks are everywhere. (Il Gazzettino)

Some people may say that love is eternal, but what’s really eternal is laundry.
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Venetian Problems

The reopening begins

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This is promising: Two men from some disinfection agency preparing to get Bar Mio ready for show time.

The big day is at hand: Monday, May 18, a whole slew of heretofore closed, locked, stashed-in-a-trunk-in-the-attic businesses will finally be allowed to reopen.

Reading the not-so-fine print on the terms and conditions, though, reveals a huge number of rules that most businesses are racing to accommodate.  Even so, it’s going to be extremely hard for them to make up for the lost two and a half months, not to mention begin making something like a profit; lack of tourists is going to be a challenge to overcome, fiscally speaking.  I say this in the sense of Mount Everest being a challenge to overcome, physically speaking.

Let’s take these in no order whatsoever.  No, let’s take them in the order that affects or interests me.  I’m leaving out all sorts of details bearing on gyms, second homes, beaches, and more, each of which carries its own payload of regulations.  And bear in mind that these rules may change between towns and regions — national regulation-making seems to have broken down.

General joy breaks forth because now you are allowed to see your friends, but only in the open air, NOT at anybody’s house, and NO PARTIES.  You still have to maintain distancing and avoid clumping together in groups.  From what I’ve seen in the past few days in the neighborhood, those rules might as well have been promulgated in some Manchu-Tungusic dialect.

The late morning crowd has returned to its usual ebullience, even though everybody has to stand outside — no tables or chairs.  The one-meter rule is being observed, of course it is.  Also the masks — yep, we’ve got ’em.  They’re supposed to cover the mouth and the nose?  They do just as well covering the neck.  One woman in Rome was stopped by a policeman because she was wearing her mask as a necklace and fined 400 euros.  This would be a cautionary tale in most places, but sunshine and spritzes blot out any thought of danger, whether from friends, police, or the virus.
Morning coffee is great even if you do have to stand outside on the street to drink it.

The sign on the docks is simple and straightforward.

Public transport.  You must wear a mask and gloves, and maintain one-meter distancing.  That’s pretty simple.

Where it has already started to become complicated is the fact that the passenger limit on the vaporettos is now 55, as opposed to the astronomical number of people — I read “400” somewhere, but maybe that’s an exaggeration? — that used to cram themselves aboard during high season.

So seats have been taken out of service, so to speak.  You have to manage your own distancing if you’re standing in the aisle, but the seats leave no room for debate.

Your eyes do not lie — out of six seats, four are forbidden. It is the most extraordinary sensation to have to stand amid all those empty seats.  Yes, I realize that the man reading the newspaper is not wearing gloves.  He must be invisible, or just come out of the autoclave.
Out of four seats, three are blocked. I have been known to get up to offer my place to an elderly person when there were ten empty but forbidden seats.
They’re really serious about this “mask and gloves” rule.
The view from the vaporetto is no less astonishing than the panorama seen from the dock. The Grand Canal in the late morning.

Let’s say that we might be dreaming to have tourists come back.  Maybe not ALL of them, but a good number.  Will distancing be abandoned and the vaporettos return to their former fall-of-Saigon ways?  At the moment, the #1 is scheduled every 20 minutes, so that’s obviously unsustainable if you have any more than the current amount of locals riding.  For one thing, the lines that would form in order to board would be unspeakably long.

And the lines would function only if everybody continued to obey the rules.  A few days ago a small riot was on the verge of breaking out at S. Maria Elisabetta (Lido) when the vaporetto captain halted the boarding process because the maximum number of passengers had been reached.  Everyone left on the dock released all that pent-up lockdown tension, and the Carabinieri were called to restore order.  And — I repeat — those were only locals.  Shall we add a few hundred tourists to the mix?

Fun fact:  There are eight vaporettos on which a place can be booked, to ensure that you (or more to the point, the commuters) don’t get left ashore because the vaporetto is full.  (There is also an app for booking, but I repeat, only on certain vaporettos.)

Not-so-fun fact:  If you have an urgent need to take a vaporetto and it’s at its maximum capacity — as happened to a child in pain heading to the hospital with his mother for an urgent treatment — you still might not be able to board.  Even doctors going to work have been left on the dock, waiting for the next boat.  The ACTV explains that the staff isn’t permitted to decide who gets to ride and who doesn’t (this makes sense, because otherwise there would literally be no end to it).  They say that if a passenger decides to disembark to give his place to someone else, the other people waiting on the dock have to give their approval.

Everybody squashed together in a doorway?  We won’t be seeing this again any time soon. As of Monday you will be allowed to stand at the bar to slurp your cappuccino or your spritz only if it’s possible to maintain the by-now ironclad one meter (three feet) of space between you and the next human being.

Bars/cafes:  As is clear to everybody, customers have taken matters into their own hands in terms of buying and consuming (outdoors) the usual products of these indispensable establishments.  A bar’s indispensability may have many definitions; to one person, it may mean the double espresso cappuccino they can’t make at home but without which life is not worth living, while to another person (me) it means the fabulously dependable places all over the city where you can count on finding a bathroom.

Feel free to snicker, but it’s going to die on your lips when you realize, as I did on the first morning of lockdown, that there was no Plan B for dealing with my first morning coffee’s progress once I was more than ten minutes away from home.  We were going to our favorite butcher, a trip that requires 20 brisk walking minutes.  And back.  Plus the wait-time (unknown) to enter the shop, and the time in the shop.  As we set out, I suddenly realized that if I had to go to the bathroom at any point, my only option was some nearby canal.  I have nothing against using canals, but they don’t come with many secluded corners.

Not to dwell on this, but the total absence of cafe’s suddenly took on cosmic significance.  How to sketch out an itinerary that takes into account that I will have to hold it till I get home? We all know that having to think about it makes it all much worse.

I will conclude this little meditation by saying that yes, we did walk to the Rialto market last Saturday for the first time in two months, and yes, after an hour and a half of travel (we were stopping for me to make photographs) I realized that the return trip was going to be a problem.  Our favorite bar/cafe was open for takeaway!  Our favorite barista/owner told me that nobody was permitted to enter!  The wild look in my eyes inspired compassion and I snuck inside like some criminal who already hears the heavy tread of the penitentiary police.

I have the deepest respect for the owners of bars and cafes, but never realized till now that their supreme value isn’t in the beverages and snacks, but that they provide a link in the chain of civilized life without which all life has to stay within ten minutes of home.

Goodbye to all that. Except for the cell phones. They’ll always be the guests of honor at any gathering.

Restaurants:  It’s not clear to me if the current system of takeaway will continue, but there is a s*#t-ton of rules for normal restaurant operation.  Tables must be spaced four meters (12 feet) apart, and diners at the same table must be seated one meter (three feet) apart.  Patrons must make a reservation (I’m not clear on how stringent that will be as time goes on), and the restaurant owner must retain the list of reservations for 14 days for possible tracing of customers.  Diners must wear masks except (perhaps obviously) when eating; waiters will be wearing masks and gloves.  No more printed menus.  No buffets.  Only credit cards will be accepted, to avoid contagion via cash.  The locale will be disinfected daily, more than once.

There will be fewer customers because so far there are only locals around, but even if the customers are tourists there will be fewer tables due to the shrinking of available space to seat them.

Arrigo Cipriani has stated that he isn’t going to reopen Harry’s Bar for the foreseeable future.  If he were to space out the tables in the famous bar according to the law, not only would he be left with something like a mere four tables in that small space, but the atmosphere would be deathly, and I don’t mean because of the virus.  Also, it’s preposterous to think of making any money with so few tables, even though the upstairs restaurant is somewhat more spacious.  The geometry is ruthless.

To sum up: There are some 336,137 restaurants in Italy employing 1,200,000 workers.  It has been estimated that under anti-contagion regulations, 80 per cent of restaurants will not be able to reopen.

Hair salons/barbers/beauty treatments: This is really going to be fun (oh, I sincerely think not.  Not for anybody).  There is an infinity of new decrees for the providers and purveyors of beauty.  Here is a clip that circulated on WhatsApp showing somebody’s fantasy of how your average salon will have to operate under the new distancing/disinfection rules:

 

So much for joking.  From now on, hair salons will accept customers only by appointment.  They will be allowed to open on Monday and even on Sunday.  No more magazines or newspapers lying around to be leafed through by thousands of contagious fingers.  Single-use capes.  The towels may be reused, but before washing they must be kept in a closed, impermeable bag, then washed for 30 minutes at 140 degrees F (60 degrees C).

Shops  Owners must guarantee cleanliness, disinfecting the store at least twice a day.  There must be gloves, as well as disinfectant gel, available at the entrance.

Beaches, swimming pools, etc. will be opening with another batch of spacing rules (umbrellas, group sports on the beach, space between swimmers).  There has been some excited comment about not requiring lifeguards to wear masks.  Important?  Not?  I can’t decide anymore.

Mass  Finally the priests will be celebrating mass.  The number of persons allowed in church will be limited (think tags of tape on the pews to indicate spacing).  Masks and gloves required.  Communion wafers distributed and accepted only with single-use-gloved hands.  It says in the newspaper that entrance will be forbidden to anyone with a temperature above 37.5 degrees C (99.5 degrees F).  It doesn’t say who is going to be checking these temperatures.

In conclusion: We’ve been told a million times by now that this new phase is experimental; if any of the virus numbers begin to increase, back we all go to square one.  “The virus hasn’t disappeared,” virologist Dr. Andrea Crisanti told La Nuova Venezia.  “And with the reopening, we hope for the best, but we need to prepare ourselves for the worst.”

The rule has been that shops or vehicles must have a clearly marked entrance and exit. At the Rialto Market, the spaces have been delimited by fences and there are only two ways by which a pedestrian can enter the precincts. Here is the Campo Bella Vienna, and the other is at the Pescaria.  Two of the local police (vigili) are stationed to check that anyone entering is wearing mask and gloves.
All of the side streets leading into the market have been blocked.  They’re serious about checking people and the only way to do that is to limit the options.  Lino’s gloves are in his pocket.
Unhappily, in this spot the fence isn’t what you’d call a serious barrier.  I saw a woman easily slip between it and the wall, but at least she was coming out.

One of the two entrances is in the Campo de le Beccarie.
If you don’t have mask and gloves on, you don’t get in.
I appreciate that they’re taking no chances, but I can’t quite grasp why two fences were necessary.
Cat, oblivious to masks, gloves, and disinfectant gel.  Perfection.
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Venetian Problems

Just stay home already

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The headline this morning: “Virus, another two deaths, too many people are ignoring the prohibitions.”

I know I promised you the mayor of Delia first thing today, but I decided to post this first.  Think of it as part of the overture before the curtain goes up.

There are so many facets to daily life in this extraordinary interval that it may be pointless to try to keep up.  And I’m not sure a daily “Cyrano’s Gazette” would even be interesting after a while.

Still, a riffle through the newspapers today shows that too many people in the Veneto still haven’t grasped the basic concepts of quarantine.  The first basic concept is “Do not exit your front door.”  Second concept: “This is going to annoy and inconvenience you.”  Third concept: “This isn’t just about you, buddyroe.”  Yet too many people are clearly annoyance-and-inconvenience-intolerant, if not openly allergic.

This is what your world is supposed to look like, though maybe without the canal.  No people.

As for the blithe spirits who continue to wander far from home and hearth in blatant contravention of the order (note: It’s not a request, it’s not a suggestion, it’s not an opinion) to stay home?  We don’t have to look far to find them.

The Carabinieri of the province* of Venice have stopped some 30 wanderers to inquire why the hell they (the wanderers) are not only outside their house, but even outside their province?  “My garden has immediate need of topsoil (terriccio).”  (I realize people have to care for their animals’ needs, but you’ll just have to muffle the demands from the begonias.)

“I have to meet my lover near the stadium.”  (Standard practice here would be that the Carabinieri immediately check on the whereabouts of the lover too.  So two people are now in the soup.)  This swain was not only outside his province, but outside his region — he lives in Friuli.

A bar in Favaro Veneto, six miles from Venice, was open at 9:00 AM (the hour is immaterial: it was open) serving drinks to a merry gathering of nine.  All of them were reported — that’s the official denunciation, plus undoubtedly a fine — including the owner of the bar.

The same case in a bar in the town of Santa Maria di Sala, and also in Passarella, a little postage-stamp of a village outside San Dona’, whose complaisant owner opened his bar for some people (it’s a small town, they could even all be relatives) who were found playing cards. The classic excuse of “I wasn’t there, and if I was, I was sleeping” cuts no ice at all these days.  All of them were fined, and the bars are now what the police mean by “closed.”  In these cases the Carabinieri typically attach a notice to the door: “Sotto sequestro” — impounded.  If you try to sneak into an impounded place to have a nightcap, this would indicate that your passion for gambling — not with cards, but with your next few years — has risen to a whole new level.

In other fragments of the hinterland, the respective owners of a pizzeria, a bar, and a pastry shop were all discovered to be conducting business as usual, and now they’re not.  To paraphrase the song, what part of “closed” do you not understand?

Just to remain in the nautical idiom.

Speaking of which, for the next two Sundays the supermarkets will be closed.  Translation:  Get your shopping done early, because that reason for being out has been removed.  You will have no motive whatever, apart from relieving the dog, to be outside your house, or driving around in your car, on your unicycle, on waterskis, on your feet, on anything.

I feel sorry for the dog, though; he’ll be worn to a nub by how many times he’s going to be taken outside on Sunday.  Now that I think of it, I’m waiting to hear that some clever dog owner (or ten) has offered to rent their pet for a small consideration.  It will happen.

This morning I went to do some topping-up shopping in order to remove any necessity of going to the store tomorrow on the eve of the first supermarket closure.  Too bad I can’t go out and photograph the lines, they ought to be considerable.

Our trash collection service has accelerated.  The old routine was that two men (both adorable, I have to say), each with his big handcart, would arrive in our little side street between 8:15 and 8:25.  Maybe 8:30.  One cart was for kitchen garbage, the other for the recyclables of the day, either paper or plastic/glass/cans.

The past two days, though, the two have disappeared, and one new man (probably also adorable, but his mask makes it hard to tell) shows up at 8:00 or 8:05 with just one cart into which everything goes.  And he doesn’t wait around.

I asked him why he’s suddenly passing by so early, and he said — in a rather rushed manner — “We’re short-staffed, and also we have to finish by 10:00.”  First we were running low on doctors, now it’s garbage collectors.  And coming up are the officers of the law — the Carabinieri, etc. are thinning out, which is one reason why the Army will be joining the quarantine control brigade.

This is to help me keep my smile in working order. I hope to use it again at some point.

The mayor of Conegliano is ready to take on his citizens who can’t resist (God, they’re everywhere!) going out walking or running or bicycling among the lovely vine-draped hills of the surrounding Prosecco-producing area.  Starting tomorrow, the police are going to be sending up drones, three at a time, to surveille the landscape. The mayor’s pretty conscientious to have fired this warning shot.  I’d have just sent the drones up and then hauled in the nets, full of thrashing quarantine-breakers.

It appears that there’s one thing we are never going to run out of, and that’s the special cases who are totally incapable of changing their routine, or hearing anything outside their own cranial cavity.  These people remind me of the horses I used to ride in Central Park in New York, long years ago.  They were so broken-down mentally from doing the same circuit all day that only by near violence could you make them respond to your commands and not those of their muscle memory.  “At the second oak tree we’ll trot,” their inner voice said, and it would take a while for them to notice the outer voice, which was me, saying “Actually, no, WE WON’T.”  I bet they talked about me once they were back in their stalls.

“Why doesn’t she want to trot at the oak tree?  Does she want to wait till we reach the ginkgo?  Why?”

“Boy, I’ve had some weird ones, but she was the worst.”

“She’s coming back tomorrow.”

“Maybe she’ll forget….”

 

  • A “region” in Italy (there are 20) corresponds roughly to the states of the United States.  The Veneto is a region.  The regions are sub-divided into provinces, a large area surrounding a major town, which gives the province its name.  The Veneto is made up of 7 provinces, Venice being one of them.

 

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Tourism

Tourist quantity, postscript

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I neglected to include photos of another “ripple effect” of tourism: Most of the fruit and vegetable vendors at the Rialto Market are making ends meet by selling packages of dried pasta-sauce mix.  These have somewhat replaced the formerly ubiquitous packages of colored pasta (aquamarine fusilli, etc.), but in any case are aimed at the same public.

No need to say more.

A typical stall at the Rialto Market; at least half the space is dedicated to the pasta-sauce packages. And, like the illegal handbags that once were omnipresent, the packages from stall to stall are exactly the same.
Long tubes….
… or flat packs, the contents don’t vary. But people like them. Is this a likely gift item for your friends back in Eek, Alaska?
It’s like a colored tide has overwhelmed the market, with dried stuff and seasonings instead of algae.
People must like them, otherwise there wouldn’t be so much. This was an unknown product until just the past few (three?) years. You could probably create a simple graph delineating the increase of these and tourists, and the decrease of everybody else.  I guess you know that you could make virtually the same dish from scratch, and it would taste better.  But the packages are indeed very colorful.

 

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