Mask-makers are impressive artisans, even though all their skill and talent are devoted to making something frivolous. Here is Mario Belloni at Ca’ Macana. Read more in my article about masks for “Craftsmanship Quarterly.”
Worthy causes abound, I’m happy to say, as we’ve discovered over the past few months.
Not to pick favorites (she said, picking a favorite), but there is a fundraising effort called “masquerAID” underway in Venice, organized by a group of Venetian mask-makers (mascareri) in order to raise funds for the purchase of surgical masks for the Red Cross volunteers. (Full disclosure: One of the organizers is a colleague and friend. But don’t let that sway you.)
Among the many things in its favor, it’s helping (A) health workers and (B) Venetian artisans. (B) is especially valuable, due to the now near-total lack of customers since the virus obliterated tourism.
Here’s the plan:
masquerAID
carnival masks for medical masks
Safeguard the artisanal production of traditional masks by donating medical masks to the Red Cross
MasquerAID – carnival masks for medical masks is a project of a nonprofit association funded by a group of Venetian professionals and friends to offer a contribution to the city of Venice in the wake of the COVID-19 crisis.
Venice relies almost entirely on tourism and in the ongoing global crisis, when all activities have been in lockdown, many small artisan workshops are facing the threat of permanent closure.
The concept of our initiative is to underwrite a selected group of mask makers by enabling them to continue to ply their trade and overcome the most critical phase of the emergency as tourism has come to a standstill. MasquerAID – carnival masks for medical masks will provide the selected artisans with an opportunity to make income for the next two months. At the same time, proceeds will fund the purchase of medical masks helping the volunteers of the Red Cross engaged in fighting the pandemic on the front line.
A precious exchange using the carnival mask, symbol of lightheartedness, joy and beauty while working towards the greater good of our community: supporting these treasured and unique artisans and at the same time helping the Red Cross.
If you love Venice as we do, and wish to contribute to preserving the most precious gems and the soul of this irreplaceable world heritage site, please give generously and receive as a token symbol of our gratitude a traditional mask that has been made by our local craftsmen.
There are three individual mask designs available according to the size of your donation. All three have been inspired by the original “medico della peste”, the famous mask medical doctors used to wear at the time of the black plague: the long beaks were in fact filled with medical spices as a form of protection from the disease. These three masks will be a symbolic icon we use to spread a positive message worldwide, while at the same time be our symbol of gratitude and appreciation to you for your help.
On the basis of Solidarity and Beauty, please support Venice, support the people who work here and support the recovery from the ongoing state of emergency.
Donate towards medical masks and receive our special Corona Doctor Mask!
DONATIONS LEVELS:
FOLLOWER: For a minimum contribution of 25 € you will receive our special gift of a handmade miniature of the plague doctor mask in leather
FRIEND: For a minimum contribution of 100 € you will receive an exquisite, small, handmade papier maché mask
SUPPORTER: For a minimum contribution of 200 € you will receive a beautifully crafted, life-sized handmade papier maché mask
BENEFACTOR: For donations of 500 € or more, you will receive a beautifully crafted, life-sized, handmade papier maché mask. In addition, your contribution will support and promote the work of all the artisans involved in the project.They will contact you and thank you personally.
* all proceeds go towards the purchase of medical masks and to the production of artisanal masks in equal terms
Even a small donation could help MasquerAID Maschere Per Mascherine reach their fundraising goal. And if you can’t make a donation, it would be great if you could share the fundraiser to help spread the word.
Made by Carlo Setti for a theatrical production and based on real people (not the one with pencils stuck into his cranium). Papier mache’ molds are made inside out — not something you learn in a day.Fantasy runs wild at Kartaruga, where Francesca Cecamore can make anything she can imagine, or that a customer asks for.
Enjoy this moment from a few days ago, because you may never see it again. A lone person rowing his sandolo (the type normally used by professional sandolistas) toward the open lagoon, or possibly to the boatyard. He may be thinking he’d better be ready — who knows when a customer might suddenly appear?
During the past week or so life has finally “re-opened” after lockdown, and the process has felt strangely like the way you felt the first time you tried to skate.
Put another way, everything is still a little awkward.
I’m not saying this is ideal. Just saying it had become normal.
So we’ve been upgraded now to Normalcy 2.0: Shorter lines at the supermarkets, at least occasionally, and sometimes no lines at all (I do not understand this — under quarantine the lines stretched for miles. Have people stopped needing to eat?), but you still must wear a mask and gloves when you enter. Masks are required only in enclosed spaces where maintaining social distance is difficult, though many people, including me, are still wearing masks out on the street. More people are outdoors, of course — the end of lockdown and beautiful weather guarantee it. Cups of espresso are available everywhere. I must be dreaming.
Our favorite little restaurant finally re-opened, so we celebrated the other evening by stopping for dinner; we were the only — perhaps even the first — customers, happily munching undercooked pizza because we were so glad to get back in the groove, and also helping the owner do the same. She’d been closed since December, thanks to the apocalyptic acqua alta of last November 12 (anybody remember that?)
This sign didn’t stay up long, but was worth noticing: “Turn off the virus! Turn on your business!” This company uses ozone as disinfectant. The process evidently offers several advantages over other methods, especially in restaurants and salons where the odor of bleach or other chemicals is unpleasant.On the subject of signs, you recall that all the death notices during quarantine stated that funerals were very restricted (only closest relatives, no Mass, etc.). This is the first indication of some remediation: “On April 1 she was lost to the love of her dear ones” (standard), but it then continues: “Not having been able to celebrate the religious function on the occasion of the funeral, the Holy Mass of intercession will be celebrated at the Basilica of San Pietro di Castello Saturday June 13 at 11:00 AM.” It’s interesting that this was put up more than a week in advance.
A few tourists have begun to appear, which ought to be the best indication that the worst is over. And yet, although I know that the city needs a certain quantity of them in order to survive, seeing them inspires the same dread as seeing the water in the glass on the dashboard in “Jurassic Park,” quivering from the heavy tread of whatever dinosaur was approaching. Yes, I have just compared tourists to saurian predators. Funny how you think you want something and then it turns out you really didn’t.
And so one of the prime features of Normalcy 1.0 is still active: The slob tourists. Some people were hoping that now, seeing that the decks had been cleared, the city could attract the elite tourist (how many times have I heard this dream? About as often as I hear how we’d spend the millions we’d win in the weekly lottery, and with the same probability). Of course we want tourists like Grace Kelly and Cary Grant, but instead we get two German men who went swimming in the Grand Canal a few days ago.
Odd, in that this stunt is usually the specialty of drunk American boys in the hottest depths of summer. But who can search the intricate pathways of the touristic brain? And this pair was not the first to succumb to the lure of the canals. On May 26, back in the early days of Phase 2 when travel was just beginning to be permitted within the Veneto, two young women from near Vicenza were seen lounging in their swimsuits on a fondamenta in Cannaregio, enjoying the sun and evidently anticipating a little dip in the rio degli Ormesini. Offended locals alerted the police, who came to explain the situation to them and impose fines (250 euros / $282) on each of them.
As for the German men, their being 40-something adults complicates the equation, as well as their not being intoxicated, as does their sang froid in answering a bystander’s question as to what the heck they were doing with another question: “What the hell does it matter to you?” (freely translated). Yes, they managed to have their little swim, and I hope it was everything they’d dreamed of because they were nabbed, each fined (450 euros / $508) and marked as forbidden to return to Venice.
So refreshing, so expensive, so … illegal. (galileusweb.com)
It’s something to ponder: Back in the olden days of last year, the loutish tourist (turista cafone) seemed to appear as the occasional freak in the midst of the masses. You think, well, when there are 50,000 visitors a day, it’s probably inevitable that a few boors will slip through. But evidently the boors are free spirits who have no need of concealing themselves. I’ve begun to wonder if there could be a factory somewhere that manufactures these people and sends them at random around the world. Do they have homes and jobs and normal lives? I just cannot picture them in some regular place, like regular people.
Why am I going on about this? Because it seemed like we wanted tourists to come back. Now I, secretly, am beginning to rethink that. Of course businesses want them, I understand and respect that. More about that in a later post. But on a personal level, I’m going to confess that despite the many uncomfortable and inconvenient aspects of lockdown (starting with the fear of falling ill, or maybe dying, and ending with the total lack of cafe’s), I’ve already begun to feel a guilty little tremor of nostalgia for the peace and the quiet.
Yes, I realize I could find all I want in the Gobi Desert. But I like the canals as much as everybody from Germany and America and Italy and Belgium…..
In fairness, these visitors are from the Veneto, by which I mean there is some typical tourist behavior that is not unique to foreigners. I know this because the city was full of families and groups that sunny Sunday afternoon (May 31), as the restrictions on travel within the Region had just been lifted.Along the Riva dei Sette Martiri, there were couples and family groups just walking along, enjoying the sunshine.The vibe was somehow like a really relaxed “Su e Zo per i Ponti” (scheduled for April 19 this year, but obviously canceled). It’s an event that is a great excuse for groups, families, clubs, etc. to get out for the day, explore Venice, benefit a charity, totally clog up many narrow streets, etc. It always seems like a party, which is very nice. I’ve never participated because I go up and down the bridges all year long.
The vaporettos have reached their standard configuration now, with red labels indicating the places you are not permitted to sit. So this person is standing. It’s wonderful.And on the other side of the same boat, I watched this lady just plunk herself down on top of the miraculously invisible red label, and make herself comfortable. She was not a tourist; I’ve always said that plenty of Venetians can be just as uncivilized as foreigners.
As it happens, I saw the same thing happen on the big #1 coming down the Grand Canal yesterday, but I intervened.
The interior of the cabin is organized with three seats facing three seats, etc. and in that case I had the free seat in the center of one row, but the seat facing me was red-labeled. The window seat was occupied, and the aisle seat was free. A woman enters with her young son, who might have been eight or nine years old. She parks her shopping trolley in the aisle, parks her son in the seat next to it, and parks herself in the forbidden seat in front of me. (Beat. Beat. Beat.)
“Why are you looking at me?” she asks. “Because you’re sitting in a seat with a red label.” She then rebuts, not unpleasantly but with complete conviction, that she has to sit there, she has no choice, because something something son something aisle. I say “The seat has a red label, you’re not allowed to sit there.” More reply. “So,” I say, “if everybody just does whatever they feel like, there’s no point in having the labels, is that right?” And I get up and walk over to Lino across the aisle, and just stand until another seat opens up.
Later, when I explained why I had been standing there, he said “Wrong! You should have told me!” (Unchain the Lino!) Or I could have gone to tell the marinaio, who ties up the boat at each stop, and he would have come and enforced the rule. They actually count how many people disembark at each stop, and count the same number of people boarding, after which they close the barrier.
I’ll keep these options in mind for my next experiment in the new order of things. Glad to know I’ll have backup. The new normal is looking kind of interesting.
Walking home, I see this. But what is it? A man with a … lamp? If life were normal, I’d immediately have understood it to be some piece of modern performance art as part of the Biennale. I say “performance art,” because the art wouldn’t have been the lamp. It would have been the man in a boat, floating around with a lamp. Nowadays, though, invoking the Biennale is obviously impossible.Mystery solved: It’s moving day, and he got stuck with the torchere, or a cult object from some indigenous Amazonian tribe. Something too valuable to have been loaded onto the other boat with everything else. The fact that whoever it is has finally been able to move in is a great sign of the return to normal life.This is our normal: Rowing out in our boat to the Great Hunting Grounds where Lino seeks clams. It’s like meditation or something for him, he totally loses track of everything. You must imagine the thought balloon over his head: “Just one more…..”.
The “Serenissima” takes the lead in the corteo, bearing trumpeters and assorted officials (mayor, patriarch, high-ranking military officers, etc.) from San Marco to the church of San Nicolo’ on the Lido. There all the boats pause to witness the tossing of the commemorative ring and laurel wreath into the water, with appropriate benediction. This year the event was scheduled for May 24, but there will be no boats.
May is a special month to many people, for many reasons. I believe a million poets have made that observation.
For me, the month of roses and gobies and European flounder (there is definitely a poem in there waiting to be lured out), has always been one of the most stressful in the whole year. I would begin dreading May in February, because of two enormous, hence exhausting, annual events that involved Lino and me: the festival of the Sensa (Ascension Day) and the Vogalonga. (“Involved” means planning as well as execution; Lino is part of the Committee of the Sensa, and I would work in the registration office of the Vogalonga for the two weeks leading up to the event.)
Then I would participate in both events — the boat procession, or corteo, for the Sensa, proceeding from Venice to the Lido, and the Vogalonga, which when everything went well would take a good five hours. Things did not always go well; one year it took us seven hours to complete it, due to contrary wind and/or tide, some less-than-prepared rowers in our boat, etc. That’s not a complaint, just a statement. These things happen and you just grit your teeth and carry on. Apart from the rowing itself, we’d see many friends only once a year for the Vogalonga, so any empty spaces in the calendar or the energy of that weekend were filled with convivial (fancy word for “running far into the night”) gatherings in apartments, restaurants, boats, etc.
But this May is abnormal, melancholy, bizarre, because both events have long since been canceled, taking all that annoying confusion, exhaustion, and tension with them. And I’m still not happy! Because this is weird!
The Sensa has been reduced to the commemorative mass at the church of San Nicolo’ on the Lido; it will be attended by the usual personages, but there will be no boats, no tossing of the wreath or the ring, and no races. Why? Because GATHERINGS ARE FORBIDDEN. People would want to GATHER along the shore to watch, and the rowers would certainly be gathered in their boats (forbidden), and the boats would be gathered, and just no.
The corteo was always wonderful, so I’m putting in a few photos of past editions, seeing that we won’t be on the water on Sunday.Apart from the challenge of social distancing inside the boat, there would be no point in distancing the boats. Trying to get as close as possible to the “Serenissima” is part of the fun.
I suppose some private boats could form a procession, each one rowed by the permitted maximum of two people, but that would be even sadder than no boats at all. I told Lino I thought it would extremely cool if every boat club would send their big representative boat, but instead of a full crew each one could be rowed by two people (even the boats that are set up for ten, or 12, or 14 people) or — even better! — rowed by just one person. He said he didn’t think there were that many individuals capable of rowing a big boat by themselves, so there goes that little inspiration. Also, only I have this sort of crackpot idea.
Don’t think it’s crazy to suggest rowing the boats alone — all gondolas are rowed the same way, no matter how big they are, and all of the rowing clubs’ ceremonial boats are gondolas. Here is Lino in Greece on an 8-oar beauty. For him it was nothing even remotely resembling a big deal. He went out that morning on his own because it made him feel happy. He loved that boat.
But back to reality. The limitations on rowers would make it impossible to form a corteo. Here is the list of regulations from our boat club; notice that using the boats requires booking a time slot to ensure that only the rowers going out are permitted to even be in the clubhouse. Fine, it was just a fantasy.
“It is forbidden to use the changing rooms and showers in the club. Boats may go out with one rower. Boats with two rowers can go out if they respect the minimum distance of two meters between them in the boat. More than two rowers can go out without respecting the distance requirement EXCLUSIVELY if they are family members who are living together. Use of the mask is OBLIGATORY (worn in the correct manner, that is, covering the mouth and the nose) before and after rowing (one boards and descends from the boat with the mask on). Booking the time of going out and returning will be made EXCLUSIVELY on the WhatsApp group of the club, allowing 20 minutes between exit and return time in order to avoid meetings (overlapping, running into other people, however you want to put it) in the clubhouse. If on return you find that another boat is preparing to exit the club, wait at a distance till the other boat has departed. Seeing the situation, to guarantee the safety and health of all members, the Council of Directors will look at the recorded videos to ensure that all the members respect these rules. Anyone who goes out MUST, on return, wash the club’s boat and oars with water and bleach-based soap provided in the club.”
The Vogalonga — this year would have been the 46th — was scheduled, as always, a week after the Sensa — May 31, to be precise. It has never been canceled, even in the worst weather. A pandemic is clearly so much worse than weather. Besides, no one can travel, the hotels are closed, and just to review the basics: Gatherings of people are forbidden. If some 2000 boats in the water don’t constitute a gathering, then we need a new definition.
So the two big events that made May matter have been expunged and left only its husk ready to fall off the calendar just like March and April have already done. What an ignoble end to a once-princely month.
Happily, spring is proceeding with its usual nonchalance, bestowing any number of special gifts (do they still qualify as gifts if you count on getting them every year?). Blackbirds singing at dawn and at sunset, the limetrees just beginning to waft their delicate perfume along viale Garibaldi, the first magnolia on the tree next to General Emo Capodilista. The signs of the season haven’t failed us.
And we’re well underway with the artichokes (their moment is almost over), and fresh peas and asparagus. The fruit is in that awkward stage between winter and summer — we’re bored to death with apples and bananas, but the first cherries are expensive and flavorless, the apricots should be ashamed of pushing themselves forward so aggressively because they are definitely not ready yet, and some vendors are offering melons, for Lord’s sake. Everybody knows that melons were put on this earth to save your life in July and August; in May you might as well just sell photos of melons, the taste would be the same.
Fish, however, are having their moment. “Quando la rosa mette spin’, xe bon el go’ e el passarin.” When the rose puts out its thorns, the gobie and the flounder are good. Seppie belong in this category too, but it doesn’t rhyme.
Lino, who has fished all year long all his life, tells me this: “The go’ are always in the lagoon. The passarini lay their eggs in December and go out into the Adriatic; they come back in between March and April. The seppie begin to come into the lagoon in March. In May and June the gilthead bream, striped seabream and sea bass come in to lay their eggs….” I know things are proceeding according to plan because we have seen little swarms of fingerlings in the canal several times.
Roses are everywhere. Check.The go’ (Gobius ophiocephalus) are taking over the fish markets just now. Check. They’re excellent when fried (as are so many things…) but we always cook them for a classic Venetian risotto which literally nobody makes anymore. Do not believe the rare restaurant that claims to serve them – Lino hasn’t found one yet. Even I have detected impostors. These are so easy to prepare that I can’t imagine why anyone would want to fake it.The passarin (Platichthys flesus luscus) used to be abundant; Lino has slain and consumed what must have been tons of them. Fried, in saor, simmered (their broth makes a delectable risotto), this is just a wonderful fish. I’m showing a stock photo because they have virtually disappeared from the fish markets. I have heard that the gilthead bream muscled them out of the lagoon, and it’s true that the bream have become a fish-market standard by now.I have read that seppie are probably the most intelligent invertebrates. I respect that, even if they do look like Mr. Magoo.“Bovoleti,” or little snails, are making an early appearance. They’re always sold in the fish markets, even though they are obviously a land animal that is harvested in the fields. I say they’re premature because they will be bitter as long as the artichokes are still being sold. In June, their flavor improves.Let’s hope it’s a sign, and not just a meteorological cliche’.
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.
