As you know, just going outside and walking around here — as everywhere, probably — provides all sorts of opportunities to observe the strangeness of people and life.
Let’s take tourists. Yes, they’re back — not millions of them, but a choice assortment. The number is increasing as we approach the launch of the Venice Film Festival next Wednesday, September 2, but I don’t think that has anything to do with the glimpses I’ve had. This is not a screed about tourists, they’re just one part of the summer scenery.
It was nearing midnight when we boarded this vaporetto bound for home, and who should board but Hermann of the Teutoburg Forest, with his substantial wife and daughter (not visible here, but I can tell you she was feeling the heat and the trip, bless her heart).I turned the corner coming back from the supermarket and discovered visitors. The door facing them leads to an apartment rented to tourists, and we’ve just begun getting used to seeing them come and go again. But this was the first time I’d ever seen anyone imagine that they’d also rented the street, and its walls. (The green shutters to the left belong to our kitchen window.) There’s so much to wonder about here. Do they sprawl on the street back in their own city? I know that many men feel that the T-shirt is the emblem of freedom from the daily necktie. Street-sprawling is freedom from … chairs? I was wondering how to politely ask them to move, then realized that the sun would soon be taking care of that — it moves from right to left here, so before very long that refreshing shadow will have disappeared and the street will be broiling. When I glanced outside again, they had gone somewhere else.
Fun fact (that caption was already too long): I could only say “sprawl,” but there’s a great word in Venetian for what’s he’s doing: stravacar (strah-vah-KAR). It’s based on “vacca,” the Italian word for cow. Hence, lolling about like a cow in the field.
This bridge, which I cross many times a day because it’s the one nearest our house, exerts an occult force upon people, compelling them to stop at the bottom right corner. It’s usually three or four women, or a few men, with or without children, dogs, or shopping carts; they tend to cluster there for leisurely confabulations. Evidently this is a sort of intersection, but the fact remains that it’s pretty inconvenient for anyone trying to pass in either direction. Sure, I can make a wide turn, that’s not a problem. None of this is a problem (except for the really old people who need to hold onto the railing). But why a tourist would want to stop at that specific spot is a mystery. Photos — I understand that bridges are the perfect setting for photos of your girlfriend in Venice. But at the bottom of the bridge? Seated? In the shadow? And — may I repeat — at the corner where inevitably someone will be wanting to pass, or dogs to piss (not made up)? And if it has to be a corner, why not the other corner?
I know nothing about this situation; the clip was forwarded to me by a friend via WhatsApp. My friend says it’s not a joke, and frankly, it’s hard to tell anymore when people are serious and when they’re just fooling around (though the fact that her entire outfit is some shade of pink also deserves notice). It looks like the marinaio who is supervising the boarding is taking her seriously. Using both of his hands to indicate “The boat’s already full” means it’s seriously already full. Too bad we couldn’t have put her on the vaporetto with Hermann and his backpack. I could have taken bets, like at a cockfight.
This extraordinary boat was tied up here for a few days. I’ve seen boats in all the stages of life, but never one so gloriously unkempt and so proudly loved: “The most beautiful boat in Venice,” it says in Venetian. Its mother must have stuck that label on it one day as it was going to school.There’s something enchanting about this thing — it’s like it took a wrong turn on Reelfoot Lake and ended up here. The curious wooden seats fold outward in a cunning way to form a table, and the mini-motor is the perfect touch; normally, 40 horses are the fewest you’ll almost ever see on boats around here.Massimo and Luca have taken two weeks off, and they left their fruit and vegetable boat in a state of unprecedented order and cleanliness. The planter they keep on the bow contains some useful herbs, but this sturdy little sentinel rosebud seems to have been left on watch till they return. Perhaps on the night before they come back, all the petals will fall off, in a sort of “Mission accomplished” kind of way.This woman knows her cat. I would never have thought that you could just open a carrier in a public (i.e., not safe and familiar) place and know that the feline would do nothing more than glare at you all the way home. The creature might have been on some tranquilizing medication, but if that were the case it doesn’t explain the glare. Supposing that this is her pet’s natural expression makes me feel uneasy, but not as uneasy as noticing that they’re traveling in what appears to be the my-mask-refuses-to-cover-my-nose section of the vaporetto.Let me set the scene: This is a four-oar sandolo, which for reasons of safety Lino always positions on its little cart with the bow downward.This is the same boat before it was repaired, in the same position in its shed. The bow is down, protruding just far enough outside the roof that it caught the rain from a recent storm. Rain has visibly accumulated, but rain isn’t supposed to accumulate on your boat, especially if it’s made of wood. In fact, a simple solution was discovered centuries ago: A little hole called an ombrinale. As long as gravity is still working, the water will drain out all by itself.But as you see, the water is just sitting there, because as you can also see, in this case the ombrinale was drilled on the OPPOSITE side of the little piece of barrier wood — a piece of wood that was placed there specifically to compel the water to flow out through the ombrinale.I am obsessed with this; It’s a perfect example of “You had ONE JOB.” These boats aren’t mass-produced, they’re made by hand, one at a time. I have tried to find, or even invent, an explanation, but I guess it will just have to continue to speak for itself.But let’s forget about boats and go ashore. Here is a fondamenta near our house. You can see, reasonably far ahead, something in the center of the walkway. Old Venice hands recognize it as sawdust, and the same hands know it’s there for one specific purpose: To cover an unusual quantity of dog poop, thus preventing an unwary person from stepping in it. So far, so good.It’s pretty big, hard to miss. And there’s clearly plenty of room to walk around it.But maybe not. I understand the bicycle treadmarks, at least they’re around the edges and besides, only kids are riding them. It’s the grown-up footprint smack in the center that makes me reflect on the person who did not see it coming. No sarcasm here — if you don’t see this from half a street away, something way more important is going on in your life, and I can only be thankful that the sawdust-distributor got there first.Meanwhile, there’s always this…And this…And, of course, this.
I have seen a tourist. I have heard a foreign language. I have seen a taxi and a gondola. I have heard the muffled roar of an airplane taking off. I have seen a barge carrying bags of hotel laundry. And I’ve heard the deep crackling sound of a rolling suitcase. I noticed each one of these, over the past month or so, as a faint, flickering sign of a pulse that could mean that Venice is returning to life.
For anyone whose livelihood depends on tourists — that is, just about everybody — the sight of one must be like the sight of a dripping faucet to a person suffering the last stages of severe dehydration. And someone reading a guidebook instead of squinting at a phone seems like a vision from the era of the Grand Tour.Pioneers! (This was early July.)
Not to belabor the metaphor, but it’s one thing to survive a near-death experience, and another to get well. Things are still bad; tourism is making only a tentative, baby-steps recovery. It’s all very little, and for this year, too late for anyone to begin to feel good. But as I say, there are signs.
It was natural for non-Venetians to imagine that life here under quarantine must have been beautiful without tourists. Au very much contraire — it’s been a mar de lagrime (sea of tears), as they say here, because everything in Venice lies at some point on six degrees of separation from tourism.
Having said that — just as an aside — don’t think that the economy of the nation is built only on gelato and selfies at the Leaning Tower. Here’s a fun fact: Italy is the second-ranked industrial country in Europe; in 2019, over 75% of the EU’s value of sold industrial production was generated by six Member States: Germany (28% of the EU total), Italy (16 %), France (12 %)… Of course, tourism is called an industry, too, but I don’t think you can say a country produces it in the same way it produces eyeglasses, machinery, pharmaceuticals, clothing, cars and — wait for it — robots.
But let’s get back to tourists. (Yes, it’s unfortunate that you can’t have tourism without them.) Italy is the fifth country in the world, and third in Europe, in terms of international tourist arrivals. In 2018, tourists from abroad made up 86.6 percent of all visitors to Venice. (Domestic tourist arrivals in 2019 were a small, but perfectly formed, 747,000.) Arrivals from anywhere in the world since March, 2020: …. Five? One official estimate suggests that Italy won’t be back to pre-pandemic levels of tourism before 2023.
The lure of sitting on the fondamenta’s edge has endured, but, at least at the beginning of the reopening, there seems to have been an improvement in the visitors who succumb. (For the record, two German ladies.)The earliest days of the reopening saw many more families coming to explore, though they still arrived mainly on the weekend, and often stayed only for the day. And a higher number than usual were (and still are) Italian.And a few daily tourist boats have begun to return, bringing a few more hardy souls. As the numbers increase, ever so slowly, the percentage of barbarians seems to have remained the same. I read that in Campo Santa Margherita some people are back to using the streets as a latrine; in the sestiere of Santa Croce, tourists have been seen washing themselves and their laundry at one of the fountains.
Many hotels are now open, but with reduced staff and reduced numbers of guests, too. The shops are offering dramatic sales, from 50-70 percent off. Gondoliers are working at ten percent of their usual summer load; instead of working three days and staying home two, their normal scheme, they’re working two and staying home three to allow everyone to make at least some money. A friend who has a small jewelry store near San Marco has been opening only two days a week. Many museums are not fully reopened. Baby steps.
True, towns and businesses all over Italy (and world) are undergoing the same crisis; it’s not just Venice, obviously. But I noticed it more vividly via the gondoliers. Not that I had any special concern for or about them, but I had never reflected — nor had they, I suppose — on how dependent on tourism that they had become. I suppose a taxi-driver can adjust his fares, because taxis are always useful. But nobody has to take a gondola.
So: First there was the collapse of tourism following the acqua granda of November 12, 2019. That cataclysm terrified tourists, who cancelled bookings for fear of finding themselves floating out to sea if they came here. Then the quarantine. The faucet (to return to my symbolism) that had seemed to the gondoliers to be perpetually open suddenly shut completely. And therefore the same crisis has struck the three gondola-builders. After the damage inflicted by the high water/hurricane, their business has also stopped. One builder told me that he has had five cancellations of orders for new boats, which amounts to the income of an entire year.
So we’re not what I’d call happy without tourists, no.
No mask is going to stop her wearing her mask.On the bright side, some of the tourists I’ve noticed have been uncharacteristically charming. Instead of the usual heat-stunned shoals of debilitated desert explorers fitted out by sports companies, there have been gems like this couple. What always bemuses me is that no matter how much effort the female component has put into her look, the male component is almost always dressed pretty much like this. But this young lady is visiting Venice in a way that I frankly admire. High heels and a tiny purse! What world is she living in?Not glamorous, but so remarkably in tune with each other that it’s a pleasure to see them. It’s in the shoes that we see them marching to their separate but equal drummers.
Two months have passed since the end of the lockdown and businesses are struggling. Judging by how many restaurants there are here, I’d have thought people come to Venice just to eat, but “The restaurant situation is extremely serious,” says Ernesto Pancin, secretary of Aepe (Associazione Esercenti Pubblici Esercizi, Association, or Association of Public Businesses),with some 800 restaurant/bar members in the historic center.
“Today between 60-70 percent of the restaurants have reopened,” he said, “but they have only 30-40 percent of the work and income they had last summer. They can’t manage to cover expenses — especially the rent — and the personnel is reduced. The absence of customers is really felt during the week, while the weekend flow is hanging on. But the weekend earnings aren’t enough to make ends meet.” People who have been working from home don’t go out to lunch; people on unemployment don’t have the money to eat out, and people in general are less inclined to go out, period. In some restaurants, the owner is waiting tables.
“We’re living day by day,” said Bonifacio Brass, owner of the Locanda Cipriani at Torcello, told a reporter for La Nuova Venezia. “We’ve had Italian customers, above all… Naturally we’re working mostly on the weekend. Lots of Venetians are coming in their boats, but meanwhile there has been a cutback in the vaporettos.”
Before we leave this chapter in the saga of these days in Venice (Part 2 will follow as soon as I can), all the problems aren’t necessarily tied to tourism.
For those of us trying to live a normal life, there’s the looming problem of the 570 family doctors in the 44-commune “province” of Venice. The national health system requires you to be linked to some basic doctor — your choice — who is your first stop in the world of medical assistance. Any visit to a specialist requires what I call a “work order” from your doctor. Now we find out that within five years, half of them will retire.
Unless replacements are found in a timely manner, the remaining doctors could have as many as 1,600 patients on their rosters.
And speaking of retirement, here’s another economic thunderclap from an approaching storm: For the first time, Italy now has more retired people than actively employed people.
Meanwhile, daily life continues here on its mundane little path to parts unknown. The more banal or even boring an activity or object may be, the more I have come to treasure it.
Crises and catastrophes may abound, but the need for domestic appliances will never fail.
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.
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.
