Events

Signs of the times

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This is the first official notice of the day, discovered this morning at our favorite neighborhood bar. We heard days ago that we were supposed to maintain the minimum distance of one meter (roughly one arm’s length) between us, but now it’s official.
It says: “Notice to clients, from 2 March 2020 based on the DPCM (Decreto del Presidente del Consiglio dei Ministri) of March 1 2020, our clients are informed that, to avoid crowding, access to this business is conditional on the maintenance of at least one meter of distance between persons.  Entrance to this business is limited by the maintenance of this precautionary health measure.  Thank you for your understanding and collaboration.”
Distance between people means distance between tables. The Bar Mio has separated them at a little more than the regulation one meter.  They’ve sacrificed some tables that used to be in demand, so much demand that they were jammed as close as possible.  But with demonstrably fewer customers, it doesn’t really matter.

Greetings from the Red Zone.

People in Venice are in the grip of coronavirus, everybody in the world knows that by now.  Toddlers in Kiribati must know that.  But what does that mean, apart from the basic epidemiological definition?  Well, every day it means something new, and today I realize it means living by a long list of rules, regulations, decrees and ordinances.  Or maybe it’s not a LONG list, but just the same list repeated in more ways and in more public places.

Residents of Venice are now prohibited from entering or leaving the city, except for extremely valid and precisely defined and not-to-be-negotiated reasons.  If the police stop and ask you what you think you’re doing by heading toward or away from Venice, you’d better have a really good answer ready.  No more eyelash-batting, “The dog ate my blood test report,” “Gee Officer Krupke” replies.  There is now an official document to fill out to justify your movements, and if you don’t have a copy with you, the police will furnish one.  And sign it.

This is the self-certification form.  The towns are listed, as you see, and you must state where you are coming from and where you’re going, and check the box (or boxes?) that apply to your situation: Demonstrable work demands; situations of necessity; health reasons; returning home (or as they so thoroughly specify: domicile, habitation, or residence).

But that’s only the thin end of the iceberg, as a friend once put it.  Here is the list of “Don’ts” (and a few equally stringent “do’s”) for us plodding neighborhood denizens:

This proclamation was posted on the church notice-board of San Francesco da Paola: “Coronavirus: Obligations and Good Conduct for the Citizens.” Translation below.

What distance must I keep from other people?  At least one meter.

What if I have a fever?  Above 37.5 degrees C (99.5 degrees F), call your family doctor, remain at home and do NOT go to the Emergency Room.

Can I go to work?  Yes, it is one of the permitted activities.

Can I go other communes (communities)?  Absolutely NOT, save for situations of necessity.

Can I move around for health reasons? (This implies medical appointments, tests, therapies, etc.)  Yes, always.

Who absolutely must remain at home?  The elderly and those with compromised immune systems or pathologies.

Will mass and other religious functions be conducted?  No.

Bars, ice cream shops, restaurants?  Opening between 6:00 and 18.00.

Medium-sized and large shopping areas?  Closed on festive and pre-festive days (note: in a normal week, this means Sunday and Saturday, respectively; if there is a holiday, such as Christmas, that falls on a weekday, that day is categorized as “festive,” and the preceding day would be the “pre-festive”) except for food stores.

Can I go shopping?  Yes, one person per family.

Pharmacies and parapharmacies?  Open as usual.

Schools and nurseries?  Closed till April 3.

Meetings, conventions, events, manifestations (this could be a sports competition, or a political demonstration, or many other public activities that involve groups):  Forbidden.

Pubs, cinemas, gyms, discotheques, museums, library?  Closed.

City offices?  Almost all of their services are available online.  Essential and urgent services are guaranteed.

In the same way that cutting the Biennale in half made me realize Things are Worse than I Thought, I had the same feeling when I just read that “Bars, pubs, and restaurants will be open from 6:00 AM to 6:00 PM” (1800 hours, as they write it here).  The command “Stay at home” has been interpreted in all sorts of ways, but “Restaurants will close at 6:00 PM” is impossible to misunderstand.  What’s going to be next — ration cards?

Every single one of these rules is there for a reason — I am not quibbling or complaining.  It’s just that by the time you reach some kind of adult cruising altitude in life, you have prioritized a lot of the rules.  You don’t put “Do not kill” on the same level in your mind as “Do not hang up on your mother,” or “Don’t go outside without sunscreen.”  But these coronavirus rules are all on the same level, and it requires some effort to remember them.

If this goes on, they will undoubtedly become habit.  That will be interesting.

Here we have a list from the Ministry of Health outlining other behavior we need to adopt, posted around the Morosini Naval School.
  1. Wash your hands often with soap and water or alcohol-based gel.
  2. Avoid close contact with persons who suffer from acute respiratory infections.
  3. Don’t touch your eyes, nose and mouth with your hands.
  4. Cover your mouth and nose with one-use handkerchiefs (tissues) if you sneeze or cough.  If you don’t have a tissue, use the inside of your elbow.
  5. Do not take any anti-viral or antibiotic medicine without your doctor’s prescription.
  6. Clean all surfaces with disinfectants based on chlorine or alcohol.
  7. Use a face mask only if you suspect you are sick or if you are helping sick persons.
  8. Products MADE IN CHINA and packages received from China are not dangerous.
  9. Pets do not spread the coronavirus.
  10. If in doubt, do not go to the Emergency Room, call your family doctor and follow his/her instructions.
Sunday morning, five minutes before 8:30 opening time at the Coop supermarket in via Garibaldi. Lino and the man to the left with two shopping trolleys have known each other forever, though that doesn’t mean they’re exactly friends. They exchanged greetings and the other man muttered, “It’s like wartime.”
Inside the supermarket on Monday afternoon, the line for the checkout registers stretched back forever; there may have been 20 people waiting even though three registers were working. The slowdown was caused by several innovations. A wait-behind-this-line strip had been taped to the floor (I’m standing behind one on the left).  The hand-written signs say “Wait here for your turn. Thank you.”  The next person in line wasn’t permitted even to move ahead to put his items on the belt until the previous customer had paid and BAGGED ALL HIS ITEMS AND WALKED AWAY FROM THE COUNTER.  The cashiers were wearing rubber gloves.
“Streets are deserted” is impossible in a town where there are 2.5 dogs for every 5.7 citizens (made up). Virus or no, of course you will find people outside in the morning.  Every morning, till the end of time.

 

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Tourism in Venice

Empty stage set

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Curtain up, but where’s the cast?

I would bet you money that every single person who has come to Venice in the past 200 years has said: “It looks like a stage set.”  I’ve heard lots of people say it, as if it were an astonishing discovery.  I heard myself say it, on my first trip here.  I thought I’d said something original.

But empty stages, I’m here to tell you, aren’t interesting at all.

Walking to the Rialto Market yesterday morning was not a very pleasant experience.  There were some people outside, here and there, but a promenade that I once would have savored as a delicious interlude of stolen calm was a wander across a disconcerting dreamscape; despite the gleaming March sunshine, it felt like we were walking through one of those vaguely ominous black and white Eastern European films from the Sixties.

Just some people taking their shadows out for a walk.
Including us, and a flag pole.  And trash bin.

Suddenly we saw a young couple having breakfast in the screened-in porch of the Pensione Wildner on the Riva degli Schiavoni – Honey look!  Tourists!  They were the only ones in the entire room, and I can’t say how I resisted taking their picture.  Maybe I was afraid of scaring them away, like a barely glimpsed Javan rhino in the wild.  (But if they’re in Venice these days, it’s probably impossible to scare them.)  We passed a friend, a professional photographer, who was going toward San Marco, and I almost yelled “Tourists! On the Riva Schiavoni!  Two of them!” as if he’d want to snap their picture for the Gazzettino before they escaped.  This is not good at all.

Fun facts from the Gazzettino:

A review of 21 communes in the Veneto at the highest risk of hardship from the disappearance of tourists puts Venice at #16 (NOT #1), right after Livinallongo del Col di Lana (mountains) and right before Eraclea (beaches).  The top six are all around Lake Garda, which depends a great deal on German tourists.

Speaking of Germany, the epidemic started there, it’s just been stated, and not Italy (so we can throw away our leper bells?).  Just telling you for the record.

Vaporetto ridership is down 40 per cent.  Actually, this is delightful for those who are still riding, but don’t say that to the ACTV officials who are beginning to consider cutting back on service.  Yesterday morning we were on the #1 coming back from the Rialto and there were 13 people aboard, including us.  Two (not one, but two) ticket inspectors got on, and went down the aisle, as required, checking if everybody had a valid ticket.  It seemed just a little extreme; I’d say we’re scraping the bottom of the barrel here, if the fine on one freeloader is going to keep the ACTV afloat.

In point of fact, a large part of the mountains of money from the vaporetto tickets are spent on the land buses; lack of tourists paying 7.50 euros per ride means that red ink will soon be leaking onto the accounting pages. The books are already a little bloodstained by the cost of the damage from the acqua granda of November 12: There are 9 vaporettos and 22 docks needing more or less major repair or reconstruction, (20,000,000 euros).

Also, every night 95 vaporettos, 300 buses and 15 trams are disinfected.  That’s not free, of course — what is?  Not that I have sympathy to spare for the ACTV, but I’ve only ever noticed the problem of too few vaporettos for too many passengers.  It’s a surprise to find myself thinking, even briefly, about too many vehicles and not enough riders.

Stage-managing this city has always been a challenge.  But now we not only have no audience, but hardly any actors, either.  This is some spectacle.

Sitting on an empty stage, waiting for her cue.  As are we all.

 

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Today in virus central

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What’s wrong with this picture? It’s not that there are no people, it’s that there are no fishermen on the fondamenta, snagging the seppie.  The seppie are coming in now and there’s nobody  welcoming them with hooks and buckets.  That’s how bad things are getting to be.

I was all set — eager, even, sleeves rolled up — to weigh in on some important points about Venice as revealed by the current absence of tourists.  But developments in the past two days have led me to reconsider the timing of those points.  The situation here is not improving.

Schools will be closed for another week, theoretically reopening on March 16.  Masses are still forbidden, and some sporting events are being held, but without spectators.  We have been instructed not to shake hands, or even consider hugging or kissing any of our friends — so much for those hearty greetings in passing in via Garibaldi.  Something called the “Wuhan shake” has been proposed as an alternative (touching opposing feet), or bumping elbows.  I suppose those would work if your sense of human interaction is incomplete without some physical contact, but I think they would only make people feel awkward and self-conscious.  Maybe after a few generations that would wear off.

What’s notable about this death notice? It’s not that Egidio has moved on (at 98 years old, it’s not exactly noteworthy).  It’s the statement at the bottom, where the funeral details are usually printed.  I translate: “The funeral will be celebrated in private form, according to the orders in effect by the Ministry of Health.”  That means no friends, friends of the family, friends of friends; the rule is to limit the funeral to the strictest and closest immediate family members and THAT’S IT.
Wait — now things are getting serious.  The first virus victim in Venice is somebody I know!  Danilo Carraro had the eyeglass shop in Calle de la Mandola, and he was a very good guy. He was also one of the last — perhaps the last? — of the members of the Querini rowing club who belonged to its most florid and glorious days. I would have gone to his funeral, but as noted, only family members allowed.

So much for the people who are here.  But plenty of people are not going to be here — cancellations are flooding in (sorry).  A potential tourist’s fear of being infected is realistically complicated by fear of not being able to return home.  “Rooms are down to just 20-30 per cent occupancy,” said Claudio Scarpa, director of the hoteliers’ association, “and some are down to zero.”  Ten hotels in Venice are beginning to consider laying off staff (with unemployment benefits, as appropriate), and perhaps even closing — temporarily, one can hope.

The airports of the Veneto region (not only Venice, but also Verona and Treviso) have registered a 30 per cent drop in passengers; Israel, Jordan, and South Korea have forbidden flights coming from the Veneto.  Evidently people departing Italy are now regarded as hazardous material, and people wanting to go Italy aren’t much more appealing.  I saw a photograph of the departure gates for flights to Italy at Sheremetyovo airport in Moscow — all the personnel were wearing hazmat suits, completely covered, as if they were dealing with a bioterrorist site.  Gad.  I’m starting to feel like some sort of leper.

But I still didn’t get a sense of how serious the situation was becoming until the astonishing news came yesterday that the Biennale (this year dedicated to architecture) is being sliced in half.  It usually opens in May and runs to the end of November, and provides ponderous amounts of money to the city’s economy.  Now, instead of opening on May 11, it will open on August 29.  In 2019 the Biennale counted some 600,000 visitors (roughly 3,000 per day), plus several thousand journalists, all of whom needed to eat and sleep in some manner, and pay for same.  A mere three months isn’t going to do much for the city’s coffers, though by now I guess we should say it’s better than nothing.  The prospect of “nothing” is also sobering.

All those terrible things we got used to saying about tourists?  I think a lot of people would love to have the chance to say them again.

The morning is still reasonably busy on via Garibaldi, but we’re not at a level I’d call “bustling.”
Updates on the church notice-board: “The pastoral visit SUSPENDED postponed to a date to be decided.” The patriarch of Venice, Francesco Moraglia, was scheduled to visit the churches in this part of the city over the next few days, and a lovely program had been set up. But he could hardly plan a big parish visit if he’s forbidden people to gather for mass.
Notices are just popping up everywhere. These two documents are taped at the entrance to the Coop supermarket.
I translate: “Let’s collaborate together” (just go with it) “for the protection of our health.  In the interest of everyone’s health, we invite you to avoid crowding, with particular attention to the service counters” (this refers to the prepared food cases and cold cuts where you order individually), “to the cash registers and the busiest departments, maintaining at least one meter of distance from other persons.  In case the number of people doesn’t guarantee the respect of this indication, a system of providing access according to groups may be instituted.  A responsible collaboration for the prevention of Coronavirus.  In compliance with the Decree of the President of the Council of Ministers of 1 March 2020.”
“Let’s collaborate together for the protection of our health.  The cooperative has taken pains to make disinfectant gel available at the checkout counter for members and clients.  The possible absence of this product is determined by the difficulty in finding it on the market.”
A friendly wave from at least one meter away from you.

 

 

 

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A look behind the virus

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Not to trivialize people’s concerns, but I wanted to show that flowers are blooming just the same.  Miniature iris!  Who knew?

I had no intention of writing anything about the coronavirus and its current effect on Venice, but a friend passed along a comment that pushed several buttons, so to speak, so here goes.

First, about the virus: Schools are closed for the second week, masses continue to not be celebrated in any churches, sporting events are either canceled or postponed to some vague not-far-but-not-near future.  I have heard some references to the city being a “ghost town,” but that may be a bit exaggerated.  True, late yesterday afternoon via Garibaldi was almost empty, as was the supermarket, but then again, it was cold, dark, and raining.  I could hardly justify my being outside, much less wonder about anybody else.

This morning, warmer and sunnier, saw plenty of locals out and about, at least in our neighborhood.  Obviously I can’t speak about the city as a whole, but by the same token, the “ghost town” person was most likely referring to the area that he or she frequents.  There weren’t many children around, which is odd, considering that they’re not in school, but I presume the parents are keeping them inside.  There seemed to be less boat traffic than usual out in the bacino of San Marco, but still, our morning promenade, which went as far as the Ponte dei Greci, took us past several places where workmen were toiling away.  So I can’t say that everything has ground to a halt.

On the Ponte de la Veneta Marina, these men were chipping away the old mortar and planning, I assume, to apply something new and sticky. Much as I admire their dealing with the stone banister, the steps of the bridge itself have been crying out for help for years. Anyway, here we had business going on as usual.

A noticeable number of restaurants and some bar/cafes are closed, but this didn’t strike me as exceptional — in fact, I might not have noticed it if we weren’t all mentally on red-alert status.  The period between Carnival and Easter is always very quiet; it’s an ideal time for the owners to go on vacation, or undertake maintenance work, precisely because there are relatively few tourists.  There being even fewer due to contagion concerns doesn’t mean that the virus has prostrated the city.

Yes, restaurateurs have been reported as wailing and gnashing their teeth about the drop in business.  (An ordinance has imposed a three-foot distance between tables, which does make the atmosphere slightly less welcoming.)  But merchants and restaurateurs are evidently born tearing their hair and yelling “Business is terrible!”  I’m not saying that this is not a difficult period for them, it’s just a refrain that is so common, for one reason or another, that it has acquired echoes of wolf.

In any case, I think the ghost-town comparison may be felt more by non-residents who aren’t able to visit museums, or who see their favorite bar or pizzeria closed.  Anyone who has ever come to Venice in late winter/early spring expects to find breathing room, whether it’s three feet in every direction or not.

About the buttons to which I referred in my opening statement (pushing of, effect of) —  I will explain them in my next post.

I knew that the churches are still open, even if mass isn’t celebrated. (And very quiet and empty they are, too.) But I didn’t expect to see precautions reach this level: No more holy water in the stoups. And don’t think you can just moisten your finger in what’s left in the bottom. Nope. No touching and that’s it.

 

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