coronavirus | Venice: I am not making this up

Meditation on May

May 23, 2020 8 Comments

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.

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’.

Venetian Problems

Reopening report card

May 22, 2020 10 Comments

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.

Venetian Problems

The reopening begins

May 16, 2020 6 Comments

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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Eating out at home

May 8, 2020 2 Comments

The restaurants lining via Garibaldi are opening up — at least as far as they can, which is summed up in a word: “Takeaway.” I hear that the coronavirus-adaptive procedures at restaurants here are essentially the same in the U.S. these days, but still thought I’d show how the local places, and a bar and a pastry shop, are starting to make do while awaiting the next directives on their future. A hint has already been released that restaurants and hair salons may be allowed to open before June 1, to universal rejoicing.

Here is a look at ViaGaribaldiWorld and environs at the moment, as seen through hungry eyes (those of the customer, as well as the proprietor).

Majer was the first shop I noticed that was starting to spread its commercial wings, so to speak. Once a small family bakery, it is now a local chain that sells bread, cookies, pastries, and some modest additions (small pizzas, soup, sandwiches) as well. The outside tables are always full in the summer, but obviously we can’t be waiting for the jeunesse doree’ to come back. I’m not a frequent customer — the space is awkward, the staff apathetic and disagreeable, the prices unreasonable even by Venice standards, but hey — after ten weeks of your own cooking, I could see the appeal.

Mostly finger food is available, which is what you’d expect from basically a bakery. Bread, pizza (those would be small pizzas, the size of a flattened baseball), first courses (meaning pasta or rice, which can also be served cold), “salty cakes,” more like pies,that usually involve a crust and a cheese or other filling, and arancini, or fried spheres the size of unflattened baseballs made of compressed rice, sometimes with a filling.

This is the sort of pizza (called “pizzette,” or little pizzas) I am referring to, although these aren’t from Majer, but from the window of “El Forner,” a bakery near campo San Giovanni e Bragora.

“Take-Away” needs no translation, but they just want to make sure you’re not imagining you can have your sacred spritz at the bar. “Bar Service Closed.” Then the usual terms are listed: The opening hours and days, the requirement that only one person enter at a time, the wearing of mask and gloves.

“Nevodi” is Venetian for “nipoti,” which means both “nephews” and “nieces” (the preposition tells you which it is) and also means “grandsons” and “granddaughters.” (Don’t blame me. Evidently the word-coining machine broke down and everyone decided just to make do with what they had.) Speaking of coining words, the yellow sign introduces a new one: “Nevodita’.” Interpreting the suffix in the usual way, it indicates “state of being of.” (“Venezianita’,” the quality or essence of Venetian-ness,) So they’ve created a word for the special state of being that their cuisine inspires.

When Nevodi was preparing its transformation to takeaway, some explanation was in order. For several days before May 5, this helpful sign was posted at the door: “On Tuesday May 5 we’ll start takeaway,” they wrote in Italian. Then, in Venetian, they added: “Che saria el Porta Via” (che sarebbe il Portare Via) — “that would be take away”). The sign continues: “During the next few days I’ll explain to you how it works.”

This is the procedure, here and at most of the other restaurants: “For reservations, please send a message with your order, the time and your name for pickup. Once you have received our confirmation, all you need to do is come by at the agreed time. For anyone who doesn’t use WhatsApp, you can telephone at both of the numbers on the little card here.” They have added a glamorous extra feature: “If you want to receive the daily menu via WhatsApp, send a message on WhatsApp to (number and name and surname). “

Nevodi: Ready with the list of wines taped on the bar. There is a prohibition against drinking outside these establishments, so I don’t know how to interpret the bottles and glasses. But the barista is happy. “I’m smiling,” he said behind his mask. “I can tell,” I answered.

People began to stop, and orders undoubtedly followed. Maybe they’re waiting to pick up the orders that they had already made. But I also saw people stopping in front of restaurants seemingly just to talk to each other, whether or not they were customers in the common sense. It would seem that places with food and drink magnetically draw people to each other. An industry expert said openly that one of the purposes of the takeaway phase isn’t just to try to scrape up money for the light bills (my phrasing), but to create and maintain links with their customers. Jump-start the instincts that send you out of the house in search of something different to nosh, an instinct that has been dormant far too long.

Most places make it clear that you are not allowed to consume your purchase anywhere near the establishment. Outside Hopera the instinct to stand around with your drink is just too strong, but there would have been fines if any roaming policeman had seen this.

“Strani” bar has been offering delivery of kits for making your favorite aperitivi, neatly packaged in little glass flacons. Mojito, Caipirinha, Caipiroska, Americano, Negroni, Long Island, Sex on the Beach, can be yours starting at only 3 euros each, but the minimum order is 20 euros. (It’s not clear whether they include the ice or not.) They deliver anywhere in Castello, which is impressive, considering that Castello is the largest sestiere in Venice.

Gelato is a special challenge for takeaway — it’s one thing for your hot food to arrive at your home cold, but it’s another for something cold…you see my point. It is absolutely forbidden to eat gelato, like any other food, on the street, so takeaway means employing special styrofoam boxes that manage to keep the gelato cold for a reasonable time. The Gelateria Crystal is offering the most basic, fundamental flavors AND home delivery (yes!).

A gelateria at Sant’ Antonin makes the terms very clear. The chalkboard shows the hours, mentions gelato and crepes, and “DA PORTARE VIA!” (to take away).

“Just Take Away — Only takeaway boxes. No cones, no cups. Please maintain the security distance and use the protective devices stipulated by the current regulations in force.” Impressive, as long as you know what those are. Do we have a failed law student here? The same amount of time and energy, and perhaps even individual letters, could have produced the much simpler and more common “wear mask and gloves.”

The Bar/pastry shop Chiusso, in Salizzada dei Greci, has managed to keep going by selling some of its products in the fresh-pasta-and-expensive-condiments shop on the other side of the street. They’ve used a few other stratagems too, such as home delivery. They have a clientele (including us) that would require an hour on the rack to reach the point of renouncing their pastries.

They too are now surviving on takeaway business, as per the sign: “From Monday May 4 the shop will be open from 9:00 AM to 2:00 PM for your order pickups.” The sign above it is also reassuring: “Seeing the appreciation that you have shown us we have decided to continue with home delivery of the products you can order by calling 333-236-9322. Heartfelt thanks.” (That would be “Grazie di cuore,” with the heart symbol. Sweet.)

The Trattoria alla Rampa is getting ready to start takeaway. The signs on their window, from left to right, are: The standard list of conditions issued by the Venetian association of public services. Then the set menus, which I will let you practice your Italian in translating. The third sign states: “We advise our valued customers that the takeaway menu will be offered starting May 11. We ask that you book your meals at this phone number 041-528-5365. We ask that you book on the preceding day from 9:00 AM to 3:00 PM. From Monday to Saturday. On Friday and Saturday you can book for Monday. Thank you for your kind attention.”

These are the rules as laid out by the Venetian Association of Public Services: “Selling for takeaway: Only via booking. Phone, or write us a message on WhatsApp, or email. Agree on the time to come pick up your order. Wait your turn respecting the distance of one meter. Enter one person at a time, maximum. Always wear mask and gloves. Eat at home or in the office what you’ve bought.”

Notice to our Clients: To guarantee a rapid and safe takeaway service: Respect the distance of interpersonal security of at least one meter. Use the mask inside the restaurant. It is not permitted to consume the takeaway products inside or outside the restaurant. As soon as you’ve concluded your transaction (i.e., got your order in your hands), we invite you not to stop near the restaurant.” That’s a rule in general, but it has survival connotations here, because the trattoria is in front of the fruit and vegetable boat, where people have already accumulated, on a stretch of fondamenta that accommodates the fish market and the wine shop. As everywhere, customers, and their dogs and children, are lined up outside awaiting their “one person maximum” moment to enter, which would leave exactly zero space for standing around eating. There’s barely space to get through the scrum as it is. However, I predict that the broad balustrade at the end of the canal will be everybody’s go-to table. At least until the vigili show up.

I rest my case. On the balustrade. I predict that this will become a table in five seconds.

On this morning’s walk, I saw something I haven’t seen since quarantine began: Trash — specifically, the enticing, fragrant, food-related trash that seagulls cannot resist. Conclusion: Not everybody who takes food away brings it all the way home. I don’t know where they’re eating it, but this is where the remains are being disposed of. It may be a shock to the garbage collectors, who essentially had nothing to do on this fondamenta for two months.

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