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.
Off to a foggy start this morning. Where once I might have reviled the vaporetto for ruining the scene, I have to say that now the vaporetto IS the scene. Yes, we’re still alive…..And the headlines set out by the newsstand: “Virus, 2000 city employees at home and ACTV cuts runs.” All of that was highly predictable, especially the cutting back on the vaporettos. You see them pass and they’re like the Marie Celeste (empty, but with clear signs of recent life). I will tell you the story about the funeral and the denunciation of the parish priest tomorrow.
Our small but perfectly formed walk in the early morning is our one chance to buy the Gazzettino, to breathe some air, to walk around like normal people for about 20 minutes. And inevitably I notice the signs that are stuck on doors — there seems to be a sort of progression taking place, as if we’re all coalescing around certain tiny hard truths: Distance between people, no touching, headlines, isolation.
Here are some discoveries, yesterday and today:
The government’s quarantine comes with a catchy hashtag, since that’s how we communicate now. #iorestoacasa means “I’m staying at home,” and it seems a little more jaunty to put it this way rather than “God, we’re stuck in the house together night and day we’re losing our minds,” etc. It’s succinct, it’s civic, it’s easy to remember, and on the whole it seems to be working.The people in this shop tend to sell items which are a bit unorthodox, which leads us to this notice: “Open intermittently If open we’re in the office, come in and greet us loudly (don’t cough….). If we’re closed, for urgent matters 3351227777.” That number is a little too perfect; I suspect if I were to call it, I’d just get voicemail and they’d never call back.Via Garibaldi wakes up. The trash men are out, the fruit and vegetable sellers are setting up, and the supermarkets are receiving the daily cargo, brought in those large containers you see in the middle of the street, being hauled back to the barge by the guy who drew the short straw. At least the containers are empty now.There’s more activity than the news reports give you to believe, but it appears that many try to get the shopping done first thing in the morning.Luca is handing Massimo the scale (cash register to follow), so they’re just about ready to open. That, and the never-diminishing abundance of their stock, maintains the illusion of normalcy. Don’t ever stop, you guys.In the Prix supermarket, elves have been working overnight laying perfectly spaced strips of tape one meter apart on the runway to the cash registers. Next we’ll have the person with the huge ear protectors and flashlights moving us into position.Ditto at the Coop.At the entrance to the Coop, this innovation: ” Roll of paper towels and disinfectant to use for cleaning the carts.”Shops are beginning to work half-days. The tobacco/toy store announces that they’ll be working from 9:00 AM to 1:00 PM, closed on Mondays.Also the detergent/housewares/everything store. The owners would appreciate being at home, especially if everybody else is.On the door at the Paties glasses and eye-examination store: “Communication to our Clients Based on the recent Ministerial Decree the optical stores (with a licensed optician present, not the simple eyeglasses seller) may remain open because they furnish medical devices. NEVERTHELESS My sense of responsibility toward myself and toward others obliges me to reduce as much as possible any opportunity of contagion. For this reason, OTTICA PATIES will close for the entire period established by the Italian Government. For any necessity, for example the depletion of your supply of contact lenses and liquids, an urgent need for new eyeglasses, excluding obviously the measuring of your eyesight and the application of contact lenses, for the evident impossibility to effect these safely, I invite you to contact me without any problem at 3388790493 and on WhatsApp or by email info@otticapaties.it A hug, and good luck to everybody! I’mstayingathome. Andrea Paties”This shop takes a slightly sterner tack: “Attention According to DPCM 1 March 2020 art. 2, point ‘i,’ we invite you to respect the distance of 1 meter between persons, to safeguard the health of the clients and to avoid penal sanctions and the consequent closing of the shop. We thank you for the collaboration.” I never realized that I could hold, not only my own fate, but that of an entire commercial enterprise and several generations of the owner’s family, in my hands. It’s too much. I’m going to make it two meters, minimum.The door of the trattoria “Nevodi” is beginning to resemble a university dormitory bulletin board; the only thing missing here is somebody looking for a ride to Boston on Friday. The white handwritten rectangle contains a play on words (glad somebody’s still up to it): “We will be closed for some 40 days.” The pun is “quarantena” (quarantine) and “quarantina,” which would be the normal conversational term for “forty-ish,” “more or less forty.” Everybody knows that the word “quarantine” is derived from the 40 days imposed on cargo, ships, and people suspected of being infected with plague. So this person has taken a common expression and revised it in a charmingly frivolous way. Good for you, Nevodi Staff. Meanwhile, the bigger sign shows some improvising in light of the disruption to routine resulting from closing the restaurant: “For consignment of packages (for) Colauzzi and Nevodi (go to) the fruit and vegetable vendor across the street or call 3499021934. I’ll be here in 2 minutes Thanks.”Evening draws nigh on via Garibaldi as the latest shoppers arrive and depart. Shopping takes time now; first is the wait in line to enter the supermarket, then the checkout procedure takes even more time (you can’t approach the cash register till the previous customer has paid, packed up their stuff and left). Life now requires me to adapt and to be patient — two of my least favorite things ever. Except in this case I’m not alone. It’s everybody’s routine now, and there’s no point in muttering about it.
