Lining up
I promise and vow that I am not going to turn my blog into an endless series about the coronavirus. But considering how few people are out — and how we’re supposed to stay at least one meter away from them if they are out — and how, actually, we’re not even supposed to be out — the viral situation is the main thing on everybody’s mind.
She pauses to rub her nose with her arm.
Here are two definitely not-fun facts: As of yesterday, all hotels are closed until April 3, something which has literally never occurred in the history of the city. And as of yesterday, the gondoliers are no longer gondoling. I can’t conceive of this, but there it is: They all met, and concluded that the risk to everybody — gondoliers and passengers — was just too high. (They would have been ordered to shut down anyway, I have no doubt.) It wasn’t enough to have a bottle of hand sanitizer in the boat — people in gondolas are sitting closer than one meter apart, and the gondolier is helping them on and off at very close range.
And basically, considering that there are practically no tourists, there’s no sense in boating up. Venice without gondolas gliding along the canals, with their gondoliers yelling that kaleidoscopic badinage at each other, will have reached an entirely new level of strange.
Oh wait — it got stranger with the new decree last night: All restaurants, bars/cafe’s, and any stores other than the few essential ones (supermarket/food shops, pharmacies) and many offices are closed. Business in Venice at the moment is nearly in the condition of Monty Python’s dead parrot.
And speaking of lines, the enormous rush of trucks trying to get out of Italy toward Austria (and the rest of the world) via the Brenner Pass created an 80 km/50 mile backup. The police not only checked the temperature of every person in every vehicle (there were plenty of cars, too), they also verified that each vehicle had enough fuel to reach Germany without stopping. In fact, the only people permitted to enter Austria were either citizens or persons confirming that their travel did not include any stops in Austrian territory.
The governor of the Veneto Region, Luca Zaia, is maintaining the total shutdown until April 3. If all this seems drastic, it’s the only hope the Veneto has to somehow avoid reaching one million infected by the middle of April, if the rate of contagion continues steady. That would be one person in five.
And it’s not just closing shops that’s going to do the trick. We’re all now living whwat amounts to house arrest. Staying home is Plan A of a total list of one plan. “The people of the Veneto have to realize,” Zaia said, “that the main cure against the virus is we ourselves. Do not go strolling on the beach on the weekends, do not go to shopping centers, do not go to the piazzas, do not go anywhere that isn’t your workplace or a food shop. For me, 29 people who have lost their lives is already too many.”
Empty stage set
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.
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.
Full steam ahead?
The year evidently began with a crunch for some unlucky person, as we discovered as our peregrination continued.
Happy ending, happy beginning 2018
It doesn’t matter that New Year’s is my most unfavorite event in the year — it occurs every 365 days anyway. But I couldn’t let the year get packed away in the back of the closet along with everything else without showing I’m still very much alive, and looking forward to unpredictable wonders in 2018.
And in conclusion, Lino and I wish everyone a resounding “Saldi in pope!” A very profound and Venetian wish which means to stay firmly planted on the stern of your boat regardless of motondoso, gusts of wind, other boats cutting across your bow without warning in the dark, and whatever else may befall the hardy navigator. I could go on, but I think you have grasped my point.
