Nothing makes sense in Italy. I think that's where we left off.
Passing the written test to get an Italian driver's license is the hardest part. Then it's time to start the driving lessons. Having driven for 30 years in America I thought the lessons would be easy. Instead, driving schools say they don't want to hear that you've driven. It's a lot harder to teach an old driver to break their bad habits than it is to teach a new driver to slow down for cows that show signs of fear.
How many times do you have to hear "don't check your blind spot" before it sticks? It's a good habit in America. We turn to check our blind spot because our teachers in 1980 told us a thousand times to check our blind spot. Here, it's against the rules. We only use mirrors and blinkers. And we use them in a certain order. Sometimes it's mirror/blinker and other times it's blinker/mirror. And you lose points if you don't do it in the right order.
I thought I was fortunate to have driven a stick-shift in the States, seeing that most cars in Italy are manual. And my instructor said that I really drove quite well, but he wanted to control my shifting anyway. I just had to rest my foot lightly on the clutch. When he touched the clutch on the instructor's side it would come up and touch the bottom of my foot. One tap meant to shift up and two taps meant to shift down. So instead of worrying about hitting pedestrians and bikers I was counting the taps and trying to remember if I should shift up or down.
Bickering with the instructor with a snickering 18-year old in the backseat was a weekly event. Why an 18-year old and not a 15-year old preparing for his sixteenth birthday? Because in Italy you can't begin the process until you're 18, unless of course you want to drive a Vespa. You can get a Vespa license when you're 14. For some reason they think you're smart enough to learn the rules of the road (which are the same for a Vespa and a car) when you're 14, but you're not smart enough to drive a car until you're 18. They say it's about the power of the vehicle. As if you can't kill yourself on a Vespa for making a stupid decision.
While students are practicing away from the school they can be with any adult in any kind of car. If your dad has a Ferrari, you can practice in a Ferrari. But once you've earned your license, you fall into the categorie of neopatentato, which I translate as "baby driver." This means that the day you get your license it is illegal to drive with your dad in his Ferrari like you did the day before. The cars must have small engines and some kind of ratio or something to something else based on weight and something else. None of that mattered to me. I just asked for help on what kind of convertibles fit the category.
My goal was to have my license by the end of 2019. I'd passed the driving test on November 4. A few lessons and the driving test seemed doable in almost two months, unless of course you're in Italy. You don't take the driving test with someone from the neighborhood school, you have to take it with an official examiner from the State. And in addition to all of the other things Italy lacks, it currently lacks examiners and they aren't willing to hire new ones. There is a huge backlog of students ready for the test, but unable to take it. I took most of the lessons in early November and was finally called for the test on February 19. I imagine I was probably pushed to the top of the list because I was driving my instructor mad.
On test day I went to the school to meet met my instructor and a group of kids I'd never seen before. Then the examiner arrived. I was sure I had seen her before and I was trying to figure out if I'd been mean to her in a cafe or had cut in front of her at the supermarket. (I don't do these things, but I had to be sure I hadn't done her wrong somewhere.) Had she come for one English lesson and we didn't like each other so she never came again?
When it was my turn to present my documents she tried to call me, but couldn't pronounce my name.....just like the last time she couldn't pronounce my name. And just as I was figuring out that she was the scary lady that had given me the written test in a city one hour from here she sternly said, "You were in my testing room." And now here she was, as scary as the first time, to ride in the backseat while my instructor tapped the clutch so I'd know when to shift.
550 euros later (bringing the total to 973 euros) I had my Italian driver's license. And 30 minutes later, I didn't. In the euphoria of the event, somewhere between entering the bus and sending the I DID IT messages and getting off the bus and unlocking my bike, I had lost my license.
A trip to the police department has put me in the record books as the first person who has ever lost a license before it even officially existed. The officer asked me for the license number and I remembered that it was in the photos I'd sent my friends. He put the number in the computer to block it, but it didn't show up. I said, "It's not in the system because the scary lady that gave it to me hasn't entered it yet. She's still in the car examining the other kids."
Saturday, February 29, 2020
Driving in Italy is scary. Getting your license is even scarier. Part One.
Seeing that it's really not safe to eat, drink and breathe the Coronavirus, I've decided to change the subject. I finally got my Italian driver's license.
Americans are allowed to drive in Italy for the first year of residence. I think you can drive with your normal license from the States. And you can definitely drive with an international license that you pick up from TripleA for 15 dollars. I can't remember why, but I had an expired one from one of my past trips and I brought it when I moved to Italy. I didn't have a car and I never drove, but I held onto the license thinking that some day I might have to forge the date.
Let me repeat....an American can drive for his first year as an Italian resident with one of those two licenses. Then, one year later, they are invalid. So, when you don't speak the language and know nothing about the roads.....go ahead and drive. And then, once it all becomes familiar and easier and safer.....it's time to stop driving. Make sense? When my American visitors came and we rented a car at the airport they were always ready to hand me the keys. It seems smart for the one that knows the lay of the land to drive, no? No, not in Italy.
Several years ago I realized I had no choice. I had to get an Italian license. The ink on the international license was fading so forgery would have been risky. I decided to buy a study app from a driving school and was registered as one of their users. That meant they had access to all of the practice tests that I took online and they could evaluate and manage my progress to help where I was having the most difficulty.
I started with great enthusiasm, but panic soon set in and I stopped. When I was ready to give it another go, the app had been blocked. I went to the school for help and found out that it had a one year expiration date. So, I signed up again. I REstarted with great enthusiasm, but panic soon set in and I stopped.
If you're an American reader, you're asking yourself why there's so much panic about getting a license in Italy. In America we do it when we're 15. I actually don't remember much, but I think it was kind of fun (except for the gory accident films). It seems like it was a three-week class taught by the cool teachers right when school got out. And it probably cost about 25 dollars.
Here's what it's like in Italy. When you tell people that you're studying for your license the good luck comments flow. They say that if they had to take the test now, they would never pass. They say that their friend didn't pass the first time, but had more luck the second time. Keep in mind, these are the responses Italians give other Italians, so you can imagine the well wishes for an American.
The test can only be taken in Italian, French and German. Make sense? No, but we're in Italy, you just have to get used to the fact that nothing here makes sense. There are 7000 practice questions. 7000 practice questions in Italian. 7000 practice questions prepared to trick even native speakers.
At the end of September (after a road trip through France where I couldn't drive) I decided that the only way I was really going to get serious about studying was to have a date on the calendar. I went to the school, but they were hesitant because my results on the app were far from positive. I insisted that the only way I would get serious about studying was with a date and a down payment, and they agreed. I paid 40 euro for a doctor's visit that is really just signing a paper. And then 30 euro for the other doctor's visit which is really just to have me read something from afar and sign another paper. I paid 4 euro for the paperwork for the second doctor's visit and another 'stamp' (maybe it's a tax?) for 16. I paid 63 euros for another 'stamp' for something else and 8.50 for photos. And the app was 12. The total before taking the test was 173.50.
As the test approached I had learned that cows are domesticated animals (I thought only dogs and cats were domesticated animals) and if you see one near the road with a look of fear in their eyes you're obligated to slow down. I wasn't sure if that meant that you didn't have to slow down if they didn't have the look of fear in their eyes, because those are the kind of trick questions thrown in everywhere. I also learned that in order to drive a motorcycle with a certain power you need license A and to drive a motorcycle with a sidecar with a different cylinder you need license AM. Trucks that can carry up to 600 tons require license A1 and scooters for 14 year-olds that have a 50cc but only go 35 mph hour need A2. (I've made all of that up because I really can't remember any of it and I don't know the difference between 50cc and cylinders, but on November 4, I can assure you, I knew it all.) In any case, does it seem necessary that a little old lady that wants a license to drive a convertible in Italy should have to know all of the requirements for all 7 types of licenses (or is it 9)? Add it to the list that nothing makes sense here.
On test day, before the hour-ride in the minivan with all of the other kids taking the exam, I paid the school another 250 euros. We drove to an official testing site run by the State and then sat and waited for two hours. Before entering the room with 30 other students you are put in line alphabetically and given the rules. Once inside, the scary lady calls you to the front one by one. You give her your documents and she assigns you a computer. 40 of the 7000 questions come up on your screen. You have 30 minutes and you can only make 4 mistakes. Total silence. Then, one by one the scary lady calls you back up to the front and tells you if you've passed.
Fortunately, all nine of the kids in the minivan passed.....the written test.
Americans are allowed to drive in Italy for the first year of residence. I think you can drive with your normal license from the States. And you can definitely drive with an international license that you pick up from TripleA for 15 dollars. I can't remember why, but I had an expired one from one of my past trips and I brought it when I moved to Italy. I didn't have a car and I never drove, but I held onto the license thinking that some day I might have to forge the date.
Let me repeat....an American can drive for his first year as an Italian resident with one of those two licenses. Then, one year later, they are invalid. So, when you don't speak the language and know nothing about the roads.....go ahead and drive. And then, once it all becomes familiar and easier and safer.....it's time to stop driving. Make sense? When my American visitors came and we rented a car at the airport they were always ready to hand me the keys. It seems smart for the one that knows the lay of the land to drive, no? No, not in Italy.
Several years ago I realized I had no choice. I had to get an Italian license. The ink on the international license was fading so forgery would have been risky. I decided to buy a study app from a driving school and was registered as one of their users. That meant they had access to all of the practice tests that I took online and they could evaluate and manage my progress to help where I was having the most difficulty.
I started with great enthusiasm, but panic soon set in and I stopped. When I was ready to give it another go, the app had been blocked. I went to the school for help and found out that it had a one year expiration date. So, I signed up again. I REstarted with great enthusiasm, but panic soon set in and I stopped.
If you're an American reader, you're asking yourself why there's so much panic about getting a license in Italy. In America we do it when we're 15. I actually don't remember much, but I think it was kind of fun (except for the gory accident films). It seems like it was a three-week class taught by the cool teachers right when school got out. And it probably cost about 25 dollars.
Here's what it's like in Italy. When you tell people that you're studying for your license the good luck comments flow. They say that if they had to take the test now, they would never pass. They say that their friend didn't pass the first time, but had more luck the second time. Keep in mind, these are the responses Italians give other Italians, so you can imagine the well wishes for an American.
The test can only be taken in Italian, French and German. Make sense? No, but we're in Italy, you just have to get used to the fact that nothing here makes sense. There are 7000 practice questions. 7000 practice questions in Italian. 7000 practice questions prepared to trick even native speakers.
At the end of September (after a road trip through France where I couldn't drive) I decided that the only way I was really going to get serious about studying was to have a date on the calendar. I went to the school, but they were hesitant because my results on the app were far from positive. I insisted that the only way I would get serious about studying was with a date and a down payment, and they agreed. I paid 40 euro for a doctor's visit that is really just signing a paper. And then 30 euro for the other doctor's visit which is really just to have me read something from afar and sign another paper. I paid 4 euro for the paperwork for the second doctor's visit and another 'stamp' (maybe it's a tax?) for 16. I paid 63 euros for another 'stamp' for something else and 8.50 for photos. And the app was 12. The total before taking the test was 173.50.
As the test approached I had learned that cows are domesticated animals (I thought only dogs and cats were domesticated animals) and if you see one near the road with a look of fear in their eyes you're obligated to slow down. I wasn't sure if that meant that you didn't have to slow down if they didn't have the look of fear in their eyes, because those are the kind of trick questions thrown in everywhere. I also learned that in order to drive a motorcycle with a certain power you need license A and to drive a motorcycle with a sidecar with a different cylinder you need license AM. Trucks that can carry up to 600 tons require license A1 and scooters for 14 year-olds that have a 50cc but only go 35 mph hour need A2. (I've made all of that up because I really can't remember any of it and I don't know the difference between 50cc and cylinders, but on November 4, I can assure you, I knew it all.) In any case, does it seem necessary that a little old lady that wants a license to drive a convertible in Italy should have to know all of the requirements for all 7 types of licenses (or is it 9)? Add it to the list that nothing makes sense here.
On test day, before the hour-ride in the minivan with all of the other kids taking the exam, I paid the school another 250 euros. We drove to an official testing site run by the State and then sat and waited for two hours. Before entering the room with 30 other students you are put in line alphabetically and given the rules. Once inside, the scary lady calls you to the front one by one. You give her your documents and she assigns you a computer. 40 of the 7000 questions come up on your screen. You have 30 minutes and you can only make 4 mistakes. Total silence. Then, one by one the scary lady calls you back up to the front and tells you if you've passed.
Fortunately, all nine of the kids in the minivan passed.....the written test.
Friday, February 28, 2020
The Coronavirus Diet
Here's what rationing food has always meant to me.
--Don't eat your popsicle too fast because if you finish it before your brothers finish theirs, you'll be sad.
--Keep the Reese's Minis and Heath Bars that friends from the States have brought to Italy in the fridge so they'll last longer.
--Cut the round Lindt chocolate balls that showed up at your Christmas party in quarters. Eat one quarter of one ball every day and you won't get fat.
--When you go to a Chinese restuarant and order Szechaun green beans tell everyone at the table that if they want even one bean, they have to order their own.
--Eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich at a picnic in Italy because it will be all yours.
Unfortunately, the Coronavirus has given new meaning to rationing. But I'm not sure I've figured it out yet.
A couple of weeks ago when I was interested in the issue in China I read about people that weren't sure how to ration. They'd loaded up on food, but were then perplexed as to how to go about saving it and eating it. I certainly never thought I'd be contemplating the same issue weeks later. Maybe you're reading this now, wherever you are, and you'll be faced with the same dilemma one day. I certainly hope not, but it wasn't on my list of worries last week either.
Friends tell me that I shouldn't worry. And I know that's probably true. But in the lockdown areas in China once a week one person per household is allowed to go out with their mask for the shopping. This rule isn't really my cup of tea. Speaking of which, at last count I had 72 bags and a few canisters of dry leaves because I think it's cool to drink it with the mesh tea thing even though it's more work and a little messy.
With my new fear of the virus spreading to the home of Mr. Trump, I occasionally google in English. That way it's harder to accidently bump into the latest developments in Italy. I've decided the US Department of Homeland Security seems safe. It currently has a list of what Americans can do to prepare. They recommend storing a two-week supply of water and food before a pandemic strikes. Well, I've just lost a little faith in that group......or maybe it's just the CNN journalist. I found a typo. Hopefully it was just a punctuation typo and they didn't also accidently type 'two week' when they meant to type 'two year'.
In any case, there's no real need to ration at the moment. The other morning I was shocked to see that my weight was lower than it has been in years. Instead of the joy I'd expected seeing a number like that, my first thought was a serious health problem. Not the Coronavirus, because as far as I know losing weight isn't a symptom. I'm trying to convince myself that the weight loss is due to stress. So, I'm trying to pay attention and eat more. But that means I'll run out of food. And then I'll be stressed again. It seems to me like I could get rich selling the Coronavirus Diet.
--Don't eat your popsicle too fast because if you finish it before your brothers finish theirs, you'll be sad.
--Keep the Reese's Minis and Heath Bars that friends from the States have brought to Italy in the fridge so they'll last longer.
--Cut the round Lindt chocolate balls that showed up at your Christmas party in quarters. Eat one quarter of one ball every day and you won't get fat.
--When you go to a Chinese restuarant and order Szechaun green beans tell everyone at the table that if they want even one bean, they have to order their own.
--Eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich at a picnic in Italy because it will be all yours.
Unfortunately, the Coronavirus has given new meaning to rationing. But I'm not sure I've figured it out yet.
A couple of weeks ago when I was interested in the issue in China I read about people that weren't sure how to ration. They'd loaded up on food, but were then perplexed as to how to go about saving it and eating it. I certainly never thought I'd be contemplating the same issue weeks later. Maybe you're reading this now, wherever you are, and you'll be faced with the same dilemma one day. I certainly hope not, but it wasn't on my list of worries last week either.
Friends tell me that I shouldn't worry. And I know that's probably true. But in the lockdown areas in China once a week one person per household is allowed to go out with their mask for the shopping. This rule isn't really my cup of tea. Speaking of which, at last count I had 72 bags and a few canisters of dry leaves because I think it's cool to drink it with the mesh tea thing even though it's more work and a little messy.
With my new fear of the virus spreading to the home of Mr. Trump, I occasionally google in English. That way it's harder to accidently bump into the latest developments in Italy. I've decided the US Department of Homeland Security seems safe. It currently has a list of what Americans can do to prepare. They recommend storing a two-week supply of water and food before a pandemic strikes. Well, I've just lost a little faith in that group......or maybe it's just the CNN journalist. I found a typo. Hopefully it was just a punctuation typo and they didn't also accidently type 'two week' when they meant to type 'two year'.
In any case, there's no real need to ration at the moment. The other morning I was shocked to see that my weight was lower than it has been in years. Instead of the joy I'd expected seeing a number like that, my first thought was a serious health problem. Not the Coronavirus, because as far as I know losing weight isn't a symptom. I'm trying to convince myself that the weight loss is due to stress. So, I'm trying to pay attention and eat more. But that means I'll run out of food. And then I'll be stressed again. It seems to me like I could get rich selling the Coronavirus Diet.
Thursday, February 27, 2020
I'm Italian and I'm not afraid of the Coronavirus
I'd like to remind you of some of the things many Italians that I know are afraid of. I wrote many Italians instead of just Italians because I'm sure it's not all of them. And I included that I know because I certainly can't speak for the ones that I don't know. But I'd like to add a sidebar here....I really wanted to write almost all Italians.
They are afraid:
of drinking cold beverages
of going outside with wet hair
of eating in a cold place
of the famous "colpo d'aria", hit of cold air
of leaving the gym without taking a shower first
of driving with their windows open even when it's hot
of air conditioning in public places
of going to bed with wet hair
of taking their kids home from a birthday party if they're sweaty
of going on vacation without packing a thermometer
But the past couple of days that the Coronavirus has been running around northern Italy, I've received a whole lot of messages that say this:
I'm not afraid of the Coronavirus.
And when I sent a message to cancel English lessons a few of them wrote, "For the virus?! Oh, okay Tenley. See you next week." They seemed to be saying that I was the dumb one here. I haven't told them yet that I might not see them next week either.
Through the years they've told me they're afraid to leave the house with wet hair (it's not a beauty issue) because they think they'll get sick. Air conditioning is evil.....and not because it makes them uncomfortably cold, like me, but because they will indubitably get a sore throat. Going to bed with wet hair gives you the famous Italian disease that I've written about in the past called "cervicale." Bad stomachaches on Monday come from eating in their grandma's cold dining room on Sunday.
So, how exactly can I defend myself when I say that this tough American woman is afraid of the Coronavirus?
At the moment I'm practicing these responses:
Have you seen the photos of China with row after row of beds in the new hospitals they built in a week?
Do you know that some cities in China have been on lockdown for one month and four days?
Have you noticed that flights have been cancelled?
Did you hear about the Swiss guy that went to a meeting in Milan and when he got back to Switzerland he tested positive for the Coronavirus?
Do you wonder why you can no longer exchange the sign of peace at mass?
Have you noticed that schools are closed?
Or maybe I should stick with this one:
I don't think they've ever cancelled Carnevale in Venice because someone showed up with wet hair.
They are afraid:
of drinking cold beverages
of going outside with wet hair
of eating in a cold place
of the famous "colpo d'aria", hit of cold air
of leaving the gym without taking a shower first
of driving with their windows open even when it's hot
of air conditioning in public places
of going to bed with wet hair
of taking their kids home from a birthday party if they're sweaty
of going on vacation without packing a thermometer
But the past couple of days that the Coronavirus has been running around northern Italy, I've received a whole lot of messages that say this:
I'm not afraid of the Coronavirus.
And when I sent a message to cancel English lessons a few of them wrote, "For the virus?! Oh, okay Tenley. See you next week." They seemed to be saying that I was the dumb one here. I haven't told them yet that I might not see them next week either.
Through the years they've told me they're afraid to leave the house with wet hair (it's not a beauty issue) because they think they'll get sick. Air conditioning is evil.....and not because it makes them uncomfortably cold, like me, but because they will indubitably get a sore throat. Going to bed with wet hair gives you the famous Italian disease that I've written about in the past called "cervicale." Bad stomachaches on Monday come from eating in their grandma's cold dining room on Sunday.
So, how exactly can I defend myself when I say that this tough American woman is afraid of the Coronavirus?
At the moment I'm practicing these responses:
Have you seen the photos of China with row after row of beds in the new hospitals they built in a week?
Do you know that some cities in China have been on lockdown for one month and four days?
Have you noticed that flights have been cancelled?
Did you hear about the Swiss guy that went to a meeting in Milan and when he got back to Switzerland he tested positive for the Coronavirus?
Do you wonder why you can no longer exchange the sign of peace at mass?
Have you noticed that schools are closed?
Or maybe I should stick with this one:
I don't think they've ever cancelled Carnevale in Venice because someone showed up with wet hair.
Public Display of (my fear of) Infection
Schools, universities, gyms, organized events for Carnevale and lots of other things have all been closed or cancelled due to the Coronavirus. So, the American English teacher in her small town in northern Italy cancelled her lessons, too. Normal people still go to work because they have to. And actually for some it's no big deal. But since I don't have to, I've chosen not to, and I'm getting a lot of mixed reviews.
I'm definitely a worrywart. I'm actually a lot more than your average worrywart. I'm terrified. But the good news is I can laugh at myself (sometimes). And when I explain to others my daily struggles I can make them laugh, too. I think my panic helps put other people at ease.
This morning's outing was to pay the car insurance. Planning it all out ahead of time wasn't as easy as it seems. After you open the three outer doors of the office with the plastic glove, what do you do with it? If you take it off with a clean hand, doesn't that hand get infected? There was a pile of things to sign on the receptionist's desk. Luckily I'd remembered to bring my own pen. When she saw me struggling to sign the documents while holding them in place with the infected-glove she came to my rescue.
She asked if I wanted her to put everything in a plastic folder (which I know is normal procedure and not Coronavirus prevention) and I said yes. That gave me the extra few seconds necessary to figure out how I was going to get that possibly contaminated plastic folder in the clean plastic bag I'd brought to carry it home in. And if the new plastic folder hadn't been contaminated by the cute girl at the front desk, it had possibly been contaminated when I touched it with the glove that had opened the first three doors that may or may not have been contaminated.
Needless to say, it was an exhausting morning.
The thing that puzzles me is that when I'm concentrating on all of this, my students are at work talking about what film they went to the night before. A movie theater doesn't seem like a good place to be when there's a virus. I thought maybe I was overreacting, so I've just googled it. Here's what I see: China's Cinemas Officially Close.....China Shuts Down Movie Theaters During Outbreak......The Coronavirus Outbreak is Crippling China's Film Industry. You're right, that's in China. But since we're following their footsteps in the rest of this situation, shouldn't we be following them here, too?
When I respond to my students in shock about their behavior they reply that you can't just stop living because of the virus. I agree......you can't stop living for the rest of your life, but waiting a few days or weeks to see how it all unfolds doesn't seem that restrictive. After a few months of lockdown I'm sure one would (or will) go a little crazy and a movie at the cinema would sound really nice. But we're in the first few days of the outbreak. Staying home by the fire and reading a good book doesn't sound all that bad. Reading a lousy book doesn't sound all that bad either.
I'm definitely a worrywart. I'm actually a lot more than your average worrywart. I'm terrified. But the good news is I can laugh at myself (sometimes). And when I explain to others my daily struggles I can make them laugh, too. I think my panic helps put other people at ease.
This morning's outing was to pay the car insurance. Planning it all out ahead of time wasn't as easy as it seems. After you open the three outer doors of the office with the plastic glove, what do you do with it? If you take it off with a clean hand, doesn't that hand get infected? There was a pile of things to sign on the receptionist's desk. Luckily I'd remembered to bring my own pen. When she saw me struggling to sign the documents while holding them in place with the infected-glove she came to my rescue.
She asked if I wanted her to put everything in a plastic folder (which I know is normal procedure and not Coronavirus prevention) and I said yes. That gave me the extra few seconds necessary to figure out how I was going to get that possibly contaminated plastic folder in the clean plastic bag I'd brought to carry it home in. And if the new plastic folder hadn't been contaminated by the cute girl at the front desk, it had possibly been contaminated when I touched it with the glove that had opened the first three doors that may or may not have been contaminated.
Needless to say, it was an exhausting morning.
The thing that puzzles me is that when I'm concentrating on all of this, my students are at work talking about what film they went to the night before. A movie theater doesn't seem like a good place to be when there's a virus. I thought maybe I was overreacting, so I've just googled it. Here's what I see: China's Cinemas Officially Close.....China Shuts Down Movie Theaters During Outbreak......The Coronavirus Outbreak is Crippling China's Film Industry. You're right, that's in China. But since we're following their footsteps in the rest of this situation, shouldn't we be following them here, too?
When I respond to my students in shock about their behavior they reply that you can't just stop living because of the virus. I agree......you can't stop living for the rest of your life, but waiting a few days or weeks to see how it all unfolds doesn't seem that restrictive. After a few months of lockdown I'm sure one would (or will) go a little crazy and a movie at the cinema would sound really nice. But we're in the first few days of the outbreak. Staying home by the fire and reading a good book doesn't sound all that bad. Reading a lousy book doesn't sound all that bad either.
Wednesday, February 26, 2020
The Coronavirus Shopping Spree
Having followed the shocking events in Wuhan with such bizarre interest, I felt strangely prepared when the Coronavirus hit Italy. I never thought I'd be worrying about food and face masks or writing a diary about daily life and quarantines, but this seems to be the new Dolce Vita in Italia.
Reaching the mainland on Sunday, February 23 I had one thing on my mind......getting groceries before everyone else woke up. Three years ago it would have been impossible. No grocery stores were open on Sunday. Whenever I asked, "Is the grocery store open today?" I got the same answer, "Why would it be? It's Sunday." This time when I asked, the answer was, "I hope so."
I never use a cart when I grocery shop. One of the little plastic pully-baskets is all I ever need. But this time I inserted my euro for one of the family-sized shopping carts you pick up in the parking lot. And I wasn't even sure one would be enough. Just what do you buy when you don't really know what's happening? All I could think of were the photos I'd seen of Wuhan on lockdown. And the closed grocery stores. And the ghost towns. And I wondered if I was about to enter the same situation.
I told myself that fresh produce wasn't safe. Who had put it on the shelves? I didn't even trust bags of lettuce. I checked to see what towns they came from and wondered how close they were to the ones that were already locked down. I decided cans were the safest and had the longest shelf life in case we continued following in China's footsteps (more than a month.) I bought lots of rice and lots of pasta, but I'm embarrassed to tell you just how much. Three bottles of olive oil seemed like enough. My cart was filled with toilet paper and papertowels. I couldn't find little bottles of handsanitizer....that had already been sold out. So I went to the first aid section and bought five bottles of the stuff you put on fresh cuts to kill the bacteria. I bought 5 colorful bottles of pink alcohol to sterilize surfaces that needed sterilizing, lots of envelopes of soup like Mrs. Grass' boxes with the bouillon cube, and three huge bags of individualized packs of soda crackers. I was afraid the bakeries would close and crackers seemed like a good substitute. The two giant bags of potatoes made me think of photos during the war that I've seen in museums and films. In addition to no hand sanitizer, there were also no masks. That's proof that even though I was the only one filling up a cart with groceries on Sunday morning, I wasn't the only one planning ahead.
The cashiers had unmasked smiles and gloveless hands, but I wondered how long that would last. I, on the other hand, was bundled up with my high collared coat and favorite mittens (which I put in the laundry basket as soon as I got home).
I felt good about the shopping. The only thing missing was the masks. And I wasn't sure I'd ever use them, but they felt like a security blanket. We were sure they were probably sold out everywhere, but on the drive home I had a good idea. In Italy we don't have "Dollar Stores". There is a similar type of shop that sells similar cheap things but they aren't all a dollar, or should I say, a euro. These stores don't have a real name that anyone remembers. There's one called Ina Market and another called Mia Market. But if I told someone to go to Mia Market they wouldn't know what I was talking about. Here the stores are called "I Cinesi".....The Chinese. So to specify the place you just say, "I found it at The Chinese in Bassano."
I don't think that's offensive to the Chinese people that own them, but I'm actually not sure. It sounds offensive to me, but no one whispers when they say it. So, on the way home I suggested looking for masks at The Chinese. It's the only place the Italians have been afraid to enter in the past month. I'm not sure if they were afraid of the Chinese products or the Chinese owners, but there was no shortage on masks so I bought 30.
Reaching the mainland on Sunday, February 23 I had one thing on my mind......getting groceries before everyone else woke up. Three years ago it would have been impossible. No grocery stores were open on Sunday. Whenever I asked, "Is the grocery store open today?" I got the same answer, "Why would it be? It's Sunday." This time when I asked, the answer was, "I hope so."
I never use a cart when I grocery shop. One of the little plastic pully-baskets is all I ever need. But this time I inserted my euro for one of the family-sized shopping carts you pick up in the parking lot. And I wasn't even sure one would be enough. Just what do you buy when you don't really know what's happening? All I could think of were the photos I'd seen of Wuhan on lockdown. And the closed grocery stores. And the ghost towns. And I wondered if I was about to enter the same situation.
I told myself that fresh produce wasn't safe. Who had put it on the shelves? I didn't even trust bags of lettuce. I checked to see what towns they came from and wondered how close they were to the ones that were already locked down. I decided cans were the safest and had the longest shelf life in case we continued following in China's footsteps (more than a month.) I bought lots of rice and lots of pasta, but I'm embarrassed to tell you just how much. Three bottles of olive oil seemed like enough. My cart was filled with toilet paper and papertowels. I couldn't find little bottles of handsanitizer....that had already been sold out. So I went to the first aid section and bought five bottles of the stuff you put on fresh cuts to kill the bacteria. I bought 5 colorful bottles of pink alcohol to sterilize surfaces that needed sterilizing, lots of envelopes of soup like Mrs. Grass' boxes with the bouillon cube, and three huge bags of individualized packs of soda crackers. I was afraid the bakeries would close and crackers seemed like a good substitute. The two giant bags of potatoes made me think of photos during the war that I've seen in museums and films. In addition to no hand sanitizer, there were also no masks. That's proof that even though I was the only one filling up a cart with groceries on Sunday morning, I wasn't the only one planning ahead.
The cashiers had unmasked smiles and gloveless hands, but I wondered how long that would last. I, on the other hand, was bundled up with my high collared coat and favorite mittens (which I put in the laundry basket as soon as I got home).
I felt good about the shopping. The only thing missing was the masks. And I wasn't sure I'd ever use them, but they felt like a security blanket. We were sure they were probably sold out everywhere, but on the drive home I had a good idea. In Italy we don't have "Dollar Stores". There is a similar type of shop that sells similar cheap things but they aren't all a dollar, or should I say, a euro. These stores don't have a real name that anyone remembers. There's one called Ina Market and another called Mia Market. But if I told someone to go to Mia Market they wouldn't know what I was talking about. Here the stores are called "I Cinesi".....The Chinese. So to specify the place you just say, "I found it at The Chinese in Bassano."
I don't think that's offensive to the Chinese people that own them, but I'm actually not sure. It sounds offensive to me, but no one whispers when they say it. So, on the way home I suggested looking for masks at The Chinese. It's the only place the Italians have been afraid to enter in the past month. I'm not sure if they were afraid of the Chinese products or the Chinese owners, but there was no shortage on masks so I bought 30.
Tuesday, February 25, 2020
Ferryboats and the coronavirus
There are good times to leave the island and bad times. Four years ago it didn't matter when you left. The ferryboat was filled with locals going to the mainland....fishermen turning in official documents on their catch of the day, teens going shopping and families and friends taking the evening passeggiata. But that was four years ago. Recently, the island has been discovered and Sunday evening is the best time to avoid the ferryboat, not only for the fear of tourists, but this week, also the fear of the coronavirus.
On Sunday, February 23 I decided to take the 7:45a.m. boat. I worried about the possibility of no more boats leaving the island like the videos I'd seen of people trying to escape Wuhan, where they were blocked and trapped inside. Fortunately, my boat showed up and I was allowed on.......along with a young soccer team, their coaches and families.
I was surprised to see the team because I heard the day before that all sporting events in northern Italy had been cancelled. Then I laughed at myself and thought, "Silly me. They must have just meant the big teams and real sporting events, not the 12 year-olds from the island."
In the past I passed through the cabin and sat outside on the back of the boat. But thanks to tourism, those seats are usually taken now, so I stand toward the front part where people leave their bikes. I've never liked being inside the cabin.....even before the coronavirus. And on Sunday, it was out of the question. Unfortunately, a couple of the coaches joined me alfresco, but I turned my back to them, pulled up my collar and prepared for the chilly 20-minute ride.
Shortly into the trip the coaches tapped on the door of the captain's cabin and the boat slowed down. There's another island between mine and the mainland where, in the winter, the boat only stops on special request. The special request? They just found out the game had been cancelled and they wanted to get off to catch the next ferryboat back home. I tightened the scarf around my mouth (my temporary face mask) and watched the exodus in silence.
On Sunday, February 23 I decided to take the 7:45a.m. boat. I worried about the possibility of no more boats leaving the island like the videos I'd seen of people trying to escape Wuhan, where they were blocked and trapped inside. Fortunately, my boat showed up and I was allowed on.......along with a young soccer team, their coaches and families.
I was surprised to see the team because I heard the day before that all sporting events in northern Italy had been cancelled. Then I laughed at myself and thought, "Silly me. They must have just meant the big teams and real sporting events, not the 12 year-olds from the island."
In the past I passed through the cabin and sat outside on the back of the boat. But thanks to tourism, those seats are usually taken now, so I stand toward the front part where people leave their bikes. I've never liked being inside the cabin.....even before the coronavirus. And on Sunday, it was out of the question. Unfortunately, a couple of the coaches joined me alfresco, but I turned my back to them, pulled up my collar and prepared for the chilly 20-minute ride.
Shortly into the trip the coaches tapped on the door of the captain's cabin and the boat slowed down. There's another island between mine and the mainland where, in the winter, the boat only stops on special request. The special request? They just found out the game had been cancelled and they wanted to get off to catch the next ferryboat back home. I tightened the scarf around my mouth (my temporary face mask) and watched the exodus in silence.
Monday, February 24, 2020
First real day of the coronavirus in Italy
"Worldometers" takes on a whole new meaning when it's talking about your world. Wikipedia defines it as "Live world statistics on population, government and economics, society and media, environment, food, water, energy and health." Is it a viable source of information? Seeing that I'm living under a rock in northern Italy, I don't really know. It looks official to me.
So as I began my morning walk on the island, I checked the live statistics of the coronavirus in Italy. At 10am on Saturday, the 22nd of February there were 22 cases. At the same time the day before, there had been only 4. I kept walking.
Weeks earlier with news of the virus in China I always felt thankful for my island. I thought that if it ever really made it to Italy, I'd just live on the island until it passed. My house in the country gives me the same peace of mind, but I prefer island life. It's the same after acts of terrorism in large European cities. I feel the panic and pain and anxiety of the people living in those cities.....so many that I've seen myself, but I live far off the beaten path and don't worry much about terrorism (unless I have guests who require the obligatory tour of Venice).
During my walk I couldn't help but continue to check the worldometer and was shocked to see that the number was rising. At that time, the US had 35 cases and Italy was still below that. But as I approached home after a one-hour walk, we had hit 39. More cases in tiny little Italy than all of the United States.
It's impossible to take a walk on the island without lots of little chats with islanders like 88-year old Vincenzo on his third walk of the morning and the two ladies that met out on the lagoon wall so one could show the other her new fuscia permanent. It was nice to be distracted for a few minutes.
When I arrived at my street I saw the ambulance boat parked at the dock. All of my neighbors were out by the lagoon whispering and looking down my calle (that's what you call a street in Venice). I stopped, a little wobbly, to sit on the wall alone. I'm not one for ambulances---even if they're boats. A neighbor came over and explained what was happening. The family that lived next door to me was being tested for the coronavirus.
I waited with the others. When I saw them leaving my calle I looked away. But not before seeing the medical team in their lime green suits with gloves and glasses and masks carrying a plastic garbage can back to their boat. I really didn't even look, but the quick glimpse is an image that won't fade.
My house is attached to theirs. The walls are thin. It was impossible not to hear a fear tears next door as I hung the laundry from my second floor window. By the end of the day I'd had all of the news. My neighbor's brother was in the hospital for the virus. He doesn't live on the island. But this family had had contact with the patient's family. And that was enough to require the mandatory test. They were put under home quarantine until the test results come back.
I stayed in the house for the rest of the day. I'd bought tickets to a party for Carnevale on the island that night. I didn't go. I never looked at Worldometers again. There was no need to check the charts to see how much my anxiety level was rising.
So as I began my morning walk on the island, I checked the live statistics of the coronavirus in Italy. At 10am on Saturday, the 22nd of February there were 22 cases. At the same time the day before, there had been only 4. I kept walking.
Weeks earlier with news of the virus in China I always felt thankful for my island. I thought that if it ever really made it to Italy, I'd just live on the island until it passed. My house in the country gives me the same peace of mind, but I prefer island life. It's the same after acts of terrorism in large European cities. I feel the panic and pain and anxiety of the people living in those cities.....so many that I've seen myself, but I live far off the beaten path and don't worry much about terrorism (unless I have guests who require the obligatory tour of Venice).
During my walk I couldn't help but continue to check the worldometer and was shocked to see that the number was rising. At that time, the US had 35 cases and Italy was still below that. But as I approached home after a one-hour walk, we had hit 39. More cases in tiny little Italy than all of the United States.
It's impossible to take a walk on the island without lots of little chats with islanders like 88-year old Vincenzo on his third walk of the morning and the two ladies that met out on the lagoon wall so one could show the other her new fuscia permanent. It was nice to be distracted for a few minutes.
When I arrived at my street I saw the ambulance boat parked at the dock. All of my neighbors were out by the lagoon whispering and looking down my calle (that's what you call a street in Venice). I stopped, a little wobbly, to sit on the wall alone. I'm not one for ambulances---even if they're boats. A neighbor came over and explained what was happening. The family that lived next door to me was being tested for the coronavirus.
I waited with the others. When I saw them leaving my calle I looked away. But not before seeing the medical team in their lime green suits with gloves and glasses and masks carrying a plastic garbage can back to their boat. I really didn't even look, but the quick glimpse is an image that won't fade.
My house is attached to theirs. The walls are thin. It was impossible not to hear a fear tears next door as I hung the laundry from my second floor window. By the end of the day I'd had all of the news. My neighbor's brother was in the hospital for the virus. He doesn't live on the island. But this family had had contact with the patient's family. And that was enough to require the mandatory test. They were put under home quarantine until the test results come back.
I stayed in the house for the rest of the day. I'd bought tickets to a party for Carnevale on the island that night. I didn't go. I never looked at Worldometers again. There was no need to check the charts to see how much my anxiety level was rising.
Pizza, gelato and the coronavirus in northern Italy
I'd spent the past 1425 days googling Trump. I didn't have an app for a specific newspaper or any particular site, I just typed "Trump" in the google bar and read whatever came up. As the only American in a small town in Italy, asking me about Trump was simply irresistible for the townsfolk, so I always felt I should be somewhat prepared. In the first couple of years their comments had been about Al Capone (pronounced Cah-POH-nay), but Trump quickly took his place.
In January, Trump said something about the Chinese Coronavirus and the next day instead of typing "Trump" in the google bar I typed "Chinese Coronavirus". I read about the hospitals being built in a week and saw videos of ghost towns taken by drones. I watched the number of cases and deaths increase and I saw photos of empty grocery stores. I never thought about Trump again.
The Chinese Coronavirus was my new obsession. With it I also learned more about SARS (which I was apparently and embarrassingly too naive to worry about 17 years ago, and not because I was googling George W. Bush), the internet censorship in China and a website called Worldometers which had begun tracking the number of coronavirus cases by country. That's when I realized it was no longer necessary to type "Chinese" before "coronavirus". There were a lot of countries on the list, but fortunately, for several weeks, Italy was near the bottom.
People talked about how incredible it was that China had built those hospitals so quickly. In Italy it takes years to do anything. And even if things get approved, it takes years more to actually see a building. People said that if the virus ever really spread in Italy, we would be doomed. Jokes flew freely because Italy's initial few cases and the cases in France and Germany had stopped increasing.
On Friday afternoon, the 21st of February, we had four cases. With my usual obsessive check before bed I know the number was higher, but I can't remember how much higher. That night, it still wasn't alarming enough to count sheep.
In January, Trump said something about the Chinese Coronavirus and the next day instead of typing "Trump" in the google bar I typed "Chinese Coronavirus". I read about the hospitals being built in a week and saw videos of ghost towns taken by drones. I watched the number of cases and deaths increase and I saw photos of empty grocery stores. I never thought about Trump again.
The Chinese Coronavirus was my new obsession. With it I also learned more about SARS (which I was apparently and embarrassingly too naive to worry about 17 years ago, and not because I was googling George W. Bush), the internet censorship in China and a website called Worldometers which had begun tracking the number of coronavirus cases by country. That's when I realized it was no longer necessary to type "Chinese" before "coronavirus". There were a lot of countries on the list, but fortunately, for several weeks, Italy was near the bottom.
People talked about how incredible it was that China had built those hospitals so quickly. In Italy it takes years to do anything. And even if things get approved, it takes years more to actually see a building. People said that if the virus ever really spread in Italy, we would be doomed. Jokes flew freely because Italy's initial few cases and the cases in France and Germany had stopped increasing.
On Friday afternoon, the 21st of February, we had four cases. With my usual obsessive check before bed I know the number was higher, but I can't remember how much higher. That night, it still wasn't alarming enough to count sheep.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)