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.