Learning the Rules of the Coronavirus Lockdown

On March 10 at 21.40 (9:40pm) the Prime Minister gave a live update of the Coronavirus outbreak in Italy.  (How sad that I no longer have to write northern Italy.) Instead of a list of everything that's closed, it's much easier to tell you what's still open. 

Grocery stores. Post offices. Banks. Pharmacies.

The truth is that for me, the news wasn't all that shocking. I've been living with my own (hopefully) warped idea of what it must be like out there in the real world, so when I heard this news it wasn't a lot different from the way I'd been imagining things for the past two weeks. That's one nice thing about a negative attitude. Things hit you like a pound of bricks instead of a ton.  

At the moment, I define the real world as anything that goes beyond my tiny blue house and its surrounding fields. I'm avoiding the media because I don't want to hear or see anything that I don't want to hear or see.  The only images I've seen of a country struggling with the Coronavirus are the ones I was obsessed with last month from Wuhan. But now instead of Tiananmen Square it's St. Mark's Square and the people are Italian instead of Chinese. 

I've asked friends to inform me when there's something they think I should know. And when I'm not sure about something, I ask. Tonight, 30 minutes before the update from the Prime Minister, I learned from one of my personal investigative reporters that for the past two days I'd been breaking the lockdown rules.

I'd just finished telling her about my walk and that I found a perfect place for a convertible picnic.  When I told her where it was she said that I couldn't drive there for a picnic. Why?  Because it's not in my town.  I explained that unlike other neighboring towns that aren't in my province, this town is, therefore it's picnicable.  But she told me the rules had changed.  On Monday, what was once a PROVINCE on lockdown (if you were in a red zone you couldn't leave your province), had become a COUNTRY on lockdown (no one could leave the country and I thought we couldn't move about from province to province inside the country).  The only exceptions are work, health and emergencies. But what I'd missed was that what was once a PROVINCE on lockdown had become a TOWN on lockdown.  And that means no one in the town can leave the town.

I told my friend the convertible picnic could wait and that in the meantime, I'd keep taking my daily 10-mile walks to look for other perfect picnic places. I think I've already mentioned that I'm a runner not a walker, but I've decided to play it safe and avoid a running injury that could lead to a trip to a hospital. I originally had that thought because the hospital wouldn't be a good place to be with the Coronavirus in town.  But now the reality is the hospital would have no bed for me. Not that I've ever gone to the hospital for a running injury, I usually just go to my physical therapist. But add to the list that I got a message from him today that he's been forced to close until at least March 25 and suddenly walking seems just fine.

Back to my personal investigative reporter who had started her personal investigation. She wanted to know where I'd been walking. Everywhere! Whenever I think it's time to turn around I ask myself why and keep walking.  I walk on trails through the woods that finish in prairies with colorful bee colonies. I walk on dirt roads that pass vineyards, groves of olive trees and freshly plowed fields.  My landmarks are the mountains to the north and the little red church on the top of the hill to the south.  I never get lost even though I seldom know exactly where I am. This had never been a problem until today when I learned that I can't leave my town on foot either. That means my 10-mile walk through the fields this morning was against the law. I'd surely crossed the border of at least three towns. 

I still have a bit to learn about living on lockdown. Searching for the confines in the land of combines isn't going to be easy, but I won't give up.