Do What You Can to Stop the Spread of the Coronavirus. Please.

The current rule in Italy during the Coronavirus lockdown is that only one person in the family is allowed to shop (which when the time comes, won't be me). And, that one person can only shop for articles of the utmost necessity.

That's why it's hard for me to understand why some of my friends feel the need to grocery shop again and again.  I went 22 days ago and I haven't been back.  I don't really like much of what I'm eating, but I eat.  Everything that I want to make is missing one ingredient, so I don't make it. But that's not enough to think that another trip to the market is important. 

These rulebreaking friends make me mad (both angry and crazy).  My initial frustration came out of concern for them.  They shouldn't be out so much, they shouldn't touch the dirty shopping cart and then accidently touch their mouth or eyes, they shouldn't be in a place where they might be sneezed on.  But this frustration has since turned to anger because I don't think they're doing their part. 

For the moment, I have enough food to avoid the grocery store.  But one of these days I'll have to go because I'll have run out of canned peas and pasta.    Finding a crowded store will make shopping more of a risk for me.  And if the reason the store is crowded is because it's full of people like my friends that go day after day for articles that aren't of the utmost necessity,  and one of those 'friends' sneezes on me in a crowded aisle, I'll have one more reason to hate grocery shopping.

The rapid spread of the Coronavirus is the dangerous part. The spread is why there aren't enough test kits or hospital beds. It's essential to learn from the first unfortunate countries that had no guidelines and stop the spread now.

Wangari Maathai won the Nobel Peace Prize in 2004. She uses the Hummingbird Fable to illustrate how the smallest of contributions is important.

Wangari Maathai's story

One day a terrible fire broke out in a forest, and a huge woodlands was suddenly engulfed by a raging wild fire. Frightened, all the animals fled their homes and ran out of the forest. As they came to the edge of a stream they stopped to watch the fire, feeling very discouraged and powerless, and grieving the destruction of their homes. Every one of them thought there was nothing they could do about the fire - except for one little hummingbird.
This particular hummingbird swooped into the stream and picked up a few drops of water, then flew into the forest and put them on the fire. Then it went back to the stream and did it again, and it kept going back, again and again and again. All the other animals watched in disbelief; some tried to discourage the hummingbird.
“Don’t bother.”
“It’s too much.”
“You’re too little.”
“Your wings will burn.”
“Your beak is too tiny.”
“It’s only a drop.”
“You can’t put out this fire.”
And as the animals stood around disparaging the little bird's efforts, the bird noticed how hopeless and forlorn they looked. Then one of the animals shouted out and challenged the hummingbird, asking in a mocking voice, “what do you think you are doing?” And the hummingbird, without wasting time or losing a beat, looked back and said, “I am doing what I can.”

If we all do our part, we could help stop the spread of the virus.  And if we stop the spread, we could save lives.  Living your life without fresh fruit and vegetables for a few weeks might be saving the life of someone else.   

The Hills are Alive with the Sound of the Coronavirus Lockdown

Taking a walk during the lockdown has taken some figuring out.  When I realized I was breaking the rules by leaving my town limits I got a little bit worried, so the next day I opted for laps in the vineyards.  When I got tired of one, I moved on to another, but everything looked the same. The vines are leafless so between the rows I never lost sight of the mountains. If I'm still counting laps in May, at least I'll have a change of scenery.

When I told friends about my new gym, some were convinced that I was still breaking rules. I decided to take a couple of days off to study the decree from Il Presidente del Consiglio dei Ministri.  Article 1, number 1, letter d could be interpreted in different ways and if Italians disagreed on the wording, I certainly couldn't figure it out. It was so confusing it was later modified to a different article and number and letter but I can't tell you what that is right now because it's folded neatly in the pocket of my running coat with all of the other documents necessary to take a walk in Italy during the Coronavirus Lockdown. (It's true that I don't really need a running coat if I'm only walking, but the rule mentions athletes, so I thought I'd better look the part.) 

I have a student that owns a house near mine but doesn't live there.  I called him yesterday and asked if I could climb over his fence and cross his property to get to the woods. In doing so, I only have 45 seconds on the street.  So if I'm breaking any rules they're going to have to come get me on an off road 4-Wheeler.  And in the 8 years I've been safely crossing the borders on my trail runs, I've never seen one.  In fact, I've seldom seen anyone at all.  I know the local shepherd and he makes the same comment every time I pass.  Just like me, he's always in a different place.  I wave at my favorite farmers in their combines and wish the men collecting mushrooms good luck.

Even the sheep are on lockdown.

But today was completely different. Apparently I'm not the only one afraid of breaking the walking rules because the hills and trails were alive.  Most of the walkers were alone.  But if you decide to walk with a friend, the one-meter-safety distance is required and enforced. Two friends that stopped by this afternoon for a long distance chat in the yard had been questioned by the civil protection service (old men that volunteer) and told to respect the distance.  They were luckier than the two 70-year-old ladies that hadn't realized they were out of their city limits and were fined.

Mountain bikers passed with their bandanas drawn high, but I held my breath anyway.  Walkers kept their distance and sometimes didn't even say hello. They were probably holding their breath, too.  I used to be afraid of dogs on the trails and in the fields.  Now it's dog-owners. The woods seemed a lot safer when I was all alone.  And I could always find a bathroom.

Italian-American Guidelines for Food Rationing during the Coronavirus Lockdown

Before most Italians were very worried about the Coronavirus, l'americana was starting to panic.  I did my grocery shopping early.  I didn't clear out the shelves, I was just thinking ahead.  No more weekends on the island meant I needed more food at the house in the country.  No more trips to the pizzeria meant I needed frozen pizza. I certainly bought more than I've ever bought before, but I only filled one cart.  I even thought I'd be laughing at myself in a week or so when my cupboards were filled with this extra stuff that I don't really even like and I was back to going out for pizza.

That was three weeks ago.  I still have almost everything I bought.  I've been eating the old stuff that's been in the cupboard for months.  There are jars of things I never sent as Christmas gifts because the package weighed too much at the post office, so I removed them. I found boxes of tea that I tried and didn't like and had frivolously gone out to buy new flavors. Today I ate frozen zucchini curry soup that had gone uneaten because I'd added too much peperoncino. (It's homemade soup because in Italy we don't have an aisle dedicated to Campbell's.)

Don't get the wrong idea. Grocery stores in Italy are still open, but I haven't been in one for three weeks. Living without lettuce and carrots seems a little easier than living with the Coronavirus. I'm sure I'm overexaggerating, but it doesn't make sense to have cancelled English lessons two weeks before the lockdown and then head out into the real world at the peak (wishful thinking) of the problem. Instead of waiting in line in the grocery store parking lot to enter one at a time and then follow the newly painted lines at the checkout indicating the safe distance, I'm thinking about how to ration.

I've already started diluting my beverages. 6 bottles becomes 12 if you fill the glass halfway with water first. Crackers (I've been out of bread for two weeks) don't need peanut butter AND jelly.  Unfortunately I found myself with more jelly than peanut butter, so I go two days with jelly and the third with Jif (wishful thinking again.....it costs 6 euros in Italy). Fortunately I've found 5 different brands at Gli Africani (Italians' friendly name for the African food stores) and they're all reasonably priced.

Expiration dates are being read more carefully.  First, to make sure you consume the fresh mozzarella that only has a few days left before you grate the parmesan which seems to last forever. Secondly, because what used to be thrown out on the date of expiration probably doesn't really have to be.

The most difficult decision is when to eat the chocolate.  I'm still cutting the Lindt balls in half and have just opened a box of individually wrapped Loacker cookies from Christmas. I made brownies and froze them because the eggs were about to expire and I thought brownies in the future sounded better than scrambled eggs right now. I've found a simple hot chocolate recipe that takes nothing more than melting a chocolate bar and pouring it in a cup of hot milk.  I just can't decide when to open the last carton of milk.

I was also thrilled to find a container of frozen chocolate chip cookie balls. It's an attempt at being a good Italian hostess.  No matter how big your surprise visit is, you're always invited in for coffee and something sweet. Unfortunately, it doesn't always work for me.  While waiting for those unexpected guests I usually end up eating the balls of dough one at a time.....until now.  It was already in my mouth when I thought of my brother-in-law that easily refused raw cookie dough for fear of salmonella. His fear of salmonella became my fear of an Italian hospital during the Cornavirus outbreak. Spitting out the half eaten ball was one of the saddest (and grossest) decisions I've had to make in the past three weeks.        

Nutella (which is cheaper here than in the States) has always been well-scraped from the inside of the jar before opening a new one. Now the scraping resembles that last squeeze of toothpaste, when there's always a little bit more. Until that day when there really isn't.  Fortunately I found a new jar because it wouldn't be a real Italian household without Nutella. 

 

               

A Gigantic Free Concert for the Coronavirus in Italy

I've left the house more than once for a nice long walk without my phone.  And I've returned more than once to get it.  The days I decide that I really don't want it in my pocket with my ID (proof to show the police where I live if they find me out in the woods during lockdown), blue plastic gloves (to open closed gates) and reading glasses (for the irresistible urge to send a message from the vineyard) are the days that I'm sure there's going to be a great photo that I'll be sad to have missed if I go phoneless. 

I'm not a very good cell phone user.  I don't properly close sites, turn things off or hang up phone calls which may be embarrassing, expensive and dangerous.  But the other day I welcomed my carelessness with a smile and a couple of tears.

From out of nowhere (my pocket) on the top of Due Ciliegi (that's what I call the hill with the two cherry trees on top) I heard piano music. I recognized the tune and all of the wrong notes as mine and for some reason up on that hill all alone I was moved by the out-of-tune recording of a piece I still haven't learned.  In these days of the Coronavirus, it doesn't take much to move me. I laughed when I found comfort in my own bad music and thought I might just find the courage to send someone the recording and tell the funny story.

That was two days ago.  There was no need to find the courage to share the recording and tell the story.  Instead I had to find the courage to perform in un gigantesco concerto gratuito (gigantic free concert) with only six hours to prepare. Here's the message I received this morning, the fourth day of the lockdown in Italy.

Sent by some colleagues from the Milan Conservatory.
Whoever knows how to play must play.
Attention!!
Remember this date:  Friday the 13th (scared smiley face) at exactly 6pm all of the inhabitants of Italy will take their instruments and play at their windows....for a few minutes our country will become a giant free concert.
Spread this message as much as possible to all of the Italians you know to make ourselves heard.

Hours later I got the message again with this addition:

If you don't have an instrument, sing. If you can't sing, clap your hands or make music with two lids.  

So, at exactly 6pm, the piece that had only been played for the due ciliegi two days earlier was performed live in un gigantesco concerto gratuito.  And it was far more moving than the first time.

          
P.S.  The pianist in this video is my 12-year-old neighbor.  The music is coming from her house where her mom is taking the video. Fortunately, my piece was drowned out by the doll playing the drums.  

Candles of Hope for the Coronavirus

When I was a kid we called them chain letters.  They were handwritten, had to be hand-delivered or taken to the post office and usually instilled some type of fear if you didn't keep them going.

Tonight I received my first chain letter via WhatsApp.  Unfortunately, there's no time for the letter to be handwritten, hand-delivered or taken to the post office. But there's still fear. It's not a fear that refusing to send the letter to ten people ensures that something bad will happen to you.  It's the fear that something bad has already happened and we don't know what else to do. 

I'll try to translate the message as accurately as possible.  And if it doesn't move you the way it moved me, the reason could be that it's a lousy translation.  But it could also be that you have no idea how it feels to be living in Italy with the Coronavirus.

Tonight let's all, and I mean all, from north to south,  light a candle in the window to illuminate this dark moment of hope and to tell all of the sick, and the doctors and nurses that are fighting on the front line that we are all united and with our dedication and commitment we will make it!!!!!
Pass it on.

Andra' tutto bene.

This is probably more of a city thing and it would make quite an impression to see a whole town lit up.  No cars have passed my house in the last five hours.  But I lit my candle, put it on my windowsill and sent the chain letter to my neighbor.  Four minutes later she wrote, "Can you see it?" Yes, I could see it and I cried and sent the chain letter to a lot more than just ten friends.

Whoever you are and wherever you are, I hope you never have to light a candle.  But if you do, I hope you'll pass it on. 

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.

The Coronavirus Runs Freely While My COUNTRY is on Lockdown

Noise from the carpenters remodelling my neighbor's house had become a pleasant get-up call.  I was already awake when they arrived, but once they started moving I thought I should be moving too, so I got up.   That lasted until the first day of the lockdown. One might say that depression left me in bed until 9.30am, but I'd say that I missed my get-up call.  The carpenters hadn't shown up for work.  Instead of enjoying the first spring tweets of the early birds that aren't afraid of the Coronavirus, I was longing for the jackhammer, to prove that this was all a nightmare and I'd simply overslept.

During the first two weeks of my self-induced fear-based lockdown, I had organized a few lessons and walks. I wasn't really comfortable with either, but I wasn't ready to completely give up everything.  Most people wouldn't miss their croissant and cappucino at the bar every morning.  And they kept going to the gym which had closed and then reopened......and then closed again. And here I was afraid of a lesson at my 6-foot table and a walk on opposite sides of the street?  People thought I was crazy, and I agreed.   I thought they were crazy, and they disagreed.   

After two weeks my self-induced fear-based lockdown became a governmentally-induced provincial lockdown.  It sounded frightening to me.  But for many,  the only inconvenience of a lockdown issued by the government was the hassle of finding a new bar in their province.    

The lockdown officially kicked off yesterday.  It was the first of the next 26 days that I have nothing to organize (other than closets). But I think I've found the silver lining.  I've had the same to-do list for many, many years.  This is the perfect opportunity to just do it.  Then in years to come when I'm behind on my photo albums I can say, "The last time I did an album was during the Coronavirus." And if I really memorize a piece on the piano and I'm playing it at the train station in Venice when I arrive on a hot summer Thursday at  midnight I can say, "I learned it on the lockdown."  The list goes on and on and it sounds better all the time. What a beautiful scarf....it must have taken forever to knit. You've finally learned the 21 tenses in Italian. I've never seen such a well-organized armoire. Lockdown.  Lockdown.  Lockdown.

My enthusiasm grew throughout the day. As long as I could avoid the virus, I had big plans. I was sure my friends in nearby provinces were going to be envious of my provincial lockdown status.  Then surprisingly, a bit before midnight on our first day of lockdown, the decision makers that had pulled the all-nighter on Saturday changed the rules.  They put the whole country on lockdown.  So much for the happy graphic that depicts the Italian boot with red, green and white stripes. Now it's nothing but one big red zone.