DAYS SEVENTY-ONE TO EIGHTY-SIX - 19/05/2020 - 03/06/2020
Looking back on the last few weeks under a new kind of lockdown, it seems that time has sped up. Filling our days with walks around Rome, long-awaited reunions and drinks shared with friends, we suddenly find ourselves six months into the year, and at summer’s door. The blossom of a month ago has given way to bold, bright bougainvillea, and temperatures are reaching upwards of 28 degrees most days.
Yesterday was the Festa della Repubblica here, and many Romans predictably flocked to local beaches, which opened at the end of last week, for their first dip of the year in the warm Mediterranean waters. The past ten days or so have also seen the resurrection of other, long-forgotten relics from ‘before’, such as hairdressers’ appointments and museum visits - both of which I immediately indulged in. It is truly a once-in-a-lifetime experience to visit Rome’s famous Capitoline museums with a friend, and discover that you have the whole place to yourselves in what is usually peak season, or to stand inside the Sistine chapel, gazing at those walls for a full 30 minutes, without being barged into or moved on by the guards. Instead of the usual 30,000 daily visitors, on Monday I was one of just 1,600 to wander the gilded halls of the Vatican museums as they reopened for the first time. Perhaps the only ‘perk’ of being an out-of-work tour guide is that I now have more free time on my hands and can still flash my licence for free entry to most museums - although (of course) the Vatican is exempt from this. I vow to make it to more of the plethora of museums and galleries around the city, before they fill up again; the Galleria Borghese is next on my list.
Finally being able to perch on a fountain and eat a gelato, or sip an espresso from a proper ceramic cup without worrying about police patrols or self-declaration forms is also pure, unbridled joy. I’m convinced that everything tastes, smells and looks sweeter and more intense than I remember. Judging by the number of people in the streets and piazzas lately, I’m not the only one. But there is an undercurrent of nervous energy, as if at any moment, these new privileges could be taken away without warning - in fact the mayor of Milan has already rescinded some freedoms, such as the sale of alcohol after 7pm, due to overcrowding in the city’s famous night-life hotspots.
So, it’s not exactly business as usual. Quite literally, as many small- and medium-sized businesses are struggling to balance strict security measures with getting things up and running again. Many will not survive, from restaurants, to theatres and shops, if they must continue to operate at reduced capacity. A theatre manager friend told me that it will simply not be feasible to run her venue, supposedly allowed to reopen from 15th June, with a third of the clientele - even if they were to double ticket prices. Another local business owner remarked: “It’s all very well the mayor telling us we can put a few tables outside for free until the end of the year, but once I’ve paid for them, installed and sanitised them, it’ll soon be time to take them down again and really, how much extra income will they bring me?” Running a tiny, popular sandwich shop means that he has at least been able to continue offering a take-away service throughout lockdown and, mercifully, shouldn’t lose much more trade going forward. But he’s one of the lucky ones, based in a residential neighbourhood and relying solely on local custom. Those in the city centre, ordinarily jam-packed with foreign tourists at this time of year, are eerily desolate; empty chairs at empty tables. A close friend used to waitress at a well-known restaurant near the Spanish Steps, where she would make triple figures per shift in tips from tourists: “It’s not likely to reopen again”, she told me, incredulously. And how can it be expected to, without the tourist trade? “I don’t think I ever saw more than a handful of Italians eating there”, she remarked.
Even businesses that seem to be adapting to all the latest regulations without complaint - installing plexiglass panels, hand sanitiser stations and various other hands-free systems - have to compensate for such a drastic reduction in income, somehow. Inevitably, I have already noticed prices increasing exponentially here in Rome, post-lockdown: a panino from the aforementioned sandwich shop, that just three months ago would have cost €3.50, now comes in at €5; upon paying for an espresso, a cappuccino and two pastries at a coffee bar the other day, I was stunned to find that the total came to €11 (this would usually cost no more than €5 - less than half the price). A Venetian resident also had an unpleasant surprise recently, when the bill for his cappuccino and orange juice came in at €21, leading him to vent his anger on social media. These prices may still seem laughable by London or New York standards, and businesses understandably need to make up for recent losses, but this dramatic inflation will come as a shock - and possibly a deterrent - to Romans in particular. In a city where your morning macchiato costs around €0.80 at the bar downstairs, it may no longer be a sustainable daily habit if you suddenly have to cough up more than triple that - especially as so many became used to having to ‘make do without’ during lockdown. Once the novelty has worn off, I fear that businesses may see yet another drop in trade, when financially hard-hit citizens forego ‘luxuries’ like eating out.
And then there is the small matter of the much-discussed ‘Second Wave’. As yet, we don’t seem to be experiencing a rise in the infection rate, at least not here in Lazio where, as it stands, there are reportedly only 5 new cases. However the fear does feel very real, for some. My friends appear to be divided: there are those who are rather lax with their use of masks and sense of personal space, while others refuse point-blank to socialise yet, shirking any form of in-person contact with those outside their household. I understand and respect both points of view, and probably sit on the fence between the two (ok, the fence may be slightly tilting towards the former...!). Like everything else at the moment, it remains to be seen whether picnics and barbecues will be responsible for mass contagion in the coming weeks, or if this virus really is disappearing as quickly as it came, and that obediently staying at home for so long did the trick.
While in the U.K. it’s the epidemiologists who are criticising the government for easing lockdown restrictions too quickly, in Italy the head of the San Raffaele hospital in Milan sparked national outrage a few days ago, declaring that “the virus doesn’t exist anymore” - to which President Mattarella responded swiftly and firmly, stating that it would be “unacceptable and unforgivable to squander this legacy of sacrifice and pain.” The Premier Giuseppe Conte was decidedly more sanguine, telling the media that it’s a question of “calculated risk” and that the latest numbers are “promising”. But it does feel like a bit of a volte-face to suddenly allow the reopening of the country’s borders, as well as swimming pools, gyms, cinemas, churches, shopping centres and so on, without further ado. Whichever side you’re on, the world will be watching Italy closely today, as both national and international travel restrictions are lifted for the first time since March.
The newly-appointed mayor of Cesena in Emilia-Romagna summed up these mixed feelings of fear and elation, telling The Guardian that people in his region “are enthusiastic about trying to get back some normality, but they’re doing it intelligently. We’ve had zero cases for a week now, but they are still paying attention. We can’t relax. We need to be prepared for a second wave. Because next time, we won’t have any excuses.”