We ventured out with our autodichiarazione form Thursday
morning, the first day in which the declaration restricting travel and daily
activities in all of Italy went into full effect. We would not have gone out had it not been
for the fact we needed to exchange our rental car. In the interest of minimizing future trips, we
decided to add grocery shopping and follow-up to an eye examination to the list
of activities we included on the form to justify to authorities why we were out
and about, should we by stopped by the local or national police to check our
travel forms. Actually, I only needed to
drop off a form for the optometrist to fill out to renew my Minnesota
drivers license, but we needed to put something on the form that sounded like
either a food or medial purpose to justify having more than one of us in the
car for the outing.
Nothing seemed unusual driving down the mountainside. We still experienced the same, quite beauty
as always. But, once we got into the town
of Segromigno we started to see the signs of people’s initial efforts to
adapt. We saw a car parked on the side
of the road with the driver making a cell call and wearing a mask. (Not sure which struck us a more unusual; the
fact he parked to make the call or was wearing a mask.) There was hardly any traffic. We slipped into fill the rental car’s tank with
gas and were greeted by a cheery attendant; maskless.
The first real sign that things were different was when we drove
by Dolcidea, absolutely the best pasticceria in the area. Bars and restaurants can be open mornings and
until 6 pm, but for most there is no reason to fuss with being open. The few that are open have done things like
put tape on the floors or rearrange their tables to make sure people keep a
meter’s entrance; just something we’ve read about in the papers as we haven’t
ventured into a bar or restaurant since the decree was issued. Dolcidea has always been the place we go to reward
or relieve ourselves after returning from battle with some bureaucratic process
or another. That little life support is
not going to be available for awhile.
Once we got into Lucca to the rental car office we found
ourselves in a town as it might appear in the early morning hours before most businesses
or shops would normally open. There were
a few people out on solitary walks with their dogs: allowed, but only long enough to for the business
to get done. We saw two guys walking down
the sidewalk holding take out from a pasticceria chatting with each other,
though with an ample distance between them. (WHAT? Italians never do take-out coffee).
We were at the rental agency early because they asked us to be
there between 8:30 and 9:30 am to make the vehicle the exchange. After a number of phone calls and emails the
day before, the time for the exchanged got narrowed down to one hour as they shifted
their schedule from being open all day, to a half day, to just having a single
hour of business in the morning.
Car exchanged, we went to Esselunga; the supermarkets of record
in the area. What looked like just a
line of folks waiting for the store opening was really Esselunga’s social
distancing protocol in action. We were
at an Esselunga a few days before and found all staff wearing gloves and requiring
shoppers to stay a meter apart in check-out lines. Now they were limiting the number of people
who could be in the store at any one time.
The line outside and extending around the parking lot was people waiting
to get in . . . each keeping their distance.
Only one person per household is supposed to be shopping so Bill
stayed in the car. I took on the
shopping alone. It was a bit eerie in the store. Some people wearing masks. Some not.
Some with their scarfs covering their mouths. Some not. Compliance with the guideline was pretty
good, except there was one couple having broken the one-per-house-rule was scurrying
about to collect items to fill their cart.
It wasn’t a sense of panic that characterized the eerie feeling. I think it was just that the social element,
the feeling of collective nurturing in grocery shopping was missing. The only moment of discomfort was when this
guy who declared panic by wearing a N95 respiratory mask and hunting gear was
stirring a ruckus with a store clerk because not everyone was respecting the one
meter distancing in an ailes he wanted to pass through. For christ’s sake! It was the aisle with chocolate and coffee! The only shortage was flour. (Italians are more focused on making pasta,
pizza and bread than wiping their asses.
We have bidets for that.)
One of the things I appreciate most about Italy’s approach to this
emergency closing is how clearly things were communicated and thoughtfully
organized. The message was delivered
loud and clear: as a top priority you
will be able to shop for food and it will be orderly.
Next up was our walk inside the wall and into Lucca centro to
deliver the form to the optometrist.
Every shop was shuttered except for stores that primarily sold food,
newspaper stands, and tobacco shops. No coffee
shops, bars, or restaurants. No
merchandise shops. (Though the national decree allows electronics stores that
sell computers and related tech to be open.)
The eye glass shop with the optometrist’s office was not open, but
they had a number on the door to call if you needed service. (I just slipped the form I needed to deliver
under the door.) The very, very few
people on the street were all walking alone.
A few were walking their dog.
This was the first we saw of any police presence; a singular cop car
slowly driving down the street. The shop where we do our shipping was closed,
though had a sign announcing limited daily hours from 9 am to 1 pm. It was 10 am and the shop was still
closed. What a relief. Not every piece of the slower, more casual
approach to life in Italy has been affected by the pandemic!
That was it. We did the
three things we needed to do and then drove straight home. We didn’t come across any of the police spot
checks along the roadside, though we have read about them in the paper. According to the news reports, the police are
kind of bored, right now. There are virtually
no crime reports. Most of the calls they
are getting are questions about restrictions in the decree. When they are doing spot checks and find people
without autodichiarazione forms, they are helping them complete forms on
the spot and sending them on their way with the guidance to respect the social
distancing guidelines.
To be clear, we are not in the area of Italy most seriously
affected by the pandemic. Family and
friends are not dying in large numbers around us. Hospitals are in preparedness mode, but the
beds are not full and health care workers are not being pushed to the limits of
their physical, medical, and human capacities.
We are just calmly doing our part.
We can do this because the government and health system acted
quickly, clearly, and decisively. Everything
that was put in place here in Italy over the past week and was so shocking to
others, particularly our friends in the US, is now happening elsewhere. The big difference is it happened here
through clear communication and with a clear sense of purpose and a plan. We can trust that the government and the health
care system are doing their jobs and are leading with a focus on the public’s
interest and public health. Sadly, for our
friends in the US and for the world, that is not what is happening.
Absent informed, decisive and empathetic leadership, people focused
on buying toilet paper while the pandemic engulfed them.
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