(A series of personal observations recorded as Italy takes action against the spread of Covid-19,
first published March 18, 2020) The cities and towns have all gone quiet but the countryside follows its own rhythm. It is quiet in the winter. It is quiet when it rains. It is quiet briefly at midday most seasons, longer in summer. But it isn’t quiet now. Farmers don’t follow ordinances, they follow Nature. Today there tractors in the fields, chainsaws on the hillsides; three-wheeled trucks buzz from town to somewhere beyond and back again. Today I’m tired and just want to hear the soothing noises that the forest makes. It is a glorious day.
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(A series of personal observations recorded as Italy takes action against the spread of Covid-19,
first published March 17, 2020) "Micio!” I call. The big picture, the global view, has receded this morning. My attention has been scattered wide lately. My attention has been on our family trifecta: China, Italy, New York. My attention has been in the valley: new cases; roads are blocked. But my attention today is focused on a very localized and intimate detail of the global picture. “Miciomiciomicio!” There’s no response. There hasn’t been for a week now, but I try anyway. Today I leave the back door open, just in case, and go upstairs. (A series of personal observations recorded as Italy takes action against the spread of Covid-19,
first published March 16, 2020) I can hear them outside in the piazza. I peek through the curtains. There are three of them and they are clearly not following the order to "restate a casa", stay at home. They are keeping their distance from each other as suggested though, and there’s about a meter and a half or more between each of them. Which means they’re shouting at each other. They’re shouting at each other. Yes, I know. Should we say something? What can we say? I don’t know… “stop shouting”? “We live here”? “Go home for chrissake”? (A series of personal observations recorded as Italy takes action against the spread of Covid-19,
first published March 15, 2020) I wake to the sound of bells, as always. Despite the call to the early mass, the piazza won’t fill this morning. No one will lean against our kitchen window gossiping, unaware that we’re drinking our coffee inside. I don’t especially mind. A piano sings faintly from two floors up. I’m slicing the bread when he comes in. I can tell something is different. “What do we want to do today?” he says. (A series of personal observations recorded as Italy takes action against the spread of Covid-19, first published March 14, 2020) I look into this face all afternoon because I don’t want to look at the news anymore. I don’t want to look out the window either right now but something’s going on so I do anyway. The carabinieri have stopped a car full of people who should’ve known better than to go four all together. To make it worse, they don’t have their documents in order: they’re missing the auto-certification that states where they’re going and proves that where they’re going is on the very short list of “acceptable” outings permitted. I watch the argument, the exchange of paperwork. They’ve been fined and they’ll have to go home to a full 15-day quarantine, no exit for any reason whatsoever now. The new directives for our region came out last night and are, inexplicably, more strident than the national regulations. It is even forbidden just to go for a walk. Out here in the countryside that makes no sense and I feel the stirring of revolt. Where I go, they won’t find me. |
MBI added this blog as a way to share some thoughts and experiences around the impact of Covid-19 on my life here in Southern Italy. These posts have been a near-daily practice during this time and are largely unedited, most having been first posted on Facebook. They are of course in order with the most recent entry on the first page. I invite you to explore previous posts or even start from the beginning. Archives
June 2022
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