If carnival originated from the idea of leading us from winter to spring through a three-day tunnel bursting with joy and colour, this year it has become truer than ever. Because mamma mia, spring has arrived.
The idea that there could ever be ‘too many’ cosy little squares with corner bars where families drink coffee on Sunday mornings while children run around the baroque fountain has never occurred to anyone in Rome
And on this very first Sunday of spring – yes, I know it’s only February, but still – I am having a cappuccino with two ciambelline all’anice in Piazza Farnese. For the Rome connoisseurs, this is a beautiful little square next to the stunning Campo di Fiori. Every alleyway here leads to a new square. The idea that there could ever be ‘too many’ cosy little squares with corner bars where families drink coffee on Sunday mornings while children run around the baroque fountain has never occurred to anyone in Rome. And I’m so glad it hasn’t.
However, Italy would not be Italy if there weren’t five different forms and I wouldn’t be myself if I didn’t arrive late at the gate where I was told that I had obviously filled in the wrong form
It was last Thursday that I flew back to Rome. At 8 o’clock in the morning I was already on the train to Schiphol, from where I normally never fly. Because it feels a little strange, to first spend more than 2 hours in the train to the north and then 2 hours in the plane to the south. As if you’re travelling from Rome to Milan via Naples. I had saved the negative result of the COVID-test on my phone and after a five-euro cappuccino at the airport that didn’t taste half as good as the one in Rome (but we all know that’s part of the deal), it was time to board. I knew that I had to fill in a form to be allowed to enter Italy and had triple-checked the day before and asked several friends which form I should have. However, Italy would not be Italy if there weren’t five different forms and I wouldn’t be myself if I didn’t arrive late at the gate where I was told that I had obviously filled in the wrong form. On the back of a fellow passenger, I then quickly filled in the correct form while everyone else was already on board. However, I still wasn’t ready for the journey just yet as I was not wearing the right mask. Luckily, I have a mother who thinks about these things and, as a precaution, had bought the right medical masks and put them in my bag. Once in the plane, in seat 22F (if possible, I choose row 22, which has been my lucky number for as long as I can remember), I felt like I was in the 1980s. The Alitalia plane was one of those small ones with only two seats on either side of the aisle and friendly middle-aged Italian stewardesses in green suits.
At Fiumicino, Rome’s airport, every passenger was stopped. If you could show a negative test, you were allowed to continue and there was no need to quarantine
At Schiphol Airport, they did not ask for a negative test. However, I suddenly had the feeling that I was being watched from all sides as it was only now that I noticed how much security there actually is at an airport, when the departure hall and gates are almost deserted. The flight went smoothly and after two hours, I saw the Mediterranean Sea glistering under a bright sun. Immediately, I felt those well-known butterflies in my stomach. At Fiumicino, Rome’s airport, every passenger was stopped. If you could show a negative test, you were allowed to continue and there was no need to quarantine. Meno male, or thank goodness.
Although my new, temporary house in the heart of the old city is beautiful with its wooden beamed ceiling and blue-painted double doors that are so narrow I can only just fit through them, I feel an enormous urge to be outside
Because to be in quarantine now with this beautiful spring weather would be a bitter pill to swallow. Although my new, temporary house in the heart of the old city is beautiful with its wooden beamed ceiling and blue-painted double doors that are so narrow I can only just fit through them, I feel an enormous urge to be outside. Especially since it feels really great to finally be able to have a coffee in the sun on a terrace again, and I realise once more how bars and restaurants are truly the heart of the city’s social life. This early spring that is now making its appearance – from the Netherlands to Italy – is simply a gift. And this is not the first time that the weather gods seem to be trying to soften our situation. Just think of the wonderful spring during the first lockdown last year that, thanks to the fact we were working from home, gave us a lovely tan already in April, the severe frost and ice-skating fun in the Netherlands during Carnival last week and the fact that November in Rome – usually the rain month – was sun-drenched. All we have to do is to fully enjoy it, so that every lockdown – no matter how long it lasts or whether the bars are open or not – may later be remembered for all those small but oh-so-important and beautiful moments under the sun.
Ugh 5€ Cappuccino! Thank goodness for Moms though. Like yours mine supplied both my Husband and myself with several medical masks for our repatriation flight to Italy. Here’s to more moments under the sun!