“In the small town of Roermond alone, located on the Meuse in the province of Limburg, 550 Dutch families had to evacuate this morning. The water here reached a record level, and around six o’clock in the morning the inhabitants were woken up with sirens and megaphones”.
This quote comes from the liveblog of the Corriere della Sera, one of the largest Italian newspapers. The Italian readers were kept closely informed about the extreme floods in Northern Europe. I was at the hairdresser’s when I read that news message Friday afternoon. It felt bizarre that my home town was in the national news in Italy. It didn’t go unnoticed by most people, and via WhatsApp and Instagram tons of concerned messages arrived questioning how me and my family were doing.
Italy’s victory fell over the country like a blanket of lightness and carefreeness. All the worries and misery of the past year had been forgotten
What a week it has been. It all started a week ago when the azzurri won the European cup after a nerve-racking penalty shootout. Sunday night it still felt a little surreal. Was it really true? But when I passed by the Roman kiosks on Monday morning, there was no way to miss it. The front pages of all the newspapers – none excepted – were blue, with bold headlines such as “È NOSTRA!”, “IT’S OURS!”. That, of course, was exactly the headline everyone had so fervently hoped for, and after giving the signore of the newsstand one euro fifty I held the Corriere in my hands. The realisation and joy hit me again. And it didn’t just hit me. That whole day nobody in Italy could ever get enough of it. The newspapers – in which no superlative was shunned – were devoured. And I have to be fair, the emotion with which the Italian journalists described the win was pure delight. “Italy, we love you so much it hurts” was one of the quotes on the front page that has been immortalized since. Images of the thousands and thousands of fans celebrating and welcoming the azzurri in Rome on Monday afternoon were shared endlessly. I myself could not get enough of it either. Pure joy was there to be seen on the faces of both the players and the people. Italy’s victory fell over the country like a blanket of lightness and carefreeness. All the worries and misery of the past year had been forgotten.
For the second time that week, I wondered if this was really true, although this time it was with a completely different emotion
What I couldn’t know at the time was that only a few days later, I would be devouring the news again. However, this time it was for a completely different reason, unfortunately. Because when I rushed to the airport on Thursday evening after four busy days in Rome, my phone had been buzzing with notifications all day: Germany and Belgium were suffering from unprecedented flooding, the south of Limburg – the Dutch region I’m from – was already inundated and the water was now heading for Roermond, my hometown, very fast. In disbelief, I saw the images of collapsed houses, swirling rivers and cars being dragged along. For the second time that week, I wondered if this was really true, although this time it was with a completely different emotion. Right before my plane took off, I heard from one friend after the other that they were about to roll up their sleeves to evacuate friends and family as fast as they could. Once back home in the Netherlands, it went without saying that this was the only thing we could speak about. Because while on Friday, we saw the water rise even further every single hour, news outlets informed us that one dyke after another was about to burst. Unreal and nerve-wracking.
And once again, the Italians saved the day, I thought to myself as I locked my phone again with a much lighter heart, while I leaned back in the car seat and looked at the Ardennes landscape rushing by, looking so incredibly peaceful under the dazzling sun
You probably recognise the feeling that in such a situation you can’t stop reading the news as you crave to stay informed about everything that’s happening. But at one point, I had enough from it all and I threw my phone and all its BREAKING NEWS notifications into the corner. No more news please, which in the past few days had been miserable only. On Saturday morning we left for the Belgian Ardennes for a wedding, which – and this can safely be called a miracle – could still take place despite everything. In the car, my urge to keep abreast of the latest developments prevailed over my reluctance to read even more about the misery. As I unlocked my phone, however, it was not the flood that popped up immediately. Instead, it was a news flash about the azzurri. The Italian newspapers reported that the Italian team had unanimously decided that the prize money it had won would be completely given to the Italian people because, as they said themselves “this title was thanks to and won for the people”. Again, the Italian journalists were short of superlatives, about how this Italian fairy tale became even more beautiful in this crazy summer after this surreal year. And once again, the Italians saved the day, I thought to myself as I locked my phone again with a much lighter heart, while I leaned back in the car seat and looked at the Ardennes landscape rushing by, looking so incredibly peaceful under the dazzling sun.