I’m back! Back in the land of la dolce vita, but also the land where corona struck so hard. At the end of February, when I decided to dedicate ‘one blog’ to that crazy corona virus that we perhaps should start taking more seriously, I had no idea the virus would be present in every single blog that followed. Sometimes it was more in the background, other times the impact was clearly described. I flew back to the Netherlands for a weekend, but would eventually stay much longer. The four days that became four months.
Never could I have imagined that it would take almost four months before I would go back. That wasn’t even an option, because I still had all my things at home in Rome. Right?
I left Rome wearing a thick furry coat (fake fur of course) on that chilly Thursday morning in March, and with a suitcase full of the most summery clothes I have now returned. Never could I have imagined that it would take almost four months before I would go back. That wasn’t even an option, because I still had all my things at home in Rome. Right? The sheets still messy exactly as I had slept in them, as I had no time to make the bed because I had to rush to the airport. But one thing we have undoubtedly all learned during this period is that so many things we hadn’t thought possible suddenly became true. People who bought twenty packs of toilet paper (you almost forgot about that, didn’t you), children who couldn’t go to school for months, barricades on the border between the Netherlands and Belgium with policemen patrolling day and night, your favourite pub closed for almost three months, just like your favourite restaurant, and sneezing in public that became the biggest crime of our time. And as life slowly got back on track, that last check before leaving the house went from ‘wallet – keys – phone’ to ‘wallet – keys – phone – mask’. Speaking about masks, I brought an entire box of them with me to Italy. Check, check, check.
Somewhere halfway through the lockdown I was faced with the difficult choice of whether or not to give up my home in Rome, for me personally the most difficult moment during these months
And in spite of everything, I’m looking back on a special and even precious time. Corona itself was in no way good of course. In fact, it was terrible, and still is. The sick, the deceased, the old people in nursing homes who were cut off from the outside world and their loved ones for months, it broke my heart every time I read about it all. I wish the virus had never existed. But thanks to the way we all dealt with it, it became a special time after all. We turned out to be incredibly understanding and resilient. There were complaints, but even more so, positivity was shared. We listened to each other, looked after each other more sincerely, and even demonstrated peacefully keeping the mandatory physical distance. Somewhere halfway through the lockdown I was faced with the difficult choice of whether or not to give up my home in Rome, for me personally the most difficult moment during these months. It was April, the lockdown in Italy had already been extended for the third time and rumours started spreading that this situation could continue until September. Who knows December, somebody said. At first, giving up my house felt as if I was giving up on my new life in Rome, which I had only been building up since a couple of months.
And that’s how I gave up my Roman place and let go of it all completely. From that moment on, I purely enjoyed my time in the Netherlands
In those days I came across a familiar quote, which I had heard before but now suddenly seemed to be more relevant than ever. “Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass, it’s about learning to dance in the rain.” And that little sentence has helped me enormously. I realised the situation was the way it was and that the storm was already here. But, so I learned, that wind might have the power to disrupt the whole world, that what’s inside of you can even withstand the strongest tornado. My new life in Rome had already become a part of me. It was inside me, not in a house. And that’s how I gave up my Roman place and let go of it all completely. From that moment on, I purely enjoyed my time in the Netherlands.
And as the weeks flew by, all of a sudden it was July and the day had arrived that I finally returned to Italy
There were two surprise parties – we really have to face the fact that the first two of our group of friends have turned thirty – and there were two fantastic photo shoots. At the first shoot, my friend and I could go all out with ketchup and hot dogs, and at the other I found myself in the perfect picture in a vintage Italian boat on the water. It became Easter, Mother’s Day and Father’s Day. My little brother turned a year older, just like my two best friends. Everything was celebrated differently than usual, but maybe that made it even more special. Of course, I could never have thought I would be there with them to celebrate, but I was and I enjoyed it to the fullest. And as the weeks flew by, all of a sudden it was July and the day had arrived that I finally returned to Italy.
On Saturday it was time for a gelato, my very first ice cream in Italy. Frutti di bosco and melone were my choices and expectantly I tasted the ice cream. But… it turned out te be rather disappointing!
Last Thursday I flew to Milan, to take a train to Venice from here. I couldn’t have wished for a more fantastic first weekend in Italy. Venice was quiet, but luckily not empty, because who wants to be the only guests in a restaurant. It was mainly the Italians themselves who visited la bella Venezia, and everywhere we went, they welcomed us with open arms. On Saturday it was time for a gelato, my very first ice cream in Italy. Frutti di bosco and melone were my choices and expectantly I tasted the ice cream. But… it turned out te be rather disappointing! So it does exist, I thought, eating unpalatable ice cream in Italy. A bit later my phone buzzed – a notification – and to my horror I read that a part of Catalonia would go into lockdown again with immediate effect. Knowing that one of my best friends had just travelled from the Netherlands to her family in Catalonia, I quickly opened the news article. Shit, it happened to be Lleida, exactly the part where she’s from. I immediately texted her and in disbelief listened to her story of how she had to pack her things immediately, say goodbye to her family abruptly and get out of the region within the next hour.
As much as I would have loved right now to be able to write that Italy and the rest of Europe are ready for the most dolce summer ever after this surreal first half of the year, this news message was another reminder that we are not completely done with the virus yet either
As much as I would have loved right now to be able to write that Italy and the rest of Europe – unfortunately we all know that corona is still heavily affecting many places in the world – are ready for the most dolce summer ever after this surreal first half of the year, this news message was another reminder that we are not completely done with the virus yet either. In Italy, the amount of corona infections has been increasing again for a few days now, and even though these numbers are only a fraction of what they were at their peak, it is a signal probably. Again, I had to think about that quote: it’s all about learning to dance in the rain. To be able to see the positive at any time and to be thankful and happy regardless of the circumstances. Because if this time has taught me anything, it is that true happiness lies in the smallest things. The next day we decided to have another gelato. Again, I went for frutti di bosco, this time paired with stracciatella. I tasted it and… it was the most delicious and dolce ice cream I had ever eaten.