I’ve been back in Rome for exactly one week now after a break of almost six weeks in my Italian life. I can’t say anything else than that the situation has changed at a rapid pace. In just a few days, we have gone from minimal restrictions (read: wearing a facemask everywhere) to a curfew, a closure of all the gyms, theatres and cinemas and all restaurants and bars that have to close their doors at six o’clock in the evening, so way before Italian dinner time. You can also tell by the people that the situation has changed. Contrary to last summer, every conversation seems to address that dreaded virus one way or another and millions of Italians were glued to their television at half past two yesterday to follow the press conference of Prime Minister Conte. Since last Friday, everyone in Rome has to be inside their houses by midnight. An Italian friend with whom I was going to have dinner this weekend texted me: “Dobbiamo fare la Cinderella, we must do the Cinderella. Because as soon as the clock strikes twelve o’clock, the spell is broken and our carriage turns back into a pumpkin”. And so, in one fell swoop, Rome became a city of three million Cinderellas.
Events and parties are being cancelled and now – with the memories of last spring still vividly in mind – everybody is wondering the same. Are we going to go into lockdown again?
In the end, the dinner with that friend couldn’t go on. Since he works in a pharmacy, he was asked to avoid all unnecessary – hence social – contacts immediately. Events and parties are being cancelled and now – with the memories of last spring still vividly in mind – everybody is wondering the same. Are we going to go into lockdown again? Rumours are beginning to spread around, because everyone is well aware that Christmas is approaching sooner than we even realise. Chrìstmas. “Soon it will be Christmas again and we are still in this misery, or rather all over again,” I overheard two women complaining to each other at the cash register of our local supermarket while I was placing my groceries on the counter. I am the first to say that we should focus on everything that’s still possible, how important it is to keep a positive mindset and that we should cherish the little things in life. Yet I cannot deny that this feeling sometimes creeps up on me too: what on earth is going on? How did we end up in this? And when will it all be finished?
When I was standing in the kitchen last night, I was completely frightened when out of nowhere bright flashes of light illuminated the buildings, alternating with loud banging, which immediately degenerated into the loud, panicky barking of dozens of dogs in the neighbourhood
Isn’t it unreal how casually we talk about a ‘lockdown’ nowadays when, until less than a year ago, it was a phenomenon we only knew from fairy tales? Just think of Rapunzel, who was locked in her tower with her long hair that contained superpowers, completely isolated from the world. It isn’t the biggest surprise that all over the world there are people who are opposed to the measures, and that’s no different in Italy. When, on Saturday, the plans were leaked that all restaurants and bars were going to have to close at six o’clock – their deathblow, as they say themselves, since there is nothing to be earned at lunch as everyone works from home and there are hardly any tourists – there were great protests in Piazza del Popolo, the people’s square, which soon became rather grim and violent. The photos and videos I saw in which paper bombs were thrown at the police were not exactly something that brightens your day. So, when I was standing in the kitchen last night, I was completely frightened when out of nowhere bright flashes of light illuminated the buildings, alternating with loud banging, which immediately degenerated into the loud, panicky barking of dozens of dogs in the neighbourhood. Immediately I thought these were also protests by rather aggressive demonstrators, and I found it pretty frightening how they were raging on with kilos of fireworks leaving the whole neighbourhood in a thick grey fog.
With my face white and frightened, I was still standing on the balcony watching the fireworks when Alessandro, my roommate, came stumbling in and laughing. That priest had decided to make it a big one this year! The priest?
But once again I learned that not everything is as it seems. Very often we have a tendency towards doom-mongering, something that the Italians are not unfamiliar with either. With my face white and frightened, I was still standing on the balcony watching the fireworks when Alessandro, my roommate, came stumbling in and laughing. That priest had decided to make it a big one this year! The priest? Not understanding what he was talking about, I gave him my questioning gaze. This gigantic fireworks-show in a quiet residential area of Rome on an ordinary Sunday evening in October – the traditional fireworks in Sydney at New Year could even learn from this – turned out to be on the occasion of the parish feast of the local church. Whereas last year the religious were marching through the streets in a procession, singing peacefully and with lit lampions, this year the priest must have thought: if we are no longer allowed to sing, we are going to make ourselves heard in another way. Because that patron saint had to be honoured one way or the other.
I had the luxury of being picked up from the airport so within an hour of the wheels of the plane hitting the runway I had a steaming plate of homemade pasta carbonara in front of me
Smiling, and with a completely different feeling than five minutes earlier, I watched the last part of the fireworks spectacle, which was set against the black sky. I realised that this illustrated perfectly how my first week back in Rome had been. In spite of all the coronary problems I described earlier, including cancelled dinners and a lot of worries, I had quite a good time. I had the luxury of being picked up from the airport so within an hour of the wheels of the plane hitting the runway I had a steaming plate of homemade pasta carbonara in front of me and last Friday, I had a very nice reunion with a friend I hadn’t seen for over four years. On Thursday afternoon, me, a good friend and her two toddlers went to a pasticceria – just because we could – where we ordered a strawberry pie, a whipped cream pie and a hot chocolate cream. Per person that is. On Saturday I realised thanks to a text from my little brother that it was exactly one year ago that I embarked on my great Italian adventure and I spontaneously decided to celebrate this rather special anniversary. With another cake, of course. After years, or so I have been told, we are finally treated to a fantastic ottobrata (a Roman phenomenon of sun-drenched autumn days with temperatures of more than twenty degrees, typical for mid-October) which means we don’t have to worry about our necessary portion of vitamin D for the foreseeable future. The autumn sun makes Rome glow more than ever before.
But now that certain things have happened in the world that we could have never imagined – resulting in fairytale-like scenes: all of us in lockdown like Rapunzel and having to be home at midnight like Cinderella – we can comfort ourselves with one thought
I guess it’s quite clear what I am trying to say: count your blessings. Because how many times did our mum or teacher tell us that fairy tales don’t exist when we were young? Maybe you even told yourself. But now that certain things have happened in the world that we could have never imagined – resulting in fairytale-like scenes: all of us in lockdown like Rapunzel and having to be home at midnight like Cinderella – we can comfort ourselves with one thought. The most powerful and positive thought that can make your life a lot lighter and easier the coming period. Because there’s one thing to be remembered: fairy tales always have a happy ending. And so they lived happily ever after…