Taking a mini vacay to Puglia sounded like a good idea when my best friend suggested it. He said “Putignano is Venice’s version of Carnevale.” So, three weeks ago we board the big bus with a group of thirty ready-to-party Italians. At the beginning of the trip, the group leader recited the traveling prayer for a safe trip (none of which I understood, even though I keep thinking my Italian is improving) but it went on for quite a while, so I decided to just hunker down for the four-hour trip and enjoy the view.
The itinerary was Putignano, Noci, Conversano and Locorotondo. The beauty of this area is the endless amount of limestone used in buildings, churches, streets and sidewalks. All gleaming and white and when it’s a sunny day-which we had in abundance-it was breathtaking. The streets were clean, there were charming window boxes and pots of various shades of cyclamen flowers lining the winding sidewalks.
I’d been to the city of Lecce in Puglia about three years ago, on yet another search mission for my ultimate move to Italy. It proved to be too humid for me, even in November. But I loved the simplicity of the Salento peninsula-Baroque architecture and, as always, food beyond compare.
The Carnevale, however, was a slight disappointment because I was expecting a mini version of the spectacular Venice festivities….elegant costumes, strolling on the streets for photo ops and masked balls. Instead, we saw a festive parade of creative floats, lots of confetti being thrown in the air, mostly for the benefit of the little kids, but no costumes with powdered wigs and outrageous masks. Some of the little regazzini were wearing princess costumes and a few adults wore costumes of questionable themes. The parade had some cool percussion music in the winding streets of the Centro Storico, which you’ll see in a couple of pictures.
But best of all I got to wander around and take pictures-my most favorite thing to do no matter where I am. I know I can go a little crazy with the ‘door’ theme…not exactly sure what it is about some of those ancient doors, but in my mind they seem to tell stories that jog my curiosity. How did they live? What did they do all day without electricity and all of its toys? Were they bored or just trying to survive? I envision the rich playing parlor games and being served all those beautiful dolci on fine Italian porcelain with white linen embroidered napkins.
I’ve included some of my favorite pictures from that trip. And like Rod Stewart once sang, “Every Picture Tells a Story, Don’t It”.
I don’t have any pictures of the ride home, but I can tell you this. It was much more somber than three days earlier. What a difference three days can make. Do you remember the moment the reality of the Corona virus crept in to your life? I was sitting in the dining room of the hotel on our last night and across the tv flashed a headline in red. Always scary to see something like that in English, but imagine seeing it in a foreign language. I got the gist of it all right, but the particulars were something else. I quickly scanned the room to see if I could find one of my new bi-lingual traveling buddies who could explain what was happening.
I remember everyone continuing to eat dinner, but I kept craning my neck to see the tv. My friend told me to ignore it for the moment. Nothing we could do. Not much stops me from eating a good meal, but this was different. I really had trouble focusing on dinner and our lovely table mates. But then slowly I heard the world ‘virus’ creep in to the table conversations. None of the restrictions were in place yet. It was only February 23rd, but that all changed pretty quickly.
Now I will remind myself not to take for granted the little things like grasping a handle to leave or enter a room or a building. Touching a bannister is out of the question. Better to risk a broken leg than get THE VIRUS. I wear my leather gloves but then think when I get home where do I put them so they don’t contaminate anything. Same for my coat. My puffy coat is the battering ram for everything out there. I feel safe and secure when I’m wearing it, but again where do I put it when I get home. These are the questions reeling around a germaphobe’s head. Walking along the streets, I noticed people don’t make eye contact anymore. It’s as if we are all potential virus carriers and silently infected with the invisible enemy. I try not to inhale even walking several feet apart from an oncoming person. The narrow sidewalks are just big enough for me and my giant handbag, so I’m usually the one to walk in the street-and happy to do so!
Obviously, in such a physically demonstrative country, double-cheek kissing, hugging and shaking hands are now a mere memory. It’s so strange to see Italians not know what to do when they see a friend. Their arms start waving around like a music conductor until they both realize they have to try and remain a few feet away. Elbow kissing-not a good contortion for anyone with arthritis. Some people have started winking. When someone comes a little too close to me, I do the Dracula double index finger cross. That says it all. And we shrug our shoulders and laugh.
But even that has changed. Those were the good-old days when we could still walk the main corso in relative comfort. We could still duck in to the little clothing boutiques and look for the fun sales. We could still sit with our friends in a café and leisurely watch the world go by. We could stop at the bank when needed. We could visit our friends for dinner when we wanted and walk home at 11:30. Now we see the Carabinieri cars with flashing blue lights slowly cruising the streets warning us on the loudspeaker to be inside our homes and only leave to go to the market or the pharmacy, with our appropriate papers.
Yes, things have changed but the big question is FOR HOW LONG? The fear that’s attached to getting busted by the polizia for not having our Declaration papers available seems to be numbing for a lot of people. Can’t I just go to Feltrinelli’s book shop to buy my book club book that they specially ordered for us? Not anymore. Who knows how long non-essential stores will be closed. Doesn’t matter because I’ll be postponing our next meeting on April 2, just a couple of days before this imposed quarantine is over. Or will it be over?
Isn’t it funny (not really, but you know what I mean) all the new vocabulary we start using in a crisis: quarantine, lockdown, protocol, incubation period, symptoms. We’ve become doctors and prisoners overnight. I can’t help but think about what it was like during World War II either in the U.S. or Europe during the bombings. I really feel like we’re fighting a war but with an invisible enemy…surrounded by fear, paranoia and suspicion. Who’s going to turn us in for breaking the new rules?
Mind you, I’m not complaining at all about the police state that we have become. I believe it’s all necessary to contain the virus. To some, it may seem like extreme measures to see no one walking on the streets of a once busy commercial or residential area, but just do the numbers. I recently read that Tom Hanks and his wife both tested positive for the virus on location in Australia. American celebrities, not to mention politicians in Washington DC and our very own leader of the Italian Democratic Party catching the very thing that mere mortals are fearful of ! Think of the cast and crew from Tom Hanks’ film and how many people they could have potentially infected. The entire country could be a designated Red Zone in no time flat. Thankfully it was responsibly reported and hopefully will set a good example for the rest of us.
None of us have a crystal ball to know when we can safely go back to our jobs, schools or social activities. And forget traveling. I had friends coming in April and May with plans to meet up in Naples and then do some wandering around the Perugia area, but of course it’s all on hold. Everything is on hold.
I enjoyed an unforgettable first year in Italy and made many sacrifices to get here. Now I need to make more sacrifices to stay here. Based on the beginning of this imposed quarantine, I can tell you it’s important to try and stay positive, don’t watch or read too much news, don’t panic, and don’t hoard if you feel the urge to go to Costco and load up. You won’t be leaving enough for the next person. Hoarding when shopping is based on fear of the unknown. Take it one day at a time. Stay in the present.
Without sounding preachy, I believe the Universe has imposed this on us perhaps to make us slow down, not take our friends, families or our very lives for granted. Perhaps it’s to remind us of our priorities and how to go about maintaining them but in a more positive way. A perfect example is the smog in Italy has been drastically reduced since the containment measures have begun. We can’t all stop driving our cars, but maybe one person in the family could be the designated shopper. Maybe less Costco runs to buy a bunch of junk we didn’t know we didn’t need. I’m looking into maybe getting an electric bike. How about you? What can you do after the virus crisis has been contained?
Our lives will never be the same after this. We’ll always remember where we were when we saw the empty streets of Milan during Fashion Week, and the panic and fear that set in for our loved ones. I hope you all remain safe and follow whatever protocol is required if and when you are presented with it. We want as few people as possible saying, “I was a Corona Virus baby.”
I’m hoping my next blog will be a little more upbeat. Since I can’t do a travel blog maybe I can tell you a little bit of what I’ve been doing in these lockdown days. Here goes-I gave myself a messy manicure today and wrote this blog. I had several skype English lessons, did some laundry and disinfected all surfaces and handles. Maybe tomorrow I’ll re-arrange my shoe cabinet. Who knows! My apartment is my oyster.
Ciao for now, my friends and be safe.
Antonia
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