The Curiosity

The quarantine in which most Italian citizens have been forced into by the government since 8th of March can really go two ways. Either it’s like another, and deeply unusual, spiritual retreat where we’re removed from the pressures of socializing, attending happy hours, entertaining and being entertained by our usual social circle, which might open the door to a more open and unexpected relationship with who and what lies in our immediate surroundings – making us instantly more interested in our neighbour, his dog, or kinder to the grocer – or it is another occasion to grow deeply suspicious of each other.

This means that we are likely to sink our head into our scarf or in our protective mask as we cross our neighbour on the street and we are forced to share with him the same sidewalk on our way to the supermarket.

I headed to the grocery store yesterday afternoon, and all I could see were empty streets, shops in lock-down, notices on the public boat’s piers of Venice warning people to keep a social distancing of at least one metre, obituaries, colourful drawings affixed to the walls of many homes where a child has drawn a joyful face and his candid wishes: ‘Everything will be fine.’

But pics can’t really do much to render the Zeitgeist in which the nation has fallen on 31st of January, when COVID-19 cluster-one was firstly discovered in a hospital in Rome, as two Chinese tourists tested positive to the deadly disease. Since then, the spread of the virus has quickly risen making of Italy the worst-affected country in the whole of Europe, numbering more than 100,000 confirmed cases and almost 12,000 deaths in the time span of less than two months.

The pressures on the country’s sanitary system have soon become overwhelming, as citizens affected by the ferocious disease compete for intensive care beds in the local hospitals. Brussels has promised a maxi-loan of more than €150 billion to our country, but we already know that the numbers of this economic rescue package may be nowhere near enough to normalise the situation we find ourselves in.

Speaking to friends who have grown up in Venice in the seventies, they say that over the last few weeks the city has reminded them of that of their youth, a city full of silence, a place where the narrow streets (‘calli’) felt at night like creepy places to traverse, as they could hear the steps of somebody approaching them behind their backs.

When you’re used to elbow your way to the supermarket amid crowds of tourists, and you suddenly find yourself in this unusual, surreal stillness, you might realise that this scenario might be an invitation to explore our city beyond the monoculture of tourism, of great crowds, of polluting cruise ships. Now, it might be the time to envision a new dimension of living in this special city, in a way that pays attention to the fragile eco-system of our environment, perhaps by finally implementing much talked of policies that have not yet come to life (such as a limited number of daily/annual visitors).

If all those things that gave us plenty to keep us entertained with are not going to be in place for indefinite time (!), we could choose to pay attention once again to those activities that once were symbols of our cultural authenticity, before the mass-culture of (fake) Murano glass and cheap industrial-made masks wiped them out in a single bout of high tide. Think shoemakers (calegheri), bricklayers (muratori), lace artisans (merlettai), woodworkers (forcolai).

More than anything, it is astonishing to see how even our dogs have become suspicious of this profound silence broken only by a seagull’s cry. However, there is life beyond our carefully considered walls. It is only us, and our pets, who are deeply scared. Nature is gracefully blooming, as the air, earth, water, seem to be doing exceptionally well with us caged.

Written by: Ambra Guarnieri