Quieter and Closer

Each day Rome has become quieter. Although workmen are still at work the streets get quieter everyday and more shops close. In the Campo dei Fiori there was just on fruit and veg stall left on Tuesday and when I ran through on Wednesday morning there was no one, no stalls setting up at all. My favourite ricotta and pecorino shop in Trastevere, a family run place, told me on Saturday that they could not keep going and would close for 15 days. Even though such places are allowed to open as food shops, trade is so slow it simply isn't worth their while.

The virus also comes ever closer. This week a good friend at home has self isolated with a cough. One of the people who connected with our Caravita "Zoom" retreat last weekend told us he had self-isolated with the virus. One of our colleagues from work, Sr. Filomena, now has symptoms and another colleague who worked with her is also quarantined. Today my brother messaged to say that his granddaughter has a cough and so their family is also quarantined. While I am not in any of the "at risk" groups, this must be really scary for those who are.

On Monday morning none of the lay staff came to work. They had been contacted over the weekend and told to stay at home. The ten of us clergy had a meeting and the cardinal outlined the plans: the office would stay open, and we would require two officials to be present everyday, and a sign up list was passed round. This means that today I worked from home for the first time. As I have to draft a section of a document it works well for me to be at home where I am less disturbed.

Italians are good at generosity and community spirit and plenty is in evidence. Although I posted pictures of a few empty shelves a few days ago, and supermarkets limit the number of people entering so that there are queues outside, there really hasn't been the kind of panic buying evident in the UK. Toilet rolls languish in abundance on the shelves. My friend Daniel Fitzpatrick reckons this is because most European bathrooms are fitted with bidets. We even have one in the guest bathroom- we could sell seats!

The two italian lockdown hashtags are iorestoacasa and andratuttobene, "I stay at home" and "it will all be okay". Andratuttobene appears on banners hung out of windows as people try to encourage one another that we will get through this. And the message is often included on the notices which have appeared all over town on the shuttered doors and windows of bars, cafes and restaurants. Some of these are perfunctory, some preachy and some generous. One restaurant offered a free bowl of carbonara to any healthcare workers when they reopen. A notice in one closed hotel read, "For all our clients already confirmed we will assign superior and deluxe rooms in our principal 4 star structure ... located a few steps from the Spanish Steps. Worth of notice the improved mobility in the eternal city favours the possibility to visit the most attractive monuments and historical landmarks of the city with an unprecedented ease"! That is certainly true.

As has been publicised on social media, there is the "flashmob dei balconi" at 6pm each evening. However, it turns out that not every building has an unemployed concert violinist in it waiting for this moment. I'm afraid it has been poor fare in our neighbourhood. People without musical talent, or with musical talent not easily transported on to the balcony, instead blast recorded music out, wave flags and shout encouragement. There was a cacophonous battle the other night between my street, the Via di Monserrato, playing some unidentifiable Europop and the Via Montoro blasting out "I will survive". 

I have generally exercised either between 6-7am or 5- 6pm when the early evening sunlight is at its best. On two occasions, and in two locations, I have encountered the same saxophonist ponderously trying to learn Duke Ellington's Take the A Train. It seems for now that he is banished from his building for practice, but if this thing goes on for another 12 weeks he might yet prove a balcony youtube sensation. 

One of the places that I found him practicing was down on the river bank where there is a cycle path and where people go to jog. Because exercise is allowed this has become one of the most populated parts of the city. On Sunday it was teeming with cyclists, joggers and people out for a stroll. One afternoon as I crossed the Ponte Sisto a young couple were rendezvousing. "Where shall we go?" said the young man, "Down to the bank," came the reply. What a time to be young and to have just fallen in love, I thought. There must be lots of people out there who had just got what seemed their big break as the lockdown struck. As I finished my run this afternoon found a middle-aged couple setting up a picnic underneath one of the bridges. They had tupperware boxes of food, a bottle of fizz and two helium balloons saying 45. I wished them a happy birthday as I passed. 

The city is eerily quiet. Patrols of police and street cleaners are the principal traffic. Many colleagues say that they have never known the city so clean, but the lack of disgarded take-aways and restaurant waste means that seagulls and pigeons have to work harder for their food. They long ago learnt to tear open plastic rubbish bags, and now that there are fewer people on the streets to disturb them they can act with impunity. First thing in the morning the streets are a disaster. Nature encroaches in a good way too, though. The lack of noise and traffic means that you can hear birdsong, and a few days ago I heard, for my first time ever in Rome, a woodpecker.