Covid-19 from Rome

From my favorite café in Rome.

That was one hell of a spring that wasn’t. Covid-19 kept us at home, online, on multiple apps, being unemployed/trying to work from home and cooking away in our kitchens or awaiting Glovo when the need for KFC came along. It was a sad and strange period because of all the emotions we were forced to deal with. Uncertainty became the “new normal” and mundane tasks felt like a health risk. Rome is starting to open up, with some things that opened then closed again(the gym, theatres and university education) and the everyday places like retail, betting arcades, salons and nail places have some limited life to them…for now. Restaurants and bars can have socially distanced clients, but it feels like borrowed time in Lazio. The new zone system means that regions can shut things down on a local level pretty quickly.

There is a sort of sadness and frustration in the air. People are tired of it all, tired of masks, distance and limitations. People are feeling it in the wallet. I would say walking around this morning 90% of people are wearing masks and sometimes gloves. Its not the same buzz of chaos that Rome is known for filled with car horns and people shouting and loud music. That chaos that was quieted in a major way in the spring and will take some time to go back to its roar. Many shops and restaurants that closed at the initial lockdown didn’t open back up, and its void is palpable. A walk through the city center and you see the hotels that are closed and restaurants desperate for any traffic.

Habits have changed over this period. Usually Italians are frequent grocery shoppers - only buying for a few days at a time to get the freshest ingredients. Seeing people walk the streets with weeks of groceries felt and still feels out of place. The ever present shopping bag or dog walk was really the only escape for the day. I think I took out the trash at least twice a day. My recycle game has never been stronger. One bottle or piece of cardboard at a time.

Grocery shopping was a strange stressful escape. Normally, I love to grocery shop. I enjoy seeing the butcher, and the fishmonger and picking out vegetables at the market. Lines peaked over Easter - and I easily waited 90 minutes in a line that was 40+ people deep. It was somber. Everyone knew why and followed the rules for the most part. It was sad to see the giant chocolate eggs and piles Easter offerings that were being bypassed for essentials. People would literally look like Gus out of Cinderella trying to balance a Kinder egg the size of a newborn with 2 giant bags of food for the week. I realized after a week that the only human interaction would be my butcher, the fishmonger, and the men that ran the fruit and vegetable market and the pharmacy and that was very hard. I embrace living alone, but not seeing friends or loved ones, is just damn hard. I looked forward to going shopping just to be able to chat to anyone in person, even if at a distance with a mask on.

It was interesting to see the changed behaviors of Italians as a collective. You wouldn’t see someone buying all the milk or all the eggs, but maybe a few extra rolls of toilet paper(this phenomenon is universal). There wasn’t a mass hoarding except for liquid hand soap (did people not already have this at home?!), flour, yeast and bleach wipes. There were a few things that Italians did leave on the shelves: penne liscia and gluten free anything. Lambrusco wine (sparkling red), apparently, had quite a run.

What I did not see in Rome were fights. I didn’t see angry customers. I saw strangers saying hello. People made small people made small talk in line to pass the time. It was civil. When I saw my usual butcher he was surprised I didn’t fly home. He asked if my parents were ok, and how I was. I said I was fine which at the time was a polite lie given that consultant work had grind to a halt and everyone hiring said, well, you know…Covid. “You stayed? You didn’t go back home to DC?” I said well, “I am home….Io ci sono” Strange to have an emotional moment at the meat counter in Conad. But even with masks, gloves and the rest, it was nice to have a moment of humanity, of simply, “How are you?”

There is still an odd impulse to rush to a grocery store because there isn’t a line. Like do I really need to get those eggs when I have 6 in the fridge? Should I take advantage of this moment? I still feel strange at the store when I’m only picking up 3-4 things. This period made me aware of how I buy, and also how I consume. I realize I buy WAY too much food. So I have learned to pare back the recipe sizes and really reduced any waste. I couldn’t get on the sourdough train during quarantine, just for the fact that I wasn’t about to feed my food with endless cups of flour. Any bad habits were well on display and I had to put a limit on needless trips and only baking once a week. I did get creative around recipes which was a good thing.

This period of time brought friends and family closer. And for people that were perhaps on the periphery of acquaintance, this time of separation felt almost like a Kondo-esque clean-out. Thank you for your service/friendship/whatever that was. Its a sort of forced evolution that quarantine brought forward. In a way I’m grateful to know who really matters in my life, and who I can peacefully let go. Idem for my clothes. I was sad to bring out the winter stuff - when did we really have a summer? I did realize I could toss 80% of my stuff. Like who needs new workwear right about now?

We are now in the second wave and round two of restrictions. It feels long now. I have tried to spruce up the house in a hygge way so it feels cozy (read: loads of Ikea candles, random grocery store Xmas decorations and Kinder Surprise has an advent calendar!). Thanksgiving will be here in Rome, and depending on the restrictions…done solo, and Christmas travel seems beyond reach. There are moments I am sad and isolated. It comes in waves. I am grateful for my health, my job, whatsapp, my beloved grocery stores and most of all the friends and family that I can’t wait to visit when this is all over. In the meantime…back to the kitchen, where I always find peace.