Under
lockdown, doing as the Romans do
Italians
struggle to make ends meet as coronavirus measures bite.
By HANNAH
ROBERTS 3/10/20, 6:07 PM CET Updated 3/11/20, 4:52 AM CET
ROME —
Happy hour is starting early, at 4 p.m., at Licenza 93, a bar in Rome’s hipster
Monti district near the Colosseum.
The Italian
government has decreed that bars and restaurants must close by 6 p.m. under a
nationwide lockdown to fight coronavirus, so the owner of Licenza 93, Davide de
Paolis, has decided to innovate. “If you want to help us, come and get drunk
early,” he jokes.
Like
businesses and individuals across the country, de Paolis is struggling to play
his part in battling the virus while staying afloat under the extreme measures
put in place to contain it.
“We are
running at practically zero,” says de Paolis, a tall Roman with tattooed
forearms. “But I still have the same costs. I have my staff. They have to get
paid. I am accumulating debts every day. If I don't get help from the
government, I won’t get to the end of the month.”
The bar’s
regulars, sitting unusually far apart on wooden tables in the sunny piazza,
drink espresso and shout amiably at one another about the economic impact of
the virus.
New rules
have been put in place to encourage people to stay home and give up their
social lives — and sometimes their livelihoods — until at least April 3.
"So,
the virus is so intelligent it comes out only at 17:59 p.m.," says a
blonde woman dressed all in black. "We are finished if this goes on into
next month as well."
Italy’s
animated movida — or nightlife — has been partly blamed for spreading the
virus, as some young people ignored government warnings last week and treated
the break from school and universities like a holiday, going on nights out with
friends.
But as of
Tuesday morning, the authorities are seeking to channel a spirit like in London
under the Blitz, and create a sense of civic duty and collective responsibility
— requiring sacrifice to bring an end to the epidemic.
New rules
have been put in place to encourage people to stay home and give up their
social lives — and sometimes their livelihoods — until at least April 3. Travel
to other cities or towns is banned unless there is a compelling reason.
Any places
people might gather in proximity, including discos, theaters, pools, gyms,
museums and monuments, have been ordered to close. Football matches are to be
played behind closed doors without fans. Churches have suspended Mass. At
Monti’s local independent cinema Detour, the shutters have been drawn.
Some in
Monti support the closures, despite the financial cost. A notice stuck to the
door of Censured, a gay meeting place, reads: “Even though the ban doesn’t
apply to private clubs, Censured wants to contribute to the general effort of
all Italy and has decided to close. We Will Miss you!!”
In the
adjoining neighborhood Esquilino, Rome’s Chinatown and main ethnic food hub,
restaurants have been closed since the first sign of the outbreak, when
bookings collapsed. In the early days of the epidemic, garbage trucks refused
to pick up rubbish for fear of catching the virus.
Rome’s most
famous Chinese restaurant, Hang Zou, closed its doors for good last week. The
owner Zhou Fenxia — a Gucci model and icon of the ethnic community, known
widely by her Italian name Sonia — has appeared in a nearby mural by street
artist Laika. Dressed in white medical scrubs and a face mask, she holds a sign
reading #jenesuispasunvirus and is depicted as saying: “There is an epidemic of
ignorance around — We must protect ourselves!!!”
The quiet
in central Rome is palpable. With galleries and museums closed, most tourists
have canceled their trips, and thousands of international students, especially
Americans, have left town.
Rome's
central station Termini has never been emptier. In Piazza Santa Maria di
Maggiore, home to one of Rome’s four great basilicas, there are more pigeons
than people.
The small
dusting of tourists who have decided to brave the lockdown don’t seem to mind
the quiet.
Traffic
appears to be at an all-time low — the area’s tradition of double parking has
become redundant. “Every day is like a Sunday in August at the moment,” says
pensioner Luisa Di Fusco.
The small
dusting of tourists who have decided to brave the lockdown don’t seem to mind
the quiet. They’re enjoying Rome's crumbling remains in the spring sun, without
the crowds. “We were happy just walking around and seeing everything, even if
we can’t go inside,” says a member of a gaggle of Australian tourists.
Hans, a
white-haired Swiss pensioner in Rome for a three-month language course that
finishes in June, said he had no intention of leaving early. “I don’t think the
situation will last long. I hadn’t even noticed it until now.”
The small
number of tourists who have decided to brave the lockdown don’t seem to mind
the quiet | Alberto Pizzoli/AFP via Getty Images
A few
businesses are thriving in the crisis. Pizza takeaways and food deliveries are
doing a roaring trade. The gathering of nonnas — or Italian grandmothers — at
the local hair salon proves the Italian maxim that even in a crisis one must
maintain one’s image, or bella figura, even when wearing masks.
One elderly
man, chided for not wearing a mask by the Colombian hairdresser, protests.
“But we all
have to die,” he says.
“Yes,” the
hairdresser laughs. “But if we can live for another year, it wouldn’t hurt.”
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