Learning to Live in Italian Lockdown

As the streets empty, business doors are bolted shut and silence descends upon the once buzzing city and town centers, all Italians – young, old, single, married, in love, indifferent – hunker down to pass the hours, days and weeks in total lockdown.

We are all in limbo…our lives on hold. Caught between ‘before’ and ‘after’ the pandemic that has seized life as we know it. We are living in the ‘now’ and unsure of what the future will look like when we finally emerge from our cocoons.

The new normal

It is Day 17 of the lockdown here in Umbria. Our medieval villages of Paciano and Panicale have thankfully reported no active cases of Covid-19. Each evening, the Comune Facebook page sends out an update. We hold our breath and finally exhale when we read the good news: we are safe here for another day.

Even as we watch the horror unfold up north in Lombardy, the convoy of military trucks transporting the remains of the latest virus victims off to their fiery graves – many of them passing away without the comforting touch of a loved one. The best the valiant doctors and nurses can do is to arrange for a video chat so the dying can say their goodbyes. This is the pandemic reality.

We watch from Central Italy and hope and pray the nightmare the virus has brought to the north does not find its way here to our peaceful part of the country. And while we obey the increasingly restrictive rules – to stay at home, not venture outside your Comune or risk a hefty fine of up to 3,000 euro, go for groceries only once a week – we stay connected to family and friends via social media chat and group video feeds.

We use words and terms unknown to us a mere month ago. Words that are now likely to be part of our vernacular: quarantine; lockdown; social distancing.

This is our new normal.

Living with uncertainty

There is not a single person unaffected by the fallout of this pandemic. Billions of people around the globe are on lockdown, confined to their homes. People are being laid off of their jobs, schools are closed, factories shut down and construction sites are halting work. World economies are faltering.  

How can we plan for tomorrow with so much uncertainty around us?

Stories abound about weddings being postponed and vacations cancelled. A friend of mine is comforting her teenage son who just found out his high school graduation ceremony – a right of passage – might not be happening this June.

Another friend had to cut short her long-awaited trip to see her first grandchild to return to Canada from the U.S before the borders closed.

And we sit a world away from our families in Canada, unsure of when we will be able to see them again.

We have all been forced to hit the pause button. To slam the brakes on the constant running engines of our lives and sit still.

Stop. Look around. Breathe in. Breathe out. Rest. Take it in. Let it go.

Accept we can’t control everything in our lives (a difficult one for me).  We are learning to live with the uncertainty. We are learning to take the gift of time at home and explore new ideas.

From a neighbor in Paciano who just baked her first loaf of home-made bread, a friend in Vancouver taking online art classes to my brother setting up a temporary training area in his garage so his young goalie son can still practice – we are finding ways to grow and stay connected in this brave new world.

We are learning to take one day at a time.

How can we stay home when we don’t know where home is?

Day one of the lockdown here in Italy was the day Peter and I signed the final deed to sell our house in Paciano. The deal had been in the works for months and had to go ahead as scheduled. As happy as we were to have it done, it meant we had to move house during the restrictive period when everyone was being told to ‘stay home’.

We were due to sign the papers on our new house in the countryside near the neighboring medieval town of Panicale one week later. But as the situation here in Italy deteriorated by the day, we were told it might not happen.

Fortunately, we have kind and understanding friends who had offered up their guesthouse for us to stay during the renovation on the new house that was to take place soon after our purchase.  

We moved our tired selves and a few suitcases there and waited for news we could close on our new property.

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Two days later, we had the keys not just to our new home but our new life.

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We had loved our time in the historical center of Paciano and our beautiful townhouse, Vistaverde but we were ready for a change.

Peter had longed for his own land and olive grove and now he had it – all 7.5 acres and 225 olive trees of beautiful protected land in his care.

That first night we bundled up, took a bottle of prosecco to the olive grove and watched the sunset. As happy as we were that day we were uncertain what tomorrow would bring.

Our long-planned renovation was to start in a few days. Would it happen in these crazy times? And if not, could we live in our outdated home without a kitchen or a washing machine?

We were going to try.

For the past few weeks, I have hand-washed our clothes in the bidet and hung them in the olive grove to dry. The first time, I couldn’t help but smile. Every direction I looked, all I could see was rows of fragrant olive trees. The soft spring breeze carried rich scents of sage and rosemary. I could get used to this.

The dishes are washed in a tub, rinsed with a garden hose and left to dry in the sun.

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We cook on the barbecue and with a small toaster oven and a hot pot.

While Peter works the land, pruning, chopping wood and repairing crumbling terrace walls, I write and whip up the kind of lunches that remind us things are okay – we are okay.

Life is as normal as can be.

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At night, just before I go to bed I dare to look. I scan the headlines around the world. I read the latest news from our local Comunes and my heart races.

It is here. It has arrived. There are two confirmed cases in our new region, Panicale. Now we wait to see what the fallout will be – likely an extension of the barely liveable lockdown conditions.

As we head to bed, I tell Peter I am sorry this happy time in our lives is so full of uncertainty and tainted by the tragedy unfolding around us. He hugs me and says not too worry – it will make the happy days, the things we have to look forward to in our new home – that much more wonderful.

Peter reminds me to think of those families who have lost someone, who can’t be together when they need each other the most. Then he kisses me goodnight.  

And I realize it in indeed a good night. I close my eyes and count my blessings. All my family and friends around the world are safe for the moment. Although we are living in less than ideal circumstances, Peter and I are warm, we have enough food to eat and we have each other.

I recall the anonymous words I read on someone’s Instagram feed earlier that day. They remind me why we are doing this. Why we are locking ourselves away. They comfort me.  

I drift away and dream of a day when we are all free again. To laugh in each other’s company; to embrace; to be in each other’s light.

and then the whole world

walked inside and shut their doors

and said we will stop it all. everything.

to protect our weaker ones

our sicker ones. our older ones.

and nothing. Nothing in the history of humankind

ever felt more like love than this.

– CD

Be well. Stay safe. Until we meet again…

A presto

Anna