Dreaming of Sputnik
Has a year actually passed or has time simply stood still? It’s hard to tell.
Today, one year after the first Italian lockdown, one of the strictest in Europe, we are on the eve of another “Red Zone”, when most shops and businesses will close. This latest Coronavirus containment measure will be in place for at least three weeks. Since September the country has been involved in what I can at best describe as an exhausting game of twister. Depending on their infection rates, regions have been classified according to a yellow-orange-red colour code, with each colour having a different and increasing level of restrictions. We have traversed all the colours - several times. We have even had brief glimpses of semi-normality when we could have a coffee at the bar or lunch in a restaurant (bliss!). There were a few weeks when both my children went to school. But then Italy was hit with all the variants of every nation and continent, and cases started skyrocketing again. And so, voilà – we are back where we started. Of course – there is a vaccine now. But the vaccination rate can’t keep pace with an exponentially infectious virus, a virus that is still very deadly, that kills several hundred people a day, the latest of which was a famous Italian photographer I knew and have worked with, called Giovanni Gastel.
When this whole ordeal began a year ago, I confess it held (at least for me) an element of fascination. There was military in the streets and police patrolling the area with loudspeakers. Drones hovered above our heads. We felt like we were actors in a strange disaster movie. My children and I had amusing conversations about the advent of the zombie apocalypse. We debated which weapon would be best to fight them. I chose an axe. Today that sense of fascination is over. This situation has simply gotten boring, exhausting, exasperating. I have not seen my sister in over a year. My mother is turning 80*in a few weeks and I will not be there. And despite all my valiant efforts to stay optimistic, to meditate, and do yoga, and exercise like crazy, drink lots of water, and stay in touch with all my dear friends all over the world, despite doing “all the right things”, I, like most of you, probably, experience a sense of low grade depression that just silently hums in the background of my life.
A year ago, when the pandemic exploded, I asked myself if this virus would make humanity better, or make us more environmentally conscious, for example. On the latter I can say with certainty- no. All you have to do is look around to see discarded masks and gloves littering the city. To avoid taking public transport some people might be choosing bikes and scooters, but it seems most (especially in winter) preferred their own car. The air quality in Milan has promptly gone back to being one of the worst in the world. As far as an improvement in humanity – the jury is still out. There is part of me that still hopes it might happen, I want it to. But then I read the news about Andrew Cuomo, a man I sang the praises of as a modern-day hero, and I can’t help but feel the sting of disappointment.
We have gone from tracking the curve of the virus to tracking the vaccine rate. I have started to develop “vaccine envy” every time I hear that someone has gotten inoculated. How did they manage? Are they in a special category? Which vaccine did they get? Can we get the vaccine on the black market? Perhaps we should go to Eastern Europe and see if we can get Sputnik, the Russian vaccine. Or maybe a trip to Serbia for the Chinese one. Why does it appear like the UK is vaccinating so much faster than Europe? Does Brexit have something to do with it? My friend Naomi tells me that in the UK there is a sense of euphoria that the end is nigh. How can this be? Is Boris feeding them Kool-Aid or, is there really an end in sight? Here in Italy they say everyone will be vaccinated by the end of summer, but this feels like a very distant dream.
*Apologies for never following up on my last blog, I’ve been busy with a new job, but, as you will have inferred, my mother made it through the “Rona” relatively unscathed and is back in good health.