After exactly six months, I went back to the airport on the day I started writing this post. I didn’t get very far. Business travel hasn’t really picked up again, and I didn’t have a flight to catch. All conferences and workshops I was scheduled to attend since January have been canceled, postponed or moved online. There doesn’t seem to be any change in the air. I want to go to Japan, Korea and China this year, but I’m not really hopeful. I can’t yet say what my first business trip after the start of the pandemic will be.
Last Friday, after having my pump removed at the hospital, I went to the airport solely to pick up a car for our summer vacation in Italy. After much dithering, we had decided on Venice, or almost. We had booked a week in a canvas cabin at a campground on one of the peninsulas that form the Venice lagoon and protect the city from the waters. The campground had spots available less than two weeks before our departure – and, in the midst of summer, turned out to be less than half full. The ferry to Piazza San Marcos was a five minute’s drive away.
Calling where we stayed a campground is not exactly telling the whole truth. If you’re thinking tents and communal washing rooms with cold showers, you’re way off. I would describe the place as an upscale campground-themed holiday resort. There were a few campsites and places for caravans, but most people stayed in cabins. The restaurant served excellent pizza, much better than the restaurant just outside. There was a beautifully tiled pool area with water slides, a spa area, a pool for babies and one for swimming. The water was of the exact temperature to be refreshing but allow one to stay inside for hours without getting cold. It was like magic. At all hours of the day, activities for children took place. There was a café, a pool bar and even a fitness club. A fitness club on a campground! A sandy beach gently easing into the warm waters of the Adriatic was a few steps away. The children loved it – but they got the wrong idea of what a campground is.
Coronavirus has turned the world into a different place. A half-empty campground in high season is only one aspect of it. The world has also become much less diverse and more separated. People prefer to stick to home (like the Swiss) or are forced to. These days, most tourists in Venice are German. Gone are the Americans, the Russians and the Chinese. Instead, there were a lot of Italians. Most are probably (re)discovering a city they have never or only very rarely visited because it was completely overrun and almost impossible to enjoy.
I first saw Venice more than 25 years ago. It was one of the first trips I took with my dad after the wall had fallen. We stayed in a hotel on the mainland and spent a few days exploring Venice. The only thing I remember is a stash of black-and-white photos my dad took. They’re now at my mom’s. I haven’t had the chance to look at them again, but I think there were very few people in them. Venice was peaceful back then.
When we disembarked our ferry, I was somewhere between surprised and shocked. There were a lot of people. This was a question of perspective. Photos of Venice from last year show crowds shoulder to shoulder. I read somewhere that it was impossible to stop when walking around. People would just push you on. Now, there were tourists on the Piazza San Marco and around the Rialto Bridge, but not too many. Away from the main attractions, it was quiet. Many alleys and even some of the squares were ghostly. It was a beautiful experience.
For those in a tight covenant with their guilt, this might bring sleepless nights. Is it right to enjoy blissful days by the sea when a virus is ravaging the world? It is right to enjoy places that would be much more crowded and thus less enjoyable were it not for the virus? Are we taking advantage of the virus? I’m not given to guilt and see no need to apologize. We had a great time, far from our ordinary life. Tomorrow night, things go back to normal for me. I’ll stop eating for four days once again.
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