A drizzly day. Montanucci re-opened this morning. I passed around eleven, and where their lunch buffet usually is were a dozen or so sandwiches. Fine, I thought, they’re working their way back towards a real lunch. I’ll go in for a sandwich anyhow, it’ll be so great to have lunch out, it doesn’t matter what it is. When I passed an hour later, the buffet was in place, and I had a real lunch at an appropriate distance from other customers; risotto with artichoke and green beans and carrots. It was delicious.
Valentino and Loretta sat, masked, outside their antiques shop, “We’re open again!” Loretta shouted. Valentino flashed an unmistakable grin behind his mask. When we produced Colloquia last June, I stopped to ask him if we could perhaps borrow a few pieces for the play. I had not yet finished the sentence when he set a time for us to choose what we needed from their warehouse. They delivered it to place on a Sunday morning, cleaned and polished, and picked it up a week later. No charge. I bought them a clematis – they were thrilled.
All day, people I don’t know made eye contact and wished me a buon giorno, in full resonant voices. It felt as if someone had put my photo in the paper with instructions to “greet this man”. It may have been the energy of opening spilling over onto foreigners who were here for the entirety of lockdown; it has made of us real Orvietani.
I made multiple trips between apartment and house, shlepping the stuff I’d brought over on Saturday. One of the afternoon jaunts coincided with Patrizia coming onto her balcony. I explained to her about the apartment, why I was looking in the first place, and what prevented me from taking it. Then I asked her about her job.
“Still working at home?”
“Without pause. You’re never away from work. Staring at the computer for hours makes me dizzy. At the office, people are always coming and going, asking questions, interrupting, there’s a natural flow. Here, it’s me and the computer. Renzo comes by, doesn’t want to disturb me, so goes down to the caverna to make things out of wood.”
“When will you go back?”
“We don’t know. It’s a week at a time. Soon, I hope. I miss the office, my co-workers, the irritating parents, the crazy kids, the whole thing.” Patrizia is the secretary for all of Orvieto’s five (or maybe it’s six) high schools.
Massimo, the real estate guy, sent me an email this morning saying he had a new restoration near the Duomo to show me, and another apartment near his office on Piazza Vitrozzi, and that we would meet “under the gelato place” near Le Scalette at 15:30. I was there, he was not. I sent a message and received a half dozen apologies for not having specified the day. We will meet tomorrow at 15:30. Today, tomorrow, what’s the difference? It was nice of him to have apologized… six times.
I went to the “other” gelato place for a extra-small cup of vanilla with orange, and got too close to the cold case when I ordered. A new young lady behind the counter kept gesturing me back, then I’d forget and drift forward again. I left the poor girl a frazzled mess.
I met Antonny, the proprietor of Blue Bar, in front of Montanucci, on his bike towards home.
“Tonio!”
“I’ve decided to give up the side room. It costs me five thousand a year in rent, and I don’t think it’s worth it. Instead, I’ll put up an awning and have tables on the street all the time. What do you think?”
“Sounds sensible.”
“And I can make room for tables near the bar. I think it will be better.”
“What about social distancing?”
“I am like Napoleon. I think carefully and for a long time, and when it’s time to act, I act!” he said with admirable exuberance. “Was that correct English?”
“I understood it.”
“I’m excited. It will be better. Of course, you like to sit in that room, but you’ll sit outside, too, won’t you?”
“And Keegan and David Perry…”
“I think it’s a good idea. Romina is waiting. I love you.”
And such was the energy of Orvieto re-opening. It felt good to have a day of mixed encounters (many more than are listed here). I hope it lasts. I hope we can make it last. I hope it can last. Safely.
The photo is of Montanucci giving out (free) refreshments on San Giuseppe day, 2016.