Hi Ma

    Itś been a cold couple of days and I´ve had to curtail my long days working outside. My back, and especially my hands don´t like the cold damp weather weŕe having. So I thought I´d settle down by the fire and write you a note. 

   We didn't get the long, warm Indian summer we usually get in October, but we did get our first Olive harvest in three years since the big fire stunted most of our trees. Both these reasons put me behind in my preparations for winter. My big job is to get a good load of firewood under cover before the rains come. We have a load of un-cut lengths of scrap from the lumber yard left over from last year. They were cleared off the driveway this summer and moved off to the terraces where they were caught by early October rains. We bought a load of cut and split firewood to make up for shortage but my tools, such as they are, had to give way in the woodshed in order to keep the wood dry. This forced me to work double-time in constructing a temporary shelter to replace the one that burned to the ground during the fire. I had no intention of replacing that first temporary tool shed, but serious delays in getting building permission for a proper garage has left me no choice. 

    Luckily, we were approached by a friend offering us free building materials in exchange for dismantling her pergola which she had built without permission. This provided me with lots of metal roofing and stout beams with which I could design and build my own shelter. I tried to design something sympathetic to the hillside that wouldn;t offend the neighbors. Limited by available materials, I had to change my design a number of times.

​   This time, I was determined to provide a level, dry floor. That required getting the old cement mixer going and doing a little site work. 

    Thatś Harry, our young English volunteer who took over my gardening jobs while I concentrated on the shed. Here we have tilted up some walls on the platform.  The roof was to be the metal pergola on itś post and beam structure and I had planned to marry the two once everything was in place. 

​    Of course, everything must stop as soon as the olives are ripe and the weather behaves.

So here´s Harry again sitting down on the job among the olive netting. This took a couple of days and we were very lucky with the weather as well as a good yield of fine olives. About 35 litres of bright green, piquant, fresh olive oil. Lovely.

 

 The weather then turned blustery and I went to bed every night convinced that the wind would carry off my fragile, new roof before I could get all the bracing and screws in place.​ 

​    Then it was a matter of bringing the walls up to meet the new roof. ​The back wall remained a vague idea until it occured to me I could put to use some enormous doors we had recovered a few years ago from another demolition project. I had to learn how to set new hinges (which I botched first time!). These things proved agonizingly heavy. On my first attempt, I got alexś help but she banged her head on a beam I could clear without injury. For the second try I had to use levers and cantilevers to get them hung properly but it was quite rewarding when they dropped into place.  

    

 

I Give Up

   Did you ever watch someone just keep going and not understand where they got the stubbornness? Did you ever wonder what they thought they were doing? I mean, why? What is the point? Especially if it seemed like there was no hope. A long time ago I was impressed by some no-name Italian cyclist who woke up one miserable day in the mountains and just gave it all up on the road and won a stage in the Tour of Italy. Against them all. I wonder how that felt, what was that like. Not winning, not the glory; but the gut-spilling obsession of the endless moment. Blind obsession. I'm not sure I know what that takes. I'm not clear on what would make me get out of my chair and go that far. Take that problem to the limit of my capacity and then just bust through and keep going into some new, strange land. I remember trying to apply calculus to the physics of a chemical reaction and thinking, "I'm beyond the comfortable limit here. I don't know how to keep going." I remember a missed step on an icy wall on Mt Baker and tumbling down, off rope. I think back on that moment and I realize I've got limits. I get shaky, scared, uncomfortable to keep going sometimes. And other times I get bored: Finnegan's Wake. I don't think I can read that. I've got my limits.
   A while ago I got handed a book of Greek verb declensions. Alex had had it. Fed up. Isolde had to learn this stuff and she didn't. Two years in and she just hadn't learned it. Now it was crunch time and all that Greek had to be applied to translating passages of Homer or something. I thought, "Why?!" But in order to pass the third year of classics, Isolde had to get past this as well as a similar hurdle in Latin (translating Dante, I think, or is that just old Italian?). Isolde loves all things mythological, especially Greek. She knew the differences and similarities between the Roman gods and the Greek ones. She knew the family trees and all the mischief. She taught herself all that stuff when she just started reading. And she wanted to go to the Liceo Classico because in third year the class went on a voyage across the Aegean Sea to the Greek peninsula and toured the important archaeological sites.
   So I got handed a book of Greek verb declensions. Isolde had to memorize this stuff. She had to memorize this stuff last year and this was the last stand. Failure was staring us all in the face. Alex and Isolde together couldn't do it because of too much tension, too many frustrated sessions, too much nagging, too many temper tantrums. So the time came when the hands went up, the book thrown down, the kid went to bed, and the executioner was called in. Of course, I couldn't do it either. We had our evening drills and I tried to keep it upbeat. Isolde could memorize anything and she was remarkable; but it was too little, too late. She failed the year and faced a repeat of third year Classico. 
   Thomasina had already made the jump to IB, escaping the Italian high school force field. One year of Scientifico and she broke out to Dane Court International Baccalaureate diploma program in Kent, UK. No picnic, but so much more encouraging than the eroding torture of Italian secondary, not to mention the misogynist, cliqueish fast lane of teenage Italy. Thomasina paved the way, establishing a secure place to live during the year and work in the summer. She achieved a great record at school. She even earned an interview at Oxford!
   It was obvious Isolde had an escape route. A runaway truck ramp for those with no brakes. A soft landing in UK. Somewhere to put that failure under the covers and wake up the next morning. But first we held a meeting with her favourite teacher, the one who led the Greek archaeology trip. He eloquently argued that the Classico instruction was unique in the world, but finished with an admission that if she decided to go, then she must take his son with her. Which she didn't.
   Now, both girls are away from home. Our house with seven bedrooms is empty. The empty house with no heating is that much colder in winter. The evenings are quiet. The long phone calls are too short. The girls have a life. The supper table is seldom laid. The leftover, retired ex-pats ask polite questions; but that doesn't replace the life that has left the house. Sorta sad, but we found some abstract justification in the fact that our girls had moved on into adulthood. 
  And then! And Then! Isolde got her invitation to interview at Oxford. Wow! Two in a row. When Thomasina interviewed, Alex lost it, bought a ticket to UK, drove her up to Oxford and promptly got a speeding ticket. Embarrassingly. I'm sure she jinxed it because Thomasina didn't get in despite enjoying every minute of the whole procedure and loving her interview mates (the guy who did get accepted came down to Italy where he was judged totally inadequate). 
   This time Alex let Isolde get on with it alone, and at first it seemed that was a big mistake. In her application Isolde did not flinch. She shot for the moon. She scanned the joint and selected the finest architecture, the most beautiful deer park, and the most prestigious. Magdalen. Wow! Really? Yes, and the invitation came back. And on the first day she slept through her interview, got a call, arrived an hour or so late, sweated through the episode. Then, in the interview they found they both shared the same favorite author and in fact Isolde could quote the guy. Later, she received a cryptic note saying she could go home. In time she received a letter of acceptance, conditioned on her passing grades from Dane Court.
    The condition was that she achieve a minimum final grade in her IB program at Dane Court. Based on her work, that seemed doable; but suddenly things got serious. Alex kicked in long days of research on History papers. I don't think Isolde was sleeping too well. This was a sprint to the finish and I began to think that this girl didn't share the same sense of limits that I did. She was going to flunk out of classics in an Italian high school and work her way into Oxford.
    Then, a little reproductive molecule morphed its way into a rich, new environment; and within a few months, Isolde's school shut its doors. And the global IB program suspended final exams. And I remembered that feeling of catching my trouser leg with a crampon on Mount Baker and heading out into free space. This is unanticipated. I don't know if I can do this.

...to be continued. When the bits and pieces of our world reorganize and the girls can resume their story. 

To Thee, Tom

    There is something about riding the racing bike that refuses to leave my fondest sentiments of a life I lived many years ago in the pursuit of ... well, I,m not sure suddenly. Happiness I was going to say, but I don't think that was what it was. Fulfillment, purpose, physical reward, primitive motion, stress avoidance, irresponsibility? I'm not sure, looking back. But looking back I do place a lot of satisfaction in the experience of riding as fast as I could to the point of exhaustion, and beyond, as one of life's sensations I miss the most.

    

    Among the most vivid memories I have of riding the roads of rural California is that of confidently following the wheel of the gorgeous silver Eisentraut of Tom McGuire. I had no fear in putting my front wheel directly behind the steady pace of Tom's powerful bike. After a gentle rise and fall along Putah Creek we entered the foothills of Napa county and turned downwind onto Pleasant's Valley.

    In the spring, the cherries of Pleasant's Valley would ripen, and beckon. A hungry cyclist who knew the land and the seasons would put aside the sensations of speed and settle down to a gorge of ripe cherries from a roadside orchard. Any powerful fantasies of the yellow jersey would be put aside for the pleasures of ripe cherries, one tart, the next so sweet! Along Putah Creek road, a few miles outside of Winters, Pleasant's Valley Ranch put out a hand written sign when the cherries were ready. When I rode there with Tom, we stopped. He understood the priorities. He would drive out later and buy a flat or two. And we'd all get sick. More than once.

    Farther along, on the downwind section of Pleasant's Valley road, Tom would wind up the Eisentraut and I could barely hang on. Banking through a fast right hander and barreling through a few trees of a local farm, the chickens would flutter and squawk from our whooshing wheels. "It's just like the French countryside!" Tom yelled back. And from that moment, I have wanted to do nothing but return. It's just one of those moments for me. I don't think Tom even remembers. But I do.

     I'm old now. I'm in Italy. I haven't ridden a proper bike in many years. I haven't felt the road fly past, the hills morph, the chickens flap, the tires sing their hollow song. Today a young Italian ran up the drive with a yellow post card from California. It was from Pleasant's Ranch. It said the Cherries are Ready. It said "From Tree to Thee."  On the front side I recognized my address written in the hand of Tom McGuire. 

Wait for me!

Back in the Bubble

   Yes! We are all back in the bubble! While we read of woefully inadequate virus testing around the world, Italy sent a three person team to our girls. Both had their throats swabbed, and a day later we were told the tests were negative for SarsCov-2. The relief, it's difficult to describe. I don't think any of us really believed that we were infected, but when you don't know, you just start making stuff up. The relief comes from knowing.

swabbing Isolde

  Last night we laid the table for a homecoming supper and at the last moment, Alex began to feel ill. As I was getting into the car to bring the girls home, Alex walked downstairs to say she felt sick and then walked right back upstairs and was sick. When we arrived, Alex received them in her bedroom.

She had tested some old hummus at lunchtime before throwing it out and that must have been the culprit, because by 11pm, she joined us for chocolate and wine.

------<<<O>>>------

   If you want to make your parents nervous, just tell them you're going to quit working, have a baby or two, and move into a derelict in rural Italy. With no water, power, windows, or job. The clever strategy, which I didn't realize at the time, is that every subsequent message home short of death by starvation is good news. "We stapled some plastic in the window." "Oh my gosh! That's wonderful!"
   You can find the rest of the good news somewhere else in this diary, but the good news today is just a consideration of our dumb luck.
   Consider the dumb luck of being in Italy and watching the inconclusive general election of September 2018 result in the appointment of a little know law professor to be prime minister. Giuseppe Conte has no prior political position. And consider that at the same time Matteo Salvini was effectively silenced by the public. That was six months ago. I don't pretend to know anything about Italian politics, but I am aware that Conte has proved to be the real thing against Salvini's utter "populist" fakery. Luckily, Conte sat in the PM's chair when the virus clobbered Italy. He clobbered back fearlessly, locking up the entire country, threatening our economic future and has barely managed to keep Italy from being completely overwhelmed. His approval is polling over 80%.
  Lucky for us, we are living here and not in the UK or the US where virus testing remains a fraction of that required to justify the "liberation of Michigan". 

New life at Santa Maria Vecchia

   It's now 17th April and the girls are still quarantined and we expect mobile testing to arrive to test Thomasina who suffers with a persistent cough although no fever. 

   It's going to be Easter at Santa Maria Vecchia, the lovely house on top of the hill on the LeCoste estate. Isolde and Thomasina are locked down there under state quarantine until 15 April when they will likely move down to their own rooms here with us in Borgo Petroio. 

Social distance picnic

   

suffering in isolation

Travel Day

Wednesday, April 1
   Today Isolde and Thomasina travel from UK to Italy. From Ramsgate, a remote little city at the mouth of the Thames, to Moiano, a tiny country village in Umbria. Normally this is a routine day's journey rehearsed many times, usually via cut-rate airline RyanAir from Stansted airport to Perugia/Assisi where we pick them up. Not this time.
    This time a virus is killing people in the thousands and everybody is locked down hard in their homes, if they have them. There's no cure. There's barely care. If you get the virus you ride it out. Or not. Keep warm, drink plenty of liquids and, yeah. That's it. No one with any authority listened to the science so now we get to hide under the covers. It's sort of a gruesome prelude to climate crisis, or the nuclear arms crisis, or the fresh water crisis, or the plastic crisis, or the teflon crisis, or the inequality crisis, or the balance of payments crisis, or the toilet roll crisis. Maybe a powerful automatic weapon, some ammo and a little range time is a good idea. 
     But I'm wandering off topic. We still live in a civilized country. It's deep in debt, I know, and the government replaces itself so fast there's little consistency; but there's still enough oxygen in the air to keep the trains running. But not the airlines. Ours went bust while we were in Egypt. Since then Alitalia has gone. And RyanAir has parked it's entire fleet. Boeing is on a Trump ventilator. And if you're still holding airline stock, it's probably too late. But no! Alitalia has re-emerged! It's now a wing of the Italian government and the taxpayers (roughly half the population) have ponied up for a few "repatriation" flights for those Italian residents who, sensibly up till now, reside elsewhere. That's what Alex spotted and that's what we purchased for Isolde and Thomasina to escape the collapsing UK to their already collapsed home of Italy.
      These airline tickets were purchased a month ago when things were getting pretty grim. Italy imposed lockdown on all citizens and we had to carry an autodichiarazione describing why, exactly, we had to visit the grocery store. That was pretty serious because groceries and drugs were all that anyone could buy. Forget the flower shop. Need a pane of glass for that broken window? A bit of tar for that leaky roof? A cork for that broken pipe? Not today. Call the landlord? He's not answering. He's not allowed to answer. And if you need a cup of coffee, you've got to make it yourself. As the days went by, the bodies piled up, the people started taking it seriously and began to sing from the balconies. As it became clear that nobody was going to solve this crisis, the lockdown became more and more severe. And it was good. We began to consume less. The air cleared, the water cleared, the traffic cleared, the sun rose, the spring bloomed, the birds returned, and money stopped flowing. But so did people. Flying from one country to another got harder and harder. You had to prove stuff. Who were you? Where, really, do you live? What are you doing? Are you ill? Do you really need to travel? And if you do, how are you going to get there? Suppose you are allowed to land and enter Italy, how are you going to go anywhere if you are quarantined for 14 days? At one moment it was decided that no one could cross from Umbria to Lazio just to pick up someone from the airport. They would have to reside at the airport until public transportation could be arranged. Then, a few days later, that didn't sound so smart. Yes, you could pick up someone from the airport in your own car as long as you sat as far apart as you could in your Cinquecento. But only two people per car. Phone calls to the various authorities usually ended up in infinite wait times or simply timeouts. Nobody had any authority and nobody wanted it.
    Now, at the very last minute, we have the assurance that if one driver travels with a vegetable crate full of docuements printed off the internet, one may drive from Umbria to Lazio and thus to Aeroporto Leonardo da Vinci to receive gloved, masked, repatriated, close relatives providing they carry sufficient documentation and have managed to survive the rigors of biological screening and security controls. With this elevated level of confidence, Alex set off about an hour ago for the rome airport. We are, of course, breaking the law in a variety of ways, but we are used to that. There will be three in a car. The girls will travel on UK passports. And it's doubtful anyone will believe our promise of a suitable quarantine location or time period, especially with an english accent. But this is Italy and not UK, (or, can you imagine? US). The Italian authorities are still people, unlike their contemporaries in either the UK or US. If you have a perfectly logical, normal, human explanation for why a family might have two female children in school in another country at the same time and that they might be wanting to come home on the same flight and travel in the same car as their mother to a safe, empty house for the required quarantine period; those excuses will fly here in Italy.
     And that's why we live here.  

Thursday, April 2
     Yes. The answer is yes. They did make it to Italy and they did make it to LeCoste and it all went well. So well, in fact, that I don't have a good story to tell. 
    I haven't seen them yet and it could all be a communist plot, but Alex swears it all went extremely well. Like clockwork. Like, yeah, I'm sure. Come on. What about the fake masks and the fudged documents? If Isolde and Thomasina are really sleeping in a cold, empty house ten minutes up the hill, there's got to be a story.
    I returned with the car facing a frantic Alex saying that they are about to take off! What? Well, they got to Heathrow early and hitched a ride on an earlier flight. I had been making up the beds with electric blankets and splitting wood into kindling to try and encourage the kind of warmth they had become used to in their virus infected hotel in Ramsgate. Actually, that's not fair at all. The Ramsgate hotel was infested with hypochondriacs, not Covid 19s. Everyone suffered with every symptom of the virus but none actually required any immediate ventilation. Except for their opinions. The Ramsgate hotel, compared to the nation of Italy, remains one of the world's safe havens.

    Airport taxi scrambled! Document package stuffed. Sandwiches washed with soap and water. WhatsApp messages encrypted. Gas station gloves? Check! Painter's mask? Check! Seatbelt? Check! Mirrors? Check. Social distancing seating plan? Check! Go! GO!
    And in the next moment, I stood there, quiet, alone, wondering what just happened? The sun is out, birds, the cat, bugs, weeds, hunger, silence. What do I do now? I should have been the driver. I know the way. I'm the man. But my one-year-old driver's license doesn't, technically, allow me to drive our car. It's too powerful for me. So Alex is the driver. And I'm left standing here, wondering. What if? I mean, What if no one returns. What if they are all carted off to quarantine somewhere? That would happen in Uk or US. That is my mindset. I'm not counting on the government officials to "bend" in case there is a problem.

   But, of course, they do; and our girls are waved through much more easily than their grilling at Heathrow. They are believed. Unlike UK where their stories are suspected, their stories jibe, they are believed.

Cellar Check

hard work this isolation

solar powered Tesla lawnmower

making sure we'll make it till tomorrow

Snow on Mount Pausillo

Keep splitting the firewood

Sars-CoV-2: my view from Europe

Wednesday, 8 April

    If 1000 people die today and the curve is flattening off, that means that 1000 people will die tomorrow.

Wednesday, 25 Mar

review the math lesson: exponential and logistic growth of Covid-19 by Animated Math.

   The inflection point from exponential growth to "logistical" growth occurs when the change from one day to the next equals the change from the previous day to the day before that. In other words when the rate of growth is equal on successive days. 

   The increase in deaths in Italy between the following dates:

Mar 21 = 625

Mar 22 = 795

Mar 23 = 649
Mar 24 = 601

Mar 25 = 743
Mar 26 = 685

   I'm not going to state any conclusions for fear of jinxing it.

Tuesday, 24 Mar

on line dichiarazione for those entering Lazio
And this is the current general autodichiarazione for travel anywhere in Italy

Monday, 23 Mar

OMG, rate has eased in italy, everyone knocking on iron for good luck (which is what they do here).
Coronavirus Data & Statistics best data aggregator 
World Health Organization world covid-19 map
JohnsHopkins interactive world covid-19 map

Sunday, 22 Mar

Swab testing (to confirm active infection) is a start, but, in the absence of targeted therapies, only adds to statistical data. This article in Science makes a good case for antibody testing and why it might reduce the measure of morbidity rate.

Patrick Shaw Stewart contributes these tips from years of observing viral infection. From here you can also follow much of his work and contributions.

Saturday, 21 Mar

completely off the subject, but I just discovered the Red List of endangered species, but after a quick look, I wondered where the bacteria and other invisible species were given their sympathy. And then, of course, what about all the newly morphing sub-living viral particles that predictably pop up?

Exciting news from Germany, a possible compound that blocks RNA replication of SarsCoV2. Tough reading but real encouraging science as opposed to Trump's optimism.   

Thursday, 19 Mar

   Scenes from the epicenter  click for Sky News story on hospital in Bergamo

   This from Jill in Rome:

   And this from NPR story on why Italy is in so much trouble:

Some question why Italy was caught off guard when the virus outbreak was revealed on Feb. 21.

Remuzzi says he is now hearing information about it from general practitioners. "They remember having seen very strange pneumonia, very severe, particularly in old people in December and even November," he says. "This means that the virus was circulating, at least in [the northern region of] Lombardy and before we were aware of this outbreak occurring in China."

He says it was impossible to combat something you didn't know existed.

Wednesday, 18 Mar

This from the commune Citta della Pieve: 

++ AGGIORNAMENTO COVID-19 E RACCOMANDAZIONI ++

Buon pomeriggio concittadini,
vi informo che ho ricevuto ufficiale comunicazione di altri 2 casi positivi al Covid-19 nel nostro Comune, ambedue hanno contratto il virus in ambito lavorativo fuori Regione e si trovano già in quarantena. 

Come ho ribadito, nei giorni precedenti, la maggioranza dei pievesi hanno ben compreso la gravità di ciò che sta accadendo e di conseguenza hanno dimostrato, fin da subito, di essere ossequienti alle disposizioni normative emanatane ed alle regole che, come comunità, abbiamo il dovere di rispettare scrupolosamente. 

Mio malgrado, devo dire che una piccola parte no, nonostante tutto continua ad approcciarsi con troppa superficialità alla battaglia che ci troviamo a combattere come Comune, come Nazione e come Pianeta!
Questo mi addolora non poco, perchè in questi giorni estremamente difficili ho bisogno di voi, di ognuno di voi, perchè è il singolo a fare la differenza nella possibilità di isolare il virus.

Vogliamo tutti uscire da questa situazione il più presto possibile, io per primo, allora aiutatemi e soprattutto aiutate la nostra comunità. State a casa! 

Un solo componente del nucleo familiare va a fare la spesa, una spesa importante che duri più giorni e quando uscite dal supermercato possibilmente non gettate i guanti monouso lungo i cigli delle nostre strade! 
Questo è un momento che dovrebbe portarci ad accrescere il senso di responsabilità e rispetto per la nostra comunità e per il nostro territorio e non un momento di egoismo e menefreghismo. 
Le passeggiate ci sono permesse, ma devono essere effettuate e riconosciute come eccezionalità, da evitare. Piccole passeggiatine intorno casa vostra, da soli e solo quando veramente necessarie. 

Questa battaglia, dal nemico invisibile e subdolo, non è uno scherzo e chiedo il vostro supporto, se vedete qualcuno che contravviene alle regole o se vedete assembramenti chiamate immediatamente i nostri vigili e le forze dell'ordine affinchè possano intervenire tempestivamente.

Grazie per la vostra preziosa collaborazione,


Fausto Risini

  Rant alert: Testing in Kent, UK is effectively prohibited. This global failure has thrown away the most effective preventive weapon in controlling this threat: contact tracing. It's over. Now we are fighting a pathetic rear-guard action while we are chased in the growing rout. With no effective therapies.

   Second trip to the local grocer (LIDL) revealed a abundance of stuff. Lots of fresh food on sale, presumably for lack of customers. Even free crackers. Masked police at the round-abouts checking declarations of intent. 

Tuesday, 17 Mar

   It's hitting closer to home now. Britain has taken an unusual, less "draconian" approach; allowing the schools to stay open and many businesses to continue. The subsequent data is beginning to climb up the exponential curve. Confirmations and deaths are piling up.

    Meanwhile, what do you know? Trump is going to initiate Andrew Yang's guaranteed basic income to keep the country from bankruptcy. Funny how it takes a hard slap to the head. Let's hope the slap is hard enough to knock some talent into office. 

Sunday, 15 Mar

    More bad news today: Trump tests negative.

    Opinion article by an Italian-American in New York. 

    Quaranta Giorni. "40 days" hence the term Quarantine. Thank you LaVerzura. Please click for a well written, first person impression of life in our town during this crisis.

Saturday, 14 Mar 

    The bright heart of Italy

Friday 13th March. days of warm sun and isolation

    Here's a recent study from Germany indicating an RNA particle shed early in the infection. Here's a pretty good press interpretation. The study seems to indicate fairly rigorous immunity and very low infection potential from recovered individuals. 
    In the meantime, UK seems to be on a program to harden off the population through slow infection. This is supposed to lessen the impact on hospitals and the economy, but, seems to me, puts old folk at risk. If high infections rates hide behind a terribly inadequate testing regime, UK could be betting on lower than calculated morbidity rate. Trial and error pandemic policy. 

    Yesterday Italy imposed a nationwide shutdown of all non-essential business. I drove to the store armed with a signed declaration (as required, downloaded and printed) stating who I was and where I was going. No police, little traffic, store loaded with everything except people, plenty of loo paper, employees cheerfully wearing masks, and disposable plastic gloves supplied outside with the shopping carts. It was all quite pleasant except for the impatient tailgater chasing me home. 

    We spend our days enjoying the peace and quiet, reading and writing. So far the wine cellar is holding.

    There has been some criticism of EU authorities not following the Chinese/Korean model of active testing and control. Here we are simply told to stay home while hospitals overflow and no public testing is conducted. Reported cases here in Italy continue to grow exponentially while in China/Korea all indicators are falling.

Tuesday 10 March

      National lockdown takes effect

Monday 9 March, pensieri inutili

    Italy officially imposes a national lockdown, extending the travel restrictions to all of italy.

    I'm concerned about the veracity of the data. Poor data due to the lack of universally qualified testing procedures and a general lack of experience with this pathogen only opens the door to conjecture and hysteria. 

    Evidently, this new virus is capable of leading to fatal illness. And it seems to effect weaker individuals. Rates of contagion can't be accurate due to the lack of testing among the general population. The rate is being characterized as typical exponential growth. It seems likely the rates of contagion are much higher, or at least further along the exponential curve than suspected. The rates of morbidity have no basis in fact at all until adequate data is achieved. The only data reported is the number of deaths vs. verified cases; but verified cases rely on positively tested individuals. It is highly likely that many individuals who have contracted the illness are not demonstrating severe symptoms and therefore not submitting themselves for diagnosis. Tests for these individuals just isn't available. I am personally aware of family members who seem to suffer from the symptoms but are reluctant to submit to testing and are happy to quarantine themselves. I returned home from Egypt with a fever and was told to stay home. 

    We have calculated, based on wild estimates, that this virus resembles known flu viruses with similar morbidity. Current contagion estimates are simply not reliable.

    This is not to be mistaken for an attitude of denial of the seriousness of the pandemic. The rates of increase are classical exponential growth which is alarmingly steep in the latter part of the curve. Caution is the best policy and we support the draconian measures the Italian government has put in place and we encourage every political entity to exercise the same degree of caution until adequate date is available.
    Luckily, this crisis comes at the perfect time of year. Early Spring in Italy can encourage a love of life in the darkest heart. As the season opens up, so will our understanding of Sars-CoV-2 and Covid 19.
    Looking across the fields we see the occasional car or truck but very little activity. Trains run infrequently. Our neighbor stops by daily on her walk with her daughter, and, in fact, we see them more now than ever before. In the meantime we wash our hands and prepare ourselves for our flu jab in two years.
   And here's your primer on exponential and logistic growth of Covid-19 by Animated Math.

Tuesday, 3 Mar  What to do

    I received an attachment from a friend with advice from a lifetime researcher on coronal virus. Here's what to do:

Dear Colleagues,

As some of you may recall, when I was a professor of pathology at the University of California San Diego, I was one of the first molecular virologists in the world to work on coronaviruses (the 1970s). I was the first to demonstrate the number of genes the virus contained. Since then, I have kept up with the coronavirus field and its multiple clinical transfers into the human population (e.g., SARS, MERS), from different animal sources.

The current projections for its expansion in the US are only probable, due to continued insufficient worldwide data, but it is most likely to be widespread in the US by mid to late March and April.

Here is what I have done and the precautions that I take and will take. These are the same precautions I currently use during our influenza seasons, except for the mask and gloves.:

1) NO HANDSHAKING! Use a fist bump, slight bow, elbow bump, etc.

2) Use ONLY your knuckle to touch light switches. elevator buttons, etc.. Lift the gasoline dispenser with a paper towel or use a disposable glove.

3) Open doors with your closed fist or hip - do not grasp the handle with your hand, unless there is no other way to open the door. Especially important on bathroom and post office/commercial doors.

4) Use disinfectant wipes at the stores when they are available, including wiping the handle and child seat in grocery carts.

5) Wash your hands with soap for 10-20 seconds and/or use a greater than 60% alcohol-based hand sanitizer whenever you return home from ANY activity that involves locations where other people have been.

6) Keep a bottle of sanitizer available at each of your home's entrances. AND in your car for use after getting gas or touching other contaminated objects when you can't immediately wash your hands.

7) If possible, cough or sneeze into a disposable tissue and discard. Use your elbow only if you have to. The clothing on your elbow will contain infectious virus that can be passed on for up to a week or more!

What I have stocked in preparation for the pandemic spread to the US:

1) Latex or nitrile latex disposable gloves for use when going shopping, using the gasoline pump, and all other outside activity when you come in contact with contaminated areas.

Note: This virus is spread in large droplets by coughing and sneezing. This means that the air will not infect you! BUT all the surfaces where these droplets land are infectious for about a week on average - everything that is associated with infected people will be contaminated and potentially infectious. The virus is on surfaces and you will not be infected unless your unprotected face is directly coughed or sneezed upon. This virus only has cell receptors for lung cells (it only infects your lungs) The only way for the virus to infect you is through your nose or mouth via your hands or an infected cough or sneeze onto or into your nose or mouth.

2) Stock up now with disposable surgical masks and use them to prevent you from touching your nose and/or mouth (We touch our nose/mouth 90X/day without knowing it!). This is the only way this virus can infect you - it is lung-specific. The mask will not prevent the virus in a direct sneeze from getting into your nose or mouth - it is only to keep you from touching your nose or mouth.

3) Stock up now with hand sanitizers and latex/nitrile gloves (get the appropriate sizes for your family). The hand sanitizers must be alcohol-based and greater than 60% alcohol to be effective.

4) Stock up now with zinc lozenges. These lozenges have been proven to be effective in blocking coronavirus (and most other viruses) from multiplying in your throat and nasopharynx. Use as directed several times each day when you begin to feel ANY "cold-like" symptoms beginning. It is best to lie down and let the lozenge dissolve in the back of your throat and nasopharynx. Cold-Eeze lozenges is one brand available, but there are other brands available.

I, as many others do, hope that this pandemic will be reasonably contained, BUT I personally do not think it will be. Humans have never seen this snake-associated virus before and have no internal defense against it. Tremendous worldwide efforts are being made to understand the molecular and clinical virology of this virus. Unbelievable molecular knowledge about the genomics, structure, and virulence of this virus has already been achieved. BUT, there will be NO drugs or vaccines available this year to protect us or limit the infection within us. Only symptomatic support is available.

I hope these personal thoughts will be helpful during this potentially catastrophic pandemic. You are welcome to share this email. Good luck to all of us! Jim

James Robb, MD

Our little coronacrisis

17 April, Friday

   Mobile testing due to arrive tomorrow. It understood that both girls will be tested, but that is a little unclear.

   As of April 12, Germany and Italy lead the world in number of tests per capita. Germany has tested 2.1 and Italy 2.0 percent of the population. By contrast US has tested .98 and UK .49 percent.

14 April, Tuesday

Thomasina still coughing, no fever. We report her symptoms to Umbria health officials. 

12 April, Easter Sunday

Happy Easter. 

     Yesterday, Thomasina complained that she couldn't sleep because her cough was keeping her awake. A week after arriving here and setting up in the empty house of Amie and Marc, she complained of cold symptoms. I drove over with a thermometer while Alex called the doctor. As of last night, she has no fever.

     Thomasina believes she has a cold. She also states bravely that she would not dread getting the coronavirus. She believes that she would overcome it quickly and that it would make her immune. I agree but, then, I still worry. A constant anxiety accompanies every contact we make, even with our own children. Everyday for two months we are faced with alarming news. We have been getting screening calls from the Umbrian coronavirus tracking office in Perugia and up until now have reported no symptoms from either girl. 

Picnic suppers at Santa Maria

10 Aug, Good Friday

Thomasina reports cough, no fever.

8 Aug, Wednesday

We have a summer picnic with the girls. Thomasina reports cold symptoms.

1 Aug, Wednesday

girls fly from Heathrow to Rome. Alex picks them up from the Rome airport

23 Mar, Monday

May IB exams have been cancelled.

21 Mar, Saturday

 For information on quarantine and passenger screening:   
Alitalia: From Italy 892010 (Paid number)
From abroad +39 06 65649 (Variable cost based on your tariff plan to the fixed network)

International Baccalaureate info update page  for you Isolde

La Squadra Cadell social distancing at Little Ships, Ramsgate, UK

     We enjoyed an unusual Skype dinner party last night. Alex and I set the table with our laptop and, at the prescribed time, we joined another couple for supper. A great evening!

20 Mar,  Friday

   We purchased air tickets for the girls to return to Italy, 1 April. No foolin'.
Alitalia, 1 apr 2020, LHR -> FCO, 19:50 - 23:20,  book code JUVOMP 

  Just in time to get the victory garden in shape.

19 Mar,  Thursday

    Confusion still reigns. Isolde is in the International Baccalaureate program, a global standard of instruction. She takes classes in a UK school that offers both the state diplomas and the IB program. The Prime Minister announced cancellation of all schools and exam programs but the International Baccalaureate organization is not prepared to cancel exams worldwide. No solution as of this afternoon.

    Europe is closing borders, airlines are parking their fleets. Getting the girls back to Italy may only be possible by using the Alitalia repatriation flights in April. 

18 Mar, Wednesday 2020  evening

   Isolde and Maeve are waiting for an announcement from their school and the International Baccalaureate program on what will happen to the exam schedule. This is crucial to Isolde's admission to Oxford. 

17 Mar, Tuesday

  Tonight, we learn that the son of the landlord of the guest house where Isolde is staying is likely to have the disease. He has returned home and Isolde and her roommate have fled. We are housing them in the Royal Harbour Hotel and hoping they are not now vectors of the disease. School is still open but fewer and fewer teachers and students are showing up.

the situation

  1- The prime minister has just announced the closure of all UK schools.

  2- We have Thomasina up in Durham and Isolde in Ramsgate. Thomasina is in a university affiliated "dorm" room which she must move out of. Isolde, with her friend Maeve, has just moved from Victoria's house to the Royal Harbour Hotel at the generous offer of Jamie and Caroline. 

  3- The virus crisis has precipitated all these moves. The whole world is closing down fast. Stocks plunging day after day. All "gains" made during the past three years of Trump erased. Travel restrictions clamp down harder and harder each day. Whole airlines stopping service, borders closing, prices rising, and the guarantee of returning to UK shrinking fast. We would love to have the girls return to Italy for the rest of the year. 

   4- Both girls are reporting possible exposure to the virus through various contacts.

   5- Scarlett, Dominic, Isabella, Barnaby, Isolde, Maeve and Thomasina are due to arrive at Royal Harbour Hotel. Scarlett is coming from London where she has been exposed to her roommate, a health care worker, who has been exposed to the virus. Scarlett has symptoms.

   6- Two Italian roommates at victoria's house have reserved a house (?) for next year. Isolde and Maeve have been invited by the mother, Sabina, to occupy the house through the summer.

Trump's Coronavirus Calendar

You're killin' us, my President

Egypt part 7. Re-entry

Re-entry

(please go to part 1 if you want to read the diary in chronological order)

   From the moment we left Italy we felt a sense of unease. The coronavirus was beginning to threaten Italy although it had, supposedly, not entered Egypt. I had mislaid my official residency papers and was traveling on a temporary passport. I wondered what was going to happen when I returned. And compounding all this was the bankruptcy of our airline. They put us on an Arabian aircraft with no guarantee of a return flight. And all the while we traveled in Egypt, AirItaly would not answer a phone call or email. The details of our housing or travel after being kicked off the cruise ship remained completely up in the air. I had done some looking around Aswan Airbnbs from Italy some months before but we had nothing reserved and no idea what Aswan even looked like. And, finally, we didn't want to repeat our train ticket fiasco. The train return to Cairo was even longer than that to Luxor. The first thing we needed was a good WiFi connection. It's funny how travel today relies on that.

    Happily, Aswan turned out to be obviously prosperous and modern. Looking across the Nile from our berth I expected to see an island and a Nubian village. That's how an Airbnb host described it. What really impressed was a huge, multi storey hotel lit like Disneyland. We fired up Data Roaming, hoping the money held out, and hastily reserved the Happy Nubian Hotel I had spotted months ago. Feeling really disoriented, we clumsily climbed into the 50cent public ferry with our gear and sailed across. The gigantic tourist hotel slowly vanished behind palm trees as we approached the landing and details of the far shore came into focus. And surprise, surprise, we set foot on a crude landing giving way to a very poor, dirt paved intersection of footpaths between a confusion of mudbrick structures. Yes, this really was a Nubian village, Jazirat Aswan, its authenticity confirmed by domestic goats and a small gang of barefoot school boys. These guys greeted us excitedly, grabbing our heaviest bags, determined to personally guide us to wherever we were going. Wherever that was. "Animalia" I remembered from part of the description of the guest house."Animalia, Animalia" everybody repeated and we set off on a long walking tour taking us down alleys, around corners, across field paths and finally to a door which didn't look anything like I remembered from the Airbnb photos.

 Knock knock. "Animalia, Animalia." Animalia? An older woman pointed with authority to the kids. Off we went on a big tour of the island, ending up right next to the elementary school and not far from the landing. They got a tip and we got a good laugh.

    It was a nice place, very rustic and authentic with hand plastered walls and brightly colored accents. We occupied a third floor room with a comfy, covered balcony big enough for a picnic table and wonderful wooden benches furnished in gay pillows. We loved the contrast to the dreaded cruise vessel. But our anxiety remained because the WiFi proved too weak to stay connected. Determined to get organized, I insisted we return to the landing and either check with the WiFi at the dockside restaurant or return to the city in search of a connection. Luckily the restaurant generously offered a powerful connection as well as a great vegetable tagine, and I began to note the difference in cultures from across the river. The gagging repetition of chewy pita filled with a mysterious spiced porridge began to repel me to the point where I actually enjoyed the cafeteria food served on board the cruise. But this tagine! Wow! Finally something tasty. We found ourselves at the edge of Nubia, old Ethiopia. Skins darker, obviously poorer, probably discriminated against; but delightfully Rastafarian.  

leaving Aswan at dawn

   Train ticket done, Airbnb reserved in Cairo for the next night and we reassured ourselves with a schedule; but we still couldn't reach our Airline company. In our desperation we commandeered a friend in UK and another in Italy to continue non-stop calling to the help line. Tantalizingly, the calls were answered but would timeout after hours of waiting for a human assistant. Looking back on the experience, I realize this is where we made a mistake. We had purchased traveler's insurance before we left Europe and we were covered for cancelled flights. Aswan has an airport and so does Luxor and we should have booked our return from there rather than take the endless train ride back to dirty old Cairo. Upon investigating flight options, we ruled out a connection through Athens and chose one through Casablanca that returned us to Rome in one day. Anxiety continued to follow us on our long retreat from the upper Nile.
    Going out is fun. It's an adventure. Coming back is seldom joyous apart from the expectation of the comforts of home that beckon. Two weeks of kitchen sink laundries, doubtful meals, and the slow grind of lugging a ton of belongings takes a toll on the spirits. Yes, it's nice to have no housework or lawn mowing to think about but the strain of keeping all the details organized can be fatiguing. Have you got your passport? Why don't these socks match? I left my earbuds at the guesthouse. How much does that cost in Euros? Do we tip this guy? Why doesn't my roaming work? My batteries are dying.
     The before dawn ferry ride across the Nile proved the highlight of this day. I don't know how or why there was a boat available but we tipped the guy, you can be sure! We were the only passengers. Through some breach in cosmic logic, a private taxi had been prearranged by Ehad, our historian/tour guide. The driver was late meaning we could have slept another half hour, but at least we didn't have to drag our gear up the road to the train station. In a counter-breach in cosmic logic, the train we had acquired tickets for was one of the filthiest in service, just to prepare us for our return to Cairo. Probably. Alex, unluckily, had to use the loo only to confirm our impression of the cleanliness of Egypt's rolling stock. I held it for 10 hours. The guy on seat 61 says rail travel is the only way to go and he's very helpful with that and he says that the train from Aswan to Cairo affords one a true look into the Egyptian river life. He's right, of course, but you know, we've already seen quite a bit of it. And it's not that great second or third or fourth time around. So I tried to sleep after sadly finishing my book; but anxiety over our next connection kept me churning over how we were going to get from the Ramses Train Station in Cairo out to the far tip of Zamalek ("sa MA lek"), a new neighborhood for us.
    Uber, the only way to fly in Cairo, failed to function as soon as we arrived. No roaming. Why? Ha. too bad. It was dark. We dragged and dragged and dragged off into the night, checking every 100 meters until we finally flagged a taxi. English? Ne. Read Address? shrug. In we get. The poor host expected us hours ago. After a bizarre tour of one-way streets in the dark, the taxi reversed to a stop. Out. Pay a paltry note for an angry snarl. Where the fuck are we? Into a lit building and bewildering search for a flat number or floor number or ANYTHING...and then the phone rang. And a door opened. How this stuff happens in Egypt, I'll never know. If this were Rome or London? Past check-in? Forget it. Pitch your tent, roll out the sleeping bag. 
   Dina was our hostess and she was just painting on the face before stepping out into secular night life hidden somewhere in Cairo. No muslim restraints in evidence, in fact an obvious gay-lib attitude at play. The night was evidently young. We took our inspiration and stepped out for a walk around, finally opting for the desperate falafal take-out just outside the door (where the same hand takes your money and scoops out the ... the... what is that stuff, anyway?).
Later that same evening (or morning) familiar sounds of human eruption might interrupt one's sleep, and at 4something AM, familiar people smiled as we packed frantically for our dawn ride to the airport. We awarded Dina 5 stars as is the custom at Airbnb. She was cheerful, after all.
    This time Uber worked, thanks to Dina's wifi connection, and off to the airport we rushed. There's a lot to be said about traveling at pre-dawn hours in Cairo. One is likely to get where one is headed and in half the time. Once, while rushing to the airport to drop off Isolde, we ran into a daytime traffic jam inching our way along in stop-and-go traffic to finally arrive at the scene of an upturned motorcycle still in the center lane and a stiff, pained rider limping around in the lanes. Ah Ha! Maybe this is Trump's dream of every man for himself. Medicare for none and ambulances too. A post-apocalyptic scene. The driver swerved around and stepped on the gas.
    Air Royal Maroc flight to Casablanca left Cairo as scheduled to our utter relief. My stomach churned but not enough to refuse the wonderfully western cheese omelet and coffee (or is that tea? hard to tell). Umpteen hours later and another flight to Rome and I had to check my geography to understand that we were accumulating some fuck-all mileage that would qualify for platinum status if we were ever to contemplate visiting another muslim country. We should have flown to Greece, at least. By the time we reached Rome I had wolfed down another air lunch. The landing was one of those miracles of air travel when the pilot wrestles the bouncing craft into an impossibly smooth touch-down, generating an audible sigh of relief and rousing round of applause. At the arrival gate it was obvious I needed an unscheduled emergency stop at the nearest facility. Then, passing through the surprise body temperature screening, they stopped me. Alex had passed through ahead of me and could see on the monitor my face was defcon red. No sirens, luckily, but I was asked to try again. I was not feeling all that great and perhaps they could see I was suffering under my dual duffel bags. Somehow a squabble began over the testing instruments, I straightened as best I could and put on a Hollywood face. And passed through. Why? Who knows. I had a fever. I know i did. And at that moment, I would have enjoyed a week's stay in any old hospital. But no. They sent me through.
    We only had half an hour to make a train connection to our home station. Alex rushed ahead and I staggered along. We got directions, marched down the corridors, bought tickets somewhere and finally found the platform. There was the train, our last connection on this insane pilgrimage. We jumped on and sat heavily with a final sense of accomplishment. The train eased out, slightly early, and then announced its stops. Oh No! Wrong train. NO!! We interviewed the ticket-taker independently as well as a number of passengers and formed a new strategy. Off in Orte, back on the train we should have waited for in Rome.
    Luckily the train stopped in Chiusi and went no further of we would have slept through the stop. Then one final drag to our car, a fumble for the keys... and ... home.
    The news next morning confirmed that coronavirus had been detected on a cruise ship in Egypt. In the meantime, Italy declared self imposed social isolation and was about to shut down completely. Now we began to wonder if that dry throat, that runny tummy was actually a deadly disease. We self-quarantined and the vacation was over. Back to real life.

Egypt part 6. Old Hands

Old Hands

    

    Everywhere there is evidence of old hands at work. It pops up from the sandy floor as if out of a Shelley poem. Ozymadias is actually the greek name for  Ramses II, Egyptś favorite pharoah. You can read all about it somewhere else but I´ve got to admit: when I was there I felt that transporting whoosh out of my place and into a completely different perception. The whole effect is spoiled by the crowds, just like it is here in Italy; but when you get home, a lot of that is forgotten. Crowds are familiar, an enormous, elongated, granite head of Akhenaten is strikingly memorable.

     Bored on the train, I would take peeks at downloaded google maps with our blue, GPS dot creeping along. I´d repeatedly scan the distance from the Luxor railway station to the public Nile ferry where we would be crossing in the dark to find our next Airbnb. It was a poor preparation for the romantic beauty of the Luxor waterfront at night, The Kornish. Endless, tiled, lit, clean, it followed the Nile east bank all along the edge of the city and, most strikingly, along the eerie, lit columns of the Luxor Temple. Docked by their tens and twenties sat the enormous cruise ships, idling, smoking, spewing waste water into the river. An impression of contrasts. But dominating everything was the Temple. Next day our guide led us through the site along with visits to the nearby museum and the Karnac temple a kilometer away. The morning after that, off we drove across the Nile and into the Valley of the Kings.

    The pyramids are really old. They are like landforms. And, yes, there is a Temple near the feet of the Sphinx, but it all looks fairly battered and eroded as if it really belonged to the earth. Word is that the largest, and oldest, pyramid of Khufu (Cheops) was completed around 2560 BC. Thatś almost 4800 years ago. Early Old Kingdom. Oldest of the seven wonders, the only still evident. The necropolis at Giza is on a plateau representing the very edge of the desert just south west of Cairo. The plateau is absolutely loaded with little pyramids, grave sites, as well as the three huge pyramids that oddly dominate. 

     The temples are sites of cult worship. They are characterized by human scale architecture and meant to be occupied during celebrations by holy people and rulers. They are generally newer elaborations constructed around or on sites of very ancient shrines. The best examples on the upper Nile are Ptolomeic (305BC, Macedonian, self-declared Pharaohs) and share design features such as the ridiculously enormous double gates (pylons) and densely columned hypostyles. There is an impressive string of them up and down the Nile and many are intact enough to get a good idea of their design, histories, and purposes throughout history. The Luxor Temple dates to 1400 BC, New Kingdom.

    The tombs in the Valley of the Kings are grave sites. These are also relatively recent, from 1500 to 1000 BC. They are cut into hard sandstone. Our historian/guide pointed out the continuation of the pyramid symbol as represented by the mountain peak at the head of the valley. The tombs are numbered by order of King Valley discovery, Tut being KV62. Most remarkably, the hieroglyphfic Templinscriptions remain brightly colored, giving a very convincing impression of the original condition. This being the New Kingdom Thebes, there was easy access to Nubian mineral wealth and the tombs were loaded with golden goodies which encouraged rampant looting shortly after the door was closed on the pharoeś mummy.

    This is the list of sites we visited:

1. Egyptian museum-    king tut's stuff
2. necropolis at Giza including sphynx and great pyramid
3. Luxor temple  - dedicated to rule of kings (check)
4. Luxor museum - brilliant statues particularly small diorite king tutmose III 
5. Karnak temple - dedicated to Amun Ra (check)
6. Kings Valley - KV6, kv8, kv2
7. Temple of Hatshepsut - 
8. Colossi of Memnon -
9. passed lock at Esnu during the night
10. Temple of Horus at Edfu - horse carriage ride at dawn. 
11. Temple of Philae - moved to isle of Agilkia
12. unfinished obelisk - likely hatshepsut. fault crack

   To visit the Temple of Horus at Esna we had to rise before dawn and, with boat loads of other tourists, mount battered horse drawn carriages for a brisk chariot race to the site. 
   I found the Temple at Philae really interesting. And lovely. Remember the European comet lander that fell in a hole? It was named after the temple at Philae. This Ptolemaic temple (and others) found itself partially submerged after the construction of the first Aswan dam in 1902 and its subsequent raising through the next 30 years. Evident damage to the Philae temple prompted Unesco to take on the project of moving it block by numbered block a kilometer away to the higher island of Aqulkia. Scattered blocks in organized rows still reveal numbers assigned during this remarkable project.
   The site must be reached by boat, much like it always has. The boat ride (think of aquatic bumper cars at the landing) winds through rounded granite outcroppings, the blue waters contrasting the sandstone temple beautifully.  
Wikipedia presents a well written article on Philae. 
   Our host, Maryanne, described our progress up the Nile like going back in time, yet our visits to historic sites went in other direction. The oldest sites are near Cairo and as we sailed up river, the sites became newer and newer. But she was right. The differences between a 3000 year old temple and a 4000 year old tomb are not immediately evident, but the life along the river banks looked increasingly rustic, eventually giving way to Nubian villages.