Day 35: Rooftops vs churches
Hint: Jesus does not like this
It was predicted to be a lonely Easter.
We woke up by unwillingly listening to the church bell choir in the morning, or maybe it was just a sing-off? Maybe they were just being needy. Who knows.
We then proceeded to start preparing Sunday lunch: the other half made roast duck, which he had to cook for four hours via a live videoconference with his mum. He did pretty well at it, minus one small explosion because the oil was too much, and although he didn’t want to admit it, science always has the answer. I contributed by pouring ouzo into glasses and slicing cucumber.
People seemed to be in high spirits. At some point, a neighbour from the same group that was playing some form of Middle Eastern-sounding music a few days ago spotted me on my balcony, and shouted “Auguri! Buona Pasqua!” I realised this was my first social interaction with a stranger beyond supermarket workers in more than a month, and I instinctively did the only thing someone who hasn’t interacted with anyone else in more than a month would do: I ran back inside. My manners seem to be more ingrained in me than my social skills, so I sheepishly walked back out a few seconds later and waved back. I think he saw me. Or maybe I am invisible and he wasn’t even saying Happy Easter to me, to begin with.
My neighbours above were also rejoicing. After we discovered that the neighbour complaining about the music was the guy downstairs, I began to wonder who lives in the apartment above ours. Judging by the sounds I heard during lunch, they are a very large family, consisting of at least three generations. They were eating, chatting, and playing table tennis. Let’s just say that the only sound that seemed familiar from all the sounds I had already heard during the quarantine was the table tennis.
If illegal large gatherings and expressions of joy were happening in Milan, where people are too embarrassed to even smile, you can only imagine what was happening in other places. In Palermo, some craftier residents hosted intimate rooftop barbecues with approximately forty other people (though to be fair, this could have still been their extended family, or just their second cousins that they sometimes sleep with).
The parties were swiftly broken up by the police, and judging by the speed with which everyone vanished, at least they knew they were doing something wrong, or they’re just really afraid of helicopters.
This year’s Easter was a grand experiment in understanding what people would break the law for, if given only one choice. Between having a barbecue on the roof or going to church, there is a clear winner, which also indicates that everyone’s true religion is food.
I can’t wait to witness it all over again this Sunday.
I also wonder how Salvini celebrated Easter, who decided as a late strategy to become religious at precisely the worst moment, and began to vocalise the need to reopen the churches for Easter (though he still wants to close everything else). Thankfully, people are no longer paying attention to him.
It was a lonely Easter for some, but maybe we should, for a change, take Grammarly’s recommended correction onboard. And, if there’s a spike in cases in 5-10 days, there are a few rooftops they could all be traced back to.
Lunch: Roast duck with potatoes and salad
Song of the day: The Beatles - Come Together