Opinion | Coronavirus chronicles: a letter from Italy to Michigan

Italy has been ordered to “stay at home” since March 9, the day before Michigan recorded its first coronavirus case. What follows is a letter from a young Italian, Alessia Carceterra, who has family in Michigan and who, like many in the United States, saw the virus as something less frightening than she — and much of the world — sees it now.

When Bridge first reached out to Carceterra on March 16 to ask if she could share her thoughts, about 28,000 people in Italy had contracted COVID-19 and about 2,140 had died. Now the death toll has passed 13,000.

While on lockdown, Carcaterra graduated from college — via the internet. Her parents watched on video. No party, no big celebration. But that’s OK, she says; it’s for the best and she’s healthy.

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Ciao. My name is Alessia Carcaterra, I’m 24, I’m Italian and I’m facing three weekr of quarantine in Bologna, the city I’ve been living for six years, because of an invisible, but lethal enemy: COVID-19, better known as the coronavirus.

I’m writing from my room, where I’ve been spending my days watching movies and TV series, studying, reading, making phone calls and having video chats. Today I’m physically good and I’m not alone, since I share my flat with two housemates. Basically, I can’t meet anyone outside my house and I can’t get out, unless I need to take out the garbage, buy essential goods (e.g. pasta, water, vegetables, a new light bulb, medicine) deal with a serious medical or family problem, or go to work as usual: that’s what the law says … it forbids unnecessary moving and forces everyone to stay at home.

The few things we are allowed to do, have to be done with caution. It means that one day a week I’m going to get food or stuff from the nearest grocery store. I must keep a safe distance from every person I meet; wearing throw-away gloves, having hand sanitizer and a mask would be also safer. This latter has become a serious problem: Masks are running out fast.

• Related: Opinion | Letter from a Michigan native on lockdown in Italy

But no rush, this can be quite confusing. First things first.

Writing and reflecting on what occurred weeks ago, make me feel like it’s been months and months since the news of the first official national contagion. On Jan. 31, two Chinese tourists tested positive and were hospitalized in Rome. As I can recall, there were news alerts, but everyone thought it was something far away from us. Though worried for two tourists, we kept on leading, however, a normal life. I was completing my master’s degree in cinema, I used to go to the library, I used to go to my boyfriend’s house three times a week, I used to meet friends as usual.

On Feb. 21, 16 new cases were identified in Lombardy, a region in northern Italy, particularly in the village of Codogno. This little town became the first zona rossa (red zone) that was completely closed and isolated from all around. Other little villages in southern Lombardy were locked down on Feb. 23.

No one could enter or exit. Anyone who had just been to these towns and then moved anywhere, had to be self-quarantined. These days, there were other lockdowns in the region of Venice.

On Feb. 25, schools, universities, museums, cinemas and galleries were closed everywhere in northern Italy. Cultural events were canceled or postponed. On Feb. 27, the number of positive tests in all of Italy was 403.

There were two reactions. First, scientists and virologists agreed with calls to lock down big gathering places and they warned it was not the normal flu and to be prepared for something even worse. Second, the city of Milan launched a motto titled #Milanononsiferma (Milan doesn’t stop) as a battle cry against the fear and panic that were beginning to spread: People involved in politics and well-known mayors promoted an absolutely normal way of living, showing that there was nothing bad about going out, taking an aperitivo or going to a pizzeria for dinner. Meanwhile, during the weekend of Feb. 28 and 29, supermarkets in northern Italy were emptied out because of a collective psychosis: Pasta was the most essential good.

At the same time, I was waiting for my university department to finish my thesis to graduate. As the situation was unclear, the school said all instruction might be taken online. 

That then became true.

I can recall a sense of sadness, frustration and unfairness, as graduating online was a terrible nightmare I didn’t want to experience. I confess, I shed some tears. “Why can’t we graduate behind closed doors, with my parents and friends waiting outside? Why can’t they just push back graduations?”

In hindsight, I believe this was the most clever decision they could make.

How did I feel about personal risk? I must confess, I had the feeling it wasn’t something that could get so big. The fact that the first victims were just 65 and older and it was “just a more aggressive flu, however with no vaccine” kind of heartened me.

Why be so alarmist? I now feel ashamed for having thought like that. I soon understood the danger was around the corner.

Then, five days later, Premier Giuseppe Conte made the announcement: the lockdown of all of Italy. Astonishment? Yes. Fear? Of course.

Since March 9 everybody has been asked to stay at home, except for all those “essential” workers. Restate a casa, stay at home, has now become a pounding motto, steadily on repeat everyday, addressed to the ones who try to challenge the law.

Ultimately, instead of graduating in front of a real-life commission of teachers, I was declared dottoressa magistrale (an academic title like a master’s degree) in front of a screen on March 16. My flatmate baked me brownies and we cheered with a bottle of red wine. My parents watched me via a WhatsApp video-call. I got messages and phone calls to congratulate me. That was my day.

Here I am. By now I am used to staying at home and watching the news every single day, counting the rising numbers of infected and victims. I miss everyone and everything that was before this thing, but weirdly, it’s like I’ve been used to it, seeing the days go by and waiting for the next one.

I miss human contact from my flatmates, I miss seeing crowds on the road and the planes just taken off from the nearby airport; I incredibly miss the noise. Italian people have been singing and playing music from the balconies and terraces, which at least doesn’t make you feel alone.

When I’m not busy doing alternative activities, I think about many things. I think about private workers who cannot work. I think about doctors, nurses, paramedics, Red Cross volunteers and health workers who have been giving their health and life for us for three weeks. I recall the pictures of dozens of coffins taken out of the city of Bergamo by the National Army, because the local crematoriums cannot burn all the corpses. I think about those families who lost their jobs. I think about those workers for which going to work has now become a risk. 

I think about all the kids and children who cannot get a proper education because schools have been closed since February, not playing in the playgrounds at meeting their friends. I think about that 27-year-old man who got intubated and survived, but his father didn’t. I think about those women and children who have to survive in an abusive household with no possibility of escaping. I think about those who cohabit with their demons, with depression, mental illness and psychiatric diseases.

I think about those who don’t have homes. In a optimistic way, I think about forms of volunteering and help: money for hospitals, common people who give their time to buy food for the elderly, blood donors who keep on helping for who need it more, teachers who have lessons online for classes, influencers who spend their time entertaining followers for a good cause, sportsmen who advise how to have a good work-out at home, movies and music selected by streaming platforms to be watched.

Italy has had more deaths than in China. Numbers have not been going down. The north is about to explode, the south still has to fully face the crisis. More restrictive rules are about to be implemented.

It’s been a couple of weeks and I believe it’s going to end soon. It won’t be easy to begin again and it won’t be easy for me and for many others to find another job; by now, searching for a new one  is practically unthinkable.

Now, it’s not just Italy, but the whole world. It’s not time for selfishness, the politics, blaming, the denial.

Let’s do this all together; we are going to hug ourselves again.