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COVID TRAVEL JOURNAL: Road out of Rome

Getting out of Italy during COVID-19

Canadian flag on a backpack.
Canadian flag on a backpack.
 SHORT-RUN PRINTING | LAMINATING | MAIL-OUT SUPPORT

Monday July 20, 2020 ~ ITALY by way of CANADA

by Tanya Lester | Exclusive for West Shore Voice News

“Are you sick?” the Canadian Embassy staff woman asked. She walked me away from the entrance where I rang the door bell.

I was surprised. An odd question which I had never been asked at an embassy in my decades of travel.

My country’s flag with its distinctive red maple leaf flaps in the bit of breeze above us. ” No, ” I said, “but I am wondering, if continuing to stay in Rome is safe?”

One step ahead of COVID:

It was mid-February 2020. I woke that morning at Freedom Traveller Hostel in downtown Rome with an intuitive knowingness. 

I dug in my handbag for my cellphone. Googling the map of global Coronavirus cases, I saw Italy was solid red. It was rivalling China.

Time to find out if I needed to leave.

No one, not even the Hostel staff had breathed a word about the virus. I considered them friends with whom I gave tarot readings in exchange for Italian pizza, the absolute best in the world.

But it was not in their best interest to breathe a word. I knew this because tourism is what feeds the Romans’ bellies and those of anyone else who crowd the streets there.

A gringa could not ‘stick a toe’ out of her accomodation building without  having a brochure for Vatican tours or Italian restaurants shoved in her face.

I had even had bracelets snapped onto my wrists by street merchants without expressing any inclination to buy. With a police car nearby.

Finding the embassy:

Canadian Embassy in Rome
Canadian Embassy in Rome (web)

Shortly after my Hostel breakfast of Nutella oozing sweet buns, I set off down four kilometers of winding streets. I hoped to find my country’s embassy.

It had become mandatory to get lost at least once when walking Rome on foot. This day was no exception.

I finally determined that even though one street side had one name, the other side’s moniker differed.

Unlike American embassies that often span a complete urban block in a foreign country, Canada’s embassies are usually ‘stuck out’ in an obscure city suburb.

The staff woman looked me up and down. I was sweating. Rome was hot.

Her brain was working on the problem which was personified by me. Then her face lit up with an idea. ” This is the Embassy. You need to go to the Canadian consulate.” 

Re-routed in the heat:

” Where is that?”, I panted. Her directions indicated it was at the other end of Rome.

” I can’t, ” I pleaded. ” I don’t have a car.” 

“Wait,” she said and scooted through the heavy office door.

In a few minutes, the door opened. I was escorted into the vestibule. It was tiny and crowded with a metal detector machine (like the ones at airports). Manned with two uniformed guards.

water, glass
Offered a glass of water.

Maybe I am exaggerating a bit but one guard was extremely gracious towards me. He asked me to sit down and did I want a glass of water. 

An image of death row flashed into my tired brain. I stifled a giggle and took the glass. He was no more than a nice Italian man.

I was temporarily relieved of my purse and jacket.

Then the phone rang and the staff woman quickly picked up the receiver. She listened attentively and then responded rapidly in Italian.

I was beckoned to the phone. On the other end of the phone came the extremely friendly voice of a Canadian embassy counselor.

This was unusual. On every other occasion that I had visited our embassies on foreign soil, I had been let into a  large office space. In some, I had even been allowed to use the computers to take care of business back home.

Addressing COVID:

“I am wondering if I am in danger of contracting Coronavirus,” I asked into the receiver.

What followed was the counselor doing her absolute best to put me at ease. Yet I give her full marks for knowing she needed to get the truth through to me. There was a clear message wrapped in bureaucratic lingo.

“There are quarantine centers set up in the north.”

There was a meeting of minds.

I thanked her profusely. Gave the receiver back to the staff woman hovering near. Thanked the guards.

Everyone was smiling.

Mission accomplished.

Shifting gears:

At Freedom Traveller, I texted the woman in Tuscany where I was scheduled to housesit in a week. She was blunt about her disappointment but I told her that I preferred to stay alive.

In the next few days, I stocked up with Quercitin and other supplements recommended to stave off Coronavirus.

There was little red on Greece on the Coronavirus cellphone map. 

I flew to Athens.

===== About the writer:

Tanya Lester is a Canadian citizen who has been a travel writer for decades. Her experience in Europe earlier this year as COVID rolled out around the world contains valuable insights.

===== Editor: Mary Brooke