VI.xii. General all over Emilia-Romagna

"It often happens that I wake at night and begin to think about a serious problem and decide I must tell the pope about it. Then I wake up completely and remember that I am the pope!"
- Pope John XXIII

The weather has only gotten worse since the weekend, with continuous drizzle and freezing rain, accompanied by temperatures hovering around zero, turning the city into a wet mess. The usual contrasts, between inside and out, pristinely kept shops and squalid exteriors, have become yet more pronounced. Add to this the fact that a vicious strain of the flu is making rounds in all of Italy, even reaching the Pope, and life here has all but reached a standstill. "Twenty Thousand Bolognese at Home in Bed" a local paper Il Domani announces from the newsstands, while the national dailies clamor for news from the Gemelli hospital in Rome. I have decided, if I am still in Italy when it occurs, to go to Rome for the Papal election, but for now I am sequestered in my apartment on Via Centrotrecento. Not even a conclave could get me out.
    Those Bolognese who are brave enough to venture out either do so from the comfort of a snow-chain fitted car (one can imagine the clamor of these upon the cobbled streets), or partially sheltered from the falling snow by an umbrella, briefcase, or if all else fails, day-old newspaper. There is a rumour that the University might shut down for the day, but it seems to be unfounded. In a city of covered sidewalks there are no excuses, since someone will inevitably ask "why didn't you just use the arcades?" If only a strike could have been scheduled for this day.


Via Centotrecento under Siege