|
|
|
Sort Order |
|
|
|
Items / Page
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| Srl | Item |
| 1 |
ID:
180325
|
|
|
|
|
| Summary/Abstract |
As it happened, when the Italian government finally opted for a drastic lockdown to address the COVID-19 pandemic, I was still commuting on a biweekly basis to the lovely town of Menton, on the Cote d’Azur, where my university has a stunning beachside campus. The announcement of the lockdown conveniently followed a weekend when legions of skiers—buoyed by heavy snowfalls and the warm March weather—had inundated ski resorts, giving a further, unneeded spur to the spread of the virus. In Menton, just four kilometers from the Italian border, people seemed unconcerned. The annual three-week Fête du Citron, the festival of lemon, an event that draws more than 200,000 people to the little town every year, was under way (only the last week was eventually cancelled); lessons in a packed, windowless, and overheated amphitheater continued unabated; and the owner of the hotel where I was staying made a point of vigorously shaking my hand when I arrived. In the many WhatsApp groups and Facebook pages of the Italian academic diaspora—itself the byproduct of globalization and deep cuts to public education in Italy, as many colleagues know—we all wondered: how could this be possible? How could the rest of Europe, and France overall, sleepwalk while the pandemic was spreading unchecked in Italy, putting hospitals’ intensive care units under strain—such as those of Lombardy, Veneto, and Emilia-Romagna, the three most affected regions boasting some of the best hospitals in the world—and killing thousands of people in some of the wealthiest areas and cities of the continent?
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|