I went out for a walk today, COVID-19 be damned. I have indeed experienced agitation on account of the virus’s imposing wingspan, but my own clumsiness has left me with additional bothers. But only just a tiny bit. On Friday I took a slide down onto wet pavement and then hobbled away from the scene quickly à la “I’m fine/I’m dying!” For the moment, I’ve got a bruised and sore knee that doesn’t love bending too often. But I am trying not to complain too much; it’s better than being stuck on a cruise ship where the National Guard sends helos to sprinkle black plague test kits onto the top deck. 

Life is still okay— we’re all just more worrying than usual. And more stuff is shut down.

I continue to receive queries about the state of affairs in Italy. While it’s not a red zone, people still want to know how things are in Rome. I’m asked about planned trips in the coming weeks, and truthfully my thought is that it’s probably best to not go anywhere right now. Still, I am no doctor; my opinion is as useful as anything else paddling around Twitter’s germ pool right now. At this hour, the majority of the world still has free reign to go anywhere. In Italy, the freedom continues to be constricted.

But Rome isn’t shut down. Quite the contrary, life continues in its springtime glory. The streets here are screaming for foot traffic, and while facemasks are now hard to come by, I don’t walk into the Coop and find empty shelves. Rather, my only disappointment is that packages of Pocket Coffee are starting to vanish. Warmer temps are coming. Such is the cycle of seasons.

This morning I found that my knee still hurt. To my chagrin, no run would be in the cards. But still, on such a nice day, I couldn’t hide indoors. I put some mystery pharmacy cream on my knee, got dressed, and then stepped outside. The streets of central Rome were routinely quiet. But it wasn’t some kind of post-apocalyptic health crisis desertion— rather, it was simply Sunday morning. Villa Borghese and the surrounding streets had runners moving about. I woke up listening to Prime Minister Conte entreating everyone to be more responsible, and to me, this was exactly what these folks were doing. Taking care of themselves. I was jealous. 

Today is also International Women’s Day. Here in Italy it is customary to give mimosas, and indeed there are bundles of blossoms on sale at flower stands. I saw them as I made my way towards Palatine Hill. In one of the farmer’s markets (marked by a yellow and green flag that says “Coldiretti”), I watched as a flower vendor walked around and handed sprigs of the yellow blooms to the women working the stalls. I listened to how he expressed his thoughts on their significance, and in turn watched them smile as they graciously accepted the gesture. Say what you want about personal distance being the right thing to do right now—I am a sucker for how chivalry comes so naturally here in Italy.

Allora, esploriamo. Each time I head outside, I aim to trace a path down a new road. On this occasion, I walked down Via Venti Settembre and passed the fantastic incrocie of four 16^th century fountains: Quattro Fontane. I carried on as it became Viale del Quirinale and then reached a spot that I’d never walked past before: Palazzo del Quirinale. 

As one of three official residences for the Republic’s President, it sits on the highest of Rome’s seven hills. In the building’s proverbial front yard, there is a great obelisk anchored by several statues. And a quick search on history notes that the location itself is rather hallowed. Long before Presidents and Kings and Popes took up residence, Quirinal Hill is reported to have housed temples and altars. In a city such as Rome, this is not hard to imagine—but on this clear blue day, Quirinale also gave me an extra reason to smile.

As I walked down the side to the front of the building, I saw that the chains demarcating the formal entrance were bright yellow. They had been interlaced with mimosas, and in the morning light, it made the entire square pop. On each side of the arched entrance, of course one can always expect to see two ceremonial guards. But on this morning, I noted that they were a bit more notable. Their shape in their uniforms—well, it looked and felt familiar to me.

As a person who has stood her share of watches during both public holidays and regular days, I have no clue what the Quirinale’s duty roster looks like. The two women who were now standing watch at the same time, maybe this was nothing new. As I said, this was my first time in this place. But even if status quo was the case, on this morning the two of them really looked like they were beaming. 

The women looked sharp in their uniforms and stood proudly in their position. The addition of the mimosas of course made it all the more poignant—and I couldn’t help but feel proud that we are able to have representation and recognition such as this. Through the course of history both on Quirinale Hill and beyond, rights and responsibilities have changed…and I would like to think that we are trending on the positive side. 

I’m usually not too keen to speak about being a woman or look upon any one day as being more notable than another. At the end of the day, most of us are trying to do the best that we can and with that, recognition is always appreciated regardless of who you are. But I think about Italy under strain right now, and I try to balance the uncertainty with visible signs of progress and perseverance. 

I think too about other places I have lived, and how the presence of women plays an important part in society. I’m a faithful supporter of Ladies’ Turn, an organization that teaches leadership through sport for the girls of Senegal. Yesterday in Sierra Leone, the National Women’s team became WAFU Cup champions, and l’équipe included at least one player who started in the beginner program of Ladies’ Turn. This story, like looking upon two women standing guard in front of the Italian Presidential residence, make me understand that a day like today has great importance.

Coronavirus is still pretty scary. There remains plenty to worry about in the world of illness and beyond. I’ll keep sanitizing my hands, and continuing to consume these delicious blood oranges that I am convinced will protect me from the external dangers. I might even douse my knee in both substances, in some fool attempt to bounce back a bit more quickly. As one of my Italian colleagues texted to me today—complete with a photo of mimosas— “Get up, raise your forehead, stand up, don’t stay bent.”