Well, That’s One Way to Prolong Your Trip to Italy

After spending two years in fear of getting COVID, I got COVID. It began with fatigue, and then segued into nausea, followed by a 101.5F fever. (See what happens when you get older – your medical travails become writing fodder.) I tested negative. The next day I remained tired and just a bit nauseous – but I still tested negative. Thank God, I thought, since I was not at home. I was in Florence, Italy – and I needed COVID like I needed a hole in the head. 

Tuesday – Day 1

I started feeling really tired. Maybe an afternoon expresso would revive me – but no. I tried to take a nap. I also noticed that I was beginning to feel rather warm.

I went out and bought a thermometer. I had a fever of just over 100F. I took a COVID test – and the result was negative.

I canceled my dinner plans and stayed in. The fever peaked at 101.5F. Oh, crap – do I have COVID?

Wednesday – Day 2

I tested negative again for COVID – what a relief! I had no fever but felt really tired – like I-can-barely-move tired. It killed me – but I effectively canceled my ticket for the Uffizi Gallery for Wednesday morning, just to remain in bed.

I did rally later and went out for a nice meal – bistecca fiorentina at Sostanza, a nice trattoria off the beaten track but only about a 10 minute walk from the center of town. (It helps to get good restaurant recommendations from a Mediterranean cookbook writer – thank you, Robin Ellis.)

Thursday – Day 3

Thursday morning, I tested myself again. While the test was being processed, I went to breakfast. I figured it was probably negative anyway. 

I tested positive – which was a problem, since I was supposed to fly home to the US the next day.

The first thing I did was call American Airlines to reschedule the flight. I told the woman on the phone that I tested positive for COVID.

She told me that I needed to bring my test results in person to the airport.

“I assume you mean that I should come with the positive test result once I am recovered and test negative, right?”

“No, you must come before your [originally] scheduled flight.”

“OK, let me get this straight: you want me to come to the airport – with COVID – and interact with your colleagues at the airport?”

“That’s our policy.”

“I’d like to speak to a supervisor please.” 

The supervisor basically echoed the underling – all but saying we have to weed out the liars. However, as luck would have it, my ticket was changeable – so I changed the flight to be one week later.

Sadly, my hotel room could only be extended one night. Elena, the hotel manager said, under Tuscan law, because I am fully vaccinated and boosted, I am not required to quarantine. That said, I didn’t plan to go out – but I did get another place to stay.

[Post-script: much later, I learned that Elena was either mistaken or lying. Although I found that the current Tuscan law does indicate that the rules are different for the fully vaccinated/boosted, you still have to quarantine for 5 days.]

After doing a lot of looking online, I found an entire AirBnB apartment for just under $100 a night. It looked adorable and was owned and managed by an AirBnB superhost. It was available starting tomorrow.

Meanwhile, at the hotel, Elena, the hotel manager, left a tray by my door with a tea kettle, tea bags, and a plate of cookies. What a sweetheart.

The rest of the day was littered with phone calls and emails. Finally I settled down to L’Amica Geniale on RaiPlay. I understood bits and pieces but got the general gist – thanks to turning on the Italian subtitles and stopping to read when I got confused. I had to look things up a lot, though. I’ve never worked so hard to watch a TV show. (I’ll rewatch it with English subtitles when the episodes appear on HBO.)

I’ll leave the packing ‘til morning.

Friday – Day 4

I moved into the AirBnB apartment. It has everything I could need. The back of the place is even heated! Oh, the front is heated, too – except that the law in Florence is that the radiators get turned off on 1 April. And that’s no April Fool’s joke! Fortunately, the back of the apartment – where the living room and the bedroom are – have an air conditioner which doubles as a heater. At least there is that. 

The bathroom is in the front of the house – and the outdoor temperature tonight was in the thirties. At 9 pm, when I went from the back of the apartment to the front, I wore my winter coat. I don’t want to think about what it will be like to shower tomorrow!

The landlady texted and asked how things were going. She said if it’s still cold tomorrow in the front of the apartment, she would turn on the central heating. (Maybe Tuscan law is an April Fool’s joke?)

And what did she mean if it’s still cold in the front of the house, I thought? How is this even a question? It’s going to be 39F outside tonight. The unheated part of the apartment is not going to be comfortable. I guess I’ll wait ‘til the afternoon to shower. Whatever, I’ll grin and bear it for tonight.

At one point, I thought – I’ll feel better if I put on a sweater. Then I realized, I’m already wearing a sweater.

I called my doctor’s office to see if a vacation supply for my medications could be sent to a pharmacy here in Florence. The woman who answered the phone seemed to have a lot of difficulty spelling the names of the prescriptions. “I’ll go to ‘the Google for’ help.” As soon as she put the definite article ‘the’ before ‘Google’, I knew this was not going to end well. It didn’t. I got a call back later from a nurse that said the doctor cannot write prescriptions for Italy.

I just sent Marie a list of my prescriptions and over-the-counter meds – as well as an address of a local FedEx place where I can pick it up. I figure I will be well enough by Monday for another short cab ride.

Marie later sent me the information from FedEx including the tracking number. The package weighed nearly three pounds and cost $299.50 to send. This made me think of Hillary Clinton’s book “It Takes a Village”. It takes a village? After a certain age, frankly I think sometimes it takes a medicine chest.

(P.S. There is no surprise, Marie said. Rather than ship me the pills I needed, she shipped me everything, in their original bottles. She said, rightly, that if anything happened during shipping, it would be better if everything were properly labeled.)

Saturday – Day 5

Other than being tired and a bit congested and phlegmy, I was OK. By good fortune, I discovered that there is a pharmacy about two doors down from my apartment. I looked up the Italian word for congested and phlegmy; it’s catarro. All of a sudden, a little bell dinged in my head, somehow dodging various enlarged sinus membranes in the process. I remembered this word from British novels that I never understood. So that’s what catarrh means! Catarrh is what one has when you are of the upper class, living in the realm of the Queen. Congested and phlegmy is what you have when you are of the middle (or lower) middle classes living in Queens – or, in my case, from Long Island but living in – yee-hah! – Texas.

I spent a good chunk of the day trying to deal with online supermarket delivery sites.

Later in the day, there was heat! The landlord and I had chatted earlier in the day, and she was most accommodating. (Most accommodating? That sounds almost as British as catarrh.)

I spent the rest of the day lying around.

Sunday – Day 7

Heat is ephemeral, I learned – and I should not have been shocked. Following in the tradition of small European hotels, it shuts off at night and is not necessarily on all day either. Oh well, they supplied a down comforter that kept me quite comfortable at night – and I was able to control the heat in the back of the apartment. I’ll hole up there.

I’d complain but I know that the reality here is that energy has gotten really expensive. A lot of European gas – especially in Germany and Italy – comes from Russia. The owner of the hotel where I stayed last week in Sulmona told me that his monthly energy bill is usually 1000€. Last month, it was 1800€. People are being hit hard. 

I decided that unless it becomes downright cold inside the apartment, I’d keep my mouth shut and a sweater on.

Monday – Day 8

Long story shortened: my package with medications was tied up in Italian customs. FedEx told me it was Marie’s fault for not requesting “a broker” within FedEx to assist in case of customs problems. Italian customs said that a “sanitary certificate” – which I think really means “health certificate” – must be obtained, and that’s something a broker could have helped with. 

I asked how could Marie possibly know to ask for a broker to help with customs issues? She did tell FedEx clearly what she was shipping – and all the medications were in their original containers, with the labels intact. FedEx should have known to assign one of their brokers for potential customs issues. Marie paid FedEx $299.50, and they messed up.

Not only won’t I get my package today, FedEx said that I will have to pay extra for the “sanitary certificate”. I asked FedEx how much that would be; the agent didn’t know but said he would “refer that question to their team.” 

No, this could not be escalated any further; I must wait. 

At the end of this twenty minute phone call, the agent asked me would I stay on the line to complete a brief survey? I wisely declined to say what I was thinking – that is, to tell him which orifice to cram his survey and how hard –  and just said good-bye.

Oh – and I did ask Marie what the surprise was. She included two bagels in the package. Of course, they don’t ship well, but I loved the thought. What the Italian customs agent who opened the box thought – well, that I can’t even begin to imagine.

Meanwhile, I went to the pharmacy almost next door to my apartment, to see if they could advise me. They said there is a medical clinic nearby. I looked it up, and it appeared to be a free clinic – a free clinic less than a hundred yards from my front door. That immediately made me think of the Lupanare (i.e., whorehouse) that I saw in Pompeii. If only there had been a free clinic just 100 yards away from that.

The pharmacy said they do walk-ins – and they open at 8 pm. That seemed weird – maybe I was not understanding clearly in Italian what was being said. As it turns out, I did understand. However, due to COVID, there were no walk-ins allowed; I had to call first. 

Automated phone systems are no fun in English – but imagine dealing with one in a foreign language? After calling twice, I managed to get the gist – that I should just hold the line and I would be connected to someone who could help – and that I was call #14 in the queue.

A nice Italian lady was patient with me, even when I asked her two or three times to repeat herself. She connected me to a doctor.

I managed most of the call with the doctor in Italian – with much difficulty – before asking toward the end if we could finish in English. The doctor said to come by in an hour.

In an hour, I walked in – and 15 minutes later, I walked out with written prescriptions for everything I needed.

Next step: find a 24 hour pharmacy. Luckily, the AirBnB apartment I rented had several of them listed on an information sheet in the front hall. I figured the most likely place to start would be the one in the main train station at Santa Maria Novella. If something happened and I could not express myself well enough in Italian, there would more likely be someone behind the desk who speaks English.

Florence, although a tourist haven, is not exactly a hoppin’ metropolis at night. This is the Santa Maria Novella train station at night:

At the entrance to the 24 hour pharmacy, I found this note, saying that from 20.00 (i.e., 8:00 pm) to 8.00 am, you have to go around to the side, near the taxi stand.

I went around to the side, near the taxi stand – which was not pretty:

I wondered if I was in the right place – ‘til I saw this:

I rang the bell. Someone asked me what I needed. I said prescriptions. He said put the ricetta – the written prescription – into a basket that came out through the hole in the wall.

A few minutes later, he asked me for 18€. I put that into the basket – and he sent back 2 of my medications as well as my written prescription. 

To get the rest of them filled, I went to another pharmacy. The view was a bit better there:

The pharmacy was next to a café on the main square, Piazza del Duomo. Sadly, this pharmacy had none of the other medications. He said those would be hard to get at night – but they can be ordered in the morning and I’d likely have them in the afternoon. I went home, to bed.

Tuesday – Day 9

I got the rest of the prescriptions from the pharmacy 2 door down from my apartment – a two week supply for everything. The total cost was just over 9€.

Meanwhile, I received an email in Italian from someone at a customs consulting company, asking me about the contents of the package and how it would be used. I replied, in Italian, that the contents of the package are for me/for my personal use and that it contains prescription medications, over-the-counter medications – and two bagels.

I plan to spend as much of the day lying on the couch as possible. I will give myself another COVID test tomorrow – fingers crossed.

Wednesday – Day 10

I tested positive again for COVID. Naturally I started freaking out but I knew I had to act quickly to sort out my situation. I successfully managed to reschedule my flight, originally in 2 days, for 9 days later. Unfortunately, I could not extend my AirBnB apartment rental. That was hardly a surprise – since next week is Holy Week (i.e., the week before Easter.).

I managed to find another apartment for only about $30 more a night. Given that it will be Holy Week, I counted my blessings that I was able to find it on such short notice.  It’s a little smaller but looks potentially better equipped. Not that it matters at this point, but the apartment is apparently about a 5 minute walk from the Duomo. Perhaps I’d appreciate that more when I’m feeling better.

The apartment had no reviews – but was owned (managed?) by an AirBnB superhost with great reviews. I figured that was a good sign. It’s not like there was a lot available in the lower price ranges – and, at $127 a night (with all fees included), it was hardly expensive.

I continued to spend lots of time just lying down resting. As I looked up from the sofa out at my little private courtyard, I wondered what tomorrow would be like.

Thursday – Day 11

As I suspected, the new place is smaller – mostly just two long rooms – but better equipped. It has a bigger bathroom and a more functional kitchen – with a small convection oven/microwave combo. The building is old but grand – and the apartment was just renovated.

Oh, and check out the ceilings in those two long rooms – the kitchen/dining area and the bedroom, respectively:

…not bad for $127 a night!

The internet here is much slower – but it works well enough to watch television online. (I have been binging M*A*S*H reruns. It feels comforting.) I was tired. I sorted out getting food and getting a few more home rapid antigen tests.

Philipp, my manager at work, reminded me that the tests I brought with me are comparable to PCR tests – and pick up really small viral loads. I did some research and saw that to return to the US, an rapid antigen test is acceptable – although, not from a home test.

The home rapid antigen test showed that I was still positive.

Friday – Day 12

I am starting to feel better – less tired, a bit less headachey, a wee bit less congested. I did a few hours of work, so I am not Deluged with emails and tasks upon my virtual return on Monday. (I am working from here on Monday.)

Marie told me that FedEx told her if she wants the package back, she’ll have to open an account with FedEx so they can bill her. I told her to tell them what they can do with the package.

I will test myself tomorrow. If I test negative, I will go out and explore a bit. Fingers crossed…

Saturday – Day 13

I took another home rapid antigen test – and it was positive, again. I’m not sure if that makes me an underachiever or an overachiever. No – that makes the damn virus an overachiever. F*** the virus! According to the US Center for Disease Control website, 10 days after my fever, I am probably no longer contagious. Still, I’ll play it safe today and lay low. I’ll take a walk outside this evening – with my N95 mask securely in place, just in case.

To add insult to injury, for the last 2 days, my stomach has been out of whack. Some supermarkets here have some nice stuff. I have been subsisting on bread, tea, corn flakes, and lactose free milk.

Sunday – Day 14

Through my unofficial (but amazing) second mom Anneliese, I got the contact information of some friends who had the same problem as me. Through them I learned that you can return to the US with either a negative COVID test or proof of recovery from COVID. I should check my airline’s website. I checked the American Airlines website – which said the same.’

I called American Airlines. I was told that was incorrect. Maybe I misread it? After the call, I double checked. No, I was right. I called again – this time asking not “can I?” but rather “What documentation do I need? Will a doctor’s note suffice?” The representation confirmed this.

I will find a doctor tomorrow.

Monday – Day 15

“If Mommy says, no, ask Daddy.”

I called an urgent care clinic here and spoke to an Italian physician here. I told him that I needed to get something in writing from a physician that I had recovered from COVID. He said it would be against Italian law for him to write me that kind of letter.

I found a British physician who practices – sorry, he’s British, so “practises” – here. He says he does that all the time. I have an appointment for Wednesday morning.

Meanwhile, I took another home test and finally tested negative – so, in theory, I should be fine. However, after the two weeks I’ve had, I’m still going to the doctor. 

In case I don’t test negative the day before my flight, the doctor’s letter will be my backup plan.

Wednesday – Day 16

I was in and out of the doctor’s office in 15 minutes. I showed him my positive test, he examined me, and he wrote me my note.

Thursday – Day 17

In the end, I tested negative anyway. I took a high-speed train to Rome, to spend the night before my flight the following day.

©2022, Christopher Lupone