Civitavecchia (Italy) (AFP)
Faced with a summer resurgence of new cases of coronavirus, especially from Sardinia, Italy immediately organized "drive-in" tests for holidaymakers returning from the island by ferry to Civitavecchia, a large port in 70 km north of Rome.
Sunday at dawn, a long line of cars and two-wheelers forms in front of a large car park located just outside the port. There are two large capitals where the vehicles are supposed to parade one by one.
Only problem: the barriers are closed and not a living soul on the horizon. At 6.30 am, however, hundreds of passengers disembarked from the first ferries.
An impatient traveler devotes himself to calling the toll-free number listed at the entrance and hears the answer: "the drive-in is closed on Sunday". The news spreads like wildfire, causing amazement and dismay.
Marco, a 37-year-old Roman, who runs a gym, says he is "outraged" at this "absurd situation".
"It's Italy, the coronavirus rests on Sunday," tries to joke Francesco Nevolo, a 41-year-old bearded man with a jovial smile perched on his scooter, while nervously patting his helmet. "It's Sunday that people come back from vacation, but we're in Italy ...", he blurted out in a resigned tone.
In the meantime, the line of cars continues to lengthen until it blocks the neighboring roundabout. A policeman then disembarks: "The drive-in is not open on Sundays, so I ask you to move around".
Sighs, curses, arms raised in a sign of helplessness ... everyone reacts in their own way. The most stubborn want to wait until 9:00 a.m., the usual opening time for local health agencies, to be able to get information. The others give up and get back on the road.
- "A real asshole" -
Those who stay turn on their phones and strike up a conversation with their companions in misfortune, while the owner of the cafe around the corner rubs his hands.
"We are in a crisis situation, and we find ourselves facing an obvious lack of preparation," laments Stanislau Binacchi, a 28-year-old Roman with an impeccable tan, a follower of casual chic with his beige harem pants.
"It's a joke, they are not doing anything to improve the situation," says Jacopo, a tall 24-year-old with clear eyes. "At home there is my 95-year-old grandmother, I can't take any risks"
Emiliano Dandretta, 26, eyes red from sleep under a mane of curly hair, cannot believe it and confesses "a certain bitterness".
With arms dangling or a cigarette in hand, everyone is busy as they can while waiting for the hypothetical opening of the drive-in.
Francesco Mazza, a 43-year-old video producer returning from San Teodoro, tries to stay calm while his wife tries to calm their two young daughters after a grueling trip from the port of Olbia.
"On board the ferry, we were tight like sardines, they did not even reduce the capacities of the ships or increase their frequency", he regrets, cursing the "Italian disorganization".
On site in Sardinia, "there were a lot of people everywhere, and on the beach there were often crowds, especially among young people," he testifies behind the wheel of his red Hummer.
Suddenly, at 8:30 am, drama: a nurse arrives, triggering a round of applause. "It's just me," she responds with a smile.
She was quickly joined by members of the Civil Protection and the Italian Red Cross, who gave everyone a form to fill out (name, contact details ...). Access to the parking lot is open, and a serpentine forms wisely.
At 9:00 am sharp, the tests begin. Those who have had the patience to wait will receive the result within a maximum of 48 hours.
Francesco, our jovial bearded man, does not hide joy: "Me, I'm happy! Unfortunately the policeman dismissed half of the passengers for lack of information. A real asshole!"
© 2020 AFP