lo sciopero (di nuovo)

As you might imagine, my initial enthusiasm for strikes has waned since my ill-fated attempt at the sciopero della pasta. That seems like such a long time ago; back when I still thought that the inconvenient aspects of Italian life were quaint. Since then I have had the experience of being stuck on a bus for 45 minutes at Piazza Venezia when all the taxi drivers in the city decided to park their taxis there to block the road and I have also had the pleasure of rescheduling a weekend trip to London due to an all transportation strike the day of my departure. We are now in the midst of a truck strike. There are huge delivery trucks, full of spoiling food, parked all over the highways. In preparation for the strike I had done my major grocery shopping yesterday so I only needed a few little things. I wanted to try out a recipe for mulled wine and pick up cat food (yes, we are now feeding the tigressa twice daily). I wasn't prepared for the total vacuum where the produce once was. Only cucumbers and grapefruits were left. The shelves normally containing fruit were now being used for Panetone, a traditional Christmas cake. Perhaps the employees had reasoned that the candied fruit and raisins in the cake were a decent substitute for grapes and oranges. I was contemplating the ramifications of substituting grapefruit zest for orange zest in the mulled wine when I noticed a bewildered woman wandering back and forth in front of the aisle where the wine is. As I looked closer I saw that the wine had been cordoned off with police tape. There were signs posted up with the seal of the comune of Rome saying that owing to the soccer match tonight between Lazio and Manchester United, there would be no liquor, wine, or beer sold from noon to midnight.

I made my way through the rest of the store to find the remaining items: cat food and drano. The bakery had only one type of bread--you have no idea how dire that is for the Italians who can normally choose from 30 or 40 different types. I saw two nuns filling their baskets with all the chocolate candies they could find. I imagined they were feeding the whole convent on sugar that evening. In the frozen food aisle two old ladies were arguing over the last of the frozen green beans. The aisle with the cleaning products was well stocked with Padre Pio votive candles, but that was it. No drano. I went in to crisis mode. I bought two bottles of shelf stable milk and a box of cereal to sustain us if necessary. As I was checking out the manager was screaming at some man who was insistent on buying beer. Italy has come along way since the days of conquering the world. Now it's a miracle to be able to take the bus to the grocery store and actually buy food there, all in the same day. I managed to get some cat food, but the cat hasn't appeared to eat it all day long. She's probably on strike too.