Have Italians always been so parsimonious with their electricity? We pull up to our B&B in Siracusa in the deepening dusk, and wonder if it’s been abandoned. We’re sure we have the correct address, but no light peeps from any window, heavy wooden doors face the street, the outdoor sign is only faintly illuminated, and the only light comes from outdoor streetlights. I ring the doorbell. No sound of a bell, and no response. I ring again, then pound the heavy door knockers. I hear a distant voice, followed by hurried footsteps. A light clicks on. The door opens on an interior courtyard filled with bicycles and motorcycles, and a gate leading to a flight of stone steps. We ascend, and the light clicks off behind us.
We see the same patterns as we walk the streets of Ortygia, Siracusa’s old quarter, now a tourist destination but still housing many local people. In America, light beams from every window, even from empty office buildings. Here, most of the buildings are dark, or you see a faint light coming to the street from an interior room. Profligate use of lighting to say “I’m here, I’m here” seems the exception.
We see a mother with an infant enter a dark courtyard and up a deeply shadowed stair. No light turns on to lead her steps. We see a couple turn down a street so dark that surely it must be abandoned and unsafe. But no, single women walk dark streets. Use of lighting to say “this street is safe” seems restricted to major arteries.
This is no doubt part of the reason per capita electricity use in Italy is 42% of what it is in the US. Add to that smaller, more fuel efficient cars — our rented Lancia has taken us the length of Sicily on 3/4 a tank of diesel in four days — and you realize just how profligate we are in the US.