Traveling through Italy last winter, I searched for clues illuminating Italy’s attitudes towards the blind. After several ticket sellers at cultural monuments had refused to charge me admission, I began wondering whether Italian society harbored negative attitudes towards the blind. Did they refrain from charging us because they assumed we were incapable of earning an income?
The most revealing clue was a wheelchair lift outside Pompeii’s tourism office. With Italy’s many steep ledges and steps, the lift stood out sharply. Unlike braille and sign language interpreters, ramps and lifts are highly visible from the street. For this reason, quantifying wheelchair accessibility can be an easy way for tourists to gauge a society’s attitudes towards their often hidden disabled citizens. That lift in Pompeii seemed to symbolize the achievements of disabled Italians fighting for their equality.
My optimism quickly turned to dismay when I noticed the huge potted plant blocking access to the lift. Imagining that a careless decorator had placed the offending plant there, I climbed the stairs to the office to explain the issue. The receptionist, confused, actually offered to carry me down the stairs—ostensibly thinking that my interest in the lift was due to some mobility impairment. I clarified for him that I could walk and that my concern was for visitors with wheelchairs. Finally listening, he proceeded to reveal, with a dismissive tone, that the lift had long been broken.
With this disturbing news, I determined that Italy’s blind had many potted plants to push aside.
