Ortona: Schools shut, gas cut off by storms – but a volleyball team keeps the city’s spirit alive

Who says the Abruzzo coast is all sunshine and beaches? We here in Ortona know better: when the wind turns, the sky goes leaden grey and bad weather hits the shoreline with a fury you don't expect. In these first days of April, the city has battened down the hatches and gritted its teeth. The first of April? Schools shut, weather warnings through the roof. Kids at home, empty streets, and seafront café owners with their hearts in their mouths. Then yesterday, the second, a literal cold shower for neighbourhoods like Feudo, Lazzaretto, Savini and Foro. No gas. Not a flame to cook a plate of pasta or have a hot shower after getting your coat soaked. The storm damaged the pipes, and people are furious.

But if there's one thing I've learned living here all my life, it's that Ortona is not a city that gives up. It didn't in '43, when homes became trenches and every corner was a battlefield. The Battle of Ortona – fought between German paratroopers and Canadian infantry – was one of the bloodiest of the Italian campaign. Street by street, house by house, with sappers blowing through load‑bearing walls. They called it 'little Stalingrad'. And today, as you walk along the seafront or stop for a coffee in Piazza Trento e Trieste, you might not think of it. But the Canadian War Cemetery of Ortona, on that green hill overlooking the sea, reminds you every day. More than a thousand white graves, lined up like soldiers on parade. A silence that weighs on you – but that teaches you something.

That's why, when the rain comes or the wind knocks out the gas meters, I don't panic. Pallavolo Impavida Ortona shows the way. You know that team that never drops a set, that chases down lost points and turns the match around in the final rallies? That's the same spirit. Impavida is the beating heart of this community: young lads sweating it out in the gym, parents packing the PalaBianchini, and that 'if you stop, you're lost' mentality. While that cursed April wind was howling outside, the arena was filled with a sense of comeback. And that's not a metaphor.

Let's take stock, plain and simple, of what this bout of bad weather has left behind:

• Schools closed on 1 April: a safety decision, since the gusts brought down a few branches and made travel risky. The kids are happy, parents less so – but better a day at home than an accident.
• Disruption in Feudo, Lazzaretto, Savini and Foro: gas cut off due to storm damage to the network. No hobs, no heating. Technicians are working on it, but patience has run out.
• Emergency funds: the council has already set aside money for the most serious repairs. We're talking tens of thousands of euros, but red tape moves slowly – and people living there know that better than I do.

Now the rain seems to have stopped hammering on the roofs, and the alert has eased. But the desire to get going again is already running high. Because that's how Ortona is made: after the battle, you rebuild; after the storm, you sweep away the dead leaves; after a lost set, you go back under the net and attack harder. And as I write, I'm thinking of the lads from Pallavolo Impavida Ortona, the players I know by name, the faces I bump into at the supermarket. They don't stop. And neither do we.

If you ever find yourself around here, stop by the Canadian War Cemetery of Ortona. Bring a flower, a thought, even just a minute of silence. Then go and watch an Impavida match. You'll hear the same thing: the sound of a community that doesn't know how to lose. Even when the sky slaps it in the face.