Life in the Times of Coronavirus: Lockdown Day 2
LOCKDOWN DAY 2: MARCH 15, 2020
It hits you the moment you wake up: you, and the entire country, are under lockdown. Any other Sunday morning we’d have a late breakfast, work on our respective projects for a bit, and then go out for lunch with a group of friends. Then a stroll, perhaps read for a while in the park, stop for a cup of coffee, perhaps see other friends or Franky’s mother, and then head back home in the early evening.
Those times seem taken from another life now. Believe me, I realize that we’re luckier than most in that we have each other (a lot of folks are cooped up by themselves), savings, a fully-stocked fridge, and medicines and other necessities should one of us fall ill. We have a roof over our heads and plenty of unread books on the shelves. Our friends and family members are safe and healthy. And for me, being forced to stay at home is perhaps a blessing in disguise, for at the present moment I can only share my experiences with you virtually and now cannot argue and say that I have no time to write. Given the dire circumstances that others around the world are facing with the COVID-19 pandemic, I cannot complain too much about temporarily being forced to stay indoors to prevent an already bad epidemic from getting much worse. Especially when there is more bad news: more than 8,000 people infected now, and the confirmation that the vice-president of Catalonia as well as the prime minister’s wife have tested positive for COVID-19. This is especially alarming when you consider that just yesterday Sánchez presided over a Cabinet meeting that was attended by all but two ministers who were themselves ill with the coronavirus. It’s hard not to feel things slipping out of control and that darkness is afoot, but I prefer to stay positive and remind myself that this, too, shall pass.
But I cannot help but wonder how I’ll feel once all this is under control and we return to normalcy. (You know what I mean.) Having grown up in ever-blue California before, I never imagined that I’d be forced to live in government-enforced confinement, where any violations are punishable by steep fines or even imprisonment. It is not an exaggeration to say that we live with the fear of scarcity of food or the interruption of basic supplies.
Today the government has also dispatched the military to help enforce the estado de alarma. The streets in our town are empty, but there are reports of police officers patrolling other parts of Spain with loudspeakers, warning folks to go home or face punishment. (In Madrid, they’re using drones.) The police are authorized to stop you and ask you why you’re outside, and unless you’re going to the pharmacy, grocery shopping, or to care for a loved one, you’ll be ordered to return home. (Tomorrow is Monday, though, and the Sánchez administration, in an attempt to “disrupt as little as possible the lives of the Spanish people,” has allowed folks to also go to the newspaper stand, smoke shop, and, bizarrely, beauty salons and barbershops.) Once the measures are lifted, which could be anywhere from two weeks to a month (the latter seems more likely), how will we all feel? I’m more introverted, by nature, but I’m also a people person and have wonderful friends that I see regularly. How will our relationships adjust to this new reality where our interactions are limited to Skype sessions, at least for the foreseeable future, when we are used to having beers and laughing together? We’ll find a way, I suppose, and it offers a chance to be creative, but it only underscores the strange times we’re living through.
So my day consisted largely of working for a bit and cleaning house, after which I sat out on the balcony to sit in the sunshine and read for a while. Fittingly, Daniel Defoe’s Journal of a Plague Year.
…it was rumoured that an order of the Government was to be issued out to place turnpikes and barriers on the road to prevent people travelling, and that the towns on the road would not suffer people from London to pass for fear of bringing the infection along with them…
I could just see the edges of the park where just a week ago children were playing in the late winter sunshine. The fruit stand that always had crates bursting with fresh produce of every color had drawn its bright green metal curtain shut. The benches where teenagers would take refuge from the rain and smoke joints and listen to reggaeton were also empty. I heard the distant grumble of a motor, and when I looked up it was a police car patrolling our neighborhood.
Then, about an hour later, a señora who looked about seventy appeared on the street. She was carrying a heavy bag of groceries and stopped every ten feet or so and set down the bag to take a rest. As she got closer, she reached into her pocket and took out a piece of bread. She crushed it with her free hand and threw the crumbs in the direction of a gray pigeon that was sitting in the parking lot. It didn’t flap its wings or even move despite the crumbs raining down on it. It was too far away for me to see it clearly, so I simply thought the pigeon was dead, and not until a relatively big chunk of bread grazed its wing did the pigeon look up and begin to peck at the crumbs. Then it went back to staring down at the ground, as if a message were written there that none of us could see. These times are strange, so strange that one is tempted to think that even the animals can sense the fear that has given them free rein over the streets.
It’s not all grim, though. There are moments of laughter, like these, when we can see friends at least virtually and commiserate together over these unprecedented times we’re living through:
We really should figure out how to get this to work better ;)
And there’s moments of solidarity like this. Tonight’s the second night that people all over Spain have stood on their balcony and applauded the efforts of the healthcare workers on the front lines of the disease. I’d also add the folks who work at pharmacies and supermarkets, as they too are at risk. Cerdanyola del Vallès, our town, participated as well, as you can see:
Things are getting ugly out there, but moments like this help us all feel that sense of community that really helps us get through the difficult times that lie ahead. Tomorrow is Monday, and it’s the first workday since the lockdown was declared. We’ll see what it brings, and how the crisis continues to unfold.