UPDATE: I removed the paragraph mentioning “silver linings,” because it appears that at least the part about dolphins being seen in Venetian canals is not true, per National Geographic. (Air quality in Beijing does seem to have improved, however.)
It has been forever since I’ve posted here, but as part of a larger effort to be more communicative generally (yes, I repent, I repent!), and as the world progressively goes into lockdown mode with the spread of the COVID-19 coronavirus, I want to talk a little bit about what is going on right now in my part of the world.
This past Sunday (March 15th), after drastically reducing my planned U.S. itinerary, I returned to Europe from Las Vegas on what gate personnel kept referring to as “the last flight to Germany” (which it well might be for Condor Airlines). The flight was about 90% full; my connection from Frankfurt to Marseille was about 40% full. Monday evening, just as I arrived home (having stayed masked and gloved in the back seat of the car so as to give Mr Mo a little protection), French president Emmanuel Macron addressed the nation and announced that France and the EU/Schengen countries were closing their borders to non-EU/Schengen travelers as of noon on Tuesday (17th). In principle, this would not have affected my ability to get home, French citizen that I most thankfully am, except that other air carriers (including Condor, which had had a flight scheduled for the 17th) canceled flights right and left.
Anyway, I made it back to our medieval-era village and have taken up residence in a small apartment about a block from our own house. In an abundance of caution, I am in self-quarantine until two full weeks have elapsed (and longer, of course, if I exhibit symptoms). I have been meeting up with Mr Mo in the late morning, and we—with our requisite forms in hand justifying our outdoor movement, and keeping at least two meters away from each other—take a walk. We also meet up at the fountain in front of our house at some other time during the day for Mr Mo to pass on to me various items of food and clothing and such.
Clad in mask and gloves, I have been to the village store, but I feel uncomfortable doing so and I rather imagine that the very nice shopkeeper, to say nothing of the occasional customer, might not appreciate my presence there either. So no more of that for now.
My sleep is troubled. This is partly due to jet lag, but mostly due to semi-wakeful nightmares about maybe having the virus and thus exposing loved ones and neighbors to it. In this half-awake state, I feel awful physically—to the point where I am sure I must be sick, but when I get up, I feel fine. Very strange and disconcerting, particularly since I am not generally prone to nightmares (and hooray for that).
Of course I worry about family and friends. It was a very tearful leave-taking of my elderly parents on Sunday morning. My dad in particular is very fragile, and even if he does not catch the virus, I think it's unlikely I will get to see him again. Even though they have very kind and attentive friends and neighbors and church folk looking out for them, I worry about their new level of isolation, and hope that they will end up going up north to live with my sister. (Mom is resistant to this idea until her followup visit ~2.5 weeks from now for her recent cataract surgeries, though I honestly wonder if that visit will in fact take place.)
Here in my village, with the exception of the church bells (my temporary digs are right across from them, and they strike the hour twice, 24 hours a day, and mark the half-hour with a single stroke as well… sigh), things are even more quiet than they usually are in the off-season. The local bar is closed except as a bread depot and take-away sandwich business (allowed under the current rules). Very, very few people are out and about.
Mr Mo and I have laid in a reasonable supply of TP and food, and having no outdoor space at all, we've ordered some grow lights as well as seeds for certain exotic food plants we like (edible chrysanthemum, for example, which we only very recently discovered). Mr Mo bought some soil and some pots and a few packets of ordinary seeds. I will consider us lucky if what we ordered arrives, as Amazon and other delivery outfits are scaling back deliveries. So far, France’s La Poste is still operating, but obviously this could—and I think, likely will— change as the virus continues its inexorable spread throughout the world. We believe this situation will be of long duration, even though we hope that the heat of the summer months will buy us (and everyone in the northern hemisphere) at least some respite and time to prepare for another wave later on.
I think France and Germany and many other countries will manage to slow down the virus—hopefully enough to keep the urgent cases within the capacities of their respective healthcare systems. (Germany currently has many more critical care beds than France, but both countries are taking measures to increase capacity.) But the USA. OMG, the USA. You all here are well aware of the incompetence and callousness, so I won’t belabor the obvious, but I can only hope that our loved ones—including our children and their circles of loved ones—are spared.
May you all stay healthy and may your loved ones be spared as well.