Life in the Time of Corona
What a very strange and unsettling time we live in right now.
It’s Tuesday in the first week of our 15-day country-wide lock down here in Spain. Although some criticism has been levelled at the Spanish Government for a marginally slow reaction to the crisis, what Andrew and I have seen subsequently has been a very calm, thorough and comprehensive approach to a very difficult situation. The President of the Government, Pedro Sánchez, gave a very impressive address to the nation on Sunday evening, spelling out the measures that had been agreed by the government and how these would affect the population. All bars, restaurants and public events were cancelled immediately, and everyone was instructed to stay at home. Non-essential travel is not permitted. A brief overview of the restrictions can be seen here.
We can go to the shops to get essential food items. We can exercise Alfie, but only individually so we have to take it in turns to take the little nitwit for his constitutional. Other than that, we have little need to leave our home, but there is definitely a difference between choosing to stay at home and being instructed that staying at home is an essential measure. We agree completely with the approach being taken, as the prevention of infection in these rural villages is vitally important. The risk to life in the older population and the vulnerable is too real, but we are also aware that this will affect our finances hugely. Our fledgling tourism business has been cut dead for the time being. Although the lock down is scheduled to last for 15 days, there is speculation that this could be extended. Beyond that, it will take a significant length of time for any travel-related business to pick up where it left off. Flight schedules will take a while to get back to full capacity, there will be a lack of consumer confidence, there will be business failures and job losses.
We are, therefore, resigned to the fact that we will not see any meaningful income being generated in our household for a couple of months. Andrew still has design work keeping our heads above water, and we now have to think about and plan for the future and whatever happens next.
We are lucky in that we can be flexible with our business plans and we have very little invested in terms of employees or real estate. Our overheads are minimal, thank goodness. We can reschedule our creative course holidays whenever we know the outlook appears more positive. People will want to travel and get away for a break in the sun to forget about the fears and concerns of the first half of 2020. We will recover.
In the meantime, we stay at home, and we could not be in a better spot. We get our glorious fresh air as soon as we step out into our garden and take in the perennially breathtaking views. Andrew is at his computer and I am preserving lemons, making tomate frito, baking bread, doing some online teaching of English and managing to keep occupied. Being isolated is not great for mental health, and it is easy for time to stretch into some void of disconnected nothingness, so work of some kind is essential. We would normally think nothing of hopping in the car, driving to a remote spot and walking for a couple of hours, but we can’t do that. We cook, read, take Alfie round the block. It is not hard when we consider what the alternatives might be. Cases of the Coronavirus have ben reported both here in our village and in surrounding villages. The thought of families being affected here is too awful to contemplate, given that communities are so multi-generational. Staying at home not only makes sense, but it is the responsible thing to do.
It has been infuriating, therefore, to see English holidaymakers wandering the streets of Benidorm as if nothing is happening and certainly making it clear that no virus will stand between their purulent guts and the next trolley-load of Heineken. I have read insensitive posts on social media groups here in Spain, written by a handful of non-Spanish people bemoaning the fact that the beach has been closed, or the measures put in place are complete overreactions.
It was equally galling to see some residents of Madrid getting in their cars and driving down to Andalucia as soon as they got wind of the lock-down and restriction of movement. These stringent measures are put in place for a reason: to protect those people most at risk of the worst effects of this virus. We, none of us really knows what will happen next, whether there will be further spikes when restrictions are relaxed, or whether a vaccination will be approved before next winter and any seasonal recurrence. We just have to deal with the situation as it is now and not risk spreading the virus.
The sun is shining today, the air is fresh and clean and we will get out and about in the garden. Alfie is oblivious, of course, and just wants to have fun. The bread I baked yesterday looked nothing like the the crispy, lovely loaf in the recipe book, but it actually tasted rather good. A morning spent in the kitchen, cooking up all sorts of treats is always good for the soul. Our lovely neighbour, Mari-Petra, has a new system of ringing the doorbell, placing some culinary goody in the flower bed and then scuttling back to her porch ready for me to come out and collect said food parcel. I have offered to sing from our balcony for the edification and delight of the neighbours, but this offer does not seem to have been met with much enthusiasm, although Mari-Petra did offer to dance if I sang. The village is quiet but still looks beautiful.
It is now surreal to see the steps that the UK government is taking as they face what we, in Spain, now have to manage. There was something hugely reassuring watching the Spanish Government’s President spell out, with conviction, what the lock down would mean. It has been conversely concerning to see a lack of information and vague measures being put out by the UK government in the face of their own rising case numbers. Moments such as this require decisive action and clarity of message.
Our family and friends seem a very long way away. The connections we had, via a quick 2 and a half hour flight, seem suddenly severed by vast distances. Strangely, this disconnection brings with it a strong sense of helplessness and isolation beyond our immediate circumstances. Not being in a position to tell the children to hop on a flight and get over here is one of the hardest parts of our own experience of the lock-down. Not knowing when we might see our friends, visitors, guests and family all makes this 15 day lock-down seem eternal. Even on our own doorstep, it is hard not being able to see our nearest neighbours, and our dearest friends who only live an hour’s drive away. It makes you realise how much we depend on that social interaction, and how much we take these small liberties for granted.
It will pass, and life will return to a new normal. We can only hope that when this period does pass, we really do work together to help repair the immeasurable damage that has been done. We will need to set aside political difference, and the animosity that has tarnished so many aspects of the UK’s relationship with Europe for the past 3 years. Businesses are going to suffer for some time, people will lose jobs and, most tragically, families will lose much-loved relatives.
However, for the time being, our own little lives continue in our own little bubble. Andrew has just appeared in the kitchen to make coffee, singing (never the best tonic) and suggesting that we simply turn our life into a musical, and everything will be OK. He has a point.
Stay at home, keep well, keep occupied, use WhatsApp and FaceTime to keep in touch with friends and family and keep things in perspective. Cake and chocolate help too; oh, and Gin!
Read ‘Life in the Time of Corona Part 2’
Read ‘Life in the Time of Corona Part 3’
Read ‘Life in the Time of Corona Part 4’
Read ‘Life in the Time of Corona Part 5’
Read ‘Life in the Time of Corona Part 6’
Cherry blossom, Moclin
