these are the posts tagged ‘covid-19’:


analogue wednesday #239

signs of the pandemic.

analogue wednesday #237

Feet with painted sign 1.5m

signs of the pandemic.

one second everyday — april 2020

april was the homeliest of months, calm and quiet, and just what the WHO ordered. after coming south, we did nothing besides work, study, eat and putter around in the garden.

improbably, there are now pumpkins, tomatoes, physalis, sage, mint, lemongrass, chives and lettuce growing… as well as an ever-expanding collection of succulents, and passionfruit. :| the hands want to keep busy, i guess, and things grow, little by little. i’m ok with this.

a 600km grocery run

we were up north last week, doing some grocery shopping for p’s parents. they’re over 80 now, live in the countryside without a car, and don’t quite seem to grasp the magnitude of what is going on around them, or the basics about infectious diseases… which makes it hard to explain why the supermarket is a minefield, or why they shouldn’t get close to acquaintances they meet on the street. so, off we went.

being outside (even with a legitimate purpose like shopping or helping relatives) feels incredibly stressful, especially in a city. the supermarket is huge and yet inexplicably crowded at a fraction of its normal pre-pandemic capacity. my hands clam, my eyes and nose itch to be scratched, i’m hyper aware of everyone’s spatial location or the things i’ve touched. i just want to drop everything, go home and scratch my skin out in the shower — groceries be damned. i know it’s all in my head, but going out is what fills me with anxiety and dread these days, like a reverse cabin fever.

we dump the groceries in the in-laws with clear instructions not to touch anything non-perishable for a few days, catch up from a distance, and hope for the best. we stay a few days more, just in case.

on the way back, the highway is blissfully empty, a boring line that stretches north-south. we see partridges on the asphalt going their merry way and the police stop us on the last roundabout before home, just to make sure we’re locals.

we arrive, wash, disinfect and breathe a sigh of relief. it’s good to be home, safe and sound.

an empty hospital, waiting for the storm

so… yeah. what a week this has been. truth be told, not much has changed for us, a couple of introverts who have been working from home for over 10 years now. but still, things feel different. we’re hyper aware of everyone around us, where our hands are and which things we’ve touched, how long it has been since we last washed them, or the itch on our nose that we’re resisting to scratch.

still, we’re luckier than many. we stock up on the local bio farm, where we can get fresh stuff without the claustrophobia of supermarket visits. we have a little garden, and can easily walk around the countryside behind our home without meeting anyone. the boy can still run, and the mail still goes in most countries. we are healthy and thankful. reminds me of this notice from neukölln.

we broke the self-isolation to go to the hospital this week. i got a message on wednesday morning from the local hospital saying they were EXTREMELY NECESSITATED (their caps) of my blood type. they are usually running low at the best of times, let alone when everyone is avoiding going out, or to a hospital. :(

i called them to make sure i could give blood (usually i’d still have to wait another 1.5 months before going again), and they said “yes, please, just be careful and come!!”

so we drove 50kms to faro, while every information panel on the highway screamed at us to “STAY HOME!”. we gave blood while staying as far away as possible from everyone, touching the least amount of things and disinfecting the hands after touching anything + showering afterwards.

it was a rather stressful experience, but the people were nice, and the hospital itself was eerily quiet. all non-urgent appointments had been cancelled, and people told not to come here unless it’s serious. there was this feeling of “the quiet before the storm” hanging in the air, like everyone is waiting for people to start pouring in — which they will, “little by little and then all at once”, as i heard someone explain exponential growth.

i just hope we’re ready for it.