Categories
just life

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.

Categories
just life one second everyday

one second everyday — march 2020

march was… the longest year. i didn’t even remember we had been up north in the beginning of the month until we started compiling these seconds.

the first half of the month was fine. we played games, met with friends, went to a concert, walked the hills… and then the world changed suddenly, and we hunkered down to weather the storm. we spent our days struggling to cope with the constant changes in the postal world, fighting the slugs in the garden, and catching up with friends online. at the end of the month, we drove north again to help p.’s parents with groceries. we’ve been in my parent’s empty apartment ever since, and i can’t wait to go back home.

Categories
analogue wednesdays

analogue wednesday #221

“I am sitting under a sycamore by Tinker Creek. I am really here, alive on the intricate earth under trees.”

annie dillard, via john green.

Categories
just life

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.

Categories
in portugal

walking the southwest coast

earlier this winter, we put a few days aside to walk the rota vicentina, a route of (mostly) seaside trails in the southwest coast of portugal. the challenge and the cliffs lured us in, and as soon as we found a string of days promising good weather, we booked some hostels along the way and went for it — first from sagres to aljezur, and then from aljezur to porto covo.

i have trouble summing up the experience in simple words. weeks later, i still feel the pain and boredom of the kilometers stretching into hours, but also the awe of the breathtaking scenery and the freedom of having nothing to do but walk all day.

it’s funny how time dilates when we’re boot-deep in sand, feet sinking with every step. hours stretch into kilometers, another one and another one, and before we know it, a town of white-washed houses appears like a mirage in the horizon. we know ourselves differently after a long walk. we talk at length with the people walking with us, and sometimes with ourselves. we become the people who recognize birds, who stop to photograph another flower or bush — the people who notice stuff.

slowly, running or walking, we’re becoming familiar with this place we now call home.