On Saturday, Spain joined a host of countries and cities in Europe, North America, and Asia, in urging, mandating, and in some cases, police-enforcing a self-quarantine and confinement to closed, mostly residential, spaces. Here is the first of what I hope will be a few (but who knows?!) daily dispatches of what that’s like.
Prior to the shutdown being announced, the city’s shop windows were plastered with Father’s Day offers. The day seemed to pass with a whimper.
Being in quarantine is much more bearable with a terrace. We can go ‘outside’; we can enjoy the intensity of the sun from indoors. We can look outside, quite easily see the sky. We can hear the birds directly overhead, yet sense the silence in the emptied-out streets and the placa below. Our daily circadian rhythm is almost uninterrupted, in tune as we are with the dawn and fade of the sky’s light.
When I moved to northern Virginia, I took the first apartment I visited, that had a decent long terrace and almost wall-to-wall sliding doors. My Trinidadian friend, Blair, who had also moved to NoVA from Blacksburg, would come to visit, and we would drag the long sofa out and lounge on the balcony. Coming from countries on the equator, a quest for the sun’s light and heat probably informed many of the things we did.
The list of groceries we’re running out of is getting a bit longer, So, tomorrow, groceries will be done. I look forward to some tasty fresh bread :)