the corona diaries
Inspired by fellow bloggeroonster Elsa Kenningham
15/03
These days are strange, for everyone. I keep waking up and forgetting where I am and then remembering the current reality which itself feels like a fever dream. There are increased rumours circulating about an increased lockdown and the supermarkets are manic.
I book a flight home but don't know if its the right decision.
My colocs and I watch a French classique 'Les Tuches', about a French family who win the lottery
16/03
Lockdown announced. I am wavering between extreme panic and extreme non-panic.
My colocs have bought fish and named them Corona and Nestor.
17/03
Really struggled to remember where I was upon awaking this morning. I could see a queue forming outside the supermarche on the road adjacent (I don't think its actually adjacent tbh, I just wanted to use the word adjacent). I bundle down there still in my jammies, only to realise that it is late opening. Some disgruntled French people give up and trundle home with their wheely shopping bags (a strange phenomenon en France) and eventually I do too. I am pleasantly surprised to see the toasty lights of the nice bakery on my road and in a flurry I buy a baguette and a pain au chocolat (which I don't even like). I was expecting it to have been raided of baked goods but it is eerily full. The next nearest supermarket is void of toilet roll (obviously). I sneeze without covering my face and feel shameful as I join the checkout queue with an armful of biscuits and chocolate - my period has decided to coincide with the lockdown. I feel guilty buying foods.
I make eggs for breakfast and eat them beside Corona and Nestor. I keep forgetting that we have fish. I await the inevitable cancellation email from Easyjet.
18/03
I did an hour of yoga this morning (quite unlike me). I did get a bit bored/annoyed/hungry half way through but reminded myself I would be more annoyed if I gave up half way through then if I made it to the end feeling extremely hangry.
Last night we watched 'Casino Royale' dubbed in French. I internally quake when my colocs tell me we will watch it dubbed, after a traumatising experience watching 'The Revenant' in a Spanish cinema 4 years ago. But I am pleasantly surprised and make the late realisation that gauging the plot is not essential to enjoying a Bond film.
I go to retrieve my slippers from the makeshift office my colocs have made out of one of the bedrooms and find one coloc with a cast on her leg. She fell down the metro stairs last night and it got swollen. She is ok.
In the afternoon I buy some beer and sit in the courtyardy bit of my building. It is nice to not feel scared being outside.
At approx 20h I hear a strange clapping noise from the street. I go to my window and see people clapping from their balconies, the noise making a strange echo down the street. A bus and car pass, beeping their horns. It is probably not quite as moving as Italians jamming out their windows but nonetheless I do feel weirdly uplifted.
19/03
I wake up to a notification that my flight has changed. I panic, still fresh from a stressful dream in which two of my friends discussed their prestigious summer internships in German. The flight has only been moved back 40 minutes though. Panic put aside, for now.
The past few mornings I have been uncharacteristically spritely but today I feel like curling up into a small ball and forgetting about everything. I didn't think that the authorities were cracking down particularly but yesterday I heard they were doing checks on the bridges across the Rhone, even searching people's bags.
A week ago I never could have imagined that I would be leaving within a matter of days. Last Thursday seemed to be the catalyst for this mess. After a fairly diabolical French grammar test I received a message from an American friend, already in the airport after Trump's travel ban. Later that day I joined a group on the quais by the Rhone. The atmosphere was odd. The weather was muggy and it didn't feel right. That evening France announced the closure of all schools and universities. The next day the exodus began; most people were leaving and I wanted to stay.
I feel so lucky and so ungrateful. It's hard to remember that self-isolating is a privilege. And despite waking up in a vague panic everyday, despite being scared to go the shops, despite feeling restless for being in the same 50 square metres for 72 hours I have to remind myself that there are people in much more vulnerable positions. It is not about us, it is about everyone.
15/03
These days are strange, for everyone. I keep waking up and forgetting where I am and then remembering the current reality which itself feels like a fever dream. There are increased rumours circulating about an increased lockdown and the supermarkets are manic.
I book a flight home but don't know if its the right decision.
My colocs and I watch a French classique 'Les Tuches', about a French family who win the lottery
16/03
Lockdown announced. I am wavering between extreme panic and extreme non-panic.
My colocs have bought fish and named them Corona and Nestor.
17/03
Really struggled to remember where I was upon awaking this morning. I could see a queue forming outside the supermarche on the road adjacent (I don't think its actually adjacent tbh, I just wanted to use the word adjacent). I bundle down there still in my jammies, only to realise that it is late opening. Some disgruntled French people give up and trundle home with their wheely shopping bags (a strange phenomenon en France) and eventually I do too. I am pleasantly surprised to see the toasty lights of the nice bakery on my road and in a flurry I buy a baguette and a pain au chocolat (which I don't even like). I was expecting it to have been raided of baked goods but it is eerily full. The next nearest supermarket is void of toilet roll (obviously). I sneeze without covering my face and feel shameful as I join the checkout queue with an armful of biscuits and chocolate - my period has decided to coincide with the lockdown. I feel guilty buying foods.
I make eggs for breakfast and eat them beside Corona and Nestor. I keep forgetting that we have fish. I await the inevitable cancellation email from Easyjet.
18/03
I did an hour of yoga this morning (quite unlike me). I did get a bit bored/annoyed/hungry half way through but reminded myself I would be more annoyed if I gave up half way through then if I made it to the end feeling extremely hangry.
Last night we watched 'Casino Royale' dubbed in French. I internally quake when my colocs tell me we will watch it dubbed, after a traumatising experience watching 'The Revenant' in a Spanish cinema 4 years ago. But I am pleasantly surprised and make the late realisation that gauging the plot is not essential to enjoying a Bond film.
I go to retrieve my slippers from the makeshift office my colocs have made out of one of the bedrooms and find one coloc with a cast on her leg. She fell down the metro stairs last night and it got swollen. She is ok.
In the afternoon I buy some beer and sit in the courtyardy bit of my building. It is nice to not feel scared being outside.
At approx 20h I hear a strange clapping noise from the street. I go to my window and see people clapping from their balconies, the noise making a strange echo down the street. A bus and car pass, beeping their horns. It is probably not quite as moving as Italians jamming out their windows but nonetheless I do feel weirdly uplifted.
19/03
I wake up to a notification that my flight has changed. I panic, still fresh from a stressful dream in which two of my friends discussed their prestigious summer internships in German. The flight has only been moved back 40 minutes though. Panic put aside, for now.
The past few mornings I have been uncharacteristically spritely but today I feel like curling up into a small ball and forgetting about everything. I didn't think that the authorities were cracking down particularly but yesterday I heard they were doing checks on the bridges across the Rhone, even searching people's bags.
A week ago I never could have imagined that I would be leaving within a matter of days. Last Thursday seemed to be the catalyst for this mess. After a fairly diabolical French grammar test I received a message from an American friend, already in the airport after Trump's travel ban. Later that day I joined a group on the quais by the Rhone. The atmosphere was odd. The weather was muggy and it didn't feel right. That evening France announced the closure of all schools and universities. The next day the exodus began; most people were leaving and I wanted to stay.
I feel so lucky and so ungrateful. It's hard to remember that self-isolating is a privilege. And despite waking up in a vague panic everyday, despite being scared to go the shops, despite feeling restless for being in the same 50 square metres for 72 hours I have to remind myself that there are people in much more vulnerable positions. It is not about us, it is about everyone.
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| View from the courtyardy bit |
Aw I've just seen this suze ❤
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