Monthly Archives: March 2020
Well I’m in my second week of self isolation. Last week began our first week of teaching online. The goal was for us to teach from school while the kids stayed home. That changed last Wednesday when Belgium went into lockdown at noon. By last Thursday we were teaching our first online classes from our living rooms. By 3 p.m. that Friday our borders closed. I am now living at a time where the police will pull you over if you have more than one person in a car, and you better have a good reason for being on the road. Fines are steep for those who get caught tempting fate. Not a problem for us since my car died last week, and, well, it’s now in auto isolation at the mechanic’s until the lockdown phase passes.
It’s all good, we’ve got nowhere to go anyway. Luckily the grocery store is within walking distance as are the parks, but don’t make the mistake of loitering in the park either. The police will find and fine you. People are dying, and Belgium is finally taking this seriously (we were all resistant to doing so at first because hello? cafe sipping is Life — until it no longer is).
We are allowed to go for a walk or run, and Badger still gets his walks, but we can only go with a person we live with (or alone), and we need to keep our distance from others. Wouldn’t you know the weather has been sunny — in Belgium where it always rains, so it’s a bit of a bright middle finger from Mother Nature.
I’m not complaining. We’re up to more than 6,200 confirmed cases (in the past 24 hours almost 1,300 people tested positive) and 220 dead, which the news and officials clearly stress is an understatement since they only test the severely ill and medical professionals. We’re obviously not alone since the whole damned world is shutting down to protect ourselves from this virus. I worry that too many aren’t taking this seriously enough, and I pray (I’m not even the praying sort of soul) that this whole exponential growth thing doesn’t, you know, grow exponentially. I’m not a math whiz or scientist, so I can still hold on to my hopes and dreams.
The beginning of last week I was a little excited about the teaching online thing because I mistakenly thought I’d get a lot of work done while in my classroom. Then I got excited about the idea of teaching from home — look Ma no pants! But, when we were told to pack up as much as we could because there’s no telling when we’ll be back, the reality of this all set in. I might be homebound for a lot of weeks (can’t bring myself to type the possibility of months). The probability of people I care about getting sick is quite high. I’ve already learned about a few deaths of people who knew people I know — luckily so far no one I’m close to has been confirmed of having it. Yet.
I worry about my children. I’m too far away from them, and I can’t tell them to come stay with me while we feast on my home cooked meals, watch movies and take dips in the pool (those days and that house are long gone). I can’t Vics vaporize them if they get ill. I can’t protect them from any crazy that might ensue, and I cannot pay all of them their missed salaries. My sons work in the restaurant industry, my daughter has her own small business, and her husband is out in the public risking his health, so that his family can continue to eat.
A few nights ago Joe had a coughing fit; occasionally my head hurts a little bit. We both have runny noses. Normally neither of these would be a concern. It’s allergy season. Joe could have inhaled a bug in his sleep because he hasn’t coughed since. I’m on the computer too many hours, so hello? of course my head hurts. I’ll be blind when this is all over with. But yeah the what if? lingers and embeds itself as tightly as the pestilence that waits for us on door knobs and handrails.
It doesn’t matter that most of us who get sick will recover — if any of us gets sick we will still stress. Sure most of us will be able to nurse ourselves at home, but what if we’re of that percentage that needs intensive care? None of us wants to drown in our own mucus, or cry home alone while our loved ones suffer. Joe and I (and many of our friends) have the added perk of not knowing much French, so communicating our ailments won’t be easy. So yeah it’s a scary time for all, even if we crack jokes and minimalize any potential symptoms we might get. Plainly put: this sucks.
But, it’s not all bad either. I do so enjoy my morning commute, and I’m adapting. My students and I still have our own learning vibe going (I do so miss working face-to-face with them, but their personalities still shine through). I’m keeping track of the kids that don’t talk so much via our virtual sessions, so that I can check in on them one on one later. We’re all coming up with ways to make this more fun. And, we’re remembering to remind people we care and that they matter — and they us.
We’re learning how to reevaluate our time, our presence, our what we have. My favorite memes are the ones that remind us that the only thing we have to do to save the world is to stay home — while still having food, all the joys of the Internet and our creativity (OMG keep it up you silly fools with all your stay-at-home antics. Have you guys seen the one where a couple does their own thing to a Horse with No Name?).
LOL I’m planning a photo shoot for Badger this weekend, so he can have fun being humiliated on his blog. A girl has gotta take a break from HBO, video and email chats, and online learning or teaching.
So, all of this will eventually pass, and we will all learn something from it — hopefully more good than bad. For those of us who will not get through this unscathed, know that we are all rooting for you (and ourselves) and blasting you with healthy, cheery, love-filled vibes. It’s all we have to offer — along with keeping our fat asses at home on the couch.
Stay safe everyone, and do your best to keep your home filled with positive, cheerful things. Our grocery store still sells fresh cut flowers, so our dining room table is blooming with life and color. If I could, I’d buy you all a little of the same. Hang in there, Humans. We’ve got this (even if it feels like we don’t).
Well that’s pretty much what my life will be like the next two months (minus the friends on couch — with social distancing we’ll sit farther apart next time we meet). Pray my upcoming days won’t include people I know getting ill. My colleagues, our families and I are on a 60-day travel ban (this comes from our work, not Belgium). We are not allowed to leave Belgium, and our relatives are not allowed to come in to visit. I’m not complaining. We all have to do what we all have to do to keep this thing under control. But, that does mean our spring break trip has been cancelled. We can’t even drive the 20 minutes it takes to get into France.
We are not in a forced lockdown yet, but precautions are put into place. Beginning this weekend all bars and restaurants are closed (unless they offer takeaway only), all events cancelled and only grocery stores, street food markets and pharmacies can sell their wares (on weekends; during the week all stores can open). Fritteries, fry shops, remain open (lol you can’t stop the frites!) All schools are closed Monday, including mine.
We teachers still have to go to work to set up our online materials and teach online from our classrooms unless it gets to a point where we’re told to stay home. Confirmed cases in Belgium have jumped up to almost 900 — beginning of last week I think we had less than 100 (can’t remember: a week ago feels so long ago).
I, nor most of my American or Belgium counterparts, am not panicking. I do have a stash of paper towel and toilet paper, but we always have about that amount saved — my husband has this now-timely fear of running out of paper products. Who knew this would become one of our life-saving moments?
Yes on Friday (when closures were announced) our store aisles were bare, but most of them filled back up yesterday morning, so I think the mass buying will fizzle out here quicker than in the states
Our street is never this empty on a Sunday afternoon, but hey plenty of parking if anyone nearby wants to visit.
I’ve been preparing myself and my students for online learning, so I feel like the transition into that will be easier for us than those who found themselves having to make this shift overnight.
We’ve also got plenty of beer, wine and food stocked, so I plan on making us some great meals. I also plan on using this time to organize and clean my house and finally focus on two online classes I signed up for almost a year ago. I have to finish them by May, so giddy up it’s time to read and write the b.s. I’ve been avoiding. Provided I don’t get ill, I’ve been given precious time to do all those things I keep putting off because I don’t have enough time.
I’m of two halves on this thing. On the one hand I’m not worried that I’ll get sick, and I know I’m good at keeping my own morale up (not so sure I’m good at doing that with my husband, but whatevs shit will get done in this apartment). As long as we can, we’ll still meet up with friends in small settings because none of us likes being alone for too long (although this extravert is embracing the notion of some down time).
The other part of me is very aware of the dangers of this damned disease. Overall, I’m a healthy chunky monkey, so if I were to come down with this I’m pretty sure I’d beat it. Joe doesn’t fare so well with respiratory stuff (he gets sick way more than I do with those kind of ailments), and he’s a few years older, but while he might bitch and moan about how miserable he is, I sense he too would recover. BUT, there’s always that small chance that either of us won’t, so yeah that sucks — a shitty reality for all of us right now.
Belgium might become the next Italy or Spain. Right now we’re good, but it could go to super scary over night, and of course I pray and hope and throw out tons of positive vibes that it won’t. Universe I hope you’re taking in all that positivity! But, yeah, we’re all fully aware of the reverse of my good wishes, so we just won’t dwell on that unless we have to, and then we’ll take that one step at a time like every other obstacle that comes our way.
I do not think it’s stupid for all of these closures and cancellations. I don’t think it’s over reaction. I do wish our governments would have done it sooner to really wipe this thing out, but only time will tell if their timing wasn’t too late. I also do get why the waiting happened; closing everything down comes at a very large cost — hopefully, we all remember that it’s a worthwhile one, but again we’re an odd species, so we’ll see where it all goes.
I also worry about my sons who work in the restaurant industry back home. They’re young and healthy and currently still working, which is great for them financially, but how long will that last? It’s also affected my daughter’s business.
I worry about the long-term financial impact this will have on us all (and whether it will cause other tensions that lead to nastiness), but again now is not the time for me to focus on the negative, but it is a time to be alert and aware.
There is so much good also coming out of this. We’re learning how resourceful we can be, and I truly believe more of us are pitching in to do good than to take advantage of the situation (although of course those assholes are out there). I hope that when we’re collectively wiping our brows and exhaling because we survived this last bout of crisis, we will reflect and realize we can quickly make massive change for the better.
So it seems 2020 is the year of Wash Your Hands, and what a wonderful metaphor that could be for getting rid of all kinds of figurative bacteria that’s been making us ill for too long of a time. If we can close everything (for the betterment of all) and we can quickly realign the way we work and learn, hell’s yeah we could change those things we say are too embedded to change. Let’s remember that when life goes back to normal.
And thanks to Tracy for the best hand-washing gel a botanical sipper like me could ever scrub her fingers with.
Tomorrow I go back to work after a too-short week off (aren’t they always too short?). As you already know we spent our first and last nights in Paris, and in between we toured some highlights of Bordeaux.
First off the fast train from Paris to Bordeaux (not pictured above; that’s our ride from Maubeuge to Paris) is totally worth it. What would normally be a five-hour drive, took less than three on the train, and you can drink as much as you want because when you arrive in Bordeaux the tram system is super easy and super cheap, so all is right with the world.
Another plus is going in February: no crowds but all that sweat, glorious wine and cheese and yummy goodness.
In places that look like this.
We lucked out that our first two days the weather was great. Day one we walked alongside the river and nibbled on shrimp and beer, and then popped into one cafe after another aimlessly picking out wines by carafe or glass.
It wasn’t until our tour to St Emilion and the wine museum that we learned how to read labels and decipher good from great.
Even these old vines are dancing with joy over our newfound wisdom.
That said no matter how much we splurge, we’ll never be able to afford these babies. The most expensive wine in the world is born in this region, and it’s now a life goal to one day see if I can finagle a sip.
Until then, I’ll just keep buying what I can from the less-exclusive barrels (seriously though just inches away from the elite ones; they share the same rain, sun and soil). And aww look a Mama and her babies…
St Emilion is a lovely little town, but because we were on a tour we didn’t get to meander and check out the shops and restaurants embedded in its corners. My credit card is saddened it didn’t get to come out and play.
The next time I go to Bordeaux, I’ll want to tour the wines in the Medoc region since I seem to like those more, but all is well I have some good St. Emilion bottles waiting to be served. La Cite du Vin, also known as a wine museum or amusement park, within the city of Bordeaux is also a treat where we get to learn about wine through interactive exhibits.
As you can see we saved this experience for a rainy day, which was perfect.
We also missed out on the drunk shark attack. Sooo lots of wine and interesting sights, but no drama, which are always the right ingredients for a great vacation. Here’s some pics of the actual city of Bordeaux. Sadly, I didn’t take many good ones (hmmm I wonder why).
Alas it’s time to go back to reality and grade papers, plan lessons, stay sober. But, it’s all good because spring break is just five weeks away.
Come on Spring flowers and please no late-season snow showers (unless it’s a blizzard that gives me more time at home in my jammies).