I woke earlier than usual this morning and worried that nothing had happened yet to provide me with a subject for Day Two’s blog post. Success! In the space of a few hours, most of them asleep, I’d managed to transfer my anxiety from something over which I have no influence (the virus) to something totally within my control (what you are now reading). The mind is remarkable in its pliability. As a complimentary extra, the benefits of yesterday’s shiatsu survived the night, a tiny thing for the world at large, but large in my tiny world.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The day unfolded slowly. I normally take a morning walk, which gets blood running and nerves working. This morning, with all my \u201cextra\u201d time I indulged in the New York Times, Washington Post, and the Guardian. By the time I finished, I was afraid to leave the house.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I didn’t leave until afternoon.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The town was even quieter today. Food establishments are allowed to be open only between 06:00 and 18:00, on the philosophy, I suppose, that the evening meal is that most likely to cause crowds of people in close proximity. A lot of bars and pastry shops have opted to close full time. One of my favorites posted a handwritten note from the owner that said, in essence, \u201cIn order to comply with the new directive, and for the good of the larger community, and because it’s just easier this way, we’ll be closed until it’s safe to open again. In the meantime, I’ll be hanging out at home.\u201d Many more have taken this tact without explaining it. Some I have never seen closed in the more than four years I’ve lived here are deserted as a cave. Good for you, I say to them, you deserve the break. I imagine they would rather be making an income.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I breezed into Met\u00e0 for bananas. What last night was an impromptu response to social distancing rules by creative customers, is today reenforced by stanchions with signs and masking tape on the floor. This makes everyone a bit grave and concerned. It felt like a bank in the States, and no one here is used to that kind of hyper organization. The young fellow with the blue eyes was checking, I don’t know his name.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cHow’s it going?\u201d I asked. \u201cA little more complicated than before?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cToo complicated. We have to keep track of how many people come in, who goes out, where to stand, when to wear gloves.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A woman half entered, then looked up and laughed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cOkay if I come in?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYeah, we’re allowed fifteen, and it’s at six,\u201d the blue-eyed checker told her, shaking his head. Then to me, \u201cWe gotta do it, not just because of the directive, it’s right, it’s necessary. And a pain,\u201d and he shrugged in Italian.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Corrado slipped in.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cHow’s it going?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He laughed. \u201cNormal, and…\u201d we finished the sentence together \u201c…these days, normal is fantastic.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Next stop, the pharmacy. I passed Anna the ceramicist on the way. She was waiting two meters behind a man waiting to go into a tobacco store. I waved. She sighed and pointed to the store.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cAre you still in your studio during the day?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI am, but nobody else. The streets are all people I know, and they don’t buy.\u201d She shrugged Italian and pointed again at the shop. \u201cOne at a time. The place is tiny.\u201d She smiled apologetically as if the entire country were somehow her fault. I tried to bump elbows, but bumping elbows was yesterday. Today, it’s separation by a meter, and elbows are too intimate.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I continued on to the pharmacy. Just as I reached it, I met an American friend on the street. She introduced me to a friend of her’s, an Italian living in New York, recently returned. He put his hand out, I put out my elbow, he remembered and let his hand fly away. We tried to talk, but couldn’t decide on a language. He seemed flustered by how completely his culture had changed overnight.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A woman in a white turtleneck (oddly called\u00a0dolcevita<\/em>, here) doubling as a mask, stood facing the door.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWe wait here?\u201d I said, respecting my distance.<\/p>\n\n\n\n She nodded. I approached the door to see the newly printed sign. Only two clients allowed at a time, it read. I fell into line a meter upstream from the lady in the turtleneck, and we waited.<\/p>\n\n\n\n A neighbor who works for my dentist passed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cAre you guys open these days?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cOnly for pain.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI have an appointment tomorrow for a cleaning.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cNobody called?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cNobody.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cStrange. But…\u201d and she finished her sentence by waving her finger.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Once inside, the pharmacists were all adorned with masks and latex gloves. I felt like I’d stepped into a Marx Brothers’ film, I don’t know why. It’s a good thing I didn’t try to explain that, they would have never understood. I woke earlier than usual this morning and worried that nothing had happened yet to provide me with a subject for Day Two’s blog post. Success! In the space of a few hours, most of them asleep, I’d managed to transfer my anxiety from something over which I have no influence (the virus) to something … Continue reading Lockdown — Day Two<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":1162,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[6],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/davidzarko.us\/WP\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1161"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/davidzarko.us\/WP\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/davidzarko.us\/WP\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/davidzarko.us\/WP\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/davidzarko.us\/WP\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1161"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"http:\/\/davidzarko.us\/WP\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1161\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1163,"href":"http:\/\/davidzarko.us\/WP\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1161\/revisions\/1163"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/davidzarko.us\/WP\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/1162"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/davidzarko.us\/WP\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1161"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/davidzarko.us\/WP\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1161"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/davidzarko.us\/WP\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1161"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"