Every morning I wake up thinking maybe this is all one big nightmare and we are back to being normal again, but alas, no. I grab my phone from bed and check the news: NY Times, the BBC, CNN…they are all talking about the same C-word. Today France’s coronavirus death tally is at 372 and at almost 11,000 cases we are just under the USA (with 14,366). It’s not a bad dream and it has made us all change the way we behave every day as we can no longer do what we want.
In the words of one of my musical heros, David Bowie, “turn and face the strange ch-ch changes.” That song was ringing in my head when I went out for a walk this morning. Again, I filled out a clean new permission slip, dated and signed it. I took a bottle of water and my phone and off into the warm sunny outdoors I went, alone, because that is what is allowed for the time being. Before I left I heard the French government representative on BFM news that people need to stop wearing masks and leave that to the medical staff. That is the exact opposite of what Asia is doing. Whatever, okay, I’ll do as they say. But they also insisted no cycling, no going on long runs (more than 2 km away from your home), and no frequenting parks, beaches, or public gardens. I can understand why.
My walk was going into the village and back. It’s a circuit that crosses a couple of rivers, passes at least 3 waterfalls, goes up and down hills with sweeping views of the Provençal landscapes – tall cypress trees in the distance, olive groves and pine forests, vineyards… and at the moment the quince trees are blossoming! It’s idyllic, utopic, it’s just pure bliss to be living here at this time of year. But normally now the main road in the village called the Cours would be full of al fresco diners chatting away while enjoying lunch. Kids would be in school. The villagers I pass on my walk, whom I mostly know having lived here so long, would happily say “bonjour!” and kiss me on both cheeks. But not today. An elderly lady I know, who is a local, gave me an awkward hello and made a huge bend to avoid passing me too closely. Ah, yes, right, the ONE METRE rule, I thought. But she was walking with her husband and one is supposed to walk alone (this rule does not make any sense to me but nevermind). I kept walking. The river water was crystal clear. The waterfalls were heavy and pretty. And even the crows in the sky seemed to be sticking to the ONE METRE rule.
As I was walking back up the rue d’Ecole I saw a couple of state police (gendarmes) in their patrol car parked at the entrance of the road that leads to the Medievel forts. Oh good, I thought, I can finally show them how well prepared I am with my perfectly filled out permission slip! But they didn’t stop me. They didn’t even say hello. I smiled at them. Nothing. Again, I felt so cheated!! I also felt like telling them off because they were sitting too close together, bad gendarmes, bad! One of them should be sitting in the back…or something! They are going to get each other contaminated, grr!!!
While walking I wondered: when was the last time I had to go through a big change in life? When was your last time? For me it must have been when we moved from the village house into this house with a big garden. But wait, let’s go back to more dramatic changes, like that time when I was living in Berkeley in the late 80s and I “survived” the Loma Prieta earthquake; the Bay Bridge collapsed making us get on a ferry to get over to San Francisco. My boyfriend at the time lived there and I would go and see him on the weekends. It was so pretty to do this at night because the lights of the tall skyscrapers would glisten and sparkle – it was magical! But as soon as the bridge was fixed (a month later) it was back to business as usual and people quickly adapted back to their old habits of driving. Then there was the Oakland firestorm of 1991 that burned down 3,000 houses, many of them owned by my friends and/or university professors. That felt like a big change with so much loss that people around me seemed to be experiencing. People had to adjust to the sorrow. Or how about that time the Northridge earthquake woke me up out of bed in Los Angeles in 1994 and I remember crying because I knew it instantly killed or injured thousands of people. “That was nothing,” I can hear my Japanese grandparents saying. When they were young the Kanto (Tokyo) earthquake of 1923 caused so many fires over 100,000 people died including many of their own relatives. My grandfather had to jump into the Sumida river to keep from getting burned. “You are so lucky,” they used to say. “You don’t have memories of wars.” They must have suffered so much. But if the Japanese could survive and overcome all those earthquakes and two atomic bombs then I’m sure we can get over this virus. Trouble is, it’s all over the world and not just one place. It will probably tank the entire global economy and make many more people poor or poorer. But with all our cultural differences we all share the same traits of being human and therefore of being adaptable. How will we adapt to this, I wonder, if it doesn’t go away anytime soon?
Where the Asians seem better at listening to their governments when asked to change their behaviour, in the West we seem less than keen. Asians do as they are told, generally speaking. Just look at the Chinese and the Japanese. The Koreans had it hard with this virus but they have clamped down hard with all their testing and it’s working. Here in Europe we are one big mess perhaps due to our unwillingness to do as we are told by the authorities. “Stay home!” they ordered, but then we saw all those people on the beach in Nice, having picnics and enjoying the sun like, comme d’habitude, tra la la. Westerners do not like being told what to do. But heck, if it’s going to save many lives I’ll do everything they tell me to do! I’ll bring out the Asian in me!
In the meantime my kids are continuing with their studies on-line, hubby has been productive in the garden and with the wood cutting, and there is more to clean and cook at home but that doesn’t bother me much. It’s the price I pay for spending SOOOO much more time together with them and that is priceless, I remind myself. Over and over.
Reporting from Cotignac, France, on day 4, this is Susana Iwase clocking out. Okay, now, is it rosé-o-clock yet?