Inside, elsewhere

The last two months have been a very long decade.

By now, it’s sank in that we’re in this for the long haul. I recall only 3 months ago how suddenly the shift hit us; how we went from being free to roam to fully sheltered in place in a matter of weeks at best. One after the other, each of our places began putting up signs about practicing better hygiene, then restricting who could go in, then limiting the hours before finally locking their doors indefinitely.

We were able to say good bye to some of them. On the last lively Friday in San Francisco, Frances was still so packed we couldn’t get seated. I had my last class at Ruby’s the next day and wrapped my work tight. Even for a Sunday afternoon, Mission Cliffs was eerily empty.

By the time we heard of the city-wide sheltering order on the 16th, we rushed out to our respective offices to get our personal items — plants and stuff we thought we’d otherwise miss. A long line had already formed outside Trader Joe’s, so food and toilet paper would have to wait. The last stop that day was at Gamescape where we acquired a few highly-praised 2-player games. I insisted we went inside Comix Experience, to simply enjoy the existence of this place.

“After” and “normal” were words we could still utter with some degree of confidence and hope that there would be a natural return to whatever we had before.

The last two months have been a very long decade.

The United States have, if anything, deepened their divide. On top of a completely botched response from the federal state, the public is most definitely not having a debate about how a pandemic is the dumbest time to couple healthcare and employment.

By now, poor people of color are dying by the hundreds or thousands each day, so are the folks of New Orleans and New York. McConnell has vouched not to bail out blue states and Trump is asking for “something in return” if money was to be sent there.

The GOP is talking openly about letting people in left-leaning regions die, and everyone called it a Wednesday.

Trump cultists are swarming state Capitols across the nation, even entering the one in Michigan in combat gear, even sporting guns.

The last two months have been a very long decade.

I’ve been talking a lot with my folks in France — up to a point, the situation looked a lot more dire there than here. Their version of sheltering ended up being a lot more restrictive than anything in the U.S.: there is a strict set of reasons that justify going outside, one of them being exercising within a .6 mile radius around your home. Any violation will result in a $150 fine.

In 13 years of living in San Francisco, the distance between me and them has never felt stronger than today. I always thought I was a just day away, in case the situation required it. Even when travel bans are lifted, any roundtrip will incur a double quarantine and turn into a multi-month endeavour. I’m getting used and loathing the idea that I won’t get to see them this year.

I’m glad California responded as swiftly and broadly as it did. When the concept of flattening the curve was still a novel one, it was said that everything that works will, in hindsight, be seen as an overreaction. Without the shadow of a doubt, what Newsom and Breed did worked. Reports of COVID infections in the The Bay Area date back to late January, right around the Chinese new year. Yet the infection and death rate here are incredibly low compared to other regions of the U.S.

The instructions for sheltering are not fundamentally different between California and France, except for one: we here can still go out to chill — the act of going outside without an aim. Beaches and trails and parks throughout the state have remained open. I’m grateful that California recognized from the very beginning the need for people to enjoy the outdoors.

We’ve been going on bikes rides and runs and walks, sometimes to stay healthy, and sometimes to break the monotony of being homebound. 0.6 miles would never cut it. At a glance, it would be hard to tell apart the Panhandle today v. a couple of months ago. People are more evenly spread out on the grass, folks on the go wear masks, runners do a little 6ft dance as they pass by other walkers. Ball players who used to assemble in teams of 5 now practice solo shoots, each with their own ball.

We’re still free to roam around but we can’t actually go places. Oldenburg talked about places as an crucial element of social life. I miss all my places. I miss being inside, elsewhere.

The last two months have been a very long decade. By now, it’s sank in that we’re in this for the long haul. I suppose there’s a German word to mean both looking forward and being apprehensive of the future at the same time?