I ended my last blog post by stressing my desire for freedom, and thanks to the collaboration of the people here in Spain and the four-step plan laid out by the government, that will soon be on it’s way. The central government have just announced that Madrid will be allowed to move from Phase 0 to Phase 1 of the de-escalation plan on Monday, meaning that I’ll be able to visit friends, wander as far as my heart may desire, and many other things as of next week.
For now, however, I’ve still to keep within my 1km limit, but this has been made more enjoyable my discovery of a park in my neighbourhood that is now open to wander through. This park is quite an interesting one, as it includes a few live railway lines, some wild architecture, and a huge steep hill which gives you some awesome views over the south of the city.
These evening walks keep my energy and optimism up.
The focal point of the park is a large concrete structure and metal chimney which mark the midpoint of a bridge which crosses one of the railway lines. From here, you can enjoy some lovely views up towards the north of the city, as in the photo above. Just off to the east of this structure, which interestingly also doubles as an outdoor expert-level climbing wall, lies the planetarium. I’ve been meaning to visit the planetarium for a while now, but I’ve never got round to it, so I guess it’ll have to wait until the return to the new normality.
On my way home from this park, I noticed that some train tracks in the pavement led under a set of black iron gates which had been sealed tight and covered in dark netting such as to obscure whatever laid behind them. Spotting what looked to be some train platform canopies above the gates, I knew that there was a good chance of spotting some abandoned trains in an abandoned train station, and so began my investigations in earnest.
Following the line of the iron railing, I looked for spots where the netting might have been damaged or loose, but they seemed to have done quite a thorough job of keeping prying eyes (like mine) out. They didn’t fully succeed, however, as I eventually found a couple of gaps, and managed to snap these awesome photos of this closed train station and the rotting rolling stock within.
After some later investigation, it turns out that these platforms used to form part of the old Delicias station, whose new incarnation is where I used to get the train to the office from before lockdown. The old Delicias station is now partly used by the Museo del Ferrocarril (Railway Museum), and party left as storage for old abandoned trains.
On these walks to and from the park, I also found a couple of architectural gems hidden in amongst the generic-looking blocks of apartments which make up a large percentage of my neighbourhood. How lovely would it be to live in a pretty little two-storey apartment in the centre of Madrid, or have a balcony on such a lovely and intricate facade?
Another day I returned to said park a little later in the evening, which provided some lovely evening lighting. This time, I took a few more photos of the large concrete structure which forms part of the bridge, an even a panorama of the views over the south of the city from aforementioned embankment.
In other trips out and about, I headed back up to the main train station, Atocha, and wandered some of the more historical streets of Madrid. I do love my neighbourhood, but it’s always lovely to pass through the beautifully rough majesty of the city centre.
When not out and about, my culinary experiments at home continue, this week with an Italian-style flatbread covered in mozzarella, pesto, dried tomato, olives, and parmesan. It reminded me somewhat of a white pizza, or perhaps even Germany’s flammkuchen, but either way it was delicious.
With that little update, I’ve to leave you until next time, as this weekend I’ve some admin that I’ve to get on with and a lovely steak meal to cook. Keeping with the tradition of my lasttwo blog posts, however, I’ll leave you with a song that I’ve been listening to. This week, it’s time for a Spanish classic, Rocío Jurado’s “Déjala correr”, an absolute belter that always leaves me with goosebumps:
Just over two weeks ago was my birthday, and for some reason I woke up with a song that I used to listen to years ago in my head. In this French song, “J’ai pas vingt ans”, Alizée sings “j’ai pas vingt ans… on est vieux à vingt ans – moi j’ai le temps!” which roughly translates as “I’m not twenty years old, we’re old at twenty – I have time!”
I think that I was reminded of this as this, my 25th birthday, marked quite a milestone for me. I suddenly realised that I was suddenly closer to thirty years old than I am to twenty – just like Alizée sings: I’m not twenty!
As you can imagine with Madrid in lockdown, celebrations were rather light on the ground. I did, however, have the pleasure of opening some cards sent to me from all over the world, and a box full of edible goodies that my mum sent over from England. After these few minutes of indulgence, I logged on to work, but was interrupted shortly after my morning meeting. A delivery man was then at my door, handing over a box from some colleagues which contained a lovely letter, a triple chocolate cake, some candles (24 instead of 25, but that was my fault for not responding to a sly message asking how old I was to be), and a bottle of cava to celebrate the occasion!
This lovely surprise came only days before a key date that the whole of Spain had been waiting for: the first day that we were allowed out for a walk. We had the first of May off, which was a lovely way to relax after a busy working birthday, and I took the opportunity to throw myself together a mask, made from a spare pillowcase as suggested by my auntie!
I spent half an hour braiding some spare wool I had lying around for the strap.
This day off was rather productive, but in reality we were all looking forward to the day after, the 2nd of May, which was the day we could finally step outside without going to the supermarket. For this, the government have set time slots for elderly people, parents with children, and then the general populous. With myself falling into the latter, I am allowed out from 6am – 10am and 8pm – 11pm, and naturally I managed to sleep through the morning slot of the first day.
This meant that I’d another day to kill, which I proceeded to spend cleaning my flat and further perfecting my Spanish omelette (after my last attempt). I think I’ve finally hit the nail on the head, with the centre of the tortilla de patatas just undercooked enough to be slightly liquid without seeing too much like pure raw egg.
A siesta on the sofa was needed after so much omelette.
That evening, however, I was ready to go at 8pm, leaving my flat for a casual wander for the first time in over two months. With an time limit of one hour and a maximum distance of 1km set, I knew exactly where I wanted to go: down to the river. The scene of many a picnic and summer’s evening spent reading, the river is my little slice of nature a mere ten minutes walk from my flat.
I did know, however, that the green areas along the banks of the Manzanares River would be out of bounds, as they are classed as part of a public park, and all of Madrid’s public parks currently remain closed. This didn’t deter me, though, as I knew that the area nearby the Matadero Cultural Centre and the bridge which spans the river and park would provide a lovely spot to watch the sun set.
Once I’d crossed the bridge, I knew that I was coming to the end of my 1km limit, and so began to double back on myself. On the way home I passed such lovely sights as a couple of baby rabbits enjoying some time outdoors with their owners, the pastel-pink sky over a huge abandoned market which is finally going to be given a new life, and a full moon looking down over the illuminated fountains of my neighbourhood as the sky turned dark.
To celebrate this lovely wander around streets that I hadn’t seen for many weeks, upon my arrival back home, I decided that it was time to make good use of some goodies that I had ordered from Lush. Lighting some candles, setting my lighting just right, popping on some slow music, and covering my face with a face mask of a different kind (a lovely peppermint-scented concoction), I converted my flat into a spa for the evening and pampered myself for an hour or two.
With the weather perking up and the streets pretty much empty of cars, there’s really never been a better time to explore the city, and after seeing many families and groups of friends cycle by along the empty roads, I knew that I had to make the most of the opportunity and try and figure out how the road system and crazy roundabouts here work.
Now, I’ve never been the biggest fan of cycling, but after seeing the streets once filled with cars now replaced with people walking, jogging, and cycling, and the usual din of city traffic replaced by the chatter of conversation, people playing music from their windows, and even a family singing karaoke from their balcony, I suddenly found myself turned into an advocate for pedestrianising as much of the city as possible.
The lovely atmosphere was only highlighted by said couple’s choice of song, “Resistiré” (“I will endure!”) by Dúo Dinámico (yes, this does mean the “Dynamic Duo”). This empowering hit from the 80s has become the hymn of the lockdown here in Spain, with people across the country singing along to the uplifting lyrics, which I have roughly translated:
I will endure! In order to keep on living! I will bear the punches and I'll never give up! And although my dreams may break into pieces: I will endure! I will endure!
With such uplifting moments outside of my flat, I have also been trying to keep myself happy whilst indoors with my one true love: food. Besides the odd takeaway, it’s up to me to recreate some of my favourite dishes that I usually would eat out, and so I the other day I turned my hand to some ramen, which I have to say turned out rather splendidly!
Just yesterday, I thought it’d also be nice to head out and explore as much as the city as possible in the dark, and so I headed up to the northern boundary of my 1km limit: Atocha. Madrid’s main train station was stood very quiet, with all but essential trains currently out of service, but looking resplendent with a new lighting setup against the night sky.
To finish off this blog post, I think we all deserve a good laugh, and so I’ll share the scenes from last week’s quiz that I undertake with Abi and Danni. We decided that we should all go in costume, partly as a creative challenge to use materials available to us during lockdown, but mainly just for the laughs. As the three of us have been watching Tiger King on Netflix (well – what else is there to do?), me and Danni decided to drag it up, with Danni as Joe Exotic and myself as Carole Baskin.
If you’re not familiar with the series, Joe Exotic and Carole Baskin are arch-enemies who both own/owned wild cats, and my challenge was to transform myself into the latter. Anyway, lets get this over with: here’s a real photo of her versus what I managed…
It might not be the best costume ever, but with strips of bin bag for hair, some homemade pom-pom earrings, post-it and sweet wrapper flowers, all topped of with my first ever attempt at a full face of makeup, I thought I did an alright job given the provisions I had at hand!
You may have noticed earlier that I didn’t mention what Abi would be dressing up as for the quiz, and that’s because she kept it a secret right up until the last minute: me and Danni had no idea what she’d appear as once we fired up the video call! As you’ll see below, I think it’s fair to say that she didn’t disappoint; she turned up as a tiger and perfectly completed the hilarious trio!
And so we conclude yet another edition of blog posts from lockdown: I’m surprised how much content I have to post despite feeling that I spend all my life in my flat: a sensation which is, to be fair, mostly accurate. To sign off, I return once again to the Alizée song that I mentioned at the beginning of my post, and a line which she sings in the English version of the song which I find very fitting given my birthday situation and the current lockdown:
Keeping with the rather reflective mood of my last post, the title of this post was inspired by a little outing that I have had today. The sun has been out, the trees are as fertile and as green as can be, and the temperature has settled at a perfect spring temperature. This all served to put me in a good mood, and an unfathomably random song popped into my head. The song in question isn’t even a “real” song, it was created as a parody of cheesy musical songs for the series “Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt”, and is called “Just Go On”.
We’ll never stop, we’ll keep on moving forward, even if we don’t know what we’re moving toward. They say life’s too short, but they’re wrong: it’s so long!
Sometimes the only way to go is to just go on.
With this upbeat message in mind, I thought it’d be nice to share some of the photos which document the various weeks of this confinement, which will be a welcome change after my last and rather text-heavy post. As you’ll see, these photos vary from photos of Madrid in bloom, life in my flat, some of the food I’ve been enjoying, and even a few silly screenshots from calls with friends.
We begin, though, with the last photo I took as I left the office the day before lockdown began. I was one of the last to leave, and so had the task of turning everything off and shutting up shop, which left me with a rather dark photo.
I left the office with nothing more than my laptop that final day, but it soon became obvious that I needed a few more bits and bats: paper samples (for sending things to print), Pantone swatches (for colour matching), and even my office chair: all of which were graciously sent to me by Erretres. With these new additions to my house, it was time to rearrange the space a little in order to create my new home office.
The home office setup – as pretty as it may be – soon became tiresome after a few weeks of remote work, and the weekly trip to the shop became the highlight of the lockdown. This 20-minute wander was made even more enjoyable as Madrid’s winter slowly turned into spring, with the bare trees before we entered quarantine now as lush as ever, and the sun returning to bask everything in a gorgeous warm glow.
Back in my flat, there have been numerous video calls to keep me entertained, with group catch-ups, one-on-one conversations with old friends, and even a weekly quiz which is always a highlight. From this odd capture taken with the Cake Club girls, to the hilarity of me, Abi, and Danni discovering FaceTime animojis, no video call is ever uneventful!
Easter, which should have been spent with Luisa exploring the crazy processions that take over Spain’s Semana Santa (holy week), was a much more quiet affair. It was improved greatly, however, by a surprise selection of British Easter classics (albeit in miniature) that my mum sent over from England!
It’s not really Easter without gorging on Cadbury’s.
Speaking of food, I’ve also (like many of you out there) been taking the opportunity to improve my skills in the kitchen. Instead of taking on such challenges as banana bread or sourdough, however, I had my eyes set on perfecting one particular favourite of mine: la tortilla de patatas (Spanish omelette). A relatively simple dish of only three ingredients (potatoes, onion, and egg), the trick lies in perfect cooking time/temperature, the right amount of salt, and – most importantly – the difficult flipping of the whole tortilla in order to cook the other side.
This might all sound rather simple, but the simplicity of the dish means that it takes a lot of practice to get it to taste just right. A key aspect of the tortilla is how cooked the egg is at its centre. Amongst Spaniards it is widely agreed that the centre of the omelette should be poca hecha – lightly done, meaning that the egg is left semi-raw and runny in the centre. Gauging this without being able to see the centre of the heavy omelette is quite challenging – but I think I have finally gotten the hang of it! Here, then, I present to you my best stab at this traditional dish:
With so much time on my hands, I really should have gotten round to making a face mask a lot earlier than I actually did, but I got away with using my coat’s high neck (thanks Norway for your excellent coats) to cover my nose and mouth whilst I undertook my shop. As the temperature gradually rose, and the city got dustier and dirtier as non-essential cleaning works were put on hold, I soon had to cave and throw myself a mask together from a spare pillowcase!
Other activities that have been keeping me busy and sane include deep-cleaning my flat, as well as the rare moments at work where I’m occupied in doing activities which don’t necessitate that I sit behind my laptop all day. These included matching colours from the aforementioned Pantone swatches for a brand we’re developing, a process which requires natural light, and so I spent a good ten minutes or so the other day leant out of one of my windows!
Also a shout out to my apple plant in the background (on top of my air con unit), which I have been growing from some apple seeds in an attempt to feel like I have accomplished something during this quarantine.
I have only included this photo because I was proud of how clean my place looked.
As the lockdown has worn on, my weekly outings have been keeping me going, and I’ve been trying to switch up my route to the supermarket in order to mix things up a bit and see some new sights. This has led to some odd sights: outdated advertising, dirty cars, and the odd abandoned item in the street.
I’m sure that this event was cancelled but I’m not sure what happened here.
I’ll bring you all up to date with the latest development in Spain’s lockdown procedures in my next blog post, but for now I shall just leave you with the only bit of physical company I have had during these last six or so weeks: a chocolate bunny that was on offer after Easter was over!
Yeah, he was a bit creepy. I ate him as soon as I could.
After my previous blog post, in which I looked back at everything I got up to before that fateful 13th March, it was pretty obvious that my next post had to be about the one and only topic on everyone’s lips: coronavirus. There are plenty of trustworthy sources of information (see: not social media) and plenty of interesting articles about the virus and the resultant lockdowns currently in place all over the world, so I shan’t be delving into this much-covered realm. Rather than rattle off any facts or advice, I thought it would be more interesting for me, and hopefully for you too, if I were to share my personal experiences thus far.
Immediately after having said that I won’t be talking about any facts, I shall now talk about some facts – but I think they form an important preamble in order to provide you with some context.
Madrid, where I live, is the worst-hit area of Spain, a country with around 900 COVID-19-related deaths being reported every 24 hours at the peak of the outbreak. The country has been on official lockdown for over four weeks now, with people only able leave the house for food, medical reasons, to work (in essential sectors only), to walk their dog, or to assist those who are dependant on them. Every establishment which doesn’t sell food, medicine, or essential products has been closed. I live alone and have been working from home for the past month, leaving my flat only to buy food a few times and visit the laundrette.
It’s a lot of information to take in, and it does sound rather drastic, but I will be touching on all this as we go along. In order for me to make some sense of what I am about to write, I shall break this reflective post down into four sections: the descent into lockdown, life in my flat, life outside my flat, and what’s to come.
The descent into lockdown
As touched on previously, the descent into the current state of emergency was chaotic at best. It all began with the announcement on a Monday that all education centres were to close by the Wednesday, which sent every parent I know flapping and every student I know cheering. I wasn’t amongst those directly affected by this, but the announcement definitely marked a turning point.
As well as watching all the parents I know frantically trying to work out how they would secure childcare, I also saw students’ initial celebrations slowly turn into doubts and worries about how and if they would graduate. That night, I had to take a taxi home, as my colleague who usually drives me into the centre had to rush back to make plans with her family. The taxi dropped me off at the shop, where I had to pick up a few extra ingredients to cook a meal, but something was off.
The supermarket had queues like I’d never seen before. Nothing too crazy, it just seemed a lot busier, and there was an air of unease. I say unease and not panic because I don’t think I can compare it to the histeria which seems to have descended over the United Kingdom, but people did seem to be preparing for something. I did my best to not let this get to me at all, strolling casually amongst the aisles, picking up a few extra bits and bats along the way – some cans of food and some soups.
I suppose now is the time when I must make a comment about the red mist which has descended and caused people to panic-buy toilet roll around the world: what ever for? This is not a virus whose primary symptom is diarrhoea, nor has a disastrous world event threatened the supply of toilet paper. I can only assume that people have been buying so much of the stuff because they foresaw themselves spending a long time in isolation, but in this case, why has nobody been panic-buying non-perishable food in such quantities? Without being crude, I think having to clean oneself via alternative means is a lot less daunting than the thought of running out of food altogether. Maybe there’s some deep psychological terror associated with the thought of losing this everyday item, but in my head, starving to death is a lot harder to deal with than having to take a quick shower after going to the toilet. It may be more hassle, but while we’re all stuck at home it’s not like we’re in a rush.
I have to catch myself to stop myself panicking.
Anyway, back to the supermarket. It’s during these uneasy moments that I remember that I live alone and far away from my family, and I have to catch myself to stop myself panicking. This was a skill that I mastered as the week continued, for the next day, we were all called to a meeting at work about our company’s plan during what were looking to be uncertain times. We were given the option to begin working from home, and so a small team (myself included) assembled in order to implement new protocols to facilitate remote working. Over the next 48 hours we had to configure tools for remote email and server access, new project management software, communication software, and team organisation tools. We had then to draw up plans for how these tools should be used, and brief the rest of the team on how we were going to try and make this new dynamic work.
Said days were some of the most chaotic I have ever experienced, with the strains of various considerations at the same time piling on from all sides. I had my personal health and wellbeing to worry about, including ensuring that I had all the necessary supplies and medicines at home in preparation for the looming lockdown; I had said task of implementing remote working protocols; and at the same time I also had to keep on top of all the ongoing projects at work, keeping the output as steady and uninterrupted as possible.
With the government’s advice changing daily, we saw the number of people in the office drop to just a handful by the Thursday of that week. This Thursday was a whirlwind for me, as I attempted to set up my work space at home, as well as being on constant call to try and iron out all the teething problems that everyone was experiencing as they began their first remote working experience.
I left a note on the back of my door reminding myself not to leave, and settled down for the start of life under lockdown.
After a rocky first day, Friday came around, and with it the total closure of our office. There was still no official lockdown order from the Spanish government, but many of us, myself included, decided that Friday would be the first day of our confinement. Just 24 hours before the official state of emergency was announced, I locked up my front door, left a note on the back of it reminding myself not to leave, and settled down for the start of life under lockdown.
Life in my flat
Friday was my first day of working from home, and saw my usually hourlong commute reduced to a five second walk from my bedroom to my improv working space in the living room. This meant I could snag an extra hour of sleep, which was rather welcome, and kicked off my quarantine with an optimistic energy which I would soon need.
Working from home has been a positive experience overall, with its ups and downs as it to be expected. We’ve definitely had to pull our socks up and get more organised, which has made things flow a lot smoother, but then quirks like slow server connections and dropped call connections have slowed us down a bit. I shan’t detail too much the trials and tribulations of remote working, however, as I feel like the time spent outside of work but stuck at home during these past few weeks is much more poignant.
I say this because I don’t believe that the lockdown has fundamentally affected my working life. At work, I have always been restricted to a particular place and a particular activity: I have to be in the office, and I have to be working. Lockdown may have me trapped at home, but I still have to be in a certain place (at my laptop), and I still have to be realising a certain activity (my work). Nothing has really changed.
I don’t believe that the lockdown has fundamentally affected my working life.
Once I sign off for the day, however, things have really changed. The commute to and from the office, which I have repeatedly cursed and complained about in the past, at least served to physically and mentally separate me from my work. For my own wellbeing, I still abide by my rule of completely disconnecting at the end of the working day, but storing a laptop away doesn’t provide the same physical experience which mentally distances the stress of the working day from my home, a space which should be for rest and relaxation.
I have always been one for associating certain moods with different physical spaces, which is why I stopped studying in bed and why I have never really been a massive advocate from working from home. If I spend eight hours stressing over work in my living room, I find it impossible to then kick back with a glass of wine and watch TV in that same space. When I used to work on freelance projects from my bed in the UK, I would then find it impossible to stop thinking and fall asleep, and so I eventually stated working from the kitchen (much to the annoyance of my poor mother).
If I had a separate office room in my flat, I might not have so many reservations about working and living in the same space, but for now I have to do the best that I can with the space that I have. I have expressly prohibited myself from ever working from anywhere that isn’t my table, and have conversely forced myself to immediately move away from this table once I put my work laptop away. It’s not much, but the small things are amplified thousandfold when most of my daily life is now spent within 40m².
I have always been one for associating certain moods with different physical spaces.
My flat isn’t the best place to be confined to, but of course I never considered that I would ever have to work from home when I was looking for a place to live here in Madrid. I wanted a separate living room and bedroom in order to have some privacy when guests came to visit, but I wasn’t fussed about having a balcony or views out on to the street, as I would much rather head out and enjoy the atmosphere on foot during warm summer evenings or fresh winter days. In fact, I was happy to have an interior-facing flat, as it meant that I enjoyed near silence at home, great for kicking back after work or a day out in the city.
As you can imagine, this decision hasn’t really been ideal during these times of quarantine. While the majority of the city leans out of its balconies for the daily 8pm applause, or even to sing and dance together, I have to make do with a view of the neighbours’ windows and the small square of sky that can be seen when I look up from mine. I am just thankful that my flat, being on the third floor of a four-storey building, receives lots of daylight and even a good few rays of sun during the day.
I shall try to refrain from excessive moaning, however, because I know that many people are in much worse situations. I have friends who are struggling to study, have had to apply for financial help from the government as they cannot work, and even some who find themselves – for one reason or another – ineligible to apply for said support. If I ever catch myself sulking about these relatively frivolous strains, I try to put my situation in perspective and count my lucky stars.
I’ve also a variety of ways of cheering myself up outside of work hours, including regular calls with family and friends from across the globe, as well as the odd spot of exercise, watching TV, cooking, baking, and even a spot of trying to learn new things. I’ve been refining my Spanish omelette technique, improving my Photoshop skills, and even trying to complete some Irish lessons on Duolingo, but I must stress that I’ve not been pushing myself too hard to be productive. I have seen many a well-meaning post rousing us to be as productive as possible during this lockdown, but I think that it’s important to remember that we are all trying to do our best in the middle of a global crisis – let’s not berate ourselves if we don’t come out the other end speaking another language and playing a musical instrument.
The best way by far to lift my spirits has been the rare opportunity to venture outside, as I am quite a claustrophobic person and have caught myself a couple of times panicking when remembering that I cannot leave my flat. It has almost been amusing to see tasks that I once complained about, such as taking out the rubbish or going to pick up some extra food, now becoming treasured opportunities and the highlight of my day. It’s a double edged sword though, which I shall now explain.
Life outside my flat
The act of leaving home is often a bittersweet experience, and it might not be for the reasons that you imagine. The isolation and solitude enforced by staying in my flat can be overwhelming, but the knowledge that I am safely isolated against the virus can also be of great comfort. Leaving the flat, be it for food or for medicines (the only two reasons for which I can/do leave), can often be rather nerve-wracking. I don’t have a mask or any decent protective gloves, so I often find myself hyper-conscious about maintaining distance between myself and others, often for their safety more than for my own. I sometimes find myself in a tizzy as I mentally repeat the mantras of safe social contact: maintain a 2m distance from others, don’t touch your face, cough into your elbow…
These considerations are certainly a mental drain, but they do not form the main reason for which the outside world now leaves me with a bittersweet feeling. I shall try to explain how two different ways of observing the outside world as I wander the streets can now uplift or sadden me in equal measure.
The outside world now leaves me with a bittersweet feeling.
Naturally, it’s a joy to be back on the streets. It’s lovely to speak to the occasional person, catch some rays of the springtime sun, and exercise my tired body a little. Watching the world carry on as much as it can, with people following the new norms and working together in order to protect each other, is lovely to see. Just the other day, I left the shop at around 8pm out of pure coincidence, and I found myself on a street which was suddenly alive with the roar of clapping, cheering, and even the buzz of a ratchet that an elderly gentlemen was swinging around with great gusto from his balcony.
This oxymoronic combination of a sense of normality mixed with such extraordinary outpourings of community spirit prompted by equally extraordinary circumstances have calming and uplifting effects respectively, and make such excursions into the outside world so enjoyable. There’s also the tonic offered by the mere reminder that I am not 100% trapped in my flat, which serves to relax my claustrophobic mind just enough to maintain my cool until the next time I’ll be out and about.
There is another way of seeing, however, as I pace the streets of the uneasily quiet city. No matter how much one may wish to cling to these glimpses of what the Spanish call la vida cotidiana, everyday life as we knew it, something is always amiss. There’s people on the streets, but nobody is stopping to greet each other. There’s no “hola” to strangers, and passing smiles are now hidden behind face masks. This I find particularly poignant, as I have always been delighted by the openness and chattiness of Spanish society, and to see this energy extinguished is sobering.
Then there’s the streets full of shuttered businesses. Bars, restaurants, book shops, flower shops, bakeries, gift shops – in my area there’s all sorts of services on offer, and they bring a real liveliness to the neighbourhood. Now, a silence has descended, and the usually rich texture created by the goods displayed behind their windows has been flattered into a wall of metal shutters. I’m also haunted by the possibility that many of these businesses may not survive the financial crash sure to be caused by this crisis, especially seeing as most of the offerings around me are independent and even family-owned.
This very real prospect also invokes another uneasiness, as I realise that what I considered to be my daily life may never return. There’s the awful possibility that some of my favourite haunts such as the terrace of a local bar, the bakery below my flat, and a Lebanese take-away across the road may not reopen. Just as I was settling into life here in Spain, building relationships and forming routines, it does seem like this crisis is pulling the rug out from underneath me. I reiterate that I, of course, have it relatively easy, but it does nevertheless leave me slightly disorientated and disheartened.
I have always been delighted by the chattiness of Spanish society, and to see this energy extinguished is sobering.
Little details also signal that not all is well and good, as the usual “muchas gracias, hasta luego” from the cashier in the supermarket now comes from behind a face mask and a large transparent acrylic screen suspended between me and them. There’s lines marked on the floor of pharmacies and shops alike, indicating where people should move around and how much distance they should maintain when queueing. Security guards act as bouncers outside of shops, directing the flow of people and instructing us to don gloves and disinfect our shopping trolley with alcohol gel before proceeding. Announcements remind us not to stockpile food, there’s a good spattering of empty shelves, and some staffed and self-service areas such as the bakery now have been shuttered or have had their produce pre-bagged.
As I say, the mood that my time outside my flat can leave me in varies depending on the way I look at things, and that can vary from excursion to excursion. One night I took out some recycling to be greeted by a dark and quiet street devoid of life. Another time, I saw colourful balloons and messages of hope reading “todo irá bien” (everything will be fine), and spoke to a group of old ladies – all stood meters from each other, of course. Sometimes a trip outside can result in a mini rollercoaster of emotions, as I complete the trip to the supermarket, looping back to my house in order to pass by the pharmacy. I can chat to people whilst shopping, pass by the sad sight of restaurant terraces now dusty and full of leaves, and then be reanimated by the cheerful music leaking from open windows.
What’s to come
Nobody can tell what will come of all this. I don’t know to what degree we will be able to return to normality, both because of the financial uncertainty caused by this crisis and health risks posed by the eventual lifting of quarantine measures. The Spanish government has emphasised that the eventual lifting of the state of emergency will be slow and stepped, indicating that certain activities will be gradually permitted as the numbers drop, all in an effort to allow people their freedoms without overwhelming the healthcare system.
Speaking of the healthcare system, I shall now do something that I dislike using my blog as a platform to do, and I will get a little political. To all those in the UK, please do not abuse the little freedoms that the government have left you in order to discretely meet people. In fact, wherever you are from, and no matter how much you want to see your family, spend time with your partner, or chill out with friends: don’t. Stay at home. Do not be so selfish as to think that because you nor the people you are meeting will be affected, that others will not suffer because of you. It is our collective responsibility to keep as many hospital beds free for those who need them.
Wherever you are from, please, stay at home.
As I have reiterated throughout this post: I am lucky. I can work, albeit with some caveats, from the safety and comfort of my own home. I would like to extend my gratitude to all those workers who are still out and fighting to keep all essential activities running. Let’s remember that these are the people that have often been looked down on, and who are still paid a pittance for jobs which many have suddenly begun to realise are, in fact, essential. Once we have are in more stable times, it might just be time to hold those in power accountable for ensuring that we prioritise what is truly essential, such as our public healthcare and many other professions which have not been able to simply pack up shop and go home during this quarantine.
I am also cautious of calling these essential workers heroes, as that implies that they have an alternative other than working. With the populous in lockdown and many legally obliged to stay at home, many workers have no other option than to work their now somewhat risky jobs in order to keep a steady income. I am also averse to hearing the privileged and those in power hail these essential workers as heroes, only to then refuse to reward them for their work. I am not in any way casting in doubt the bravery and stoicism of these people – they deserve all the praise and recognition that they can get – but I think that calling them heroes is a shallow gesture when they often have no alternative and are rarely awarded for their invaluable contribution by the same people who are supposed praising them.
Anyway, and to conclude, I wish everyone a happy and healthy spring holiday. I am in good health and good spirits, and I wish the same for you and everyone that you know. In these strange times, we’ve to talk openly about how we’re feeling, and keep in touch with each other as much as we can. Even if I have been calling friends just for the both of us to complain about being stuck indoors all day, a problem shared is a problem halved.
Thank you to everyone who has been calling and messaging to check in with me, and to all my family and friends who have to deal with my constant video calls when I need some virtual company here at home.
In a stark contrast from my last post, in which I spoke about a trip from last month across Europe and all the way to Amsterdam, I write to you all from a country in complete lockdown. Here in Spain, all but essential travel has been banned, and so I’m now cooped up in my flat until further notice.
It’s a somber time, and something which I’ll touch on in a more reflective post at a later date, but for now I’m going to focus on the positives. I have some fun updates to share from before these measures came into place, and I must also give a huge shoutout to all my colleagues that make up the Erretres team – in a few short days, we’ve managed to move our entire operation online, and we’re all now working from home and as productive as we ever were. No small feat!
Anyway, let’s get back to pre-lockdown life, which I unconsciously but thankfully made the most of. In sharp contrast to the frostiness of Amsterdam, Madrid was just beginning to warm up, and so this meant plenty of outdoor time and wanders around the city to take in the upbeat atmosphere. One evening, I headed down to the river to watch the sun set and advance with reading my book, which I had abandoned somewhat after ditching the train to work in favour of a lift with a colleague.
At work, I was also presented with a lovely surprise, as the U-Tad University sent me a wonderful gift to thank me for my participation as a speaker at the Prisma Design Fest a few weeks ago, an event which I documented in a blog post afterwards. I was chuffed to bits with my new fancy pen and a fabulous design book!
The weekend after, I headed into the fancy Salamanca district of Madrid and met up with Soyoung, an ex-colleague from Erretres. We met at a lovely little café for some brunch and a much-needed chat to catch up on everything, from our work lives to what it was like to live as a married woman after her lovely wedding last year!
I always fancied myself as one of the elegant ladies who lunch.
During our chat, we talked about her family back in South Korea and how the coronavirus was just beginning to spread there, and at that moment we had no idea how soon it would come and change everything here in Spain. Quite the foreshadowing…
The preceding weekend was to be, without anyone’s knowledge at the time, our last weekend of freedom for a while. Thankfully, two friends were celebrating their birthdays that week, and so the days were to be filled with fun evenings in great company.
This series of shenanigans kicked off with a trip to see “La Jaula de las Locas” (literally “The Cage of the Crazy Ladies”), a hilarious piece of theatre led by drag queens and some big names in Spanish showbiz. After paying for the cheaper seats, Bogar (the birthday boy), Hugo, and I were thrilled to be told that we could have a free upgrade, and took our places near the stage to enjoy a few hours of riotous scandal and great laughs.
I then found myself back out in the city a couple of days later, as Luis was also celebrating his birthday, and I was excited to see him again after he left Erretres a while back. A huge group of us gathered in a bar in Lavapiés, and we were all soon tipsily away, chatting (see: shouting, this is Spain after all), nibbling on some lunch, and roaring with laughter as he opened a few presents (including a prop of a severed foot, brownie points if you spot it in the photo below).
As the celebrations had kicked off at 2pm, I foolishly assumed that this meant that there would be time to head home for a siesta in between the afternoon drinks and the evening’s party, but I was mistaken. Instead I was informed that we’d be heading off to a party called Tortilla, which is named as such as they serve portion of tortilla (Spanish omelette) in the club. Yes. At the bar. In a club.
After a hilarious taxi journey, in which many of Luis’ lifetime friends asked me about my time in Spain, we rocked up at the club, and I was informed that they kick everyone out at 11pm – that’s my kind of club! We headed in, were joined by more friends and colleagues, and boogied on down until the very pleasant time of 10pm, when I said my goodbyes and hopped on the metro back home. I wish all my nights out ended on such a civilised note!
As I’d been out with Luis and company that evening, I missed out on the second night of celebrations for Bogar’s birthday, but I had secured him a great present to make it up to him: a trip to Hammam Al Ándalus, an Arab baths experience hidden in the city centre.
Naturally I don’t have any photos from our trip, as it was a lovely opportunity to disconnect, bathe, and enjoy a relaxing massage just as the coronavirus panic was hitting Spain, but we had a lovely time – even if Bogar was somewhat hungover! I do, however, have a photo of the churros which we devoured after a lovely post-bathe lunch – it may have been a mistake to book our two-hour slot for 2pm without having any lunch first!
There’s nothing like a big portion of churros after a steak lunch.
After this lovely weekend, the fateful week began. Monday began with business as usual, and ended with the whole of Spain on complete lockdown and everyone in obligatory quarantine. As I mentioned at the start of this post, I’ll be following up over the coming days (and perhaps even weeks) on the rapid switch to working from home and what it’s like to be on lockdown by myself.
But hey, it’s not all bad – I’ve been able to pull my favourite game, Roller Coaster Tycoon 3, out again, and there’s a new season of Élite on Netflix ready and waiting to be binge-watched. Also, it’s Friday night, and now I have the perfect excuse to open a bottle of wine and have a night in pampering myself. Every cloud!
