Hermit Diary, Montreal. 1.
Friday, March 12, 2020
What a changed situation in just a few days. From Canada, we've watched the disarray and slowness of the U.S. health care response to COVID-19 in dismay, as the reported number of cases keep rising, surely far more slowly than the real count. All worldwide evidence has pointed to the fact that the sooner countries act to limit transmission, the slower the infection rate, and the lower the mortality, because the health care system will be less overwhelmed -- the opposite of what has happened with such tragic results in Italy.
Yesterday, Prime Minister Trudeau and Quebec Premier Francois Legault both announced sweeping measures designed to isolate returning travelers and create social distance: from airline controls to school and public facility closures and bans on large social gatherings. Churches, including our cathedral, have cancelled weekend services and masses. Hockey will be played in an empty arena. Today Trudeau said that the government is considering closing the border with the U.S. or enacting other, tighter controls; it's impossible to know exactly what we'll be dealing with in another week. I'm surprised at the range of attitudes I've heard from friends and family in the U.S. and elsewhere. Some people clearly get what's happening and what they need to do, others are still in denial. Unfortunately, a large majority of us need to get on the same page. Here's a good link to what social distancing actually means in practice, with clear recommendations for different risk groups.
There are 17 reported cases in the province of Quebec right now, and will certainly be more. I'm completely in favor of immediate, strict measures to limit social interaction. The federal government will also be helping people who are out of work or otherwise impacted by the closures, and, thankfully, everyone in Canada has health coverage.
On the home front, I was glued to the computer much of yesterday because events were moving so fast; that day was the tipping point when "what if" debates turned into decisions and actions. We received a grocery delivery last night; the delivery person said it was busy but not crazy. Today we heard that people are flocking to stores, even lining up in the early morning before large stores opened, and that many essentials are sold out. Canadians aren't quite as panicky as some people, though, and I think and hope this will settle down. I'm grateful and proud of the government here for taking a strong proactive approach, and fervently hope it helps protect both the people and the healthcare system and workers.
Today I've tried to mostly stay off the internet. I've corresponded with friends, done some cooking, walked up to my studio in a blustery wind, worked on a quilt project, practiced a Scarlatti sonata. There's evidence of spring not only in the March weather, but in bulbs sticking their noses out of the earth, buds beginning to swell on magnolias, stems of hardy roses turning green, even though the sidewalks are still lined with ice and snow. My mood is mostly calm; we're doing what we need to do personally, the government and institutions are acting, and much of the rest is out of our control. The tasks ahead will be to make positive use of this very un-ordinary time and to try to help others for whom it's more difficult, devising ways of communicating and connection that may be different or new, as well as keeping myself as calm as possible, still with eyes wide open.
Here's a previous post that I didn't publish, from earlier this week, with questions for you:
Mexico City interior, two years ago.
Monday, March 8, 2020
We were supposed to be waking up this morning in the warmth and color of Mexico City, but instead, I'm looking out the window at wan sunshine on melting ice, and the grey snow that lines the streets of Montreal. Like many other people, we reluctantly cancelled our travel plans at the last minute -- in fact, half an hour before we were going to call the taxi to the airport -- and have been trying to re-set our heads as well as our clocks, and adjust to an unpredictable and uncharted short-term future.
The flight south was to have been last Tuesday, which probably would have been all right, but we were more worried about getting back home on March 20th, and I was concerned about the effect of the air pollution on my lungs, which were not particularly happy the last time we were there. Coming back with even a slightly compromised respiratory system didn't seem like a good idea. There are few confirmed virus cases in Montreal so far, only four as of this writing, and few in Mexico, but Montreal is a big international city with a large airport through which world travelers are moving, especially to and from Europe and the U.S., every day. It's the airports and air travel that worried us, as well as the fast-moving situation of both the virus, and the unknown governmental responses to it.
Then too, we're both over 65, with some underlying conditions. In spite of the fact that we're both generally quite healthy and vigorous for our age, all the best advice and evidence pointed to one conclusion: that we should avoid unnecessary travel, definitely not take airplanes or public transit, and stay at home maintaining "social distance" as much as possible. Since we made that decision, which was somewhat of an educated guess a week ago, our certainty has increased; now I wouldn't hesitate to cancel and stay home.
Over the past few days we've bought basic supplies so that we won't have to run to the stores every day, but I wouldn't call it stockpiling; we live a couple of blocks from an area of small market shop that are likely to continue to serve our neighborhood. There are few shortages here so far. We should have no trouble continuing to walk (or soon bike) back and forth to our studio. Other than that, we won't be going out much at all. We mostly plan to live a hermit-like existence while this thing plays out however it does, minimizing our exposure as much as possible. Maybe we'll get sick anyway, but we intend to try hard not to.
So I thought maybe I'd keep a diary of these unusual days. I'll write a bit about the progress of the virus in a city where we're starting practically at zero, but I'd also like to write about what far-flung friends are saying in other parts of the world, since one thing this situation has done is prove precisely how interconnected we are. (And I'd like to hear from you if you're reading this blog!) I'd also like to write about staying busy and sane in a slowed-down, quieter, more inner state of existence over the next weeks. Living that way is not particularly foreign to me, or to us, but I know it will be unfamiliar and difficult for many people. There will be art happening, and music, and cooking, and textile work, language study, reading, and correspondence with friends. Spring will slowly arrive, and I'll be happy to be outside more. But I won't be singing as much, if at all, or going to services at the cathedral or concerts or social gatherings; I probably won't be traveling to the U.S. for a while either. I'm lucky that I can even make these decisions; a lot of people have a much more complicated life to juggle, or are living in situations where they have very little control. Having to cancel a trip may be the least of the disruptions many of us will face. But I don't think it necessarily has to be onerous to live differently for a while; it could even be a time of reassessing some of the behaviors and patterns we've taken for granted for years.
Let's see how it goes. And please send me a note at cassandra (dot) pages (at) gmail (dot) com if you'd like to contribute a post or say something about what it's like where you are, and how you're managing the changes in your life. Staying anonymous is fine. I'd welcome a few regular correspondents from different parts of the world, and will be cross-posting from this blog to social media.
