The Plague Year - Waiting It Out

Street art in the 7th arrondissement

We have been fortunate, very fortunate, to be healthy and safe during this difficult year. We sorely miss Lonlay l'Abbaye, and have not been able to visit our village house there since last October. The coronavirus has been only one obstacle, but a constant one since March 2020.

Pipkin, our Cairn terrier puppy, after her operation

Before the plague hit Paris, however, we were otherwise occupied. For instance, our Cairn terrier puppy Pipkin had her sterilization operation in November. Several weeks of rehab at home. The onesie was supposed to be enough to keep her away from the stitches, but we had to put on the cone as well. She's a determined little thing.

In many ways, it was a glorious November. We were happy to relish the daily pleasures of Paris - her museums, restaurants, concerts and pastry shops.

Greengrocer on rue Cler

The autumn markets were full of marvelous mushrooms, chestnuts and mandarins. We could crowd cheek to jowl as we shopped, without fear.

The "Gilets Jaunes" continued to protest every Saturday, sometimes accompanied by destructive fools who smashed windows, set fires, and looted shops. By the end of the year, the Gilets Jaunes were periodically blocking highways near many cities throughout France and causing transit issues. The major unions called for general strikes, particularly in transportation, creating havoc in the train schedules and shutting down even the Paris metro system. There was general discontent with President Macron, and particularly in relation to his proposed changes to the French pension system. We did not feel we could count on being able to travel to Lonlay l'Abbaye without disruption.

But what did any of that matter, as it was Christmastime in Paris? Always a magical season, even if the transit strikes made it more difficult to get to our favorite places. In solidarity with other unions, the Paris Opera ballet company went on strike, and the performance we had planned to see on Christmas Eve was cancelled. Strikes are commonplace in France, though this one was prolonged, and impacted holiday plans for thousands of French who could not get out to visit their families in the provinces. Visiting Lonlay for Christmas was impossible. But we believed everything would reopen soon.

The metro, bus and train strikes continued into January. We began to use Ubers more frequently, and generally stayed closer to home on the cold short days. Near the end of January, the strikes were exhausted, but news of the deadly virus in Wuhan was disturbing. Like so many others, we feared the virus, but wanted to believe it would not spread to countries outside of China's orbit.

Bouillon Pigalle photo by Thierry Richard

For most of February, with the buses and the metro running again, we could enjoy the regular winter pleasures of Paris, visting friends, meeting for lunches and apéros, frequenting some of our favorite restaurants, neighborhoods and shops. We had family planning to visit us near the end of March. We thought we'd be able to get out to Lonlay l'Abbaye then with them, or at least by April. We continued to roam around Paris, but as the numbers of Covid-19 cases increased in neighboring Italy, we began to wear gloves on the metro and took hand wipes with us everywhere. No one was wearing masks then except for some of the Japanese tourists.

We began stocking up our cupboards and fridge, adding canned, frozen and prepared items that would keep longer, whereas previously we would have shopped daily. In early March, events for more than 5000 people were officially banned. How minimal a step that seems now! Our family members cancelled their planned trip from the U.S., all of us assuming they'd be able to reschedule in a few months.
On March 8, I wrote to a friend that I sensed things might be very different by the Ides of March. I could not comprehend how dramatic the difference would be! From one day to the next, March 15 to March 16, all restaurants, cafes, bars, shops and museums were closed. Sunday March 16 was a beautiful day and hundreds of people went to the parks to meet with their friends, trying to cope with these changes. After Sunday, the parks were closed as well. Macron told us that we were at war with this virus. Beginning on March 17, Paris went into an unprecedented lockdown. 

The people of Paris disappeared. Apart from essential workers, the entire population was strongly urged to stay at home. Schools, businesses, hotels and offices were suddenly shut up tight. Only the food stores and pharmacies were allowed to stay open.
You've all been through similar shutdowns by now, but Paris was one of the first major cities to close up so completely. We had not known what to expect.
It was eerie during the day, and strangely beautiful at night, when I would hear only my footsteps on the normally hectic streets. No tourists taking photos of the Invalides or the shimmering Eiffel Tower. No sets of young people laughing along to their next drink. No elderly couples arm in arm.
​Walking the dog, I was often the sole human to be seen for blocks on end. Masks were difficult to come by. Once in a great while, I would see someone wearing a mask on the street, and found it actually disturbing. My mind played tricks with me, and the masked people seemed like villains in a horror movie, popping up around the corners.

Pont de l'Alma - looking from the 7th arrondissement into the 8th

The bridges across the Seine and all of Paris's broad boulevards are normally clogged with city buses, tour buses, passenger vehicles, electric scooters, pedestrians and bicycles. Not in March, not in April, not for most of May. We were all in the great "confinement," holding our breath.

Even during the day, the only vehicles seen regularly were taxis, police cars, and ambulances. Passenger cars were few. As there was no traffic, we got used to crossing even the broad boulevards without ever waiting for the light. Paris became a different place altogether. A few oldtimers said that it reminded them of the Occupation.

I missed the cafes most of all, particularly in the early morning when I used to see the owners setting out their rattan chairs and tables as the sky turned pink in the distance. In so many ways, the cafes are the beating heart of Paris.

The storefronts were equally dispiriting. Some of the shopkeepers and restauranteurs put up signs in their windows. Most encouraged people to stay safe and said they would see us soon. A few were more poignant, offering help to their neighbors, or humorous. On the menu above: "Bat soup" and "Sautéd pangolin."

Day and night, we had to have our identification with us, and a paper stating our purpose for being outside on the street. Each "attestation" had to be signed, dated and with the time of each foray noted on it. Technically, you could use only one sheet of paper for each outing, but I sometimes fudged a bit going out so many times a day with our pup. We ran into frequent checkpoints where municipal employees or the police would ask to see our papers, particularly near the market streets. At some point, everyone was limited to going out for exercise only once a day for an hour, and further limited to a one kilometer radius from home. It was still ok to take Pipkin out multiple times a day, and I was grateful for the extra exercise.

The odd thing was that this empty Paris was stunningly beautiful. By April, the absence of cars and trucks had lowered air pollution levels, and the sky was Monet blue every day. The city was so quiet, as if we were living the legend of Sleeping Beauty in real life. A princess had pricked her finger, and she and all the inhabitants of this kingdom had fallen into a silent slumber. 

Finally, by mid-May, we were released from confinement. France had flattened the curve, and Covid-19 infections were much diminished. Everyone was grateful to the medical teams who had endured and sacrificed during the surge. About the only time we saw our neighbors during the lockdown had been evenings at 8:00, when the windows had opened and the applause began for the doctors and their staff.

Masks could now be sold to the general public, and we all began wearing them more often, especially to the grocery store. We were happy to see the cafes open again and people smiling. Joseph and Pipkin and I enjoyed getting out beyond our one kilometer radius again. We were able to eat outside at the restaurant tables that now spilled into the streets, properly distanced. But even as museums, cinemas, stores and other indoor venues were allowed to open, we decided to hold back on going inside any public spaces.
After the long confinement, the summer vacation season brought a resurgence in virus cases as people could not resist having parties and going to newly opened bars and crowded beaches. The government does not want to shut the country down again, and inflict any further damage to the economy. We still have a long path to tread carefully before a vaccine may be available. On one recent day, France recorded almost 6000 new cases of Covid-19.
The city of Paris has now made mask-wearing mandatory in all public spaces, both indoors and outside - and even in private offices. We are optimistic that this and other measures will tamp down the spread of the virus, but our next visit to Lonlay l'Abbaye, using public transport, may still be months away.

Meanwhile, we will tough it out in Paris....​

Photo from www.saisons-vives.com

And let the swallows enjoy the windowsills of our place in Lonlay l'Abbaye.