Day 24 - SkyLines from the French Lock-down: Reflections

Salut tous le monde! (Hi Everyone!)  It's pretty clear the lock-down that has been imposed on nearly half the world makes us look at ourselves in a new way. It brings out the philosopher in me. We do not get distracted from who we are when we can't go out.

Just a small fraction of the beaches of Argelès sur Mer

Day 24 - Each day has a surreal quality as if we've been told we must create our own reality from the cardboard box Mom and Dad gave us to play with. My French partner, Y, and I woke early. It was I who got up first and cranked open the shutters. Unlike the old-style wooden ones on my village house, my partner's house has those rolling kind.  Very efficient but less charming (in my opinion) - however the double glazed windows are nice - they do keep it warm in winter

and cool in summer.

The sunshine poured in. "Attention aux yeux!" I warned him as the warmth touched my toes

Lifeguard station at Leucate

and then climbed with the shutters to bathe me in bright light.  Y covered his eyes and I asked him (in French, but I'll write this in English) "So, it's nearly Easter weekend.  Where shall we go - Tuscany or the Terrace...  Paris or the Living Room."  He laughed and got up. "Nous avons le temps de decider, c'est jeudi," he promised me. (We have time to decide, it's Thursday.)

While we ate our cereal and sipped coffee, we each read the news on our phones.  I told him about the falling numbers of fatalities in Italy, Spain, and France.  He told me that the local beaches were getting ready for summer.  The sand that the winter storms pushed up high on the dunes will be redistributed in hopes that people will be allowed to come picnic and sunbathe one day.  Just the thought of it makes me wistful. A few of the lifeguard stations are permanent but others are temporary.  All of the food concessions and animations for children are removed at the end of the season.  They have been given permission to start setting them up.  They won't open, of course, but if and when this is over, they will be ready.  It gives us hope.

Then he looks up from the phone and says, "This virus is hitting the blondes in high proportions."  For just a moment, I think he's being serious and say, "What!"  He grins at me. 

France as no one could imagine it -
"Sans Cafés." (without cafés)

"They say that by the time this is over we will know the true hair color of everyone in the village."  I roll my eyes.  It's like that meme we've all seen."80% of all blondes... aren't." He and I had a discussion back in October.  I showed him the white hair that is coming in at my temples and asked if he thought I should tint it.  He said, "As you wish, but I find it charming.  Besides, you can spend the money on travel and windsurfing!"  No wonder I love this guy.  And now I'm really happy that I didn't do it.  I know some folks who are going into serious hair salon withdrawal! 

We get on with the day - I exercise and dance.  Y goes for a walk and buys the bread.  When he gets back I see he's bought a magazine as well.  Good.  That means he can read when I write to

An Asian couple wearing masks
grace the the cover

you.  We play a game we've invented for the quarantine called, "Notre Café au Terrasse."  No bonus points for guessing that this is when we make espresso and have it on the terrace.  For over a year now, we have had espresso at cafés in every place we've stayed.  In cafes from Paris to Montpellier, Collioure to Cadaques, Gruissan to Figueres, and La Reunion to Le Village de Moi. (Yeah, we've had espresso in my village - it's a hoot.  There is no café but the little grocery store has a vending machine and a couple of bar stools with a table.  It's cute!)

Of course most of the time, we share our passion for coffee here in Argelès sur Mer.  One day, Y said, "We mustn't make the cafés jealous by frequenting only one.  Let's go to a different one every day."  I love it. Many of the cafés put a biscuit or chocolate square

A tropical cafe

on the saucer.  One very special one has organic homemade muffins about the size of a jack's ball. (Yeah, you might need to be my age to know what I'm talking about. Imagine a large gumball if you didn't play jacks.) The muffin is irresistible and you can bet the chocolate one never gets a chance to make it home, but we can often resist eating the wrapped "Speculoos" cookies (which is a tiny bit like a cinnamon graham cracker made thin and like a butter biscuit).  However - because we have bought them, so to speak, we put them in my purse and take them home.  We have two tins worth now!  And at last, it has paid off.

It's time to play at having our own private cafe.  The machine whirs while Y sets up the table and chairs.  I get out a biscuit for each saucer.  We take our coffees out on the terrace and he reads while I'm writing.  We feel like a

Cafe Chez-Nous!

couple of kids playing at being adults.  And why not?  Age should not decide how much fun we get to have.  I hope we'll be playing at being teenagers at the beach in a month's time. 

And so goes another day of our lock-down. I'll work on my jazz piano lessons and Y will devise a new system of organizing the garage. We'll text with friends and family. There will be lunch to prepare and eat. We'll watch a little bit of the news and when the dishes are done, we'll probably come back out on the terrace and be grateful we are here.  I'll play the guitar and my partner will continue the quest for the perfect way to shade us from the Mediterranean sun.  Some neighbors will come to the windows and terraces and we will chat from a distance.  

The cat will sleep in the shade beneath my feet.  When the sun dips below our parasol, it may get too warm and we will go in to do our yoga with Hebreson on YouTube.  Supper will be simple - our newly invented "four vegetable" curry soup with the rest of the quiche that we made yesterday.  In the evening we’ll choose something to stream and maybe fall asleep in front  of the telly.  

It’s almost as if life is on pause.  It feels unreal and I think it’s a time for reflection.  The world is a scary place at the moment and nobody ever knows how long we’ll get. So let’s make a fun reality with our cardboard box. It is we who create the way we see the world. 

A compelling image on having students home from college

As I finished writing this to you, I finally opened the suggestions from my phone's music app.  (Music is my reward - it is on my list of essential needs!) The first song is so appropriate - "Another day in Paradise." My phone knows me well. I'll listen to it and think about it as Phil Collins said. So many others don't have the luxuries we share.  My heart goes out to those caught in difficult situations.  And you know what?  If you're reading this then you and we can count ourselves among the lucky ones.  We're alive.  As of today, more than 95,000 people have fallen in this war against an invisible foe - in the first five months.  Keep safe, you are dear to us.  And we'll keep on staying home just like you.

À demain, nos amis!  (Until tomorrow, friends.). Link to Day 25