Category: Vaccine

Paris is starting to look a lot like…… Paris!

This has nothing to do with the blog writing today! Just thought it is so cute!!

After a summer to forget — cold, lots and lots of rain, waiting, always waiting for warm weather, Paris and France have had the most glorious Autumn. Many days in a row of sunshine and warm days. And it lasted. Starting from the beginning of September until now. We are supposed to be in for a week of rain but 80% chance of rain on the iPhone usually means an hour or two and then it will be dry or a few sprinkles. At least so far this week.

Along Av. de La Bourdonnais

Since the finish of the first lockdown at the end of May 2020, I’ve taken to walking more and more. I started requesting audiobooks from my library and listening as I walked and, as one does with a really good book, it’s hard to stop reading so my three miles turned into four miles turned into five miles a day. Not everyday but many days. So I’m not sure when it actually hit me how many people were out on the streets. Walking to the American Library requires crossing the Pont d’Iena which takes me almost to the foot of the Eiffel Tower. When Paris is full of tourists, walking is a bit like slalom skiing. Trying not to walk into people who are only looking at their iPhones as they take photos or are standing at the very edge of the sidewalk trying to take a photo of the girlfriend who is posing at the edge of the bridge. Someone like me either walks through them, waits, or steps into the road to get around the boyfriend. After a number of these opportunities to be polite, it gets old, and I just want to barrel through not caring if I show up in the photo 🙂

Across the street from the Eiffel Tower where the crowds are getting larger and larger

Here in the 16ème, it’s a lovely bustle of people. No tourists, plenty of Parisians going from small store to small store doing their daily shopping. The light is different. The air is different. It’s autumn and there is a sense of pulling in for the winter. Electric lights turn on earlier in the late afternoon and, if it has rained, it gives everything a sense of magic, a sparkle, a pause for a deep breath. I don’t care how long one has lived here, there are just moments of wonder, at the specialness of waking up in Paris and it always being beautiful, especially after everything has been washed clean by a good rain.

The Bateaux Mouches are full again (this is a different company but Bateau Mouche is now a generic word as well the name of one of the companies giving tours on the Seine)

Eighteen months ago, we were sending photos back to the US of ‘Paris Vide’ – a Paris so empty of everything that it was easy to think that no one in any generation of us living sentient beings had seen anything like it. Slowly as the lockdowns became less strict, as people emerged from their homes, and younger braver people started walking the streets, ‘Paris Vide’ disappeared forever. The rules have changed over the last year as more is known about Covid and social distancing and the efficacy of wearing masks. Here in France, the majority of people still take the virus seriously although every week, there is a protest somewhere in France against the Passe Sanitaire, against masks, against protecting one’s neighbor from dying. But for the most part, everyone wears a mask in a store, on the metro, on a bus, and anywhere that it is impossible to socially distance.

Anyone who has ever visited Paris knows that this is a cafĂ© society, a sidewalk culture. Paris is not Paris without people on the street, having a coffee next to the sidewalk, arguing with your friends so that anyone passing by sighs a sound of relief–Paris is being Paris. I don’t believe that we will go back to anything but, until this morning, when I read the French news, I did think we were emerging, as a city, with everyone’s health and best interests in mind and let’s get back to being Paris.

This morning, however, the news said that Covid hospitalisations has risen 15% in the past week. France is declaring it an epidemic again and masks will be required on the street. “The French public health body SantĂ© Publique France says that the epidemic has returned with the increase in Covid cases and hospitalisations in France.” The Local. I shouldn’t be surprised. We were told that there would probably be a rise in winter as there has been in the past two winters. Yet, there was excitement getting the Booster shot and all my friends getting the Booster and, lest there be any doubt whether the vaccine works: “Among those who are admitted to intensive care, 13.8 per million are unvaccinated, 1.3 per million are vaccinated.” The Local.

I don’t want to end on a down note. The truth is that everything is much better than it was a year ago. The French government has done a great job of getting people vaccinated. We’ve all been told that a year ago 48% of the French said they wouldn’t take the vaccine. Today, over 90% of the French population has been vaccinated. Vive La France!

Paris in Autumn

A BientĂ´t,

Sara

Flying in the time of Covid-19–Part 2

Thanks to all who responded so helpfully to my last post. My three weeks in California were hectic and, unfortunately, I didn’t see some of the responses and I wish I had. With all the guidelines and country requirements for entrance being so fluid, it was difficult to know how to prepare and what to do for my return flight. The one thing I was sure of was that I needed a negative Covid test to board the plane back to France. That involved many of the same hoops to jump through as I’d had in preparation to coming to the USA. Again, I had to stop in Frankfurt, Germany. Germany and Ireland seem to be the strictest countries over here in terms of who can enter and how long before entering the country the Covid test must be done. Notice I said “entering” the country. At the time that I was scheduling my test, France required a 72-hour window before boarding a flight. Germany required a 48-hour window before entering the country. even the small print made it difficult to understand what would happen if one was just passing through Germany but entering another Schengen country.

On June 4, I did the best I could with the information I had and made a reservation to get a test from Kaiser Richmond on Sunday, June 20 at 3pm–70 hours before boarding the flight from SFO. I hoped to forget about it for awhile.

The next week, June 9, France opened up to American tourists. The USA was classified as an “Orange” country. What did that mean? In order to enter France (as opposed to boarding the plane, one needed proof of vaccination – two jabs – and a negative Covid test). Then exactly one week later, France upgraded USA to a “Green” country meaning, that to enter France, one only needed proof of vaccination. There was no rhyme or reason for the change. In many states, the numbers are rising again. One in every five cases is now the Delta variant. Biden has not reached his goal of 70% vaccination by July 4th although the media says the goal will probably be reached sometime in July. However, a large percentage of the southern states’ population is refusing any vaccination. From what I hear, this is all political. Any argument of the vaccine having been developed too soon without enough time to really test its efficacy has been erased. Most people know now these vaccines have been in developmental research stages for years. This is not the first Covid. Ergo the number 19. The trick a year ago was to target this exact virus and add the variable to the vaccines already under development.

By the this time, almost two weeks of my time in California had passed (more of that later), and it really was time to start paying attention. Every day, I checked both the UAL (United Airlines) website and the French government website. The real anxiety was going to be Kaiser. As of this writing, Kaiser will not guarantee a test result by boarding time. I hadn’t really thought of alternatives until I didn’t get the result 48 hours after I’d had the test, had already turned my rental car in, and thought I might actually have to turn around at SFO, come home, and fly out the next day. EXCEPT the result then would be past the 72 hour window. So I managed to find a mobile test center that would come to the house, give me the test, and guarantee the results within 6-8 hours for a mere $499. Ain’t the US health care system grand??? I didn’t think I had a choice so I made a reservation. And just like the old adage “if you want the bus to come, light a cigarette”, my Kaiser result arrived in my e-mail box one hour later.

Not ready to totally let go of anxiety (!), the printed out version of the test result looked so unofficial. You had to search to find the words Kaiser Permanente. So I spent an hour cutting and pasting to make it look really official.

At the airport seventeen hours later: While checking in, the lovely woman asked me if I had filled out the form required by the French government. I said No, that I was a resident. So she checked my residency card but then decided I needed it anyway (I didn’t). She took my phone and took a photo of the website, sent me to the domestic terminal to have the form printed then told me to fill it out. After a 20 minute walk to the domestic terminal, I learned there was no printer to be had and, that maybe, possibly, there was a printer at the travel agency next to the United counter at the International airport. I sat down, had a coffee, and told myself the check-in person was wrong. I had read the French website backwards and forwards many times and I was willing to take my chances. So I called two friends to say goodbye and sat peacefully until boarding time.

At the gate, and this was a gate of every possible definition, there were two people asking to see one’s passport and one’s boarding card. My boarding card did not have an OK with a circle around it. So one of the gatekeepers had to ask a superior who had to ask another superior if I could come into the boarding area. I suspected that I was supposed to return to the United Check-in with my printed out form, that I didn’t need, filled out and then she would ok me. But I kept my mouth shut. The third superior decided that the person had just forgotten to put the OK on and they let me in.

The circled red OK saying I’m allowed to enter the boarding area

Then we were all called to order by a power-hungry United staff member who was going to whip us into line if it cost him everything. People were going to board in the order he said and he didn’t care what Group your boarding pass said. AND no one was to stand in HIS boarding area if they weren’t boarding. Which no one paid attention to. I had gotten that far and I was not going to get more anxious, so I just giggled inside as he tried to “herd cats”!!! I made it onto the plane without further ado.

Waiting to board at SFO, the arm of our “little dictator” trying to herd cats

We landed in Frankfurt eleven hours later. After the two hour connection stop-over wait, I got in-line to board my flight to CDG Paris. First we had to show our boarding ticket, our passport, and our negative test result. Mine caused another flap but by this time, I was just too tired to get overly anxious. She asked me where I had come from four or five times, what time and day I’d had my test which I answered four or five times, and seemed on the verge of not letting me on the plane. I finally said that I had my vaccine certificates with me, would she like to see them? Well, yes she would. I showed them to her and that did the trick. She smiled and showed me another line to stand in and soon I was ushered towards the aiport shuttle bus that traveled the entire length of the Frankfurt airport (I swear it went around a couple of times. It took almost ten minutes to get to our plane) and dropped us off. It was raining. There were two entrances, front and back, to get on the plane. The majority of people ran towards the front and stood in the rain to board. So, even though I was in the first eight rows, I ran to the back, didn’t get too wet and, like a salmon swimming upstream, pushed my way to my seat.

A little over one hour later, we landed in Paris. And just as always, CDG is a breeze to get through. My passport was stamped, I waited all of five minutes for my luggage, walked through customs without a question, and was in line for the taxi twenty minutes after leaving the plane. My Cambodian taxi driver thought I was the nicest, sweetest person because I chatted with him all the way to my apartment. I was willing to give him cash instead of my Carte Bancaire and I was his best friend for life. He was willing to give me a receipt so he was ok in my book.

I opened my apartment door, called for Bijou, and waited. She came trotting up lazily and if she could have smiled, I think she did. I was home.

Bijou on her new bed

A bientĂ´t,

Sara

Flying on a jet plane—in the time of Covid-19

Last Wednesday, June 2nd, I flew from Paris to San Francisco. From the time I got both my vaccination shots, I counted out the three weeks it would take for the vaccine to be effective and started thinking about flying overseas. Just the thought of it made me tired. It had been seventeen months since I visited Oakland where I lived before moving to Paris. I have traveled by train within France but that is as much as common sense said it was wise to do.

The first thing to do was book the flight and try to figure out all the ins and outs once I had committed to traveling. Anyone who collects airline miles knows that once you have a significant number of miles, you are held hostage by that company. Mine is United. If I can, I like to upgrade for these flights of eleven hours or longer. Sometime in Spring of 2020, United stopped direct flights San Francisco to Paris and return. So I had to book a trip that took me first to Frankfurt (flying East) in order to fly to SFO (flying West). In theory, it didn’t seem too bad. In reality, it is a lot of trouble.

The next thing was to try and get the information about what the airlines were requiring as far as certificates for vaccines and negative Covid tests. It became clear quite quickly that no one was sure and information was hard to come by. The one thing everyone agreed on was that a Negative Covid test was required within 72 hours of leaving CDG airport. I worried about how I would show I was vaccinated. As it turned out, I wasn’t asked once about being vaccinated. I was the only who cared. I had to show my negative test when I checked in and again in Frankfurt even though I never left the no-man’s land part of the airport. France is very efficient about the test. I had it done first thing Monday morning, May 31, and had the results in an e-mail Monday late afternoon. Here in California, I have made an appointment to get the test and they cannot promise that I will get the results in time. The best they say is 1-3 days. I’m so tired of worrying and having anxiety about travel that I am just saying that I will get the result in time or I won’t. Maybe I’ll have to fly out the following day.

Two days before I was about to leave, I received an e-mail from Lufthansa telling me they had changed my seat and they hoped it wasn’t causing me too much inconvenience. In reading the e-mail, I noticed that the flight was leaving from Terminal 2B. United is in Terminal 1. It is a long distance one to the other. In the US, one checks in with the airline that the reservation was made with. But I had a niggling memory that it is not the same in France. In trying to find out which Terminal to go to to check in, I learned how incredibly under staffed United and probably most airlines are. The France number for United was no longer working. Lufthansa kept me on hold for 4o minutes then hung up on me before giving me the info. I called a friend and together we decided that I should go to Terminal 2B because it was not just a flight operated by Lufthansa but also a Lufthansa plane.

So to be safe, I went as early as I could tolerate. Terminal 2B is a brand new terminal. June 2, the day I flew, was the first day it was open. There was more “help” available than there were passengers in the Terminal. It was so smooth and easy, it was dreamlike. I found an area that had comfortable armchairs and couches to wile away the time. Everyone was masked and was friendly. Much was closed and will probably open up June 9th when international travelers will be welcomed into France.

I was tired by the time I arrived in Frankfurt, too tired to get upset about much. So it seemed seamless making the trip from A13 where the first flight came in and Z25 where the United flight was to leave. I boarded and, for the first time in memory, I slept the entire way.

My last hurdle was Customs at SFO. When asked it I had any food with me, I honestly said that I had my dinner with me. I think my flight was the only flight that arrived at that time because the airport was empty. But I was escorted to Customs A whereas everyone else went through Customs B meaning they had nothing to declare. There were no cute little beagles running around sniffing luggage. Yet I was treated quite nastily about having my dinner. They threw everything out and wanted to throw out my fancy container. I begged and they made a big show of sanitizing it about six times before giving it back to me.

Then I got to leave the airport. I had arrived in California.

They only thing left to say is that it seems no one is prepared for travel to be picking up this fast. Uber has doubled in price because there aren’t enough drivers. Rental car agencies sold off much of their fleet in the past year to keep afloat and don’t have enough cars. So they, too, have upped their prices by about 40% and, what used to be a quick “pick up your car and get going”, now takes over an hour.

And that’s the story from California where the sun is shining, everything is green and beautiful, and the fires have not yet started. I had three days of jet lag and can write today keeping a focus and even have a baseball game on in the background (The A’s are losing to the Rockies in the bottom of the 5th. While proofreading, Murphy, the catcher, hit a homerun, so it is now 2-1. The A’s may yet pull it off!).

A bientĂ´t,

Sara

What is happening in Paris today?

As many of you know, (and if you love and miss Paris, you are probably paying attention), today, May 19th begins the second phase of the ‘dĂ©confinement’ that began for some establishments last October. For Parisians, the most important thing happening is that terraces will open for cafĂ©s and restaurants. The minute it was announced, I noticed chairs and tables being moved outside in preparation. Some two weeks ago. One cafĂ© that I pass every day on my walk built a new terrace. Everyone will need umbrellas. It has been raining on and off almost every day for two weeks. And it’s chilly. I’m actually getting used to this. People talk about Springtime in Paris but in the eight springtimes that I have lived here, there may be a burst of warm weather in February, March or April, but nothing permanent until early June. Then we’ll have three days of Spring and voilĂ , it will be summer with the canacules (heatwaves) just around the corner.

Preparation for May 19

Our 7pm curfew will become a 9pm curfew starting tonight. It has been tough. Unless one has an extremely urgent reason for being out on the streets after 7pm, we were to be at home. Last night, it wasn’t dark until just after 10pm. I am fortunate, I have a large lovely terrace with some wonderful plants on it. So I can be outside in nice weather. But there is something glorious about walking in Paris, along the Seine, in the evening. Especially as the lights turn on and are reflected in the water. Not that any of us have seen that scenario much in the past 15 months but we can dream! And there is the possibility that it lies in our future.

Just before 7pm during the semi-Confinement

All stores will open today. Clothing stores have been closed as have been everything considered non-essential. Hair salons are essential, nail salons are not. There will probably be a queue around the block at my nail salon. According to The Local in France, there will be strict limitations of how many people inside a store at one time so we are advised to also expect queues at popular small stores. I have received e-mails from every department store including Monoprix Hyper and Carrefour to let me know that many of my favorite things will be at a 30-40% discount. Especially linen clothing which is so popular here in the summer.

A member of staff serves a customer at a cafe in Paris on May 19, 2021, as cafes, restaurants and other businesses re-opened after closures during the coronavirus (Covid-19) pandemic. – Parisians have returned to their beloved cafe terraces and museums after a six-month Covid-forced hiatus, a glimmer of normal life resuming but India grappled with a record daily number of coronavirus deaths. (Photo by GEOFFROY VAN DER HASSELT / AFP)

Museums, theatres, and cinemas will also open today, and also be under strict guidelines of the number of people allowed inside. As was true last summer, everyone is advised to buy tickets in advance especially at popular museums. With France open to tourists of many countries starting June 6, Parisians are well advised to get to museums now while there is still a chance of not getting lost in a crowd even a small crowd.

More from the Local: “Outdoor sporting activities will again be allowed (also on the condition that they respect specific health rules). Sports stadiums can reopen with a limit of 800 spectators in indoor spaces and 1,000 in outdoor venues.

Gatherings of up to 10 people will be allowed in public spaces (up from six currently). There is no actual rule on gatherings in indoor private spaces such as homes, but the guidance is to keep groups limited to six adults.

Spas can also reopen for cures thermales â€“ spa treatments prescribed by a doctor (yes, that is a thing in France and sometimes the State will even pay for it) but not for the general public.”

A member of staff serves a customer at a cafe in Paris on May 19, 2021, as cafes, rest0rants and other businesses re-opened after closures during the coronavirus (Covid-19) pandemic. – Parisians have returned to their beloved cafe terraces and museums after a six-month Covid-forced hiatus, a glimmer of normal life resuming but India grappled with a record daily number of coronavirus deaths. (Photo by Lucas BARIOULET / AFP)

The UK opened up from lockdown Monday. Johnson has been greatly criticised for allowing flights and travel from India. Health officials are warning people to still be very cautious. France has not allowed flights from India but starting today, travel between the UK and France is opening up. So I’m guessing the same warnings would apply to us. The Indian variant of Covid is said to be very dangerous. On the other hand, health officials are saying that those who have the Phizer vaccine and the AstraZenica vaccine have had a 99% anti-body build up after 14 days and the second vaccine. That is better than advertised.

A medical worker wearing protective equipment uses a swab to do a PCR test for Covid-19 on a woman wearing a face mask in front of the city hall of Paris on August 31, 2020. (Photo by ALAIN JOCARD / AFP)

OK, and here is the very best thing for all of you thinking of traveling over here this summer. Again, according the Local.fr “France is one of the only countries to offer free PCR tests – which can cost up to €120 in Spain, ÂŁ100 in the UK and €300 in Sweden – to residents for all purposes, including travel. But now that is being extended to tourists who visit the country over the summer. The French government hopes the free testing will make the country an attractive tourist destination, and will also allow it to welcome back tourists while staying safe.  Announcing the new policy, Europe Minister ClĂ©ment Beaune told radio station Europe 1: “We need and we want to continue to be the first tourist destination in Europe and the world, in safe conditions.” https://www.thelocal.fr/20210517/france-to-offer-free-pcr-tests-to-tourists-and-visitors-this-summer/

What is still to come in this multi-phased ‘dĂ©confinement’? June 9th The curfew is pushed back further, to 11pm. Gyms reopen (with health rules and limits on the number of people allowed in at the same time). Cultural or sporting events with up to 5,000 people will be allowed, but on the condition that participants provide a health pass proving that recently tested negative for Covid-19 or have been vaccinated for the virus.

And sad news: The square in front of Cathedrale de Notre Dame has been closed due to fears of lead poisoning. The best place to glimpse the front of Notre Dame is on the bridge that is closest. However, if you want to see all of Notre Dame, where the work is happening recontructing the spire and everything that was not destroyed by the fire, it is best to walk eastward along the Quai on the left bank. You will have better and better views of the side and the back. Breathtaking views.

A bientĂ´t,

Sara

Spring arrives in Paris

On Thursday evening, Macron’s government announced on French TV, that there will be a slow lifting of all our restrictions. The 7pm curfew will probably not change for awhile, but the distance that we are allowed to travel will. We’ve been under a “no more than 10km” boundary unless there is a very good reason and one has to carry written proof of that.

Jardin du Ranelagh

The government also said that the lifting of restrictions will depend on where one lives and how rampant the virus is. Possibly in mid-May, we will have restaurants and bars open again but serving outside. Possibly sports events will return. We’ve been told that Roland Garros will definitely take place.

Walking in the Petite Ceinture near my home

The problem as I see it is: Spring is coming to Paris quickly. Now that we’ve changed our clocks, it doesn’t get dark until 9/9:30pm. Yet we have a 7pm curfew. For those who live in the countryside, it’s not as big a problem. They can eat outside, enjoy their outside gardens, and probably visit their neighbours. As a friend of mine said “They aren’t going to send a cop out here where there are ten houses to make sure we are all on our own property.” She is right.

Yesterday I went out walking and only had a light jacket on. It felt exhilarating. This past week, the NYTimes had an article in their Well Section about ‘languishing.’ It’s not a word I use much. The article written by Adam Grant, began “At first, I didn’t recognize the symptoms that we all had in common. Friends mentioned that they were having trouble concentrating. Colleagues reported that even with vaccines on the horizon, they weren’t excited about 2021. A family member was staying up late to watch “National Treasure” again even though she knows the movie by heart. And instead of bouncing out of bed at 6 a.m., I was lying there until 7, playing Words with Friends.

It wasn’t burnout — we still had energy. It wasn’t depression — we didn’t feel hopeless. We just felt somewhat joyless and aimless. It turns out there’s a name for that: languishing.” https://www.nytimes.com/2021/04/19/well/mind/covid-mental-health-languishing.html

Lilac tree in bloom in Jardin du Ranelagh

I’ve been calling it the Blahs. The most exciting thing I do is walk outside for an hour. That is not to say that I don’t love the other things I do. I love to write and write every day. I love to connect with friends and am on Zoom at least once a day. But nothing has touched the feeling of waking up in the morning and hearing the birds, not having to bundle up because it’s cold, and walking outside where the world seems brighter, full of color, warmer, and friendlier. I’m not naive enough to think this is over. I’m with those who are guessing we’ll have a respite in warmer weather and, in the Fall, things will probably get worse. If not earlier. As I write, there is real terror in India as the virus skyrockets. The EU has announced that Americans can visit all countries in Europe this summer. Can they guarantee that no form of the Indian virus will arrive with the tourists? I’m hoping governments are planning on the fact that we will all need booster shots and they will be providing enough vaccines once again.

Store on Av. Mozart selling chairs for enjoying Spring weather on the terrace

With my exhilaration came recurring thoughts of visiting California where I lived before moving to Paris. I still own a home in Oakland. I miss my home. I built it after I lost my home in the 1991 Oakland FireStorm back when devastating fires didn’t happen three or four times a year. I tell anyone who asks that if I could have that home in France, I’d be in heaven. Thoughts of getting on a plane and flying eleven hours to San Francisco–I’m tired already. What does it mean? There are so many things to find out. How do I get back into France, what do I need? What will I do with Bijou? Take her with me or have her stay with a friend or have a friend stay here? I stop daydreaming at about that point. It all seems too complicated. If it weren’t for my friend Barbara, I would probably still be trying to figure out how to get vaccinated.

Bijou enjoying Spring and new buds on my terrace in the 16th

So I think I’ll spend a week or two just enjoying Springtime in Paris! Do my best to not worry about the things I can’t control. The Dalai Lama once said; “If a problem is fixable, if a situation is such that you can do something about it, then there is no need to worry. If it’s not fixable, then there is no help in worrying. There is no benefit in worrying whatsoever.” And maybe, some of you will have some suggestions for me. They say many heads think better than one (well, that’s not quite what they say but, hey, whatever works).

Spring on the Champs de Mars
The epitome of Paris

A bientĂ´t,

Sara

Musings on month thirteen of Covid-19 and the Pandemic

I belong to a writing group of women. Most of the group reside in the United States. Four of us live in different parts of Europe. For the past year, people have often written intimately and eloquently about dealing with issues of Covid-19, Lockdown, their fears and their responses to the situation in each of our countries. I read my peers’ thoughts about Covid being politicised in the US with sympathy and empathy. From everything I read, we had it much better here in France.

Now the tables have completely turned. Here in Paris, we are in our third week of a six week third lockdown. Even schools have been closed. Non-essential stores are shut – although the definition of essential has broadened to include bookstores and hair salons. The US members of my writing group are sharing their hopes and fears as they move more into feeling some kind of end to this scary time in our lives. One talked about being so excited about a trip to see a daughter, others have written about eating in restaurants. People are going to baseball games. When one member shared that she was going to have a manicure later in the day, I felt like she and I were living in two different universes.

I have been fortunate in that I’ve been able to travel within France but it was not to visit or to vacation. It was to go somewhere that I felt safer from the virus. Since January, the cases here in Paris have been skyrocketing. Yesterday, hospitals were at 150.5% capacity. There were 153 new ICU cases just in ĂŽle de France. I was very fortunate to have gotten my first vaccination mid-March. I will get my second one this Monday. France is finally getting its act together and the vaccination program is charging full force ahead. As of today, over 10 million people have been vaccinated. That is 1/8th of the country. I suspect that in six months, we will all be needing a booster shot. Over a week ago, all of France joined Paris in the third lockdown. The curfew is still at 7pm-6am with hefty fines if one is out and cannot produce a valid attestation for why one isn’t at home. During the day, we can exercise, go grocery shopping, or go to the Library without an attestation.

When I read my friends’ writings, I get this sense of the world opening up for them, hope of a new way of life emerging, a sense of the worst being behind them. Whereas, I feel much more negative, that masks and social distancing, and fear of the virus and its variants will be with us for a long time to come. If I want to go out, I think very carefully about how important is it? I have friends who feel much freer to leave home and come into Paris and visit with friends so many don’t feel the way I do. But I think most of us do know we are in a very different place than the United States.

I read the New York Times and the Guardian every morning. CDC experts in both countries are warning people not to get too lackadaisical about all the safety measures that have been in place for thirteen months. The Travel section in the Times today reported that more people in the US were doing domestic travel but that cases of the virus were on the upswing also. And I noticed, that for me, it is easier to stay prudent when the weather is grey, cold, and rainy as it is today. Thursday, when the sun was out and it was warm, anyone traveling through Paris would not have believed we were in Confinement.

This is not leading to any conclusion. Everyone seems to have differing opinions of what is happening, where we are in the life of this particular pandemic. I would love to know how others are feeling about whatever is happening in their country and whether you are contrasting it to any other country.

Stay connected, stay safe and, for goodness sake, stay healthy!

A bientĂ´t,

Sara

Locked Down Again (a re-blog from my friend, Janet Hulstrand)

Janet writes a wonderful blog called Writing from the Heart. This blog spoke to me and for me. I wanted to share with you. The word ‘lassitude’ has now made it into my english vocabulary.

Reminders about “les gestes barrieres” in a train station

I had to look up the word “lassitude” this week. It is a word (in French) that is being spoken a lot recently. We have the same word in English, but it is one of those words we don’t use very often, so I had to look it up even in English. It means weariness. 

Weariness is of course not quite the same thing as being tired. Being tired is something that can be cured by a nap, or perhaps a good night’s sleep. Weariness, on the other hand, suggests a fatigue born of an extended period of being tired of, or because of, something, something that wears down not only one’s level of energy, but also motivation, spirit, enthusiasm, and certainly joie de vivre. 

And that is what we have here in France right now. Lassitude as we go into Year 2 of the Covid 19 pandemic.

There has been a lot of complaining this week, especially since, given concerning increases in the number of infections, especially in certain parts of France, and even more because, given frankly almost alarming reports of the increasing pressures on the hospitals in those regions, the government–some would sayfinally, others would say ridiculously–has imposed another set of restrictions. 

This time only 16 departments of France (including Paris and the surrounding region, and also Lille, Nice, and their surrounding regions) are included. The theme of the lockdown this time is freiner sans fermer, which means “put the brakes on without closing down.” This has meant a rather complicated (and controversial) set of rules about what kinds of enterprises can stay open (bookstores, florists, hairdressers, bakeries OF COURSE) and which kind cannot (large-surface stores, museums, theaters, restaurants and cafes). 

It’s been a terribly long time for some sectors of the economy, most notably restaurants and cafes, museums, theaters, and so on. It’s heartbreaking to hear restaurateurs in particular talk about their anxiety, about how they can possibly manage not to go out of business altogether, these people who in normal times provide all of us with such a wonderful service. (The word “restaurant” after all, comes from the French word restaurer (to restore). Think about that!) Managing a restaurant, it has always seemed to me, must be one of the hardest ways to make a living. How will they get through this? 

The answers to these questions are not clear to me. In the beginning of the crisis, a year ago, one of the things that was most impressive and comforting to me about Macron’s address to the nation was the stress he placed on how the government intended to do everything it could to not only deal with the crise sanitaire (the health crisis) but also the economic consequences of having to shut so much of the economy down. Has this government kept those promises? I’m not too sure about that, but much of what I hear on French TV and radio suggests that whatever is being done is too little too late, or maybe in some cases not at all. 

Some businesses have been spared the shutdown this time–bookshops, hairdressers, florists and of course bakeries and other food shops. The despised attestations that everyone was required to carry in the previous two lockdowns every time they left their homes is not required this time for people going out during the day and staying within the 10 kilometer limits of the restriction. And there is no time limit on how long you can be outside this time, for which everyone is grateful. 

As I mentioned in my last post, I think it’s important for everyone to keep in mind for whom this year-long crisis is the most difficult, and calibrate our personal annoyance and lassitude with the situation accordingly. Of course everyone has had it with this crisis. (In French, the phrase is “on en a marre.”) But really, we do not all have an equal right to “having had it”: the health care workers who were being cheered in the streets as they made their weary way home after difficult days of saving lives a year ago are not being cheered anymore. Instead they are having to work just as hard (or harder) than they did a year ago with what must be an overwhelming sense of fatigue and pessimism about whether this extended trial will ever end. They are the ones who have the greatest right to being sick of it all. We have to just hope that they don’t throw in the towel, and be extremely grateful that most of them are not doing so. We need them! 

I also would like to say something that I am pretty sure is going to be somewhat controversial, perhaps even downright unpopular. But I think it needs to be said. And that is that the amount of intense criticism that the government here in France is subject to is, I believe, somewhat unfair.

This is not to say that I do not agree with the thousands (millions?) of people who feel that the Macron government has bungled the managing of this crisis. What seemed to be a strong start in the beginning of the crisis is not as admirable by now, a year in. There are many reasons for this, some the fault of the government, and of Macron himself; but many of them are no one’s fault, really.

The problem is that this is so far, a very difficult crisis to manage. It may even be, to some extent, more or less impossible. One doesn’t have to look very far, all around in Europe in fact, to see that it is certainly not just Emmanuel Macron who is having a hard time figuring out what to do to keep his people safe, and prevent the economy from completely crashing.

This is a new disease, and new problems keep cropping up: shortages of the vaccines that almost miraculously have been able to be developed on such a short timeline; new variants of the disease cropping up all over the place in a most dismaying way. Europe is also struggling with trying to figure out how to function as a “union” rather than just a set of separate political entities that exist geographically adjacent to each other. It’s not easy (take a look at the United States to see how just how not-easy “forming a perfect union” can be, and how long it takes…)

So, while I do believe there’s been a lot of bungling in France since the fall. And while I personally believe that that is mainly because the government did not continue to listen to doctors as carefully as they should have, and did, in the beginning of the crisis. Where we are now was fairly predictable and probably could have been avoided by earlier, more aggressive governmental action. And by listening to the doctors, many of whom said “partial measures do not work.” 

But I cannot help but think about what it must be like to be Emmanuel Macron, or Jean Castex, or Olivier VĂ©ran, the French minister of health, these days. I think we should all remember that these too are human beings, flawed like all human beings. They have probably made some big mistakes. But who among us would want to have the heavy burden of the responsibility that is on their shoulders? Who would want to have to keep guessing, or betting, or hoping rather than being able to plan in a way that was predictably fail-proof? Who would want to be any one of them trying to figure out what to do, trying to go to sleep at night, looking in the mirror and asking oneself if what they are doing is the right and best thing?

When I hear these people being criticized so strongly, I can’t help but think about their humanity, and how tired (and frightened) they must be as they struggle to keep up with this monstrous, protean virus. 

The thing I think should be remembered is this: these are people who care and care deeply. We all saw the dreadful reality of a powerful leader of a nation who really did not care about the fact that hundreds of thousands of his citizens were dying, and who made things much worse, not better. (And his comment? “I take no responsibility,” and “It is what it is…”)

France is not in the hands of such people. I think they’re doing their best, or at least they’ve been trying to. 

If we are going to blame anyone for this crisis, I suggest we look to the billionaires of the world, who apparently have been becoming even more obscenely wealthy, as the poorest of the poor bear the brunt of this crisis. It seems to me that the one thing that should be being done, and is not, is those very billionaires stepping up, and emptying their over-full pockets. Why couldn’t they do so? Why couldn’t they help the government by dumping some of their wealth in those places that need help the most? I don’t see any reason why they couldn’t. 

Do you? 

Janet Hulstrand is a writer, editor, writing coach, and teacher of writing and of literature who divides her time between the U.S. and France. She is the author of Demystifying the French: How to Love Them, and Make Them Love You, and is currently working on her next book, a literary memoir entitled “A Long Way from Iowa.”

Vaccinating in French

Saturdays are a day when I write. I join an on-line community that writes together. No prompts, no class, just a leader and many writers. It is structured: we tell the group our intention for the next six hours (which can include a meal, a walk and whatever one needs to do in between timed writing spaces. Of course we don’t need to say that!), then check in twice to tell each other our progress and, then we meet for a final time six hours after starting. I love it. It has made writing a constant source of both discipline and fun for me.

Last Saturday, I wrote a blog, reached the number of words I had given as my intention, and took myself out for a three-mile walk. When I returned, there was an e-mail from my friend, Barbara, telling me she had just made an appointment to get her first vaccine. She wrote exactly what site to go on to make the appointment. The centre is outside the peripherique and my first thought is always “how am I going to get there without a car?” For once, I decided to tackle that later, went on line, went through all the instructions, and finished three minutes later with a first and a second appointment. I was ecstatic. I had just written in the blog that no one knew what was going on with vaccinations. I looked up directions and saw that it was easy. Take the #1 metro and get off two stops before Vincennes and walk five minutes. Easy Peasy. I called Barbara and left a gushy message of gratitude on her voice mail. When she called back, she told me it was the Phizer vaccine. I hadn’t even looked assuming it was AstraZeneca because we’d been told that was all France had. I was even more grateful. I would have taken whatever was available but, given the choice, I didn’t want AstraZenica. Too many problems. As it turns out, France and Germany have temporarily suspended AstraZenica until they can solve these issues.

That was Saturday around 4:30pm. My first appointment was for Monday, two days later. We’ve all heard tales of appointments being cancelled so when I proof read my blog on Sunday, I decided not to write anything about vaccinations other than to say it was no longer true that we knew nothing, that I’d gotten an appointment and more would follow.

Sunday came and went and then it was Monday morning. Barbara’s appointment was earlier than mine. I hadn’t even left my apartment when she texted me to tell me that she was in and out in about twenty minutes. I live in the 16ème, about two blocks from the Bois de Boulogne. Paris is sandwiched in between two wonderful parks. The Bois de Boulogne is the smaller of the two and is the very west of Paris just after the peripherique. The Bois de Vincennes is at the east of Paris just beyond the peripherique on that side. Saint-MandĂ©, where I was receiving my vaccine is located just as Bois de Vincennes starts. In other words, it is as far away from the 16th as one can get. Yet, because of the transportation system here, it is about a 50 minute straight shot with only one change of metro. And this is at a time when they say, transportation is not running at 100%. I put on my earbuds, turned on my audio of The Red Lotus by Chris Bohjalian (a fascinating thriller), and headed for the metro.

Waiting in line to get into the Vaccination Centre

I got off at Saint-MandĂ©. Barbara had instructed that I look for exit #4 and I’d be as close as four minutes walk. When I emerge from the depths of the metro stations into a part of Paris I don’t know, my first response is to find a way to orient myself–I hate feeling lost. I couldn’t figure out whether to walk straight or turn around and walk the opposite direction. I saw that I had three choices. They say third time is a charm! Four minutes and a budding anxiety attack later, I looked down an alley and saw a line of people. I walked to the building. Six people, my age, crowded around the front door. They made sure that I didn’t get close to the front door, that I understood there was a queue, and I was at the end of it. Really!! This “me first” attitude never goes away no matter how old we get? Then I realized the obvious. Everyone has been anxious about getting the vaccine especially people over 65 of age. Everyone is scared something will happen and their appointment will be cancelled. Barbara told me a story of a woman in line while she was waiting to get inside the building. The woman didn’t have an appointment but was hoping that, since she there, they would let her in. They wouldn’t. Barbara said she was practically in tears as she turned to go away. We all do and often say things when we are anxious and scared that we’d never say or do in calmer moments.

The waiting room once Inside the Vaccination Centre

As it turned out, the queue didn’t make much difference. The time of one’s appointment did. A man stuck his head out the door after I’d been waiting about five minutes and called my name as well as two others. I went inside. He handed me a questionnaire to fill out. I told him I’d already downloaded it and filled it out so he told me to take a seat in the waiting room. Once inside, people’s kinder sides emerged. There were a number of handicapped older people, some who could barely walk, arriving with a caretaker. People made sure both had chairs to sit on. Their names seemed to be called first to go to the next station. When my name was called I was shown a seat in front of a huge Plexiglas window. The woman behind it asked for my questionnaire. She looked at it, made a few notes, then directed me on. Behind a screen, I was shown a seat where I got my shot. This person took my questionnaire and handed me another one which she said to bring to my second appointment. Did I know when that was? I sure did. Down to the minute and seconds.

The Salle d’Attente where we were to sit for 10-15 minutes just to make sure we didn’t have an allergic reaction.

She pointed to a door and told me to go into the large room and sit. First, I had an “exit” review. I was asked a number of questions and then given my certificate of first vaccine. I am to bring that to my next appointment along with #2 questionnaire. I looked at my watch. About fifteen minutes had passed since I first arrived at the Centre. I found a chair and sat for twelve minutes. I assumed we were monitoring ourselves so I just stood up and left. As I walked out the exit door, it seemed so quiet, the air so ordinary. I thought there should be drum rolls and celebratory music. I’d been hoping and praying for this since mid-December. I had accepted that I might have to wait until May or during the summer sometime. But no, it was the third week in March and my second appointment was exactly four weeks later. We were all told that the vaccine didn’t really kick in to full effectiveness until two weeks after that: April 26th. Could I really plan some travel? Whoa, hold your horses, Sara. One thing at a time.

I went home again listening to my wonderful book. My arm was quite sore for about thirty-six hours and I felt fatigued. And that’s it. Done and dusted! Like everything else, the waiting is far worse than the event itself.

Official poster for Nomadland

While feeling fatigued, I treated myself to watching Nomadland on Hulu. I knew very little about the film. The director had won a Golden Globe, the film was Best Picture in the Drama category, and it has been nominated in the Best Film category for the Academy Awards. (This year, it’s actually possible to see most of the nominated movies before the event itself.) And best of all, as far as I was concerned, it starred Frances McDormand. I didn’t need to know more information than that. I have been huge fan of hers since the film Fargo was released. I’m not going to write a review of Nomandland. There are plenty available. I will say I was completely mesmerised. It’s rare to see an American film that is so beautiful, has so little action, and is completely dependent on the craftsmanship of a superb actor. I highly recommend finding a way to see it.

But this is fantastic!

A bientĂ´t,

Sara

The Pandemic and Depression

Last week, I was speaking to a friend in the US. She confessed how depressed she has been this winter and that, for the first time in many years, her doctor raised the dosage of her anti-depressant medication. In her discussion with him, he told her that therapists/psychologists/psychiatrists of every type are extremely concerned about the soaring rates of depression and anxiety during this Winter of Covid-19. I had read in the Guardian that it was one year since Tom Hanks and his wife, Rita Wilson, had been diagnosed with Covid-19; that because he is who he is–a much loved and admired actor, their illness made it real for everyone, brought the reality home to the world that we were at war with a killer disease.

In the US, there was so much distraction due to the way the Trump administration wasn’t handling the crisis, and it quickly became so political that the dangers often seemed lost in the conversation. Over here in Europe, the plight of Italy set a bar for how bad things could get quickly and, at first, the rest of Europe looked efficient.

Yet, the reality was no one, politicians and lay persons alike, knew what we were were dealing with. The CDC would make its best guess but Trump was denigrating the experts so often, it was hard to follow. People like me looked back in history as to how and what coronaviruses did. I thought I knew a lot. Even though I predicted many things that came true, there is no way that history can really express what it is like living through something like this minute by minute, day by day, hoping for a light at the end of the tunnel, only to learn of more deadly variants of the virus evolving even as vaccines were made available at record speed. The impact on mental health around the world has been devastating. Millions of deaths, job losses, the lack of human touch, the lockdowns and the anger at governments has created a mental health crisis that may take years to overcome even when the virus passes.

“More than 42% of people surveyed by the US Census Bureau in December reported symptoms of anxiety and depression. That is an increase of 11% from the previous December.” –Nature.com If this is a good cross-section of the US, it means that almost half the population was suffering from mental upset and imbalance.

Limited social interactions leave people distressed. Scientists don’t really know if lockdowns and restrictions on social interaction reduce or exacerbate mental health stress. For me, living in France and trusting Macron and his administration, I felt safe with the chosen preventions. I didn’t even go outside at first, but finally was persuaded by a friend in Germany to walk when I could. Since then, early May 2020, I have walked 2-5 miles a day outside and watched four seasons come and go. I, personally, didn’t feel much anxiety or depression until early January. I spend so much of my life in front of a computer and that didn’t change. But I did get hopes up about getting vaccinated and when the realisation that France was falling behind the US and the UK in vaccinations, my energy holding me together ran out. It didn’t feel like something I could control. I could just feel myself collapse in on myself and the world went blah. That’s when I called my friends in Brittany and asked if I could come out for a visit. I hadn’t intended on staying for over five weeks but, I felt so safe. No Covid on the CĂ´te de Granit Rose. I felt I could breathe again. I had my cat, Bijou, with me and lots of space. For at least 2.5 weeks out of the five, I was alone in the large house with a large kitchen and a view of the sea from almost every window. When the sun shone, it shone with light sparkles popping in the air. The sea would change from deep blues to turquoise. Even low tide with sailboats helplessly lying on the wet dirt looked beautiful to me. OK, getting vaccinated in France was not what it should be or what I wanted, and it was a good possibility I would have to wait another four to six months but there was no virus so it all felt ok.

Now I’m home in Paris. Time being the strange thing that it is, Brittany is already a memory, a wonderful dream. They say that the virus is rising in Paris and no one agrees on vaccines. Are they here? how to get an appointment? (Since writing this, I have made an appointment for a first jab! If it actually happens, I will tell more about it.) But all depression and anxiety is gone. Paris is still beautiful even though I only see a small part of it. There are more people on my block than I saw in all of Perros last month. Most are still wearing masks. I will move far away when I see someone without a mask. It only made me unhappy to rant inside at the person who didn’t wear their mask. And best of all, none of my plants died while I was away and my iPhone says sun next week.

Under the circumstances, life looks pretty good from my perspective. So how to help my friends who don’t have a Brittany to run away to when the blues grab them by the throat. How to remind them that “This too shall pass”. It always does. But depression is a tricky monster. It doesn’t just go away because, in your mind, you know things will get better. It’s an awful disease. My friend who confessed her depression to me also got Covid this winter. She is well and she has been vaccinated, two jabs. But I wonder now about the after effects of the virus. She had it quite seriously. She wasn’t hospitalised but she couldn’t get out of bed or eat for days.

There is still so much to learn as we enter our second year of Life with a Virus. How have others weathered this storm? If you feel comfortable doing so, please let us know in the comments section. Even though we must socially distance, it is important to know we aren’t alone in what we feel, in what we experience. So please share the good and the bad.

A bientĂ´t,

Sara

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