Quarantine | ˈkwôrənˌtēn |
Origin— mid 17th century: from Italian quarantina ‘forty days’, from quaranta ‘forty’.
Each evening at dinner time we step out onto our balcony to applaud our essential workers. The act feels misdirected at times, as if we are applauding our neighbors — or even ourselves. But it does, for me, represent a collective pick-me-up.
We’ve been doing this for 31 days. The latest extension by the French government will keep us in ”lockdown” until 11 May. That’ll be 55 days in a fortnight plus 10.
During the cinquantacinqine… the double nickel.
In normal times, our Paris street is quite busy. The rue d’Amsterdam connects the Place de Clichy with the Gare Saint-Lazare, the 2nd busiest train station in Paris. It’s a short one-way street with only 2 lanes (one reserved for buses and taxis) and it is an important route for moving people into the commercial center of the city. Hosting multiple traffic jams daily, it is also rather loud. (This is a noise map of Paris.)
Now in coronavirus time, it’s so quiet that the noise of our building ventilation fans dominates. This white noise is punctuated by sirens and the occasional overly loud moped.
At street level, pedestrians still dodge each other but more so now to maintain physical separation. We now have joggers. Ordinarily, there’s very little space for running, as the oft-crowded sidewalks compete with roadway in the narrow overall width between blocks.
The street includes a mix of residential and office space with ground floor commerce. From our view, offices dominate — all are currently shuttered. Many apartments are also empty. A large number of residents left Paris for remote family homes upon hearing of the lockdown.
When we step out at 8 PM to applaud, we are not enveloped in sound. Instead, we hear a smattering of claps and some banging pans. We look around for the faces which have become familiar. We say hellos and goodbyes to those closest, 15 meters across the width of the street. We can see folks down the hill — sometimes more, sometimes fewer.
We’ve assigned not-clever pseudonyms: the old man, the baby, the couple. We have learned from our neighbor en face that our 5th floor neighbors are reliable participants. We can not see them. On any given night, we might see a dozen people. It’s not a lot when considering the breadth of the view (seen here on Flickr.) If a regular does not appear, we wonder aloud: is the old man okay? We shout in the direction of a balcony 100 meters away, “Where’s the baby?” — never do we expect a reply nor change in the routine.
Until now.
A little backstory…
I was seeing a physical therapist last year — in April, as it happens. (Shameless plug alert: he’s Paul Beurskens of Kiné 26 Raspail. And yes, I would recommend him.)
With little to do while he worked my ankle but stare at the ceiling, I would ask him about life and traditions in the Netherlands, his homeland. He would quiz me about the United States. We would talk often about vacation. We were traveling to Corsica around that time; Paul goes there every year. We’d air the typical expat grievances about life in Paris.
One day, he mentioned that good friends of his are moving to our street.
Recalling details of the apartment’s description now, I realized that must be their baby. I emailed Paul our query, “Where’s the baby?” et voilà!
The next day, with Carole (mother) holding Fleur (baby) and the trio looking our way, Cédric (father) popped back inside to fetch a long-lens camera, photographing us from their vantage point. I returned the favor with a long lens a day later — and a really long lens 2 days after that. With Paul as our intermediary, we exchanged family photos.
Physical separation ruled the day but, memorably, social distancing was bridged.
—April 2020
Neighbors at 100 meters. Fleur, their “fresh flower” looks great in pink. Image taken with a Fujifilm X-T3 at a 35mm equivalent zoom of 210mm.
We’re not as clearly captured as the 5th floor neighbors but that’s us on the 7th floor. The delicate metal arm up and to the right, against the sky near the row of 6 chimneys, is our rooftop shower, seen here on Instagram.
Fleur, Carole, & Cédric. Image taken with a Fujifilm X-T3 at a 35mm equivalent zoom of 600mm.