The Come-Back, Day 17. Shopping in New Times.
Yesterday was time to start going afield. I went to the mall As Cancelas in Santiago, and my daughter went to the beach.
It was hot, but the wind tamped down the temperature. I drove with my windows open, mask lying on the seat beside me. Traffic was light, even in Santiago around construction work they're doing on one of the major streets. The diversion cones had been put down back in mid-March, and not much work seems to have gotten done.
In As Cancelas underground parking lot, I found a spot right near the entrance. Normally, I have to wander around, looking for a nice spot without going down to the end. It was almost four thirty, but there were less cars than usual for that hour.
I got out and put on my mask. My glasses promptly started falling off. Either the mask fogs the glasses, or it causes them to slide down my nose because of the elastic on the ears. Twenty twenty vision has something to say for it in times like these.
The entrance has two automatic sliding doors. Now, they were partitioned. One to enter, and one to exit. A woman was standing at the entrance door. She looked at me as I entered and didn't say anything. But, later, when I left, she stopped a man who was wearing a motorcycle helmet and told him that he couldn't enter without a mask. He started complaining and checking gear to find it. The rules are strict. No mask, no shopping.
Upstairs, there were footprints pasted on the floor, trying to make people head in one direction or the other, depending on the side. Not many were paying attention, though. There weren't many people. While on a Tuesday afternoon the place isn't usually crowded, there were even less people than usual. Not all the stores were open, either. Those that were, had signs next to the entrance, mentioning the permitted number of people allowed at any one time. Each store also partitioned their thresholds into entrances and exits, and placed hand sanitizer next to the entrance.
Inside the stores, there were lines taped on the floor, especially at the check out counters, to make sure people stayed away from each other. One good thing about this situation is that I don't have to grit my teeth when an elderly (or not so elderly) woman stands right against my back in line, sometimes twisting whatever she has in her hands, and thereby pushing me forward. Lady, you won't make the shop assistant go any faster by trying to go through me. When that happens, I tend to hold my distance from the person in front of me. It drives the pusher wild.
I picked up the t-shirts my husband wanted in less than five minutes. I went upstairs to the Sketchers store and found that the spring sneakers I had seen in February were still there, and on sale. They were still a bit expensive for me, but I bought them. They're colorful and I can't find color on shoes anywhere else, and I'll make them last this year, next year, and possibly the next.
I got the kitty litter I went to get in the first place, at the pet shop, and stopped for a couple of items in the Carrefour. There were few people here, too. Being a supermarket, it was open during the lockdown, only the various different departments were roped off. Only the regular supermarket could be entered then. Each cashier had a plastic shield in front of them, and, with a white chalk marker, they had uplifting phrases written on them. "Sobrevivireeee! De esta saldremos." (I will survive! We'll get out of this one.), and other similar sentiments.
I didn't linger in the mall, but went down to my car and thankfully unhooked the mask from my ears. What a relief! If anything, wearing a mask will keep my shopping down. I feel sorry for those workers who must wear one all day, every day.
After I arrived home, I went to pick up my daughter at the beach, where she had gone with two close friends. It really wasn't a beach day, despite the heat. The wind was swirling the sand, and the water was as cold as a basin of water filled with a tray of ice cubes. People were separated on the beach in small groups of friends. My daughter said the local police patrolled by from time to time, to check on the crowding. But this is a small town, and the tourists haven't arrived, yet. At Samil, Vigo's excellent urban beach, it was as crowded as it generally is on a regular summer's day, according to the news.
People are starting to be lax. In other parts of Spain, localized focii of contagion have cropped up, including a birthday party with twenty people celebrating (maximum was ten). All twenty became infected. This is how it's going to be from now on, relaxation of rules, people getting carried away, thinking it's all fine again, and contagion. This time, though, the health service is on the lookout, and maybe, just maybe, this can be brought under control.
Life continues.
It was hot, but the wind tamped down the temperature. I drove with my windows open, mask lying on the seat beside me. Traffic was light, even in Santiago around construction work they're doing on one of the major streets. The diversion cones had been put down back in mid-March, and not much work seems to have gotten done.
In As Cancelas underground parking lot, I found a spot right near the entrance. Normally, I have to wander around, looking for a nice spot without going down to the end. It was almost four thirty, but there were less cars than usual for that hour.
I got out and put on my mask. My glasses promptly started falling off. Either the mask fogs the glasses, or it causes them to slide down my nose because of the elastic on the ears. Twenty twenty vision has something to say for it in times like these.
The entrance has two automatic sliding doors. Now, they were partitioned. One to enter, and one to exit. A woman was standing at the entrance door. She looked at me as I entered and didn't say anything. But, later, when I left, she stopped a man who was wearing a motorcycle helmet and told him that he couldn't enter without a mask. He started complaining and checking gear to find it. The rules are strict. No mask, no shopping.
Upstairs, there were footprints pasted on the floor, trying to make people head in one direction or the other, depending on the side. Not many were paying attention, though. There weren't many people. While on a Tuesday afternoon the place isn't usually crowded, there were even less people than usual. Not all the stores were open, either. Those that were, had signs next to the entrance, mentioning the permitted number of people allowed at any one time. Each store also partitioned their thresholds into entrances and exits, and placed hand sanitizer next to the entrance.
Inside the stores, there were lines taped on the floor, especially at the check out counters, to make sure people stayed away from each other. One good thing about this situation is that I don't have to grit my teeth when an elderly (or not so elderly) woman stands right against my back in line, sometimes twisting whatever she has in her hands, and thereby pushing me forward. Lady, you won't make the shop assistant go any faster by trying to go through me. When that happens, I tend to hold my distance from the person in front of me. It drives the pusher wild.
I picked up the t-shirts my husband wanted in less than five minutes. I went upstairs to the Sketchers store and found that the spring sneakers I had seen in February were still there, and on sale. They were still a bit expensive for me, but I bought them. They're colorful and I can't find color on shoes anywhere else, and I'll make them last this year, next year, and possibly the next.
I got the kitty litter I went to get in the first place, at the pet shop, and stopped for a couple of items in the Carrefour. There were few people here, too. Being a supermarket, it was open during the lockdown, only the various different departments were roped off. Only the regular supermarket could be entered then. Each cashier had a plastic shield in front of them, and, with a white chalk marker, they had uplifting phrases written on them. "Sobrevivireeee! De esta saldremos." (I will survive! We'll get out of this one.), and other similar sentiments.
I didn't linger in the mall, but went down to my car and thankfully unhooked the mask from my ears. What a relief! If anything, wearing a mask will keep my shopping down. I feel sorry for those workers who must wear one all day, every day.
After I arrived home, I went to pick up my daughter at the beach, where she had gone with two close friends. It really wasn't a beach day, despite the heat. The wind was swirling the sand, and the water was as cold as a basin of water filled with a tray of ice cubes. People were separated on the beach in small groups of friends. My daughter said the local police patrolled by from time to time, to check on the crowding. But this is a small town, and the tourists haven't arrived, yet. At Samil, Vigo's excellent urban beach, it was as crowded as it generally is on a regular summer's day, according to the news.
People are starting to be lax. In other parts of Spain, localized focii of contagion have cropped up, including a birthday party with twenty people celebrating (maximum was ten). All twenty became infected. This is how it's going to be from now on, relaxation of rules, people getting carried away, thinking it's all fine again, and contagion. This time, though, the health service is on the lookout, and maybe, just maybe, this can be brought under control.
Life continues.
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