The Come-Back, Day 2. Of Gas and Travels.
Yesterday was the big day. We were being let further out of our cages. It coincided with an appointment my mother-in-law had at the hospital in Santiago. She had not been sure during these months leading up to it if she would be able to go, but she got a phone call a couple of days before, telling her that it was still on, and she should wear a mask and gloves.
It was an evening appointment, very rare, and meant for people whose diagnosis is more urgent. In her case, urgency was required when the appointment was made because of pain that made walking a torment. Since then, the pain has gone away, but the knee problem remains, with a return of the pain lurking in the shadows.
The norms in this Phase One are that a driver can take people that don't live with them, but in the back seat and with a maximum of two people. Also, both driver and passengers must wear masks.
So, we drove like this to Santiago. I let my mask down around my chin to be able to breathe without fogging my glasses, and looked around me along the route. Everything was more or less the same as the last time I had travelled it, with the exception that spring had made an appearance. It was good to see the familiar houses and land. The first sight that had me gaping were the prices at the gas stations we passed.
Back in March, I put in twenty euros of diesel the week after quarantine was announced because the tank hit the reserve. Twenty euros at that time gave me just a tad over a half tank. I haven't had to put any more diesel in because I haven't been going more than six or eight kilometers away from home, and that, only once or twice a week. When we set out yesterday, the gauge needle was between the one quarter and the half tank mark. I decided to fill the tank completely at a cheap gas station I know in Santiago. For those of you in the area, it's the one at the top of the road that leads down to the fairgrounds at Amio.
Along the way, prices ranged from 0.98 cents a liter to €1.04. Just two months ago, prices were around €1.22 a liter. At the gas station I finally went to in Santiago, I paid 0.90 cents. To fill the tank with a little over twenty-seven liters of diesel, I paid €25. My husband says to buy a couple of containers and fill them with diesel while the price stays low. We have two diesel cars and a tractor, and it wouldn't be a bad idea. The last time prices were this cheap was around fifteen years ago.
I had also expected to see a few police controls along the way, but there was nothing until we got right to the city limits of Santiago, just before the hospital. The Policía Nacional had set up a roadblock and were checking cars one by one, both coming and going. Since there wasn't that much traffic, it didn't take too long to pass through. As soon as I saw the vans, I pulled up my mask. The officer looked laconically inside at me and my mother-in-law, and waved us through. We were complying.
At the hospital, there were very few people because the bustling moment is in the morning. There were new plastic barriers in places they hadn't existed before. Everyone was wearing a mask inside, though outside it was optional. I kept mine down until we went in and stayed away from other people, giving everyone a wide berth. I was grateful the appointment was in the afternoon; it was much easier to stay away from people.
We were quickly done, and then we went to my daughter's street, where we parked and I called her to step outside. Finally, we talked face to face after two months. Her hair has grown, but she looks the same as ever. We shot the breeze with the interruption of a few stray alley cats the neighbors feed. Today, I will probably go to bring her home, at least for a couple of weeks, depending on when she has to return to pick up driving lessons where she left off. (No, she hasn't gotten her license yet. She doesn't seem to be her parent's daughter in that aspect.) Her coming home means I should do some cleaning, otherwise she will berate me just like my mother used to do.
I will not bake, however, because I would need to replace my oven to do that, and that's not going to happen soon. So, I will not do like this woman, explaining how to stretch out dough and enacting a scene something like the Three Stooges would do. At the end, we can hear her saying, "Me salió mal." (It turned out wrong.) Yes, it did!
Ele has extended the song she sang for a bank commercial last month by a verse, and played it on YouTube. She continues the line, and sings of how money uses us and can be used by us. Her voice and the melody are haunting, and I will always connect this song to these times in our collective history, not the bank (banks aren't my favorite businesses and never will be). Unfortunately, it's not subtitled, and the automatic translation to English is as garbled as Google Translate can make it. But the voice is beautiful.
Life continues.
It was an evening appointment, very rare, and meant for people whose diagnosis is more urgent. In her case, urgency was required when the appointment was made because of pain that made walking a torment. Since then, the pain has gone away, but the knee problem remains, with a return of the pain lurking in the shadows.
The norms in this Phase One are that a driver can take people that don't live with them, but in the back seat and with a maximum of two people. Also, both driver and passengers must wear masks.
So, we drove like this to Santiago. I let my mask down around my chin to be able to breathe without fogging my glasses, and looked around me along the route. Everything was more or less the same as the last time I had travelled it, with the exception that spring had made an appearance. It was good to see the familiar houses and land. The first sight that had me gaping were the prices at the gas stations we passed.
Back in March, I put in twenty euros of diesel the week after quarantine was announced because the tank hit the reserve. Twenty euros at that time gave me just a tad over a half tank. I haven't had to put any more diesel in because I haven't been going more than six or eight kilometers away from home, and that, only once or twice a week. When we set out yesterday, the gauge needle was between the one quarter and the half tank mark. I decided to fill the tank completely at a cheap gas station I know in Santiago. For those of you in the area, it's the one at the top of the road that leads down to the fairgrounds at Amio.
Along the way, prices ranged from 0.98 cents a liter to €1.04. Just two months ago, prices were around €1.22 a liter. At the gas station I finally went to in Santiago, I paid 0.90 cents. To fill the tank with a little over twenty-seven liters of diesel, I paid €25. My husband says to buy a couple of containers and fill them with diesel while the price stays low. We have two diesel cars and a tractor, and it wouldn't be a bad idea. The last time prices were this cheap was around fifteen years ago.
I had also expected to see a few police controls along the way, but there was nothing until we got right to the city limits of Santiago, just before the hospital. The Policía Nacional had set up a roadblock and were checking cars one by one, both coming and going. Since there wasn't that much traffic, it didn't take too long to pass through. As soon as I saw the vans, I pulled up my mask. The officer looked laconically inside at me and my mother-in-law, and waved us through. We were complying.
At the hospital, there were very few people because the bustling moment is in the morning. There were new plastic barriers in places they hadn't existed before. Everyone was wearing a mask inside, though outside it was optional. I kept mine down until we went in and stayed away from other people, giving everyone a wide berth. I was grateful the appointment was in the afternoon; it was much easier to stay away from people.
We were quickly done, and then we went to my daughter's street, where we parked and I called her to step outside. Finally, we talked face to face after two months. Her hair has grown, but she looks the same as ever. We shot the breeze with the interruption of a few stray alley cats the neighbors feed. Today, I will probably go to bring her home, at least for a couple of weeks, depending on when she has to return to pick up driving lessons where she left off. (No, she hasn't gotten her license yet. She doesn't seem to be her parent's daughter in that aspect.) Her coming home means I should do some cleaning, otherwise she will berate me just like my mother used to do.
I will not bake, however, because I would need to replace my oven to do that, and that's not going to happen soon. So, I will not do like this woman, explaining how to stretch out dough and enacting a scene something like the Three Stooges would do. At the end, we can hear her saying, "Me salió mal." (It turned out wrong.) Yes, it did!
Ele has extended the song she sang for a bank commercial last month by a verse, and played it on YouTube. She continues the line, and sings of how money uses us and can be used by us. Her voice and the melody are haunting, and I will always connect this song to these times in our collective history, not the bank (banks aren't my favorite businesses and never will be). Unfortunately, it's not subtitled, and the automatic translation to English is as garbled as Google Translate can make it. But the voice is beautiful.
Life continues.
Comments
Post a Comment