Falling Back, 59. Take-Out in the Park.

Again, today I had to cross the red lines into a semi-locked township to pass inspection on my husband's car. Again, no one stopped or challenged me driving into Vilagarcía. I'm starting to think that this lockdown of various townships is more on paper than anything else. 

What is locked is every bar and restaurant I passed by. No, I saw a cafeteria that was open, but had tape across the door, and some people were waiting outside. Most likely, they serve coffee and sandwiches to go, which is the only kind of service bars, cafés, and restaurants can offer in the locked townships. But it was only one of many that were shuttered. 

Other businesses were mostly open. Maybe one or two, non-essential ones, were closed. There were people and cars in the streets. Even driving in, while there wasn't the usual amount of traffic, the road wasn't empty or even close to it. 

Seeing those things, I understand how hosteliers are angry that they are the targeted businesses. Many have closed, and many will close because they won't be able to meet all the monthly expenses, including payroll and other taxes. The greater problem is that Spain is a country that tends to live in the streets and in its cafés and restaurants. Take-away is something that brings to mind fast food outlets. Even that doesn't happen often. There's a McDonald's in Vilagarcía that has a drive-through, but whenever I go past, I almost never see a car picking up a bag of food. 

Spanish people tend to sit and eat. Even if it's a hamburger, they prefer to sit in the establishment and eat at a table. It's a habit that grew out of the three hour lunch at which the entire family would congregate. The midday meal is the most important meal of the day, and the one at which everyone stops what they're doing to eat leisurely. Even outside meal times, eating is not something to be rushed. It is something to be enjoyed, while watching people go by and sometimes gossiping with a friend. A coffee is to be stirred and sipped slowly, which is probably why the milk is boiled before it's added; to make sure you take your time to drink it. 

Of course, during the pandemic it is difficult to enforce the mask mandate on people sitting at a café. To eat and drink you must lower the mask. Most people simply take it off while they're sitting at the table, whether or not they're putting anything in their mouth. That makes cafés and restaurants ideal spots to pass on the virus. The two times I've been to a café since the pandemic began, my husband and I sat on the terrace, and only lowered our masks to sip our coffees, pulling them back up immediately afterward. We were the only ones following protocol. 

So, to prevent contagion, the places where people would sit without masks are ordered to close in the worst-hit areas. Yet people, especially those who work split days without going home, still have to eat. They simply get take-out from those places that serve it to survive, then find a corner to sit and eat, generally in parks. Those cities and towns now resemble American cities and towns. I remember that in Boston it was the norm to see people sitting outside on benches and in parks in nice weather at lunch-time, eating salads or other meals in styrofoam boxes, or sandwiches of all kinds. People would use the lunch hour to spend some time in the open air while eating. In winter, food gardens in the malls would be filled at that time, as would fast-food restaurants, and others. But lunch there is a more hurried affair, because the main meal is in the evening, generally at home. 

Are we starting to resemble other, more northern countries? I don't think so. Once this is over, we will most likely return to how we were. Tradition is too strong.

Life continues.