We have begun to settle into a routine. ADC gets up first, and within an hour is in A's bedroom beginning his working day. I get up later, around 8, and workout (using the Johnson and Johnson 7 minute workout app) for about half an hour, the shower and eat breakfast. As I move from stage to stage, I wake up S (and again, and again) so that he is more or less on time for his classes. On Wednesday classes will end, due to the Passover break. I hope he will manage to keep to a routine even so.
The market has been closed. We were lucky to get there Thursday last week - over the weekend it began to sound as if the market would be closed only the following Tuesday, but on Sunday morning the police closed everything down, after the stall keepers had bought produce from wholesalers for 3 days of work! One of more infuriating things is the fact that the "rules" change every 48 hours or so, without any time taken to see whether the previous measures are working. Admittedly, what seemed like an overreaction at first - I believe Israel was one of the first countries to implement quarantine for people returning from overseas - has proved to be the right thing, but now is the time to wait for data before bringing the entire economy to a halt. At the time of writing, the official number of unemployed has reached 20%, and that's without counting all the public servants (such as the university admin staff) who are on half-time or less and being paid accordingly. I am very lucky to be self-employed in a profession where work is continuing, and even luckier that ADC is not taking a pay cut, since I can expect payments to be delayed whereas his salary will be coming in on April 1 regardless.
Going to the supermarket or the pharmacy has become an adventure, as it is one of the few places beyond a 100 m radius of one's home to which one is allowed to venture (one of the highlights of the weekend was taking newspapers to be recycled; there's a bin just at the 100 m mark in one direction). M and I arranged to meet "by chance" outside our local grocer, and it was good to see each other, even while keeping the appropriate 2 m apart. Other permitted reasons for leaving one's home include going to the doctor, donating blood, going to a demonstration and for women, going to a ritual bath (mikveh) if an appointment is made in advance. The last topic was the cause of some outcry: at first, going to a mikveh was permitted for both men and women. Now, all fully observant (and some just traditional) Jewish women are required to go to the mikveh after menstruation in order be purified and permitted to their husbands once more, so this seems a reasonable thing. However, men are not at all required to to to the mikveh, it's just a custom common particularly among the ultra-Orthodox religious groups to which our Minister of Health belongs. In general, many things related to religion were still being allowed last week, until the rules were tightened on Thursday once more - and it is not a surprise that the majority of new corona cases in Israel come from the ultra-Orthodox groups, (a) because their lifestyle is conducive to contagion; and (b) they have historically resisted obeying the secular government's rules if they infringe their way of life in any way. It is only now that the ultra-Orthodox leaders are finally saying that praying individually is as good as praying in a quorum, because it is a matter of life and death.
As for demonstrations - the political situation in Israel is becoming weirder and more surreal by the day. After 3 elections in less than 18 months, in which the Prime Minister (currently indicted for corruption and more) and his party received successively fewer seats in parliament, and after the head of the main opposing party (major campaign promise: we will not sit in a government headed by Bibi Netanyahu) received the mandate to form a government, somehow, at the last moment before the weekend began, on Thursday afternoon Benny Gantz abandoned all the promises he'd made to potential coalition partners (let alone voters) and agreed to join Bibi in a government in which after 18 months, he (Gantz) would become PM in turn. This is all under the excuse of the corona crisis requiring a national unity government. Gantz's party was composed of several movements, and two of them - those headed by politicians with past experience of the worth of Bibi's promises - have refused to continue in that framework and the party has broken up. The only thing that seems clear at the moment is that a government will finally be formed (so a budget can be passed) and that there will definitely be a fighting opposition. Without going into all the details, during the past week or so, there have been car rallies (one person per car, windows open) and demonstrations (local people or car drivers, each properly distanced) calling for the independence of the Knesset and the judiciary to be preserved. I hope that Israel is still a democracy in more than name when we are allowed out of isolation and quarantine.
Back to life at home: So far, there are no shortages that we're aware of, except possible of flour. But there is often a slight shortage of flour at this time of year, as the shops don't restock it in the run-up to Passover. We had to book a slot a week in advance, and a delivery will arrive on the day after tomorrow. We may order a second delivery even before we receive this one, just to be sure we get things before Passover (I've already ordered matzo, but you can't just eat that). Our main concern is fresh fruit and vegetables, as we tend to go through a LOT of that. This will be the first time we get them delivered from the supermarket, and I hope that they will be better than the local smaller supermarket's offerings Fortunately, we do have a very well stocked freezer, so if we are only able to buy very basic fruit and veg we will be OK.
A is still away from home, and still doesn't know what's happening to him, whether he will remain at his gap year (maybe running camps for medical staff's children?) and whether he will be sent home. He joined in the 2 Zoom meetings on Friday night, one planned with my family and one spur-of-the-moment saying the Friday candle lighting prayers together with ADC's siblings and their in-laws. The similar conversations at the beginning of each meeting, getting my parents and my SIL's mother connected to Zoom, were highly amusing! Next week I will speak to my mother even earlier, and hopefully things will go more smoothly.
Yesterday we Zoomed with friends in Baltimore, who seemed surprisingly calm. I guess if you are not in NYC, then corona still seems kind of remote? They are still allowed out of the house, and their favourite ice cream is still open for business, but take-out only. This is one of the things that the situation has caused: where in the past I would have just e-mailed back, now I suggested a Zoom meeting, just to see new faces and hear different voices.
ADC and S have completed the jigsaw puzzle, which is knitting-themed. I knitted while watching them work on it, and felt very meta. Over the past week I also weighed and cataloged all the yarn I inherited from my late MIL - over 2 kg of yarn, over 200 km of worsted acrylic, and unlikely that I'll need to buy yarn for baby gifts for the next few years!
Monday 30 March 2020
Sunday 22 March 2020
The Corona diaries - March 15-21, 2019
As I write this, most of the world is in lockdown. As a historian of medicine, I have resumed writing this blog to keep a record of experiences and feelings - maybe in the future this will be useful for someone.
The Coronavirus began affecting our lives quite early on, as ADC had planned to give a concentrated course on vertebrate palaeontology at Xian University in late February. S and I were to join him afterwards, over the Purim break, to visit Xian and Beijing. We cancelled this in January already, and booked tickets for a week in Berlin, March 9-14. By the time the first week of March rolled around, travel restrictions were already in place in parts of Europe and Israel was ordering people returning from the Far East and Italy into 14 days of self-isolation. ADC didn't want to start the second semester with 2 weeks of missed classes, and we dithered for a bit until March 5, when everyone returning from anywhere was told to go into self-isolation. We promptly froze our plane tickets and booked two nights in Mitzpe Ramon, at an olive farm in the desert called Karmei Har Hanegev. We spent three glorious days hiking and looking at flowers, just in the nick of time.
On Thursday the 12th I went to work as usual at the National Library. The reading rooms had been rearranged so that no more than 50 people could sit in each (a total of 100 for the two rooms, connected by an open door, so considered a single enclosed space. Usually there are 3 chairs at each worktable, and people sit on the two outer chairs (whoever gets there first puts their bag on the middle chair). Now there was a single chair in the middle of each table - and not all of them were occupied. It felt very eerie, and meanwhile, the Hebrew University announced that the beginning of the second semester was delayed, in order to enable all courses to be moved online. Most of the admin staff was moved to a 30% footing, and told to work from home, but research was supposed to go on as usual.
Over the course of the weekend, isolation measures began to be increased. By Sunday, March 15, the Library had closed to readers, but workers were still coming in. Schools had closed, but ADC went to work at the lab. A was around, as he had a doctor's appointment on the 17th, but it was not clear whether he would or should return from there to his gap year volunteering at the International High School at Givat Haviva - whose international students were mostly stranded there. On Tuesday, the university announced that labs were to be closed, too. ADC drove A back to Givat Haviva - it is a self-contained campus, once he's there, he's there for the duration, but he probably will continue to be able to move around freely over a larger area than most of us. On his way back, ADC picked up his work computer, several books, and a terrarium (as a back up) from the lab. A kindly gave permission for his room to become ADC's office/teaching space, since the current "study" is tiny and the computer there doesn't have all the programs he needs for work.
We added a thermometer to our online order from the supermarket, since the pharmacy had run out (I filled renewed prescriptions on Sunday, and was shocked at how cavalier the attitude was - no distancing in the line for the pharmacists at all!). I sent a work-related letter to Brill publishing house in the Netherlands and picked up S's latest Amazon order of comics on Wednesday. I had booked a slot for visiting the post office, but when I arrived the machine for taking numbers wasn't working. The door was wide open, despite the single-digit Celsius temperature, and up to 5 people were allowed inside: 2 tellers, 2 people being served and 1 waiting. The book-a-slot service was basically being used for crowd control. S was lucky, though, because since then Amazon has cancelled free shipping to Israel, and he'll be forced to read actual books when he finishes these comics.
On Thursday ADC and I went to the Mahaneh Yehudah market by car, rather than by the light rail, for the first time in literal years. Only the actual fruit and vegetable stalls were open, all the places selling prepared food and the bars and restaurants were closed already. Who knows when they will reopen? There were not many shoppers, but the open market seems healthier than the closed supermarket, to me.
We are well-stocked in terms of food, we are all managing to work at home (S is been taught through Zoom meetings, and they have been fairly successful), and we have enough space to move around. When the weather warms up and it is possible to sit outside on the balcony it will be better. I worry about people who don't have these luxuries, which until just the other day were taken for granted. I worry in particular about my parents, who are both in their 70s and immunosuppressed, so in the highest risk category. Add to this the fact that my father is still actively working as a pharmacist ... he's kitted himself out in a UV-proof face mask used in molecular labs over a surgical mask and is making sure to wear latex gloves, of course, but still. I also worry about my sister M, who is living with a flatmate and 2 cats, one of whom is elderly and sick (not to say dying). That must be so hard, not being with your family - but would it be better to be alone, like E down in Omer?
How we are coping: watching movies, having Zoom meetings with extended family (both mine and ADC's), and playing board games. I am knitting more than ever, ADC has persuaded S to start a 1000-piece jigsaw puzzle.
The Coronavirus began affecting our lives quite early on, as ADC had planned to give a concentrated course on vertebrate palaeontology at Xian University in late February. S and I were to join him afterwards, over the Purim break, to visit Xian and Beijing. We cancelled this in January already, and booked tickets for a week in Berlin, March 9-14. By the time the first week of March rolled around, travel restrictions were already in place in parts of Europe and Israel was ordering people returning from the Far East and Italy into 14 days of self-isolation. ADC didn't want to start the second semester with 2 weeks of missed classes, and we dithered for a bit until March 5, when everyone returning from anywhere was told to go into self-isolation. We promptly froze our plane tickets and booked two nights in Mitzpe Ramon, at an olive farm in the desert called Karmei Har Hanegev. We spent three glorious days hiking and looking at flowers, just in the nick of time.
On Thursday the 12th I went to work as usual at the National Library. The reading rooms had been rearranged so that no more than 50 people could sit in each (a total of 100 for the two rooms, connected by an open door, so considered a single enclosed space. Usually there are 3 chairs at each worktable, and people sit on the two outer chairs (whoever gets there first puts their bag on the middle chair). Now there was a single chair in the middle of each table - and not all of them were occupied. It felt very eerie, and meanwhile, the Hebrew University announced that the beginning of the second semester was delayed, in order to enable all courses to be moved online. Most of the admin staff was moved to a 30% footing, and told to work from home, but research was supposed to go on as usual.
Over the course of the weekend, isolation measures began to be increased. By Sunday, March 15, the Library had closed to readers, but workers were still coming in. Schools had closed, but ADC went to work at the lab. A was around, as he had a doctor's appointment on the 17th, but it was not clear whether he would or should return from there to his gap year volunteering at the International High School at Givat Haviva - whose international students were mostly stranded there. On Tuesday, the university announced that labs were to be closed, too. ADC drove A back to Givat Haviva - it is a self-contained campus, once he's there, he's there for the duration, but he probably will continue to be able to move around freely over a larger area than most of us. On his way back, ADC picked up his work computer, several books, and a terrarium (as a back up) from the lab. A kindly gave permission for his room to become ADC's office/teaching space, since the current "study" is tiny and the computer there doesn't have all the programs he needs for work.
We added a thermometer to our online order from the supermarket, since the pharmacy had run out (I filled renewed prescriptions on Sunday, and was shocked at how cavalier the attitude was - no distancing in the line for the pharmacists at all!). I sent a work-related letter to Brill publishing house in the Netherlands and picked up S's latest Amazon order of comics on Wednesday. I had booked a slot for visiting the post office, but when I arrived the machine for taking numbers wasn't working. The door was wide open, despite the single-digit Celsius temperature, and up to 5 people were allowed inside: 2 tellers, 2 people being served and 1 waiting. The book-a-slot service was basically being used for crowd control. S was lucky, though, because since then Amazon has cancelled free shipping to Israel, and he'll be forced to read actual books when he finishes these comics.
On Thursday ADC and I went to the Mahaneh Yehudah market by car, rather than by the light rail, for the first time in literal years. Only the actual fruit and vegetable stalls were open, all the places selling prepared food and the bars and restaurants were closed already. Who knows when they will reopen? There were not many shoppers, but the open market seems healthier than the closed supermarket, to me.
We are well-stocked in terms of food, we are all managing to work at home (S is been taught through Zoom meetings, and they have been fairly successful), and we have enough space to move around. When the weather warms up and it is possible to sit outside on the balcony it will be better. I worry about people who don't have these luxuries, which until just the other day were taken for granted. I worry in particular about my parents, who are both in their 70s and immunosuppressed, so in the highest risk category. Add to this the fact that my father is still actively working as a pharmacist ... he's kitted himself out in a UV-proof face mask used in molecular labs over a surgical mask and is making sure to wear latex gloves, of course, but still. I also worry about my sister M, who is living with a flatmate and 2 cats, one of whom is elderly and sick (not to say dying). That must be so hard, not being with your family - but would it be better to be alone, like E down in Omer?
How we are coping: watching movies, having Zoom meetings with extended family (both mine and ADC's), and playing board games. I am knitting more than ever, ADC has persuaded S to start a 1000-piece jigsaw puzzle.
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