Last week of phase one
Bitter sweet feelings this last week of phase one (25 - 31 May 2020) of the deconfinement in France. It also happens to be the last week of May. I’m ashamed to say this, but it feels like the last week of long and fulfilling holidays. We have been through a couple of months that have probably changed our lives forever, but I’m part of the lucky persons who got through this period in really nice conditions, cocooning at home with the family. I know it is not the case for everyone and I am sorry for that. Again, in circumstances like this, life is not fair and I do feel quilty about it.
The weather is still deliciously beautiful. Morning after morning we wake up into a beautiful summer weather. As I have reduced hours at work, I have all the time in the world to walk around in the afternoons; a rare treat during the weekdays. Often times I go alone, sometimes with the family. After walks in the neighbouring Montmartre and Pigalle areas, I venture further away to Trocadéro to finally have a gaze at my beloved Eiffel Tower. The Old Lady looks so lonely and abandoned, the lockdown has not been tender with her. She looks like she has not combed her hair, has no make up on and is wearing slippers. We all need our rest, I’m just surprised to see her that way.
On Thursday, the Prime Minister gives a talk on the TV, saying that most of the restrictions will be lifted on 2 June. Paris is one of few regions to remain in zone orange, meaning that the restaurants will be allowed to open terraces, but no dining or wining indoors. Most of the restaurants have been doing takeaway services for a couple of weeks now, or renovating their premises. The parks are opening already during the weekend, so naturally we have a stroll in our neighbourhood parks. They are in a relative state of wilderness, the grass has not been cut in over two months. Exceptionally, we are even allowed to sit on the grass in the park that usually does not permit any loitering on the green stuff. On Sunday I walk all the way to and from Tuileries, my favorite park in Paris. It looks exactly like it used to, except that I discover a bird whisperer whom I have never met before. Parks being open is such a liberation for Paris, it really was time.
I look at the pictures that I took. I don’t recognise myself in them. They look like oversatured, old fashioned postcards from Paris. This is exactly what I saw, though. Strange times.
