Letters from Lockdown: A Slice of Pizza

She only wanted a slice of pizza. 

She learned of the pizza popup through Instagram, and in early evening walked to the location, which happened to be in her neighborhood. There she saw around twenty people at closely placed tables in a small space. The proximity to so many people made her nervous. They appeared to be enjoying a night out. She should have gone earlier, in retrospect, to avoid the crowd, but wanted the outing to coincide with her second daily walk. 

She waited to order at the window. There was not much space to stand, so she stood apart from the other two people. After she paid, the server said to wait to the right, across the alley. As five or ten minutes passed, she decided to leave and return, since it became windy and cold, and she saw a group receive an entire pizza, which made her think she would have to wait for a while. She thought they would save the slice for her when she returned in about twenty minutes.

When she returned, the server said, "We looked for you, but couldn't find you." He said to have a seat and the Chef (the reason for her visit) would make her a new slice. She waited, and received a beautiful slice. Due to her nervousness from being close to others during COVID-19, she decided to return home. Upon her return, she noticed the slice had meat on it, which she hadn't seen in the dark, and which she couldn't eat, as a vegetarian. 

She returned to the bar's window with the slice, and told the server. He apologized profusely and refunded her money, since they no longer had the vegetarian pizza. Later she messaged the Chef about the mixup, and he nicely offered her a pizza pie at his next popup. 

She longed for the days when one could enter a pizzeria, pay, and leave with a slice. Without social distancing. Without fear of others being infected. Without discomfort.

Letters from Lockdown: Farmers Market Sadness

Tuesday is the cruelest day. 

It reminds one of the Saturday farmers market which one does not visit, a weekly event for years. Instead one shops on Tuesday to avoid the lines and crowds. 

One misses the conviviality, the information from farmers, the experts on produce. One had favorite vendors, and favorite stands for specific fruit or vegetables.

Now one dodges a few people who are browsing and they may perhaps buy a bunch of basil. Conversation is hurried with farmers, or nonexistent. Move along. Stay apart. 

The regular shoppers are not there. The favorites are not there. Instead one chooses among a handful of stands. Items may be bundled, since we cannot choose for ourselves. Perhaps with a hand inside a plastic bag one could. However, the policies change each week. 

One discovers the taste of food purchased at home, and is happily surprised, or not.

Yet one is safe. One could be outdoors briefly. One could eat well. One is alive.

Letters from Lockdown: COVID-19 Parkour

Up and down, back and forth one walks. One is transported to the board game Chutes and Ladders, although in real life. 

We have to keep our distance. In order to do so, one may have to walk into the gutter, cross the street, wait for others or even walk to the next block, up a hill. 

Don't complain. At least one could have exercise.

Yet one has difficulty with the dog walkers. So slow, an impediment. The dogs have a great life, since they could take their time. The sidewalk is fascinating to them. Why?

In order to have exercise, one learns the empty streets. One learns the empty times. One could go faster without others to go around. We will not reveal these secret places. It is for others to discover themselves.

Parkour: The word derives from parcours du combat (obstacle course). Now one knows what it means. Other pedestrians are the obstacles in this course. Oh, to be a runner! One could quickly detour around the obstacles.

Oh, to be a flậneur, as in the past, strolling through the city, stopping and looking in store windows, at buildings, at flowers, at whatever, just avoiding bumping into others, without a care. How one longs for those days, pre-COVID-19. Will they return? 

Caveat emptor

The hotel looks pretty in the pictures. The reviews are great. It has thousands of Instagram followers. Their restaurant appears attractive.

The request for a quiet room was for naught, since most of the rooms face a parking area. The restaurant, which appeared to be in the main building, is in the parking area. The late night people made noise as they left the restaurant.

The air conditioning unit was deafening, so the engineer brought a fan to use instead. The dead bolt was misaligned, so he had to repair it so the room's door could be locked. The mirror on the bathroom door was loose and might fall. The floor was warped where it met the entrance to the bathroom and would be replaced, the engineer said.

"Old Painting" by Krebs' Class is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 2.0

The blanket did appear like the one in the pictures. The lobby is cute and cozy. The location is close to town, within walking distance. A move (luckily) to the main building assured sleep, due to a less noisy air conditioner.

However, the time spent on repairs to a place not one's own was disconcerting. It is a motor inn transformed to a boutique hotel, which was not completely successful. We met the photographer outside, who excels at dreamy photos.

Don't believe everything on social media. Ask friends if one can. Anyway.