TEASING COVID

 

An increasing number of friends and relatives have caught Covid-19, fortunately for them, the Omicron variant.  Elderly, but vaccinated and boosted, they reported flu-like symptoms for less than a week and have recovered quickly.  The vaccine seems to offer an acceptable protection and as a result Covid Omicron no longer looks so scary and disruptive.  There is a new narrative in the media and government circles, that we will all get contaminated with the milder version (possibly several times!), so get on with our life.  Some of my friends agree and are becoming fatalist.  They consider relaxing social distancing to reclaim the old normal and our pre-pandemic routine.  In my building, many have decided that Omicron was no longer a big deal and they show their new found confidence by riding mask-less in the elevator in spite of the rules. 

Actually, even for those ready to take risks to nag Omicron, restrictions still exist.  Even if no one enforces them in our building, the mandatory indoors use of masks is well respected in Rio.  In addition, many areas are off limits to non-vaccinated folks, therefore less tempting for the virus.  However, after two years of social distancing, this change of course looks for many like taking risks and, for me in particular, the stakes are still high.  Covid is playing like a lottery, its symptoms range from lethal to mild, therefore we should try to improve our odds of success, not the contrary.

If I were to catch Omicron, I would rather catch it flying to New York City or Paris than riding our elevators.  To reduce Covid exposure in our confined elevators, I have upgraded my protection level: I wear a N95 face mask and manage to hold my breath during 10 floors!  Last December, I took risks and broke my Covid purdah to travel to New York City and to France.  I stood in many airport lines and boarded packed planes.  I still have not caught the virus.  I am proud to be (still) among the hold outs and although it may seem inevitable, I will try to minimize my exposure to Omicron during the next few weeks. 

I was sort of apprehensive to fly American Airlines to New York City because many American passengers like to tussle with the crew and refuse to wear a mask, a federal requirement, forcing the flights to turn back.  Fortunately, the majority of my fellow passengers were Brazilians for whom wearing a mask is an anti-Bolsonaro badge of honor! In New York, like in France, my visit coincided with an Omicron surge.  My last Manhattan visit was in November 2019 and I was eager to catch up with my friends, go shopping and enjoy the surviving culture.  

Jam-packed planes give a false impression of business as usual but the JFK terminal was rather idle and the huge luggage area was eerily empty.  Only one conveyor was working and my luggage came very quickly.  Slow business and Uber competition have not improved the yellow cabs’ ways.  It seems that the opposite happened! I was expecting a rude cabby but not a lazy one who refused to get off his seat to help me load my bag in the trunk.  He had no JPS and didn’t know where my Midtown hotel was located.  During the ride, he kept asking for the address.  When I got off, I told him that I was keeping the tip for myself, he didn’t even grumble.  A friend claims he was an accidental driver, replacing a cabby probably on sick leave with Omicron.

Tipping, in restaurants in particular has always been my pet peeve in Manhattan; tipping is a cultural thing which differentiates Americans from the more equalitarian Europeans and Asians.  Now the tip rate is 20 to 25% on top of the meal and during the pandemic grateful New Yorkers tipped even more generously.  I did some research on the origin of tipping in the U.S.  Many academics believes that it results from the history of racial inequality (handout given to Black people).  Even my Starbuck bill for a take-away cup of tea had a box for a tip! Tips have lost their purpose.  It is no longer a reward for good service, but a salary supplement for poorly paid employees.  Since tipping can be added on the credit card charge, it looks like an additional tax for non-American like me.     

Actually, I am not a total cheapskate.  I nicely tipped a waiter for his additional legwork: as result of Covid, many restaurants have been allowed to colonize the streets and sidewalks.  Restaurants have built fancy curbside dining sheds with overhead heating and comfy sitting.  Omicron may be milder on its vaccinated victims, but catching it is no option when your travel depends on a negative PCR test.  For this reason, I avoided eating indoors and friends and I selected al fresco dining sheds.  Outdoors’s dining takes a totally different meaning in Manhattan!  Covid gone, I wonder if the shed fad will endure. 

                                                                                         Chic shed

Department stores were busy, but I noted no pre-holiday pandemonium and except for mask wearing and bottles of sanitizer, specific Covid restrictions were not in evidence.  My comfort zone was either strolling along 5th Avenue, which was not as crowded as usual or visiting museums.  

The shortest route from Rio to the south of France is through Amsterdam.  During the Xmas holiday, Amsterdam was in lockdown.  Dutch-type lockdowns are nonsensical by world standards: gyms and tattoo parlors are open but museums are closed!  Schiphol airport was in a semi-lockdown.  Hurried and frustrated passengers were mulling around shuttered cafes and semi-shut stores.  Customers were not allowed inside and goodies had to be ordered from the entrance.  I managed to buy some aged Gouda cheese by queuing (no social distancing) in front of the shop and the shop attendant picked up the cheese for me.

France was also in the grip of an Omicron wave, but in the village of Calvisson nobody noticed.  I spent two weeks visiting friends en petits comités, enjoying apéritifs al fresco, taking long walks in the garrique (Mediterranean scrubland) and visiting outdoors exhibitions.  In Rio, all my friends are vaccinated, but in tiny Calvisson I know two people who refused the jab.  One is my swimming pool handyman, vaccine-hesitant until he got infected with the virus.  He is now scheduled for his delayed first shot.  The other is a neighbor, a wholehearted anti-vaxxer.  Since, I believe in good rapport with neighbors, I met him at arm-length in the parking lot.  I am obviously deaf to his many arguments and since we avoid talking about the pandemic our chats were refreshingly wide-ranging. 

Carnival has been postponed, so no need to escape the city and tease Covid.

 

 

 

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