On the edge of Europe
Nov. 7th, 2020 11:19 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ruthct21This is our fourth visit to Stoupa in the Peloponnese. In summer it is pleasantly busy, but not packed with visitors: we think this is due to its remoteness. There are mountains and a road bristling with hairpin bends between Stoupa and the rest of Greece.
Every day since we arrived on Monday, there has been a scattering of people on the beach or walking along the narrow road between the beach and the shops and cafes, plus a few intrepid souls in the sea (which is jolly warm compared with English sea). Today there is hardly anyone to be seen.
A strict lockdown started at 6am. Only food shops and chemists are open, and banks by arrangement. If you want to go out, you have to text a Government number giving your name and stating which permitted activity applies:
1) visit to Doctor/Pharmacy:
2) buying essential supplies:
3) visit to Bank if e-banking not possible:
4) visit to people needing assistance or escorting children to/from school:
5) attending a funeral or visiting children if you are a separated/divorced parent:
6) physical exercise outdoors or taking a pet for a walk with 1 other person, observing a 1.5m distance in either case.
Since Greece has handled Covid quite efficiently and there has only been one possible case here (a German tourist arrived, got a message from home that someone he had been in contact with was a Covid risk and promptly returned home) this feels like overkill. Our landlady, who briefed us on this yesterday, believes that the Government is giving itself emergency powers so that it can control the people in the event of (unspecified) problems.
Sitting on our balcony in the sunshine, consuming the supplies we sensibly bought in before lockdown began, all this control and fear feels like a panic. But looking down at the deserted little town feels like the opening of a 1950s end-of-the-world film.
Every day since we arrived on Monday, there has been a scattering of people on the beach or walking along the narrow road between the beach and the shops and cafes, plus a few intrepid souls in the sea (which is jolly warm compared with English sea). Today there is hardly anyone to be seen.
A strict lockdown started at 6am. Only food shops and chemists are open, and banks by arrangement. If you want to go out, you have to text a Government number giving your name and stating which permitted activity applies:
1) visit to Doctor/Pharmacy:
2) buying essential supplies:
3) visit to Bank if e-banking not possible:
4) visit to people needing assistance or escorting children to/from school:
5) attending a funeral or visiting children if you are a separated/divorced parent:
6) physical exercise outdoors or taking a pet for a walk with 1 other person, observing a 1.5m distance in either case.
Since Greece has handled Covid quite efficiently and there has only been one possible case here (a German tourist arrived, got a message from home that someone he had been in contact with was a Covid risk and promptly returned home) this feels like overkill. Our landlady, who briefed us on this yesterday, believes that the Government is giving itself emergency powers so that it can control the people in the event of (unspecified) problems.
Sitting on our balcony in the sunshine, consuming the supplies we sensibly bought in before lockdown began, all this control and fear feels like a panic. But looking down at the deserted little town feels like the opening of a 1950s end-of-the-world film.
