Tag: COVID-19

Are we the virus?

“Take only memories, leave only footprints.” – Chief Seattle

It will always be apparent to the travellers of this world, that a photo can only tell you so much about a place. You see idyllic beaches in the Caribbean, pure white sand and crystal clear waters. It may shock you when you visit that the odd plastic bottle or crisp packet ruins your expectation. In many places, there are staff that go to the beaches at ungodly hours and rake up the debris from the surfs kiss upon the shore. We see all too often the capabilities of people on this planet. 

During lockdown in England, there were unprecedented numbers of visitors to beaches and parks. Not having to be at work and the fantastic sunshine that shone during the months of May and June in 2020, saw the restrictions of meeting outside well and truly met. The carnage left behind was devastating. Tonnes of litter left behind like never before. It was like the earth had had its breather while we were locked away in doors and this was our chance to do double the damage. 

There have been several news items in recent years about how overrun tourists spots have been in the UK since 2020. When lifting restrictions meant we could exercise outside for an hour daily, Snowden was overrun despite many people living more than an hour away. It was a clear example of give and inch and take a mile. 

Even now, in 2022, there are articles about the UK experiencing its highest level of domestic tourism for decades. We are two people who never really travelled the UK, before covid, I will put my hands up to that. If it weren’t for all the confusion about what country needs what test and form wise, I’m sure we would have planned a trip abroad. There is also the highly stressful experience of having to cancel and rebook a trip in 2020. (See my ‘Reclaming a sunset’ blog.) I’m grateful in a way to how much our travel perspective has changed. We always used to lean towards city breaks, with the vast cacophony of noises, people and culture, we thought we were getting all that place had to give. It wasn’t until we took a trip to Edinburgh and Northumberland in late 2021 that our vision was altered. We spent two days wandering to waterfalls and hiking the hills and we found rewards like we hadn’t before. The peace of it all, the personal pride of achieving new feats of exertion and the slower pace that we needed to heal.

Being in Northumberland felt like we were the first to discover new areas, the forests were empty and the hills were silent. None of this overrun business. And yet there was a time that all had to change. As I said, our tastes have changed, and I’m not saying we’d never been to the countryside, but given the choice we’d choose a day in London over hiking. Now it’s more, let’s get into the city at 5am, see it at its emptiest and leave by noon. Venice taught us that a city is at its most beautiful without its crowds. We’d done it before in London, purely from a photography point of view, but there is something in being the only one wandering the Thames at sunrise. 

This past weekend we went to a local forest to see the blooming bluebells. Despite their annual appearance this was my first time seeing their exuberance in such an enormous way. Walking amongst them felt like being in a dreamscape. The colours, the life and the sheer volume of nature’s power screamed out in the silence of the forest. I noticed that several paths had been trodden through the bluebells, their stamped on stems laying squashed underfoot, it was a big shame. When we returned to the car parks, I noticed a lot of signs asking people to keep to the pathways to avoid ruining the plants. It made me sad. 

Returning to Northumberland this year is a big deal for us, we just don’t do it. How can you see the world if you return to the same place twice? We have a select few places we’ll return to out of comfort and it seems Northumberland is one of those for the time being. It is one of those places that when you find one of its hidden secrets, it whispers to you another one. 

On the coast, and our first taste of Northumberland, stands Bamburgh Castle. Surprisingly, in early August it was unexpectedly quiet. We parked without problem, and walked the beach without disturbing towels or sandcastles. It’s been said this week that Bamburgh is 2022’s most visited UK town. We’re trendsetters don’t-cha-know! 

With its absolutely enormous beach and stunning castle backdrop it comes as no surprise. 

However, locals have found the sudden infamy problematic. Vehicles parked up on grass verges due to car parks hitting their capacity, litter and disruption not far behind. It’s certainly a turn of events, but not one that can cause shock. It’s saddening for sure. But shocking? No. I’m sure there are people that profit from such large numbers of tourists, it isn’t all bad, it never is, since when did news articles give both sides of the story. 

It would be wise to remember the world continued turning, the oceans continued crashing to the clean shores and the bluebells thrived during lockdown. We are the virus the world does not need, these beautiful places are a gift and should be treated as such. If we wish to arrive in paradise we need to do our bit. Pick up our litter. Stick to the path. Take only memories. And if you should leave footprints, be respectful of what’s underfoot. Paradise takes a lifetime to build and only moments to disappear. 

Well, wasn’t that a cheerful post, come back next time for something lighter! 

Reclaiming a sunset

Picture this: it’s late 2019, I’m on the phone to a stranger. It’s my husband’s colleague and I need his help to secretly book him some annual leave for April 2020. The conversation goes back and forth over the next few months and all is sorted. I feel a wave of nervousness and excitement every time I open up my secret itinerary. The plan started as 4 days in Florence but once I got into the research and my confidence in Italiano grew, I looked at exploring Pisa for one day and adding two days in Venice onto the end of the trip. One train journey from Santa Maria Novella in Florence to Santa Lucia, Venice. I planned on keeping this part a secret until the very last minute. How simple does that sound? I spent the better part of 2 months planning the itinerary. Booking restaurants, trains, tickets, hotels and apartments. I look up boats in Venice and lazy garden wanders in Florence. April 2020 could not come quicker. I feel you laughing. I’m laughing.

And then it did. From the middle of February 2020, the world watched as the virus Covid-19 spread like a wildfire from Northern Italy down the country, regions falling quickly under its deadly hold. Like a vice grip, we saw the devastation it had on Europe and then the UK. 

As people panic bought toilet rolls, another panic took over me. How on earth was I going to take Mr W to a covid hotspot? When the anxiety and lack of sleep got too much, I folded and spilled the beans. The decision could not be mine alone, his health could not be in my hands. The little gifts I bought that once held so much meaning were now pointlessly handedl plaover, in some wild attempt to salvage the thoughts and feelings that had been put into this trip. 

A metal plane keyring – we’re flying somewhere!

A faux plane ticket, with a scratch off location reveal.

An Italian flag – guess where?

A tiny train with real sound effects – choo choo.

One teeny, panettone – a snack while on the move.

A ridiculously small, jelly pizza – something sweet just for you.

A magnet of the statue of David of Michaelangelo – a cheeky part!

On the trip, I would give Mr W a fold out map of each location, to add to our collection and to round it all up nicely. 

He wouldn’t know much about the itinerary, but he now knew about Venice.

In true Mr W fashion, he took it like a champ, his own disappointment forgotten as I went to pieces in front of him. He wasn’t worried about the virus, he said we’d stay as safe as possible, buy some masks, and stay away from crowds. I even had plans in case Italy refused us entry. What if we headed for a private villa in Spain alone and safe. What if we stayed in the UK?

A week later, our choice did not matter. Governments around the world closed their countries borders and I spent two weeks reclaiming what I could from the cancelled trip. In the beginning it felt like a challenge, but through all of it everyone was so lovely. The hardest part was the airline, it was an unprecedented situation and even they didn’t know their head from their arse. Over the course of the months that followed I was either reimbursed in full or given vouchers for my tickets. All in all I lost 5% of what I had paid out. By then, money didn’t seem important, neither did a cancelled trip. The world went to pieces and I with it. When the travel date came, we spent a very long day in our garden, there was gin, music and sun. It was a totally different method of escape. 

Fast forward to June 2020 and there was talk of restrictions easing. I toyed with the idea of rebooking Italy, but the horrors of covid made the air thick with doubt. By July, flight prices were the cheapest I had ever seen them and new guidelines had been brought out by airlines, they favoured the customer! With lots of trepidation, Mr W and I decided to go for it. With only 6 weeks to go, we booked the same trip for a date in September 2020. 

It was easy enough to re-book everything, there was a fair bit of reading to do on the moving between regions and the restrictions in place, but other than masks on transport and in shops, Italy had found its way out of the worst of it. 

I’ll never forget taking off from England, our plane had 37 masked passengers. 37! I realised that we may have similar surroundings in Italy itself. As the plane lifted from the ground, my heart soared, I was back where I belonged. I was on the move again. 

We spent 3 picture perfect days in Pisa and Florence, and like the River Arno, the crowds ebbed and flowed. In certain areas it was quiet, in other touristy areas, there were slightly more people, but nowhere near as many as I expected. I didn’t really think of crowds until we got to Venice. Or rather on the way!

On the train to Venice, we were two of three passengers in an entire train carriage. Despite the busy station, this regional train was quiet. Was Northern Italy being given a wide berth by Italians? By tourists?

Unsure of what to expect, we ventured out to the venetian waters and climbed the Ponte degli Scalzi. I’ve never experienced such wonder. I usually see a lot of photos when researching a trip, so arriving at a pinpointed place is more like visiting an old friend. But not here. I looked down onto the Grand Canal and stood mesmerised by its glittering waters. It was so blue. The light caught it in such a way, the waves turned into sunlight and shone so bright that I could not look away. I’d held Florence in such a high regard when booking the trip, I had treated Venice as a flight of fancy. A tick on the ol’ bucket list. But this was stripped back and raw. The sheer abandonment of expectation, the utmost surprise of beauty in something so fresh and ordinary. 

We spent the majority of the first day in Venice on the water, we toured the Grand canal and once we dropped our bags at our hotel, jumped on a vaporetto to Burano. I still had a few secrets up my sleeve. Burano itself is one of the most amazing places. The terraced houses are painted every colour imaginable and the winding canals capture your inner photographer. It was perhaps a crowd you expect to see on a Sunday afternoon, after dinner, a slow wander to walk off a dinner. That kind. It was welcoming and unassuming. We made our way to Fondamenta di cao Moleca, famous for its Tre Ponti, a stunning three way bridge over the waterways. Lots of people turn up to take photos and repeat their steps back into the heart of Burano. If you walk further down to the edge of the island you’ll find a view out onto the venetian waters. Time it just right and you’ll meet sunset. It was glorious. Just us two. 

Before this moment, the sun disappearing each night, just hailed back the horrors of restless sleep and nightmares of death tolls and feelings of being caged. 

I remember feelings of quiet euphoria at that moment. Nothing could take it away. In silence I watched over the waters and felt a lifting of the anxiety that had clung to me for 6 months. Covid had taken so much from the world. And gave us back fear and anxiety and hopelessness. But that moment, shrouded in an orange sunset, I let it go. I felt that the world could heal. That I could. That’s the thing about a sunset outside of your cage, it feels like the closing of a chapter with a promise of something new tomorrow. 

Where did all the planes go?

We saw friends tonight. Ate beautifully home cooked food and laughed and talked for hours on end. Inevitably chatter turned to travel and we shared our plans for Scotland. When we mentioned that we’d be away for our 4th wedding anniversary, two jaws hit the floor. It is indeed shocking how fast time flies. Even though we accept it to a certain degree, I have to remind myself and others that we did lose two years due to covid. 

Two years in and out of lockdown, watching the world tears itself apart in worry and fearing lost time. The days turned into weeks which turned into months and people both stayed home and lost their way. Their routines changed. Their lives were static. Horizons unknown. We learned just how much we take for granted in this world. A cuppa at your grans. An impromptu road trip to the seaside. Walking into a shop without queuing or wearing a mask. And actually being able to buy what you need. Hello toilet paper! 

Christmas. 

Birthdays. 

Hugs. 

We are guests on this planet and this was not felt more than when the world fell silent.  Roads that were once so immense in their sound, fell silent and the skys were empty. But we heard the wind rush through the trees and the birds singing. The seas were without their splashing visitors. But dolphins were seen enjoying the waterways of Venice with nary a tourist boat in sight. We spent months in masks, scared to be closer than 2 metres, the very air felt dangerous. But the earth inhaled a deep fresh breath as emissions reached an all time low. Mother nature continued without us, making it seem all very trivial and humbling.  

Beautiful scenarios were shared throughout the world. A date between two neighbours on opposite rooftops in New York. Fathers and mothers on furlough watching their children grow without interruption. Enjoying our gardens and realising their worth. Balconies full of instruments raining down their tunes in Italy. Happy Birthdays sung over video calls. Families coming together with zoom quiz nights. Friends reaching out with a listening ear like never before. The roads of London were alive with singing and the UK were clapping for the heroes in blue. The sun shone for weeks on end and it felt, at first, like a giant bank holiday. Relationships were missed but stable in their state of hibernation. It forced us to stop and evaluate. 

Some of us could stay at home all day, working from home or being paid to stay still. We forgot what it was to be surrounded by people. We learnt the value of home. The value of everything. To pass the time people cultivated new hobbies. Learned a language. A new skill. Got crafty. Planted life into their gardens. We glued ourselves to the tv. Both for entertainment and escape and then updates on where we stood in an ever changing world. We appreciated the once mundane and lived for the silent security.

Once restrictions were lifted there was a picture circulated online of a large, healthy, glossy stem of bamboo, left to grow without human interference. It grew next to neighbouring stems that had felt the destructive power of the human hand. Words, letters and symbols had been scratched onto their surfaces. The glossy surfaces were gone, left tired and victimised. 

If we learn anything from this image it’s that mother nature not only survives without us it flourishes. 

Still waters became crowded again as noisy roads drowned out the bird song and slowly the skies welcomed the planes among the clouds. The world stepped into a new era. Fears of leaving lockdown were shared. How do we return to normal when normal no longer exists? We cried. Those of us who felt that lockdown had forced us into a much needed rest period wondered if we could or indeed wanted to return to our busy pre-lockdown lives. 

We questioned whether there was more to be found in life than the rat race and the constant to and fro nature of socialising and ‘living’. We had become comfortable prisoners in our homes. So what new world was outside? Could we nurture a new world? A world built in lessons learnt and a new appreciation.

Ultimately the world changed. It changed because we had changed. Priorities switched. Countless conversations took place about never ever taking anything for granted again. 

Three examples stick in my mind of moments I felt an almost alert presence of living in the moment. 

Dancing without the help of alcohol at family celebrations, once shy feet were running to sway, shimmy and swing. Fear no longer ruled this person. The fear slept in the past where feet were still and music was quiet. 

Travelling to Italy on a postponed trip. The city of Florence was quiet. Winding streets were ours for the taking. We were smugglers of dreams. Relishers of hope. Venice was sleepy. St Mark’s square was oh so alluring in its empty splendour. The Grand Canal was the main character and shone its shimmer proudly in between the few boats dancing along its waters. We were humbled by the circumstances and grateful for the opportunity. I wonder if we return to Venice, whether it’ll be the city we know or whether the returned crowds will have changed its face to something unrecognisable from our 2020 trip. Appreciation lived in this new world, where greed and entitlement once reigned. 

Drinks with friends in the garden. Restrictions meant only garden visits were allowed. Blankets, chairs and hot water bottles were packed. Umbrellas taken just in case. Gin was drunk in favour of food. By the bottle. Laughter ruled the day. And the rain came. On and off. And on again. It did not matter. The umbrellas covered us. The water would evaporate. We’d lost enough time. The dodging of raindrops did not matter, we learned to laugh and dance in its reality.

My only hope is that as the planes return, our eyes are not lost among the clouds. That our feet will dance without hesitation. Our loud laughter is heard again. That life is grasped and treasured and we remind ourselves that perhaps it wasn’t two years lost, but two years of learning and change. That the scars left by the world healing are a map of where we’ve been and where we find ourselves now. New paths built out of what once was. That in our learnings we have become kinder to ourselves. Not rushing ahead but taking the time we need to adjust. Taking as long as we need to navigate out of the old and into the new. The very personal, nurtured worlds we have created to protect the self and soul.