Kaliningrad Top of Self-isolators

Diary of a Self-isolator: Day 16 [4 April 2020]

Published: 4 April 2020

As you probably know, my wife and I have been self-isolating for a number of days now. On 28 March we were joined by a lot of other people in Russia, not at our residence I hasten to add but throughout the country, as it was announced that the period from 28 March to 5 April would be a paid ‘holiday’, the qualification being that the holiday be taken at home in the interests of self-isolation.

Previous articles:
Article 1: Diary of a Self-isolator: Day 1 [20 March 2020]
Article 2: Diary of a Self-isolator: Day 6 [25 March 2020]
Article 3: Diary of a Self-isolator: Day 7 [26 March 2020]
Article 4: Diary of a Self-isolator: Day 9 [28 March 2020]
Article 5: Diary of a Self-isolator: Day 10 [29 March 2020]

The situation here, as far as we can tell (because, it’s a funny thing, we do not get out as much as we used to, would like to, should), has shifted up a notch. Disinfectant trucks spray the streets regularly, more and more people peep out from behind face masks and speaker vans roam back and forth reminding people to stay put.

Kaliningrad Top of Self-isolators with loudspeaker vans — For illustration purposes only.

Indeed, as I write this, I can hear the solemn, almost monotone, reverberations from the public address systems on wheels echoing through the streets of Kaliningrad. The deserted streets and echoing voice evoke memories of 1950s’ apocalyptic and post-apocalyptic films and TV series such as Quatermass and Day of the Triffids. Eerie and strange to think that in the space of a few short weeks we, or rather the world as we know it, have been diverted into an entirely new, unprecedented and hitherto unimaginable reality. It is as if we all went to bed one night and woke up the next morning in an old black and white episode of The Twilight Zone.

The virtuality continued on the street, where two days ago it had been summer but now it was snowing like Christmas. That was either Father Frost in that plastic outfit or a large man in a red protective suit with an oversized white facemask.

At our local shop, where we had gone to purchase our weekly provisions, all the staff were wearing surgical masks and standing well back, as if they had just lit a firework. For those of us who simply cannot get on with masks and are unconvinced about their efficacy, all we can do when anyone gets too close is the quickstep, the tango for about-face movements and once we have paid at the checkout the foxtrot. At least the dancing lessons have paid off.

Call us paranoid, but as nobody seems to know how long the coronavirus ‘bug’ can sit around smirking at us on surfaces, we have adopted the practice of leaving our shopping in quarantine, stacking the bags out of the way and emptying the contents sometime later. Our cat is clearly perturbed by this but keeps well back from the bags as if he instinctively knows that they’re dynamite.

There are times, however, when you just cannot go on without that oatmeal biscuit, so it is on with the Automobile Association gauntlets, out with the disinfectant, wash the hands, fumigate the house … again

One feather in the Kaliningradian hat is that it shows the highest level of self-isolation among Russian cities. Apparently, this data was published on a special Yandex service on the morning of Tuesday 31 March. According to the report*, Kaliningrad scored 4.7 points out of a total of 5 in the self-isolation index, which is the highest score among the cities of the country.

**On the 2 April we heard President Putin’s address to the nation telling us that the paid holiday will be extended until the end of April.

Meanwhile, the world sits and waits indoors for something out there to happen that will ‘take us right back to the track, Jack!’