Confusion over New Normal - Expat in Kaliningrad, Russia

Diary of a Self-isolator: Day 106 [3 July 2020]

Published: 8 July 2020

Although I am still prone to headlining this series of articles as the Diary of a Self-isolator, I have begun to wonder whether the relaxation of coronavirus restrictions warrants a change of name, say, for example, the Diary of a Social Distancer, but have come to the conclusion that in the interests of continuity the original appellation should persist.

You can see the etymological crux of the issue in the revelation that recently, whilst self-isolating, I accepted the invitation to emerge from the homestead to stay for a couple of days at a friend’s dacha in the heart of Zelenogradsk.

Zelenogradsk is considered to be the second principal seaside resort in the Kaliningrad region, the number-one slot invariably reserved for Svetlogorsk. Whilst it is widely accepted that Svetlogorsk wears the crown, in recent years that crown has been tarnished by a controversial extension of the coastlines promenade in preparation for an extensive building programme that has decimated the resort of what little beach it had.

Zelenogradsk, on the other hand, has a beach par excellence; acres of white and golden sand stretching across the curving coastline for as far as the eye can see. On a good day, that is under a bright blue sky with plenty of sun to boot, the Zelenogradsk coastline is a beach-lovers paradise and the rolling waves and surf from the sea a scintillating superlative for all that is loved about swimming and sailing about on the briny.

Zelenogradsk Coastline Russia — Natural sandy coastline: Zelenogradsk, Russia (July 2020)

Today (3 June 2020), the weather conditions could not have been better. And for reclusive comfort combined with close proximity to the front, the old German house in which we were lodging could not have been more inviting or better located.

Before heading off to the beach, we decided ~ my wife, our friend and I ~ to buy a pizza and a few edible accessories from one of the seafront bars. This was the first time since coronavirus began that I had eaten in a restaurant or been to a restaurant to buy food, and although we were sat outside on the decking and the waitresses were bemasked, the entire experience seemed strangely illicit and fraught with a sense of risk.

On paying for our order there was a poignant moment when one of the girls who had served us, possibly the manager, not only thanked us for our custom but almost begged us to return again, such is the devastation that coronavirus has wrought upon the café, bar and restaurant business.

We did not eat in the restaurant’s outside seating area, choosing instead the comparative safety of limited social numbers in the conservatory of our temporary German home.

Before eating the food we had bought we of course observed all of the risk-decreasing procedures handed down to us from the world’s health industry, which is to say that we washed our mitts and swabbed the polystyrene packaging with antiseptic wipes before opening it and then used cutlery to eat with.

I have to admit that it was good to sample fast food again, even though the preliminaries had knocked it down a gear or two.

Social Distancing in Zelenogradsk

Victually resuscitated, plus a bottle of white wine later, our friend departed, leaving Olga and myself to make our way to the sea.

I wondered, as I walked towards the beach, if the low numbers of people present was a coronavirus consequence. If so, it was the perfect tragedy, but the volumetric increase in visitors on the following day, which was a Saturday, assured me that the comparatively low turnout had been the product of a working day.

By 12 noon on Saturday the numbers of people in Zelenogradsk had swelled enormously, but not to such an extent as to render social distancing ridiculous, as it had in England when people had flocked to Brighton beach in such appalling numbers that it was all they could do to find enough room in which to stab each other.

As we walked along the widened footpath with its pedestrian section on one side and its mini-road on the other, along which whizzed all kinds of two- and four-wheeled mini traffic, and with its astonishing eclecticism of man-made buildings on one side and the rolling sea and sand on the other, I hoped for their own sake that there were no representatives of a certain American media organisation lurking around in the undergrowth. From what I have read recently the western media seems to have a neurosis regarding ‘ethnic Russian families’, ‘smiling Slavic couples with children’ and ‘traditional family values’, all of which was refreshingly evident today. It is a peculiar point to ponder on, is it not, that what matters to some is of no matter to others.

Take the preferences of my wife and I, if you will: My wife swims; I drink.

Under the Old Normal, we would find a spot that was mutually suitable. An outside drinking area for me to relax in; a section of beach close to the sea for her to get sand in her toes and completely drenched in salt water.

Under the New Normal, however, this was not to be. Although the seating areas outside the bars were reassuringly patronised, the interiors being off-base, I had decided aforethought not to frequent them but carry on social distancing. So, whilst my wife dunked herself, I simply went for a stroll, and when I had strolled enough waited for her on a bench like the perfect husband I am.

Neoclassical architecture Zelenogradsk Russia — Example of brand new old: Neoclassical building on the coastal path, Zelenogradsk, Russia (July 2020)

My fascination along this particular pedestrian thoroughfare is with the architectural anomaly. It is so outrageously ~ in an entrancing sort of way ~ diverse, with no two buildings the same either in scale or point of style. It is not visually unheard of, for example, to have a brand-spanking new hotel ~ all curvilinear, porticoed, sleek and slick in metal and glass and conspicuously erect ~ rubbing shoulders, I should say, with a great, grey giant of a building, a sad and sorry-looking concrete block of flats, neglected, uninhabited, windows open and vacant like the proverbial eyes in skulls and next to it, abstrusely, a red-brick castle pastiche, festooned with mini-turrets, or a vast building in magnolia-coloured stone boasting all the attributes of neoclassical architecture in its most defining form standing next to a humble shack, a distressed-brick and weathered wooden domicile with its roots in Eastern Prussia but with the added Soviet enhancements of an asbestos roof, steel railings and bulwarking metal sheets. I could walk up and down this road all day marvelling at these sites, which are far more interesting, and infinitely more imaginative, than anything you would see today on the fashion-circuit catwalks.

This lovely old building overlooks the sea along the Zelenogradsk coastline. Its much sought after location almost certainly means it will be demolished to make way for a palatial new residence, or, more likely, hotel. Myself, I would go for renovation. There is nothing like restoring heritage and making it your home.

Our excursion to the beach tomorrow would take me even further along this road, to a place of architectural extravagance the likes of which I have never beheld before, but more of this in a later post.

The sea and my wife having been reacquainted, it was now time to walk into town and purchase some bottles of ale from a well-stocked shop on Zelenogradsk’s high street. I would like to include these delights in my bottled beers of Kaliningrad appraisal, which I started compiling last week, but notwithstanding that they were not bought in the city itself, a minor point that could be overlooked, I have limited my bottled beer review to include brands that are generally available in supermarkets, so I will possibly leave the ones I tried today for a future specialist category on craft and imported beers.

Social Distancing in Zelenogradsk

Now, coronavirus has brought about a number of changes both in attitudes and lifestyle, some seemingly seismic, others more subtle. Like Nigel Farage, who on his Facebook page posted ‘103 days since I last drank a pint in a pub’, it has been 106 days-plus since I drank a beer in a bar or restaurant. Drinking at home is not my cup of tea, although that is what I drink there, and I have to say that sitting on a park bench and drinking ~drinking alcohol that is ~ is one of those dubious pleasures in life which up until now has passed me by. Today, however, as my wife wanted to go swimming again, and as I would rather be outdoors than in, whilst she got ready to swim this evening I packed up my beer in my old kit bag ready to find that bench.

To be honest it was not as bad as I had anticipated. All in life is relative and when you have been cooped up for the greater proportion of 106 days, a park bench and a bottle of beer is paradise. As the song goes, ‘the bare necessities of life will come to you!’

Mick Hart Social Distancing in Zelenogradsk Russia — Mick Hart, in the company of a bottle of beer, happy to be on a bench on Zelenogradsk beach (July 2020)

So, what are we to believe and how should we proceed?

Published: 25 May 2020

Now, what I suggest we all do is …

According to the world media we are in this coronavirus thing for the long haul. Time spans of 18 months to 2 years are being bandied around, during which we must adapt to the ‘New Normal’, continue to practise social distancing, self-isolate, limit movement, wear masks at all times and, above all, ‘stay alert’.

It is good news for antibody tests ~ they are available and, unlike the previous batch which cost the UK government millions, these actually work, but will you be able to get hold of one? Is a well-known chemist chain out to rip you off by selling these kits at extortionate prices? And what good are they anyway? Even if you have the antibodies does it mean you are immune? A great big impressive pharmaceutical company is gearing up to manufacture and supply the vaccine currently being researched in Oxford, but there is no guarantee that the vaccine will work and no guarantee, according to ‘the experts’, that we will ever find a vaccine.

The Confused World of Coronavirus

In the midst of all this scientific fog, the incidence of coronavirus is rising and the death count goes on, albeit, in some places, at a lower rate than before. But lockdown easing is underway. In England, there is talk of, and interesting rows about, schools re-opening, pubs and bars opening, hotels re-opening and, as long as you wear your mask ~ the efficacy of which has never really been proven ~ and keep six feet away from the pilot, you may soon be able to jet off to Europe and enjoy a post-first-wave coronavirus holiday ~ why not, if the second wave comes it may be your last?

In June, the UK population has been told that it will be testing, tracking and tracing, but at least one newspaper headline asks, ‘Will the government’s new app work?’ And there are over a million out of work, and lots of things that used to work, like pubs, are still not working? And no one seems to know whether masks work or not, although we are still advised to wear them, as we are also advised to go to work but stay at home at the same time, if at all possible.

Once upon a time, all we had to worry about was not inciting racial hatred, not inciting religious hatred, pretend that we celebrate LGBT (Large German Beer Tents), pay our BBC license fee, champion this and embrace that, count how many women are in the board room, subject historic dramas to politically correct revisionism and, and, and …

The Confused World of Coronavirus

It was all so simple, so clear cut then, but now!! The whole world has gone from a globally warmed up, globalist socially engineered immigration catastrophe to a … a… well, it’s like, you know, like, a modern version of Frankenstein’s monster (was he German?). But the New Normal, who is he? He has a biodegradable personality, a genetically modified sense of humour, challenging behaviour, is well past his sell by date and is clearly not fit for purpose.

None of us, not even the hysteria-generating UK press could ever imagine, not even in its wildest dreams, that Brexit would not only cause economic meltdown but the worst pandemic in living memory. Not only would Brexit ultimately divided Britain along a fault line the size of the Grand Canyon, with Leave on one side and Remain on the other, but would insidiously incubate an ‘unholy alliance’ between extreme right ringers (the bells! Oh, the bells!) and ‘esoteric liberals’ with one shared aim in mind, to form a worldwide Anti-Vax pact.

And all because Gill Bates and its gang wants to stick us in the arse with its great big globalist Vax Needle.

A retired scientist from Bedford says, “It’s all so confusing!”

Stay tuned to this channel folks, for more spine-chilling tales of the Vax Conspiracy. Can we stop them before it is too late! Can they stop us before it is too soon!

Meanwhile in the UK ~ Thrilling Reads!