Tag Archives: Self-isolating in Kaliningrad

Coronavirus in Kaliningrad 25 June

Diary of a Self-isolator: Day 98 [25 June 2020]

Published: 26 June 2020

After hiding out for what seems like forever and making a splendid job of it, even if I do say so myself, I had to see a doctor last week. We hypochondriacs have to, you know. We are a bit like train spotters. When the mood takes us, we are sat there outside the medical centre notebook in hand, recording the types and make of doctor as they come and go.

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]
Article 6: Diary of a Self-isolator: Day 16 [4 April 2020]
Article 7: Diary of a Self-isolator: Day 19 [7 April 2020]
Article 8: Diary of a Self-isolator: Day 35 [23 April 2020]
Article 9: Diary of a Self-isolator: Day 52 [10 May 2020]
Article 10: Diary of a Self-isolator: Day 54 [12 May 2020]
Article 11: Diary of a Self-isolator: Day 65 [23 May 2020]
Article 12: Diary of a Self-isolator: Day 74 [1 June 2020]
Article 13: Diary of a Self-isolator: Day 84 [11 June 2020]

Although I instinctively feel that the majority of people are being lulled into a sense of coronavirus false security by the relaxing of this and that, I, for one, am not. So, I did not relish the thought of laying myself on the line (an old train spotter’s metaphor) by exposing myself (an old hypochondriac’s joke) to the greater risk of coronavirus-catching in one of Kaliningrad’s medical centres.

Whether it is better or whether it is worse, I have no idea, but the medical centres here ~ at least, the ones that I have been too ~ are nothing like the huge great rambling hospitals that we have in the UK. I realise that there are hospitals here as well, but my doctor-spotting experiences have so far, and thankfully, been limited to clinics or centres, all of which have certain things in common.

As with Kaliningrad’s dentists’ surgeries, before you cross over the threshold into the reception area it is mandatory that you don a little pair of light blue, transparent, elasticised protective-shoe thingies over your footwear.

The reception usually comprises a tall counter, divided into numbered sections with three or four receptionists behind it.

You say who you are, reference your appointment and off you go, Dr spotting. What you do not do is head off into a monstrous waiting room full of the world and its wife, and several others, of every ethnic extraction known to person.

No, you set off along a series of little narrow corridors with lots of numbered doors on one or either side. Once you find your allocated door, you take a seat. There are five or six opposite each door. Now, the corridors are rather tight, but there are very few people in them, and every two seats have the third one rendered void as indicated by the presence of a red strip of vertical tape, thus alerting you to the social distancing rule.

All in sundry are wearing masks, naturally ~ it is the New Normal, you know ~ but the nature and layout of the building means that folk are still quite close.

In UK hospitals, in the never-ending sized waiting rooms there is more space but, as we all know, lots and lots of people, so perhaps the two differences equal themselves out.

Coronavirus in Kaliningrad 25 June 2020

We did travel by taxi to the centre, with all windows open and masks on, but we walked back home. On the way we discovered an old German block of flats on its last historic legs and marveled at the existence of such things in a large modern city such as this, and the natural habitat in which it stood, which has to be for me one of the enduring joys of Kaliningrad’s character ~ this place of eclectic contrasts. I am so used to England, where every square foot of land has been built upon and every barn and factory requisitioned for residential housing, and every garden carved up for more housing, and every piece of city space gentrified beyond necessity that to find a large garden which is what it has always been and a leafy lane with a fence constructed out of old barn sides and doors, takes me back to the England of my youth, where Britons were Britons and things were real, not virtual.

As for this old German building, alas, its days are numbered. But we did pay homage to it by taking a couple of photos of the building and its surrounds.

Mick Hart celebrates the natural environment of  Kaliningrad
Mick Hart celebrating Kaliningrad’s natural environment
Coronavirus in Kaliningrad 25 June Diary of a Self-isolator
Remains of a Königsberg building ~ Kaliningrad 25 June 2020

On our walk back home I also noticed, with a strange sense of alienation before relief, that there were people sitting eating and drinking in the outside area of one of the Britannica pubs, a phenomenon witnessed again and on the same street at another café bar.

It was grand to see these drinking establishments engaged again, although I am not quite ready myself to return to the café-bar circuit!

Coronavirus in Kaliningrad as at 25 June 2020**
👁2373 people have been infected in the region
👁Of these, 1356 recovered
👁38 coronavirus deaths since the start of the pandemic
👁17 cases of coronavirus infection identified today

Source (accessed 25 June 2020):
**https://www.newkaliningrad.ru/news/briefs/community/23819274-v-oblasti-za-sutki-vyyavili-17-novykh-sluchaev-koronavirusa-vypisannykh-menshe.html

Copyright © 2018-2020 Mick Hart. All rights reserved.

Staying At Home in Kaliningrad

Diary of a Self-isolator: Day 10 [29 March 2020]

Published: 29 March 2020

‘People are people everywhere’ is an expression the meaning of which we can quite confidently assume is that, irrespective of country and culture, hopes, fears, joys, sorrows and other defining proclivities shared by human kind are more or less the same the world over. From this precept stems a universal truth, and one which I am sure a certain philosophical gentleman would ratify if his remains at the side of Königsberg Cathedral allowed, which is that among the common characteristics that we the people possess there lies in equal abundance attributes many of which we can be proud and, by default, flaws, shortcomings which, whilst they cannot promise to dismay some, those who are wanting in commonsense, will certainly dismay if not confound others.

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 8 [28 March 2020]

Staying at Home Kaliningrad. Do not go to the coast!
(Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/ 😮[Sorry, silly sanction block ~ link removed] )

Staying at home in Kaliningrad

For example, events as they unfold in the new coronavirus age beg the question, what is it about the simple phrase ‘Stay at home’, that is not so easily understood? Is it so difficult, so impossible to comprehend? Perhaps it contains some encoded subliminal message, such that when uttered by governments, medical services and scientists it immediately translates, albeit to a minority, into ‘please hop into your car and sail off down to the seaside’.

Staying at home in Kaliningrad & everywhere else

Life, as they say, is too short (and is getting considerably shorter) to dwell too studiously on matters so abstruse, which is possibly why I have been whiling away my self-isolation time with place-name wordplay, taking the name of that well-known and popular British seaside resort Skegness, and integrating components of it with Svetlogorsk and Zelinogradsk. The result is not that bad: Skegogorsk still has a must-go there ring to it and Zelinogness is quite blissfully irresistible, whilst Skegness certainly increases its pulling power as Svetlogness, and Skegnogradsk is somewhere you would have to go to even if you didn’t and especially were told that you shouldn’t.

Self-isolating in Kaliningrad

Self-isolating in Kaliningrad

Published: 17 March 2020

With no broadcast TV, no social media accounts, no newspapers and trying to ween myself off Google News, I was, as the lyrics say, “Happy in the haze of a drunken hour …”, until, that is, our neighbour asked my wife, in the context of coronavirus, whether I was still frequenting Kaliningrad’s bars. I came down to earth with a jolt.

I have no problem with self-isolating or social distancing, I have always been anti-social, but after all these years, a lifetime in fact, of shunning at-home drinking for the unparalleled joy of the pub or bar, it is more than one can bear.

As far as I am aware, to date we have five cases of coro in Kaliningrad, and about 450 self-isolating, some at home some under observation. Many schools here have switched from attendance-learning to distance-learning. The Polish and Lithuanian borders are closed, except for freight*, and there will be ‘no entry for foreigners from 18 March to 1 May’ . So, apart from a transit corridor through Lithuania, allowing people to return to their homes, which is scheduled to close on 19 March**, this small tract of land will be virtually cut off from the rest of the world.

Whilst there seems to be less people on the streets and on public transport, I have yet to hear of anything akin to the bizarre events unfolding in the UK, namely hordes of people descending on shops like locusts on laxatives to devour the shelves of toilet paper. I can only imagine how these people’s mind’s work. Perhaps they are thinking, he who laughs last laughs longest, and when the dire moments comes (let’s hope it is not the diarrhoea moment!), when the rest of the nation is down to its last piece of tissue, begging and imploring them to sell at any cost a 2-inch square, they will turn the other cheek. What an absolute bummer!

We have two small supermarkets in our locale, which I usually let my wife use, as I would not want to impinge on her leisure time, but, out of curiosity, I accompanied her recently. And when I got there the shelves were not bare (I feel a touch of poetry coming on.).

I have noticed, however, a funny thing. Your reflection in the window, you all cry. Well, that too, but more unprecedented is that whenever I go to these shops (which, as I have said, I don’t do very often because it’s a woman’s job, isn’t it), security always sidle off to form a cordon around the bog-roll shelves. Hmmm, they must know I am from England.

This blockade was unnecessary, however, as my only purchase interest was in medicine, which I was able to snap up, using my 25% discount sticker+, for the bargain price of two quid.

Self-isolating in Kaliningrad
Self-isolating First Aid kit

Prevention is better than cure, as they say, but just in case I bought some beats as well, as Russian borsch is highly recommended as an effective ‘morning after’ pill.

Sources
Accessed 17 March 2020:

*https://www.dw.com/ru/закрытый-калининград-из-за-коронавируса-российский-эксклав-оказался-в-изоляции/a-52796414
**https://www.newkaliningrad.ru/news/briefs/community/23609508-na-karantine-po-koronavirusu-v-kaliningradskoy-oblasti-nakhoditsya-450-chelovek.html

Note
+Some supermarkets in Kaliningrad present you at checkout with a little slip of paper on which are adhered reusable sticky labels. These are discount stickers, each sticker marked with varying percentage discounts. Off you go with your stickers and the next time you visit the shop, you can run round and stick these on the items of your choice, thus cutting the cost of your favourite drinks, I mean products. Promotions don’t usually work on me, but this one does!