A Looming Lockdown

My Old Friend, Denial

The week began with rumors flying about an imminent lockdown in Spain. Amid the rampant speculation, a sense of unease settled over Barcelona. We didn’t know how long it would last or what form it would take, but people began stocking up on food and essentials.

I headed to my favorite grocery store, Ametller Origen, a sort of Catalan-style Whole Foods. Navigating the crowd swarming the aisles, I ran around the store randomly tossing pasta and canned food into my cart. Already I had fallen into the typical European habit of shopping every day or two, but rarely spent more than €10-15 euros a visit—half of what it would run me in San Francisco for the same things. In my frenzy, this time I racked up €100 euros worth of food.

A couple days later, on Friday, March 13—an appropriately macabre date—Prime Minister Sanchez announced the cabinet would meet the following day to initiate a state of alarm that would “restrict the movement of citizens.” In the spirit of getting it while the getting was good, Maria and I decided to meet for lunch, dubbing it The Last Supper. I joked about the situation, but was, in fact, fully in denial. The idea of a lockdown similar to what we were seeing in Asia and other parts of Europe was simply too hard to fathom given my incipient life here.

I was determined to delude myself as long as possible and Xemei in the Poble Sec neighborhood was perfect place to do that. The Italian restaurant stood out from the regular, run-of-the-mill lunch options in Barcelona. With its white tablecloths, Venetian cuisine and casually chic terrace, it oozed continental flair.

The weather was unusually warm and sunny for early spring and we sat outside in sunglasses eating green olives and drinking Sicilian wine. As we tucked into polenta with squid, cacio y pepe and baskets of bread, Covid concerns faded away. We finished off the meal with flourless chocolate cake and shots of limoncello to send us on our way.

That night Jaume came over. We discussed what was about to happen, trying to put a positive spin on it. The state of alarm was meant to last two weeks so perhaps that would be it. We could manage two weeks, right? If Sanchez wanted to extend it, he would need cabinet approval and that would certainly be met with resistance, wouldn’t it?

After several months of being together, I still didn’t sleep well next to Jaume. He suffered from sleep apnea and his vigorous snoring made it difficult for me, a light sleeper, to nod off and stay asleep. Even with earplugs, the random snorts and rumbles broke through. He of course fell asleep in seconds.

It didn’t help that I couldn’t turn my brain off after a night with him. Wide awake, I reviewed every detail of the evening, the dinner, the conversation, the sex. It was a potent cocktail of prolonged arousal mingled with disbelief that after so many years and so many romantic disappointments, I had found someone I was falling in love with. Someone I met six weeks after arriving in Spain, which only added to the illusory quality. This was the fantasy, after all. Woman steps off the plane in Europe and falls immediately into the arms of a tall, handsome man and they live happily ever after.

I awoke to sleepy morning sex— “the female is receptive,” Jaume deadpanned—followed by languorous snuggling and a session of what I called “Español in Bed.” To expose me to more Spanish, Jaume would prattle on in Castellano about random topics—from politics to movies to silly stories he would make up, like how I was dating the man who operated the filthy convenience store across the street—while I tried to pick up new vocabulary. The only thing missing was some silk pajamas and a smoldering cigarette and we had our very own video podcast a la Cary Grant and Katharine Hepburn in some fabulous 1940s film.

When Jaume left, I set out to do some errands. Although the state of alarm hadn’t officially started, the streets were nearly deserted. Uh oh, I thought, this is for real.

Determined to keep my blinders on, I blithely walked to the gym for my workout. Soon after I arrived, the prime minister appeared on live television to announce the commencement of the lockdown. According to the new regulations, people were required to stay at home unless they had to buy food or medicine or travel to work. All non-essential shops, as well as bars, restaurants, and cinemas would close. We were promptly ushered out of the gym.