Shanghai is a city as busy as Tokyo and New York. And now. It is dead.
I won’t deny all the kindness this city has shown me, even in a time of crisis, but there is enough pain to make us citizens cry out.
Before I go any further, I’d like you to see two comparisons of Shanghai.
As for why I waited till now to shout in pain? Because I was disillusioned, like many Shanghai citizens, that this is merely a passing phase, and there was no cause for me to change the way I lived.
The initial 5 days became a week, a week became two.
When citizens first received the news of lockdown at 3.31, 8pm, and were ordered to return from shopping for groceries before midnight, they still had the romance to joke about feeling like Cinderella. Two weeks from that time, and all I see is one word, screaming out at me from everywhere.
Life during the pandemic is like a pot of thick broth. It takes three swallows for every mouthful to go down. What’s worse is there never seems to be an end to the slimy goo. Spring is within a hand’s stretch, yet here I am living this steady and unchanging life
Everyday we count what’s left of the food, fight for supplies, get teary from the constant tragedies, and test for antigen. The bordem is a beast, clawing, biting, our kindness and patience gets more and more thin, undil we are only able to cover those dearest.
Hunger, Loss, Humanity, Death, Cruelty. Those words imply pain in themselves. They are threats I face daily. Let’s rewind the clock to April 1st, when everything started to get real.
This is just the quickest scan of Shanghai’s problems. In the upcoming days, I will recount and update events in Shanghai. Follow me to stay tuned.
The Netherlands, or Holland, is a small country. You can see in the photo above how closely packed the buildings are.
I’ve been there a few times. I once went by ferry and train. On the North Sea, I feared my seasickness might cause me to die. Then I feared it would not.
On each occasion I was there, I encountered their stairs. So did Michelle.
However, Michelle did not describe the Dutch stairs. I will.
First, you come to them and think What on earth…? Then you start to climb them. Therein is the thing.
The tread of Dutch stairs is about four inches deep and you rise about eight inches. A woman in heels is done for.
These stairs appear in homes, museums, cafes, the whole outfit. If you have consumed alcohol, please stay on the ground floor.
The Ann Frank museum has such stairs and to see the hiding place is very treacherous with so many people with many cultures doing whatever they think right. It is best to wait until stairs are empty before ascending.
My former fiance’s home was no exception. I stopped spending time with his sister in her attic room.
Maybe things have changed a bit. I’ve not been in a while. But the Ann Frank House is preserved.
Dutch stairs are a thing. So is the art. As are the canals. You can also purchase cannabis. I eat some now and then. It helps with my pain.