Corona Surprise!

Getting back in shape was always a challenge for me since I pursued various interests unrelated to skating when I was away from Barcelona. Most of the people I hung out with in the city were professional skaters who earned their living on wheels. I’d try to practice a bit wherever I was before returning, and this time, my skills weren’t too rusty.

I recall our little excursions to places like Canyelles and Montbau, instantly nailing tricks and experimenting with an Insta 360 camera. FSK (Freestyle Skating) was all about simplicity – if you needed more than three tries, it wasn’t fun. In my later Barcelona days, Dan was my go-to skating partner. Always cheerful, consistently positive, ever ready to skate, blaze a joint, grab a coffee, hit the weed shop, or just roll around the city – he was a blast on good days. On bad days, though, he could drive me crazy. He always seemed to be in complicated relationships, which took a toll on our skating adventures. There was plenty of passive-aggressive girlfriend drama over the years, and I thought it was bad with Sasha, but it only got worse with his subsequent partners. It was challenging to motivate him, given the random chores, unnecessary drama, and the time he had to spend with his girlfriend. So irritating! It could have been so easy, but Dan struggled with relationship management. He was terrible at communicating his desires, especially considering that skating was his bread and butter. We could plan epic adventures the day before, but if his girlfriend wanted something different, I wouldn’t hear from him – sometimes for days, and later, even for weeks, to the point where it seemed pointless. Those were trying times.

Things were looking up momentarily – Dan’s friend from England came over for his first visit to Barcelona, and Sasha was scheduled to spend two weeks with her family in Prague. It was the perfect setup for us. But then, Corona started knocking at our door, and I recall the TV broadcasts mentioning a new virus in China. It still seemed distant from our little bubble, but the news grew louder. The virus was slowly creeping closer, with confirmed cases in Italy. Dan’s friend arrived on the day the first lockdown was implemented, and it was supposed to last only two weeks. We decided to make the most of it, taking one last skate through the city down Gran Via. Near Universitat, an unmarked van screeched to a halt beside us, and a group of stern-looking individuals leaped out, aggressively approaching us, demanding to know what we were doing. We politely informed them that it was only 8 PM, and lockdown wasn’t slated to start until 10 PM, so technically, we had another two hours. They didn’t like our response and ordered us to head home immediately, threatening arrest if we were spotted outside again. Those guys were intimidating, even worse than the regular Spanish police, who weren’t exactly friendly. We complied, turned around, and continued on our way. We did realize that stocking up on weed would be a wise move, but none of us bought nearly enough to last through a two-week lockdown – which soon became a different problem altogether.

Dinners were a quick affair, and we usually ordered takeout. The early days of lockdown were somewhat interesting, with the constant stream of news, new rules, and theories swirling about. Measures and regulations seemed to change from morning to afternoon. Our only permissible outings were to the nearby Lidl and the tobacco shop – that was it.

We didn’t have jobs that required us to leave home or contribute to society in any significant way. The only silver lining was the rooftop terrace, where we could bask in the sun, smoke, attempt some yoga, or even practice a few handstands. Suddenly, Dilla, the Beagle, became a godsend. He was our sole ticket to the outside world, apart from our Lidl visits, and we took him for as many walks as we could. I wasn’t particularly fond of the dog, but I appreciated the chances to leave the house and stroll around the block. I think Dilla must have been utterly baffled by all the walks – we’d often take him out back to back. Sadly, the serene dog-walking moments didn’t last long. One morning, Dan was stopped by the police at gunpoint – they questioned him and even doubted whether Dilla was his dog or if he had the right to walk him. We reevaluated our choices but decided to stick with our routine. Our days were long and monotonous, so any activity was a welcome diversion.
Those initial weeks were absolutely insane, especially in Spain. Drones patrolled Montjuic, and I witnessed police officers separating a mother and daughter taking out the trash. Aggressive police patrols roamed the streets, new rules emerged at Lidl every day, and residents shouted from their apartment complexes if they spotted anyone on the terrace – threatening to call the police. Sirens blared all day, whether it was ambulances or police vehicles. The streets lay empty, hazmat suits became a common sight, masks and hand sanitizers were prized commodities, conspiracy theories ran wild, the population was terrified, and despair seemed to hang in the air. I recall the police and paramedics showing up in hazmat suits to attend to one of our elderly neighbors. Luckily, Dan was on my side, and we both sensed that this was the most absurd situation of the century. Within the first few days of lockdown, I knew – and clearly remember telling everyone – that this would last much longer than the initially proposed 7 and 14 days. The orchestration was just too apparent. I watched German news, and the head of the Robert Koch Institute (RKI) said, “These measures may not be questioned” in German, referring to the lockdowns, social distancing, masks – all the absurd measures. That did it for me; it was ridiculous. These people came up with the most illogical stuff, implemented it worldwide, and we weren’t even allowed to question it? That’s when they lost me. Sasha, on the other hand, believed most of it, even though we tried our best to convince her otherwise. To her, it couldn’t all be lies – she had the uninformed naivety of an average newspaper reader.

I didn’t stick around for too long. As it became clear that the lockdown would be extended, and more and more things were closing rather than reopening, I had to plan my escape. Time was running out, and fewer flights were departing each day. Most of the flights were canceled right before takeoff. It was like entering those weird months after the initial lockdowns when time seemed to stand still.

I had to make a quick decision and booked a flight from Barcelona to Madrid, from Madrid to Zurich, and then from Zurich to Düsseldorf. I spent the night on the floor at Madrid airport, and it was the most expensive flight I’d ever booked. I was worried; if I got stuck in Madrid, there might be no way forward or backward, and I’d still be in Spain. I didn’t want to end up like Tom Hanks in “The Terminal.” To my surprise, the airports operated smoothly, with minimal traffic, and the pandemic wasn’t as palpable as it was in the city. Once I left Spain and reached Switzerland, things took a turn for the better. Life seemed almost normal, with more humane people and measures. The Spanish had gone a bit overboard with the whole COVID situation, to say the least.
I was relieved to escape Barcelona during the pandemic. Looking back, I consider myself extremely fortunate to have avoided the lady and her son’s living situation – I shudder to think how they coped with the crisis. I can imagine the lady, in particular, being terrified, with her incessant coughing and smoking habit. They probably wouldn’t have let me leave the flat or even sit on the terrace. Or they might have locked me out one day. The place I stayed at with Dan and Sasha was manageable under normal circumstances, but being cooped up – especially for as long as they were – would have driven me mad.
We stayed in touch, and somehow, they both made it through those times alive and still on speaking terms. But they eventually broke up in the aftermath. Dan took his sweet time getting out of Barcelona and back to England. He recounted a hilarious story of flying back to Barcelona after visiting home and nearly being denied entry (lacking Spanish national credentials). Still, he was so persistent and knew his rights well enough to force his way in, even if they didn’t want him to. Some of the weed missions were equally comical. All the dispensaries were closed for quite some time, and Dan had to venture into the city to meet his dealer. Simply strolling around was prohibited; only visits to the nearest Lidl and pharmacy were allowed. Of course, certain work-related trips were permitted, but it was highly illegal to walk aimlessly without a valid reason, not to mention carrying 30 or 40 grams of weed in his pockets on the way back.