A Step Towards Normal

(This blog got lost because of a tech problem with Blogspot.)

I had a Pizza Margherita with mushrooms and a schooner of Italian lager at Rudy's on Castle Street at lunch on Saturday the 4th of July. The 4th is Independence Day in the United States. Here, it was the first day of the partial lifting of the lockdown. 

I sat inside. The tables were set far apart and the staff all wore facemasks. There was a family of three Italians with a toddler a few tables away who looked as if they were enjoying themselves—they lifted my spirits. Everything inside Rudy's went smoothly, but there was an elaborate confusion at the entrance where I had to do strange things with my iPhone that called for an extra pair of hands. In the end, this rigmarole seemed pointless. 

After lunch, I walked up to Bold Street to see what was happening there. Bold Street is shoulder-to-shoulder restaurants, bars, and coffee houses. The entire street is now closed to traffic. Several of the more popular bistros had tables outside. Unfortunately, it was raining and only one place had those large umbrellas. 

I was not able to go back to see how they did at dinner, but I will take another look at lunch today. 

A year ago Thursday, I arrived at John Lennon Airport in Liverpool on a Ryanair flight from Dublin. If I had been seeking adventure instead of security and tranquility, this would have been a great year. But, after trying to figure out the various local ways of doing things and straining to understand the local dialect, out of nowhere, came the coronavirus followed by the lockdown. And now there's the very real threat of a major world depression. You can't make this stuff up. 

In New York, Sunday brunch is an important social event. It runs from late morning far into the afternoon. Midday today, there were not that many people out on Bold Street looking for Sunday brunch. The sun was shining and most of the bistros were open but only about a third of those had tables on the street. My guess (and it’s only a guess) is that management is being careful; they’re not sure if the new social-distancing system will work. 

Also, there’s a glaring fact about Bold Street that occurred to me today for the first time. There’s nothing attractive about the place, this long line of restaurants on both sides of this long, narrow street. I’ve not been there after dark, and I guess that’s when most people go. Colorful lighting should improve things. Yes, I took pictures today. I don’t like a single one. 

I see many working hosts in shops and restaurants wearing face shields now instead of face marks. Medical experts are not in lockstep as to which provides the best protection. 

My Blog

Some things I carry in my pockets these days.

This blog was never supposed to be me complaining about my personal situation, nor did I want it to be a weekly whining narrative of complaints about things in general. Most of all, I really do not want to write any more about the pandemic. Alas, here I go again. 

We would be better off listening to what the medical and scientific community has to say and ignoring inept leaders' dumb, cockamamie remarks. Yes, I'm referring to that Evil Clown who sits in the White House munching Big Macs and ignoring difficult facts. He's America's ingrown toenail.

I'm willing to give Boris a chance, although his wishful thinking that all will be well by Christmas was a shocker. I expected him to start singing "Jingle Bells" and handing out tiny toy trees. Prime Minister, were you not in Intensive Care just a short while ago with the virus? 

I'm neither a Tory nor a Labor supporter. With my Irish passport, I could legally vote in the UK, but I see myself as a guest in this country right now, not a shaker and surely not a mover. 

Pubs are getting ready for our return.

I must have mentioned this before: I grew up in American politics. My father served 30 years in the House of Representatives. The Hon. John J. Rooney, Democrat from Brooklyn, NY. I've shaken hands with three US Presidents, and a fourth, Harry S. Truman, stepped on my foot. Ouch! Harry wasn't following social-distancing.

Until we get an effective vaccine we will be plagued with COVID-19 and more people will die. Christmas 2020? I don't think so. 

Alfresco Unlocked

Most popular bistros here in Liverpool City Centre held back a little with the partial lifting of the lockdown. They are now catching up, quickly going to the trouble and expense of building outdoor additions to their table space. It's not a surprise that they didn't trust what may or may not happen next. A profitable future depends on getting it right. 

Both Bold Street and Castle Street are now closed to traffic. Both are now pedestrian islands. The Liverpool City Council is doing what it can to support small businesses. In the year that I've been here, I've been most impressed with the way this city is run. Good on you, LCC!

I had lunch out three times this past week. I reported on my pizza at Rudy’s in my last post. That was just before they added the sidewalk tables. 

I lunched at Mowgli, my favorite Indian place. Places, really, because they have two locations. One is at the far end of Bold Street and the other is near Castle Street and the Town Hall. I walked south to Bold. 

They told me me that there would not be a table available until 4:15 PM. We were discussing this at 12:20 just after they opened for lunch. There were two empty tables outside and the hostess offered me one. It was chilly and threatening rain, but I gave it a go. 

My third lunch was at the Duke Street Food and Drink Market where I order my favorite, a veggie version of the classic Cuban sandwich—mushrooms, cheese, pickles, mayo, and a few other bits alongside a cold Mexican lager.

They were not busy but things should pick up. They've switched to full table service now with paper menus. That's much easier than getting my own beer or wine with the half self-service they used to do.  

Marks & Spencer Foodhall has anticipated people wanting to celebrate the recent positive change. They have a display of the bubbly near their checkout.

Obviously, not everyone is feeling safe about going out to eat or drink yet. Personally, I don't think that I'll be visiting a pub anytime soon. Pubs are not about social distancing. And Uber, deliveroo, and Just Eat are still doing record business.

The Future, Near and Far

It was never my intention to write about the pandemic in this weekly blog. I'm not a doctor, not a nurse, not a scientist nor a medical researcher either. I'm just a guy from Brooklyn who's now living in this English port city and observing the things around me. However, since there are no bistros or bars to visit, no museums or landmarks to explore, I'm left with few options. Every week for the past three months I've considered locking down this blog. We'll see.

I was pleased to see that the Liverpool Football Club won the Primary League Championship for the first time in 30 years. Good stuff. The thuggish behavior of those who consider themselves fans, throwing bottles at police, and setting fire to the historic Liver Building at Pier Head? That's bad stuff. 

Equally upsetting is the fact that almost no one I passed on the streets this weekend was wearing a facemask. More bad stuff. 

This showed up in my email this morning:

"After 15 grueling weeks, New York City has finally turned another important corner in our fight against COVID-19. Working together, we’ve flattened the curve and reached Phase 2 out of 4 in our reopening plans.

Phase 2 includes the return of hair salons/barbershops, in-person retail, and real estate firms.

It also includes the launch of the City’s Open Restaurants program, which allows eligible venues to serve patrons on sidewalks, curb lanes, plazas, and open streets while following social distancing, hygiene, and other health guidance.

Outdoor dining is something that the City Council and I have been strongly advocating for and will help our city’s restaurant industry and its employees get back on their feet more quickly."

This statement comes from New York City Council Speaker, Corey Johnson.

There's a rumor of a similar plan to encourage local bistros and bars to promote outdoor dining here. Alfresco. I hope it works, but I'm less than optimistic that it will. Although we've just had a great deal of warm sunshine, I wonder if Merseyside has the climate to support an outdoor life. And can restaurants turn a profit with just a fraction of their normal customers? Will social distancing work? I walked along Bold Street and Castle Street yesterday and saw nothing like this getting ready to happen. 

So, as usual, speculation is the name of the game. 

Is the Lessened Lockdown a Letdown?

Not that much in my daily routine has changed with the partial lifting of the lockdown. I still do my food shopping at the same nearby supermarkets, go for a daily walk around the City Centre, and wear a facemask on my chin that I can pull up inside stores if I get too close to others. On the high street yesterday, very few people had facemasks.  

Who is that masked man?

A lot of restaurants in Liverpool have reopened for takeaway and deliveries. Is this new model working? One place near me had special, large boxes made up that look as if they're expecting to feed an infantry battalion. I pass this place every day and I've never seen anyone collecting food there. On the other hand, the nearby McDonald's has a steady flow of bicycle delivery people moving in and out. I'm not planning to have food delivered, especially a Big Mac. 

I want the full restaurant experience. 

I want to go in and get a table by a window, play with the menu, pretend deep thoughts as to which glass of inexpensive house wine to order, and exchange surface charm with the server. How enjoyable would it be to sit so far away from other dinners that I could not eavesdrop on their small talk? And what about the servers staring over their masks at masked customers? Does any of this sound like fun to you? 

Too close for comfort?

Also, I like to cook—not in this miserable, tiny kitchen I have now, but I do like to cook. I mean that I don't need to eat in a restaurant just because I'm hungry. 

An empty Mercado de Feria in Seville.

I have no family in Liverpool and I'm not part of a social group. So in restaurants, I'm usually on my own. That's not painful for me. I'm used to it and I'm comfortable in my own company. I wonder if in this brave new world I will be able to get my twice-a-month cheeseburger (Five Guys) or my Pizza Margarita (Rudy's on Castle Street)? Or will they stay a takeaway-only thing?  

A Few More Questions

I hope you don't mind if I ask you a few more questions, Edo?

   Go ahead, Edo. 

Are you happy living in Liverpool?

   Happy? Happy as opposed to what? Unhappy? Maybe.

Can you give me a yes or no? You seem to say "maybe" a lot.

   I say maybe when maybe is the answer. Are you happy? 

Well, since I'm you, I would have to answer . . . maybe.

   Okay, maybe I'm a little unhappy right now. It's not a happy time, is it? Not in Liverpool, not anywhere. This morning an egg slipped out of my hand and broke on the kitchen floor. It got on my shoe and I had to use four or five sheets of paper towels to clean things up. Yesterday, I stepped back to make room for a passing bus. I tripped on a rock and fell backward and broke the bottle of Rioja wine I had just bought. And some of the wine got on my shoe. Yes, the same shoe. And then there's this damn virus that has all the restaurants, pubs, and shops here in lockdown. 

Hmm. You sound clumsy as well as unhappy. Do you think you would be happier (and maybe less clumsy) if you were somewhere else, somewhere other than Liverpool?

   Maybe. If it were somewhere without the pandemic and the lockdown. But I don't know where that is.

There you go again with the maybes. 

We're living in a maybe kind of world, Mister.

*  *  *

Deliveroo and Uber Eats bike riders are bringing restaurant food to the self-isolating.

We are now in the third month of the pandemic lockdown in the UK? I think that's so, or have I lost track of time? Tomorrow is June 15th, and there will be a partial lifting of the lockdown. We'll have to see how that goes. I'm not enthusiastic. 

Every day I go out for a walk around the City Centre. This is some of what I see:

I see lots of buses, but very few people riding in them.

I see that most people are wearing face masks now. Not all, but most.

I see groups of teens racing around the empty streets on their bikes, speeding, doing wheelies. It looks like fun.

I see some restaurants doing a controlled takeaway business. Pret A Manger had a sign in the window saying that they would allow only 6 customers in at a time. Starbucks is allowing only 4. 

I see that the City Council has been taking advantage of the lack of traffic and fixing the streets and the infrastructure.

And I see far too many homeless people. There were homeless people everywhere I've been, but there seems to be more of them in this Merseyside port city. 

There are different types of homeless people now: cripples, mentally challenged, drunks, druggies, the young, the old, people using dogs as props, and hustlers—those who seem to have a spot reserved and keep regular hours.  I don't know how many are actually people without a place to live. I've heard stories that some work for a Fagin-like crime boss. I figure there are true examples out there of all types of modern beggars, but no one can convince me that sitting out in the cold, in the rain, is a pleasant or sensible way to spend the day to make a small living.

In NYC there are homeless people too.

Mostly, the homeless in Liverpool are not aggressive when asking for money. That's good because I pass a dozen or more of them here on every short walk. With the lockdown, sometimes they are the only people on the street. 

Not Quite Irish Enough

The Andalucian city of Seville is an attractive harmony of Mudéjar architecture, a mix of Moorish, Arabian, and Gothic styles. There are historic landmarks, of course, and the occasional ultra-modern construction (common in Europe now), but the entire inner city is lovely. 

The Metropol Parasol (locally called Las Setas) was a 10-minute walk from my front door. 

The day before I arrived in Seville in October 2018 the temperature hit 38 degrees Celcius. The day after I left in June 2019 it hit 38 again. That's 100-plus degrees Fahrenheit. Seville is the hottest city in Europe. Most of the year, that's a plus. If I'd been able to stay in Spain, I planned to move to Malaga or Valencia in order to add the Mediterranean to my stock photography coverage. I did not leave Spain because of the climate. Healthcare insurance was my undoing. Without healthcare insurance, I could not qualify for a residency visa. 

I'm gonna stop right here. I would need 30 more pages to try to explain all the dos and don't, the step by step, the endless reasons why I could not settle in Spain. And it's possible that I am wrong about some of it. Was it a crushing disappointment? Would I rather be living in Spain than in the UK? Not really. I'm not a sunshine beachgoer, and I don't speak much Spanish. (I speak more Spanish than Merseyside Scouse, however.) I like both Spain and the UK. And I could, of course, go to a beach here in Liverpool, but that would mean dipping my toes into the frosty Irish Sea. 

I took this picture in February.

As things began to look hopeless in Seville, I packed and flew to Ireland, hoping that I could settle there. Unfortunately, I could not make that happen either, even though I hold Irish citizenship.  

Most of Ireland is far too expensive now. I took the train from Dublin to Sligo, the home of my ancestors. Sligo is a pleasant little sleepy city on the west coast just below the Ulster border. Although W. B. Yates was not born in Sligo, he grew up there and is considered their native son.

The Yates Memorial in Sligo.

A local real estate office took my information and told me they would call if something came up. The message that I read on the broker's face told me nothing was going to come up. I liked it in Sligo, but after a week, I rode the bus to Galway, a much larger, hipper, happening locale. 

In Galway, waving my Irish passport around proved both fruitless and frustrating. Navigating the bureaucracy in Galway was hopeless. I suspected that there were two problems: my age and a general, unstated policy that Ireland would like to slow down immigration. A friendly rental agency and my hotel manager told me that, and they both suggested Liverpool. With an Irish passport in Liverpool, I am both part of the Special Relationship and still able to come and go from EU nations as I please. So here I am. 

I understand the shopping baskets on the bikes. The hats are a Celtic mystery.

If the pandemic lockdown is still in place next week, and I'm sure it will be, I guess I will talk some more about Liverpool.

Stay safe.