“There’s something about arriving in new cities, wandering empty streets with no destination. I will never lose the love for the arriving, but I’m born to leave.”
― Charlotte Eriksson, Empty Roads & Broken Bottles: in search for The Great Perhaps
Yesterday I took the bus to the other side of the city. Since I found a job close to my apartment, I’ve been spending an awful amount of time constricted in a small part of this already small city. I probably must blame myself for this self-confinement and maybe a little bit the stupid virus which deprived us from our routines. Anyhow, I took the bus to get tested and in my thirty minutes ride, I saw at least four people talking to themselves.
I can’t describe the joy I felt watching the sun caressing the buildings as they passed by. The change of scenery had an unexpected effect on my mood. I had been in those parts before, but I never felt a grater joy, looking at those shady houses. People walking around in sweatpants, leaning on the windowsills, cleaning their cars. Well-maintained gardens flanking abandoned properties, empty shops, places for sale and even new small businesses. I felt like a child going to Disneyland. While the scenery was passing before my eyes, I couldn’t believe I had left my notebook at home. Words kept flowing in and out my brain, I could have written a whole book just sitting in that stinky bus.
I was sad but a little bit exited as we reached my stop, like an adventurer I looked up at the sun, letting the cold light kiss my face. I never understood how the sun could shine so bright without warming anything. It was more like getting a frosty slap in the face by an icy wind, which, to be honest, woke me up from my daydreaming. It was good I was wearing a mask. At least half of my face would stay warm.
People were standing outside the building trying to form a que. There were two entries, but nobody was sure where to stand or what to do. Those without an appointment were led to the right side, while the others kept in line. Some had to step out to get a pen. They had forgotten to sign the piece of paper. I myself, was of course one of those. By the time I got back in line, I had disinfected my hands twice and the smell of alcohol mixed with perfume, made it seem like I had rubbed cheap nut schnapps on my hands.
The two lines got divided again as four red cross adjuncts were checking for the paper, name, and health insurance card of each one of us. Behind their backs the big space of the exhibition centre had been changed into a surreal testing station. There were at least twenty white cubicles, each with a big black number on it. I got pointed to number nine. On the floor there was a yellow line, like the do not cross murder scene-line in the movies. wait here. Inside a big guy with long black hair in a semi-transparent onesie and a FFP2 mask. Behind him, two other guys bent over a table. Looking at something I could not distinguish. He signed for me to wait and then he made a piece of chocolate disappear under his mask. His cheeks went up slightly indicating that he was grinning at me. “We have to honour the presents” I smiled back even though I’m not sure he noticed it. My face is too small for the masks. He came closer, standing in the doorstep, he asked me a few more questions. And then invited me in.
The cubicle had a small waiting area and a bigger one for them to work in. “Have you ever done this before?” “No.” “Ok, just sit down and blow your nose” I did as I was told. I was a little nervous. In the meantime he taken my paper into the other room and written something down. He came back with a very long q-tip, which reminded me of the one, gynaecologist use. I couldn’t help but to stare at that thing while he reassured me there was nothing to worry about. “I heard completely different things on the matter” “It’s just because they haven’t had me” he winked at me. I pushed my head back so he could get that thing into my nose. “just try not to move, it’ll be over soon”. I sat completely still, slowly breathing through my mouth. And while he was sinking deeper in a part of my body I didn’t even know existed, I had to ponder about Egyptian mummies and how far away that q-tip was from my brain. He turned it slightly and got it back out. My right eye was watering. The whole canal felt as if it had been cleaned with salt water. I hoped my nose had been clean enough as I got back out into the sun.
Such a strange feeling.
Groups of people were gathering, talking about how awful it had been. Some of them still poking in their noses with tissues, others still crying.
I crossed the street and got back into the bus.
Aromatic deception 