Life in Lockdown: Week 8, Spain
It’s been seven of the weirdest days of our life: where the freedom of vanlife turned into quarantine in a 4m2 space. I look back on our documentary progress and life in València under lockdown.
The week started with the announcement that the biggest event in the Valèncian calendar, Las Fallas, was cancelled. This came as a real shock to us (just as I was wrapping up last week’s blog post) and at the time, almost felt like a bit of an over-reaction. Of course, those closely following the development of Coronavirus around the world, and particularly in nearby Italy, would understand the motivation behind such a big decision.
On Tuesday morning I attended a free event about Innovation and Design in cities, hosted by a group called ‘Designscapes’ who are conducting research on the topic in the hope of developing public policy. I’d been invited by Ramon Marrades who we’ve been working with at La Marina, and I quite enjoyed attending an academic event after being outside of the urban design industry for a while. I wrote an overview of some of the key takeaways from the event here, which included speakers from the International Centre for Design and Research, Aalborg University and The Tavistock Institute. Unfortunately, the event was considerably impacted by Coronavirus, and not only was attendance greatly reduced but many of the speakers were also unavailable to be present.
Attending the Designscapes Policy Forum was certainly a wake-up call about how seriously Covid-19 might begin to affect public gatherings, but I would still not believe the situation we’d be in just one week later!
While the cancellation of Las Fallas had affected some of our commercial work, the next few days felt as though most other things were unaffected. Plans for the documentary that our channel Broaden are making about La Marina charged ahead.
On Tuesday afternoon, we met up with Ramon to discuss people we’d like to interview about La Marina, València’s seriously impressive waterfront precinct. He took us inside ‘La Base’, the old headquarters for the Swiss Alinghi sailing team, a relic from when València hosted the America’s Cup back in 2007. La Marina now uses the building for events and offices, and while it’s not yet used as often as it could, it has so much potential and is one of many cool assets in the marina.
(images, left to right) Attending the Designscapes forum on innovation in cities, enjoying the sunset on the marina blissfully unaware of the lockdown that would soon be in place, and moody scenes from inside ‘La Base’, a building full of potential.
Filming for the documentary began on Wednesday morning, when we interviewed Manoel, a charming guy who has worked at La Marina for over a decade. Starting out as a deck hand, Manoel is now a senior staff member managing the nautical side of the marina, with its hundreds of moorings and associated facilities. It was fascinating to learn more about the operational side of running a place like this, and we were even treated to a guided boat ride around the marina which offered such a different perspective on this place we’ve both been documenting and staying in for over a week.
The following afternoon, we filmed our second interview, this time with with Julia Pineda, a socially-oriented architect from the co-operative practice ‘Crearqcio’ who has worked closely with La Marina. I was especially interested in the community engagement she had done, and the participatory processes with local residents and other stakeholders to explore names for new streets and decide on future uses for buildings there.
As George and I continue to work together as a videography duo, we’re refining the process of interviewing people, arranging shoots, preparing equipment and getting the perfect footage.
(images, left to right) Taking a boat ride around La Marina, speaking to Julia in Crearqcio’s office, and interviewing Manoel on a gloriously sunny day for the documentary.
Friday the 13th did indeed turn out to be pretty unlucky, as that’s when the situation in Spain relating to Coronavirus really escalated. We managed to squeeze in another interview with a member of La Marina’s team, the third of five interviews we had planned. Barbara was really accommodating and positive on camera, but even just the general vibe in the office while we were filming communicated that things were about to dramatically change.
By early evening, we were informed that some of our other commercial work would have to be completely cancelled, as all operations in Spain were starting to completely shut down.
It was Friday evening when warning came of the state of alarm which Spain was about to enter.
The declaration was made on Saturday: to ameliorate the spread of coronavirus, everyone in Spain is to stay at home, leaving the house only to buy groceries or medicine. All bars, restaurants, museums, cafes, and any other establishments that carry out public activity are to be closed and no one is to use public spaces. As the week continued, further measures have been put in place, such as the closure of the country’s land borders.
And that is pretty much when the predictability of my and George’s lives ended. Just like that: an extreme measure is brought into place which affects every aspect of your life - your income, your freedom to move, your travel plans, your activities and your family. Of course, that extreme measure has been brought into place because of an extreme situation, but if only I could warn Bryony from a week ago, perhaps I would have told her to prepare in some way. What might I have said? To stock up on food essentials, to buy a couple more books, to have more money saved up and most critically, to brace herself for the physical and emotional challenge of being confined to living exclusively inside Suzi the Van.
(images, left to right) Powering through confinement in a van by writing letters and eating icecream, George going a teeny tiny bit crazy in our mini house, and sitting just outside the van on my virtual ‘balcony’.
We have left the van once since Friday, to go out and buy some food. I’m someone who likes to get out and about, so this level of confinement is pretty intense.
Aside from the supermarket run (to Lidl, which was surprisingly well-stocked), George and I have ‘stayed at home’, here in Suzi at La Marina. I’ve been really keen to go and find a camping spot out in the countryside, where there might be more possibility of getting some fresh air and a walk, but we’re conscious that where we are right now has all the amenities we could need: flushing toilets, hot showers, a laundry, rubbish bins, water, drain, and even electricity (which we’ve resorted to using today amid stormy overcast weather). Plus, if the last week has taught us anything, it’s that you can’t be sure of how the next week may play out. The safest option is likely to stay put.
As people have reiterated online, a period of isolation is a pretty unique opportunity for many of us to indulge in activities we don’t get around to. Whilst I’m privileged to have already incorporated diary and blog writing as well as a lot of book-reading into my routine in the van, these last few days have seen me do that more than ever. I also made another collage, and even got around to editing together a collection of images I took back when I was working in Sydney. This short stop-motion animation (below) had me thinking about seeing something inspirational in the same repetitive scene.
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A post shared by Bryony Simcox (@bryonysimcox) on Mar 16, 2020 at 9:42am PDT
Might isolation do wonders for society’s increasingly short attention span and need for variety?
The current situation is a bizarre mix of feeling very isolated and very connected all at the same time. George and I use our phones a lot, and get constant updates both from formal news outlets and from friends and family. Anecdotes from Sydney and the UK, where measures aren’t quite as extreme yet, contrast with the sobering sentiments of scientists on podcasts or videos of Italians and Chinese who have been dealing with a total lockdown far longer than we have.
At times, I’ve even turned my phone off to try and tune out of the noise. Now that George and I are in lockdown, we aren’t able to contract Covid-19 nor spread it. So to a certain extent I feel as though keeping up-to-date as the crisis unfolds only makes me feel increasingly miserable and helpless.
(images, left to right) The deserted walkway next to our van, empty offices at La Marina, and the beach as viewed from the closed gate which confines the part of the marina that we’re parked in.
If you let your mind project the implications of this virus in the future, it’s not too hard to find yourself in a dark place. Already, I see the failings of an economic system addicted to growth, the selfish panic-buying and disregard of facts by large swathes of people and the unfair advantage of exploitative multinational corporations. Take for example the fact that the aviation industry (led by millionaires, might I add) have banded together to ask for government payouts while young people, creatives, self-employed and zero-hour contract employees face a future of complete financial uncertainty.
I’m left asking questions like “how will people pay their rent?”, “where will this leave already vulnerable members of our society?” and “how will we even begin to rebuild life if and when this virus is tackled?”.
Of course, there are so many positive sides to be seen during this time too, and some of which offer answers to that last question. Already, we are seeing signs of generosity and kindness from health workers, neighbours, friends and strangers. We are seeing the emergence of an informal economy built on reciprocity and trust, where not just economic capital has value. We are seeing innovation on a massive scale, as people seek new ways of keeping their businesses alive, of cooking food with what’s left in their cupboards, of keeping the virus at bay and managing its spread, of boosting morale and of pooling resources.
(images) I’m trying to see beauty in things and keep positive-minded, even if that means snapping these colourful scenes from the desolate streets on our walk to the supermarket.
In some ways, perhaps we needed an event of this magnitude to shake up the entire way in which we exist, and to rethink our systems of living.
The irony is that we already have another event which threatens humanity in this way, but which we have been largely ignoring. This is, of course, climate change and the terrifying rate at which the earth is warming up. Mother Nature has been shouting about the catastrophe we are charging towards for some time now, and yet it has taken direct deaths on home soil and a tangible ‘thing’ like Covid-19 for us to react in a collective and decisive way. It also goes without saying, that my heart breaks for all of the victims of this terrible virus to date, and I would never wish that it would take fatalities to call us to action.
This blog is usually a very personal reflection on a very personal journey: where my partner George and I attempt to cross the world in an old Japanese campervan, making videos along the way. But the arrival of this virus and its direct impact on our journey has triggered a different type of reflection. Perhaps in the coming weeks, during which I presume we will remain in lockdown, I will continue to write and reflect on what I think it is to be human in a difficult time, and to assess the situation which we are now all in, together as humanity.
I hope that my writing brings us together in some way, across oceans, balconies and phone screens. Whilst I’m pretty sure that George and I will still be parked up in a marina on the Spanish coast this time next week, who knows where we’ll be, collectively?