An American stuck in Prague during the pandemic
BY CRAIG ROBINSON
I studied photojournalism and writing before catching a terminal case of the travel bug on a study abroad semester in London in 1994. Now I live the life of an American who left his country for that greener grass on the other side of the pond (Ireland, but wound up in Berlin, and later Prague). I describe myself as an American refugee, a serial expat, a Euro-immigrant, but never, repeat, never, a ‘digital nomad.’ I hate heat, mosquitoes, and sand in my laptop.
It’s Day 5 of the coronavirus quarantine in the Czech Republic. Borders slammed shut, all but essential grocery stores are closed, and masks are now required for all people outside. As of March 16, nobody is allowed in or out of the Czech Republic until somebody kills this evil little coronabug.
Normally people would think ‘Hey, being trapped in the country with the largest beer consumption in the world ain’t bad.’ Normally that would be a good thing, just drowning your sorrows in the pub with the other poor slobs in Slobovia. But the pubs closed. Now the panic really begins in earnest. But since the Czech Republic consists of 50% drunks and 50% thieves, the government came up with a solution to keep the locals from setting the cars on fire and bashing in the pub windows to raid the medicine cabinet: beer windows. Just saunter up to the pub window, pay your money, and a hand thrusts the beer through the window.
On Sunday I ordered a pint of Guinness through a pub window in a nice pub in Žižkov. In this sad version of a drive-thru window, people just get their beer and stand 2 meters apart from each other and drink on the sidewalk in the cold. The pub was aptly named U Sadu. The charm wore off after one pint and I left.
But only a handful of pubs have the walk-up window. Most are closed. I saw an old man on the nearly deserted Prague streets yesterday with a bag of groceries and no face mask. Was he insane? Doesn’t he know that he’ll probably die if he catches the damn bug? Then I saw the contents of his paper bag as I passed: bottles of vodka and rolls of toilet paper. Apparently that’s all you need in a viral apocalypse.
State of Emergency Declared
Czechia is the only country in Europe with such strict quarantine measures. Almost EVERYTHING is closed in Prague. The Czech government declared a state of emergency in a very brief statement, followed by a bunch of specific things which are hereby verboten for the next 30 days. They even released them in English for a change. Probably because they think the coronavirus is being spread by all the dang foreigners, not all these fucking Czechs who can’t cover their mouths when coughing.
In addition to closing every damn thing, the long list of new rules includes closing offices and shops, forcing people to stay at home, requiring them to wear masks in public, and banning all events. The last one is a bitch. I bought tickets to see William Shatner in Prague last December. The event was scheduled for March 15 – and canceled the day before. Shat happens. But not in Europe.
Hoarding of Masks and TP
The CZ government requires people to wear masks in public and avoid general contact with others. That’s all fine and dandy, but all the masks sold out in about 5 minutes. So the government decreed that those without masks must wrap scarves around their faces. I can fully understand the draconian mask laws here. Every other Czech aged 8 to 80 in this country puts one finger on a nostril and blows snot noodles on the sidewalk. And they love to loudly hawk up lung oysters and shoot them everywhere. Forcing them to wear masks might put an damper on some of that white trashery.
But I’ve gotta hand it to the mask creativity of these people. In lieu of buying actual masks, Czechs just wrap scarves around their mugs. Or make their own masks at home. I’ve seen all colors of material wrapped around surly faces, from pillow cases to old Christmas socks. One lady strolled by with a red purse, red shoes, wearing a red mask while talking on her red cell phone. You go girl! Better red than dead!
Czechs must really be shitting themselves, because they are buying up every last roll of toilet paper they can get their hands on. People panic buy. Every time there’s a hint of an emergency, scared sheep stock up on a billion pills and canned food. But this time, they’re raiding the toilet paper shelves.
Why? Do they think that the companies will stop producing TP in the wake of coronavirus? And how is TP the ultimate measure of survival? This must fall under the 50% of Czechs who are drunks. Only drunks think survival depends solely on booze and TP. Like the old man in the street the other day with the bag of booze and buttwipes. Or my drunken college flatmate. He only ever bought booze and TP. Damn, did he see the future?
Free Movement Prohibited
If you’ve ever wondered about what life behind the Iron Curtain was like, wonder no more. As of this moment, the CZ guvvie dragged out the Old Commie Rule Book on this one. Cross border travel is restricted, and even taking leisurely walks is verboten. Everyone out for a walk must walk with a specific purpose. They’re not even sugar coating the thing, as the doc reads ‘Prohibition of Free Movement of Persons.’
Of course they can’t prohibit people from shopping, and they specify exactly what is allowed. And everything on the list is completely fucking sold out. Masks, medicine, hand sanitizer, and TP. A worse bunch of capitalists I’ve never seen.
I demand that these people be returned to communist bondage at once, where standing in lines for oranges and toilet paper was the norm. They not only like it, they pine for it. The grocers regularly have sales called ‘retro week’ for a taste of the good old times: cans of processed meat by-products and random goods with plain brown wrappers.
Wide Body Jetsetter Grounded
As I wander through the ghost mall in search of the solitary store where I can buy canned beans for burritos, I think of those zombie apocalypse films. How can you not? There’s panic, empty spaces, and bloody lunatics robbing the stores of precious rolls of shit tickets.
One of the nice things about the lockdown is that family time isn’t affected. I can still prop up the fluffy pillows in bed next to my sweetie, and watch 28 Days Later, followed by 28 Weeks Later. As one does.
I think about European history during war time. How the expat writers bumming around Europe writing their novels were suddenly whisked away by embassies and returned from whence they came.
I can’t be whisked away anywhere, and not just because I’m pushing 300 lbs. I’m not an expat (and not much of a writer, if I’m being honest), I’m a permanent resident of the Czech Republic, forced to stay here until the virus dies out. I canceled my yearly trip the states to see my family. I didn’t want to contract coronavirus while stuck in a plane for 14 hours, land in the states, go to dinner with family, and accidentally kill my dad. That would be awkward.
Soon after my decision to stay grounded, the Czech government made it official by slamming the borders shut. So by decree of the government of Czechia, I’m stuck here with all the slobs from Slobovia, without my pubs or my fried cheese for the foreseeable future. Fortunately, I can work from home.
But I can’t cram my wide body into a jet. Fuck. Well, I’m off to the ghost mall soon; it’s the only place I can go. I’ll wander past all the closed shops and darkened halls to the light at the end of the virus-ridden tunnel: the only open supermarket. I think I’ll get a bottle of vodka and a roll of TP, if I can get one.
Today I fast-walked with purpose, shoulders bent forward to the wind with the ghost mall up ahead. I now work at home and want to avoid this whole damn corona-poxy-lips thing. But it’s amazing how quickly you run out of things in the viral apocalypse. I was wearing my mask, as were most sensible people I passed. But then a homeless man rose from a bench and lurched toward me with his hand out. The rat bastard wasn’t wearing a mask or a scarf and he was asking for money. I gave him the stiff arm and shook my head no.
With no mask and sleeping in the cold, that guy wouldn’t last much longer. But for a second, when he got in my face without a mask, I felt this urge to knock him down and run. That’s what survival mode does to humans. Everyone gives each other the hairy eyeball, no trust.
In my case, I’ve probably just watched too many zombie apocalypse movies.
The End
