Spring turns into Summer

We’ve been in Lombard, IL for two and a half months, much longer than our normal stops. On June 1, when we should be flying from Athens to Vienna, we will be leaving Lombard, IL for Conneaut, OH, the last town before the PA border.

Why?

Lake Erie, for starters. We’ve never been there, and our new house overlooks the lake. There is also beach combing. Cleveland and other places threw all their trash into the lake for about a century and today pieces rounded by the water and sand wash up waiting for people like me to see them. I’m looking forward to new surroundings, and a lake for swimming.

The change of seasons has also gotten to us. Our cute house is cozy and warm in cold weather, but it doesn’t have air conditioning. Chicago has sneaky spring weather, staying cool, even chilly, into May. There’s a reason that people don’t plant their gardens until mid-May. One day, though, you open the front door and step into a cloud of hot steam. Step outside and it feels like you are breathing through a hot washcloth. Summer has arrived in Chicago! It will be hot and humid on many days between today and September. For us, it’s time to move on.

March 23, March 24, April 12, May 26, 2020

Our stay here began just before the official start of spring. We went for walks and started seeing birds, even when we had to bundle up in heavy coats, hats, scarves, and gloves. Back when the branches were bare, we got used to spotting smaller birds that we had barely seen before.

Birdwatching is made for the current times. We walk slowly, scrutinizing the sides of the path or looking up into the trees, turning away from anyone who may be passing on the other side of the path. Watching for a flicker of wings among the twigs and brambles my mind wanders, testing the cold, the wind, checking the angle of the sun. I understand how people who spend their lives outdoors know the season and the time by the feel of the day.

We occasionally stop and chat with people who are fishing or who ask what birds we have seen. Most park walkers are polite and observant of social distancing. Sometimes we meet a regular birdwatcher who points us toward a better viewing spot, or a new bird. That’s how I spotted a Blackburnian warbler.

Dupage County has more parks and forest preserves than we have been able to visit, places we never set foot in when we lived here for twenty-four years, but now we appreciate them day after day. The knoll at the center of Lincoln Marsh, its grove of tall trees ringed by a vast spread of brown reed stems, reminds me of The Invisible Island, one of my favorite books growing up.

There’s a list of the sixty-three different birds we’ve been able to identify at the end of this post. We’ve seen surprising animals, as well. I didn’t realize that beavers had made such a comeback in this region. There must be quite a few living in the Dupage River system, as we’ve seen beavers swimming by several times. One day, a beaver swam by us, and as we watched, it climbed out of the water (below), waddled into the reeds and returned with a stick in it’s mouth. It set off swimming down the river until we lost sight of it.

As the days passed, we got better at spotting woodpeckers up in the trees. I don’t feel like a walk is officially over until we’ve seen at least one woodpecker. They are so funny-looking, hopping up the tree like a colorful squirrel. The brush on either side of the path became slightly greener as the trees budded. It was a bit more difficult to see birds, but improved our spotting of warblers and kinglets.

Over the weeks, we visited more places, and through other birders, discovered the hotspots in Dupage County, like Elsen’s Hill, in W. Dupage Woods, where we saw bushes full of warblers.

There was a Great Horned Owl mother and baby at Lincoln Marsh, and the tiny nest of a blue-gray gnatcatcher, barely the size of a baseball, at Fabyan Forest Preserve. Every colorful bird is a marvel. At the top of a tree we spotted a male cardinal, scarlet red in all his glory, facing a Baltimore oriole in bright orange and black.

Now our stay here is ending, just as the goslings and ducklings are hatching. We saw a multi-mother flock of goslings on the Fox River, spreading out across the water as their mothers looked on. We must have gotten a bit too close, because one of the geese gave off a short sharp sound, and in seconds the group of more than 20 goslings merged into a single ball of fluff.

The brush along the trails has gone from a handful of gray sticks to a dense mat of green. There are wild phlox in little gaps in the trees and lining some of the picnic areas. The migrating birds have moved on toward Canada and the Arctic for the summer, leaving the permanent residents to raise their chicks, and often, to make another nest and do it all over again before fall arrives. We are moving on as well. Every day, I think about my family, and miss being able to visit them, and to hug each one. Instead, I am grateful for the company that nature has provided.

Clockwise from upper left: Eastern bluebird, Red-headed woodpecker, Swainson’s thrush, robin’s nest on our drainpipe, palm warbler.

Midwest birds 2020
BirdDateLocation
cormorant
Canada goose
Mallard
Wood duck13-AprChurchill Woods
Pied bill grebe30-AprChurchill Woods
Double crested cormorant8-AprHidden Lakes Park
Great Blue Heron
Great Egret
Turkey Vulture25-MayLincoln Marsh
Red tailed Hawk26-MayLincoln Marsh
American Coot30-AprChurchill Woods
Caspian TernDupage River
Mourning Dove1-MayChurchill Woods
Great Horned Owl8-MayLincoln Marsh
Belted Kingfisher13-MarChurchill Woods
Red headed woodpecker25-MayLincoln Marsh
Red bellied woodpecker2-AprChurchill Woods
Yellow bellied sapsucker13-AprChurchill Woods
Downy Woodpecker8-AprHidden Lakes Park
Hairy Woodpecker25-MayLincoln Marsh
yellow bellied flycatcher22-AprChurchill Woods
Eastern Phoebe25-AprChurchill Woods
Eastern Kingbird16-MayLincoln Marsh
Yellow throated Vireo22-AprChurchill Woods
Blue Jay15-Apr506 W. Maple St.
Tree Swallow30-AprHidden Lakes Park
Red breasted nuthatch31-Mar506 W. Maple St.
Brown creeper31-MarChurchill Woods
House Wren15-MayLincoln Marsh
BlueGray Gnatcatcher23-MayFabyan Forest Preserve
Golden Crowned Kinglet13-AprChurchill Woods
Ruby Crowned Kinglet13-AprChurchill Woods
Eastern Bluebird8-MayLincoln Marsh
Swainsons Thrush12-MayChurchill Woods
American Robin
Red wing Blackbird
Gray Catbird
Brown Thrasher24-AprE. Branch Dupage R.
European Starling
Cedar Waxwing5-MayLilac Park, Lombard
Black and white warbler11-MayElsen’s Hill
Golden Winged Warbler16-AprChurchill Woods
Nashville Warbler7-MayChurchill Woods
Mourning Warbler7-MayChurchill Woods
Common Yellowthroat25-MayLincoln Marsh
American Redstart15-MayRice Lake
Magnolia Warbler22-MayChurchill Woods
Blackburnian Warbler11-MayElsen’s Hill
Yellow Warbler14-MayDupage River
Pine Warbler13-AprChurchill Woods
Palm Warbler23-AprChurchill Woods
Yellow rumped warbler8-AprChurchill Woods
Chipping Sparrow12-MayChurchill Woods
Savannah Sparrow23-AprChurchill Woods
Song Sparrow13-AprChurchill Woods
White Crowned Sparrow8-MayChurchill Woods
Northern Cardinal
Rose breasted grosbeak8-MayLincoln Marsh
Indigo Bunting25-MayLincoln Marsh
Brewers Blackbird14-MayDupage River
Rusty Blackbird
Common Grackle8-MayLincoln Marsh
Brown headed Cowbird8-AprHidden Lakes Park
House Sparrow506 W. Maple St.

Lombard’s Lustron Houses

This is a Surf Blue Lustron.

Lombard, Illinois has a particularly interesting mix of housing from every period since its founding in 1833. We are staying in a house built from a kit purchased from Sears Roebuck in 1926, and there are several of these around town, but there is another experimental type, the Lustron House, that has more than a dozen surviving examples in Lombard. We took ourselves on a self-guided tour of some of these very intriguing houses.

Lustron Houses were developed as part of the post WWII effort to construct housing for returning GIs and their families. Carl Strandlund, a Chicago industrialist and inventor, was going to build gas stations for Standard Oil, but was told he could only get an allocation of steel if he were to build homes. He came up with the idea of building an all steel house using enameled steel panels for a maintenance-free exterior, pitching his homes as a way for families to maximize their free time together.

Desert Tan Lustron house, Lombard, IL

Between 2500-3000 Lustron houses were built, and many are still standing, due to the sturdy steel panels, the same material used to make enameled cookware, though heavier. Even the roof tiles have lasted 50 years or more. These are relatively small houses, 700-1100 sq ft. and those that have been demolished were generally removed to make way for larger homes. The enameled steel construction was quite strong and durable, but didn’t lend itself to remodeling or additions. As anyone who has chipped the corner of an enameled pot knows, the chips can’t be mended. Most surviving examples are in their original form in one of the four colors that were available. On our tour, we wondered whether the relatively small size of these houses has turned some into rental properties. About half of the Lustrons we saw had minimal landscaping and outdoor maintenance.

This Dove Gray Lustron’s original front porch has been enclosed as a vestibule.
This maize yellow Lustron is for sale, in case you’d like your own.

The built-in metal bookshelves and cupboards were handy, but there was no way to add a picture hook except for magnets. This might be an excellent house for a true minimalist. Having seen all four exterior colors in different settings, we concluded our tour, intrigued by the concept. Today Lustron houses are a collectors item, though the use of steel in home construction was ahead of its time.

You can read more about Lustron Houses, why the company founded by Strandlund failed, the politics of the time, and where to find examples in 36 states.

Lilac Park, Lombard IL

Since the first day of spring, we’ve walking Lilac Park twice a week, watching the arrival of the flowers. At first there was snow that melted rapidly, then chilly wind that demanded layers, gloves, hats, and scarves that continued into April. Finally, warmer weather has crept in. Now that it’s mid-May, we’ve been through the blooming of daffodils, a profusion of tulips, and the big event, lilacs, arrived this week. The bushes of blooms smell wonderful, not too strong, and the colors range from white through many layers of pinkish and purplish to a few dark purple blooms. This is the height of the year in the garden, and very much worth a walk. We’ve never found too many people here, making it easy to visit. My first photos taken in March are at the top, and the photos from yesterday are at the bottom.

Spring begins in Lombard, IL

Spring began Mar. 19, 2020, the earliest date in a century, but the weather hasn’t impressed me. Gradually, the cold is abating and I am wearing fewer layers when we go for our daily stroll. The landscape is responding, front lawns turning green, daffodils sprouting, accompanied by a few crocuses and tiny blue flowers.

We’ve discovered a nearby area called Churchill Woods that includes a number of paths through woods, a remnant patch of prairie, and trails along the east bank of the Dupage River. We’ve seen birds including woodpeckers, ducks, geese, sparrows, blackbirds, cardinals, and tons of robins, as well as a bunch of tiny birds we haven’t been able to identify. On a warm day there were seven turtles lined up on a log with their necks stretched out.

We passed a mound of debris in the water and Jonathan said it was a beaver dam. I was dubious until around the next corner we saw this:

Yes, it is indeed a beaver dam.

We plan to keep going back to see how springtime develops. Maybe we’ll see the beavers!

Where does wanderlust come from?

Wanderlust is the desire to move, the need to see what is over the next horizon, the inability to turn back on the trail. Everyone has it to some extent, whether it is the need to get to the back of the closet, or the far reaches of the attic, the need to hike the Appalachian Trail, or see the Pamirs.

I have always felt wanderlust. One of my earliest memories is of riding a train across the country with my parents and my sister. I was three, and we were moving from Shelton, WA to the New York suburbs. At night, the circular overhead fluorescent bulb cast a greenish glow on my mother’s face when she tucked us in. I was on the bottom bunk, the younger sister. When the train rounded a bend, we looked out the windows to see the cars stretching far ahead, pulling us toward Chicago, then New York. I don’t remember what was out the window, just the head of the train in the distance, pulling us on and on.

Our suburban neighborhood was a series of interconnected dead end streets, great for riding bicycles and roller skating. All the kids had to walk to the intersection of the neighborhood street with a much busier road to catch the bus. The bus stop was a landmark, the point beyond which no one could go without parental permission. Within the neighborhood, all roads were open. There were only four streets, but we knew everyone, and the landscape seemed pretty large.

In middle school, though, we sometimes walked or rode our bikes to the bus stop and sat on the split-rail fence and talked. I have no recollection of what we talked about, but behind our conversations was a yearning for something else, something different.

What else was out there? On vacations we visited family in upstate New York. My grandparents didn’t go to Florida, like some of my friends grandparents did. I had no concept of Florida, but I was pretty sure we were missing out. My father’s parents lived in the city of Syracuse, in an urban neighborhood. Their house was much older than our 1949 brick ranch, and their cellar still smelled like coal, dark and lit by a single light bulb on a string. With their six children grown and gone, the house seemed huge, and we raced up and down the back stairs and around the empty upstairs rooms. The attic was full of boxes and trunks.

My mother’s family lived in Penn Yan, a more rural area, and we spent more time outdoors, wandering around front yards, peering into abandoned farmyards, and climbing on Grandpa Mills’ long moribund diesel tractor in the back yard. We entertained ourselves by looking in the barn and getting used to the smell of hay–very strange to suburban noses. We swatted flies on Grandpa’s front porch all one morning, Paula and I, with cousins Michael and Carol, the four of us paired in ages. When we were together with cousins we had adventures hunting for junk and old glass bottles in farmyard dumps, or horn buttons and auto insignia from old cars abandoned in nearby fields. I believe my cousin still has some of our booty.

When we went visiting, we saw the fancy chickens my Uncle Buddy raised. They had topknots of black feathers that looked like some of the ladies hats we saw in church. The hens laid colored eggs, pastel blue and green, yellow and coral. I asked Uncle Buddy why stores didn’t have colored eggs for sale, they were so pretty. He said that no one wants strange colors, why, people practically wouldn’t eat brown eggs. For stores, people wanted white eggs. I didn’t agree.

At Uncle Jack’s house on Keuka Lake there was always a boat, and a dock to jump off. There were more cousins, too, older ones who knew about marching band, and football, and summer jobs. At Grandpa Mills’, we stood in the back yard and listened to dad and Grandpa shoot doves in the barn. We ate them for dinner that night and learned to pick the shot out before we hurt our teeth. Life in other places seemed full of adventure compared to the suburbs back home. Maybe wanderlust comes from seeing things different from what you know and deciding you like them.

(Travel) blog = Blog = Stories

What happens when a travel blogger runs out of travel? I was looking forward to getting back on the road after our winter in Peru when things started to go sideways. It wasn’t just that Jonathan broke his arm, or that I found out many retina specialists use an imaging device that doesn’t show my patch of degeneration (how can I be treated properly if they can’t see the bad spot?).

This is not the Parthenon

The real problem is the novel coronavirus. We’ve been in social isolation for two weeks, and that makes it impossible for us to leave for Athens tomorrow. We cancelled our Airbnb near the Parthenon–Oh! wound in my heart!–and today I am cancelling our flight on Iberia airlines to Athens via Madrid. As the months go by, we will cancel each of our other stops and the associated flights.

Adding to my disgruntlement is the fact that we are sheltering in place in our old stomping grounds, the Chicago suburbs. We have a lovely house here through Airbnb, but remember–when Jonathan and I left this area almost six years ago, we had NO plans to return. I would have preferred to be isolated in a new potential home town on the east or west coasts, but here we are, where the doctors are familiar and we can navigate the health care system relatively easily.

Playing dress-up outside our childhood home.

How to make lemonade? Rather than write about travel past or travel future, I am going to tell the stories of how I developed wanderlust and where it led me. How did I go from a youthful home firmly rooted in the New York suburbs–we arrived when I was 3, left I was 30–to someone who has given up a fixed home? With apologies to Groucho, perhaps my epitaph should be “I’d rather be–anywhere than here.”

I’ve decided to post these stories separately at LLLYWINDACHRONICLES.wordpress.com

Please stop by!

Social Distancing in Lombard, IL

We are living in a lovely house in Lombard, IL until the end of April, when we may know something more about the current pandemic. Our month in Athens is off, and probably the rest of our travels this season, but we will check our options at the end of each month.

We are fortunate to have found a nice place to stay. There is a historic element, here, too, as the house is one of the “Sears catalogue” houses built between 1908-1940 from kits that included all that was needed to build a house shipped from Sears to the building site. (Ours is a single story, not exactly like the pictured two story house.)

Though the house looks modest from the outside, the lower floor is completely finished and contains a bedroom and bath, media room/den, home office, laundry room, and storage. The upstairs has living room, dining room, kitchen, two bedrooms and a bath.

The neighborhood is interesting, long settled and with a variety of homes built at different times and in different styles. Downtown Lombard is about a ten minute walk to the east, where there is a Metra station for trains to Chicago. Two blocks south of us is the Prairie Path, a regional walking/biking trail that extends more than 50 miles, from Chicago through the western suburbs.

The best known feature of the town is Lilacia Park, donated to the city by Col. William Plum, a local resident. The city was given his home, land, and the garden of lilacs that he and his wife had been cultivating for a number of years. The Plum’s began their garden with two lilac bushes they brought from France in 1907. The park was established in 1927, and today it includes over 200 varieties of lilacs. I had no idea there were that many variants! Though the plants are not in bloom yet, daffodils and tulips are coming up, and within a couple of weeks the park should begin its showiest time of the year. There won’t be a Lilac Festival this year, but the flowers will bloom no matter what. I intend to walk by regularly to keep track of them, and to smell the lilacs.

The day after I took this walk, it got drizzly and cold. I explored some of the downtown streets and didn’t pass many people. I noticed that the liquor store and smoke shop were open, and I was surprised that a hair salon and a nail salon were still open. I hadn’t been keeping up with the news, so I didn’t know that people were still crowding together at the beach in Florida and California, and standing in line to see the cherry blossoms in Washington. I suppose there are also people who still want to get their nails done. I have cancelled all appointments except for one eye doctor appointment that is already overdue.

This morning we were surprised to get up and find snow. What a change! It was so depressing to think that I’ve given up life on the beach for this–Illinois at the worst time of year. My moaning was premature, as the snow was completely melted and the sun was out by mid-afternoon. At 8 am, though, I was ready to abandon ship and go back to South America.

What do you like best about the beginning of spring? The longer days, warmer sun, options for gardening?

Guest Post #2: Virus Stories–Our Man in Paris

[Today I have another guest post. Rick Scott is an American who has lived in France for many years. In response to Joyce’s virus story, Rick provided his update on leaving the US to get back to Paris before he was stranded away from home, and what it has been like since his return.]

What a subject we suddenly have!  Never thought I would see what we long-protected boomers are seeing now. Here are a few high points of the last few days —
I was just in the U.S. for 6 weeks (New York, Philadelphia, Washington) and was getting ready to go to Richmond/Charlotte/Charleston/Florida, but started to get uneasy about all the talk about travel disruptions in the Far East and how that may spread. So I bought a ticket on Feb. 23 from Washington to Paris – and back to familiar local cafes and familiar health insurance until this virus thing sorts itself out.

3 days ago, Thursday, March 12  (two days before french lockdown)–

Life in Paris seemed totally normal.   Hardly any masks on the street. I stopped in for awhile at the local library and was thinking about going to a movie.  All cinemas were open.  Also would have been a good time to visit uncrowded museums.

That night, a reading of online international press made me realize that a lot of the world was already in lockdown mentality if not fact, and with good reason. You can be healthy as a horse but not even know – or never know – that you are/were a carrier and be endangering other people.    We’re all going to be walking in the dark for awhile with this virus.
What would Dr. Spock do?

So I decided – with the luxury of a retired person living alone – to then and there start self-quarantining or semi-self-quarantining.  No handshakes, no extended dinners with people, avoiding crowds, and spending a lot of time at home doing homework/research/errands online. I don’t have tv, but I have lots to do with a piano and the internet – and last month I spent a day at the Library of Congress in Washington getting instruction on how to access their online collection.

Yesterday, Saturday March 14 (the day of the french lockdown)–

My new rules still allowed me to take the metro and to have coffee on terraces outside. It was sunny and the terraces in my neighborhood were doing a booming business at 5 p.m. – every single  seat taken, but that night I heard from a niece in faraway Nebraska that she had just heard that France had declared a lockdown.       

I went to the French papers online, and sure enough, Edouard Philippe [Prime Minister of France] had spoken and  the police were making rounds to kick people out of bars and restaurants at midnight. (That didn’t even happen with the imminent German invasion in 1940, did it? Humphrey Bogart was still schmoozing well after midnight by the piano with Ingrid Bergman – and they seemed to have plenty of time to make further plans).

Today – Sunday March 15 (the day after lockdown)–

Out of curiosity, i went to the local supermarket this morning. Quite a few people were doing bulk shopping, but all the shelves were well stocked except for rice, pasta – and peanut butter (perhaps other things that I don’t notice  – since I don’t know how to cook). There seemed to be plenty of everything else, even toilet paper.

[The 19th and 20th arrondissements of Paris include the Parc Buttes Chaumont, the Pere Lachaise cemetery and lots of residential buildings.]

Parc Buttes Chaumont, 19th arr. Paris. M.M.Minderhoud

Then I took a walk through the 19th and 20th arrondissements – a total of 14,095 steps according to my iphone. Restaurants and brasseries indeed dead as a doornail. But – and this is a lifesaver – all the bakeries are open, even on Sunday. Fresh bread, sandwiches, quiche, patisserie  … and takeout COFFEE!  So I’ll be buying the newspapers, getting takeout coffee and reading on park benches for awhile. Not quite a terrace but not bad with proper social distancing. Then some power walking or biking in the park for exercise.

Takeout places are operating as well. Domino’s pizza outlets were all open.   McDonald’s was closed but functioning – via internet orders delivered by Ubereats, Deliveroo, etc. One enterprising brasserie was closed for food but had an outdoor takeaway stand for wine, beer, coffee. All takeaway, and socially distant.

In that walk of several miles, I saw only about a dozen people wearing masks.  

[Thanks, Rick, for giving us a snapshot of Paris at the start of the French response to the global pandemic. If you would like to contribute a Virus Story, please contact me at wcreamer151@gmail.com–Winifred]

Guest Post: Virus Stories

This is another guest post by my good friend Joyce Heard, sharing her story of how the COVID-19 virus is affecting her life that moves between Paris and Aix-en-Provence, France and Sidi ifni, Morocco.

By now you probably have your own coronavirus story. Here’s ours. First off, we are well. Jean Marie and I spent the first week of March in Paris. Before the virus seriously hit France, we enjoyed good meals, fine wines, a concert, a movie, a museum and catching up  with old friends. I also ran around to various doctors to prepare for a planned surgery in April. It will now surely be postponed.

Paris with Sacre Coeur (By Gerd Eichmann – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=78750052)

Parisians were unusually friendly. Eating lunch alone at a cafe, the man at the table on my left reminded the waiter not to forget my coffee as he could see it was taking a long time. The young couple on my right eyed my chair full of bags (Yes I had been shopping) and asked if I was planning to take the metro. When I said yes, they advised me not to do so as there had been a run of metro thieves at the nearest station. I walked instead. Never before had I benefited from such solicitude from unknown Parisians.

At the Marmottan museum to see a show on how classic Italian painters influenced Cezanne even though he never went to Italy, we used the co-ed bathroom. When Jean Marie came out of the toilet and made to leave without washing his hands, I reminded him to do so. A well-dressed and perfectly made up woman about my age, the sort of Parisian who would normally ignore us, turned to me and said, “Oh they are all alike,” in sisterly commiseration. I said, “Yes, I expect to be a widow soon.” She said, “Me too, perhaps we’ll meet up again as merry widows.” Unbelievable. A friendly upper bourgeois Parisienne? Something in Paris has changed. Indeed, the taxi drivers were all on time and uniformly competent with clean vehicles. I think this is due to competition from Uber and other services, but it is such a pleasant change.

We flew back to Agadir, Morocco on Sunday, March 8 and spent Jean Marie’s birthday at one of our favorite hotels, Dar Zitoune in Taroudant. We had thought it would be nice to enjoy a last few weeks of Spring in Morocco before returning to France on April 6. Now we are stuck here.

So far Morocco only has a handful of confirmed cases of the coronavirus, all brought by Moroccans and tourists arriving from Europe. So the country has shut down all ports and flights to most European countries. 

Even in the best of times, communication is a weak point in Morocco. So of course there were scenes of chaos at all the airports yesterday as stranded tourists tried in vain to get home. Late yesterday Morocco gave permission for France to send some planes to repatriate citizens. We are not going to be on one of those planes. We have decided to hunker down at home in Sidi Ifni rather than join chaotic mobs at the Agadir airport. Since we are legal residents of Morocco, we would probably not be on a priority list to return to France anyway. 

Back in France, two of the friends we saw are showing mild symptoms that could be the coronavirus. One friend went to the hospital to have a stent put in, but as he had a low fever, the stent placement was postponed and they gave him a Covid-19 test. He waited days confined at his apartment. Finally, the hospital told him they had mistakenly sent his test to the wrong lab so it was not analyzed. This is not reassuring. The second friend was simply told to stay at home for seven days and wear a mask when going out today to vote in local elections. France is now only testing people who present with likely serious cases.

So for now, we are taking our chances where we can still go for walks on our uncrowded beach. We have books, television, Internet, Netflix and the calming presence of our cat, Rizu. Since Morocco stocked up on staples in advance of Ramadan which starts April 25, we don’t expect to run out of food here. Our local market supplies fresh local fruit and vegetables and the fishermen are still arriving daily with fish. Before Morocco confined us, we were having a big debate about trying to get back to France or not. In the end, it is perhaps easier to have let King Mohammed VI decide for us.

Social Distancing in Sidi Ifni