Zur deutschen Fassung dieses Artikels.
We can go into town again. The barrier tapes have been removed from the parks, as if the crime scene has been cleaned up. The doors of the shops are wide open. Some of them have a sign, suggesting that only one customer should be inside at any time. The way banks do it, for fear of robberies with hostage situations. The Post Office is particularly strict, to prevent some crazy from going philatelistic.
The streets, the sidewalks, everything is as full as it hasn’t been in a long time. Fuller than I remember it ever having been, to be honest. Maybe because some people aren’t back at work yet (teachers, flight attendants, students), squeezing into the city instead. Some people wear the facemask, some have it dangling pointlessly from one ear, others stuff it into the back pocket as soon as they leave the supermarket, making sure to show their disdain.
Cars have been allowed outside, too. Every single parking space is occupied. The streets are filled with smoke and screeching and honking and fender benders. And dogs, worst of all.
It all comes upon me like an avalanche. The noise, the moving parts everywhere, people even want to talk to me. I have to be careful again to not get run over. What happened with the primacy of human life, forgotten so soon?
Frankly, it’s too much for me. I am sweating, and not only because of the facemask. My heart is beating faster. You have to keep your eyes everywhere, and everywhere at the same time. I just want to go back home as soon as possible. This is so much stress compared with the previous months. The town has become too busy and bustling for me.
The town is Horta, with a population of about 6000.
I can’t even imagine how I am supposed to survive this once I’ll be back on the continent.
Most likely, I am going to shoulder my backpack very soon and hike off into the Central European forests.
- More reports from the increasingly stressful Azores.