One year of Corona
"I have to get used to the world again"
© Maksfoto (Symbolfoto) / Shutterstock
One year of Corona and no end in sight. What is the virus doing to us? It makes us strange. Our author already fails in contact with strangers.
At the weekend I went on my first trip since autumn. I took the regional train to visit friends in the country, and even at the train station I didn't feel like after three months of winter, but like after twelve months of hibernation. All of these people – and what they're wearing! Do you wear that now?
My hygiene strategy, practiced since the beginning of the pandemic, of operating doors with your elbow and buttons with your index finger knuckle, failed at the ticket machine. The keys were so close together that I had to contaminate one of my fingertips. Uah, disgusting! I've never craved disinfectant like this before.
All of these people – and what they're wearing! Do you wear that now?
Ultimately, I felt contaminated on the train, even though I was sitting at the maximum distance from other passengers. The headrests were so shiny that I forbade myself to lean against it under threat of self-chastisement. I couldn't help thinking of my last long-haul trip as I sped through Taiwan in an aseptically clean express train. With every fiber I could suddenly feel what Corona had long since brought to light: That Germany has lost the connection, is beyond catching up, in terms of digitization, education, vaccination and, of course, mobility.
When looking through the window, which was covered with a gray veil of dirt, the thought shot through my paranoid brain again and again: "With this trip on the slow train, I risk my life." A year of horror news, home office and lockdown has left its mark.
But I only notice how strange I have become at the end of my journey, in real contact with strangers. I'm sitting with my friends in the garden, and their neighbors ask me very common questions: What music do you listen to? What were your best trips? Show me what book are you reading? Um yes, what was it like, where else have I been, and what were the names of the bands that I like? Why is he looking at me so strangely? Do I talk too much, too little, too loudly? After many months of digital and rare real contacts, even a live small talk is a challenge.
I hope the relaxations come slowly so that my locked lockdown psyche can catch up.
How is that supposed to be when one day I'm going to travel by plane and not just on a slow train? One year of Corona has alienated me so much from life that distant countries will simply blow my world-used brain away. On another continent, in my current condition, I would feel like a mutant on the wrong planet. I think I'll start with the quarry pond in the north of the city and slowly work my way up to the Baltic Sea from there before I get on a plane again.