Hello, hello, hello… is there anybody in there?
Oh, go ahead, skip the nod if you can hear me—clearly, Pink Floyd didn’t have access to Google Analytics when David Gilmour and Roger Waters wrote the song, but I do. I know you’re here. Stats don’t change much year after year, month after month. The line goes up and down depending on when I post but this blog still gets about 30,000-50,000 monthly page views. Thanks, eh.
However, you guys are pretty quiet.
Granted, this has never been the kind of blog where hundreds of commenters argue and interact. It’s probably my fault. See, I’m not an influencer. I don’t promote it on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Pinterest, Snapchat and YouTube because I have a life and better things to do. So maybe you all moved to other platforms and chat on social media. Blogging is dead, or so I’ve been told. I just still pretend I didn’t read the memo because I this is the only place where I can publish stories with words in them, not just post links, emojis and memes to be “liked,” upvoted or downvoted.
But it’s not just quiet here. It’s quiet everywhere.
Streets are quiet, both because it’s cold outside and because walking around the block for no reason has run its course—it’s so spring 2020.
My feed—which includes dozens of blogs, websites, and podcasts—doesn’t offer much new content. It’s as if people have lost inspiration or just no longer have time and energy to be creative.
Maybe we’re all just fucking tired now.
I don’t know for you, but I had a lot of (safe, pandemic friendly) social interactions over the spring and summer. What was happening was so unique, scary, weird and disruptive that we just had to connect. I spent a lot of time on the phone for reasons such as wellness checks, an urge to speculate and compare how a global health crisis was managed around the world or simply boredom and a craving for human connection. I talked with my family, friends, then not-so-close friends, neighbours, clients and at one point, pretty much anyone out in the street. I spent hours on the phone and I’m not a phone person. Ironically, I think I met my handful of Ottawa friends more often than any other year—we jumped on the opportunity whenever we could instead of just postponing and waiting for a more convenient moment like we usually do.
I can’t pinpoint exactly when the novelty of a pandemic started to wear off and we all kind of drifted apart again. Was it when we realized it wasn’t going to be a few tough weeks of “flattening the curve” and a weird worldwide spring break? Was it when we all had to resume life on hard mode?
It looks like we’re dealing with the second wave differently—alone, this time.
Yeah, pandemic fatigue, for sure. No one really wants to talk about COVID again. There isn’t much to add, anyway.
Yet it’s impossible not to mention it because it impacts everyday life in so many different ways. Every story seems to start with COVID or end because of it. My mom describes me the frustrating process of having to write five different permission forms for the day—two to go to work, two for grocery trips and one to deliver food to my grandmother—in case she’s stopped by the police. My friend in Montreal shares she went for a Sunday walk with her husband and kids, except they had to rush home an hour later because both kids needed to go pee and, of course, there are no public bathrooms. Talking about work is another minefield because plenty of people lost their job and those who still have one are under pressure. You can’t talk about plans or the future in general because it’s impossible to make any plans.
The urge to turn pandemic downtime into creative and constructive projects didn’t last long. Closets were decluttered, time-consuming recipes were attempted and more ambitious projects had to be put on hold.
I feel tired as well. I’m giving up. I focus on making it through the day and I’m ridiculously relieved when it’s close to midnight—made it! The only things I have left to relax is the long walks I still stubbornly take because I need to get out of the house and get some daylight but it’s uncomfortably cold and I have nowhere to go. I’m not trying to jump through restriction hoops anymore—what’s the point, when what’s okay now may not be okay tomorrow? Work is slow again but I don’t even have the energy to worry about it. Nothing is fun, exciting or easy. I know it’s not me, though, because whenever I managed to do something normal—watching a movie at home, seeing a friend—I feel okay for a couple of hours.
“Could be worst,” Feng said the other day. “Some people lost everything, including their job.”
“You’ve been out of work for almost a year,” I pointed out.
“Shit, yeah… Never mind.”
I miss accomplishing small things and achieving something, no matter how small and personal.
This is part of why I’m still writing here. I can’t add it to the list of things I’ve given up on.
It’s okay, we don’t have to talk. But whoever you are, you’re not alone.
I am still here, and I am still reading. But yes, really quiet.
I blogged again about a month ago after a -who knows- a 2 years hiatus?
Not very active, eh!
Keep blogging, Zhu, this space of yours is awesome
Hey Gabriel! I used to read your updates on Twitter but I’m taking a break from this social media because it’s turning weird with everything going on. You do remain awesome, though 🙂
Believe it or not, I think about you quite often. It’s crazy for me to think your kids (must be) all grown up now! You have the best family ever and I’ve always found your relationship with your lovely wife absolutely amazing.
Still here! I started following your blog when I was going through the PR application process – my Canadian boyfriend thought he might move home at some point.
A decade has passed (what?!) and I’m now in Vancouver with my husband and a three year old.
Hi Jen!
Oh, your story put a smile on my face (although I’d say three years old is probably *not* an easy age for a pandemic, you must have had a tough year!).
I can’t believe I’m old enough to say “a decade ago”, I hear you 😆
Now I’m discovering you’re a talented artist and I’ve been absorbed in cross stitching for the past thirty minutes (love your X-File poster version and the “That’s life” :lol:)
I’m also here.
I live in Belgium where the pandemic looks like yours. As I’m retired, I often say “it could be worse”.
Take heart.
Oh, stay safe! Belgium had it really bad during the first wave :-/
I’m glad you’re blogging!!
And I’m glad you’re around! I think of you quite often, the US feels like a big mess from here :-/
I haven’t been back in France almost 2 years, so it is pretty annoying, but at least even if it’s a little bit slow, I still work regularly.
Oh yeah, you were supposed to go in April, weren’t you?
Do you get homesick once in a while? You always sound so… steady, “I have my shit together” kind of guy!
I’m accustomed to be alone on my own, and I’m not very social, so it’s not too bad. P!us we have today tools to communicate easily, so I still can see my family, especially my niece and nephews.
And it’s true that being in my mis 40s, I grew up surrounded by the idea that men don’t show their feelings, which is stupid but hard to fight. Still, I don’t have any problem to say I always cry at the end of « le Cercle des Poètes Disparus ».
You’re a weird kind of “not social” because you’re not “shut in”, you have meaningful relationships with your family and friends, yet you’re comfortable being on your own. Best of both worlds, I suppose.
I can see this “men don’t cry” struggle around me, even among men who didn’t grow up in super traditional families. This kind of social expectation is very toxic.
I’m still here too – I never comment but I love following you (and have done for years now). I love your blog for the Canadian element (my husband is Canadian) but also for the travel side of your blog (my son is an avid traveller – especially South America. He seems to go to so many of the places that you visit – and I have to day, I get far more information about those places from you than I ever do from him 😉
And apparently we have a job in common too, judging by your email address! 😆
Now I’m wondering if I could have crossed path with your son… South America is a big place but it happened before, especially among foreign traveller.
And now I’m also wondering if my mum reads someone’s else travel blog to get more info about places we visit 😆
Still here too! Je te comprends tellement, moi aussi j’écris par pur plaisir et pour les souvenirs. At least you work from home, I just started back going to work and man even if I find it nice to get out, it’s a bit scary to be around so many people in Covid time and working with a mask.
I do feel lucky I don’t have to make the choice between potentially getting sick at work and getting a pay cheque. I feel sorry for my mum who has to go to work in person and always have satefy protocols in mind, whereas I can spend a day pretending COVID doesn’t exist if I don’t need to go to the supermarket, for instance.
First time I comment but I am also here. Your blog helped me improve my english so keep blogging and thank you for sharing all those adventures ans emotions with us.
Oh, thank you for your comment! You live in one of my favorite countries in Africa 🙂 I never had the chance to go but I discovered the culture through the community in France and it’s amazing.
J’espère que ça va dans ce coin du monde!
Still here but working like a maniac (like 18 hours a day, 7 days a week) and barely any time to sleep, let alone read and blog. It won’t be like this forever, but I’ve been pulling these crazy hours since August and my brain is knackered.
Last Sunday I bought a ticket to Vancouver and I’ll be spending half of the trip in quarantine (working even more), but I’m determined to post at least one blog from isolation so my website isn’t completely quiet. I’ll never give up blogging, but I just have no brain power left at the end of most days to string a sentence together.
You are so much more prolific than I am!
I hear you on the COVID fatigue. This winter is going to be rough for many people. Most of the normal release valves for stress involve other people.
I rarely comment on your blog (I just… don’t have much to add?) but I often enjoy your take on Portugal and your pictures never cease to amaze me. I think of you every now and then… the way you lived (and living!) several lives is super inspiring 🙂
May self-isolation go by fast. It’s a tough one, psychologically speaking. I really wish Canada was testing instead. Welcome home!
C’est comme si ça nous avait un peu englouti, je suis vraiment dans cette phrase où j’ai “moins le goût”. Pas de déprime mais juste l’impression que l’ensemble de nos vies est en suspens.
Oui, même chose ici. Disons que je boucle les journées, tout prend de l’énergie. Mais je ne me sens plus de faire des pieds et des mains pour toucher du doigt la normalité, je suis tannée.
Hi, it has been awhile ! Hope you are doing ok in this crazy times.
Sorry for the late reply, I… escaped. Trying to keep my sanity, like you I guess! Are you doing ok?
LOL i just saw it ! We are doing ok. 2020 was a tough year.