It's a crisis - run and stockpile EXERCISE SUPPLIES!!!
21-Mar-2020
Everybody knows someone who knows someone who is a prepper. Those people are just prepared for the great breakdown of civilization. The rest of us is left to run for the supermarkets and food stores in order to stockpile supplies when the level of panic raises sufficiently high.
Judging by press headlines, half of Europe is stockpiling pasta, toilet paper and tin canned food. Journalists compete for photographs of empty shelves of whichever non-perishables. I took a look at my Swedish supermarkets a week ago while still in Sweden, on the weekend of the Ides of March. Markets seemed normal, only ultra-pasteurized milk was gone, but on the way in. LIDL had set up a pyramid of tin cans right behind the entrance in an effort to capitalize on the newspaper headlines.
I took the phone and queried friends. Germans seem obsessed with stockpiling toilet paper, with my friend joking they must think it will be harder currency than the Euro latest by summer. Norwegian newspapers wrote about a run for pasta, which I could not see any traces of in the shelves. I joked with colleagues at work that in two year's future time, we all will have to eat the disgusting tin can meals when they get beyond their best-before date, referencing the Tin Can Cook book as a survival manual.
But then I found empty shelves. I went for a solitary-confinement, self-isolated fishing stroll where my well-used and corroded reel went to pieces. On the way home I went through a large sports and outdoor market, looking for a new reel. On the way to the fishing supplies corner, I came over empty shelves. Fitness supplies! Norwegians stockpile fitness supplies - anything from Yoga mats up to iron balls with handles!
I wondered what was going on. I could have imagined that the shop will be running short of fishing rods and hunting rifles when the population enters crisis mode. But fitness gear?
The shop attendant's answer shed light into the matter. All of Norway's kindergardens, schools and universities and fitness gyms, Yoga schools and sports clubs have been shut down. Pretty much everybody who is not on a critical job sits at home, sentenced to home office or to an extra school break with a curfew. Fitness celebrities and professional athletes had filled their blogs and subsequently the TV channels now void of live sport events with their homestories on how they keep fit while at home, while gym addicts began worrying about their fitness.
And, last but not least, a considerable part of the population is home-quarantined, either because they know someone who participated in the Great Virus Spread of the Alps, or because they're hit by Norway's super-sharp quarantine rules for critical staff in health, security and infrastructure.
This may very well be the explanation for the wall-shaking fequent rumbling from the apparment above mine.
Everybody knows someone who knows someone who is a prepper. Those people are just prepared for the great breakdown of civilization. The rest of us is left to run for the supermarkets and food stores in order to stockpile supplies when the level of panic raises sufficiently high.
Judging by press headlines, half of Europe is stockpiling pasta, toilet paper and tin canned food. Journalists compete for photographs of empty shelves of whichever non-perishables. I took a look at my Swedish supermarkets a week ago while still in Sweden, on the weekend of the Ides of March. Markets seemed normal, only ultra-pasteurized milk was gone, but on the way in. LIDL had set up a pyramid of tin cans right behind the entrance in an effort to capitalize on the newspaper headlines.I took the phone and queried friends. Germans seem obsessed with stockpiling toilet paper, with my friend joking they must think it will be harder currency than the Euro latest by summer. Norwegian newspapers wrote about a run for pasta, which I could not see any traces of in the shelves. I joked with colleagues at work that in two year's future time, we all will have to eat the disgusting tin can meals when they get beyond their best-before date, referencing the Tin Can Cook book as a survival manual.
But then I found empty shelves. I went for a solitary-confinement, self-isolated fishing stroll where my well-used and corroded reel went to pieces. On the way home I went through a large sports and outdoor market, looking for a new reel. On the way to the fishing supplies corner, I came over empty shelves. Fitness supplies! Norwegians stockpile fitness supplies - anything from Yoga mats up to iron balls with handles!
I wondered what was going on. I could have imagined that the shop will be running short of fishing rods and hunting rifles when the population enters crisis mode. But fitness gear?
The shop attendant's answer shed light into the matter. All of Norway's kindergardens, schools and universities and fitness gyms, Yoga schools and sports clubs have been shut down. Pretty much everybody who is not on a critical job sits at home, sentenced to home office or to an extra school break with a curfew. Fitness celebrities and professional athletes had filled their blogs and subsequently the TV channels now void of live sport events with their homestories on how they keep fit while at home, while gym addicts began worrying about their fitness.
And, last but not least, a considerable part of the population is home-quarantined, either because they know someone who participated in the Great Virus Spread of the Alps, or because they're hit by Norway's super-sharp quarantine rules for critical staff in health, security and infrastructure.
This may very well be the explanation for the wall-shaking fequent rumbling from the apparment above mine.
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