Brazilians torn between fear of Covid and feeling of freedom with reopening

Standing, with a drink in hand, the Paulistano takes a step dancing on the floor of a club. The scene may recall a distant pre-pandemic period, but it will be allowed from this Monday (1st) in São Paulo — on that date, the presence of standing audiences is also allowed at concerts and stadiums may have full occupancy of fans .

Amid the advance of vaccination and the drop in the number of deaths, scenes like this appear in most states. In Rio de Janeiro, the measures were even more flexible, and the use of masks was allowed in the open air.

Despite the feeling of freedom that many acquire when completing the vaccination program against Covid-19, there are still those who feel insecure to go out on the street and continue with measures of social isolation. This is the case of decorator Marcia Coppola, 62, who lives in São Paulo with her mother Myrian, 92, and her designer sister Viviane Coppola, 58.

Since March of last year, they do not receive people in the apartment and all products that enter there are sanitized. Marcia assesses that the cloistered life is not unpleasant, but confesses that the last six months were more stressful, as she had to balance housework with work, as her sister’s work returned in person.

She also needs to visit construction sites once in a week and has already taken some business trips, but she still doesn’t feel safe going to restaurants or closed places, such as malls and cinemas.

“When we go out, we try not to be near our mother because, despite having taken the third dose, we don’t want her to take [a Covid-19] no way,” says Marcia, who says her mother just left home to get the vaccine.

Now, during the holiday, she’s going to try to drive her mother around in a car and, weather permitting, intends to do what she misses most: go to the building’s swimming pool and sunbathe—if the space is empty, of course. But, she reckons that despite the restrictions, it was a good year. “For those who need to work on the street [em meio à pandemia] is that it was horrible.”

Marcia is not alone. Advertising writer Elen Campos, 44, thought that when she received the second dose of the immunizing agent, she would have the courage to meet some friends. The two doses have come, but the courage has not yet. Now is the time to make plans, she says.

For example, in November she intends to leave home to watch “Marighella” in movie theaters, but there are places she doesn’t even consider going to, like restaurants, since she has to take off her mask.

In addition, he is already making plans to escape from São Paulo. The 2022 Carnival will take place in Rio de Janeiro. “The pandemic began with the end of Carnival and will have to end at the beginning of the next one,” he says. And it promises a triumphant return. “I’m going out licking the banister,” he jokes.

The numbers in relation to vaccination calm Elen, but she says that the resumption is being much slower than for most. “What people were doing a year ago, I’m starting to do now, that of saying ‘I’m going to take a chance’.” She only returned to the gym in October, for example.

One of the few things she did away from home, in the midst of quarantine, was to drive to Belo Horizonte and stay with her family. There, he managed to spend time with his five-year-old nephew, who is now facing a return to face-to-face classes — the little one was the last in the class to return to the classroom.

“It was like, again, the first day of school”, says the aunt, who reports that the little one complains that the classes “take too long”. “It’s like a rite of passage, he’s relearning how to share toys and live with children, because before that he had the attention of all adults.”

Among those already facing activities outside the home is video editor Diogo Mendonça, 35. But that doesn’t mean that the return to places that were once trivial wasn’t strange.

After a year and seven months away from a mall, he had to change an article of clothing in mid-October. The store was full and the experience was not the best. “When I repeat the dose, I’ll look for alternative times,” he registered on Twitter.

The trip to the mall was the first outing with no essential purpose. “It was a kind of vision of what pre-pandemic life was like,” reflects he, who, upon seeing some people with the mask poorly placed, felt somewhat insecure.

Days after the mall, Mendonça went to Ibirapuera Park on a Sunday morning. There, he says he used another strategy: he arrived early to enjoy the outdoors, and when it started to fill up, he decided to leave.

He also reports that he goes to some friends’ houses and, from time to time, goes to restaurants and bars, but always keeping an eye on the crowd. “I feel more scared during the journey because I keep thinking about what might happen, but when you arrive, sit down, start talking, eating and drinking, it feels natural.”

Mendonça now has two short-term plans: a trip to the beach and a trip to the movies to enjoy the São Paulo International Film Festival. “The requirement for proof of the vaccine makes me more relaxed,” he says.

Law student Ketheny Zietlow, 24, who lives in Vila Velha (ES), has also returned to living the unforeseen circumstances of on-site life. Last week, with the price of gas soaring, she switched to a car and, after a year and a half, she went back to riding the bus.

The resumption was fraught with adventure. The first drive she missed by “a thousandth of a second”. On Monday, a passenger got sick and the bus went straight to the emergency room. In the third, the turnstile broke, which delayed the trip. But getting used to the return, she reflects, wasn’t difficult. “It’s like riding a bike, never forget it,” he laughs.

During the more restricted period of quarantine, she says that, in addition to the fear of taking Covid-19 and passing it on to her parents, she was afraid of what people would think if they knew she was seeing friends. But now she has been going out more often.

Crowded places, Zietlow says he avoids, but gathers with friends, goes to the movies and a few bars and restaurants. “It was gradually normalizing, no one can stand it for a long time,” he concludes.