The Spain coronavirus lockdown is an eerie experience of difficulties, but it has its heartwarming moments

Graham Keeley, The Independent

Our neighbours took to their balconies on Saturday night to applaud the doctors and nurses who are risking their lives to fight the coronavirus epidemic.

Organised through social media, it was an emotional moment repeated across Spain which will happen every night from now on.

This is just part of a new life under lockdown for Spain, a society which normally lives outside through its bars, restaurants and beaches.

Being confined to the house, much like British people do most of the year because of the weather, will come as a shock.

The Spanish government’s state of emergency order means we can only go out to buy food, get medicines, see a doctor, attend hospital for an emergency or for work. Walking the dog and, weirdly, having a haircut are also valid excuses to pop out.

Before the official lockdown started, I took to the streets for a last bike ride. It felt like I was in one of those apocalyptic films where almost every human is dead but I was one of lucky few who had survived.

The streets were empty, bars closed and restaurants deserted. It was only missing some tumbleweed. With most roads free of cars, I could enjoy the strange freedom of cycling along the middle of streets which would normally be clogged with traffic.

When the occasional human veered into sight, I exchanged a cautious “hola!” but kept my distance.

Looking up to the sky, there was an unusual silence. I live near an airport and usually the skies are buzzing with jumbos.

Instead there was just a lovely peace, interrupted by the occasional plane. Officially airlines are not covered by the emergency order and borders have not been closed but most airlines have cut services to Spain.

The crackdown started last week when schools closed, confining not just millions of pupils to home but their parents too.

In our case, the first thought was to dust off some ancient computers so we could ensure our three boys could work online. The prospect of having to share computers spelt chaos. Help came at the last moment when the school offered us some laptops so our boys could do homework. An uneasy peace was restored.

A dash to the supermarket revealed empty shelves, with meat, pasta and tinned goods in short supply.

On social media, doctors and nurses are offering their services to those not affected by the coronavirus like pregnant women or the elderly who may have chronic conditions.

In a country where many are self-employed or run small businesses, there will be many who cannot pay their bills and face ruin. Government financial aid promised last week cannot come soon enough.

Thankfully even though we cannot leave the house, we have a small garden to let the boys run loose. That trampoline now seems the best investment I ever made. But in a country where many live in flats, others have not been so lucky.

A friend who has a toddler with a tendency to touch and lick everything cannot leave her cramped flat and is finding it hard to contain the child, who is rampaging round the house on his bike in pyjamas.

Spain has always been a country where kissing on the cheek, meeting up outside and chatting are as much of life as paella.

However, life has not stopped, it has just moved online. FaceTime, Skype, and other apps have ensured we can still “meet” our friends, exchange survival tips and laughs.

In our case, it has given us pause to dig out some old family films or improvise family games.

Lockdown is eerie but perhaps not all bad.