AFTER having been confined in our respective “interment camps” for over 100 days because of the Covid-19 pandemic, it was such a joy to be finally out and about having a haircut and dining in a restaurant in the past weeks. Of course, there are still health and safety protocols to be strictly followed, like wearing a face mask or shield all the time, and washing one’s hands regularly with soap and water, or disinfecting with a hand sanitizer/alcohol. However, to me, these were minimal discomforts in exchange for a little bit of liberation.
For months, my friends and I have been looking forward to the day when we could finally dine together face to face, and had a list of restaurants where we could accomplish the eating mission. But sorry, gals, I could no longer wait for you. As I was going on a supermarket run at SM early this week, I decided to have a real dine-in experience for the first time since…oh, wow, March 13! That was Big Sister’s birthday and that was the last time I had a meal at a restaurant (and had seen the family).
My first dine-in experience under GCQ was nothing fancy. I first passed a row of eat-all-you-can Korean barbecue restaurants, which had queues of guests waiting to get inside; for a weekday and with only 30 percent of each restaurant allowed to operate, these were quite impressive queues.
I came upon an old favorite, Aristocrat, and it was totally empty. There were no waiting guests that I even had to ask if they were open that day. I was told by the waitstaff that they were indeed open and offered me a paper menu from which to order—he thought I was ordering for take-out. But, no, I said. I wanted to dine in.
Before I entered, the waitstaff took my temperature with an infrared thermometer and sprayed my hands with alcohol. All the tables now had acrylic dividers, which would allow face-to-face dining with one’s companion. But there were spaces also clearly marked for physical distancing, and you could not dine beside anyone even if there was clear barrier between the both of you.
Now seated, the waitstaff handed me a health declaration form basically just to check if I had been exposed to anyone with the dreaded disease, which I diligently filled out with a pudpod na pencil. He also handed me a short paper menu, but this being Aristocrat, I already knew what to order: boneless chicken barbecue with java rice and java sauce—the all-time comfort food favorite. Yay!
The restaurant also provided sanitized dining utensils and a paper napkin, all wrapped in plastic. The java sauce also came in tiny plastic condiment containers. (Single-use plastics were used, so good luck to the environment!)
My chicken barbecue finally arrived, and I relished every morsel of meat which I smothered in the java sauce, and every bit of java rice and that teeny clump of atchara. I was done in less than 30 minutes and after paying for my meal (all of P195!), I proceeded to the supermarket on a happy tummy.
Meanwhile, last June 8, I had my first haircut since February. As I mentioned in a previous column, I had been dying for my wayward locks to be shorn as the summer humidity just made them stick to my sweaty nape. My head also felt heavy with my long hair, and it just annoyed me to no end.
I had to make an appointment beforehand, so the salon could manage the number of customers at that specific time and date, in keeping with physical distancing rules. Even before I entered Toni & Guy’s doors, Ate Helen, who usually does the mani-pedis and back messages, took my temperature, then proceeded to place my bag inside a clean plastic bag. The reception desk, meanwhile, had a clear barrier between customers and the receptionists, and everyone had their PPEs on, which consisted of a gown, face mask or shield, and a head kerchief to keep hair away from their faces.
As I was escorted to my seat, I noticed only one other customer at the time of my appointment, and we were seated two seats apart. I also received my own gown wrapped in a clear plastic which was then sprayed with disinfectant before it was put on me. Then at the shampoo area, before I sat to get my hair washed, the staff sprayed the seat with disinfectant.
It was a pleasant experience to see again my usual hairstylist Benj. We were in the habit of exchanging notes and opinions on the latest movies playing in theaters or on Netflix. Before setting about to cut my hair, this time, however, he first disinfected the tools of his trade—the combs and different types of scissors—with a UVC wand.
All throughout his snipping, shearing and texturizing my hair, we kept our masks on. The additional burden was on Benj, though, because he also had to use goggles to protect his eyes and latex gloves on his hands. To help ease the difficulty of hairstyling under GCQ, at one point I had to remove my mask’s ear loop, when Benj had to cut the hair around my ear area.
Eventually, we were done. My hair now shorter and blow-dried, it was like a huge burden had been lifted off my shoulders. I felt like my old joyful self again, and thankful for a few hours of pampering. The skip was back in my step as I left the salon, and merrily went out into the mall to pick up a few things from stores I had missed while on lockdown (mostly food and snacks).
With my rather successful restaurant dine-in, the gals are ready to meet up for lunch and gossip. Gab sessions via Zoom just don’t give as much satisfaction. I also want to test how our chosen restaurant would handle more than one guest with the strict rules on hygiene and physical distancing in place.
I am also hoping authorities will consider allowing more salon services such as mani-pedis, hair coloring and massages. Sacrificing our liberties, while necessary, can take a lot out of anyone. So some amount of leeway in personal pampering can help lift our mood, and make us feel like we’re winning for once.
Image credits: Stella Arnaldo