The plummet was lightning-fast. In just a day, people’s moods turned from lighthearted paranoia—they’re willing to social-distance—to somber and panic. Now, people are just afraid. To go out and interact. It’s as if in our desire to live, we’re afraid to live in the world, with the world.

That is the new normal. Everything is put on hold, business and lifestyle as we knew it. (Even before the official lockdown last Thursday evening, even high-end establishments such as a golf club and funeral chapels were locked down.)

While this pandemic is worldwide and our panic is not unique to us, still our underdeveloped health care system, indeed our national coping mechanism, hardly gives a feeling of assurance. (Perhaps future official announcements can tackle the measures in place in terms of health/medical infrastructures and procedures, from nationwide testing, quarantine to hospital facilities. People want to know what measures the government is taking to reinforce our medical infrastructure, and as important, how it is working alongside the private health sector. Our public hospital facilities are certainly not enough.)

What is assuring, however, is that Filipinos are a resilient stock; compassion and patience are in our DNA. The Filipino doctors, health workers and medical and hospital staffs—those on the front line of this war—are doing a heroic job, working incredibly long hours with insufficient logistics sometimes. One hoped that their efforts could have been acknowledged in the address to the nation.

Until middle of last week, people were still going to smaller dinners and events. Filipinos, who must be the most hospitable and socially interactive people in the world (we chat up strangers in the elevator), were even trying out the elbow-bump or foot-bump, in place of the “beso-beso”—and having fun doing it.

That must be changing now, given today’s urge to self-isolation. All events that we knew of have been canceled or postponed, including theater productions. We feel sad that theater runs ceased even before this weekend. Repertory’s “Anna in the Tropics” never opened and the local audience never got to see the direction of New York-based designer Joey Mendoza—“Mendoza has given so much of himself to make this production come to life,” read the email of Repertory announcing the cancellation.

We will not get to see Atlantis’ “Oliver” this year, and we won’t see Ballet Philippines’ “Rama Hari” this week. This tragic development has yet to sink in with the arts community and audience.

The malls have thinning crowds. Business in all sectors is feeling the slump, including the recession-proof beauty salons (many people are afraid to be touched). Travel—what’s that?

A businessman told us with a sense of irony: “The only consoling thing is that you know that your competitor is in the same boat—everything is slowing down, if not put on hold.”

For now, many might be afraid to dine out, even if restaurants and hotels have announced the extra sanitary measures they have put in place. And while we’re at it, I hope some restaurants can do away with the “minimalism” style of putting utensils on bare table surfaces; it’s like eating on a petri dish.

The lockdown lifestyle is forcing us to stay at home, work from the house, and to cocoon. Apart from watching K-drama, some say, people should be going back to reading and family bonding (albeit forced—millennials and Gen Z are stuck with their parents. Yey!). (The other night, my son had this cruel instruction that I should use my K-drama time to declutter instead and do house chores.)

The fear of dying from this virus brings us back to the basics of living—to stay healthy, to be with the people who matter, to do work that matters, and to have faith. This fear just might lead us to rediscover the power of prayer, so we can feel calm and secure.

Will life, as we knew it, come back? The essentials, we hope. Perhaps by then we can distinguish the essentials from the trimmings.

Prelockdown dinner

A few days before the lockdown announcement, when people thought social distancing was the only adjustment people had to make, the city still throbbed with parties and fun dinners. Virgie Ramos hosted a Swatch party for birthday celebrators Alice Eduardo and Jojie Dingcong in the cozy 12/10 restaurant in Guijo, Makati. A huge portrait of the honorees was unfurled on the restaurant’s facade, making Jojie exclaim, “Now we have our own billboard!”

Inside, the restaurant had witty Japanese decor, starting with an artwork by 14-year-old Paolo Guidicelli, Matteo’s younger brother.

The celebrators’ close friends bonded well—a last hurrah before the lockdown: Derek Ramsay and girlfriend Andrea Torres, Dr. Vicki Belo and Dr. Hayden Kho, Steven Tan, Gianluca and Glenna Guidicelli with son Paolo, Rowell Santiago (now a comatose president in “Probinsiyano”), Sandy Tan-Uy, Tessa Valdes, Anton San Diego, Susan Joven, Derek’s folks Derek Sr. and Remedios, and Swatch’s ever-reliable Michelle Zeñarosa.

The much-anticipated guest, as expected, was Matteo Guidicelli, the new husband who looked so happy. As if overnight, Matteo changed from looking boyish to maturely mannish, guests noticed. A happy husband who’s enjoying building a home with wife Sarah Geronimo. He loves cooking pasta meals for her. Sarah couldn’t make it so Matteo had dinner wrapped for her, his pasalubong.

“We never saw Matt take out dinner before,” a guest told us. He didn’t have a wife to come home to. Now our dear Matteo has.