Pandemic Diaries Week #2

23 March 2020 again

I spent half my day walking around looking for a place selling face masks.  Finally found a tiny bodega that was open - chairs across the front so that customers couldn't enter, shop keeper wearing his own mask and latex gloves.  But, he had masks, one soles each (about 30 cents US), and I bought 4.  I'll probably add a layer or two of fabric over the paper, but I feel better with some kind of protection, no matter what the CDC says.

In the evening, I watched the videos from the art workshop I'm taking online.  We made blob paintings - make a random blob of paint, let it dry, turn it into something.

The second video was about drawing/painting food.  Just a quick drawing, then add color with watercolor.  

Good thing I take photos of special food items, LOL!  Though I changed the angle to have less whipped cream.  I sketched my slice of opera cake, added some aquarelle pencil for color, layering color for depth, and then carefully used brush and water to create the paint.  Dipped the pencils in water for some highlights on the cake top.

My whipped cream is not quite right, but oh well.  So, real cake and drawn cake.  Yummy either way!


24 March 2020

The Canadian Embassy is diagonally across the intersection from our hotel.  We've been using their flag as our wind indicator - thank you, Canada!

Today, it appears that the Canadians are evacuating several flights worth of citizens - we watched people lining up with their luggage from 8 AM onwards.  They go to the gatehouse to check in, do something at tables operated by several women we presume are embassy staff, and then they fill the buses that line both sides of the street.  

There are video cameras and crew, with people being interviewed - we are guessing this is for some news, possibly here in Peru but also in Canada?

And then, as the buses are filled and begin to drive down the street, heading to the military airport which is the only airport used for these evacuation and repatriation flights, the women from the tables line up and applaud and wave at the buses, full of Canadians heading out of the lockdown and flying home.

Sweetest thing ever, those staff women applauding another successful bus of evacuees!

25 March 2020

Photos of Lucky the cat, who Richard reports is a female.  The shop owner told him.

Apparently there's a hotel in Cuzco that is quarantined, a tourist came down with Covid-19 and now no one can leave that hotel at all, or even leave their room.

Which led the Minister of Health to send out tighter guidelines for hotels and how they serve meals.  Now, we can only go into the dining room for brekkie in small groups and not sit at tables together, but need to be spaced farther apart.  No lingering, because other people are waiting for their breakfast.  It's getting tense.

In lighter news, today's art project was to make a quirky bird, embracing things about yourself that either you don't like, or that frustrate you, or whatever.  So, my quirky bird started with my crazy hair, with which I have a love-hate relationship.  My hair has a mind of its own, and it doesn't ever do what I want.  Unless it wants to.  Somehow, my Quirky Bird looks like she's wearing a scuba mask - so sure, why not, Quirky Bird is scuba diving, with my uncooperative hair floating wildly in the water and that too thick too bright green dive mask rim around her face!!!  (I laugh every time I look at it!)


26 March 2020

Housekeeping in our hotel is now spraying each room with an anti-bacterial thing - I thought it was a vacuum cleaner before she started, but it's more like an exterminator's spray device!  Whoa - good thing I bought some face masks - I have asthma, I don't wanna breathe this stuff in on top of everything else!

And we just found out that the quarantine of Peru has been extended by the president here.  For two more weeks.  It would be nice to get one of those embassy evacuation flights back to the US.  I mean, it isn't as if we're currently ill or anything.  We both have enough prescription medication for maybe two more months.

But it would be nice to be in a place where we can speak the language if there's a medical emergency.  Or to have more than one room to sit in.  Or to have a kitchen so we can fix our own food.

Simple things like that would make the quarantine a bit easier.

Oh well.  I guess maybe I'll go for a walk after lunch and buy more face masks, and add a cloth layer or two.



27 March 2020

Learned techniques for drawing/painting flowers today, though I did a leaf - I had a photo of this wonderful leaf, and finally painted it.  Leaf in Spanish is hoja - pronounced OH-ha. 

I keep practicing my Spanish.  I don't have enough words, so I often am forced to talk around a subject and hope that the person is smart enough to figure out what I want.  People occasionally laugh, but they usually understand what I want or need.

And I'm assuming I make grammatical errors left and right, but people seem to appreciate the attempt at communicating in their language.  Despite the fact that I have zero idea how to say anything in the past or future tense!

But hey, we've all known someone with a foreign accent who butchers English but in an adorable way, right?  I'm hoping I'm that person in Spanish.  No clue if I am, but I'm hoping.


28 March 2020

The ups of quarantine or shutdown or lockdown - I've spent most of the time reading book #14 in a series that enjoy.  The pre-ordered book came in yesterday, but I saved it for today so I can read it all.  I can't sleep until I know our group of protagonists all come out okay!

The downs - the US embassy sent out a form for us to fill in for our request for an evacuation flight.  Despite the fact that I submitted our first request over a week ago.  And have re-submitted it twice since.  I don't know what's worse, their disorganization, or the fact that I have to submit information four times.


30 March 2020

I just received notification from the US Embassy that they've received our "interest in a flight."  That was in reply to the third time I sent in our information, when I received an automated reply.

I haven't received a reply for the submission of the new form sent out on Friday.  

I'm starting to think that someone, somewhere, thinks we should stay in Peru.  Lower number of cases than in the US.  Less chance of catching the virus.  More chance of hospital care if there are fewer people needing the care.

Our flight was officially cancelled, and we were notified by the airline.  

All we can do is wait, and stay here.  Live day to day.  Try to get in exercise, stay busy with reading or the internet or my art projects.  Richard found a TV channel with old movies in English.  We're not bored, just antsy.

The national curfew has been extended - no one is to be out between 6 PM and 5 AM, except in some parts of the country where the curfew is 4 PM and 5 AM.  No idea if there was more partying there, or increased crime, or possibly just more viral cases from those ares.

Thus ends two weeks of national quarantine, shutdown, lockdown. 

Pandemic Diaries Week #1

Because, why not, right?
 

18 March 2020

Our hotel room looks out onto a street corner.  Our first two weeks here, there was construction going on at the corner we couldn't see - a huge excavation, lots of rebar and concrete, walls circling the site with danger signs (peligroso) all around, and cranes swinging supplies into the crater.  

There was also some road work, which nearly stopped traffic to a standstill as one lane was dug up, something (pipes? cable?) was put in, and all was covered in dirt.

And then the shutdown began.  Suddenly, there is peace and quiet.  No traffic noise with impatient drivers leaning on their horns.  No jackhammers.  No car exhaust drifting into the room if we open our windows.

I can actually hear birds in the city!!


20 March 2020

Our view directly across the street encompasses part of an apartment building, a smallish house, and a tiny mini mart or bodega.  Richard likes this little shop for snacks, cold soda, things like that.  I'll admit that I like their alfajores, which are made fresh, not packaged.

Anyway, they have a shop cat!  Not sure if the cat is male or female, but he/she a white cat with several large black spots.  The cat is named Lucky, and she/he usually sits right out front, next to the door, so he/she can greet customers as they come in and out.

Occasionally, the shop owner will close the metal gate, so that customers stand outside and request what they want.  The person inside hands them the item and collects the cash.

This gate helps with social distancing, I guess.

But Lucky just goes back and forth through the spaces between the metal bars, not worrying or even thinking about Covid-19.  Because Lucky really is lucky to be a cat!


21 March 2020

On our street, every night promptly at 8 PM, someone blows a trumpet or something (it sounds like a trumpet pretending to be a cow!), and everyone leans out the windows or stands on their balconies, applauding.  I asked at our hotel in my mediocre Spanish, and was told that they do this to thank the medical personnel, police, firefighters, all the people working to save lives and keep people safe during this pandemic.  

So tonight, at 8, I heard the trumpet mooing, and opened our window, applauding along with everyone else on our street.  It actually was emotional, having this socially distant interaction with people.  After a week of barely talking to anyone, of keeping my distance and washing hands every time I come back to our room, it really was emotionally fulfilling to participate in a group of other people.  Celebrating our common humanity! 


22 March 2020

Lima has parrots that go flying around in small flocks!  PARROTS!!!  We're on the sixth floor of our hotel, so they fly by at eye level, a flash of green zooming by!!!  And always squawking!!!  Such a delight to see, and they always take me by surprise, even though I know they're here.

We also get fog drifting up from the ocean, about six blocks away.  Days are usually a mix of sunshine and cloudy, but some days, the fog comes whispering through, shrouding the tall buildings and softening the cityscape.

And then, the parrots fly by, loudly yelling "We're here!  We're here!"


23 March 2020

It's a good thing I travel with a couple of sketchbooks and a small pouch of art supplies - I joined an online sketchbook revival!  It will give me something new to do while we wait out the shutdown or lockdown or whatever we want to call it.

And me being me, I recovered my sketchbooks with lovely paper from a display at the Starbucks (actually, two Starbucks) in Kuala Lumpur.  Plus the pouch is an upcycled huipil (embroidered top) from Guatemala!

Nice memories of our travels - as are my sketches.



23 March 2020 Part 2

The friend I met up with in Puerto Chacabuco, just over a month ago, sent a note today.  (She's safely back in the US at the moment.)

The ship we were on, Holland America's Zaandam, left Buenos Aires on March 7, heading to Santiago - a cruise similar to ours but minus the Antarctica portion.  They left before all the shutdowns and lockdowns and closures of ports across much of South America.  And now, they aren't allowed to dock.  

Another ship, wandering the seas!

They are refueling and restocking food right now, anchored off Valparaiso, Chile.  And then they are heading north, hoping to find a city where they are allowed to dock and let passengers disembark, and hopefully find their way home.  

What a mess!

I'm really happy we managed to get our cruise in, and that we got off the ship before all this craziness got going!

Links to some stories from the Zaandam, if you are interested:

https://www.timescolonist.com/news/local/jack-knox-life-on-stranded-cruise-ship-not-all-that-bad-1.24103041 

https://www.vicnews.com/news/passengers-from-nanaimo-now-on-mystery-cruise-due-to-covid-19-state-of-catastrophe-in-chile/

https://www.vicnews.com/news/passengers-from-nanaimo-now-on-mystery-cruise-due-to-covid-19-state-of-catastrophe-in-chile/


Thus ends our first week of nation-wide lockdown in Peru.
 

Locked Down in Lima

18 March 2020

We left Valparaiso, Chile, and flew to Lima, Peru.  We like the area of Miraflores because it's near the kitty park (Parque Kennedy), lots of cafés and restaurants, a couple of small casinos, and has several tree-lined boulevards with park benches for reading and people watching.  Our usual small hotel was renovated and priced higher than previously, so we selected another hotel a few blocks away, and settled in.

Our first two weeks, we reacquainted ourselves with our usual haunts, and I found some friends still working in a few places.  We found some new spots as well, and started making new friends.  Met more cats in the kitty park, wandered through a weekend art show. 

Richard went to see his dentist, who had some recommendations and suggestions.  We've followed up with that, and there will be some more appointments.

Things were humming along, despite the ongoing news of Covid-19 across the world.  But yes, we started washing our hands more frequently.

On Monday, 16 March, we woke up to the news that Peru's president closed the borders.  All transportation in and out of the country was stopped.  The last flights out would be just before midnight. 

 Also, all non-essential public and private operations would be closed for 15 days.  That meant all the cafés and restaurants and shops and casinos would be shut for just over two weeks.

Supermarkets, small food shops, and pharmacies would be open.

Any persons who felt they had symptoms of Covid-19 should call a certain phone number, and health personnel would come to the home or hotel to conduct the Covid-19 test and assess the patient.  (Really, the info we received says "health personnel.")  If necessary, the person will be transported to a hospital equipped to treat patients with this virus.

Our hotel told us that they would be closing, and in a day or two we'd be transferred to another hotel.  That probably was the most stressful thing, although a day later they decided to take in other stranded travellers, which meant they had enough guests to make it worthwhile to stay open.

And they offered two additional meals per day, lunch and dinner (because breakfast is already included in the reservation).  

So, we're taken care of.  We've gone to the market to stay stocked up with drinking water, since the tap water is not recommended.  There's a three bottle limit to water at the moment.  (We had to wait on a line to enter, because they were limiting how many people could be inside at a time.  And upon entry, a staff person squirted our hands with alcohol!)

We're just hanging out, reading, playing on the computer, keeping up with the news.  And yes, washing our hands.

Today, we found that breakfast is not as sumptuous as it has been, perhaps an indication of unavailability of food.  The supermarket shelves are definitely looking bare.  But all we can do is hope for the best, and maybe buy some items from the supermarket or the mini-mart type shops as needed.

We had quite a few more people at breakfast today, including a large group from the Ukraine.  They were all sitting together at a table, either not bothering with keeping a distance from each other, or perhaps they'd been travelling together long enough that it didn't really matter anyway.

A small group of women were near where I sat, and one woman in the group said I should join their table.  I smiled and thanked them, but said we weren't sitting with strangers right now.  She asked where I was from, I said the US, she said one of the other women is also from the US.  I was totally puzzled, and just said the virus doesn't discriminate by nationality.  She really was rather insistent, saying that strangers are just friends we haven't met yet.  I finally said I have asthma, and need to be extra careful right now.  The other woman nodded in understanding, but that first woman, while friendly, seemed somewhat offended.  And, in my opinion, rather clueless about the purpose of this whole national lockdown.

That's our life right now.  Washing hands and trying to stay away from friendly strangers, LOL! 

We did have some fun moments prior to this.  One pair of slacks developed a torn knee, and while that may be trendy, it isn't my look.  I spent days - literally DAYS - looking for iron-on patches or iron-on fabric.  Turns out this is called "tela areciba" although my spelling may be wrong.  At any rate, one day I walked 5 km (3.3 miles) going from store to store, looking, asking, receiving suggestions of where I should go to buy this and directions on how to get there.  FINALLY I saw a men's tailor shop, complete with bolts of fabric, and they had iron-on fabric!!!  I only needed a small amount, so the head tailor sent someone to bring some scraps.  He selected a large one, and presented it to me.  I asked what was the price, and he said only a tip.  So I gave the guy five soles, about $1.25, and everyone was happy.  (And I always feel brilliant when I can manage to accomplish all of this in Spanish!)

My other story involves looking for a candle in a glass.  This is for a yahrzeit, the anniversary of the death of a family member.  Somehow, just finding a small candle in a glass or jar always becomes a huge quest.  None of the stores had them.  Nor the mini bodegas.  Not a hardware store.  I finally told Richard I had seen a church on my walking around, so I'd check that out.

I found the church, and went inside.  (Humming "California Dreamin'.")  Looked around, no candles in glasses.  I went back out, and there was a nun all in white, playing with a smartphone.  Seriously.  She was a very petite person, and rather old.  As in, maybe 80 or so.  Playing with her smartphone!

I politely said good day, excuse me, do you speak English?  (All in Spanish.)  She looked up, smiled, repeated my question, and told me (in Spanish) that her Spanish is not good, she is Italian, do I speak Italian?  No, only so-so, I replied in Italian, which made her giggle.

I asked for candles in glasses, she said they didn't have any but explained to me, nice and slowly, where the cathedral was and that they should have some up there. Up the big street, near the park, lots of trees - I knew where this was, up by Parque Kennedy.  Then suddenly she remembered there was a supermarket nearby, and I could get the glasses there.   She gave me details, and it was maybe 3 or 4 blocks away, and easy walk.

She decided to be more social, and asked where I was from.  I said the US, she wanted to know what state, and like people everywhere, she confused Washington state with Washington DC.  "Ah, con il presidente!"  No no, il presidente is on the east, the state of Washington is on the west, far from il presidente.  We had a little conversation regarding Il Presidente, and we shared the same opinion of him.

She then repeated her directions to the supermarket that had candles in glasses.  I of course thanked her in Italian, which made her light up - and then, she reached in her pocket and pulled out a rosary and offered it to me!!!!  I nearly fell over, it was so unexpected!  I explained, again in my so-so Spanish, that I wasn't Catholic, that I was Jewish - and she lit up even more!   I said it's a Jewish tradition to light a candle for the anniversary of the death of a family member.  She told me that G-d is the same if we're Catholic or Jewish, and that it was all beautiful.

I thanked her again, and headed off to the supermarket.  It definitely was an odd but enjoyable little encounter, and definitely brightened my day!

So, we have photos of kitties and flowers and the art show in Parque Kennedy.  

All I can add is what a friend in St. Thomas said, this is a modern-day version of "The Decameron" by Giovanni Boccaccio.  (Story of people waiting out the Black Death plague in pre-Renaissance Italy.)  Or maybe "Love In The Time of Cholera" by Gabriel Garcia Marquez - although the cholera of the title is really more about passion than any kind of a plague.

But yes, we're living through a modern day plague.  Some of us may not remember the polio epidemic of the early 1950s, but some of us survived that.  We've seen the Ebola crisis in parts of Africa.  Our grandparents went through the Spanish flu epidemic of 1918.

So, we can survive this.  Friends, if there is a request to self-isolate, please do so.  Stay inside.  Walk around a bit in your yard, or your neighborhood.  Talk to friends and family on the phone, or via computer.  "Visit" elderly family members and friends through a closed window.  Take care of yourselves, and take care of others around you.  

And keep washing those hands!  

NOTE:  I forgot to add that we of course did exactly what everyone is told to do when in another country and there's any kind of emergency - call the US Embassy.  They aren't answering their phones.  We don't know if they are not open, or if they are inundated with calls, or what.  But the automated answering machine clicks on, tells you what number to push, and then no one answers the phones, no matter which number you try.  Disappointing and absolutely useless.
 

The Walls of Valparaiso Talk

16 March 2020
We're currently in Lima, and that's the next blog I'll post. Lima deserves its own blog. But I wanted to post about Valpo, and the situation in Chile, so here goes. 

Sometimes, it takes a while to process a place we've visited, and the reasons are as varied as the location. So it took a while for me to process what's going on in Chile, what we experienced in Valparaiso, and why we chose to move on.


I always like to review the history and facts before I talk about our experience. We try to be impartial observers, at least until we get involved in a country, so it helps to stick with the facts at the beginning.

Our cruise ended on 22 February, and we found a traxi from the port of San Antonio to Valparaiso, a wonderful coastal town full of colorful houses on steep hills, with ascensores (elevators running diagonally) to get up and down some of the steepest slopes. We booked a hotel downtown, thinking that would make it easier to get around town.

Our taxi arrived in Valpo about noon, and our hotel seemed to be all locked up - metal shutters over the door and windows, no one in sight. Our driver called a few times but didn't get an answer. He finally moved to a legal parking spot, asked us to stay, and went back to investigate. After a while, he came back, and all was fine. We were a bit early for check in, so the staff had all been doing the usual cleaning and set up, that's why things were closed up. Or so it seemed.

This turned out to be a family run hotel, with grown sons and daughters and the older parents all working and living there. A few people spoke some English, and with our so-so Spanish, we were able to communicate. We were shown our room, dropped off our luggage, and went out for some lunch.

Eventually we went back, unpacked for a week, started to settle in. The wifi was only working in the lobby/dining area, so we set up our computers. I had all those cruise blogs and penguin photos to post, right?

Some time in the late afternoon or early evening, it sounded like maybe a sports team coming down the street. Or a parade. The family all jumped up and everyone worked to get those metal shutters down over the huge windows, and lock the gate over the front door.

I got up and stood with the mother, watching out the door. This wasn't a parade, this was a demonstration. Un manifestacion. One of the big political demos that have been going on in Chile for months. And while we had seen political posters and anti-government graffiti on the buildings, we didn't quite realize that we were on the demo route, to a plaza or square up the road a bit.

People marched by in various groups, shouting slogans or signing songs or waving signs. Many people had goggles on their heads, and kerchiefs over the lower part of their faces.

It was a peaceful crowd, despite looking like modern day bandits, and despite knowing that the demos are people angry with the current administration in Chile, calling for a rewrite of the constitution.

Well, it turns out that the square up the street is where the police meet the demonstrators, and where the police fire tear gas canisters. Those kerchiefs and goggles were protective gear, as people hoped to either continue marching past the square or at least get home without choking on tear gas.

The father of the family came home a while later, squinting and rubbing his watery eyes. I'm not sure if he was in the demonstrations, or just coming home from another job, or possibly having a beer with friends. But his wife rushed over, and yes, he had walked through an area of tear gas, or had been in the square when the police fired off their canisters.

Yeah. Not feeling safe and secure right here and now.

Over the week we spent, which was fairly quiet, we talked to people and I discreetly took photos of the graffiti and protest signs on the buildings, chronicling what we saw. Some of the signs were wonderful artistically, very creative. But the messages were depressing. The photos of young people who had been killed while protesting was tragic. Signs of attorneys to contact if you get arrested and need to get out of jail. We just got sadder and sadder.

Basically, the economy of Chile is causing problems. As in some other nations I won't name, the rich are getting richer by selling off natural resources. The poor are getting poorer. The government, primarily the rich selling off water rights and such, doesn't really care about the average citizen, and keeps cutting services or financial support. One of the major criticisms we heard was that the retired people's pensions have been cut to such a low amount that the pensioners can no longer live on their stipends. For young people, the free college or university education is no longer available - the funds have been cut, and now everyone will have to pay for their post-secondary education. While other countries are used to that, this was not the norm in Chile, and so young people are suddenly out of school but not able to attend university to pursue their careers, despite growing up in a system where they were told they'd have that college funding available.

It gets worse. The government is selling the water, so that rivers are drying up. Farmers not only don't have water to irrigate crops, they don't have enough water for their herds of cattle and sheep and such, nor is there enough grazing land with the lack of water. Farm animals are dying from lack of water. Wild animals are dying. Some farmers have become so depressed over this situation, and watching their herds die, they've committed suicide. The manager of our hotel, the adult son, became quite emotional telling me about this, and I can understand - this must be so sad as well as depressing to see the tragic situation that has evolved, all from the greed of the present government leaders.

Add in that women are being victimized by angry and frustrated male family members or spouses. Increases in assault rates, increases in murder rates.

And the indigenous people are marginalized even further, as the middle class dwindles and more people are out of work, and as the right to an education fades.

There's a great article in the New York Times providing an overview: www.nytimes.com/2019/10/22/opinion/chile-protests.html

It's a mess. People are understandably angry. Their anger comes out not only in the demonstrations, and in families, but also on the walls of the buildings.

Really, this once beautiful city is almost unrecognizable. I've spent time in New York City, and I've never seen so much graffiti, so many political placards plastered all over privately owned buildings. I understand the anger, I understand the frustration. But, well, I like old architecture, so it hurts to see these beautiful old buildings desecrated by the protesters.

It makes me think of Paul Simon's "Sounds of Silence" - "The words of the prophets are written on the subway walls, on tenement halls, and whispered in the sounds of silence."

We can't read all the signs - some of them are idiomatic, some of them are written in Mapuche, the language of the indigenous people. But there are common themes - that the government are murderers, that justice needs to happen for those protesters who have been killed by the police. That the water belongs to everyone. Equal rights for women. Protection for women. Equal rights for indigenous people. Blood on the hands of the government. Bloody handprints. Photos of the people killed by the police. Photos of protestors killed or injured by the police.

Or one in particular, the right to live in peace.

One graffiti tagger signed their work "without a future crew."

It was sad. It was depressing. And while we both understood, and agreed with this protest movement, it also wasn't our battle or our war. We're a little too old to get tear gassed in another country, and not quite prepared to take rubber bullets for someone else's fight. It feels selfish, but after age 60 or 70, well, we need to put ourselves and our health before other considerations, no matter how sympathetic we might be.

So, we agreed we'd fly to Peru, and spend a bit of time in Lima while we figured out where to next.

Of course, life changed in our two weeks in Lima, but that's another story, and another blog.

Some of the symbols of the indigenous people in Chile


"We keep resisting." and "We will not fall" or "We will not fail."


"Murderous government" or "state murder" also "We are looking at you."


I was told this is in Mapuche, the indigenous language. Can't find a translation.



"Do not pardon, Do not forget" and "We demand the total dismantling of the armed forces"



Not sure what the top says.
Bottom says "state murder"


"If they steal our water they will have our fire."






ACAB is an inter-national acronym for "all cops are bastards" - a short way to protest unethical police behavior and undue force