I'm spending my time in a two bedroom apartment in the heart of Mexico City's historic district. Despite its picturesque location, the building looks more Soviet bloc than Colonial. The windows face interior courtyards as deep as canyons. To discern the weather, or even the time of day, I have to stick my head out the door and crane my neck.
On Tuesday we went out to look for rubbing alchohol and paper towels. Ironically, stepping out the building made me feel instantly claustrophobic because suddenly we were in a throng of people. Street vendors choke the sidewalks and people wander in large groups. In short, life goes on as usual, although we did think we noticed a decrease in traffic, and I saw a few people with face masks.
I had a surreal feeling of disconnect between the news, messages from friends in the U.S. and Europe, and the reality around me. We're hearing reports from Jalisco, where the state government seems to be taking the situation seriously, but the Mexican federal government seems to be doing very little and I fear that things are going to go from "normal" to terrible very quickly here.
So far my plans for staying sane include reaching out to friends, recording my experiences, doing a virtual writing workshop with my cousin Hannah, and watching one episode of ALF dubbed into Spanish per day.