What's keeping you going?

3/23/2020

Get used to this view.

I had a plan to walk 3.5 kilometers to a coffee shop to buy whole beans. Made it just over a block before I turned back. This was my first time out on the streets during a weekday in exactly one week. I thought it might be better now because the mayor just issued an order to close museums, gyms, movie theaters, stadiums, bars, and nightclubs.

According to the Associated Press, traffic is lighter in Mexico City, and business is slower. This is likely true, but I'm not yet seeing it. Probably because, as the article explains, about 56% of workers in this city labor in the informal sector as vendors and craftspeople. Poodles happens to live in the city's oldest shopping district, which is home to a disproportionate number of street vendors.

In one short city block, I passed an orange juice vendor, a shoeshine, three taquerias, two street grills, a fruit cup stand, several people selling piles of used clothing, and a booth selling electronics. Probably more, actually--that's just what I remember. Imagine all this, plus customers. This article from Reuters makes me assume things may be quieter in the more affluent parts of the city. Too bad we can't get to them. jaja.

Meanwhile, the president of Mexico continues to encourage people to go about their business as usual. (This blog post from a friend has good insight into the situation in the rest of the country. Scroll down down to "The bigger picture in Mexico.")

But back to the really important shit. Obviously, I'm not going to go without coffee.

We've ordered groceries from Walmart (I know, sorry, not as many options here) and are awaiting a delivery from another supermarket and a CSA. So I'm thinking we can also order coffee. It just won't be up to my snobby standards.

I'm feeling kind of restless today. I was looking forward to that walk to buy coffee and instead ended up running the stairs in the building, ten stories of charmless cement, over and over. Good for the heart, literally, but not so much good for the heart metaphorically.

The dwindling supply of quality coffee has me thinking...For the most part, we've been having a good time. Weird, but comfortable. But we also have full cupboards, a full fridge, plenty of books, wifi, fresh water, gas, power, good company, and, like, all the tequila and mezcal.

So...yeah...super privileged.

The very fact that I'm self-isolating is a privilege. The streets are full here because people can't bloody afford to stay home. And they'll continue to come out until they are literally forced inside, where they won't have the luxury of gourmet coffee, imported cheese, and the world's best tequila.

What would a slightly off, restless day feel like without these amenities? Without good company? That's already a reality for a lot of people and it could definitely be a reality for me, eventually.

(If I make it home, I'm going to be weathering these days alone.)

I do know what it's like to worry about not having enough to eat, but I don't know what that's like when you're all alone and the world has gone to hell in a handbasket.

I'm not trying alarmist or to make myself or anyone else feel any more anxious than we already do. I guess my takeaway is positive. What I'm thinking is this...I better enjoy this good coffee while it lasts. This may be a time that I wistfully look back on.

17 Comments

gen

3/24/2020 05:10:51 pm

There is only one person in the world who has less than everyone else. We have to make a kind of peace with that in order to make the most of what we do have. If I believed that someone *truly* enjoyed their golden toilet seat, then fuck it, they should enjoy it, otherwise it’s an even greater waste.

Even here, some people can’t isolate, and our government is idiotic in its planning, but by isolating if you can, you’re one less vector out there.

As for the other type of isolation, I’ve been feeling more connected. I text with several friends each day, some I haven’t talked to in months or years. I read my friends’ blogs, I make silly videos.

I’ve always been the type of morning person who absolutely is not one, unless there’s someone around who is a worse morning person. Then I’m usually sunshine and cheer. I see this as a quality that is serving me well (and hopefully others) these days. I also laugh at my own jokes since they are, after all, hilarious. That’s what’s getting me through. Love you!

Churpa

3/24/2020 05:14:52 pm

I know what you mean about feeling more connected and less isolated!
I'm having an issue with not being able to get sunlight, but I actually feel less lonely than usual. And it's been really cool seeing what everyone else is up to...Love the videos. And you.

Chile

3/24/2020 05:20:26 pm

COFFEE, we have plenty of good beans. I’ll send a photo if I can. 17&1/2 lbs to be exact. We got a deal that we couldn’t refuse before we left crazy land, so we hoarded. Today I found the hidden reserve of TP that we brought, so the run that I put on TP in Miguel H. was for naught. Sorry to the citizens of M.H. On the other hand, I should have borrowed all the empty beer bottles that my friends stored and stocked up on that. I will probably have to another trip to town to stock up on beer and tequila before the Easter rush starts, if it does. Plenty of sanitizer in the truck for whatever encounters that happen. We’re fine for now as long as the Tequila and beer hold out. CHEERS

3/24/2020 05:52:28 pm

Yeah, there's a hoard of available beer bottles in Mario's van...Salud!

MoToToM Dombabill link

3/24/2020 06:37:20 pm

Entering week three of working from home and I really miss my office chair. I may never wear pants again.

Having said, though I’m very anxious and am spending too much time listening to NPR and reading r/coronavirus, I am so grateful to still have a job and that my boys are healthy if a bit bored. I’m not venturing out at all. Just chilling with my dog. And binge watching Killing Eve etc.

Still, nothing like a self quarantine mandate to make me feel more gregarious than ever.

3/24/2020 07:28:56 pm

One of these days we'll be gregarious together again...How is Killing Eve?

MoToToM

3/24/2020 07:50:19 pm

Killing Eve is good but the soundtrack is truly killer.

Hannah link

3/24/2020 06:39:38 pm

Oh my lord, you're an urban warrior, or maybe a super heroine, running 10 flights of stairs of solid concrete! Amazing! I had a similar thought about what I might do if stores didn't have coffee beans. Interestingly, my son also had it, for me. He bought two lb bags of different gourmet coffee beans—without my even asking. Just in case, he said. So, I do hear you about the privilege. The first two or three days of self-isolation, before it became a shelter in place order and it all still seemed rather novel, I was in a heightened state which made me truly appreciate the running water, roof, and heat. It's been two weeks now and I have to admit that boredom has set in and more or less blunted my appreciation a bit. Though I am thinking many of us have the feeling that this slowing down, the big pause, could lead to us rethinking how we do things generally. It has the potential to be a huge reset for us in terms of re-evaluating what's actually important. I hope so anyway.

3/26/2020 09:21:22 am

Wow. Go Ellery! Yeah, I have been wondering how this might change our ways of thinking/behaviors in the long-term. I'm not sure that it will, but it'll be interesting to find out.

Rachel Mercer

3/24/2020 07:07:33 pm

This is a really weird time
1) our economy was broken and this is a clear picture of that - the folks stating our economy was strong were only speaking of the bogus unemployment rates and the stock market. this pandemic shines a spotlight on the fact that we now have a huge portion of our population homeless/vulnerable/in prisons and on the brink of complete destitution.
2) Meanwhile, many businesses are plodding along and people have money and expect to have money through this, but are feeling insecure and/or not sure where to direct some of their extra income.
3) so far the food chain (albeit, things like flour, tp, yeast, bananas - it's a weird mix of stuff are not available) is just fine, and there shouldn't be a lack of coffee, gourmet cheese, very good tequila. I'm in that boat in that we're trying to keep our wine in people's hands through this.

That mix is weird. It's not like the great depression that was matched by a world war, multiple individual wars and revolutions through the world, and a variety of agricultural crisis caused by draught or political polices.

We should continue to have wi-fi, water, electricity. Food should continue to be available.

But other major, horrible things may fail completely - death of many health care workers, bankrupt hospitals, abandoned hotels - it's just mind boggling. It's not that the world hasn't seen pandemics before - it's just that this particular set of circumstances is new to the world.

*this is all through the eyes of the privilege in the US - there's war torn Syria, the locust ravaged areas in Africa; those particular places may not have food, water, etc, and i know i'm lucky.

3/26/2020 09:33:39 am

I agree that this exposes the underlying problems that already existed. It's very interesting to contrast the situation in the U.S with the situation in Mexico, where it's more difficult to lay people off without severance.
On the other hand, a majority of Mexicans work under the table or are self-employed, so they are actually just as screwed, if not more so.
If this goes on for long enough, I do think we will see an erosion of ammenities, but I also I agree that we are unlikely to starve or be unable to get booze and coffee. (Though in my case I will not be able to get good coffee because it is not available at Mexican supermarkets.) Anyway, interesting times indeed....

Ned

3/24/2020 08:00:13 pm

Pepe and I hitched a ride with Tony yesterday into La Manzanilla. Thank god he's got that 8' sofa as a front seat in his Sharkmobile, so we were able to practice an abbreviated version of social distancing for the drive, possibly 5 feet, but Tony's a pretty wide guy, so probably only 4. Since Tony is about as disconnected from current events as you can be these days, we've been his coronavirus tutors, bringing him up to speed on all the latest stats and protocols. Pepe brought along a purse-sized bottle of hand sanitizer and got Tony into the habit of slathering up after every stop. He was a good student; by the end of the trip he was automatically holding his hands out for his squirt of safety each time he climbed back into the car.

There seems to be no run on provisions here yet, but there was noticeably less activity on the streets of every town we passed through: El Rebalsito for petrol, Miguel Hidalgo to drop off Tony's laundry and our final destination, La Manzanilla. Around 75% of the businesses in La Manzanilla were shuttered: restaurants, bars, stores, street taco stands. We took the back roads into town and the numerous campgrounds along the beachfront, which usually have a few rvs each, even on weekdays, were all empty. There was also a noticeable absence of gringos on the streets in La Manzanilla. We saw only eight total the whole day, though a fair number of locals were still out and about.

The main purpose of our foray into the outer world was a stop at the ATM. The exchange rate rose to 25 pesos to the dollar yesterday, and, even at the risk of virus infection, that seemed to good to pass up. The usual line of gringos at the ATM was absent, and I showed Tony how to use his knuckle to press the machine's buttons, so that when he retrieved his cash and card it wasn't with a virus laden fingertip. We got a double dollop of sanitizer from Pepe when we returned to the car.

On the way out of town we stopped at a roadside taco stand. It was encouraging to find that the other two patrons both seemed to be cognizant of appropriate social distancing, and to have the woman running the stand advise us, and later each other patron that arrived, to make use of the large bottle of hand sanitizer sitting on her counter, both before and after the meal.

Our mini-bottle of hand sanitizer was running low by the end of our excursion so as we passed back through El Rebalsito on the way to the beach, we stopped at La Morenita to restock. They were out of actual sanitizer but they did have one last 500ml bottle of 96% cane alcohol. Though the bottle specifically said this was not drinking alcohol, Tony commented that it has been the favorite of a certain former girlfriend, with coffee in the morning, and just about anything else the rest of the day. At 20 pesos for the bottle, I guess it was a cheap alternative to the real stuff.

Back at the camp, we used aloe vera gel to dilute the cane alcohol down to 65%, split the resulting mixture into several smaller containers, and presented Tony with a first bottle of hand sanitizer all his own.

3/26/2020 09:49:51 am

Ned, I love this. Thanks for writing and filling me in on the picture there! Also, fewer gringos in La Manzanilla sounds like a real improvement...jajaja.
Miss you guys at sunset.

Mary

3/24/2020 08:10:52 pm

I relate to a lot of what you shared. Ron and I are able to stay in our comfortable home, with all the food we need, our dogs and cats. We are experiencing a slower pace of life that is kind of nice. Our paychecks are not affected, at least for now. He has a break from teaching and I am working from home.

I’ve felt a real call to service, but I don’t have any useful healthcare skills. We’ve tried to do our part by helping out an elderly neighbors, donating supplies, buying some diapers and groceries for a family in need. But it feels like so little, and like the best thing we can do is stay put.

I worry about my brother, who lives in the confines of the Oregon State Penitentiary, and tells me many people are sick. There’s no way to social distance in a decrepit prison housing two people in single cells. I put extra money on his books so he can avoid the chow hall as much as possible.

Last week I, too, was excited for an outing (Trader Joe’s). We got there a bit before they opened mid-week, thinking we would beat the crowd. Nope. People were lined up all the way out the parking lot, wearing masks and gloves. It all felt very apocalyptic.

Churpa, what does the border closure mean for you? Does that mean you cannot come home until it is lifted?

Alyssa

3/25/2020 08:20:25 am

My grocery budget is always a source of anxiety, but having money for coffee beans is essential. I buy ice cream much less often to compensate. The teenagers eat so much food, it's almost comical, and it is hard to keep up with. The upside is that if I am experimenting or just hastily cooking and make something that I consider subpar, it usually is devoured instantly anyway and without complaint. For example, I was using up a gallon of milk that was going sour and baked an enormous custard on too high of a heat for a bit too long and it didn't set evenly. I was pissed at myself, but the boys ate it up right away.

I'm still going to work, which is always stressful just because of the impossible workload, the amount of focus needed, and the constant learning that go with the territory. Now there is just an added layer of stress and anxiety that hovers in the air like a contagion, impossible to avoid. Everyone is on edge and I must be too, because I'm irritated AF and trying not to show it, but probably doing a terrible job. Fortunately, there are less people since we're now closed to the public except by virtual communication and many coworkers are working from home. I'm waiting for my clearance and tech support to do that too and then I'll be at home a few days a week at least. I admit that I flinch a little when I hear someone sneeze or cough on the other side of the office. And when I sipped coffee down the wrong pipe yesterday and felt the need to cough, I scuttled away down the hall to find somewhere to do so in private, away from worried ears or scowling faces.

Eugene feels a lot like the town on Sunday morning at 7 am: less crowded and quiet. Everyone looks a bit suspicious of everyone else, though some will smile and wave. People seem to vary vastly in their reaction to the virus potential, from gloves and masks to proximity as usual. I kind of like the slowed pace of outside life, the less crowded sidewalks and streets, the emptier parks, in a secret selfish and nostalgic way. It reminds me of when the town was less populated and felt more... mine.

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What's keeping you going?

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