On Friday, I flew back to Bogota knowing that the world was shutting down because of COVID-19. Our flight kept getting delayed, and I had a moment when I wondered if I was going to get home. On the plane, the man sitting next to me had a plastic mask on and his arms crossed, careful not to touch anything or anybody.
The following week, things started off kind of normal. The girls and I did school online, Jeff went to work, Piedad came to the house. We got her Aguilas, so she wouldn't have to go on the Transmilenio. We made the responsible decision to cancel our finca for the upcoming long weekend. Pictures of empty toilet paper shelves were making the rounds on social media, and I assigned my IB students a project analyzing coronavirus memes. This one made the rounds on my parent chats.
Then this one showed up.
And then Bogota decided to a do a "practice" lockdown drill for the long weekend, Friday to Monday.
On Thursday, I insisted on paying Piedad for the month of March, even though she insisted that she would see us on Tuesday. Then, the president of Colombia said he was going to put the entire country on lockdown from Wednesday, March 25 to April 13.
Everyone made plans for the Tuesday, to get outside, stock up on supplies, pay bills, but then the mayor of Bogota announced that she was extending our "simulated" lock down through Wednesday to meet with the national lockdown. Goodbye Tuesday. Piedad was really upset that she couldn't come to work, and I have had moments when I've thought of sending Jeff in our diplomatic plated vehicle to go get her, but we've been home for three weeks now, and I haven't cracked yet.
We started strong. The girls were good with their online classes,
They got exercise,
even if it was dancing to the end credits of Frozen 2.
There was coloring and construction projects.
And we've spent part of every day out on the balcony, getting some fresh air and sunlight, and playing the "letter game", where we have to start a word with the last letter of the word the person before us said. This is probably Elena's favorite part of any given day.
I've been pretty good about making the girls put on regular clothes each day, and we've given them a bath every other day. I've been doing laundry, and they've been good about putting their clothes away and generally helping out when we ask them to, so yeah, it could be a lot worse, but I'm definitely starting to fray a bit at the edges.
Figuring out just dinner after a full day of work has been one of my biggest challenges, but now it's three meals a day, plus snacks, plus "I'm bored", plus the power goes out sometimes, plus why is the floor sticky?
Today is April 6. In theory, we have one more week of this, but the mayor said we should be mentally prepared to stay in lockdown until June, and some of the public schools have been told not to plan to open until May 20. Grandpa and Grandma Goerss were supposed to come visit this week. Next week, we were supposed to go on Caribbean cruise with friends to relax and celebrate birthdays. Everything is cancelled.
People are choosing to go "home" to the U.S., and while I am sorely tempted to do that, our home is here. We have made a home in Bogota. The girls have all their toys and creature comforts. We have Rappi that is still delivering, and we have space to spread out and hopefully not get on each other's nerves too much. Although, every time I go to a room to try and work, one or both of the girls manages to find me within five minutes.
Maybe things will go back to "normal" in a week, but I really doubt it. I have a feeling this will become my Part 1 blog, and there will be a Part 2 in a few weeks. My biggest worry at this point is how do we pack up and leave Colombia properly. We are coming to the end of our three years here, and we will be going back to the States for a year. Will we get a chance to say goodbye? Will we have to leave everything behind that doesn't fit in a few suitcases and hope it shows up eventually? I don't know. I'm a planner, and I can't plan for how a global pandemic will evolve. We have food. Jeff stood in line for an hour on Friday to get his turn at the commissary. Rappi delivered from PriceSmart yesterday. We even have toilet paper. I'm going to try and hold on to humor and appreciate the fact that the girls are playing together right now and giggling. As a history teacher, I know that this is FAR from the worst humanity has had to deal with, but selfishly, I hope it's over soon.
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