Thursday, January 30, 2020

when mexico meets corona


This morning's coronavirus pearl-clutching story was the lock down of a Carnival cruise ship in Italy when a Chinese passenger was suspected of contracting the virus.

Even though Italy is far from China, its inclusion in the list of countries with confirmed coronavirus cases was inevitable. China. India. Philippines. Finland. United Arab Emirates. Germany. Sri Lanka. Cambodia. Canada. Malaysia. Australia. Nepal. France. Vietnam. Singapore. Hong Kong. Macau. Taiwan. The States. South Korea. Japan. Thailand. Sudan. Kenya. Ivory Coast. Ethiopia. Colombia. Indonesia.

And the list will grow because it now appears the virus (2019-nCoV) is as easily contracted as is its cousin, the common head cold. And that is one reason is has spread so quickly internationally.

Even though the virus appears to have mutated to a person-to-person virus in a market in a large central Chinese city, it has quickly jumped the quarantined city boundaries because people exposed to the virus have spread the virus in their travels. Mainly by airplane. And now by cruise ship.

I have a rather selfish motive in following these stories. I am scheduled to join a south Asia cruise in less than two months. With the exception of one country (Oman) every country we will visit has had 2019-nCoV exposure -- including Hong Kong, my favorite airport where I will spend several hours on a layover. Short of an international quarantine shutdown of all airlines, I will make the trip.

Not traveling because of a fear of 2019-nCoV would be absurdly silly -- the virus will eventually make its way to Mexico.

Last night I had dinner with David and Laura Holmquist at Lora Loka's in La Manzanilla. I met David and Laura this summer in our Bible study group. Both of them are accomplished conversationalists. It was one of those nights that slipped by in peals of chuckles.

It was not until this morning that I realized I had spent my first encounter with a Mexican epidemic at Lora Loka's. Eleven years ago.

The year was 2009. April. I had just moved to Mexico when the 2009 swine flu (H1N1) epidemic hit Mexico. It started in The States. But with the high traffic between The States and Mexico, it quickly spread south. And, eventually, to the rest of the world.

The two governments handled the situation quite differently. President Obama suggested that Americans use the same common sense they would apply to any flu (wash your hands; if you have flu symptoms, see a doctor and get rest at home). He and Vice-President Biden then went out for a public dinner of hamburgers to build public confidence.

When the death toll in Mexico (primarily in Mexico City) hit 100, the Mexican government took an opposite tack. It ordered the cancellation of all public gatherings. Restaurants. Movies. Fútbol matches. Concerts. Those white masks that make everyone look like a Japaneses bank robber showed up everywhere. It could have a scene right out of the Black Death. Mexico's tourist trade collapsed.

The health authorities later confessed that they knew they had overly-dramatized the dangers of H1N1, but they suspected that because Mexicans have a long and well-deserved distrust of anything their government says, the health authorities had to resort to those methods.

The week I arrived in Villa Obregón
, a fellow blogger (American Mommy in Mexico) informed me she and her family were visiting La Manzanilla, a beach town just north of us. She wanted to know if my brother and I would like to have dinner with her family and another blogger (Jan) and her son, Lyle.  

I always enjoy meeting the writers behind the essays we publish. I had met several other bloggers on the drive down. I said yes.

We then faced the problem that all of the restaurants in La Manzanilla were closed by the health edict. But, this is Mexico. There is always a way to do something you want to do.

I do not remember who did the persuading, but Lora agreed to moved two of her tables far out on the sand where we put together our little publication party. And Lora served us her incomparable baked enchiladas. It is a night fondly-remembered (supercalifragilisticexpialidocious
).

My dinner with David and Laura last night is going to be stored in that same file folder. The experience was quite different. But, if it had been the same, it would not have been special. Even the sunset was different. More Winslow Homer than J.M.W. Turner.

When 
2019-nCoV inevitably arrives in Mexico, I wonder if we will need to rely upon the creative services of  Lora again?

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