Should I Stay or Should I Go

April 1^st, 2020

4:45 P.M. Montevideo, Uruguay

 I don’t really know what’s happening. Contrary to the title of this post, I’m not contemplating on whether or not I should leave Uruguay, although our program did give us the option to go home if we wanted. I feel safer here, and it’s my home now, so it would be really hard to leave. But I have been listening to The Clash a lot, which shows you just how uncertain these times have become.

I’m in a strange position, because while there are not many cases of COVID-19 in Uruguay compared to the United States (around 300 was the most recent count), I still feel the sheer panic from my family and friends back home.

Before Uruguay canceled most schools and large group activities, my mom called, telling me,

“Go to the grocery store and stock up before it hits you down there.”

So while early-on some of my friends and co-workers were joking about getting the virus, I was already feeling the anxiety of what would happen if it got bad here. Thankfully, I think the country has taken great precautions to prevent the spread, but the numbers continue to climb.

The busses are vacant, the beach has only the birds for company, and every other person has on a face mask and gloves. Only grocery stores and pharmacies are open (oh, and obviously the bakeries), and some of them only allow orders to be taken from the window out front, not allowing customers to wander into the stores.   

As an extrovert, this has been really tough. I can’t go outside, I can’t practice my Spanish aside from the small interactions I have with the cashier at the grocery store, and I can’t hug people, which is definitely one of my favorite activities in the world.

A few weeks ago the two German volunteers in my house came home with somber faces saying they were being sent home. Miriam (pictured below) was the last to leave and flew out on Monday. They were going to leave eventually when their program was over in August/September, but it just feels like we were cheated. I know we should be thankful that we’re all safe and we have people looking out for our best interests, but I also think we should be allowed to grieve a little. I’m sad that now when I walk down the stairs all I see is a dark room, where we once spent hours watching movies or playing Boggle in 4 different languages. And what’s even more infuriating is that I can’t do anything about it. Absolutely nothing.  

All of my work has been moved online, so we’ll have video calls through Zoom, like the one pictured below. (Which at least allows me to see Matí, the most adorable 3-year-old in the entire world.) They say that we’ll hopefully be able to continue work after Easter weekend, but who knows? Even if we are allowed to return to “normal”, what does that look like? Will Uruguayans continue their staple, cultural greeting with a kiss on the cheek? Do we douse ourselves with hand sanitizer every time we make the slightest contact with another person?

I worry especially about my Uruguayan “grandparents”, Ruth and Diego, both in their 80s. Not only them, but both of Diego’s sisters as well, Stella and Maggie. I am usually at their house at least once or twice a week, but I haven’t been able to see them in a few weeks, and honestly probably won’t be able to for a little while. Even though we can still call one another on the phone (and Ruth teases me about giving away her cat since I’m not there to play with it), it’s not the same as being together in person.

Just when I feel like I was hitting my stride, this virus knocks it out of whack again. I’ve been spending a lot of time at the beach. It’s practically deserted, but I actually like it a little better when it’s not swarmed with people. I’ve even found and declared one of the rocks “my spot”, sharing it with the little crabs that crawl up and down it, of course. It’s really the only thing that feels calming at this point.

I suppose to feel loss we have to have something worth losing, and I think all of us are losing things in our own way, even if we aren’t being directly affected by the virus. But I’m here to remind you that it’s okay to feel whatever you’re feeling. And after spending many wasted hours on the internet during this quarantine, I stumbled across a quote written by Bianca Sparacino that I particularly enjoyed, so now I hope to share that with you.

“Please, whatever you do—just leap towards tenderness. Leap towards connection. We are all afraid to say too much, to feel too deeply, to let people know what they mean to us. But caring is not synonymous with crazy. Expressing to someone how special they are to you will make you vulnerable. There is no denying that. However, that is nothing to be ashamed of. There is something breathtakingly beautiful in the moments of smaller magic that occur when you strip down and are honest with those who are important to you, when you choose to slam your heart into those who ignite something within it, when you express. So, express. Express, express, express. Open yourself up, do not harden yourself to the world, and be bold in who, and how, you love. There is courage in that.”