This morning, I woke up to the heavy aromas of bleach and chemicals filling my nose.
All my windows were closed, and of course, my front door. The night before we were told to keep our windows closed and not go outside because they would be disinfecting the streets with heavy chemicals. Thinking the smell couldn’t possibly reach me on the 25th floor, I thought maybe someone was cleaning upstairs and the chemicals somehow seeped into my apartment. But these buildings are solid concrete and that was unlikely.
The smell was so strong, surely I must be imagining it. I turned on the air purifier in my home, hoping it would eat the smell of bleach. Soon, it disappeared. Maybe I was becoming used to the aroma or the purifier was working, I couldn’t be sure.
Making my way into the small kitchen inside my apartment, the morning light poured in to fill the room with warmth. I looked down at the quiet streets underneath the haziness floating amongst the top of the skyrises.
This was the quietest I had ever seen China.
Usually, the streets are full of cars and their loud horns echoing between the buildings. Now, the sound of turning wheels barely lingers on the asphalt. I see forms of people wandering on empty sidewalks and a lonely soccer field just 25 floors below.
So far we’ve been under a soft house arrest since January 23rd, 2020. I haven’t been to work since then per the government’s orders. Even though the CoronaVirus isn’t hugely present in Xi’an, they still recommend we stay inside. But we are allowed to leave. I pay attention to the news about the CoronaVirus, but not knowing which outlet’s information is correct, I choose not to worry myself with the details.
In my mind, enough fear and worry were being doled out already. What I know is hotels are closed throughout the city and airlines are canceling countless flights to and from China. Knowing this, I water my plants each morning, drink water and coffee, fry potatoes in a pan with some eggs and pretend like this virus isn’t scaring the shit out of everyone. There is nothing I can do but stay inside.
I look at my phone to check the time. 11:03 am. I slept in again. At 3:00 am I was up writing and playing Netflix in the background. I know I’m not the only one with a screwed up schedule and preception of time. Below the clock on my phone, I see a message from a local friend of mine who tells me she’s bored. She also tells me she and her parents are fighting a lot. I ask why they’re fighting and she says, “We’re fighting over who is the laziest.” I laugh because I can relate.
“Who is the laziest?” I ask.
“It’s me, haha.” She says.
“But who works the hardest?” I ask again.
“The TV.” She replies along with sending me a cute dancing bunny emoji.
The apartment my building is in happens to reside in a plaza that’s usually busy with people. In just a few steps from my front door, there is a supermarket, a Godiva chocolate shop, a 7/11, an Adidas store, and a variety of restaurants. The only places that are constantly open are the 7/11 and the supermarket, which are always filled with people.
As I opened up my fridge to get ingredients for the fried potatoes and eggs I intend to make, I noticed the food supply is getting low. All I had left were eight bottles of Yakult, Lao Gan Ma, three eggs, and two bags of pickled green beans. After breakfast, I would have to leave for the supermarket and go shopping.
I sip my instant coffee, which is not good, and even worse when it’s lukewarm.
I played whatever movie I could find on Netflix or YouKu, depending on how sick I am of either platform’s selection. Then I just kind of stare at the wall in front of me until the movie is over and I can muster the courage and motivation to go to the store.
Addressing what I was wearing, yoga pants and a t-shirt, I recognized it had been weeks now since I had worn anything that didn’t resemble a yoga instructor’s workwear. I planned to shower that day, but not for the purpose of visiting the market for 20 minutes.
I pulled my hair back and grabbed the breathing mask sitting near my front door pulling it over my nose and mouth to secure it in the back. I read in a meme somewhere, that if you wear these masks right, you can’t breathe so I sucked in a deep breath with great difficulty. Yup. Perfect. The effectiveness of it against a CoronaVirus though? I’m not sure, but I suppose it’s the thought that counts.
Letting my hair back down, I put on a hat to cover my messy hair, slipped on a pair of shoes and my winter coat, and grabbed the trash that hadn’t been taken out yet. Just seconds after closing the door behind me, the bleach smell that woke me that morning penetrated my mask.
“My God.”
I inhaled through my mask but only got a mouthful of the harsh bleach fumes invading the hallway. “Piece of shit mask,” I muttered to myself. I got into the elevator, which was even worse. A choking chamber if you will. I would’ve gladly shoved my nose in my trash for better quality air. Whatever they sprayed in the building had likely reduced any trace of the CoronaVirus to nothing at this point.
I took a single tissue from the pack taped to the inside of the elevator and used it to push the first-floor button. Before I knew it, my body was resisting its primary urge to breathe. I still had 24 floors to go before I could attempt to suck air from a different space.
If it was like this here in Xi’an, I couldn’t even imagine the measures they’re taking in Wuhan.
Arriving at the first floor, the bell dinged and the doors slid open. I exhaled and took a deep breath walking toward the front door where I felt a coolness on my face from the winter air. There’s no snow in Xi’an, but it’s still cold. Nothing compared to the Colorado mountain winters though.
To the left of the entryway was a huge metal barricade that stood to block off the area my building was in. If you rounded the corner to go the opposite direction, you would see two other barricades keeping us in.
Over the past two days, everyone who lived in the plaza was instructed to go to the real estate office to prove they were residents. From now on, we would need an entry and exit permit to get in and out of our buildings. Hence the large metal barriers. I threw my trash in the large bin and walked toward the supermarket just across the square.
It was nearly deserted. Doors were closed and locked at the front and inside businesses were dark and lifeless. This would be the closest I would come to a ghost town in China and I didn’t even have to take a train to get there.
The only signs of life were people coming in and out of the supermarket.
The night before, I heard that one member of each household was allowed out every 2-3 days to get food. You even had to sign in to prove it. Each day, there was a new way to lockdown and create more secure protocols to contain the CoronaVirus and keep it from spreading. Just a few weeks before, I could come and go in the plaza without navigating a metal barricade obstacle course. It’s so closed off now, cars can’t leave their garage parking spaces.
I walked into the supermarket and was met with a security guard wearing a blue surgical mask. I moved my coat sleeve up past my wrist tattoo. He pointed the temperature gun at my bare skin. The screen lit up green and he nodded, letting me pass. No fever for me. I took a cart from an employee and tried to navigate my way through the supermarket. The produce section was cleared out first. They seemed to struggle to keep things stocked well. I recalled the one time before the Spring Festival that I couldn’t seem to find potatoes or even a crown of broccoli.
The supermarket is chaos.
A lot of people were there. On normal days in Chinese supermarkets, I’m always bumping into someone. Now no one bothers to touch each other. They just roll their carts through aisles, avoiding any potential shoulder brushes, trying to get anything and everything they need to feed their families. Meanwhile, the supermarket employees were rushing around desperate to keep shelves filled. I could feel their anxiety as I walked past. They probably don’t want to be there, but they have to. I silently thank them for that bravery.
I picked up my items, some dumpling wrappers, ground pork, broccoli, and bags of Mandarin oranges. I wandered past the chocolate aisle to see it was fully stocked. I took a dark chocolate bar and threw it in my basket. After leaving the supermarket, I walked back toward the metal barricade and past the red and gold Spring Festival signs that say “我在大都会过年” (I’m celebrating the holiday at Glorious Plaza).
I imagined many of the residents didn’t eagerly leave their homes on the eve of Chinese Lunar New Year to take pictures besides those signs and underneath the fiery red lanterns. At the barricade, I showed the single security guard the little white slip of paper with the red stamp indicating I lived here.
After I got home, I washed my hands with hot soapy water and I thought about the things I’d do today. How I’d read a book, write a blog about eight treasures tea, and listen to music when I got tired of Netflix. I imagined what it would be like to be somewhere else in the world. Somewhere where I could breathe fresh air, feel the sun on my skin, put my bare feet on the ground, and maybe interact with physical humans instead of their typed words in WeChat. I wrote in my journal and got messages from friends telling me to “go back home to America” because it’s not safe in China.
Meanwhile, I know people are at home going crazy in the confines of their apartment.
For me, being inside has been quite easy. I’m an introvert with lots of writing to do and quite love being in my own space. There being no guarantee of when this will all end is probably the most maddening of it all for me. In the most recent news, I heard the CoronaVirus has killed more people than SARs did all those years ago. A quarantine this size has never happened, and this has been the first time this method of containing an outbreak has been attempted, according to the WHO. I, like many, am living amongst a piece of history.
I think about the people on the frontlines trying to fight this off and how tired they must be. About the criticism the country is facing for it. The jokes people and even myself make about this pandemic. How those funny memes probably aren’t funny to people who lost someone already. I also think about how those memes lighten the mood for people who are legitimately scared right now. I wonder how someone settled on calling this thing the “Novel” CoronaVirus.
Let’s be honest, there ain’t nothing “novel” about something that’s killing people.
I’m not scared for myself. I send updates to my family back home who, to my knowledge, aren’t erupting in unnecessary panic. Instead, they tell me to be safe and smart. They tell me they love me, that they are praying, and are throwing love and light at this whole thing.
When I scroll through my social media feeds, I watch videos of people shouting “Jia You” to each other across dark voids towards the bright orange windows of opposing skyrise buildings. In those videos, they encourage one another to stay strong, to believe they will overcome this difficult time.
I see another video of a doctor, and mother, standing 20 feet away from her daughter giving her an “air hug” while she sobs uncontrollably because her mother has to leave for Wuhan. There are other pictures of people with foreheads pressed together crying as their parents, friends, brothers, and sisters go to infected places where people are getting sick and dying from the CoronaVirus.
So many people have had to be stronger than they wanted to be these past few months. People say it hasn’t killed that many people. But they forget those people belonged to someone.
Our strength and our courage to be resilient in this world is being tested. When you scroll through your feed and see these images, you notice one common thing happening with this CoronaVirus, people banding together (not physically) and helping each other stay strong and not lose hope.
They know the only way we will get through this is together.
—
“Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.”
– Fred Rogers
**This is my own personal experience and does not reflect the news about the CoronaVirus or how the Chinese Government is handling the situation. News about the CoronaVirus is continuously being updated and shared everywhere. To find more information about the CoronaVirus, go here.
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