no seas coche

for a while now i've been depending on the countdown. for months i've known a solid unit of time between me and my departure, a dependable (as much as anything along the time-space continuum can be dependable) fallback both for the days when i urge the time past and the days when i hold it as a buffer against the reentry into the US. As the units get smaller i've complexified the countdown to include probable details of the weeks and days that remain; planning out the time has been a major tool for coping with the altibajos of life here. i wield it against the loneliness that comes with watching the vast majority of my acquaintances come and go, and against the anxiety that still tinges my teaching experience, and against the despair that comes with the realization that no matter how much i do there is so much more that needs to be done, and against the frustration of sleepless nights. and now this bloody swine flu has interrupted almost every element of my plans. 

there was to be mexico. i had bought my plane ticket days before the first outbreak hit the news, with shining plans to see the km-deep cañon del sumidero in chiapas, and visit sergio and asela, the wonderful family i met in san cristobal earlier this year, and then wend my way up to mexico city to chase some much-needed catchup with my friend mique. clearly that one is now off the docket. i filled the travel-shaped hole in my heart with hopes of nicaragua, of working on a farm on the isla de ometepe and exploring granada and deciphering another accent. then ortega declared a 60-day preemptive health emergency in that country. there's the prospect of my catherine, katie and grace visiting, but i haven't heard a word from them since all this broke out (ladies, if you're reading this PLEASE tell me what you're thinking-- the not-knowing is driving me slowly insane). and now the 'rents dangle the possibility that borders or airlines might start closing and they might want me to come home early. and on some level it makes sense. it would be wretched to be stuck in guatemala so close to the end of the stay, to have missed the opportunity to get home because of stubbornness or a few days. 

but here's the thing: it is all bureaucracy. everything that scares me, everything that stands in my way, is officials on various levels trying to cover their own asses from being blamed for something that is outside of human control. i am not scared of the flu because it is useless to be scared of a virus; they follow their own rules, spread where they will, and rarely pay much attention to the limits we think we place on them. but people. shutting down borders, quarantining, canceling flights, forbidding handshaking and cheek-kissing and going to school and so on... none of it is irrational and of course you would be haunted if you had the power to place those limitations, didn't place them, and then saw a spike in cases of whatever it was you were trying to limit. but i can't dodge the impression that this is a massive game of evading blame, of making a show of safety in order to keep governmental/institutional hands clean. 

i suppose it is unforgivably selfish that i should resent a virus for impeding my travel plans when it has taken lives. so be it. i am a little bit heartbroken that all this fear-based legislation and information has interrupted at least two of the things the thought of which had kept me going these last months.  and i can't help wondering where it ends, whether i'm being wise or buying into the system of control through fear, whether playing it safe isn't depriving me of glorious adventures. and yet the thought of sitting for days in quarantine, or worse, of somehow not being able to return home for weeks or months, haunts me enough that i'm not ready to take unnecessary risks. i hate it. i really really hate it. and i don't know what to do.