Shanghai: week 19

Don’t drink the water, don’t you breathe the air.

Modest Mouse

I’m not actively worried about contracting the coronavirus. Chances are that I won’t come in contact with it and even if I were to get it, I would be fine. But it is a weird time. I got a bad cold a week ago, which took the wind right out of my sails, and then the air got really rotten, and then it kept drizzling a stupid grey drizzle that just made things wet but didn’t freshen things up, and then the sun stopped shining (for good, it seems).

I’m off work because of the Chinese New Year and the air has finally cleared up quite a bit, but I feel a little shy about going to any public spaces because what if someone coughs on me and that’s it? And many places are closed for the new year, anyway. Today, when Josh and I finally mustered up the fortitude to walk to one of our favorite restaurants for lunch, we found it closed. It was an almost eerie walk—normally a bustling street, it was nearly empty and the few people we did come across were all wearing masks. I know it was quiet because people are ringing in the new year in their hometowns, but it’s easy to imagine a post-apocalyptic scenario where a virus breaks out and all the stores sell out of masks and you aren’t supposed to go outside because there are zombies that carry the virus and if you aren’t wearing a mask then you’ll get eaten and you’ll get the virus.

I like living in China, I do, I even have posts dedicated to how much I like it, but sometimes I shake my fist at the country at large and shout: “BE DIFFERENT!” I want to turn on the faucet and be able to drink the water and I want to check my air quality app every morning and think, “Oh yes, of course it’s a good air day and I can go running whenever I want to.” I know I’m being a little unreasonable, but sometimes I even want the language to be different. Maybe just two tones instead of five, how’s about?

I love you, China, but I’m going to go have a sandwich and watch The Office now. I’ll see you tomorrow.

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