On the 9th March 2020 I was leaving from Santiago de Chile to Cali, Colombia for a backpacking journey. I had already bought my plane ticket back to Chile for the 27th April, unaware I would never be able to return for a long while. At that time, the expression “Coronavirus” was quite unheard of in South America. Chinese and European cases were seen as distant, another world problems. It was fairly unlikely that the emergency could escalate so fast worldwide. But it did. And so disruptively.
COLOMBIA (9 – 20 March 2020)
On 9th March 2020 Colombia just counted few European-fetched infected patients and no victims. At that date the situation there was altogether normal. Maybe European and Asian outbound tourism had just stopped. But the rest of the world was working as usual.
In Cali I was very kindly welcomed by my Couchsurfing host Diana and her courteous family. I thoroughly visited the bustling city (Cerro Tres Cruces, city centre, etc.) and the surroundings (like the enchanting San Cipriano) for the following 4 days without the faintest clue something had even slightly changed in the country.
The first worrying signs of mutation started to occur on the day 13th March, when leaving the city towards Armenia and the coffee area. Once reached the bus terminal, I was approached by a soldier asking me about my whereabouts, which I deemed quite unusual. The subsequent bus to Salento was instead again regular and trouble-free. In Salento, indeed, I noticed quite a bunch of Western tourists, even though I was told bookings suddenly had dropped.
For the truth’s sake, that day President Duque announced that as of 16 March, entry to Colombia would be restricted for visitors who had been in Europe or Asia within the previous 14 days. But that seemed not to concern me so much. Up to then.
Again I spent two more days pretty much unmindful of any incoming issue. The stunning “loop” trekking across Cocora Valley and beyond as far as Estrella de Agua and Finca La Primavera (Los Nevados National Park) was a delightful leap into pristine nature (with huge palm trees too) and desolate paramos (a high treeless plateau in tropical South America). Although there were just a few people beyond a certain point (casa de los colibris), I considered it understandable because of the abrupt, demanding trail and the relevant altitude (up to 4000 meters a.s.l.).
On the 15th March 2020, at the end of a wearying day started at 6 am from Finca La Primavera (3680 mt a.s.l.) and after 15 km trekking, 1 jeep and 2 buses, I could finally arrive to my following destination Medellin, without any restriction. There I managed to meet my old pal Augustin and have a few drinks the very same night.
I guess the turning point of my whole personal, travelling experience with Coronavirus happened the day after, 16th March 2020, exactly one week since my arrival to Colombia.
I remember Augustin got very upset about “leaving the country asap”, before any curfew or lockdown was set. It was the first moment I was confronted with those dire scenarios.
I could not honestly believe it would happen in South America.
I could not fathom any chance for that to be real. There were still just few infected cases across all the country. The same day, after visiting the colourful Comuna 13, we experienced the preliminary disruptions: all museums near Plaza Botero had already been shut down; police was massively patrolling the city centre; and bars, pubs and clubs did not open that night. It was the frantic beginning of the inevitable end.
On the 17th March, Colombian President Duque spoke to the nation and declared the state of emergency. But that occurred in the evening, at 9 pm. That day I hold it was the last “normal” day in Colombia. In the morning I still could reach the astonishing dam of Guatapé by public transportation. I could “climb” the overlooking tower on its iconic 702 steps without any restrictions and move around the town, with little presence of foreigners, though. Once back at the hostel, the events sharply deteriorated. I gradually got informed about the following circumstances:
- Entire regions and national parks (e.g. Tayrona) had been closed down;
- Scuba diving activities in the north had been suspended;
- Boats and ports had been blocked;
- Cities (e.g. Cartagena) and beaches had been evacuated;
- Hostels and hotels were not taking tourists anymore;
- All touristic places in Medellin and around were no longer accessible.
The same night I tried a last-minute u-turn to reach back Chile, but on the 16th March president Piñera declared the emergency state and announced the borders closure since 0:00 on the 18th March. Too late to be arranged. I was by all means trapped.
Pretty much all countries were inaccessible by then. To my knowledge, among the few, close options, there were still Mexico, Cuba and Nicaragua.
At that point there was the clear inkling that Colombia was about to adopt extreme measures like hard lockdown, quarantine and airport shutdown
(as a matter of fact in the evening of 20 March, President Duque announced a 19-day nationwide quarantine, starting on 24 March at midnight and ending on 12 April at midnight.)
Time was running fast and I had to figure something out to escape the confining grip. My hostel generously communicated that already-settled guests could stay as much as they needed to. However, as soon as I imagined the apocalyptic scenario of being stuck for weeks or months in a hostel of a 4 million inhabitants city in Colombia, I suddenly began to look for quick alternatives. Going back to Europe at its peak of pandemic would not be one of them (besides the sanitary and logistic inconveniences, flight tickets prices had skyrocketed and routes had no direct connections).
In addition, I had started to perceive overall suspicion (morose glares, security distancing, dubious sentences, etc.) from the local population towards white foreigners, as we were plague spreaders. Walking on the streets was no pleasant any longer.
The following day, 18th March, I got a fantastic opportunity. A friend of mine, Dorian, benevolently invited me to its fabulous Caribbean house located in the tiny Little Corn Island, Nicaragua. The plan was perfect: stay put for 1 month or 2 (who knew at that stage !) and profit from the matchless exoticism and activities of the pure island. Hence after 3 agitated hours (flights prices and offers were changing all the time !), I succeeded in purchasing my rescuing flight ticket to the paradise !!
NICARAGUA DREAM (19 March 2020)
On the 19th March I personally hit the bottom. After exchanging my last Colombian pesos and checking out from the hostel, I jubilantly headed for the airport, which was about to close in the subsequent 48 hours. I passed all the security checks and waited at the gate the only available flight of the entire afternoon ! I had never seen before such an empty airport !
Nevertheless it was too good to be true: around 1 hour before the flight departure, I was summoned at the counter to be inquired about the International yellow fever certificate, apparently compulsory there for passengers arriving from risky areas like Colombia. I had never needed to get it.
All sorts of apologies and explanations did not help me to avoid my first rejection (and very painful) to a flight. I was escorted out by police, stamped back in Colombia and sent to Medellin again, under a stormy weather, without local money and any miserable hope. Luckily I remembered the door code to access the hostel I was staying at. Officially the hostel was already closed to visitors. Only a couple of guests and two working volunteers were still hanging out inside. They generously let me stay. Night was full of bad premonitions though.
MEXICO (20 March – 7 May 2020)
The following day, 20th March, it was the very last chance to try to get out from the country. Medellin was supposed to declare obligatory quarantine from 10 pm. I had to act fast.
I deemed it was useless to try to phone the airline customer service for inquiries. Lines were all stuck. It was chaos everywhere. Therefore I repeated the same itinerary as the previous day. I checked out again from the hostel, walked to the bus stop and caught a bus to the airport. This time goings-on got tangled: I had to explain over and over my personal situation to police and guards. Eventually I was admitted inside (only people with tickets could access the airport by then). I pointed straight to the airline counter to have my ticket changed to another (any available) destination.
This is what I had to face subsequently:
- I waited more than 1 hour in line before being able to speak with the counter agent;
- No more available destinations apart from Mexico City and Cancun;
- I could change the ticket for free if there were still available seats (and luckily there were after a suspended while);
- I had to buy on the spot an exit ticket as a proof of departure from Mexico and show it to the agent;
- I had to scoot to the gate as there were only 30 minutes left to the last available flight to Cancun (through Panama)! Should I had missed that connection, no more Cancun and maybe no more Mexico, and no more anywhere else : )
During my flight connection in Panama, I had my first horrifying impact with a body tool I had only associated with surgeons up to then: the medical masks !
In truth, I had already spotted few passengers wearing them before at the airports in Santiago and Medellin. However, in Panama it was the first time I saw the majority of people using them, not just few scared freaks. It all evolved so quickly.
People in Latin America was definitely seized by panic at that stage.
BUT FINALLY CANCUN, MEXICO…
What I had seen up to then, anyway, made me decide that the best course of action was finding a bright spot to spend a “mild quarantine”. Normal life had hopelessly collapsed a bit everywhere by that date. It was dangerous to try to move again. The chances to get stuck in an unpleasant place were becoming higher and higher, day by day. In Mexico I finally understood that travels and general conditions would change for a long while. Despite that, I hadn’t grasped the full global proportion yet.
Therefore, in order to avoid:
- ATM cash supply interruption;
- Hospital services inconvenience and unreachability;
- Road blocks or transportation cut-off;
- Food supply shortage;
which was spreading around all Latin America by then (let alone Europe or Asia), I tried to focus on small (not tiny) size towns near the seaside, far from frantic and unpredictable big cities.
My final choice fell into the little, coastal Tulum, 120 Km south from Cancun.
I arrived there on 21st March 2020. I was too late to see the top archaeological sites of Chichen Itza and Coba, but still in time for everything else, almost. And still I really thought that the “voluntary quarantine” would last for 1 or maximum 2 months. I was still stubbornly convinced that by the end of April or maximum May, Central and South American countries would reopen their borders to foreigners and airlines resume their flights.
How could the entire world completely stop for 6 months or 1 year because of a slightly stronger flu or pneumonia ? Debatable politics was already prevailing at that stage.
TULUM’S STEADY BUT WORSENING LIFE…
While Europe was already under lockdown since the beginning of March, Tulum was still full of life at the beginning. Although supposedly Covid-19 had reached the country in February, as of the 21st March, the total confirmed cases were only 251 with 2 deaths. Almost nothing for a nation of about 130 million people. However, authorities started to be prepared for the worse. In line with Sweden, United Kingdom and other countries, Mexican President Lopez Obrador never wanted to spread panic among his fellow citizens and endeavored instead to let the economy thrive (or survive, better said) as much as possible for the best interest of the majority of people.
Nevertheless, regional and council administrators gradually started to take their own safety measures.
On the 22th March, everything in Tulum was still open though: bars, restaurants, cenotes, beaches, the archaeological site, etc.
On the 23rd March, with only 367 confirmed cases and 4 deaths, Mexico entered Phase 2 of the coronavirus pandemic according to the World Health Organization. That gave more and more power to local administrators to fulfil their conservative plans.
Notwithstanding, this is the list of my displacements:
22nd March: Cenote Escondido, Cenote Cristal, Tulum archeological site and beach
23rd March: Cenote Carwash
26th March: Cenote Zacil-Ha
29th March: Cenote Tulum + beach
30th March: Beach with concert.
At first, I almost relished the lack of massive tourism (here generally burdensome between December and April) and the feeling of being somehow privileged in this heavenly part of the world. I used to peacefully ride my bicycle towards the astounding, crystalline cenotes (a natural underground reservoir of water typical in Yucatan, Mexico) or the infinite, white-sand beaches in a private, solitary atmosphere. Very exclusive for some reason.
The situation, however grew more and more alarming, with progressive reduction of services, starting with declarations of alcohol ban (then revoked, then adjusted to 9 am to 5 pm and subsequently 9 am – 3 pm); secondly the shortening of bars and restaurants opening hours (until 11 pm first); thirdly the traffic limitations and so on. In order not to frighten citizens too much, prohibitions were applied little by little. This is the detailed, personal timeline (to the best of my knowledge):
21st March: main archaeological sites (e.g. Chichen Itza) in Quintana Roo and Merida regions close down.
23rd March: bars and restaurants start to reduce opening hours to 11 pm.
24th March: my hostel, Coelum Hostel, warns me they would apply a “voluntary quarantine” and I should cope with it or find an alternative accommodation (which I did).
27th March: curfew in Tulum from 10 pm to 5 am, a few days later modified into 8 pm to 6 am.
1st April: restaurants are closed or only available for take away. Cenotes are closed too.
2nd April: sanitary checks in & out are performed with roadblocks (not affecting walkers or bike riders though) and roads are heavily patrolled by police day and night.
4th April: the “archaeological” side of the beach is closed.
9th April: all the roads to the beach are closed, open only for residents, workers and hotel lodgers.
19th April: masks are compulsory to enter public spaces (e.g. supermarkets, banks, pharmacies, etc.).
Mexico entered Phase 3 of its contingency plan on April 21st with the “modest” numbers (out of 130 million inhabitants) of 712 deaths and 8,772 confirmed cases.
With an exiguous number of flights (on the 18th Apr only 5 international flights left and 4 arrived to Cancun airport), a deadly airport and all non-essential public spaces closed, all Mayan Riviera (from Cancun down to the Belizean border) started to slowly agonize and to become a ghostly, empty wasteland.
From an exclusive paradise to an all-inclusive cemetery. Masks on the streets were mushrooming day after day. Panic was breaching through the jovial Mexican society unfortunately. Politics was obtaining its ultimate goal.
In the first week of May, alcohol (production inexplicably was blocked since 6th April) started to disappear and remain available only in the black market (at 3-4 times its normal price). Cigarettes started to be considered “non-essential” goods and not to be sold. Bars, shops, restaurants, money exchanges, most of hotels and hostels were all dramatically closed. The local economy (based on tourism) had been tragically ruined for at least 9 months or more (Tulum tourist operators hope to recover with the new season from November 2020).
The only possible businesses (any kind of, from food to barbershop, from taxi to any tradable good) were conducted via Facebook group pages. All goods, services and apartment rents (apart from alcohol) had been abated from half to 25 % of their original price. Ironically we might say that to prevent a few deaths, the governing administration left the great majority of the population without or with limited resources for a long while.
Furthermore, news from other countries reported constant delays in borders openings, flight routes normalization and civil life “humanization”, all until further, monthly notice.
My hope of going back to Chile (or any other near country) was hence eroding little by little, day by day, until I received an offer from the Italian embassy in Mexico City at the end of April.
At first skeptical about the hefty fare cost and the precarious conditions I would find in my home country, with the deterioration of the events I gradually became more and more interested in the offer. In the end I was still happy to have been able to visit this part of the world while the majority of the world was still under hard lockdown. Plus I could still go out during the day and ride my bicycle. At the same time, however, the overall situation did not look like improving in the short term. Moreover, the long rainy season was looming in the horizon from June on. So after a week of excruciating meditation, I resolved to call the agency and book a flight back home, until the world will come back to reason and human vicinity (not social distancing).
I only had to pay 1215 Euros (plus fees); fill out 8 documents in 3 languages to state I was in a healthy condition; buy masks and gloves; call a taxi to the airport (regular bus services had been stopped); queue (with the mask) for almost 3 hours at the airport counter for check-in; fly 12 hours (with the mask and security distance); wait 1 hour at the arrival for further inquiries and temp scan; and drive back home in 3 hours. That was quite simple compared with what is awaiting the world population and planet in future times.
For sure, travelling could not be the same for the next year or two or more. For sure social distancing would last for a while. For sure stricter norms will prevent carefree social aggregation (even with ill-intentioned political aims) and geographical exploration (leaving tourism-based sectors and areas in ruins). For sure the general world economy will plummet for years. For sure nothing is sure at this point.
Una total aventura jajajajajaja, con todos los juguetes, pero lo importante es que estás bien y en casa con los tuyos.
Muy buena energía para ti!
Claroooo….gracias por el comentario !!
What a post!!!!