There is restorative power in art, which is why so many
people are drawn to it.
American corporations are masters of assembling prepared foods into a simulacrum
of cooking. The bar at the Hilton is the only place to buy meals, and what’s on
offer are ersatz dinners. Although we’re trying to avoid
them as much as possible, there are no cooking facilities in our rooms. Even
the minibars have been torn down due to coronavirus.We decided yesterday that we needed breakfast, so we took a seat in the lobby and ordered coffee and omelets. We were not far from where we’d been seated the night before. From my angle, I got a clear look at the area. A lone lump of cheese remained on the table. Underneath, the carpet was littered with bottlecaps and crumpled cocktail napkins. There were crumbs on the leather upholstery. The hotel crew might be spraying surfaces with alcohol, but if they’re not also wiping, picking up, and vacuuming properly, their efforts are wasted.
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We're sharing space with airline crews. |
As we ate, another large air crew arrived. This one was from
Air France, and they immediately colonized every table around us. France has
(as of last night) 45,000 cases and 3000 deaths from coronavirus. An Edelweiss
Air crew was already here, but, until then, it had been easy to ignore them. That
was folly, however; Switzerland has one of Europe’s highest rates of recorded coronavirus.
The Hilton is Argentina’s plague pokey and we’re there
because we’re foreigners. But we came to Buenos Aires certified as healthy. Our
goal is to remain that way. Airlines are grounded right now because they’re vectors
for the spread of this disease. We don’t hate these crews, but we’re afraid to
share space with them. At the same time, we’re also eagerly anticipating the
arrival of an Eastern Airlines crew, because that brings us one step closer to
heading home.
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Apartment buildings across the street from us. I feel blessed to not live in a high-rise. |
The answer is to insulate ourselves as much
as we can. Jane Chapin and I ventured
out in search of food that we can eat in our rooms. This time we went to a
different supermercado. If we didn’t strike gold, we at least found
fresh fruit, vegetables, bread and cheese. We came home with four heavy bags and
formed an assembly line to wash it. Last night our crew dined on tuna-fish
sandwiches, fruit, palm hearts and mushy peas. After the horrid bar food, it
was divine.
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Painting from the window with Lynn Mehta and Kellee Mayfield. Photo courtesy Douglas Perot. |
Jane has jiggered our accommodations so that our group has
two rooms facing the street. That gives us small windows on the world
where we can take turns drawing and painting. Kellee
Mayfield shared her gouache with Lynn
Mehta and me. I left my watercolor and gouache at home for reasons of
space; I will never travel without one of them again.
I was relieved and comforted to have a brush in my hand,
although my painting is as bleak and raw as my psyche. There is restorative
power in art, which is why so many people are drawn to it, and why I believe it’s
important that everyone should have the opportunity to do it. While we
Christians believe in the Resurrection, we not immune to the pain of loss.
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You have to know the password to get in. Photo courtesy Douglas Perot. |
I had intended to force myself into routine yesterday:
drawing first, followed by a few hours of paperwork. I wasn’t able to drag
myself into compliance. I went to bed early, foolishly flipping around Facebook
before I dropped off. There I saw something that horrified me. An old friend,
Wayne Potter, died yesterday, cause unknown. I frantically texted my brothers in
the hope that it was a mistake. Alas, it was not. Two deaths in two days was
more than my old soul could bear. I cried myself to sleep.