A tale of two pandemics

Near the peak of US deaths, I moved to Ecuador

I was in New York when Covid-19 hit last year — and it hit hard. In early February I moved to Ecuador, and it’s been interesting to see how each place has reacted differently to the pandemic. Both are places I am intimately familiar with, having lived off and on in each for more than a decade.

My first impressions in Quito, the capital, were extremely positive. Everyone wore a mask and they wore it correctly. Not some. Not most. Everyone. Entering any building required a temperature check and a spray of alcohol on your hands. Some places also spray your feet and in a few larger places, like a mall, you walk through an alcohol mist bath before entering. This is mostly a cash society too, so money is similarly sprayed with alcohol when it’s handed off. I really can’t stress enough how often people spay alcohol here. Lots of sugarcane grows here that is easily distilled into a very potent and also very cheap alcohol so it’s a logical anti-septic.

People I spoke to, either old friends or strangers, all seemed very much concerned. More so than in the New York I left. This is deadly serious, they all told me. I wasn’t in New York anymore, I would have to be extra careful now.

Here’s the surprising part: at that moment Covid was hitting New York harder than it was Ecuador. I left New York for a few reasons, but one of them was because the pandemic was a smaller threat in Ecuador.

I was comparing Ecuador now with the New York I left, they were comparing Ecuador now to Ecuador pre-pandemic. Thus, we came to very different conclusions about the current situation.

It’s a fascinating exercise in perspective.

The world feels smaller these days. Much of the globe is dealing with their own crisis and people don’t look outward as much as they might have otherwise. It’s surprising how many people here think Ecuador is an epicenter of the virus when the data does not support that.

To be clear, the data here is different from in the US. You have to pay to get a test — I paid $35 for one, which is standard and by no means cheap by local standards, though on the upside there’s never a wait and always same day results. That means that less people get tested and thus the positivity rate is higher. So case counts aren’t a great comparison but things like deaths, hospitalizations, and total deaths above average can be. In all of those New York is significantly worse than Ecuador.

Fear and victimization are often more alluring than reality and ordinary. That’s a global phenomenon.

As time progressed, I was less impressed with how Ecuador is handling things. In New York the govt closed many streets to give people more outdoor space, especially for outdoor dining. Seasonal changes meant this wasn’t so great once it got cold, but while the weather cooperated it seemed a good innovation. Ecuador literally means equator in Spanish — the nation is named after the imaginary line that cuts through it. There are no seasons here and while it’s hot on the coast, in the mountains it’s spring-like year-round. So, the weather is prime for something like outdoor dining but not only does everyone still eat inside but lots of cities have closed parks and outdoor spaces.

Generally, people here seem to take the virus more seriously than in the US which makes sense on the level that the US is a champion of the individual and Ecuador prides itself on community. Ecuador easily wins on health solidarity.

Still, I find it odd how careful people are in most aspects but don’t consider indoor dining a risk. People will tell me to never, under any circumstances, take off my mask in public then invite me out to lunch.

I’m sure if I started the pandemic here then moved to New York I’d find plenty of things odd as well. I’m sure most Ecuadorians would be surprised at how little Americans spray themselves down with alcohol, for example. We are all products of our environments.

The best thing about travel is its ability to show you another perspective. This can be heightened in abnormal situations — like a pandemic.