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2022-05-01
Fresh juice at the market
This photograph shows my son drinking fresh orange and pineapple juice at a market in Arequipa, Peru. The juice vendor works behind a plastic sneeze guard, wears a face mask, and disinfects change before returning it to you. -
2022-05-01
Mask trash parque de la independencia
Mask trash on the football field at parque de la Independencia urb. 15 de enero -
2022-04-10
Day of the Child vaccine drive in Peru
En el Día de la Niña y el Niño, acude con tu pequeña y/o pequeño a los centros de vacunación por su vacuna contra la #COVID19. ¡Protege a tu familia de este virus! 💪🏼 #MeVacunoPerú 🇵🇪 A post by the Ministry of Health in Peru promoting the vaccination of children for the Day of the Child, it encourages people to go get vaccinated over the weekend. -
2020-03-21
Gardening During the Apocalypse
I can't think of the beginning of the COVID-19 pandemic, the shut downs and lock-ins, the stay-at-home orders without thinking of my brief foray into gardening. My husband and I bought our house in northwest Baltimore in April 2019. Our little duplex sits near the end of an unbelievably picturesque street in a fairly affluent neighborhood known for its garden communities and HOA-hosted wine and cheese parties you have to pay to attend. The neighborhood is surrounded by much poorer neighborhoods and heavily-trafficked streets, the direct product of red-lining in Old Baltimore. While the Original Northwood neighborhood is much more diverse - demographically and economically - than it was when it was first established in the 1930s and 1940s, my husband and I, as some of the only residents under 40, still felt like we didn't necessarily fit in with our older, more well-to-do neighbors, despite absolutely adoring our little home, which had been lovingly renovated and reimagined by its previous tenants. Come March 2020, however, the noise from the crowded streets, the surrounding neighborhoods, and from our own neighborhood, died down substantially. Our streets and its surrounds have always been a great place to go for a walk, but now every day people were strolling by in ones and twos, sometimes in small family units. Everyone needed to get out of the houses they were now cooped up in, and I was no exception. Much to my mother's chagrin - and likely to my neighbors' embarrassment - I did not inherent my mother's green thumb. Because I am a millennial I found an app that identifies plants and set about rooting out weeds, pruning the flowers the previous tenants had not intended for me to neglect, picking up the endless stream of leaves from our several 100+ year old trees, digging up more weeds and debating with my husband about whether we should start an herb and vegetable garden or put in a patio in the little garden area that connects our front and back yards. I did not become proficient at gardening. I am much better than I was, however, at identifying the truly astonishing diversity of plants in my own garden and in my neighborhood by scent and even touch. I learned that the dried and withered allium stalks pull effortlessly out of the ground after they die, that African violets also give way to a gentle scooping from the earth, and that thistle, of course, will still try to prick you as it attempts to cling to the soil. I learned that those thin but tough shoots of elm and oak born from the seeds and acorns the squirrels missed not only grow rapidly, but are extraordinarily difficult to rip from the earth. And no matter how much seemingly-delicate clover one claws at, its roots will always remain beneath the surface, as virulent in a day or two as when one earlier tore at it in complete dismay of its sheer stubbornness. I did not become proficient at gardening. But I did relish the feeling of cool, damp earth underneath my hands, even in my fingernails, the crunch of dry leaves, the slick sliding of wet leaves, the red, angry weals left on my hands from those stubborn oaks. I felt accomplished as I pulled lovely, but ultimately threatening African violets and wild raspberry from underneath the spreading cover of the hostas, and as I pulled wild mint, lemon, and rosemary for tea and cooking. I told myself I'd use the ramps (a species of wild onion that smells and tastes sort of of like a combination between garlic and scallions) in a soup, as a college roommate of mine had done, but I forgot to harvest them in time. From what I recall, summertime is best, particularly late summertime. The other thing I remember about this time spent in my garden, hands in the dirt, sweat on my brow, bug bites inflaming every available inch of skin, is the new sense of connection I felt with my neighbors who stopped to wave hello, nod and smile at my gardening efforts. Neighbors who I hadn't gotten to know before the pandemic which now prevented us, due to fear of contamination from contact with other people, from truly getting to know each other still. But somehow, the simple act of being out in my garden, doing this simple, repetitive toil, made me feel like I was participating in a ritual, an activity that linked me to the less unsavory past of the community, and to neighbors who otherwise might have remained alien in a plague environment that seemed to bring a new apocalypse with every week. -
2020-03-12
Quarantine Life
I am submitting a small glimpse of what life was life for me during Covid 19 and quarantine -
2020
Finding Time
Over the last five or so years, I've been dreaming about some event that would stir up some excitement in New York City, preferably some good event, but an event nonetheless. Never did I dream that it would actually come true, unfortunately in the form of a worldwide pandemic. Why couldn't it be something more fun, like aliens (although it seems like we might be getting there)? While the pandemic didn't bring anything exciting per se, it brought some change with it. When it began to be taken more seriously last year (2020), when all the shutdowns began to occur, I saw a major change in my day to day life. From being laid off of work, not being able to go to classes in-person anymore, and not being able to see any friends in person either, the normal, repetitive life that I had gotten so used to had disintegrated within just a couple weeks, if not shorter. It forced me to look at things in a different light, and as I was forced to be by myself for most of it, as we all were, I felt as if I needed to find some positivity and motivation in the few things I could do and had control over. I finally had time to focus on myself and made sure things like my physical/mental health and education were a priority. I took up cycling, as it was one way for me to be active and remain safe because it's not really something you need to do with others, and that opened the world up to me, especially with how empty the city was. Even my quiet pocket of Queens got quieter as barely anyone was outside, so while it did feel a bit post-apocalyptic out sometimes, it also gave me a sense of peace and freedom. Also, with having so much more time at home and not having to commute, I took advantage of online-learning to really give myself as much time as I needed, instead of the previous sense of rush and urgency I used to feel when it came to assignments, and actually turned my grades around pretty drastically. While the pandemic has been horrific on most fronts, by working my hardest to make the best of it, I've been able to better myself as it's given me time to enact real self-care. Something I've never taken the time to do before. -
2021-08-25
ASU vaccine promotion banner
Classes at ASU started last week, since then, this banner has been hanging over the intersection of Mill and 5th in downtown Tempe. It reads, "Welcome Sun Devils, Forks up sleeves up." This banner is meant to encourage people moving through the area to get the COVID-19 vaccine.