Monday, March 9, 2020

A white mask covers my bus driver’s nose and mouth. It might filter pollution but won’t do much against the virus. Many children on the bus and on the street also wear masks, but they’re of cartoon characters and princesses. Purim is this evening. More people than usual are wearing tutus or carrying flimsy swords. The front row of the bus is blocked off with cloth-like tubing. By order of the Transportation Ministry, no one may sit or stand close to the driver. On my previous bus, toilet paper was draped and taped across the front seats, serving well enough as a barrier. In the office and on the street, most of the jokes that I hear have the virus as a punchline. People can still laugh. One patient is four degrees of separation from me: his child is the classmate of a child of one of my coworkers. I’ve stocked up with enough supplies to get me through a two week quarantine, should that be needed. On the bus and in the stores, people wish each other a happy Purim. For many, a day of serious drinking is ahead.