 all the toilet paper and rice, but there will always be people who panic!
I already work remotely so I don’t feel that my lifestyle has been totally upended. Of course, like most travel writers, I’ve still been affected: I canceled half a dozen trips scheduled for the first half of 2020, pivoted my stories to be more timely and relevant, and am only conducting meetings and interviews virtually. I miss seeing people in person and my feet are seriously itching for an adventure, but I strongly believe these short-term sacrifices will pay off for the community as a whole.
Michelle is a Danish-French freelance journalist and guidebook author who holds a Masters in International Affairs from The University of Hong Kong and has studied journalism at Columbia University’s Graduate School of Journalism. Previously, she’s worked for TIME in Hong Kong, Roads & Kingdoms in New York, Hearst Newspapers in Washington, D.C., and the government’s mouthpiece in Rwanda.
I’m based between Copenhagen and Berlin, and when the borders started closing, I had to make a quick choice between the two cities. If I stayed in Copenhagen, I wouldn’t be able to see my Berlin-based Dutch partner—with whom I’m expecting a child— for at least a month, as he wouldn’t be able to travel to Denmark. If I went to Berlin, I wouldn’t be able to see my friends and family for the same amount of time. I chose Berlin and hopped on one of the last flights leaving Copenhagen. As with a lot of other Europeans, I’ve taken the open borders and the ease of traveling around Europe for granted, not realizing what an insane luxury it is to be able to live in two countries at once. I’m in Berlin now, feeling mighty landlocked and struck by an insane bout of wanderlust. Most of all, I feel lucky to be stuck in a European country with good (free) healthcare, though. I can’t wait for the world to open up again, but I also can’t stop thinking about what the post-corona world will look like in countries with weaker healthcare and welfare systems.
Benjamin Kemper followed the siren song of jamón ibérico from Brooklyn to Madrid, where he writes about the places that make him hungriest. Beyond editing Fodor’s Essential Spain and writing for Fodors.com, he helps people plan trips of a lifetime to Spain and the Caucasus, his other geographical area of expertise. Find him on Instagram at @benjaminkemper and on Twitter at @benkkemper.
I’m currently holed up in my apartment in the Argüelles neighborhood of Madrid with my partner, Marcos, and our 80-pound pup, Lorca. Madrid is on full lockdown, which means no walking outside unless you’re getting groceries or medication. Dog-walking is also allowed (phew). I’ve never been so thankful to have a dog—my dog-less friends are starting to lose it, being cooped up all day.
My hermitic writerly routine aside, the virus has affected every aspect of life here. Streets are deserted, restaurants are closed, and ambulance sirens are becoming more and more frequent. It’s eerie and dystopian—I’ve never lived through anything like this. As I write, it’s being reported that today (March 23) was the worst day yet in terms of deaths and new infections in the country. The military was just deployed to get people off the streets. A friend’s mom who works in the ER says there’s a shortage of beds and people are literally dying on the floor of the hospital. Another friend texted this afternoon to say that she has the virus and is toughing out high fevers alone at home. My heart goes out to Spain’s elderly, many of them alone, who are living in terror right now. From where I sit, it’s clear we are a long way from normalcy.
Amy Nelmes Bissett is a freelance writer who splits her time between Australia and New Zealand. She’s currently working out of Avoca, in the NSW Central Coast, an hour north of Sydney.
I returned to Australia from New Zealand last Thursday, getting one of the last flights out of the country before the borders closed. I’m now in self-isolation with my husband and two young children and it’s challenging. Each day is broken down into micro-moments—some hours are filled with fun and laughter, some are sobering, with news alerts making us feel frightened and worried about what is happening out there in the real world.
Laura is an award-winning freelance writer and editor based in Rome with an MFA in creative writing and a passion for covering travel, arts and culture, lifestyle, design, and food and wine. Follow her on Instagram at @lauraitzkowitz and Twitter at @lauraitzkowitz as she documents life under lockdown in Italy and shares some inspiration for future travels.
I’ve been on lockdown for more than two weeks now. Here in Italy, the number of cases of COVID-19 is announced every day on the radio and in the newspapers. As of yesterday, there were 63,927 infections and 6,077 deaths. I can’t even imagine how many there would be if we were not on lockdown and the virus was still free to spread unmitigated. Over the weekend, I heard that the lockdown will almost certainly be extended, but how much longer it will last has yet to be announced. People here—especially my friends who work in hospitality—are worried about their jobs, but I think most people realize that what Italy’s government did what was right: it put the lives of its citizens before the economy. I really admire the Italian government and its citizens, who are some of the most resilient people on earth. Individuals all over Italy are going out on their balconies in the evenings and singing to lift each other’s’ spirits! How beautiful is that?
Former Fodor’s staff editor Andrew Collins lives in Mexico City but spends about half his time on the road, mostly in the Pacific Northwest and New England. He’s contributed to more than 200 Fodor’s guidebooks—most recently Inside Mexico City, Inside Portland, Pacific Northwest, Santa Fe, New England, and National Parks of the West—and he’s written for dozens of mainstream and LGBTQ publications; follow him on Instagram at @TravelAndrew, and see more of his work at AndrewsTraveling.com.
As a U.S. citizen residing in Mexico City, I’ve decided to forego travel for the next several weeks (or longer, as necessary) and hunker down here with my partner and three cats in the small house we rent in Coyoacán. We have been practicing “shelter in place” for a couple of weeks, and finally, as of today (March 24), government leaders are asking the entire country to follow this policy. Our neighborhood is always fairly quiet, but we do live across the street from Museo Frida Kahlo and it’s strange seeing her big blue house entirely quiet—the usual queue of visitors snaking around the block having completely vanished.
In late February, I returned from a month-long research trip in the Pacific Northwest so I have a fair amount of work on my plate, at least for the immediate future. To keep sane and balanced, I try to limit my news consumption to twice a day, I jog in the evening to help further avoid crowds, we cook and watch movies, and I remain constantly grateful that I can work outside on a sunny patio with birds chirping.
After Botswana closed the border to countries affected by COVID-19, the safari industry effectively shut down. Lodges closed and safari companies put staff on unpaid leave. As a photographer and videographer, all my safaris and 90% of my photo and video shoots have been canceled. I am currently working on a book for a South African publisher, so I have work to keep me occupied (as well as a ton of images that are always waiting to be edited), but for now, we have no income stream and, given the current environment, any books are unlikely to be published in the near future.
Although we are not on full lockdown, we are self-isolating as much as possible to limit our role in spreading the virus since the fragile health system here would not be able to cope with many cases. Compared to the rest of the world, we are fortunate—there is lots of space here, so I can still safely get out of the house and walk the dogs as normal. Schools are closed, so we are keeping the kids entertained, as well. It would be tempting to go and camp in the bush for a few weeks (to take the opportunity to boost my photographic portfolio), but with family in the UK and elsewhere, I would feel uncomfortable being out of contact for long.
Although we have no official confirmed cases in Botswana, there is a reluctance by authorities to use limited supplies of testing kits, and given how many tourists entered the country before the restrictions, it is almost inevitable that the virus is already here.
An American writer based in Cape Town, Lee splits her focus between the urban and the wild, writing about sustainability, urbanization on the continent, and children’s rights. She is currently at work on a book about transracial adoption.
I am with my family at our home in Cape Town and have just completed week one of South Africa’s 21-day lockdown. While splitting childcare of my five-year-old son and not being able to go outside to hike or swim (especially now in autumn, when the