Feb. 18, 2020. Day 25

Human beings are wet. We're made of 60% water. Earth is 72% water. We can live for weeks without food but only four days without water. It's amazing we can't breathe water, and more so how susceptible we are to pneumonia.

The shocking news about 99 new infections on the Diamond Princess is grim. In Cambodia, the Prime Minister shook hands and gave roses as the Westerdam passengers disembarked. Let's hope he washed them well after.

Homemade bread with some Hainanese Honey-Kaya and boiled eggs make a delicious brunch. We get a package at the gate, so I suit up and head out the door as my friend Andrea calls. Worried about my cabin-fever, he's taking me on a tour of CQ streets.

Andrea leaves his compound, gets his "exit pass" stamped, and walks onto the deserted shopping district. He descends into the underground as I make it to my school gate, and notice my head of security give me a wide-eyed stare. Most people wear masks and leave it at that.

Andrea laughs, but he gets me. It's a numbers game. Some people walk out into a street without looking up from their phones. Most of the time they're ok until they're not. You increase your chances with a little situational awareness. Wearing a mask in China these days is like looking both ways before you cross the street. Wearing goggles and gloves is a bit like listening for invisible cars, but we don't know what we don't know.

The train pulls up, and we board, utterly alone. Andrea stands in the center, careful not to touch anything. I find a small envelope from my coworker, Michael. He's sent his house keys so I can loot his flat and send him lesson plans. He's offered snacks and water in exchange.

At the transfer station, Andrea stops to take a panoramic shot. Not another person can be seen. We remark about how eerie it is. On the busier line three train, there are a few other people, standing far apart.

I open Michael's apartment. Inside, evidence of a hastily packed trip, and I see his laptop on the couch.

Andrea leaves the station, walks past board up and abandoned Prada and Luis Vuitton shops. All traffic has been directed to a central entrance. Temperatures are checked, and masks are mandatory. At the Ole supermarket, they check again.

I grab a big 18 liter sealed bottle of spring water. In the kitchen, I pack a small box with some spices and snacks Michael's encouraged me to use.

Inside Ole, workers are ready to assist shoppers and keep shelves stocked. Andrea stops at the well-stocked beer section and offers to send me a case of Corona. We share a laugh. A few shoppers use gloved hands to fill their carts, but the general vibe is relaxed aside from the perfunctory use of masks.

I take my loot down to my flat and go through my decontamination procedures.

Andrea catches a taxi home, and receives a temperature check, shows his ID, and keys to security before he is allowed back inside his residential compound.

Today, over 80 clinical trials are ongoing. So far, the winner is Chloroquine. The major annual Beijing Congress in March is likely going to be postponed, and Chongqing cancels our international marathon scheduled for March 22. Today my city has 323 COVID-19 patients hospitalized (36 severe cases and 13 critical cases). We've had five deaths, and 225 discharged patients have recovered. This is good news but we're not out of the woods yet. Xiaolin says my Chinese is much better. I download books with titles like "Badass Survival Skills" and "Preppers Survival Medicine Handbook," and read through the SAS Urban Survival Manual. It feels good to be prepared.

(Photos courtesy of Andrea Cotte)