It was all perfectly planned — my very own “take a break and discover yourself” moment that was due to be just the right mix of visiting friends and having solo time to happily melt in Southeast Asia sunsets. Designed to decompress, reassess, and chill the hell out before repatriating in the US, I arranged a 100-day itinerary that was primarily tropical and had only four destinations. I had been plotting and saving up for this move for more than a year. And after an exceptionally high-stress year in Hong Kong with the protests and lots of changes and travel with my job, I “needed a minute” — and gave myself permission to do so with this ‘round the world trip.
Then the coronavirus happened, or COVID-19, which will be called “Covid” in this piece to ditch some of the Sci-fi vibes of the all caps official term. Since the end of January, Covid and I have been playing a little game of “tag — you’re it!” Around the globe.
(Before I go any further, I want to add a necessary disclaimer: all of the travel I did was voluntary. The story I’m about to share is simply a result of managing risk and dodging quarantines in foreign places without having to have just bowed out and head to the bone-chilling North Dakota winter).
The Flight Path
The itinerary started out in Australia in January, as planned. After a brilliant, mostly smoke-free stay in Melbourne and Byron Bay, my friends in Hong Kong advised I should pick up some masks before flying back as the virus was spreading and there was a lot unknown about who / how / where one could catch it. After a few attempts of searching around, I found a couple of N95 masks and a small pack of surgical masks in Melbourne before flying back to Hong Kong.
When I landed in Hong Kong January 28, the city was palpably bracing itself for a possible outbreak. My old door guard sprayed my hands with aerosol antiseptic when I walked into my building, and antibacterial wipes and gel were all sold out. Toilet paper and rice, however, were still lining shelves and companies hadn’t yet asked employees to work from home.
As February started, the cases and hysteria started spreading throughout Asia. I had gone off to Sri Lanka with some friends, and a day or two into the trip I started to question whether I should cancel my upcoming next stop of Siargao in the Philippines. After all, the island is remote (also, paradise) and there wasn’t much known about the virus at the time other than it was starting to spread outside of China — it wasn’t a place I wanted to fall ill.
Cue the emptying grocery store shelves in Hong Kong, school closures, and mandatory working from home, just a few days into February: Covid was not to be fooled around with. Sound familiar now, US and Europe?
I decided to cancel my stay in Siargao and two days later, the Philippines announced Hong Kong as one of the places which required a 14-day quarantine upon arrival, and flights were significantly cut back or canceled outright. I had made the right call and dodged quarantine.
Time for a new plan.
I messaged my best friend in London and asked if I could arrive a month earlier than planned (!) in early February. She was about to leave for a work trip, which meant I could stay in her apartment while she was gone. London it was!
Bear with me here as I indulge in a little bit of a planet hopscotch. My plan was to return to Hong Kong from Sri Lanka, attend a friend’s farewell party on February 9, pick up my winter clothes I had left there, and then fly to London on February 11.
Not so fast, said Covid.
The virus was spreading and Hong Kong was continuing to shut down to minimize the potential impact. With companies, schools and the government extending closures and work from home requirements, I didn’t want to risk a quarantine.
So I canceled the leg to Hong Kong and decided to fly directly to London on February 9. I was poorly outfitted for the winter weather and relieved that I wasn’t going back into the sufficiently-panicked Hong Kong, where there was no rice or toilet paper to be found on shelves.
On the flight from Colombo to London, I became very sick and somewhere too close to Tehran, I was heaving (thankfully I knew that wasn’t a Covid symptom). At the time I was worried I had caught the flu, and even more worried that I would develop a fever on the seven-hour flight. I put on a mask, antibac’d the shit out of my surroundings, and did my best to curl up into a ball in economy class, gingerly sipping on ginger ale for the remaining hours on the flight.
I was preparing myself for an awkward immigration session upon arrival to the UK with a temperature gun and a confession of my complicated two-week travel history that included five countries on three continents.
At that point in February, the UK didn’t have any special announcements related to the outbreak. Covid was, at that time, still confined mostly to Asia. I made it through immigration without so much as having to look anyone in the eye. And it turned out that I only had food poisoning.
That little 8-hr time frame was (and remains) the only time I felt sick with anything on this whole journey.
So I camped out in Europe for more than a month: getting to know London, driving around the UK and playing in castles and pastures, and one magical week in Portugal.
On March 11 the US announced travel restrictions with the EU, with the UK being exempt. Well-practiced at swapping tickets and highly skeptical that the UK would remain an exception, I acted fast and got a ticket from London to North Dakota, via Minneapolis, on Saturday, March 14.
Per usual habits by that point, I was careful to frequently wash or sanitize my hands all throughout the airport check in and security process. The gate agent interviewed me about my travel history and I had been back in the UK from Portugal for 18 days — just over the 14-day requirement that would have limited which airports I could fly into the US.
My plane was spotless, but I wiped down the seat anyway. A few people were wearing masks, but not many. It was such a different scene to the flights I took in Asia in late January in which you got a glare if you weren’t masked up. Aside from some very rough air by Greenland, I had a smooth journey home, relative to a lot of other travelers.
On arrival to North Dakota, I didn’t give my dad a hug, which was very weird. We got home pretty late, but still took the time to thoroughly clean things down as we started our quarantine.
Evolving Cleaning Habits
Prior to Covid, my antibac habits were very (and I mean, very) relaxed, and were honed, ironically, during my year in mainland China in 2010 out of sheer laziness and an unsubstantiated internal claim that, “it’ll be good for my immune system.” Time has thankfully given that claim some muscle throughout lots of healthy traveling.
After a month of practice and several dozen crowded public toilets, I have perfected a new habit of singing “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star,” at the sink and have found a modicum of sensuality whilst mindfully washing up.
As I’ve worked on my own habits, I started observing others and noticed that universally people are terrible at washing their hands. Terrible: soap on the palm washed off as the automatic sink roars to life, a quick little self handshake, and done. Usually it’s all over within five seconds. Maximum 10.
I did notice hand-washing marginally improving in public bathrooms during the first couple of weeks of March. And I’m sure this has improved tremendously as March has gone ahead.
Now at home, my parents and I are hand-washing all the time. We’re disinfecting any communal areas where I’ve been and keeping my “spot” open on one of our sofas. It’s very strange to be distanced under the same roof, but we’re keeping one another safe until we know for certain that I’m not a carrier.
The Spread to the West
The game of tag continues with Covid and I’m writing this from day 8 of a quarantine with my parents. I’ve been writing this since the end of January, and like my travel itinerary, I’ve changed the ending each time I come into edit it.
Having the distinction of “what’s happening” versus “what I thought I had wanted to happen” has been a beautiful surrender to discovering things I didn’t know I should discover while on this trip. And now during this quarantine, I’m going to assert that much of the planet is coming to terms with that for themselves.
I have changed my mind and changed my “big plans” every single week of 2020 thus far, and it feels really empowering. This trip has reinforced that anything is possible: A global outbreak is possible. New hygiene habits are possible. New adventures are most definitely possible. And when we emerge from this current cloud, new ways of taking care of one another and doing business will be possible.
Watching the US and Europe right now is like watching Asia from six weeks ago. Today grocery stores are bare in the US and parts of Europe, with household basics hard to find. Meanwhile in Asia, stores are reopening, shelves are well-stocked, and people have been working at their new normal and getting out and about for a few weeks now, albeit bracing for [and ready] to handle freshly imported cases. The panic will pass and the shelves will be restocked, but we have to be responsible and act collectively to limit the length of the storm.
I’ll be sharing more light-hearted, non-Covid related stories over the coming days in the hopes of brining a little levity to the world. Take care, xx.
No comments:
Post a Comment