Chased Home: Our Corona Story

We hereby interrupt our chronological blogging to bring you up to date on our coronavirus journey. One day soon, we’ll go back to finishing our other blogs that are two months behind, but posting delayed stories about life in a pre-corona world felt irrelevant when all of us are now locked down with lives upended in this peak-corona planet.

We’re writing this blog from the couch. In self-quarantine. In the United States. In New Jersey. This was not how we expected the trip to end. Getting tired of traveling, running out of money, maybe breaking a leg while riding a motorbike—those were all plausible endings (actually, maybe not the first one). But a viral pandemic shutting down global world travel and confining everyone inside? C’mon Michael Crichton, that’s ridiculous.

But here we are.

The coronavirus is an affront to everything we love about traveling. To fend off the virus, we cannot take part in communal celebrations, gather at religious sites, or experience other cultures in person. We cannot walk through markets with less-than-sanitary conditions (which is every market). We cannot ride crowded buses (which is every bus). We cannot idle the night away with strangers or friends, nor shake their hands and feel the vibrations of their laughter. We no longer have the freedom to go where we want or to explore uncharted territory. It is both sad and frustrating to see these experiences come to a pause, as we believe they are important in shaping the world for the better.

But we also understand it. And as we grieve our own personal loss, we realize that ours is just one thread in the growing web of ways that the coronavirus pandemic has forced billions of people across the world to make sacrifices, many much more heartbreaking—postponed weddings, canceled graduations, skipped championships, lost income and jobs, rationed food, missed school, even lost friends and family. Every single person is affected and has their “corona story.” This is ours.

Our corona story starts with the initial hysteria in Southeast Asia in early 2020 as the virus grew and spread. Over the next couple months, we witnessed containment successes in Singapore and failures in Europe, heard fake news and emerging xenophobia, and saw the rapid demise of normality as we got stuck in Morocco, before ultimately making it back to the United States just as global travel came to a grinding halt.

First Text: Southern Thailand, January 20 - February 2, 2020

On January 20th, the day we arrived back into Thailand from Malaysia, Karen received a text from her sister, who works in the medical profession. “Stay away from this coronavirus, ok?” The other sister then chimed in, “Srsly, stay away from any potential hordes of Chinese travelers in Thailand.” Karen’s response: “I don’t know what you speak of, haha. Should I look it up?”

That’s right, just over two months ago, we hadn’t even heard about the coronavirus. How times have changed, when now, there is nothing else we can even talk about. The conversation with our sisters then went on to discuss the origin of the novel virus in Wuhan, the first two cases found in Thailand at that time, and the first case confirmed in the U.S. already. Though we were in nearby Thailand, Wuhan still felt like a far-off land. Photos showing Beijing residents wearing protective masks did not drive home the emerging gravity of the situation, since we know many people in Beijing wear masks anyway due to the poor air quality. While we made the decision to avoid crowded markets henceforth (which was unfortunate, because markets are some of our favorite places to explore and understand a country), we didn’t think there would be much impact on our trip. Clearly we were wrong, like so many others—regular citizens and world leaders alike—who underestimated the impact of this virus, and in doing so, potentially missed early opportunities to curb its spread.

As the virus circulated quickly through China in the following weeks, our own news cycle was more focused on Trump’s impeachment (it’s been a busy Q1 in America!) and Kobe, whose unexpected death took over the headlines in our feeds, keeping the coronavirus in the background. We were also largely disengaged, since we were on the remote Trang Islands in southern Thailand, with literally nobody around. Sitting on long stretches of beautiful white sand beaches and wading through crystal clear waters all by ourselves, we felt disconnected, isolated, and safe.

Mask Up: Bangkok, February 3-4, 2020

As mentioned above, the first known case of coronavirus outside of China was discovered in Bangkok in mid-January. By the time we arrived there a little more than two weeks later, there were 30-40 known cases. Given what we know now about the ‘rona and its testing (or lack thereof), the number of people infected was likely far higher than that. A recent New York Times article stated that 15,000 travelers normally fly from Wuhan to Bangkok each month, and Thailand only stopped air travel to China in early February—right when we arrived in Bangkok.

While Lunar New Year celebrations in Bangkok were canceled out of precaution, life there seemed normal otherwise. Public transportation remained open and busy, and the food courts were still bustling. The only emerging sign of the times to come was that some pharmacies started to run out of face masks and hand sanitizer. As such, we were not able to purchase either in Bangkok, but luckily, we still had some of both as part of our standard backpacking supplies, so we were fine for the moment—and started using them much more frequently.

We also saw many “Stand With Wuhan” signs of solidarity in the streets, which seemed to imply that the coronavirus was an external problem, and not yet a Thai or global problem.

Nevertheless, even though we love Bangkok and wanted to spend more time in this great city, we felt it was best to avoid the crowds and left after just two days, heading to rural Cambodia, a country with zero published cases at the time.

What Virus?: Cambodia, February 5-16, 2020

Zero cases, huh? It was interesting to observe the initial spread of information, or lack thereof, in countries with important ties to China. Cambodia has a strong relationship with China, relying on them for aid and large infrastructure projects. This might explain why—even as China was essentially shutting down and as Wuhan was operating like a war zone, building hospitals overnight—the Cambodian Prime Minister still stated that the coronavirus was no big deal. He refused to repatriate Cambodians living in Wuhan, and even said that he would fly to Wuhan to show that it was fine to be there. He encouraged everyone to live normally without need for precaution.

Because of this approach, our travels in Cambodia felt normal, and in some ways, the coronavirus actually positively impacted our time there—with flights from China cancelled and overseas travel around the globe beginning to wane, we didn’t have to avoid the busloads of tour groups that Karen’s sister warned about; they simply weren’t there. There were far fewer tourists at Angkor Wat than we expected, and we got to enjoy many of the breathtaking temples all to ourselves. Even in mid-February, only a month before the entire world shut down, we never felt unsafe. Our thought was that we’d continue to travel so long as we felt healthy, continued to have protective supplies (we were able restock on face masks and hand sanitizer in Siem Reap), and could stay fairly isolated, avoiding the hotspots.

Message in Phnom Penh when ordering taxi

That was made partially more difficult when the Cambodian Prime Minister further demonstrated his disregard for the whole situation by allowing a cruise ship carrying likely infected passengers to dock in Sihanoukville, Cambodia—when four other ports in Taiwan, Guam, the Philippines, and Japan (which was dealing with its own infected cruise ship) had already denied entry to the Westerdam, for fear that some passengers onboard were infected. In fact, not only did the Prime Minister allow the boat to dock, but he personally greeted the passengers with flowers as they disembarked into the country. Potential virus carriers happily left the petri dish that is a cruise ship and scattered throughout the country before flying off across the globe. By the time officials realized, “Hey, we should probably test these people,” it was too late, as it was too hard to track everyone down. As it turned out, we flew from Phnom Penh to Bali the same weekend that many passengers from the cruise ship were also in the airport leaving the country.

Island Isolation: Indonesia, February 17 - March 3, 2020

Indonesia also conspicuously had zero cases when we arrived in mid-February, even though the coronavirus was in every other country surrounding it and had spread across half the globe at that point. Later, we even found out that up until a week before we arrived, Bali still had direct flights coming in from Wuhan before they finally made the call to cancel them. The chance that there were zero cases on the islands were, well, probably zero.

At least the government did recognize the threat, though, as it was the first country for which we had to complete a health questionnaire as we got off the plane. We answered a series of questions about our health, and were then given a “pass” COVID-19 yellow card to accompany our visa and passport as they let us in.

Similar to Cambodia, Indonesia was noticeably less busy: we were one of just eight guests at the amazing Amandari in Bali (where we cashed in a generous gift certificate), enjoying a large common infinity pool all to ourselves; our week-long yoga class in Bali was almost a private lesson, with only 5-7 yogis practicing in a space that usually holds 30; our inter-island flights between Flores and Bali and Bali to Singapore were canceled and changed multiple times as airlines began to consolidate passengers onto fewer flights. While we were still fully able to enjoy our time in Indonesia, we could feel the world changing, shifting slowly and reluctantly. Our own conversations and texts with friends and fellow travelers were increasingly focused on how the coronavirus was beginning to affect all of us, and how and where to avoid it.

Almost surprisingly—though it probably shouldn’t have been—we also saw a shift in people’s mindsets in times of trouble. While there were far fewer Chinese tourists around than normal, we felt a new stigma against them. We would hear people whispering in our direction, speaking in languages we couldn’t understand, “blah, blah, blah, Wuhan, blah, blah, blah.” As soon as we heard it, we’d explain that while Karen is Chinese, she was not from Wuhan, and they would laugh nervously. It wasn’t malicious, but it was still frustrating to observe. At the same time, we found ourselves starting to do the same—when we heard Chinese being spoken, we’d try to dodge the people and keep our distance. It felt both wrong and completely instinctual. By the time we arrived in Morocco, Europe was the epicenter of the virus, and so the “corona comments” with negative undertones were then directed at both of us, angry at foreigners for being there and possibly bringing the virus. At one juncture, a group of Moroccan youth shouted at us and a handful of Europeans to get out of the country. It was sad to experience this xenophobia, when everyone everywhere had been so kind the rest of our trip. But when real fears (and deaths) are starting to mount, and some world leaders are calling it the “China Virus,” you can see where people feel they have that license.

This is How You do It: Singapore, March 4-7, 2020

After Indonesia, we headed to Singapore to spend a few days in the city-state before catching our flight to Morocco via Germany. We were initially nervous about going to Singapore, since early on, it was one of the hardest hit by the coronavirus outside of China. But with many flights to Europe originating out of Singapore, and with Karen’s relatives who live there telling us the situation was under control and that it was safe to come, we decided to go for it.

Stepping off the plane, it was clear that the small island nation, which doesn’t even allow you to bring in chewing gum, has a high-quality process to contain the virus. We first went through their normal airport security coming into the country (guns and drugs are highly forbidden), then walked through what can only be described as a sci-fi-movie-like infrared heat sensor. Somewhere in the airport corridor—we couldn’t see exactly where—this sensor instantly assesses the body temperature of many individuals at once, without us having to stop or present ourselves for measurements. We saw the results on a screen, which showed the outlines of bodies with a green or yellow hue over the heads, like one might see through night-vision goggles; presumably, it shows red if/when someone has a fever.

This level of screening continued everywhere we went throughout the city. At every public place, museum, mall, and restaurant, we got our temperatures taken with a quick “zap” using a thermometer gun (is that what they’re called?), then had to sign into an app to register our temperatures along with our name, contact information, and location. This allows them to track where you have been so that if you do end up getting sick, they can trace everyone along your path in order to also quarantine them and prevent the spread of the disease.

Sure, these sound like draconian measures, and in normal times, we’d probably think of this Singapore way as overbearing and way too heavy-handed—but this is how you stop the spread of the virus, people! Singapore had a fair number of early cases (189 when we were there in early March, 683 today on March 27, 2020), but what initially looked like a major outbreak has relatively subsided because of these efforts. And the key thing is, life was not shut down. All stores were operating, public transportation was running, and, most of all, the hawker food stalls were still open. No one wore a mask; in fact, it was discouraged. There were signs asking people to only use a mask if they are sick, thereby leaving enough masks for medical professionals and sick individuals who need them more.

While Singapore has inherent advantages for containment—a small wealthy country with obedience to strict oversight and a culture of hygiene (you can eat off the streets, they are so clean)—the use of technology to quell the spread of the virus was nonetheless impressive.

This is How You Don’t Do It: Germany, March 8-10, 2020

We transited through Berlin for a layover on our way to Morocco to begin the next segment of our trip, and decided to extend the layover a few days to visit friends who currently live there. We had a great time exploring the multi-faceted and historical city, but insofar as the coronavirus goes, there was zero screening coming into the country, even though we had flown in from Asia (this, after we had stayed up all night researching a rumor that we’d get quarantined in Berlin because we were flying in from Singapore—which was clearly untrue). Everything was open, including the Reichstag where their government meets, and many people were on public transportation and on the streets, even as the virus raged in nearby Italy.

Oddly, when we left on the morning of March 11th, we read that Berlin had “started to shut everything down” the night before. We personally did not see that at all. Just days or even hours before the entire country shut down, it seemed that Germans went about their lives as if there was nothing wrong.

In our friends’ apartment, though, the coronavirus was hot topic. It was while we were there that Michael’s parents decided to cancel their trip to meet us in Morocco just two days later, and our friend’s parents also canceled their trip to meet him in Berlin in a couple months. These decisions were made before any of us knew about the worldwide travel bans that would kick in only a few short days later, but with the surge of cases in Europe and in the United States, and Trump announcing new travel bans from Europe, the writing was clearly on the wall.

Morocco Diary, March 11-20, 2020

March 11, 2020 – Marrakech – Number of Cases: 2

Arrived in Marrakech from Berlin via Basel. Expected thorough screening at the airport. Instead, just filled out another form stating how we felt (fine), and then went off into the ancient crossroads city. Ate dinner out at the food stalls on Djemaa el Fna Square, watched music and games in the square. Went to bed. Jet lagged.

March 12, 2020 – Marrakech – Number of Cases: 6

Delicious breakfast on the roof of our riad (traditional Moroccan guesthouse). Explored the souk in the medina. Tanners tanning, basket weavers weaving, rugs aplenty for sale. Bought leather purse. Orange juice, omg, so good! Walked through the spice market. Visited the brilliant Saadian tombs. Explored the old mellah (Jewish ghetto). More orange juice. (Great) sunset and (great) dinner at Dardar.

March 13, 2020 – Marrakech – Number of Cases: 6

Breakfast, see above. Visited the Museum of the Confluences, set in brilliantly restored riad. Endless coffee options at café. Orange juice. Friday cous cous for lunch at local stall, one plate big enough for two of us. Only 20 Dirham! Bus to Anima Gardens. French guy from our riad on bus, tells us all flights to France cancelled, including his own. Asks us how long we’re staying in Morocco and if this would affect us. We shrug: “don’t know, don’t think so.” Walk through beautiful gardens with snow-capped Atlas views. Picassos and Keith Harings on display. Orange juice. Local lamb tajine dinner in medina.

March 14, 2020 – Marrakech to Essaouira – Number of Cases: 17

Breakfast, see above. French guy from riad hauled-ass to Agadir at 4:30am to catch last flight to Luxembourg. Visit Secret Garden, learn about awesome underground water system from mountains to the city. Morocco bans all flights to/from Europe, along with many other countries. U.S. flights still open. Nervous, don’t want trip to end. Bus from Marrakech to Essaouira. Walk through authentic, bustling medina. Watch sunset from rooftop, too cold and windy. Receive message from our riad in Taroudant, says they are closing due to coronavirus. Massive three course dinner, all by ourselves in entire restaurant #socialdistance. Drank wine, first alcohol in country, needed it. Hard to sleep, but now not jet lag. Wine not helpful.

March 15, 2020 – Essaouira – Number of Cases: 28

Breakfast at riad with two Austrian girls. Their flight canceled due to ban, talking to their embassy to try to get home. Discuss lots of scenarios for ourselves, walk through possibilities. Consider staying in Africa. Don’t want to pull trigger to end trip. Visit fish market and port. Smelly, lots of seagulls. Walk along beach pondering life. Stare out at the Atlantic, toward the U.S., angry and sad for it. Ride funny camels on beach. Beautiful sunset along old city walls on the coast. Dinner alone again (thankfully). City emptying out. Text bunch of fellow travelers to check on them. Everyone scrambling to go home before lockdowns start wherever they are. Global lockdown imminent. Reluctantly admit that it’s time: book flight to New York for March 22nd. Trip ending. ☹ Shoot, all fights in and out of Morocco just banned, including flight we just booked. That escalated quickly. Now stuck. Call U.S. Embassy and Consulate. Sit tight 3-7 days while they figure something out. Decide to still go to the mountains since we can’t do anything and they told us not to bother them.

March 16, 2020 – Essaouira to Taroudant – Number of Cases: 29

Austrian girls say goodbye at breakfast. Their embassy arranged flight for Austrians from Marrakech that night. We take long windy bus from Essaouira to Taroudant, all locals, three vomiting incidents (not us). Mosques and restaurants suddenly close nationwide. U.S. Embassy tweets that there are 30 emergency flights out to Europe. Why are we going to Europe?! That’s not the U.S., and the virus is worse there! All booked up anyway. Arrive in Taroudant, very quiet. No one else staying at our riad. Yves, crazy French guy who owns riad, tells us we are the only tourists left in town. Tells us that riad we were supposed to stay in closed because a guest there had coronavirus. Yikes! Dinner and sleep at Yves’.

March 17, 2020 – Atlas Mountains – Number of Cases: 38

Go hiking to take mind off situation. All formal trekking trips canceled, parts of national parks closed. Local Berber Abdel takes us to mountains behind his home in Imoulass, remote village in the High Atlas. Tells us Moroccan nationwide shelter-in-place to begin in three days. So much for taking mind off situation. Call U.S. Consulate again from side of mountain. They don’t know anything, still say to wait, completely unhelpful. On Twitter and Facebook, we hear of many Europeans able to leave country, but Americans are stuck. Spend hours at Abdel’s house trying to book one of the European emergency flights out, but no success. Google translate with Abdel. Play with his farm animals. Dinner and sleep at Abdel’s in the mountains.

March 18, 2020 – Taroudant – Number of Cases: 49

Hike down mountain, bus back to Taroudant. Lunch at Yves’. Bike ride with Yves and Abdel around Taroudant. Locals yell at us to leave. Spend next few hours trying to find way to leave. Still no luck on European emergency flights, no word from U.S. Consulate. Join WhatsApp group “Americans in Morocco” and Facebook group “US Citizens trapped in Morocco.” Follow U.K. ambassador to Morocco’s Twitter feed. Delicious chicken dinner by Yves’ cook. U.K. ambassador tweets that new emergency flights to London are available. Stop eating dinner, frantically find and book Ryanair flight to London for tomorrow. Success! Check in on fellow traveler friends again. Almost everyone is safely back in their home countries already, or en route; we are last ones. Sadly pack up, suddenly the last night of our trip. Get a few hours of restless sleep.

March 19, 2020 – Marrakech to London – Number of Cases: 61

Orange juice left out for us. 5:30am, 3-hour drive from Taroudant to Marrakech. Airport super crowded. No social distancing! 5 hours waiting for check-in. Guy in check-in line in front of us reading Cloud Atlas, as if there isn’t enough confusion already! While waiting, research U.S. and U.K. ambassadors to Morocco. U.K. ambassador is experienced Middle East diplomat, speaks Arabic. U.S. ambassador is car salesman, donated $250k to Trump. All makes sense now. Lots of flight confusion as new flights just got added same day. Afraid that our tickets are not real because did not see our flight on Departures board. Finally got handwritten boarding passes after many hours. All flights delayed at least two hours. Commiserate with others rushing home. Everyone has own story of how they got onto that flight. Never been so happy to fly on Ryanair. Raining in Marrakech, never rains here = metaphor. Flight takes off, people clap! Land in London, people clap! Crazy cold. Bus from Stansted to Heathrow, nauseous, want to throw up. Stay at hotel near airport. Order two massive shwarmas and fries at 11pm on UberEats. So tired.

March 20, 2020 – London to Newark

Eat leftover shwarma for breakfast. Take double decker bus to Heathrow. Forget masks, people wearing space suits in airport! Fly from London to Newark. Watch Cloud Atlas, the movie, on plane, which is about as long as the flight (Michael finished reading it recently). Think about story’s themes. “From womb to tomb, we are bound to others, past and present, and by each crime and every kindness, we birth our future.” How does this apply in context of current global pandemic?

Arrive in Newark (yay!). Fill out another health questionnaire. “Have you been to China/Iran/South Korea/EU in the past 14 days?” We check “Yes” (Germany). Nobody cares (!!), just take our temperature, and let us into country. Emotions, mixed. Missing good Moroccan orange juice. Wave to parents from afar. Get in car by ourselves, drive to self-quarantine in AirBnB apartment. Take live interview about our journey for NBC Bay Area news at 7pm PT/ 10pm ET/ 3am Morocco time. Sleep.

* * *

It’s been hard to process all that has happened this past week and the current state of the world that we now all find ourselves in. Of course, we were happy to leave Morocco safely and before even more lockdowns were put in place, and we have no regrets about that decision now that we see what’s happened. But naturally, we are also heartbroken and confused that our trip ended so suddenly, not to mention saddened by and concerned about the hundreds of thousands of people getting sick, the significance of a global shutdown, and the economic impact that will affect all of us for a long time to come. Our emotions feel both numb and overwhelming at once, catching us wistful in one moment and anxious the next. These days of self-quarantine (only one week so far) blend into each other, the only change each day being the incessant uptick in the number of coronavirus cases and deaths as the crisis only worsens on the homefront. It’s also hard to know if we have changed at all from our travels, with the measuring stick having moved so dramatically from when we departed six months ago.

What we do know, though, is that we are all in this together. That the coronavirus spread so fast to all corners of the globe is not a strength of the virus, but rather, a testament to how inter-connected and small the world is now—and our travels the last six months can attest to that. And yet, in this most trying time amidst all these connections, we must resort back to some forms of tribalism to try to stop the pandemic and heal ourselves: close borders, go home, keep out, stay in. It’s been fascinating to see travelers moving en masse to go back to where they came from, even if that means running directly into the fire, to places with a current higher risk of coronavirus than where they were coming from (including ourselves). Closing borders are a necessity right now, but one that hopefully won’t last past this episode, as closing off the connections between peoples will have much more serious geopolitical implications in the long run.

What we’ve seen so far, though, has been uplifting: the connections don’t fade easily even with limited physical movement. The resiliency of humans’ ability to connect with each other under any circumstance (as well as to drink alcohol under any circumstance)—from video conferencing happy hours and all manner of virtual support services, to neighbor help networks and curbside distance hangouts—has been highlighted in innovative and creative ways that make us smile. The counter-risk, of course, is that after all this is over, we’ll all have adjusted to this strange new world and will opt to connect virtually instead of in-person, because it’s so much easier, and we may lose many in-person interactions altogether. But, we have a feeling that people will be breaking out of their cages to be with each other again as soon as they can—to go back out there and explore, to see new places with wide eyes and softened hearts, to appreciate the freedoms we didn’t realize we had.

In preparation for going home to San Francisco, we’ve been listening to the Grateful Dead. “Truckin’” feels like an appropriate closer:

You're sick of hangin' around and you'd like to travel

Get tired of travelin', you want to settle down

I guess they can't revoke your soul for tryin'

Get out of the door and have a look all around

Sometimes the light's all shinin' on me

Other times I can barely see

Lately it occurs to me

What a long, strange trip it's been

Truckin', I'm a goin' home

Whoa, whoa, baby, back where I belong

Back home, sit down and patch my bones

And get back truckin' on

We’ll get back truckin’ on, in due time. Global travel will continue one day, maybe this time with a little more hand sanitizer. But for now, it’s time to sit on the couch and patch our bones.

Karen & Michael

Westfield, New Jersey, United States, March 27, 2020

One of our last views of of the High Atlas Mountains, just before leaving Morocco and going home.