For the last two weeks of March, I stayed in a lovely AirBnB in Ottawa, in 14-day self-isolation having arrived in Canada from a foreign country.  It was basically a vacation. I had no appointments or obligations.  I could binge watch Netflix, read books, do puzzles, drink wine, and eat chocolate.  After months of flexing my extrovert muscles, my true introvert was beaming at the simplicity and stillness of the situation.  Then my inner planner started to get into gear – what was I going to do on day 15, and beyond?!

April was, well, weird.  Like everyone else, I was staying inside – cooking, doing more puzzles, watching webinars, and streaming concerts (Canada’s Great Kitchen Party rocked!)  I had switched AirBnB’s to be closer to a grocery store and to have an oven and full-size fridge. (Oh how the value of amenities rises in a crisis.)  I was also closer to walking paths and newly created ‘pedestrian streets‘, though I was fine with not going outside for days in a row.

Unlike almost everyone else, I was not surrounded by familiar items; I didn’t have the comfort of being in “my” nest.  There was no favourite chair, or special blanket, or fluffy towels.  I had a bed, a couch, and a kitchen table, but my hip hurt a bit from the bed, there was no art on the walls, there were no spices in the cupboard, and there was no cookie sheet.  This was a pretty good quality AirBnB for a nomad or visitor, presumably out experiencing what Ottawa has to offer.  This was pretty awkward for a nomad waiting out a pandemic.

Is that what I was doing?  Was I waiting out a pandemic?

At this point I was assessing at the micro level – what would make me comfortable to go into a grocery store?  But also at the macro level – what would make me comfortable to go to a different continent?!  Just a month before, I had been traveling the world, assuming it was getting more interconnected.  I had been exploring if the term ‘global citizen’ had real meaning.  I thought I’d be getting new perspectives on global issues versus international issues.  I relied on being welcomed and accepted as long as I was respectful and curious.

Ironically a global crisis has caused every nation to put up its walls and to question the motive and threat of any new arrival from a mix of dutiful caution and self-protecting fear.  If I was going to “wait out a pandemic”, it was partly waiting for the risks to my own health to decrease, and partly waiting for resistance to foreigners to decrease.

Mitigating the health risks of travel feels like a game – trying to guess where and when an outbreak might appear, and trying to guess how different healthcare systems work.  It is also a guessing game for how travel health insurance is going to work.

As for resistance to foreigners, I keep looking at the yellow fever vaccination ‘health passport’ that I’ve been carrying in anticipation of visiting parts of South America.  Because of a World Health Organization Yellow Fever Initiative in the 2000s, I have proof for any border agent, that I should be immune to yellow fever, and therefore shouldn’t pose a risk of getting it or spreading it. (Side note – this is notably different from simply proving that I don’t have yellow fever that day.)  This vaccine is generally known to be in controlled supply as various African and South American countries continue to fight outbreaks even now, 70 years after the Nobel-winning vaccine was widely accepted.  These countries have seen value to their economies to have foreign visitors, so some stock of the vaccine is distributed to places like the United States.  That I could ask for and receive the shot last September, has only recently struck me for its immense privilege.

I feel like the turning point for me with COVID-19 and travel, will be an established vaccine.  A vaccine will ease my worries of getting sick somewhere I don’t know very well.  A vaccine will ease the fear of foreigners.  I foresee a new line on my yellow card, as proof that I have a COVID-19 vaccination.  I foresee every border agent wanting to check that card.  I foresee it taking a long time for enough established, safe vaccine to exist for it to be universal versus a privilege.

So if I am waiting out a pandemic until there is a vaccine, then how long might that be??  In my mind, it’s at least a year.  I didn’t need to be precise.  I needed to check my gut for how long I was willing to live as the oxymoronic stationary nomad, having an open suitcase on the floor, getting out of an uncomfortable bed, and washing the same dishes every night.  I realized that if immersive travel was more than about three or four months away, then I wasn’t going to “wait out a pandemic.”  I needed to phase out of being a stationary nomad, and become a member of a community.

And I was apparently going to do that while the community was locked down for a pandemic…