The New Normal: Life Abroad During COVID-19

The day that school finished for Chinese New Year, I left Beijing to visit my mother, who works as a journalist abroad in Israel.

Back in January, Coronavirus was but a distant disease to us Beijingers. The only thing that changed was a couple of people at the airport were wearing masks, so I decided to put one on too. When I arrived in Jerusalem, the original plan was to stay for a week and head back right before school resumes. I had lived there with her for two years before returning to my hometown so I already know the city well but little did I know, half a year later I would still be stranded in the Middle East, over 7,000 kilometers away from home.

A couple of days after my arrival, I tagged along to my mom’s dentist appointment and the dentist mentioned that her niece and nephew in Shanghai would be having a two-week extension to their Chinese New Year holiday. It was the first time that the possibility that I might be staying longer than expected crossed my mind, and naturally, I was thrilled, hoping my school would announce the same.

My school officially switched to online learning on Feb 3 and at first, it felt like a breeze. There was no more struggling to wake up at 7am and squeezing onto the subway, and I had all the time in the world to complete assignments. Life couldn’t get any better…until Zoom classes kicked in. Between China and Israel, there’s a 5-hour time difference. All our Zoom classes were held in the morning, meaning that I had to wake up in the middle of the night. The first couple of weeks, I mostly told teachers I couldn’t make it or simply slept right through my alarm. But as time went by, Zoom seemed less of a burden to me, but more like the closest thing I had to normality. I settled into a routine of waking up at 4am, packing up my notebooks, and heading out to sites around Jerusalem to take my classes. Sometimes it was at parks and hills, other times it was neighborhood playgrounds and empty amphitheaters. My teachers in Beijing started to say that when I turned my mic on it always sounded like I was in a tropical rainforest.

By early March, the inevitable happened: COVID-19 reached Israel. At first, there were only a handful of cases, but that number quickly doubled, tripled, quadrupled, and skyrocketed as the months progressed. With the whole country’s population barely reaching half of Beijing’s, I was shocked to find the number of daily new cases in the hundreds. We went into quarantine and lockdown, wearing masks in public became mandatory, shops and schools shut down, and gatherings were strictly prohibited. It felt like a time machine had taken us into the past and we were undergoing exactly what my friends in Beijing described months earlier.

And amidst the lockdown, my travel visa was expiring fast. I was only permitted to stay in Isreal for three months, so we headed to the Population and Immigration Authority to renew it. While waiting in line, we came across another Chinese family facing the same issue: the mother explained to us how her daughter and parents intended to stay with them for Chinese New Year but were now stranded. This gave me a small sense of security, reassurance that I was not alone.

In early May, restrictions were lifted and life temporarily went back to the way it was before. New cases dropped down to two-digit numbers and the nation of fun-loving citizens celebrated their success. I went on road trips, hung out with friends, performed at music venues, and basically got to make up for the two months I’d spent at home. Whilst observing social distancing, I initiated a garbage-collecting group and organized weekly cleanups. I also volunteered to pack food and masks for those in need, in hopes of making good use of my time here. It felt like the pandemic was over for us, but in truth, it was merely the calm before the storm.

As June approached, new cases broke into the hundreds again. It became evident that restrictions had been lifted too early and schools had opened too swiftly. A local high school just down the street from my house became a new epicenter, and in the span of a few days, 200 students and teachers from the school had tested positive. Yet the people in my neighborhood went about life as usual. Another lockdown didn’t seem to be on the table, even with daily new cases surpassing the one-thousand milestone.

Around that time, a second wave hit Beijing as well, and I was completely awestruck to hear the city had everything under control within a matter of weeks. Scores of people were tested, schools closed, and people willingly socially distanced. Meanwhile, here in Israel, there still aren’t sufficient testing supplies, schools are still open for end-of-year exams, and convincing citizens to put on a mask is practically impossible. Currently, the total cases stand at around 60,000 and the daily new cases is at an all-time high of 2,000.

Looking back at this surreal journey, I remember the homesickness, and how hard it was watching my grade celebrate the end of the year without me. I remember the fear, and feeling terrified that flights won’t be resumed in the near future. But most of all, I remember I’m not the only one. Thousands of students have been stranded across the globe. I have no idea when I can step foot in Beijing again, but what I do know is that I can live in the moment and play my small part in bringing this pandemic to a halt.

KEEP READING: “‘Corona!’, But I Held My Head High”

Qinglan Du is a 16-year-old student from Beijing City International School. She’s originally from Beijing but is currently living in Jerusalem with her mother due to the COVID-19 pandemic. Aside from her passion for writing, she enjoys singing, spending time with friends and family, and experiencing new cultures.