It started off as normal as any year, but as Big Bird once sang, “somewhere in the middle it gets awful queer to me!” I was traveling in the Philippines when the virus first hit the news. Everywhere I went, people would ask me about it, and at the time they were still joking, “you don’t have the virus do you?” Of course, in the Philippines, it’s pronounced more like birus, since they adopted the Spanish pronunciation of V. 

I was in the remote southern islands at the time so people weren’t too worried yet. Still, at the airport, they were handing out free masks. As I moved further north through the country, the urgency and precautions became more conspicuous. A town I had planned to visit had shut down all of their tourist attractions. I remember thinking that such an abundance of caution would be more devastating to a tourist town’s economy than a few people catching the flu.

To be honest, I wasn’t especially disappointed as transportation to the town would have involved an overnight bus ride, one of the experiences I loathe most in life. I had researched every other possibile conveyance, but no alternative was available. Even the closest airport was at the base of a 4 hour winding mountain road that led to Sagada. Not going to Sagada left me a couple of extra days to fill, and I ended my stay in the tranquil Philippine coast town of Bolinao.

Taiwan was next, and by then the seriousness of the virus was known. Having experienced other virus threats, Taiwan had gone into prevention mode. 99% of the people were wearing masks, and to avoid being the disrespectful foreigner, the first thing I did was to ask at the tourist information desk where I could get a mask. I received an odd response that the government only provided masks for Taiwanese citizens. I recognized the irony of not masking visitors entering the country, but I held my tongue.

The woman was very helpful though and walked me through the mall at the airport train station for about 10 minutes until we found a mask. Now, that’s an amazing visitor center staffer! I work my mask mostly out of politeness as, given my good health, I didn’t personally fear the virus much. Besides, people were constantly taking my temperature and cleaning surfaces the entire time I was there. It also came out at that time that Taiwan was leading the world in contact tracing.

By the time I reached Thailand, the virus had become a global problem. Europe was being hit hard and the US, which had been in denial up to that point, began elevating its travel warning through the state department. I wasn’t much impressed when they elevated it to Level 3: Reconsider Travel. 

For years, the state department had been trying to scare me out of leaving the United States. It was when I received the warning against traveling to Italy several years ago, that I finally discontinued the STEP  notifications. Unfortunately, there is no way to “unsubscribe to all” so I spent the next few years individually unsubscribing to each country notification that told me how yet another place in the world was unsafe to travel. I can only assume the person who issues these notifications has never left the country.

When the warning was raised to Level 4: Reconsider Travel, their highest level, I took note, particularly with the language of the notification, “U.S. citizens who live in the United States should arrange for immediate return to the United States, unless they are prepared to remain abroad for an indefinite period.” This language gave me pause.

It was clear that, if I planned to return to the US, I should do it immediately as airlines were beginning to terminate flights. The dilemma was that I was staying in a luxurious resort on the coast of Thailand when I received this notice. Remaining there indefinitely held lots of promise!

Watching the way the US was handling the outbreak was another reason to consider staying in Thailand. I called my parents to discuss it with them, and they surprised me when they both responded, “stay in Thailand”, something that echoed what everyone else was telling me. 

While that option did sound promising if I could have stayed in my resort location, the fact was that things were beginning to close all around me. Malaysia, where I had a place to stay, closed a couple days before, and Thailand was talking about a lockdown. I didn’t know what that would mean in a country where I didn’t speak the language. It’s one thing when you can go to the tourist markets to eat, but another when those are all closed and you have to order everything delivered to your place of confinement. 

Like all of us, I had a hope that it would all blow over in a couple months, and I needed to get back to the US for tours I had scheduled in the Spring so I changed my ticket, and headed home. I was more than a little disappointed since I had to curtail a one week visit to Japan during cherry blossom season. 

Given the strife that so many went through, I was surprised how easy it was to get home. I had purchased my ticket using miles, so I had to call Alaska Airlines member services to make the change. Not only did I get connected to a customer service rep within 3 minutes, but she made the change without charging me a fee. I would still connect through Japan, but I could only look for the blossoms from the window of my plane before I continued on to the United States.

There remained a concern about long lines and further exposure at customs, but when I arrived in San Francisco, the arrivals area was empty, and no one even asked me where I’d been or tested me for symptoms. I kept that to myself, unlike the guy who’d broadcast it to the news outlets a week before. At the time I remember thinking, “take the win, and stop ruining it for the rest of us you dumb ass”

Upon my return, I went straight to the farm stay I had arranged the month before. It was perfect timing, serving my quarantine on a self sustaining farm having no interaction with the outside world. That also proved to be my undoing.

While my farm hosts were kind enough, they weren’t much for conversation, and the lack of stimulating dialog left me wanting for better interactions. While I was fed as part of my stay, I was disappointed that my host mom cooked all of the fresh vegetables to the consistency of baby food. And because they were on a diet, I wasn’t allowed to make anything with sugar. Anyone who knows me well, understands the problem that presented me.

Not having my bike, I couldn’t go on any excursions, and the closest town was a two hour round trip. When I expressed a desire to get a ride to the store, they said it was too risky, meanwhile making their own weekly trips to Costco for things they deemed necessary. 

The last straw to my confinement was when they let me go to the dump to help unload the pickup. As we drove through town, I was shocked to see it as busy as any other day. This contradicted all the news I’d heard and seen of empty streets. I decided that if I was going to be confined, I’d rather do it in an urban area where, even walking to the grocery store, would provide more stimulation than walking around the farm.

The trip to Seattle was amazing, and I felt like a bird stretching my wings after having been caged for a month. I boarded in Salinas around 6pm, and since I booked a room on the train, dinner was included. Normally, this would be a fine dining experience with white table cloths and metal silverware, but I was told at the station, due to Covid-19, dinner would be served to my room.

As it turns out, the train was so empty, there were only two of us in the sleeper section so they let us eat in the dining car anyway, minus the fine linens and silverware. One of the secrets that most people don’t know traveling in the sleeper is that not only does it include three meals a day, but it is all you can eat.

They give you a menu with individual items and prices next to them, but as a sleeper car passenger, you can order everything you want off the menu. That proved helpful when I couldn’t decide between the chocolate brownie and the vanilla pudding so I ordered both and topped my brownie with the pudding!

I stayed in the dining car until sunset as the windows were bigger than in my room and provided a much broader view of the undulating California hills that form the barrier to the bottom of the San Francisco bay. Once it got dark, I headed back to my room which had been turned down for the night. I hopped into a bed that offered little room to do more than turn on your side and quickly fell asleep.

I chose the sleeping car, because I cannot sleep sitting up. That luxury is exclusive to those who can sleep on their backs. For me, it is worth the extra money to pay to sleep horizontally, and with the added benefit of a  rocking train, I slept soundly.

I awoke at first light to see the silhouette of Mt. Shasta making every effort to shield the bright light of the sunrise from my weary eyes. Too excited to miss any of it, I hopped out of my bed and headed for the dining car. My camera snapped continuously, duplicating the image from every angle as the train wrapped its way around the base of the volcano.

The next several hours provided a continuous loop of The Nature Channel as the train snaked its way through the Cascade mountains to the Willamette valley. It wasn’t long before I hopped off in Portland, a short layover to pick up my bicycle and other things I’d need in Seattle.

My search for a place to stay in Seattle began with Craigslist, the only site I knew of that provided a consolidated listing of available apartments. I found beautiful places advertised, but upon inquiring about their availability, I was asked to provide more personal information and specifically outside of the Craigslist anonymous email relay.

It quickly became clear to me that a majority of these listings were scams and that I would not indeed receive keys to the unit after having made my bank transfer to a party I would never meet. It was a friend of mine who helped me confirm the scam. She recommended I type the address of the place into Google and see what turned up.

Sure enough, what turned up was the same pictures I’d seen for the rental only these were for a property that was for sale. To confirm, I called the realtor for the listing, and she informed me this was not the first time she heard about this and that the place was for sale, not for rent. The scammer had simply copied the photos from the ad and posted them to the “apartment for rent” listing. As always, the adage, “if it seems too good to be true, it probably is.”

I ended up using AirBnB to find an apartment for the month. Due to the dearth of people looking to rent places during a pandemic, properties were offering significant discounts, and I was able to get $1000 off of a rental downtown with a view of the Space Needle, and my stimulus check covered the rest.

It was a great place also providing daily entertainment in front of the 7-11 across the street with its revolving door of derelict clientele. The one time I went in, I was treated so poorly I thought the guy was upset because I was scaring away his more disreputable business. The apartment was also located on the main corridor that police cars used to race to whatever emergency they were responding to. I was often amazed to see eight cars in a row  fleeting down the street, and I thought to myself, if whatever you’re doing requires the attention of eight police cars, you’re probably going to end up in a bad way.

Beyond my streetside entertainment, I was within easy walking distance of the Space Needle and the popular Belltown restaurant district. Unfortunately, none of the establishments would open during my stay there. On the positive side, I imagine my neighborhood would have been a lot louder had the bars all been open for business.

I spent the first part of every day studying for future tours and practicing new skills, like Spanish and learning how to sketch. In the afternoons I would head out on foot or by bicycle to explore my new city. The Shelter in Place order for Seattle allowed for grocery shopping and exercise, two things I could stretch to my purposes as I increased my understanding of this city. 

One of the goals of my stay was to familiarize myself with Seattle on a more intimate level so that I could offer my services to any tour companies offering tours here. I also designed some walking tours should I be called upon to do such. One tour is the Amazonia tour, which demonstrates the positive impact that the 15 building Amazon campus has had on the city.

Other tours covered the popular neighborhoods of Queen Anne Hill, Magnolia, Fremont, University of Washington, and Capitol Hill, as well as more in depth presentation of downtown. Should I stay there, I could immediately begin a series of walking tours of the city.

My bike rides took me around Lake Union and Lake Washington. I used the train to access longer bike trails like the Interurban running from Everett to Seattle. My favorite multi modal ride was the trip to Bainbridge island. I took the Sounder Train from Seattle to Edmonds and then hopped the ferry, just a couple blocks away, to Kingston. From there I rode my bike south through the Suquamish indian reservation to Bainbridge island. After dinner and drinks in Bainbridge, I hopped the ferry back to Seattle.

In addition to my daily exercise excursions, I enjoyed visits to procure food. I began with a place called Metropolitan Market. In fact it was the first place I went after dropping off my bags at my new apartment. You see Met Market has something they called The Cookie. They are so confident about its supremacy, they capitalize the T and the C that are printed on the bag it comes in.

I’ve tasted chocolate cookies all over the world, and I concur; it is the best. So after months abroad and a month sequestered without any really good sugary treats, I made a beeline for The Cookie. My only real fear was that perhaps they weren’t making it during the pandemic, but that fear was alleviated when I saw the row of white paper bags resting on top of the deli counter.

I bit into the inch and a half thick cookie, and my taste buds exploded with pleasure. The 50/50 chocolate to batter ratio, chopped walnuts, the rocks of sea salt sprinkled on the top combined together to deliver one of my favorite culinary experiences, and I left the market with a half dozen more to get me through the week. It was sure that I would more likely die of diabetes than Covid-19 the next month,   

The other reason I chose Met Market is because it’s known for its high quality and high prices. Hearing of lines around the block at regular chains, I opted for the discriminating experience of shopping at the most expensive grocery store in town. My choice was validated with a sparsely populated store and no lines at checkout.

The bill was a shocking $150 for a week’s worth of groceries, but when I considered I wouldn’t be spending a dime on going out to eat that week, it all seemed to even out. Nevertheless, I explored other options. 

There was a Safeway I tried a couple times, but like the 7-11, it seemed predominantly frequented by homeless, who in as many times as I visited broke out in fits of expletives. I do understand that mental illness can cause outbursts, but I’ve never understood why they are specific to yelling vulgarities.

I found a local Asian market that was excellent for fresh noodles, spices, and sauces specific to Asian dishes but the produce was unusually poor. Out of curiosity, I had gone to Pikes Market to experience a place, typically packed with tourists, in a state of relative desolation. What I hadn’t expected was the produce markets to be open. 

The vendors addressed the few shoppers by name and asked about their days as they picked and filled bags of produce from a list provided to the vendor. I felt I was seeing the market as it originated, a produce market for locals, and not the souvenir filled tourist trap that it had become. It bothered me at first that I was not able to select my own produce but I found, when I got home, the vendors had done a better job than I would have. I was particularly impressed when they’d ask me when I planned to eat a certain fruit or vegetable so as to select something for its optimum point of ripeness.

My trips to Pikes market became regular as I realized I could support local business at a third of the price of Met Market. I soon became one of those locals that was familiar to the vendor. In addition to the produce stands, there was Three Girls bakery, where I could buy a fresh loaf of bread and the Market creamery where I could hand pick locally sourced eggs. 

My dearest addiction became Beecher’s cheese, a Pike Place market vendor that produces cheese on site. I’d always thought Tillamook cheese was the best until I got a taste of Beecher’s Flagship cheddar. It was a particularly unfortunate discovery as a block of Beecher’s cost me 4 times the price of my now previous favorite Tillamook cheese. 

This is how I spent the days of Covid-19, avoiding people but experiencing plenty. It was beyond even what I’d hoped for when I left the farm. As my second month came to an end, I realized that even with a reduced rent, I would soon be challenged financially since I hadn’t seen an unemployment check since the beginning of the pandemic.

It was time to head home to Portland where I could couch surf thanks to a few generous friends. Before I left Seattle, however, there was one more experience I needed to have. In my previous search for accommodations, I had come across a couple offering a tent for rent. This seemed like the kind of story you read about AirBnB in the Bay Area: high tech workers living in tents because it was the only affordable housing option in the area.

I decided staying in a tent on the roof of a modern condo overlooking downtown Seattle was something I had to try. I even arranged to see the set up beforehand to make sure it was truly something I could do for a week. It turned out to be everything I’d hoped for.

The weather was perfect and the views fantastic. When not in the tent, I could look out over Lake Union to the Capitol Hill neighborhood to the snow covered Cascade mountains in the distance. To the south was the Seattle skyline and Mount Rainier boldly rising up behind it. Ironically, I could also look from my rooftop tent to the roadside tents below. I’d considered saving money by adding my own residence to the line below but, in the end, I opted for the comfort of my island in the sky.