What it Takes to Travel in the Time of COVID
In the photograph my son messaged to me back in November 2019, his deep brown eyes were wide with amazement and matched the dark eyes of the equally surprised young woman at his shoulder with her hand clasped over her mouth so that you could see the sparkling ring on her finger. Standing among the green hills of Arrábida, Portugal with the sea far below, my son had just proposed to a woman I’d not yet met. Not long after, they set the wedding date for August 29, 2020 in a beautiful Baroque church in Monte de Caparica, Portugal, walking distance to the quinta where my soon-to-be daughter-in-law grew up.
Who could have known then that getting to my son’s wedding would be one of the biggest challenges of my life?
2020 arrived. One month, I was part of the nun’s chorus in an Eastern Oregon production of The Sound of Music. The next, I was standing in my local church for the last time for over half a year. The original plan was that I would cantor an ecumenical Holden Evening Prayer Service. When an unknown virus shut down local gatherings, I said that I would still be willing to sing for the live-streaming of the service. It was so quiet that night in a church so empty without a congregation, just the local pastors and priests, the piano player, and myself. I’ll never forget saying goodbye to the piano player. We weren’t wearing masks yet then, but we had stopped hugging. Before stepping out of the church, I said, “I’ll miss you” with a strong feeling that it was going to be a very long time. I wasn’t wrong.
Meanwhile, my son was in London with his fiancée where they made the very sudden decision to pack up all their things and fly to her family quinta. Everything was shutting down and borders were closing. A performing violinist, my son lost thousands in revenue within those first days. A classical vocalist, his fiancée’s big London recital, one I’d hoped to attend in order to meet her, was no longer happening. They were concerned travel bans would trap them in London and prevent my son from beginning his position in the fall as concert master with an orchestra in southern Portugal, so they flew to his fiancée’s home country as quickly as they could.
My new daughter-in-law’s family quinta across the river from Lisbon sounded like paradise. In the Portuguese countryside within view of the historic city with its medieval tower, Moorish castle, and monument to fearless explorers, her childhood home radiates with sun-baked white and gold beauty, prancing peacocks, fuchsia flowers, sea views, and the open warmth of family. For my son, suddenly yanked from everything he was working toward, it was a place of refuge in the storm as he struggled to navigate his career in uncertain times. Many landmark concerts and opportunities were cancelled for both of them and to say that the disappointment was difficult doesn’t do it justice. Beaches were within walking distance, but sheltering-in-place rules for Portugal, enforced diligently by the police, prevented leaving the Quinta except for the one person chosen to go to the store for supplies.
Looking back, it was an ideal way to become part of his new wife’s family. Her two brothers and one of her sisters were also in quarantine there along with various aunts, uncles, and cousins. My son was not fluent in Portuguese when he arrived; by the wedding, he was.
And he never for one instant doubted that I would be there on that important day.
I was honored that he invited me sing along with his friends and new wife’s brothers, sisters, and cousins. Most of the songs were in Portuguese, so I began studying the language and learning the music.
Day after day passed in my indoor existence. I chose to pour myself into those things that require solitude and diligence: writing, composing, singing, and French and Portuguese language study. I shared what I created with my son who provided encouragement and also shared what he was working on. We supported each other in creative discipline. Despite the distance, about 5,000 air miles, I felt close to my son.
I kept my eyes on flights and one of my favorite airlines, Ireland’s Aer Lingus, began offering very inexpensive options. In early June, I decided to get a round trip ticket for $707.20 from Seattle to Lisbon via Dublin. By July 20, the flights started to cancel. As of July 31, the European Union closed to the United States with a few fine print exceptions. Unless that let up, I was staying home.
My son kept pressing. That’s how I knew how important it was to him. He sent all the new regulations from the government of Portugal. He emailed flight options. TAP Airlines, based in Portugal, was clearly the way to go. I’d have to fly from Seattle to Boston or New York City in order to get on a TAP flight. And, it was looking like I’d need to have a negative COVID-19 test result in hand.
Not just any negative test result, a specific kind, the RT-PCR molecular test. And not the rapid type of the test, even though I needed the results to come back quickly. I learned that in addition to molecular tests, there are also antigen and antibody tests, which while interesting, are not admissible results for crossing borders or boarding airplanes.
“As a result of restrictions implemented by the Government of Portugal, passengers traveling from Brazil and the United States of America will only be authorized to enter Portugal if they meet certain conditions. As per the directive of the Portuguese Government (Decree Law no. 7595-A / 2020, of July 31), entry into Portuguese territory is only authorized for: a. Passengers on flights from countries belonging to the European Union, countries associated with the Schengen Area (Liechtenstein, Norway, Iceland and Switzerland) and the United Kingdom; b. Passengers on flights from countries whose epidemiological situation is in accordance with Council Recommendation (EU) 2020/912, of 30 June 2020, namely Canada and Morocco; c. Passengers on flights from countries that are not members of the European Union or that are not countries associated with the Schengen Area, exclusively for essential travel, thus: 1. Citizens of the European Union, 2. Third-country nationals traveling for professional, study, family reunion, health or humanitarian reasons.” (from the TAP Air Portugal website)
I read it a few times to try to figure out what it was actually saying. The part that applied to me was at the very end. I’d have to justify essential travel. My lawyer brain was at work. “Family reunion” and “wedding” seemed defensible.
“All passengers (including Portuguese citizens, residing in Portugal and their families) on the flights described in paragraphs c. and d. must present proof of laboratory testing (RT-PCR) for the screening of SARS-CoV-2, with a negative result, performed within 72 hours prior to the time of departure, or they will be denied boarding. NOTE – The test must be a molecular RT-PCR test and rapid tests are not acceptable.” (from the TAP Air Portugal website)
So, essential travel only and I must have a negative result from a RT-PCR molecular test that was taken 72 hours or less than the time of boarding.
Before booking tickets, I got on the phone with local hospitals and health centers to find out the kind of COVID-19 tests they provided, the cost, and how possible it was to get a test result back within 72 hours. The people I spoke with didn’t know the kind of COVID-19 tests they administered and were reluctant to schedule a test for someone without symptoms. The idea of needing a test result in order to travel seemed foreign to them. And 72 hours was way too quick for a turn around. Most of the tests were taking a minimum of three days and usually more like five to seven because of backlogs at the labs. And the cost was just over $100. As I called place after place, it felt like I was hitting my head against the wall. I couldn’t see how it was going to work.
I gave my son the status report. He couldn’t believe it. He said it was an easy thing to get a COVID-19 test result within 72 hours in Portugal. In fact, it was usually within 24 hours. And the idea of taking a test for travel purposes was not a strange concept there.
He did a lot of research. He found stories written by people who had made it from the US to Portugal within recent days. It boiled down to that negative test result. And we read that people were turned away at the boarding gate if the time of the test was outside the 72 hours, even by one hour.
My son researched testing through pharmacies like CVS and Rite Aid, who were ramping up free test sites throughout the US. I looked in my area and found some Rite Aid options. They advertised a 2-7 day result turn around, so it wasn’t impossible, just unlikely.
Was I going to press against all odds to go to my son’s wedding? It was clear that he wanted me to try and that the effort would mean something to him even if I didn’t make it. That was the first consideration. Yes, for my son I was willing to go through a lot of hassle and maybe end up having to turn around and come right back.
The next consideration was the risk to others. I’d been in isolation, so I knew I was not currently a risk, but if I contracted COVID-19 while traveling, I could become a risk. How likely was it? Did I feel reasonably sure that I could be careful enough, keep distance, wash and disinfect my hands, wear a mask, so that I wouldn’t contract the virus? The answer was yes. I tend to keep a distance from people anyway, especially while traveling. I could keep myself contained.
It was a controversial decision, I realized. Not something I’d be eager to put out on social media because there were likely to be many among my friends who weren’t in favor of anyone traveling for any reason. There were people who hadn’t been able to attend memorial services and get closure. There were people who hadn’t seen their grandchildren for half a year. My own parents weren’t going to be able to go to the wedding. Was it unfair of me to travel when they could not?
It was a risk. There was no question about it. But life is not without risk. If we live in constant fear not only of the harm that might come to us, but also the harm we might do others, then in many ways, we stop living.
And so, I decided to take a calculated risk to show that I love my son and will do what is necessary to be there on a very important day.
Without any guarantee I could get a test result back in time, the flights and prices looked good enough to proceed, so I took the plunge with TAP. $371.00 for round trip tickets from Boston to Lisbon. Not bad. My original flight from Walla Walla, WA to Seattle remained unchanged, so I called Alaska Airlines. It was the friendliest, most helpful phone conversation I had in the whole process. The airline of my home state proves again and again to be top quality. Not only did the Alaska Airlines representative help me cancel the original ticket, refund any cost I’d incurred, use airmiles for a one-way trip to Boston, and purchase the one-way back for $257.60, but she also let me know about a website that showed COVID-19 testing sites across the nation. And the total was a little cheaper than the original plan with Aer Lingus.
I sent the information to my daughter so that, if she chose to go, she could book the same flights. She was struggling. She and her boyfriend are among the few who can say that they moved across the country during a pandemic, travelling from Alaska to Vermont by car. Canada did not welcome them. As US citizens, they were told to pass through as fast as they could and not stay overnight. Wow, how things change! They had to have negative COVID-19 test results to board the ferry, but none of the expensive tests they’d taken in Fairbanks made it back in time, so they begged to take a rapid test and then begged for it to be accepted, even though it wasn’t the kind of test the ferry system requested. My daughter knew firsthand just how difficult it was to travel. She didn’t think we’d be able to make it to Portugal.
After some tearful nights, she booked her flight and figured out a way to get to Boston. Everything was set to cancel if she didn’t have a negative test result in hand prior to leaving Vermont. I’m sure she fully anticipated she wouldn’t be going.
Once my ticket was purchased, I felt relieved. That weekend, I ventured out of my house for the first time in months to find a dress for the wedding. We drove to the mall in Kennewick, WA. Everyone was wearing a mask. And then, my eyes were drawn to a single exposed face. Until that moment, I didn’t realize just how welcoming it was, like an oasis in the desert, to see a human face when all others are covered up.
We didn’t waste time. In Sears, the first items of clothing my husband picked up were perfect in both size and color. I’m not sure how he has this gift, but he does and I’m glad. One went with a flowered skirt that would be perfect for the wedding day. The other was a jumpsuit that was light and went with everything I thought about bringing. At the counter, there was a pack of ten masks in a ziplock plastic bag that I added. The gift certificate for helping my landlords with garden, lawn, and cat responsibilities covered the cost with just a few cents left over.
A week prior to departure, I used the website provided by the Alaska Airlines representative and found some free drive-through test sites. I called more medical centers within driving distance and continued to get discouraging news. I took notes and slowly strategized a battle plan.
The first step was to determine a test that I would take early, outside of the required time frame, so that I would at least have a negative test result in hand even if the others weren’t back.
In order to be within the 72 hours for a flight departing Monday at 10:30 pm on the East Coast (7:30 pm in Oregon where I lived), I had to take the test as early as possible on Saturday morning.
I ordered a Let’s Get Checked COVID-19 test kit. It arrived quickly and had a great online interface for the lab results. A glimmer of hope, it looked like this one would work out really well to have an official and easy to read result available at boarding. Except that the timing was wrong. The kit couldn’t go out on a Saturday or Sunday because UPS didn’t operate in my area on the weekends. That was discouraging. I called UPS drop-off sites to try to find a way to get the test out on Saturday morning, but it wasn’t possible. Reluctantly, I decided to use Let’s Get Checked as the early result. I did the nasal swab on Thursday morning and it was picked up by UPS that afternoon. The website showed me when it was received and when it was in the lab, which I really appreciated. And the official lab result showed up when I logged in on Sunday morning. Negative. At least I had that proof. I printed the lab result and included it with my travel papers.
The main battle was Saturday morning. We woke at 5 am to drive to the Kennewick-Pasco-Richland, WA area. We were among the first to go through the free drive through offered by the Washington State Department of Health. My husband said it looked like military medical personnel were manning it. I filled out the paperwork and had a quick nasal swab and we were on our way to the next site. I never got a text or email from them, but the paper result came in the mail four days later.
Tri-Cities Community Health was next. They had a Saturday drive-through clinic. The woman I spoke with on the phone said to get there as early as possible.
In preparation for Saturday morning’s very fragile time window, I knew that I would have to persist, I would have to ask, maybe even plead, in order to not just be one of the crowd taking a test. I wasn’t sure what the testing sites would be like, so in case I wasn’t able to speak with someone directly, I made a sign in black Sharpie big letters: “It is critical that I receive the result by Monday. I realize it may not be possible. If there is anything you can do to get the sample to the lab as quickly as you can, I would greatly appreciate it. Thank you! Have a great day!”
The previous Sunday, the Gospel lesson for the livestreamed service I watched from my laptop, sitting on the couch, sipping black coffee, was a difficult one and it was on my mind all Saturday morning. Jesus was tired. He’d been healing, preaching, feeding, and he needed a break, so he took one, and when a woman came to him, he sent her away. But she persisted. He still turned her away and she persisted again. Her perseverance was not only rewarded, but Jesus marveled at her faith. Part of faith is hanging tough, asking again and again, humbling yourself, even when the odds aren’t in your favor.
In order to get a result back in time, someone would have to hear my story and care enough to make sure it got to the lab right away.
And that someone was the health aid at Tri-Cities Community Health. I don’t even know her name. I told her I was there to take the COVID-19 test so that I could go to my son’s wedding. Her eyes got big. I could tell that she came from a culture that understood the importance of family. She said that they’d do everything they could to make sure the test result was back in the 72 hours. She went away while the Nurse Practitioner stepped up to the car door to check my lungs and vitals. The health aid returned to tell me that she had bad news. She didn’t think it was possible to get the result back in time. Did I still want to take the test?
Choices. Life is full of forks in the road that change everything. The health aid was being kind to let me know that it wasn’t likely the test could come back in time. And I thought about deciding not to take the test, but it felt like giving up. I had to try. “Yes,” I said firmly. She returned to the tent.
When the health aid approached to swab my nose, a different health aid this time, it was clear they’d been discussing the situation under the tent. “When did you need the result back by?” “By Monday evening.” “Monday evening,” she said slowly, thinking. “Okay. We might be able to do that.” That’s when I knew they were going to do everything they could. That meant the world to me, regardless of how it turned out.
An email came through from Tri-Cities Community Health right away so that I could set up a Patient Portal. I was familiar with those. It would give me a way to easily access the lab result electronically. Logging in, I could view the medical write-up for the appointment. Thinking like a lawyer, I realized that even if the lab result wasn’t back in time, I could demonstrate that I didn’t have any symptoms when the test was taken, which I figured might carry some weight.
The next test site turned out to be misinformation. They didn’t have testing there after all and referred me to Tri-Cities Community Health.
The final test I’d pre-scheduled online with Rite Aid. I was to arrive at a specific Rite Aid pharmacy drive-through in Kennewick fifteen minutes before 10:00 am, the earliest time they had available Saturday morning.
The Rite Aid test was the most painful of the four. Maybe my inner nostrils were getting sensitive to the probing. I had my speech and sign at the ready to plead for the test taker to do what he could to get the test to the lab as quickly as humanly possible, but my gut told me that this was not the right person. He said the results would be back in three to five days. I asked if there was any way to speed up the process and he didn’t hold out much hope. The result came back seven days later through my email.
We returned to where we live in Pendleton, Oregon and stopped by St. Anthony’s Hospital drive-through just in case. As expected, it wasn’t operating on Saturday. The critical time window had passed. I did what I could. Was it enough? Exhausted, I returned home.
On Monday, to be at the Pasco Airport for a flight departing at 5:30 in the morning, we needed to leave our house at 2:30 am, which meant not much of a night’s sleep. Packing light is easy for me, essentials, lots of mix and match, carry-on only: a little North Face wheely duffle and my go-to Patagonia black teardrop shoulder bag. Some people call it a sling bag. And it does just sling next to you like it isn’t even there. If you’re concerned about losing it, you can strap it on, too. I had everything I needed and nothing I didn’t.
Packing makes you think about how the world situation has affected travel. I brought three travel-size shampoo bottles to cover the two weeks and put them in a plastic baggie so that I could pull them out quickly going through security. Thank you, 911 era. And now, in the black teardrop shoulder bag I had a plastic baggie of hand sanitizer ready to pull out and a ziplock bag of face masks. Thank you, COVID-19 era. How many more strange things can we add to the travel experience as we find ever increasingly bizarre ways to protect ourselves from each other?
Pasco is a small airport that was just opening up when I arrived at 3:45 a.m., face mask firmly over my nose and under my chin. Security had yet to open, so I sat on a socially distanced waiting cushion. As soon as I detected movement, I approached the security area and was one of the first through. Liquids out – the shampoo and the hand sanitizer, necklace off and zipped inside my teardrop bag, vest off, shoes off. I approached the x-ray chamber and stretched out to reach the yellow footprints. They always have to ask me to get my feet into them better because it is such a big stretch for my little legs. And, in the US, but not other countries for some reason, they always have to pat down where my socks are folded at my ankles. I found it difficult to understand what the security people were saying behind their masks. It’s a whole new level of listening.
In the hour wait for the flight, there were very few people and most had their masks on. Sometimes I’d see a rebel trying to get away with a breather. Eventually, the rebel was reminded to put his or her mask on or slipped it back into place after hearing the ominous loop of announcements about preventing the spread of COVID-19. I was glad that the wire over the nose helped pinch the top and keep my glasses from fogging up.
When the call came, we lined up to board. Most people forgot about the distancing while in line. I’m good at it and I noticed that my example reminded others.
I had a window seat and there was no one beside me. In fifty minutes, I was at the Seattle Airport with less than an hour to find my new gate and go to the bathroom before the six or so hour flight to Boston. I made it to the gate just in time for boarding, saw two women whispering about a left behind water bottle, and didn’t hesitate to break the fourth wall behind the mask by calling out, “Has anyone lost a water bottle?” There was such a surprise in the line, but a young Asian man sheepishly turned to retrieve it and seemed grateful. I figured the time of COVID didn’t create an excuse for kindness to go out the window.
On this flight, they switched me to an Exit row. That means that I could stretch my legs straight out while sitting, which is quite a luxury for a long flight. And in the six hours, there was just one little beverage service with few choices and a packet of snacks. I arrived at the Boston Logan Airport not at all sore and without swollen ankles, but feeling pretty hungry.
I found an empty restroom, always a plus on landing, and then a comfortable sitting area where I spoke with my son in Portugal who was eager to hear if any test results had arrived. None yet.
Most airports are interconnected. Once you’re behind security, you’re behind security. However, Boston Logan is different. Its Terminals (A through E) are not connected, so you have to go back through security to go to a different terminal. Just before I left, Alaska Airlines sent out a notice that there was a new regulation mandated by the state of Massachusetts. To enter Massachusetts, you had to have a negative COVID-19 test within 72 hours. I didn’t know if this mandate would apply at the time of entering the airport. Thankfully, I didn’t see anyone checking for tests and I was able to find Terminal C and go through security.
I texted my daughter, who had just landed. There was only one restaurant open in Terminal C: Wahlburgers with a life-sized photograph of actor Mark Wahlberg front and center with his chef brother and other brother co-owner. I texted my daughter to meet me there and hoped she was hungry, too. The restaurant attendant took my cell phone number, the new practice for dining in airports, and said she’d call me when the table was ready. The wait was short and we were ushered to our strategically spaced table with instructions about accessing the menu online. Welcome to the age of no touching and almost no human interaction.
Feeling better after some food, we found a lounge area where we could rest until it was time to find the boarding gate. The lawyer in me mentally prepared my defense. Your honor, as of Thursday morning I was negative for COVID-19 as you see here. Between Thursday and Saturday, I was in isolation in my home. On Saturday morning, I took three tests. One of those tests included a medical visit. Here are the doctor’s notes from that visit that show my oxygen rate was 99% and my temperature was 98 degrees. Clearly, I was not exhibiting any symptoms of COVID-19 at the time that my nose was swabbed. I continue to check for the results of the tests. It’s likely that they will be available by the time I arrive in Lisbon. I’m flying to Lisbon to attend my son’s wedding. I will go from the airport to his fiancée’s family home where I will remain. I am willing to take another test when I land in Lisbon, if necessary.
The defense ran around in my head and all I kept thinking was that very likely the TAP flight attendants would be instructed to accept the lab result of the RT-PCR molecular test administered within 72 hours. End of question. The TAP website made it sound that cut and dried and I didn’t anticipate the boarding gate would be any different. If they turned me back, I could feel the disappointment welling up in my throat.
I looked at my daughter, who was texting on her phone. She would likely be able to go and I would likely fly back to Pendleton. Ah, that gave me another defense.
Your honor, without a negative test result within 72 hours, I can’t enter Massachusetts, so I’m stuck in the airport until I get a result. Would you please allow me the opportunity to get that result in Lisbon so that I can attend my son’s wedding?
Although, very likely, if they turned me away, I’d stay in the airport overnight and try for a subsequent flight once a result came in, it was not a fun prospect to live in the terminal like Tom Hanks. He lived in the airport because he lost his country. I’d be living in the airport because I couldn’t prove my COVID bill of health 72 hours or less previously.
An hour prior to boarding, we found the gate. I wondered if it was best for me to go up to the counter and let them know my situation prior to boarding. My son called.
“I just had a thought,” he said, “that health center you went to that was so helpful, what if you called them to find out the status?”
I was regularly checking the Patient Portal with Tri-Cities Community Health and there was no lab result. I looked again. It wasn’t there, so I called.
The woman I spoke with on the phone seemed to remember me. Yes, the lab result had come in. (!!!!) Didn’t I see it in the Patient Portal? Yes, it was negative. Would she be willing to email it to me? Apparently, this was against protocol, which I understood. She needed to have it signed by the Nurse Practitioner, so she would do that and then get it to me. I waited. No word. Ten minutes to boarding. She took a screen shot of it on her terminal and texted it to me. It wasn’t the actual lab report, so I knew it wouldn’t work. I asked if she could text the lab report. She did. BINGO! YES!
I was ecstatic! I had an official negative laboratory result with my full name and birthdate on it. The specimen was collected at 8:20 am on August 22 and it was received at 11:11 am August 22. The receiving lab was Interpath Laboratory in a town about an hour and a half away from the health center. This meant that someone must have driven it there right away to make sure it was received in time. And the result was reported on August 24 at 2:36 pm, which was 5:36 pm Boston time, right when my daughter and I were eating and talking at Wahlburgers. If they hadn’t made the special trip, I wouldn’t have received the result. Wow. Talk about caring about the whole patient. It doesn’t happen very often in today’s world, but community health centers are places where it can still happen. I worked in one out in Bush Alaska for a few years and know firsthand the amount of personal care involved. You are not a number in a community health center; you are a person. It makes all the difference in the world.
My daughter and I lined up to board and shared our negative test results and got on that plane. So smooth for something so difficult and stressful to achieve.
Meanwhile, it was three in the morning in Portugal and my son and his fiancée stayed up just in case they needed to speak over the phone to plead the case with TAP Airlines. Thankfully, I was able to send this text: We’re on the plane. Get some sleep.
We each had a row to ourselves. We saw what looked like dry ice flowing at the ceiling of the plane. There was something comforting and refreshing about watching the visual ventilation, although I don’t know if it truly cleansed out the airplane or was more for show.
We attempted to settle in to sleep, however, TAP had other plans. The smell of gourmet food wafted throughout the cabin. It’s not the sort of thing that happens on an airplane in the United States. They didn’t even ask if we wanted the food. There was no additional fee or need to pay for it ahead of time. If someone was sleeping, they pulled down a tray and set it out for them for later. It smelled so good there was no way to say no. I opened the lid of the entrée. It was a pasta in a tomato and fish sauce. The combination of flavors was divine. Plus there was bread and European cheese and a caprese salad and a little chocolate cake for dessert. While eating, I realized that it was such a good culinary experience that it would help me sleep and it did. I slept almost all of the four and a half hours of the flight.
At dawn, we landed on an island in the middle of the North Atlantic Ocean: Ilha de São Miguel, the largest and most populous island in the Açores, also known as the Azores in the English-speaking world. We arrived at the airport of its main city, Ponta Delgada. Its green hills and humidity reminded me of Costa Rica.
As we entered the building, those with continuing flights were instructed to go one way while those staying in Açores had a health form to fill out and questions to answer. We went to the window of a customs agent who stamped our passports. We were now officially in Portugal. We made it!
We found a quiet table near a café and I approached to order in Portuguese. I hoped they would be able to understand me through the mask and I them through theirs.
“Queria dois pastéis de nata e um sumo de laranja e um café duplo, por favor.”
I was excited to give my daughter her first pastel de nata. It would be mine, too. I’d read about the Portuguese egg custard tart and it sounded wonderful. I wasn’t disappointed with my first taste.
Over the years, I’ve developed a few travel habits. One of them is that I savor a European coffee in the first moments of arriving on the continent. I can report that the double café in the airport of Ponta Delgada was as rich tasting as that first café in Brussels, and in Paris, and in Reykjavík, and in København.
Our gate wasn’t listed on the digital monitor until close to boarding time. There were a lot of people in the gate area, everyone masked, but it was difficult to maintain any distance. The plane had the most people of any of the flights during the trip.
Two hours later, we were in the bustling Lisbon Airport and soon after, we found my son and his fiancée.
The reason we were in Portugal was to participate in the wedding of my son, so we weren’t there to tour the country. However, my son and his fiancée were eager to show us what they reasonably could and they were terrific hosts.
The next day, we went to the beach area called Cova do Vapor, and my son showed us the separation between the Tagus River shore and the oceanfront. People kept distance from each other on the beach. Sometimes, they wore masks when walking around, but it was not practical to wear one going into the water. We went to lunch in Trafaria, Portugal. We sat in an outdoor area of a restaurant for a delicious meal of dourada assado (grilled sea bream fish), lulas (squid), and raias (stingray). The protocol was much the same as in the United States. Wear a mask going into the restaurant or into the outdoor seating area. Take the mask off once seated at a table. Put the mask back on to use the restroom or exit. The wait staff were always masked.
Many restaurants and shops requested that you pump some of their hand sanitizer before entering. I used my discretion. If the pump was foot controlled, I was very much in favor of using the hand sanitizer. However, if I was touching a surface that many other people were also touching, I didn’t see the added value.
My daughter was very stressed the first few days because she was so worried that she might have caught the virus while she was travelling and she didn’t want to pass it on to anyone else. I understood her concern, but decided that fear didn’t help. We were part of the wedding. For me, that involved a good bit of singing. So, for better or worse, we would be among people and the risk was there. I felt that worry and fear only made it more likely I’d get sick. As the days passed, my daughter relaxed and we were able to enjoy our visit with new family and friends.
My new daughter-in-law had a present for me. It was a black face mask made in Portugal that included a filter and an antimicrobial layer and it could be washed to use again. I found it very comfortable and it made me look like a blackbeaked bird in the chorus of an opera.
After the wedding, my son and his wife did their best to show us a little bit of Portugal in spite of the limits. One of the advantages of seeing Lisbon, called Lisboa (leesh-boa) in Portuguese, was that there were few people. We could view Torre de Belém, the Jerónimos Monastery, and the Padrão dos Descobrimentos with space and ease. I was delighted to go to Pastéis de Belém, the place where the pastel de nata was born in 1837. Before COVID, they would typically make 22,000 pastéis de nata in a day and have crowds of people at their shop, however, we were able to enter easily with few people around.
Torre de Belém is a symbol of Europe’s Age of Discoveries. I looked toward the Atlantic from Torre de Belém. It was the edge of the world to the people of the Middle Ages. To my left along the Tagus River was the Padrão dos Descobrimentos, the brilliant white monument in honor of those brave souls who stretched the boundaries during the Age of Exploration. They certainly knew about the risk of the unknown.
The return home was long, comfortable, spacious, and uneventful. Thanks to my son’s new wife, we were able to take COVID-19 tests that came back to our emails in 24 hours. We filled out a Traveler Health Declaration Form prior to entering the United States and handed it to someone when we arrived in Boston. The person asked us a few questions and eyeballed us for symptoms, but didn’t take our temperatures. Waiting for my flight to Seattle, I had an entire wing of Terminal B to myself. It was sparkling clean and comfortable and I ate a Dunkin’ Donut and drank a coffee, completely alone at a window overlooking the Boston Harbor.
A month later, it is a relief to know that there were no reported COVID-19 cases from anyone attending the wedding. And I am hunkered down again, making an advantage of isolation to accomplish creative work, and feeling very fortunate to be alive with memories of my son’s wedding, meeting my new daughter-in-law and her family, and valuable moments in the company of my son and daughter.
I feel very fortunate. Nothing is ever guaranteed. It’s an illusion to think otherwise. With every breath we take, we breathe one of our last. Even with all our efforts to isolate our breathing, we don’t know when we might take in something that will harm us, or worse, breathe out something that will harm someone else. We can’t escape our own or anyone else’s death, but we can choose to not live in fear and keep living while we have breath. We are, and have always been, standing at the edge of the world, looking out into the unknown.
