And then we were free. Well, as free as one can be in a country like China.
We’d endured a 42-long hour journey to our home in Beijing, three COVID-19 tests, and 14 days of strict quarantine in our house. We got a message just before noon on a Friday telling us we could leave our house. You’d think we would’ve bounded out of the house, jumping up and down, but we weren’t quite ready. The kids were playing on the iPad, and I was still in the midst of purging unneeded belongings from every closet, drawer, and cupboard of our house.
Soon I’d miss this quarantine and all the self-isolation that came before it in the States. Not every part of it, but I’d look back at the time fondly, despite the stress and the isolation. My husband and I had been in the very fortunate position of not having to leave our house for work. It had re-energized me as a cook. It had forced us to simplify; I’d enjoyed not having to think about social engagements and the anxiety associated with them. And our family had survived, and even gotten closer, given the number of hours we’d spent together. A friend in Beijing who’d taken the same flight and was also just let out of her quarantine, sent a message that expressed my sentiments: “Do I have to leave my cocoon?”
Also, before leaving the house, all four of us had to find our masks and shoes, brush our hair, and look somewhat presentable to the outside world.
Finally, the kids and my husband crossed the threshold of our front door, with me trailing behind. We walked through our complex of houses and townhouses and through a gate that led to a canal. Before we’d left, construction workers had fenced off access to it, as the area had been slated to be “beautified” by urban planners. Now the construction walls had been removed, and a nice foot and bike path lined either side of the waterway. We noticed just as many people were wearing masks as not. We walked along it to a nearby mall, which was lively and crowded with shoppers and office workers heading to lunch.
Steel gates and crowd control barriers with retractable tape funneled us to a security guard, who asked us for our “health kit” app. It took a moment to dig out our phones and fumble with our apps before our phones lit up with our “green” status; when we presented it, the guy waved us through without looking at it. We noticed a camera that seemed to have facial recognition software and was pointed at our faces. We were stopped at two other checkpoints like these that afternoon. COVID-19 was definitely helping China build the brave new world that it wanted.
One of the many health checkpoints in China.
We got the kids passion fruit bubble tea from a new place called Koi and poked around. While a few restaurants had closed for good, the more established ones seemed busier than ever before, with tons of diners inside seemingly dining without a care. After discussing the myriad of lunch options we had, we settled on dim sum, one of our favorite weekend routines, at a nearby hotel. We were relieved to find the large tables in the restaurant as spaced out as they’d been before the pandemic. Steamer baskets filled with shrimp har gao, char siu buns, and pork shao mai came out, followed by plates of cheong fun rice rolls, sesame balls with lotus paste, grilled savory turnip cakes. The parade of dim sum came out for another hour. It was the first restaurant meal I’d had since March 14. I ate so much that I had to go straight home for a nap.
That throwing of caution to the wind played out over the next few days, as we had more social interactions. People offered to shake my hand. We reunited with friends with hugs. It was especially sweet to see our children starting to play again with neighborhood kids. Some kids had grown so much and had interesting shaggy hairstyles that I didn’t recognize them. My kids seemed a little awkward and shy at first, for it must have felt strange to interact again with others after such a long exile, but quickly they abandoned their shyness and played without a care in the world.
As beautiful as these moments were, they also came with mixed emotions. After pleasure came fear — was I putting myself and the kids at risk of getting COVID-19? And then sadness: for it just brought to mind all the things we couldn’t do comfortably in our own country, halfway around the world.
