Foreign in a Pandemic- Part One

When I first applied to be an English teaching assistant outside of my home country, it was before the pandemic appeared on a global scale. Mid-January 2020, there were barely whispers of sickness spreading in Japan. Who could have possibly imagined it would have such a grave, continuous impact on the entire globe?

It certainly wasn’t me, a brand new 23-year old applying for the opportunity of a lifetime, that would decide the fate of my future.

Now, under normal circumstances, we would have received our acceptance or wait list opportunities in April- with a bit more time to prepare for our departure to our new countries in late September. The previous year’s assistants would have also continued to teach and live in this country until the end of April to the beginning of May.

Needless to say, nothing happened as planned. No one had prepared for such an event, and the possibility of something like this wasn’t on anyone’s calculable radar until it was too late.

By early March of 2020, not even 2 months after submitting my application, everything was changing. Countries were shutting down, borders were closing, hospitals were overrun, most people were working remotely or not at all. When it came to the teaching assistants already on duty, and the committee looking at new applicants, it was no different. A friend of mine from university was in the program, and when schools were closed, had to find a way back home. For some assistants, this task was impossible for months- until the new assistants started arriving in October.

In terms of our acceptance letters, we didn’t receive them until the end of June. Given the circumstances, the 2 month wait was understandable. In all honesty, most of us, and the schools involved, didn’t think anyone would be getting accepted for the 2020-2021 school year. We all thought that the pandemic would prevent it, and I held little to no hope that I would get a positive answer. I assumed to keep on living as I was, where I was, for at least another year or more. Thankfully, this was not the case.

As June was coming to a close, I got the email that changed my life and made my dreams come true. I had the opportunity to be an English teaching assistant in my region of choice! I was short on time, with a lot to do and very little time to do it. In all honesty, Americans didn’t even get clearance to begin their visa applications until the end of August/start of September, with start dates still set for October 1st. With the delays and short time, many assistants weren’t able to arrive until after the start date, and were accommodated accordingly. I was one such exception to the previous norm.

In the meantime, I had to pack. First, I needed to pack for the trip itself. I needed enough clothes to live in any sort of weather for 6-7 months. Coming from Michigan, where the weather is as temperamental as many of the Gods in old tales, I ended up packing far more than I needed. At least it’s good to be prepared, right? But I also had to pack up all of my existence. I had been living in an apartment by myself, and was under the impression that I would have to move all of my belongings across several houses where my family resided, and leave my apartment for good. However, my fiance moved up from Texas at the start of August. That, thankfully, ticked off several things from my To-Do list.

Once we did get clearance to start our visa process, I had more work to do. There are only so many offices available in the U.S. to apply for a visa for the designated country. The closest office for me was 5 hours away in Chicago. Unfortunately though, the office was booked solid until December. I regressed the website several times a day for a week before I finally gave up hope and looked elsewhere.

My next closest options were in New York City, or Boston. Both were about the same distance and time, but Boston was the only one with a semi-reasonable availability. I took it, not wanting to ruin my chances at actually making my dreams become a reality- something that was already pretty precarious and appeared could be taken from me at any moment. Even still, it was a 16 hour drive, one way. I’d have to take 2 days off work in a row, which is not easy short notice in pharmacy anyway, let alone during a pandemic. I’d have to make sure I had a place to stay, that was close enough to the office that even someone as directionally challenged as I wouldn’t get lost on the way there in the morning. I needed to make sure I had enough gas money, money for the hotel (it was more of a motel, really), money for parking, money for the visa fee, and most importantly- a car that worked well enough to get me there and back.

Now, as much as I love my car (getting me into a working vehicle was my grandfather’s dying wish, but 4 years later definitely needed some… expensive and heavy work to be considered “safe”), it’s barely road worthy, let alone cross-country through the mountains with no breaks worthy. I had no doubts that if I took my car, I would probably end up stranded somewhere in the Appalachian Mountains, or worse. Much to my surprise, a friend of mine was kind enough to offer me his car for the trip. If it weren’t for him, I may not be teaching abroad right now.

Somehow, everything came together for the trip. I would have preferred that someone came with me to help with the drive, but that’s okay. I left Michigan before 5am, and got to my nighttime bed around 9:30pm. After crashing for the night, I woke up in the morning, and walked the 15 minutes to the office for my appointment. I was about 15 minutes early, and due to Covid regulations, had to stay outside until 2 minutes before I was supposed to be on the 7th floor.

I’m a naturally nervous person, so during this whole process, I was in a panic. I’m kind of surprised I remember as much of this as I do, but it may be due to the utter surprise.

What I expected to happen, and the time I thought the meeting was going to take, was completely wrong. I figured it would be anywhere from 30-90 minutes, I’d have to go through an interview process, the works. Why else would I have had to drive 16 hours to Boston, right?

Wrong.

The meeting took approximately 3 minutes, which was just looking over the printed copies of the application I had submitted online. I paid to have the visa mailed to me, because there was no way I could make that drive again just to pick it up in 2-8 weeks. I had my fingerprints taken and… that was it. I was free to drive 16 hours back home.

I finally received my visa in mid-October, and left the United States at the end of October, 2020. At the time, my destination was going into another lockdown, with the borders closing the following day. This announcement was made just before I was to board my plane, so I had no idea if we were even going to take off, let alone be allowed to land. It was an overnight flight, no stops, that was about 7.5 hours, but meant that with the time change, I would arrive in my new country just after 8am the next morning.

And land we did. As we touched down, I was terrified of what was to be. Would I be forced to take another plane home? Would I have to be quarantined at the airport? If so, how would they manage? I had received my negative covid test just 72 hours before, but that was before I took a plane with maybe 20 other people, and still had one last day of pharmacy work before going on my leave of absence. I had no idea if I would be allowed in.

As I made my way to immigration services, I was so panicked I wouldn't be surprised if I barely breathed. I had all my papers at the ready, preparing myself to defend my reasons for traveling, and why I was to stay. I remember I was asked a few questions, and my documents were reviewed. Within 2 minutes, I was allowed to pass, with the first and only stamp in my passport, right next to my visa, allowing me to remain.

Somehow, I made it.

Next, I had to take three trains to the largest town closest to my destination. Coming from the U.S., where public transportation, particularly trains, are heavily lacking, this was my first experience. The only train I had ever seen in person were cargo trains, one of which I had gotten into a bad accident with the night before leaving my home. Needless to say, what I was expecting from films like Harry Potter was completely different to the reality of trains for travel. I had no idea what was going on, where I was supposed to go, or how to navigate the train system at all.

While I knew the language of my new country, it had been awhile since I had used it regularly, so trying to ask questions was a bit trickier than I would have preferred. It was even worse because of how nervous I was, as my vocabulary tends to run away when I’m stressed or put on the spot. This was no different.

Thankfully, there were a few lovely humans who came to my rescue. Transferring from my first train to the second, one person helped me grab my baggage, run with me across the station to the correct train, got me safely on, then ran back to the first train before both of them went on to their next destination. If it weren’t for this Superman of Sorts, I would have ended up who knows where, with no idea how to get me to where I was supposed to be. He saved me, and I had less panic attacks than I could have without his help. So thank you, kind human.

Once I finally made it to the last station, I met my referring teacher, who took me back to my apartment at the school. It was the last week of fall break, so I had the school practically to myself for the next four days, but needed to remain in quarantine for ten. This gave me the opportunity to settle in, and take a breather before I started the next leg of my journey, and the path that would change the direction in which my life would go.