Dear Dartmouth

An Undergraduate Publication

A COVID Diary

Study Abroad | 0 comments

Written by Anya Sorensen

When I decided to go on the French LSA in Toulouse in 20W, I expected it to be a piece of cake. Although I grew up in Fort Lauderdale, Florida, I’m a French citizen who spoke French as a first language and spent most of my summers growing up right outside of Paris. It also seemed like the perfect opportunity to avoid drill while learning something I had never fully understood before: French written grammar. 

The first few weeks went by quickly and smoothly. Toulouse was small but beautiful, and I had a great host family. On the third weekend, a few friends and I decided to go to Bordeaux, about three hours away from Toulouse. A week later, the first known COVID-19 case in France at the time was reported in Bordeaux by a man who had recently returned from China. I didn’t think twice about it.

Photo by Anya Sorensen

We first noticed that something was off on Saturday, February 22nd on our way back to France.
Two weeks later, my friends and I started planning our week-long break, which typically takes place in the middle of study abroad programs. We wanted to go to Italy – which hadn’t yet reported many coronavirus cases – and looked for cheap tickets. We found one from Milan to Bordeaux for 9 euros each, and while I was ready to jump on it, one friend became worrisome because of the reported case in Bordeaux. I thought she was being paranoid, but we ended up choosing other tickets. We traveled to Rome and Venice and had an amazing time. Coronavirus was the furthest thing from my mind. 

We first noticed that something was off on Saturday, February 22nd on our way back to France. Several people in the Venice airport were wearing face masks, and cases were starting to emerge in Northern Italy. By Monday, a significant number of cases had been reported in Northern Italy, and in class, many of us who had gone to Italy over the break remarked that we really got out at the right moment. That night, however, after having spent a normal day in class, the University President announced that anyone who had recently traveled to Northern Italy recently was both prohibited from being on campus for the next two weeks and required to be registered with the security office of the university. This meant that 6 out of the 17 people on the LSA were now unable to attend classes in-person. On Tuesday, we were told to stay at home and that Dartmouth would likely be taking the six of us out of our host families’ homes and placing us in hotels or apartments in the city to self-isolate. On Wednesday, we were told to arrive by 5 PM at the Citadines Aparthotel. I am almost certain that they were not told why we were coming.

While I understand the situation was unprecedented for everyone, I felt the move happened too late. By that time, we had all been home with our host families for at least three to four days, and if we’d had the virus, our host families would have already been infected. The idea that I could have infected my host parents or their two young children wasn’t easy to process and I know others felt similarly. Luckily for us, our host families, and Dartmouth, none of us developed symptoms.
During our hotel-room quarantine, we watched as coronavirus cases in Italy and the rest of Europe began spiking. The Rome LSA was shut down early, and many of us wondered what study abroad program would be next. Due to an outbreak in Paris, our trip to the city was canceled. As cases grew in number and severity, many people expressed that they might want to go home early. When I got out of quarantine on March 7th, I was determined to finish out the program and then go on to Portugal, a trip I’d planned before the virus. However, on Tuesday, six people in our program decided to go home, and the next day, the FSP in Paris officially ended.  On 2:30 AM Thursday morning, I got a call from a friend on the LSA with me. Thinking she was calling about our presentation later that day, I ignored her. When I finally picked up, she told me that President Trump had announced travel restrictions for people coming from Europe. Because it was 2:30 in the morning, it took a good amount of time for my friend to convince me that I wasn’t dreaming and that it was a serious problem, for which I am very thankful. 
This scenario was particularly worrisome for me because I had entered France on my French passport. In January, this had made the most sense, but it meant that if, for some reason, I could not find a flight home, the United States was not obligated to help me. By 3:30 AM, I had managed to book a new flight for early Friday morning. While the price was relatively reasonable given the situation, by 9 AM, prices to Southern Florida jumped to a minimum of 5,000 dollars. I skipped my trip to Portugal and made it to Miami with hours to spare. Although the new restrictions hadn’t gone into effect yet, I was expecting some kind of health screening at the airport. Instead, I was asked just one question: “Where are you coming from, Germany?” I answered yes, because I’d had a layover in Berlin, and then was allowed to go on my way. No one asked me how I was feeling, how long I had been in Europe, or even if I’d been exposed to anyone with the virus.         
I think about this moment every time I hear someone express wonder at how the situation progressed so badly in the United States. I’ve since tested negative for antibodies, meaning I didn’t bring the virus home with me or spread it to anyone, but I can’t help but wonder how different the situation would have been if the United States had acted differently, started restrictions earlier, or even just had taken the time to ask travelers how they had been feeling.

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