Items
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HST643
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2022-07-01
Delay to The Bay
My plans to visit San Francisco in 2020 came to a halt with the outbreak of the Coronavirus. As a high school teacher, I was looking forward to my long awaited-spring break. It had been quite some years since my last visit to the San Francisco, and I knew a trip to ‘The Bay’ was long overdue. I booked a flight, hotel, and waited patiently as the weeks went by. Spring was coming up and there were heavy concerns about COVID 19 spreading into North America. I was slightly concerned but figured I would be safe to make this trip. As news broke out about cases emerging in San Francisco, the nation went into hysteria. I was not skeptic about the hazard of Coronavirus, but selfishly planned to proceed with the trip. Then my father called me. My parents, both in their seventies were definitely at risk, especially my mother who struggled with health since my childhood. My father asked me kindly not to go to San Francisco. Without hesitation, I canceled my flight and hotel. I had booked everything online through a third party and was unable to receive any refund. Bummed out, I knew it was the right thing to do. Coronavirus spread, schools shut down and my spring break prolonged. At first I was spending time kayaking, but the weather in Phoenix got so hot I had to stay inside. The Phoenix summer of 2020 had record breaking heat with 55 consecutive days of 115 degrees plus Fahrenheit temperatures. I was miserable. With concerns of my mom’s health, social distancing, living alone and bored, I was very unhappy. The unjustifiable killing of George Floyd caused anger, and rightfully so, across the nation which contributed to more hysteria. The only positive that came from that hot summer were my experiments in the kitchen. I would then deliver tasty meals for my parents. This was the one thing that made me happy. Unfortunately, my mother did not survive past the summer of 2020. She passed away in her sleep peacefully due to an unrelated COVID cause. I was on an all time low. Sad, empty, missing my students, and missing normal daily life. We had no idea how many people would die and when things would normalize. It was truly scary. Fast forward to 2022 and things were much better. I figured surviving 2020 made me stronger and much happier. Vaccinated and boosted, I decided to pursue my trip to San Francisco. I made the best of this short trip. I went to a party outside the Chase Center for the NBA Finals, in which the Golden State Warriors played against the Boston Celtics. For the first time, I took a ferry to Alcatraz. In China Town, I saw locals dance with dragons, in which one bopped me in the face while I was taking photos! Caught by surprise, I did not take offense to this. Observing how the dragons behaved with mischief, I knew it was all for fun. This made me laugh. This was a much-needed trip indeed. 2020 affected everyone around the world. With global hysteria, people getting sick, people dying, racial injustice, everyone except pandemic deniers and those oblivious to political issues resonated with fear. Passing through time, my 2022 trip to San Francisco was a rebirth. A rebirth to normalization. A rebirth to my passion of exploring culture. A rebirth of sanity, and a rebirth of controlling fear. A rebirth to laughter. With dragons, noodles, basketball, and Ghirardelli, the delay to ‘The Bay’ will forever be a golden memory. -
2022-09-09
Back in Boston
The story is of me and my father going to see the Red Sox play at Fenway. The hat in the picture is the one I got at ballpark. It is important to me because it was the resumption of a tradition that me and my father have done for years. -
2021-04-12
21st Birthday Trip, Post-Pandemic
My twin sister and I turned 20 right after the beginning of the pandemic in April 2020. That birthday was a gigantic bummer, because all my friends had left my college campus and I was still there but couldn't visit home either due to Covid concerns (my parents are in their 60's and my sister has asthma). So, after a year of not traveling or doing very much else, my first post-covid trip was for my 21st birthday. Not yet ready to get back on airplanes but wanting to do something exciting, my mom, dad, sister, and I packed into the van for an 8-hour drive across Colorado to an Airbnb in Durango, near the southwest corner of the state. Durango is a cute little tourist town that's still sleepy from winter in April, and definitely non-traditional for a 21st birthday bash. We had two objectives for the trip: Mom and Dad were going to buy us our first (legal) alcoholic beverages, and we were going to take a ride on the narrow-gauge railroad that ran from Durango to the nearby tourist/old mining town of Silverton. The first goal was accomplished quickly upon our arrival; we located the old Strater hotel, built in 1887, complete with a bar where we immediately situated ourselves. The servers were dressed like flappers, all wearing masks, many matching the colorful fringes of their dresses. I ordered an old fashioned, was tipsy after half, and handed it off to my mom to finish. My dad had a great time shepherding us back to the van. The train ride the next day was the highlight of the trip. We bought tickets in advance, since only a limited number of seats could be filled in each car due to lingering covid precautions. Masks were also still required, except when eating and drinking (a full bar was available, as well as coffee and pastries). The train crept up into the mountains alongside a river, sometimes crossing over very tall trestle bridges, prompting my mom, who's afraid of heights, to pull her mask up over her eyes. Lunch, which was previously served on the train, was instead provided to us in pre-packaged boxes, to be eaten outside at picnic tables along the river where we were free to spread out and remove our masks. On the ride back to Durango, the full bar on the train was open, and most masks came off. My parents bought my sister and I our second drinks of being 21 (mimosas at 3:30pm, woo!) and we headed back to the Airbnb, stopping to pick up some Serious Texas Barbecue. While Covid ruined my plans for the 21st birthday party I thought I would have, it gave me a few years to slow down and to appreciate my family and small, meaningful, gatherings together, which I wouldn't trade for the wildest party in the world. -
2021-11
Masks Aren't Meant to Be Worn for 38 Hours Straight
My first trip post-Covid was greatly affected by Covid-19, from expensive tests to missing two national landmarks to a flight delayed by lack of crew to wearing a mask for nearly forty hours straight. I was finally able to travel again, but the signs of the pandemic were still everywhere. -
2020-08-04
Lonely at the Lake
My family has owned a small cabin by a lake in Northern Minnesota for over 60 years. This is my favorite place in the world and was our family vacation destination every year. As years went on my dad and I are one of the few who continue this tradition. After quarantining in April and May and businesses slowly reopening in June we decided in August 2020 that it would be safe enough to go up there. However, this trip ended up being much different than usual. While Minnesota was under a mask mandate the area we were in was much different than the suburbs of Chicago. At home more often than not people did adhere to the mask mandate and there was a mandate to self-quarantine when returning to the state after traveling. The area where are cabin is located is very densely wooded and not exactly populated. The small town has about four hundred people and the nearest large grocery store is a forty-five-minute drive away. While grocery shopping in town it was clear the mask mandate was not as strictly followed up here. Only about half of the customers in the store were wearing masks. The likelihood of adhering to the mandate dropped even further once we reached our township. Even though there were signs posted to “wear your mask” my dad and I were considered the odd ones out at the bait shop or lumber store, as I did not see a single person with a mask on in the ten days we were up there. All of our neighbors who live on the road that hugs the bay are all older. I have known most of them my entire life and some have even watched my parents grow up. Many of them live downstate near the Twin Cities, and some even live out of state, but very few of them live up there full time due to the harsh weather and isolation. It wasn’t until the last few years that the country started to plow our road in the winter. This ten-day vacation is normally packed with multiple dinners at neighbors' houses, tubing and fishing, parties and yard games, and finally ending the night around a fire with our neighbors, their kids, and often their grandkids. This trip, there was none of that. Windows and doors were boarded up because out-of-state neighbors never made the trip up to open their cabins. Jetskis and other water toys were locked up because most older neighbors did not risk leaving quarantine. As far as we could tell it was just my dad and myself. Fishing was just the two of us, the only people we had to argue with over card games were each other, and we both fell asleep more than once on the boat or dock while reading books because it was so quiet. It might have been much more lonely and quiet than normal, but it was still relaxing to be surrounded by nature and absorb its sounds uninterrupted. COVID-19 changed my vacation, but not necessarily in a bad way. I am lucky to have a lake house that was isolated enough that COVID did not seem to touch it. Although we missed our neighbors and have since seen everyone the loneliness allowed for a sense of stillness, the ability to fully emerse myself in nature and relax. -
2021-05-03
Business As Usual
I am a software engineer at a small, fairly conservative, company in PA. Because of its small company status it was never required for our employees to work from home, at least that was what they told us, and throughout the pandemic it was in fact a requirement that we work from the office. I wasn’t surprised when I was told I would be traveling to Washington state but I was apprehensive. A few of our employees were getting stick but I had so far been safe. On May 3rd 2021 I drove to the airport with a mask on my face and hand sanitizer in my hand. The airport was fairly empty as it was early but the few people that wandered the terminals were wearing masks. My flight was long but I got some sleep with the help of some Dramamine. That night my coworkers went out to eat but I decided to order in. The next morning I headed downstairs to head out for my first appointment. At the registration counter there were brown paper lunch bags sitting out in a neat row, the woman behind the desk asked me if I would like a breakfast bag to-go. As I walked over to pick up one of the bags she explained to me how due to Covid-19 they are not longer serving a hot buffet breakfast but are instead were providing this to-go bag options, I smiled from underneath my mask and thanked her. The bag had a banana, a granola bar, a yogurt and a bottle of water. I drove to the meeting site and headed inside, there were few people around but I noticed no one was wearing a mask, I felt like my light blue mask was a huge neon sign directing everyone’s attention to me. When I arrived at the designated meeting room I set up my computer and prepared the demo while I waited for others to arrive. One by one they walked in, greeted me, shook my hand and took a seat. Still no one was wearing a mask or if they were it was not secured properly, I felt embarrassed being the only one with a mask on. Once everyone arrived I stood up and looked at the room, everyone was looking right back at me, waiting. I took off my mask and began the meeting. The rest of the week was more of the same and the trip home was uneventful. A few days after getting home I tested positive for Covid-19 and was finally allowed to work from home, at least until I got better. -
2020-10-05
Water Slides in the Days of Covid
My family resided in Columbus, Georgia during the Covid-19 pandemic. In October 2020 my sister-in-law’s family came to visit us from Arizona. We decided to take our families to Great Wolf Lodge in LaGrange, Georgia, just 45 minutes from my home, for a two-day vacation. This was my first experience traveling after travel restrictions were lifted. Great Wolf Lodge houses an indoor water park, restaurants, and family entertainment attractions, as well as hotel accommodations all in one building. My family had visited before the pandemic, so we were familiar with the resort and procedures. This made changes in policies and behavior more evident than they may have been otherwise. Safety protocol set in place at Great Wolf Lodge included mandatory mask wearing in the hallways and open areas of the resort. Masks were not required in the waterpark; however, signs were posted throughout detailing mandatory social distancing protocol. Individuals were to remain at least six feet apart from each other in all areas, especially when waiting in lines. The guidelines were a nice idea, but large swarms of children eager to get onto a waterslide cared little for waiting in lines any distance apart. The adults seemed to feel the same way too. There was no personal space while waiting in lines, much less six feet social distance. In normal times, Great Wolf hosts bedtime dance parties and stories in their main lobby for the kids. Due to Covid restrictions, however, these dance parties were canceled and instead were broadcast on a set TV channel that could be viewed from guests' rooms. Our families arrived around 1:00 in the afternoon on day one. One person went in to do the checking in and then we headed to our rooms to change and head to the park. Everyone played for at least three hours. A few of the older kids tired out earlier and headed back to the rooms. The rest of us headed back to the rooms for dinner with the plan to meet up again afterward and play until the park shut down. Over the next hour, almost all of my kids started coughing. We started to wonder if they were having a reaction to the chlorine. Then the runny noses started and even the most excited kids said they were too tired to go back that night. After talking to my sister-in-law, the same thing was happening in her family. We decided to call it a night and check back in the morning. By morning, we had to call it. Even mild cold symptoms were enough in those days to get you thrown out of public places and we had to be cautious with even the smallest symptom that might indicate Covid-19. We knew the only responsible thing was to pack it up and head home. We had a great three hour vacation the day before, but the rest of it just wasn’t going to happen. It was the most expensive three hour vacation I think I’ll ever have. We felt like criminals smuggling our tightly masked children through the halls that morning and begging them to hold in their sneezes or coughs until we got outside. We were so glad we had chosen to vacation only 45 minutes from home that time. The colds passed, and eventually we returned to Great Wolf Lodge to enjoy a full vacation. We still laugh, though, about our attempt at a “normal” vacation in the midst of Covid-19. -
2020-12
Hawaii - December 2020
In March of 2020 my family and I were supposed to go to Hawaii for our spring break. When I was at work around St. Patrick's day, the school administration announced that all sports were postponed because of covid-19. A couple of days later I found out that we would be moving to virtual learning until spring break. During this time I remained hopeful that we would be back in the classroom after the break and that I would still be able to visit Hawaii. As the weeks went on it became clear that this was not the case. Eventually we moved to permanent virtual learning and the airlines canceled and refunded my ticket for Hawaii. As 2020 continued on I became more and more frustrated over the impact of covid, especially as what seemed like 3 weeks at home, turned in to several months without travel and in person interaction. In December of 2020, after completing a semester of half virtual, half in person learning I was in need of a break and a change of scenery. On Christmas my family and I found really cheap flights to Hawaii, however these flights were leaving the next day. Since I was a teacher on Christmas Break I had the time off, the only issue was that we needed to get a negative covid test before landing in Maui. We quickly booked the flights and scrambled to find a place we could get a covid test. In order to get off of the plane in Hawaii we needed to take a covid test 12 hours before arrival and our results needed to be negative. We did not have enough time before our flight to have a test shipped to our house nor did we have enough time to wait 2-3 days for results. Luckily we found a place 45 minutes from where we lived that had an opening for four rapid tests. After acquiring our test, 18 hours before our flight we eagerly awaited the results. All four of us had a negative test and we were able to board our flight to Hawaii. When we landed in Hawaii, in order to get off of the plane we had to show our negative test results. If someone did not have test results they had to remain on the plane and wait for it to return to the mainland. After showing our tests, we had our temperatures taken again and and our visit, including our accommodations, had to registered. The remainder of our trip to Hawaii was relaxing. Although it was weird to walk on the beach with a mask and sit far away from other guests, it was nice to get away. While we were in Hawaii I remember talking to a waitress we had that explained that from March to July residents were not allowed to enjoy the beaches. She described how lonely and isolated she felt stuck in her small apartment by herself. Even though it was difficult to get to Hawaii during covid, we needed a getaway and the hospitality workers in Hawaii were glad to see things slowly picking up again. -
2023-01-29
Travelling Post-Pandemic: Reflections
Deciding whether or not to travel post-pandemic has been weighing on me emotionally. Here, I identify reasons I should vs should not travel, as well as where I would go and why. -
2021-03-30
Mojo Leaves
I took this photo of Watson Lake near the Dells five days after restrictions were lifted. From what I remember, there were no travel restrictions at the time. I was one of the few that lived on a large property, and I could stay busy feeding my animals, chopping firewood, and working on homework. However, concerning the photo, I was coming home from getting guitar strings in Prescott. It was the first time I had thought about playing music since my good friend Joseph Morganfield passed away in December 2020. He's the son of Muddy Waters and was one of my biggest supporters as an artist and musician. I always tell folks if I could have chosen a dad, it would have been Joseph. This day was important because I realized life would go on, after Covid, like it or not. -
2021-06-06
My Reverse Homecoming
The first trip my wife and I took after the COVID travel restrictions were lifted was a doozy. Our first flight in over a year was a three-hop journey from our small Montana town to Alaska for an old friend’s wedding. With a six-month-old. On our laps. The whole time. My wife and I had our first round of vaccines but worried about our daughter, who was still far too young to have a dose. After much risk assessment and consultation with our pediatrician, we decided to go for it. Mask wear was strictly enforced on the airplane and in most of the public places we found ourselves, and there was a profound and somewhat discomforting sense that we and our fellow travelers were searching for a way to exist comfortably in this new not-yet-maybe-never-post-COVID world. The thing I remember most, though, was how incredibly freeing it felt to be somewhere new again. So much time spent at home, however necessary, had inflicted an unhealthy solitude on much of society, and my first time solidly stepping away from that felt energizing. I’ve always loved to travel and doing so after the darkest days of the pandemic felt like a happy return to form. A reverse homecoming, if you will. -
2023-02
Tourism story for the COVID-19 Archive
Worldwide, nations implemented social distancing and disease mitigation strategies in the Spring of 2020. These policies varied widely, but many places experienced restrictions on personal movement and travel. For your submission, respond to the following prompt: When travel restrictions were lifted, did you take a trip? If so, where did you go and why? What are your memories of this trip? Were there any continuing COVID-19 restrictions in place? If you did not travel and have still not traveled, answer the following question: If you could travel anywhere, where would you go and why? What destinations would you be sure to see? How would you document your trip (journal, social media, etc.)? How and What to Submit: For this assignment, you'll submit one item that captures a travel memory that relates to the COVID-19 pandemic. You'll submit your item to the COVID-19 Archive Links to an external site.on the "Share your Story Page." Include the following metadata (information): The title The description (this is the most important part. Tags: at a minimum (Arizona State University, HST 643, and History of Tourism). Feel free to add your own additional tags. Type: Audio recording, photograph, video, text story, recipe, etc. Date (When did this story happen) Contributor (your name) Location (where did/does this memory take place). What to submit: Submit your story to the archive Submit the title of your story on Canvas and the date you submitted it. This will help me find it in the archive. -
2020-08-11
Virtual Learning in California
The American response to the global COVID-19 Pandemic was multi-faceted. However, of specific importance to the nation were the changes made to public education. As the Pandemic resulted in the closure of businesses, teachers and students were required to continue their educational programs online from the privacy of their homes. Although the effects of distance learning will continue to be seen, virtual learning severely limited the ability of students and teachers to use sensory perception as a tool for learning and instruction. First, distance learning no longer enabled American teachers to utilize the sensory perception of “proximity.” Throughout public education “proximity” is used to encourage student engagement with both instruction and content. Many teachers will walk their classrooms during student activities and use sensory perception to sensorially inform students that they are near to them and are assessing their engagement. Teachers use this strategy as a reinforcement tool to develop students’ ability to stay on task. Yet, during the COVID-19 Pandemic, social distancing policies made “proximity” not only impossible, but also illegal, limiting to what extent teachers could use sensory perception to foster engagement and learning. Second, not only were educators no longer allowed to use the sensory perception tool of physical proximity, but also many educators were forced to rely solely on the sensory perception of sound. School districts throughout the state of California, for example, did not permit educators to require their students to verify their attendance in live video format. The result was educators and students were engaging predominantly through speaking and listening. Furthermore, being denied the sensory perception of sight, educators could not assess to what extent students were engaging with instruction and activities. In conclusion, the COVID-19 Pandemic enacted emergency response strategies which directly affected the education of Generation Z. For both students and educators, sensory perception became more limited for every student. Yet, the sciences, including social science, are built upon the empirical information a human being receives through them. Perhaps this video will serve as evidence to answer the question, “To what extent were students denied the right to sensory information and science?” -
2021-10-05
The Road Rager
It was late October 2021. The quiet and muted reactions to my provocative liberal bumper stickers on my Toyota Prius became louder and louder as the pandemic restrictions concluded. I was drinking my kale smoothie when I heard loud shoutings while waiting for the light to turn green. I immediately felt fear as I thought a violent incident was happening outside. I looked to my right and left and noticed an angry truck driver. As I pulled my window down, I thought about how much life had changed during these last two years. Folks crippled with COVID anxiety and forced inside had returned to the jungle that is car traffic. The result? Anger at the other side. Anger at those they deemed responsible for their restricted life. Anger at those who they believed were trying to muzzle and isolate society. The noises subsided, and I noticed I had just thrown my medium Burger King Drink at the car. Was I the angry road rager? Yes. -
2020-03-26
The Sound of Sewing
I moved back in with my parents right before lockdown during the Covid-19 pandemic never imagining how long it would go on for. Since my mother is a teacher she was at home with my younger sister and me during the entire lockdown. My father still went to work because he works for a city and was part of the emergency response to the pandemic. I remember going to the grocery store with my sister and seeing the empty shelves unsure of when they would be restocked. I remember the panic of needing face masks and not being able to find any. That is when my mother decided she would make face masks for us, our extended family and to donate. She pulled out the sewing machine, which originally was for when my grandmother would come visit, and set it on the dining table. My grandmother used to sew all the time when she would visit us and make my sister and I dresses and even matching dresses for our dolls. It was always a sound I had associated with her. I helped my mother in ordering and looking up information on which materials were recommended by health officials, then she set to work, making hundreds of face masks. Every morning I would wake up to the sound of the sewing machine and my first thought would be of my grandmother. As time went on I associated the sound with the pandemic, more specifically lockdown. My mother enjoys doing different craft projects and she really enjoyed making the face masks. It was a fun activity that I also enjoyed helping her with. She made face masks for my dad’s work which were donated to the fire and police departments. We also mailed masks to our extended family in New Mexico, California, and Mexico. We wore the masks ourselves if we had to go anywhere during lockdown. The sound of the sewing machine became a regular occurrence during those early weeks of quarantine. The sewing machine, especially the sound, used to only represent my grandmother making gifts for us. In Mexico, where my grandmother still lives, she used to have a small business making and selling clothing as a way to earn extra much needed money. It wasn’t just a hobby at that time, but a necessity for her and her family. The sound of the sewing machine, became something I not only associated of my grandmother but of the beginning of quarantine and the importance of knowing certain basic skills. Knowing how to sew, and even being able to use a sewing machine, may seem like an unimportant skill nowadays, which was something I used to think. However, that skill helped my grandmother and decades later is still helping the rest of our family. -
2020-07-21
I think I want to start a garden with you
I decided to start a garden during the pandemic with my girlfriend at the time (now wife). It was my senior year of college and life changed drastically in the spring when the pandemic hit. My wife and I had somewhat recently started dating at this point and suddenly we had to go on lockdown together to avoid any potential spread to her family since we both were required to go in person for our jobs. We went from dating to living together in an instant and it made us grow even closer. Together we tried to find quarantine hobbies to bide our time originally thinking that quarantine would only last a few months. I remember one day suggesting we start a garden in the backyard. My yard in Lubbock got so much sun it was just perfect for a garden. We slowly built a garden adding various plants from cactus and aloe vera to hot peppers, bean sprouts, and sunflowers. I loved going out there and caring for all the plants with my wife it was a real bonding experience. It was beautiful watching the whole process of our plants transform from little seeds to baby sprouts. I remember the way the new sprouts smelled crisp as they became verdant green and leafy. When we would water them on a particularly hot day it had a scent that reminded me of rainy summer days in Dallas when it got humid. I enjoyed getting to start this hobby that I most likely wouldn't have picked up at the time if I kept to my usual college routine. It was also a good distraction for both of us from the worries and anxieties of the pandemic. -
2020-05-01
The Hustle and Bustle That Went Naught
This story is nothing that many of you may not be familiar with, notably of those in metropolitan-like areas. Plus, I can not say that this story is anything deeply descriptive and the likes thereof, but it certainly had an impact on someone like me (along with others) that live in a city, notably if you are especially in or around New York City, the city that never sleeps. What brings me back to this? Well, not exactly the link that I provided that actually shows (at the time of course) a live-time recording of midtown Manhattan and its eerie sound, which is paradoxically a "sound" of a hovering-like quiescent stillness of keen silence (but a silent ambiance that was somewhat peculiarly enchanting) . Or rather, as the title alludes to, a sound that was "naught". At the time, it became so normal if you will (especially around 40 days since the lockdown went into effect), that it became a coincidentia oppositorum of sorts. One might ask, where is such a "unity of opposites" in effect whereby this was simply a "change" in the dynamics of your "said" environment? To start, the Newark (NJ) area is nothing BUT a concoction of familiar and somewhat pleasing noise as I sit in my half-airconditioned room, from the constant sound of public transportation busses passing by and their intrinsic slight familiar screeching stop, the talk of those a few floors down walking the streets, the constant sound(s) of cars flowing by, the sound of the famous pathway train into NYC in the faint distance (though it stops at Jersey City first), those at the corners (as inappropriate as it may sound) calling out that they got "x, y, and z" near Broad and Market Street, so forth and so on, to "almost" nothing! It was like something straight out of the novel Brave New World and other such pally stories of the sort. To me and many others around our surrounding areas, this was a moment in history that stood out, one that I can not recall in similarity since Tuesday, September 11th. 2001. Because the unity of these non-coherent opposites is in the simple fact that the innate aspect of a pandemic lockdown of a such magnitude as we had is quite obviously "silence" if you will, which is the opposite of what is immersed in a city of almost 300,000 (and that is of course not including the amount of citizens in neighboring metro-areas both east, north, and south of my location), nevertheless, they formed one coherent form of a dialectical force. Because it soon became a "norm" and it happened at quite an expedient rate in the larger scheme of things. Nothing was more "quiet" and "surreal" then the tragic events of 9/11, as it did not take some time for a similar situation to occur, as the event was so dynamic that everything I am speaking of happened at once, but and more importantly, day by day the city quickly gained back its ingrained normative environment. But the reason I arbitrarily picked the date of 5/1/2020, rather then use the date of the article, is because it was in early May where this began to slowly engulf me and took me back to one quite sunny day around noon (maybe a tad later), where all of this, "all of this" being that of what I speak of, struck me finally as something transformative (but far less than cathartic to say the least). I hope you enjoyed my little tidbit of what kind of impact COVID had on me (be it a self-like precept, photograph, video, etc...), particular using my experience in a sensory course of description. Sure, there was obviously other aspects that came into play with COVID-19 that eventually impacted us, but most of them were later on as the days moved by, while rather this experience was the first and the one that will stick with me anytime I think back to the pandemic. And the beauty of it, or rather lack thereof, all happened while simply sitting near my bed (hence against the window) while putting on my prosthetic legs. Cheers to you all! -
2020-03-20
A Theme Park on Day 1 of the Pandemic
Disneyland popcorn comes in a variety of colors and flavors- and with the opening of Galaxy’s Edge in 2019, my new favorite popcorn stand was ushered into being. This stand carried popcorn that had fruity pebble flavoring on its salty kernels, a little sticky, but delicious nonetheless. It was spring break at ASU, and currently, I was enjoying this sweet-salty concoction with not a care in the world, in Disneyland with my family. I was standing under the sad shade of a newly planted tree when my father turned to me, mouth agape, and proceeded to hand me his phone despite the sticky residue I was attempting to warn him about. His cell phone screen, with its glaring blue light and notifications rapidly appearing across the top, shouted a message at me I would much rather ignore: “The CDC has declared COVID-19 a worldwide pandemic.” Given that my father works in medical software, he quickly snatched the vibrating, ringing phone back and began an onslaught of calls that sounded identical, almost always culminating in “I don’t know what this means.” All around us, the previously carefree park patrons were beginning to reach into their pockets to investigate the commotion, and finding the same or similar results. Gasps and shouts were heard all around us, and the sound of feet moving quickly increased. Coughs were now akin to fire alarms and sent crowds scattering on the wind. Large throngs of people began to move towards the park exit, but I was keen on finishing my treat. After all, why rush out with hundreds of people when you can stroll out with dozens? We only remained in the park for about an hour after that, my parents endlessly debating the pros and cons of driving to Arizona right that minute. Would they close the borders between states? Would they get a refund for the cost of the hotel? What would we do with my little sisters’ birthday cake, sitting in a mini fridge and awaiting a dull butter knife later that evening? Families all around us were having the same sorts of conversations, a concert of panic arising in the Happiest Place on Earth. As my parents squabbled and people scattered, I was struck by the monumental meaning of this moment. Disneyland was going to close- and it previously closed for events like 9/11 and the assassination of President Kennedy. Something was very, very wrong...and I figured I should stop eating my popcorn that had seen unknown hands and unknown places. -
2020-03-14
A Theme Park on Day 1 of the Pandemic
Disneyland popcorn comes in a variety of colors and flavors- and with the opening of Galaxy’s Edge in 2019, my new favorite popcorn stand was ushered into being. This stand carried popcorn that had fruity pebble flavoring on its salty kernels, a little sticky, but delicious nonetheless. It was spring break at ASU, and currently, I was enjoying this sweet-salty concoction with not a care in the world, in Disneyland with my family. I was standing under the sad shade of a newly planted tree when my father turned to me, mouth agape, and proceeded to hand me his phone despite the sticky residue I was attempting to warn him about. His cell phone screen, with its glaring blue light and notifications rapidly appearing across the top, shouted a message at me I would much rather ignore: “The CDC has declared COVID-19 a worldwide pandemic.” Given that my father works in medical software, he quickly snatched the vibrating, ringing phone back and began an onslaught of calls that sounded identical, almost always culminating in “I don’t know what this means.” All around us, the previously carefree park patrons were beginning to reach into their pockets to investigate the commotion, and finding the same or similar results. Gasps and shouts were heard all around us, and the sound of feet moving quickly increased. Coughs were now akin to fire alarms and sent crowds scattering on the wind. Large throngs of people began to move towards the park exit, but I was keen on finishing my treat. After all, why rush out with hundreds of people when you can stroll out with dozens? We only remained in the park for about an hour after that, my parents endlessly debating the pros and cons of driving to Arizona right that minute. Would they close the borders between states? Would they get a refund for the cost of the hotel? What would we do with my little sisters’ birthday cake, sitting in a mini fridge and awaiting a dull butter knife later that evening? Families all around us were having the same sorts of conversations, a concert of panic arising in the Happiest Place on Earth. As my parents squabbled and people scattered, I was struck by the monumental meaning of this moment. Disneyland was going to close- and it previously closed for events like 9/11 and the assassination of President Kennedy. Something was very, very wrong...and I figured I should stop eating my popcorn that had seen unknown hands and unknown places. -
2021-06-12
Graduation: A celebration or just another day?
A long and hot three hour and forty five minute drive to San Luis Obispo was halted short of the two hour mark for a very important celebration. Was it really a time of celebration though? Some could argue that the mood and the hot weather of a summer June 12 afternoon in 2021 was just another day. After the strike of the pandemic, online instruction skyrocketed around the state of California. Other California State schools, resorted to their spring commencement to be online, our school was no different. We stopped our car at a local 76 gas station just off the side of the freeway to celebrate my virtual graduation from Cal Poly San Luis Obispo. My mom pulled up in the parking lot where next to the 76 gas station was a McDonald's with free Wifi which allowed for us to connect to the Zoom meeting. We waited as name after name from the History Department was called, in which you could hear the only the applause and cheers of close family for fellow graduates called before me. The quiet tension in the car while waiting for my name to be called was very obvious in the car. There was no excitement at all. Just another normal day in the hot June sun. Finally, my name was called upon. A description of my goals and my final senior project were mentioned in the ceremony in my honor. All while the bustling of cars, the smell of fast food and the barking and crying of young kids and dogs lingered in the background of the car. My family applauded clapping and crying out my name. Seconds later, the next name was read and I logged off zoom, placed my cap to the side and we continued our drive to San Luis Obispo. Apart of me wondered that day we drove away from the gas station what a true graduation may have felt like, may have sounded like without these troubling times. -
2020-03-21
Education changed
It was my first year teaching middle school history. I was bright-eyed, excited, and felt like I had finally found my calling in life. I went into spring break with such an excited feeling about my new career path. Coming from retail, I could finally have time to spend with my family and not have to worry about making a quota. Then the email came. We would be moving to distance learning and I would not get the chance to finish my first year as an educator with my first group of kids. The sound I most remember was the Google Meets login when someone joined. That sound will forever be associated with the pandemic. The sound I had never heard before became the sound that brought me joy as I was finally able to make sure my students were okay. I remember that sound and immediately checking to see who was logging in. It brought mixed feelings of compassion, empathy, and sadness. Even as we started to get back into the classroom, nothing would ever be the same as it once was. But that sound, that one quick sound, brought on the emotions of this educator. And I hope I will never have to hear that sound again. -
2020-08-01
No Smell, No Taste
In August of 2020 while attending a course in Virginia I lost both my sense of smell and sense of taste. For 6 months I tasted nothing, and smelled nothing in the food I ate, or the candles, soaps, drinks, I bought. I did not smell trees, or grass, or flowers. Only habitual hygiene assured me that I myself did not give off an odor that I could not even detect if it was there. I slowly "relearned" smell and taste (that is my theory anyway). Much like it is difficult later in life to learn a language or change your perceptions, now many things are lumped together for me in terms of distinction. All citrus smells the same to me. Onions, garlic, and often other people smell exactly the same. I can no longer stand the taste of anything peach or mango flavored, though I still enjoy the fruits themselves. Having gone so long without smell or taste, it negatively affected every day life. Relationships, conversations, memory, awareness, and even my ability to focus deteriorated and made me realize how integral our senses are socially and physically. Some smells that I distinctly remember initiating a sense of nostalgia no longer elicit the same reaction in me. This is deeply saddening, as I suspect a significant portion of my memories are inaccessible or at least markedly more difficult to recall without a fragrance to tease it out. -
2020-08-08
Relearning to Cook
I have loved to cook for as long as I can remember, but I had a few rough years and stopped cooking. With the onset of stay-at-home orders for the COVID-19 Pandemic, I went from 60-hour work weeks between my two jobs to nothing. My mind and hands were itching to do something, anything. As many of the grocery stores started to have supply shortages and I now had a much more limited budget; I had to get creative. So, I began to cook. I started slowly with fancy coffee drinks and eggs and moved to bread and pasta. Nationally people were baking bread so I thought well I’ve got the time I might as well try. What started as something I had learned to dread suddenly became my day’s highlight. I was cooking again! The dance of moving through my small kitchen. The clank of pots and pans and knives and wooden spoons in metal bowls playing in time to Otis Redding. The joy of tasting a recipe and nailing both the flavors and the serving size (many recipes serve 4-6, I live alone). It was truly a full-body experience. I soon realized that I hadn’t repeated any meals in about two weeks and decided to challenge myself to go as long as possible without repeating a recipe, if a meal required a repeat that portion simply didn’t count in my tally. I ended up making over 225 different recipes. -
2021-09-16
Life is Better Where It's Wetter
Travel had always been in my blood. I can even remember the first time I was legally allowed to board a plane on my own without having to wear a silly "Unaccompanied Minor" badge around my neck. The idea of getting on an airplane and landing in a completely new place only hours later would always thrill me. Unfortunately, when the pandemic hit, travel started to look a little different. The freedom I once felt when I stepped foot on a 737 began to feel more like an anxiety-filled hassle. Normally, I would have been found jet-setting across the U.S. to the big cities on the east and west coasts where the parties lasted all night long, but that was no longer possible. I started to remembered how I had always wanted to visit Lake Tahoe. I'd always seen the outdoorsy girls on my Instagram feed post pictures of the clear, blue water. Maybe this was my chance to take a break from the major hubs and slow down my pace. One thing remained, though. I still didn't want to face those airports. That's when I made one of the biggest decisions of my young life. I packed up my Jeep and started out on what would become 3 weeks across our American highways - just me, a Jeep Wrangler, and the open road. I never could have expected what I would discover while driving. I truly gained a new appreciation for the world around me and realized I much preferred travel by wheel than by wing. Here I thought the freedom I felt when traveling was at risk of becoming obsolete, when in reality it was the opposite. Any time there was a unique store along the road or a picturesque landscape, I simply stopped. I never could have done that in an airplane! When I finally made it to the beach at California's gorgeous Lake Tahoe, I was speechless. It was everything I could have imagined and more. The views, the smells, the sounds - breathtaking. It was in those moments, I got my freedom back in the middle of a pandemic. -
2020-03-05
The Sounds of a Casino
Living in Las Vegas and working in a hotel and casino, I got used to a few things; the sounds of the slot machines and the (albeit unpleasant) aroma of cigarettes and cigars. After being brought back to work after the shutdown, what I immediately noticed was how much quieter the casino floor was with all of the restrictions in place. There was a limit to how many guests we could have in, and social distancing meant only every other machine could be used. While wearing a mask and having plexiglass in front of my station, I had to get used to projecting my voice so that guests could hear me while I was trying to help them. Even now, I still wear a mask and have to actively make an effort to be heard. -
2022-08-22
Sensory Roadblock: Unexpected Detriments and Benefits of Mask-wearing in Gathering Food and Information
During the pandemic, I opted to order all of my groceries online to be delivered. I have never been much of a take-out person and mostly cook at home, so I really love to pick my ingredients when grocery shopping. Missing the in-store grocery shopping experience over the past few years, I sometimes go out to gather my fresh foods, especially after the normalizing of social distancing and mask regulations. Though I still prefer to wear a mask, even when regulations are occasionally loosened, a sensory occurrence that I did not expect to miss or lack as a consequence of mask-wearing is the importance of smell in my food-gathering habits. Being able to check the ingredients for both flavor and freshness qualities by smelling them is such a natural instinct that most lifeforms use to find their food. I never considered myself someone who actively smells things very often, so this sensory roadblock surprised me, as I initially chose to go to the store to get better foods than those that had been delivered to me. I have often come home and found that the asparagus or meat that I had just bought had that unpleasant odor of food past its prime, even though its appearance and texture seemed just perfect. I also miss being able to smell the full intensity of the fresh-cut flower bouquets that proclaim the seasons when going out grocery shopping. This temporary lessening of sense-of-smell from wearing a mask has been a bit of a hinderance in such ways, but it has been beneficial in many others. For example, I have dust allergies and used to become very stuffy after visiting my library due to the book dust—especially since, as a history and art history graduate student, all the books that I want or need to check out are usually the oldest or dustiest ones! Not being able to smell or breathe-in these things has helped me dramatically in my experience of information gathering. I can now spend hours looking over books that I wouldn’t have thought of opening before and have found some wonderful sources for my research. Though of course many historical texts are fully available in online formats and an invaluable resource, I often feel the same way about visiting my library as I do visiting my grocery store—I hope to find something myself that might work even better for my own project, either culinarily or academically. -
2020-04-10
Bring The Noise
Bringing music into the home to ease the pandemic woes. -
2021-02
Hoping for Good Days
It was several months since my last day in a classroom. March 13, 2020 to be exact. Friday the 13th. The previous school year we were told it was to be a possible 2 week break that ended up going until the end of the year. What was to become of the next school year of 2020-21? I tried to stay optimistic over the summer and enjoy the time spent with family. We were lucky to have each other and have a yard and house where we felt safe to be quarantined. I knew a lot of my students were not so lucky in that they lived in apartments with several family members. Still I wanted to be optimistic about the upcoming year. As the start of school year date got closer, it was apparent we were to continue online teaching via zoom. I felt I was pretty tech savvy and could integrate technology enough to keep my students engaged, but it was still challenging. I taught incoming freshman 9th grade students. They did not get the “new students” experience of coming to my school and meeting and greeting all the faculty and each other. Initially the expectation was to have all students have cameras on, and for the most part in that Fall semester, my students did. But then towards the break students started getting sick, parents were losing their jobs, some even lost family members. People were sad. We barely made it into the winter break with students attending “online”. I was fortunate to have most of my students log in but in other classes students stopped showing up. And if they did log in, cameras were off and it felt like talking to a void. Were they still paying attention? Were some of them just logging in and doing other things like playing video games or sleeping? I was frustrated, but also empathetic knowing for a lot of these students survival, not academics, was their priority during the time. After the winter break and a return to zoom teaching, it was a palpable sadness. There were people who had lost loved ones, and my students were depressed. I could feel the grief and sorrow through the screen and sometimes I would weep after my classes ended for the day. I had to maintain a persona of optimism for my students online and also keep encouraging their academic pursuits. I have never had such a challenging teaching year like the 2020-21 year. The sensory experience I am recalling is sometime in February of 2021. It was the second semester of school, back from the break and many people had a rough time of the holiday season with loneliness, fear, and loss. I don't know how I came up with the idea but I thought about students sharing playlists with the class. I would review them, and if we had a test together on zoom I would play songs on the background. One particular song I found was “Good Days” by SZA. It was not my style of music, but I knew it was what my students listened to. The day I played that song I started to get a lot of feedback from the zoom chat from all my classes about that song. By this time a majority of students had stopped showing themselves on camera and/or stopped talking, however Good Days sparked something in my students. The intro of the song is very melodic and serene. It is one of those songs that sounds very sweet, but is very sad at the same time. I could tell by the response of my students that it hit a nerve. A few of them began to speak up again in class, a few would turn their camera on again. And of course, I had several sending messages after class thanking me for the song. This happy/sad song connected me again to my students that I thought I had lost over winter break. It gave me a little hope again, and I think it gave some of them hope too. Now, whenever I hear Good Days by Sza it reminds me of those lonely online zoom classes in February and how we were all feeling a bit sad, but a simple song gave us all a bit of hope that the future was to have some Good Days ahead. Lyrics to Good Days All the while, I'll await my armored fate with a smile Still wanna try, still believe in (good days) Good days, always (good days) Always inside (always in my mind, always in my mind, mind) Good day living in my mind -
2020-03
Bells Continued to Ring
When the pandemic began, I was finishing up my last few months of student teaching. My mornings included talking to students about their day and weekend plans they had; however, once the pandemic started that changed drastically. The students were gone and the silence began. Highschools are customarily, a loud and busy environment; yet, overnight the students were gone and there was nothing at school but silence. The halls were empty, my classroom was empty, the whole school was empty apart from a small group of staff. For the rest of the year, I would go to school and sit in my classroom alone in almost complete silence. No face to face interaction with students or even other staff. As a teacher, this was taxing on my mental health. From one day to the next my entire occupation had been flipped upside down. I never saw my students again. I still wonder what became of them. The one thing that sticks in my mind from that period is the sound of dismissal bells at school. For some reason the bells continued to ring even though there were no students. Everyday when that first hour bell would ring I would remember that no students were coming. This was a reminder everyday that the world had changed. I recorded the sound of dismissal bells at my highschool. Two years after the pandemic started, this sound still reminds me of teaching during the pandemic. -
2021-01-15
The Smell of Venetian Canals
In January of 2021 my husband and I traveled to Venice Italy for a quick weekend getaway to meet up with my brother & his family. My husband and I had visited Venice before, but not since COVID, let alone during a time when regulations in Italy were quite strict; vaccine documentation had to be shown everywhere we went, masks needed to be worn at all times, etc. Upon arrival to the city, there were several things that instantly struck both my husband and I in regard to the changes we were now witnessing. A far different Venice than the one we experienced a few years before. Not only FAR less crowds, all the masked faces, empty plazas once the sun set, the clear waters of the canals, but the SMELL of Venice was different. Even though I love Venice as a city, I vividly remember the unpleasant smell of the canals when we visited a few years prior, in the height of the summer. Remebering that as we took a gondola ride through the canals, I couldn't help but notice the unpleasant aroma coming from the canal waters. But now that we have found ourselves in a COVID world Venice, the smell was noticably gone, and you could actually see the bottom of the shallow canals as you walked over the bridges throughout the city. I was previously unable to notice how truly shallow the canals were until this COVID world allowed for less polluted waters of Venice, and therefore a better smelling Venice as well. -
2020-04-07
Adventures in Baking during the COVID pandemic
I was a line cook and baker for many years professionally, but ended up with severe carpal tunnel syndrome and had to find a new profession. For a while I just stopped cooking all together because it was hard for me to give up something I loved so much. But during the COVID-19 pandemic I had a lot of time on my hands, so I started baking and cooking again. I was determined to find the best sugar cookie recipe I could find. This was one of the recipes I tried out during the long lockdowns. They ended up turning out really well. -
2021-06-15
COVID-19, Masks, and Bleach at a Preschool
During the COVID-19 pandemic I worked at a preschool where I taught primarily 12-to-18-month-old children until they were ready to move onto the next class. The use of a face mask and rigorous cleaning methods were a constant part of my day for the entire time I worked there. Now, the memory of that time stands out to me the most through the feel of the mask on my face and the smell of the bleach that seemed to stay with me for days. The kids I taught were too young to wear masks (that was reserved for the two-year-old and up classes), but they did not seem bothered that the adults surrounding them wore pieces of fabric over their mouths and noses. For eight hours a day I felt the pull on my ears, the scratchy material against my nose, and the frustration of the mask muffling my voice when trying to get the attention of ten children in the classroom. Pointing out facial features like a nose or certain facial expressions like being happy or sad with a mask on became normal. More often than not, I would feel a small hand reach up and attempt (or succeed) at pulling my mask down which I proceeded to pull back on as quickly as possible while ignoring how good the fresh air on my face felt. Aside from the masks, the administration required routinely cleaning all toys used everyday with a high concentration of bleach. During nap time, the smell of the bleach filled the room as we cleaned all toys used that day, regardless of the duration of the activity. Even with a mask on, the smell lingered in my nose, on my clothes, and in the classroom to the point that I always felt that I smelled of bleach. When COVID-19 infection numbers were up in the local area or we had case in our school, the bleach concentration, as expected, went up and so did the smell. While I supported all efforts made at the preschool to reduce possible COVID-19 infections, these sensory descriptions illustrate the mental and emotional draining portion of the pandemic history. -
2020-08-11
Long-Distance Learning
The American response to the global COVID-19 Pandemic was multi-faceted. However, of specific importance to the nation were the changes made to public education. As the Pandemic resulted in the closure of businesses, teachers and students were required to continue their educational programs online from the privacy of their homes. Although the effects of distance learning will continue to be seen, virtual learning severely limited the ability of students and teachers to use sensory perception as a tool for learning and instruction. First, distance learning no longer enabled American teachers to utilize the sensory perception of “proximity.” Throughout public education “proximity” is used to encourage student engagement with both instruction and content. Many teachers will walk their classrooms during student activities and use sensory perception to sensorially inform students that they are near to them and are assessing their engagement. Teachers use this strategy as a reinforcement tool to develop students’ ability to stay on task. Yet, during the COVID-19 Pandemic, social distancing policies made “proximity” not only impossible, but also illegal, limiting to what extent teachers could use sensory perception to foster engagement and learning. Second, not only were educators no longer allowed to use the sensory perception tool of physical proximity, but also many educators were forced to rely solely on the sensory perception of sound. School districts throughout the state of California, for example, did not permit educators to require their students to verify their attendance in live video format. The result was educators and students were engaging predominantly through speaking and listening. Furthermore, being denied the sensory perception of sight, educators could not assess to what extent students were engaging with instruction and activities. In conclusion, the COVID-19 Pandemic enacted emergency response strategies which directly affected the education of Generation Z. For both students and educators, sensory perception became more limited for every student. Yet, the sciences, including social science, are built upon the empirical information a human being receives through them. Perhaps this video will serve as evidence to answer the question, “Is the right to sensory perception and scientific information included within the natural rights of life, liberty, and property?” -
2020-06-06
The Town Without a Sound.
It had been a few months after that start of the pandemic. I left my home early in the morning and noticed something odd when I got outside there was no sound. At this time of the year, I would expect to hear kids outside playing in the Cul-de-sac. It was the weekend and early in the morning I expected to hear someone working on their yard, yet no one was around I heard nothing. I also lived close to the highway and if it was any other day I would hear a cars and trucks going by but, today there was nothing. It gave me an eerie feeling like time had stood still or that I was the last person on earth. Lucky a few seconds later I herd a car that pulled me out of this moment of dread. My wife had just returned from working the night shift as a nurse at the hospital. I will never forget the day it was so quiet that I felt the earth stand still. -
2020-03-21
A Sudden Flight
It emphasizes the suddenness of the pandemic through sensory history. -
2020-03-16
Rubber Gloves, Isopropyl Alcohol and the Arizona Heat
Arizona State University employees, myself included, were sent home mid-March of 2020 due to the rising concerns of Covid-19. I recall driving home that initial day thinking that a sea change was upon us and that uncertainty lay ahead. How would I balance my concerns about this unknown virus yet help keep the peace in my house with my wife and our young boys as the country learned how to live with our new, unwelcome guest? Little did I know the biggest changes in our lives would be the small changes in our daily routines. In looking back at those first days, one scene that was routinely repeated in particular plays out in my memory. We quickly shifted our grocery shopping from in-person purchases to ordering on-line and picking up food curbside outside of the store. Before bringing the food inside our house, my wife and I had agreed that we would wipe down our new food packages with paper towels soaked in isopropyl alcohol. At the time it was unclear if the virus survived on packaging for long periods so we thought it best to disinfect the food. Looking back on it now, it seems silly but the scene still plays out in my memory: I can still smell the latex of the rubber gloves I would put on so as not to completely dry out or burn my hands. When pouring the alcohol onto the paper towels, the smell would sting my nose and a tingling sensation would pervade my nasal passages. When wiping the plastic packaging of say, frozen vegetables, I would hear the crinkling sound of the bag and it would resonate through my ears. To compound the smells and sounds of this process, I would be remiss to not include the fact that this was all taking place in our garage during one of the hottest Arizona springs and summers on record. The heat was oppressive that season, enough to identify with that 'oven blast' description we use in this region and I would be dripping with sweat by the time the task was complete. To say the least, it was a surreal experience; one where if you had told me two weeks earlier, I would be wiping down groceries in a stifling garage to prevent a possible infection of an unknown virus, I would have laughed at you but, alas, I was there and the senses surrounding the scenario were real. -
2022-06-26
Flying with Disease
Flying home from a tournament, where my team suffered defeat after defeat, I was not aware of much outside of my muscle aches, my mental and emotional exhaustion, and the bitter taste of failure in my mouth. The first twenty minutes of the flight was uneventful, just the occasional cry of a child, the subtle rock of the plane in turbulence, the dim light by which I read my book. Soon, as the turbulence died down, and the child fell asleep in the arms of its mother, every single person on the plane became distinctly aware of the continuous coughing of a lady wearing her mask. I had forgotten to grab one for the flight home, despite every intention of wearing one, and nobody else on the flight had one. Conversations noticeably died down as the coughing continued, and even seemed to get more frequent and intense. I put down my book, donned my headphones, and tried to watch a movie to drown out the noise. People shot furtive glances at the lady in question, all of us wondering from the sound of her cough, if she had Covid. The more I heard it, the angrier I felt, and the more afraid I got. I am an athlete and young, so would likely be fine if I caught Covid. However, my girlfriend and little sister are both high risk, and I did not want to risk exposing them. I managed to calm myself as to not make a scene, worthless at this point tens of thousands of feet in the air. I could not know the situation of the lady, whether she had a choice to be on this flight, or had to return home, attend a funeral, or whatever other reasons she may have had to go on a flight, sick, while there was a global pandemic. All I can tell you is that from the sounds of uncomfortable shifting in seats, the murmurs pointed at the lady, and the otherwise silence of the formerly talkative plane, nobody felt entirely safe or comfortable. I ended up catching Covid-19, and unknowingly giving it to my girlfriend who I live with. Despite having to take her to the hospital briefly, we both ended up fine. Whether our cases of Covid were from the lady on the plane or somebody else, I will never know. But the sound of incessant coughing during this pandemic still has the same effect wherever I go, creating a perceptible unease. -
2020-03-21
The Day the Call to Prayer Changed in Cairo
If there's one thing you can count on in the Muslim world, it's the call to prayer (adhan) audibly marking the sun's path through the sky, and everyone's route to a mosque, five times a day. It might sound a little different in various regions, a little more musical in Egypt, a little less practiced sometimes in Kyrgyzstan, but it's always the call to prayer, and has been for over 1000 years. But across the Muslim world in March 2020, as mosques closed because of the coronavirus pandemic, the call to prayer was adapted. Instead of saying, "Come to prayer, come to salvation" it said in Egypt, "Pray in your homes, pray on your travels." The wording had been changed like this a few times in the past when mosques were closed because of war or plague or weather, but I honestly never thought I'd hear it myself. The call to prayer seems constant and unchanging, part of the highly sensory experience of Muslim prayer, so this adaptation made the pandemic more present for everyone in Egypt. I'm not Muslim myself, but I talked with Muslim friends all over the world about the change in the adhan. One woman in Kuwait said, "It just sounds so... ominous.. especially at maghrib prayer, it's sunset and getting dark, and the voice over the loudspeakers is saying to stay home... also because I have never, ever heard them change it like this before. Ever. It's like I'm waiting for an eclipse, and the flocks of birds flying away, animals fleeing, etc." I took this video during the last prayer of the day on 21 March 2020 at a mosque near our apartment in Cairo, Egypt. If you're not familiar with the adhan, you obviously won't notice anything different, but this rendition is beautiful even if you don't understand it. If you do, the new wording begins at 1:13. The beginning of the video is a little bumpy while we were getting to the right spot, but then it settles down a bit. -
2020-03-15
"Handwash Everyone"
I worked at a McDonald’s in March when the United States went into lockdown. Before the lockdown, the drive-thru line was long, the lobby was full of customers, and employee’s rushed around everywhere. The restaurant was always loud with fryers beeping, headsets beeping, customers ordering and complaining, and employee’s trying to have conversations with each other while taking orders all at the same time. People were constantly sneezing, coughing, or sounding like their voices were hoarse, and no one thought anything of it. Everyone went on about their business. After the pandemic, the restaurant was quieter. No more customers were in the lobby, fewer people came through the drive-thru, and fewer employees were at work, less food was being made, so the fryers beeped less often, as did the headsets that warned us when customers wanted to order. One new sound we could all rely on was the alarm that went off every hour, followed by a manager yelling out that everyone needed to wash their hands. The sound of a raspy voice from a customer, a sneeze, or a cough echoed from the speaker above side one in the kitchen, though the entire restaurant and employees would all look at each other in disgust, sure that this customer must have the Corona Virus. The employee in the first booth taking the payment would instantly remove their gloves and rush to scrub their hands before retrieving a new pair of gloves. The person in the second booth who handed the food out the window would be stretching their arm out the window as far as they could in an effort to stay as far away from the person as possible before repeating the same ritual as the last employee in disinfecting themselves. Sounds that usually just fell into the background noise and people assumed were allergies or just a simple cold suddenly elicited a significant amount of fear in my friends and co-workers. While things have mostly gone back to normal, the handwash alarm and manager yelling for a handwash is an hourly reminder that Covid-19 is still around. -
2020-03-19
Silent Hospital – Giving Birth in Quarantine
The Covid-19 quarantine started on March 16th, 2020. I gave birth to my daughter four days later. Thankfully my labor was very quick and there were no complications. By 8:44 a.m. on the 19th, my daughter was in my arms. After the commotion of the nurses and doctors coming to check on my daughter and myself, there was just silence. Newborns, as a quickly discovered, slept a lot. There were long stretches of silence for the two days we were in the hospital. I would look at my husband and say, “It is eerily quiet in here.” I was only one of three mothers giving birth in my area of the hospital, there were no visitors, and we were told to stay in our rooms unless we absolutely needed to walk around. My husband would order food and have to wait at the front of the hospital for them to drop it off. Every time he left and came back, he talked about how he had barely seen anyone, and that it was completely silent in the hospital. When it was time for us to finally leave, walking out of the hospital was also silent. There were no phones ringing, no nurse pagers, no talking between nurses, nothing. The only sounds were my flip flops squeaking off of the floors. When we finally made it outside, the birds were chirping and I remembering thinking, ‘thank goodness for some background noise!’ -
0022-08-18
Hearing Aids
In the audio-file I tried to manipulate the sounds to reflect some of the ways I interpret the world as a Hard of Hearing woman during the Covid-19 pandemic. I want the listener to be able to feel the frustration as they listen and try to understand the story. The pandemic has forced many of us to adapt. This is my story. -
2020-03-05
Germs and Touch: Contact OCD during the pandemic
The pandemic, rather the first 5 months, was debilitating for my mental health. I suffer from a type of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD) called "Contamination OCD". This could also be known as germaphobia. When the pandemic began, I began to be cautious. I would slide my sleeves over my hands to open doors at the college I was attending. I stopped touching things directly. For years I already practiced this in the bathroom, such as not touching stall locks before using the toilet or always washing my hands before and after I went. Due to medical issues, my doctors advised me to truly quarantine for 30 days or more. This sent my anxiety into a severe shock. I truly, genuinely did not leave my home for 30 days. There may have been a few trash outings but I did not go to the stores or see friends; nothing. It is hard to describe how my touch was affected, especially if the reader does not understand contamination OCD. An example that truly became a problem for me is Amazon packages. For everyone else, Amazon was still running and this allowed everyone to still have fun; to still live. For me, any package I took in, I used gloves. I would not touch the box. In my mind, the carrier could have had COVID, which would be outside the box. Inside, the handler could have coughed on the item as well. Even the manufacturer could have contaminated it. I cut trash bags in half and laid my items on them as I carefully dissected each one. Anything that came into my home, groceries too, was wiped down with bleach or Clorox wipes (if I had them). Amazon packages were quarantined for 10-14 days in a cupboard so the alleged virus would die and then I could use it. I remember how dry my hands were from washing 20 times a day, at least. The way the bleach would hurt my hands if I forgot gloves. Clorox wipes were familiar and on ration as I cut each one in half to make them last. The gloves I had were the last box in my city after searching for a whole day. I had tickets booked to Seoul, South Korea the first week of March 2020...which was obviously cancelled. For me, everything was dirty until I got to it. Even then, I barely trusted it. My couches, handles, walls, phone, laptop, window, groceries, bags, clothing, and more all went through cleaning as they came into my home. I would never sit on any furniture in "dirty" clothes from the outside. I had to shower and throw them in the wash. My mind was obviously anxious and ill. While I have severely recovered and pushed those limits, I still find myself holding onto those habits, knowing the risk is still out there. My hands still dry out from washing and I use hand sanitizer too much. I haven't had COVID yet, so I am holding out. -
2020-03-11
The Smell of "Clean"
How I personally remember the pandemic is mainly through the olfactory sense. The smell of bleach and Lysol filled just about every public area during the time of the pandemic, and many things spent more time than needed being disinfected with bleach water. The smell of Lysol makes me feel a bit in despair since it is so heavily linked to a very lonely and sad time in the world. The smell of bleach makes me feel a bit ill now, even three years later. I had only ever used bleach for cleaning while at work, disinfecting changing tables and toys, but now I remember it as a time of sadness and sickness. The idea of "clean" will likely never be what it was years ago, and the population will probably never be able to live well knowing the existence of germs. -
2020-06-21
Disinfectant Battle at the Doctor's Office
The photo was taken at the beginning of the pandemic, probably a Friday in the summer because I was not wearing scrubs (casual Fridays). I was working in a pediatric office as a medical assistant in Litchfield County, Connecticut. If you know anything about that area, it was scary at the time because all of the families with any means in NYC were fleeing the city and coming to Litchfield and Fairfield Counties. We were quite nervous at the time that they would spread covid to our communities at the same rate as it was in NYC. Luckily it did not happen. It was a scary time, as every day we would get the ding in the morning and the end of the day of an email notification telling us how many deaths were in local hospitals, how many beds were left (spoiler- none), how much PPE was available (again, none) etc. We were so short on PPE we had to reuse our masks for a whole week (unless exposed of course). I can still remember the feeling of the little fabric “firs” that would start to itch my face after a few days, and the nice smelling essential oils we put in them to make wearing them tolerable- I used citrus smells, and my coworker used coconut. The worst was the lack of cleaning and disinfecting products. We tried to not see patients that were even remotely sick with covid symptoms because we did not have enough cleaner to disinfect the rooms after they left. When we were fortunate enough to get a new bottle of Lysol, we would take fun photos like this one of me threatening my coworker whom I suspected was covered in germs. Little moments like this helped to alleviate the stress of the moments when that email ding came in at the end of the day. -
2020-03-29
Homemade Food Tasted Different During the Breakout of COVID-19.
I have a love for baking and cooking which takes up lots of my time when I'm not doing schoolwork. I love trying new and exciting recipes because food from different parts of the world is like a new historical experience. I was a sophomore in college when the pandemic caused us to go into lockdown. We had just come back from spring break, and I remember getting an email saying that we would be moved to online instruction for the remainder of the semester. I was scared because it really hit me that school would not be the same ever again. Luckily, I did not get COVID, but my dad almost died from it. Everyone in my house was separated which meant I had no social life due to not being able to talk to anyone. I turned to baking as a way for me to not think about my sick dad. I basically lived upstairs from my parents. Whatever I made, I would leave for them on the steps to take. Even though my food was delicious, I lost a sense of taste because I wasn't enjoying it with anyone. Food is about culture and people; they go hand in hand. When you don't have that sense it changes how you feel on a social level. When you cook, you want people to enjoy what you're making. -
2020-08-06
Knock Knock
During the summer of 2020 I was taken from my current unit (where I work as a nurse) back to the ICU to care for the overflowing patients. The ICU is a very noisy place, but one noise that was new was the knocking. To go into a COVID patient's room you have to put on booties, a full length gown, two pairs of gloves, an N95 mask and a surgical mask along with eye protection. It is a lengthy process so once you are in the room you don't leave until all tasks are complete. So if you need something when you’re in there you would knock on the glass doors of the patient's room and one of the helper nurses would come and read what you had written on the door in a marker and get the items for you. It was so quite in the rooms, no families were allowed so it was you, the machines and the patient. It was so hot you could feel the sweat dripping down your back and pooling in the arms of your gown. It was a very isolating feeling, usually there are lots of hands and people in your rooms with you to help or just to chat but not during COVID. The knock-knock could be heard all down the hall. It reminds me of the isolation we all experienced during this time and also how resilient we are and how helpful nurses are to each other. Nursing is a team sport. It is a sound and an experience I will never forget. -
2020-07
Apparently I Have Opinions About Hand Sanitizer Now?
I graduated with my bachelor's degree in April 2020, shortly after my state began heavy COVID-19 shut downs. The plans I had for my career took an unexpected pause. After several months, I finally found work at a local convenience store as a cashier. To accommodate heightened concerns about hygiene and sanitation, we had several bottles of hand sanitizer set up around the checkout areas for both customers and employees. I didn't know how different hand sanitizer brands could be. I suspect that the sudden demand for it during the pandemic must have led to cheaper, lower quality versions being distributed more widely, but our hand sanitizer was the worst. If you pressed the lid of the bottle, you would suddenly find your hands full of a large, unwieldy blob of what felt like elmer's glue and smelled somewhere between a rotten banana and a doctor's office. Try as you might to rub it away, you would inevitable be left with sticky residue all over your hands until you washed them. I guess in that sense it was an effective sanitizer in that it probably made a lot of people actually wash their hands. I no longer work at the gas station, but every time I think of that first COVID summer and that job that I was both so thankful and a little disappointed to have, I think of the feeling of that hand sanitizer. -
2022-05-27
A Quiet Workplace
This is to describe the sensory changes I experienced when I visited my employer's main office during the lockdown. -
2020-05-17
Bells, Breezes, and Sirens
The warmest April on record, yet we were all stuck inside. The streets usually congested with the honks of angry black cabbies, the loud hum of overused mufflers on double decker buses and the low rumble of the tube running underfoot were silent. The metropolis of over nine million people had come to a standstill. Windows usually closed to protect against the sleet or smog, were opened to quiet clean breezes. London felt serene, almost idyllic, until the piercing siren of an ambulance run would cut through that fairytale. Before COVID I never paid attention to the St. John’s Ambulance First Aid Training facility on my street, only occasionally seeing the paramedics pop in the Arabic supermarket next door during lunch. As the news was counting the number of days we were in lockdown, I started counting the number of ambulances lining my street; popping my head out the open windows, looking up and down the road. However, sitting in my favorite chair in my flat, back to the window, I could avoid the grim sight, a constant reminder of the reality of the pandemic. I would take my tea in that purple chair, alternating between endless Netflix shows and books, the church bells across the street the only thing to remind me of time. The warm sun and smog less breeze would join the bells drifting through the open windows. Through the books and shows, I not only escaped COVID but my small London flat. The silence of the city amplifying my imagination, only to be shattered by that first initial scream of the sirens, jolting me back to reality. Willing to sacrifice the warm breeze at my back, I closed my windows to protect my ears and the fantasies I had created. However, the double paned windows, sturdy enough to block out the honks of angry black cabbies, were no match for the sirens. Unable to even slightly defend against the shock of the sirens when surrounded by the new silence of the city, I learned to live with it. I reopened my windows to let in bells, breezes, and sirens, instead tuning my ear to notice the ambulance’s first turn of the engine to brace for the piercing scream that would soon follow. As the days continued, my ears started to acclimate to this new normal, with each ambulance run making me jump a little less off my chair. Though my body and mind would never accept the sound enough to not to jolt me even from the deepest sleep, as if to remind me that this was anything but normal. -
2020-09-01
Incense, Prayer, and Wool
One of the most profound sensory experiences I had over the course of the COVID-19 pandemic was the new yet comforting experiences that engaged all the senses of visiting St. Anthony the Great Monestary in Florence, Arizona. My first visit, I stayed for a long weekend. Visitors remaining at the monestary for more than a day are put to work on the grounds, aiding the monks in their daily work. I was put in the kitchen due to my previous experience in a commercial kitchen setting. The diet at the monastery is remarkably simple; a bean and rice soup, bread, and tangerines grown at the monastery. None of the smells of these foods were new or remarkable to me, but instead this provided an interesting aural experience. The monks pray constantly in everything they do, and kitchen work was no different. Low, repetitive Greek prayers were the only auditory input in the kitchen, aside from the hum of the dishwasher and the clinking of utensils against pots. Services were held in the early morning, around 3:00am. While making my way from the guests' lodging to the church, I heard a rhythmic wood-on-wood striking, reverberating across the monastery. I saw the source. A monk was striking a wooden board, suspended in the air by two chains, with two wooden mallets. This was essentially the call for the service to start. I later learned from another pilgrim that this practice was adopted by Greeks living in Ottoman-controlled Greece when restrictions on church bells were implemented. The service itself, too, was a sensory experience unlike any other. Sonorous Byzantine chants, clouds of aromatic incense, all lit by candlelight and a handful of small oil lamps. The sense of touch was also engaged; I felt the wool prayer rope in my hand, each knot a tactile counter for the number of prayers completed. Nearly every sense was full engaged in this temporary and much needed respite from the chaos of the outside world during uncertain times.