Items

• 2020-03-06

  The Two Week Break

  My Junior year at Midwood High School took an expected turn as a national emergency was declared on March 13, 2020. I remember watching the news with my mother, excited to see I would have two weeks off from school. My mother and I would both be home as all non-essential businesses moved to remote or closed down indefinitely. I immediately messaged my friends about the two week break, planning to play video games all day long. We spent those two weeks staying up late as if it was an extended spring break. Little did I know that those two weeks would turn into months of isolation, living in fear of going into the outside world. I feared for my father as he was a registered nurse at Woodhull Hospital. Not only did he have to go outside everyday for work, but he would be face to face with patients, many sick and dying from this new virus that took the world by surprise. There was no vaccine for almost an entire year, so all he could rely on were masks, gloves, face shields and hair nets. My father and many other medical workers were needed overtime to deal with the immense amount of patients coming in everyday. As he came home from work my mother would bring his clothes and leave them by our front door. I worried for him at work as I feared he could get this virus that we were still learning about. Thankfully he never got sick with Covid-19 during the early pandemic, and with the new vaccines in development many of our fears were put to rest. After almost two months of not having any classes we were introduced to remote learning through zoom and google classroom. It was a very new experience for my fellow classmates and I, but it was nice not having to leave your bed to go to class for a while. However that relief of not waking up early to go to class turned into yearning to go to school and seeing my friends. Waking up every morning to see a screen filled with blank profile pictures with names made me feel very lonesome. I would never imagine missing going to school, but it was something that I had taken for granted. In my senior year of high school there was the option for hybrid learning which I was very excited about, but I'd later find out that there would only be rows of desks set up in my school gyms we used for physical education. It wouldn't be the everyday schedule of switching classes and seeing my friends in the hallways and library. I ended up doing another year of remote learning which was very draining but I managed to do well in all my classes with nothing else to do. Unfortunately I did not have a prom or senior trip, but I was very lucky to have an in person graduation and see all of the people I once saw everyday again. This story of the pandemic is very significant to me as it taught me to never take things for granted as everything can change in a moments notice. The things I'd known as my everyday routine of school and hanging out became a distant memory for a long time until numbers and fears of the virus fell. Being able to go to campus now and have a regular life again is something I will now cherish forever. It is still somewhat hard to socialize again after being isolated for so long, but I have made some friends along the way and I look forward to all the memories that await me in the future.
• 2020-03-06

  Going Home

  At the start of the pandemic I was a freshmen in college at the University of South Carolina. We went on Spring Break and never came back to school for the rest of the semester. Classes were all online for about the next year, but I rented an apartment in Columbia so I could still be at school.
• 2020-03-06

  March of 2020

  March of 2020 is one of the most memorable dates in my life. I was a junior in high school, and news of COVID-19 spreading throughout the United States was increasingly growing. I remember being on a bus with people who went to my high school after our school's girls basketball team played a game a couple hours away from where our school was. Our team lost in a close regional finals game, so the ride back home was somewhat gloomy. I remember people behind me talking about this new virus, now COVID-19, and I heard them say, "I hope it doesn't come to Ohio." This moment is engrained in my mind because just a couple weeks later, the whole world went into lockdown, and I missed out on the rest of my junior year of high school. It is somewhat weird to think about how back in the earlier days of the pandemic, everyone was confused and worried about what COVID-19 was, and now, it is just a normal aspect of our lives today.
• 2020-03-06

  Senior to Sophomore

  It was the Friday before Spring Break. Senior year, everyone is joyful with big plans to get out of the harsh Arizona sun. Rumors of a flu-like virus spreading in China were heard but never hit mainstream media which meant, not our problem. I was helping out at our school's Volleyball tournament that day, listening to the new Lil Uzi album that was hyped for so many years, life simply could not get any better. I had secured a good scholarship for college and was nearing the end of my last semester of highschool without a doubt in my mind, but it all changed so quickly. No one knew that would be the last time I saw my graduating class, that I would never have a traditional graduation, that our final plans for the last day of school were all worthless. I still remember the day as if it never ended, the day when everything in my life went upside down and the world was sent into a mass state of panic and depression. Seeing friends was near impossible as everyone was scared of what may happen outside. So many people that I graduated with and interacted with every single day, gone, never to be seen or heard from again. Though Arizona did at first avoid most lockdowns and mask mandates, luckily many people still took the necessary precautions. The first lockdown was possibly the most eventful and enjoyable as everyone was in the same idle and confused state with nothing to do and no aim as for where to go. The rise of a new app called TikTok took the world by storm and provided entertainment for everyone. It was a new place for everyone to connect and share ideas and surely enough, society was instantly hooked. It was the beginning of the new online semester of schooling alongside the second wave of lockdown here that truly began the depressive wave on all students. Many students, as well as I, still to this today are struggling to stay focused in online schooling and this meant very poorly educated and depressed students for over a year. No amount of aid from teachers or staff could cure this lack of socialization and the sole ability to make friends and connections that is required in schools. All of a sudden, fast forward from the middle of my senior year of high school to Sophomore year at university, life has done a full 360 and social interaction is a foreign language. Masks are required so no one knows who is who and friend groups are only for those that pertained throughout the pandemic.
• 
  2020-03-06

  Liberated Seas

  I was working as a deck hand on a ship in the South Pacific at the threshold of the global pandemic lockdown. There are myriad sensations a sailor knows on any given day: the varying strength, temperature, and sound of the wind or the feel of the sun or its absence. Yet what struck me that day was an absence of the usual boat traffic and the distinctive sounds of powerful breaths punctuating the rush of sea on the hull. In the relative unusual scarcity of ships to threaten them with injuring or fatal collisions, migrating whales had gathered on the surface in unusual numbers. The usual dull roar of the maritime roar had been replaced by throaty deep breaths. The puffing sound of them exhaling in choir as they rose from the azure depths surrounded us, as the captain ordered for the ship to slow and halt. A pod rested on the waves, surrounding us. One can project human attributes on animals, but the whales are sentient beings and their breaths did sound like sighs of relief in the absence of any ships besides ours. The captain cursed at the delay but artificial sense of time of course was a human construct that seemed so dwarfed then by those giant breaths, a reminder of the primal rhythms of the sea and that we were ultimately an invasive species humbled by a virus and the natural power of the ocean.
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  2020-03-06

  It was supposed to be a week

  I was at my grandmas house with my siblings because my parents had work that day and needed someone to watch us. I was watching tik tok when our phones buzzed. I was in a cushy white lazy boy chair with a white throw blanket wrapped around me. The email detailed that we would get an extra week of spring break. We were so happy we got an extra couple days of break thinking we’d go back after a week or two. While this email isn’t the exact email they sent us that told us they were extending spring break, it shows how we were supposed to have a normal spring break. There was only supposed to be one week of spring break, but now I know the exact spot where I was sitting when the world nearly fell apart.
• 
  2020-03-06

  Food and House Supply Shortage

  When the pandemic first started people were out of control buying food and house supplies. There was a shortage on meat and the price rose up to an unreasonable price. Not only that the people were buying all the toilet paper. Like whom would have thought we will run out of toilet paper.
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  2020-03-06

  Pandemic Street Art: skubzmope says DON'T PANIC

  Graffiti of a toilet paper roll and the text, "DON'T PANIC"... People were panic buying items like toilet paper when the pandemic really started to take off in infection and death rates and quarantine/lockdowns were initiated in the spring of 2020.
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  2020-03-06

  The Peruvian Experience

  So I am down in Peru with three fellow students from Wesleyan University. We are just beginning our spring break, and had recently united in Lima before flying together to Cusco the next morning. Our plan was ambitious, chaotic, and irresponsible in hindsight; we had decided to hike the Salkantay Trek from Soraypampa to Aguas Calientes. The evening of our arrival, we were out to dinner when at 9 pm, my friend receives an alarming text from his mother stating that the Salkantay Trek was closed because of a historic mudslide that had decimated the entire trail below the highest pass. This slide sent at least 12 to their death (many remain missing today) while simultaneously displacing 430 families living in the valley. At the time, we were unaware of these disturbing statistics and decided to find a tourist agency that would perhaps guide us part of the way. At 10 pm that evening, we located a random tourist shop that was lightly populated by two employees in the backroom of a jumbled building of interior storefronts. They assured us that not only is the trek impassible at multiple points, but that the Peruvian government was preventing travelers from setting out on the trail. We offered to pay a guide to take us even part of the way, but they turned our proposal down. They did, however, secure us seats on a bus leaving at 5 am the next morning to Soraypampa where tourists engrossed themselves in a heavily assisted day-hike to Lake Humantay. We waiting in the darkness of the Plaza de Armas while bus after bus went to various other locations around Cusco. We dizzily wavered around due to the 11,000 feet of altitude gain that we had assumed less than 24 hours ago until a bus finally came to pick us up. From there, we dangerously (or so we thought at the time) drove through one-lane mountain roads in a loaded bus for nearly five hours. At last, we unloaded and grabbed our packs. We were the only backpackers in sight, and we planned on doing this trek without guidance both geographically and physically. As the rest of the hikers walked packless with sticks to the lake, we lagged behind, destroyed by the sudden difficulty of what was supposed to be an easy first day of trekking. Even with mouths full of coca leaves, two of us required sips of the small oxygen canister we picked up the day before. Our bodies pulsed with symptoms of altitude sickness, but we pressed on. No other view could have made me smile as widely as that of glacial Lake Humantay as we crested the final ascent. At 14,500 feet of altitude, we laughed at the fantastic beauty before us. We had arrived in the early afternoon, and found ourselves almost totally alone beside this pool in the Andes Mountains. Our descent was horrible. Pulsing again were headaches, fatigue, shortness of breath, and swelled joints. In our divergence from the path most traveled, we entered a trail of horse, cow, and llama (domesticated guanaco as we kept on) crap; an uncomfortable rain began to fall, and we found ourselves walking through a mountain feed mist. Within all of our heads was the terrible thought of setting up camp in the rain. Our level of exhaustion was overly evident to any onlooker (there was no one), but as the rain let up and our camp became established, moods lifted and excitement spiked. We were observing the most beautiful sunset display any of us had ever seen. The sun, setting at around 4:00 pm because of the extreme prominence of the surrounding mountains, swirled its orange and pink on the snow-covered top of Mount Salkantay almost as a kind of sorbet is presented at an ice-cream shop. Our wide smiles disappeared as a frigid wind whipped through the valley that we were so exposedly staying in. Dinner in the dark was followed by an unmatched view of eye-contracting stars as we retreated to the chilled interior of our tents. Altitude sickness plagued any chance of a good night's sleep, and we awoke frozen and in a misty cloud. It was this day that we would trek through the Salkantay Pass at 15,220 feet of altitude. Endless switchbacks defined the first half of the day. We toiled over each step, our packs dragging each attempt to press on. After a few hours of extreme exertion and chill, we passed through the highest point of the trek. Once the clouds parted, an incredible view of the mudslide's decimation shocked us into the reality of our unguided trek. The slide refigured the landscape with a melting expanse of boulders climbing both sides of the valley and completely filling in the previous location of the Salkantay Lake. Armed with a compass and an enthusiastic "we can't turn back now" mindset, our trek took us through a few miles of trailless movement into the valley ahead. The rest of this day wasn't by any means forgiving. Passing through a newly abandoned town, over a sea of boudlers and deep, wet sand, and into the jungle valley brought set after set of challenges. Towards hour 11 of the day's hiking, a thunderstorm burdened the final steps we had to take. The valley was steep, and beneath us crept a barren section of forest where the river washed away all vegetation in existence (it rose over 130 feet in some sections). Once we had almost made it to the supposed location of the next town, we hopped another small waterfall and rounded another unpromising corner to see only a gap. For about the length of a track, a secondary mudslide caused by the huge forest laceration made by the river's rise opened up to an impassible section of an unstable dirt cliff-face. We spent the next hour cautiously pressing up and around the empty gap in the forest in the ongoing rain. From there, we very quickly arrived in the next town, populated but in a state of emergency. Their supply of food had been entirely cut off, and reserves were running dangerously low. The following day, we were shown to a couple of provisional bridges that the locals had erected just two days before with some fallen logs and sticks. More treacherous than anything any of us had done, we inched along the sloped, wet logs that stretched over the intersection of two overflowing rivers. Later that day, a mile long mudslide had taken out another part of the trail, but this one was dry and had experienced some local foot traffic (there were no roads for the first four days of trekking). We got ahead that evening, and camped on a man's land high in the valley steeps who informed us that we had been the only group to travel the Salkantay Trek route for the entirety of the year 2020 (this was in March mind you). The next day of trekking was far longer than we had expected, but traveling alone through an ancient village to a phenomenal viewpoint of Machu Picchu made it worth it. We ended in with a beat arrival in Aguas Calientes, but that evening was full of celebration and restaurant food. Two of us woke up with food poisoning, and we decided to travel back to Cusco midday rather than in the evening. Upon arriving at our hostel, President Vizcarra came on the television to announce that Peru would close its airports in 24 hours. At the time of our departure in Soraypampa, the coronavirus had only spread widely in China and Italy, but when we got out, the internet flooded our phones with the reality of online classes, the spread of the virus into a pandemic, and the global closing of boarders. Panic-ridden, we awoke at 5 am to escape the claim that hostels and hotels would be locked from the outside by the police to force a 15-day quarantine period set by the Peruvian Government. We waited outside in the rain until the last flight to Lima departed with us onboard (our ticket had coincided with the last day of open airports by sheer luck). In Lima, we were locked in our friend's house, prevented from going outside by the fear of getting arrested by the endless number of police and military stationed on the streets of the city. Day after day passed, we played chess, meditated, and hoped for an email from the U.S. Embassy of Peru. Weeks passed, and the panic of my family was calmed by my less-bothered conscience. After daily reminders pointing towards the extension of our visit to Peru to months, the housing situation ended for two of us, and we ventured to a nearby hotel to wait out the rest of our stay in Lima. By some miracle, we were then put in touch with a DEA agent helping at the embassy (the DEA helped out because the chair of the embassy and many of his employees all fled back to the U.S. leaving thousands of citizens stranded for much longer). The person who aided us brought us to the embassy to get on a departing repatriation flight as standby passengers. In a rare moment of animation, my friend and I flew on an unfilled flight directly to Washington, D.C. Our trip had ended, but our quarantine in a very strange new world had just begun. I want to note that I skipped large swaths of experience to fit this shortened story into a mildly digestable piece. I also did not read through it yet so forgive any mistakes or sections lacking flow.
• 2020-03-06

  The Abrupt Ending to My Senior Year

  Everyone was always saying how quickly senior year of high school would really go, how you want to cherish every moment you have because it will end before you know it. Well, for me and all the other graduating 2020 seniors across the globe really got to see how quickly it can end. On March 6th, 2020 at Dallastown Area High School in York Pennsylvania, we were informed over the loud speaker that we would be taking an extended absence from in classroom schooling for the time being, and little did we know it would be our last time stepping into the school as students. The whole day was a blur to me as I look back at it. I went into the day with my normal routine, breakfast, drive to school, and hang with my high school buddies in the parking lot until it was time for 1st period to start. There was no thought in our minds of what was going to go down that day. All day the rumors spread from person to person like wildfire that we would be sent home for school for a period, which differentiated depending who you heard the information from. The fear of Covid-19 in my area wasn’t as imposing as some other regions of the United States, so I was perplexed in why we would be getting sent home and frankly, didn’t believe what I was hearing, or I didn’t want to. But then it happened, our principal came over the loudspeaker during the last period of the day, and last of my high school tenure. Feelings were flying in my head of heartbreak and worry. Was I going to get my senior prom that my girlfriend and I have been excited for all year? Was I going to get anymore experience writing with the student newspaper that I had just joined? And many other thoughts swirled around my head like a merry go round. I went home that day with high hopes of coming back after the initial two week period that was set by the school, but before the week was concluded, we received the heartbreaking news that the remainder of the school year would be completed entirely online. I could not believe it; my senior year of high school was over in the blink of an eye. They did not come out and say it, but it slowly started to set in that this meant more than just no school. It meant no prom, no traditional graduation that you worked 13 long years of school for, no more hangouts with your best friends on Friday nights for the time being. In my head, there was people I knew I would never see again, who I did not hang out with outside of school. Some many emotions filled my head as the bad news kept coming and coming, but there was nothing I could do about it. It was a tragic event that we all had to live with, and I guarantee if we all had the opportunity, we would all go back a change the high school ending experience we were all forced to face.
• 
  2020-03-06

  A Twitter post suggesting use of an alternate term for self-isolation.

  A Twitter post by user @Sarklor suggesting why we should say we've been 'exiled for the good of the realm' instead of saying we're self-isolating. I think this is a funny way to refer to self-isolation. Use of humor can also be a good way to get people to practice self-isolating when they would rather not. I think it fosters a community surrounding something we're all going through in our own bubbles. #HST580 #ASU #Twitter #Humor
• 2020-03-06

  Not the Only Thing To Spread

  Time Magazine's website put out an article on how as the Coronavirus spreads, so does Xenophobia and Racism towards Asian races and cultures.
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  2020-03-06

  Social Nights in Las Vegas, Nevada

  The image was taken nearside the busy streets of late-night Las Vegas, the Friday when ASU’s spring break initially started. However, to describe this image would be to pinpoint a moment in time where a large group of people have gathered together to enjoy a night in Vegas with no fear of keeping their distance. When I took this photo the majority of people and community seemed to flourish both economically and socially. This image reflects a distinct contrast of how people are socializing under the current circumstances as of now. Nevertheless, this picture was taken because a few friends and I planned on going to Vegas as a spring break trip, as a result this image embodies a typical social and eventful night in Las Vegas, where many people gathered in their own activities while still at a close distance. Thus, what this image tells us about the pandemic is how quickly social and societal norms could abruptly change in a few months of time. What this image also says about the pandemic is how even though social fear is heavily sensed, there were and will be more moments when we will all come together and enjoy each other’s company once again. As a result, this image serves as a reminder that we will all overcome this predicament together and come back as a collective community to not only live, but thrive. Essentially, what this image tells us about this pandemic as well is that even though under strict social distancing we should all still take part in the views and activities that make us happy, even if we have to be a little more creative in how we take part in such functions. *This item is a self-taken photograph that was enhanced with camera settings to make the image appear lighter and the colors to stand out more vibrantly.
• 
  2020-03-06

  International spring break trips cancelled, Suffolk warns students abroad amid coronavirus concerns

  The Suffolk Journal, Suffolk University's student run newspaper, reports on Suffolk's decisions around campus during the pandemic.
• 
  2020-03-06

  Complimentary Hand Sanitizer at Large Public Function, New Orleans, LA

  At a fundraiser held weeks before stay-at-home orders were put into effect, this event hall put out miniature bottles of sanitizers for their guests to take with them. A sign on display at the entrance of the event encouraged guests to not hug or kiss when greeting one another.
• 
  2020-03-06

  The Privilege of Food and Resource Availability

  In this pandemic many families have to stock up on groceries, cleaning supplies, etc. to feed and keep their family safe and nurtured throughout the quarantine. But not a lot of people are able to afford their kids coming home from college, stocking up for a week in advance, or replacing the school provided breakfasts and lunches. My mom and dad aren't rich, but they work very hard to provide for me, their parents, my four other siblings, and others in need. This picture shows much of America's privilege and makes you think of Americans inability to provide for their family, especially when people may be getting laid off right now. I hope everyone is able to get all the things they need to survive during this pandemic.