Author: Liz

Hi again from Penang. Still here and with no concrete plans to leave and no reopening date for Gabe’s or Julia’s schools.   

Throughout this experience it has been our preference to return to our apartment and life in Xiamen. On the daily, we hem and haw about what to do when our Airbnb reservation runs out – which mind you we’ve already extended and are about to extend again. Stay in Penang. Return to the U.S. and risk the possibility that Gabe’s school campus will open and we’ll have to turn right back around, or Julia and I would stay and Gabe would just go back. Or go back to Xiamen, where it seems, from afar at least, like things are slowly reopening.

We were a few clicks away from buying airline tickets, until we learned through our building’s security guard that we’d be subject to a strict 14-day quarantine in our apartment upon our return. We’d be unable to leave except for elevator rides down to the lobby to collect food deliveries. Supposedly someone from the hospital would come by to take our temperature twice a day and we’d have to “check in” on a WeChat app as well.  Quarantine requirements at the time varied by district and building, which made it hard to know exactly what to expect. The uncertainty of what awaited us was a deterrent — as was the idea of two weeks inside. I know myself well enough to know that 14 days indoors with a toddler would be tough. But part of me thought: millions of people across China had already gone through this, and maybe we should be willing to as well. I have a lot of respect and sympathy for the millions of Chinese who have literally been stuck inside their homes for weeks on end. Our friends in Xiamen who were in their house for about a month (they also have a two-year-old), with the exception of taking out the trash every two days and getting their temperature checked as they did so.

The tug to return to Xiamen has felt a stronger because it seems as though things really are under control and that it may very well be the safest place to be right now in terms of catching the virus, which in general isn’t a big fear of ours. There have been 35 people diagnosed in our city, all of them cured and discharged, and no new cases in at least two weeks. The total number of daily new cases in all of China has dipped to around 100. China locked down virtually every city, closed schools and businesses, and implemented strict measures to contain the virus. It was an enormous undertaking, and I’m not sure many countries could have mobilized a response so quickly. The massive and far reaching economic and social toll of this approach aside, the number of new cases has dropped dramatically and it feels like a turning point with the next step being to open up and return to daily life. With that comes the risk of new cases, but what’s the alternative?

While things improved in China, we watched what was unfolding across the rest of the world — the scale of the virus, the ripple effects, and the vastly different government responses, some more effective than others. It’s touching everyone, in one way or another.

In many ways Penang feels like a safe haven, with no cases. We are free to go about what has become our daily routine, with Gabe working and Julia and I hitting the pool or playground or wandering a new park. We’ve met nice people and actually had a playdate with not only a fellow Vermonter, but a fellow CVUer (our high school for you non-VTers out there). This continues to feel like a good place to be, but the pull to go back to our home is very real.

Lastly, let’s all wash our hands a lot and maybe not buy up all the protective medical gear our hospitals need or a lifetime supply of toilet paper.

Well, here we are in George Town, Malaysia, with an uncertain return date to China. At this point, and with a likely-to-be-extended March 2nd reopen date for Gabe’s school, most of the people we know decided to leave Xiamen. Some returned to the States, while others have temporarily relocated around Southeast Asia. Closed businesses and parks, movement restrictions, frequent temperature checks, and the onslaught of flight cancellations prompted many to leave. Not being there , and intentionally minimizing the amount of news we consume, has given us a bit of a reprieve from dwelling on the uncertainty, at least until the next update from Gabe’s school. In the meantime, Gabe has become a digital nomad teaching online, and Julia and I are playground-scouting and wandering this new place.

We knew almost nothing about George Town until a week ago, but a few of Gabe’s coworkers are here and had good things to say. Going from a city of nearly 10 million to one of 700,000 has been a welcome change. Bangkok is one-of-a-kind with its amazing food, night markets, and temples, but it’s also relentless in its traffic, noise, heat, grit, and energy, all part of what makes it so dynamic, but also a lot to take in day after day. Our Airbnb high-rise, with pristine grounds and an obscenely large infinity pool, offered a comfortable respite, but as soon as you stepped out onto the sidewalk beyond the gate, you were right back in the thick of it. A mix I really do love, just in small doses. After two weeks, a change of scenery and some trees were overdue.

George Town is the capital city of the state of Penang, on an island off the northwest coast of Peninsular Malaysia. It’s one of the most culturally diverse cities in the region, well known for its incredible food scene. While Islam is the official religion, Christianity, Buddhism, and Hinduism all have a presence. Malay, Indian, Chinese, and European influences show up in everything from the food to the architecture in the old part of George Town, a UNESCO World Heritage site. English is widely spoken and the city feels more modern than we expected. In appearance, it reminds us a little of Xiamen, with the water and pockets of green hills and trees. So far, we’re enjoying it.

Until further notice, this is where we’ll be working and exploring.