The Pandemic Travels of an Expat
I’d been slowly tallying the week count in my head throughout my time in America. I had kicked off countless conversations with people from all pockets of the country telling them my covid-classic story, starting every conversation with the current week count — on dive boats to ski lifts to hiking trails to barstools. But I haven’t told you yet about my journey to every corner of America and back again in the middle of a global pandemic.
What was supposed to be a 6-week work trip back to America turned into 29 weeks of personal discovery.
“I’ve been in America for 4 weeks!!” I celebrated with my friends as we were in the thick of our long overdue reunion. Finally returning to New York City for the first time since the pandemic began, I was thrilled to be revisiting my former stomping grounds. Unfortunately, I was not nearly as capable of a drinker as I was when living there. After a handful of college-esque Friday nights out and the most unproductive, lost Saturdays one could imagine, I quickly came to realize I no longer had what it took to manage NYC nightlife.
“…I’ve been in America for 10 weeks,” I told a group of new diving friends, as we plunged into freezing morning waters off the coast of Los Angeles. While I was growing a bit weary from my travels, I was…
