On the morning of Wednesday, February 5th, I, and other faculty members, received an email offering us the opportunity to go to Duke University and teach our classes online. We would have the support of the team there and more peace of mind as it comes to the coronavirus.
Up until this point, Ben and I were not planning to leave China. As I mentioned in my previous post, leaving China would not be that simple because Alaya would need a passport and an exit-entry permit. However, this offer got me thinking. I immediately turned to Ben, who was working on his computer behind me, and asked if he would be interested in going. He was if we could manage to get Alaya the documents she needed. So, we both began working on finding out what we needed to do to get Alaya a passport and exit-entry permit. Ben looked into the exit-entry permit requirements in Mandairn, and I emailed the US Consulate in Shanghai about a passport.
Early that afternoon, I received a phone call from someone at the US Consulate in Shanghai, saying that they had received my email and they could issue Alaya an emergency passport the next day. I was amazed by this, and they helped me to schedule an appointment for the next afternoon. Within an hour, I received an email stating all the documents I would need to apply for Alaya’s passport.
Now, it’s important to note here that before the email inviting us to Duke, I was already scheduled to get Alaya a passport the following week, just in case. The following week was the earliest appointment available on the system when I’d looked on Monday. Now they were making an exception by making an appointment for me the next day. This, however, did mean that I had to spend the rest of Wednesday filling out paper work, gathering documents, arranging a car into Shanghai (Ben did that part), and figuring what we’d need to apply for the exit-entry permit (Ben took care of that too).
That night we called Ben’s parents and briefly explained the situation, as we needed the hukoubu, or residence book, which Ben’s dad helped us track done after a few calls. This residence book is essential for health, welfare, and other benefits. We needed it when we got married and when Ben applied for a US visa, and we’d need it again to apply for Alaya’s exit-entry permit. At the time, it was in Ben’s cousin’s hands in Shanghai. So, we arranged to have a car for a full day. The driver would take us to the US consulate for Alaya’s emergency passport, to Ben’s cousin’s place for the residence book, and then to the Exit and Entry Bureau (EEB) to apply for Alaya’s exit-entry permit.
Besides tracking down the residence book, that night we talked about the risk we would be taking by leaving our home. Arranging a car for the whole day meant that we would primarily only be in contact with one person during transit, and that person would be wearing a mask, as would we. The main problem was that Alaya was too small to wear a mask. She was the person most at risk if we took her out. However, she needed to be present to apply for her passport and for her exit-entry permit, at least the first time. Even if we managed to get through that day unscathed, what about the trip to Durham? Wasn’t the safest place for Alaya at home with us? If we could acquire all the documents we needed, what about the risk of being on an airplane for so many hours with strangers? Checking in, going through security, waiting to board, using the bathroom, and so much more. All of these were opportunities to touch an object that someone who was a coronavirus carrier had touched.
Ultimately, we decided we needed to get Alaya a passport. Even if we didn’t make it Durham, we needed to have the document in hand in case we decided we needed to leave the country at some point. Ben specifically said that even if we needed to leave him behind and be evacuated out, he wanted Alaya to be able to go. We didn’t know where was the safest place to be, but we wanted options.
The next day, we got into the car we’d arranged at 10am. It then took us two hours to get to our first destination. A half hour of this time was spent passing from Kunshan into Shanghai. We had to fill out a registration form with our ID information and receive a text message confirmation before we could pass. The government was serious about tracking everyone’s movement.
As we drove through the streets of Shanghai, we were amazed by how empty it all was. There were very few cars and people on the road. It felt like a ghost town. Upon arrival near the US consulate, we made several calls to photoshops nearby to see if any were open and able to help us with Alaya’s passport photo. Most places were closed. After making several calls, one place agreed to help us photoshop a photo we had taken ourselves and print it. They couldn’t take the photo, as this involved human interaction. This shop would also help us print all the forms and other documents we would need for our application. One thing we learned from the coronavirus is that it’s beneficial to have a printer at home. Once we had a place to print the photos, we needed to find a place to have lunch.
Starbucks was one of the two restaurants around us that was open for business. The other place was McDonald’s.
When we arrived at Starbucks, after walking through an empty mall, they took our temperature and asked that we use some hand sanitizer. In fact, when we entered the mall, the security guard there also took our temperature. We’d have our temperatures taken several more times that day. After we sat down in the near empty Starbucks—seats have never been easier to find at a Starbucks in Shanghai—we set about trying to take a photo of Alaya. Let me say that trying to get a 6-month-old to sit for a passport photo is no easy feat. She hadn’t been outside in weeks, so she was looking all around her instead of at the camera. When we finally got a shot that worked, the person said the background was too dark to photoshop the picture well (it cut off her hair). So, we had to try again with different backgrounds. Unfortunately, Starbucks is not a place known for its light-colored furniture.
By time we finished eating, feeding Alaya, and picked up all the required documents, it was almost 1:30pm, which was the time of our appointment. Going through security was quite the process, with a stroller, diaper bag, and large backpack. There are so many things one cannot bring into the US Consulate, it felt like a puzzle trying to make sure we brought everything we needed but not any of things we couldn’t take in. Ben had to return to our bags several times. For instance, when they called us to the window to present our documents, we realized we’d brought 2 of 3 folders we needed. Then we realized we hadn’t printed enough copies of all the documents, which under normal circumstances would have meant having to reschedule our appointment, but that day, they printed it out for us. Once they finally organized all of our documents, we were called to the window to pay.
Except I brought neither USD cash, a US credit card, nor RMB cash.
If this story thus far doesn’t indicate the level of stress we were living under, the fact that we forgot to bring money to pay for the Consular Report of Birth Abroad (CRBA) and passport says it all. Fortunately, it was a day when they were being very understanding, so they let Ben leave the consulate to go get some money from the nearest ATM and come back in to pay. This is definitely unheard of. I was immensely grateful Ben had thought to bring his wallet, which had his bank card. I had nothing. I was accustomed to a life of using my phone to pay for everything. Even my US credit cards were all on my phone via ApplePay. However, a phone is one of those things that you can’t bring in with you.
Ultimately, we were able to pay for the passport with RMB cash, and when we got called to do our interview, it was already 2:45pm. At this point, Alaya was fast asleep, but I felt surprisingly, immensely proud when the diplomat said, “Your daughter is now a US citizen.” I wasn’t expecting to feel any way about it, but I felt surprisingly happy and quite relieved.
I was nervous, however, about the time. It would take them another half hour to print out her emergency passport, and we still needed to go to Ben’s cousin’s place and the EEB. At 3:25pm, we rushed out of the consulate as quickly as we could with a sleeping baby and too much stuff.
My heart sank a bit in the car when I saw that it would take approximately 24 minutes to drive to Ben’s cousin’s place. In fact, the driver was confident we wouldn’t make it to the EEB in time. He suggested not bothering, but Ben convinced him to try anyway. It was worth a shot. Before we got to his cousin’s place, Ben called him to come down with the residence book. This saved us a lot of time, as we skipped all the niceties, simply grabbing the book and rushing off to the next stop. Alaya and I never even got out of the car, and Ben was only outside for about a minute.
The next stop, thankfully, was only about 12 minutes away. When we got to the entry-exit bureau, it was 4:25pm. I was concerned that they might not even let us in, but they did after taking our temperature and requiring us to use hand sanitizer. The EEB has three floors, and we would need to go to the third floor, with our stroller. They had an elevator, but like many accessibility resources in China, you had to get someone to turn it on for you. This slowed us down a few minutes. Fortunately, as they were getting ready to wrap up for the day, there were no lines. The bad news was that we needed to make copies of several documents (which was in a nother location, of course). So, Ben left us to fill out forms and ran to get things copied.
Once we finished on the third floor, we had to run to the first floor for the final steps. At this point, the place was set to close in less than 10 minutes. As Ben finished the final steps, I changed Alaya’s diaper and made a pit stop at the bathroom myself. When I came out, Ben was searching for the person who would help us mail the permit to our home, but that person had already left. The security guard suggested that we just pick it up in-person, which was just as well because who knew how long it would take after the permit was ready to be mailed to our home during this time. Under normal circumstances, a package shipped from Shanghai to Kunshan could take less than a day. Now, it was unclear when the package would arrive.
We were told that the permit would be ready by February 17th, the latest. This seemed forever away in epidemic days. It was only the 6th. I was afraid of what would happen between the 6th and the 17th. Already, Delta had stopped all direct flights from China to the US until April. Other airlines were doing the same. After February 9th, there would be no direct flight options. As we walked out of the EEB, they turned off the lights and the air conditioning. The message was loud and clear. Get out. We’re going home.
I was okay with that. We had done it. We had a passport for Alaya and the makings of an exit-entry permit. We may be able to go to Duke. Maybe.
When we got back from Shanghai, one of the security guards at our apartment complex told us that starting tomorrow (Feb. 7th), we would need a permit and our ID card to exit and enter the complex. He told us to stop by the next day with proof that we owned our apartment; we told him we rented. He said in that case we would have to go to the Property Management Office (PMO) to get our permit.
The next day, Ben went to see about getting our permit. At the PMO, they asked us for our proof of rent, which is apparently a document you can get to prove that you rent an apartment beyond your lease contract. Getting this proof of rent document is optional, and frankly, I’d never heard of it before. Unfortunately, since we didn’t have it in this case, though, the PMO could not give us a permit. This essentially meant that if we left the complex, we couldn’t get back in. When Ben came home and told me this, my stress level went through the roof.
What did that even mean? How were we going to get food if we couldn’t leave the apartment complex? I quickly ran through all the options we had available to us for getting food. Fortunately, there were still one or two delivery options that could come to the gate of the complex. Surely, we could still pick things up from the gate without a permit, I hoped. However, those services were intermittent. Would they still be available tomorrow or the day after? How much food was in the fridge now? Was there anything else we needed to do outside our home before we left for Durham?
At this point, Ben saw that my stress level was really high, and he told me that the story didn’t end there. After he left the PMO, he decided to just swing by the guard station where they were handing out permits. After he talked to the guy, he left with four permits. Two for us, and two for Ben’s parents.
No, I didn’t kill Ben then and there, though I did explain that my stress level was already too high to handle his “humor.” This event did make one thing clear to me, though. If it was at all possible, I wanted to leave. The thought that I may not be able to leave my own complex was just too restricting. Even though we had the permits, I needed my passport and this permit just to leave the complex for groceries? The tracking and restriction of my movement made me feel like I was in prison. I was starting to understand what the lock down of the entire Hubei province might feel like. It was so stifling. It felt, on the one hand, that there wasn’t very much to truly be concerned about. Compared to the seasonal flu, the COVID-19 just happened to be new and also extremely well-publicized. At the same time, the measures being taken to control the spread were very real and created heightened feelings of anxiety and fear.
So, on Saturday, February 8th, with the go ahead of the Duke team, I bought our plane tickets to Durham for 01:45am on February 18th. We would be flying to Tokyo, then to Chicago, then to Raleigh-Durham.
10 days and counting.
Every morning, I would get up and check our flight status, the laws on who could enter Japan, and how many more confirmed cases there were of the COVID-19. As it was, there weren’t many flight options to the US. The flights through South Korea weren’t possible because Ben would need a visa—yes, just to transfer, he would need a visa. For Japan, they weren’t allowing any foreign nationals who had been to Hubei in the previous 14 days into the country. This, fortunately, didn’t apply to us.
On February 13th, my heart sank when I saw that Japan expanded their restrictions to include travelers who had been to Zhejiang province. We were again fortunate that this still didn’t apply to us. However, we still had four days before our trip. What if Japan expanded its restrictions further? What if those restrictions included Jiangsu province? Every day I felt that I was on pins and needles, unsure if we’d be able to get on that flight.
The restrictions in China were also becoming more severe. Some complexes were only allowing one family member to go out, and even then, only once every three days at most for food. I wasn’t sure if we’d be able to leave our complex. Also, the station where we’d been stopped and asked to register on our way to Shanghai for Alaya’s passport was now even more strict. People were being turned away if they didn’t live—own property—in Shanghai or have some other very important reason for going there. These new restrictions meant it took even longer to pass through, with reports by some that it took them 6 hours to pass. It took one of my colleagues 6.5 hours to get to the airport, when it’s normally at 90-minute trip. I began to wonder if we’d even be able to make it to the airport, not to mention Japan and the US.
As the date of departure approached, I spent a lot of time cleaning and organizing our home as if we’d be gone for approximately three months. This meant putting all of our clothes, bedding, and towels into vacuum sealed bags with moth balls as we live in a humid climate where things mold easily. At the same time, we had to be mentally prepared for the fact that we may not make it. Each day I hoped more and more that we could leave, that I could leave this stressful frame of mind. But I also felt a lot of guilt, after all, I at least had a choice. So many others couldn’t leave the lock down, the uncertainty, the fear.
Finally, Monday the 17th arrived. We still had to go pick up Alaya’s exit-entry permit, so we scheduled a car for 1:00pm that afternoon. Again, the EEB closes at 5pm, but we needed to give ourselves enough time to make it through the temperature check station. We hoped that having proof of our flight would be enough of a reason to be allowed into Shanghai. More than anything, we hoped that 4 hours ahead of time was enough to make it to the EEB. I was hopeful that it would be, given that it was off-peak hours.
When we arrived at the temperature-check station, we managed to get into a fast lane—our driver may have cut the line. The proof of flight was enough to get us through to Shanghai, and we reached the EEB by 3:00pm. Since we just needed to pick up the permit, Alaya and I stayed in the car. She’d been sleeping this whole time. By 4:00pm, we were at the airport, a near miracle! We were overjoyed we’d made it to the airport, though not looking forward to the 9+ hours we’d have to wait until our flight was ready for takeoff. It was the first time that my longest “layover” was in the city of departure. If something like this were to happen again with a 6-month-old, I would rent a hotel room for the wait. One, I didn’t want to sit around waiting with the other travelers, though there weren’t very many. Shanghai’s large international airport was the emptiest I’d ever seen an airport in my entire life. The departure’s and arrival’s boards were red with the word “CANCELED.” I checked frequently to ensure our flight was one of the exceptions. The other reason was that we had a lot of luggage we couldn’t yet check, and it was a pain moving around the airport with it.
Surprisingly, though tiring, the time at the airport went by fairly quickly. In the first two hours, we had to change Alaya’s diaper twice because of poop explosions and change her clothing once. Then it was time for dinner, which we ate slowly, and I also got a nice tea. Afterward, we had to change Alaya’s diaper and clothing again. We then repacked our bags a bit to make sure we had enough clothes and diapers in a carry on for Alaya. Suddenly, it was time for check-in. I was happy to be rid of our too many bags, though we still had two carry-on’s, two book bags, and a stroller.
When we went through customs, Alaya was sleeping in the carrier, but I had to take her out so they could see her face, and they did a pat down of her when we went through security. All of this, of course, woke her up. She wasn’t happy about it. I wasn’t either. Before we boarded our flight, I changed Alaya one last time, this time while simultaneously breastfeeding and thanking God that the changing table was just the right height to make both possible. It was no small physical feat and could qualify for an Olympic event. The alternative, however, would have been to change Alaya’s diaper while she screamed bloody murder. She didn’t like being awakened in the middle of the night.
The flight to Japan was quite easy as Alaya slept through all of it. Ben and I didn’t get much sleep, however. It was simply too short, and we were still chocked up on adrenaline. Would we be able to get into Japan? What would happen when we arrived in the US? When our flight landed, we came up with a game plan for getting off the plane. The aisles of our plane were not wide enough to push Alaya’s Doona car seat / stroller, so Ben had to carry it from our seat off the plane. The Doona by itself isn’t very light. With a 15+ pound baby inside, Ben was sweating by time we got off. As we checked that we had everything, Ben realized he had left our passports and tickets in the seatback pocket that was in front of him, so he went to retrieve them. The polite Japanese crew helped us to retrieve the items as we could not get back onto the plane after deboarding.
We then followed the signs in the airport to Customs. When we arrived, they asked if we had come from China. We said “Yes,” and then were directed through quarantine where a man showed us a paper in Mandarin and English and asked verbally if we had been to Hubei or Zhejiang province. At the same time I said “No,” Ben said “Yes.” As I turned to look at Ben in confusion, the man said “Yes?!” Then Ben said, “Oh, no. No. Sorry, I didn’t finish reading the sentence. I just saw China. We’re coming from China, but we haven’t been to Hubei or Zhejiang province.” The man said, “If yes, then no enter.” Ben repeated, “No, no, no, we haven’t been.”
The man let us pass, and I tried to wipe the look of incredulity off my face. I was like, “Dude, these are not situations in which you can skim and respond to the question.” My favorite emoji is of someone covering their face with their hand, crying and laughing at the same time. This was one of those moments. It was for us 4:30 am in the morning, and we were exhausted. I didn’t hold it against Ben. It wouldn’t stop me from teasing him mercilessly about it though. After going through security in Japan, we had to wait about 4 hours for our next flight. The time went by quickly as we took a nap, then we got Alaya dressed for the new day. The whole wipe down and change took almost an hour. I took the opportunity also to breastfeed her and freshen up myself. Before we knew it, it was time to board the next flight.
Thanks to Alaya, we got priority boarding. This priority wouldn’t mean much though as we found the seats we had selected—the ones with lots of leg room—would not accommodate her car seat. So, at the last minute, we ended up getting a seat change. This caused us to delay our flight by 15 minutes. I have to say that it’s the first time I think I’ve ever been the cause of a flight delay. This started our flight to the US on even more concerning terms. Unfortunately, the best flight option I could find had only a 2-hour and 55-minute layover in Chicago. Now, we had delayed our flight by 15 minutes, which meant we only had 2 hours and 30 minutes to go through customs, quarantine, pick up our bags, recheck our bags, go to a different terminal, go back through security, and get to our gate before it closed 10 minutes before takeoff. It was my hope that the pilot would be able to make up for the time in the air, but that didn’t happen, and we landed 25 minutes—yes, even later—than scheduled.
We came up with a plan again about getting off the plane, ensuring we didn’t leave anything behind. However, it was still slow moving with an infant. As we walked towards customs, we prayed that the line would not be long, but we were also prepared for the possibility of missing our flight. When we arrived at the kiosks to check our passport and answer the questions about the items we had in our possession, I was overjoyed to find the lines very short. However, the closer we moved to talking to a customs officer, the slower the process became. It was as though everything started moving in slow motion.
First, two people got moved in front of us. Also, the customs officer had to escort all the people from China to quarantine, which was a bit of a walk away, and the officer had not even the slightest pep in his step. He took each walk to be an unofficial break, and his walks back to his station were particularly slow, with him surfing his phone as he went. When it was finally our turn, I turned Alaya to face him so he could get a good look at her face for documentation confirmation purposes, as was necessary in China. He said, “Yeah, turn that baby around. You don’t see many Blasians, do you?”
I have to say, having been through Customs and Quarantine in three countries within 24 hours up until that point, I wasn’t quite expecting that response. I felt like the experience made the differences in cultures between the three countries quite stark. In the United States, I found the customs officers very approachable, but also quite chatty and inefficient, things I wouldn’t mind if I didn’t have a connecting flight to catch. After great scrutiny of Ben, checking his visa and purpose for being in the US, we were taken to quarantine for a second round of scrutiny by customs officers. Things slowed down even more there. There were even fewer people in line, but the questioning was time-consuming. Finally, we passed the final step, after proving that Ben and I were married, and we were taken to the CDC group who took our temperatures and more information about our travel history, our seat location on our flights, our final destination, and our contact information. They also gave us a handout to complete for a 2-week self-monitoring of our temperature and symptoms. Of all the people Ben and I interacted on our trip to the US, I would say the people at the CDC were the nicest, most genuine, down-to-earth, and considerate we’d encountered.
But the clock was ticking.
By time we got our bags and went to recheck them, we had only 50 minutes before our flight was set to take off, and the gates closed 10 minutes before that. My heart sank a bit when we went outside of the airport and found that we had to take a shuttle to get to Terminal 1. By time the shuttle left, we had 32 minutes before the gates closed. Fortunately, Terminal 1 was the first stop. We ran off, or as best we could with all our stuff and a 6-month old, toward security. Also, in our favor was that Chicago airport has an express lane for families. This allowed us to cut the line a bit, but in the US, you have to take so many items out of your bags. We also had to take off our shoes and put our stroller on the conveyor belt. In fact, a woman asked us if she could go ahead of us since we had so much stuff. I said yes, and the man behind her followed suit without asking. I had to stop from rolling my eyes.
We finally made it through security with 12 minutes left until the gates closed. But then I realized I had no idea where our gates were. Thankfully, the first person I asked checked on her computer for me. Unfortunately, we were in D, and our gate was at C. So, Ben ran ahead with our two carryon bags and a book bag, while I jogged with Alaya in the carrier, a book bag on my back, while pushing the stroller. We had to go up and down escalators, and I wasn’t sure we would make it. But we did make it, with five minutes to spare before the gate closed.
When we got on the small plane, everyone was already seated, and we must have looked quite haggard. We had way too many things to put in the overhead bins, which were thankfully fairly empty since most passengers had likely gate-checked their carryon. We got Alaya buckled in, and we finally had a moment to realize we had done it. We weren’t in Raleigh yet, but we were in the US. We were on our flight, and we had overcome all the obstacles between us and leaving our little apartment in Kunshan.
This time we didn’t delay our flight, and we got in early. Upon arrival, we fed and changed Alaya before freshening up ourselves. It was getting close to lunch time, but we decided to go to our extended-stay hotel first. I wanted to be rid of all our stuff before eating. Our taxi ride to the hotel took only 20-minutes, and we took lunch to-go from a Mexican restaurant before we finally got to our room and passed out from a long, long, journey to the West.
*The featured image is of the departures board at Pudong airport.
**A few minutes before I posted this blog, I saw on the news that the first case of the COVID-19 has been confirmed in North Carolina. I just have to say, it’s not us! We’re done with our quarantine, and we’re happy to get together with those nearby who’d like to.
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