Wanderlust in the Time of Coronavirus (A GeoEx eBook)

Wanderlust in the Time of Coronavirus

Wanderlust in the Time of Coronavirus

same wonder-frisson that I normally feel only on the road. I’m traveling vicariously too. Instead of flying to Japan, I’m being transported to that poignant land by reading Pico Iyer’s wonderful Autumn Light and listening to Sadao Watanabe’s marvelous My Dear Life . I have a list of movies that will spirit me away, starting with Michelangelo Antonioni’s gorgeous and transporting The Passenger . As I always do when I travel, I’ve also been trying to make sense of this journey. What lessons can we glean from the experience of traveling in an off-limits world? One lesson I have re-learned is how privileged I am to be able to travel, and how precious this right and ability is to me, how it brings such fundamental meaning and value to my life. As a result, I am already making a list of the places I will go—right away, not putting off until an uncertain tomorrow—when we are free to travel again. Another lesson it has made me realize is just how intricately interconnected our planet is. The fact that a virus in a remote region of China can spread to infect the entire globe in less than three months is stunning. Conversely, it is profoundly moving to witness the unifyingly brave and selfless acts of medical workers and first responders around the globe, and the desperate efforts of researchers working around the world and around the clock towards the creation of a cure. And this makes me think: Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could realize just how globally crippling all manner of other “pandemics”—pollution, poverty, ignorance, hunger—really are, and work together to find a cure for these as well? Might this current pandemic make us all better planetary citizens? I know, I know, this is just crazy idealistic talk, but still… “We are all in this together” once seemed just an idealistic slogan —until COVID-19 showed us just how “in this together” we all truly are. For the moment, my wanderlust is focused on traveling in

background and creed, want to treat their fellow humans with care; travel forges unbreakable bonds between peoples, cultures, and countries. And in all these ways, I have come to fervently preach, travel paves the pathway to global understanding, evolution, and peace. Now, the coronavirus outbreak has effectively stopped me—and all my fellow believers in the Church of Wanderlust— from practicing our religion. In ten short weeks, humanity has stumbled into uncharted territory. An unknown virus transmitted in a market in central China has transformed into a global pandemic. Everyday life has been massively interrupted and overturned, with virtually incalculable, quantum-leaping personal and financial effects. Surveying this surreally unfolding scene, I have been wondering how to navigate this new and very foreign place: How do we thrive—and keep our wanderlust alive? The first thing I tell myself is that this is temporary. We will find a way to contain this virus. The day will come when we will once again freely intermingle with each other and explore the far corners of the globe. We know this day will come, but we don’t know when. And so, I’m trying to make my Wanderlust more Zen. I’m focusing on appreciating the little things that I’m normally too busy to notice: the way the sun bright-stipples the spring-green leaves outside my window, the soul-soothing heat and aroma of a good cup of tea, the richness of the artifacts—a miniature moai from Easter Island, a pottery plate from Crete, a woodblock print of Mount Fuji—that surround me. And since travel continues to delight and define me, I’m traveling in my own backyard, literally. I’m communing with the yellow freesia that have just begun to bloom, exulting in the buds on the persimmon tree’s boughs, urging the birds of paradise to take orange-winged flight. I’m approaching home as if it were a new and exhilarating place and feeling some of the

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