Off we go again (Finally!)

And so we went off again. Jet-setting. Country-hopping. Backpacking (yes, I still travel like that preferably). After more than 2 years of travel-hibernation and covid intense precautions and restrictions, I finally felt comfortable and found the opportunity to fly off again, internationally. It’s been a while since my last significant overseas trip. Spain, I think it was, back in 2018 (twice, in fact, that same year), if I didn’t quite include my family trip to the Philippines together with my brother as they joined us from Hong Kong (I always tend to classify family trips in a different category. While they are always fun and warm, I find that my mindset is a little different than when I set out to see the world on my own, preferably with a pack on my back).

Of course, this time, for the first time (?ever?), I wasn’t going alone. (And for the first time in my blog, I am glad to introduce Ellen, the owner of the pair of feet in the photos on one of my earlier posts that we took on our day trip to Quebec from when I visited her in Ottawa). We were lucky enough to be able to plan ahead in advance to block off some time to travel together. I had told her that backpacking together has always been part of my to-do list in a relationship. I feel you can learn so much about the other person when on a trip. How we plan, the style with which we like to experience the world, how adaptive we are to challenges and how we grow under new experiences are all sweet moments to go through and equally vital to the growth of a relationship. With the style of trip that we intended to do, I suggested that she consider getting a backpack, and she happily obliged (and ended up getting a great deal on essentially the female version of my pack!). It was honestly such a joy planning and taking this trip with her. More so than I ever could imagine between two people who grew up differently, experienced life separately up to this point, and had different tendencies and desires. She was expectedly always creative, always open, adventurous, and adaptive to changes. We both listened and respected what each other wanted to get out of this trip (I hope!), and without having to bend over backwards too much, felt comfortable delivering what each other had wanted in such a journey (also true I hope!). I do want to thank her for being such a lovely companion and for being such a wonderful travel buddy, in addition to how we already are day to day back home, to allow us to add these wonderful memories to our banks as we look forward to continue to build on them.

And with that, we set out, packs on our backs, cameras and phones in tow. I was honestly quite excited in being able to fly with her together for the first time. I find flying together with someone a really intimate experience. Those who know me would know that I’ve always enjoyed airplanes meals (as she does too!). And once settled into our seats, I find that sitting beside someone you know in a cozy little corner for a long  flight feels incredibly joyful. We also derived a lot of excitement in airport lounge hopping, some perks that we got from both of our respective credit cards. It made time spent inside various airports particularly unnecessarily exciting… 

 

Landing in Europe, for the first time together, was also immensely gratifying. I’ve always enjoyed Europe. To me it’s always been somewhat of an “easier” destination. Usually more established, largely English fluent, well-built infrastructure such that you can essentially just land and THEN figured out where to go after. For this trip, we chose the so-called Golden Triangle in Scandinavia, sandwiched by Stockholm, Oslo, and Copenhagen (this was largely her suggestion, for I have already been to quite a few places in Europe and I wanted to let her pick a destination that she was curious about, and naturally she chose that region of the world of which she has already been inspired by their designs, their tidiness, their food and culture. As well, we are both big fans of IKEA, which no doubt created some curiosities in our mind about their home country). Scandinavia also made for an exceptionally easy destination. Geographically, it is so similar to Canada that there is obviously no culture and weather shock when you step outside the terminals. The landscape, the roads, the signs, and much of the buildings are as we would experience in the North American setting, although admittedly with a much more classical look and that undeinable sophisticated European style and language that made everything seems so much more cultured and exciting.

Stockholm, our first landing spot, is perhaps the most crown-jewel like of the three. Highly imperial in its look, the city is built on a series of canal with confusing waterways everywhere but all lined with similarly looking yet beautifully old and stately buildings. The streets were grand, squares wide open and busy, streets immensely tidy, and the city felt very self assured. The people were friendly, as I would expect from most of the Scandinavia, but of the three cities, the citizens of Stockholm seems most sophisticatedly dressed, if not a little bit snobby on the extreme end of things. And like what we have come to learn of the Scandinavia world during covid, they are perhaps some of the most progressive regions of the world in which virtually NOBODY wore masks anymore (we felt inclined to frequently remove our own masks once we were in the open air as to not come across overly impolite to others, but we religiously kept them on once we entered buildings). Progressive as they were, it wasn’t as if they turned a blind eye to the whole thing. Hand-washing and social distancing reminders were still everywhere (although largely ignored), and hand sanitizer stations were abundant (although almost all were virtually neglected now and stood empty as everyone walks by). Still, Stockholm felt safe and comfortable, and probably one of the prettiest cities I have been to in my travels. And just as it was classical and imperial, its newer areas where the locals and younger people hung out were modern and upscale. Its subway system is impeccably easy to navigate, as most European cities are, while its many underground stations are often lined with obscure art work lining its somewhat dingy looking rock face ceilings. Above ground, as a sign of the modern times, scooter rentals are everywhere and most locals, helmets-bearing or not, zoomed around on these two wheelers as if walking on our own two feet were meant only for primitive creatures like ourselves.

 

After Stockholm, our plans took us west to Oslo by train (we had made it a point to experience a variety of transportations together, from riding local subways to high speed rails between cities to long distances buses (generally much less appealing) to renting a car for a little road trip in the Norwegian countryside. I was also looking forward to the rental given that Europe is one of the few places in the world to still rent out manual transmission cards... but sadly, in 2022, even European car rentals have finally been depleted of the stick shift variety…). We got up early, as tickets were cheaper for the earlier route, and sheepishly found our platform to take our first train ride for the trip towards Norway. Arriving in Oslo, it felt immediately very different than Stockholm. Industrial, modern yet a little rough around the edges, a little grungy, a little tough, Oslo had the feel of a more pragmatic working city. Less clean, less tidy, and with graffiti everywhere, even the locals looked less perfectly dressed than their Stockholm counterparts. But it has a sense of practicality and modernism, with creatively industrial looking buildings in juxtaposition to older heritage style homes. Many of the areas we walked by seemed heavily immigrant-focused, as I’ve read that Norway has gone from previously very anti-immigration to now having immigrants be a substantial portion of their population. There were more smokers too, we felt subjectively, as it seemed we had to dodge smokers (and their maskless breathes) at essentially every street corners of every block. It still felt safe, although we felt we needed to be on slightly higher alert. We also got a few more verbal jabs at our masks-wearing, as one young passer-by innocently blurbed out “corona isn’t here anymore…”. I didn’t care to talk back, but if I had I would probably simply be pointing out for him to just pay attention to international news every once a while. All in all, though, Oslo actually felt like a much more comfortable and grounded place to live. Many of the older buildings were still neat and tidy, with pastel colours everywhere, but seemingly with much less structural details on them than I had remember them back in Sweden. 

 

After Oslo, we rented a car and hit the countryside, as Norway is much more about its land than its cities. Known for its epic landscapes signified by its many majestic fjords (I still cannot seem to pronounce this word), you really have to leave the city to experience Norway at its finest. Ellen found a lovely little airbnb in a small town called Voss, near enough to Flam, traditionally the gateway to many fjord train or ferry tours. Preferring to chart our own way, we took our little rental car and weaved through countless tunnels (Norway, being a world leader in tunnel building, has over 900 tunnels in the country, including the longest one in the world (the Laerdal Tunnel) of almost 25km and took us about half an hour to get through). Scared as you might be of such tunnels and mountain roads, however, they are mostly extremely well-lit and well paved (although still single lane opposite traffic with frequently tight-fitting large trucks roaring towards you…). It also has LTE signal throughout the systems both inside and outside of tunnels and mountain ranges (puts Canada to shame on this) and intermittent wider "pull over lanes" where you can perhaps stop for a break and stretch (under some rather mesmerizing disco lighting). Still, I would caution most people in taking those roads lightly, or trying to pull an all-nighter to rush through them. Risky drives, to be sure, but epically rewarding nonetheless. The fjords themselves were stunningly beautiful, especially in the early morning hours when we decided to beat the crowds (as it turns out, there were NO crowds, for we were in the shoulder seasons and tourism in Scandinavia seems to be an exceptionally SHORT industry in the summer months only). More memorable than the views, perhaps, were the little tingling sounds from the neck bells of the numerous sheep that we came across throughout the countryside. So much, in fact, that we would not have been faulted for pretending that we were travelling through the villages in New Zealand. 

 

Beyond the fjords we went to Bergen, Norway’s second largest city and sometimes quoted as one of the pretties cities in Europe (as well as the rainiest, but luckily we caught a dry day..). Bergen was indeed a very beautiful port city, lined once again with by-now commonly seen Scandinavian looking houses against a set of rolling hills where a short uphill walk could take you to some of the nicest views of the region. We spent only an afternoon and evening there, needing to wake up for a day-long drive back towards Oslo the next day. On that drive, we took a slightly different route and drove along some of the most epic sceneries I have experienced on highways when crossing the vast and bare Hardangervidda Mountain Plateau, with such remoteness paralleling what I remembered during some of my drives in Newfoundland or years ago my family and we took on the Alaska Highway. 

 

Back in Oslo, we crashed for the night before taking an early morning bus to Gothenburg, the second largest city in Sweden, for a brief stay simply as the halfway point towards Copenhagen. Interestingly, there has yet to be an efficient train line between Oslo and Copenhagen, as one would expect there should be. Looking online, it seemed that some long distance train services, as well as a night train, had been in the works since before covid times, but no doubt got delayed like everything else with the pandemic. It did however let us enjoy a brief stop in yet another Swedish city. Gothenburg, like Oslo, is very unassuming, and actually has a lot of quiet charm without all the glamour of Stockholm. We also took the opportunity to visit the Volvo Museum nearby, paying homage to one of the most iconic Swedish brands of the world (sadly, the “first” Ikea was too out of the way for us to visit, as that would have been the first choice on our list of a famous Scandinavia brand to check out). 

 

 

We ended our almost 2-week trip in Copenhagen (surprisingly, it was much cheaper to fly into Stockholm and out of Copenhagen than the other way around). Two things struck us as soon as we arrived into the city. The first was bikes. They were literally EVERYWHERE. If I remembered correctly, not too long ago our mayor of Vancouver had visited Copenhagen and couldn’t stop beaming about how he wanted to model our city after theirs in terms of bike transport (it wouldn’t work, since Copenhagen, like Amsterdam, another bike friendly city, is largely flat, while Vancouver and its vicinities are largely hills..). Cophehagen also has some of the mildest weather in Europe, and its streets are often wide enough to accommodate the masses of bikes tearing through them at every hour. It does feel very efficient, and very environmentally friendly, if not a little nerve-wrecking and at time down right dangerous. The second observation, having just spent two weeks in the rest of Scandinavia, was just how international Copenhagen felt compared to Stockholm and Oslo. Throughout much of Sweden and Norway, we got used to seeing many local brands, local designer, and local store names. Stepping into Copenhagen you were once again reminded of the world that exists around you. Although they still obviously boost their own language and culture, in many places English is now the dominate language in their signages. Food from all over the world once again seems to be present in every corner, as we are so accustomed to seeing here in our multi-cultural country of Canada. Copenhagen also seems to effortlessly mix both elegance and grunginess, marrying the imperialism style that we saw in Stockholm to the humble and pragmatism of Oslo. In a nutshell, it probably has everything, as it should being the connecting point between Scandinavia and the rest of Europe and the world. It probably also boosts the most number of people talking on or looking down at their cell phones while crossing the street, as we’ve had to dodge quite a number of individuals who were completely oblivious to our existence. Appropriately it seems, it is sometimes referred to as “the happiness city in the world”, of which I can probably see why. It strikes a good balance, between having the energy and convenience of a large city, while still maintaining the chill and relaxing atmosphere of what Scandinavian are so proud of. 

Of course, a large part of travelling has always been about the food. Admittedly, Scandinavia has always been known as an expensive destination, and with our weak Canadian currency, it was particularly difficult for us to stretch our dollar. Luckily, we didn't often have a strong desire for superbly fancy dining in multi-starred restaurants (Copenhagen IS known for having some of the finest restaurants in the world, with many already recognized with various Michelin star designations). In truth, often the most memorable eats when you travel is not necessarily the obscurely delicate fine dining restaurants, but the stuff that the locals would eat day to day, mixed in with some traditional foods that usually reflects their heritage and geography. Shrimps, smoked fish, and various open face sandwiches are probably the area’s best known delicacies. We happily ate along the way on our city walks, frequently stopping into various eateries or markets and particularly grocery stores to see what products they had that we haven't seen elsewhere (we must have hit probably every single grocery store on our routes, and many of them numerous times). And of course, as we are both a fan of coffee shops, a LOT of cafes (Scandinavia have some of the best cafes in the world, with many also serving some wonderful little bites that feels so representative of their local flair). Scandinavia would definitely not be a destination where you can stretch your budget easily, but if you are not overly fixated on fine dining, you could still enjoy a lot of wonderful eats and perhaps get a even more intimate experience with their culture. (We also, evidently, take a lot of photos of our food. And more importantly, take a lot of photos or oureslves taking photos of our food...)

Finally, we also stayed in a variety of budget friendly places to make our dollars last. I’ve always been a fan of the hostel experience, and was somewhat worried that those days were behind me when covid came. Luckily, we are now in a stage where we felt comfortable taking some measured risks again, and Ellen was a good sport in even trying out a few hostels with me despite never trying them before. We also tried a few reasonably priced hotels, clean and many in convenient locations along a subway stop. Among them, City Box, a chain which has a number of locations in the region, were always clean and tidy, and often with common eating and kitchen area where you can heat up and enjoy some simple meals. Before covid, I frequently found that these down to earth places to stay were much more memorable, especially when I travelled on my own. I could usually strike up a conversation or two with fellow travellers and swap travel tips or just interesting experiences. This time around, we didn't need to mingle quite as much as we already kept each other company, but we both still enjoyed many of these relaxed atmosphere as we recharge after usually a long day of walking. I hope we can continue to strike the balance between travelling comfortably without excessive luxury while maintaining our adventurous and curious spirits. We don't always need to feel pampered, especially when we are out seeing the world, as long as we are safe, fed, clean, warm, and as I’ve experienced during this trip, have each other to goof and kid around with.

Thank you for taking this journey with me. Here’s to many more to come. :)

(Thank you also to all who read this ridiculously long post. Or at least attempted to. I tend to write about nothing in particular and just let my fingers take me to places I didn’t know I was going to. In the coming days I’ll also be posting some more travel photos to my account for causal browsing. I’ve taking over 1200 shots during this trip, and every one seems as precious to me as the next, even though they would likely make no sense to others. I’ll trim them down and post some shots of the trip to share what we saw. Thank you for reading and viewing!)

Remember the wandering soul

It’s been tough stretch. The department is getting increasingly unbearably busy. The waits are long and the front line staff are all overwhelmed and exhausted. Morale is extremely low. A few of our docs are down (one injured, a few are off due to COVID), and many have been tasked to pick up extra shifts and have less off days.

So today, I was off after working a stretch of shifts. It was a welcomed addition. Or it should have been.

But instead I was restless all day. Irritated. Unsettled. Borderline annoyed.

At nothing in particular. My mood was just flat, and sour. Even when the weather was seemingly beautiful. I wanted nothing to do with it. I stayed inside all day, only occasionally staring out at the sun through my semi darkening blinds.

I just became irritable at small things. It’s like that when I was at work. But when I’m off, I have no excuse. My short mood must have carried over to my off days.

Then gradually, over the course of my evening (undoubtedly helped by seeing a facebook friend post some travel photos and by rewatching an old Jason Bourne movie with scenes of Eastern Europe…), I started to remember that at times like these, sometimes what digs me out of my flatness, my restlessness, would be an inspiration and perhaps a desire to go somewhere. To wander. To explore. To be inspired by new surroundings. The possibilities of a new destination always seems to bring an once of excitement and hope.

I have forgotten, that I miss travelling. Sometimes, when you don’t do something for a while, you forget how it can make you feel, even simply thinking about it.

For two years, with COVID, the prospect of travelling was non-existent. I’ve never been a fan of tourist-destination hopping. I prefer to drop into a destination, perhaps ANY destination, and just wander, to see nothing in particular, but just, be somewhere. Soak up the scene, let myself sense something I wasn’t so used to. Let new thoughts enter my mind. New imagery to my soul.

And it’s not like all those possibilities are rushing back. Not yet. (Although for many others in the world, it seemed that they have already accepted the risk of travel and picked up their bags and went.) For me, the implications are still far too heavy (work obligations, family well being) for me to feel freed of those transmission concerns and to simply fly off at the first destination that pops into my head.

But hopefully, in the not too distance future, I will be freed and capable to do that again.

But this reminded me, that I like to wander. That is my nature. That is what makes me feel alive. Part of the beauty of my job (to balance out with all the negativeness of it), is at least the flexibility to travel. In fact, for the longest time, I didn’t want any of those fixed obligations that would make me feel tied down (such as having to look after a detached home, or even a dog…). Living the life or an ER doc, doing shift work with the occasional gaps off, living in a condo with a concierge that I feel somewhat carefree to leave behind...  to some extend I’m living the perfect life for a wandering soul.

And that made me wonder.

Do I really want to give that up?

Yes, I have given a lot of thought of leaving my work, or at least to start contemplating viable exit strategies in my near future. The stress of the job. The hectic pace. The impact on my mind and body. Most days, it simply wasn’t enjoyable anymore to even THINK about work. If I didn’t need the income, I would have probably left. Recently, my department head had asked me to consider taking on my administrative duties, and maybe even if I wanted to take over from her spot. I had seriously been considering it as a way to off load some clinical hours, at the risk of losing some of my work flexibility that I so enjoyed.

But perhaps, if I once again allow myself to indulge in the perks of my line of work, I would be more ready to accept its shortcomings, and maybe even find it in me to continue to devote myself in it. So I could be as best as I could be at my work, and allowing myself to be as best as I could be outside of it.

Let me not forget about the dream of what makes me feel alive, simply because I’ve spent too much time stressing about the work that has me feel so much less so.

It’s not over. But it is. (Well it’s really not).

I haven’t written in a long long time. Not since some of my latest rants on the overall situation and approach our early days of the covid years. (Many of which, sadly, have continued to ring true as the pandemic drags its heels into the third year and counting. But by this point, what is the point of counting..?).

Indeed, we have arrived at the critical junction of what I felt long ago that we would eventually have to face. However, the correct path forward, from an ethical and societal and economical and sustainable point of view, is still largely debated and unclear, as it shall remain so.

When a topic is this large, one would be naive to expect that a simple, elegant, mutually agreed solution is ever gong to exist.

But isn’t that part of the game plan after all. Halt and reassess and aggressively develop protections and therapies when the illness was at its deadliest peak, to buy time for nature to hopefully run its course to bring the illness down to a more “tolerant” (still highly debated) level, and then eventually allow life to carry on as much as they can with some slight modifications of our new world with our new viral friend.

I am not here to debate our current covid policies or lack thereof. There are thousands of smarter people with better experiences and more powerful positions to do so. By this point, I have largely became a passenger in our covid fight. Sorry, perhaps more a foot soldier. As I don on my PPE, N95 masks and face shield, time and time again with each patient regardless of their medical complaint or presentation, it has became a redundant, tiring routine. And each day, I go to work and come home, carefully evaluating myself for possible symptoms, before I make the conscious decision of whether it is safe or socially responsible to go out do run errands or see my family (and very, very occasionally, my friends).

How I Iong for the days when a cold is just a cold, and we carry on with our plans as if it’s no significant deal. How our lives do not get turned upside down because of a little sniffle or a scratch in the throat.

But of course, covid have changed all that, and some for the better. Never was it really all that responsible to go out and mingle when you have an illness anyway, and in parts of Asia, the use of masks during cold and flu season, ESPECIALLY with those who have minor symptoms, have long been an accepted custom and rarely questioned (in fact, one would draw dirty glances if they were to step into a crowded subway and let out a sneeze, god forbid, upon their naked, unmasked face..)

So if anything, the heightened sense of awareness and caution against easily transmissible disease is likely here to stay, and hopefully a welcome change at that. As with not showing up to work sick, modifying tasks to allow work from home, and a general increased tolerance for everyone’s different risk aversions are likely positive steps in our increasing dense societies.

But no, this entry is about none of that. For I am sick of covid. (Literally, as I recently caught the illness myself, luckily mild, after a brief trip to Ottawa. More on that later.).

I am writing again because I’ve realized that my life feels emptier when I don’t. Life continues to pass, events come and go, covid lingers, and I go to sleep and wake up checking my work schedule and collect pay checks (well, auto-deposits). I miss the self reflection and the narrative story-telling that writing allows for me. In short, in adds significance to my days, my weeks. And more and more I am realize that, perhaps for me, that is what give life meaning. When you have a chance to pause and reflect, and solidify your experience into a memorable narration (even if it’s just to myself), it takes a symbol of significance inside a storage box into our mind’s memory banks. And perhaps that is the true meaning of life. A collection of memories, made significant by the collector.

And so I’m going to try to keep writing. On nothing in particular, as quite evident from my blog over the years. And to no one in particular, other than myself. Because it helps me make sense of my world.

—————————————

Oh, and for those of you who may not know, ironically over these covid years, I’ve met someone, from halfway across the country. :) (yes yes, it’s been a while..) It has not been easy, though, to develop and grow a relationship, over 4000km or close to 5 hours of flying, in the middle of what might be the hardest two years of air travel restrictions and sickness-implications ever in our lifetime. But through our natural silliness together, our witty and comical chemistry, and our what seems very innate understanding of each other (at times it does seem like we were both cut from the same cloth, although a decade part), we were able to maintain what has been a wonderful companionship and at times, when we are lucky enough to visit, some heart melting intimacy. I cannot wait, for when the impacts of covid finally fades (although not the virus itself), and the chance for much easier visits and interactions presents itself to us in the near future, for us to spend even more time together than we have manage, and nurture this seed that we have been trying to water and grow via internet links and FaceTime movies and late night video chats. (And on that note, the image above at the title of this post would make a little more sense to those who are reading. It is perhaps one of my favourite photos of our time together so far. We were sitting on a beautiful deck waiting for our morning coffee on the banks of the St. Lawrence at old Quebec, groggy from the morning sun, when she cheekily snapped a photo of our feet in parallel when I wasn't aware..  ).

Looking forward to a new kind of normal. (And happy lunar new year to all...)

It’s been a while since I have written since the earlier days of the pandemic. Because, quite frankly, it’s been somewhat uninspiring.

We’ve motored along. Widespread restrictions in place. Fear of contracting the virus ever present. Social activities to an almost non-existent minimum.

At work things have been steady. Visitations to the ER has risen once again, partly because the fear of visiting the hospital seems fading, partly due to the seemingly inability of physical clinics to actually see physical patients.

I’ve had my first jab. Sore arm and all. Waiting for the second.

All and all, it seems I kept being asked the same questions, “when will this be over?”

And I think it is time, we all put away that line of thought. Stop this waiting game. That’s not the right question.

Much of what we have done so far in this pandemic had been emergency measures. To stop or lower the spread. To keep everyone safe. To allow time for the science. To resume life when this is over.

Humanities have been tested so many times before, we were reminded. This, too, shall pass.

But will it? Maybe that isn’t quite the correct expectation. And I do believe, in most people’s minds, that they must be slowly realizing this as well.

Yes several vaccines had came at astonishing pace (although administration of them had been trailing expectations). Yes it seems we are less heavily indicted with ICU level cases in many jurisdictions. Yes it seems many countries had encountered second, or third, or fourth waves, and continued to work hard at squashing them with some degree of successes.

But it is becoming clear that none of these efforts will effectively remove the virus from the human race. There are too many variables. Vaccines will never be 100% effective. It will take years, if not impossible, to vaccinate everyone on earth. Evolution of the viral strain constantly threaten medical process thus far. And it is unrealistic to expect everyone to take the shot, or even the majority, at all.

I don’t think anyone can see a path in which this entirely leaves us behind. Not now, not next year, perhaps not ever.

So what are we to do?

For one, we should believe that although this will unlikely leave us, things shall get very much better. That part I do believe we can expect. As people get vaccinated, as cases in the vulnerable population continues to fall (as we have seen in vaccinated areas), as we get a better handle on timely diagnostics, and as we get more comfortable in dealing with this now “old” threat, things will get better. Our lives will get better.

But we should stop expecting to wait for the day when all that we knew before could return to normal as we had remembered.

Ultimately, it will be a decision of tolerance. How much, as a society, are we able to tolerate and manage the cases among us. How much influence, of such daily threats, can we accept while resuming as much of the life we missed as we could. Ethically and socially, what is the bar that we shall set in order to maintain some degree of livelihood, or as some would consider, to maintain the things that we have “to live for”?

Us human beings are a social animal, which is why I never lost faith in the days when we shall gather again, eat together again, hug each other, high-fives all around, attend movies and sports games and concerts, fly across the world and make new friends abroad, cruise on the open seas, stay in hotels and hostels openly together, and allow our grandchildren visit their grandparents without overdue concerns.

How will each of the above be done, in this new normal, with the threat of the virus STILL among us, but with a conscious decision to mitigate those risks, maintain maximum safety, while allowing life, the way us humans are meant to live, to carry on as much as we had once desired.

Those are the many, many, unanswered questions. Those shall be the proper ones for all of us to ask.

And among them, in my mind, international travel is the hardest one to tackle. It is also one I am most hungry to figure out.

It isn’t enough to say we would continue to hold off a few years for the situation to improve. For all we know, it might not. And for many others in their golden years, they cannot wait that long.

It also isn’t acceptable to say that we would screw it all and do things anyway and see what happens. The world cannot sustain that degree of recklessness.

It is time to think of how we can create a happy medium. And the sooner we do this, the sooner we can arrive at a happy “new normal”.

Life will continue to thrive. We just have to be very, very creative in how it shall do so.

So for all of us, time to ask a different set of questions, and much, much brainstorming to do….

Allowing for the intangible...

It started off as a gloomy day. The sky was grey and the clouds weren't breaking. I was without much sleep as I woke up at 3am and couldn't fall back to sleep. It was one of those nights. By 4:30am I've had it with lying in bed awake and decided to ditch the sheets and tried to call up my friend, whom we were going to hang out on a small island daytrip anyway, to see if we should go catch the sunrise together. We did. Although there wasn't much of a sunrise to be had. A slight streak of orange hue peaked through under the layers of the uninviting clouds, among a scene of dull, uninspiring view off the lookout of Cypress. Coffee in hand, the moment was nice, but the scene was slightly disappointing. 

On to breakfast we go. My friend felt the craving for congee, so we grabbed some from the only spot open at that ungodly hour on a Sunday morning. The gloominess loomed at the Steveston Harbour over our warm soupy rice with peanuts and preserved fish and various miscellaneous pork bits and a serving of deliciously tender beef briskets and rice flour wrap. Our tummy was satisfied, but our eyes weren't so much. The clouds seem thick. It doesn't seem like it was going to break. The day destined to be one that would not quite reward our optimistic faith that the iphone weather report could be wrong (it has promised a 30% chance of shower and basically a persistently cloudy day..). 

Should we carry on with the rest of our planned day? We had initially contemplated a leisurely trip to the nearby Bowen Island. Something simple. Something close. Something that could be perfect for a Sunday, on the last official weekend of this unconventional summer. Sure, we decided. Let's go ahead and see what happens. 

Onto the ferry, it was a mixture of uncertainty and slightly upwards optimism. The day seems brighter (which, naturally, would make sense as we were indeed transitioning into the regular daytime hours from our stupidly early start of our day...). The seabreeze proved to be refreshing. If anything, the steady motion of the ferry and the shifting landscape around us brings a sense of promise. Maybe something nice awaits us on the other side. Our adventure, potentially, could still be fun. 

And with that glimpse of optimism the day slowly opened up to us. Un-docking from the ferry, we were greeted with the first few sunshine of the day. We parked our car and roamed around the pier. Ah, there's the cute little lunch place I saw on reviews, Branch and Butter.  With the sun comes a promise for ice cream later. Hey look there's kayak rental place. Again with the sun there's a promise that we could dry up if we get wet (we weren't dressed for the occasion, as both of us were in jeans and not the best kayaking attire...). My friend couldn't swim, but that didn't stop us from signing the waiver and exploring the waving coast along the nearby edges of the island. Blobbing up and down with the waves always seem to freshen up your soul a little. The gentle splashes of the paddles are always a calming influence. 

Two hours later, my butt completely soaked, we once again undocked and enjoyed some delicious tacos under the sun (and ice cream indeed). Onto the dry land we went, and explored a short nearby trail with a speculator lookout to Howe Sound. The clouds had cleared by that time. Blue skies and simmering waters as far as the eyes can see. The day was looking more and more beautiful with each passing hour. Unexpectedly, but welcomed. Now why did I ever doubted coming here in the first place? I'm glad we didn't listen to our guts.

By late afternoon, we decided the best view to soak up the rest of the day was by the west coast of the island, among the various quiet and seemingly private rocky or beachy fronts by the water. The day was ending beautifully, a far cry from the way it has promised at the start. With the stunningly peaceful sunset getting us with its warm rays complemented by the gentle cooling late summer breeze, it was a rewarding end to an unspectacular summer. Still drunken from lack of sleep, we waited until the sun had fully bid farewell, with bugs starting to chase us into our misery. We drove back, in the dark, dodging deers and squirrels and other unseen wildlife creatures. We ended the night on a starry ferry ride back to the mainland coast, even catching several glimpses of passing satellites that we pretended were shooting stars and made wishes anyways. 

 

Why did I write this? Apart from marking an unexpectedly beautiful day, it was to remind me of the many intangible factors in life, often altering the prospects of what we initially could expect from our calculations. For many of us, our intuition and intellect often drives our decision making, but our pride in such decisive thoughts can often rob us of the unexpected. The weather, for one, although highly studied and readily available (so it turned out that my app had been wrong, once again...), still manages to surprise us in good ways and bad, if we give it a chance. So sometimes, despite potentially strong feelings based on the available information at hand, life can still reward us if we give it a shot to serve us the unexpected. Allow some intangible factors into our lives, and they might promise to be rewarding. Let go, and be carried along by the waves, and see what happens on the other side.

“Be fearful when others are greedy…”

Warren Buffett once said, “be fearful when others are greedy, be greedy when others are fearful..”. (I think he said this, but cannot be sure, as it had be quoted and re-quoted so many times everywhere…)

Along the same token, is the much more commonly preached investing principle, of buying low, and selling high.

I think there is a lot we can take from these investing mindset into our current evolving precautions against COVID19.

Summer is here. Sun has finally sort of arrived. Restrictions are loosening (although some are tightening again..). People are getting outside. Activities are rising. Socializing back on. Meals with friends. Family gatherings. It’s been too long. We need this reprieve.

And yet, the virus is still here, and still we have no vaccine, or proven therapeutics (not quite there yet anyway..).

Really, nothing has changed.

Other than our mindset.

It is easy, in the midst of the optimism of summer, to let our guards down, and let loose our vigilance.

For, damn it, we needed this. It’s been too long, too taxing, too emotionally straining. And for those who unfortunately also suffered dearly in health or financial hardships, they really, really need more of this loosening of some restrictions.

Because we know that life cannot wait for the solution of COVID. Life needs to evolve to live alongside it. With it.

Yes this is the “dance” that we spoke of so much earlier in this pandemic. The long dance. With a song that seems not likely to end anytime soon.

So I think it is good for our salvation to breathe a little bit, to embrace this slight relaxation we had afforded ourselves from society’s collective difficult effort since the beginning of the crisis.

But yet, the numbers are rising.

Yesterday, I saw a remarkable number of 20-something-year-old patients, some with mild COVID-possible symptoms, some with more convincing versions of the same. They are healthy, and doing well. But that’s likely the beginning of the second wave, if there is such a distinction anyway.

In a few weeks, these healthy younglings can carry the potential virus to their dear families, and the older crowd will show up. And not long after, the even older crowd.

We must remember that everything with this virus takes baby steps in 2-3 week increments. The US has already been seeing a further rise in numbers, some in areas with patterns very suggestive of likely transmissions from their recent national holidays.

So let’s check our minds a little bit.

Just like with the stock market, what you invest in today likely isn’t going to bear fruits until years later. You carry a long term horizon with your finances. We should adapt the same with our social precautions and activities on a personal level.

In finance, it is likely unwise for one to be rushing to purchase all the latest hottest stocks (although this seems to be happening all the time..). Sure, some may carry momentum forward for some further gains, but history has shown us that would not be the sound approach. Instead, buying those that have fallen, and avoiding those that could be too hot, is much more likely to yield better returns over time.

So, likewise, it would be unwise for everyone to relax their social precautions and personal safety vigilance at the same time. Even though that is likely the easiest approach to take. It is easy, when everything looks safer around us, to actually believe that it is so.

In some way, it is precisely this time period, when everyone is coming out, starved of their social activities and all too ready to mingle, that the virus can easily mount a resurgence.

In fact, I think many of us are almost expecting it, in a few weeks time.

I do not mean for us to remain so stressed and anxious about the virus and not take in a bit of emotional reprieve. I think we just have to learn to balance that out with how we choose to live going forward. Humans are social beings. It will remain very important for us to have that available to us.

But perhaps, be a little bit fearful when others are greedy.

Maybe Buffett is good not just in investing after all.