Everything fell apart at 2,500 feet. Julio, Alberto, Fernando, and I had spent the day skiing听secluded Spanish peaks, carving easy turns into forgiving corn snow, and putting close to 14 miles on our ski听legs. Climbing out of the high-alpine amphitheater, we watched airplane contrails crisscross the late-day听horizon. A wet slide听rumbled downhill in the distance. As you so often do in the mountains, we felt at once untouchable and insignificant.听
As we rounded听the corner to our exit ridge,听texts that had been hanging听in dead-zone service limbo came rushing forth on our phones,听an onslaught of panic and confusion. The coronavirus听had arrived in Spain a few weeks ago, but it听caught up with us on the crest of the Valley of Valde贸n in the north-central part of the country. 鈥淲e lost Madrid,鈥 murmured Julio, who, along with Alberto and Fernando,听works as a professional mountain guide. Clients that were set to arrive from Spain鈥檚 capital city, fearing that they would be officially locked down within the next few days, were canceling their weekend clinic. The trio continued reading the bad news aloud. A group of Valencians听who had booked months in advance听had backed out as well. Summer tour groups were听pulling the plug鈥攆rom Spain, England, Germany鈥攐ne after the other. In the span of minutes, my group of new friends watched a third of their annual income evaporate. Julio鈥檚 impenetrable smile waned. The mountains that had seemed so invulnerable听hours before were no longer a shelter from听the world鈥檚听terrifying new reality.
Numb, we chased the sun until it hit the last jagged outcroppings of limestone and gneiss. As it disappeared, we made our way听down toward the dark unknown below.听
I had landed in Europe two weeks earlier, on assignment for a U.S. ski magazine, and was eager to reconnect with the continent I had called home for three years. I moved to Spain in 2017 to freelance and learn a new language, and it was my first time back since听returning听to the U.S. in听November. My plan was to make my way up听to Bilbao in Spanish Basque country before chasing snow in听the north of Italy.听
For most of the winter, the听coronavirus听had been stealing headlines in听China, and it had already made landfall in Italy when I arrived in northern Spain on February 26.
Its spread through the Italian countryside was enough to set off alarm bells, especially the rapid rise of cases in Lombardy, a northern region听whose capital is听Milan. Every morning I monitored the numbers, and, as the virus touched down on the Spanish island of Tenerife and then the capital of Madrid, I started a tally for Spain as well.
But the virus still听felt foreign, far away.听I settled into the Basque routine I had carved out during the years I lived in Iberia. I went to a Saturday soccer match, packing in with thousands of red-and-white-clad fans to cheer on the local pro team, Athletic Bilbao. I spent the evenings with old friends in the plazas of Casco Viejo, enjoying听sidra听and听pintxos,听the Basque听version of cider and tapas,听as kids in school uniforms chased each other around. I even caught the last day of carnival in a nearby village, sharing food with a raucous local community group. Irreverent, the sign above their stand mirrored my own feelings of denial: 鈥淗ere we eat together, we drink together, we kiss each other. Coronavirus, you鈥檙e not invited to the party.鈥
On March 8, I made the decision to cancel my trip to Italy as the number of cases there topped 7,300. In Basque country, despite occasional news of case clusters around the peninsula, I still somehow听felt safe. Newspapers showed Athletic Bilbao鈥檚 victories on their covers. At the time, those听sick and dying from the virus were hidden on page three.听
Trying to adjust my assignment, I rerouted my plans to a mountain range in the north of Spain, connecting with Julio through a friend.听
Irreverent, the sign above their stand mirrored my own feelings of denial: 鈥淗ere we eat together, we drink together, we kiss each other. Coronavirus, you鈥檙e not invited to the party.鈥
On March 10,听a day before we were to meet in the mountains, the momentum abruptly shifted. The case tallies for Spain I鈥檇 been scribbling in my daily travel journal听started听jumping鈥攆rom 13 to more than听2,200 in a little over two weeks鈥攁nd Madrid announced the closure of all听of its schools, effective immediately. We didn鈥檛 realize it then, but it was the first move in a domino cascade of efforts听to control a pandemic that was already well underway. Within an hour, Vitoria, the capital of Basque country, shuttered its听schools as well, with the promise of more closures in the coming days.
After the bad news on the mountainside, I was grappling with our new reality in a Bilbao Airbnb听when President Trump announced his sweeping European travel ban. For the second time in six hours, I was inundated with texts, this time from friends and family in the U.S. I frantically tried to reassure my loved ones that I was safe听and that I knew I had less than two days before the ban would rupture travel between the two continents indefinitely. I鈥檒l be honest: I went to bed angry.听I had two weeks left on my trip, why should I have to leave? Why all the fearmongering?听
I woke up defiant, ready to stick it out in Bilbao, where I felt equipped to weather this storm,听despite the many cases already reported around the city. But I had woken up to a different Europe. The streets that normally pulsed with a human current sat empty. Instead, lines of agitated people听trailed out of grocery stores, and restaurants hung 鈥渃losed鈥澨齭igns. The warm morning greetings always accompanied by听dos besos听(two kisses) were replaced by looks of distrust and uncertainty. This was not the welcoming city I was used to. This was something else:听Paranoia. Fear.
That afternoon听an expat friend called to tell me she was locking herself into quarantine at home. Julio texted that he didn鈥檛 think they would be skiing much after the announcements. But my focus was now far from the mountains.
I thought of my sister back in the U.S., seven and a half months pregnant, who was somehow still more worried about me and my safety.听Was I going to get stuck here and miss the birth of my first niece? Worse yet, would I be a health risk by returning and being in the same room?听My mind raced, as my initial confidence听unraveled.
As I sit in self-quarantine thousands of miles from Spain, trying to do my part to end the COVID-19 cycle, I worry听that Europe鈥檚 story is already starting to repeat itself at home.
My instinct as a world traveler has always been to adapt to the situation on the ground, to endure and find a solution. But what if my presence could potentially put others鈥 health at risk, not only in Spain听but back at home? As everyone scattered, I suddenly felt alone and exposed in a place that now felt more foreign than ever before. The script was rewriting itself in real time. I thought of my sister. I knew it was time to go.听听
Calling to change my flight, I hit a wall of four-hour wait times and dropped connections.听A mass exodus of American tourists were听jamming听the phone lines. I eventually managed a ticket change by working through the lesser used Spanish help hotline,听sliding just under the lowering travel-ban door. I left with pangs of guilt, feeling as if I were听leaving my Spanish friends to fight this new battle alone.
The layover in Paris was like a disorienting family reunion, except instead of aunts and uncles, it was other U.S. citizens鈥攁听whole lot of us. A Florida flight attendant hoping to squeeze her friend into standby. A man from听Portland, Oregon,听who had just finished a ski trip across Finland. An entire class from an Alaskan high school that had cut its听senior trip in half. Like everyone I spoke to, I was听operating on the hope that, if we could just get on that flight, everything would be all right. But once in my听seat, the shame that maybe I was听bringing the virus home with me听started to seep in.
Two days later, Spain entered total lockdown. My friends can only leave their apartments to get food and medicine. Some can escape to walk their dogs. Anyone else will be fined by the police,听who patrol the streets 24 hours a day. The total number of sick now tops 20,000.
From the comfort of Basque country, I watched as .听Then听my friends and I went and made them ourselves. Soccer games, festivals, parties鈥攚e lived like Italy鈥檚 situation could never happen where we were, let alone in the U.S. We didn鈥檛 know it would go this far.
Now, with听听from the State Department telling U.S. citizens in international countries to come home immediately or be prepared to stay put, thousands of others face听an even more difficult decision. As I sit in self-quarantine听thousands of miles from Spain,听trying to do my part to end the COVID-19 cycle, I worry听that Europe鈥檚 story is already starting to repeat itself at home.