Corona Travels

This post is not, strictly speaking, about space. It is about travelling from Germany back to China after over nine months of being “stuck,” uncertain as to when I may be able to return to where I (was supposed to) live and work. Here are a few jottings and thoughts about my “corona travels.”

Preparing the trip was difficult. In fact, it required a highly intricate logistical effort.

In late September, China announced that all foreigners who had held a valid residence/work permit on March 28 (when China cancelled all valid visas) would be eligible to apply for re-entry without a so-called PU letter (which is the official government stamped invitation that one needs in order to apply for a Chinese work visa). A day before the national holiday in celebration of the founding of the PRC, my university department sent out an official notice via email, requiring all foreign and Chinese faculty members who were still abroad to return as soon as possible, which meant, as I learnt later, “by the end of October.”

It surprised me a little that the person in charge of foreign faculty at the university’s human resource department was not aware of the fact that Chinese embassies and consulates also close for national holidays and that no visa-related issues or other inquiries would be dealt with during that period. Moreover, the university itself would also be shut for the entire first week of October, meaning that any related questions remained unanswered. It would certainly be difficult to make it back by the end of the month, also because flights were still scarce and extremely pricy.

After frantically searching several days, I finally booked a flight for the first week of November: British Airways from Hamburg to London and Virgin Atlantic from London to Shanghai. €1824. I then contacted the Chinese Consulate in Hamburg and was told that I had to submit various documents, such as a proof of employment (在职证明), copies of my previous visa and a health certificate. Moreover, I was informed that the visa could only be issued at the earliest two weeks before my flight, as the attached health certificate would only be valid for 14 days. Ok, I thought, that should be possible.

Ready to book an appointment about three weeks prior to my departure, I suddenly received an email from Virgin Atlantic that my flight had been rebooked. The first leg of my flight stayed the same, while the second leg was moved to the day after. This would have meant spending 28 hours at Heathrow Airport. Not exactly what I wanted to do during a pandemic. The daily Covid 19 cases in the whole of Europe had started going up again quite rapidly. I called Expedia where I had booked to ask them to also rebook the first leg of my flight so that both flights would be on the same day. After several days, they called me back, informing me that this was impossible unless I was prepared to only fly in early December. I was not and so they suggested me to just cancel the trip.

In the meantime, flights had got even more expensive, €2500 and more. After some more searching, I eventually found a reasonably priced flight from Frankfurt to Shanghai in mid-November, which, however, also meant that I had to take a train to Frankfurt and spend a night there in a hotel. But I booked anyway, fearing that if I missed this chance, I would be left with nothing.

I then arranged an appointment with the Chinese consulate in Hamburg. It was unproblematic and I was even pleasantly surprised about the responsiveness of the consulate staff (emails were usually replied within a day).

Three days before my scheduled appointment, however, a new regulation was issued by the Chinese authorities, requiring everyone wishing to enter China to provide two negative tests (the standard PCR test and the IgM anti-body blood test) that were to be taken no earlier than 48 before take-off (originally only one PCR test not older than 72 hours was required) and that had to be to the Chinese embassy, which would then issue an official “health certificate.”

My flight was on a Tuesday afternoon at 1 pm. Considering that I had to take a train the night before and that there was no place that would do an anti-body test on a Sunday in Germany, it left me with only two thirds of a day (Monday) to do the two tests, get the results, send them to the embassy and get a “health certificate” back. I started to seriously doubt whether I could really make it back to China this time around. Also, corona cases around Europe were rapidly on the rise and I was worried that regulations might change again.

But I did get my visa without problems and managed to find an institute that promised to do two tests on Monday morning and give me the results by the afternoon. Ok, I thought, let’s give it a go. I sent an email to the embassy, explaining my situation and asking if there was sufficient time to get the health certificate back. They replied immediately with two words: “enough time.”

One week to go. I started to feel more positive about being able to make it to China. Then suddenly the news hit that China banned entry for all non-Chinese nationals from Belgium, France, Italy and the UK. This time, they did not cancel valid visas, but simply said that health certificates would no longer be issued in these countries. Germany’s corona cases were also going up, crossing the 20k mark for the first time. I started to feel nervous again. Would Germany also be included in the list? Given all the complications so far, it would not have surprised.

On Saturday, three days before my flight, I suddenly received a text message from a friend containing a link to a new regulation from the Consulate that health certificates would no longer be issued by embassies, but were to be applied for through a website and upon successful review, one would receive one of the infamous “green codes” with which one could then board the plane. I set up an account, filled in all required information so that once I had the tests, all I needed to do was upload the documents and press “submit.”

On Monday morning, I rushed to get my tests done only to find out that, different from what I had been told over the phone, the results would only be ready at 6 pm in the evening. My train was scheduled to leave at 8. And I was lucky; I had originally planned to take a train at 6:30, but (for whatever reason) had gone for the later one.

I did get my tests an hour earlier than expected, sent them immediately to the embassy AND submitted them to the online platform. Within less than half an hour I had my “green code” and boarded the train at 8. That was fast!

The next morning, I went to check in my bags well in advance. A long queue awaited me. 98% were Chinese. While waiting in line, many people were frantically calling the embassy asking about their health codes. “I sent you an email yesterday! You didn’t get it?! How is that possible!?” I overheard a young woman. Another couple had only arrived with their printed out negative test certificates but failed to apply for the code and started to argue with the airline staff. I don’t know the outcome. But there was much confusion. I managed to check in my bags and was given my boarding pass. I finally started to feel slightly more confident that I was actually able to enter China.

The airport was generally empty. No lines at security. Many shops were closed. But the atmosphere was relaxed. Everyone was wearing masks (and there were constant announcements reminding people to do so), but that was about it. This, however, changed as I boarded my plane. As soon as I approached the entrance of the plane, I saw cabin-crew members dressed in white full body protective suits, wearing goggles and blue shoe covers. They gave all of us a hand wipes before we entered the plane. The atmosphere was tense. At my seat, I found two plastic bags with pre-packed meals and several water bottles. This was all the service we would get during the 11-hour flight.

The plane was by no means full, but for some reason, they had arranged everyone to sit together, with three or four rows being completely empty in the back. This seemed paradox. Surely, all the fuss with the protective suits, the pre-packed meals and the masks existed because both the anti-body and the PCR tests are not 100% accurate and there was the possibility that any random person on that plane was in fact positive. So, why not use up the existing space and seat people at a (social) distance?

Throughout the flight, cabin-crew regularly checked our temperature. An about two-year-old child sitting right behind me kept coughing and crying during the entire journey; it turned out that the kid had a high fever. A woman across from me got angry as we arrived, asking cabin-crew why they did not move this family away from everyone else. They assured that all tests were negative or else the kid wouldn’t be on the plane. But other passengers joined in, speaking quite loudly so that the family could hear them, making remarks about “bad parenting.” It was an awkward situation. Even if that child had been infected with Covid, it would hardly be the parents’ fault.

Overall, it was not a pleasant trip. Any mask starts to feel uncomfortable after wearing it nonstop for 11 hours. The food was bad, the selection of movies not too exciting and due to the constant crying and coughing, it was hard to get sleep.

We landed in Shanghai at around 7 am. I had heard many stories from various people over the past half a year as to what happens upon arrival in China. Many of these stories were about long waiting times. 6-7 hours some had told me.

It did take a little while until we were let off the plane. Everyone was asked to apply for an “entry code” via a WeChat app. We were then asked to leave and were led into the terminal building. For a moment, I thought I could just walk out. No checks, no panic, just the usual walk towards immigration.

But then a line formed. We were asked to show our health codes and a person took down our details, typing them into a tablet: where we had come from, where we had been over the past 14 days, where we were going.

Then we followed signs towards the “corona test centre,” picking up a testing kit along the way. The “test centre” was a long row of booths. I was asked to go to “number 10.” A friendly female doctor asked for my flight number, my passport and then stuck a cotton bud up my nose. “Ok done.” I went back upstairs and was led to immigration. No long queues there either. At this point, it had barely taken an hour. I was positively surprised how well-organised and efficient everything was. Passing through customs was much faster than usual; the only new thing that was different was that they asked me for a Chinese phone number.

Then we got to the baggage reclaim area where most suitcases were already circling around the belt. I grabbed a trolley, got my bags and made my way to the exit. The area where we usually see crowds gathering around to pick up people had been completely transformed; a three-metres-high wall partitioning had been put up. I could just about see the signs of a Family Mart and a Seven Eleven behind it. I am not even sure if they were still open. At our side of the wall, we were sent to different sections depending on where we were eventually going. There was a “Zhejiang section” (where I went), a “Jiangsu section” and a “Shanghai section.” I wondered where people traveling elsewhere in China would be sent to.

Up until now, it had only taken 1 ½ hours. But the longest part was still to come. At the “Zhejiang section,” a guy collected all our passports and wrote down names and final destinations. He was confused and kept interrupting the writing down process to talk to colleagues. We had to wait for probably 45 minutes as more and more people kept lining up. Finally, our names were called out, one by one, and we were led outside to queue up for a bus. It took another 20 minutes until we were allowed to get on. Passports had not yet been returned to us. I don’t think we were told about our destination, at least I wasn’t sure; but I also heard other people on the bus asking “do you know where we are heading?” We drove southwards to Shanghai’s Jinshan District. It was over an hour until we arrived at a hotel. We were told not to move. From the window, I could see how they unloaded all suitcases and started disinfecting them.

Then, finally, we were allowed to leave. Staff nervously ushered us into the reception area. It looked nowhere like an ordinary hotel lobby. Long desks had been put up. Our names were already on a sheet of paper and we had been allocated rooms. I had sign several papers, but was not given the time to even look at them properly. “What kind of meal package would you like? The one for 60, 80 or for 120 RMB?” Ever since boarding that plane in Frankfurt, this was the very first time that I was given a choice, and such a random one at that. “Hm… the one for 80, I guess.” The people behind me also picked the 80 option.

The hotel looked like one of those newly-built resort hotels, situated next to the sea. I assume that my room would usually cost at least 1000 yuan per night, if not more. I was on the 21st floor, looking right down at the beach and onto the sea. Not so bad for a quarantine hotel. I was to spend three nights here and, if the test is negative and I have no symptoms, would then be moved to a different hotel in Zhejiang Province. They call it the “3+11” quarantine.

So what to make of this experience? First of all, it is really not much fun travelling across borders in times of a pandemic. When I finally took off my mask in my hotel room, I felt exhausted and promised that I would not do this again unless it was absolutely necessary. And we should probably all treat flying not as something comfortable, but as a nuisance, as a necessary means to an end that is expensive, uncomfortable and tiring. This kind of travel experience should be the “new normal.”  

The paranoia with which every single person approached us from the moment we boarded the plane in Frankfurt was certainly disturbing; it seemed unnecessary. But perhaps in order to contain this virus, which we still know so little about, this is really the only way of doing it. And the numbers seem to prove China’s iron hand approach right. What I can also say is that despite all the nerve-racking uncertainty that accompanied the process of preparing my return, from the moment I had entered the plane everything was very straightforward and clear. This was a pleasant change to my experiences in Germany (and Europe as a whole) where nothing had ever been clear.

I recently read a long article by Chinese historian Qin Hui in which he writes: “…what is sobering and frustrating is that, when a serious epidemic occurs, the soft-heartedness of democracies towards their citizens is not helpful in fighting the epidemic, while China’s ‘ruthlessness,’ the harsh quarantines and tracking, has proven to be effective.” I experienced the outbreak twice. Once in China in late January and once again in Germany in early March. It struck me as quite interesting how similar the two experiences were. Both times, there existed some very deeply embedded systemic and institutional deficiencies preventing leaders from responding in an effective and timely manner. In China, they suppressed the voices of people who tried to warn about the virus and ruthlessly covered things up, allowing millions of people to travel and carry the virus across the country. In Europe, no voices were suppressed. On the contrary, there was an oversupply of reports, discussions, expertise, debates, recommendations etc. etc. But despite having a heads-up, nothing was done until it was much too late. This was partially because of an underlying arrogance that this virus would never “come to us;” and it was partially also due to the impossibility for any preventative measures to be legitimately implemented before a “visible” outbreak of the epidemic.

Both liberal democracy and authoritarianism had failed, albeit for quite different reasons. However, to quote Qin Hui again: “when that spread is a fait accompli, … it matters whether you can effectively lock down a city.” And this is where China turns out to be doing much better.

From my hotel window, I can see people walking around without masks. Life appears to be pretty much back to normal. That’s certainly something to look forward to and makes 14 days of quarantine a more than worthwhile rite of passage. I may write something about this once I am out.