International air travel in time of pandemic

Following the global developments of 2020, the life of a digital nomad has never been more interesting. Thank you, coronavirus.

Now when I say interesting, what I really mean is challenging, confusing, nerve racking, panic inducing and adrenaline producing. Of course, the combination of self-employment and international travel always carries an air of excitement and intrigue. But against the backdrop of a worldwide pandemic, digital nomadism reaches new heights of drama and spectacle.

Our family adopted this unconventional lifestyle about four years, selling all our belongings in California, traveling across Europe for about a year, and then settling for a spell in the Spanish Pyrenees. I’m a California native, and my wife was born and raised in East Germany. Our kids both have dual citizenship, but my wife and I do not.

So we’re pretty familiar with the challenges of immigration and foreign travel. But with the Covid-19 pandemic and the lockdown policies that followed, those complications were raised by an order of magnitude. Ordinarily it wouldn’t have been such a big deal for us. As digital nomads we’re used to working from home, wherever home might happen to be.

But late last fall I returned to California to resolve some messy details pertaining to my old business in San Luis Obispo. Again, it’s just another risk that comes with working for yourself and living overseas. But as the weeks progressed, the details just got messier and messier. And next thing you know, I was stranded in the Golden State in the midst of an international lockdown.

What has the pandemic lockdown done to international travel?

As I wrestled with my retail snafu in what was once labeled the happiest city in America, the order to shelter-in-place threw me a seriously unwelcome curveball. I knew I wasn’t the only one on the block who was less-than-thrilled by the lockdown. But after five months in California, all I really wanted to do was wrap up my affairs and get back to my family on the Iberian peninsula.

One of the funnier things about the whole catastrophe (not ha-ha funny, mind you), was how smug we were about living in a remote mountain village. It was the perfect place to be—we often reminded ourselves—when the mayonnaise hit the fan. But now the mayo was splattering from sea to shining sea, and we were stuck on separate continents. This was certainly not what we’d been training for.

And as the world spun deeper and deeper into confusion, I was forced to revise my exit strategy. Still, like everything else, from running a small business to receiving an antibody test, nobody really knew how or if it would be possible to fly from California to Spain under these unprecedented circumstances.

A ticket to ride during Covid-19

With everything steeped in uncertainty, and no sense of leadership, I decided for myself and my business that the lockdown would end on May 1st and that I would be able to move out on May 31. In the first week of May, I sensed that the first wave of madness had passed, but that things would soon get crazy again. So I rushed to buy a ticket for early June, to get out of the country as quickly as possible, while things were still relatively calm and quiet.

Using Google flights, I found a ticket from San Francisco (SFO) to Barcelona (BCN) on June 11th for just $159. This seemed to confirm the rumors that the airlines, desperate for business, were engaging in major price wars. But two days later Iberia cancelled the flight and was unwilling to issue a refund. (My attempt to contest the charge is still pending.)

Disappointed but undaunted, I went looking for another ticket. By now it was May 11th or so, and the clock was ticking. And the cheap tickets were no longer anywhere to be found. Apparently the price wars had ended, and airlines were now shrewdly capitalizing on the fact that flights had been drastically reduced and anyone determined to fly during this global crisis would be willing to pay almost anything.

So I ended up with a ticket from SFO to BCN on June 7th, with a quick layover in Frankfurt, Germany (FRA), through United and Lufthansa, for around $1100. Yes, I was indeed one of those desperate customers. And until I actually boarded the plane, I remained pretty apprehensive about whether the flight would actually happen, or be cancelled at the last minute.

Getting through the airport in partial lockdown

On June 5th and 6th I started getting text messages from United Airlines, reminding me of my flight schedule and of various travel restrictions in place due to the Covid-19 situation. I looked at a couple of their links, and I got the distinct impression that still no one knew exactly what was happening, and that all policies were subject to change without notice.

But as far as I could tell, we still had the green light. The flight was still on the docket, and though many European countries had placed drastic restrictions on who could enter the country, my Spanish residency card would probably be sufficient to get me over the border.

I arrived at the airport around noon on the 7th of June, thanks to a little help from my older brother. We were coming from Sonoma , so we had the choice of driving through the East Bay or over the Golden Gate Bridge to get to the airport.

In addition to pandemic and lockdowns, we now had to contend with the possibility that traffic could by severely disrupted by marches and demonstrations for George Floyd. Driving through Oakland and the East Bay seemed pretty dicey. On the other hand, if demonstrators decided to march across the Golden Gate, we would have to turn around and circumnavigate the bay, with little chance of getting to the airport on time. This already happened the day before, on Saturday, so it seemed unlikely to take place again on Sunday.

Traffic reports made no mention of an impending bridge closure, so we headed to Highway 101 and ended up crossing the iconic bridge without a hitch. And as we approached the airport, the traffic got thinner and thinner, until we pulled up to the international terminal and saw nothing but a couple of security guards standing around and scratching their face masks.

Before taking my luggage out of the car I had to walk over to the window to make sure the airport was actually open. The revolving door was not working. But I saw a handful of people inside—as in fewer than five—and tried another door. Thank God, it opened. That’s when I took the picture featured at the top of this article.

I looked around for the United desk, and a security guard could see the puzzled look on my face, even through the mask. I told him what I needed and he directed me to the line, which was really no line at all. So I zig-zagged my way through the ropes and walked right up to the first available airline clerk.

Nervously I handed her my passport and told her I was on my way to Barcelona. “OK. Do you have any other passports?” she asked. So I handed her my Spanish residency card.

“What’s this?”

“It’s a Spanish residency card,” I told her.

“So you’re a dual citizen?”

“Well, no, not a citizen, but I have Spanish residency,” I explained.

“But where do you live?”

“I um, we um, I live in Spain,” I stuttered. “My trip to California was prolonged by the whole, ya know, situation.”

“So you’re a permanent resident?”

“A temporary resident?” I countered.

“What’s the purpose of your travel?”

“I was here on business,” I told her. “I mean, I’m heading home to my family, to my wife and kids.”

“OK,” she said. “Just hold on to this residency card and be prepared to present it when you get to Germany. They have some pretty strict rules there.”

“Don’t I know it,” I muttered to myself.

From there I made my way to the right gate, encountering no form of congestion whatsoever. The vast majority of snack bars and gift shops were closed, and there was certainly no shortage of seating.

On the loudspeakers, a message constantly reminded us to keep our distance and wear our face masks at all times. This announcement had replaced all the usual warnings about minding your luggage and never leaving your bags unattended. Evidently airport security was only capable of addressing one threat at a time, and I suppose the cowardly terrorists were all respecting the lockdown anyway.

Flying with health precautions and social distance

Sitting around the deserted airport, the opportunities for people watching had been greatly reduced. I tried to get a sense of what kind of people—besides myself—were insisting on traveling under these extreme conditions. Perhaps they were first responders, medical workers or military, but it was hard to draw any definitive conclusions.

At the boarding gate, the announcements all had to do with reminding travelers to have their documentation in order. Without proof of citizenship or permanent residence in the country of final destination, we would have a long trip to look forward to, to AND from Frankfurt.

Meanwhile they continued to remind us all to keep our masks on and to maintain our 6 feet of distance, even as we boarded the plane. Then they announced that the flight was completely full, underscoring the need to check in punctually and to take all necessary precautions for health and safety. Although no one ever attempted to take my temperature.

Much to my relief however, it became clear as we boarded, that what they meant by “completely full” was nothing like what we would have described as completely full back in the times formerly known as normal. Somewhere between half to two-thirds of the seats on the overseas flight were empty. This created a reassuring illusion of abundant personal space, even though the overhead carry-on bins seemed every bit as crowded as usual. And the extra space to spread the elbows and stretch the legs made it no easier to get any decent sleep on the flight.

Besides the empty seats and the ubiquitous face protection, it was like any other flight. They served us some rather palatable lasagna, and later came around with a choice of turkey or a mysterious vegetarian sandwich. I even enjoyed a couple of Hollywood classics from Alfred Hitchcock and Peter Sellers.

To be continued…

Stay tuned next time, when Spanish customs agents tell me whether or not I can enter the country and travel through the city.

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