Quarantined in Paradise

photo courtesy of @ericnyffeler Instagram

My family moved to Honolulu, Hawaii from Washington, D.C. in early February while I was at school. After months of planning and packing and delays, my parents, twin brother and dog finally arrived at our new home. Little did we know, less than 2 weeks later, the world would begin to shut down because of Coronavirus. 

I was not planning to arrive in Honolulu until May 2, after my last final exam. I was supposed to go back to D.C. for spring break and stay with my cousin for the week. However, three days before break was to start, Syracuse administration sent out an email that caused the cell phones of every SU student to collectively explode. We weren’t coming back until March 30, they said, but we all knew we probably weren’t coming back at all. 

I immediately called my mom, who then called my dad, who then called my cousin in order to figure out what my next move would be. By the end of it, somehow my grandmother was looped in too. Soon enough, we determined that it would be best if I switched my one-hour flight to a 12-hour one. I would be flying to Honolulu, a city I had never been to, alone, and in the middle of a pandemic. So no, I wasn’t stressed out at all. 

With the transition to online classes, I had one more issue to tackle. Honolulu is 6 hours behind Syracuse, which means that I would have to wake up at 3:30 am for my synchronous 9:30 am classes. I emailed three of my professors to explain the situation, but I got the same response from all of them: Sorry, but there’s nothing we can do to help you. Two of these three were Newhouse professors, and both told me Newhouse had chosen to require that all classes be synchronous. 

Of course, I wasn’t angry at my professors, it wasn’t their decision that would be absolutely murdering my sleep schedule. Seeing as two of these problem classes were Newhouse, I decided to channel my inner white mom and speak to the manager. I sent a strongly worded email to Interim Dean Falkner, explaining that I refused to wake up in the middle of the night for classes, emphasizing that students who live in different time zones shouldn’t have to go out of their ways to attend classes that they pay for. 

During all of this, I was frantically trying to complete my assignments on time and pack up my entire dorm room. I had a hunch we wouldn’t be back, so I dragged my friend on a late-night Target run to buy another suitcase. I packed up everything I could fit in those two suitcases, and soon enough, I was on my way to Honolulu. 

To my relief, as my professors got more information, they began to make accommodations for me. This was nice, because now I had to face an entirely new challenge: adjusting to life in a city where I didn’t know anyone and couldn’t get to know anyone because of social distancing. A few days before the island of Oahu issued its shelter-in-place order, my family and I went to Kailua Beach, which is about half an hour north of Honolulu. That was the one and only time I have gotten to see Hawaii in the month that I have been here. 

I don’t mean to complain, of course. If there’s anywhere in the country to be self-quarantined, it’s Hawaii. Still, it’s quite strange to be separated from my friends by both miles and time. The moral of the story, you ask? Check in with your classmates in different time zones... and wash your hands!