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For those of you who have lived abroad, you probably know that you need to register with the embassy of your country when you arrive on foreign soil. Your government needs to know where you are residing in case of an emergency. They may need to contact you.
If you have never lived in a foreign country, you may not know this.
Being that we are dual-citizens, French and American, our family is registered with both the French and American embassies. We have done this everywhere we have lived—in the U.S., in France, in Spain, in Morocco. Our older boys have also had to do this when they were living and studying in Germany and Senegal.
Once you are on the residence list of your embassy, they regularly send you news informing you of passport and other citizen services, travel restrictions, terrorist alerts, health concerns, presidential elections, etc.
During our
Warned in Time!
I can still remember when we lived in Morocco, and the U.S. Embassy informed us that there had been a
Thankfully, we were warned. Just one hour later, we had a birthday party planned for one of our sons on the beach. We had to quickly cancel our plans and move the party to our house.
Warnings!
When we registered our families at the French and US Embassies in Spain last July, we had no idea what was coming. Our family was transitioning and moving to a country that we had loved for many decades—Spain. We weren’t thinking about emergencies that might be waiting for us around the corner.
How Could We Have Known?
How could we have known? How could we have known that, one day, we would be receiving regular correspondence from the U.S. Embassy in Spain informing us about the pandemic, COVID-19? We didn’t know. Nobody knew.
The subject line always reads the same: “Health Alert – U.S. Embassy Madrid, U.S. Consulate General Barcelona.”
Day after day, week after week, we have watched the alerts increase from Level 1 to Level 2 to Level 3 to Level 4. Level 4 is “DO NOT TRAVEL.”
The warnings have increased and the tone of the communications has been more and more serious and somber.
On March 20, 2020, the correspondence read, “U.S. citizens who wish to depart Spain should do so now.”
On March 26, 2020, the correspondence read, “U.S. citizens who live in the United States should arrange for immediate return to the United States, unless you are prepared to remain in Spain for an indefinite period. We expect direct commercial flights from Spain to the United States to end this week.”
That email was sent last week.
‘Indefinite Period’?
“Indefinite period”—what does that mean exactly?
Because all of the world’s borders have closed, the only hope of getting out of Spain and to the U.S. was a direct flight. You could no longer transit through another city in Europe or elsewhere (Turkey, Morocco, etc.).
Today, leaving is no longer an option. Those direct flights have ended.
Yes, we are living in Spain. Our home is here. We have made a choice to reside in this country.
However, these recent words from the U.S. Embassy have made me feel trapped.
Where’s My Freedom?
Up until this point in my life, I have always felt freedom—freedom to travel, freedom to jump on a plane, freedom to move, freedom to go where I want to in the world . . .
That freedom is now gone.
Up until this point in my life, we have always felt freedom—freedom to go see our families in the U.S. or in France if they needed us, freedom to travel to the U.S. or France if someone in our family had a major medical emergency and needed better health care . . .
Freedom.
Until I read these words, I have always felt freedom. Until I read these words, I have always had freedom.
Now, that freedom is gone.
I’m trapped. I’m trapped in Spain.
Not Right Now
Now, for those global nomads like me who love to explore and travel the world, wearing their cultural awareness lenses, and living the “good life” abroad . . . this might sound wonderful and exciting.
Who wouldn’t want to be trapped in Spain?
Spain is an awesome country, a beautiful place to visit and explore . . . but not right now.
We are trapped in our home in Spain, in total lockdown. It’s been four weeks that our kids’ school has been closed, and we have been homeschooling. We can’t leave our house unless we are going to get food or for medical care. We can’t take a walk in the park unless we have our dog on a leash.
It’s not the time to visit Spain or any other country in the world.
I’m trapped. Trapped in Spain.
If one of my kids (or my husband, or me) had a major medical emergency, we couldn’t go to France or to the U.S. for treatment in a hospital where we can fluently speak the language.
I’m trapped. Trapped in Spain.
If my husband’s parents got sick in France or my mother fell ill in the U.S., we couldn’t take an overnight flight to be by their side and care for them.
I’m trapped. Trapped in Spain.
If someone dear to us passed away in another country, we couldn’t go to grieve and mourn our loss together with our friends and family.
I’m trapped. Trapped in Spain.
It’s a strange feeling. It’s a scary feeling if I start thinking about it too much.
So, I won’t dwell on it. I won’t think about it.
I’ll try to forget that I’m trapped. Trapped in Spain.
—THE CULTURAL STORY-WEAVER
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LET’S WEAVE CULTURES!
Do you feel trapped? Do you feel like you have lost your freedom? How can you change your focus and not dwell on this?
We invite you to tell us your own cultural stories and global adventures . . . as you engage with the world, breaking down barriers, building bridges, and “weaving cultures!” Write about them in the comment box below.
I feel trapped. Hundreds of miles away from the U.S., the Gulf of Mexico in between, I feel trapped.
Slowly, the rules are becoming undone here. Local municipalities are taking matters into their own hands, closing walls to all visitors, requiring proof of address to get in. Highways are closing, only to allow food and medical supplies to pass through. The quarantine is in full effect; people are being removed from benches in city parks, life disrupted in a way that might have been unthinkable only a few months ago. One that hasn’t happened in decades.
Airports are closing terminals for international flights across the state. There are scant left.
Mexico might close its borders soon. Most of the Yucatan already has. People—mostly Americans—seem hysterical. They scream on social media, of course with a series of exclamation points, “Why aren’t you in your house? What are you doing? You’re the problem.”
All to a simple question of whether, during the quarantine, we could go outside for exercise. My fears are the same as many others. What if a loved one passes after the borders close and I’m not there? What if COVID-19 affects my sister, my dad, my mom? When will I see America again?
There are additional issues of health as well. I’m running out of medicine that I can’t find here. I might have to go change it.
I feel trapped. But I remind myself on the long nights when the walls in the house feel like they are moving closer and closer until I am trapped in a small box with little air to breathe, that I chose this and this country. I would stick in through to the end. Even if that means enduring significant hardship and watching civil liberties get stripped away, slowly, until none remain at all.
Wow, Christopher, thank you for sharing your story so openly and honestly. I think we are sharing many of the same feelings. I feel your pain. It brought me to tears. May we all have the endurance and strength to carry on . . . right where we are planted . . . even when trapped. Hang in there, fellow “Cultural Weaver”! 🙂