Welcome to Free Press Free Write, a weekly column written by the staff of The New School Free Press. Each week a new staff member might share a story, memory, maybe a DIY, or a week-in-review. Free Write is a space where our reporters, artists and editors can express themselves through writing. In times like these, writing can be an escape.
Next up is our reporter and story editor, Elia Griffin, third-year Journalism + Design student at Lang.
Last year my plan for spring break was shattered to pieces less than 24 hours before I was supposed to set foot on the plane. When I purchased my ticket five months earlier, I never expected a global pandemic would stand in the way of visiting my boyfriend who was studying abroad in Barcelona.
But boy, was I wrong.
When President Donald Trump announced that all non-essential travel to Europe would be suspended due to COVID-19 outbreaks spreading across the world, my heart sank down to my pelvis. It may sound pathetic, but I cried… really hard. I cried for a lost trip, a changing world, and for memories that would never be made.
When spring break came around this year, I decided that my boyfriend and I deserved a vacation. A safe one, away from the congested city life, my stuffy apartment and the monotonous daily routine of staring at my computer screen for hours on end. Here is how I was able to pull off a COVID-19 safe vacation without having to hop on a plane:
First off, we had to settle on an activity that was outdoors and with a hefty distance from other people. A ski trip seemed obvious to my boyfriend, an avid skier who typically goes out West where the snow is powdery-soft, and the mountains are ginormous. I, on the other hand, wanted to lounge on the beach and absorb vitamin D under the sun. But the more I thought about taking a crowded plane to a crowded beach, the more anxious I felt about running into the coronavirus, or even worse, a coronavirus variant.
We settled on a ski trip to the Adirondacks in upstate New York, a five hour drive away from the city. We stayed in an Airbnb nestled into Essex county, NY, which has had a total of 1,428 cases, according to the The New York Times COVID-19 tracker. It felt way less anxiety inducing to travel to a city or region in the U.S. where COVID-19 cases are significantly low.
The next step was to round up my most COVID-19 safe and trustworthy buddies. This meant weeding out the friends who just can’t stop posting Instagram stories at the bar or the friends who act like there isn’t a coronavirus variant circulating the city. Vacationing with my roommate and my boyfriend’s roommate seemed to be the safest option. Before we all joined forces in my Williamsburg apartment, we got COVID-19 tests to ensure that our bubbles would merge seamlessly prior to our venture into the Adirondacks.
Skiing is almost the perfect pandemic activity (aside from adopting a dog), due to the fact that you usually want every orifice of your body covered by fabric to protect you from the crisp, chilling air that stings your skin as you zip down the mountain. Wearing a mask or a face covering is easy peasy.
We skied Whiteface Mountain – the site of the 1980’s Olympics – where they require everyone on the mountain to wear a mask at all times. Except when eating or skiing down the mountain.
The view from the highest peak on Whiteface is the most unforgettable part of the trip. Sitting on a ski lift, traveling 40 feet in the air over the surface of snow covered mountains. Blue-grey silhouettes topped with a luscious mix of coniferous and deciduous trees carve the horizon. Icy, silver lakes slide along the terrain. It is impossible not to turn around in the ski lift chair and admire the natural artistry that is mother earth. Pull down your mask and steal a deep breath of that crisp air.
I was sad leaving the Adirondacks. The Stare-out-the-window-and-pretend-you-are-in-a music-video type of sad. But the “Trump 2020” and “2024” signs were enough to remind me that it was time to get outta there. They were not only a reminder of insidious white supremacy, but also of the former president’s way-too-late acknowledgement of the coronavirus and the negligence with which he handled a pandemic that has resulted in over 540,000 deaths in the United States. The return to a well-seasoned, sometimes stinky, and COVID-changed city like New York from a refreshing and grounding region like the Adirondacks is nothing but bittersweet.