Oh, the Places You Can Still Go

As a digital nomad, the COVID-19 pandemic has all but eliminated the viability of my lifestyle. With borders closing, airlines canceling routes, and a contagious disease that threatens our health, it’s difficult to maintain this fast-paced globetrotting.

I was happy to leave Thailand at the end of January when it appeared that COVID-19 was spreading through the region. A 55-hour itinerary to Montevideo, Uruguay struck me as a foolproof plan. The virus couldn’t spread to the ends of the Earth (or so I thought).

By the end of March, the uncertainty of things was too much to bear, so I used my travel insurance benefit to evacuate to the United States.

It may seem foolhardy to have left the safety of a small country with few cases, but understand that I was concerned about overstaying my visa, which would have invalidated my health insurance—not to mention the possibility of losing access to outbound flights indefinitely. And what if desperation and unrest were to bubble up in Latin America? These were all serious considerations, and frankly they still are.

Over the past months in the US, I’ve weighed these considerations along with those other considerations that led me to pursue internationalism in the first place. Living deliberately, minimizing daily minutia, saving money (and taxes), building my business, and basking in the beauty of planet Earth.

Given the severe mismanagement of the crisis in the United States, I’ve decided it’s hardly riskier to leave the United States than to stay. If I’m going to be exposed to risk, I prefer to face it far away from the inchoate chaos of Washington, DC and the belligerency of middle America.

Iceland was Plan A. After a strong suggestion from Icelandic officials that the country would defy the European Commission’s guidance and open to American tourism on July 1st, I booked a flight. Sadly, Iceland’s government (perhaps wisely) caved to the pressure and reneged, leaving hundreds—if not thousands—with canceled flights.

Increasingly, I was concerned about being marooned East Germany-style within the US. I needed to get out quickly.

At this point, it appeared that Serbia and Croatia were a couple alternatives, along with a handful of Caribbean nations. Serbia didn’t seem like the right route. That instinct has since been vindicated. And Croatia changed the goalpost by requiring a test taken 48 hours prior to arrival, which is not possible for regular folks without symptoms in the US. Finally, I couldn’t imagine that I’d be able to afford the Caribbean.

Much to my surprise, the Caribbean is exceedingly affordable right now. The laws of supply and demand turn out to have deep explanatory power after all. And among the list of Caribbean nations open to Americans included one of my favorites: the happy little island of Aruba, a three hour flight from Miami and 70 miles off the coast of the decidedly less happy country of Venezuela.

Yes indeed, the Aruban government welcomed Americans (with stipulations) starting on July 10th. So I arrived on July 11th, before they could change their mind as Iceland did.

After completing Aruba’s travel authorization process and enduring a couple anxiety-ridden short haul flights, I arrived at the quite orderly Queen Beatrix International Airport, where I waited about 45 minutes to pass customs and undergo a COVID test. After quarantining for 12 hours from the comfort of my Airbnb, the Aruban health app notified me that I was negative for COVID-19. I’ve since been free to live as I see fit.

And that has been the goal the whole time: Living as I see fit, responsibly, prudently, and with measured risk.

I have no desire to recklessly jaunt around the US while 50k-60k new COVID cases are diagnosed each day.

As I write this, officials are aware of three active COVID cases in Aruba. While I don’t take that as license to go about business as usual, I do feel a great deal safer but more importantly happier and freer.

This is all to say that we needn’t necessarily submit to the unhappiness of the moment. For those with a will, there’s a way—one that is probably safer, more comfortable, and freer than continuing to tip-toe through daily life in America.

The morning after my quarantine was lifted, I drove my scooter through the breezy ocean air towards Palm Beach, a famous world-class resort area facing Aruba’s western coast. It was surreal to arrive in a ghost town and enjoy the roped-off swimming bays utterly and radically alone.

After several months of commiserating over the forlorn prospect of the End of Travel, I was so happy to float aimlessly in the warm, azure Caribbean Sea that it made me burst into a spontaneous, almost nervous laughter.

I’ll continue to bask in my Aruban euphoria until October (I hope). And now that I’ve left the US again, I won’t be subject to the likely rule that many countries will impose which will bar anybody who has been in the US within the past 14 days. There ought to be more options at my disposal come this fall. And with direct flights from Aruba to Amsterdam, perhaps Europe will be an option by October.

Travel is integral to my lifestyles as an expat, digital nomad, and internationalist. My business dealings, personal life, and daily happiness depends on the ability to cross borders mostly unimpeded.

As for you an I, dear Reader, we’ll need to continue to exercise extreme caution in the coming months (maybe years), but that doesn’t mean that we must forfeit this time to the circumstances.

It’s said, “Go where you’re treated best.” That may not be completely feasible at this time, but to put it in underwhelming terms, we can certainly go where we’re treated better.

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