Who buys a place, takes a cross country trip, moves into it sans furniture and starts a whole new life in the middle of a pandemic? We do, that’s who!
We left Beijing on January 28th, anticipating a two week break before we’d be allowed back at school, assuming the COVID crisis would be over by then. Oh, the naivety! Needless to say, we haven’t made it back yet and see no evidence that we will any time soon, nearly six months later.
We have finally landed at a longer-term hitching post. After two and a half months in Thailand and the same amount of time in the Sierra Nevada Mountains in Northern California, we have trekked across the country in our new-to-us 2003 Toyota Avalon and taken possession of a condo in Madison, Wisconsin, Don’s hometown.
So, with summer upon us and wondering how we would keep occupied once our jobs wound down and the girls weren’t endlessly busy with their school work, we allowed ourselves to explore possibilities on one of our evening hikes.
Alas, that plan was struck off the calendar many months ago, but we continued to wonder if Madison might be a place we could call home until our callback to Beijing. But the money! So many of our colleagues have spent exorbitant amount of money since being exiled from China. Those who have been fortunate enough to have gracious family or friends to stay with have lost less money but perhaps more of their minds.
So what if, we thought, we could find ourselves a little apartment to buy? After more than twenty years abroad together, Don and I were tired of couch surfing summer after summer. Was it time to grow up and find a little place of our own? (We do have a home on Vancouver Island that we will eventually retire to, but we are letting a renter pay our mortgage until the time comes.) Well, the stars aligned almost as soon as they came out that very evening, and within days we had found our modest little ‘covid condo,’ put in an offer and had it accepted. A few weeks later school was out for the year, and with a week-long stop in Seattle to see my sister, an across-the-ditch border visit with my dad and brother and a pedal-to-the-metal trip across the country (with stops in Yellowstone, Mt. Rushmore and the Black Hills), we find ourselves slowly settling into our new life here in Madison.
I am presently sitting on our still-unfurnished balcony with a lone $2.95 plastic lawn chair that I bought from Goodwill a few days ago. Soon this place will be a haven, once we have plants and herbs a grill and a table and chairs. I can picture it perfectly. Even without the amenities, however, my view is of green grass and tall leafy trees. We are in the city, but it’s so set back you’d never know it. There is no traffic to be heard. We are a two-minute walk from Lake Mendota, one of the lakes on the Isthmus of Madison, and we are surrounded by parks. The Governor’s Mansion is just a short walk from our house. A plump little bright red cardinal shows up nearly every time I go out on the balcony, and I swear it’s my mama. There are squirrels scampering branch to branch and little baby rabbits everywhere.
Yup, our not-quite 900 square foot covid condo is in need of some serious fixing up. That said, we are seriously happy here. It’s our new home for the foreseeable future until we can return to Beijing, and will be our summer bolt hole for years to come. Don and I have been living overseas together for more than 20 years and we have decided that we are JUST DONE with rocking up to various (and generous!) relatives and friends’ houses over the course of our two month summers, having to carefully calibrate the amount of time our guests can deal with our family impositions before it’s time to move on and unpack and recalibrate all over again. Our 1982 Toyota camper van is too small for the four of us to coexist now that the girls are teenagers (This apartment is almost too small for spoiled North American standards, though most Europeans would find it highly manageable and our Hong Kong friends would celebrate it as a mansion.) For me, my main complaint is the one bathroom shared by three other folks who all require their ablutions at the same times of day that I need mine. I also need my “Leah-space” but the balcony will soon become that nest, at least until the cold sets in. Let’s hope we’ve found our way back to Beijing by then.
Between our buddy Eydie and our Madison sister Ellen, we are set with mugs and coffee tables and dishes and towels and blow up beds and sheets and pillows. It’s been like moving into a dorm with roommates we already know. At least there’s no getting-to-know you phase. It’s straight to the “Get the hell out of the bathroom,” and “Give me some space” phase, niceties not required. Of course, we’ve been living in hotel rooms and smaller spaces than this for chunks of this six-month corona working vacation so this is not new to us. We are old hands at being together 24/7 in small spaces. The fact that we have moved into the non-transient part of our journey and the last place we will live before we eventually head back to Beijing feels like a gift beyond measure.
So, long story short: we’re home. For now.