Finding Hope During COVID-19: My Experience Living Through a Global Pandemic Abroad

When the pandemic first hit, I was thousands of miles from home, watching the world change through the lens of a different culture. Living abroad during COVID-19 has been a rollercoaster of emotions, but what strikes me most is how this shared crisis revealed both our differences and our common humanity. Let me tell you about the hope I’ve found along the way.

The Scientific Breakthroughs That Changed Everything

I still remember those early days of confusion and fear. Then came the vaccines – developed faster than anyone thought possible. From my apartment overseas, I watched countries roll out their strategies like a real-time experiment in crisis management. The digital tools we suddenly relied on? They became lifelines connecting us across borders when physical travel stopped.

What fascinated me was seeing how each country played to its strengths. Take the Caribbean islands I visited before the pandemic – they basically turned themselves into COVID-free bubbles. Sure, the empty beaches where bustling markets once stood were heartbreaking, but locals told me they felt safer than anywhere else on earth. No masks at the grocery store, kids playing freely in parks. It was surreal watching their Instagram stories while my friends back home were in strict lockdown.

Vaccination Success Stories from Around the Globe

The Galapagos story still gives me goosebumps. Picture this: an entire archipelago coming together, every eligible person rolling up their sleeve because they understood one simple truth – no vaccines meant no tourists, and no tourists meant no livelihood. They did it. All 25,000 of them.

But Portugal? They absolutely blew my mind. I have friends in Lisbon who joke that they had to start importing unvaccinated people because they’d run out of arms to jab. With 85% fully vaccinated, they’ve shown what’s possible when a country truly unites. My Portuguese neighbor here loves reminding me that only tiny Gibraltar beat them – and Gibraltar barely counts, she says with a wink.

Down in South America, where I’ve been lucky enough to spend the last few months, Ecuador became the unexpected hero. The new president promised 75% adult vaccination in his first 100 days, and they actually pulled it off. Chile and Uruguay aren’t far behind. Walking through Santiago recently felt almost normal – outdoor cafes buzzing, families in parks, life returning.

The American Recovery: A Tale of Progress and Challenges

I’ve been glued to the news from the States, where my family lives. Watching those case numbers tumble from 152,000 to 73,000 daily cases in just seven weeks felt like watching a miracle unfold. My mom texted me excitedly when hospitalizations dropped by a third – her local hospital finally took down the overflow tents.

The Pfizer approval was a game-changer. Suddenly, my skeptical uncle had to get vaccinated for work, and my cousin’s university required it for fall semester. Delta Airlines charging unvaccinated employees an extra $200 for health insurance? Harsh but effective. Sometimes you need that push. By late summer, the “wait and see” crowd had shrunk from one in three Americans to just one in five.

Living with the New Normal

Every expat develops their own COVID routine. Mine involves obsessively checking case numbers in three different countries and keeping masks in every jacket pocket (because I always forget them otherwise). In California, where my sister lives, they’ve been incredibly organized – everyone over 65 got their booster exactly six months after dose two. She said the whole thing ran like clockwork.

What really interests me is how countries are shifting their mindset. Ecuador’s health minister recently said something that stuck with me: “We’re learning to live with this virus, not in fear of it.” They’re aiming for normalcy by January 2022, though “normal” now includes masks on crowded buses – which honestly doesn’t seem like such a bad idea anymore.

Lessons from History Guide Our Present

During a particularly dark moment last year, I stumbled across this incredible historical parallel. In the 1630s, Florence faced the plague with something called the Sanita – basically a Renaissance-era health board. They did everything we’ve been doing: border controls, quarantines, social distancing. While other Italian cities lost half their people, Florence kept deaths to 12%. It hit me then – we’ve been here before, and we’ve survived.

Where We Stand Now

The numbers tell a story of hope. Colombia’s cases dropped 95% in three months – I couldn’t believe it when I read that. Peru, which broke my heart with those horrific death rates, has seen fatalities plummet by 87%. Here in Ecuador, they’re actually closing COVID wards. Empty beds where ventilators once sustained life – it’s the best kind of emptiness.

You know what really signals normalcy to me? Sports crowds. I stayed up late to watch the Braves play to a packed stadium – 41,000 people cheering together. No cardboard cutouts, no piped-in crowd noise. Just real, beautiful, human chaos.

Moving Forward with Cautious Optimism

This pandemic has taught me things I never wanted to learn but am grateful to know. I’ve seen communities rally in ways that restore faith in humanity. I’ve watched science work in real-time. I’ve learned that “we’re all in this together” isn’t just a slogan – it’s a survival strategy.

Success looks different everywhere. In some places, it’s near-universal vaccination. In others, it’s creative solutions and community solidarity. But everywhere I’ve been, the formula includes leadership that people trust, access to good information, and that magical ingredient – people caring about their neighbors.

I’m not naive. New variants could emerge, some countries still struggle with vaccine access, and COVID fatigue is real. But sitting here in my adopted country, watching the sun set over a gradually reopening world, I feel genuinely hopeful. We’ve built tools, learned lessons, and discovered reserves of resilience we didn’t know we had.

To my fellow expats navigating this strange new world: keep your head up and your mask handy. Stay informed about your host country’s rules (they change faster than you can say “PCR test”). Get vaccinated if you haven’t – not just for you, but for the abuela next door who makes you smile every morning. We’ve come this far together, across all these miles and borders. The finish line might still be hazy, but at least now we can see it.