Traveling and preparing to move amid the COVID-19 pandemic

Since I am moving to Richmond, Virginia, I thought it best to visit the South and search for a place to live. Before I booked the hotel I was going to stay at in Richmond for that vacation, I searched for places to visit in which I could socially distance, wear a mask and order good takeout. Preposterously, I had a hotel in Virginia Beach before I even saw the Richmond neighborhoods I wanted to live in, but that is nothing too unexpected coming from someone who calls herself a travel blogger. My husband’s eyes widened and jaw dropped when I approached him to talk about the beach and not about Richmond. Priceless.

Richmond was as expected: too aged, too hot and very picturesque. On the other hand, Virginia Beach took my soul back to my hometown Santa Marta with the golden ocean colored by the beams of the sun in the firmament. A warm wind, as we call it in Colombia during the month of December, ‘la loca,’ was refreshing during the day, and during the night, useless.

The hotel prices did not drop due to the pandemic; I stayed in a seedy hotel for almost $300 per night, and, to make it worst, not even breakfast included. In addition, room service was not offered due to the pandemic. Funny thing, the South took the pandemic for granted to decrease good service, but the prices remained outrageous for tourism as everyone was visiting regardless of the outbreak.

Half of the population was wearing masks and the other half was wearing masks on their necks; I even jokingly mumbled they do not want to be called rednecks anymore, but “masknecks.” Most of the population was not compliant with the phase II rules and, regrettably to say, it was not enforced. I believe they were trying to give us a break — or should I say, an outbreak.

The morning bike ride made me feel free again. I connected my earbuds to my iTunes list and rode a bike to the pace of Shakira and Carlos Vives. Needless to say that as a good Latina I almost fell of my bike, not for being a bad rider, but for trying to move my hips at the sound of the music, against the heavy winds, and the chaotic scenario ahead of me. It felt so jarring when I arrived at the end of the boardwalk to find a car burning in fire after a crash, and myself singing my lungs out in my own world. Three people were on the ground and two others were being aided by EMS. I now understood my kids’ awkward stares; while I was having fun in my own head, the real world was experiencing grief.

Another experience I enjoyed was eating the eyes of every fried fish in front of me. I can see you rolling your eyes at me in disgust, but hey, I am proud of eating every part of the fish and not squandering each cent I spent on it. I am a Culozunga, a person born in Ciénaga, Colombia, and we do that. My kids’ awkward eyes stared at me again. How traumatic for them, to the point that they continuously order grilled fillet (so that they do not have to deal with me asking for their fishes’ eyes); my husband did not look at me. I mean it. Not at all.

Now, I am going to rant: I went to a breakfast place which their tagline said, “eat like the locals.” They missed adding, of 1864. Remembering the restaurant’s slogan, I looked around and realized that all the pics were of white, young, blond women in their vintage bathing suits.

Wait a second, the restaurant brags about its dishes reflecting “eating like the locals” but, the locals aren’t all white. Almost 20% of the population in Virginia is African American, a big number representing this minority. Perhaps the sign could have said, “eat like 80% of the locals.” To me, inclusion must be echoed in every aspect of our lives to impact our future.

Stay tuned as I am going to Seattle for family affairs and I am concerned about the virus there as well.