Andrew (Weeks) has been describing my existence in the tax haven as “Robinson Crusoe-like,” and with good reason. The tax haven is incredibly lonely. People are naturally reticent to leave their COVID bubbles; other people are not hell, but they are still dangerous. This is compounded by the European Union’s digital COVID certificate (DCC) that all EU countries are using for vaccine enforcement. On the face of it, it seems like the right idea. One centralized database with everyone’s vaccine status that can be easily scanned by your server as you enter the restaurant –America’s paper cards seem like nothing in comparison – and every EU country has developed an app to scan and store vaccine passports, in France it is TousAntiCovid, here we have CovidCheck. Unfortunately, foreigners cannot find their way into the database very easily. France has a system to allow tourists to submit their paper cards for temporary QR codes, I submitted my application weeks in advance, I was denied it 2 weeks after I arrived. This is a trend with the European bureaucracies.
Restaurants in Luxembourg are expected to require all indoor diners to show their QR codes before eating inside, the weather has prevented most outdoor dining. The servers cannot accept American vaccine cards, unfortunately, so I had to register my vaccine with the government after receiving my social security number. They bureaucrats are kind, but they take their time registering vaccines (in their defense, I’m sure there cannot be too many bureaucrats here). I eventually received an email from the government, “Your vaccine is registered, you can get your DCC from this log-in!” The catch? I have to have my ID card, something I will not receive for another month, to access the page. I inform the bureaucrat over email that I cannot access the log-in and that I will need to get the DCC another way, perhaps they can email it to me? No dice. The bureaucrat is kind enough to send me a link detailing how I can request my DCC, by mail, and I fill out the forms and send them on their way. In the meantime, I am still waiting. There is a bar in town called Café Streik, I want to go and be social, I haven’t had a chance yet.
Being locked out of all social activities has had its toll. While my wallet is greatly appreciative – a kebab here costs 3 euros more than in France – my social life is one of total isolation. My first week of classes were all online, no one but a screen to talk to. About a week into the semester another student had the good sense to make a group chat, only now have I finally been able to talk with my cohort. Unfortunately, I have yet to make friends. My roommates are kind but two of them run from me (my defect remains unknown), the third is nice, but she is often gone.
I’ve found solace in the library. You must register in advance, wear a mask, and sit in your assigned place, understandable, but I am still able to find some of the joy that I found at Milner Library in Normal. You are allowed to work in groups (of two), but I have yet to find a soul to share the space with. The books are good company. At ISU I had a girlfriend who I would often try to hide from, I found comfort in the library because she was never there, the books were my protectors, she could not see me as I leafed through obscure texts about Hessian mercenaries in the Revolutionary War. The books let me confide my overwhelming sadness in them.
The books here do the same although the library’s collection is rather small because they rely on online access for many of their books. There is no inter-library loan system, so I have been flooding the front desk with acquisition forms. The poor librarian who processes them must hate me; I have probably wrecked the library’s budget. The French history section – my home in any library – is not worse than at Milner, but I have my preferences. I hope that my flood of acquisition forms will change that.
I am trying to find meaning in my isolation, the books my research give me comfort. I have been slow to read and slow to write – the isolation and depression swirl in my head like a cursed yin and yang – but the space brings me hope. They have limited hours, but I am making the most of them. The library is the one place I am welcome, vaccine passports be damned.
Signed,
Andrew (Pfannkuche)
Normal Thoughts 