A recipe for getting by
I have been staring at this giant head of cabbage for five minutes, thinking of the different ways I could use it. Getting cabbage from the grocery was essential for me, because my Google search revealed it was one of the best long-lasting vegetables to have on hand during a lockdown. So, I could try cabbage rolls. I could add it to my nilagang baka. I could use it in stir-fry dishes. I could even make coleslaw. So many possibilities. This is great.
I guess what has heightened this mundane activity for me is the fact that I have been away living by myself for the past eight months. I moved to Boston, Massachusetts, last year for a postgraduate degree, fulfilling a longtime dream of living in a foreign country, being back in the classroom, and traveling solo. I always enjoyed traveling, but I wanted that intimate cultural experience most of all, and getting to do it for a master’s was icing on the cake.
Now, though, this extreme curveball has forced the dream to be on pause. What were the chances that This Great Big Adventure would coincide with a global public health emergency the likes of which we’ve only seen in apocalyptic movies? Not only do I have to survive on my own — I have to survive on my own, abroad, in a pandemic. It was crazy enough to decide to halt everything and leave my life a bit for a suntok sa buwan dream. I miss the comforts of home. I miss not having to pay almost $3 for a single yellow mango (that is not even close to our kind). I haven’t gone back since leaving, not even for the holidays last year, and not any time soon since I still have classes. International borders were closing down right when everyone was still scrambling on what to do, so I ultimately decided to stay even if classes went online already.
Boston is a town of many colleges and universities, with hundreds of thousands of students and workers in the health field. In fact, the Massachusetts General Hospital is the biggest employer in the area, so it is not uncommon to see health workers in uniform all around. While there is comfort in knowing there are plenty in the same boat as me and that there are more resources here, which should make things manageable, the reality is that people are struggling here, too. As of writing, there are 66,263 confirmed cases across Massachusetts and a death toll of 3,846. It’s so hard to imagine these numbers while also keeping track of the numbers back home. While it is a privilege, I have had to dial back on daily news alerts from everywhere.
I try to remind myself I am fine. I have a bed, a bathroom, and a kitchen. I can experience spring and take in beautiful city views through the window. I have not yet run out of funds. I can keep taking classes online. But how can I romanticize my solitary walks by the river when people are literally sick and dying around me every day? I am lucky I never had that much trouble with solitude. That sounds like a downer, but I just mean I’ve always enjoyed my independence. I have realized, however, that there is a fine line between independence and isolation, especially in the situation I am in now where there are no safety nets or traditional comforts. Every day is just a battle to stay sane, stay healthy, keep comfortable, and to not lose myself in thoughts of the future.
I need to keep busy and actively work on living in the present. Otherwise, I would spiral on obsessing—from how I would strategize my next grocery trip, to when the next in-person class could be, to whether our graduation would even push through or not, to when I would see my family again.
I may not be able to weather the days with those near and dear to me, but I find comfort in not burdening myself with everything that is wrong. I tend to worry about everything and everyone, but I guess nobody is going to punish me for easing up on the worries for now. I need to focus on the ordinary things that are going right, like this yummy Asian Chicken stir-fry I am making. It’s smelling good; the cabbages are a nice touch for some greens and that slight crunch.
My birthday is coming soon, too, and gone is the whole fantasy of a last-of-my-twenties extravaganza out on the town. Instead, I’ll probably splurge a bit and dip into my careful budget for excellent takeout and go on a Zoom marathon with everyone I love. I just need to carry on like the mature, strong, independent woman Destiny’s Child taught me to be.
I may have found my recipe for getting by: pounds of courage, a pack of positivity, an ounce of hope, balanced with a dash of reality check and mixed with a whole lot of heart. Season with experience to taste. I find that you can get the outcome you want from cooking if you can imagine the taste. The same thing applies to this whole experience, I guess. If you can will for the good, you can have it. If not, it’s okay, you’re still getting profoundly nourished. It could be a lot worse.
Love, light, and prayers to everyone.
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Maan Fernandez Nitura, 28, is taking her master’s in international marketing and business analytics in Boston.
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