28th January – Today I tested positive for Covid-19. I do not have time to overthink the situation and what this means for the next few weeks, because I have an exam in the afternoon. Instead, I gaze at my notes on Bantu culture, make some quick toast with banana and tahini, connect with my professor on Zoom, write my exam on a Word document and email it to her when my time is up, because this is how exams work now.
The sun is still yet to set, but Porto has been covered in a thick layer of fog and precipitation for the last three days, and dusk seems to have appeared prematurely. I put on the excessive amount of fairy lights I have accumulated in my small room, sit on my bed, and open the cards and presents that arrived from my parents, grandad, and best friend in the post this morning, because today also happens to be my birthday.
I never imagined that 21 would look quite like this, but I’m not mad about it. I spend the next few hours braising leeks and mashing sweet potato, rolling out dough and frying the result to make Afghan stuffed flatbreads called ‘bolanis’. The fact that I do all this in a medical grade mask and gloves already feels normal, as it’s been general practice in the kitchen for days. I share it with those of my flatmates who have also tested positive, which by this point is most of us. I go to bed full and content, because yes, my life is a little strange right now, but it will all make a good story one day, and I have the kind of flatmates who secretly hand craft and paint an intricately beautiful incense holder for me because they noticed I didn’t have one, and who wake me up at midnight with homemade blueberry muffins and candles, because birthdays still have to be celebrated.
30th January – This Saturday is one of those wonderfully unexpected, once-in-a-blue-moon days where I feel as if I am pressing a reset button. What started as washing my sheets and taking the bins out soon became boiling up all my excess vegetables into a stock, which then became emptying, cleaning and reorganising my entire food cupboard. My flatmates think there’s something wrong with me, but I feel such an immense satisfaction from all of these very tiny mundane achievements that the rest of my day slips by happily, mostly taken up by a four-hour conversation with my best friend in Glasgow, and a quick dip into my mum’s birthday dinner via Zoom.
I go through periods of feeling as if I have no time left to stay in touch with everyone back home. Although it is important to throw yourself into your experience abroad, it is equally as vital to touch base with those you hold most dear, and with the current lack of social interaction I am grateful for the time I have to ramble away with the people that know me best.
1st February – We have a very long, very thin garden, containing one persimmon and three or four orange trees, the latter of which are currently in full season. Every now and again, some stubbled Portuguese gardeners turn up to the house and proceed, cigarettes constantly puffing away, to sweep and clip and tidy until everything looks pristine. We never know when they will arrive, but it is always a great treat when they do. Today they have pruned our fruit trees, which means they have deposited two bulging trays of freshly picked oranges at our kitchen door. We have no idea how to get through all of them (there are at least a hundred) but since we are all in the throes of Coronavirus symptoms, we could probably use the vitamin C.
The day is brightened further by the delivery of a ridiculous number of biscuits and pastries from my family’s pasteleria here in Portugal. Suffice to say, after being concerned about them going off, the flatmates descended, and they were gone within a day.
3rd February – Today is our third birthday celebration in the flat in the same number of weeks, and we are hurriedly preparing with peanut butter cake and hand-drawn cards. After being postponed once and then again, I finally complete my final exam and am struck with an immense sense of relief. Before I can start to think about my new-found freedom, I am called to the front door by my flatmate. Excited, I pelt down the stairs, ready to be greeted with my belated birthday parcels. Instead, I am faced with a surly-looking man’s police badge, asking for my personal identification. Without knowing why he requires it, I pace back up the stairs, my heart instantly beating faster as I run through all the possible scenarios. Do I have a residency permit? Do I have a visa? Have I accidentally broken a Portuguese law? The confusion is dissipated when the policeman explains that he is here to check that everyone in the flat is complying with self-isolation, meaning I have to wake up a lot of groggy, confused students to come and verify their identities.
At night, we have pizza delivered from our favourite spot (certified by our Italian flatmates), lots of cake and even more dancing. Our new pastime is learning Just Dance routines off by heart, so three enthusiastic flatmates and I performed our rendition of Shakira’s all-time classic ‘Waka waka (This time for Africa)’ followed by ‘Rasputin’, Cossack dancing and all, and ‘The Final Countdown’ as our finale. We may not be able to leave the house, but we can still dance ourselves happy.
6th February – Today I took part in an online film night organised by the Portuguese department in Glasgow. It feels good to see so many old and new faces, and the improvement in my language is stark considering the last time we all spoke I had not yet arrived in Portugal. I connected with classmates spread out over Lisbon, the Azores, Czech Republic, as well as those in Scotland, and the whole evening has encouraged me to find new ways to improve my Portuguese in this time of limited interaction.
10th February – It’s been a few days since our isolation officially ended, and I am sitting at my laptop, attempting to condense the last couple of weeks into this blog post. There really hasn’t been a significant change in the rhythms of our little house since our isolation finished. This is mostly because, with eight distinct, interesting, and busy people bouncing around, the action seems to come to us. Already today there have been architecture presentations practised, bikes restored in the corridor ready to be ridden on Porto’s cobbled tiles, my belated birthday parcels have finally arrived, and to top it all off, two of my flatmates have just walked into the living room with a new pet guinea pig. I immediately express my many concerns, but I think everyone is secretly excited to have a fluffy thing to name and look after in the house – and now that our resident rat has finally vacated the kitchen, this furry creature is a little more welcome.
I hope this little dispatch from life in a lively house in Porto has brought something to your day. Things don’t always go the way you’ve planned when you’re living abroad – but with some good people around you and a little luck, new and different lessons can be learnt.
(Just to be clear – our wee guinea-pig friend will be well looked after here and taken back to my Portuguese flatmate’s home at the end of the year)
Note: If you test positive for Covid-19, check your host country’s guidelines to familiarise yourselves with the rules. Reach out to the UofG Go Abroad team if you need any help or advice!
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