After breakfast, I opened my laptop I took the tram into town. When Zoom had loaded When I arrived at university, I searched for the correct link I looked for the classroom and clicked ‘join meeting’ pushed open the door. I was greeted by a screen room full of faces (in FFP2 masks). Familiar faces, familiar voices – but I wasn’t familiar with the person attached to the face. Some were taller, some were shorter; some were dressed smartly, some were more casual.
I showed the tutor proof of a negative corona test and took a seat at an appropriate distance from the nearest classmate. Looked around. Marvelled at the space, the physical presence.
The meeting began. There were no lags; no-one froze mid-sentence. There was no Zoom chat or WhatsApp group chat running simultaneously. I raised my hand and unmuted myself and asked a question.
In the break, I turned off my camera we left the classroom – together – and went outside into the courtyard. Chatted.
After the meeting ended, I quit zoom and went into the kitchen to make myself lunch we went to the burger restaurant ‘Hans im Glück’ around the corner from the university. There were multiple conversations taking place at the same time in breakout rooms at the same table. Conversation flowed.
After lunch, we picked up a few beers and sat in the sun in the English Garden. Celebrated the end of the second semester of our Master’s.
We kept saying how nice it was. How nice that we could finally meet in person, hang out together. And it was nice.
But it was also incredibly bittersweet.
I’d convinced myself that studying online in the ‘new normal’ wasn’t so bad.
I had told myself there were advantages.
I could go running between seminars, for example. I had more time to focus on studying. More time to do all the reading, less time spent commuting. I could attend seminars from anywhere in Germany (or England, if I could make it home, which I haven’t been able to since September). I could watch lectures while lying on my bed.
I had told myself I knew enough people in Munich already and didn’t need the community at university. Maybe I didn’t even want to know them. Virtually, it’s hard to get the full picture of what someone is like, why they said that, why they did that.
Moreover, it was going perfectly, wasn’t it? The student project that we were working on together was coming together nicely. We hadn’t had any arguments – even if we’d privately felt a little frustrated from time to time, but that’s normal, isn’t it? We were well-organised, and the quality of our efforts was not compromised. We were managing perfectly fine virtually, thank you very much.
And then you experience what you’d been missing, and the useless thoughts that you had been successfully suppressing rise to the surface: if only there had been no Covid, if only we had been able to meet in person more often, if only, if only…
Useless thoughts – but I’m human, I’m not just a two-dimensional face on a computer screen.