A tiny house in the Saint-Sulpice area of Lausanne, Switzerland, on a beautiful, sunny, coronavirus-panicked day. Looks like a good place to socially distance, no? March 15, 2020.

I’ve written these notes truly diary-style, in the mix of the coronavirus drama, jotting down notes, observations, quick thoughts, and vivid moments as things happen, moment-by-moment. Will a narrative emerge? We’ll find out together.

Why a coronavirus diary? At least per my perception, everything started to evolve so quickly with this pandemic toward the end of February, like an avalanche exponentially catching size and speed. If I didn’t document events and insights, I’d forget what happened, when it happened, and what I thought and experienced during this time. The same day that I’d started taking notes, Arnaud came home and said, “We really need to start writing all this down.”

A coronavirus diary appeals to me on another level than just memory-jogging for reminiscing (if anyone would want to reminisce about a pandemic): I spent years studying history in university and graduate school. Without the letters and journals and records that so many everyday people made years ago—notes they bothered to take in brief moments in the midst of chaos—we wouldn’t have nearly the depth of understanding we do today of the events, people, and mindsets of people existing long before our time.

I can hardly imagine that anyone will encounter this diary centuries from now, much less that it could serve any real purpose if someone did. However, who knows. And if I can pay back the favor so many people in history did for me in my time, I’m glad to do it.

Without further ado:

Late February and Early March 2020

Concerns about the coronavirus begin to reach critical mass outside of China. Market volatility in the US and Europe begins, but each decline seems to rebound within twenty-four hours.

At FrogDog, we briefly discuss the risk to the planned April team retreat in Washington, D.C. We decide to proceed as planned; making changes at this point feels premature.

The Swiss government issues a ban on all events of more than 1,000 people.

Thursday, March 5, 2020

Arnaud and his youngest sister had planned an 80th birthday party in Normandy for Arnaud’s mother and a small group of family members in mid-March. Arnaud’s mother e-mails Arnaud and cancels the party, citing concerns about the coronavirus. Arnaud and I plan to go to Normandy anyway, as we’ve already rented the house and a car. Arnaud e-mails the party attendees to announce the cancellation and to say that we’d still love to see them if they’d like to stop by and visit us in the rented house. Arnaud’s mother’s siblings respond to his e-mail to say that they see canceling as an overreaction and that they still plan to attend the party, even without the guest of honor.

A large annual health care conference—an industry focus for FrogDog—cancels. Called HIMSS, Trump had planned to make an appearance at it this year.

I serve on the advisory board of a health care association that has its annual conference in March. On our board call this evening, they affirm that they have no plans to cancel the meeting this year; they deem the conference a low risk and imply that the panic seems overblown.

Friday, March 6, 2020

We leave for St. Gallen in northeastern Switzerland to spend a weekend with Arnaud’s friend, Javier, his son, and his son’s girlfriend in an AirBNB. Javier’s son and daughter study in Munich; St. Gallen seemed like an easy meeting point from Lausanne and Munich. On our trip, which we took via public transportation, the trains have normal levels of riders and no one has on masks or disinfects their areas or even seems remotely concerned.

A view of the countryside in St. Gallen, Switzerland. March 7, 2020.

A large annual conference of marketing, music, and technology in Austin, South by Southwest (also known as SXSW), cancels.

Saturday, March 7, 2020

While we wander around St. Gallen and Appenzeller seeing the sights, Arnaud’s mother e-mails him to say that she has changed her mind due to sibling pressure. Her birthday party in Normandy for the upcoming Saturday is back on as previously scheduled, with the guest of honor in attendance.

The tiny town center in Appenzeller, Switzerland. March 7, 2020.

Sunday, March 8, 2020

We return from St. Gallen to Lausanne, ready for the work week. Trains and rider comportment appear as normal on an average Sunday afternoon.

In response to its robust and aggressive outbreak of the virus, Italy quarantines its northern region, requiring anyone who wishes to travel to have special permission. Also, it closes all schools, gyms, museums, nightclubs, and other venues countrywide. The Italian quarantine affects sixteen million people.

Monday, March 9, 2020

The FrogDog team discusses the April company retreat on its Monday check-in call. We decide to keep it on as planned for now; we’ll discuss it again on our March 16 call and cancel then, if needed. I name the following determining factors for canceling the retreat, the advent of any one of which will call it off:

Anyone on the team does not feel safe traveling due to the risk.
Flights get stopped between Europe and the United States or even within the United States domestically.
People who take flights from Europe or from hotspots in the United States get quarantined for fourteen days or longer.
Getting to Washington, D.C., for the retreat looks possible, but there’s a chance people will get stuck there and can’t return home.

At this stage, any possibility other than the first seems unreasonable to imagine.

Toward the end of the day, a few U.S. universities begin to announce a move from classroom to online instruction. Some universities clear campuses and dorms or tell students to go home for spring break and stay there until further notice, with all classes moving online.

Tuesday, March 10, 2020

Though big international events began to cancel last week, today everything on my calendar starts to cancel. I receive e-mail messages about in-person gatherings scheduled for later in the week, calling them off completely or moving them to videoconference.

The financial-market volatility from last week now compounds and doesn’t appear to be a blip or anomaly. Every time governments speak, the markets tank further.

Coronavirus drama overtakes all other topics on social media.

For me, the seriousness starts to sink in, caused by the accumulated drama on social media, the market crashes, and the dire international news. I begin to worry about how widespread this will be and what it will mean for the world, for myself and my family, and for my business.

I feel grateful that FrogDog moved to a distributed-workforce model in 2018; I see so many other business owners and companies compounding the stress of the current situation with needing to figure out how to move their teams to remote-work situations. We don’t have this problem, at least.

A FrogDog employee’s family takes advantage of the U.S. drop in interest rates to lock in a mortgage rate, which it uses to make an offer on a townhouse in Houston. The current owners accept their contract.

Wednesday, March 11, 2020

When we wake up, Arnaud says that the United States has announced restrictions on travel from Europe and citizens’ arrival from Europe. This triggers my cancellation criteria for the April team retreat in Washington, D.C.

I attend a language-exchange lunch with about ten people. We have enough room in the restaurant to not crowd into the tables. No one shakes or otherwise touches in greeting, but no one seems overly concerned. One attendee is a physician (an endocrinologist); she doesn’t mention the coronavirus situation other than to say that the situation is bad in her home country, Iran.

Angela Merkel in Germany states in a press conference that they estimate an infection rate of up to 70 percent of the German population.

The NBA cancels its season after a player tests positive. The Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo cancels one week into the three-week annual event.

Italy extends its quarantine nationwide; further, it moves to close all restaurants and bars and all stores other than food stores and pharmacies. In addition, it states that all companies nationwide must close all nonessential departments.

The uptick in outreach from family and friends begins. Starting today, I hear from at least one of my close friends each day via text to check in. Also, family members begin to reach out more often via phone and text.

Thursday, March 12, 2020

All reports from social media indicate a run on toilet paper, bottled water, and hand sanitizer in the United States. I see a news report from CNN Money Switzerland indicating that the Swiss have responded to the coronavirus outbreak by buying more computer monitors. Noting this difference on Twitter spurs a question about the Italian reaction. I inquire with a friend in the greater Milan area, who replies that nothing is sold out in Italy at this time; however, as restaurants have closed, they’ve experienced a pizza shortage. He says they have no problems accessing toilet paper.

A close friend’s nephew decides to get on a flight to London to see his girlfriend; he can take his college classes remotely if he gets stuck. The friend of Arnaud’s with whom we’d visited last week in St. Gallen with his son and his son’s girlfriend gets delayed on his trip to Germany due to the U.S. travel restrictions and cancelled flights home. We invite both to our place in Lausanne, if needed. (The next day, it’s evident that they couldn’t get in if needed. See below.)

Another rough day; the drama continues to weigh on me.

I manage to get outside briefly in the evening with the excuse of a grocery run and feel a lot better. It helps to see people in the world and to see that the world still turns. Kids play in the park, runners and walkers get their evening exercise, people pick up things for after-work meals in the grocery store.

Suddenly, I see the sense behind the French-language formulation of taking oneself for a walk (rather than going for a walk). It hadn’t made sense to me before, the requirement that I construct the phrase as “I take myself for a walk,” rather than simply “I go for a walk.” Today, I didn’t want to go for a walk, and I didn’t have anywhere I need to go, and the thought of putting on shoes and walking around outside aimlessly felt stupid in the depths of an emotional funk. However, sometimes, you must take yourself for a walk. Even when yourself grumbles about it.

I notice that it’s spring: I don’t need a coat, only a sweater, and the trees are blooming.

The president of France has a press conference with the following announcements:

He closes all daycares, schools, and universities.
He asks that people aged seventy and above and people with vulnerabilities due to existing health conditions avoid contact with other people as much as possible.
He asks that companies allow people to work remotely as much as possible and asks people to limit travel.
He announces economic and social support measures to protect the economy.
He states that the French elections planned for the following Sunday, March 15, will go forward as planned.

Arnaud’s youngest sister, who lives in Paris, e-mails to say that she and her boyfriend will not attend their mother’s birthday party in Normandy on Saturday. Next, Arnaud’s mother e-mails to say that she has decided to cancel her birthday party, after all. Arnaud notifies the family via e-mail. At first, he thinks that we should go ahead and go to Normandy as planned. After some discussion about the recommendations for social distancing and the fact that the people we plan to see are in high-risk groups, he announces to the family that we will not come to Normandy, either. We alert the house we’ve rented, the caterer, and the car-rental agency.

A FrogDog employee has a toddler son; his preschool announces its closing through at least the end of March. She alerts me and says she’s trying to find a solution to ensure she can keep working. We discuss flex time and options. We will figure out something, but her stress compounds. She considers flying or driving to another state, where she has family who could help.

Friday, March 13, 2020

Arnaud’s university cancels all face-to-face executive programs on campus until April 24. Also, it cancels the university’s luncheon for the board, which it had planned for today. (Some board members had already arrived on campus.)

The Swiss government calls a press conference in the afternoon and announces a bunch of wishy-washy guidance, including the following:

Closing schools, yet only actually closing schools with more than fifty students, and really, it says, the final decision rests with each canton (i.e., state), and daycares aren’t included in the closing recommendations. So who really knows about schools.
Closing borders unless you’re a citizen, or have a residency or work permit, or are a cross-border worker, or are making a delivery. In other words, borders are open. Well, unless you’re seeking asylum. People in dire need of refuge need to stay away. No exceptions.
Closing restaurants that have a capacity of fifty people or more. (Which isn’t really closing restaurants.) Bars can stay open if they serve no more than fifty people at a time, no matter their usual hosting capacity. (So bars are open.)
Closing museums, sports centers, gyms, and swimming pools. This includes all ski resorts.

The Swiss government recommends staying home and reducing interpersonal interactions. Also, it recommends avoiding public transportation when possible. Alrightey then.

Switzerland announces that it will test only people in high-risk populations who have symptoms. Everyone else, even if they have symptoms, should stay home and self-isolate. People with symptoms should only call doctors if they have severe breathing trouble. This will invariably artificially deflate the apparent number of cases in Switzerland.

Currently, the United States is effectively not testing anyone. This lack of testing has caused concern and frustration in the country.

The FrogDog employee with a child-care challenge hears from her family in another state that they would rather she stay home. She scrambles to find a childcare solution in a time where she’d rather not have babysitters coming from outside. She continues to troubleshoot this for the rest of the workday; I tell her to focus on her child and we agree to limit her workload for the day only to essential to-do items. She reports back after a grocery run that the store has decided to let in only a few people at a time in twenty-minute increments and to limit the amount of items purchased per item. She returns to her home office a little more stressed about the situation. It’s hard to avoid the emotional influence of international panic.

Arnaud comes home early to work from the apartment. Campus has emptied.

Arnaud and I take a break to go to the grocery store in the late afternoon. Though the shelves are emptier than normal, we don’t see major crowds or drama. On our way there and back, we see plenty of children still playing in the public parks and people sharing drinks and food in outdoor cafes.

At present, the predominant thinking and recommendation that all people, even the people not at risk of mortality, should reduce interactions with others to slow the spread of the virus and reduce the burden of sick people on the health care system.

The Louvre in Paris, which had closed temporarily in late February, announces that it will close until further notice.

The president of the United States gives another press conference in the late afternoon, U.S. eastern time. He promises testing for all and further government stimulus to bolster the economy. After this press conference, the U.S. financial markets jump back up and stay up through the end of the trading day.

Saturday, March 14, 2020

On a trip into the city center to buy a toaster, there are about a fifth of the number of people as usual, especially given the usual Saturday market (which is taking place, but with fewer venders).

We run into a colleague of Arnaud’s at the market. He predicts that it will take two months for everything to settle down and get somewhat back to the usual world order. Arnaud predicts at least two months. I predict the hysteria will die down by mid-April and we’ll start to head back toward normalcy then. Later, we talk to my brother when we call my nephew for his birthday and ask for his prediction; he predicts two to three months will pass before we return to a semblance of regular life.

On a quick trip to the supermarket, there are plenty of things in stock, but there’s been a run on eggs, pasta and pasta sauce, and frozen vegetables. Also, they’re low on liquid soap.

The United States expands its travel ban to the United Kingdom and Ireland and suggests it may consider domestic travel restrictions.

Spain announces nationwide quarantine, closing all schools, restaurants, and bars and asking citizens to stay indoors.

France announces that all nonessential businesses, including restaurants, bars, and movie theaters, will close as of midnight.

My mother heads to my nephew’s Saturday afternoon birthday party, despite the general recommendations that people in her age group stay home and my reminders about the sagacity of social distancing for all people.

Sunday, March 15, 2020

A gorgeous spring day. No new world news when we awake. A quick review of social media indicates that people in the United States aren’t really taking the social distancing recommendations seriously.

In thinking ahead for the week, we decide to buy more supplies that will keep over the long term (e.g., pasta, eggs, frozen vegetables) at the grocery store tomorrow, in case of supply-chain issues in Europe given the increased border controls and quarantines. (Grocery stories always stay closed in Switzerland on Sundays.)

Arnaud returns from his morning run and says he would like to cancel our planned cleaning services for tomorrow and the near term; we at least know that we’ve already received exposure to the germs currently in the apartment.

I take myself on another walk. The sunlight and the birds playing on the lakefront and the spring air calms me. I felt thankful for many things, including living in a place where I can walk to green spaces and clear lakes and fresh air and still practice “social distance.”

People kind of, sort of socially distancing while enjoying the sunlight and the spring temperatures along Lake Geneva. March 15, 2020. Lausanne, Switzerland.

During the depths of winter, we’d taken the initiative to buy a hammock on sale for our terrace; given the spring sunshine and the social distancing, we take the opportunity to set it up and sit in it for a bit in the afternoon, enjoying the fresh air and the mountain views. Again: Thankfulness.

Arnaud and I in our new hammock on the terrace at home. At least we can socially distance together. March 15, 2020. Lausanne, Switzerland.

Arnaud’s university sends notice via e-mail that a staff member has tested positive for coronavirus. The e-mail encourages managers to allow employees and faculty to work from home.

When we check the Johns Hopkins University coronavirus tracking website, we note for the first time that cases outside of China equal the number of cases inside China.

Germany announces that it will close its borders with neighboring countries.

And It Continues

As of this writing, we’ve reached bedtime in Switzerland on Sunday night, March 15, 2020. Starting tomorrow morning, I’ll start a new document to record the week. I’ll post the second diary for the week ahead next Sunday night, March 22, 2020. (Update: Week two published on schedule.)

I wonder if the news cycle will slow or accelerate.

Stay tuned.

Update: This series continued for eight weeks in total. You can review all entries in the coronavirus diaries via this link.

The Coronavirus Diaries: The Beginning