(An edited (one-sided) version of this article appears in the Lifestyle section of Varsity, Cambridge's student newspaper: On FaceTime and Voice Notes: A Year of Virtual Friendship | Varsity)
I’m not sure if you’ve ever flicked to the back of the onboard Eurostar magazine, but in the small chance that you equally love a trilingual read and you have, then you’ll know they often have a feature where they set up a Dutch or French person with a Brit, or vice-versa, to go on a blind date at some sponsored restaurant, and then ask them to both write up their experiences, answering the same questions. Inspired by both this and various press articles reflecting on the past year of the pandemic, I had the idea of a similar piece with my friend Eve (without the blind date part, obviously – although a bowl of moules-frites would have been nice).
What would we both have to say about the past year of our friendship?
(Illustration Credits: Eve Oostendorp)
Anna
“Vandaag is mijn moeders verjaardag”, I whispered to Eve as she helped me pack my belongings into the car boot at the end of Lent Term 2020. Like two best friends who invent a secret code to communicate in the school playground, Dutch had become Eve and I’s modus operandi since I decided to take it up in Second Year. I’d even managed to convince College to award me a travel grant to visit Eve in Amsterdam over the vacation, and I was very much looking forward to the opportunity to pick up some new words and plenty of stroopwafels and poffertjes the following week.
What we of course didn’t know was that March 13th was not only my mother’s birthday, but also the last time we’d see each other – the Covid-19 pandemic obliterating all of our plans in a matter of days, chucking the stroopwafels far out the metaphorical Eurostar window and making travel across Europe an unimaginably difficult feat. All hopes of a quick weekend break to Amsterdam, Cambridge, and finally Vienna, vanished overnight and a cheery ‘See you on Tuesday!’ has reached the point where it’s looking highly unlikely that I’ll see my college friends before their graduation in June.
By the time my cohort arrives back from the Continent to start our final year, we will have had an 18-month hiatus from Cambridge. The world of formals, supervisions, and meal deals seems distant and surreal, and the people you shared these experiences with sometimes feel like they belong in a previous life. The short terms and constant level of stress makes everything at Cambridge very intense and friendships are certainly no exception. I went from hanging out with Eve every day, knowing exactly what she had on her plate each week – not only figuratively, but literally too – 6.30pm dinner at Hall being the place to catch-up every evening, to being catapulted into a year of video-calls, voice notes, and postcards.
Weeks elapsed into months, the novelty of Zoom wore off, and we realised that we wouldn’t be sharing in the daily rhythms of university life anymore. Keeping up with Cambridge friends away from Cambridge can be a tricky business, and especially so when friends are back in residence for term. I have to say that the whole remote learning and Corona situation has ensured that there’s not an ounce of FOMO – fear of missing out – yet there is still something a little odd about living such a different life in a new city, with an entirely different set of friends, when everyone continues along the Cambridge treadmill, churning out the essays and mentioning encounters with people you hadn’t even thought about for over a year.
Maintaining friendships virtually can be draining, and I realised quite early on that scheduling weekly catch-up calls was the most sustainable way of going about things. I learnt to accept that I couldn’t possibly keep track of what was happening all the time in the Cambridge bubble, in the same way that there was no need for Eve to keep tabs on who all my new Viennese friends are. And although I could never understand completely, given the lack of smartphones and instant communication at the time, I feel like I have a much better idea of how my Filipina mother feels when she’s on the other side of the world from birthday parties, weddings, and family gatherings. It’s always fun to phone in – but closing your laptop and knowing that the party, and eating, goes on without you is a peculiar emotion.
Despite the lack of ‘the full-on sensory experience’, as Eve put it the other day, I feel like we’ve not done too badly after all. I’ve watched Eve’s final year unfold through my screen – a much more gripping series than any you’d find on Netflix - and I often think that the suboptimal situation has been a successful test-run for when both of us will find ourselves far from the unlimited side dishes and 6.30pm chatter of Christ’s College Hall. I look forward to when we’ll finally be reunited and the adventures we’ll have to share, and who knows, maybe I’ll get to those stroopwafels after all.
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Eve (Now a Finalist in Psychological and Behavioural Sciences)
What is it like to miss someone who is healthy and well, during a pandemic? To my shock I have not missed anyone over the pandemic. (Am I transgressing a social norm here?) I realise that is not the greatest start to my implicit serenade to Anna, but let me explain.
I have been the fortunate ducky to have done better than ever during this pandemic. It feels like the world has finally calmed down: the tranquillity I yearn for now seems to extend outside. I realise however this is far from the truth, and I extend my genuine compassion to those who are struggling. Amidst this personal calm, I have been able to instant message, video call and send voice-notes to those I care about. We get to share stories, photos, and feelings. Past pandemics would have relied upon post, ringing each other up on the landline and occasional telepathy. What interests me is how different (or not) this new style of communication is. Instant messaging seems like a novel mix of letter writing with conversation, laughing and crying over the phone just as “real”. Speaking to another person virtually engages the same mechanisms as speaking to them in real life does (with interesting implications for virtual therapies, which have shown promise, albeit alongside other frustrations). This is called “brain-to-brain entrainment”, where, to oversimplify things here, listeners and speakers calibrate their wavelengths. With these technologies at our disposal, what is there to miss?
In a voice-note I said to Anna how I wanted to get the full-on sensory experience when we finally meet, beyond the visual and auditory. But that was not quite right. She said that makes her sound like a gimmicky 4D film, not a friend. Not a friend. This brings me to the “brilliant neuroscientist argument” (or ‘knowledge argument’). This states that a neuroscientist, who is locked in a dark basement and somehow learns everything about colour perception, will still miss a certain vibe, the qualia, when she finally emerges into the world and sees colours.[1]
I can see, hear, touch, smell and lick a friend (in order of likelihood) and still something may be missing. And that is so true in the case of Anna. Simply being with her, walking or eating a mountain of College Hall food, felt so good. A kind of understanding, connection, or affection, a device can hardly give me.
So no, I have not missed anyone this year. But this is still compatible with a deep connection with people, but also a trust that they can, and I can, be in contact whenever. I remember being lonely on a Greek island (long story), messaging Anna, getting an immediate reply, and feeling so much better. I love the exchange of stories on our calls, which I gladly pause my studies for (big tip: prioritise these moments!). Stories, ranging from mooching around the house to monastic and mountainous trips, to people who come and go. Small things, as well as big, happy, sad, and in-the-middle things.
And what tips would I give to my past pandemic-self? Send photos! Try calling at different times of day too (speaking in daylight, or over breakfast, is a whole new experience). Combine the different methods! One of the most touching things I received was a voice-note of a “Sinterklaasgedicht” Anna wrote for me, complete with sound effects. I had just landed in Amsterdam Schiphol Airport for the Christmas vacation and was laughing out loud in the plane. I remember later smiling under my face mask at the train station. I am still flattered and utterly befuddled as to why Anna has taken up Dutch.
I realise now, with gratitude, how we have been able to stay on the same wavelength, while doing very different things. This gives me no doubt that when we meet again, she will be so much more than a 4D film. We are more than brilliant friends.
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[1] ed. If like me (Anna) your degree is more schnitzel- than science-based, you can watch this snazzy 4-minute TED video which explains this thought experiment pretty well: https://youtu.be/mGYmiQkah4o