COVID-19 Vaccine Ready in China?

In case you missed it, on October 12, state-owned China National Pharmaceutical Group (Sinopharm) launched an online vaccine reservation system. Before you get excited, the system currently only accepts appointments for China’s essential workers and students living in Beijing and Wuhan. Students planning to travel abroad from November 2020 to January 2021 will also be eligible for the shot.

70 Schools, Hundreds of Families Attend Jingkids International School Expo

COVID-19 might have seen the Jingkids International School Expo (JISE) postponed, but even it couldn’t stop this annual event from taking place. Over 70 international schools were in attendance, showcasing the best that each of their campuses has to offer to Beijing’s parents and students. There were also engaging panels, where experts, educators, parents, and students alike were able to exchange and learn. This year’s JISE was certainly one for the books!

Beijingkids’ Mina Yan and Husband Welcome Beautiful Baby Daughter

It’s said that each cloud has a silver lining. And for us at beijingkids, as for most of Beijing’s international families, 2020 hasn’t been the easiest of years. But our Chief Manager Mina Yan’s baby bump became a constant source of joy in the office as the entire team waited with great anticipation for the arrival of the baby. And arrive she did, on October 19, after keeping not only we on the beijingkids team on tenterhooks, but also her mommy and daddy waiting days after she was due to arrive. Better late than never we say, and with such a precious reward after a long wait, it makes any stretch of time well worth it. Congratulations again to Mina Yan and her husband, Billy Jin, as they embark on this new adventure of parenthood.

In our October issue, the article “From Art Attack to Nurturing Creativity” included a photo of artwork that was not properly credited. The artwork is titled “Paola” by local Beijing artist Annette Golden. Beijingkids apologizes for this error.

KEEP READING: Beijing Artist Profile: Annette Golden

Photos: Mina Yan, Beijingkids, Unsplash, Annette Golden

This article appeared in the beijingkids 2020 November issue

Ready, set, vaccine…. appointment. Good news is, sort of, in store for hopeful COVID-19 vaccine seekers. On Oct 12, state-owned China National Pharmaceutical Group (Sinopharm) launched an online vaccine reservation system. The system is designed to accept COVID-19 vaccine appointments for Chinese students and essential workers living in Beijing and Wuhan. Here’s what you need to know:

Can I get one?

At the moment, it appears that you can’t, or at least, not easily. At present, this unapproved vaccine is intended for Chinese students who will travel abroad and for essential workers. Posts on Chinese social media on Monday indicate Chinese students who are planning to travel abroad from November to January 2021 will be eligible to receive the shot. More than 70,000 people in these categories have reportedly already rushed to make reservations for the COVID-19 vaccine.

But don’t count yourself out just yet, as residents of Beijing, along with Wuhan, will reportedly be among the first recipients of the vaccine.

Does it work?

The vaccine is still experimental. Sinopharm has two vaccine products that have entered Phase III trials in 125 countries, the company reports. Phase III is the final stage before a vaccine can be mass distributed. The company is allowed to distribute the vaccine prior to final approval due to an emergency use clause within Chinese law issued on Jul 22.

What’s the deal with these vaccines anyway?

There are currently about a dozen COVID-19 vaccines in the final phases of development. Chinese vaccine producers have developed four of these options, but Phase III trials are intended as a thorough screening process, establishing vaccine safety and efficacy across populations. Chinese vaccine makers have also reached agreements with countries where the vaccines are being tested. Sinovac, for example, has agreed to provide 60 million doses to São Paolo, Brazil, and 40 million doses to Indonesia by March.

Do other countries have these?

Yes, but most are still trialing these vaccines. Some, like Russia, have claimed that their vaccines are approved, but only for small scale use at present.

How much will it cost?

Both of Sinopharm’s vaccine products reportedly cost 2,600 RMB, but pricing is likely to change as the approval process progresses.

When will people start getting it?

There is no clear timetable for reservations, it appears to be more of a list than a clear appointment system. Chinese companies have reported that the vaccines could be available as early as November.

KEEP READING: Weaning Kids Off Screen Time Post-COVID

Photo: Unsplash

This article originally appeared on our sister site The beijinger.

When I traveled from Israel back to China, I flew from Tel Aviv to Frankfurt to Chengdu. Like everyone coming from abroad, I was sent to two weeks of quarantine at a local hotel. I had heard about the experience of teachers and students at my school but never really looked forward to it. As someone who struggled with lockdown in my own house, how would I manage in a hotel room?

After arriving at the hotel lobby, we were greeted by a medical team. They rushed over to spray disinfectant on our bags, filling the air with the smell of chemicals. We were handed room keys and to our surprise, my mom and I were separated. My mom went up to the nearest medical worker and asked them to reconsider. However, they stated that all children above 14 had to be quarantined alone. Even spouses weren’t allowed in one room. It sounded ridiculous at the moment, but over time we realized that it made sense, medically-speaking.

We were at least on the same floor. Whenever I needed something from her room, I contacted a medical worker on our Wechat group and they would bring it to me.

For the first three days or so, everything was a mess. Clothes lying on the floor, food wrappers scattered across the room, and curtains that remained drawn even with the sun shining outside. Maybe I was too overwhelmed by the freedom and independence. I completely lost track of time and followed no routine whatsoever. The closest thing I had to a schedule was daily temperature checks at 9:20am and 3:20pm. Takeout food was delivered via medical workers who left them on stools outside our doors. The world of Chengdu gourmet was my oyster, yet I had little appetite.

An example of one of our meals.

On top of all this chaos, I was also jet-lagged. I video-called friends in Israel well into 4am every night and had no intention of fixing my sleep schedule. It got to a point where my Instagram activity time was eight hours a day because I was constantly on calls.

The turning point for me was when school resumed on Monday the following week. I crawled out of bed every morning and turned on Zoom, half-awake. One day I was even 30 minutes late. This was when I decided to pull myself together and be at least somewhat responsible, even if nobody was there to tell me so.

I fixed my sleep schedule by sleeping an hour earlier every night. Starting at 2am, I eventually made it to 11pm. I ate every meal the moment they were delivered, instead of procrastinating until they grew cold. I followed exercise videos online and took out my guitar to pass time. One of the main ways I cope with things is by writing a song, so I challenged myself to put together a mini-album in the time being. Using my phone, I recorded bits and pieces in the echoey bathroom and on the windowsill bordering the noisy, restless street. Then I spent hours editing the tracks on my laptop. This managed to keep me busy right up to the end of quarantine.

Another highlight of quarantine was the beginning of October break. On the morning of October first, medical workers delivered mooncakes to every one of us. They even drew heartwarming “happy holidays” cards to accompany the mooncakes. It was around that time when my mom and I discovered we could hear each other if we both open our doors. Thus, every now and then, she would call my hotel telephone and we would go to our doors and have brief conversations without seeing each other.

The CDC kept things festive for their guests.

All this reminded me of a phrase I’d read months ago: 隔离不隔爱 (gé lì bù gé ài): “quarantined but not quarantined from love”. The medical workers catered to our every need, all while covered head to toe in stuffy, uncomfortable protective suits. Yet they still went above and beyond to bring us festivity from the outside world.

On October second at exactly 12:17pm, which was two weeks on the dot from when our plane landed, our doors opened and we were free to go. We were very fortunate that everyone tested negative in the two COVID-19 tests and one antibody blood test. As we headed out the hotel gate, a lingering sense of affection hung in the humid, gloomy atmosphere of Chengdu.

Checking out of Chengdu

We carried this affection as we stepped onto a flight to Beijing merely three hours later. The woman sitting behind us was also from our quarantine hotel. We shared our experiences these past two weeks and laughed it off. Quarantine was nothing like my expectations, but I wouldn’t change a thing about it.

Feel free to check out the songs I wrote and recorded in quarantine! https://soundcloud.com/qinglanmusic/sets/something-new

KEEP READING: Quarantine With Kids? Tips From Parents Who Lived to Tell the Tale

Photos: Qinglan Du

Ever since the COVID-19 outbreak began eight months ago, I’ve been staying abroad in Israel with my mother. As the new semester dawned, it became apparent that we had to travel back to China, both for her work and for my school. But the question was “how”?

Prior to August, we’d racked our brains trying to find a way to fly back. Having booked tickets in March and in June, all of them were subsequently canceled. However, I remember vividly on my first day of school, a miracle happened. Due to the time difference between Israel and China, I had gone back to sleep after taking my classes. I woke up to the overjoyed sound of my mother announcing she finally secured a flight for us.

An empty airport is a surreal sight

Tel Aviv to Frankfurt

Goodbyes are always bittersweet. I spent my last day in Israel silently bidding farewell to all my favorite spots in town, not knowing when I’ll be back. I’ve never seen our apartment so empty: bowls without food, beds without bedsheets, picture frames without pictures.

At midnight, my mom’s colleague drove us to Tel Aviv Ben Gurion Airport. Once again, the emptiness took me by surprise. The ceiling of the arrival hall is usually bombarded with helium balloons saying “Welcome Home”, but this time it’s barren. Every other seat in the hall was marked off-limits by a “Please keep distance” sticker. Not only were the shops closed, but the items on sale were removed too, leaving rows of empty shelves. We had a sandwich and some water right before our 4am boarding time so that we could keep our masks on throughout the flight. Around me, people began to file in, wearing their surgical masks much more properly than on the streets. I was shocked to discover that most children under ten still weren’t given a mask to wear.

Killing time at the airport

We flew to Frankfurt first because Israel has yet to reopen direct flights to China and this was the closest option. The flight was fully packed, with passengers touching shoulder to shoulder. I had on a surgical mask and face shield whilst those around me either had a surgical mask or cloth mask. A few rows ahead of us was a man with no mask whatsoever. When we reminded him, he took one out and wore it under his chin.

Frankfurt to Chengdu

We landed in Frankfurt at 7am local time and had a 12-hour layover. The airport was massive and the shops were all open, so killing time wasn’t a problem. As our boarding time drew closer, we saw passengers arrive in full-on protective suits. On second look I realized they were all Chinese. On top of the suit, they were wearing N95 masks with face shields, goggles, and gloves. Even young children did the same. We felt a little like the odd ones out with our surgical masks and regular clothes.

The latest travel attire

Once again, the plane was fully packed with no empty seats left. The flight was ten hours long and I slept through the entirety of it. I was awake long enough to notice all the flight attendants were dressed in protective suits too. On their backs were their names and “Air China” written in permanent marker. One flight attendant had “the most handsome” written instead of his name. For a split second, it felt like a spaceship. This was nothing like the COVID-19 life in Israel and it was a major moment of reverse culture shock for me.

What I used to enjoy most on flights was the variety of drink options. To my disappointment, only bottled water and vacuum-sealed sausages were provided.

Chengdu

Because most flights from abroad aren’t directly to Beijing at the moment, we flew to Chengdu. When we landed, we were immediately greeted by airport staff in protective suits who sanitized all our suitcases. Then we patiently made our way through a maze-like structure inside the airport for the next three hours. The same process is being performed at airports all across China.

First, we all sat down and filled out an online form about our personal information. Then we waited to be called on to walk through a passageway with multiple infrared temperature guns. Our temperatures were written on sticky notes and given to us. The area after that was laid out like an office. Workers in protective suits sat behind computers, and one-by-one we went to them to hand in our temperature sticky notes and print out our health declarations. With those declarations in hand, we were directed to nurses for our nucleic acid amplification testing, better known as COVID-19 testing. A stick was poked down my throat and in my nose. This was the second time I went through this process, with the first time being in Israel. Yet it still wasn’t any less painful.

Finally, we showed the QR code generated from that form at the start and were sent on a designated bus to our quarantine hotel. I watched a foreigner lash out in anger when they asked for his QR code because he wasn’t aware he had to screenshot it at the beginning and now had to refill the form. I unexpectedly empathized with him. This was the first QR code I’ve had to scan in nearly a year and I felt like a tourist in my own country. I kept thinking and rethinking about that as we traveled through the city center of Chengdu and to our new home for the next two weeks.

KEEP READING: “That’s Not Tomato & Egg, It’s a Shakshuka!” When Israeli and Chinese Foods Bridge the Cultural Gap

Images: Qinglan Du