Easter Sunday. Flying
I haven’t been this excited to fly in a long time. And not just because it is an old Dash 8-400 with a propeller and wheels that you can see lift off the ground and retract on take-off, which makes you really feel like you are flying. We are on our way home.
On each consecutive flight we have sent the kids photos of us once we had boarded, as evidence that the plan was working. The photos from Montivideo and Santiago are shockers, we look tired and stressed. Today’s photo, as we settle into our seats, is a big improvement.
We’re doing a circuitous route, via Canberra to Sydney to Perth. And in the Dash 8 at least, we are getting a good view. I’m hoping for glimpses of the Sydney Harbour Bridge and Opera House on the next leg, as it always makes my spirits soar. Jode vetoed my idea that we could spend our night in a hotel overlooking Circular Quay, potentially at bargain basement prices. Jeremy, not usually one to take sides backed her up. “Keep your eye on the prize”. I can see their logic. It’s an early morning flight, we don’t know the state of the trains in Sydney etc etc. Jode was quick to promise a luxury night in a Sydney hotel overlooking Circular Quay ‘some other time’. Not that either of us can imagine when that some other time might be. We’re not making any travel plans. And we’ve never been prepared to fork out the dollars before, so I can’t imagine that changing. The closest we get is the Two Rocks YHA which does have harbour glimpses.
I’ve sneakily allowed Jode to occupy ‘my' window seat, so that I get the Sydney leg. She has just leant across as I write to tell me she is actually happy, crying happy tears, with the weight of the last few weeks lifting off her shoulders. ‘Taking in the good’ as Rick Hanson says, sucking in the good of this moment.
Today has been seriously weird. The guard rang just after 10 am to arrange to escort us out of the hotel. We had just restarted our body scan meditation after a call from Jode’s mum Margo. I was lying on the floor and Jode was lying on the bed. The other bed was strewn with the last bits of packing, to be completed after we had showered. We were gainfully filling in time. And trying to reduce stress levels. The question from the guard, “ready to go?” took us completely by surprise. As far as we knew exits were not occurring till after 12 noon. Super keen to go we finished our showering and packing and were escorted to the foyer some 30 minutes later. After a complete shamozle of a checkout, we were in a cab and off to the airport. The shamozle would have been seriously stressful had we been time poor, but we were so relieved to be underway it didn’t much matter. I hope the rest of their day got smoother!
The cab driver was kind enough to open the front passenger window in his taxi van, which was welcome. Less welcome was his rant about why all this was unnecessary. Hey, we’ve done our time, we’re out, we’ve done our bit. Let’s not go there. As usual in these situations Jode is more engaging than I am.
It’s the airport that’s the really weird part. There is only one flight listed on the departure board, ours, in another three and a half hours, and the arrivals board is completely empty. The airport is completely deserted. The first person we see is the guy who checked out of the hotel ahead of us, who is also taking this route home to Perth. He planned to drive Melbourne to Sydney overnight if this flight fell through. Having learnt the virtues of having a Plan B ourselves, we were seriously impressed by his Plan B, not having thought of this ourselves. We compare stories of our quarantine, like true comrades.
Melbourne feels like my second home, and the airport part of my familiar routine. I have entered and exited this airport around two dozen times a year for the best part of a decade. You can imagine the usual crowded busy stressful airport scenario for yourself. This is an entirely different experience. No queues, no busyness, no crowds, no stress, virtually no people. The Qantas ground staff are chatty, bored mostly, and we chit chat about how things will never be the same again. I wave to the empty food hall as we head to the gate, knowing I won’t miss travelling in the immediate future. Grateful that this FIFO (Fly IN, Fly Out) part of my life is over, at least for now, and perhaps forever.
There is one coffee shop open in the check-in area between domestic and international, and we have our first barista made coffee in about 5 weeks. Not bad! The pharmacy is also open and we deliberate about masks. To buy or not to buy? We know that they are unnecessary if we are well and following the social distancing rules. And we don’t want to contribute to the shortages, depriving those in the medical system of the necessary protection. We compromise, having noticed how it makes other people more comfortable in a travel setting, and buy two for the sum of $3.95 each. Packets of ten cost a princely $35. We are lucky to have them, the pharmacist remarks.
The steward makes an announcement once landed in Canberra, that the toilet is at capacity and if we need a loo stop we’d best hop off now and use the Canberra airport facilities. The thought of needing a loo shortly had not crossed my mind but once mentioned it seems an imperative. Plus it offers opportunities for fresh air walking across the tarmac, movement, and freedom. So we and a good many other passengers traipse off clutching our boarding cards. As we re-board I hear snatches of passengers unwinding, telling stories of quarantine, what they left behind, what they packed,’ too many apples’, ‘all that chocolate’, ‘I liked the cheese and crackers’, the minutiae of our days. ‘Whoever cleans my room will think I’m ungrateful, there’s so much left over’. Food dominates. And there is one story of a very hurried dash to the airport. Not sure what went wrong there, but still very happy with our three and a half hour airport wait. A number of people are talking about Perth, heading home the same way we are.
We do get glimpses of Sydney, firstly across the aisle, and later on our side, where Jode has been taking full advantage of the window seat view while I write. Sydney is as glorious as ever. I can’t stop myself from nudging the guy across the aisle who is deep in conversation with the person beside him. Look out your window, you’ll see the Sydney Harbour Bridge and the Opera House.
We view the hotel room through the seasoned eye of a detainee. It is obvious on arrival that there are mandatory isolation guests here too. Someone waving at a window from outside, the black rubbish bag outside the hotel room door. Inside we remark on the positives and negatives. We had changed our hotel booking and called ahead to ensure we have a window that opens. The room is small, but it has a kitchenette with a sink, a microwave, hot plate, plates, cutlery. Even a toaster! Would the fresh air and the various accoutrements of a tiny apartment have made up for the luxuriousness of the Crown, the spaciousness of the room and our huge non opening window. That balancing of pros and cons would ultimately depend on the food!!
It’s getting dark so we hasten out for a walk, figuring that we have two acceptable reasons to be out and about. Food and exercise. We relish the walking, knowing it to be the fleeting possibility wedged between this morning’s quarantine and tomorrow’s isolation at home. As we walk and realise how unused our bodies are to this activity we calculate that the last time we walked ‘free range’ so to speak was in Ushuaia prior to boarding the boat. Since then, one day shy of five weeks, we have been constrained by the length of deck 4, transport under escort, airport corridors and hotel rooms. Neither of us have worn shoes for two weeks. We stride out. Nor, for the same period have we made decisions about what’s for dinner. We take some time deciding on a takeaway option in Mascot, partly to prolong the walk, and we’re almost too tired to do the required decision-making when faced with the menu. Dinner turns out to be excellent Thai at a very unPerth like price.
We set the alarm early to sneak in another walk and to explore breakfast possibilities. It’s a long five hour flight home with no food or beverage service and no entertainment system or wifi. A pared back flight that nonetheless will deliver us home. Time to finish that Naomi Klein book.
Tomorrow, after six weeks away, three weeks longer than planned, we expect to arrive home.