Quarantine day 3

The rubbish is stacking up outside our door. They say they'll collect it 3 times a day but that's not happening. Dinner is delivered late and there's a gluten free meal instead of the requested a vegan 😠 They resolve it, but trust is lost in the catering company. Day 3 and I suppose it's to be expected that some things will start to get on our nerves.

When I open the door, our resident guard watches me suspiciously but doesn't say a word. I'm just putting my rubbish out, I want to scream. I'm hardly going to sprint to the lifts, passed the army and police, wearing my PJs. There's a strong smell of cheap aftershave. I guess that's what happens when you sit there all day.

Highlight for today is our shopping delivery. Plant-based Milo 😀 raisin bread 😃 Tiny Teddies 😊 and Twisties 😋.

Still skipping.

Quarantine day 2

A policeman delivered our almond milk this morning. He left it outside the door and stood back, giving me a wave when I collected it. I'm starting to feel like a leper.

Of course, flying here is always disconcerting when it comes to remembering what day it is - but when locked away from the world, days can begin to merge into each other. It could be any day of the week when there's nothing to distinguish one from another. What's so special about a weekend when there's no clear working week? The thrill of Friday means little when each day is identical to the next.

We're delivered our meals 3 times a day - perfectly satisfactory and healthy and with the added element of surprise. Such as our mystery destination when we boarded the bus, we have no clue what we'll be eating until we've opened the brown paper bag. And to be fair, it's all been perfectly edible, we're not hungry, and I'm still rejoicing the fact that I don't need to think about preparing meals.

Still, when our rainbow salad rolls appeared yet again for lunch, we all looked at each other and sighed. UberEats? The discovery of online delivery from local restaurants and take-aways was just too tempting. We caved in and made an order from Lord Of The Fries - a vegan burger joint. And yes, it probably wasn't as healthy as our rainbow salad rolls but oh, how we enjoyed our burgers.

Still skipping and that man is still sitting outside our door.

Quarantine day 1

Home for the next 2 weeks is a flash hotel suite in the centre of Sydney. It's more spacious and grand than we'd ever expected; certainly after some of the stories we'd read in the media of experiences in quarantine. There's enough rooms that we won't be tripping over each other. We can get some breathing space; even a kitchen and balcony. Besides, if I had to choose two people to be locked away in a hotel suite with for 2 weeks, it would be these two - so I consider myself lucky.

Home is now on the 20th floor of a city hotel. Not at all what I'm use to, looking down upon busy streets. High up in our cocoon, we set out establishing new routines. We all have our hobbies; like to keep busy. There's Kindles loaded with books to read, crochet hooks and wool, a new Nintendo Switch. But we need exercise, I exclaim. Why? I'm asked. Because we can't walk outside. We finally agree on the skipping challenge on the Switch.

It dawns on me - we won't need to prepare meals for 2 whole weeks 😀 3 times a day there's a knock on the door; a brown paper bag awaits on the threshold. Inside, our meal. It's okay. Not fancy, but it's fresh and there's enough that we won't go hungry. As for any physical human contact beyond our little unit, there's none. Deliveries are left at the door, no one in sight. Though the phone has rung a number of times. Are you okay? Anyone struggling? Anything we can do? Such kindness; we know we are not forgotten.

We're all rather tired; internal clocks not yet adjusted. The flight's a familiar one; we've flown it enough times now, but it was different this time round. Flying during a pandemic is a surreal experience - people in masks, social distancing, orderly queues and airline staff in hazard suits. Shops are shut; there's a lot less travelers. The mood more subdued. Few are heading off on holidays; many are probably like us - traveling out of necessity. We experience the 22 hour flight from behind masks, apart from when we eat and drink. But it's not so bad. It's worse when you're walking around a hot airport. Then a mask can feel like a sauna. Arriving and it's health checks, more police, more army, more questions. Our temperatures are taken and we can finally leave.

Outside our hotel room, a man sits in the hallway. I noticed him when we arrived and I suddenly realise he's not going anywhere. He's making sure we're not going anywhere.

Masks, police and closed doors

The coach pulls up before a hotel.

Board the number two bus, we'd been told.

Nothing more. Clueless and exhausted,

we'd headed off into a city I once knew well.

Now? I barely recognise it.

Destination? No idea.

Keep your masks on.

A sign in the hotel window

Closed for business.

Police stand out front, waiting.

The lobby filled with army,

not a traveler in sight.

Wait on the bus.

We could try and pretend...

it's just another holiday.

But then we check-in

first with the hotel,

then the police.

The army stand at the ready.

Do they think we might do a runner?

It's nice to have my bags so well guarded.

Finally we're shown to our room.

It's a suite. We're delighted.

The door shuts behind us.

Hmmm. It's a strange feeling.

That door is the edge of our world for the next 14 days.