I did not think my inaugural blog post would go like this.
I thought I’d write about kangaroo sanctuaries in Queensland, the surprisingly lax motorcycle laws of southeast Asia, maybe launch a little piece I’ve been sitting on for over a year entitled “I Ranked Airport Chili’s across North America So You Don’t Have To Go To Any Of Them” (I still haven’t found the right adjective for Edmonton). Honestly, I thought this page would a goddamn satirical delight.
However.
I’ll start at the beginning.
In January of this year, 2020, I left Canada on an Amtrak bound for Portland. From there, I was set to fly to Las Vegas, where I would board a (I now realize, suspiciously) discounted flight I had found to Shanghai. I was excited- the winter/spring season marks my “off-season” from my half-year position in the travel sector, at which I often work over 300 hours per month. Spending six months helping others enjoy travelling across Canada has led to a yearly tradition of spending almost everything I own on my own six months of travel, because I’m a millennial and will probably never be able to afford a house anyway.
Three days before my flight to China, I received a text message from United Airlines.
Coronavirus.
I’d heard of it, sure- at this point in time it was still confined to China, and news reports coming into North America were filtered through the ever-biased lens of the US media. Even so, no deaths had been confirmed, and most cases appeared to present themselves in the form of mild, cold-like symptoms. Former game show host Donald Trump had bombastically labelled it a “Chinese Virus”, and as such I thought the best thing I could do was stop watching the news.
Two months later- in a Bangkok Airbnb- I realized that had been a mistake.
Seemingly overnight, the virus had seemed to have triggered a complete overhaul of international and domestic relations. Borders closed, trade was halted, and my friends and family frantically forwarded press releases to me through Instagram. In 24 hours, I went from searching for flights to the hostel I had secured a job at in Goa, India, to desperately seeking a way home.
Today, I understand the severity of the virus and the effect it can have, especially on vulnerable populations. I recognize the responsibility I hold to lessen the impact. Still, I NEVER thought I would hear my prime minister say via livestream (from his front door, as he is currently in isolation following exposure to the coronavirus) that it was time to return to Canada before I was essentially locked out.
Canadians are being told to stay home except when providing or receiving an essential service, and to postpone any plans for domestic and international travel. But how do you act responsibly when you’re already abroad? How do you deal with the feelings of guilt that have recently become associated with such a seemingly harmless decision?
Upon hearing PM Trudeau’s order for borders to shut- which would mean the inevitable end of international flights within two weeks- my first thought was to stay where I was, and follow the rules put in place by the local government. After all, wasn’t the worst thing I could do right now start crossing borders? They couldn’t stop international travel for longer than a few weeks. I shelved this idea, however, as soon as I realized that this was far from the case- Air Canada’s website currently lists most trans-pacific flights as being suspended until June- and this is the best case scenario. Two and a half months is more than enough time for my savings to dip into begpacker territory.
Okay, onto plan B- I took a deep breath and began searching for countries that both had direct flights to Canada, and were still allowing Canadians into the country (!). I settled on Taiwan- I would rent an apartment there, fly directly in from Bangkok, stay as far away from social settings as I could while I monitored my health. If all was well, I would continue on to Vancouver, where I would completely socially isolate for two weeks before flying into my hometown of Winnipeg. That way, I figured, I was limiting the spread of the virus as much as I could, hitting as few countries as possible should I start to feel ill. If I did this, I was a kind and decent person, who could look back on this time frame and decidedly say they had done all they could- right?
Didn’t matter. The next day, Taiwan announced they were suspending all visas for foreign nationals as of 12 P.M. Obviously, I didn’t have time to get there. At this point, a sliver of panic began to break through the heavy layer of klonopin that envelops my brain at all times.
Less than 24 hours after I had been ordered to come home, most flights through Hong Kong, Korea, and Taiwan had been suspended, and it appeared that my only option would be to go through Japan. I actually found a relatively cheap flight, through Al Nippon Airways and Air Canada, that would get me from Bangkok to Vancouver with an overnight layover in Tokyo. I clicked the link and blindly entered my credit card info.
And successfully forgot about it for about three hours before the flight was cancelled.
THIS is where I started to spiral. I don’t really know what that word means to me at this point as I haven’t had a stable grip on existence or routine since I was probably 7- but suddenly, this felt serious. I had barely grasped the concept of going home, and now I wasn’t? My mind desperately searched for a worst case scenario as I googled “Canadian stuck in Thailand”, which is when I found out this scenario is far more common than I thought- 500,000 tourists are expected to file for clemency for overstaying their visas due to COVID-19, which the minister of tourism said will largely be granted. I am not sure why he would do this (see-begpackers) but I stared blankly at the screen as I realized that would make me a refugee. My grandfather was a refugee. Understandably tired of fighting Nazis as a child soldier in Yugoslavia, he graciously accepted an opportunity to work in the coal mines in northern Manitoba. I came to Thailand for the full moon party. Grandpa must be doing backflips in his grave.
Anyways.
After seven (7) hours on hold with Air Canada, I have been relieved of this concern and moved to a startlingly similar flight. I am banking on Thailand, Japan and Canada leaving their borders open for the eight days remaining until I board. I am drinking a litre of soju to cope, and if you are in a similar scenario I suggest you do the same. We are in uncharted waters. Godspeed.
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