Fear and love and pickles

https://www.theguardian.com/australia-news/2020/jul/12/lacks-empathy-australian-expats-say-governments-travel-cap-further-strains-efforts-to-return-home

I miss my mum and my family in Australia. I put off a couple of visiting opportunities around Christmas, for good reasons, but I'm kicking myself now.

The Aus gov has been telling its citizens to come home, but it's not making it easy. And to come home for a visit only, rather than a permanent move? Don't you dare.

I confess, I was ready to flout the guidelines and sneak home for 6 weeks. Do the 14 days of mandatory hotel quarantine in Sydney (because Brisbane, my hometown, was already charging AU$2800 for the stays). I planned to leave again on my French passport, throw in a couple of dodgy "bonjours" and "au revoirs" and it'd be sweet right?

My flights were cancelled yesterday. The airline said, no options for July or August, but call in a few weeks and see if there's anything available in September.

Sydney has now also introduced paid hotel quarantine for new bookings, at $3000 a pop.

My "will move any mountain" mum got on the case and found alternative flight options, but with the increased ticket prices, required transfers, overnight stays between flights, paid quarantine, and further connections within Australia it would have cost near enough to AU$10,000. Hard to justify that hey. Tho mum was ready to hock her kidneys to make it happen. I love you mum.

Besides the money, there's the stress and fear of other flights being cancelled — connections even. (I just read this morning of someone who narrowly missed being stranded in a middle eastern airport when the continuing leg of their flight was cancelled, but they weren't notified.) 

The fear of the physical and mental health impact of being locked in a windowless room for 2 weeks of quarantine.

The fear of having the rules change while I'm away: maybe UK would close its borders and not let me back in.

The fear of Aus not letting me out, of my EU passport and UK residency not being enough.

The fear of judgement, from anyone who would mistake my need to get home as something frivolous or unworthy.

The fear of covid? Nah. Not even a wee bit.

In some ways, this global crisis has brought positives and potential with it. I'm trying to hold on to that while crying into my cup of tea, feeling selfish and homesick.

How lucky I am, to love and be loved in different places around the world, to have so many places to call home.

I hope it's not too long before we can all travel again.

Updates

This came up in my Facebook memories. Two years ago I was blessed with time with my family. Holding on tight to those memories now.

With my hopes of getting home and seeing my family dashed, I am propping myself up with some consolation prizes.

I've just ordered a drum of Finnish pickles to be delivered to me in Scotland.