So now we are confined to our room until another swab has shown us to be negative (our own day three swabs came back clear; they re-swabbed us this morning following the positive test on our co-traveller).
No more exercise down on the pool deck, nor even at the entrance lobby area. No more barista coffees (fortunately though Lois’ granddaughter Abi had delivered a cafetiere and some ground coffee so we can still have our mid-morning cup of coffee).
This morning, deprived of my four thousand nine hundred and twenty (or so) paces round the deck, I was obliged to join Lois in her Pilates.
I’m not sure why so many people put themselves through that so regularly. It is certainly neither relaxing nor fun.
Since we will be in the same position tomorrow, I will subject myself to such penance as the only way of getting a daily dose of exercise.
But I will look forward to being able to walk gently round and round the pool deck again.
Today we walked clockwise round the exercise yard.
The brave soul who was first out through the door broke with convention and turned left rather than right. Eighty-two paces; sixty circuits. But now with a completely new outlook on life.
We saw a new side of Auckland – parts of the city we hadn’t previously been aware of. New buildings; three more cranes; the University of Otago (what are they doing in Auckland anyway?).
It was strange, but even after four days it felt strange, unnatural to be going this way round the circuit.
Perhaps we all need something like this to shake us up a bit, to break us out of our ruts, to help us see the world differently.
A complete circuit is 82 paces (87 for Lois). Each circuit takes about 40 seconds. Sixty circuits in each 40-minute exercise session. Four thousand, nine hundred and twenty paces. Anti-clockwise.
The outside decking area beside the pool and gym (both of which are out-of-bounds) has been made available for the inmates to exercise on (‘Walking Only, No Vigorous Exercise’) supervised by a member of the New Zealand armed forces – presumably making sure we don’t escape or break any of the social-distancing rules.
We are allowed to book into one 40-minute exercise slot per day and have to get in early to book for the next day as they quickly fill up.
There is another, smaller exercise yard in what was the main entrance to the hotel. You don’t need to pre-book that one, just turn up and take your chances. But given that it is only about 20 paces around, with no plants or view of the sky, it is less popular anyway.
We have got into a pattern of a 40-minute slot on the pool deck each morning before breakfast. Round and round. Anti-clockwise. Eighty-two paces. Sixty circuits. And then a short spell in the entrance lobby after supper.
Today, being Advent Sunday, Lois and I decided to break our not-so-long-established routine and mark it by joining a virtual day retreat from Los Olivos in Spain.
The day itself was grey and wet (at least until mid-afternoon) and being trapped in our quarantine room there was little to distract us from our quiet contemplation.
At least that was the case up until about 11am when the peace was broken by Santa Claus floating down the Mayoral Drive right outside our hotel, to the sound of brass band playing Jingle Bells (slightly incongruous in the warm summer rain) and followed by a giant inflatable Peppa Pig, Thomas the Tank Engine, dancers, elves, bag-pipes and the entire ensemble of the Auckland Christmas parade.
Still, apart from that interruption (and another to go down and have our day 3 Covid swabs), the day was peaceful and inspiring. Daniel Muñoz, the retreat guide, led us through reflections on images of Christ (Imago Christi) as portrayed in historical and contemporary art.
I reflected on how so many of the historical images of Jesus portray him as a handsome, fair-haired westerner, and have created an image which I now find unhelpful and misleading. On the one hand portraying a non-threatening, impotent focus of adoration; separate, somewhat ethereal, content to receive our worship without changing anything. And on the other hand, a figure head for white supremacy – the God in human form – white, male, self-assured.
What a far cry from the Jesus I see portrayed in the gospels.
So here, drawing on more contemporary portrayals of Jesus, are some of the images I reflected on today and which have made me stop and think about who Jesus really is:
A multi-cultural Jesus – meeting people where they are, as they are. Ordinary, human, earthy.
Jesus the pain-bearer – getting alongside those who are suffering; suffering with them. And somehow, through that, transforming our pain.
Jesus Christ the subversive revolutionary – challenging the powers and structures of our world; confronting injustice, oppression, violence and greed.
Jesus the liberator, the life-giver – loving life; laughing, loving, living; setting people free; leading us on to God’s new creation.
I realised, after posting yesterday’s blog, that I’d got it
wrong, and we were actually still on day zero. The New Zealand quarantine
regulations stipulate that those entering the country must spend a minimum of
336 hours in managed isolation – which might conjure up an image of all those
troops of corona viruses carefully synchronising their watches before setting
out to invade an unsuspecting traveller: 336 hours; 20,160 minutes; 1,209,600
seconds.
With that in mind, the earliest we will be allowed to leave
this hotel will be 12.20pm on Thursday 10th December, exactly 336
hours after our flight – EK448 – touched down at Auckland international
airport.
The flight itself had been remarkably comfortable, even if
rather long. New Zealand is a long way from the UK, so it always takes a long
time. And this time it seemed longer than usual, given an 8-hour stop over in
Dubai and a further brief stopover in Kuala Lumpur. Checking in at Birmingham
airport was a strange experience – never have I seen the airport so empty, and
once checked in, we whisked through security to wait for our flight.
The first two legs had been daytime flights, and I took the opportunity to read, in its entirety, a book on safeguarding in the Church of England for my PhD. That, and two inspiring but challenging films: Harriet – the true story of Harriet Tubman, an escaped slave who went on to rescue dozens of slaves, leading them to freedom along the underground railroad in 19th century USA; and Ken Loach’s latest film – Sorry We Missed You – a harrowing story of a family struggling with the gig economy. The reality of life for so many families living on the edge, and now made worse by the pandemic and lockdown, is something that is hard to face.
Once again, I have been left with that unanswerable question – why am I so privileged while others have to live with such inequity?
The last stretch of our journey was a night flight, and I lowered the tone somewhat by watching Charlie’s Angels, for a bit of mindless escapism. With a nearly empty plane, Lois and I were both able to stretch out on two separate rows of seats for as good a sleep as one can possibly expect on a flight. This pandemic may not be good for the airline industry, but it does make for more comfortable flying.
So here we are, properly completing day one of our quarantine. Refreshed by a good night’s sleep. Engaged by a day of reading, writing and a little bit of arithmetic thrown in. 28 hours down. Only another 308 to go. 😊
So, after 39 hours’ travelling, we have arrived in New Zealand
and are lodged in the hotel room that will be our sole living space for the
next two weeks.
Getting here in these times of Covid has not been
straightforward. Having avoided the worst of the pandemic, New Zealand Aotearoa
is keen to stay that way, so is only allowing New Zealand citizens into the
country – and, fortunately for me, their spouses. To board a flight you are
required to have a managed isolation certificate from the NZ government
specifying the date of arrival and flight number.
We set our dates, booked our quarantine and our flights –
with Lufthansa, via Zurich and Hong Kong. Within 24 hours they’d cancelled the
flight to Zurich, and with no alternative we had to rebook – this time with
British Airways/Cathay Pacific via Hong Kong. Two weeks before we were due to
travel, they, too, cancelled the first leg of the flight. So, after a bit more
scrabbling around we found new flights with Emirates, via Dubai. The only
problem being that our managed isolation certificate still showed the old
Cathay Pacific flight number.
And there was a glitch in the system. New Zealand
immigration told us they couldn’t change the flight number and that we just had
to persuade the airline to let us on board and all would be well once we
arrived on Kiwi soil. Emirates, meanwhile, were adamant they wouldn’t let us
board without the correct flight number on the certificate.
Less than 24 hours before we were due to leave, the NZ
authorities fixed the glitch and we got our updated certificate. So, armed with
that, our passports and marriage certificate (which proved essential for
proving my legitimacy to enter the country), we finally boarded our flight.
And here we are – tired, isolated, and very pleased to be here.
