Walking the 100 steps around the forecourt, you can pause and read the letters of praise and thanks from former inmates
As I’ve mentioned, the fifth floor has the added excitement of corners, but there’s also the opportunity to peer into the rooms of other detainees and judge their creative pursuits
no prizes for guessing how they spend their time
And when we go for our Covid tests, the staff, possibly trying to alleviate their own boredom, get all halloween-y
We approach the last days
Now only one!
Roll on tomorrow. We’ve clearly been here too long: this morning room service rang and, in a worried tone, tell me they haven’t received our coffee order. When the kitchen is anticipating your every need, it’s time to leave.
In an example of bureaucratise, we will be moved to a hotel closer to the airport tomorrow. Our inbound flight touched down at 7.52pm. If your flight touches down at 8.00pm or later, you stay in the MIQ facility one extra night and leave first thing next morning. I can tell you already get the picture. At 5.30pm tomorrow, 1 November, they will move us to a non MIQ hotel, which is paid for by MBIE (aka the Government) then at 7.00am Tuesday 2 November we fly back to Wellington, clutching our dispensation to leave Auckland in our cold, dead hands. Huzzah! (we have been watching The Great)
And returning from our penultimate walk on level five this morning, I chuckle at the sign forbidding resting in what can only be termed a come hither pose, taking a toileting break, and soliciting for the purposes of prostitution. Possibly some people are having a more exciting time than we are.
So far, okay. While it’s not most people’s choice to spend two weeks holed up in a hotel room, it could be worse. And I am sure it is for many others currently experiencing MIQ. If pushed, the only niggle is the food arrives lukewarm. This is completely understandable when you consider the number of meals to box, transport and deliver over one and a half hours, so really, hats off. It continues to be good quality.
Lamb Shwarma for lunch – yes please.
Some, nay many, of you express varying levels of shock/horror/dismay/bemusement when we reveal we are alcohol free for these two weeks. However it seems the perfect opportunity to give our over-worked livers a vacation, and so far we are surviving. We can order barista coffee (contactless payment required – @ $6 per cup we are racking up $24 a day) and at least you do not need to specify double shots – really, Australia, get with the programme.
On day two I break out the charity shop jigsaw. There’s an issue when the size, 736cm x 584cm, will not fit on any flat surface in this room. Scott suggests we call the Defence staff and ask for some plywood as they love a challenge. I’m, sure they’d love that. I eye the picture on the wall above the bed. It comes down and the reverse side is just large enough, leaving one cm to spare. Problem solving 101. Now I realise its bloody hard so I hope I finish it before time’s up.
It just fits, but will I finish it in two weeks?
We have Covid tests on days one, three, and six. We get blue wristbands when the day one test comes back negative, and have to wear these whenever we leave the room, which is only for exercise or a Covid test.
Those who run the systems have taken on some hard won lessons. We are in a “cohort” with others who arrive on the same flight. That means we are all on the same floor of the hotel, we go for Covid tests at the same time, and exercise at the same time, so there is reduced chance of cross contamination with a group from another flight (as happened in the past).
The daily outside time is 30 mins and we must call after 6.30pm each evening to book a slot for the following day. The conversation goes something like this: US: Hi. We’re Group D, can we book an exercise slot please? THEM: Just a minute. How’s 6.30am? US: Hysterical laughter. Anything later? THEM: Do you want the forecourt or level 5? And so it goes. I can tell you with certainty the forecourt is a circuit of 100 steps if you don’t cut corners and walk the absolute perimeter.
level five exercise area – no, there is no shelter from the rain
The level 5 option is 117 steps, but has the added interest of more corners as it’s set up as lanes, and there’s a welcome message from the office over the lane. Again, and I say this with conviction, there is nothing as depressing as walking around in a circle: half the time I feel like I’m in the Handmaid’s Tale and the other half in the movie Midnight Express, which if you are too young to remember you should find and watch.
Thanks General Finance
There is no housekeeping service to clean the room, obviously, but they are prompt in delivering anything you need, such as more washing-up liquid or teabags or toilet paper; you can request a change of linen every three days and it arrives in a bag outside the door. The staff are unfailingly pleasant and helpful. Every day a nurse calls and conducts a health check and asks if there’s anything we need. Apart from freedom, there isn’t.
It is exciting to receive a care package from some of the family -puzzle books, another jigsaw, cards, magazines, cheese, crackers, charcuterie, chocolates and wine (saving til the last day). The paperwork states deliveries can not contain any illegal items which rather takes the fun out of it. In the interests of health and safety, other banned items include “but are not limited to, portable heaters, toasters, slow cookers, small ovens, blenders, mixers, electric grills, fryers, rice cookers, electric food choppers, air fryers, waffle makers, egg cookers, bread makers, portable cooking appliances using gas, candles, spirits used for cooking and incense.” Have no need of any of those, though a microwave to heat up our meals wouldn’t go astray.
I’m continuing with the puzzle, which threatens to do my head in; yoga; code crackers; and reading, while Scott is deep into the Fishing and Boating reading that came in our care package, and seems to find a never ending supply of youtube videos on motorbikes and fishing. And his Canadian Airforce exercises of course – though I seriously hope airforce pilots have more coordination.
So that’s week one – and I suspect week two will differ not at all.
Oh and by the way. If you think there aren’t enough hours in the day, there are plenty.
…with an early morning alarm – this is one plane we can’t afford to miss.
However before worrying about whether we miss the plane, the plane has to arrive for us to miss it. Is it a bad omen when the incoming flight from Auckland to Perth, that is, the plane we will be taking for the return journey, turns back part way across the Tasman? Luckily not, and the flight arrives a couple of hours late, which translates into our flight leaving a couple of hours late. No need for that alarm then.
Armed with passports, managed isolation vouchers, negative Covid tests and wistful smiles, we check in with the world’s slowest check in agent – she tells us she is out of practice, but anyway there’s little chance of our bags heading to Shanghai or Vancouver as ours is the only international flight leaving. The airport is deserted and you could fire the literal cannon down the gate lounges and hit no one. This also means nothing, and I mean nothing, is open in retail so no chance of a coffee. Duty Free is open as we know they never miss a chance, and Scott wonders if we could buy a bottle of coffee liqueur in the stead of our flat whites. Desperation drives us to a vending machine and we grab a coffee milk – it will have to do. Everyone follows our lead and that selection quickly runs out.
Only flight this morning is to Tāmaki Makaurau – just where we want to go.
I’ve never seen so few people at an airport gate: the flight has about 60 on board, the highest body:seat ratio is in business which has 13 of the18 seats occupied. It’s only five and a half hours on our direct flight which, aside from mask wearing, is the same as always.
Where is everyone? and why are these people so excited?
Arrival in Auckland is a whole new experience. We offload and walk down, down, down to the bowels of the airport following the ubiquitous yellow Covid signs and arrows to work through the arrivals process, starting with temperature taking. Arrival cards now have a section asking about Covid symptoms, and at least 595 different people look at this form, ask the same questions already answered on the form, scrawl on it with red markers and point us to the next masked, screened, gowned interrogator – rinse and repeat.
It is a well oiled but excruciatingly slow process. No one knows the answer to the $64,000 question – “Where are we going?” Someone tells us the bus driver knows, but clearly he’s not sharing. When we get to the final door we see a sign taped to the window – Stamford Plaza. So we are in Auckland – bugger – but in one of the reasonably decent hotels – yay. We sit on the bus and wait 45 minutes for everyone’s luggage to be screened. At this stage we haven’t laid eyes on our bags, and won’t for another two or three hours when they arrive outside our room.
With Auckland more or less in lockdown, and on a Monday night at 9.00pm, it’s a quick trip to the inner city. From disembarking the bus it is a rigidly spaced 2 metre distanced, mask wearing, hand-sanitising line to be allocated rooms, read the rules, given written copies of the rules, choose meals for the next two days, pay a $200 deposit to the hotel, and get to the room.
no one asked if we wanted fries with that
There are pages and pages in the “Welcome Pack” with plenty of don’ts and not a lot of do-s. We are herded much as the animals onto Noah’s Ark into the lift by good humoured Defence Force staff, who I am certain didn’t envision this in their future when they signed up for a life of adventure on the high seas or as Top Gun.
Before leaving Perth we prepare for our two weeks isolation: at the charity shop I buy a jigsaw puzzle, two plates, knives, forks and spoons. We pack gloves, masks, sanitiser, wipes, good knives, tea towel, our coffee plunger, black pepper grinder, my yoga mat; we download movies and TV series in case of poor wifi, the Apple TV. All this is the equivalent of Bear Grylls taking a tooth pick and pocket knife.
On arrival, the room is a relief: spacious, plenty of storage, big ensuite with a shower and a bath, large picture window with a splendid view of the ANZ centre across Albert Street – no, the window does not open – they don’t want to risk anyone jumping out.
And, surprise! they provide two plates, bowls, knives, forks spoons and teaspoons along with the usual cups and glasses.
Our bags eventually arrive, presumably they have been sanitised in some way. We unpack, vowing to keep our space tidy. And surprise! our coffee plunger insert broke on the journey.
.
Room 536 at the Stamford Plaza
Yesterday is known as Day Zero.
Day One: a 1.00am bedtime and half a sleeping pill means we wake at 8.30. Arrgh! Have we missed breakfast? No, it arrives about 8.45am, and is better than a lot of cafes. Lunch is sushi and dinner, fish or lasagne.
after plating
As it arrives in two paper bag
Fish for me and lasagne for Scott
So that answers your questions about the food. I hope it stays as good for the rest of the week. As we put orders in (see menu above) for the next few days I specify, for me at least, no dessert, and we decide to share or skip a few breakfasts/lunches. If we eat everything on offer, we will be unable to exit the room.
Other than eat on day one, I do yoga, start this blog, chat on the phone, read my book, supervise Scott starting an exercise programme – we settle on the 1950s Canadian Air Force 5BX – I remember this and the accompanying 10BX being popular in the 1970s. We also respond to an invitation to the ballroom for our Day One Covid test. We are not allowed out of the room for outdoor exercise until this comes back negative. This is another two by two supervised entry into the lift, along yellow wallpapering warning signs, into the testing area where the test is short and sharp and less thorough than the one in Perth, back into the lift and “home” again.
Some of you know we have secured MIQ (managed isolation and quarantine) spots for the 18th October. This is no mean feat, as even a cursory reading of the media reveals. On “opening day” of the new booking system, the 20th September, over 26,000 wannabe returnees crowd into a virtual waiting room between 8:00am and 9:00am New Zealand time.
At 9:00am a virtual hand, possibly Maradona’s non virtual hand of God, randomly allocates those 26,000 into a queue. It doesn’t matter if you are first in the waiting room, or 26,000th, your place in the queue is the luck of the draw – or lack of.
Prior to this date, we register on the site: it is possible to register more than once if you are a couple, family or group, as each person in turn may take a lead. I register us as the Marshall-Wilsons and Scott registers us as the Wilson-Marshalls. We look at the dates when there are flights from Perth to Auckland – this is tedious: you can’t search Perth – Auckland, you have to look at every day in turn and see which flights are flying into NZ that day. There are only two flight dates from Perth before the end of the year that we can see: 18th and 25th October. We have always planned to come home around the end of October so the 25th looks good for us.
Match Day.
The alarm rings. It’s 4:30 am (imagine my joy), but in NZ it’s 8.30am. We both fire up our laptops, go to the site and enter our passport numbers. There’s nothing to do then but watch the countdown to 5.00am (9:00am NZ) and await out fate. When the random queue forms at 5:00am Scott is a surprising 2200ish and I’m in the mid 4,000s. PTSD means we do not remember the exact placings, and irrationally, are too terrified to take screen shots in case we lose our places.
By about 5:30am Scott is through the (non existent) door into the booking office, where the staff are invisible. The 25th is gone, the choice is Hobson’s and we book for the 18th October. I drop out to let someone else through. We then go to the Air NZ site and book our flights. We then have 48 hours to enter the flight details into the MIQ system or we lose our spot.
So our days are numbered – for this trip at least. Now comes the scramble to organise storage for the car and caravan for an undetermined period of time. Some initial enquiries are not promising. So many people from the Eastern states (New South Wales and Victoria in particular) are unable to get into WA to pick up their caravans this year, the storage facilities are full. WA has been so stringent in its border closures, international and local, who knows when we will be able to return.
We love our travels here and I would be happy to stay on if we had to. WA is good to us and we are both now fully vaccinated. It is immeasurably safer from COVID than almost anywhere else, including NZ at this point; there’s more chance of contact in MIQ than we have now. That aside, I do feel a bit guilty that we have an MIQ allocation when there are so many people in desperate straits who need to get home.
On the plus side, as we will be back in NZ within six months, the NZ Government won’t be clawing back our superannuation; I’m running out of drugs, so won’t have the trauma of getting them sorted here; my Drivers Licence runs out in December so I can renew that; Scott can go on the KTM motor bike ride at the end on November; we will be home for what passes as Summer; we will be home to meet a new great niece/nephew and excitingly, for the birth of a grandson; and not least, we will see many of you.
And we did buy Lottery tickerts – it’s drawn tonight and $30 million is up for grabs – we’ll let you know.
NZ826 leaves Perth at 9:15 pm on 17/10 and arrives at Auckland 8:20am. Yes, we will be in front of the plane having a large gin and a lie down.
It is a mystery where we will be put in isolation. We request Huka Lodge or Blanket Bay, but probably we’ve used all our luck and will score the Waipuna Hotel and Conference Centre.
We are keen to hear from anyone who has suffered through MIQ and can offer tips to make it easier. We’ve already thought of alcohol.
