The announcement says it all. Having spent hours in a large aluminium cylinder we are invited to disembark, but please observe appropriate distancing. Face masks at all times, except when eating or drinking, so……..almost never. As always, the great unwashed leap from their seats and do that strange mad scramble to access overhead lockers and then stand stooping for 20 minutes while the air bridge is installed. Some things never change.
Anyway, we’ll get to that.
A while back I started prowling the house and showing signs of being less than content. As you know gentle readers, I am a man of sunny disposition and an eternally positive outlook. However, the Managing Director detected a certain Covid era malaise and suggested I might like to spend some time in self isolation. I wasn’t sick, just encouraged to take myself off somewhere. To be frank, that’s a kind interpretation. I believe the message was more akin to… if you don’t go and do something and spark up a bit I’m going to kill you. Now, we all make rash threats in the heat of the moment but those of you who are acquainted with the MD will know that she suffers my odd moments gladly. As such a threat of bodily harm must surely be taken seriously.
And so, I embarked on a travel adventure.
There was a time when the definition would conjure up visions of wildlife safaris, ancient jungle temples and encounters with gentlemen with guns. Alas, those days are over, at least for now. The adventure is now the uncertain, convoluted, and terrifying process of negotiating a Covid compliant departure from our shores and an equally compliant arrival elsewhere. I’m not a huge fan of the Oz summer humidity so It’s gotta be somewhere cold. As some of you know I am a snow ski tragic. That is, when observed on the piste, the comment “that’s tragic” is most often uttered. In fact, before I ever discovered the joys of careering down a mountain I was often observed tragically on the piste, but that’s a story for another day.
Where to go ? Those communists in NZ won’t have a bar of us, the yanks are preoccupied starting many wars and Japan is closed. So, Canada it is. We’ve got the same Queen, how hard can it be ? I started by consulting many travel agents, none of whom told the same story. Not their fault, the rules were changing every day ! At some point I realised I was doing to travel agents what I hate people doing to me. Chasing free advice with a negligible chance of doing any business. So I started doing my own research. Double vaxed, yep. Register with MyGov and Medicare, yep. Get a negative Covid test at Brisbane airport before setting foot in the terminal but after paying for the trip……gulp ……yep, I guess I can do that. Get a Canadian visa….easy, had it on line in a couple of hours. Get an International Vax certificate from the Oz government. Available via Medicare app and easy but also easy to miss. Register with ArriveCAN, the Canadian government app that lets you explain who you are, upload all your Covid certificates and confirm that if you get crook in Whistler you’ll confine yourself to the bar.
Oh, one other thing and this is so very Canadian. You are told that when you arrive in Vancouver you may be tested randomly. It’s advised to pre-register just in case you get picked. I did. Once tested you are free to go on the understanding that you will quarantine at your final destination until your test results are advised. Yeah, right. Snowing it’s bum off, feel 100% but I better sit tight until I get the all clear. Of course I will……promise.
I know what you’re thinking, that’s some adventure! It gets better. One must now take all this documentation, screen shots, apps and certificates and present yourself for airline check in. In my case that’s Brisbane domestic connecting to Sydney and then Vancouver. The poor lady at the Qantas check-in worked from a substantial Covid manual and did a pretty good job of a very difficult process which felt a bit like an exam you know you haven’t studied enough for. Miraculously, I passed.
If you think dodging a lion in Africa or standing on Machu Picchu is a rush, it’s nothing compared to clearing airport departure check in during the Covid era.
The flight to Vancouver passes uneventfully thanks to a combination of a comfy seat, nice cabin crew and a few celebratory drinks. Just got to get safely through Canadian customs, find the transfer bus and I’m home free. Canadian border officers and airport police are so polite and friendly one feels to be among friends and as such nothing can go wrong. And so it proves to be until the very last step when the departing arrivals are sorted into the free to go and the random Covid test queues. I score the test queue and despite pretending not to understand English I’m left in no doubt that I’m not getting away. It’s all well managed and over in 10 minutes. I get the Negative email the next morning. Now. I’ve just got to have a bit of fun and get home. More about that next time.
In closing I can’t help feeling like this experience is how travel used to be before it became a bit passe. The sheer thrill of just getting on a plane and going somewhere different is more than worth the effort.