HEADING HOME TO QUARANTINE AFTER OUR JAPAN HOLIDAY

I’m on a plane to Tokyo, the first flight of our journey home to Australia after a fabulous  – mostly corona virus oblivious – holiday in Japan. When my 10-year-old daughter, Emmie, and I left Australia two weeks ago I was confident our time in Japan would be fine, and it was. It’s just that the rest of the world wasn’t.

While we’ve been away the world has changed, and we are now returning to our country, our homeland, that is so very different to when we left. Increasing virus numbers, stampedes and empty shelves at supermarkets, a weakening economy, closed borders, quarantine and isolation, panic, fear and heartbreaking stories of every-man-for-himself.

A few days after we arrived in Japan the news from home was that a man in our hometown just out of Sydney, Cronulla, had the virus. I felt like our decision to travel was the right one, and that we would have been closer to the virus had we stayed at home. Here we were safe in Japan and visiting the usually busy hotspots of Tokyo, learning about Japanese embroidery, exploring temples and shrines, gobbling the amazing food and hunting down seasonal sakura-themed treasures.

While theme parks and museums were closed – and Klook refunded our tickets to teamLab Borderless immediately – the city was alive. Restaurants and parks and gardens were open, temples and shrines were empty for us to explore, galleries and shops welcomed us.

I ate the best ramen I’d ever had in Omori and in Shinjuku Gardens we spotted early blooming cherry blossoms. An elderly Japanese man and his wife approached us and asked to take our photo.

“You are so lucky!” they said. “Usually many people here.”

It was just us.

We didn’t wear masks but we sanitised our hands constantly and were super careful about many things we wouldn’t be usually. We tried not to touch railings or escalator hand rests or train poles and if we did we sanitised. If someone coughed or sneezed near us or on the train we moved. We washed hands as much as possible and we didn’t touch our faces. We used antiseptic wipes wherever we sat in restaurants, on trains and on planes.

Announcements at train stations explained the Japanese Government’s measures to manage the virus and asked for everyone’s help. Most Japanese people wore masks, and restaurants had signs in their windows apologising that staff were all wearing masks, and explaining that it was because of the virus.

We roamed the streets and our friends Nic and Lara met us for a few days of fun, the girls loving the freedom of crowd-less footpaths, playing arcade games and wandering Takeshita Street in Harajuku. We spent five days exploring Tokyo and took a day trip to Kamakura, an hour south, eating amazing noodles and tempura in a tiny Japanese restaurant, scoffing gelato, visiting shrines and the bamboo forest, the famous giant Buddha and finishing off with a paddle in the ocean at Sagami Bay.

And we giggled at the memes from Australia about toilet paper wars, while keeping a peripheral view of Europe, and still not expecting anything like what was to come.

We then set off to Club Med Tomamo in Hokkaido, which had the most cases in Japan and was under a State of Emergency. I had complete confidence in Club Med and as soin as we arrived we relaxed into its cocoon. All guests and staff had temperature checks at least twice a day, every nook and cranny was sterilised at least a few times a day, we sanitised our hands at meal times, on entering the theatre and bar and guests were served food and drinks by staff wearing face masks and gloves.

When we first arrived we were still amused by what we perceived to be overreaction from home, thinking people were out of control, stock-piling and hoarding.  We laughed at how crazy it all seemed, and were sure it would all blow over.

And then a few days ago things started to turn really serious. Italy went into lockdown as cases and deaths increased, countries started shutting their borders.

Club Med’s international staff began leaving, trying to get home before flights stopped and lockdowns continued, and talk turned to what countries were still open, and wo was allowing entry from people who had been in Japan.

But we were still happy in our bubble. We skied – Emmie well, me reluctantly –  we ate incredible meals three times a day and snacks at least twice a day. The food was so good I had to get re-weighed seven days in so my skis could be reset. We were having so much fun, so removed from what was happening that it didn’t seems real.

I enjoyed many wines and Bailey’s hot chocolates while Emmie scoffed rainbow ice. We watched the amazing shows performed each night by Club Med staff, and did crazy dances led by Jessie the Chief de Village and TayTay the families manager.

We were having an incredible time, and were thinking of extending for another 10 days or so to explore more of crowd-free Japan. And then it got really real. Our flight home was cancelled.

Airlines began reducing flights and there was talk of grounding fleets. Businesses were standing down staff. Small businesses were suffering as people stayed home with their toilet paper and pasta.  Australia announced quarantine for anyone entering the country. Then Australia went into lockdown, and overseas Aussies were told to come home.

I finally got through to Qantas on Twitter after days of communication on its Qantas app chat function which suddenly just disappeared, and we were put onto new flights home. Groups of Club Med’s international staff were leaving overnight, hoping to get back into their home countries. One was stuck in Turkey, others had to land in neighbouring countries, have friends or family collect them by land and then all go into quarantine.

Even so, the mood at Club Med was positive. The show – literally each evening – went on and we skied and drank and danced and ate and sung. We were in our little Club Med cocoon. Safe, well, cared for and protected. Being at Club Med was our safe place. Heading home worried me. This afternoon we left our bubble for the journey home.

Where deserted places were once a little amusing and a sign of our good fortune, empty airports are a depressing and worrying reminder that the world is shutting down.

We had always intended to isolate ourselves on return, and as we can’t stay with my mum and dad – who are older – we will be staying at our friend Jonica’s pool-house for two weeks. I’ve ordered a case of wine, and mum and dad will leave a grocery-stocked car for us nearby their home for us to collect when we get into Sydney.

It’s a strange feeling to be flying into quarantine and isolation, to supermarkets with bare shelves and social distancing. I don’t have any reference points in my brain for something like this, no one does, there’s no well-trodden path to follow.  But we are all in this together, and now is the time for us to support each other, make our country safe for everyone and get us all through.

While I’m feeling a little anxious to be heading home,  knowing that in the skies around us, planes of Australians are homeward bound too gives me a sense of solidarity.

And with the whine of wheels down, the lights of Toyko sparkling below and the weight of descent, we are one flight and 12 hours away from home.

Right now, there is no place we’d rather be.