Quarantine and Coronavirus in Australia

Quarantine did not prevent the Lady Mary crew—us—from setting foot in the land of kangaroos. We managed to enter 2.5 days before the borders were closed to all foreigners. Remember how, in the middle of the southern Indian Ocean, Lady Mary sailed straight past the cold, stormy Kerguelen Island because of the engine and heater breakdowns? That turned out to be a stroke of luck. Had we stopped there for three or four days, we would now have had to make a couple of circuits around the planet without calling at any ports :)... Lady Mary at the quay The day before we arrived in Western Australia, the country imposed a two-week quarantine on everyone entering. But our quarantine was voluntary—the 53 days we had spent crossing the ocean counted. The bureaucratic system proved reasonable. And so, for almost a week now, we have been berthed at Fremantle Sailing Club, stern to stern with the yacht Esmeralda, aboard which Igor Zaretsky took part in the Golden Globe, a round-the-world sailing race of unparalleled difficulty. Last year, Esmeralda reached Albany, but her courageous captain was forced to fly back to Russia for health reasons. The yacht was moved to Fremantle and is being prepared for delivery to Europe via Bali. The question of when remains open for most of the planet’s population... View of Perth by night . A World We Have Never Lived In Before The last time the world united like this was in the fight against fascism. Today, humanity is up against a virus, and we are all in the same boat. Remember the Water Truce in The Jungle Book? Whether it is “ordinary flu” or an “unidentified deadly strain”—whatever we may tell ourselves, however much we may tear our hair out or snigger like cynical know-it-alls, we are not the ones dictating reality. Plans are being cancelled, losses are mounting, the epidemic is cutting people down, panic is growing, and quarantine is a necessary measure. Since morning, I’ve been gathering information to understand whether there is any point in dreaming of seeing Mum this summer. And along the way, the things I have dug up! Even anti-you-know-what propaganda. The coronavirus truce does not extend to clickbait news with lurid headlines. But I’m not talking about politics. Fremantle Sailing Club A hundred metres from the yacht club is a stop for the free bus into the centre of the quiet little town of Fremantle. After hearing about it from our Russian-speaking friends Kostya and Masha, we escaped on a circular bus “tour.” And we could go to the supermarket at the same time. We had run short during the passage—no toilet paper, no breakfast buns. On top of that, we had to surrender 20 kilos of much-needed food for disposal (read about how food is confiscated on entry into Australia in the next report). At the supermarket, we realised that fruit, buns and kefir were products from the real world. Toilet paper came from some fairy tale about abundance... In Shakespeare Lane, Perth Coronavirus: The Situation in Australia The shelves in the shops are a little bare, but on the whole they have everything except the notorious soft rolls, paper towels and hand sanitiser. The cafés and kiosks with shops inside the shopping centre have been closed off with mops. There are no queues at the checkouts, even in the evening. A few days later, cheerful yellow notices appeared on the shelves: “Friends, please don’t buy everything up! Have a conscience and take no more than two packs of any product per purchase. Yes, toilet paper—one pack only.” ...there’ll be a photo from the shop here when the captain returns to the family and brings the smartphone with the picture on it )) As of today, the situation is as follows: all entertainment events have been cancelled, restaurants are closed, and some offer takeaway food. Tourists and locals wander around the half-empty city. Some wear masks, mainly Chinese people (probably so they won’t be beaten up for spreading the virus around the world). Everything looks calm and even serene. Without wasting any time, and following another tip from the same friends, we managed to nip over to a local second-hand shop. We acquired a whole heap of useful things there—from a pillow and umbrella to sandals and a vase made of puzzle pieces—for a total of $15. We also managed to walk around the city, ride the river ferry on a weekend ticket (all public transport for the whole family for 13 Australian dollars), and even spend time with kangaroos. Not wild, but not tame either, living freely on a fenced-off little island in the middle of the Swan River. Young naturalist—the kangaroo charmer . Quarantine and Measures As of today, the number of infected people in Australia is around 1,800. From 26 March, beauty salons, gyms and cultural institutions will be closed. The states of Tasmania, South Australia and Victoria have closed their borders. Schools are still open; that is up to each state’s authorities. Crosses have been marked on shop floors to show the required distance that people queuing must keep. People are free to walk in parks and use public transport, gather for picnics and visit one another. A picnic overlooking the city at night (sometimes there’s a beach view too) The yacht club where we are berthed has closed. But the internet, cosy lobby, amenities and the kiosk inside the club remain available, with takeaway coffee and pastries. Today, the lady at reception also reminded us about pizza and pumpkin soup: buy some, folks, don’t be shy! A stay-at-home order has not yet been introduced, and subjectively, the situation in Western Australia seems better overall than in the east. Rumour has it that the border is closed for six months. Three-quarters of airline employees have been sent home until the end of May. How long we are stuck here, how we will survive and extend our visas—we are still trying to get our heads around it all. Urban metaphysics The local Russian-speaking diaspora is actively supporting us, both morally and practically. This sense of solidarity is the very secret ingredient without which the world cannot endure. . Russian Perth Literally as we arrived, and immediately afterwards, we began getting to know local residents. The guys keep us informed and offer help with repairs and finding budget options. They are also trying to ease the financial burden that fell on the expedition’s shoulders after the Indian Ocean passage (where a whole heap of things broke, and then that heap was multiplied by a global epidemic). “Looks like we’ve got stuck in a country that isn’t exactly the cheapest in the world :)” we thought, and lay down on the mattress to pore over the forecasts. Queue for the ferry )) And we only got up from the mattress on Sunday to head to Kings Park, where a meeting with people who speak our language had spontaneously come together. We decided not to post any announcements. To be honest, we were completely paralysed with indecision—should we hold a meeting with our compatriots? How? Where? After all, we had to comply with rules that were becoming stricter by the day. But in the end, despite the self-imposed quarantine many people were observing, about 15–20 adults and around ten children gathered in the park. A spontaneous picnic by the lake ) And we had thought that just two or three families would turn up, we’d take a walk and then go our separate ways. By chance, there even happened to be a laptop in our rucksack, so we managed to show them a map and a video clip about glaciers and icebergs set to “The Ballad of the Children of the Great Bear.” We talked about the expedition, answered questions and invited everyone to visit us. And we are still inviting and receiving visitors, until doing so risks a fine. Meeting in the park On the eve of the meeting beneath the eucalyptus trees, activists from the Russian community put out a call about Lady Mary’s empty lockers, the shops’ dwindling shelves and those precious rolls of paper. And people came to the meeting armed with bags of provisions. In this way, with everyone chipping in, we replenished our supplies of scarce items. We now have enough paper for a month or two. Guys, thank you from the bottom of our hearts. You are wonderful. And may no virus ever touch you! After the meeting—to the memorial and viewpoint with those who hadn’t left yet . Life During the “Plague” The children and I gathered up all the remaining hand sanitisers aboard; there were quite a few left from our Senegal days back in 2016 . And, just in case, we also found out how to make it at home. In the mornings, we cycle along the path to the park in Fremantle, with its coffee and Ferris wheel. We wash our hands constantly, do schoolwork and repairs, and welcome our own people as guests—the Russian diaspora. But we keep away from strangers; well, what would be the point? For now, we are watching. What will happen next, will the specialists’ forecasts prove right, and where will the world end up? In Shakespeare Lane Tell us, friends, how are things where you are? What is the mood in your corners of the world, and where are you now? Have you been put under “house arrest” style quarantine, and how are you coping with it? Perhaps somewhere, in someone’s region, there is at least some positive trend? We’re sending you hugs, because virtually, at least, that is still allowed... More photos Well, does this really need a caption? )) On the river tram—that is, the ferry With Andrei Abrosimov Our young sailor and the emu statue ) Watching a video clip about our expedition in the ice These round stones are the oldest colonies of living organisms—stromatolites (now just their remains) With a new friend—at the monument to those who fell in the First World War The lake in Kings Park, Perth