Self Isolation: Day One

Coronavirus quarantine for a digital nomad

I returned to my home in the Yorkshire Dales, UK, after three months away in Kyiv, Ukraine. I am required to self-isolate for ten days, starting from the day after I return. I may not leave my house or garden. I should avoid shops unless I have no alternative way to get food or medication. If I had a dog, I would not be allowed to walk it. I am prohibited from entering any public spaces, including the road outside my house. If I do, I may be fined up to £10,000.

Well, so far it is not so bad.

I returned home to greetings, welcomes and offers of help from several neighbours. One picked me up from the station and left me with a bowl of homemade soup, some bread and fruit. Another insisted on picking up my Click and Collect food order (although technically I am actually allowed to do that myself) and dropping it round the following day. Later, when I went out briefly into the garden, on seeing a friend pass by, I ended up standing inside my gate for at least twenty minutes, exchanging gossip with several passing neighbours. All of whom added their offers of help in getting food.

I will survive these ten days and then be free to do non-essential shopping, walks in the hills and even possibly a coffee in a local café (Although, most likely Britain will all be in full lockdown by then). It is, after all, another opportunity to focus on my writing and studying.

Most of all I am struck by the different atmosphere here, after three months of relatively lax controls in Ukraine. British people, their spirits already much weakened by nine months of the pandemic, varying levels of prohibitions and undercurrents of genuine fear, have been badly affected by recent developments. The identification of a new mutation, coinciding with rocketing positive case numbers (as measured by a correspondingly rocketing number of tests) has had a shocking impact. People are genuinely frightened, demoralised and just plain bored.

In Ukraine, a weak government with no financial means to underwrite business and personal economic losses has failed to impose more than minimal controls. Only the wearing of face masks in shops, cafes, restaurants and public transport is enforced. There are none of the damaging limits on mixing of households, visiting friends and relatives that have been enforced here. Life felt relatively normal. I could do most of the things I normally do, including visiting people’s homes, sharing a meal in a restaurant, attending Russian classes, visiting museums and art galleries. I could even have travelled by train or bus to other cities, if my own cautiousness had not prevented that.

However, in both countries, there are people who are just downright scared. I heard the same stories there — of somebody who is terrified to leave their home, orders all their food supplies online, disinfects all their packaging and does not touch any post for three days. People whose quality of life has been decimated, whose worlds have shrunk and whose mental health is in shreds.

And yet others, including my eighty-plus-year-old parents, weigh up the odds and choose small calculated risks — meeting friends and family out of doors, sharing a glass of mulled wine on Christmas Day. Their choice is to live life as fully as possible, taking sensible precautions, but not at the expense of losing all that adds quality and value. This is my approach. And if the worst happens and I get Covid, at least I have had a few good experiences and adventures this year.

It is hard to understand how we all receive the same information and make such different decisions.

Apart from the self-isolation, arriving home after three months feels distinctly odd. Disorientating. Confusing. I felt at first as if this was a holiday or a new place I had moved to, from my home in Kyiv. It was like visiting a place that was very familiar and well-remembered, but not where I actually lived.

So I have worked through the obvious things — unpacking, washing and ironing clothes, opening mail and dealing with the few financial admin things that had not reached me by electronic means.

And then feel overwhelmingly tired.

I travelled more than 1700 miles in a little more than thirteen hours. I am befuddled by the new surroundings, the coronavirus rules and the feelings of the people around me.

It is time to rest.

I went to Kyiv for three months as a digital nomad, to work remotely, learn Russian, write and explore. If you would like to read more about my trip, you can see my Letters from Kyiv. Here are links to the most recent three Letters.