Trapped In A Holding Pattern

When privilege makes you feel guilty for legitimate feelings — what do you do?

Write about it, of course.

Notes from a Frustrated Travelophile

Yes, I made that word up. But there are actually many glorious words to describe feelings of Wanderlust and the need, desire, urge to wander, to explore, to experience and to be on the move, both literally and figuratively.

All of them apply to me, right now, this minute.

I was born in Singapore while my parents were expats there. I spent most of my elementary school years in Brunei. My parents were as travel-obsessed as I now am. But whether it was nature or nurture or a combination of both that led to me and my siblings’ love of the journey, we may never know.

At the age of 19, I took myself off on my first solo adventure, travelling around Austria and attending an Austrian university as part of my studies in German language. My first job out of college was teaching English in a small country town in Japan.

And so it has gone. If I’m not living and working in another country, I’m visiting it on vacation. I love to travel.

Even when I’m not travelling, my number one pleasure is to be planning my next trip or trips. In another life I should have been a travel agent, because I get a huge amount of joy in researching hotels, finding attractions and off-the-path activities and planning itineraries. And, if I may say so, I’m damn good at it.

And so, COVID-19 has disrupted my life in a way that at first seemed inconsequential but, as time has inexorably moved on, has begun to take on bigger and bigger significance in my thoughts and mental well being.

Make ‘Em, Cancel ‘Em

In January, before COVID-19 made itself a true nuisance in Australia (where I live), I booked a week in Melbourne with my kids, to visit my brother, during the Easter holiday. By March, it was not looking good. The horrific bush fires had already made the city a smoky, sinister, no-longer-safe place, but now we began to worry that a virus might catch anyone who didn’t succumb to smoke inhalation. We postponed the trip, and I painstakingly collected the refunds (few) and the credit vouchers (many) from the various attractions I had booked. Now, as Melbourne suffers through a second and stricter lockdown, it is clear that we will not make it there this year at all. And it’s just across the Bass Strait from where I live in Tasmania, a short hour’s flight away. So near, yet so far.

Around the same time (January), my sister and I booked a holiday in Singapore, the first time I’ve been back there (except for in transit) in about 20 years. We were going to go in late September, after I returned from a conference I was hoping to speak at (now also cancelled). Around May, when we realized that things were not looking good and that the world was in for the long haul, we began the process of requesting a refund for our flights (we’re still waiting).

But here’s the thing: we’re incorrigible. The world might not be back to normal by October, but surely by November? We started looking at cruises to New Zealand towards the end of the year (I know! Cruises!!). The optimism didn’t last long, and we shelved that plan as well.

Now I am channeling my considerable enthusiasm for traveling into local options. Tasmania is in self-imposed quarantine. We have no cases, have remained fairly safe throughout the pandemic, and it’s thanks to our Premier, who has actively defied Federal Government and kept the infected masses well away from our vulnerable population. Other states and territories in Australia with equally vulnerable (or more vulnerable) populations have done likewise, and thank goodness we did. Now, as our two largest population centers, Melbourne particularly and Sydney to a lesser extent, limp on with case after case and more and more restrictions on daily life, we are able to go about our own lives pretty much as normal, with no fear.

I Told You: Privilege.

I’m white, middle class, with a secure income and home. I live in a place that is COVID-19 free — and how many of us get to say that right now? I have all the haves. What the hell do I have to complain about?

And yet.

I’ve been fine, actually. As a writer and student, I work mostly from home anyway, so the restrictions, when they were in place, really didn’t hurt me much. Okay, I would probably be more productive if I were able to get into my office at the university now and then, but I’m managing. I handled home schooling when it was necessary. Our government assisted financially when work became hard to find. Things have been fine, if not perfect.

I have taken the opportunity to travel to places in Tasmania I have never been, and revisited places I haven’t seen since my teens. I got to introduce them to my kids. We have always had local vacations. I think it’s important to know your own place well — it gives you a foundation from which to consider the wider world. But now that local vacations are the only option, I am delving deeper into parts of my state I hadn’t previously bothered about — and it’s been fantastic. We’ve explored man-made history and amazing natural beauty. We’ve hiked and cruised and eaten at some wonderful little cafes. We’ve taken time to wander streets in little historical towns and acted the tourist. We’ve felt good, knowing that our money is helping to support these tourism-reliant businesses when all our international and national visitors are unable to come.

But I Just Can’t Help Myself

I really can’t. If we can’t go overseas this year, then how about to another state, at least? South Australia is safe at the moment. And people can travel between Tasmania and SA without going into two weeks of quarantine. So, let’s book a week in Adelaide. This was my conversation with my mother at the beginning of August.

Done. The very next day, following developments in the rest of Australia, our Premier announced that if anyone came to Tasmania, they would have to pay $2800 minimum to be quarantined in a government facility for two weeks on arrival. So, if we left for Adelaide, we’d have to quarantine when we returned. This policy would be reviewed in mid-August.

Well, we might still be able to go. I mean, we weren’t planning to go till October. So… remain optimistic? Right??

And now we are back in the present day. Just yesterday, our Premier announced that the travel restrictions would remain in place until December 1.

Cancel Adelaide.

Am I Allowed To Feel This Way?

Cue this article. Suddenly the entire year’s worth of planned and canceled travel has really gotten to me. I’m feeling trapped, frustrated, stuck on this incredibly beautiful and spacious island, where the air and water are clean and pure, the food is plentiful, guns are mostly non-existent, the police are professional and respectful and there is no disease.

Get me out of here!

I get it. I’m a white whinger, a complainer, who should suck it up and deal. I don’t even have that much to deal with!

But I have the right to feel frustrated. We are all dealing with 2020 in our own ways, and our circumstances are completely different. Some of us are surviving situations where the hits just keep on coming. We’re surviving blow after blow, where we never thought we could. How often have we said, on hearing about someone’s horrific story of survival, ‘I could never survive that’? And yet, for some of us, here we are, surviving.

Others of us, including some who may read this article, are not suffering physically too much. We may be dipping into our savings more than we’d like. We may be compromising on what we purchase or seeking help from charities to keep our kids fed. Some of us may be experiencing no financial harm, but are climbing the walls of our homes, desperate to get out and about again, to have a beer with a friend, to go jogging again, to go to school again, to get out into the hustle and bustle of normality.

Some of us are suffering physical effects of illness, and not just COVID-19. Mental illness is soaring, and people are letting their usual physical problems or chronic conditions worsen, in an effort to avoid overcrowded hospitals or for lack of available medical professionals.

There are many reasons to feel trapped, frustrated and fed up. At the risk of upsetting people who are putting up with a lot more than I am, I hold to the right to my own feelings, no matter their derivation. I get that my reasons for feeling this way are less catastrophic than others’. But my feelings derive from my own life and experiences, and are valid for me.

There is a kind of reverse privilege in the assertion that ‘Because my circumstances are this bad, I get to feel these things, but because your circumstances aren’t as bad as mine, you don’t.’ We have to allow others to feel and experience this crazy year in the way that they do. None of us can control how we feel. And I know that, limited though my problems are, I’m not alone both in my circumstances of privilege and in my negative feelings about how 2020 has affected my life.

It’s Not Just A Physical Trap

Many of us are trapped in other ways, not just through physical limitations on travel.

I am completing a PhD with the hopes of gaining employment at a university on completion. This was a difficult course of action to succeed at before 2020. Now, with university budgets slashed, student numbers plummeting and opportunities in the industry rapidly disappearing, it’s almost laughable. The idea that I have spent nearly three years on a goal that seems to be racing away from my outstretched hands leaves me at a loss. How do I pivot, when everything around us remains completely unpredictable? Do I stick to my ambition and hope that things improve? Do I seek other opportunities? Do I just wait and see? So many students and recent graduates must be feeling like this.

How do young people get their career start when no one is hiring due to COVID-19 and its consequences? I feel terribly sorry for new young graduates today. But I reserve some of that stress for my own future fate. And there must be many others out there, everyday normal human beings, who might have had plans for 2020. ‘This year, I will finally leave him/her.’ ‘This year I will leave my job and really try to make my business idea a reality.’ ‘This year I will retrain and pursue my dream job.’ ‘This year I will run for office.’ How many of us are looking up from the broken remains of our small ambitions in disbelief as the fragments fall to the floor around us? Through no fault of our own, we’re all trapped, frustrated, stuck.

And so, I extend my empathy to you, no matter what you are going through. I don’t pretend to know what you’re feeling, but I acknowledge your right to feel it and to tell me about it and to have your feelings validated. I hope you can do the same for me.