Where’s the Wally

Pan Pacific Hotel, Rm 1214 (Melbourne)

Tuesday 28 April 2020

Like a lab-rat in a new enclosure, I’ve checked out every cupboard, draw, shelf, ledge and complimentary soap in the place.   The whole “studio-apartment” is 10 metres by 5 metres… there’s an iron, an ironing board, lots of towels and pillows, TWO spare rolls of toilet paper, plus a spare box of tissues, a combination safe, but strangely no Gideon’s Bible, which is most disappointing, I thought all hotel rooms had one of them?! Just like the Beatles song, Rocky Raccoon.

On expensive-looking, wooden coat hangers there are two dressing gowns, both of a rather small size.  In an attempt to excuse this in some way, they are labelled … “100% Cotton, One Size Fits Most”.   I suppose that claim COULD be true.  It just depends on your target demographic, or sampling method. But after all, “Most” really only has to be 51% of a given population when you think about it.  After trying one on, I suspect I’m in the remaining 49% – “NOT-most”.

Mid-morning, I was wearing one of these dressing gowns – thinking its tightness was something I could get used to – when longtime friend, Vicky called on the phone.  Vicky lives around the corner in Docklands and given she was out on her morning walk she said … “give me five minutes and I’ll wave to you from the bridge”.  I briefly thought about changing out of the dressing gown, because, being so short, it left two inches of my boxer shorts protruding, (making me look a little like Captain Zapp Brannigan, for those familiar with Futurama),  but I really only had time to pull the curtains and press the button to raise the blind.

“I’m on the bridge now, with my friend … can you see us?” Vicky called through the phone. 

“Yes, I see you … can you see me?  I’ll raise the blinds.  I’m waving.  I’m in a white dressing gown”, I called into the phone.  It was a bit like those “Where’s Wally” books

Just then a group of four police officers walked across the bridge behind Vicky, (from memory they didn’t look like they were “social distancing” very well) no doubt wondering what she was up to.   But as you can see, we took a picture of each other … and tell me honestly, can you see a fringe of blue around the bottom edge of the dressing gown, can you?

The rest of my day was mostly centred around the computer, plus of course my desk and ergonomic chair, as I continued the work on the Chimere Operations Manual” … plus mucked about on Facebook; no more crew-finding-sailing-forums for me!

Breakfast arrived, as the Pan Pacific Hotel Information Sheet stipulated, between 7:30am – 8:30am with a knock on the door.  Probably in a kind of a … knock-drop-and-run routine … because no one’s there when I open the door.  And it doesn’t take me that long to get to the door. There’s just a boutique brown paper bag.   I’m starting to build up a nice collection of classy brown paper bags with raffia handles – all neatly folded in the corner, under the cabinet, on which sits a very large flatscreen TV … or, it’s probably called something like an “Entertainment & Communications Hub”   

It’s now after 6:00pm and my information sheet tells me that I can expect my “Dinner Delivery” between 6:00pm and 7:00pm … in fact, I can hear the sound of voices and rustling paper in the hall outside.  So, feeding time must be close, and my salivary glands agree.

Last night I mistook next door’s dinner-door-knock for mine.  I opened the door, but there was no brown bag of goodies on my doorstep.  It was then that I realized there’s a man sitting on a chair, all night, in the hallway by the lift, just outside my door.  Talk about standing watch – at least he doesn’t have to attend to the sails, monitor the chart plotter and scan the horizon for lights on a regular basis.  But really?  I ask you?  Although I have it from a reliable source that one detained traveller has forfeited a 14-day stay in a classy hotel room, for a 30-day stay in a not-so-classy jail cell, for wandering off after dark.  Not once, but several times, after being warned.

My, duly signed “Direction and Detention Notice”, says in Clause 6 (2) that noncompliance can incur a penalty of  $19,826.40 … which is rather a lot really.   Someone asked whether they could send me a “parcel of goodies” … maybe some ANZAC biscuits, tin of baked beans, a fruit cake concealing a file, or knitted socks for the winter perhaps … and after reading the mandatory quarantine paperwork a little more, the answer is both Yes and No.  It turns out that only “Authorised Drivers” can deliver to my accommodation – and that does not include family and friends.  But “Care Parcels” can be assembled by loved ones, “on the outside”, weighing no more than 12kg, which the Government Support Service will pick up and deliver, using authorized drivers. 

Like most things, there’s always a catch … the parcels cannot contain refrigerated, frozen or cooked food … oh, and no cigarettes, alcohol or illicit drugs … doh!!

The Government Support Service sounds like a pretty amazing outfit.  They’ll also arrange care for my pets … if I had any (sorry Linda, that’s not you) and will send me details of a supermarket ordering website-link which Woolworths calls a “Kindness Card”.  Not so “kind” that you don’t still have to pay for what you order?!  It’s all fully explained in a 16-Step full page flow diagram … Simples!   I’ve emailed my request to the relevant department and I’ll report back on progress. 

I was right about the rustling at the door.  It was a beef stew in one container and a salad in the other, plus an individually wrapped Tim Tam – that’s going straight to the pool room … or at least to what has become my designated “treats ledge” … to be consumed a little later with a cappuccino-sachet coffee.

Being on a “medical watch list” of potentially high risk, virally infected folk … I received my daily call from the resident nurse … she’s not resident in my room you understand … she’s somewhere in the hotel.  I’m becoming familiar with the questions now, but I sense it’s still a humour-free zone, so I play a straight bat … “Sore throat?” … No  … “Fever?” … No … “Congestion?  Runny nose?  Tiredness?  Aches and Pains?”  … No, No, No, No … which is certainly a relief all round and keeps the paperwork and cost down to be sure.

But just like going to the supermarket in New Zealand, all those weeks ago, having put it off so long, and then being surrounded by potential carriers and viral basket cases … the sense of uncertainty and your almost obsessive focus on the potential symptoms, can have you doubting yourself, as you make your way up and down the aisles.  

“Mmm, maybe my throat IS feeling a bit sore.  I blew my nose earlier today, perhaps that’s the start of a runny nose.  And my joints were feeling a little stiff this morning, maybe I’m coming down with something?”      Psychosomatic is it??

Having got myself onto the Australian Government’s “Travel Advice” mailing list, I received an informative directive today …

Travel advice update – New Zealand

If you’re in New Zealand and want to leave we recommend you do so now while commercial options are available. Follow the Australian High Commission New Zealand on social media for regular updates.
If you’re an Australian normally resident in New Zealand you can return but you’ll be required to isolate for 14 days in either quarantine or a managed isolation facility.

If you’re in New Zealand, minimise your risk of exposure to COVID-19. Follow the advice of local authorities including observing the lockdown period and stay in touch with family and friends so they know you’re safe and well.

Our level of advice has not changed:  Do not travel to New Zealand.

Smooth seas, fair breeze and where’s the wally

Rob Latimer