It’s a “how can we help” attitude because everyone is looking at America and thinking, "What a bloody disaster, we can’t turn out like them.”

The Washington Post

I fled with my family to Australia. Now guilt and relief mix as the U.S. continues to unravel.

Opinion by Lindsay Knaak-Stuart

December 22, 2020

Lindsay Knaak-Stuart is an American entrepreneur and marketing professional.

As covid-19 continues to spread in the United States, I sit mask-free with my family in a cafe in Brisbane, Australia, drinking a flat white. Life is pretty normal here, almost as if this past year never happened. I’m relieved and grateful that we escaped New York City. I don’t think I would have made it through another lockdown with kids in our small apartment.

And so here we are, in my husband’s home country, where they took the coronavirus seriously and shut their borders back in March. There are social distancing signs, sophisticated contact-tracing measures and limits to the number of people in shops and restaurants, but mask-less holiday shoppers move freely. The country has kept the total number of reported coronavirus cases to fewer than 29,000, with fewer than 1,000 fatalities.

Getting to Australia wasn’t easy. There were many months of waiting for my partner visa to come through, canceled and rescheduled flights and, finally, a mandatory government hotel quarantine upon landing. While I wouldn’t wish a 14-day hotel-bound stay with two kids on my worst enemy, we were determined to fulfill our responsibility as, well, good citizens.

Seventy-two hours before flying to Australia, we were required to answer questions about our health and dietary restrictions. This info would be used to plan our quarantine stay — a “privilege” for which our family of four would pay $3,800. After the 22-hour trip from NYC to Sydney — thankfully on a flight with only 36 passengers, due to weekly passenger arrival caps — we landed like hot-spot covid celebrities, ushered in by local police to start a process with the vibes of an episode of “Homeland.”

We were first directed through a series of health and border checkpoints, then were greeted at baggage claim by additional police and members of the Australian Defense Force. They had been waiting for us, and so had the bus that was going to take us to our undisclosed quarantine location. Families were on one bus, couples and singles on another. We snaked through Sydney, our police motorcade leading the way, and finally arrived at a nondescript full-service hotel/apartments where we would be locked for 14 days and would later emerge a few pounds heavier but feeling a lot more hopeful. It was clear Australia was taking things seriously; the guards placed outside our door reinforced that message.

It was all an impressive display of high-level coordination among federal, state and local governments. We got tested on Day 2 and on Day 10. We received three meals a day, designed to be well balanced and nutritious, although they seemed to have missed the memo on taste and variety. A team of on-site doctors, nurses and psychologists called us daily to check in on our health and mental state, and when on Day 8 our 6-year-old son started struggling with it all, we received advice from the psychologist on how to help him: do a workout video, try and stick to a routine, limit screen time … if you can. It was not lost on anyone that this experience was far from normal or nice.

The hours turned to days and finally the days turned to weeks. Somehow we were getting through this, and for once I was thankful that I knew how to quarantine with kids in a small space. Nine months in New York had prepared me for this moment. We watched movies, built forts, received care packages from friends and spent more days than I’d like to admit in our PJs, without showering. A final negative covid-19 test came with a wristband and permission to leave. We headed straight to Bondi Beach for a coffee and a run in the sand before flying to Brisbane.

We have felt an immense sense of relief, but Australia is not totally in the clear. There’s a new outbreak of cases in Sydney that has disrupted travel and forced the cancelation of the 76-year-old Rolex Sydney Hobart Yacht Race. People are being asked to stay inside. Contact-tracing protocols are now in place. If you were shopping at Coles between 9 and 9:15 a.m. on Dec. 13, for example, they are asking you to monitor your symptoms and isolate — it’s that specific. Unlike in the United States, people seem to understand that that kind of monitoring is for the greater good. Neither pride nor politics has gotten in the way of this. It’s a “how can we help” attitude because everyone is looking at America and thinking, "What a bloody disaster, we can’t turn out like them.”

Meanwhile, our American family watches events back home with a heavy feeling of survivor’s guilt. We know the impact the continued escalation in cases is having on families, schools, restaurants and their communities. I have left my high-risk elderly parents back in Colorado, my sister in covid-surging Los Angeles, and my friends back in New York, who are dealing with snowstorms, school closures and impeding lockdowns.

After diligently wearing a mask and dutifully washing and sanitizing her hands for the better part of a year, my 8-year-old daughter came down with a summer cold this week. She cried, fearful she might have covid-19 and might end up on the news. She is scared to go into crowded spaces, and her developing brain doesn’t understand this tale of two worlds.

While I can’t come close to explaining this world to her, I can reassure her that we are still New Yorkers and we are strong.

Read more:

The Post’s View: Australia is standing up to China’s bullying. It needs U.S. support.

Henry Olsen: Republicans can take a lesson from Australia’s conservatives on covid-19

Richard Glover: Australia’s leader is winning the argument on the coronavirus

Soraya Lennie: Scott Morrison is now very popular in Australia. He hasn’t earned that.

The Post’s View: The new coronavirus strain should be a wake-up call