Back home on Avenue Q

I’m in quarantine for two weeks. I have no yard or balcony, I am alone and can’t go outside.

I’m in a small apartment I have rented in Ottawa, Canada. I mark down the days that are left until I am free, like being in prison.

I like the term “Avenue Q” for being in quarantine. I know others around the world are on Avenue Q too.

Avenue Q is the longest street in the world. It stretches from here to the other side of the world and comes back to me in this small apartment, wondering if there are others like me. Constrained, isolated and alone. We are forced to quarantine, not leave our dwellings, and have no physical contact with others, like prisoners of the plague.

When you land in Canada and arrive at Customs, it used to be questions about what you bought abroad. Now it’s about what contagions you may be carrying. You are served the Order of Mandatory Quarantine and warned about the severe penalties of up to one million dollars and three years in prison if you don’t comply. Welcome to Canada!

I knew it was a new world I was entering in returning to Canada from Japan. I left one year ago before the unwanted guest coronavirus arrived and continued to outstay its welcome.

In Japan, there is a different approach to coronavirus. There is no forced quarantine or self-isolation. It is entirely voluntary because Japanese law forbids restricting people’s movements and other freedoms.

The Japanese people, for the most part, are compliant with government orders. If Prime Minister Abe announces a state of emergency, the protection goes up. If he says the state of emergency is lifted, then the protective gear comes off. Individual sacrifices for the greater good, whether at work or in their communities, is part of the Japanese culture.

Throughout the height of the pandemic, I went to work every day in the office. The desks are beside each other, but everyone wears masks. There is the usual COVID-19 protocol of sanitizing hands often and other procedures. Otherwise, it’s business as usual-the same with the school.

Wearing surgical-style masks is commonplace in Japan and part of social etiquette. They are usually worn to help prevent the spread of colds and flu in winter and protect against pollen in the spring allergy season.

Before the word coronavirus became part of our daily vocabulary, the school had a severe outbreak of the flu, and everyone had to wear masks. With about one-quarter of the students sick at one point, they closed the school for two days so the students at home sick could catch up.

When the prime minister lifted the state of emergency at the end of May, students came back to school, and everyone wore masks. While at first, I was surprised by the mask culture and thought I could never wear a mask, it became part of my daily attire.

We were soon back to normal with the full schedule of school lessons, clubs after school, band practices, and baseball and soccer training, all while wearing masks. School opening and closing ceremonies also continued even if they had to be adjusted because of the pandemic. These ceremonies are an essential part of Japanese culture and customs.

In general, there were no significant differences at school before and after COVID-19. The daily staff talk is about coronavirus numbers going up or down and what’s happening with the virus. However, I didn’t understand a lot of what was said.

I got the generalities, but I couldn’t understand the details in Japanese. It’s like hearing a radio station that is not clear, and you can’t quite make out everything that is said. It’s normal living in a foreign country. Still, in a pandemic, it’s a bit disconcerting not to know what exactly is said or written.

During the pandemic’s height, there were frequent announcements through the loudspeakers in my town, one of the primary ways to communicate with some 5,500 town residents.

At the junior high school office, staff announce to others what needs to be known. There is also a complex network of chalkboards and whiteboards. The most common form of communication is paper, with frequent schedule changes. There are no emails used. In fact, there is one standard email address for the office of around 25. Faxing is still the preferred mode of communication from office to office. Next to the phone with one phone line and a few phones shared among everyone.

I have been envious of my colleagues who are returning home and quarantining in convenience. One said his family is moving out of the house so he can be there alone, with a backyard, swimming pool, the fridge full of food and drinks, and the BBQ ready to go. Or others say that their families are close by to attend to their every need. This doesn’t sound like Avenue Q but GQ Magazine or Modern Family and the enviable lives we see on social media.

But maybe this all doesn’t make being on Avenue Q easier because it’s our thoughts that cage us the most.

On Avenue Q, I desperately want to be outside. I feel like a dog with my nose pressed again the window looking at the people walking by. I want to bark at them because I am bored and want out. Maybe that’s what dogs are saying in their barking: “Hey, how come you’re out there, and I’m not!”

I feel like a child too. Not being able to fend and shop for me. I have been fiercely independent all my life. There is real courage in realizing what we can’t do on our own and showing our vulnerability.

I have to say to friends, “I can’t go out, could you shop for me?” “I don’t have a phone, could you call for me and fix this?” They were happy to help me. One friend said, “you would do the same for me, wouldn’t you?” I nodded and said, “of course!”

I have travelled far in the past week on Avenue Q.

I travel in my writings, through the Internet, and in speaking with friends. I have travelled most inward in journeys of resistance, being vulnerable, and coming to terms with the reality of what I can do and can’t on my own.

I feel that in returning home and being in quarantine, I am catching up with my peeps. I didn’t go through the harsh collective period here when COVID-19 first shocked the world and my city. People were forced inside, scared and confused about what was happening, and asked, could this be happening at all? It still feels surreal.

You may not be on Avenue Q now. Still, you may have experienced isolation. Disappointment in not being able to do the things you used to do or in the same way. And the anxiety of not knowing what’s next.

We’re all in this together. During these times, you may feel that you are good, I’ve got this, and grateful for what you have in your life. Other times, you could be anxious and afraid about what’s going on, if this is ever going to end, and what’s next.

No one gets a get of out coronavirus for a free card.

We do have a free card that enables us to communicate and gather on the Internet. Call friends and family that we were too busy to speak to before and have in-depth conversations, perhaps for the first time. Find creative, safe ways to adjust our plans and see the people and places that matter in our lives. And have friends bring us the things that we need when we ask, like food and a call to say you will get through this.

It’s good to be home. I’m here on Avenue Q. Anyone else here?

Originally published at http://carolineishii.com on August 18, 2020.