I'm not diminishing the gravity of the Covid crisis at all, but it's human nature to find a laugh in even the most dire of circumstances. Cass and I have been fascinated by the emerging labels around assistance given to people during the crisis: it seems that even extra funds given by governments need to have jingly catchphrases and quick media bites these days. The most obvious examples are the government assistance programs of Jobkeeper and Jobseeker, along with the obliquely rhyming, Jobmaker. All of these have merit, and actually describe quite well what they are seeking to achieve. We've wondered, however, if the government advertising gurus could go even further.

How about Jobreaper? It could refer to those part time workers who have scored a bonanza of work during the pandemic in those areas of the economy that have seen a notable uptick, like the gig economy, delivery and takeaway etc. Those folk who have embraced the lockdown as a chance to leapfrog others at work into higher positions due to their ability to keep working, while others are hampered by restrictions or commitments could be Jobcreepers. Much like a teabag in a cup, how about those who keep ties to their employers even if they're not tied officially to them by Jobkeeper: Jobsteepers perhaps? Job-beepers could be going backwards in their careers like a reversing truck, Jobdeepers are doubling down at work and being twice as productive working from home, while Jobleapers are cheering the loudest of them all! We've decided that the most accurate description for our current situation, leaving paid employment of our own accord at the time of our choosing, could be suitably labelled Jobleaper. We're lucky to be in this position in these very uncertain times. 

A quick glance at the above photos gives a slightly skewed snapshot of our activities of late. We've had various meals with Cassy's parents along with a country luncheon with Kristin for her birthday, yet have mainly confined ourselves to our daily walk of wonder along the Bather's Way and methodically, if slowly, sorting out our day to day lives. We've had to attend to many long neglected matters, including building and apartment concerns that we've had for many years, but have been unable to fix satisfactorily due to the fact that we didn't live here, and we couldn't get people to deputise for the myriad duties that have subsequently cropped up!

We've had tradesmen and deliveries and commitments many days, each of the tasks fairly small, but requiring our attendance and diligence. Quotes and jobs have been sourced, adjusted and supervised. We're starting to get on top of our apartment unpacking, but tell-tale sheets and dustcovers still drape across artworks stacked against walls and unpacked boxes lurk threateningly in dark cupboards! We'll get there: we've just made a pact not to get too frantic about these things and let them be a slow burn. The chaos in the basement carpark space is not even worthy of mention here, lest my OCD tendencies start really kicking in!

We've read a few books lately. Cass read The Nickel Boys and rated it an A-, which is fairly high in her discerning scale! She's tackling Hilary Mantel's quirky Wolf Hall at the moment and I'll await her verdict upon completion. I read The Hunted, an Australian thriller by Gabriel Bergmoser, after reading it had elements of Michael Connelly and Lee Child. Let's just say, it didn't, and leave it at that!

We're going to watch the Knights play St. George today in the last home game of the season....Go the Knights!

 

After a stint of indecision and procrastination, then more vacillation, and ending with an eye for experimentation, I've come to the tentative conclusion that I'll continue to post entries on this blog. Some members of our immediate family have enjoyed reading it, and many of our friends around the world check in from time to time, so we'll continue for the time being. albeit in a less timetabled structure, which suitably mirrors our less structured lives.

In a strange foreshadowing of nearly twenty years hence, I decided to claim the URL "casandavid", an exact amalgam of our names, to head up this blog rather than the nickname of the blog, "Taipei Life". As it will now, for the foreseeable future at least, be "Newcastle Life", that decision has worked quite well.

Our transition to a post working reality has been a strange one to say the least. As previously described on these pages, the apocalyptic scenes in Taipei's normally bustling international airport, the police and army personnel locking us down for two weeks quarantine, and the subsequent release into a Covid-19 locked-down world were quite confronting. What has occurred in the two and a half months since then has been a whirlwind of mixed emotions and bursts of frantic action, interspersed by some of the most beatific calm we've ever experienced! Confused? Let me try to explain...

The shock of our shipping arriving in lightning fast time and in horrific volume was our first hurdle. Was that shipping container sent on a jet boat?! The shippers beat all previous records and the 54 boxes were on our doorstep before we knew it (yes, despite weeks of culling and throwing, there were still 54 boxes, many containing items of questionable quality!). Two dining chairs had cracked legs, but otherwise, everything arrived unscathed. When the un-packers departed, we were confronted by room after room of paintings, clothing and stuff that somehow we'd deemed essential to our new lives in Australia! To be fair on ourselves, we'd been forced onto an early flight, so we'd made some necessary decisions to ship some items and "sort them out on the other end". Here, somehow, and largely thanks to Cassy's calmness in the face of adversity, we managed to squirrel a lot of items away, at least to have what resembled a clean living space in the front area of our apartment!

On top of the shipping arrival, we were variously discombobulated and confused by being back in Australia. The notifying of change of address to dozens of companies and suppliers took weeks, we didn't know how to use our various bankcards and the engaging of internet and phone services was bamboozling. We'd become very Taiwanese: I'd become used to people being very forgiving of my rudimentary Mandarin and falling over themselves to assist. Here people expected you to be concise, knowledgeable and fluent: what's that all about?(!) It was also awkward (and continues to be) to see family and friends. We'd been teaching for months in masks, but it was purely precautionary in Taiwan: we were operating on the mildest of restrictions and didn't contemplate not meeting up with friends and colleagues. Back home in Australia, we became all too aware of the dangers confronting the elderly or compromised, of whom there are many in our circle of family and friends. This realisation has meant, like everyone else, a restricted foray into social gatherings of any sort, large or small, and an inability to see those people close to us, or those we want to re-connect with.

On the other hand, when we can wrest our minds away from thoughts of the pandemic, we have luxuriated in the most blissful of moments during the past couple of months, none more so than in the few weeks since our ex-colleagues returned to work for the start of another hectic school year. On the first days, we'd remind ourselves of what we'd normally be doing back in the beginning days of the school year at certain random times of the day. A flood of euphoria enveloped us, knowing that not just this day, but every day in the future would be timetabled by us, and us alone. We also had flickers of nostalgia: we really loved our jobs, and in some ways we felt guilty giving up such positions: it was a teaching utopia! Those tiny flickers were immediately obscured when we recalled the daily 5.30 a.m wake-ups and the hundreds and hundreds of essays and speeches and poems and paragraphs and the endless, mind-numbing grading and meetings and discussions....ahhhh!! Enough! So, the flickering embers of nostalgia were very easily extinguished!

We're not sure what the future holds, and I know we're not alone in this thought. For now, and as all our regular lives balance on a gossamer thread, we're happy hunkering down, enjoying the sun and the ocean on our daily 6 km walk, and slowly sorting out our domestic chores as well as the occasional visits to our parents. Oh, just a final thought. We've also been wallowing in rubbish we normally wouldn't watch on TV: who would know that the local TV news could be such compelling viewing?! After nearly two decades away, we're finding Australian social pastimes (and mores) quite fascinating and entertaining, and local TV is a great source for both. Our fascination is slowly waning, however: apparently there is a lot happening in the rest of the world, yet it barely gets a look in!

Thanks for re-connecting....I don't envisage posting with the religious regularity I did previously, but I'll get into some sort of vague pattern! Photos, just a few, of our time back so far....

Oh (again), and after endless months of not updating our reading, I'll try to do a better job from now on. Cass has read hundreds of titles since my last update, but they'll just disappear into the ether, I'm afraid! She is reading Lionel Shriver's The Motion of the Body through Space and I'm reading The Nickel Boys by Colson Whitehead. It won the Pulitzer this year, but seems to me an insipid follow-up to the more impressive, The Underground Railway.

To be locked in a luxury hotel room for 14 days in order to protect your own country from imported Covid 19 and to complain about the privations is the height of audacity, and the epitome of elevating a first world problem above where it should be. It has, however, been mildly brain sapping to say the least!

We're masters at amusing ourselves, and scoff at those who say they're bored, especially if we have a stash of good books and a room with a window. This time has been rather interesting, as we've discovered that the outside world does factor into our level of satisfaction and happiness a little more than we'd realised! It hasn't helped that Cass has been suffering from a severe bout of sinusitis the entire length of our stay: she's really been suffering. I've discovered that walking for an hour and a half each day between the door and the window can be rather limiting as an exercise, and we both feel like our bodies have atrophied. Also, The Intercontinental isn't running the hotel, the police are, and the dieticians they've employed really like sugar, curries and rock-hard pears A LOT! 

Our days go by in a semi-daze of crosswords, trivia quizzes, reading books and watching repeats of home selling and home fixer-upper shows: who knew there could be so many! We delineate the sections of the day by meals delivered by staff who scurry away before the door is opened, extended showers at weird hours, and long stints watching the building progress of the new AMP tower being constructed over the road. Maybe a power nap in the afternoon, then some more reading. We snatch a bit of news, then watch or read some more. Extended weekends mean I can watch seemingly endless games of football of both codes, and footy analysis chat shows extend the viewing. Cass watches a little of this fare, then continues to read or solve or just tries to clear her clogged sinuses!

I've written a type of free verse narrative poem called "The Sliver" for my amusement, so I'll include it here as well. We're being released on Wednesday...hip, hip, hooray!

"The Sliver"

AMP is building a mighty edifice behind their iconic Circular Quay headquarters. We gaze out at the workers on the 21st floor, who are variously tethered with safety cords and cloaked in hi-vis. It's a busy vista, but a fairly dirty and uninspiring one. They're buzzing around operating machinery, or alternatively, heaving beams and materials manually in scenes more reminiscent of workers in the 20s, when the city was in an earlier flush of building frenzy. 

However, if you press your forehead against the window of our hotel window and crane your neck towards the north, a magical sliver appears. Suddenly a treasure box of wonder can be glimpsed between the archetypal monument and the sandstone sheathed bulk of the Intercontinental. A tall, thin window to the harbour opens up, the water coruscating and bubbly in the wakes of ferries and cruising boats. The wharves push out from the quay like grasping fingers and the middle span of the Harbour Bridge umbrellas the portrait postcard scene. Luna Park is nestled at the foot of the great northern pylon, its Ferris Wheel still, yet dazzling as the sun catches its steel frame and sears the retinas, while the park's large, laughing, leering face mocks all forbidden to enter due to the pandemic.

Occasionally, people stroll along the street below, aimlessly it seems from our great height. Others brave the pedestrian footpaths on the bustling Cahill Expressway that scythes its way between the city and the harbour. The humans congregated on the decks of the ferries seem most intriguing as they mill and bustle. Where are they going and what will they do?

Are they seeking some sweet relaxation on the waters as the lock-downs ease after months? Do they have a date with friends or family in a socially distanced restaurant or pub? Are they heading home after a night shift cleaning one of the colossal structures overlooking the very ferry that they're on? Is that family going to the newly re-opened zoo? Who are they meeting? What are their plans? Why are they travelling? So many questions...

We're happy to watch the passing parade for now: our time will come when we, too, can be among the people with plans of our own. In the meantime, we will rest and dream.

Daniel's big, black, oversized Mercedes purred through the pre-dawn streets of Tianmu, and we, cocooned in the back seat, gazed wistfully on all our old haunts and familiar sights as they flashed by for the final time. The expressways were devoid of the usual buzz of thousands of vehicles, and we quickly elevated onto the raised, ribbon roadway that acted as a flying buttress from our suburb all the way to Taoyuan and the airport beyond. We farewelled our old friend, Daniel, took a photo, wished him well, then entered the terminal with a hiss of automatic doors and the whisper of our baggage trolley.

We won't ever experience anything like the next chapter of our journey ever again. There was no one visible in the airport except for workers. The entire terminal was devoid of movement: if we didn't know better, we could have conjured up images of a secret zombie apocalypse having occurred, it was eerily empty. No sound, no movement, no people and an arrivals and departure board in a blaze or red. We found the only check-in counter open way down the end, and went to check-in on Taiwan's own national carrier, the incongruously named China Airlines. Due to the dearth of other customers we waltzed straight to the desk. Our original flight, scheduled for a week hence, which had been unceremoniously cancelled, had been in premium economy and we'd scrambled to get on this earlier flight. They didn't have premium economy, but we were happy to get any seat. As it happened, the representative at the desk bumped us to business class! Things were looking good!

We went through customs and quarantine with no others. There were airport staff commensurate with a teeming crowd, but just us. 20 staff manned the X-ray machines but there was just us. Seemingly to give themselves something to do, they "discovered" something suspicious in Cassy's carry-on. The X-ray showed her distinctively shaped Polish earrings and pendant, but as she had packed every item of jewellery she owned in the case, they proved impossible to find...eventually they waved her on. We strolled down brilliantly lit duty free store boulevards, passed gleaming designer brands stores with manicured attendants, but there was still just us! Eventually, we found a sign of other travellers, with a few people drawn to the oasis of the only open food outlet in the entire mezzanine level of restaurants, a tiny boutique Starbucks where we got a coffee and a muffin before wandering down endless corridors to our boarding gate. It was at the far end of one of the terminal arms and all the way, it was just us!

About 60 people ended up gathering in the departure lounge ready to board the flight. Our hearts skipped a beat a couple of times as announcements were made concerning short delays: our fingers ached from crossing them so hard! Eventually, and safely onboard, the flight was the best we'd ever been on: business class with great food, lie flat beds with doonas, luxury toiletry packs and widescreen multimedia screens and doting ,attentive staff...what's not to like! The direct flight from Taipei to Sydney was scheduled for 9 hours 15 minutes and it whizzed by: it was what was to greet us on the other end that we totally unprepared for!

Sydney airport was similarly apocalyptic in feel. We again docked at the far end of one of the gate tentacles, and had to walk a long way to a temperature control check, where suitably suited people quizzed us and then sent us to the baggage pick-up. We were socially distanced at the luggage carousel and proceeded to wait. There were a couple of false alarms as the conveyor belt rumbled and whistled before shutting down again. As one of the airport guys quipped, " We can get your bags from Taipei but we can't send them to the right spot in Sydney airport!" Eventually, the bags came tumbling out of the chute and ours were among the very first as we had priority baggage due to our business class upgrade! No trolleys were allowed so we walked with two cases trailing each of us and then started yet another very surreal adventure!

Our customs declaration cards were duly collected as per usual by very nonchalant officers,but then, instead of walking out the familiar exit doors, we were re-directed back into the terminal and eventually, out exit doors at the end of the building. Along the way was the bizarre and intimidating sight of armed police officers and uniformed members of the army! Again the overkill was palpable. There were easily more defence force personnel than travellers on the plane, and they lined the route to the waiting buses with hardly a space between them...talk about taking the walk of shame: we felt like criminals and pariahs! Guided by our phalanx of coppers and sappers, we made our way to the first bus where strapping soldiers relieved us of our bags and deposited them in the luggage bins, while we climbed aboard to wait. There were three buses, and by the time 20 people were on ours, suitably distanced, the driver jauntily bounced into his cockpit, cheerily announced we were off, and an Australian Federal Police van, with roof-lights flashing, led us into the city and destination unknown!

As we turned into Macquarie Street, we we hopeful we were going to The Intercontinental, and when we pulled up outside, we were suitably chuffed. We were ushered from the bus in groups of four only, and we made the first cut. All our bags were brought into the lobby by the army guys, and once again, we were flanked by army personnel in our own private "shame guard" from bus door to hotel entrance. Once inside, a row of desks staffed by police greeted us and we handed over various items of identification, answered questions ad nauseum, identified our bags to be portered by soldiers,  then we were accompanied to our room. The soldiers left us at the door and we entered the room late last Thursday night. We've been here since, it's been a week and it's just us! For that story, tune in again on Monday...

I falsely promised that the blog was in hiatus for a couple of months but quarantine has changed that: what else am I going to do?! I'll do three instalments: one today, one on Thursday and one next Monday.

Mr. Ho and his team of packers/shippers arrived bright and early, as scheduled, on Tuesday last week. They came in armed with booming voices and palpable energy ready to attack! They didn't muck around either. Before we'd even adjusted to their presence, the whole team had invaded and the crew boss was busy asking what not to pack. He subsequently put little stickers "no" on all those items that were staying, and by the time we re-entered the main room, guys were making up boxes, taking paintings from walls, measuring, padding, testing and packing.

I was tasked with filling in seven pages of customs and quarantine declarations for the Australian authorities, while Cass flitted from room to room valiantly trying to make sure our garbage wasn't being packed: they were that quick and efficient. In the middle of the chaos, Wal and Annie dropped in to witness the mayhem, but couldn't get past the boxes blocking the front door!

Amazingly, the entire process was completed in about three hours. They'd allocated the whole day, but realised early on that the extra time wouldn't be needed as they had an 8 strong team and there was no rain, which had been hovering around when they did the original assessment. Two "blue trucks" did the trick and all our stuff was on the expressway to the port city of Keelung where it would be packed into a container then, fingers crossed, shipped to Australia: it's such a leap of faith really, but it happens successfully all the time so why not for us?!

The house felt so strange denuded of her accoutrement and we had yet another "moment"....what are we doing?! We got cleaned up and continued cleaning and carting rubbish respectively. Those guys up at the garbage/recycling depot are no doubt pining away for the mad foreigner who seemed to visit endlessly, all day, day after day! Cass went and gave a small gift and card to our local chemist who has looked after us for all these years. We went together to visit our friend Betsy and take a photo (see above), and also give some more towels and a gift to the vets at Dr. Yang's.

The next day, Wednesday, was our last day in Taipei. Mr. Lee and Linda came up to fix up some bills, give us even further refunds on our pre-paid rent and to say goodbye. Linda took various group photos which she subsequently posted on Facebook with very cute filters, frames and quotes...so cute! After yet more trips to the garbage depot and more cleaning and sorting we felt vaguely ready to finish packing then head off to our last visit to Din Tai Feng.

We ordered all our favourites and enjoyed them as usual, but it was becoming so overwhelming we almost couldn't bear it. We bought some Japanese custard puffs for later on then headed home for more last minute tidying and an early night. Up at 4 a.m., we packed the sheets and towels into garbage bags, got suited up for travel and awaited Daniel's last arrival. Of course, he was right on time and we were on our way to Taoyuan for the last time.

On Thursday, I'll publish the second of three special "quarantine" posts with the final instalment next Monday. The next one will be about airports with no people, planes with few people and army and police guards at the other end!

Hi readers! Well, parting is such sweet sorrow, as we quoted for the kids on our last day teaching forever (at least, we hope so!) We made them find at least three literary techniques in the quote and, of course, they did!

We're madly packing, sorting and tossing as we've done for many weeks, but the shipping day is upon us. Tomorrow morning the packers will be here bright and early and don't plan to leave till late afternoon. We've packed our bags and now are forlornly marking time to discover what detritus is left, whereupon we'll undertake further trips to the garbage or the recycling. The scooter can pretty much make it there blind-folded now!

Jim, the landlord's son-in-law, now owns "Blackie" and he'll take full ownership upon our departure. Mr. Lee will come up and sort out our utility bills and I'll make a trip to the phone company to pay my final dues on Wednesday night. The bank accounts and credit cards are all shut down and we're working with cash. Daniel is booked for our final trip to the airport at 5 a.m. on Thursday morning and China Airlines even tentatively re-confirmed our flight this morning: fingers crossed it actually takes to the skies!

We've sustained a tumultuous storm of emotions in the past weeks, none more so than the last few days of school. Colleagues spoke warmly of their dealings with us and gave us a generous farewell gift and that was lovely. It's the kids who have just about wrecked us, however. In our final throes as teachers, every class has showered us with cards, personal messages, gifts and speeches lauding our efforts and wishing us well. Cass had returnees from the high school especially seek her out. If we ever needed reminding this is a teachers' utopia, it hasn't been in this past few days. We've both had "moments" this week where it's been almost too much to bear.

I've written this blog each week for about 18 years. It's often been a little burdensome, but I've taken solace in knowing that you, the select readership, have taken some pleasure in reading it. I'm going to take my customary two month break over the Australian winter, but I might even start up anew with "Newcastle Life" in early August....watch this space. Thanks for reading, it's been an amazing ride!

Oh, if you're wondering, the techniques are metaphor, alliteration and oxymoron!

Well, our penultimate week at school was busy and the last is upon us. We've decided to reward ourselves for 35 years of teaching by showing the To Kill a Mockingbird multiple academy award winning movie to our classes this week. Despite this, we still can't bring ourselves to total frivolity: a serious worksheet accompanies the viewing with areas for the kids to compare and contrast the ideas and themes with incidents in our recent insipid tome, Farewell to Manzanar. Even in our last teaching flourish, we're making sure the kiddies think and learn (with a little help from Gregory Peck)!

Our flight was cancelled and our tiny luxurious window of a week after school finishes, to pack and clean, has completely disappeared. This has meant re-planning our timetable of attack. Our landlords have agreed to clean up big items that we're not shipping: pretty much all the furniture and definitely all the appliances, but we can't possibly leave them all the "small stuff" we're not bringing. Anyone who has lived somewhere for nearly two decades will appreciate the accumulated material: when you start digging into wardrobes, shelves and cupboards it becomes very apparent that some gentle culling along the way might have been more suitable than leaving it all till now!

Luckily, Cass did some major editing of our files a while back so this was a job not on our list (thankfully). Taiwan being the recycling capital of the world has helped us as well, as there is a depot not too far from our apartment. I've transported electrical chords, old phones, fluorescent globes, glass jars and tonnes of books there in the last couple of days. I've also got rid of old vacuum cleaners and all the cat paraphernalia, including litter boxes and baskets, both soft and hard. That's not to mention the linen, pillows, sheets and assorted non-recyclables that we've packed and carted. I must have looked quite the sight: precariously balancing various bags of detritus in the well of the trusty motor-scooter, Blackie, as I weaved up the main highway en route to the garbage/recycling depot on multiple trips over a number of hours!

Cass slaved over sorting and packing at home while I trundled huge packs of stuff up to the depot. Our third floor walk-up didn't help either! The books were the killer: so many and oh, so heavy. We both use Kindles almost exclusively these days...how still, so many books?! We've ear-marked tasks to do over the afternoons this week, but we need to make a master list to tick off the essentials as we go along. We've realized this is like a regular house move on speed: a country move and whole life shut-down in a foreign language...there are easier tasks we've undertaken over the years!

Our delightful and diligent kids continue to impress us right till the very end. We finally let them know our intentions on Friday and they were very sweet: mostly shock and questions of "why?" greeted us: they variously thought we were too young or too dedicated to be stopping: I even had someone who asked me if it was their bad behavior that had forced our decision! It was a "laugh out loud" moment: if they only knew what we used to deal with...

This week should be busy and a little frantic: we'll endeavour to circumvent both of these feelings by methodically attacking our many remainning tasks with purpose and method: wish us luck!
Photos: our 10 classes this year.