Quarantine: The Preliminaries

"Don’t worry about the world coming to an end today. It’s already tomorrow in Australia." — Charles Schulz, Illustrator

July 5th I slept. Then woke up to a man yelling into his phone, and all I could think was "Wow, I'm in Korea." I wasn't even angry that it was 5AM and I'd only had two hours of sleep. A year of planning, years of dreaming, and I was here.  The messages started coming in from home, and eventually I managed to wake up enough to put together a lucid phone call to my family. Then talked to my boss, talked to my sweet recruiter E, and my poor Quarantine Manager (QM) who was incredibly relieved when I didn't put up a fight about being locked up for two weeks. 

I realized that it was a Sunday, I understood this technically even if my body was still incredibly confused about why the sun was up. I had my Sunday playlist going in the background and spent a little time in the scriptures, taking comfort in the familiar routine of study. Everything got unpacked and put away, and I was grateful for the two wardrobes tucked into the corner of the room that is my study/bedroom/dining room/gym. 

From 2013-2019 I had moved every 3-6 months, and though I had stayed in my last apartment technically for 18 months, it wasn't hard to get back into the old routine of building my life from a suitcase. Clothes in the closet, books on the shelf. Invent places for knickknacks and find a place for dirty laundry. The bathroom being a wet room was a slight adjustment as was coming to a kitchen that was already fully fitted out and stocked with food. Small though these changes were, they were enough to remind me that even this move was different than all those had been.

By the time I finished unpacking and calling it was only 11AM, and I had a full day ahead of me. I honestly don't remember much of it. Lots of calls with friends and family, some cooking, and generally just waiting in a little bit of a fog until it was late enough that I could risk sleeping without messing up my attempts at getting into a new sleep pattern. At 6PM I called it good enough and slept solidly for 10 hours.  

It looked about like this. Not my picture though...

 The 6th I got to ride in an ambulance. As part of the  South Korean process for handling COVID-19, everyone is required to have the test done within 72 hours of arriving in the country. Monday was cutting it kind of close, since I arrived Saturday, but I wasn't going to complain. As I didn't have a Korean number, my Vice Director (L) was the middle man and coordinated my pickup. Much of this felt a little like a mild case of witness protection. I went to the base of the stairs to my apartment, but was told not to wait at the front to limit contact with others. But it was a none issue, as by the time I got to the base of the stairs there was a full sized ambulance waiting for me, door open. 

(The rush into the ambulance with the driver closing the door solidly behind me felt kind of like jumping into a getaway car.)

This ambulance ride was awesome in that I got to see much more of my new city than I could see from my apartment. The streets hummed around me, people walking through stores and alleys, pulling carts and going about their business. Motorcycles were everywhere, and though it was a little early for the rush of deliveries to start there were already some pulled up on the sidewalk in front of restaurants to start their deliveries. Motorcycles live under a basic law of "if it fits then it's a lane". Be that between lanes, a sidewalk, side street or literally anything they can squeeze through. (P.S. Most everyone here thinks they're driving a motorcycle.)

We pulled up to a hospital parking lot where a big white tent with zippers and tubes for ventilation sat in the entryway to a parking garage. My driver got out of the ambulance and waved at me to wait and disappeared into the garage. A couple butterflies start to make their way around my stomach, lazily bouncing from one side of the other. Did I understand him correctly? Had he really meant for me to stay in the ambulance? Considering how much they didn't want me interacting with things/people I figured he didn't want me opening the ambulance door and just leaving. My legs started to jitter and I inhaled, then exhaled, fogging up my glasses. I glared down my nose at my mask. The glasses/mask relationship is one that unfortunately had hardly improved with time. 

I caught movement from the side and saw my driver coming back towards me. He popped the door open and gestured for me to come out with a slight bow and wave. I got out and he was off again, headed towards the tent. I followed, slightly relieved when he looked back to make sure I'm following. 

When we reached the tent he unzipped it and gestured me in towards a chair that could be seen from the door. "기다려주세요." He said, gesturing at a chair in the middle of the tent. Then another quick bob, and the tent zipped closed behind me. I sat down automatically just as I realized that instead of "앉아주세요" (please sit) he had actually said "please wait". I was slightly peeved with myself for the delay in translating, but then realized I should just be happy that I recognized it at all.

Looking around the tent I saw a small table with swabs, discarded gloves and sanitizers. One of the big ventilation tubes I had seen outside came in this room blowing fresh air into the tent. Next to me was another zipper, leading deeper into the tent. My driver friend had left the door somewhat unzipped, and a couple minutes later he stopped by and unzipped it some more, probably hoping to help keep the tent from getting too hot. 

More waiting, then a figure approached the tent, fiddled with the zipper struggling to unzip it. Eventually after a small fight to get the zipper, a smaller figure entered, dressed in a full hazmat style suit. Through the mask I guessed it was a young woman close to my age. Nodding to me she turned to the table across from me and started going through the items there. Finally she had everything organized, then turning she held up a vial towards me asking, "Name right? Birthday?" 

It took me a second to verify it since reading year/month/day was still new to me. Eventually I found it and nodded "네, 네." (That's right). Then we proceeded with the test, and between lots of gestures and her English (no thanks to my Korean) she had gotten a sinus and saliva sample. Easily the best COVID test experience that I've had to date (that being the third and hopefully last*). 

In a loud and excited voice she announced, "Ok, you'll know tomorrow!" and went back to the table to finish her notes. Without looking back she waved at the door happily. "Now go home, go home, test ready tomorrow!" Then she had me out the door, and I was back in the ambulance and on my way back to my apartment. 

This trip was much faster than the trip up, which I don't know if I should credit to the traffic being better or just that trips back always feel shorter than the trip there. It seemed only a few minutes and then we were pulling up in front of my house. I waited somewhat impatiently as the driver worked his way around the ambulance to my side, and rolled the door back. Climbing out of the the ambulance I bobbed at the driver in a thank you (a classic move rapidly proving to be the only one I knew). He nodded back absently getting back in while I headed up the walk to my apartment. 

Taking a look around I enjoyed what would likely be my last view of anything not visible from my upstairs balcony for the next two weeks. I likely could have stood there longer, but I was aware that I really probably shouldn't, so it was only a brief glance over the side, then I was scurrying up the stairs and into my apartment. And so started what I considered the true beginning to my time in quarantine. 

-Shayla

*Unfortunately, that was not the last time I had the test done. There will likely be a post about those collective experiences, so for now I'll just say that the one I mention here remains the best of the four. As "best" as having an incredibly long qtip pushed up your nose can be anyways.