You cannot escape the responsibility of tomorrow by evading it today. – Abraham Lincoln
I stood at the doors of my initial dream for exactly one week. For seven days I was a volunteer for Refugee Support Europe (RSE) in Nicosia, Cyprus. As world news became local reality, it became harder to ignore. Grappling with the looming seriousness of the pandemic went a little something like this:
-Haha Corona
-Oh boy Corona
-Oh no Corona
-COROHNO 🙁
The Turkish/Greek border within the island of Cyprus closed behind us once we crossed it, thereby sealing us away from our return boat. Cafes were closed, followed by shops and finally everything. The Dignity Center was no longer allowed to let in refugees for the essential services it was providing. Then Trudeau got on television telling us: “Its time to come home”. Yikes.
We jumped onto skyskanner, google flights, and all the airlines we could think of. Disbelief at seeing prices for flights double as half were getting cancelled. Booking a flight via Paris to Montreal, only to find out it is cancelled once they took our money (strike one). Throwing cash at KLM for a flight home via Amsterdam the following week. No time for relief, as the president of Cyprus announced the airport shutdown starting Saturday, making our flight null (strike two). With the last of our dollars flying away on cancelled flights and phone calls to international offices, it seemed our options were dwindling. Meanwhile, being a volunteer while knowing my heart wasn’t in it left me feeling useless, homesick and disappointed. Wanting to hunker down and put other’s needs above my own did not feel like the obvious choice this time.
So we packed up the van, and drove to the airport in the hopes of either buying a ticket, or being on standby for an empty seat. 5hrs in a Russian airline office for a ticket, only to be denied because there was no guarantee that restrictions wouldn’t stop us midway through our journey. Dashing to another counter and buying a ticket to Russia for tomorrow, because it was the last option. Knowing that if our connecting flight to London got cancelled, we’d be stranded in Russia. No visa, no exit.
So we parked the van with Refugee Support Europe, and the next morning we were anxiously waiting for our flight to Moscow. The first booking agent who had denied us tickets was overseeing boarding, but for some reason did not raise a fuss. Landing in Moscow, we then had a 12hr layover surrounded by hazmat suits and face masks. “Sleeping” in an abandoned airport restaurant was a better pass-time than scrutinizing the departures board for our London flight. The next morning, boarding the flight to London was the first time I felt relief. Another 5 hours in the air, then 5 hours in Heathrow and we were a stone’s throw from home. We were too exhausted to eat the on-board snacks, dazed after three days in between air and airport.
When faced with the reality of a shutdown longer than two months, I knew I would not be able to cope financially or emotionally. It felt like a defeat to run away when faced with a similar living situation to those I had sought to help. Perhaps sense for this senseless journey will make itself known as I write down my experiences leading up to this departure. Already I see a silver lining, as the best part of my trip returned home with me. Quarantined in the grace of my parent’s home, we can process the whirlwind and catch our breath.
