coronavirus,
Michael O’Rourke and Erin Mueller are finally home in Canberra. They are breathing fresh air without masks. They go to the pub. They meet friends. All these simple, everyday pleasures are amazing to them – completely unlike the life in which they got trapped in Germany. But the road home has been hard and long. And costly. The couple’s wanderlust took them to Germany in the middle of 2019. They had travelled around Australia and, as young people, they just wanted to stretch their wings, and the romance of the German capital was irresistible. They both had skills. He soon got a lot of freelance work in the film industry while she ran a cocktail bar in a restaurant. They rented an apartment in the trendy Berlin district of Kreuzberg. They started to learn German. Everything seemed rosy. And then COVID struck. The work dried up overnight. From March, they had no means to pay bills. “Since March, we’ve just been burning savings,” Michael said. They knew they had to come home. But the cost hit them. The airfare from Australia to Germany on ultra-budget Singapore Airlines subsidiary, Scoot, was $300. The ticket prices to come home were between $12,000 and $20,000. And that’s if there were flights. Some Australian friends were buying ticket after ticket as flights were cancelled at the last moment. “We didn’t have the money to buy three or four flights,” Michael said. They registered with DFAT for a repatriation flight and in the end they were offered one from Frankfurt, 550 kilometres from Berlin – six hours on the train. The airfare was $2,500 each – but it was a ticket home – or, at least to Darwin, which was 4,000 kilometres nearer to home. There were countless nasal swabs and throat swabs to test for COVID-19 but finally they were on board (FRA to DRW on December 12, Seats 47H and J). A trolley service, there wasn’t. They had to take their own food to minimise contacts with people. The hosties wore not quite the full hazmat suit but not far from it: Perspex face shields, blue gowns, gloves and masks. Before boarding, passengers had to stand apart, but on board, they sat next to each other, she next to the aisle, he in the middle seat. Sixteen hours later, the wheels of the Qantas jumbo screeched onto Australian tarmac. Passengers were “deplaned” in batches of 30 to a special terminal on the tarmac. They were then ushered into a room full of nurses who administered more swabs up the nose and down the throat. They were given a special arm-band which would monitor their temperatures, pulses and other essential information over the next two weeks, with the data streamed back to a central unit. And then, tested and fitted with the gizmo, they were shepherded to the bus and on to the camp. The centre is in a disused camp for workers 25 kilometres south of Darwin. In its early days as a quarantine centre, it won some notoriety when it emerged that parties and mingling among internees was common – and the temporary residents were daft enough to boast about it on social media. When Erin and Michael got there, it was much more austere, consisting of about 3,000 converted shipping containers, each one with a bed, shower, toilet and air-conditioning. Only 500 of those “cabins” were used which makes Mr O’Rourke wonder why there is a constraint on the number of people allowed to return to Australia. Austere but liveable, at least for the two weeks of quarantine. Theirs had a balcony. “I was quite pleased with the way it was set out,” Mr O’Rourke said. Food was a great excitement. It was brought once a day and left outside while they went inside. The meals in the one, daily drop-off were a hot dinner plus a cold breakfast and lunch. They never knew what dish was on the menu that day until the surprise of arrival. “It was a mystery. It was the most exciting thing we had to look forward to,” he said. The food was good. Erin’s vegan tastes were catered for. The catering company was “very creative and she was fed very well”. On day 11, there were more nasal and throat swabs. And then the day of release, as Michael calls it. “We were integrated back into society,” he said. The cost of the stay in the cabin was $5,000 for the two of them, food included. With their new COVID-free certificate, they were allowed to travel unimpeded and got a flight to Sydney. But then they hit another snag; the ongoing infections in Sydney meant travel to and from the city was restricted. “The Murrays bus to Canberra was cancelled,” he said. And people from Canberra were only allowed to drive to the airport if they didn’t get out. The couple called a relative who arrived, stayed in the car while they got in – and away they went, Sydney untouched. Home! “We are still adjusting. It’s very strange to be able to go to a pub with 20 people and to be able to hug people, or just to be outside without wearing a mask. It’s nice to be able to see people’s faces.” He has nothing but praise for the whole operation. “I think it was organised very well. The way they are managing the risk is smart. As frustrating as it is – as inconvenient as it is – it’s necessary. “We’re not a risk because we quarantined.” There is one sour note. Australians who were trapped overseas have been the subject of online abuse and bile along the lines of, “You should stay there”. Michael said there had been death threats to some. READ MORE: He felt that there was a misconception that Australians abroad just wanted to come home for Christmas when the truth was that many hadn’t had an income (or been eligible for welfare) since March. “One of the things that’s been upsetting is that Australia is built on mateship but people are saying we should stay away. “Returning international travellers are not a risk so I don’t know why there is hatred towards them. It’s very upsetting when you are just getting back to your home.”
/images/transform/v1/crop/frm/pMXRnDj3SUU44AkPpn97sC/3c2ffd3a-4cd7-4b65-b2cb-ba83d2a9097e.jpg/r2_148_5565_3291_w1200_h678_fmax.jpg
Michael O’Rourke and Erin Mueller are finally home in Canberra. They are breathing fresh air without masks. They go to the pub. They meet friends.
All these simple, everyday pleasures are amazing to them – completely unlike the life in which they got trapped in Germany.
But the road home has been hard and long.
The couple’s wanderlust took them to Germany in the middle of 2019. They had travelled around Australia and, as young people, they just wanted to stretch their wings, and the romance of the German capital was irresistible.
They both had skills. He soon got a lot of freelance work in the film industry while she ran a cocktail bar in a restaurant. They rented an apartment in the trendy Berlin district of Kreuzberg. They started to learn German. Everything seemed rosy.
And then COVID struck. The work dried up overnight. From March, they had no means to pay bills. “Since March, we’ve just been burning savings,” Michael said.
They knew they had to come home.
Michael with the couple’s friend Nike on the train in Berlin. Nike was also due to travel back to Australia but is now stuck in Amsterdam. Picture: Supplied
But the cost hit them. The airfare from Australia to Germany on ultra-budget Singapore Airlines subsidiary, Scoot, was $300. The ticket prices to come home were between $12,000 and $20,000.
And that’s if there were flights. Some Australian friends were buying ticket after ticket as flights were cancelled at the last moment.
“We didn’t have the money to buy three or four flights,” Michael said. They registered with DFAT for a repatriation flight and in the end they were offered one from Frankfurt, 550 kilometres from Berlin – six hours on the train.
The airfare was $2,500 each – but it was a ticket home – or, at least to Darwin, which was 4,000 kilometres nearer to home.
There were countless nasal swabs and throat swabs to test for COVID-19 but finally they were on board (FRA to DRW on December 12, Seats 47H and J).
A trolley service, there wasn’t. They had to take their own food to minimise contacts with people. The hosties wore not quite the full hazmat suit but not far from it: Perspex face shields, blue gowns, gloves and masks.
Before boarding, passengers had to stand apart, but on board, they sat next to each other, she next to the aisle, he in the middle seat.
Sixteen hours later, the wheels of the Qantas jumbo screeched onto Australian tarmac.
Passengers were “deplaned” in batches of 30 to a special terminal on the tarmac. They were then ushered into a room full of nurses who administered more swabs up the nose and down the throat.
They were given a special arm-band which would monitor their temperatures, pulses and other essential information over the next two weeks, with the data streamed back to a central unit.
And then, tested and fitted with the gizmo, they were shepherded to the bus and on to the camp.
The centre is in a disused camp for workers 25 kilometres south of Darwin.
Erin on Christmas at the Howard Springs quarantine facility. Picture: Supplied
In its early days as a quarantine centre, it won some notoriety when it emerged that parties and mingling among internees was common – and the temporary residents were daft enough to boast about it on social media.
When Erin and Michael got there, it was much more austere, consisting of about 3,000 converted shipping containers, each one with a bed, shower, toilet and air-conditioning.
Only 500 of those “cabins” were used which makes Mr O’Rourke wonder why there is a constraint on the number of people allowed to return to Australia.
Austere but liveable, at least for the two weeks of quarantine. Theirs had a balcony. “I was quite pleased with the way it was set out,” Mr O’Rourke said.
Food was a great excitement. It was brought once a day and left outside while they went inside.
Michael in quarantine. Picture: Supplied
The meals in the one, daily drop-off were a hot dinner plus a cold breakfast and lunch.
They never knew what dish was on the menu that day until the surprise of arrival. “It was a mystery. It was the most exciting thing we had to look forward to,” he said.
The food was good. Erin’s vegan tastes were catered for. The catering company was “very creative and she was fed very well”.
On day 11, there were more nasal and throat swabs.
And then the day of release, as Michael calls it. “We were integrated back into society,” he said.
The cost of the stay in the cabin was $5,000 for the two of them, food included.
With their new COVID-free certificate, they were allowed to travel unimpeded and got a flight to Sydney.
But then they hit another snag; the ongoing infections in Sydney meant travel to and from the city was restricted. “The Murrays bus to Canberra was cancelled,” he said.
And people from Canberra were only allowed to drive to the airport if they didn’t get out. The couple called a relative who arrived, stayed in the car while they got in – and away they went, Sydney untouched.
“We are still adjusting. It’s very strange to be able to go to a pub with 20 people and to be able to hug people, or just to be outside without wearing a mask. It’s nice to be able to see people’s faces.”
He has nothing but praise for the whole operation. “I think it was organised very well. The way they are managing the risk is smart. As frustrating as it is – as inconvenient as it is – it’s necessary.
“We’re not a risk because we quarantined.”
There is one sour note. Australians who were trapped overseas have been the subject of online abuse and bile along the lines of, “You should stay there”. Michael said there had been death threats to some.
He felt that there was a misconception that Australians abroad just wanted to come home for Christmas when the truth was that many hadn’t had an income (or been eligible for welfare) since March.
“One of the things that’s been upsetting is that Australia is built on mateship but people are saying we should stay away.
“Returning international travellers are not a risk so I don’t know why there is hatred towards them. It’s very upsetting when you are just getting back to your home.”
