I am a British traveller, experiencing the lockdown from a New Zealand perspective. Thankfully, I work on a dairy farm where the term isolation is something we are familiar with.
I’ve always loved the concept of living remote and secluded, far away from civilisation, where you feel at one with nature. As a traveller, this is something we often strive to achieve, that sense of freedom.
But right now things couldn’t feel any less free.
Daily living for society, no matter how rural or urbanised, is now constrained and restricted. Some days I feel like all the reasons I fell in love with New Zealand, and the sense of freedom it once provided, are slipping away and I’m left to feel just a little bit trapped.
Personally, I couldn’t feel any further away from home right now. My family in the United Kingdom are in a crisis of their own, and even if I could fly home today it would still be weeks before I could touch down on that familiar runway in Manchester.
Even then I would have to suffer several weeks of quarantine, and who knows if it would be safe to give my own mum a hug?
I’m unbelievably grateful for my employment in the agricultural sector, where the dairy industry is necessary despite Covid-19. If anything, this has reminded me just how essential the work of farmers across the world really is.
Although I’ve found it incredibly hard to be unable to travel home to support my family and friends, I find comfort in continuing to work hard and persevere when many other working sectors have come to a standstill.
Luckily, working on a farm has become a great distraction from the chaos taking place across the world — I feel like we are in our own little bubble. That being said, I am worried for my friends here and in other countries who are stuck or stranded.
I have friends who waited more than two weeks for a flight out of New Zealand, and for them I can’t imagine the stress and panic they felt. My friends in the United Kingdom are understandably moaning about being stuck at home, but for others home is that safe place that is completely out of reach.
One of the reasons I pushed myself to travel in the beginning was the trust that if anything went wrong, I could always go home. Now that option has gone, I must admit the world feels much more intimidating.
It’s been hard listening to friends slowly become abandoned, and not being able to help them in any way.
Despite reminding myself daily just how lucky I am, it’s easy to burst that little farming bubble with new virus updates and alarming statistics.
We aren’t at a high risk of encountering the virus here, but sometimes I feel surrounded by it. It’s crazy how a remote farm can still feel overwhelmed by this pandemic. The virus takes centre stage on every platform of social media, and of course is the main topic in every conversation or video call.
Like the rest of New Zealand we have felt the increasing restrictions tighten our bubble. We’ve had to limit our time spent with other co-workers, and so far I haven’t left the farm, even for groceries. I realise I am lucky compared with most, but let’s face it — the cows don’t quite match up to hanging out with my friends.
The days when I am out in a paddock with no phone service, and most importantly no virus, I can only be grateful for. Many of my friends thought I was bonkers for wanting to go and work on a farm a couple of months ago, and it’s moments like that, distanced from the world’s chaos, which is why I came here in the first place.
My main concern now lies in the unknown. There is still no way to know how long the lockdown may last, or what the rest of the year will bring. Rather than thinking of what I have lost, I’m using this time to reflect on the places I have been, and the friendships I have gained.
I just hope that the gratitude towards the farming community continues and people, like myself, show more of an appreciation towards the freedom we once had, and hopefully will have once again in the future.
