A little blog here to detail moving to Australia, Brisbane to be precise. That’s what I’ve done. I’m here for at least 6 months, fingers crossed a lot longer depending on some fun* (*expensive and laborious) visa banter with the Australian Home Office.
As I write this, I am one day out of a two-week hotel-based quarantine which is compulsory by law in Australia if you arrive from a red-listed country, otherwise known as “not New Zealand”.
The hotel I was shepherded into was the 4.5 star Sofitel on the Gold Coast. I never knew hotel ratings could be decimalised, but here we are. We arrived at 9.30pm on a Tuesday, meaning we missed dinner, however we were generously given a knock-off beef flavoured Pot Noodle for the evening. You can really see where they got that extra half a star rating from.
My room was nice and spacious, had a balcony and two double beds. I tactically spent the first week in the bed on the left, and the second on the right. The changeover really was a highlight. I of course had to battle a bit of jet lag, but my thinking was that a two week quarantine would be an ideal time, but it proved quite difficult to adjust to a new time zone when you are never more that 6 feet from a bed.
After dismissing my 4.5 star pot noodle as not a substantial dinner, I decided that first evening to order in a Chicken Wings meal, which included “Hawaiian Style Coleslaw”. That turned out to be simply shredded cabbage served alongside a separate pot of mayonnaise, essentially delivering the coleslaw in “Salt N Shake Crisps” format. Anyway, that’s my anecdote about deconstructed coleslaw out the way, and sure it’s not much but what do you expect when all I’ve done so far is sit in a hotel room?
The hotel generously provided hot meals for the rest of the stay. It was quite frustrating when everyday you received a phone call from the Health Authorities to ask whether I had lost any sense of taste or smell when every evening I was being served some of the blandest school dinners I’ve ever tasted.
My wonderful partner Rach dropped me off a little cheese board, however we weren't provided with any plates, so I had to eat it off one of my radio awards (pictured). Fortunately it was the only time I had to improvise, as my career in radio has not been successful enough to provide enough awards for a full meal schedule over two weeks. It did make me think though, I reckon an Oscar would be great for stirring a cup of tea.
The hotel itself is under police protection which made me feel a little like Pablo Escobar (yes I rewatched Narcos). There were also strict rules. Alcohol (served by room service) is limited to either one bottle of wine or six bottles per day. Unless for some reason, whenever you ordered the Chardonnay, two bottles were always delivered. In my opinion, that’s where the other four stars come from.
On my departure, I was escorted out the hotel by a police officer who told me to enjoy my freedom, in a way that frankly suggested that he fully expected me to be incarcerated again.
In an impromptu speech at an impromptu drinks with a few friends just before if left the country, I told them that after 28 years of living in the UK I felt like I was leaving it in the strongest position and that I was time to journey to Australia to fix any problems they’ve had.
So it’s now time to see what Australia has to offer beyond Room 605 at the Sofitel Gold Coast. I’ll report back and let you know what it’s like.
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