“I’m afraid we don’t have any of the rooms you requested,” the dark-suited hotel receptionist told me.

I had dreaded the accommodations we might have to endure. That’s because, for the new two weeks, my family of five would be isolated in a hotel in Auckland as part of New Zealand’s Managed Isolation and Quarantine system that has been very effective at keeping COVID-19 out of the country.

I had applied for two adjoining rooms so the five of us would not be forced to endure “too much togetherness” while we waited to officially enter the country. As my children are teenagers, the rules allow us to occupy adjoining rooms, but not separate rooms. If they did not have an adjoining room, we would all have to spend two weeks cooped up in a single room. A situation my wife had described as, “Not a family enhancing experience.”

I had put my family through a lot so we could live and work on the far side of the world. On August 30th, we had packed half our household into a shipping container bound for New Zealand and the other half into a storage locker. Then we spent the night in a local hotel because it was too depressing to remain in our empty home. The next day we moved into an Air BnB, and renters moved into our house. We planned to maintain this temporary arrangement for only one month, but things did not go according to plan. All things considered, the move went as smoothly as we could realistically hope, and everyone quickly adapted to our temporary arrangement.

The sticky part was dealing with all of the issues that needed to be taken care of to get into New Zealand. Getting a work visa can be a challenge for anyone, but it creates a whole other level of paperwork and scrutiny when you need a certification to practice surgery. Plus, I was trying to do all this during the worst pandemic the world had seen in a century, which only created additional challenges. That part did not go as smoothly as I had hoped, and we watched as our intended departure date came and went. Fortunately, we were able to extend our rental for another ten days, but we would need to be out after that.

The issue was that I needed a certificate to practice medicine. Getting such in the USA is challenging enough; doing it overseas is a whole other challenge. I became an expert at filling our forms and signing them electronically in Adobe Acrobat, getting documents notarized and authenticated, scanning said papers, sending them electronically, and following up to make sure they were received and processed. I’m generally not the most organized and detail-oriented person, but I turned over a new leaf, and still, it took longer than expected.

Once I had approval from the Medical Council of New Zealand to practice surgery, I still had to apply for a work visa for myself and a family visa for my family. New Zealand is basically closed to foreigners, and the process for admitting the few exceptions like myself is in flux. I found the rules confusing and contradictory, especially as I did not feel the immigration website reflected all of the changes in the process. Fortunately, I had some help with all the filing, and the woman at emigration who processed my application made an extra effort to get it done as expeditiously as possible. I was very impressed with a bureau I would generally expect to take a more adversarial stance.

Getting the visa would typically be enough, but not in the era of COVID. I next needed to apply to Managed Isolation and Quarantine for a two-week stay in isolation. The availability of rooms for isolation is limited, so there is a lottery for the available spots. Since my skills are in critical need, I was able to apply for an exemption. That exemption was granted, and I was given a date for all of us to enter isolation. The problem became getting to New Zealand. There were only three flights from the US to New Zealand a week (unless you wanted to take a roundabout 64-hour trip via Dubi). We could get on the first flight that week, which MIQ had approved us for, but we couldn’t get to Los Angeles in time to meet that flight.

We are taking our dog, Aspen, with us, which meant we needed to drive him to the LA Airport and drop him off for his flight. But we couldn’t do that with either of our cars because they were going into storage. So we needed to rent a car and drive. Who knew rental vehicles were in short supply? And since we couldn’t make travel plans until we got a date from MIQ, I was trying to find a car at the last minute. So we could not make the Tuesday flight I had MIQ approval for. The next flight on Thursday was full. So I reapplied for the Saturday flight and then rented a car and bought five one-way tickets on Air New Zealand with my fingers crossed that MIQ would have a place for us. I waited two tense days before the approval came through. We really were moving to New Zealand.

Two days later, we went to pick up the rental car. I had requested a vehicle that would accommodate ten bags, five people, and one dog. When the rental attendant handed me the keys, I knew we were in trouble.

“Do you have anything bigger?” I asked.

She consulted with her coworker, and they did not.

So we walked out to see the Range Rover that would take us to LA. Now the Range Rover is a very choice vehicle to drive. It’s powerful, agile, and responsive with a ride that perfectly balances between comfort and performance. It is a car designed to impress, and in that department, it succeeds. It fails in having room for five people — three of which are over six feet tall — a dog and luggage.

When all of our suitcases were packed, a new problem presented itself. The Range Rover has a sleek, stylish, aerodynamic shape that is very appealing to the eye. But that curving shape significantly impacts the space available in the trunk compared to a more boxy and functional vehicle. As you may recall, we had ten bags in total (two for each of us), but despite putting all my hard-won Tetris skills to work, I could not get more than five bags to fit.

So back into the house we went to try and distill all the things we would need to get by in a foreign country until our shipped items arrived in a month or two. I’m proud of my family for being willing to pare down their items to just the absolute essentials. A few of those essentials were stuffed animals and other treasured items because we wanted our progeny to have their most treasured things with them. After all, we will be living in New Zealand, not just visiting. Once that car was finally loaded with bags, people, and a dog, we were off to Flagstaff, Arizona.

I must tell you that the driver’s seat in the Range Rover is choice. It is comfortable to sit in and offers excellent ergonomics. Unfortunately, that is the only comfortable seat when the car holds five people and a dog. Three people were squished together in the back seat to the point that we had to learn how to load ourselves into the back as once all three people were in, no one could buckle their seatbelt. The only person who was happy besides the driver was the dog. With nowhere else to put him, Aspen spent the entire drive to Los Angeles contently laying across the laps of the people he loves in the back seat.

Because of the confined conditions, we drove in stage with overnight stops in Flagstaff, Arizona, and Hesperia, California. Our accommodations on those two nights were “utilitarian,” but they got us to LA. On Friday, we dropped Aspen off at the airport kennel, returned the rental car, and rode the shuttle to the international terminal. Our flight did not leave until the following day, but we needed to have a negative COVID test within 72 hours of our flight, or we would not be allowed to board. Fortunately, the airport offered this service on-site.

I’m not sure which was less fun, having to navigate the testing sites registration process on our phones or discovering just how far back my nasal passage goes. Either way, we were glad we did it the day before as travelers on other flights were in a panic after being turned away by their airlines due to a lack of testing and were now afraid they would miss their flight.

I called for the hotel shuttle, and twenty minutes later, we arrived at the upscale hotel I had reserved. I knew our last three days would be trying and uncomfortable, so I wanted us to have a good experience before we left America. The kids were very impressed with the pool, palm trees, accommodations, and overall feel of this hotel. The first thing we did was get lunch from Mike’s Love and Sandwiches across the street. Allen and Delany liked the comic book feel of the place and the image of Mike as a capped hero. Will loved the extensive menu, and everyone enjoyed the sandwiches on the sunny patio outside. The soda cup says that Mike’s is rated “The best sandwich by my mom,” and we realize his Mom is biased, but we had no reason to think she was wrong.

Back at the hotel, we swam in the pool, read books in the chaise lounges, played pool on the table in the lobby (a surprising hit with kids), and decompressed after having a little too much togetherness. That night we ordered food from the hotel bar and ate on the patio. The bartender/hostess/waitress was alive with energy and enthusiasm. She made us feel like we were old friends she was ecstatic to see again. This woman, who was wearing many hats, never seemed rushed or bothered. Instead, she made us feel like we were her only customers despite the small venue being packed. What she was most enthusiastic about was that night’s special, cheese fries.

“Oh, they made fries with melted cheese and then put bacon on top,” she gushed in accented English. “They are so good. You gonna love them. You want I should get you one?” Then she looked at our group, thought better of it, and said, “I better get you two.” The dinner was as good as the service, and the experience was enhanced by enjoying it on the outdoor deck under palm trees. We all retired to our beds, content with our meal and the excellent cheese fries that were just as satisfying as promised.

Our flight left at 9:00 pm, so we had most of the day to ourselves. We requested a late checkout and enjoyed a morning where we didn’t have to rush. Lunch that day was a compromise. The kids wanted to eat in a chain restaurant. It was an idea with some merit as we would have little to no access to these chains in New Zealand. The group consensus ultimately settled on IHOP based on location and menu. I have to admit that despite my disappointment at the choice, a good omelet with pancakes was the kind of comfort food that I needed.

At the airport, the line for New Zealand Air seemed longer than it was because of the enforced social distancing. One attendant walked through the line to ensure everyone had the proper visa, Isolation confirmation, and COVID test in addition to the usual passport, ect. My hands overflowed with documents. Everyone was pleasant, helpful and with their distinctive accents, we got out first feel for the place we would soon be inhabiting.

When we got to security, it was empty. We bypassed the usual serpentine rows and went directly to the x-ray machine. It was a little unnerving to see the usually long queue for the scanners completely empty. Once inside the terminal, it remained eerily quiet. People in the gate area sat widely spaced with plenty of room to do so. Everyone wore a mask, but some people took it farther than others. Three Asian men walked by wearing disposable full-body suits complete with hoods, masks, and safety glasses as we waited. They looked like they were going to investigate a murder scene instead of waiting to board a flight.

When our flight boarded, it just boarded. There was no special seating for first-class or children, no group numbers or rows; we just got on the plane. And once I was on, I saw why. The 787 was arranged into three seats on each side and three down the middle. No one was seated with anyone who was not in their “bubble.” Since there were many solo travelers, most of the rows only had one person in them. This was great news for those travelers as it gave them the luxury of lying down across three seats to sleep. Since we were five people in one group, we were assigned only six seats and didn’t enjoy the same luxury. However, it was nice to fully recline my seat without worrying that it would bother the woman behind me.

All of us slept surprisingly well on the flight. Once again, this meant I crossed the equator and international dateline without noticing. Instead, I woke to discover that it was Monday morning and we had somehow lost Sunday — must have accidentally left it behind when we hurriedly repacked. What I did not miss was the tasty breakfast Air New Zealand served.

The plane touched down uneventfully in the pre-dawn of Auckland. Unlike the usual chaos of deplaning, we were ushered out more orderly to maintain distancing. We then entered a series of stations where we had our temperature taken and received a health screen before dealing with the usual formalities of customs, immigration, and a baggage check to ensure we did not bring any contraband items like fresh fruit.

We were now cleared into the country, but we were not clear. Instead, we were directed to several waiting buses. The number of buses stood in contrast to the number of ridders, but we needed the space given the insistence on maintaining two meters between bubbles. Our bus drove to the heart of Auckland and parked outside a high-rise hotel. We had no choice in where we would be lodged or even which city we would be in, and this was the first chance we had to gaze upon our enforced home for the next two weeks.

The hotel was the Stamford Plaza, and it looked luxurious from the outside. That is if you looked up. If you looked at the ground level, you saw a chainlink fence covered in black fabric surrounding the building. Military personal in fatigues and armed police officers stood guard outside the gate. It really did have the feel of a zombie apocalypse.

Once inside the compound, military people escorted us off the bus one bubble at a time. We were ushered through another series of checkpoints where they again checked out health and temperature, reviewed our documents, conducted a medical screening, and finally gave us our room assignment.

“I’m afraid we don’t have the rooms you requested.”

“Ok,” I said with a sigh.

“I’m sorry, but we don’t have any available rooms that will fit a family of five.”

“What’s wrong?” my wife asked.

“They don’t have any adjoining rooms for us,” I told her. She frowned but then put on a brave face and said, “We’ll get through it. We always do.”

I was so proud of her at that moment and so glad I married this remarkable woman.

“What I can offer you,” said the hotel attendant, “is the penthouse suit.”

“I’m sorry, the what?”

“The penthouse suit,” he said again. “It is on the top floor, with two king beds and a sitting area with a view.” He continued to extol the virtues of the penthouse like he needed to sell me on the idea, but I wasn’t listening.

“What did he say?” Heidi asked.

I turned to her in my best hushed and play it cool voice, I said, “They want to put us in the penthouse suit.”

“The penthouse suite?”

“Yes.”

“The penthouse suite!”

Still playing it cool and not wanting to make a scene, I said, “They don’t have any hotel rooms that will fit us, so they are going to put us in the penthouse.”

The kids overheard our whispering and exploded, “We going to be in the PENTHOUSE!”

So much for playing it cool.

“I think that will work,” I said to the attendant, who was smiling at my family’s reaction. He handed me the keys, and we were led to our room by a string of yellow safety vests wearing people who made sure we went directly to our room. I’m sure that was to keep people from getting lost and wandering around with the potential to come into contact with others, but it felt like a weird juxtaposition of concierge service and being escorted to jail.

The last attendant pointed to a large set of double doors that opened with my key onto a luxury suite composed of a bedroom with a king bed and its own sitting area and a separate, large open room with a dining table, couch, and spacious desk. One whole wall of the sitting room was a gigantic, wrap-around window with a view of downtown Auckland. I would never spring for accommodations like this. My attitude toward travel is that you see the sights and not do anything but sleep in the hotel, so you don’t need anything fancy. But if there was ever a time we would be using the hotel room, this was it.

The kids ran around and found the adjoining room with beds and space for all three of them. Meanwhile, Heidi and I explored the master suite and were most impressed by the large marble bathroom with an inlaid wood floor and the most enormous bathtub either of us had ever seen. We quickly concluded that if we couldn’t be comfortable here for two weeks, we would not be comfortable anywhere.

As we settled into our new abode, there was a knock at the door. I dawned my mask and opened it to find a nurse dressed in head-to-toe personal protective equipment like a surgical technician. Because we came from a “high risk country,” we needed a COVID test done on arrival. This was the first of four such tests we would take over the next two weeks.

The hotel’s activities director must have been on vacation because — besides COVID testing — there was nothing on our itinerary. Our days quickly began to revolve around meals. We ordered from a menu of daily options, and then food was delivered in brown paper bags left outside our door. A knock at the door signaled the meal’s arrival, but the time could vary by as much as ninety minutes to two hours between days. What the food lacked in predictable timing was made up for in quality, with each meal offered meat and vegetarian options. We dined on sirloin steak, curry prawns, white fish, lasagna, and more. But the best part was the dessert that came with dinner, delicacies including lemon tart, chocolate lava cake, and raspberry chocolate gateau. The meals were all good, but the desserts were exquisite. A fact attested to by the tighter fit in my pants at the end of our stay.

Once we passed our first COVID test, we were issued blue wrist bands that allowed us to go outside. We called each day and scheduled a time when we could walk the hotel’s courtyard. Everyone walked in one direction, keeping at least two meters between groups and under the watchful eye of the New Zealand Army. That part did make it feel a bit like a prison, but it was still good to get out, move, and breathe fresh air.

Otherwise, our time was our own. That sounded like a great idea to me beforehand. Heidi and I packed books and journals. Delaney brought puzzles and games. We looked forward to having the time to do all the things we never had time for, like reading, writing, and just spending time with our thoughts and our family. It sounded great.

We found that we felt no pressure to do anything all day with nothing we had to do. We quickly fell into a complacent malaise. The days seemed to get away from us with little to show. Fortunately, the kids had school work, which gave our day some structure, but our walk and meals were the only other things to look forward to. So we tried to give each day a theme or an event to look forward to. A movie in the evening, the Green Bay Packer playing (which happened Thursday night at 8pm EST, but we got at 1pm on Friday thanks to the time change.) Delaney did her puzzles with help from the family. I read my books, but not as many as I had hoped. And we exercised.

We were fortunate to learn that there were a limited number of exercise bikes in the hotel for rent, so we called right away and got the last “crosstrainer” (what we call an elliptical) available. It was a rickety old machine that sounded like an asthmatic duck when we used it. I moved it into the master bedroom so the noise would not disturb the rest of the family when someone used it. It wasn’t great, and I never felt I got a satisfying workout out from it due to my fear that it might fall apart if I went full out. But it was better than nothing, and we were grateful to have it.

I would love to tell you what other people’s experiences were like in isolation, but we could not talk with anyone else. Not because of any malicious intent, just the necessity of keeping people separated so the virus could not be moved between bubbles. The staff was rigorous about enforcing distancing. They often tried to break up our family before realizing that all five of us were in one bubble.

One morning I opened our door and was surprised by a uniformed security person standing right outside. He was just as surprised as I was. That was the first I realized that people were patrolling the halls day and night to make sure “isolaties” stayed in their rooms unless they had a reason to be out and possessed the coveted blue wrist band. When we did have to leave our rooms to go down to the ballroom for a nasal swab — which by the way, is possibly the worst reason to be invited to a ballroom — the same security people monitored the elevators and ensured no two groups got too close. Ok, that bit did make it feel a little like a prison.

Despite their militant (did I mention that there were personnel from the Army and Air Force) instance on social distancing, the staff were kind and courteous. When we requested bottled water, coffee, toilet paper, or an appointment in the courtyard, the staff was always friendly and prompt. That made it feel less like a disciplinary unit.

One fun surprise in our room was a plaque on the wall that listed all the famous people who stayed in the suit before us. At first, this prompted us to say things like, “Wow, to think Bono slept in this bed,” “Nelson Mandela wrote at this desk,” and “The original James Bond, Sean Connery, sipped a scotch on this couch.” Then one of my teenagers had to point out, “Ya, and Bill Clinton took a big, old dump in this toilet.” Thanks for keeping it real, William.

Over time the novelty wore off as we settled into the mundane task of everyday life. Because we were in isolation for COVID, no staff entered our room, and we were responsible for our own room servicing. This prompted statements like, “I’ll bet Russell Crowe never had to wash dishes in the bathroom sink,” “Tina Tunner never had make up her own bed,” and “The Sultan of Brunei didn’t have to wash his socks in this bathtub.”

Our time in isolation passed faster than you might think. It was comfortable, the food was excellent, and we were ready to leave. We would fly from Auckland to Christchurch and then drive to Greymouth over the mountains via the Transalpine highway. The hotel arranged for busses to take us to the airport. Once those plans were finalized, they brought us to the lobby, one group at a time, because despite our now being cleared from quarantine, we were still expected to maintain social distancing and wear masks. They collected our room key in the lobby, checked our identity with our passports, and presented us with certificates stating we completed isolation. It felt like a major award.

We boarded a tour bus that would otherwise be sitting idle as the quarantine has pretty much shut down the tourism industry. It was a quiet drive to the airport in the early, pre-dawn for our 7:00 am flight. We were ready to leave the hotel and get on with our New Zealand adventures. The penthouse was as comfortable a way to spend that time as we could have hoped for, but we had spent a surprising amount of that time looking out the windows and envying those walking by. We were ready to join them.

What would we find once we were released into the wilds of the Land of the Long White Cloud? What new adventures awaited us? How would we like our new home? We wondered about all of those things as we sat quietly on the lost in our own thoughts. We had waited in limbo for two weeks to get to the answers those, and many other questions, and now we could finally find out.

I hope you have enjoyed this update on our adventure. Feel free to share this with anyone you think might like to read it. If you don’t have an interest in receiving more from me, please let me know.

Cheers,

Chuck