Quarantine

He’s back. He’s back in black. He’s back in black, without a snack.

Who would have thought that in late 2021, I’d be sitting here, held in solitary confinement in some anonymous military establishment in north-west Taiwan? I thought quarantine was what happened to pet dogs on entering the UK from somewhere foreign, back when the threat of rabies was the worst we had to fear. To be fair, back then, we didn’t even expect owners to follow their canine friends around with plastic bag in/on hand, ready to pick up the poop. This is progress.

Without a snack? Yes, it was a handy rhyme, but as I was seeking the appropriate word (crack, sack, jack, pack, whack, knack, shack, tack and rack just didn’t cut it), it struck (strack?) me that the absence of any form of snack is perhaps the most distressing part of my current predicament. I arrived here sans food (snack) of any description. Thus, thus far, I have been entirely dependent on the meals provided by my hosts, more of which later. Indeed, very quickly, I realised that the luxury of being able to simply head to the cupboard/fridge/snack drawer/7-Eleven is seriously underrated. I did, however, bring tea bags. Of course I did. But what use is a Sainsbury’s Red Label circle of leafy goodness when there is no milk (nor fridge) and no sweet treat for it to wash down? Believe me, mid-morning hunger pangs are evil pangs. Mid-afternoon hunger pangs are worse than that.

Fear not, dear reader. Supplies are on their way, courtesy of Mrs T and the local Carrefour, but not until the police have carried out an inspection of this care package from heaven. No, I didn’t make that up. Local plod is required to check deliveries. I’ve tried hard to think what might cause concern, and while I might be ostensibly and effectively incarcerated for a fortnight (that’s 2 weeks if you are of an American persuasion), I’m on the ground floor and the window opens freely. I could simply step out of my room, albeit I’d have to then scale a barbed-wire topped wall or negotiate clumsily with a gate guard if I wanted to reach the outside world. The point is, Mrs T (or Carrefour staff for that matter) would have no need to smuggle in a saw/file, perhaps stuffed inside a cake or a box of biscuits. Advanced level paranoia in action, methinks. This is Taiwan.

Anyway, here I sit, wondering how I will make it through. I knew that I would have to face this time alone following my return from England, but I hadn’t thought about the practicalities of doing so. As I am being accommodated at the expense of the Taiwanese government, I had no choice about where I would stay, and it was not possible to find much information about the process and details of my stay. Had I not been coming from the UK (one of 5(?) high-risk countries according to local regulations), I would have been placed in a hotel near to home, but at significant expense to myself, so I guess I should learn to grin and bear it. Let’s face it, I spent seven years at a military boarding school when I was a lad, so two weeks should be a doddle, right? The main difference is that rather than sharing a dorm with 30 snoring and farting teenage boys, I am alone in a room with four bunks, three of which make wonderful shelves for my limited possessions.

Outside my window, I am being entertained by a steady procession of military hardware and its requisite soldier operators. I am especially enamoured of the immaculate Harley Davidsons; dozens of them, beautifully camouflaged. Oh, except for the red lamps atop poles at the rear. Do they want to be seen or not?

Now, not wishing to belittle my wonderful hosts, but it does remind me of an early experience with the army out here. It’s an anecdote I have repeated many times, but should you be one of those lucky ones yet to hear this, I suggest you take a seat. This will only take a moment…

Army convoy enters car park adjacent to temple (the one with the Iron Man figures). It’s quite a slope on the car park. The convoy approaches and stops, parked facing up the hill. Soldier jumps out of leading lorry and puts a nice pair of yellow wheel chocks in place, neatly in front of the front wheels. Yes, he puts them in front of the wheels. I wish I’d had a camera. To be fair, military service is compulsory here. He was not a career soldier. Please God, he was not a career soldier. China! Stop sniggering!

As for the food, I’ve decided to go full native. That is, from this morning, I have decided that I will try to remember to photograph each meal. One day I shall look back and wonder at it all. Here are today’s breakfast and lunch. Yum.

Stay tuned. This outlet may just get me through.