Cut Short

2020 was going to be a year on the road, and was going swimmingly. I’d started the year in Suriname, celebrating New Years in style, before crossing the river to Guyana, and island hopping with my hammock around the Leeward and Windward Isles in the Caribbean, finishing up that region in the Dominican Republic and Haiti, where I caught a flight to Honduras, crossed into Guatemala, and then into Mexico. And it was only the 1st of March. Then, mid April we were having a family reunion in Japan, the midpoint for all of us spread out in Ireland, Australia, and here. From there, I’d go to Indonesia for a month, then home for 2 months, buy a car, spend the summer driving the car in the Mongol Rally across Eurasia, and probably finish the year buying a camper and working and travelling around New Zealand.

Right now though, I needed a break. Newness was losing its novelty, I didn’t care to see another colonial old town, so I found a volunteering job in a hostel in Guadalajara. A chance to get back in shape, practice my Spanish, make some money with Tripfarm (on track to be my best month yet), and relax a little. Get to know a place, get to know some people a bit better. And Guadalajara is the perfect place to relax. Not stressy, chilled out, and relatively quiet. Every Sunday, the city only allows bikes on the main streets. I understand why Americans love to dream of coming to Mexico and retireing here, it’s a great place to escape from the world.

Unfortunately the world had other plans. I was having pints with a friend who I’d met in Australia, on the 16th of March, when I heard the news. Pubs will be closed in Ireland for Paddy's Day. Travel is being restricted, half the world is closing down due to a virus. Things were getting crazy. The taoiseach made a speech on Paddy's Day that I actually watched live. This might impede some plans. On the other hand, Mexico was really celebrating Paddy's Day, and I heard a great song, Saint Patrick's Battalion, about the Irishmen who turned on the Americans during the American Invasion of Mexico in the 1800s, and fought on the Mexican side. We got around didn’t we?

The next day, the Irish Embassy in Mexico emailed me, telling me I should leave Mexico immediately as the Mexican government is not taking the threat seriously. I called my doctor brother. He said I should leave immediately, unless I want to stay there for 6 months to a year.

6 months on a playa in Mexico did sound tempting. But, there are going to be zero people travelling from Europe to Australia for the next half year, at least, so I was going to make zero money from my travel agency. That's not ideal. Maybe it is time to go home and buckle down. 1-2 months would be grand, but 6 months is a big commitment to hanging by the beach. I booked a flight out via Dallas, for the following morning, and was just in time. The governor of the province of Jalesco announced a lockdown for the state, starting tomorrow.

My last night in Mexico, and also, the Western Hemisphere, was spent doing the most latin american hostel evening ever: sitting around chatting, drinking beer, and listening to an argeninian hippie girl play the guitar. The Reggaeton came on later. And it was great.

I passed through Guadalajara airport for my red eye flight. It was pure chaos. People were told to keep 2 metres apart in queues, everyone running into one another, check-in desks mobbed with people shouting and panicking. Heat checks for your temperatures, questions before flying on where I’d visited the last two weeks, the last month. Madness. I was happy when the wheels were retracted and we were out of there..

It was weird people, people actually caring that I was coming home. Family were calling from Australia, worried, friends and people I thought I’d only meet once were messaging. Video calls and quizzes were arranged with family and long lost group chats. The Irish Embassy in Mexico called me, asking where I was, and had I left Mexico yet, while I was stopped over in Dallas. And in Dallas, there was none of the panic or distancing that had been introduced in Mexico. Wild.

The flight over to Ireland from London was emotional, seeing the patchwork of farms, coming in over Bull Island, Dublin city below. It was exciting, nostalgic, like meeting an old friend who I hadn’t seen in a long time. The airport itself was completely empty, bar one person handing out emergency fliers. And then, taking Bus Eireann back home from the airport, there were only three of us on board, but the ease of life that comes with the little things onboard were lovely: understanding the driver, being able to chat without thinking with people, seeing all the one off housing lining the roads as we headed west. I’ve done this journey a hundred times to and from Dublin, between college and work, and it was the only time I really appreciated the green fields, the rushes all over Roscommon, and stopping in Longford for a quick sandwich.

Back at home, I got the feeling that, whether we like it or not, we’re living in a moment that will be remembered for a long time. And as the old Chinese curse goes: “May you live in historic times”.