The vocabulary of a pandemic: 隔離(かくり), 緊急事態宣言 (きんきゅうじたいせんげん) , ワクチン, ブースター

Every few years, I come to this blog and the same thought flashes through my disbelieving mind. "My God, has it been that long since I last posted?" This time around it's been two-and-a-half years. And this time, I had two simultaneous gut reactions, the first being "I can't believe it's already been two-and-a-half years" and the second being, "It feels more like five, maybe even seven years have passed" since my last entry, which was about eight months before most of the world knew the words covid, corona (not counting the beer), or coronavirus.  

I suppose most of us do not yearn to hear or read evermore corona stories, so I'll try not to ramble on for too long. And, if you think you might try entering Japan any time soon, I hope this might be a helpful bit of language and experience. With the advent of the omicron variant, Japan has tightened its policies toward incoming travelers. As of this writing, tourists aren't allowed to enter. 

As a permanent resident in Japan, I've been fortunate to have re-entry thrice since the start of the pandemic. The first, in April 2020, went down to the line. I had spent a month back home in Hawai'i (spring break), and during the month of March the details of covid-19 were materializing to the world. Japan's government, having been forced to postpone its Olympics, declared the virus to be a serious issue and announced its restrictions on arriving passengers. Airlines were canceling flights, one of which was mine. But my flight was rescheduled from the end of March to early April; ANA's solution was to fly me out to Los Angeles, then book me on a direct flight to Tokyo. (I love ANA, by the way. They never charged me for rescheduling and took the time to have an English-speaking representative call me at home to make sure I could return to Japan. Also, everyone I've ever dealt with at ANA has been so nice.  Also, I give a shout-out to JAL, who has rescheduled me for free so many times when flights were canceled, I really have lost count.) 

I had to fly to LA on United Airlines. The flight was so empty that I had the entire middle row to myself. There was no alcohol served on that flight. This was from Honoulu to LA, and there was no alcohol. Fortunately, I was able to dose off for a few hours, lying supine in the middle row. When I arrived to LAX in the morning, it seemed a ghost town. In need of food and drink, I decided on a mini-Wolfgang Puck, where I was able to order a beer and a breakfast pizza (i.e. pizza with a couple of sunny side-up eggs on it).

 

 

 

 

I don't recall much about the flight from LA to Narita, except for the fact that they served alcohol. Also, this was before scientists knew how much of an airborne virus was corona, and masks were in short supply. Not many of us were wearing them. A lot of people were sanitizing everything they touched. That's how it was back then.

When I arrived to Narita, it was long waits in long lines. I had my very first deep nasal swab. I didn't know that there were q-tips of such length; it's a discomfiting feeling when you see them before they go into you. Afterward, as I progressed toward exiting the airport with a group of twenty-something fellow passengers, I hit the last roadblock. We weren't allowed to use public transportation because of he 14-day quarantine requirement, which still exists.

 

 These days, hiring a private driver to take you from the airport to your destination is quite easy, although not cheap. It has become something of an industry. But in April 2020, it was a nascent market and service, and I wasn't able to secure a ride into Tokyo on the night of my landing. Consequently, I was kept in a nearby hotel, the Toyoko Inn, at the government's expense. As they escorted me to the shuttle, government employees thoroughly decked in PPE, I did feel as if in a movie. The whole bus covered in plastic. It was kind of exciting.

 

  

The room was decent, too. Two large beds, and comfortable. A nice view. Bottled water awaited me, and shortly after a meal was delivered. I didn't mind being there, really, and the government was my host.

 

 

 Into the later night hours, I thought some red wine was in order. I called the lobby and asked for akawain (akai = red, wain = wine), and the friendly-sounding man on the other end said "Kashikomarimashita" (Certainly!). I waited for a bit, and waited a little more, and then stuck my head out the door to find a woman with excellent posture keeping watch in the hallway near the elevators. I waved and she nodded her head to me. Then I noticed a plastic bag hung on my door and happily brought it into my room.   

 

It was not akawain, though. It was cup ramen. I don't know how my pronunciation could have been so bad that the friendly-sounding man thought that I was asking for instant noodles, but I guess it was. I called the desk again and thanked him, but clarified that I was asking for--and this time, I spoke very slowly for the sake of enunciation--"A-ka-wa-in, kudasai." This time, he understood me completely. In his still-friendly voice he said, "Sumimasen. Osake, nomemasen," which translates to "I'm sorry, you can't drink alcohol while you're here." He also spoke these words slowly and clearly.

I found out later that there was a convenience store, I think a Family Mart, on the first floor by the lobby, but for some reason I wasn't allowed to order or purchase from it. 

To wind down this story, the food they delivered to my room was pretty good, but not enough. We were able to request more, but nothing containing alcohol.

I read the novel Kokoro, by Natsume Soseki. 

 

I sat by the window and watched the sun set. I had hotel wifi and was thus able to do much of what I would have done if quarantined at home. I suppose I did push-ups and planks, maybe some squats, to keep at least a little physically active, but I really don't remember.

 

 

I stayed in that Toyoko Inn for two full days, after which my dear friend Leon came to pick me up and take me to my apartment in Okubo, Shinjuku. God bless him. I didn't mention earlier, that aside from hiring a private ride out of the airport, the other options were to rent a car (but I don't have a license for driving in Japan) or have someone pick you up. Good old Leon got me out of there and took me to a 7-11 where I bought snacks and beer. Then he took me to a Yoshinoya and we feasted on gyudon (beef bowls).

I realize that I've mentioned alcohol several times in this post. I'd like to finally add that the best part of my quarantine experience was realizing that I enjoy but don't need to drink. Generally I drink with my dinner and am used to imbibing during the night. Having to spend two days in abstinence was unforeseen, but a good thing.

I flew back home to Hawai'i twice in 2021. Upon returning to Japan, both times I hired a private driver, easy to do in this now burgeoned market. Each time it cost me 18,820 JPY. A bit of a bite, but I got to spend those following weeks in the comfort of my own home, so it was worth it. This is the website I used:

https://secure.ana-g.com/anacom/cgi-bin/hire/index_en.php

I chose it because the service is affiliated with ANA, so I felt comfortable trusting in its reliability. But you can find cheaper rides if you search "private drivers from Narita/Haneda." I think it'll always cost more than $100 USD, but some of them are not a lot more.

 

Anyway...no more ホテル隔離 for this kid!

Other vocabulary for the pandemic: 

ワクチン (waskushin) = vaccine,

ブースター(bu-su-ta-) = booster

緊急事態宣言 (きんきゅうじたいせんげん, kinkyuu jitai senden) = state of emergency

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 I put off posting this entry for a while.

I'm hoping there won't be new pandemic words to post next year, except for the good news variety (i.e. good therapeutics, testing, cures).

 良いお年を!!!

-Wes