Pandemic Travel 2020 – Ottawa-Toronto-São Paulo (Made It!)

“How are we going to the airport?”

“Oh, my parents are coming over and driving us. Same as usual.”

I winced, not quite sure I was ready to hear once again how much we disappointed them and how foolish we were. I hadn’t seen them in a year, both to reduce social contacts and because they didn’t take it kindly when I took Mark to France last summer. As far as I know, they don’t leave the house much. Was it a good idea to—

“I hope they’re okay,” Feng said. “They should have been here fifteen minutes ago…”

I was vaguely considering it could be part of an evil plan to make us miss the plane when the front door opened. I spent the next ten minutes explaining my mother-in-law we didn’t need masks, gloves or candies for Mark—“seriously, we have everything!”

I glanced at the backpacks by the front door and I suddenly realized we were actually leaving. I couldn’t believe it.

The trip had sounded unreal up until this precise moment—“I’ll be relieved when we land,” I told the only friend who knew about the trip. “And not when we land in Toronto, that doesn’t count. When we land in Brazil.”

So much was changing and so much could still change before the departure date that the list of reasons we may not be able to leave was long but not exhaustive. Usually, only one thing prevents us from flying—a major snowstorm. But on Thursday, it was a “lovely day to fly,” as noted by Feng, Feng’s mom and Feng’s dad.

It left us with everything else, including Brazil changing entry requirements (currently none), Air Canada cancelling our flight (not full enough?), one of us being sick or yet another fun surprise from 2020^TM—the earth exploding, maybe?

We had a minor scare the night before because we kept on getting a “check-in failed” message, but Feng reminded me we invariably get some kind of weird Air Canada error message when we’re literally at the counter, passports in hand.

So apparently, we were going. Huh.

At this stage, I probably have to explain I’m not running away from COVID or COVID restrictions—I’m running away from winter because being trapped at home is one of my worst nightmares and spending time outside this season is unrealistic.

The decision to leave was yet another judgment call I made, just like so many others this year—should Mark go back to school, is it okay to see a friend, should I hug my grandmother and what exactly can we do safely besides staying home.

I’m taking my chances. I have some control over protecting others and myself. You know the drill, wear mask, wash hands, keep a safe distance. The three of us stick together and when I’m alone, I’m not very social. I don’t need to go to bars, restaurants or parties. I’m happy to spend most of the day outside, wandering around and taking pictures, and to work or write the rest of the time. Brazil has its own evolving set of COVID restrictions and I’m absolutely okay with them.

I could still get sick. Most people I know who did (including my siblings) didn’t do anything wrong or stupid. Of course, I’m scared. But in Canada, I’m scared of winter and COVID.

It won’t be a normal trip but it’s okay. At least, it will be summer.

Unsurprisingly, Macdonald—Cartier International Airport was very quiet. We went straight to the Air Canada counter and got our boarding passes.

The odds of catching COVID on a plane are slim, I’ve never been scared of flying. There are a number of things I just stopped worrying about because otherwise, I would be scared to just leave the house—grocery shopping, taking public transit, touching surfaces, for instance. I’ll wash my hands and hope for the best. Airlines implemented safety measures and we all wear masks, this is as good as it gets.

Our temperature was taken and we went through security.

“We’ll be in Toronto in an hour? But it took forever when we drove last time! How fast does the plane fly?” Mask asked me when we boarded.

“Why don’t you ask the steward?” I suggested because apparently, “Mark isn’t advocating for himself” according to the latest teacher email.

“Go ask the pilot,” the steward offered. “Come on, don’t be scared!”

And this is how Mark and I ended up chatting with the pilot in the cockpit, which I thought was a big no-no since 9/11. “I guess we can’t focus on both terrorism and viruses,” I told Feng when we came back to our seat.

Only five international flights were scheduled in Toronto that evening. We were right after Doha and before Mumbai. We boarded on time but we were stuck on the tarmac for over an hour—something about a stuck cargo door, then mandatory de-icing.

Aside from face masks, the two biggest changes were a spotless aircraft and limited meal service—basically you get a pre-package meal, no choice.

We spent the next ten hours sleeping and watching movies.

I was still half-asleep when I noticed a sea of green. We landed half an hour later.

“We made it,” I whispered.

Now the tough part—pretty much everything else.