…travels almost annihilated. But not quite. The end of the world, as we knew it? The end of freedom? The end of being able to?

When the pandemic struck, no-one believed it would or could be as devastating as it was and still is. The world obeyed its governments, obeyed the lockdowns, the isolation and quarantine laws. But the virus was undeterred and found its merry way from country to country, wiping out millions of people and mutating on its way.

Aircraft were grounded worldwide cruise ships anchored offshore in their hundreds. Waiting for something, anything. The End.

That was in early 2020. We hade just been overseas on a sudden and sad mission. My brother had died suddenly just before Christmas 2019. An awful journey alone on a plane, alone and grieving and wondering why. Why we didn’t talk more, why I didn’t ask him the questions I wanted to. But then he was gone, leaving in his wake a terrible scene of mayhem which was what I found when I arrived at his house in Cornwall. The house I’d found for him in a small village, after he was widowed. But he’d fallen in with a bad influence who saw him as a meal ticket and travel companion. The effect this all had on me was crippling and depression set in when I returned home. At least he never knew what lay ahead.

That was two and a half years ago, and will be remembered for the rest of my life. After the depression, we decided we would like to travel again, but it was difficult. Travel was difficult, entry into countries was difficult and dangerous until we all felt more relaxed and safer after vaccinations were administered worldwide. Still cautious, the world began to emerge out of its shell. And we began to recover from our illnesses suffered during the pandemic. Maybe we wouldn’t have been able to travel anyway, what with hospital treatments and other disabling factors.

Yet here we are now. In an alternative paradise to where we live, and not a million miles away. Bali, or should I say, Lombok, which is a fairly large island within a stone’s throw of the Bali mainland. We’d never been before, even though Bali is the nearest alternative holiday destination to staying at home in Australia, and is teeming with holiday makers from Australia and New Zealand who go to the coastal resorts on the island, as well as the mountain retreats. We did some homework, and decided to give popular places a miss, then I discovered Lombok. My surgeon told me once that he goes there to chill out and get some R&R, and I thought if it’s good enough for him it’s good enough for us. All we wanted was a quiet, relaxing two weeks away from home, and we ended up hitting the jackpot staying in a beautiful resort villa with our own pool, by the beach, beautiful gardens, wonderful food, and quiet.

Getting there and back was not as easy as you’d think, just flying a relatively short distance from Brisbane. Cramped flight, mostly packed with surf-board-carrying young hippie-types, en route to an area in Bali with famous surfing beaches and backpacker hostels. Then we had our first experience of Covid checking. Standing in line, or we would have been, but halfway through the flight we decided to take up the flight attendant’s offer of assistance when we disembarked. Good thing. Two wheelchairs were at the door of the plane and we were whisked away effortlessly through Covid, Visa purchase and immigration, then to customs to picking up our luggage. Miraculously collecting more help, we were wheeled to the airport hotel to check in for one night before our next-day flight to Lombok.

We were exhausted – it was midnight. We collapsed into bed and slept soundly, afterwards wolfing down a hearty breakfast and then departing for the domestic terminal, and our flight to Lombok. The hotel Limo was there to greet us and from then on it was all plain sailing, easy going, and beautiful holiday for two weeks. Travel had resumed.