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Image: Getty Images/Tina Tiller
Image: Getty Images/Tina Tiller

SocietyJanuary 3, 2022

‘Back to normal’? Yeah, right: A Covid reality check from a New Zealander in LA

Image: Getty Images/Tina Tiller
Image: Getty Images/Tina Tiller

Summer read: New Zealand had a late start on vaccines, and a lot of us are looking enviously at other countries that began vaccinating earlier. But if you think things are now back to normal elsewhere, think again, writes Rosie Carnahan-Darby.

First published November 8, 2021

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Like so many others, I am a serial Facebook commenter. Last week, after reading comment, after comment, after news story about how Aotearoa should open up “like the rest of the world”, I snapped. By snapped, I mean I hurriedly wrote a post in my pyjamas after half a coffee while trying to make my kid finish his homework.

Surprisingly, more people than just my mum read it. The gist of it was that no, the rest of the world has not opened up, and we are not “back to normal”. We did not fling the doors open and declare the pandemic over. We are not back to the heady pre-March 2020 times of bars, socialising and kids huddling in groups around video games.

My family and I are New Zealanders, but we’ve lived in Los Angeles for a number of years. When the pandemic hit, like the proverbial rats from a sinking ship we fled from LA to New Zealand. After the initial lockdown we enjoyed a year of relative freedom. I video-called friends in LA from concerts without a mask on, while they bemoaned yet another month locked in their houses while their kids tried to focus on remote learning.

In May 2021 we returned to Los Angeles. By that time, cases in LA were down to about 100 a day, and people were getting vaccinated, including kids over 12. We were very nervous to be moving from an essentially Covid-free country to one where the virus was widespread, but our friends helped us settle in to this “new normal” – which mainly meant avoiding each other except for the occasional socially-distanced wine in the back yard. At this point, most of our friends’ kids had been back at school, unvaccinated, for about a month. Schools in Los Angeles had been remote learning for over a year.

In a fit of confidence, with vaccinations going well, LA County “opened up” on June 15. This meant no masks, and you could dine indoors – an incredibly abrupt about-turn from the previously strict safety rules. Almost immediately, cases started rising, peaking at about 4000 a day. You can imagine our trepidation as parents about sending an unvaccinated child back to school.

A 6-year-old boy is tested for Covid before the start of the school year in mid-August 2021. Los Angeles schools require all students and teachers to be tested weekly. (Photo: Genaro Molina / Los Angeles Times via Getty Images)

Soon after, California’s governor reinstated the mask mandate and cases gradually began drifting back down. So now, in November 2021, how do our lives look in this new “new normal”?

Here’s how my day goes: Every morning I fill in a health check online for both my kids. My eldest is 15 and vaccinated, the youngest, Theo, is 11, and not. The health check basically declares that they are free of symptoms and have not left LA or the state in the past 10 days, nor had contact with anyone that has tested positive. We then screenshot that health check and must show it for the kids to gain access to school.

Once at school, the kids are masked all day, even for PE. I went from hating wearing a mask when we got back in May to just accepting it. My kids don’t even notice; they put masks on at the same time as their shoes and don’t take them off till they get home. When they eat at school they can take their masks off, but they must sit on green circles to ensure proper distancing and are separated from their friends across the table by a plexiglass screen.

While this might seem like overkill, of the five cases so far at the school my kids go to, none have then passed the virus on to a classmate.

In August, before kids went back to school, and when we were starting to feel brave, we went camping with friends. My 11-year-old was the only unvaccinated one, so the entire group decided to get tested the day we left to ensure his safety.

Two weeks later we went camping again, this time with a big group from his school. We were a little laissez faire about it, figuring since all the adults were vaccinated and the kids had all been tested at school we were likely fine. Famous last words. One kid tested positive on the Tuesday after the weekend and the entire grade was sent home for a week to make certain it hadn’t spread beyond that one child. It had not, thankfully. But we learned our lesson: if we want to have some small freedoms – like going on a camping trip – the trade-off is being prepared to be stuck at home if someone comes down with Covid.

Public health experts and school staff at an information event for teachers prior to the reopening of LA schools, July 2021 (Photo: Allen J. Schaben / Los Angeles Times via Getty Images)

We do go out to dinner. There is a comforting feeling of safety among widely spaced tables and staff all in masks. Having said that, a few of our favourite restaurants remain empty every night – but still killing it in takeaways. And as long as our youngest is unvaccinated, we favour restaurants where you can eat outside. All across the city, carparks and footpaths have been turned over to restaurant seating to meet the demand for less risky outdoor dining. An added advantage is that our Covid puppy (come on, we all got one one!) can come with us.

When people come to our house we automatically explain that we are all vaccinated, and they confirm they are too, then we ask them to stay masked around our 11-year-old. Everyone, whether a visiting tradie or close friend, respects that. Admittedly, we relax those rules around friends we know are as careful as us, and we have an added layer of reassurance knowing the kids are tested every week at school. But we are always mindful of how our actions can impact unvaccinated kids at school and vulnerable people in the wider community.

Weekly testing at school has been a game changer, allowing asymptomatic cases to be picked up before they pass the virus on to other kids. And any time someone in our house has a sniffle or hayfever we are off to the local testing station or I grab an at-home testing kit from the nearest drugstore.

My husband and I go to gigs, but with widespread vaccine passport requirements you know everyone there is double vaccinated (and masked), so you know the stats are on your side. And boy do I know the stats! On average, you are five times as likely to catch Covid if you are unvaccinated. The more people vaxxed, the less transmission, and the safer our vulnerable will be.

You need to show vaccination certificate to enter venues, bars, restaurants, and you have to be vaccinated to attend school. If you’re not vaccinated, many of these places will accept a negative Covid test from that day. So nobody is being forced to be vaxxed, but life certainly is easier and feels safer if you are.

So Aotearoa, we are not back to normal. We are living with Covid, but without anything like the kind of freedom we had two years ago. We won’t even get on a plane with our youngest until he is vaccinated. From experience I can tell you with absolute certainty: the idea that other governments are “getting on with it” and leaving Covid restrictions behind is simply nonsense.

A postscript: As I write, the CDC has just announced it has approved vaccinations for 5-11 year olds here in the US. I was like a millennial trying to get tickets to Coachella when I heard, and managed to snag Theo an appointment for tomorrow. He declared this week the best week ever, as he is finally getting his vaccination too!

New Zealander Rosie Carnahan-Darby lives in Los Angeles with her husband Rhys and sons Finn and Theo.

Keep going!
Gone but not forgotten (Image: Tina Tiller)
Gone but not forgotten (Image: Tina Tiller)

SocietyJanuary 3, 2022

RIP, Bernadino – you were disgusting and we loved you

Gone but not forgotten (Image: Tina Tiller)
Gone but not forgotten (Image: Tina Tiller)

Summer read: As the news broke that the spew-inducing spumante of her youth was being discontinued, Emily Writes reflected on the end of an era.

First published August 4, 2021 on Emily Writes Weekly.

The year is 2001. You’re wearing a denim mini from Glassons with the waistband cut off so you look like Mariah Carey. ‘Heartbreaker’ came out two years ago but you live in New Zealand so it took a while for the look to get here.

You’ve got a matching denim jacket and a satin pink handkerchief top and you’re wearing Ecko skate shoes even though you’ve never used a skateboard in your life. Your hair is perfect, with two slick slut strands sneaking out from an extremely severe ponytail. You’ve got your G-banger pulled high over your hips and popping out of your clear plastic handbag with the wooden handles is a bottle of sophistication – Bernadino.

Life is good. You’re ready for a huge night out.

I can’t even begin to tell you how many teenage nights I spent absolutely rat-arsed on Bernadino. In my clique it was the drink of choice. It’s true, it wasn’t as classy as Aquila or as cool as Alizé – but it would definitely fit in a pump bottle so you could drink it at the movies while Dan tried to grope your boobs with all of the finesse of a gorilla learning sign language.

It was a drink you could convince your friend’s creepy older brother to buy for you. It was a drink made for those under the age of 18. There wasn’t one scenario where it wasn’t the perfect liquid companion – 15th birthday, 16th birthday, Friday, Christmas in the Park, getting finger-banged at the school dance, church camp… the list goes on.

And now, it’s gone. And with it – the final vestiges of our youth.

Lion New Zealand confirmed the death of the near-toxic fizzy. The sparkling garbage drink of choice for turn-of-the-millennium kids, Bernadino is now flushed away, like so much sweet vomit.

I remember the first time I drank Bernadino. It was joyous.

I remember returning to it in my 20s because I wanted to taste that nostalgia. I wanted to return to my teen years. It didn’t taste like youthful freedom though. It tasted absolutely like what I imagine piss tastes like. How did we ever drink this shit? (I thought to myself before chugging down some Lindauer Fraise).

I am now almost an adult and so I drink rosé like the cliche that I am, and prosecco if I want to be fun (which is rare). But my memories of Bernadino linger. Just like the vomity aftertaste after a night on the Bernies.

It was a time when everything felt possible but also nothing was actually possible. We were young and dumb. And absolutely full of… teen angst. Bernadino was the place we turned to when our parents were being fucking bitches or the after-hours was closed and we really needed the morning after pill. Bernadino was our friend when Shanna didn’t invite you to her birthday even though you were meant to be best friends. Bernadino was there when The Big Kumara had a new bouncer who didn’t believe you were a Russian 42-year-old called Svetlena. Bernadino was there when you failed Year 12 maths. Bernadino was your companion, gently thrusting you into New Zealand’s problem drinking culture.

And then suddenly, you just stopped drinking it. And probably never thought about it again.

Did we suddenly realise what it tasted like? Did we suddenly have money? Whatever the reason, once Bernadino left your life it didn’t come back unless you were pulling the labels off bottles of it and replacing them with other labels to put on the tables of family you didn’t like at your wedding.

We progressed. Time marched on. No longer did we fill buckets with Bernadino and red cordial and call it punch. We took our steps toward a brighter future.

Of pinot gris.

Of “bubbly” that was $4 more expensive.

Of red wine at some point but I’m not there yet.

Of becoming someone whose entire personality is that they don’t drink any more.

No more Aquila, no more Passion Pop, no more Bernadino.

Goodbye to our youth. Hello to drinking in probably exactly the same way but now we get hangovers.

We have just memories left (sort of, it’s all a bit hazy).

Farewell, Bernadino, and rest in peace. In all fairness, we probably won’t miss you.