30 March – 12 April 2020 

We are now 4 weeks into our confinement journey. 

4 weeks of bilingual homeschooling, pedaling hard to continue the ‘french experience’ for the kids who are largely cut off from the french world outside. 

4 weeks of apartment living, venturing outside to our largely deserted city only when armed with our attestation to justify foraging for food, taking care of our dog or doing some limited exercise. 

4 weeks into watching confinement shift from a set of extreme measures taken by southern Europe into a global movement which impacts ¾ of the world’s population. 

4 weeks into seeing the death tolls and unemployment queues climb exponentially and stock markets plummet precipitously. 

31 March 2020

• 

2 April 2020

• 

In that time we have watched spring arrive in Aix-en-Provence. Trees have got their leaves and the blossoms are blooming. The weather is perfect, as seen largely from our window and our brief trips outside. The countryside surrounding Aix is filled with expats and locals alike lounging by their pools in the spring sunshine. We see them over video chat with some envy. Ellie in particular is craving trees, grass and a pool. 

After the initial rush of changes to implement lockdown the world has shifted focus to caring for its sick, building ventilators and studying exponential graphs for the smallest signs of flattening curves. News becomes repetitive and it’s easy to become desensitised to the horrific statistics that climb daily.  We are lucky that Aix-en-Provence has thus far escaped the worst of the pandemic. Infections and deaths are low and hospitals continue to have capacity. The lockdown is well respected and appears to be doing its job. We do not feel unsafe here, despite the fact that the country continues to suffer from shortages in masks and alcohol gel. Those in the ‘first and second line’ (health works and essential workers who are keeping the rest of the country running and the rest of us fed) can get what they need to be safe; the rest of us will do our part and just keep our distance. 

We are waiting for clarity. Will schools open up again? Will lockdown be lightened? Will non essential businesses open up again? Will we be able to travel home when we choose to? We asked ourselves many questions when we were planning this adventure last year. These were not on the list. 

Our current situation is complicated. Not complicated like politicians, health workers or business owners are living, but complicated nonetheless. In the last 4 weeks our plans have changed approximately 4,678 times. We would love for the kids to finish the school year, but it appears extremely unlikely now that school will return this year. At this stage we are blocked from travel. Whilst there continues to be some commercial options to return to Australia, all shipping and animal transport has been put on hold. So we could return but Bonnie could not. We are all agreed that this is not an option for him, our family or anyone we would leave him with. 

So we wait.

Like the rest of the world, we wait for clarity as to when curves will flatten, when hospital beds will free up, when travel restrictions will be lifted and when businesses will open up. We hope for treatments and vaccines but are told that these are months or years away. 

The President will speak again on Easter Monday with some of these answers, but thus far has been reticent to cast forward too far in this highly complex and fast moving crisis. By leading us through the crisis one step at a time he is giving the (generally untrusting and strike prone) population time to normalise each stage, allowing him to progress to increasingly onerous restrictions with nothing other than soaring opinion polls to contend with. The French (and its expats) follow dutifully along. After a slightly hesitant start, everyone in France is now clear that nous sommes en guerre. 

So we wait some more. 

In the meantime, like 3.9 billion of our closest friends who are currently confined around the world, we do what we can to make the most of the situation. 

Our confinement is not boring. In fact, in many ways, it is a unique and special experience. 

True, we are not in Israel this week as planned and our trip to see the giant pandas in Chengdu in June is long abandoned. Even the possibility of a hike to the Sainte Victoire or a trip to the seaside seems to be part of another chapter, now impossible. This was not how we envisaged spending our last few months of this year. 

Instead, we are creating experiences and memories of a different kind. Like many parents around the world, we have become teachers, cheerleaders, chefs and animators in chief. 

We are learning new skills together, we are living new experiences and we are doing it together as a family, largely within the confines of our apartment. 

We spend our evenings agreeing complex schedules and our days relentlessly executing them.

• 

• 

Goals are set and tracked. Rewards are given or taken away. Rousing speeches are given to build excited fervour among the masses in the hope of blinding them to the true state of affairs around them. There is no time for boredom. 

We have developed new ways to make our lounge room a school, a gym, a spin class, a music room, a dance studio, an art studio, a programming lab, movie theatre and games room – frequently all at the same time. 

We are leaning into homeschooling. It gives structure, a sense of normality and, let’s face it, it’s something to do. School uniforms are mandatory. French days are respected, at least in principle. We are lucky that our kids teachers have made an incredible effort providing us with support and materials. It seems that our kids are progressing faster than we’ve ever seen – perhaps because we’re basically providing one:one tuition, perhaps because we just haven’t noticed before. Even living in their Australian household, Ellie and Jessie’s french is coming on in leaps and bounds (even if the only French person they talk to is our French teacher an hour or so a week). 

• 

• 

In addition to regular homework, there are ‘special projects’ to be researched and completed. The Minotaur, the Planets, the EU and deep dives into favourite countries to name but a few. Brexit and the future of the EU are on the list for next week. Google Slides presentations and/or old-school white cardboard are used for presentations which are subsequently sent to teachers for feedback and approval. 

We have reprised sketching and drawing activities originally started last summer (in order to not neglect the right side of our brains and end up lopsided). In the  girls’ case, there is a sharp focus on K-pop inspired fashion design, for Anthony it seems that drawing ageing footwear is the priority.

We are learning to code. All of us. Whether it be making the cat on Scratch Junior jump around, navigating Byte through the world of Swift Playgrounds or learning to code Python we are all doing our part. When we finally come out of confinement and rejoin the world we are going to take on the world one poorly constructed “if” statement at a time. 

• 

• 

The sounds of 4 levels of beginner piano ring out for hours at a time (often accompanied by Liz mumbling some excuse about needing to be downstairs to do something very important, like stare at the wall with a pillow over her ears). In the relatively rare cases when the piano is quiet, the air often rings with the dulcet tones of the latest K-Pop anthem (Fancy by Twice and Kill this Love by MR MakR are two favourites) blaring from Just Dance on the PS4. Sometimes when we’re particularly lucky, you get a beginner piano/K-Pop mash-up happening, at which point there aren’t enough pillows in the world to protect you. 

• 

• 

We read. We have a dedicated reading hour each day, where the kids rotate between 3 different stations to read in both English and French with two parents. Current books include Le magicien d’Oz, Le génie de la pluie et la grenouille, The Babysitters Club and Pete the Cat. When we are not reading with the kids, we are scouring the news across multiple sources and countries looking (in vain) for some sense or clarity in this madness. 

We go on walks. We probably shouldn’t but we do. We head out by day on roller blades. By night we wander the deserted streets and wonder at the beauty of the city more quiet than we could have ever imagined. Originally the quiet was dissettling, now it is magical. The kids come out to ‘take Bonnie to the toilet’. We wander the old town darker than previously but still lit up in parts. There are no lights in the windows. It seems that almost everyone has left or, more likely, cancelled their holiday bookings and never arrived. The girls can see stars for the first time in months. 

• 

• 

• 

• 

Exercise has shifted from individual to family group. Like most of Europe, we have experimented with YouTube based instruction from Joe Wicks’ HiiT classes but have also branched out to Australian Zumba classes by Zoom with Auntie Joe (much to the amusement and vocal support of our neighbours), homegrown circuit classes and outdoor run club, which scrupulously tracks distances and times on a daily basis in the constant search for new personal bests. Anthony still passes time cycling hamster style on an indoor bike trainer (unfortunately no matter how fast one cycles, you can’t escape the K-pop anthems) and doing ever tighter laps of the peripherique on foot to stay within the 1km radius allowed by the attestation.

• 

• 

• 

Taking our lead from the Italian experience, cooking has shifted from being a necessary ‘sprint’ to a family activity in which the kids play an active role in the selection, preparation, serving and, most importantly, clean up (hurrah!).

• 

We have recipe sharing groups, scour cookbooks and make more trips than we should to local specialty shops to source fresh ingredients (the French have now adapted to the British art of civilised, socially distant queuing), whilst avoiding the larger supermarkets that now feel risky and disease ridden (they’re probably not). Barriers have been rapidly erected (often in clingwrap) at most shops to separate workers from shoppers and homemade face masks are de rigeur. We are constantly on the lookout for lazy stocks of flour and rice. Everything gets washed and wiped with disinfectant when we get home. Our kitchen has become a restaurant proudly serving up dishes from around the world 3-4 times a day, accompanied by the near constant whirring of the dishwasher in the background. We are making a cookbook of our favourite recipes. 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

The bar is always open. Always. And there is no judgement. It’s always past midday somewhere in the world. 

• 

• 

The girls are bonding. Being confined in an apartment was always going to go one of two ways for them. Lucky for us, their need for ‘kid time’ has driven them closer together. Free time (which often coincides with when the bar is open) is spent together, typically downstairs in Ellie’s room, listening to the Descendant’s soundtrack and practicing elaborate acrogym moves. Whilst we do have our disagreements, they are relatively few and far between and it is lovely to see the kids get closer through this experience. 

We are furthering the kids cultural education. No, we’re not taking advantage of the myriad of museums around the world offering free virtual tours (yet). We’re watching Star Wars. And it’s awesome. The kids (well, Ellie and Jessie at least) are totally hooked. 

• 

• 

We are ruing the fact that we are a one iPad family as we juggle old phones, personal and work computers and the solitary iPad to support our various activities, almost all of which are augmented by some form of technology intervention. 

We connect with our friends as best we can. Like the rest of the world, we are spending hours on WhatsApp, Skype, FaceTime, Zoom and HouseParty. We are unperturbed by the security warnings. Our lives are not that interesting. In addition to connecting one on one with friends from around the world, we are pursuing frequent online aperos, Zoom classes, house party based global catch ups and 4 continent Seders. We are confined and physically socially distant, but we do not feel isolated. 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

Speaking of social distancing, Bonnie has made it clear that he would like some. He is almost as exhausted as our various electronic devices. He needs no technology but would like everyone to just leave him alone for 20 hours a day so he can sleep. Unfortunately for him, this is not going to happen until confinement lifts and everyone goes back to school and work, leaving him over tired and grumpy. 

• 

• 

• 

• 

So far, our efforts appear to be working. With the exception of the dog, morale is generally high. Productivity is strong. Insubordination is swiftly dealt with. Breakdowns are managed by cuddles. 

We have missed our calling. We should have run a totalitarian state. We still may.

After 4 weeks we are experienced. More so than pretty much anyone who’s not from Hubei, Italy or Spain. We now feel somewhat qualified to offer up a perspective on confinement as experienced by a ‘third line’ (i.e. completely non essential mouth to feed) citizen. 

The negatives of this horrific crisis are obvious and well understood. The restrictions, the isolation, the economic hardship, health crisis and appalling death tolls. We could repeat them here but, to be honest, it feels like we would be somewhat trite, considering we are sitting, comfortably and relatively safely, in our apartment whilst others take on far more risk to do everything from keeping sick people alive, to keeping our streets clean and keeping our fridge stocked with wonderful fresh strawberries. So we won’t comment on how hard this is for us. 

Instead, we will focus on the good bits. Our top 10 positives to come out of confinement. These are the things we will try and remember this period by. 

Our 4 week confinement top 10 

1. K-pop anthems. 50 millions South Koreans can’t be wrong. How did we miss this? So much more than Gangham Style. 
2. Learning. Piano. Coding. Art. Clothes design. French. Our apartment is abuzz with learning and new connections being made in our collective brains. We are ruthlessly competing to progress (and discovering that young minds learn much faster than middle aged ones). Real life does not often afford you the time to throw at learning just for the sake of it. It is a unique opportunity. 
3. Homeschooling. OK, so the girls may not agree with this. In fact, there are times when it would also feature prominently on any ‘10 worst things about confinement’ list. But we never get a chance to be this close to what the girls are actually doing at school, and to be so hands on with helping them. And we are also learning things ourselves (like French). 
4. Family exercise classes. Whether it be family HiiT classes, run club, playing cricket or ball on the (now deserted) streets, we are doing it together. 
5. Cooking. And Eating. There are dishes we will remember this period by. Thai meatballs in broth. Kids burgers. Tuna and zucchini pasta. Whole baked fish. Schnitzel. Panna Cotta. Creme Caramel. Chocolate Mousse. Homemade Madeleines. We are making a cookbook to document our experiences. 
6. Movie nights. OK, this is not strictly a confinement thing but now we have an excuse to do it more regularly. And it coincides with a period where our kids are suddenly old enough to enjoy real classics. And Disney+ is now a thing. And there are 8 Star Wars movies on it. 
7. The quiet of the city. There is something in equal parts depressing and magical about the quiet of the city. We miss the buzz of the markets and cafes, but we love the serenity of the deserted streets, particularly at night. 
8. Video-chat. One on one or in groups. Aperos, parties or catch ups. We feel connected in our isolation. 
9. People being nice to each other. The slow down is giving people time to appreciate those around them. People are taking the time to talk –  whether it be from a socially responsible distance on the street or from window to window. We respect those who serve us in shops. We admire our kid’s teachers as they lead us in taking our kids education into the new world. We revere those who serve us in hospitals and applaud them from our window every night. We laugh at each other (and get laughed at ourselves) hopelessly attempting to dance zumba in our living rooms. 
10. We are doing this as a family. We are living experiences, forming bonds and creating memories. 

Nous sommes en guerre. 

Like everyone around us, we are searching for ways to find goodness in the crisis and to emerge stronger, better and kinder for the experience.