COVID Killed My Faith In Humanity But Quarantine Restored It

It’s the year 2021, and I hate everyone. 

Don’t get me wrong – I’m usually a friendly person who likes to see the good in everyone, but after a year of COVID, I was starting to question my fellow humans and whether we, as a species, deserved to survive. 

First, there was the crazy bat-eating and mask-hoarding in the early days of COVID. Then, there were those who deliberately tried to spread the virus by spitting or coughing at each other and refusing to social distance – some even gathering in public squares to hug defiantly. And, who could forget the woman who removed her thong in a supermarket lineup to use as a makeshift mask, while onlookers cheered and applauded?   

If that wasn’t bad enough, factor in the divisive debates on masks and vaccines, the general lack of common sense in people, and the rampant rise in racism as a result of COVID, and you have a world that’s more backwards and divided than ever before. So, it should come as no surprise that by early 2021, I had pretty much lost all faith in humanity.

After being separated from my family in Canada for more than a year, I decided to take a trip home that would involve not one but two mandatory quarantines (totalling five weeks of isolation). Those who heard about this reacted with shock, then pity, but I was secretly celebrating inside.

My first quarantine in Canada was like a silent wellness retreat. Since I was able to book my own place of self-isolation, I retreated from society into a woodsy, waterside cabin where I watched the tide come in and out whilst reflecting on life's simple pleasures – a warm, honey-glazed donut, a glowing sunrise over rocky shores, and farm fresh eggs pan-fried to perfection.

It felt great not having to socialise with anyone and the quarantine did wonders for my soul. But, it wasn't until my return to Hong Kong that I faced the real deal – the longest quarantine in the world at 21 days – where travellers are confined to the four walls of a silent and sterile hotel room. 

Once checked in, nothing can leave the room, including yourself – meaning no fresh air, no human contact and no laundry service (gasp!). That aside, the thought of being cooped up in a room for 21 days straight made me wonder if I would have some sort of breakdown during my stay.

After a long and arduous journey back to Hong Kong consisting of multiple tests, holding rooms and what felt like 20,000 steps around the airport, I arrived at my hotel room in the middle of the night and was immediately struck by a sense of dread. Dark and dingy, it was the complete opposite of Canada's wide open spaces where I’d been spoiled with postcard-like scenery of mountains and lakes. The next morning, I felt even more despair at the arrival of my first quarantine meal – a bowl of watery oatmeal, instant coffee packets and tiny pastries. 

I had not intended to socialise with anyone in quarantine – after all, the point of it was to be alone – but by day two, I’d joined the hotel’s WhatsApp group that had been set up by its quarantine guests. Calling themselves “inmates,” there was an immediate sense of camaraderie as I was welcomed into the group with party and palm tree emojis. 

That day, a woman named Kat offered to make a coffee run for us, so I jumped at the chance to get my hands on an oat milk flat white. "I'll pay you back!" I wrote ecstatically, touched by her kind gesture. Little did I know that a few hours later, the coffee would arrive at my door in a metallic blue Thermos (how did she know I was a vacuum flask addict?) with a treat attached. 

"Coffee's on me!" she texted, refusing to accept any payment and wishing me a fab weekend. “I put it in a new Thermos so it should still be piping hot, and also threw in a treat to have with it!” Stunned by her random act of kindness, I sipped and savoured each bite of my afternoon treat – the sweetest, most buttery and delicious financier I had ever sunk my teeth into – and thought, humans might not be so bad after all.

We were all complete strangers with just one thing in common (quarantine), but each day, we helped each other get through it – from sharing practical tips on how to hand-wash and dry our clothes, the best meals to order from each menu, and how to recycle our plastic takeaway boxes, to random jokes and memes to cheer each other on. Thanks to the group, we also knew exactly when the COVID testers, window washers and meals were arriving, as well as any goss on whether anyone from our hotel had tested positive.

A few days before each inmate was released, they’d share a snap of the things they were leaving behind for the rest of us to call dibs on – a mix of drinks, snacks, books, games, puzzles, hand-crocheted dolls and even some walking pads and exercise bikes. The only condition? That they’d be passed down for free and not sold for money. There were also other random acts of kindness during my stay by former inmates (now known as “survivors”) – one day, there was a surprise bouquet at my door, and the next, a mix of mangoes, blueberries, lemons and chilis to spice up our meals. Some even prepared small gifts and handwritten notes to be distributed to fellow inmates upon their departure.

Through it all, what struck me most was how selfless all these gestures were and the impact they had on making someone’s day. In the real world, doing something nice for a complete stranger would probably be seen as strange and suspicious, whereas in quarantine, these random acts of kindness were done out of genuine kindness and support. Funnily enough, quarantine provided a safe space for us to be kind to one another – no matter what our differences were in the outside world – and I couldn’t wait to pay it forward.

I spent the rest of my stay enjoying the peace and quiet of my quarantine cocoon, and slowly but surely, in the company of my fellow inmates, I started seeing the good in people again. After my release, I graduated into the “survivors” group chat, found a way to pay it forward (by delivering my favourite egg tarts from Happy Valley to all the remaining inmates), and am still very much in touch with the group, which continues to stay connected and meet up from time to time.

COVID may have divided us in more ways than ever before, but quarantine showed me that no matter what, we humans will always have each other’s backs.