I don’t know when I’ll travel again. It’s bad enough I’ve not properly traveled since Algeria (still need to finish that series of posts…). I’m resentful/annoyed/pissed that I can’t travel. I had plans to go back visiting (to my other) home. I wanted to take a vacation just to relax… one of those rare vacations in which I’d maybe just lay on a beach or in a hammock and read and/or sleep, and not go off the beaten path at all (like I usually do and wind up coming home, needing a vacation from the vacation). I wanted to explore a few new states and check out some things off the beaten path. I wanted to see a few loved ones – spend time with them. Hug them. Normal human contact things… things we seem to be forgetting.
I’m not going anywhere for a good long while. Am I happy about it? Absolutely not. Would I like to stay alive and healthy for a good long while? Absolutely.
So there you have it – gonna continue to mask up, stay home (except when necessary), and stay healthy/safe. (Maybe this will give me time to finish up a few blog posts on here for once, in between pandemic stress management and baking as part of said stress management. Time will tell…)
I booked this flight about 6 months before departure. Accommodation sorted. At least 1 tour sorted. Basic foundation was already set.
But since this is me we’re talking about, nothing goes smoothly. So of course, bulls*** started just a few hours before my flight. Money, of course, because why not. But I wouldn’t let it deter me. It’d been almost 2 years since my last proper vacation (and I still have to finish those blog posts from that trip… so ashamed of myself.). Yes, there have been a few short jauntsin between, but nothing as long and far away as this. So no matter what, I was leaving. I needed a break from work, from life.
From New York City to Paris, France; a 5 hour layover there; then from Paris to Algiers, Algeria. I know that going through customs in a different country is annoying, but it’s to be expected everywhere and I deal with it. However, I wasn’t expecting to be interrogated by Algerian police.
You read correctly. I was interrogated by Algerian police.
I handed over all of my travel documents at the customs desk and thought that all was well, until I was told to “hold on for a moment”. I knew that some bulls*** was bound to happen because again, that’s just my luck.
Here we f***ing go…
Along with being exhausted, tired/sleepy from limited sleep, and in some pain, I was also angry and kinda scared. My French language skills are very limited, despite my attempts to practice before I left for this trip, and I don’t have any Arabic language skills. So while an officer was telling me that I’d be fine, my face clearly showed that I knew otherwise.
(As an aside, it “helped” a bit that another American woman – a government worker at that! – was also being interrogated. She said to me, “This is terrible, isn’t it?” I nodded with a scowl on my face.)
They opted to interrogate me outside of the officers’ quarters. A female officer who spoke English interpreted & translated for her fellow officers, and asked surprisingly specific questions about why I was in Algeria, what I do for a living, who I see and the age range of the population, etc. ad nauseam. Thank goodness, I didn’t have any reason to lie and was also smart enough to have access to certain things on my mobile phone to prove myself.
TIP: if your mobile phone allows, store your most important documents on something like Google Drive, and make those documents available offline while traveling. It may make a big difference for you in case of emergency.
After what seemed like forever, they let me go. One of the officers hailed a taxi for me and I went to my hotel. But alas, as is my luck, there was more turbulence ahead.
Last month, I visited England for a wedding. I was there less than a week.
Because of the nature in which I left England 4 years ago, I wasn’t sure what feelings would come up for me. England was my 2nd home. I’d begun building some semblance of a life there – building my career, traveling, visiting my 1st home at least twice yearly, trying to obtain dual citizenship, possibly venturing into the world of (British) dating, slowly growing friendships, etc. – when it was snatched from under me faster than the time it took for me to move there in the first place.
To this day, I can’t forget it. And oftentimes, since I left there, the months of August through October are sometimes hard for me because I remember the sequence of events that happened once I got the Home Office letter stating that I was an over-stayer. Time kinda froze.
So with that in mind as I flew to England for the wedding, I expected my emotions to be on the negative side. I got some advice before leaving to go there, from a few people in my small circle, to go with no expectations and cross bridges whenever I got to them. So I tried to do that. And to my surprise, I succeeded.
I had a very nice time.
I recently had medical issues and probably shouldn’t have traveled when I did; therefore, I couldn’t see everyone who wanted to see me, nor could I get around how I wished. But all in all, I truly enjoyed myself. I actually thought about moving back there again… almost. Hell, I won’t even lie… I’m still thinking about it on & off…
Anyway, while there I stocked up on cheese, tea and crumpets.
Although I couldn’t see everyone, I saw a few people whom I was meant to see. I won’t show their faces, but I’ll show some of what we ate. 😐
I had proper henna done for the first time ever, as part of the wedding.
I visited my old neighborhood, twice. The first time, I took a friend there who – believe it or not – just moved to England 2 months ago and wanted to explore a different neighborhood and borough. I took her to the local market I used to frequent.
And the second time was to visit my old flat. My downstairs neighbors still live there – as a matter-of-fact, they took over my old flat and the home is now fully theirs. After my departure, they didn’t want to risk any troublesome tenants moving in, so they took it for themselves. That humbled me then, and still humbles me now. Anyway, approaching my old door – as well as the street and neighborhood – was emotional.
(That’s a new door, by the way. It used to be a red door.)
I ate and conversed with them for a couple hours. Afterwards, I visited my old self-defense class and instructor. I couldn’t participate, but I enjoyed living vicariously through the students. Side note – only 1 of the original students from my class is still there.
(I miss class. It’s just not the same over here.)
And of course, I attended the wedding. I won’t show faces, but it was a nice one.
I appreciate the family inviting me. They’re like a 2nd family to me; I’ve discussed them here once or twice before.
Looking back, the visit was better than I expected. I saw a few loved ones, nervously returned to my old neighborhood, got my hair done, and brought home some very-missed British cheese, tea and crumpets. I couldn’t handle all of the business I wanted, but the major stuff was done and brought back. I’ll handle the other business (hopefully) next year.
I planned to never return to England again because although most of the time there was alright, the ending was horrible. But now, I’m glad I went, and I plan to return again. To visit or to live? That remains to be seen.
(P.S. By the time you read this, it’ll be 4 years since I left England. I scheduled this post like that on purpose.)
I’m grateful for: second chances at life. The lives of those who are no longer with us. Employment. Observation. Discernment. Social support.
Around the house are: uniquely flavored Oreo cookies to mail to a friend of mine in the U.S. Virgin Islands.
In the kitchen: tilapia & rice noodles. The tilapia recipe is from SparkPeople.
I’m planning this week to:take time for & to myself. Distract myself over the long holiday weekend. Continue exercising (even though it doesn’t seem like anything is changing). Possibly meet up with an old friend who I haven’t seen since my time overseas.
I don’t have any quotes this week. I’m not inspired enough because this hasn’t been a good month. Since 07.30.2014, I’ve had a family member die, another family member have 2 major medical emergencies, another family member attempt suicide, and a client death last week (likely by suicide). Add to that Robin Williams’ suicide, Eric Garner (my hometown, by the way), Michael Brown and the disgusting yet unsurprising racism & racists(which I refuse to read; why give myself a stroke?), and countless other issues going on worldwide, and you can stick a fork in me because I’m done.
So instead, I’m dedicating this to the memory of my family member instead. Rest in peace, Aunt Jean 1926 – 2014.
Here’s to hoping that September – hell, the rest of the year – is better than this. Take it easy & take care.
After giving this some thought recently, and after reviewing the requirements for a work visa application, I’ve decided to stop looking for employment opportunities in the United Kingdom.
The visa application website requires potential applicants to qualify for a certain amount of points before moving forward. I hadn’t looked at it since 2010, so I didn’t remember what the requirements were. I took the preliminary test to see if I could go ahead with the application, and I met each requirement… except the sponsorship part. Therefore, I couldn’t go ahead with the application.
I don’t think it’s too difficult to get sponsorship in my profession from employers over there. What is difficult, however, is finding a reputable recruiter/recruiting agency to find a decent employer willing to offer sponsorship. Unfortunately, my experiences over the past few months led me to believe that most recruiters/recruiting agencies over there are shady. They’ve shat on me from the start, making shoddy promises and displaying a major lack of professionalism. Here are 2 examples of their “professionalism”:
I am looking to see if i can find a worksponser for you in London, will keep you posted ASAP
(P.S. I copied/pasted the e-mail exactly how the recruiter sent it to me.)
(P.P.S. The e-mail subject was “.” Yes… a period – that thing with which we end sentences.
Another one never spelled my government name correctly and used smiley faces in e-mail correspondence. (And no, it wasn’t a woman.)
I got so fed up with recruiting agencies over there, I decided to change the settings on 1 employment website such that recruiters can no longer contact me. I also changed the settings on another employment website such that neither my former employer nor another shady employer – which flaked out on me 3 times – can ever contact me again. If I work over there again, it’ll be on my terms and to hell with recruiters/recruiting agencies overall.
I’m also still experiencing the negative effects of what the former employer did to me. Now don’t get me wrong… overall, my time living in the United Kingdom was alright, but the last few months of my time there – along with my current challenges – left a really bad taste in my mouth. I try not to let those months color my whole view of the country, but I admit that it’s very difficult.
Will I live/work there – or any other country outside of the United States – ever again? I don’t know. After this experience, I don’t think I want to expatriate again. (I’ll always love travelling, though – that’ll never change.) But I’m not 100% certain about this, so who knows what the future holds. I’ve applied & looked for jobs all over so I’ll go wherever the money is. And if that means leaving the country again to get back on my feet, then so be it… even if – since I know that expatriation isn’t all cupcakes & roses – I go kicking & screaming for 1-3 years. However, I’d prefer getting my life back on track here, not in another country.
When I returned to the States, the ticket was round-trip because it was cheaper than a one-way ticket, and I scheduled to return sometime in Spring 2014. I plan on changing the ticket date to later this year. (Hopefully my life will be drastically different by then.) If I still feel a certain way about the country (and it is possible that I may feel the same way in the future), I’ll cancel the ticket altogether. But I think it’d be good to see a few of my old colleagues and a couple of friends, so I’ll likely just change the date instead of cancelling altogether.
There’s a lot more, but I’m going to end here. I don’t want to pass on my doom & gloom to anyone reading this, and many things are better left unsaid (until later?). It ain’t over until the fat lady sings. I’m fat, but I’m not singing… yet.
(WARNING: the following song has curses and derogatory words)
Sankofa: “We must go back and reclaim our past so we can move forward; so we understand why and how we came to be who we are today.” (Wikipedia)
Today is an old friend’s birthday. We’ve not spoken in a very long time. Our friendship never really ended; life happens – work, marriage, kids, military, etc. and our lives took different directions. Like everyone else addicted to connected to the world-wide web, I got on Facebook and got an alert reminding me about my friend’s birthday. His settings are such that no one can write on his wall, but can send a private message instead, which I did.
I rarely view other people’s walls or pages, but I decided to be nosy skim through his friends list. I don’t know 98% of the people on his list, but I recognised a couple of old, familiar faces. I didn’t click on their names, but it got me thinking about where I was then, and where I am now.
I wonder about those people not because I’m nosy (well, I’m usually not nosy), but I wonder how they’re doing and if they’re still in the same place, physically and otherwise. I look back and I’ve changed a lot since then. Back then, I was deep into church yet filled with anger & negativity. Those people, looking back, were ultra-religious and ultra-conservative. Now granted, I had some good times with those people – hell, one of them wound up being my longest relationship ever – but that part of my life, and those people, can stay back there. If I remained where I was, physically and otherwise, I wouldn’t be where I am today.
I’ve done so much since then. I’ve been through so much since then. I live in another country, a life-long dream fulfilled. I’m now agnostic, and aside from my friend, his wife, his sister and another friend, I don’t speak to any of the people from that time in my life. I’ve seen different places, done different things, met different people, made many mistakes, learnt many things. And while I don’t miss that part of my life, I appreciate that era for keeping me focused, out of trouble, and on the straight & narrow. I take those things and carry them with me… not to stay stuck, but to sustain me as I move onward & forward.
Here’s to looking back on life. Here’s to dropping dead weight distant memories of those who are in your lives for a reason and a season, no matter how short the season. Here’s to being insane crazy scared brave enough to move to another country. Without looking back every once in a while, one can’t move forward to new experiences, people or places. And I’m glad that those things landed me where I am today – in the United Kingdom and in a whole new world.
How have your experiences in the past led you to where you are today as an expatriate? Did you ever think that you’d be living in another country?
(Thanks to today’s Daily Prompt, I decided that this new blog post title is just as good as my original blog post title.)
There has been a lot going on over the past few weeks. These are things that, overall, are out of my control. Change is rarely easy, let’s be honest. It can come suddenly, or, as would be the best scenario, one can get advance notice and prepare as much as possible under the circumstances.
In my case, the transitions I’m going through came with very little (if any) notice. As a result, these transitions take up a lot of my time and, therefore, I’ll be taking a bit of a blog break for a couple of months. When I say “break”, I don’t mean that you won’t see any posts. All it means is that I’ll be posting less than once weekly for now, as I still have many blog drafts to complete & publish (i.e. my last Portugal series post, Italy series posts on the other blog, other expat-related posts, etc.) and don’t wanna keep you (or me) waiting any longer to complete & publish them.
Please bear with me as I take myself through these transitions. I promise you – I’ll see you on the other side.