It was June in Ireland and my fan heater was blasting in my room. I was under the duvet, the curtains were dancing in what was supposed to be indoors...Irish construction, oh how I don't miss you at all.
I was working in a small animal practice, and I loved it. My boss was energetic, young, extremely capable, loves what she does, and not to mention, a stunningly gorgeous blonde.
I loved it!
But the place, the shared living (I would never make it without one of my roommates though...cheers Maxi) the cold house, no pets allowed policy...all I had going on in my life was the job, the gym and the library.
I had to renew my vet license and I was looking if I can find some interesting webinars on different sites...there is only so many cat diabetes video lectures one can watch in a week. :/ Seeking some exotic topics, I stumbled upon what turned out to be the most exotic veterinary job I could have ever imagined for myself.
Being an east European, although I prefer the label Balkan, there are many obstacles between me and the western life. You may now see it materialize as the Trump' s wall, but we have been aware of the segregation long before. I could have never imagined I would be able to work as a vet in Central America! Heck no!
As it turns out, the advertisement was out on the AVMA website (my fellow veterinarians will know this one, and why I trusted it) for a small animal veterinary surgeon in San Pedro, Belize.
The contract was for a year, I did a bit of research, the place existed...I updated my CV and was three clicks away from my next adventure.
The Skype interviews started I believe in August, and continued until September, when I was informed I got the job if I wanted it. And, yes, I sure wanted it. After two years spent in Ireland, my warm Mediterranean blood turned cold, and I needed the sun. I hear it is still raining, even three years after I left! š
I accepted the job. Packed up. Donated everything I had then, and now what?
My friend from Canada tells me: 'Ines, my company just started flying regularly from Toronto to San Pedro. I can help you with the tickets.'
I thought: 'YES Please!'
She put me on 'stand by', and off I went to Dublin airport, my whole life in a suitcase and a carry on, with a woolen husky dog hat on my head and a heart full of hope.
If I wasn't making it on that plane, I had no where to go. My only plan was this plan. It had to work out. The rent contract was done, I didn't have money to stay in Ireland and had basically no alternative.
It was the 30th or 31st of October (of course it had to be, right) and the second last flight from Dublin to Toronto in the season, next one leaving the next day, and fully booked.
My flight, or what was supposed to be my flight, was all booked, everyone checked in...and I waited.
I waited at the gate. The boarding starts. The gate lady (in a lack of an official title ) comes to me the first time:
'Miss. This flight is fully booked. Everyone checked in. I think you should go home.'
Me: 'Miss, I have to be on this flight. I have to trust the Universe I will. I am staying. There is no home right now.'
30 minutes drag along like a lazy lizard on a sunny afternoon, I felt like I entered a 2D cotton candy land, where if I start panicking now, I will fall through a space/time continuum and ruin the plan.
'Must focus. Focus on going in. I will go in. I must.'
The gate lady comes the second time: 'Miss, I really don't think you will make it into this flight.'
Me: 'Miss, I really HAVE to make it in that flight. I believe.'
She turns around in silence, and goes back to the counter. All passengers boarded the plane. Nobody there but me and two airline employees.
5 minutes pass, empty hall, she is looking down on the screen...I am looking straight at her, trying to figure out if she is avoiding eye contact, afraid I might throw a fit of start crying...
10 minutes pass, I try to breathe deeply...She is still looking down.
Typing. Looking. Typing..
She picks up the microphone and calls a name..I only remember 'last call for passenger Chris...'
Like it was Jesus Christ himself who somehow checked in at the airport, but then changed his mind and never showed up for the flight, just so I can get in!
'Thank you Jesus!'
'I am in!'
After almost two heart attacks I was in Calgary with my friends for the next week, after which I proceeded to San Pedro, this time on a reservation. I could not have endured another 'Jesus episode' for this one.
I landed in San Pedro and was picked up by my lovely coworker, whom with I will unknowingly spend the most of my two years in the island...long hours and short breaks, housecalls and emergencies...we got to know each other quickly without many words. Funny, coming here, I was worried I won't have enough to do! How wrong was I...
I still ask myself; 'How did I get here?'
I guess it was meant to be. I have a letter I wrote to myself in my diary (because, you know, journaling is healthy) In September 2015, a year before I even applied for this job, saying:
'Dear Ines, you who are sitting somewhere warm, by the ocean, doing the job you love and playing your drum joyfully, I feel you are out there in the World somewhere, and I feel that part of me is missing. I promise, I will come find you soon.'
And I did. I found her. Found myself here. And now what?
Until the next blog...stay tuned.