The shades of grey

Published: May 12, 2022 / Updated: May 22, 2022 Vilma Life in Europe: Back Home

As I write this, I see the grey sky. Which is perfect.

You know how some things in life are a grey area? I’d say grey is my least favorite color, dull and boring. I’d much rather choose white or black, or better yet, all the rainbow colors.

But some things are just too intricate to be labeled as one or the other.

I may not know much about it, but let’s look at the definition of ‘gender’ nowadays. It sure has changed from the time I was a little girl myself. Some of us just don’t belong, or belong to all, and can’t be labeled as ‘a man’ or ‘a woman’. Call it what you wish, but that’s a reality. By the time my daughter is old enough to talk about this (she may already be, actually, as she is very curious and we try to talk about everything openly) I hope to be able to explain things better to her, instead of just saying that it’s a little bit of a grey area these days.

It’s kinda the same when you have a thousand questions and the only person capable of giving you the answers is not here. You can make up the answers yourself. And you can make yourself believe those answers, be it good or bad, because there is nobody else to prove you otherwise.

Or simply don’t question it. Let it rest in peace. What I learned is that when you ask a question, you have to be ready for an answer, which may not necessarily be the answer you wanna hear. And if you are not ready, it’s best not to ask.

Which brings me to the following questions:

  • Do I really do myself bad if I refuse to believe something? If I bury it as deep inside as I can, because it hurts to think about it, do I do myself a favor?
  • How do I know what is the truth and what is the lie? We can only be sure of our own actions and our own words. What’s inside anybody else’s head, your guess is as good as mine. Only you know what’s in your head, why you said this or did that. And whatever comes out of your mouth is not always the truth. But who’s truth? Mine or yours?

I had always wondered why people believed in something/someone. And in the recent years I came to realize that we believe in something because it makes us feel better.

My life in PG with Beno was full of surprises. The biggest one happened one Sunday. As I had mentioned previously, the house of Beno was always full of people. Most of the time it was filled with the blaring sound of the R&B music. There was always loud talk and laughter, it rarely was a silent place.

On that particular Sunday one of local lads stopped by. The house was full of young men and somehow the talk turned to God. The man who came started reading the Bible. And then suddenly the house turned extremely quiet. The only noise was the voice reading. I was mesmerized. I had not seen all of the youngsters grow quiet so suddenly and so completely. They were paying full attention, they were listening to every word. They believed in God.

And I believe in whatever makes me feel better. Can you blame me?

My three or so months without Beno were not easy. I was missing him very much. At the same time I had a little girl growing inside of me and being surrounded by my family felt so very special.

Beno was back in Mexico. We kept in touch as much as we could (not enough for me, never enough).

In reality, our time apart is a grey area. It used to be black or white, depending on how I looked at it. But then one day it became the story of ‘he said, she said’, and the person who could tell the truth is not here. But who’s truth, mine or yours?

I painted this chapter a thousand shades of grey and I continue to believe in whatever keeps me at peace. As I write this, the sun is out and the sky is blue. Which is perfect.

Time

Published: May 4, 2022 / Updated: May 8, 2022 Vilma Life in Europe: Back Home

‘I love daddy’, – says my daughter.

‘I love daddy, too’, – I feel my eyes swelling up.

‘I love Spiderman, too’, – she adds.

My face instantly breaks into a smile. The ways of my daughter never seem to amaze me. Our time together is precious.

Call me a hypocrite.

For someone who has zero patience and can’t stand to wait, for anything, I sure am happy that time exists. Time heals. Time softens the sharp edges and helps us forget.

What happened in London four years ago does not seem as dramatic to me today as it did back then. Maybe because I had been through worse, and still, today, I am ok. Time does heal.

I had not been in a detention center before. I do not see myself having the need to be in one for anyone else but Beno. He was that kind of person – he’d find himself in the worst and the best situations, and he’d always manage to take it easy and smile.

I had gone to see him the next day. I was allowed to swap the heavy backpack with the rolling suitcase, which was much easier for me to handle. I had to go through so many security checks I stopped counting them. Beno was on his way to visit my family, yet he ended up in the stone cold building surrounded by barbed wire.

It felt like a movie. Never ever had I thought I’d be in a place like that. But there I was, amongst the other women, having come to see their men.

I broke down when Beno finally came in. I expected him to be equally crushed. Instead, he was close to smiling. How was that possible?

‘Baby, I just finished the game with the boys’, – he told me. I had seen him down, but this was not the occasion. It really annoyed me that he seemed to be ok.

He had a roof above his head, he had a bed and he had food, and he had plenty of time to work out. He told me that many men staying at the detention center had nowhere better to go, so they kept coming back there and play basketball all day long.

Seeing Beno did not cheer me up. I wanted to be as close to him as it was humanly possible, as I felt that ever since we were ripped apart, I could not manage to feel whole without him. Unfortunately, we had to sit on the opposite sides of a plastic table and we were not allowed to touch each other. Life during that hour did seem cruel.

I left in a worse mood then when I had got in.

In a couple of days they were sending Beno back to Mexico. What was I supposed to do?

Unprepared

Published: April 15, 2022 / Updated: April 24, 2022 Vilma Life in Europe: Back Home

I’m sure by now you have all heard about the Oscars this year. The incident between Will Smith and Chris Rock reached even me (cheers, Kristina!), deep into the prep for my move back to Europe.

But no matter what you think of this moment and the behavior of the men above, you gotta admit – Will Smith was brilliant in King Richard.

‘If you fail to plan, you plan to fail’.

It’s not that we didn’t have a plan. Beno and I spent months getting ready for the trip to Europe. We had an appointment for his Shengen visa scheduled in London. We had his invitation letter written. All the papers were in order. We were so excited about the brighter future in Europe. Beno, having grown up in Belize and not been anywhere else besides Mexico, was especially looking forward to it.

But brighter future it wasn’t. The weeks that followed our flight to London were full of questions, frustration, tears, disappointment, chaos and sadness.

Beno did not need a visa to enter the UK at the time. Yet he was detained by the border security officers . Imagine us, happy as we could be, splitting up to form two security lines: me – for ‘Shengen area’, Beno – for ‘outside the Shengen area’. Imagine me almost reaching the officer, but quickly running to the other line as I sensed trouble. Imagine me being told they were taking Beno away for questioning, and I was free to continue my journey.

‘Welcome to Europe’, – announced the officer.

Say what?

Just like that, I was left on my own. I was told I’d be able to call a number in a while to get an update on the case. I believe I spent about 5 hours waiting. I have not felt this alone in my entire life. When I finally got to speak to somebody, I was asked an awful lot of questions about the purpose of Beno’s visit, his past employement, his future plans, his step by step itinerary. I admit, I was so shaken up that I forgot the entire plan. I mentioned bits and pieces, I kept telling them I was pregnant and Beno was the father of my baby, but the officers were not moved.

It got dark by the time I was told I could call a different number next morning for another update. At the rate this was going, I was not sure I wanted another update.

Dear god.

Now imagine me trying to figure out my way from the airport to my friend’s house. Imagine me dragging the heaviest backpack and some smaller bags with me to the subway. Imagine me swearing from the weight and wondering what this could possibly do to my baby. Imagine me telling some kids on the subway to please give me the seat as I was pregnant could no longer stand on my own two feet. Imagine me finally reaching the house of my friend and telling him the whole sorry story through the tears.

Imagine him saying: ‘Yes, Vilma, you should have come more prepared. They show cases like this on TV. You must have answers to all their questions’.

I didn’t have the answers.

I didn’t plan, and I failed.

Going sola

Published: September 6, 2021 / Updated: September 13, 2021 Vilma Life in Europe: Back Home

I cried when my Peruvian said goodbye to me in Berlin. It was all too familiar. I’d been in tears leaving Petoskey behind me. I’d had teary eyes when I said goodbye to Parga. And now I was sitting on a bus going from Berlin to my home country. After a strong hug and a brief kiss, he was gone.

We had left Latin America and came to Europe. My Peruvian was eager to visit. He was eager to visit every continent! To me Europe was home. It could never compare to the majestic mountains of Peru, vast desserts of Chile or Caribbean beaches.

He wanted to keep travelling. I wanted to sleep in the same bed for longer than a week. I needed a break. And just like that we parted our ways.

I had never seen him again.

I was so happy to see my family. It was great to be back.

But after two weeks a big ‘What now?’ crawled upon me. I had no idea. What DO I do now?

Back then I was the girl that lived day by day. I didn’t have a plan and I was just happy to go with the flow. Somebody called me that recently: ‘A girl who lives day by day – that’s you’. But they are wrong. Today that is definitely not me. I may be lost trying to create a perfect plan. But I am no longer the careless girl who’d drop everything at her heart’s desire.

I was 35 and I had nothing. Or, if you will, I was 35 and I felt richer than I would have ever dreamed of being. Seeing the world was my greatest achievement and the memories and experiences will stay with me forever. It’s funny how once in a memory from those hitchhiking years pops up into my head. Completely unrelated to what I am doing at that moment, yet always so welcome.

I remembered then, being at my mom’s, how much I enjoyed teaching English to those kids in Guatemala. And so I decided to get a TEFL certificate, which would allow me to travel and live abroad and make a living out of it. It was right up my alley.

200 hours online course was not easy, but it was great to remember the ins and outs of the language that I loved since I was a child. I remember how eager I was to lay my hands on the English books and magazines that my cousin got me. How I practiced my English from an old pocket book with my mom, while she did laundry (and kept telling me that she couldn’t remember much of the language!) That’s what I wanted to give to the children – that desire and that love that I had when I was their age.

I passed with flying colors and got my certificate. My poor mum couldn’t get anything out of me in the meantime, I was always sitting at the computer. I couldn’t wait to finish the course and go someplace again (so much for sleeping in one bed for long…) I always felt like that whenever I was back. It was amazing to be there, but it was more amazing to leave two weeks later.

Looking for a job as an English teacher was fun. Going back to Colombia was inviting, but the weather in Bogota didn’t warm my heart. Italy seemed interesting, but so did Spain. When the job offer from an English academy landed in my inbox, I knew I had another adventure coming. I just didn’t know it would turn out to be almost criminal.

Little pearls of wisdom

Published: August 24, 2021 / Updated: August 30, 2021 Vilma Life in Europe: Back Home

I met a guy on the playground the other day. Amongst all the other parents he stood out with his long blond hair and 2 most adorable little kids (after mine, that is).

‘How do you manage?’ – I asked watching him effortlessly juggle both toddlers. ‘I can hardly manage with one!’ – I added.

He smiled.

‘I’m not usually on my own here’, – he responded, ‘but once in a while I like to give my wife a break’.

Was that an exception from the norm or was it the norm? I don’t even know anymore. At that very moment to me he seemed one of a kind. Where are those men that do half of the house chores? Where are those dads that are as much involved in their child care as the moms are? Where are those men that go on a date with a girl online and end up marrying her? Where are those men that love their woman so much that they accept her children as their own?

Not in my universe.

There is this elderly lady that I’ve known for quite some time now, a few years. We used to live next door to each other. She’s seen me single, she’s seen me pregnant and she’s seen me broken down. I got her message the other day, like I do once in a while, just checking in.

‘Vilma, how are you? How’s your little girl?’ – she started as usual. ‘You know, nothing would make me happier than to know that you have found somebody and are no longer on your own’.

That made me smile, but it was a sad smile.

That makes two of us, my dear, I thought to myself.

‘Hello, neighbor’, I said in a fake cheerful voice. ‘Of course I’m on my own’, – I told her matter of factly. ‘Nobody wants a woman with a child’.

This, of course, is based on me raising my daughter alone and receiving zero interest from any man alive. Having a child is the most beautiful thing in the world. Raising one is the most difficult one. It’s a blessing to share the good and the bad with another person. But the men I’ve come across run away as soon as they hear me mention my daughter. The only male constant in my life at the moment is the man delivering my groceries once a week, and it’s not even the same man every time.

‘No, Vilma, don’t say that. Good men exist. You just wait’, – my ex-neighbor continued. ‘I was with the man who cared for me and my children like they were his own’. Lucky you, I though, where did you find a man like that? The don’t seem to exist in my universe.

And so it makes me wonder. I spend so much time every day thinking about where those men are and why I haven’t crossed paths with them in the recent years. I keep dreaming, obsessing, hoping, crying, guessing, searching, complaining, giving up and starting again. I use so much time thinking about men and hoping that one will just magically step into my life (well it happens to others, so why not me?) and never leave, that I now realize it’s a complete and utter waste of my precious time and energy.

I read this really interesting article recently.

What struck me the most the part about self education:

‘The truth is that anyone who is part of the 1% not only values education, but is also a lifelong learner. Being a lifelong learner helps them understand the world they live in, provides them with more and better opportunities, and improves the quality of their life. It is a deliberate and voluntary choice, not a chore. 

Most people are unable to enter the niche because they undervalue the power of self-education. They think that getting some degree will be sufficient to be successful. But it’s not like that. Self-initiated education focuses on personal development and offers many long-term benefits, including improved self-confidence, renewed self-motivation and the building of new skills’.

So instead of staring at my phone, or texting the wrong guy, or feeling self pity, I should be doing something. Learning something. ‘Debes ocuparte, no procuparte’, – I was told more than once lately.

Every time I think about moving back to Europe I automatically dismiss countries that require me to speak the language I don’t know. Had I done something about this 2 years ago, I would have mastered at least two new languages by now.

I also have to remind myself that things happen to us only when we are ready for them. Not earlier, not later. It’s one of the four Shaman laws, which I came to love and seek out when times get hard.

The first law says that the person that is in our life is just the right person. Nobody is here by accident, everybody we surround ourselves with is here for a reason.

The second law says what happens is the only thing that could have happened. Whatever happens couldn’t have happened in any other way whatsoever, not even by the tiniest detail. It happens exactly that way so we learn and move forward. All the situations in our life are perfect, even though our mind and our ego resists that and doesn’t want to accept it at times.

The third law says that when something happens, it happens at the right moment. Everything starts when it should, not before, not after. When we are ready for something to happen in our lives, that’s when it happens.

The fourth one says that when something ends, it ends. Just like that. If something ends in our life, it’s for our evolution, and it’s best to leave it. To move forward and take this experience with us.

And so I must not be ready for a new and good man in my life, although that doesn’t stop me from saying a little prayer every night hoping that day comes soon.

In and out of harbor

Published: May 4, 2021 / Updated: May 4, 2021 Vilma Life in Europe: Back Home

I didn’t go back to Greece. One time was enough, I decided, and I couldn’t really bear to think of another summer full of shouting. And no matter how much I missed him, I was not the girl for him. A few years later I found out he got married to another girl from my country.

So I was back home, but I had no intention of staying there. My English had improved over my years in the USA, and I wanted to continue practicing it. So I looked for jobs in the UK.

I was staying at my sister’s. Living in one place for just a couple of years comes at a price, you now. I had no home in my home country. So my sister’s place was my harbor, and it still is whenever I go back to visit.

I love my family: my mom, my sister, my nephews and my nieces.

But I also love exploring and have an adventurous nature. I take risks that pay off and that don’t. So leaving my country again was not a big deal for me. It was another adventure. Besides, I had no strings attached. The men came and went, brought joys and left tears, and there was a big wide world out there to explore.

Just so you get the full picture here, I did have a couple more flings before I left that time.

Even though I no longer use dating apps today, I had used them quite a lot during my younger years. While back home, I started chatting with a guy from my country who was working in Norway. In short, he was tall, blond and handsome. So after some time chatting, he actually came to visit his family and we got to meet. Hearing his voice for the first time over the phone was very exciting. And seeing him bring me chocolates and a bottle of Baileys was even more so! The visit didn’t last long, but it was very fulfilling.

My other online romance turned into an adventure as well. But this time I was the one who accepted the offer to come and visit Savannah, GA. Remember the part about me taking risks? Here you have it. Kristina told me she’d check on me as soon as I landed and she demanded (!) I get in touch with her every day to let her know I was ok. I mean who at this day and age flies to the other side of the world to meet a guy she’s only previously seen online? Has she not heard about fake profiles and not seen ‘Catfish‘? Well, then was not ‘this day and age’ and I do (did). Besides, how bad could the guy be, if his dog looked like this? It was huge, and it was called Tiny.

The guy was great. He had a good nature and he was into me for sure. We did have a lovely time together, shared meals in, had nights out, even danced on the street! He drove me from Savannah to HHI as I wanted to go back to the place that brought me so much joy and pain. But to be honest with you, I think I fell in love with the dog, not with the man.

So after a couple of weeks and regular check ins I ended up visiting Kristina, before I flew back home.

And now it was time for a new adventure. And maybe a new man.

I remember getting the phone call. It was the hotel manager from Alderney. Now raise your hand if you’ve ever heard of that place. Neither have I! But that was soon to become my home for the next seven years…

Zoo York state of mind

Published: April 12, 2021 / Updated: April 12, 2021 Vilma Life in Europe: Back Home

The other day I came across this pearl of wisdom:

It got me thinking. What is it that I want and look for? Well, in no particular order:

  • a lifelong partner, a.k.a the last boyfriend
  • an awesome job
  • loads of money, enough to bathe in!
  • a place that feels like home

But in reality, do I need any of that?

  • no partner in sight at the moment, but it is what it is
  • I got a job. Is it awesome? It pays the bills. Few of us have the luxury to do awesome every day and call it a job
  • certainly don’t have enough to bathe in, but I get by
  • home is where the heart is

So I don’t need any of this. What do I find then, when I stop searching? I believe I find calm and peace of mind…

That is something I didn’t have when I came back to Europe. I didn’t want to be back, I didn’t plan to be back. I remember standing in my sister’s bathroom with my cellphone pressed to my ear whispering: ‘Yes, I miss you too’. You guessed it, to no other than my husband, who I left on the other side of the Atlantic. Thankfully, it was not easy to drop everything and run back into his arms, the ocean being… you know, the ocean.

The first good thing that happened to me then, I finished my university and got my degree. The second good thing happened when I got a job, and it turned out I quite liked it. The third good thing happened when he walked into my office and his smile lit up the room.

The smile, together with soft blue eyes and ‘touch me’ blond hair belonged to a young man. He came for a job interview at the company that I worked for, and being part of the HR team I had the right to be as nosy as I needed to be, to see how suitable he was for the job opening (in reality trying to find out as much as possible about the guy who’s been sitting in front of me for 5 min but I was already madly in love with him). ‘And why did you leave the States?’ – I asked when he mentioned he’d been living there for a while. ‘Oh, you know, I got married, but things didn’t quite work out’.

I did know! Two young souls who thought they had it all, and who came back right where they started. I kept looking into his eyes, his smile, his Zoo York T-shirt (reminded me of NYC) and felt this was meant to be.

There were coffee breaks, kisses, shared meals, basketball games, trips to the seaside and meetings abroad a few years later.

But I was feeling restless. I was yearning for adventures. My country was no longer enough for me. My job no longer interested me. I started looking for summer placements abroad, landed one in Greece and took a flight to Athens.