A nightmare

Published: July 8, 2022 / Updated: July 9, 2022 Vilma Life in Mexico

I open the door of our apartment and slowly walk in. I see two people, a man and a woman, holding guns. They don’t say a word. Neither do I. I walk from the hall to the kitchen to the bathroom, seeing more people inside, feeling them follow my every step with their eyes. More men with guns. The place is a mess, and I sigh to myself as they motion me to the bedroom. I know better than to scream or try to escape. This has happened before, so I know the drill. I sit down on the floor by the bed and look from the man to the woman. They won’t hurt me. They are not here for me.

I start waiting for the door to open. This time it will be Beno coming home. And I know that as soon as he’s in, the bullets will start flying. They will not kill Beno. They want him alive. They want answers. But it will be bad. I imagine Beno hurt, his face in my hands, and I taste blood in the back of my mouth.

That’s the dream I had recently. I bit of a nightmare, wouldn’t you say?

Sadly, in reality some nightmares happen when we are wide awake. They happen when we least expect them. Scratch that. They happen when we don’t expect them.

It was an ordinary day with some unordinary details. Usually, Beno would get ready for work and leave me and our baby girl at home. That day I needed to take her to the hospital for the vaccine, so I had sent Beno early to get the number for the line. That’s how we did it on those rare occasions when our baby needed a vaccine shot at the hospital. Beno came home and I started getting ready to leave. I remember that we kissed. We always kissed before saying goodbye. Always. And then I left.

The rest of the day passed as usual. I came home from the hospital, ate, fed the baby, slept, I did all the ordinary things. But there was something… something unusual.

Our baby had turned six months the previous weekend. We were in the park close to home and I took loads of pictures of her and Beno.

He seemed distant, sometimes even sad. That whole week he was quiet, like he had a lot on his mind. Whatever it was, he didn’t say a word to me. But the sadness was right there on his face.

That night, when I asked if he was soon coming home, his reply was simple:

I had no doubts that he did, but he very rarely said something like this, if ever. And that wasn’t exactly the answer to my question, no matter how sweet it was. I soon got tired of waiting and went to sleep. I woke up a couple of times during the night, but Beno was nowhere to be found.

Next day was Saturday. I woke up seriously annoyed. He could have at least told me he was not coming home! There was no message from Beno. I tried calling, there was no answer. I tried texting, my messages did not reach him.

By Sunday morning I was extremely frustrated. Why didn’t he call me? I was sure if his phone had died he would have managed to charge it in two days. I was not worried, I just could not understand it.

And if I thought it was bad, soon it became much worse.

Not afraid

Published: June 18, 2022 / Updated: June 18, 2022 Vilma Life in Europe: Back Home

‘You are the best mama’, – my daughter  just  whispered in my ear. And even though I know that, many times us, mothers, are so hard on ourselves, often too hard. Hearing her say that simply melted my heart.

A few days ago my mom was less forgiving.

‘You don’t look like a 41 year old. But you do dress like a teenager’. Still, I took that as a good thing.

I turned 41 a week ago, and I’m not afraid to say my age out loud anymore. It does seem scary, seeing the number. But you know what? My daughter keeps me young and lighthearted (when she doesn’t worry me to death).

I am also not afraid to admit that I am as naive today as I was 20 years ago – when it comes to men. The only difference is that now I understand that I’m naive. Still, it allows me to take things easy and have some fun along the way.

Take London boy, for example.

‘ I wonder what your blog will say about me if we ever get to meet’, he wondered one day. Trust me, boy, I’ll dedicate the entire chapter to you.

Every once in a while he says he’ll visit me. Every once in a while I believe him. He gets me excited and then he backs off. It’s a typical game that men like to play. But I got used to it and I enjoy it and I no longer expect him to keep his word.

‘Two girlfriends down and you are still talking to me’, he wrote. Surprisingly so.

I am also extremely busy, so I don’t have time to even think about men, let alone do anything about it. The past two months have been crazy. Not only I left Mexico and moved back to Europe, but I found a gorgeous place for us to live amidst real estate crisis, and landed an awesome job. I did so much in so little time, I’m surprised I’m still alive. It would not have happened if not for my perseverance, a big chunk of good luck and continuous support from my family and friends, especially my mom.

Of course, it all doesn’t just stop here. But I am so excited to have reached the point where I currently am.

I got asked by my new colleagues recently whether I had a man, a child…

‘Yes’ to a child, the most beautiful almost four year old, and ‘no’ to a man’, I replied.

And there was not even one grain of sadness as I said it. It was a beautiful summer day and the sun was shining bright in the blue sky. My girl was safe and happy, and the absence of a man in my life seemed to be just an irrelevant detail.

Which made me wonder – have I finally found my inner peace?

My riches

June 5, 2022 Vilma Life in Mexico

And there she was… To be more precise, there she was somewhere two floors above me.

‘Nothing makes you feel like a woman till you squeeze a baby out of you’, – I announced, an expert after my daughter was born.

Nothing makes you feel in as much of a loss untill your newborn is taken away from you. For the right reasons, but still, she spent her first three days in this world without her mama.

I won’t bore you with the details of childbirth. I’ll just tell you that it started quite innocently.

The night before our daughter was born Beno and I were watching stand up comedy and were laughing out loud at Kevin Hart’s performance. I love that dude. Coincidentally, he was talking about babies, and I had the funniest night in a long time.

What started with laughs, turned into my water breaking down, continued with me pacing down the hospital ward for hours and ended up with me seeing our baby for the first time.

When I was able to visit our baby girl, after three restless days, I found her in what later became her signature sleeping position: lying on her belly, booty high up towards the sky, the cutest face to the side. And I finally had that feeling of what it truly meant to be a mama, when I picked her up for the first time and held her tight to my chest.

I’d definitely do some things differently the second time around, but I’m extremely grateful to the medical professionals who took care of us.

The days that followed were all hazy. Ask any first time mama and she’ll tell you that the first months after a baby is born are all about the sleepless nights. There are exceptions. I have heard (myths?) about newborns who slept through the night. But I’d rather miss out on the sleep myself than let my baby miss out on the precious milk. However, to be completely honest with you, breastfeeding every two hours day and night was not much fun.

Beno had taken a few days off to enjoy our family and help out. I loved having both daddy and baby around. Eventually Beno left for work again, and upon his return I met him with a starved look on my face.

‘I didn’t have time to eat’, – I admitted through the tears.

‘You eat first’, – he told me, ‘then feed the baby. I don’t want to hear about something like this again’.

And he didn’t. I moved into the routine of feeding, playing, cooking, eating and waiting for Beno to come home after work. My happiest hour was the hour when our baby was peacefully asleep and I could give Beno a hug and a kiss after a long day apart.

When people ask me what’s my biggest achievement in life, it’s this – it is getting this little girl to see the light of this world, and raising her as best as I can.

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.

The grass is greener

Published: April 9, 2022 / Updated: April 10, 2022 Vilma Life in Mexico

I often catch myself thinking:

-When I have more money, my life will be so much better.

-When I find a man, THE man, my life will be so much better.

-When I get a new job, my life will be so much better.

-When I have my own place, finally, my home, my life will be so much better.

And then I remind myself, just as often: – When I stop thinking crappy thoughts like that and concentrate on the ‘now’, then my life will truly be better.

Because I don’t want to be the rich industrialist. I want to be the fisherman.

And if the news has not reached you through the grapevine yet, I am back in Europe. Hoping my life will be better here.

I counted how many times in the past six years I had gone to Mexico. The answer is four. Then I counted how many times in the past six years I had been back to my home country. The answer is three. It’s been this or that side of the ocean for quite a while now. I’d like to say I’m back for good this time, but having done the counting and knowing my restless soul, my guess is as good as yours.

What did I leave behind? Many dear friends, big and little. I left the country that gave me so much, but at the same time took away even more. And I left these guys behind:

-London boy. Currently with a new girlfriend, THE girlfriend, hoping she’s already pregnant. And reminding me the true way to happiness, girlfriend or no girlfriend.

-The guy from Belize.

-The traveler.

Our move was smooth. It was perfect. We left the sun and the heat for the clouds and the cold. But the love of my family keeps us warm and brings smiles to our faces.

Four years ago, Beno and I did exactly the same. We packed our bags and jumped on the plane to Europe.

We believed the grass was greener on the other side.

Oh, baby!

Published: March 28, 2022 / Updated: March 28, 2022 Vilma Life in Mexico

I was at a baby shower a couple of weeks ago. It was so much fun: lots of good friends, laughter, mojitos (for some ‘virgin’, for me – definitely not) and finger lickin’ good food.

At one point, while gathering around a yummy dip and tortilla chips, and talking about the joys and hardships of being pregnant, one of the girls announced: ‘But everybody’s so nice to you when you are pregnant!’. The rest of the moms, including me, nodded their heads.

Everybody IS nice to you when you are pregnant. How do I know? First hand experience.

I remember exactly how I felt once I saw this – I couldn’t stop smiling to myself the entire day.

Beno had left for work early, and so the whole ‘peeing on the stick’ business was done in total peace and quiet. And rightly so. I had done a pregnancy test a week before, and the result was negative. However, those of you who know me, can see me reading the instructions before using the kit, and after, just to make sure I didn’t miss out on anything. And I remembered reading that if you did the test too early, the result might be a false negative, so just check again. And that’s what I did.

Time that day simply flew by. I had sent a text to Beno telling him that I could not wait to see him that night. I was so excited about the news.

In the early days, when we just met, Beno used to tell me how much he wanted to have a pikney. I guess I had always been easily swayed one way or another, depending on the partner I had been with at the time. I had changed my mind about wanting to have a child at least a dozen of times during my life. The Peruvian, for example, did not want to have a baby, and I was ok with that. Beno longed for a baby, and his desire rubbed off on me pretty well.

I climbed into bed and settled next to Beno later that night. I wanted to tell him, but I couldn’t find the right words. So I laughed instead, and he laughed with me.

‘I’m pregnant’, – I finally said to him.

And no, he didn’t do the happy dance, he didn’t lift me to the ceiling. He said:

‘You are gonna be a mommy. And I’m gonna be a daddy’.

And so, it is true, that people are nice to you when you are pregnant. I loved being pregnant very much. I enjoyed, for a change, every kilo of extra weight on my body. I smiled more, I believe I glowed! I read about the development of the baby from start to finish. I took pictures of my belly to see the progress. The only annoying things were, to me, not being able to drink coffee (I had opted to go for decaf at that time) and the increasing frequency of trips to the bathroom I had to take.

Beno was extremely careful with me, like I might brake at any point. I loved it, of course.

We had things to do, plans to make, future to look forward to.

The things I want

Published: March 11, 2022 / Updated: March 13, 2022 Vilma Life in Mexico

‘I want daddy’, – says my little one almost every night before falling asleep.

‘I want him too’, I echo in the dark.

I want, in no particular order:

My dinner ready, when I get home from work.
My house cleaned, because he hasn’t found a job yet.
My laundry done, because he is good at it.

Beno spent a couple of weeks at home once he came to me. Taking it easy, learning what life in Mexico was all about. It felt like this time he was my perfect husband, taking care of me and our house (exactly what I did when we lived in Belize). Soon enough, though, he found himself working with our next door neighbor.

I want, in no particular order:

To hear about his day.
To tell him about my day.

Money from his job was not great, but it was something. However, as many things in life end just like that, so did Beno’s collaboration with the neighbor. Through some friends I managed to get him in touch with the girl in charge of a call center. His first day Beno made two sales and his bosses were impressed. The job at the call center seemed to be a good fit for him. He worked long hours, but so did I. He worked on commission, but so did I.

I want, in no particular order:

To play ‘hangman’.


To start and end the day together.


To hold his hand.


To go shopping and have plenty of fun.


To enjoy the beach together.


To discover new restaurants together.


To sleep together.


To do anything and everything together.

Our life was good. We were together and that was all that mattered.

Until the morning of March 10th, when life suddenly became a whole lot better and being together – not the only thing that mattered.

The wait

Published: February 20, 2022 / Updated: February 28, 2022 Vilma Life in Mexico

When all you hear and see is war, nothing else matters as much. All you want is for it to end, and wish it had never started in the first place. All you can do is wait, and it’s the longest wait.

During my backpacking years I often found myself wishing for one thing only – for all the mosquitos in this world to cease to exist. It was my nemesis. It was my biggest pain. Today my wish seems ridiculous. Never in my 40 years had I anticipated to live through the worldwide pandemic. Never in my life had I imagined to have to live through war. I am as physically far away from Europe as possible, but the pain and the anger is right there in my heart, as if my own country had been attacked. And waiting for the war to end is all that matters.

Five years ago, those were the longest three months.

The note that Beno had given me barely holds together today. I kept reading it every day the entire time we were apart. I was so grateful for it. Beno was not the person to write notes or to talk about his feelings, just like most men never are. But here it was, his precious words, on the piece of paper, with his heart in it, with me in Miami.

I was lucky enough to find two amazing couchsurfing hosts and have plenty of fun. I did some well needed shopping, I explored the city, I socialized, I had a blast.

I even got to spend a couple of nights with my host on a boat, steps away from the wedding venue.

The wedding was beautiful. I don’t remember much as almost the entire celebration I spent crying. I’m a sucker for love as is and ‘I do’ always makes my eyes water. But on that occasion I cried both from happiness for my best friend and from pain, as I celebrated love and my loved one could not be there by my side.

I do remember that I ended up with the best man’s phone number in my pocket. Funny how you get a guy’s number when you least care about it.

After Miami I was back in Mexico. My days were all the same again: long hours at work and lonely nights at home. Walmart became my favorite place in the entire city, as that is were I’d go before work to use free Wifi and talk to Beno. Don’t ask me, I would have had it a hundred times easier, had I bought a cellphone and used the data. Instead, I dragged my tablet to the supermarket every day. I was set in my ways!

I’d see Beno at work, in his overalls, covered in freshly cut grass, and I could almost smell it. I’d see him drink his morning coffee, and I could just about taste the bitterness of it. I’d see him, and I’d just about feel his embrace and his lips on my face.

When he finally told me he was looking for tickets to come to Mexico, I didn’t get too excited. Anybody could say that, I remembered him telling me. Showing up was different. When the actual day came and he told me what time he’d be leaving Belize, I rushed to the bus terminal to meet him. Nobody could tell me what time that bus would reach the city. I waited till I got tired of waiting, and went home.

I only believed it when I opened the door at the crack of dawn and saw him leaning in my doorway.

‘Hi, baby’.

That is all I let him say before I fell into his arms.

‘I need to pay a hundred pesos to the taxi driver’, – he continued with a smile on his face.

‘Typical Beno’, – I though to myself with even bigger smile. And just like that, it felt like we’d never been apart.