Ride on the Black Side: Colon Tingz, Bwoi

What does one super-cute, hot, chocolate, [and broke] teacher do during a 10-day vacation? This was the question. Not a bad problem to have, I must admit.

Months ago I had planned on entertaining a visiting guest, or going to Nicaragua, or returning to Costa Rica or buzzing Bocas del Toro. All of those plans fell through because I am on a budget, since I am traveling to Sierra Leone in T minus ___ days!!! I toyed with the idea of Boquete in the northern part of Panama because I wanted to spend some time in nature, going on hikes, writing, and just planning. Planning whatever the heck I want to plan. But then I did a bit of research and realized it would be too expensive to spend a week there andddddddd I’m not exactly sure that it would have been the most poppin’ place for a single lady like myself. Yeah, sure I could do some writing and thinking and planning, but the truth is right now I am not sure that I would have gotten a lot of writing done because I would have found a way to be un-relaxed. And secondly, I tend to over-think and over-plan; I am actually making an effort to relax and trying not to plan so many things in my life. I am still grasping the concept of truly ‘going with the flow.’ And let Bee tell you: it ain’t easy. It ain’t easy. Although, I have loads of fun, do crazy things here and there  (all within reason), I tend to spend a lot of time making lists, jotting down plans, and seriously over-planning even things that I over which I have no control.

So what did I do this break? I didn't make any plans. Not one, single plan. I simply (well, not really), decided that I would sit at home and do absolutely nothing until I was inspired to get up and go. Saturday I rested because the bed summoned my body. By Sunday, my good friend and partner in many ridiculous things around Panama, reminded me that this was the same weekend last year that he “allowed” me to be in his circle. In other words, he wanted us to celebrate our year anniversary of an amazing, rewarding, and truly eccentric friendship and many adventures later. He didn’t have to ask twice. I packed an overnight bag and headed to ‘di Colon side.’ Things were sure to pop-off as it was independence weekend. He would march with his school, we would up-turn in the streets, eat lots of street meat, hit the club, and be merry---all with the blackness and richness of Colon City.

I am not sure that I have ever blogged about Colon proper. But dammit, they deserve a few hash tags, peace signs, and a big, warm thank-you hug from me. Colon is Caribbean. Colon is rich. Colon is intriguing. Colon is unique. Colon is black. Colon is me.

Colon captured my heart in a way that gringos who live by traveller’s book wouldn’t understand. Every piece of Colon reminded me of an experience that I had in other parts of the world where the diaspora exists. Every well-coordinated, neon-colored, leopard/cheetah, sandal-wearing ensemble, gelled-hairstyle, reminded me of home. A home that could be anywhere. A home that could be Georgia Avenue day in DC. A home that could be MASH in Guyana. A home that could be New Year’s Day at Lumley Beach in Sierra Leone. A home that could be a Friday-fish fry in Barbados. A home that could be anywhere where my aunties, uncles, sisters, brothers, cousins, friends live.

As we waited for my friend to finish marching with his school, we enjoyed the ocean breeze from the Atlantic sitting pretzel-style on the back lawn of the Washington Hotel in Colon City. Soon after, we set out to handle the most important business: food. I was able to get a taste of the independence kick-off parade, which left me wanting more. We found a $3.50 comida sold by a church on the street. Win.  What’s culture here? The combination of the obviously West Indian dishes being called “comida.”

Next up…partying. Y’all know I love a good dance. It was a holiday Sunday. So no work on Monday and Quincena; needless to say the club would be a win and indeed it was. I danced with my friends. Alone. With strangers. Danced so much a girl invited me to a birthday “parking.” I danced so much, the people felt curious about me. And I felt this curiosity.

Monday was a beach day. We spent just a dollar to journey to Playa La Angosta. The dollar bus ride was made more interesting by the beautiful black man that adorned the seat in front of me. He was the symbol, the essence of being on the Caribbean side. His black shone. Teeth glistened. Jet-black shape-up screamed fresh. I didn’t speak to him, but I remember the neighborhood where he got off. Don’t judge me.

The beach of course was---well, I can’t really say anything bad about a beach in November ;)

Having been intrigued by the glimpse that I caught of a Colon-style parade, I decided that I would go back to Panama City, collect some more clothes and return on Tuesday morning for the Colon Day Parade.  

Every November 5^th, the people of Colon take the street to celebrate the foundation of the Colon city. People fill the sidewalks and the streets, corners, and even rooftops to witness the local schools march. And just when you think the show is over, the independence bands show up late in the evening and blow their horns, bang their drums, and fill the city with their pride.

Colon is where there a large number of black migrants settled after having arrived from primarily Barbados and Jamaica for the construction of the canal back in the day. Needless to say, the Caribbean influence and remnants of Caribbean culture is heavy. Old men talkin’ shyt to their other gray-haired friends on porches. Older Caribbean women with one special gold tooth. A plate of oxtail, rice and peas and a salad. And my brand new favorite---icing glass---and the “original, original, icing glass,” as the aunty-esque woman shouted down the carnival route. Colon is the kind of place where you come to be reminded of the fact that really, we all are one. It is the place where you see so many things that are similar in your life as a black person. It’s the kind of place that tourists say don’t go to because its’ building are decrepit, its trashcans are overflowing. But its’ trashcans ain’t the only thing overflowing. The culture, the richness, the soul---Colon is overflowing with these things as well.  It is the place where an old man, whom I have never met, can eye me with a toothpick in his mouth, and speak to me with a familiarity as a patois-esque accent laces his words asking if I “change up.”  It is a place where I would respond as if I had known this man as an uncle or so before. It is a place where I understand nuances that some people just wouldn’t get.

This is where I saw a man playing the drums in a band, who reminded me so much of my grandfather that I chased him. His tall and stately presence, his OG hat, his long Kissi chin, his Bambara finger length, his entire swag. I chased him down the parade route. I bumped into old ladies. Stepped on kids’ toes. Weaved throughout hundreds of people in the crowd. No matter what I did, I couldn’t catch up with his steady pace. All I wanted was a picture. Then it occurred to me that sometimes it’s best to just take in the moment and not try to capture it. Maybe I would have captured more of him with my own eyes, heart and soul if I weren’t so busy chasing him down with a camera. He made me think of my paternal grandfather and it made me sad, but happy at the same time. Maybe if I would have just took it all in, I would have had more peace. I have been working on this more since that moment.

Trying to learn to just enjoy the ride.  Next stop---AFRICA! :)

Vibrant Livin', Lovin' Via Argentina

The seat of cute little coffee shops, authentic cuisine from immigrant populations, and happy hour/lunch specials with boards luring customers in for deals. It is reminiscent of my favorite US city, (outside of my home city), Miami. The boards on the storefront telling you about today’s special or their restaurant’s specialty, the old men with big bellies smoking Cuban cigars, the young professionals enjoying a drink after a “hard day’s work,” the soccer fanatics watching Panama versus X, the wanderers like me. All of those things make Via Argentina an exciting place and my newest home in Panama City. It’s poppin’. 

arepas will be the death of my shape, lol.

sugar daddy belly

I can remember living in a space that I dreaded. That was back in college at Towson Run Apartments. Not sure if it was the time in my life and what the space represented, or if it was merely just the space that I had an issue with. But I seriously remember how scared I was to be there, especially alone. Something about that place just didn’t sit right with me then. I have learned in my life that my home, place of residence and certain rooms inspire different things for me. So forever neighborhoods, apartments, homes, flowers, plants, spaces, rooms, ambiance will always be something I take into deep consideration as I travel from place to place.

One year ago when I moved to Panama (le sigh…it’s been over a year already), I had noooo idea where I would live. I imagined living a little more low-key than I actually did; I had no expectation of living in a high rise in the city. In fact I thought I might just get a room in some older melon-painted apartment building and not have wi-fi, and not be in touch with my friends and family. When I arrived to Panama however, I saw that my living would be a little more uppity than I expected. Not exactly bougie, but just more than I anticipated.

I canvassed my new co-workers about areas that were close to my job in Paitilla. They told me I could live in San Francisco, Obarrio, Bella Vista, and a few other little pockets. I visited two apartments in San Francisco and one place in Cangrejo, which is a part of Bella Vista. Although people had informed me that El Cangrejo was a cool place to live because it was highly populated by foreigners, I desired to live amongst Panamanians, so I opted to for a room in an apartment with a nice view in San Francisco. (This failed because San Francisco was highly residential and there were few spaces for interaction with Panamanians or the local community.)

As time went on I began to spend more and more time at my friend’s apartment in Cangrejo. (Yes, the same Cangrejo that I once turned my nose down on because too many foreigners lived there, lol.)

And just like your typical boy/girl next-door love story, (the kind where you meet the guy and don’t like him at first because he is not your type), I fell in love---madly, deeply, head-over-heels in love with Via Argentina. I vowed to find a place there to live within my budget. I searched in November. I sort of searched in December. Couldn’t do it in January. Forgot about it in February. Revisited the idea in March. Couldn’t afford it in April. Got too comfortable in May. Moved out in June. Summer in the DMV. Returned in August. Went back on the search and…

can you see the glow of love? :)

A year later, I am now one of the expats living, and I mean living that street. I am motivated by the hustle and bustle of the trendy area. I meet and chat with people that I run into as a I stroll.  I feel empowered by the fact that I can just walk outside of my building to Fruteria Mimi and buy one avocado, one plantain, coconut water, and a piece of chocolate all for $3.00. Gone are the days where I would be lugging my week’s groceries from the neighborhood grocery store, sweat dripping, dreading the fact that if I forgot something I would have to walk back. Gone are the days where I would postulate taking a taxi back to my apartment after grocery shopping but end up walking. Now my days are filled with ideas about what I want to eat daily---and the best part of it, I can literally just hurry down the steps and go to the Fruteria or Casa de Carne if I need something that goes beyond the scope of your local mini market.

For the days when I don’t feel like cooking a full meal for myself, [which the frequency of these days has been increasing steadily], I can float down Via Argentina and peruse the menus while I wait for my palate to jump at the idea of a particular taste. On lazy days, I opt for an imported Hass avocado and a French baguette. J

Flip flops, $5.00, ID in-hand, I breeze down Via Argentina in my flowy skirts. Midriffs, braids caressing my waistline, I feel liberated; feels good to be the new girl on the block. 

Thoughts for the Ride: 25

i promise that's my inner light. 25 and shinin'

I am so blessed to be me. And I mean that in the most humble Bintu way possible. Lol. No seriously.

I am thankful for so many things as I celebrate my quarter of a century milestone.

Each year, I learn a new thing, new lesson about myself on how to make myself better. Some things I have learned this year (the hard way) are too personal to share on this blog, that all of yall read lol. But among the shareable things, I am learning to let go and really, truly go with a flow.

You see sometimes, we get so caught up in this plan that we have for ourselves, that we do not listen to the omens, signs, answers that are given to us by whatever we believe. And when we set ourselves on a path without truly listening to our inner most thoughts and blessings, we might set ourselves up to miss other opportunities that are presented before us with an even better, cooler, more exciting option for us.

Recently, I had to make a big decision. So big because it would determine where I would spend the next few years of my life, well at least the next year or two.

I felt stressed. Sad. Anxious. Worried. I had to remind myself that it was a blessing to have both options in front me, yet still it wasn't an easy feat.

I prayed. Made a pros and cons list. Prayed. Meditated. Put cold water in a corner after talking over it for guidance from my loved ancestors. Asked my namesake (grandma Bintu Janneh) for her blessing and guidance. And talked to my parents about it. And prayed again. And finally, I listened. I weighed the things that were most important to me.

And with that, I was able to see that the opportunity I had in front of me was exactly what I had asked for at the beginning of this year.

I said somewhere, that all I wanted was a full-time job, one where I could sustain myself, continue to live my lifestyle abroad, and empower girls under a more professional guise. I want to take my passion for girls' empowerment to another level. I want to really use the skills that I know I have in a way that I have never used them before.

can't wait to see this reflection from the other side of the Atlantic :)

So I took a risk. I accepted the full time position to be English as an Additional Language co teacher. The catch, what I am really excited about, is that I am designing a club, just for girls from scratch. This time, internationally. Check me out!

And Godwilling, I will get to travel to the place where my heart has been since 1988, Sierra Leone. There I will visit my grandparents graves, pay my respects, cry a lot. But most importantly, facilitate a workshop or two for the second annual Girls Empowerment Summit in Sierra Leone.

Am I scared? Hell yes? I have absolutely no template for what I am trying to do. Well, sorta, kinda. I have it. In several word documents, but in a figurative sense, I have no template, because I am doing everything I do in a way that only I, Bintu, can do it.

A big risk indeed because my other option was much more planned out. But this---this is truly me.

I am continuing to live out my dreams, even if sometimes I forget what they were, they always come back to me.

So let's keep journeying through Panama, in a few months, I will give you lens from the perspective of girls’ empowerment internationally from two very different countries.

If I might say myself, I am goin' to do the damn thang (Godwilling)

(P.S. I am also working on believing in the value of my work in this new chapter)

Here's to Round 2 of Bee's Backseat in Panama!

The Girl with the Mystery Moves

bee and beenie. mystery moves pay off ;)

the girl with the wine.

I may be full of myself. I admit it. But really…everyone wants to know who the girl with the mystery wine is. Yeah, my skin is chocolate like my African ancestry. Yeah, my backside is curvy, like my Sierra Leonean mother. Yeah, I wrap my head like my Madingo Muslim grandmother. Yeah, I stomp as my hips sway side to side like my pretty American princesses. But the wine…the wine…we have yet to place it.

even if i show them my lips, they might still question  my hips...movement unidentified.

To me, I dance like the Atlantic ocean that touches my west African roots, I rotate my hips like the Caribbean sea that surrounds the patois speaking islands, I shake my tumba like the afrobeat in my Sierra Leonean songs. This mixture, this touch, this thing has caused people some confusion here in Panama. They want to know where I’m from. They thought maybe if they stare they might place me. Not. They thought if they heard me speak, they might surmise. Then they saw me dance…and still, they couldn’t. They would never know that I am an American girl, who identifies as Sierra Leonean, who loves reggae, who dreams of dancing in the Congo with my favorite Soukous group, who transforms stares into energy and motivation to give a performance. They would never know that in my head, I am on a stage. On my own stage. Each and every time. They would never know just from looking at me. I would have to tell them.

what they were fighting for. closeness. 

And so on this particular day. They didn’t ask, just yet. They pushed me, taunted me, pulled me, spilled beer over me, called me puta and all. But I didn’t shake. I didn’t move. I simply gave them the space to do all the rudeness they wished since they were determined to make me so uncomfortable that I would move. Little did they know, I was determined to stay in the space that they had once occupied. Hey, as the saying goes, you move your feet, you lose your seat. Lol, well it was standing, but you get my point! And listen here, we all paid however much to get in that VIP Section and if I find an opportunity to get right smack in the middle and in the front, best believe that I will take that opportunity. And that’s exactly what I did. They just weren’t happy with it. They sent their best and rudest to challenge me. She started dancing on me. Wining on me from her back to my side. All in an effort to push me out of my spot or to get me pissed off so I would start something so that the whole crew could jump me. Little did they know, I would not be moved. Enty mi nah salone titi, ah don use for dance pan people dem, so we all go dance. I was chill. I gave a little something but not too much. She kept going and I kept going. They didn’t realize they had met their match. But then the dancing/challenging girl, had a light bulb moment. She must have recognized that mystery wine.

Suddenly, she stopped backing it up on me rudely and stared at me intensely before asking, “I have seen you before right,” in her Caribbean twang. I responded that I wasn’t sure. Then she proceeded to explain where she knew me from. She said, “weren’t you dancing at the Konshens concert, you had a green short pants on, I know you!” I replied yes, smiled coyly, (yes, I’m a little shy when I get recognized for these things). Then she high fived me and said she always wanted to know where I was from. Her crew stared intensely and waited for my response. “You from Jamaica,” she asked. The crew anxiously awaited my response…and then I silenced their curiosity. I was born in Washington DC, to Sierra Leonean parents. I’m an African girl, I said. Shoulders relaxed. Heads nodded. Everyone commenced to dancing again. This time together. The crew was from Bocas del Toro, Panama. All black like their Caribbean grandparents and African descendants. I was no longer the enemy. I wasn’t the mysterious wining girl that had taken their spot. I was just like them. Black, lover of reggae music, African. Same hips, same motions, same passion, same blood.

Bee's 3 Step Guide to Going Abroad: LIVE!

Step 3---You made it! And so...

First thing’s first. There is a good ol' saying from Sierra Leone, that the people always tell the JCs ( a term for newly arrived visitors, especially those Sierra Leone natives living abroad). They say "Nah for put u rights nah u pocket." In translation, put your rights in your pocket. In translation again, forget about all them rights and rules and essentially all the order that you know to exist in the western world. It’s a serious thing, though, we laugh at it. But it is one thing I recommend for travelers. It speaks to the ability to adapt to your local environment. This will help you stay calm and not become frustrated in certain situations. Take it easy, take the country for what it is, try hard not to compare it to what you know and you will be able to get the best experience out of it. Do I like brushing my buttocks against passengers as I squeeze to through the cramped aisles to find a seat? No. Do I look forward enduring the odor of someone’s long day of hard work? Um, not exactly. But do I like paying only .25 cents to get somewhere?  Um, yes. $3.00 to the beach. Um, yes. So I take it for what it is and sacrifice. Learn how to do this and you are half way to having a blast! And truly delving into what the country has to offer.

-Check into a hostel, couch-surf, or stay with a friend in town. Some people look for places to live before hand. I would recommend crashing somewhere until you are hired or have established an area that you want to be in. You should get a feel for the country and decide where you could see yourself living. I stayed at a nice hostel in the older section of Panama City upon arrival. And I am actually planning to move back there in a few weeks.

-Once you arrive, ask where you can get a small/cheap cell phone with a local number. This should be done almost immediately.

-Once you get yourself a number, add your new local number to your cover letter and resume and then re-send your cover letter/resume to your list of school contacts. Watch the magic happen!

-Ask about ways to get around and start checking out the locations of these language schools. Get some copies of your package printed and then hand deliver them to schools/businesses. This shows that you are serious and the reality is that down here and in other parts of the world it is highly likely that you will not get a response via email. I won’t even begin to go in to the many reasons as to why non-response should be expected. #aintnobodygottimeforthat

-Be patient. Again. And Again.

-Go out. Meet people. Network. Tell them what you are doing. Indulge the people who will spend minutes and minutes talking to you you about how they are investing in some weird project and even the people who say they have been traveling for 7 months and are just passing through. Just indulge them. You might learn a thing or to, or find someone with whom you share similar interested. And besides, you never know what connects they might have.

-Don't be usin’ all your money juuuuuust yet. (Yes, I said it like that. It was appropriate)

-Make a list of things/experiences you want to have while in country.

Deep Ish:

Make a list of what you didn’t come here to do. And every time you find yourself trippin' look back at that list.

For me, I didn’t come to panama to work excessively, to be stressed, to have that day-to-day stress of office job-ness and I didn’t come here to drive. I came here to walk as much as I could and be driven. I also came here to write more, live more, and self-reflect about how to build my future.

And so far, I have done those things. I’ll be honest and say that I do get stressed, but it’s a different kind of stressed than when I was in the States. I have had a lot of time to do just those things. However, I am almost ready for what’s next. Stay tuned.

But in the mean time, start your own journey.

Get back to Y.O.U. (Your Own Unfulfilled dreams)

Just G.O (Get Out!)

And

LIVE!

When Drums Traveled Oceans

When you feel like you are in your native land, but you hear Spanish and quickly realize that you are in a country, at the tip of Central America, in the mouth of south America’s Colombia.

When you are grateful to see the same tropical colors reminiscent of your ancestral home

When you are pleased to see people whose cheek bones, lips, noses, body structures resemble yours

When you can play with a little girl’s hair…a girl who could have been you when you were her age

When you can smile and nod at each person in a way that only people who are proud of their blackness recognize

When you taste that rice made over a wooden stove with a chicken combination similar to what your mommy makes

When you can look around and say “Hey, we do that too!”

When you can see how your ancestors once moved their waists and feet to the same Congo drums

When you can pinpoint things that originated from Africa and were carried across oceans into a foreign land now meshing into the land of the foreign

When you can appreciate another culture, because it looks like what you know

When you can look at another person, in a land foreign to you, and see yourself. See your brothers and sisters and aunts and uncles and cousins. Then you see just how connected we once were.

Happy Black History Month family!

Pictures from La Feria de Diablos y Congos in Portobelo, Panama. The tradition hails from Afro-Antillean interpretation of tactics used by slaves to rebel against their masters. The devil represents the slave master and the people taunting it represent that African slaves. Women in colorful dresses sing songs of freedom while sway their hips melodically to the beats of the drums. It is said to be a cultural and colorful display of the struggle of good versus evil. The event is held only every two years on the old fort ruins of Portobelo, a town located in the Caribbean province of Colón. I had the pleasure of spending several days there and fell in love with the town for it's slow paced caribbean vibe, freshly cooked food, and abundance of pretty tropical plants. I am a sucker for the vibrant colors of the tropics.

La Feria de Diablos y Congos

nothing like roast meat at an outdoor gathering

djege man...y'all know the type.

diablos from Bocas Del Toro

end the night with a display of fireworks

doesn't this look like Sierra Leone? or Barbados? Or Guyana? Or you name it.

Bee's 3 Step Guide to Going Abroad: Ready, Set, G.O.! (Get Out!)

STEP 2: The Step with a Whole Lotta Steps.

If you are just joining the ride, please take off your seatbelt and read Step 1. It’s one of the few times, I will ask you to take off your seatbelt! But I need you to get this part from the beginning. 

Ready?

So last post, I detailed the portion of Getting Back to Y.O.U.---Your Own Unfilled promises. That’s right, we all have them. Pull out your list now. We’ll wait.

Mine of course was always wanting to just teach abroad, even if only for a few months or a year.  I put things in place and started taking the TEFL course.

During the course, I started my research. I completed my practicum as it was a requirement for the course. I tutored students at the Literacy Council of Prince George’s County. I would spend some days tutoring a guy in a reading class and other days observing the English as a Second Language class. I enjoyed both experiences. Tutoring one student in a reading class really tested my patience; I had to think about new ways to get him to learn. That experience in itself was a blessing because READING is something we take for granted. If you are following this blog, you are blessed. Education = Freedom, indeed. It was then that I truly learned the depth and importance of that phrase. Whew, Jesus, Lord. Thank you. I was also able to take notes and pick up things that I would want to use in my classroom when I went abroad. 

Note: The guy I was tutoring had started a few months ago at the literacy council. He was in his 60s and could not read the alphabet when he first started. When I first started working with him he still had a way to go, but he was writing at least one paragraph a day in a journal. He liked to write about why people did the things they did in the world. His determination to learn killed any excuse I ever gave myself.

SACRIFICE is a key word. I would get off work from my night job. Then rest a bit before going to practicum, then go to my afternoon job after. Sometimes I was late, but I had explained to my boss what I was doing. I was missing money, but it was for a greater cause---my freedom!

*Greatest Lesson in Step 2*: Do not be afraid to make sacrifices. They might sting, but if the outcome of your sacrifice is greater and for longevity, don’t be afraid to make it. Do it!

Before Departure.  These are the steps that I took; you will tweak these to fit your needs and destination :) But I think these steps are applicable to many Latin American destinations and other countries.

1. Complete course including practicum. Tie up all loose ends when it comes to acquiring your certification. I was nervous that somebody would call and say “Ummmm, ONE more thing.” Lol, kinda like graduation. You get it.

2. Google anything and everything about your intended destination. Before bed. While you wait at the doctor’s office. At work. Lol. And create a folder in your email called “_______________ Resources” I know y’all thought I was crazy just uppin’ and movin,’ but Lord knows I researched the hell outta Panama. Anything that said Panama, I read it---AND ANYTIME OF THE DAY. I developed a folder in my email box called Panama resources. I found travel blogs, people blogs, reviews, anything and everything on what and how to do stuff in Panama. If I was going to do this, I was going to know HOW to do it and that I COULD do it. I had so many resources that by the time an advisor emailed me with what she thought would be good resources for me, I had already seen all of them and ruled some out. Gotta do your own work.

3. Since I wanted to teach, I needed to know where I could do this. Thus, I began looking up schools. You know what that meant. Google search “English schools in Panama” and every other possible combination of those words to see what the wonderful Google Gods would yield for results, lol. Unfortunately for me, Panama’s TEFL market/experience wa basically non-existent on file. Not many people set out to come teach English in Panama, unlike more popular teaching destinations like Thailand, Costa Rica, South Korea, China, etc. so it was a bit difficult and even frustrating at times. But, I stuck with it. I tried a second technique, which was finding different words for school and not typing English language schools specifically. I tried ‘schools in panama’ and let it give me as many as schools as possible. Anything I yielded that seemed a bit legit, I added it to a list. Eventually I took all of my results and compiled a list of schools, phone numbers, email addresses, fax numbers, and location when available. I would leave this list alone and then come back after a new creative Google word search got me a new school or something. Tricks---are not just for kids :) Also, you want to know the peak hiring seasons for the work you are trying to do.

4. Now, you are like great, I have a list I can send out my resumes/cover letters to ear employers. No, relax. Not just yet. My institute advised me to create a packet that most language schools like to see when hiring teachers from overseas. I would recommend, based on how I was recommended, a beautifully written cover letter, a solid resume with related teaching/training experience, a copy of your TEFL certificate and two recommendations from employers that love you J I have my picture on my resume which they say is recommended for international teaching positions, but I think its to see your race…just saying. Just get these things together. Don’t send just yet.

5. Then, you want to develop an email addressing potential schools. I created one in Spanish since I was applying to schools in a Spanish-speaking country. But, if you are applying for a job in Thailand, maybe you don’t know how to write Thai. In that case, English would suffice, lol. Once you have a nice formal email introducing yourself, attach your resume and cover letter to the email and send it out. I did a blind copy to many schools, about once every 1.5 weeks. Do not send all of the information mentioned in step 4, unless they request it.

6. Wait for responses. Only got 1. But that was normal. A lot of schools in Latin America won’t hire you before arrival. This step means, even with all of the other steps, don’t be discouraged if you don’t hear back. You just gotta make the move.

7. Tell all your friends and family that you are making a move and that you have done research. Tell them about other people that have done this same thing (like me). Show them this blog. Show them other blogs. Tell them that dream chasin’ and travelling the world is in style and that they too should get with it! Lol.

8. Purchase your plane ticket for the time you think that will be best to make your move based on peak hiring seasons for your intended job and personal matters.

9. Do Step 7 again. Cuz some people won’t believe you.

10. Tie up loose ends. Figure out how you will pay your bills while away. Designate a person to be responsible for different things. Defer your loans, if you can. Handle any medical stuff. Tell your doctor that you are going abroad and want to make sure that you can connect with them for questions. Lord knows, I abuse the hell out of my doctor’s office with questions. And my cousin that is a PA of course gets bombarded with questions. Check with your insurance provider to see what they cover. Cancel stuff. Stop this. Stop that. Prepare.

11.  Create a packing list of things you will need that you cannot find abroad. In my experience, I will always leave the States with a planner. I will not even begin to tell you my finding a cute planner in August in Panama ordeal. The teachers at my school knew my struggle, lol. Luckily, this year, I found a wonderful Paulo Coelho planner. Yes, I am a believer.

12. Purchase International travel insurance.

13. Register with the U.S. Embassy if you are an American Citizen.

14. Request certain stuff from your closest friends and family members and tell them to come to your house because you are leaving. People will pretty much get you anything. Lol. I got cards, money, food, a magic jack, body sprays, you name it, I was claiming it. The greatest gift though, was the support of my mother and father. Have a cute little potluck in your mom’s backyard with your closest friends and just laugh and enjoy them. By the time you get back, some will be married, moms, dads, CPAs, grad students, diplomats, etc. basically, prepare yourself for a journey and have them prepare for your growth on this journey.

15. Believe in yourself. This is what will take you where you are supposed to be. This is how people will believe in you as well. They will look at you and say, “Wow, she did it!”