When things don't go according to plan
We are at our final destination before flying home next month.
Nothing about our journey to Guatemala went according to plan. Looking back, it all seemed like one of those dreams where you know you’re already late for something, but no matter how hard you try, something else keeps getting in the way of you getting to where you need to be.
And I think me a few years ago would have felt incredibly frustrated at all the “inconveniences,” as if each one was a personal affront. I certainly witnessed other passengers having this experience. But I felt a comfortable distance from it all, as if everything was just happening as it was meant to be. And it felt okay to surrender to whatever was happening for me next.
In Peru, in order to leave the country with your dog, you need to get an export permit from a government agency called Senasa. The location of this place is largely ambiguous on the internet. We were warned by our vet that it was quite the hassle and to make sure we went there three days before our flight. We were so glad we did. All the information online said the agency was located at the airport. But that was only for the importing of pets. The branch that took care of exports was in another building about a half hour walk from the airport. After much confusion, searching, and walking down less than inviting roads, we found the place. And although we were the only ones there, it still took them over two hours to produce the health certificate/export permit we needed.
On the day of our departure, we made sure to get to the airport three hours before our flight because online check-in is not possible when traveling with a pet and it usually took them a bit longer to do the paperwork. When we got there, there was a huge crowd around our airline counter because the counter was closed. An hour later the staff appeared and a very slow process began. When we finally got ourselves and Loona checked in, and got through security, we were only to find another huge line to get through immigration to leave the country. This line moved slow. We tried to get the attention of airport staff that our flight was to leave in 45 minutes, and if we could possibly be expedited ahead, but no one could help us. And there were so many people on our flight in the same situation that people started cutting the line, which caused other people to start yelling and chaos began to erupt. It seemed like a riot was about to break out by the time we got through.
Our flight ended up being delayed for almost an hour, so that by the time we got to Bogota they told us the gates had closed and we were put on the next available flight to Guatemala City, which was at 2:30pm the next day. Which meant we had a 16 hour layover. We asked what about Loona, where is she and how do we retrieve her? No one could really tell us anything. The disgruntled passengers to helpless airline staff ratio was probably 100:1. Noah’s guess was that we’d have to go through immigration to where the luggage pick-up was to get her. So we waited for an hour in line and when we got to the counter, they said because we were Canadian, we had to pay $95.00 per person to get into the country. We tried explaining we weren’t trying to get into the country, we were just trying to get our dog. We had no plans to leave the airport. But it didn’t matter. So we paid the fee, got to the luggage carousels, and no Loona. After much wandering, asking about twenty different people where we could find Loona, and each of them pointing us to a different place, we finally found the airline’s “missing luggage” room. And after about half an hour of computer systems, radios, and more confusion, we found her.
The airline gave us a hotel voucher for the night, but we couldn’t go because we had Loona with us. We spent the night and morning drifting around the airport like listless ghosts, neither able to sleep nor stay awake with much success, entering into a vortex where time and dates were a distant memory of a concept.
And what a concept. What other thing could be so distinctly born of human hubris than time? The idea that things need to happen on our schedule. That the future has any vested interest in our plans. That time could be manipulated to soothe our anxiety about what is to happen next.
If I think back to when impatience first blossomed in my chest like a flowering gunshot wound, it would have to do with the feeling of guilt, of not wanting to disappoint others. And then watching others exhibit impatience and thinking, wow, they must be so important. They must have so much to do, if they cannot wait. So many people depending on them. Something else they must get to. And if I am to be of any importance or value in the world, impatience must be shown. It must be made obvious that my time is better spent doing something else other than being here.
But there isn’t ever anywhere else, is there? We can’t physically be anywhere but here. And if here is where we are, what is so wrong about it? Was it not our own choices that led us here?
I chose to travel. I chose to bring my dog. These were the things I could control. Everything else was just everything else. And even if the situation wasn’t as I’d thought it’d be, my feelings about it were still my choice.
I was there, with Noah, with Loona, with myself. I felt safe, warm, and loved. I guess everything outside of that didn’t matter.
When we got to Guatemala, there was a huge trash collector’s protest blocking all the major highway exits in Guatemala City. We couldn’t get a taxi out of the airport, unless we walked to the point past the blockages. We walked for about 45 minutes until we got to where the garbage trucks had barricaded the exit. They let us through with the airport buggy we’d borrowed to push our dog crate and luggage. We waited at a gas station for another 45 minutes for an Uber to come get us. It got increasingly chaotic. Protestors were getting more rowdy, fires were lit, alcohol was drunk, bottles were thrown. Yelling, whooping, honking. More trucks came and peeled around, their tires spinning out and creating more smoke.
When our Uber finally showed up it was a tiny Honda Civic. We managed to pack the disassembled dog crate, luggage, and us into the car. Noah and Loona took the front seat, and I found a sliver of space between the dog crate and the front seat to hover for the following hour and ten minutes to Antigua.
The events that happened were beyond my control, but my experience of it wasn’t. I chose how I felt everything. And all of it was beautiful, exhausting, and a story we’ll never forget.
All of life is a privilege. Our desires and aversions are inconsequential - what we want, what we don’t want, play no part in the great unfolding of the present. All suffering lies in staying attached to the “should’s”. What we think should be, will never have any power over what is.
If I were to think about how all of this served me, is this: a reminder of how lucky I am to be surrounded by love; a reminder that plans are a faint outline at best - life will continue on as it pleases; a reminder that this world is so big and so beautiful and so full of wonder I can only begin to experience, let alone comprehend it; a reminder that trust, faith, and peace are always available to me, and always on my side.
So grateful for all that is.
As always, sending you so much love,
Vera
