Feeling Ready for a Big Life Transition, Embracing the Next Chapter in Panama

 “We keep moving forward, opening new doors, and doing new things, because we’re curious and curiosity keeps leading us down new paths.” -Walt Disney

Mister and I fell in love with Panama on our first vacation back in 2015. From the view on the plane, of the city-skyscraper landscape surrounded by sparkling blue ocean and lush green jungle, we were captivated. Then, our first breath of the fresh, humid air. Then, the drive through the vibrant city, over the Bridge of the Americas, all the way to the beaches in Coronado. We joked and dreamed about a future retirement. But we knew, we weren’t ready. We had to do our due diligence. Research, save money, and research some more. And now, seven years later, we’re there.

Bridging the gap from dream to reality required patience and perseverance. Our expat life in Saudi Arabia opened our minds to the idea. Every year, we returned to vacation in Panama, and each time we became more comfortable with the Latin American culture. We applied for residency. We set up bank accounts. We took Spanish lessons. We viewed multiple different properties. Then, in 2017, we made the big decision; to build a vacation home.

Our house was completed a year later. Then came the monumental task of purchasing appliances, furniture, dishes and linens. We ordered online and purchased locally too, trying out our rudimentary Spanish. We had our first guests that Christmas, and from then on, we’ve vacationed in our home for several weeks each year. With each visit, the lure to live there, permanently, became stronger. We found ourselves more entrenched, drawn to everything from the laid-back culture, to the beautiful weather year-round, to the tranquility of our community and the comfort of our home.

We had a goal to stay in Saudi Arabia until September 2024, But, we’d always said, we would stay only as long as we were happy. And we were languishing. The fall-out from Covid was partially to blame. Saudi Arabia closed all borders for all of 2020 and, without the opportunity to connect with family and friends and to rejuvenate, life was challenging. Restricted social interactions on our compound took their toll. Several close friends moved back to Canada. But other things, like Mister’s long, stressful days at work, began to take a toll. When health challenges emerged, we knew our life was out of balance and we needed to switch things up.

As soon as we made the decision, I felt lighter. That’s one of my measuring tools, to know if a decision is in alignment with my values. I felt further affirmed as things continued to fall into place. Mister submitted his resignation. We converted our casita guest room into a home gym, knowing regular exercise is an important part of our wellness. When we purchased our final exit flights, it felt like it was really happening.

Getting our dog, Lola, to Panama turned out to be a far more difficult task than I anticipated. There were strict requirements from the Saudi Government, but the rules for bringing a pet into Panama were even more intense. Eight steps in total. A vaccination passport and health certificate signed by a certified veterinarian. Legalized stamps from the Saudi Ministry of Agriculture. More authorizations from the Panama Consulate, which doesn’t exist in the Kingdom and had to be sent DHL to the Embassy in Dubai. Every item had a timeline too.

Days before our departure, I felt like a ticking time bomb of stressful emotions, my mind like a squirrel scurrying in every direction. I had my first reality check, of just how challenging big life transitions can be. I tried to meditate and do yoga, tools I know help bring me calm, but I couldn’t focus. When Lola’s paperwork arrived at the mailroom, I finally found a semblance of peace. Soon, all I had left to do was pack.

On departure day, we loaded our six check-on bags, three carry-on’s, plus Lola’s crate, into our driver’s company van, having sold our truck weeks before. Our neighbours came over for last hugs and well wishes, a few tears and a ruffle of dog ears. It’s never easy to say goodbye.

At the airport terminal, we secured two porters to assist with the luggage. We pushed our trolleys to the check-in counter, where the staff seemed alarmed to see a dog crate amongst our belongings. A senior employee informed us that, due to Covid, their pet hotel in Amsterdam was still closed, that we shouldn’t have been issued a ticket. Mister was clear; this was an exit-only, one-way ticket, and we weren’t leaving without her. He produced the paperwork, and the employee immediately got on his phone to try and sort things out with his supervisors.

Forty-five eternal, maximum-stress minutes later, it was finally resolved. We had clearance to board Lola. A shift change caused another delay at security, where her kennel had to be scanned. My heart almost tore in half, when I said goodbye to her and sent her into the unknown, into the hold, for our twenty-four journey.

I walked in a daze through Customs and Security. It took all my effort and resolve to stay calm. I tried to relax in the lounge for the hour left before boarding, but that didn’t happen. Once in our seats, my first question to our flight attendant was if Lola had made it onboard. When she said yes, I was finally able to close my eyes and get some rest, ten hours to go on our first flight.

In Amsterdam, we had a three-hour wait for our second flight, to Panama City. Security was a shit-show, with broken-down scanners, a shortage of staff, and officers selecting every second case for further inspections. The escalator to the lounge was broken down, a long line-up to the elevator. The showers were all booked. I know, first world problems. I couldn’t relax, too anxious about Lola, so we went to the gate to try and get some answers.

At the gate, I was told Lola was still in transit. I stood vigil, staring out the terminal window as they loaded our Boeing 777, but no dog crate was in sight. It wasn’t until I was seated on the plane that a conversation with a kind-hearted attendant resulted in the good information; Lola was onboard. Only one more ten-hour flight to go. I said a prayer under my breath and tried to convince myself all would be well.

I don’t know if it was sheer exhaustion or acceptance that there was nothing I could do, but I switched into celebration mode. After all, we were one flight away from our new life in Panama. Mister and I clinked glasses of champagne. We enjoyed delicious meals and two seriously good movies, Cry Macho and The Courier. We napped. Time seemed to race forward, and soon, I could see the view I love from my window, of city skyscrapers, ocean waves, and lush green foliage. My heart-rate quickened, my blood ran swifter, the butterflies in my stomach took flight.

At Customs, there was a slight delay, a Covid QR code misunderstanding. In the baggage claims area, I dropped the ball, no help at all. I could only think, where was Lola? Mister organized trolleys and porters and paid the first of several fees for the import of pets while I gawked about. Then Mister called out, “She’s right there, in front of you!” Sure enough, there she was. My heart melted. Lola looked a little distraught, mostly relieved; perhaps as stunned as me.

In my mind-fog, I’d forgotten the customs forms in the seat pocket on the plane. Mister came to the rescue again, sorting it all out, while I tried to speak Spanish with our porters. I rambled on, saying I had four sisters instead of four children, amongst other miscommunications. The porter turned his phone to video and called his two young girls to show them Lola and I waved, “Hola.” We waited for clearance from the official veterinarian on-site. More fees. Then we were done, on our way to the next step, securing our car rental.

Mister sorted out the paperwork and payment while I let Lola out of her kennel, hitched her to her leash and took her outside. It was priceless. She literally stopped dead in her tracks, a stunned expression on her face as she sniffed the foreign air. Then she rocked her “I’ve got this” waddle and beelined for a piece of grass. With a swipe of her back paw, my geriatric dog turned into a puppy, scampering back to find Mister. I was so full-up with joy, I felt like my heart might leap right out of my chest. She’d made it.

I purchased a phone package to get us started. We loaded the Toyota Prado to the roof. I typed in our hotel in google maps, Lola on my lap. I rolled down the window, and I swear, as the wind blasted her in the face so hard she had to close her eyes, she was smiling.

For the next four days, I floated on a cloud of adrenalin that had me unable to feel anything but joy and gratitude. Our first night of recovery at the hotel in the city went smoothly. Lola woke us up twice in the night to go outside, but we happily threw on some clothes to take her. We had breakfast at the kick-ass bakery café right next door, where dogs were allowed on the patio. I could hardly believe my good fortune. I sat there with my gluten-free, keto-style egg breakfast and a super-sized cappuccino and I just couldn’t stop smiling.

As luck would have it, the Honda dealership was just a few blocks away from our hotel. Mister went over to take a look around, returning just over an hour later grinning like a bobcat. It was no wonder; he’d put a deposit on our new vehicle, still at the Customs dock, but due to be delivered in a few weeks. I was thrilled. Everything seemed to be unfolding in flow.

Of course, that serendipitous, gleeful energy couldn’t last forever. When I fell off my high horse, I landed with a thud on the cold, hard ground. The reality of what we still had to figure out in this new life of ours no longer felt exciting, but overwhelming. I felt like I was running out of steam, but the finish line was still so far away, it was out of sight.

I shared my worries in conversation with Mister, and felt better right away. I realized, it was my expectation, that we’d be able to make this big life transition within a month of our arrival, that was at fault. This is going to take way longer. And that’s okay. We’ve got our list of things to do, and they’ll all get done, eventually. I have everything I need, with my partnership with my beloved as my foundation. We’ve got this.

So yeah, I’m feeling ready for a big life transition, embracing the next chapter in Panama.

Updates

·      My YouTube video on Big Life Transitions, will go live on Saturday, August 27.

·      My theme for September is Building Self-Awareness. I’ll be posting a fresh blog on September 15th and sharing more updates on social media every Monday.

·      The Holding & The Healing Companion Journal launches October 23, 2022. I’ll be posting a video interview with Valeria Teles from Fit for Joy and advanced reader reviews throughout September.

·      I’m moving my YouTube video posting from the last Saturday of the month to first of every month, starting October 1st. My Channel.

·      My website has some fabulous new updates. Log on to www.lyndafayeschmidt.com to read book reviews and blogs, watch videos, or order my books.