Coming Out . . .

When my husband was first deported from the U.S., I honestly thought that I was the only U.S. citizen with a deported husband.  I remember scouring the internet, googling "married deported".  At the time, there was only one other blogger that I was able to come up with in a similar situation and having just that one other person made a huge difference.  Over the past two-and-a-half years since then I have realized that I am by far not the only one and I can't explain the comfort that this fact gives me.  So, when Corin from "Corin in Exile" wrote her recent blog post titled "Solidarity" asking why so many of us in this situation aren't speaking out about it, I decided to answer her call. 

It's hard to believe that I started this blog a whole year ago - time really does fly - and as you can see, my blogging has been slim to none.  I've always been a little hesitant about speaking out considering our situation, which is why I will blog anonymously, at least for now.  Once mine and The Dreamer's fate is decided (once our visa waiver is approved or denied) anonymity won't matter so much, but until then we will be The Planner and The Dreamer.  But, honestly, I hope my blog will serve as some sort of comfort to someone else out there in a similar situation just as the blogs that you'll see listed under "Other blogs to check out . . . " have served as a comfort to me.  Thank you to all those that haven't been afraid to speak out - I have been guzzling your words greedily and anonymously.

So, I'm recommitting to this blog.  Bare with me because I'm just learning all this blog design stuff and don't quite have everything up, yet.  I hope to be publishing "Our Story" soon.

Deportations to tear apart S.F. family

Check out the article below that tells the story of another immigrant opponent that's decided it's his personal responsability to ruin the lives of decent families . . .

Hearst Newspapers

http://articles.sfgate.com/2010-03-02/bay-area/18371864_1_illegal-immigrants-deported-san-francisco

It's stories like these that infuriate me. For every true criminal (ie. murderer) we ought to deport them and give a deserving immigrant their U.S. citizenship. I would wager to say that having to live in a developing country is much worse than many of our prisons. Granted, in this case we're talking about Australia, which isn't a developing country, but making someone choose between their wife and their child is a cruel punishment that in this case does not fit the crime (especially considering that the U.S. citizen in this case did not commit one).

Peru on my mind . . . and in my stomach

So with just one month left before heading down to Peru, there's nothing occupying my mind more than my upcoming travels and time with The Dreamer and it seems as though the weather here in Ohio is longing for Lima, too. Earlier today when I checked, the temperature here was a mere 67 degrees (really odd for summer here), just one degree more than the winter weather down in Lima. So, I figured that some Peruvian food was more than due for this odd occasion.

The Dreamer has been recommending the "menu" at the local Peruvian Restaurant for the past couple days now, expounding on its affordability, healthiness, etc, so today I decided to call up El Sabor Peruano to see what the "menu" of the day was. Turns out it was "sopa de pollo" (chicken noodle soup containing corn on the cob, carrots and potatos), "escabeche de pollo" (chicken covered in some kind of orange pepper sauce on top of rice covered with sauteed onions) and a can of good 'ol Coca-Cola. It sounded pretty good and ended up almost completely satisfying my hunger for Peru (only The Dreamer can satisfy it 100% - ha ha).

It was actually a really weird sensation. The weather, combined with the food and the fact that today was a lazy day for me (I had the day off from work) all combined into this deeply satisfying feeling of relaxation while I stuffed myself at the dining room table thinking of The Dreamer. It was great.

Home . . .

If home is where the heart is, there's no doubt that my current home is in Lima, Peru with my husband, The Dreamer, though I've been living with my family (my parents, and younger brother and sister) here in Ohio since the end of August last year. I never planned to be away from "home" for so long, but it just happened. Just one more example of how my plans never seem to actualize the way I forsee them.

For those who don't know, The Dreamer, born and raised in Peru by his Peruvian parents, moved to the US in 2000 in search of "the American dream". In October 2006, our paths crossed (more about that later) and we subsequently fell in love, got engaged, planned a wedding and . . . The Dreamer was "removed" back to his country for having overstayed a tourist visa. Said plans for our American wedding were canceled as I picked up my life and moved down to Lima, Peru. The wedding, though a much simpler version, happened in Lima in December 2007. And we lived happily ever after . . .

Well, not quite. Despite my increasingly fluent ability to speak Spanish and my prior excitement to begin a new "adventure" in a foreign country with my "media naranja," life in Lima wasn't quite as easy to adjust to as I had expected. Don't get me wrong, things between The Dreamer and I were going well. Of course we had our occasional spats, as does any couple, but our love for each other was anything but absent. However, as my depression at having left everything I knew behind mounted, and tension with the in-laws became thick enough to cut with a knife, our savings began to dwindle, and the three-hour-a-day bus ride to and from a job that barely paid $3/hour along with the constant preocupation of trying not to get mugged (or worse), really began to break me down. The Dreamer and I decided that it might not be a bad idea for me to take a break, return to the States, spend some time with my family, and save up as much money as possible.

When I left Lima, in August, two months was the plan. Two months and no more. I was going to get a job ASAP - two jobs if possible - and work my butt off, spending nothing as I lived rent free in my parents house. I couldn't bare to leave The Dreamer, but two months seemed manageable.

It took me a full month to land a job. A job that wouldn't allow me to return to Peru in December to spend my first anniversary with my husband. So I planned to work through the holidays (the best commission earning season) before returning to Peru. The more The Dreamer and I talked, and the more money I earned, the more reasonable it seemed for me to remain here, visiting "home" when possible. "Just through the end of the year," we said. So January, 2010 became the deadline. That's when I would move back "home".

In the past eleven months, I've spent two weeks with The Dreamer and although the distance is killing me, during my last visit in April, we both agreed that maybe I wouldn't need to move back in January. Maybe it would just make more sense, not only financially, but also in regards to our legal case (more on that later) that we take advantage of this childless period to simply save up as much money as possible. We decided that the plan was, we would sacrifice being together in hopes of preparing for a more financially stable future until further notice.

So that's the plan.

Meanwhile, I'm counting down the days (exactly 31 I believe) until I am back "home" with my hubby. I can't wait!!!! It's always so much fun to spend time with him, regardless of where we're at or what we're doing. Typically, we try not to make any major plans for my visit. We just kind of hang out together at the house. Go out to eat together. Wander over to the nicer parts of Lima to do some window shopping. Maybe catch a movie at the movie theater. Watch LOTS of movies in bed. And just relax. TOGETHER. And that's what matters. Did I mention that I just can't wait???

Praying that the next month flies by . . .

*media naranja - literally, half an orange; figuratively, one's "other half" or "soul mate"

The Plan

I am a planner. I love to know what's coming next. And I love to be in control. But I've lived long enough (and that's not that long at all - just 25 years) to know that even the best-laid plans are fleeting. That's why I've learned that plans are good, but only if I accept the fact that they probably won't last longer than a moment . . . . .