A Change of Plans

As I’ve said before, I’ve been focusing on not planning too much. I’ve been trying to live in the present and only thinking about my next stop rather than my whole trip. 

When I began figuring out which countries I wanted to visit and how long I wanted to stay, I found out about the Schengen area. An area made up of 26 countries (including most of the countries I wanted to see) that as an American I could only travel through without a visa for 90 days. Then, I would have to leave to non-Schengen countries for another 90 days before I could return. This was annoying for me since the countries I really wanted to visit were Spain, France, Italy, Greece, and Germany. All Schengen countries.

My plan was to go to Ireland for those three months I had to be away. I found a workaway there that said he wanted me to write for some of his local tourism magazines. I was ecstatic. So ecstatic, I ignored some red flags in his email back. One, he said I needed to buy a work jacket, boots, and gloves. Two, it was a place that would actually be in the middle of nowhere. Three, he suggested that when going through immigration, I wouldn’t mention it was a work thing since I’m not getting paid for it, and they might get, “fussy.” That’s kinda hard to do when the word, “work,” is in the title of the website you found your accommodation.

I began writing this post about two hours after I was denied entrance to Ireland.

I walked up to the immigration booth, thinking I would get my passport stamped immediately. I didn’t. Instead, I was bombarded with questions I didn’t really know answers to, like his address and what exactly I would be doing. Nerves shot through me as they asked me how I knew him. I tried beating around the bush, saying I was just helping out a friend. But this is technically a lie and as the questions continued, I could feel the heat rise up my cheeks and body as my hands trembled with fear of not knowing what could happen. I finally gave up all of the information and my phone showing the workaway messages.

“I’m not getting paid,” I offered. 

“It’s still for accommodation. Ireland sees that as a form of payment.” 

Twenty minutes later, I was told the news that I would not be allowed inside the country.

I was sent to a small, barricaded area with two other girls. After a while one was let go and only given a week instead of the four months she had planned to stay. The other only spoke Portuguese except to answer, “No,” when asked if she spoke English.

All I wanted as I waited was my phone and a sign to point me towards the best solution.

What happens if my travels end here? I started thinking about going back to Texas, about looking for a job, saving up for my own place, my own car, being able to choose what to do, when to do it, and not worrying about imposing. It sounded amazing. Something that had made me feel a bit unsure, now felt exciting. I guess that’s what happens when you have time to truly think about what you want in life and stop caring about what others expect you to do.

The rejection from Ireland had given me the chance to let go of any expectations I, or anyone else, had about the length of my trip and made me realize I was ready to settle into my life. To begin working, to make my own home, to figure out my lifestyle and make it happen. After three months of following other people’s lifestyles, you begin to realize how you want and don’t want to live and, in my case, you miss the freedom of choosing your own lifestyle.

As I was marinating on the idea of buying a ticket for home right away, the immigration officer came in to tell me that they had booked my flight back to Rome. They explained that I could come back to Ireland as long as I showed proof that it would just be for vacation. I would need reservations, an outward ticket, and sufficient funds in the bank for the length of my stay, which should be a month at the most to not raise concerns (not the three that I had planned).

Noted. I was happy I wasn’t banned. I was happy I wasn’t spending the night in a cell. I was happy I had gotten my phone back. 

I immediately messaged my mom. Tears filled my eyes as I recounted the day’s events. I was scared she’d be disappointed. But knowing I saw the error in what I had done and my composure in figuring out my next move, she said she was proud of me for how I was handling everything. 

I told her about my possible plan to go back to the states. I told her I didn’t see this as ruining my plans but as a way of realizing that I’m okay if this is where my travels end. I’m ready to start a traditional adult life, even though I know finding a job and getting settled may be rough and may take a while. 

My mom was happy to hear this but said I should try looking for a way to continue my travels. As I sat on the floor of Dublin’s airport,  I began to do some research and found that all of the U.K is iffy on workaway if you don’t have the appropriate visas or work permits. There was no way I could be out of the Schengen area for 90 days without using workaway to cover food and board. So, I nixed the idea of staying out for 90 days and began to plan a real vacation for New Year’s. My hosts in Italy were already waiting for my return and even offered to help find a work visa to stay with them even longer. But I knew that on the 31st I had to be out or risk getting a fine or banned from the Schengen area. 

I looked for which places were cool to visit for the end of the year and found Edinburgh, Scotland’s Hogmanay Street Party-voted as one event you must go to before you die. Hm, this was a possibility. 

I wrote it down in my notebook and closed it, exhaustion weighing down my body.

It had been nine hours since I landed and ten hours until my flight back. I closed my eyes, and thanked God for the lesson of the day, for it not being as bad as it could have been, for giving me another story to tell, for having options, and for hopefully getting the chance to help someone who may have not been aware of the rules. 

The next two days were still a struggle. I made it back to Rome but my baggage didn’t…It was sent on the next flight over. I debated on where to go and what day to return to the states and finally settled my plans. I would leave for Edinburgh on the 31st to make it in time for the New Year’s street party and stay until the 5th. I bought tickets for the party and tickets for the Scotch Whiskey Experience. As a fan of whiskey, I was excited to gain some knowledge on it. I booked a B&B for the duration of my stay and my flight back to Texas. I took screenshots of it all to have proof that this was solely a touristic adventure, no workawaying included.

It took about a day to get all of this ready. But it’s a trip that I’ll remember my whole life. I’ll be making a post about my stay in Edinburgh soon but for now I’ll say how I would’ve definitely missed out on such an amazing city had I been allowed into Ireland. Edinburgh is the birthplace of Harry Potter, host to numerous pubs with live music, home to some of the sweetest people I’ve ever met, and the place I saw the best fireworks display ever. 

As a big believer in eveything happens for a reason, this whole situation only strengthened that belief. Most people I’ve told think something way worse may have happened to me while in Ireland. And they could be right. But what I know for sure is I would not have gotten the experience I did and that would have been a shame.

I hope you reading this can take a few things away from all of this. 

-Never try to keep things from an immigration officer, no matter what you were told. 

-If you’re traveling without a visa, make sure you don’t need one to volunteer or “work,” in your destination.

-Sometimes not so great things happen so things better than your plans can happen. But only if you let them. I could’ve just changed my ticket to come home right away. I could’ve let the fear of getting denied again or the disappointment of being rejected in the first place stop me from gaining a new experience. But then, what good would that have done?

-Never lose hope. I was sleeping on the floor of an airport on the night of the 27th. On the 31st, I was dancing and laughing with strangers as we waited for the clock to strike midnight. Trust me, it will get better.
And with that, I say, I’m back in Texas and ready to start this new chapter. Thanks to everyone who has read my posts so far and has supported me in any way. I hope to continue writing and that y’all will continue reading them and hopefully get inspired.