Yoga

Australian Immigration Throws a Curve-Ball

~ teganb ~ 3 Comments

A certain item has been looming unattended on My List for several months now. Fellow list makers will know what I am talking about… a list of deadlines, personal goals, exercise ideals, clear-out and organizational plans, engagements, chores, projects, budgets to be calculated, trips to be organized, passports to be renewed, topics to be researched, etc. Often great care is taken in constructing such lists. Mine is well-organized and neatly written (thanks to regular reorganizing and rewriting), and now includes different categories and colour coding, a few characteristics which betray how many ways I can find to put off actually doing the things written there. Sometimes I get motivated and am able to cross off several tasks at a time. Usually, however, things sit there a while. The biggest dog on my list these days is undoubtedly the application for Australian residency, and it has gotten quite comfortable there on the page. Every time I think about it I groan inwardly (sometimes outwardly too). It constitutes an extremely involved process and I simply haven’t felt up to delving into it all.

Like most travel visas, it includes police checks, health exams, bank statements, exhaustive forms to fill out, etc. But this one being a “Partner Visa”, it also includes statutory declarations from family and friends proving Robin and I are seen as a couple socially; statements from each of us detailing how we support one another personally and financially; documents showing joint ownership and/or tenancy; proof of shared expenses and utilities; records of joint taxes and other official documentation of our relationship; statements regarding how we met, how we dealt with any periods of separation, and phone records to prove our communication during that time… the list goes on. Now some of that could actually be kind of fun, such as gathering photos of our travels together, showing our matching passport stamps, or getting tested on personal facts about one other during possible interviews. Nevertheless, on the whole there are far too many hoops looming before us not to feel rather daunted.

Today, however, Rob and I both decided to get to work. The Australian Immigration website says that processing time takes about five months, so while we still have enough time, we actually have to get that thing sorted pretty soon if it’s going to be ready by early next year. We also know from experience that visa delays are all too likely (and considering that, we really should have applied already! Oh well), so we identified some tasks to start on this afternoon. For my part, I decided to get the lay of the land by combing through the application checklist, which we printed off at school a few weeks ago and has been waiting for attention ever since.

I spread the four pages out before me, along with two highlighters that I bought especially for the occasion. Certified copies of identification, passport photos, minimum of two statutory declarations signed by two authorized witnesses. Okay, I think. Doable. I write a little note to look up who can act as a witness, and then plough valiantly onward with my highlighters. Medical tests from a doctor approved by the Australian government. Green—must look up list of approved doctors’ locations. Form 47SP Application for Migration, 27 pages, and Form 40SP Sponsorship for Partner, 16 pages. Yellow—already downloaded. I write a little “T” beside 47SP and “R” beside “40SP”. The fee. Green—better look it up one of these days. Payable by certified cheque, credit card, or money order. For current fees please check the Australian Immigration website. Hmm, alright. Might as well do that now. I turn to my laptop, type in the address and continue highlighting as the page loads. Rob and I have spent a bit of time lately looking at our budget (another item on the list), so adding the cost of the visa to our expenses will help us get an accurate sense of how much income we need to generate to see this year out. We have come to the rather stressful conclusion that our plans already exceed our current funds, so while the work we have is definitely helping, we will probably need to find more. The website loads and I find the visa section. Click. Then the list of visa fees, by type. Okay, which visa is it… ah, here it is. Click. Some information on what this particular visa allows you to do. Where’s the fee?  I see a link for a Visa Fee Calculator in the sidebar and click on that. Select Partner Visa 309/100. Loading. My computer is getting old and it takes a moment. Then a number pops up the screen. That can’t be right. I scroll up and down, looking for some other number that makes more sense. There is no other number. But there’s NO way. That CAN’T be right…..

$6865!?!?!?

@#%&!

The Visa Fee Calculator must be malfunctioning. I go back to the original list and hunt through the visas by type, name and number. I discover that the price I was shown applies to a different visa, for someone applying for partner residency from within the country (poor people!), and the one I’m looking for costs….

$4630.

I see.

***

Rob came home from class as I was entering a state of outrage and disbelief upon making this discovery. We both did some googling. It couldn’t be right, we thought. But as it turns out… it was. Apparently Australia has been criticized for its astronomical prices for partners applying for residency. When questioned about it, the government claimed their prices were similar to the UK’s and Canada’s. According to what we found out, however, that just ain’t true. Canada charges $550 for the equivalent permanent residency application. In the UK, it’s £956 (approximately $1860). So no, even though their fees are nothing to scoff at, they are not that similar at all.

But those sinvergüenzas at Australian Immigration are getting away with it nonetheless! What can we do?

Well, we’re still figuring that out. I might have to look at a work visa instead and investigate if I can find some kind of job I could and would like to obtain with an employer who would be willing to sponsor me. The fee for a sponsored work visa is $420. But I don’t know where I want to work… I have been looking forward to the freedom of checking out different options once I get there. Maybe I will end up applying for a Working Holiday visa of one year, which costs the same but doesn’t tie me to one employer, and doesn’t require that I have a job before entering the country. By the end of the year, we can figure out a plan. Find me a work sponsor or save like the Dickens for that bloody partner residency application (non-refundable fees, by the way). Ufff. I’m not sure. It will take a bit of ruminating.

After some good ranting and raving, Rob and I settled down in the middle room (the one with the air conditioner) to do some yoga. As nearly always happens after practicing yoga, we felt a lot better afterwards. Moving through the postures with breath and presence, observing the sensations, the emotions, the thoughts—no matter what they are—always helps to change one’s state of mind and being.

Sitting here afterwards, I feel much better equipped to shrug my shoulders, even laugh (a little) at the whole thing, and accept that life throws unexpected challenges in our paths all the time. But that doesn’t mean that things won’t work out one way or another. I have noticed lately, that maintaining a practice whether or not I feel like it, and weathering the ups and downs of my doubt regarding what to do in my life, has allowed me to more easily and frequently connect with the unchanging consciousness within, with the open, peaceful space inside. Although my fear and knowledge of the world’s suffering makes me afraid to say it, more and more I see life as inherently positive. Despite some lurking superstition that it’s dangerous to say something is going well for fear of ‘jinxing’ it, I dare to say that it is good to be alive. Will I be able to continue feeling this way even during harder times? Am I waking up to something, getting longer glimpses of that True Nature, that beautiful connected consciousness that is in all of us and is everything? Such a state of being is promised to reveal itself the more we dwell in the present, which is what practices like yoga/meditation and other philosophies and religions can help us do… different pathways that all lead to the summit of the same mountain. (And surely we can bush-whack our way up too.)

Whatever the reason, the moment seems pretty good. I’m listening to a lovely song (this version of Skin on the Drum: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8qc3XdQ6HEM), and the words are flowing easily. I don’t know how things are going to work out, and these words may end up being a big ol’ pile o dung, but I don’t care. I’m enjoying my own presence.

Spanish in the Streets

~ teganb ~ 4 Comments

It’s 9:30pm, on the eve before leaving for yoga training. Rob and I have just finished eating an early dinner by Spanish standards, and I feel like I could fall into bed this instant. The week has been full and festive, thanks to a lovely visit from a dear old friend. After many tapas and plenty a glass of wine, I think we are all ready for a rest. But it is sad to say goodbye. On top of that, I will soon be saying goodbye to Rob and to this city, and even a few new friends here, and that feels a bit sad too. I know it is not for long, but I feel like I am constantly leaving places these days.

At the same time, I am of course looking forward to this new experience—to learning, to movement, to seeing the Spanish countryside, to eating healthy vegetarian food. I am even hopeful that the weather might permit a few swims in the lovely pool pictured on the retreat website. The temperature has been increasing over the past week or so, to an almost summery warmth during the day (Vancouver summer that is—not by local standards). The evenings are still cool. But judging by the change so far, I have a beautiful spring to look forward to when I finish my course.

I also look forward to settling in a bit upon my return, to finding work, to getting into a routine, to unpacking my stuff and leaving it that way for a while. We have not yet found an apartment that is to our liking. We have decided that it is worthwhile to be both patient and picky, seeing as I already have a place to stay the next three weeks and Rob can stay in a single room rented by the week. Tomorrow we we will get up early to finish packing and move our things to his room, and later in the afternoon I will catch the bus to the small village of Villamartín. There someone will pick me up and drive me to the olive farm acreage on which the yoga retreat was built, where I will begin this new experience, and perhaps a new chapter.

Meanwhile, the rest of the city is celebrating Friday night. A group of young señores y señoritas is laughing and drinking outside our window. Someone had a guitar earlier, playing songs like Stairway to Heaven and Smells Like Teen Spirit while his friends listened with the attentiveness he was surely hoping for. Flamenco seems to appeal to an older crowd than that which has gathered outside our window. We were lucky enough to witness a spontaneous flamenco practice session the other day, performed by leather-jacketed thirty-somethings—long dreads hanging down their backs—in the hip and hipster café area of La Alameda. The really lovely thing was that nearly the whole café got involved, keeping time with loud and rhythmic clapping, some of them even singing, or just smiling and tapping their feet as they smoked their cigarettes and drank beer in the sun. What the Spaniards seem to share is a love of spending time together, of sharing drink and food in the open air, of soaking up the afternoon and evening with a presence that might suggest there is nothing else to do—but not because there actually is nothing, but because this social interaction is just as worthy as anything else on the list, so they give it their all.

My own social interactions this past wDSCF2145eek were thoroughly infused with the Spanish spirit. Strolling and wandering, enjoying afternoon sweets before dinner, reading in the sun, and hours of drinking and eating—it was a lovely way to catch up with an old friend and to enjoy the Sevillan way of leisure before moving on to a more austere lifestyle over next few weeks. But for now, to bed! Buenas noches.

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Big Wash

~ teganb ~ 4 Comments

One week remains before I catch the bus to the yoga training retreat . I can hardly believe I am doing this. I feel very nervous… perhaps because of the daunting programme, perhaps from worrying what it will be like and how the people will be, perhaps because it has been quite a while since I studied anything, or perhaps because I have invested much hope in this venture and I fear disappointment. Will it be the transformative experience I desire? Will it be the beginning of a career path? I never imagined it as one until recently,  and it still feels somehow strange to me. Will I be satisfied? Can I really make a living teaching yoga? What other things do I really want to do? How am I going to make the most difference to this world while making the most difference to myself as well? Is it possible to love one’s everyday routine?

Questions have been appearing almost constantly in my head of late, and I weary of them. It is easy to overthink things, which ultimately seems to separate a person from what is actually going on. Then, feeling a bit removed and disconnected, the mind spins even faster, because it is like watching a reflection of life off the mirror of the mind (or through the “vrittis”—whirlpools of the mind, mental activity—according to my yoga text). Well, surely three weeks of early morning meditation will help with that.

My vrittis are in full force these days and I feel easily distracted and often uncertain of what I ought to be doing. Strangely enough, all this whirling activity leaves me feeling like I have nothing much to say this week, and I must admit how challenging it is to maintain a weekly blog. Yes, I knew it would be hard, but contemplating a difficult task is a far cry from actually doing it. The real live act DSCF3164involves a lot more stomach than I expected: a twisty, churning feeling, that physically tightens and agitates the solar plexus as the end of the week approaches.

When the mind’s waters get choppy and the stomach starts doing gymnastics, it generally helps to just start moving—and the most therapeutic method of movement for me is going for a walk. If I don’t feel like going, I know I need it especially. Far away from the forests and shores of home, it is the riverside here that beckons my footsteps.

The charm of stone streets and narrow alleys remains undisputed, but Sevillan architectural beauty would not have quite the same effect if this city were not cloven by the elegant, gently-flowing giant, the river Guadalquivir. Apparently the name comes from Arabic, al-wadi al-kabir, which means either ‘great valley’, ‘big riverbed’ or ‘big wash’. Here in Sevilla, it is wide and calm. It is always peppered with rowers and kayakers, and every hour or so, a pack of tourists on a big oldfashioned-looking riverboat, that broadcasts information about the city over a loudspeaker, echoing in different languages across the water to the runners, cyclists, and walkers on the paved banks.

I find myself somewhere along that waterway almost every day. It feels like a friend, like a steady presence I can count on. I always feel better, at least a little, after a walk by the river.

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Pasos y Presencia

~ teganb ~ 3 Comments

Two and a half weeks have passed since I joined Robin in Spain. To my relief, it feels like longer. I had always hoped that time would expand once we took this leap, especially in these first few weeks of settling in—because at last there would be nothing to do. That is not true, of course; there is always something to do, and once you deal with one list another one quickly appears: registering as a Danish ex-pat now living in Spain, applying to obtain my EU health card, asking questions of the infuriatingly unhelpful Spanish bureaucrats, looking for an apartment, finding cheap phones, trying not to lose any more money through visa mess-up madness, etc.

But more and more both Rob and I are hit with the knowledge that it is all about perception. There is always going to be ‘something to do’, so we had better find a way of lifting our spirits despite the mountain of administrative tasks our society requires—especially of those who move around internationally.

Some people are naturally very good at dealing with logistical things. For us, they often feel insurmountable. I think we both find it less daunting to commit to plunging ourselves into a foreign language and culture than we do committing to the process of applying for a study visa. Ugh! I almost changed my mind about going on exchange to Mexico years ago because of the exhaustive requirements of the visa application. Of course I am glad I did not. And that is the thing—once you get going, it comes along alright, and somehow you do get through it. I think it just seems overwhelming for those of us who forget that a building is constructed brick by brick, and mountains are climbed one step at a time.

All this aside, there is much less to do here than either of us has experienced in many years. I am frankly very grateful for it. In the past, during times of transition, I have often found myself anxious for the next activity. Despite how much I may yearn for ‘nothing to do’ when I am full tilt into the work schedule, and/or studying, socializing, and keeping up on life admin, I have found it difficult to truly enjoy the lulls when they come. This time I am consciously savouring this feeling of limbo. Although I have had a few moments of financial panic, I know that something will come along. And when it does, I will look back at this stage, and this time I am determined that I will look back with gratitude that I made the best of it, rather than realizing that in worrying about the future, I missed it. No, not this time.

So what do I do with myself these days?! Well, lately, I fight colds and coughs. My main weapons are sleeping in and drinking tea, and I am making headway. I also practice yoga; in two weeks I start my intensive yoga teacher training, so I aim to practice at least four times a week, in hope that the inevitable butt-whipping brought by three weeks of intensive daily practice and study does not hit me quite so hard. I pick my way through the book on yoga philosophy that we are supposed to have read before going. I eat lunch with Rob after he is done with his classes, I walk by the river and through the city, I try to tackle some of the ‘things to do’ (but honestly I have not made much headway there), and I watch Spanish movies with Rob. We also meet Spaniards for language exchanges, and from one such exchange came a really positive step towards our immersion in Spanish culture: going out for dinner with a Spanish couple and understanding the majority of the evening’s conversation while successfully explaining whatever we attempted, one way or another. The night’s other success was the discovery of  a magnificently delicious tapas restaurant, which cost half as much as such a place would do in Canada… so come visit, amigos, and we’ll take you there!

Delicious tapas aside, sometimes I ask myself what all this amounts to, and why we are really here. We both have to remind ourselves many times that this is one of those brick by brick situations, and it is okay not to see the whole picture yet. So in the meantime, it is also okay to sleep in, drink tea, practice yoga, and wander the city, all the while counting the moments until the next meal… it’s still early days. I am hopeful these tiny steps are the first in finding our way to a life honouring our hearts’ desires, and indeed, first taking the time to sit still long enough to know what those are.

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