It’s Contract Week

A word about the process of becoming a physician in this country. Two words actually. It’s hell.

Pure hell. Plain and simple and sweltering. It’s particularly difficult for those with the inconvenient tag “FMG” meaning foreign medical graduate. Never mind that Carlos has two extra years of medical school under his belt, or that he has more clinical experience than U.S. graduates can shake their latex gloved fists at. FMGs have it tough. The chances of getting into a residency in this country are slim to none for them.

But as you all know, Carlos did get a residency. Not only that, we were spared the torture of the dreaded “Match.” Pre-matches are a thing of mythical proportions, and every single FMG dreams of one. They’re not the most common things in the world, but Carlos got one (on the last year of the pre-match’s existence no less) so to Phoenix we will go. This week should be extra exciting. It’s contract week! That beloved time in the lives of matched new residents when thick packets of pre employment papers, benefits outlines and contracts arrive.

We’ve got our eyes glued to the mailbox.

Absentee blogger

I know, I know. I swore I wouldn’t abandon my blog again.

I haven’t, I promise. Actually I have quite a good reason for my lack of blogging. Aside from near constant rain which inevitably leads to grumpy, wet, muddy horses. I am moving!

Yes, I did just move to a farm. No that farm isn’t going anywhere. Cardinal Ridge Farm (www.cardinalridgenc.com) is the family farm and is home to- yep, you guessed it-  a lot of my family. Carlos and I are leaving and everyone else is staying. To be specific, Carlos and I, our two cats Moonchie and Panterita and our horse Willow are moving to Phoenix, Arizona.

Carlos is a physician. Having graduated in his native Venezuela, we have been in a long and arduous struggle with a lovely organization called the ECFMG. It is an organization which was somehow granted the authority to certify foreign doctors by comparing their medical education to the U.S. system. Basically it is about bureaucracy and paperwork. Lots and lots of paperwork. It’s been a three year process, during which Carlos took a series of eight hour board exams and generally studied his butt off. Long story short, after the fight of our lives, Carlos was finally certified. He applied for several residency programs all over the country and was granted several interviews. I’ll be honest with everyone. My husband is a damn good doctor, but half of all U.S. applicants don’t get positions let alone foreign graduates. Things looked pretty grim. Lo and behold though, Carlos was offered a “pre-match” which basically means that a program wanted him so badly they offered him a contract outside of the match. The Match is a computer system which uses an algorithm to “match” applicants to programs based on a ranking system. All results are released in March. He didn’t have to go through that, and never will again!

So that’s it. The next three to four years of our lives will be spent thirty five hours from home. We spent the past week in the Valley of the Sun looking for houses. Forgive me if my posts are sparse, there is a lot to do to move our little household across the country!

Big news

So many things have changed since the last time I’ve posted here.

Willow and I are doing really well getting to know each other. We haven’t been riding too consistently due to the fact that I’ve been out of town for two weeks visiting family from Venezuela. In the meantime though, my cousin Stefanie has been riding her. She’s been doing well but apparently was a little spooky last week. I was a little nervous to hop on her yesterday because she has been acting “hot.” But as always, her attitude completely shifts as soon as she gets the tack on. She was calm as can be! She took really good care of me and we were able to get in a good workout. The footing in our makeshift arena was pretty slippery due to the morning’s frost and she has new shoes on so we were sliding a bit, but otherwise everything was great. The best part though was when we were ready to cool down, we left the ring and headed out to the back field- 20 some acres of green grass and rolling hills! We walked around the perimeter with my cousin and my other cousin’s pony. It was a really great experience. Today we’ll try to work out in the field some.

Ok, ok, so what is this big news? Well, we’re moving! Carlos was offered a contract at a hospital in Phoenix, Arizona so to Phoenix we are going, horse, cats and all. We will be moving around April or May as his job begins in June. He is officially Maricopa Medical Center’s newest Internal Medicine resident! I am so proud of him! It’s been a long and difficult path and at several points we thought we’d have to return to Venezuela. He kept going though and gave it all he had. He passed all of his licensing exams on the first attempt (a big deal) and helped his university during the excruciating process of getting “ECFMG” certified. He did it though, and we’re moving! I’ve already found a lovely facility where I will board Willow. We’re going to Phoenix at the end of January to check out the town and see a few barns so I will make the final decision then. One of the best parts about this move is that one of the larger jumper circuits in the USA is located on Tucson- a two hour drive from Phoenix! It’s called HITS Arizona. We’re looking forward to competing!

Well, off to clean the barn and the ponies! Happy new year!

What would my life have been…

If I hadn’t been standing in that precise location on that specific day. We’ve bought a farm. Closing is on Thursday and then we’re all moving up to Richfield. This means that my focus is on horses, buying one, leasing one, training one and paying for one. Because of that, I drove to my old stomping grounds in Concord, NC. As I passed the Charlotte Motor Speedway, a mile or so up on the right was an old abandoned farm, barely recognizable with the overgrown pastures. It was an instant flashback to when I was a young teenager, standing with my Mom in the pasture as a car rolled slowly up the driveway, kicking up dust as it did. We were both mesmerized by it, having the distinct ear-buzzing feeling that something important was happening. There was a glitch in the matrix. That important thing stepped out of the car a few moments later, to which I commented “Ew! He looks like a total prep-school idiot” (If you’re reading this, I didn’t mean it…well ok, I did.)

As I passed this place yesterday on my way to the feed store, Mercedes Sosa’s classic song “Todo Cambia” was playing. Todo Cambia means Everything Changes, and I was overcome by just how much my life has changed since that…yes, its cheesey…fateful moment. Ok, it wasn’t all sunshine and puppies, and the situation ultimately ended in heartbreak, but it did one immensely important thing for me. It brought me to Venezuela. Had I not been in that precise place at the exact time, I wouldn’t have even thought about going to Venezuela. (“Where is that place anyway? Eastern Europe?” I once asked V. I was joking…really.) I wouldn’t know what an arepa is, and I wouldn’t have lived some of my favorite memories. Most importantly, I would never have met Carlos.

My life has changed in ways I won’t even bother writing about. Almost every single minor detail of my life has changed as a result of that one moment. I will always be grateful for that.

I mean heck…I’m biligual and a dual citizen (almost!)

Mountains

Exam week is finally over and there isn’t much work to be done. The carpet in the living room, destroyed after only two years with two Afghan hounds, is now at the carpet recyclers and tile has gone down in it’s place. Step one in fighting the dirt wars. Our large backyard is about to get revamped too. About a quarter of it, the part closest to the house and deck, is bare and muddy. Too much shade. So gravel is going down and a fence is going up to keep the dogs out of the largest part of the yard. Grass will be planted, and raised beds constructed. A tree doctor will come out to take a look at the ailing peach tree which produces fruit, but is obviously sick. Hopefully (and more than likely after several years and thousands of dollars) we’ll have a back yard paradise and will no longer be dependent on grocery store produce. For now, lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers, and peppers…lots and lots of peppers, are growing in the front yard- away from dogs.

I have a trip planned for Venezuela in June, but tomorrow night I’m headed to the mountains (mounnntaiiiinnnssss) with the girls. Back to Mountain Light Sanctuary for two nights and three days. I’ll be staying in a little cabin called frodo’s. To get to it, you climb down the steep river bank to a round door of a stone cabin. There is no electricity. Walk in, and there is one room. To the left is a widow seat with a stained glass window which overlooks the rushing river. To the right is a small table with 2 chairs, a cooking hearth/fireplace, and a bed. It is beautiful, simple and it feels like my home away from home.

Getting to the sanctuary is difficult. There are no maps or road signs. It’s deep in the Pisgah National Forest, surrounded by half a million acres of uninhabited land. The closest grocery store is nearly 45 minutes away. I’ve been there many, many times and so I know the way by heart. But this time, I will be arriving at around 1:00 in the morning. There is no electricity or lights of any kind. Just the stars and the moon and a flashlight. I know I’ll be able to find it, but making it to my cabin is another thing. Michael, the owner of the property, said he’d leave a lit lantern and some firewood. The trek from where I will have to leave my car and the property itself is slightly difficult by day (when carrying your belongings) but at night, I’ve never dared attempt it. I will need to cross a rickety old bridge, with planks raised just enough so that they will, inevitably, make me trip but hopefully not fall. then there is the stone staircase to the gate of the property. It’s not so bad in and of itself, but it will be raining when I arrive, making them very slippery. And then there is the trek across the property. A beautiful one though, because it always seems that, just as you enter the property, a bubble surrounds you and you feel at peace and at home. The plants come alive and the sound of the rushing river orients you and points you in the right direction. I’ll follow it until I can make out the little chimney and grass roof that is all that is visible of my cabin from the main property.

I could wait until Tuesday morning to go, but why waste another second away from this amazing place?

Frodo’s- view from the river in winter.

This is a good thing

I’ve spent the last half hour uploading hundreds of old-ish photos to my new flickr account (it uploads so darn fast!) an it’s really given me a chance to remember some things I’d forgotten. This is a good thing.

First of all, I’ve had an adventurous life! No, I’ve not been backpacking in Europe, but I have been on a 16 hour-long bus ride sans air conditioning from Big Low in Valencia to Puerto Ayacucho, Amazonas. I’ve crossed a river on a “chalana” (or raft) at sunrise with a double-decker bus almost tipping over. I’ve jumped into a natural jacuzzi on a natural rock slide in the Amazon jungle. It was a deep (and I mean deep, no one has touched the bottom) hole in the middle of a large, smooth rock. I’ve taken the bus all by myself from Valencia to Tucacas and back again twice and lived to tell the tale (you’ll notice that many of my adventures in Venezuela have to do with busses. There’s a reason for that.) I’ve been rappelling in Las Chimeneas in Valencia. I’ve spent ample time at some of the most beautiful beaches in the world. I’ve been an illegal alien in a third world country. I’ve nearly been deported. I’ve bribed numerous officials in Venezuela. And most importantly, I’ve travelled to a foreign country with a false promise, had my expectations broken down around me, yet come out of it a better person.

I’ll tell a quick story about a life changing moment for me in Venezuela, and one that ultimately led me to meet Carlos. After arriving in 2007 and realizing that the reason I went there (we’ll call him “V”) wasn’t a reason anymore, I was so lonely and miserable for several weeks. I had decided to stay the full two months anyway, but I was beginning to regret it. One night, while sitting in my room in the big and beautiful house in El Parral, I made a decision. I would walk down to the little club on the corner in the vibrant Las 4 Avenidas and sit there until I made a friend. It was a desperate move, but it paid off. So I walked, in the middle of the night (something V had been obsessed with preventing) to a bar which was not-so-creatively named “Drinking Bar”. It was a hole in the wall where almost everyone my age would go. You would go inside, buy a beer, and then come outside to hang around and drink it. Nothing fancy, but it was full of the typical 4 Avenidas kids. The “sifrinos”. I bought myself a beer, propped myself up against the wall that separated the outside part of the bar with the street, and I sat there. That’s all I did. I sat and waited. I even stooped so low as to play with my phone, which wasn’t even connected. I pretended to be doing something very important. I was truly desperate. Finally, two people recognized two things. 1. I was a gringa and 2. I didn’t know anyone. They took mercy on me. Their names are Nairy and Vanessa. We became best friends. They approached me, and recognizing my foreign-ness, spoke to me in English. We all lived only a few blocks from there, and for all the years I lived in Venezuela, I was never lonely again. They brought me to the place where I met Carlos. Halfway through that vacation I nearly gave up, and I hopped on the bus back to Valencia, ready to pack up and go back home to the states. They convinced me to return, so back I went on the bus to Tucacas. That night I met Carlos. I miss them. I still speak to Nairy (although not as often as I should.) Unfortunately, Vanessa passed away about two years ago from cancer. She was 25 I believe.

Through this adventure of uploading photos, I’ve come to realize that I have had an amazing and privileged life.

The bug

Oh no… I have the travel bug again. I guess it’s due to feeling stagnant here, surrounded by less-than-honest coworkers and people who think they are oh-so-smart yet act oh-so-stupidly plus having had out of town (out of country) house guests this past week. I have an overwhelming desire to use the geographic cure and escape somewhere far away. The North Carolina mountains would suffice, but then there is the issue of me always wanting to move to the places I visit for a minimum of a few months. Can I have that life please? I’ll work the rest of the year, but give me three months each year to live somewhere else- preferably somewhere abroad. I think I was born to be an ex-pat.

For now I’ll take a campsite in the woods… just give me a little stream with a swimming hole and I’m set.