Consider well the path of your feet (Proverbs 4:26)

A lot of you have probably heard bits and pieces, but I thought I'd explain the machinations that led up to my pilgrimage to the holy land. After all, I am satisfied with my life and job in the greater D.C. area. But, as many of you know, Tim has not been treated as well by our nation's capital. We had set a deadline of getting overseas after five years here, but we pushed that up when Tim kept getting passed over for jobs that he was obviously more than qualified for. It became clear that he is not in the federal loop, and I don't mean the Beltway. So he decided to apply for a Fulbright Award to study the functionality of nationalism in Catalonia. So I could go with him, I started looking for teaching jobs in Spain and signed up for a recruitment fair ... in Iowa ... in February.

Although two Barcelona schools were at the fair, neither had openings for English teachers. But I was ... in Iowa ... in February, so I decided to look for connections, at least for the future if Tim got the Fulbright. The fair starts with a cattle call in a huge convention center ballroom. You basically walk up to people and beg for interviews. I signed up for interviews in Ecuador, Korea, Mali, Guatemala, Colombia, Trinidad and Tobago, Dubai, Mexico, Bulgaria, and Israel. Then I spent the next two days shaking sweaty hands, carrying around a portfolio that I never used, and referring to things like "multiple intelligences." The weirdest part is that most of the interviews were held in the hotel next to the convention center, so often I was sitting next to the bed that my interviewer had slept in the previous night. I tried my best to maintain my composure as I envisioned the guy across from me renting in-room porn. In the end, my best bets were Mexico, Korea, and Israel. All the Southern American countries and Trinidad and Tobago wouldn't hire me because of my lack of marital status (And here I thought my dog would be the deal-breaker). Dubai and Bulgaria needed a commitment immediately, which I couldn't give because Tim hadn't heard about the Fulbright. Mali was thrown out after I learned that I would be working at a school connected to diamond mines. I don't want any blood on my hands unless I am the direct cause of said blood.

Shortly after we got back from the fair, Tim, my fluent Spanish-speaking boyfriend with extensive reporting and writing experience and a master's degree in international relations, found out that he didn't get the Fulbright (see statement above about being out of the federal loop). In the interim, Korea and Mexico had filled their open positions. So I accepted in Israel. Besides, it was a perfect fit; I would be teaching two of the same classes I have now and act as English department chair. Sure, there was some discussion of holding off for a another year, but losing the Fulbright was the last straw in a series of inexplicable rejections for Tim. And the rest, as they say, is frivolity, or something like that.