The margin of disconnect between the island and a sense of home grows less with each passing day, especially now with all legalities towards my residence behind me. After making a brief trip back to Florida in order to retrieve the remainder of my belongings (as preference over shipping) and to gather the necessary paperwork for my reentry (still having some red tape to contend with for my medical portion of my work permit), I successfully made it through the Beef Island immigration line with a smile on my face and most worries disregarded this September 11th. Knowing now the extent of the work permit process, and having wished for more detailed information on the matter prior to, I offer any of you who are interested an unabbreviated list of necessities as well as a few helpful dos and donts for becoming properly employed in the BVI:

- Foremost, there was a loose recommendation by both the government and some fellow expats to begin submissions of the appropriate paperwork some several months prior to your arrival. This accounts not only for the required time period necessary for your potential employer to advertise the position to all locals (of which proof will be required as part of the application process), but also for the alloted time for shipping forms and the sluggish pace of the said offices for processing.

- Opting to use Fedex as the most rapid (but also frighteningly expensive) means for getting these express-sized envelopes to and from Tortola, I received my initial forms stating the conditions of my employment (description of the position, salary, benefits, etc...) within a matter of days. Upon their return along with 2 passport photos, my resume, and a copy of my college diploma, it took significantly more time to have this package as well as the proof of advertisement of the position to British Virgin Islanders stamped and approved by the government and then sent back to me with the corresponding medical paperwork.

- Prior to arriving in the BVI, I was required to have the following tests completed by my local doctor: Mantoux Tuberculosis, VDRL (primarily for Syphilis), and a Stool O&P. This also took several weeks to complete due not only to the time required to run the tests but also the standard inconveniences of scheduling an appointment for such and to obtain all records of my previous vaccines. Additionally, I was expected to obtain a copy of my criminal record for all counties of residence... Being one to have moved so often throughout my life, this could have proved to be very problematic. However, I was fortunate to only have to show the one for my most recent location, which also happened to be the longest in which I've held a permanent address. As the final component of all paperwork necessary to simply get through the airport, there was the extremely improvised proof of a return airline ticket, which is apparently necessary if immigration should not find all other documentation to be adequate. I will leave it to your imagination as for the best way to handle that one...

- After that magical passing through the gates at the Beef Island airport, the wave of relief I then experienced proved to be a fleeting one as I had yet to face another stretch of long lines, unmarked offices, and a wild goose chase for misplaced paperwork. To begin this 3 day event, I first was instructed to visit a medical facility which turned out to be far from its originally designated location. Nevertheless, I eventually found the then unlit and unoccupied gymnasium where the glorious stamp of approval was to be obtained, and actually found myself fortunate to arrive at an early hour well before the masses began filtering in. With a relatively short wait, $20 cash paid, and the aforementioned stamp landing itself on my documents, I was thankful for what seemed to be a painless start and then made my way over to the Labor and Immigration department. Here I found myself again in that situation of entering into the wrong building, rooms, and doors (I'm admittedly quite excellent at this, and often with some humorous stories for it), but instead was merely sent on my way in the end, being told that all new applicants for work permits will only be processed on Wednesdays. The journey takes a slightly fouler turn from here.

- The following day I returned to the Labour Department, where I was suddenly lumped into a large group with at least a few familiar faces from yesterday's medical visit. In this small waiting room already crammed with a number of other sleepy if not impatient individuals, we all withstood a duration reaching at least into a couple of hours, whereupon we were then taken into yet another small room for what was supposed to be a brief orientation... but at least it was much cooler, and with cushy chairs. Afterwards, our particularly unenthusiastic group was herded once more to the smallest room yet where, one by one, we were called in order to pay $75 for the ID card, and then some number reaching either into the hundreds or even thousands (based on your salary) for the work permit itself... Thankfully they do accept MasterCard and Visa. After paying our hefty fees (our bond growing stronger through such suffering), we once more were sent to wait, and while some finally obtained the mightiest stamp of all (that being the one in your passport), I was told to come back tomorrow.

- Returning for the third morning, it became apparent that my paperwork was lost as I was asked to fill out all of the same forms that I had originally sent from Florida.While I of course could not provide another copy of my diploma, nor do I typically carry a spare resume with me, I was nevertheless asked to recall the dates, addresses, and phone numbers of all schools I've attended (elementary education included) as well as that of all my previous employers... here too the amount of moving I've done worked against me, as did a faulty memory. To add to these burdens, I was also asked to have my boss complete several forms, which required my traveling back to that side of the island. Needless to say, my desire for this process to end had surpassed all else, meaning the final instruction (upon having returned all of the originally lost forms) to obtain my social security card in a separate building nearly put me at my limit. However, as this quick and last run back to Immigration (social security card in hand) at last provided that big blue stamp I had been looking for, I met that final sigh of relief, and handed over the best $25 I've spent yet.

While I've been told that the inconveniences surrounding my process were exceptional (I must just be that lucky), I still offer my experiences as fair warning and with note that it could be worse. Still, at the third day's end and as I looked to that island-lined horizon and clear blue water, never have I felt more grateful and truly that deeper sense of home. After all, I suppose that is the underlying intent of any right of passage, as we underscore some unspoken bond here upon this little rock.