Thursday, February 24, 2005
Comments please!
By the way, I've now figured out how people can comment on this blog (even if they don't have an account themselves). So let me know what you think! Be gentle...
The longest coffee in the world
This morning I went to Tim Horton's (it's a daily thing now, I can feel myself falling under the spell... my name's Suzie and I'm a Timaholic) with Joe and his boss.
Three hours later, we left the place. Holy mother of mercy, can Joe's boss talk. He didn't just talk for Canada, he competed in the Talking World Championships and won twenty laps ahead. He took up 90% of the conversation, yakking mostly about himself (punctuated with unnecessary winks and that thing very very annoying people do with their fingers when they're quoting).
Well, some of it was interesting. The guy has a cottage in the Bruce Peninsula (on Lake Huron), native home of the brown and black bears. Most Canadians go their whole lives without seeing a bear, but in more northerly areas they leave an obvious trail of devastation (bears, not Canadians). A local bakery, for example, lined up its collection of front doors outside its shop, all wrecked by teeth and claw marks made by hungry bears. Apparently those things can break into a car if they know there's food inside. And don't try to outrun one, because they can outrun you, climb trees, swim, everything. Basically if you see one it's lost its fear of man and is either hungry or insane - either way you're dead.
On a lighter note, Joe's boss didn't seem to get my sense of humour, something he shares in common with most other Canadians. Most of my jokes are met with blank stares (the Italian-Canadians are more receptive), which I guess I'm getting used to.
There is the terrifying possibility that I might not actually be funny, but if that's the truth then at the moment I don't want to hear it. Because another thing that comes with moving to a new country is low self-esteem. A lot of the knowledge you've built up in your own country, everything about infrastructure, culture, politics, history and customs, is useless in the new country. Your awareness is therefore (temporarily, I hope) reversed to that of a 12 year old - not the best thing for your confidence. I feel like I've lost all my common sense! Maybe I never had any, but at least in England I managed to hide it.
Anyway, this entry is getting way too long. I'm getting cramp and I've visited this internet cafe so much that the guy behind the counter noticed I'd cut my fringe over the weekend (my husband only noticed this morning!). I think I need to get a life....!
Three hours later, we left the place. Holy mother of mercy, can Joe's boss talk. He didn't just talk for Canada, he competed in the Talking World Championships and won twenty laps ahead. He took up 90% of the conversation, yakking mostly about himself (punctuated with unnecessary winks and that thing very very annoying people do with their fingers when they're quoting).
Well, some of it was interesting. The guy has a cottage in the Bruce Peninsula (on Lake Huron), native home of the brown and black bears. Most Canadians go their whole lives without seeing a bear, but in more northerly areas they leave an obvious trail of devastation (bears, not Canadians). A local bakery, for example, lined up its collection of front doors outside its shop, all wrecked by teeth and claw marks made by hungry bears. Apparently those things can break into a car if they know there's food inside. And don't try to outrun one, because they can outrun you, climb trees, swim, everything. Basically if you see one it's lost its fear of man and is either hungry or insane - either way you're dead.
On a lighter note, Joe's boss didn't seem to get my sense of humour, something he shares in common with most other Canadians. Most of my jokes are met with blank stares (the Italian-Canadians are more receptive), which I guess I'm getting used to.
There is the terrifying possibility that I might not actually be funny, but if that's the truth then at the moment I don't want to hear it. Because another thing that comes with moving to a new country is low self-esteem. A lot of the knowledge you've built up in your own country, everything about infrastructure, culture, politics, history and customs, is useless in the new country. Your awareness is therefore (temporarily, I hope) reversed to that of a 12 year old - not the best thing for your confidence. I feel like I've lost all my common sense! Maybe I never had any, but at least in England I managed to hide it.
Anyway, this entry is getting way too long. I'm getting cramp and I've visited this internet cafe so much that the guy behind the counter noticed I'd cut my fringe over the weekend (my husband only noticed this morning!). I think I need to get a life....!
Tuesday, February 22, 2005
Snow joke
Driving home from Oshawa (East Toronto) to Hamilton on Sunday night, I experienced my first Canadian snow storm. You know how in England the weather's never really that bad, so if you really want to do something you won't let the weather stop you?
Not so in Canada. A third of the way home we realised we should have stayed in Oshawa. Visibility was between 50 and 100 metres, and the snow was swirling around us in massive clouds and dancing in drifts across the road. Previously recognisable landmarks looked like they were covered in the ash of a nuclear holocaust, and everything was deserted.
In the middle of all this, I realised why North Americans, as well as other people from non-temperate climates, seem to believe in God more. When you're in the middle of a snowstorm or a tornado or a flood, it's easy to believe that your destiny isn't entirely in your hands. Whereas it's hard to find evidence of a higher power walking through the drizzle in the centre of Slough.
Not so in Canada. A third of the way home we realised we should have stayed in Oshawa. Visibility was between 50 and 100 metres, and the snow was swirling around us in massive clouds and dancing in drifts across the road. Previously recognisable landmarks looked like they were covered in the ash of a nuclear holocaust, and everything was deserted.
In the middle of all this, I realised why North Americans, as well as other people from non-temperate climates, seem to believe in God more. When you're in the middle of a snowstorm or a tornado or a flood, it's easy to believe that your destiny isn't entirely in your hands. Whereas it's hard to find evidence of a higher power walking through the drizzle in the centre of Slough.
Cold and steel
Although there are many far prettier places in the surrounding area (with much nicer views of Lake Ontario) Hamilton is starting to have an appeal of its own.
Here's an example. The town is backed by an escarpment (laughably known as the 'mountain', even though it's 50 metres high at the most), and the views from it are pretty amazing, especially at night. The whole of Hamilton is lit up, with the smoke from the steel mills in the background turning orange in the light and making it look like the city is in flames. It's a scene of apocalyptic beauty I've never seen anywhere else.
The steel mills themselves are also pretty cool. They're so huge and so numerous that they kind of look majestic as you drive past them. It almost makes you forget the ugly slag heaps that also surround the town (not to mention the ones that live there - only joking!).
And we're finally starting to settle in here. We've got an apartment (albeit rented) and joined a gym. The gym is hilariously conservative. Anyone who thinks there's anything remotely attractive about me working out should get a lobotomy or something, but a member of staff actually told me to cover up with a t-shirt the other day! Apparently showing your shoulders or tummy is showing off (they haven't seen my tummy then).
There's also a women's only part of the gym upstairs, with periodic announcements of "Notice to women in the gym upstairs, a male is about to enter". Sweet heavens, no!!!!!!! A male?!?!?! Quick, bring me my wimple! Honestly.
Another thing that makes me laugh about my life in Canada is my Italian family. If anyone's seen "While You Were Sleeping" and the family conversations in that film, then you've got the idea. A conversation at the dinner table will go something like this:
"These rapini [Italian version of broccoli] cost me only $2 at Loblaws [Canadian supermarket]"
"$2? You were ripped off. I saw them just the other day at the No Frills for $1."
"Yeah, but these rapini taste better."
"Taste? What's to taste? Rapini is rapini. I'm saying you were ripped off."
"Yeah, but I'm saying these are fresher so they taste better."
"Ah, it's all in your mind. You were ripped off."
And so on, round and round, ad infinitum, until you have to talk a walk outside just to hear yourself think. The person insisting that somebody was "ripped off" is usually my uncle Joe, who should get an Olympic gold for repeating himself. But I love them all dearly, and if you ever need advice they'll be more than happy to give it.
There are lots of other good things too. I was in a gas (sorry, petrol) service station the other day when I noticed a tray that said "Leave a penny, take a penny" (no, it didn't say anything about spending a penny, for all the five-year-olds out there). Apparently, it's where you leave your pennies so they don't jangle around in your pockets and weigh your purse down, and then if anyone needs change when they're buying something later on, it's right there. How cool a concept is that? If you had the same thing in Britain, the pennies would get ripped off as soon as the station attendant's back was turned. I remember when they introduced bikes in Oxford that you could ride for free, then leave somewhere for someone else to ride. Great idea, but the bikes got stolen within days. Here, a scheme like that would work. If it wasn't so flippin' cold.
Actually, the cold isn't that bad. Okay, it was -10 on Sunday night and Lake Ontario was frozen, but the heating is so good here and the houses so well insulated, that you really don't feel it much. It's not damp either, so the cold doesn't soak into your bones like in England. So despite my fears, the cold is actually liveable with, and when it snows it's very pretty.
Finally, the latest in the series of Hilarious Signs. On a leaflet for a home security system: "A home or business is burglarized every three minutes."
Let's have a competition. The word that should have been used instead is:
(a) Burglised
(b) Burgled
(c) Burgers
(d) Some other hideous American convolution of a perfectly simple word.
Notarise your commentations, please, by postating a replication to this blogarithm.
Here's an example. The town is backed by an escarpment (laughably known as the 'mountain', even though it's 50 metres high at the most), and the views from it are pretty amazing, especially at night. The whole of Hamilton is lit up, with the smoke from the steel mills in the background turning orange in the light and making it look like the city is in flames. It's a scene of apocalyptic beauty I've never seen anywhere else.
The steel mills themselves are also pretty cool. They're so huge and so numerous that they kind of look majestic as you drive past them. It almost makes you forget the ugly slag heaps that also surround the town (not to mention the ones that live there - only joking!).
And we're finally starting to settle in here. We've got an apartment (albeit rented) and joined a gym. The gym is hilariously conservative. Anyone who thinks there's anything remotely attractive about me working out should get a lobotomy or something, but a member of staff actually told me to cover up with a t-shirt the other day! Apparently showing your shoulders or tummy is showing off (they haven't seen my tummy then).
There's also a women's only part of the gym upstairs, with periodic announcements of "Notice to women in the gym upstairs, a male is about to enter". Sweet heavens, no!!!!!!! A male?!?!?! Quick, bring me my wimple! Honestly.
Another thing that makes me laugh about my life in Canada is my Italian family. If anyone's seen "While You Were Sleeping" and the family conversations in that film, then you've got the idea. A conversation at the dinner table will go something like this:
"These rapini [Italian version of broccoli] cost me only $2 at Loblaws [Canadian supermarket]"
"$2? You were ripped off. I saw them just the other day at the No Frills for $1."
"Yeah, but these rapini taste better."
"Taste? What's to taste? Rapini is rapini. I'm saying you were ripped off."
"Yeah, but I'm saying these are fresher so they taste better."
"Ah, it's all in your mind. You were ripped off."
And so on, round and round, ad infinitum, until you have to talk a walk outside just to hear yourself think. The person insisting that somebody was "ripped off" is usually my uncle Joe, who should get an Olympic gold for repeating himself. But I love them all dearly, and if you ever need advice they'll be more than happy to give it.
There are lots of other good things too. I was in a gas (sorry, petrol) service station the other day when I noticed a tray that said "Leave a penny, take a penny" (no, it didn't say anything about spending a penny, for all the five-year-olds out there). Apparently, it's where you leave your pennies so they don't jangle around in your pockets and weigh your purse down, and then if anyone needs change when they're buying something later on, it's right there. How cool a concept is that? If you had the same thing in Britain, the pennies would get ripped off as soon as the station attendant's back was turned. I remember when they introduced bikes in Oxford that you could ride for free, then leave somewhere for someone else to ride. Great idea, but the bikes got stolen within days. Here, a scheme like that would work. If it wasn't so flippin' cold.
Actually, the cold isn't that bad. Okay, it was -10 on Sunday night and Lake Ontario was frozen, but the heating is so good here and the houses so well insulated, that you really don't feel it much. It's not damp either, so the cold doesn't soak into your bones like in England. So despite my fears, the cold is actually liveable with, and when it snows it's very pretty.
Finally, the latest in the series of Hilarious Signs. On a leaflet for a home security system: "A home or business is burglarized every three minutes."
Let's have a competition. The word that should have been used instead is:
(a) Burglised
(b) Burgled
(c) Burgers
(d) Some other hideous American convolution of a perfectly simple word.
Notarise your commentations, please, by postating a replication to this blogarithm.
Thursday, February 17, 2005
It's snowing!!!!
Boy, it's comin' down pretty hard oot there, eh?
Yes, that's right, it's snowing! A lot! Strangely enough, it's the first proper snow I've seen since I got here (it's mostly been rain). Everywhere looks pretty in the snow, and this even includes Hamilton. The snow covers up the industrial grime, the cracks in the pavements, and the Tim Horton's cups that seem to sprout from every square foot of pavement (the Timmy's cup should be dubbed the city flower).
Hamilton is known as 'Steeltown' and is the industrial hub of Ontario. As such it's not going to be getting any 'Canada in Bloom' awards any time soon. It's the country's Detroit, all strip malls and garish lights and ads for 5 tacos for $3 so you can make your butt even fatter. Presumably it's friendly once you get to know people, and they're certainly friendlier than in London, but a lot of people seem to have that grim stoicism that you'd expect to find in a Russian mining town.
There are a lot of very beautiful places in Canada, but Hamilton is not one of them. In fact, beauty and nature are two things I'm missing a lot at the moment. London is so green compared to a lot of cities.
Anyway, I'll stop whingeing. The big redeeming feature of Hamilton is that it's in Canada. So it doesn't have the crime, the homelessness, and (at first glance) the kind of poverty that you see in '8 Mile'. It also has amazing customer service, convenience (if you have a car - public transport, or 'transit', is okay too), and rock bottom prices. How could you complain about somewhere that offers the Sheridan Hotel for 80 quid a night (for two people)???
Another good thing is that I'll be going with Joe tomorrow as he does his sales rounds, which involves seeing a lot of the wider area. I'm hoping we'll find a nicer place where we'll be able to buy a house eventually.
Yet another is that I've now got my Ontario driver's licence - hooray!!! Now they're letting me on the road (the fools! mwahaha) I can get a car and be a fully fledged North American.
Finally, the signs around here provide a source of constant amusement. After the gun one with Hitler (see previous entry) they've been cropping up all over the place. Here's three more:
1. "Please do not walk in front of bus" (closely followed by "Please do not shove head in waste disposal" and "Please do not hack arms off with a large knife" - okay, I might have made those two up).
2. In an ad for a college - "Striving 4 Excellence" (!!!)
3. Outside a restaurant - "Back by popular demand, deep fried ice cream" (!!!!!!!!) I thought deep fried Mars Bars were bad enough, but just looking at this sign made me gag.
New cultures are great - finding out new stuff, figuring out how things work, seeing a different viewpoint on life. One of the best bits though (and a great coping mechanism) is the stuff you can laugh at : )
Yes, that's right, it's snowing! A lot! Strangely enough, it's the first proper snow I've seen since I got here (it's mostly been rain). Everywhere looks pretty in the snow, and this even includes Hamilton. The snow covers up the industrial grime, the cracks in the pavements, and the Tim Horton's cups that seem to sprout from every square foot of pavement (the Timmy's cup should be dubbed the city flower).
Hamilton is known as 'Steeltown' and is the industrial hub of Ontario. As such it's not going to be getting any 'Canada in Bloom' awards any time soon. It's the country's Detroit, all strip malls and garish lights and ads for 5 tacos for $3 so you can make your butt even fatter. Presumably it's friendly once you get to know people, and they're certainly friendlier than in London, but a lot of people seem to have that grim stoicism that you'd expect to find in a Russian mining town.
There are a lot of very beautiful places in Canada, but Hamilton is not one of them. In fact, beauty and nature are two things I'm missing a lot at the moment. London is so green compared to a lot of cities.
Anyway, I'll stop whingeing. The big redeeming feature of Hamilton is that it's in Canada. So it doesn't have the crime, the homelessness, and (at first glance) the kind of poverty that you see in '8 Mile'. It also has amazing customer service, convenience (if you have a car - public transport, or 'transit', is okay too), and rock bottom prices. How could you complain about somewhere that offers the Sheridan Hotel for 80 quid a night (for two people)???
Another good thing is that I'll be going with Joe tomorrow as he does his sales rounds, which involves seeing a lot of the wider area. I'm hoping we'll find a nicer place where we'll be able to buy a house eventually.
Yet another is that I've now got my Ontario driver's licence - hooray!!! Now they're letting me on the road (the fools! mwahaha) I can get a car and be a fully fledged North American.
Finally, the signs around here provide a source of constant amusement. After the gun one with Hitler (see previous entry) they've been cropping up all over the place. Here's three more:
1. "Please do not walk in front of bus" (closely followed by "Please do not shove head in waste disposal" and "Please do not hack arms off with a large knife" - okay, I might have made those two up).
2. In an ad for a college - "Striving 4 Excellence" (!!!)
3. Outside a restaurant - "Back by popular demand, deep fried ice cream" (!!!!!!!!) I thought deep fried Mars Bars were bad enough, but just looking at this sign made me gag.
New cultures are great - finding out new stuff, figuring out how things work, seeing a different viewpoint on life. One of the best bits though (and a great coping mechanism) is the stuff you can laugh at : )
Tuesday, February 15, 2005
Oot 'n' aboot in Hamilton
Having escaped the drizzle of England a few days previously, I woke up on Monday morning to torrential rain that was to last all day. Oh well.
Even through the rain, Hamilton looks a lot better in the daylight so I felt a lot more optimistic, although the day itself wasn't much to speak of because I spent most of it sorting Joe's sales stuff out. With no job until I get my permanent resident's visa, though, this made me feel quite useful and meant I escaped the rain.
So I chose to explore today (Tuesday) instead. Joe dropped me off in the middle of town and I started wandering. Everything is new and pretty different, although at varying levels of interest. With snow everywhere and a slight hokiness to the town, I felt like I was wandering through the set of Northern Exposure.
One of the first shops I encountered was (wait for it) a gun shop! Unfortunately you couldn't see any actual guns in the window (boring) but there were some great gun lobby signs. One of them had a picture of Hitler doing the Nazi salute, with a caption underneath that read "Raise your hand if you support gun control". You can tell we're close to America!!!
That's about as far as I've got, although I'll probably check out a Tim Horton's soon. Tim Horton's is the new Church of Canada. It's a coffee/snack shop and every Canadian goes there at least once a day. In fact, it won't be long before Canadians are born with a protrusion of their right arm shaped like a Timmy's coffee cup, because that's the way most adults here wander around. There's a shop, like, every 100 metres (no, really!) and as an ice hockey player who helped kids and died tragically young, who also provides coffee to all, Tim Horton is now a national hero.
Having said that, it's time to do the Canadian thing and go get my daily fix : )
Even through the rain, Hamilton looks a lot better in the daylight so I felt a lot more optimistic, although the day itself wasn't much to speak of because I spent most of it sorting Joe's sales stuff out. With no job until I get my permanent resident's visa, though, this made me feel quite useful and meant I escaped the rain.
So I chose to explore today (Tuesday) instead. Joe dropped me off in the middle of town and I started wandering. Everything is new and pretty different, although at varying levels of interest. With snow everywhere and a slight hokiness to the town, I felt like I was wandering through the set of Northern Exposure.
One of the first shops I encountered was (wait for it) a gun shop! Unfortunately you couldn't see any actual guns in the window (boring) but there were some great gun lobby signs. One of them had a picture of Hitler doing the Nazi salute, with a caption underneath that read "Raise your hand if you support gun control". You can tell we're close to America!!!
That's about as far as I've got, although I'll probably check out a Tim Horton's soon. Tim Horton's is the new Church of Canada. It's a coffee/snack shop and every Canadian goes there at least once a day. In fact, it won't be long before Canadians are born with a protrusion of their right arm shaped like a Timmy's coffee cup, because that's the way most adults here wander around. There's a shop, like, every 100 metres (no, really!) and as an ice hockey player who helped kids and died tragically young, who also provides coffee to all, Tim Horton is now a national hero.
Having said that, it's time to do the Canadian thing and go get my daily fix : )
With a Tim Horton's cup grafted onto my right hand, I'm truly Canadian! In the background is sunny Hamilton (!!)
Mo-hell
We drove into Hamilton on Sunday night, being welcomed by freezing cold weather and an industrial gloom I'd only seen in sci-fi movies. Lights from ugly strip malls punctuated the darkness and took my attention away from the down at heel flavour of the town.
Sorry, bit of descriptive prose there! Now that's out of my system...
We pulled up to our motel which looked like the set of a horror movie where a practical joke gone wrong means someone's jaw gets ripped off... or where a young couple decide to 'do the deed' and in the middle of doing it Freddie rips through their motel door... or where a schizophrenic decides to stay the night and work his bloody way through each room number by number...
You'll have guessed by now it's not the most salubrious of places. It didn't help that we couldn't get into our parking space because a police car was blocking the way, and when we did eventually park it was next to a car that looked like it had been in 'Pulp Fiction' or something.
The motel is, apparently, going to be turned into a Howard Johnson's (quite nice American hotel chain), but by the looks of things that's a long long way into the future.
Anyway, apart from smelling of smoke the room wasn't too bad. For $34 (Canadian - about 15 quid) a night for the two of us, we got constant hot water, a powerful shower, good heating (always useful in subzero temperatures) and satellite TV. And the sheets were clean.
The next day, the cleaner came round and did our room, and apologised profusely for all the bits that should have been done before we got there and weren't (like hoovering). So despite the hellish exterior, the motel is actually not bad value for money. I dread to think what a 15 quid a night room in England (for two people) would be like - probably a shoebox in the middle of the road with everything else charged as extra (what - you want customer service as well?)
Sorry, bit of descriptive prose there! Now that's out of my system...
We pulled up to our motel which looked like the set of a horror movie where a practical joke gone wrong means someone's jaw gets ripped off... or where a young couple decide to 'do the deed' and in the middle of doing it Freddie rips through their motel door... or where a schizophrenic decides to stay the night and work his bloody way through each room number by number...
You'll have guessed by now it's not the most salubrious of places. It didn't help that we couldn't get into our parking space because a police car was blocking the way, and when we did eventually park it was next to a car that looked like it had been in 'Pulp Fiction' or something.
The motel is, apparently, going to be turned into a Howard Johnson's (quite nice American hotel chain), but by the looks of things that's a long long way into the future.
Anyway, apart from smelling of smoke the room wasn't too bad. For $34 (Canadian - about 15 quid) a night for the two of us, we got constant hot water, a powerful shower, good heating (always useful in subzero temperatures) and satellite TV. And the sheets were clean.
The next day, the cleaner came round and did our room, and apologised profusely for all the bits that should have been done before we got there and weren't (like hoovering). So despite the hellish exterior, the motel is actually not bad value for money. I dread to think what a 15 quid a night room in England (for two people) would be like - probably a shoebox in the middle of the road with everything else charged as extra (what - you want customer service as well?)
Sunday, February 13, 2005
The Italian Blog
My first weekend in Canada doesn't really fit in to this blog, because
(a) I spent it with my in-laws who are all Italian, and
(b) I'd been there before so I didn't really have any new impressions of the country.
But being surrounded by Italians there was a lot of food involved, and lots of shouting, especially from my zio (uncle) Joe who refuses to believe he's wrong about anything but nevertheless makes excellent pizza.
I also got to see my new (ish - he's been around for almost a year now) nephew who's like a little version of my husband Joe (God help us all!) : )
Anyway I'll move on to first impressions of Hamilton, the city just southwest of Toronto which forms the backdrop for my new life in Canada...
(a) I spent it with my in-laws who are all Italian, and
(b) I'd been there before so I didn't really have any new impressions of the country.
But being surrounded by Italians there was a lot of food involved, and lots of shouting, especially from my zio (uncle) Joe who refuses to believe he's wrong about anything but nevertheless makes excellent pizza.
I also got to see my new (ish - he's been around for almost a year now) nephew who's like a little version of my husband Joe (God help us all!) : )
Anyway I'll move on to first impressions of Hamilton, the city just southwest of Toronto which forms the backdrop for my new life in Canada...
Friday, February 11, 2005
Leaving on a Jet Plane
Being about to leave your home country and move to a completely different place is the weirdest feeling. I feel really sad at leaving everyone I love, so I keep shedding the odd tear, but I also feel massively excited. I was walking towards the plane to board, and I looked out on the drizzle and concrete and general greyness and thought "Yes, I'm finally getting out of here! Come on!!!"
Of course, Canada is equally capable of being grey, but who wants to think about that right now? They're showing beautiful scenes of Canada on the in-flight TVs and it looks like paradise.
The drama queen part of me feels like one of those pilgrims who came over to North America all those years ago. Yeee-ha! Etc. Oh cool, I can't wait to play ice hockey and ski and skidoo and all those other things : ) I always thought I would spend my life somewhere other than England, and although I grew up here, I wasn't born here nor did I spend the first years of my life here. In fact, I remember seeing England for the first time. It was a small section of the white cliffs of Dover which made me think "Is that it??" Until I was a teenager I was desperate to move back to North America, and I spent most of my uni years and early 20s travelling. So if anyone's geared up for a move to Canada, it's me. Heck, I'm practically going home!!
Of course, Canada is equally capable of being grey, but who wants to think about that right now? They're showing beautiful scenes of Canada on the in-flight TVs and it looks like paradise.
The drama queen part of me feels like one of those pilgrims who came over to North America all those years ago. Yeee-ha! Etc. Oh cool, I can't wait to play ice hockey and ski and skidoo and all those other things : ) I always thought I would spend my life somewhere other than England, and although I grew up here, I wasn't born here nor did I spend the first years of my life here. In fact, I remember seeing England for the first time. It was a small section of the white cliffs of Dover which made me think "Is that it??" Until I was a teenager I was desperate to move back to North America, and I spent most of my uni years and early 20s travelling. So if anyone's geared up for a move to Canada, it's me. Heck, I'm practically going home!!
Thursday, February 10, 2005
24 hours to go....!
This time tomorrow my plane for Canada will be taking off.
Generally I'm really looking forward to the concept of moving to Canada. But (and call me a pessimist, you'd probably be right) my heart sinks when I think about the details, like the cold and lack of car and friends. All these things will be fixed within 6 weeks of my arrival, so I guess it's just the 6 weeks I'm dreading.
And then there's stuff like my visa, which my favourite organisation, Citizenship and Immigration Canada, have just sent back because they've deemed 3 reams of information 'incomplete'. Rrrrrgh! Here we go, 10 months of continuous correspondence before I finally have a right to live in the place. *Sigh*
Anyway, enough of the griping. What I was really going to start this entry with was some stuff that really reassures me about the move. This morning I read:
"If I rise on the wings of the dawn
If I settle on the far side of the sea
Even there your hand will guide me
Your right hand will hold me fast." (Psalm 139)
The Bible is full of stories about people moving around - in fact they never seemed to sit still that long. And all the while God was with them. I know not all of you feel the same but I get great comfort from that.
So, from tomorrow, no more England! No more traffic, crowds, lack of space, crappy customer service, Ken Livingstone, Geri Halliwell, separate hot and cold taps, draughty houses with crap insulation, rip off prices, tiny portions, and front page stories about "I'm a Celebrity" and Jade's tits.
I can't wait!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Generally I'm really looking forward to the concept of moving to Canada. But (and call me a pessimist, you'd probably be right) my heart sinks when I think about the details, like the cold and lack of car and friends. All these things will be fixed within 6 weeks of my arrival, so I guess it's just the 6 weeks I'm dreading.
And then there's stuff like my visa, which my favourite organisation, Citizenship and Immigration Canada, have just sent back because they've deemed 3 reams of information 'incomplete'. Rrrrrgh! Here we go, 10 months of continuous correspondence before I finally have a right to live in the place. *Sigh*
Anyway, enough of the griping. What I was really going to start this entry with was some stuff that really reassures me about the move. This morning I read:
"If I rise on the wings of the dawn
If I settle on the far side of the sea
Even there your hand will guide me
Your right hand will hold me fast." (Psalm 139)
The Bible is full of stories about people moving around - in fact they never seemed to sit still that long. And all the while God was with them. I know not all of you feel the same but I get great comfort from that.
So, from tomorrow, no more England! No more traffic, crowds, lack of space, crappy customer service, Ken Livingstone, Geri Halliwell, separate hot and cold taps, draughty houses with crap insulation, rip off prices, tiny portions, and front page stories about "I'm a Celebrity" and Jade's tits.
I can't wait!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Tuesday, February 08, 2005
Countdown to Canada
Okay, a little intro to start with. First of all to me: My name's Suzie, and three years ago I met a Canadian. Almost one year ago I married him. And now he's working in Toronto while I'm here in London tying up the loose ends of my life before I go and join him on Friday.
Now to the blog: this is an account of someone moving overseas and getting to grips with a new culture (same language does not mean new culture, as anyone who has been to America will tell you!). So hopefully this will help hapless migratory types like me.
I finished my journalism exams last Friday, and since then have been saying goodbye to various loved ones. It's been fairly up and down: seeing people I love is great, saying goodbye to them is not. My Dad lives in France and we parted ways yesterday - I spent a lot of my teenage years not speaking to him and we've only just started getting close again, so saying goodbye and not knowing when I was going to see him again left me feeling empty and sad.
I also haven't been sleeping that well lately, I guess because moving to Canada is taking up a lot of my subconscious thought. I haven't actively been thinking about it that much because I don't really know what to expect. Let's do a Donald Rumsfeld and explore the known unknowns:
-Where to live
-What to do for a job
-When I'll get a car (essential in North America!)
-How to cope with -10/-20 temperatures
and there's others but they're not bothering me as much. Heck, the only one that's really bothering me is where to live - hubby is looking for a furnished flat and we've just discovered Canadians don't really do those (even though hubby is Canadian, he hasn't lived there for 15 years!).
So that's the situation at the moment, and it will probably all change when I get out there. In the meantime, I still have my brother, my sister, my best friend, aunt, uncle and various others to say goodbye to. Here goes, eh?
Now to the blog: this is an account of someone moving overseas and getting to grips with a new culture (same language does not mean new culture, as anyone who has been to America will tell you!). So hopefully this will help hapless migratory types like me.
I finished my journalism exams last Friday, and since then have been saying goodbye to various loved ones. It's been fairly up and down: seeing people I love is great, saying goodbye to them is not. My Dad lives in France and we parted ways yesterday - I spent a lot of my teenage years not speaking to him and we've only just started getting close again, so saying goodbye and not knowing when I was going to see him again left me feeling empty and sad.
I also haven't been sleeping that well lately, I guess because moving to Canada is taking up a lot of my subconscious thought. I haven't actively been thinking about it that much because I don't really know what to expect. Let's do a Donald Rumsfeld and explore the known unknowns:
-Where to live
-What to do for a job
-When I'll get a car (essential in North America!)
-How to cope with -10/-20 temperatures
and there's others but they're not bothering me as much. Heck, the only one that's really bothering me is where to live - hubby is looking for a furnished flat and we've just discovered Canadians don't really do those (even though hubby is Canadian, he hasn't lived there for 15 years!).
So that's the situation at the moment, and it will probably all change when I get out there. In the meantime, I still have my brother, my sister, my best friend, aunt, uncle and various others to say goodbye to. Here goes, eh?
