First Christmas in Canada

Sean and I are about to embark on our first Christmas in Ottawa. It also happens to be our first Christmas as a married couple, since we got married 4 days after Christmas last year. It’s been a wild year for us, as we stayed apart for the first 4 months so I could keep working, and then we threw a wedding reception while frantically trying to pack my belongings for the move in June. Since then, things have pretty much leveled out, though of course I’ve been dealing with all the daily adjustments of living in a new city, re-creating a social life, and looking for a new job. I agreed back in September to spend Christmas away from my family so that we could be with Sean’s aging mother, but I didn’t realize how much I would miss my traditional Christmas until it came around. There really is truth in the expression, “there’s no place like home for the holidays.” The reason I know? Because even though the people I’ve met here are beautiful, creative, and caring friends, I still want nothing more than to be surrounded by familiar faces: the music parties, the annual day-after-Christmas hike with my Akron buddies, and of course, my family. So the last few weeks leading up to Christmas have been full of nostalgia and difficult feelings.

Despite that, and while sticking that out, I also see new traditions popping up like crocuses in the snow: tiny, tentative, but hopeful signs of life. Sean has always been into Christmas, but this year the spirit was delayed a bit by his frantic 3 weeks of overtime that just ended on December 12. So we’ve had only 3 weekends to cram in Christmas shopping, decorating and festivities, but we have done a pretty good job, I must say. Not only did we get the living room decorated, bake cookies and buy gifts and chocolate, we’ve actually given ourselves time to enjoy it. Rather than rushing out to see The Hobbit today, we opted to stay in and watch our own movies in the comfort of our home with Sean’s kitschy Santa staring at us. And last night we spent hours talking and dancing to Christmas tunes on the radio. Perhaps partly as a consequence of slowing down, we’ve noticed what it is we really prefer out of the huge variety of Christmas rites out there. Instead of Christmas candy, I opted for Brie, pears, and almond cookies. We learned that, as a couple, we prefer brandy chocolates to cordial cherries. Even though Sean loves Thomas Kincaide ornaments, which I think are awfully cheesy, we both appreciate rustic/handmade ornaments on our tree. And I’ve enjoyed making Christmas playlists combining his favorite Christmas songs with mine.

So with all these new traditions still blooming in my heart, I’m going to accompany my man to Ottawa tomorrow. Ottawa, the capital of Canada, where there is 2 feet of snow and the high for tomorrow is 4 degrees. (4 degrees Farenheit, not Celcius.) Where my family is 10 hours away, but I’ll feel a little more at home knowing we have a kitschy Santa Claus and a box of Brandy chocolates waiting for us, to bring us back to our new tradition.

The Holiday Edition

Lots of people ask me about holidays in Canada, particularly when it comes to non-religious holidays that vary from country to country. So I thought I'd take a few minutes on this day, American Thanksgiving, to address some of those questions which I know are burning in your mind, alongside thoughts of Black Friday and pumpkin pie.

Holidays we have in common: 
Christmas, New Year's, Easter, Good Friday, Labor Day

U.S. Holidays that don't exist here: 
Martin Luther King Day, President's Day, July 4

Holidays we have in Canada that you don't have in the States: 
Family Day: 3rd Monday of February. This was always a great excuse for me and Sean to get together around Valentine's Day.

Victoria Day: Monday on or before May 24 (Queen Victoria's Birthday) to celebrate the reigning monarch.

Canada Day: July 1, anniversary of the confederation of Canada into a single country, rather than as colonies of England; Quebec was also formed on this day. This is our equivalent to July 4.

Civic Day: 1st Monday in August. Just, like, a random day off.

Boxing Day: Dec. 26. As a popular piece of Canadian trivia, Boxing Day enjoys fame completely disproportionate to our knowledge of what it means. The best I can come up with is this: according to Wikipedia, Boxing Day was when employers would give out a "Christmas Box" to employees; or, it named for the "Alms box" in a church to collect money for the poor. As Christmas is a time of "social inversion" - when the poor are once a year entitled to some of the comforts of the rich - these explanations make sense. Of course, the way most of us celebrate is by hitting the after-Christmas sales, showing solidarity with our U.S. neighbors through the rite of bargain-hunting.

And the oddball
Thanksgiving: 2nd Monday in October.  Yes, we eat turkey, and I can confirm, through my attendance at a friend's Thanksgiving dinner, that Canadians also eat cranberries and pumpkin pie on this day. Since nothing happens here on the 3rd Thursday of November, "black Friday" doesn't exist (except as a day for some Canadian retailers to attempt to curtail cross-border shopping). I don't miss Black Friday, but I do miss the four-day weekend and the general Christmas anticipation that a November Thanksgiving builds up.
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So there you have it - my guide to Canadian holidays! Not so different, really. By the way, thanks to everyone who has shown cultural sensitivity by wishing me Happy Thanksgiving in October... and just so you know, I'm not opposed to Thanksgiving wishes more than once in a year! 

Mission: Jobsearch

The month of October has been a busy one on the profession-searching front. First, I found out from Service Canada that I am not only allowed to volunteer while here, but I can also apply for jobs. And if I get a job offer before I get my visa, then the employer can sponsor me for a Temporary Foreign Worker work permit. This puts me in a position of readiness to at least start putting myself out there.

Immediately, I found two volunteer positions I was interested in. They were both writing positions for environmental organizations - Evergreen Brickworks and Permaculture GTA. But, as is my custom when I’m not entirely sure of something, I hesitated. In the meantime I was quite busy with recording a demo CD for some musicians I’m working with using borrowed equipment. The duress of recording under deadline got my workaday nervous system back online, and it felt good. Having completed the demo, I turned back to my job search. I spent two-and-a-half days on my resume, filling in my experiences in college as editor and production manager of a magazine, and emphasizing the media-related tasks in my other jobs. I realized that the parts I enjoyed about every job were as follows: designing curriculum, teaching, designing, and writing. Given that my design skills are stuck in 2001 (we used Quark Xpress and MultiAd Creator), I realized that Communications is probably the best field for me. With my English degree and plethora of experiences teaching, creating handouts and flyers for various settings, and generally being a good communicator, it wouldn’t require much extra training. So, I returned to the job hunt.

After some easy searching, I applied for 3 jobs in communication: two for the non-profit sector and one for a professional HR association. I feel really good about the nonprofits – one is a mental health research facility, and the other is Ronald McDonald House. I’m still looking for more, particularly in the environmental or mental health fields. It feels like a perfect match for me to use my communications skills to help the common good.

Strangely, all my life I’ve been encouraged to be in the spotlight, particularly as a teacher and singer. I suppose I’m ambivalent about it: part of me likes the attention, while part of me feels overwhelmed by it. The health problems I’ve developed in recent years have put more of a damper on my ability to be “on”, both as a musical performer and as a counselor, where presence is the penultimate requirement. Although I’m not entirely pleased about it, I’m surrendering to my body’s wisdom for the moment by taking some downtime. Being in the spotlight has always been a bit much for me, so maybe it’s not the best way for me to work. After all, I’ve always enjoyed getting things organized behind-the-scenes: planning my lessons, making flyers (ooooh!) and tinkering with my song lyrics are a lot more fun for me. So for now, I’m envisioning myself in a job where I get to spend more time on that stuff. And if I crave attention, I can always find an open mic night.

In May, just before moving here, I met up with my friend Sharon, who was occupying a 100-year-old ash tree about to be cut down to make room for bar parking. As we discussed our respective senses of purpose, I told her I wanted to help causes like hers be represented well in the world. Few things break my heart more than good people being misunderstood because of a poorly-crafted message, stereotype, or sheer lack of information. Now, all of those thoughts seem to be collecting themselves into a mission statement, which looks a lot more like a job.

This is It, Folks.

The cold snap we’ve experienced these past few days, with temperatures dropping into hat-and-gloves weather, has had three effects on me:

• I have an incredible craving for cheesecake
• I’ve gotten a bit depressed and existential
• I’ve realized that where I am is where I’ll stay for the next while – so it’s time to hunker down and get comfortable.

The first two are predictable, but the third is a bit of a surprise. I live in Canada, folks. By the time the crocuses bloom again, I will quite probably be a Canadian Resident, which is a few cents shy of a citizen. That means I’ll be working, socializing, and making my home in a foreign country.

Crazy!!!

Of course, I’m responding with all my typical practical wherewithal, by making lists of small items we need to make the apartment comfortable. I’ve planned a final trip to Ohio to bring over the rest of the books and things I’ll want for the winter. But the real adjustment is emotional: This is it, folks. For real. I’m practically Canadian.

I’ve been here since June, soaking in Canadian TV, Canadian radio, Canadian comedy (it’s kind of different, let me tell you), and somehow, I’m getting used to it. It doesn’t help that I keep saying “eh” in various grammatical/semantic contexts.  Or that I don’t even notice the weatherwoman’s Scottish accent anymore. I didn’t even get mad when I had to pay $6 for a birthday card last week! But thankfully I still have a bit of my American-ness. I think it is crazy how polite Canadian police are on TV. I still get slightly riled up at the price of cheese. And I still do a double-take when I see someone on TV who has crooked teeth.

But seriously, I know very little about Canada so far. I know it is very, very big, that I live in the most fertile part of it, that we have lots of coal and water, and that Stephen Harper is a bit of a menace. I know Toronto is the most diverse city in the world, the job market is very competitive; I know where to get locally grown food and where to meet with friends. These are salient pieces of information but the whole story isn’t filled in yet. Immigrating to another country, no matter how “similar” to your own, is a big deal. You catch bits and pieces like someone hearing a conversation in another language (metaphorically), but you have to wait months or years before you can have a real give-and-take in that conversation. So far it's felt like an experiment, but the big adjustments are ahead—getting a job, citizenship, and finding a way to participate in Canadian civic life, which I suspect is more complex than Americans like to think. But hopefully the journey will continue to be fun, polite, and ridiculously expensive, eh?       

American Standards

Let me make one thing clear: I'm from Northeast Ohio, and in the rust belt, you just don't pay much for anything. In Akron, a post-industrial rubber town, it's possible to have a decent middle-class life (including house and car) for $70,000 a year. I know a couple who bought a home for $60,000 and are living quite happily as musicians with a single full-time income. Fairlawn now seems like a magical land to me, because you can get discount groceries at Marc's and in 5 minutes be at the Mustard Seed picking out a bunch of organic kale - which would take all day in the city. Or, on a Saturday, jog up Smith Road to Akron-Peninsula and hit the Farmers' Market. You can get high-quality jeans at TJ Max and in 15 minutes be at the Village Thrift snatching up Summit County's best vintage sweaters for $3 a piece. I never realized how truly amazing this was until I moved to Toronto.

Don't get me wrong, Toronto is amazing. But living here challenges my American "standards" as a consumer. And I'm not alone - Canadians cross the border frequently to buy clothes, electronics and even food in the U.S.. Even though they have to pay duty when crossing the border, they still find it cheaper to shop Stateside. Here are some examples of sticker shock I've had since moving here:

Organic Eggs: $7.59/doz ($3.99 at the Mustard Seed Market in Akron)
House: $503,094 ($155,681 in NEO, according to this article)
1-bedroom apartment: $905/month ($450-600 in NEO)
Auto insurance: $1231/year

By these figures you can start to see that being middle class in Toronto might not look the same as it does in Akron, Kent or Cleveland. This is especially so considering that the median income for Toronto is lower than in surrounding suburbs like Brampton or Peterboro. Sean and I don't expect to buy a house here for awhile, if ever. Not that I'm complaining. I feel quite happy being with my sweetie in a world-class city. I'm just tripping on all the little differences in standard of living. 

This is all pretty tongue-in-cheek though, since I know full well that cheap goods come at a price, ethically. And I recognize that I grew up in a time when interest on credit was at an all-time low. I walked into freshman orientation in 1999 and was literally handed a credit card application. So to me, it's quite normal to be able to have what I want, when I want it. Sean, on the other hand, cringes when he has to "charge it". And for good reason: interest rates in Canada are around 19.9%. Shocking? Perhaps, but Canadians seem to view debt in a healthier way because of it.

The un-availability of media is also surprising. Again, I came of age in a time when digital entertainment was becoming more and more available. Napster, bit torrent, and finally iTunes, allowed cheap or free access to music. I'm used to Hulu, Netflix, Spotify, Amazon instant downloads, the plummeting cost of books and magazine subscriptions - non of which, mind you, is a sign of economic health. But I still feel a little jilted by the disappointing selection on Canadian Netflix, the high cost of greeting cards, and the fact that I can't watch New Girl on demand. If you want media here, you pay.

I guess I was so busy being infuriated by right-wing politics and high-fructose corn syrup, that I failed to appreciate living in the pop culture mecca of the world. The United States has been grinding out intellectual and entertainment product for decades; one only has to listen to a news piece about the Juno Awards to confirm the U.S. is still the gold standard in entertainment. And since the U.S. have the sole right to screw over its own recording artists and print media, sometimes it's free!

On the other hand, my American (read middle-class suburban) standards are being blown away in good ways, too. There's a much higher concentration of everything, including farm markets, good restaurants, and locally-owned businesses. Investigative journalism seems a bit less like a thing of the past. And of course, Canada is known (so far) for having more sensible priorities and a more humanitarian climate than the U.S., which I hope won't be changing too soon.

While I get over the sticker shock of living in Canada, I'm fortunate to have a supportive husband, a few low-budget hobbies like writing and yoga, and a good head for money. But really, there's much more to standard of living than the cheap prices, and that's what makes Toronto worthwhile.

Adventures in Renaissance Personhood

A few weeks ago Sean brought home a Continuing Education catalogue for me. By the time I was done with it, I had 7 classes tabbed: Sewing, French, Self-Defense, Upholstery repair, InDesign, Kundalini Yoga, Memoir Writing, and Belly Dance. As I ponder the cost of pursuing all these classes, my mind goes to the time and money I’ve already put towards learning. I have degrees, certification and/or training in the following:

• Literature and poetry writing (Bachelor of Arts) 
• Piano performance courses at Kent State
• Yoga Instructor 
• NCBTMB Massage Practitioner Certificate 
• Reiki Level 1
• Mental health counseling 
• Chakra therapy
• Ayurveda

Not to mention experience in the following:

• Physical Therapy Aide
• Piano/violin lesson instructor
• General/choral music instructor
• Barista 
• Bluegrass fiddler 
• Music theater
• Massage therapy, yoga therapy and counseling 
• Songwriting
• Layout and design
• Copy editing and writing

I also have an interest in the following:

• Herbal medicine
• Dance (ballroom/bellydance/contact/ecstatic) 
• Haberdashing
• French translation

So as you see, I’m a Renaissance Woman, and could easily study for the rest of my life. But I’m too snobby, or perhaps embarrassed, to be like my Gen-Y contemporaries with escalating student loan debt. Also, I’m married now, so my financial decisions don’t just impact me. I want to live a life of possibility, and to be able to help others with money. So, I need an income.

My most recent profession as a domestic violence counselor was a bit intense, leading me to consider other options. But what else can I make out of the above interests? I mean, have you heard of any bluegrass fiddler positions lately? I can just imagine the ad:

“Fortune 500 company seeks creative individual to fulfill a variety of functions. Mornings will be spent preparing latte’s and gluten free baked goods, reading top news stories and screening for interesting material. Each day by lunch will produce an essay or song based on current events or entertaining life anecdotes. Bluegrass fiddle playing, interpretive dance and yoga instruction in afternoon. This individual will play an important part in improving the workplace culture and boosting the paradigm shift of 21^st century. Salary commensurate with experience.”

Don’t get me wrong – I’ve been told by many that my talents are valuable to society. To be a musician, particularly, seems to be a skill that is envied and treasured close to the American heart. All I’m saying is that these talents won’t land me a stable job with benefits. And no matter how creative I am, I still like to have a paycheck. I like that money coming in every month, so I can know where I'll be in 5, 10 or 20 years -- or for that matter, next month.

Some might say that security is overrated. Massive layoffs in the U.S. since 2008 shook our idea of “stability” to the core, and although things seem to be recovering, no one can be sure. Some have adopted a view that being employed by a company doesn’t grant one security, so one might as well go his own way, as self-employment is no less risky by comparison. For some, this will be much more rewarding and possibly more lucrative than a steady 40-hour job. This may now be an option for me, since I’m living in Canada’s largest city, where freelance writers, yogis and musicians have a better chance to gather enough capital to make a living. My fears about small-town economics and lack of healthcare are no longer relevant here. But do I really want to be self-employed?

The obvious benefit of self-employment, and the most salient here, is: I can make a living by being me. I can be one of what I consider to be modern royalty: those who can do what they love, and make a living of it. What a pinnacle of individualism! I could even make a living… by talking about myself! For example, by writing a blog, or churning out an endless stream of songs about my feelings! Then when I’m about 40, I’ll get very depressed and disappear from the public eye, and later emerge as a member of an esoteric religion!

Oh wait, sorry, I got confused with my journal from 5 years ago. I mean, I could make a living by playing at people’s weddings, writing articles for magazines, and teaching yoga. Maybe even making greeting cards and/or gluten free pastries. Sure, I could do that – but my financial security would always be in question. I will be on call 24-7 to market and represent myself to the public. I will be responsible for my own taxes, accounting, and insurance. I may work 60+hours a week, all so I can say I’m free.

All of these questions would seem so frivolous to people of my parents’ and grandparents’ generation. In the 1940’s and 50’s, the “American Dream” was just to have enough money to buy a house and car. It didn’t matter if you were a gas station attendant or a college professor. By the 70’s, things had changed enough so that my parents, who both worked 9-to-5 jobs, felt a little depressed by the whole thing. By the time I hit adulthood, the “American Dream” had a whole lot more to do with self-realization. Through attending college, you were supposed to “find your bliss” and pursue it for the rest of your life.

Something fell apart for my generation. A large percentage of my friends, though intelligent and skilled people, never found the Dream. We are 28, 30, even nearing 40 and still searching. Some of us never fit into the college track, and since the dignity of blue collar work has fled, they slave away their 40 hours and live in poverty. Those who refuse to work for low wages attempt to learn a trade – massage therapy, fixing cars or painting houses – so they can shore up some dignity, cash, and freedom, while devouring knowledge in their spare time. Some of us keep attending school looking for that one thing that feels right. We all hunger to understand the world, to understand ourselves, and to have a slice of the American Pie.

I'm slightly embarrassed by my generation. Despite having more privilege than any generation past, we have such a hard time applying ourselves and feeling satisfied. What happened? 

Maybe it’s not that work is unfit for us; maybe it’s that we are unfit for work. We’ve come to place individualism over the value of contributing to the whole. We’ve been told that when we find the right job, we’ll be complete. (Incidentally, through all my dozens of jobs, I’ve never found happiness through work. But here, keeping house and doing random creative things, I feel happier than ever.)

Maybe we just expect too much. We believe the perfect job will draw happiness from us like honey from a hive, much like the romantic fantasy of finding “the one”. Like a romance, we want that job to draw out the best in us and provide steady support. But in a romance, there is give and take. And in work, we must work hard if we want to get paid. And so, I’m just realizing, that’s what I’m going to do. Here I am in this pause, so I'm going to work - to write, record songs, learn new skills - and see who comes in for the honey. It might turn into a self-employed situation. Or it might be a hive that I quietly tend while I'm working a nice stable job. I’ll let you know.

Adventures in Public Transportation

My relationship with the TTC (Toronto Transit Commission) is kind of a love-hate one. I’ll be waiting for a “frequent service” (5-10 minute) bus for 20 minutes, ready to rip the driver’s head off, but when I get on the subway, it’s all OK again. The Toronto subway is safe, clean, and efficient. And overall, the staff is polite and helpful, always willing to answer silly questions for visitors or new immigrants such as myself (“Can I go in now? Oh, ok...”). The downside is, navigating public transportation takes up a significant part of my day, sometimes 3 hours, and until recently, a big chunk of brain-space. My first few weeks of riding the subway were full of surprises, map-checks, and mishaps. Here are two of my favorites:

1. The “Bloor Street” incident
It was my first time on the Bloor subway and I was disoriented, and running late. I hadn’t yet figured out how to follow the markings inside the station directing you to either the main street or the cross street. So, I asked another young lady to point me toward Bloor. She said, “oh, for that, I think you need to get back on the subway”. We went back and forth a few times, but she was certain that Bloor St. was nowhere nearby. After commiserating about us both being newcomers, I departed and found Bloor street in about 10 paces.  

2. “Always stay in the system” … but if you don’t, eh, it’s OK.
Riding the subway is kind of a nervous system overload for me. Even though the TTC took great care to make it a self-explanatory process, there has been much to learn –the order of the streets, how and when to obtain a transfer, how to tell which way is West or East when you exit, and where to catch the bus. I’ve slowly learned these basics, but one was taught to me in an embarrassing fashion. I was coming home from one of my first long trips, and I was a little dazed. I exited the subway and walked upstairs to catch the bus, going across a large intersection to the only bus stop in sight. The girl waiting there told me that my bus stopped underground and I would probably have to pay to get back into the “system”. I walked back and started explaining myself to the worker at the booth. I figured I should have a lengthy story in order to prove I wasn’t lying. The worker kept asking, “where did you come from?” I said, “well, I got on the 506 Carlton at College Street, then the subway, and now I’m here.” He just said, “So you came from the subway?” I blinked and said yes… was that all he wanted? “Go ahead,” he waved me through the gate.

My relationship with TTC works because we both value reducing our carbon footprint, and that’s really the glue that holds us together. But, things change, and there may come a day when I must leave the TTC for a fuel-efficient hatchback. The TTC is far from perfect; it’s more expensive and less efficient than people here would like, and I’m not sure I’ll be able to handle a 90-minute round-trip commute (the minimum for me to get downtown) once I start working. For now, I’m thankful to have a break from the hassles of car ownership, and a spacious enough life to enjoy it.

Let the adventures begin

I’ve been unemployed in Toronto for 6 weeks now, and I’ve figured out how to fill my time.

A few weeks ago, it felt like I’d be wallowing in profound homesickness for the rest of my life. Back home I’d found my favorite yoga studio of all time, a vibrant music community, and had started building closer relationships with family members. Things seemed better than ever when I left, so naturally I’ve felt some grief. But sadness will only grow if you feed it, so I chose to distract myself by finding some good things here. And as it turns out, that's incredibly easy. Last week, upon returning from a week visiting friends and family, I delved into some new activities.

Thursday: Ecstatic dance night with friends

Friday: Sleeping off a cold, cooking, chores. Checked out a music festival downtown with Sean (transit time: 1 hour). Watched university fashion students doing a random catwalk practice after crowd dispersed.

Saturday: St. Lawrence Farmer’s Market, solo, since Sean works this weekend. Rescued an inchworm stuck to a raspberry by placing it (raspberry and all) in a flower planter. Evening: Sean drove us to friend’s house in the “country” (Markham) where we enjoyed live music, bonfire and conversation.

Sunday: Checked out UU church, met choir director and a few other folks.

Monday: potluck at a friend’s house, where we ran into a half dozen people we knew (yay!).

As you can see, there’s plenty to do in Toronto. So while I accept (despite anyone’s well-meaning opinion), that I’ve lost something by leaving the place where I first laid down roots, it would be an understatement to say that Toronto compensates for my loss. There are 10-12 festivals every single summer weekend, 3 ecstatic dance nights a week (to my knowledge), farmer’s markets everywhere (to the tune of having one at the local shopping mall), and that’s only the tip of the iceberg. Living in a city like Toronto is the kind of thing that could change you. I already feel myself becoming more optimistic, more interested in things, maybe a little more bold. Could it be because I live in one of the safest, most beautifully diverse cities in the world? Could it be the opportunities and capital out there calling my entrepreneurial spirit forth?  Could it be that I’m in love and feel grounded and supported?

Let the adventures begin.

Looking through Photos

Looking through photos today - I’ve already had an amazing life. Not only have I gotten to live in Northern Coastal California, one of the most beautiful places in the world, but I’ve also discovered the heart of Ohioan life: barbecues, waterfalls, and faithful company. My computerized photos encompass the best moments of the past 7 years (since I owned a digital camera): family at their best, turning points of new relationships budding, and celebrations of sturdy friendships. When I thought of it, I also documented the familiar seasonal sights like glorious fall leaves, spring cherry blossoms, and icicles dangling from the roof.

Over the past 7 years I’ve been quite transitory. I returned from a bit of soul-drifting in northern Idaho to start grad school in Kent, Ohio, where I rented a rambling split-level with 2 other students. In spring 2010 followed my first job to a brick cabin in Wooster, Ohio, where I experienced rural Ohio- the good, the gutsy, and the ugly. In fall of 2012, missing my family and feeling more and more connected to friends in Akron, I moved in with a friend near Akron’s Cuyahoga Valley. Just a month after that move, Sean proposed to me and I realized I’d be moving again- this time, all the way to Toronto, where I’ve now at last come to roost.

Each situation lent itself to different friends and routines, different windows onto nature. For example, in Wooster I had a long open backyard that allowed a fantastic view of a rainbow one day, as well as shots of the many flowers and wild strawberries on the property. In Akron, our backyard was quite small so I’d walk down to Sand Run Parkway and take pictures of the stream. Or if my roommate’s kids were around, we’d hang out in the backyard picking flowers and chasing each other. In Toronto, we have no backyard, but the balcony is full of culinary herbs and tomatoes in pots. Nature is something to be coveted and cultivated in the city, which makes a trip to the country extra luscious.

All that moving has worn me out, and I’m at a point where I’d be willing to stay in this 1-bedroom high rise with Sean for years just to avoid doing it again. But looking through photos, I appreciate a hidden benefit of moving: my sheer variety of life experience. For example, I regretted giving up my cozy, personalized cabin to move to into a cramped house in Akron. However, if I hadn’t moved in with Carrie, I would have never built the close friendship that I now enjoy with her. I also wouldn’t have learned life lessons like how to share a tight space, let go of little things, and live with frustrations while still remaining friends. Also, I would never have had such an intimate relationship with the Cuyahoga Valley, which I now see for the beautiful gem that it is.

I think, on a deeper level, these frequent changes have yielded another lesson: carpe diem. It is true: time passes, things fade away, and it’s totally up to me to decide how deeply I fall in love with each experience. Painful regrets have been worthwhile if only for teaching me to go deeper into every friendship, every situation I am blessed to visit in my life. Take those risks and find those hidden jewels in each community, from the jaded rustbelt of Akron, OH to the shiny new metropolis of Toronto, ON.

What to do when you’re unemployed in a foreign city: Part II

It turns out that nobody I know (except maybe a guy in northern Quebec) is unemployed in a foreign land. So I'm going to address the broader question: “what to do when you’re unemployed?” It’s been interesting to catalog people's reactions when they learn that you're about to be unemployed. It’s one of those situations that affects everyone very differently, so the response is usually tactfully generic, like “well, what an opportunity!” Then there are the more revealing comments, like “well that could be kind of fun!” on up to “you should start playing on street corners!” The way people respond reveals how they’d react to being unemployed. Some people would freak out, others would sleep 12 hours a day, and some would just grab their guitar and chase their dream.

I think I fall somewhere in between the dream-chasers and the freak-outers. But give me a modest level of security (like, say, a husband with a job, and a period of being not allowed to work), and the freak-out part mostly goes away. That means that for the first time in my life, I can truly enjoy having lots of time.

It’s not so easy for everyone, of course. The pressure of needing to put food on the table can destroy the buzz for anybody, and if you’re looking toward retirement or other big goals, it’s no party for you either. Those factors aside, though, most Americans have a work ethic that’s constantly buzzing in their ear to “be productive.” The following list can't solve those deeper issues, its' how I've found enjoyment amidst uncertainty. So, here we go:

• Learn about the place where you live. Read history books, go to museums, bike/drive around to local attractions. Be one of those people that tourists can actually get information from. This might feel like a mini-vacation.
•  Make a list of people you’d love to spend time with, and then do it. (It’s amazing how time can slip by!) Grandparents, parents, old friends…. 
•  Write letters. 
•  Learn a skill: I’m considering subscribing to a website that teaches software for business and design. I’m also refining my skills as a yoga practitioner.
• Watch youtube interviews with your favorite musicians/actors: a great way to learn about the creative process. “Speakeasy” and “Inside The Actor’s Studio” are two such shows. 
•  Grow food: While tomatoes from Mexico might be cheap, they cost us in fossil fuels used for transportation. Also, growing/buying local helps keep our cities self-supporting. Not to mention gardening nourishes the tummy and the soul. 
•  Take care of your health: cook really good food, for yourself and others; do those exercises you always think about
• Walk or bike around. We did this all the time as kids; we knew the names of all the parks in the neighborhood. As an adult, it’s fun to look around at other people’s houses/gardens. 
•  Get involved: volunteer, write those letters you always think about writing, sign petitions and get informed on issues you care about
• Play music, Paint (I don’t do the latter, but I know a few ladies who do!) 
•  Read classic novels (what the heck? maybe they’ll make more sense now that I’m a grownup!)

 In addition to doing many of the above, I'm also dealing with adjusting to public transportation (I'll have a few stories about that later), researching job opportunities, and getting used to married life. So I feel quite confident that not only will I be keeping busy, but this free time will probably be over before I know it. My concern is not so much "how will I fill my time," but "how can I make the most of the time?" When I look back on this period, I will surely wish I had slept more or played music more or job-searched more. It's the same feeling everyone has at the end of vacation, isn't it? Sometimes I wonder if the cure to that is more being. That sometimes by always planning and thinking over what we should  accomplish, we miss the spaciousness of the weekend, the vacation, or whatever time we have. Maybe that free space between moments is what we're really looking for.

What to do when you’re unemployed in a foreign city: Part 1

Living in a foreign city, with no real routine, is an interesting situation. Many people come here to start school or a job. I've been there: you arrive, find an apartment, and then it's ready, set, go. The benefit to that is you've got an immediate social group and purpose. The drawback is that you could get so immersed in it that you lack time to explore your new surroundings.  

Personally, I've never lived in a big city or a foreign country, nor had I planned to. I just came to Toronto to be with my husband, understanding that during my visa waiting period, I wouldn't be working. I knew what it was like to move a long distance, since I'd done it before in 2002 (to California) and again in 2005 (to Idaho). I knew I wouldn't have to worry about the language, and I had a sense of the city from my previous visits here. But that was the extent of it. So now I'm just here.

Actually, I'm going to be very honest - this is my dream come true. I've always loved having a blank canvas of time with which to create my days. Although I could, and did thrive on structure as a full-time clinical counselor, there’s something magical about sitting around deciding what to do each day, and then doing it.

I had this blessing two other times in my life – First, I was a college student in Arcata, California. Due to the tight economy in the tiny redwood-coastal town, I got laid off from my job within a couple of months and was unable to find another. I applied for, and received a Pell Grant and was thus able to spend my free time doing yoga, playing guitar, and walking in the woods with friends, which I thoroughly enjoyed. Later in 2009, I was approaching my final semester of grad school, and had gotten a summer job which I had to quit because of the boss’s unbearable moods. Uninspired by the idea of another minimum-wage job, I chose instead to live off of student loans. That summer was the most depressing time I’ve ever had. I couldn’t get motivated to do anything.

I still don’t fully understand why those experiences of unemployment were so different. However, I think at least two factors come in – 1, my need for companionship, and 2, the belief that we are what we do. I think perhaps by the time I reached grad school, I had begun to equate self-worth with being productive.

This all changed once I began a full-time job. At first I felt like huge reserves of energy and efficiency were being released in me. I could achieve so much more than I had previously believed. My self-esteem skyrocketed. Then, naturally, I started to equate my efficiency with who I was – my self-worth, so to speak. Instantly I became miserable, and stayed that way for about a year. Then, in the summer of 2012, I took up a daily yoga practice. Yoga put me in touch with the delight of being again, and I gradually became happier (and more productive) at work. I was able to wind down much more quickly, enjoy my personal life more, and find moments of beauty within the workday. I realized life wasn’t as serious as I thought.

Yet, like so many American workers, we were experiencing budget cuts and more work was being placed on individual employees. I realized that from the get-go I had a workload bigger than I could handle. I realized part of my discontent had to do with a restless mind, which could be cured by yoga, but the rest was just inherent to the job.

The whole experience was a profound awakening for me. Working with battered women and all the crises that ensued, I was constantly drained and this took away from my relationships with my friends and family. It made me realize that nothing is more important in life than family (both biological and “chosen”). When I finally resigned, I felt incredibly blessed to have such a supportive family and the time and energy to be with them. I felt like my priorities would never be the same.

From that viewpoint, I was in a great position to begin married life – a life in which, for now, I'm a “homemaker”. But Sean, being the kind of guy he is, of course doesn’t see me that way. He just sees me as the woman he loves, who happens to cook him dinner most nights. I think secretly he wants me to become a rock star or something. Just write songs all day, then go out there and get discovered. It’s funny how, when you find yourself with a blank canvas, people want to tell you what to paint. It’s like you’re on “The Price is Right” and everyone’s telling you which door to open. “Number One! Number Two!” They just can’t help themselves. I’ve gotten suggestions to open a coffeeshop, to “get all those high-paying city (music) gigs”, and to busk on street corners. I guess part of me is stomping my foot saying, “I’ll pick the damn door I wanna pick, y'all!" The other part just laughs because it’s so obvious that the path will present itself to me. I’m busy in a dialogue with myself about my wants and needs employment-wise. But I am in no way ready to whip out my brush and slap a vision on my blank canvas. Not yet. And this patience, this pause, feels like the perfect place to be.

Daily Life

When I first drove the 6 hours to Sean's place in Toronto, I had no idea what to expect. So when friends ask how things are going, I realize they have no idea if I live in a downtown highrise or a funky walkable neighborhood. So I thought I'd write this for you, so you can see a little of my daily life.

We live in Don Mills, which was a planned community built in the early 60's. What that means is it's a mix of residential, commercial and industrial buildings, so that it could be somewhat self-contained. Don Mills is in the North York district, which is about 30 minutes from everything. When you come into Don Mills, the first thing you notice is spaciousness. The roads are typically 4 or 5 lanes and there's a lawn in front of most buildings, usually with some respectably-sized trees. This is not a neighborhood where you'd see cute coffeeshops, but we do have a bike trail and a great view.

south view -downtown in distance

One of the main advantages of living here, from my perspective, is how quiet it is. Though we do get a constant hum from the highway, there's no trouble with the neighbors and no street noise or bars to deal with. We have a beautiful, open view of trees to the west and downtown highrises to the south. Also, Sean lives only 1.5 miles from work, which is very lucky for a Torontonian.

 Though I would like to live in a more quaint neighborhood, there are things I appreciate here too. Within a mile or two, we have access to big-box shopping (which, let's face it, we all rely on), and the Botanical Gardens, where there's an organic farm market every Thursday (can't wait to check that out!).

I haven't gotten to the point of craving a regular routine yet. So far, I've delighted in setting up our household (one of my favorite activities, maybe that's why I move so often... ) and spending time with Sean.
Being a housewife seems like one of those things you just inherit, and I definitely did - I have a knack for organizing, cooking, and all that stuff, and it's fun to fully explore that. Yesterday I finally ventured out on my own, and walked to the mall for a pair of pants and some Transit tokens. And today I used some of those tokens going to Kensington Market, where, after buying a slew of bulk spices, I just strolled around for awhile. Sean came down to meet me and we had some amazing food at "Hungary Thai" - where the curry comes with extra paprika. 

While it's hard to leave behind Ohio, where I created my adult life these past 5 years, my mind is bursting with the possibilities that face me in Toronto. When I was younger I used to think that every choice was leading me to something better than the last. Now I know that sometimes you leave something good to discover something just as good. You never really know what you could have had in the place you left behind, the paths left untaken, the people you never got to know. But that makes you appreciate every choice before you as you walk down the undiscovered road.

Stray Observations about All Things Canadian

Thought I'd take a minute to note some things I find interesting in Toronto/Canada.

Diversity here (Toronto) is off the hook. In a day, it's no big deal to see:

• 4-5 different accents on the local news, including Scottish, Pakistani, and Latin-American 
• A special on TVO about the history of Chinese Canadians 
• More non-white people than white people in the stores (and all the accompanying languages, as well as some people with no accent at all)
• A young Muslim girl giggling at a mime holding the door for customers at a Mexican restaurant

As far as I can see, there's a huge Muslim population here, and the women in their headscarves defy every stereotype you could imagine. We've been helped at stores by Muslim women with every type of personality, from cool, friendly teenagers to the serious, reserved personality I'd come to expect from my minimal exposure to this population.

Every venture out of the house brings a surprise. My favorite so far is the two Chinese women of similar age, both working the lawn and garden section at Canadian Tire. We asked for gravel and the one woman called out to her coworker: "(Mandarin here)........ 'gravel'........?" The coworker replied in Mandarin, and the first woman turned to us to ask, "gravel is stones?" We replied yes and were pointed in the right direction. In Ohio it's one thing to hear people speak Mandarin at a Chinese restaurant, but to hear it in the daily operations of a big box store is really something to my suburban mind!

Here's some other things I notice/have learned about Canadians.

• They like to say "bucks" instead of dollars. This surprised me because growing up, I thought "bucks" was a uniquely American term, that underscored American greed with its coarse sound: "buck". When I hear it used here, it doesn't quite have the same ring.... though as Toronto becomes one of the wealthiest cities in North America, perhaps it should.
• They like to vacation in the States. A U.S. tourism commercial is a regular appearance on prime time TV, featuring the Grand Canyon and a field full of sunflowers.
• As most people know, U.S. television is a mainstay here, as well as news from the U.S.A.
• People in Canada are surprised by corruption. (A recent scandal involving a Canadian bank using low-wage programers from India invoked shock and dismay from the public.) That's pretty awesome, compared to the U.S. where government mishaps and unethical business practices are just part of daily life.

That's all for now, more to come later I'm sure! :)

Arriving in Canada

It was this beautiful for most of the drive

We crossed the border at Buffalo/Ft Erie at 11:30 p.m. Sunday night. The few hours before arriving, we reviewed what we would say to the immigration officers. Sean was nervous about being "either too up-front or too guarded", and I reassured him that they would ask whatever information we happened to leave out. "How would you explain it to a friend?" I said, because even though the border guard had the power to turn me away from Canada, they were also there to help us.

When we arrived, the officer at the gate asked a few terse questions, barely letting us tell her what we had painstakingly packed in the car. She directed us to park and go into the main building to the "counter on the left". Hearts pounding, we walked in the building and approached a man and a woman talking at the left-hand counter. The woman glanced at us and said, "yes?" I mumbled, "We were sent in here because I'm trying to come in during my PR waiting period?" "Other side," she said, and returned to her conversation.

Good luck charms

We crossed to the other counter where a clean-cut man was typing on a computer, and approached him. Without looking up, he barked, "Don't come to me. Wait in the line." We looked behind us; no one else was in the building. Glancing at each other, we backed away from the counter and stood.

After a minute or two, a voice from the third counter called out, "And I'll see if I can help you over here." A chubby man with salt-and-pepper hair facilitated the 6-month Visitor Record. He asked for our marriage license but none of our other paperwork we had carefully assembled. The whole process was handled in a matter-of-fact way, and we were done in 20 minutes. During that time, we observed two other young customs officers throwing balled-up paper at each other and shopping for T-shirts online. It was hard not to smile.

Leaving the building, we were grinning from ear to ear and hugged each other madly for a few minutes before jumping in the car. It slowly sunk in that we'd been lucky. All the stories we'd read on immigration forums suggested that proof of residence, proof of employment, and various other things were required in order to be let into Canada for such a long visit. They asked for none of this; they didn't even care that I brought my espresso maker.

We didn't get home until shortly after 1 a.m., and fell asleep around 2:30. The following day was a pleasant blur; beginning at 10:30 and interrupted by a long, necessary mid-afternoon nap. We managed to accomplish groceries and Thai take-out before falling asleep again at 11:00. We were exhausted from the 4 days of heavy-duty packing and hauling and emotional intensity back in Ohio. Now, Sean's back at work, and I've got the day to myself at home. It's time to get into the new routine, the new life, where intermittent romance is replaced by daily tasks and small pleasures. Little by little, settling in.

2 weeks to go

Here it is – I’m leaving for Toronto in two weeks. And the fantastic part is, I feel ready.

Originally I had planned to leave on April 26, just a week after my last day at my full-time job. However, for various reasons, I decided stay another month in the same rented room in Akron. And boy am I glad I did. Aside from the obvious benefits – hang-time with friends and family, resting – I’ve also had a lot to do.

Among the highlights of the last few weeks has been spending time with my 86-year-old grandfather, who's been telling me some family history. Walt Chisholm was born in Cleveland in 1926 and his family eventually settled in Ravenna, where his father worked in the grocery business. Walt earned a bachelor’s in music education at Kent State University (also my Alma Mater), specializing in percussion. He met my grandmother in college, proposed to her a year before she graduated, and she said “no.” Crushed, he retreated, only to find out a year later that, “when she said no, she meant ‘not yet’” – she merely wanted to finish college first. They married and settled in Portage Lakes where he earned a good salary as a grocery store owner. However, he heard the call to the ministry around 1958. I’m fuzzy on the details, but basically he moved the family to Indiana where they lived on a poor salary and relied on the generosity of the community to make ends meet. All wasn’t lost, though, as he ended up with increasing success as he moved to different churches. After retirement, he continued part-time doing grief counseling, hospital visits, and guest sermons. Walt truly found his passion, and you can hear it in his voice. I’ve realized that I have some things in common with my grandfather. Even though I don’t share his religious beliefs, I enjoy shared spiritual experience (I love yoga and ecstatic dance), and teaching others to live positively as a counselor and teacher. Also, I share the tendency to lecture other drivers when they’re getting in my way on the road.

I’m also glad I allowed myself time, because there’s more to do than I realized. Moving to another country isn’t like moving across town. You can’t leave a couple things with your old roommate for later. You have to make big decisions like: should I keep my car? And if so, will I have to get a new driver’s license now, or can I keep this one? Should I leave my car with a relative or donate it? Should I bring it with me and pay up to $200 a month for insurance, plus $50 for a garage parking pass, plus $3-$15 for parking wherever I go, or should I just take public transportation? You have to think about health insurance. And traveler’s health insurance. And whether you should get a bank account in Canada, or just put up with the ATM charges. Blah, blah, blah.  

Also, I’m moving in with my husband. Which means – “do you need an extra iron, honey? Should I keep my space heater? I know you have one, but…”

The other complication in my personal situation is that I’m not moving to Canada. Strange as it sounds, I’m just visiting, because I’m not a Permanent Resident yet. Therefore, when I cross the border, I won’t be bringing a U-Haul. I’ll be bringing the bare minimum, along with proof that I have a backup plan if my PR application is denied. I know it sounds weird, but believe me, it’s true. So I have to sort out my “bare minimums” and store the rest for later. I also have to procure proof that I have a job to return to, a place to live, and money saved in case it all goes sour at the CIC.

Despite all that, I’m not stressed out, because I have time, a yoga practice, and a whole lotta good vibes around me. I’ve done this sort of things before – moving large distances for love – but I’ve never taken this kind of time before. And despite the fact that ‘jumping in” can be invigorating, it’s been really nice to just survey the shore and soak up some rays. There are days when I want to just book it to the border and my husband, and I chide myself for staying so long. But more and more it’s just a sweet anticipation for the good things to come.

The most expensive cab fare in the world: Canada's New York

I'm sitting here in Sean's living room looking over a gorgeous spring day. Toronto can be really pretty, and with the pale colors of the high rises set against the green trees and blue sky, I think I could live here. But there's a lot more to a city than first impressions.

I've spent the morning reading about the high cost of living in Toronto. Apparently, Toronto rivals New York City in terms of basic living expenses. However, as one person complained, "when you're in New York, you get New York." That is, Toronto is no New York, but it costs just as much. However, there's hope that Toronto will become like America's signature city. That's good news, but I'm nervous about what it means financially. I grew up in a place where $40,000 was a respectful salary, groceries cost about $40 a week for a single person, and a one-bedroom apartment rents for $4-500 a month. If I were to stay in northeast Ohio, I could expect to own a home within the next few years, a car by next month, and to be able to eat great locally-grown food on a regular basis without considering the cost. Now that I live in a metropolis, these are things I can't take for granted. But it doesn't bother me too much, and here's why.

"The dream" is condo ownership.

Firstly, I'm actually only 25 in people years (31 in real time). I spent my 20's doing an incredible array of things, including living in three different west-coast states, becoming a yoga instructor, and recording an album of original music. Since 2007 I've been establishing my career, and now that I'm on dry land, I'm figuring out what I want from life. However, my marriage ship has come in, and I've got to hop on, off to another adventure which may not lead exactly where I would've gone if it were just me. As a single person, I probably would have bought a little house in Akron, Ohio, creating a strong alliance with the local economy and a hand-crafted career that allowed plenty of time for play. But the cost of living in Toronto changes all of that. As I'm learning, home ownership here is a luxury, and even apartment living can be costly when you include parking, food, and the high cost of, well, everything. Many middle-class people are turning toward the suburbs, taking a 60-minute commute in exchange for a home of their own. The other option is condo ownership, a way to have something in the city that can be sold for a profit after a few years.
For now, I'm content to enjoy our clean, quiet 1-bedroom apartment while we figure all this out.

Secondly, I am madly in love, and that makes everything else seem a lot more do-able. For a little while, while I'm waiting for my work permit, it might feel like we're pinching pennies. Even after I get a job, we'll probably have to look at creative solution for owning property. That might mean buying a house in the U.S., for visits and eventual retirement. It might mean maximizing my earning potential, something I've never really had the guts for, but which could be a fun adventure and might allow for home ownership in Canada. And while I'm waiting for approval to live and work here, I won't be able to refrain from digging into how it came to be this way and how to live sustainably in an expensive, yet thriving city.

This TorontoLife article sheds light on the high cost of living in Toronto, and how it's helping create the New York of Canada.

What I’ll miss about Akron, OH

2 weeks ago, I had a mini-meltdown and decided to take a bit more time to prepare for Canada. There’s a good chance that my PR application will be approved by the end of the year, at which point I will become a "permanent resident" of Canada. So even though on paper, I'm just visiting, this is actually a permanent expatriation from the life I've grown to know and love. I'm going to Canada. To live.

I was raised in Kent, but my mother grew up nearby in Akron, and most of her family has ended up here (including me); also, most of my Ohio friends are here. But I haven't always been a hometown girl. As a senior in College, my then-boyfriend and I decided to do an exchange year in California. I studied at Humboldt State University, on the foggy redwood coast. After that delicious taste of west coast living, I went back in 2005, this time to northern Idaho. While there, I studied healing arts and my boyfriend studied literature. In 2007, I returned home to pursue my master’s degree at Kent State, and have been here ever since. Aside from the obvious ties of childhood, I've also come into my own here. I became an active member of the UU church, and got my first "real" job as a counselor. It was here that I launched myself as a singer-songwriter and performed at the Kent Stage, the farmer's market, and tons of local coffeeshops. I’ve had the chance to play with seasoned musicians and rub elbows with local celebrities who gave me advice to help me grow. I also have friends who were with me through tough times, staying by me in my weakest moments, and celebrating me in my strongest ones.

Truly, it seems insane to leave here. The thing is, I’ve got this great husband. And he lives in Canada.

So, aside from (obviously) my friends and family, I wanted to share some Ohio-y things that I’ll miss.

• Cuyahoga Valley National Park: Akronites, we are living in one of the greenest cities that exists, and that is thanks largely to the CNVP (also to Summit MetroParks –Sand Run is literally in my backyard). We have the fortune of saying, “well, I’ve got my mall shopping done, gosh I feel like getting some air…  let me drive 10 minutes the towpath trail, then maybe pop into Szalay's for some farm-fresh corn." This is living! 
•  The Village Discount Thrift Store: I love thrifting. It makes me feel free - free of debt, free of trends, and free from the endless imperative to spend more money. Yay for the "VD"! Even after being exposed to Toronto fashion, I'm pretty sure I'll miss it.
•  Lifesource Yoga and Sacred Ground Yoga: if you’re a yogi and never been to Sacred Ground in the Valley, try it… this guy is spiritual to the core. And Lifesource is more than a great collection of teachers, it's also a welcoming community for young yogis like myself
•  Stan Hywett Hall: I have a soft spot for opulence, and every time I drive up Portage Path, I love seeing Stan Hywett on the right, protected only by an attractive 4-foot-high fence. The Seiberlings were awesome people, who worked to promote literacy, public health, and helped created Alcoholics Anonymous. Stan Hywett is available for tours from April through December. Yay for philanthropy!
•  Gabriel Brothers, Big Lots and Marc's. Enough said. 

I’m sure there’s a ton more, and I haven’t even listed each and every person in this awesome community. (Akron is blessed with a community of nice people with infinite inter-sections. It's been effortlessly easy for me to get hooked into this cozy web!) That's all for now, I've got to work on my transporter so I can be in two places at once. :)

Why write this blog?

Most of my fellow Ohioans are curious about Canada. Ever since I was in high school people have talked about wanting to move to Canada to escape from this or that. From the war on Afghanistan to our national debt to our profit-driven healthcare system, we have longed for the apparent simplicity of Canada. As I’ve gotten to know Canada through dating Sean, I’ve noticed that sometimes the very things we envy about Canada are sources of irritation for Canadians. Healthcare is one example. From having to wait a year or more for acute illness treatment, to long waits and unpleasant environments in clinics, Canadians have complaints about national healthcare. An in-depth analysis of this topic is beyond my reach, but it’s a great example of how the socialist leanings of Canada might not deliver all we expect them to. Another topic I’m going to explore is the high price of clothing and goods in Toronto, which is a big controversy as cross-border shopping is becoming a threat to the Canadian economy. What are the factors behind the fact that Wal-mart pricing is not available anywhere in the Greater Toronto Area? Could it be because Canada’s presence in the global market is a mere shadow of that of the U.S.? The fact that Canada has, perhaps, a smaller per-capita appetite for goods? And at least in the Toronto area, could this be changing? Are Canadians wanting to “Americanize” themselves much as we Americans* pine to be more Canadian? And why the heck do we know so little about our northern neighbors?

(*Note: partial inspiration for the title of this blog is that Canadians refer to U.S. citizens as “Americans”. Probably due to the fact that “U.S.” offers no viable monikers for a person – “U.S.er”=User? United-Statesian?...)

The "ins and outs" of Immigration

A lot of people have expressed utter confusion upon learning that Sean and I don’t have the same benefits as any other married couple. After all, we live only 6 hours apart, speak the same language, and have basically the same culture. So, here, I’ll try to explain some of the ins and outs of immigrating to Canada.

When we first started talking about living together, we came across this concept of “permanent residency”. Permanent residency gives a non-citizen the right to work, live, and receive healthcare in Canada. There are basically 3 ways to obtain it: through family (ie marriage, or a parent who has already immigrated), as a student, or through a job. We had heard that getting a workplace to sponsor you was quite difficult, unless you could prove that you had skills that could not be found in a Canadian citizen (a tough task in a thriving city of 4.5 million people). Since I was already interested in going back to school, I then started looking around at music programs in Toronto. However, the reality hit that since I hadn’t paid my existing loans off, it really wasn’t preferential to take out more unless I was going into a highly-paid field. So we decided that wasn’t a great route. Eventually, we realized marriage would be the best way, so that’s what we did.

Once we got married, we did not have a typical honeymoon period. We both had to return to work, since we had taken off so much vacation time in the last year to visit each other. So Sean returned to Toronto to his full-time, 9 to 5 job, and I returned to working 4 days a week as a counselor at a community health agency. We knew we had a lot of work ahead of us. Basically, it works like this: the “sponsor” (Sean) is responsible for the financial well-being of the “primary applicant” (me) and I have to do a shit ton of paperwork. So, I found that my days off were quickly filled, not just with filling out the complete history of every visit we’d ever paid to each other, including dates and locations, but also obtaining information like the address of my studio apartment from 2004 and had I ever belonged to a professional or terrorist organization. 3 months, 40 pages, and a trip to a Niagara Falls clinic later, we submitted our application! And now, finally, we can relax and wait.

People ask me, and I often ask myself, why I didn’t move to Canada sooner. The truth is I didn’t know I was allowed. The immigration website makes it sound like you choose one path or the other – “inland” or “outland”. An inland application is one in which you, say, met your husband while studying, and decided to marry him and stay on in Canada. The catch is that you’re not allowed to leave the country until your application is fully processed, which could take up to two years. As an outlander (that’s me), I can travel freely between the U.S. and Canada during the application processing time, which is shorter - between 6 months and a year. That’s it – you can’t have your cake and eat it too. We heard horror stories, too, about married people being turned away from the border because the border guards thought they were using it as an excuse to steal Canadian jobs. You say you’re married, and they think you’re just going to come and live in Canada forever. I could see it happening, so I kind of get that. After a few phone calls, we got reassurance that we could cross the border safely with the appropriate paperwork proving that we were who we said we were.

However, the really good news came from the least likely source – a border guard at Niagara Falls. I was crossing the border to meet Sean for a weekend and to get my medical check done at a local clinic. I noticed the line I’d pulled into was very slow, and almost changed lanes because I was afraid I’d get questioned and possibly not allowed through. Pulling up I saw a short, stout, gray-haired woman with one of those faces that tells you not much would surprise her. “I’m coming to meet my husband in Niagara Falls,” I told her. She glanced at my passport. “Your husband, huh? Why don’t you live together?” she asked. “Well, I’m applying for my permanent residency.” She nodded. “You know, you don’t need your PR to live in Canada.” I was dumbfounded… “oh… really?” “Yeah, you just have to do a visitor record. You can’t work while you’re up here, but you can be with your husband.”  

We did a little more digging, and found that I could live with Sean for up to 6 months provided that I did not work and that I brought certain documents to prove that we were married and had the money to support ourselves. So basically, I would be a housewife until my PR went through. I had mixed feelings about this, since I had long wanted more time for my hobbies and interests, but I also have a great need for social stimulation and a certain amount of challenge. Because of those needs, and for other sentimental reasons, I originally planned to stay in my “Ohio life” until June 1. However, I slowly realized that it was kind of pointless to hang on, since I had married Sean and wanted to start my life with him. My attachments to my career and single life (which was never as profitable as I would have liked) began to loosen up, and I moved my departure date to April 26 - the earliest I could gracefully go.

One thing I will say about this move is that it has shaken up my priorities quite a bit. Ever since I was 18 I have planned to be self-sufficient, and have moved from coast to coast always with ingenuity and money in my back pocket. For the last five years, I have worked ceaselessly to get my career off the ground and build a life for myself. And now, I’m leaving it all behind for a life which, at least for now, will be all about love.