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.