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.
_________________________________________
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.