Don't let my mild-to-moderate sarcasm deceive you: I enjoy living in
Canada. However, it's perhaps taken me until recently to begin to acclimate to this midlife adventure I'm now 4+ months into.
That's not to say anything against Canada or
Canadians. I expected more animosity toward my
Americanness and wondered if I'd be perceived as taking a good job away from a hard-working Canadian. Something that you might hear someone (usually an idiot politician and his or her know-nothing followers) say back home. But so far, so very good. People are generally friendly here, even in a big city like
Toronto, although I wouldn't say uniformly polite, as the stereotype goes. All bets are off on the daily commute, which can be fierce. I don't know that I've made any friends outside of home, but I feel like I could if I wanted to. I just have to find the time and get myself more organized to do so.
And there has been a lot to organize and take care of since I arrived here on
Canada Day, July 1, 2015. The commute. The job. Home life with my boyfriend/partner/significant other/whatever the term may be when you read this in five years' time. Paperwork and lots of it: The work permit (golden ticket
número un), my
SIN (social insurance number), pension forms, a
Presto card, chequing (yes, chequing) and savings accounts, credit cards, a cellphone plan, a
Magic Jack plan just in case anyone from the States ever wants to call me; an
Ontario driver's license, car insurance, car inspections and registration (something I'm still not done with), passport renewal, and golden ticket
número deux, the coveted
Ontario Health Insurance Plan (OHIP) identification card, aka free health care.
All while spending 11 to 12 hours a day going to, at, or coming from work, in a country that despite the big spaces and great distances, still operates small: Most business happens 9 to 5, Monday through Friday. Things like insurance agencies are closed in the evenings and on weekends, although banks to their credit do a great job of being open almost all day on Saturdays. And, goodness, they take holidays seriously and give most everyone, even salespeople the day off. Many stores and some malls were closed on
Labour (yes, Labour)
Day, for instance.
I've managed most of it, except for car inspection and registration, which I hope to accomplish this month. Then I get to do a sort of system reboot in the new year, when I apply for permanent residency, which will ultimately mean different paperwork to complete. But first things first: I have to pass an English-language competency test in order to apply for permanent residency. And it will only cost me the bargain price of $265 CAD to do so.
Obviously the credentials from two American universities, the same that I had to present in order to get my work permit, mean next to nothing in terms of my functionaly literacy in my mother tongue.
The
Catch 22 of Canadian bureaucracy aside, there are minor struggles. Spelling and language usage continue to confuse me, so maybe an English test is in order after all. Canadian English is like listening to an old familiar tune that suddenly strikes a . . . let's say "different" rather than "wrong" or "sour" note. It's bi-ling-ew-ul" and "proh-cess" and "proh-ject" and "ah-gainst" and "ree-zource," sometimes all in the same sentence. I'm gradually losing the sense of not so much what constitutes an American spelling but what is a Canadian versus a
British versus an American spelling. At the moment I consider myself very much an American living in Canada, not a wannabe Canadian, as I might have desired 10 years ago. But I try to get along, so I'm gradually inserting some extra u's and -re's into every other word, whether they require it or not.
I'm having trouble with my tongue in more ways than one: Continuing to represent challenges are shopping and eating, two of my favorite pastimes.
In a previous post, I discussed the disconnect of shopping in Canada: How
Wal-Mart is more like
Target and thus not such a shameful experience as it is in the
U.S. A couple of months later, and I find myself still confused.
Holt Renfrew and
Ogilvy are still too high-end for me, and in Toronto,
Nordstrom and
Saks are about to enter the market, making me outclassed in two countries and cultures.
Simon is still planning to move into the TO market from
Montreal, which would have been welcome six years ago when I could fit into their men's wear.
Speaking of shamefulness, I kinda miss
Marshall's/Ross/T.J. Maxx, and I definitely miss
DSW Shoe Warehouse, which I could use right about now, as fall sets in, and I long for a pair of half-boots to protect my tootsies from the rain. I've yet to bring myself to enter a
Winners. That's just so wrong.
It's not just the stores and the schedules, though; the products are different, too. Let's start with the most important meal of the day, coffee:
Peet's Coffee, my go-to brand in the States is so far, nonexistent. Ditto for
Chobani Yogurt. The cereal aisle at the local supermarket is decidedly smaller, although I've managed to find overpriced
Bran Buds and reasonably priced
Quaker Oat Squares, along with a lot of the
Kashi cereals. But then there are cereals like
Vector by
Kellogg's that sounds like something that would cause bodily harm if poured into the bowl the wrong way.
Despite the prevalence of a highly diverse population, even (or especially) in the suburbs, I have tried three supermarkets and come up anchovy-less--although if you need multi-flavored sardines, conger eel, or octopus in a can, I'm your man. Perhaps I'm misremembering this, but anchovies seemed pretty much a supermarket staple in the States. I'm not saying everybody or anybody much eats them, but you can find them at least. The
Caesar salad situation in this nation is at crisis level, as you might imagine.
Southern food, Texas foods, and Mexican foods are also in very short supply, and even when you find them, you often end up with a brand you've never heard of or not exactly the product you're used to.
Grits, white corn? Check, finally found some at the local
Loblaws, one variety by a firm named
Ferma, a purveyor of
Portuguese fine foods based in Montreal, tucked away in an odd amalgam of
Asian, Indian, and Latin American foods. Hominy, golden? No, sorry, how about white corn hominy instead? Yes, that will do for
pozole, which I'm making for dinner tonight (although experimenting by using chicken instead of pork, given the boyfriend's background). I could only find
Goya brand, which I'm familiar with from my days in
Texas, but none by any of the more Southern food purveyors that form my cultural strong suit.
Chipotle peppers in adobo sauce? Yes, but barely, intermingled with the red and green chile sauces, courtesy of
La Costeña brand, another one I'm less certain of. Hatch green chiles from
New Mexico? Well, yes, but only because I stocked up on them via
Amazon before I left home. They've come in handy more than once, including for some impromptu
Canada Votes election night nachos this past October 19.
None of this is bad, mind you, nor a deal-breaker nor any real hardship, of course. I'm starting to appreciate the prevalence of
Lavazza coffee, both ground and whole bean, in the supermarket, and I'm starting to think the whole Chobani thing is one big, $1.50 per container scam. We have a brand of
Greek yogurt in Canada,
Skotidakis, that actually tastes and mouth-feels (if I must) like Greek yogurt--tart, thick, substantive--to which you can add honey or jam à la
Fage. And if you don't like Greek active, then how about French passive in the form of
Quebec's own
Liberté brand? It's quite and quietly excellent.
Truth be told, I was troubled by the lack of access to grits, however, as well as hominy. Not that I ate either every day back home, but I knew I could get them when I wanted them, even in
Pittsburgh. And then suddenly I could not.
And no matter how grim and horrid the Mexican food offerings were in Pittsburgh (and they were scandalously
caca-esque), I knew I could find the good stuff somewhere, by visiting a Mexican store, asking for
CARE packages from friends in Texas, or shopping on Amazon. While we have our very own
Amazon.ca, import levies can jack up the prices for even the most mundane of purchases. Some cases in point: a 7-ounce can of chipotle peppers in Adobo from Goya is currently selling for $40 CAD (although I'm really hoping I've read that wrong, and there's a 12-pack or a case in the offing);
Allen's golden hominy does come in pack of 12 but will cost you about $5 CAD per can; a 24-ounce container of
Quaker 5-minute grits is currently listed on Amazon
à la canadienne for $24.15 CAD, taxes and shipping not included; a 5-pound bag of Quaker Quick Grits sells for a staggering $146.52!
Forget gold, oil, and diamonds--clearly grit manufacturing should be the driver of Canada's economic engine. Golden hominy and hominy-related products are indeed just that--pure gold.
