It all starts with a goodbye. Finally the last goodbye, but the hardest. Bye mom, bye sis.
When the plane finally takes off, I finally shed a tear or two. But joyous tears they are, the best kind of tears there is in this world. (Correct me if I'm wrong.) I really did it. Right? Still not quite believing it. My connection flight to Vancouver is not leaving for another five hours. There it is, on the board. VANCOUVER. Among an endless list of other destinations. The magic starts already. There are actually flight going to Vancouver. That Vancouver. And I got a ticket, too! OMG!
Time passes. I eat. I drink. I watch aircraft take off. And there it is: the gate is B32 ... time to move. Once more through check-in, and boarding. I'm afraid others might complain that they can't sleep because my smile is just too big and radiant. ;-) And take-off. There's no denying I finally am going to Vancouver. That's it, next ground to touch will be Canadian. So just 9.5 more hours to go. And again, time passes. I monitor our position on the map. Ireland, Greenland -- it's freezing out there, but I'm all calm, warm and happy. I'm the little centre of my world. Time passes. The in-flight entertainment is pretty good -- I could watch movies, TV shows, listen to albums and radio programmes for days. My choice is "District 9" (excellent), and "Up" (okay), and a documentary about Monty Python (hilarious). Inbetween Curry chicken ... thanks, my first warm meal of the day. Day? Pfff.
TOUCHDOWN! No crash, thanks. Still night. Doesn't look much different. Coming through the gangway I enter Vancouver airport YVR. Carpets, not the cold steel and glass architecture of Hamburg and Heathrow. There's border control. Using my special super-power, I choose the queue that's the slowest. There's a feeling that I just can't seem to shake off: Do I have everything with me? Did I really think of everything? Or did I maybe forget to fill out a form? I present everything to the officer, he takes a quick look and directs me to Immigration. Not even a stamp in my passport? Alrighty then.
"Hello Sir, please go through the glass door and join the queue." There's quite a crowd waiting, from all kinds of countries, everyone with different papers. Some carry heavy folders. I don't have a folder, I just got two papers. Again: Do I really have everything?
And then it's all happening really quick. All they wanted to see was my passport and the letter of permit from the embassy. No proof of funds, no health insurance. I could've come bare naked. Work permit gets printed and stapled into my passport.
– "You are not allowed to work in health services or education."
– "Ok."
– "Welcome to Canada."
No exclamation mark there. She was a little reserved, you might say. ;-)
Will my luggage still be there? I spent at least an hour and a half at border control and immigration ... THERE it is! Relief. So I stack everything on a trolley and, slowly, smiling, make my way to the exits. I hand over my customs declaration card to the joking airport stuff ... and I'm there. In Vancouver. I grab a Taxi (the Indian driver had a looong beard) and get dropped off at La Quinta Inns & Suites, my hotel for the first few days. On my way I'm thinking: at night, everything looks the same. My room is big, and clean. That's a relief, considering that it's a rather low-cost hotel. And I've heard quite a few stories about low-cost hotels in Vancouver! :)
I'm somewhat exhausted, but still awake. I still can't quite believe it. You really did it. You are in Canada. Legally. And are allowed to work. Legally. What could stop you now? (Oh, the usual, you know ...)
Next morning: there is a sun! And this is what it looks like from my window:
See the mountains? SEE THE MOUNTAINS? :-))) OK, day one is starting ... and remember: if you seek an exit (to whatever), there probably is one.
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