The American Eagle Had Landed! - This past Thursday I took the day off from work and drove to the Canadian consulate in Buffalo to "surrender" then retrieve my passport and then "present" myself at the border.

It's a good thing that I'm not a very superstitious person (or at least not as much as I used to be) since on my way there, a huge tanker filled with diesel fuel overturned and they had to close the QEW at like 6:30 am. So after my lovely tour of downtown Hamilton (not a place I think I'd like to visit again unless I'm in desperate need of eau-de-refinery), I managed to find my way through downtown Buffalo, score a primo parking spot and make my way to the lobby of the huge high rise where the consulate sits on the 30th floor.

I got there right at 8 am when they opened to find a dozen or so people in front of me. Now given the line of work I'm in with all the dramatic crisis and twists of fate, I don't rattle easily. But I have to tell you, that although the consulate folks weren't rude or mean, presenting in-person was one of the most intimidating and anxiety producing experiences I've had in really, really long time.

Our every movement was dictated ("Stand here." "You 12 may proceed. The rest must wait until I return for you." "Walk single file only." "Permanent resident applicants sit in the second row and move down as your number is called." "Principal applicants only, no family members allowed." and so on).

We were told what we could hold ("You are only allowed to bring in your passport, photos and application. No other documents or papers allowed.").

And we were certainly when to be where ("Return at 11:15. Do not return at 11:00 or any time before 11:15 because you will create further problems in the line." "Be back at 1:30 to retrieve your passport.").

Again, it wasn't that any of the consulate staff were rude or mean. But, I felt as though my whole life was in the hands in strangers and that one misstep or break in the official protocol would somehow call the whole thing in jeopardy. I felt as though to ask a question or try to exchange a few casual words with my fellow immigrants would be seen as suspect or being a trouble maker. I know this sounds crazy or paranoid or like I let my anxiety get the best of me but, I feel as though I had a teeny tiny glimpse into what life in highly controlled environments, like the military or prison, might be like (and I'm sure there are days when those two aren't that different).

At any rate, I got my passport back with all the appropriate stamps and forms and proceeded to the border to present myself and enter Canada, the last official step to becoming a permanent resident. I walked in at 2:15 pm and by 2:25 was on my way to Customs to pay the $200 fee to get my car in. By 2:40, it was all over and I was on my way to fight rush hour traffic back home. Yep, after 16 months of forms, fees and waiting, this last official step was 10 minutes. Kinda like a wedding, you spend months if not years planning and the final step is just minutes long.

At least I managed to hold it together in the immigration and customs offices, though I cried before and after in my car.

So now what? Well, although I took a brief moment to celebrate this achievement, the paperwork and fees are still far from over. Next on my list before the end of May, I need to: get a new Social Insurance number, a new health card and a new drivers license. And within the next 45 days I need to: fax a copy of the title to my car to U.S. customs then 72 hours later drive there to get clearance to re-register the car; get Canadian car insurance; and re-register the car. Now if only those lines could be 10 minutes long too!!

The Final Countdown!!! - Alright, so sorry I haven't blogged in... oh say a few months. Life's been hectic. A promotion at work, lots of family health issues that have sent me flying back and forth across the border like a bat outta hell flying over hell's half acre.

On one of those trips, I stopped at Canadian immigration on the way back and tried to get a sense of whether I would need to renew my work permit or if my landed status would come through in time. They, of course, could give me no definite answers saying, "Your best bet is to put in for the renewal anyway. It's only an extra $150."

"Only" an extra $150? I don't know how much immigration officials are making these days but that $150 is my share of at least 2 weeks worth of groceries!!! But, what choice did I have. So more papers, more money, more letters. I had already plunked down $200 for the medical exam (which, by the way, consisted mostly of making sure I was breathing and knew my own name) and almost $500 for the "landed fee." Add that on top of the several hundred I had already spent in fees, all the costs associated with getting fingerprints, police checks and transcripts and the $1000 for the lawyer for my work permit... I seriously could have half of a down payment for a small house by now.

But then last week, when I returned from being on holidays for a week, there, sitting on our coffee table, "IT" was... the letter congratulating me on being accepted for landed immigrant status. "IT" consisted of 2, double sided pieces of paper, rather sloppily stapled together (with only about half the written material actually pertaining to my specific situation).

So, according to "IT", I need to go the immigration office in Buffalo on any given Tuesday or Thursday between the hours of 8-11 a.m., "surrender" my passport and they will "make all efforts" to return it to me between the hours of 1:30-3 p.m. on the same day. At that point, I will need to officially "enter Canada" before the expiry date or risk having to start all over from scratch (don't fret, I'll be getting my ass over the border as soon as they put the passport back in my hot little hands).

My partner wanted to take the day off from work and come with me, bring the camera and celebrate the moment with me. However, "IT" said I have to present alone, which is kind of a bummer because I know I'm going to get all emotional and start crying and whoever gets me at the immigration office at the border is going to have seconds thoughts about letting some blubbering "whacko" in.

Even though the paperwork part of this process will be wrapping up soon, I hope to keep up on this blog (no, really, I mean it this time) because in actuality, my acculturation is only just beginning.