It's getting better (Happy New Year)

End of the year, time for an evaluation. I’d say it’s like a sort of reverted Christmas, where the letters are maybe written only mentally, the writers are “old kids” like myself, and the content is not about gifts to get as a present but what this finishing year has already brought to us.

It’s been a complicated year: a never-ending (in fact not ended yet) fight with the immigration, the desperate need for a new place to live in order to save myself from a possible physical assault coming from a crazy fucking alcoholic, the struggle to get finally hired full-time in my company and start learning some interesting cool stuff, a sense of loneliness capable to strike all in a sudden and make my cry (hey, there’s a man behind this screen), friends who left and that I miss (especially one, who sometimes comes across to these pages).

It’s also been a year of successes, and yes, if I look back to 2012, I can only say that things, far from being perfect, are anyway going better:

1) a job, sometimes hard, sometimes funny, in general interesting, maybe the first one after years I can really say I care of and that I don’t see a simple salary provider

2) a work permit on its way (I hope)

3) a place close to the office, close to the sea, close to supermarkets, close to everything I need, where may not have found my best friends ever, but certainly more normal and less psychotic people, and with a landlord that so far proved to be the best since I’m in Canada

4) a more active social life, with some friends to hang out with from time to time, and colleagues to have culinary experiences with in ethnic restaurants that contribute to Vancouver’s fame.

Not only culinary to be honest: a couple of weeks ago I was at my company’s Christmas party, and it was great. I had fun and won a full bottle of maple syrup.

As I decided to head to a nightclub with a bunch of colleagues, I kept drinking  from the 750ml bottle, leaving maybe less than half, just to make my night sweeter.

The bouncer at the entrance, at the beginning reluctant to let me in, thinking I was an alcoholic, reacted with a mixture of surprise and indignation: “Are you really drinking maple syrup” while his colleague was carefully checking the bottle.

Well man… you know, I didn’t win any booze at the Christmas party, we are in Canada, so yeah, I’m drinking maple syrup. “By the way, can I get in with the bottle, leave it at the cashier and pick it back when I’ll get out?”.

To much of my surprise the answer was “Yes”: power of the sweetness or award for the most original customer of the night.

The day after I was in hang-over, my first one without having been even tipsy the night before: the bitter side of the syrup maybe?

A meeting with Italians a couple of days after made me see many new faces: bad signal, meaning many Italians who came here last year failed to find a job, and many other who failed in Italy came here packing clothes and hopes all together.

I don’t know what 2014 will bring to me: in few weeks it will be my second year in Vancouver.

Still here, against all odds and predictions, farther than I could imagine.

I have not a list of things to ask to the incoming year, but just the hope that in a year time I will be writing a new post, saying that things have been better than 2013.

Everything can happen in this challenging city, including the beauty of the English Bay and Stanley Park covered with snow 10 days ago.

Happy New Year.

  

   

  

Autumnal shots

The time goes by and I don’t even pay attention to that. It’s been 3 weeks I took some photos of Vancouver’s autumn with the intention to post them on my blog, but I’ve made it only now.

The beautiful red tones of the first photo are now gone: what you see are just skeleton trees.

I came to the conclusion that, whoever designed the Canadian flag, was looking out of the window or walking in an ordinary autumnal day.

The fact in a month time it will be Christmas has come to my mind only today, while I was distractedly listening to the radio and I heard the speaker saying “Vancouver Christmas radio station”.

That means soon I will go in search of a panettone to delight my colleagues.

Near Denman - West Georgia crossroad

View from Queen Elizabeth Park

Robson Street by night

Wake me up from immigration nightmare

Ok, it’s official: Canada is seriously trying to drive me crazy.

The immigration turned out to be a real nightmare I cannot awake from.

Well… we all know it’s difficult right, but what happened to me was quite unexpected, and scares me more than zombies and vampires wandering in Vancouver streets on Halloween.

My Visa expired in July. Having being hired by my company just a little before its expiration, I was in an extra rush to send the application for the visa extension before it was too late.

The fear of not making it, the stress to deal with papers and forms to be filled in, the money to spend for the Canadian government fees, the money (quite a lot) for my immigration consultant, made my days horrible at that time. My application was received just 3 days before my Visa was over.

But to get a new visa you also need a work permit, that in Canada is called LMO (Labour Market Opinion).

That can be sent even after your visa has expired, but it’s not easy at all to get.

It’s not enough to say “Hey guys, I have a job, here it is my contract”.

No, your job must meet some criteria, in terms of wage, working conditions and so on, enough to convince them you are not literally stealing some job to Canadians, and your boss must convince the office that deals with this stuff that the company really needs you.

A negative LMO means game over, unless you have time and strength to apply again, and now with the new rules it is even more complicated and costly for employers.

Despite of my natural pessimism I got last week a positive LMO, hooray!

Just the time to let me enjoy the week-end, because on Monday I figured out the match was not over at all: having not received my LMO on time, the immigration office in Alberta rejected my Visa, even though I had sent them a paper stating clearly an LMO had been requested by my employer.

Yesterday I went back to my immigration consultant: in other words I will have to apply again, pay extra money, pay my consultant again, including this time in the application the LMO, just not to give them any apparent reason to reject it.

As I cannot leave Canada until the end of the process, and since I don’t know how long it will take, this means no Christmas holidays at home, once again.

And, above all: I don't know if this time my new visa will be approved.

It is more and more my certainty that the system is organized on purpose in such a complicated way, to feed the immigration business.

Yeah, immigration is a business in Canada and a career, so if you have money to spend, get a course for consultant or become a lawyer and you’ll probably pay off the mortgage for your home in few years.

I’m wondering what could be the % on Canadian GDP related to immigration.

As coming to Canada to work is getting very complicated, it may eventually turn against Canadian economy, starting of course from the consideration this country needs immigrants to fill many positions.

Into a globe of precariousness

Autumn is definitely arrived in Vancouver. I don’t know which flight it came from, and why the immigration officers haven’t been picky this time, but for sure it’s in town.

3 rainy days in a row, colder temperature and some chilly wind: summertime is already a memory.

Challenging the rainfall yesterday I went to Science World. It’s a sort of science museum hosted in a kind of futuristic globe. Admittance tickets are usually not cheap (25 dollars if I well remember) but for some reason this week-end there was free admittance, so I fought and win against the rain and my natural laziness.

I had always been curious to see what there could be in, and anytime I saw it when I was used to take the Skytrain I thought that sooner or later I would have satisfied my curiosity.

Yesterday I made it with a friend, but the final result was quite disappointing.

Not because of the too many visitors obviously attracted from the free tickets, who brought  swarms of shouting kids running everywhere, but because  I honestly was expecting something more interesting.

The museum is mainly about description of some things (for example how the brain recognizes humans faces), infographics, some documentary, and the very Vancouverite obsession for recycling, with a profusion of data on how much food and water is wasted, just to make people feel guilty even during a week-end with their families.

I’m glad to have saved my money 'cos I really hadn’t missed much.

I’m less glad for other things lately. A number of people I know have left or are about to leave Vancouver, including a former colleague of mine from Brazil who’s now in Toronto, a Mexican friend who’ll leave in a month, and even a guy from Pakistan I had met casually after over one year at Science World who is in the process to move to Toronto.

Those apparently minor events, combined of course with my nervous waiting for an outcome on my application for the work permit, have revived a feeling that was sleeping since Dublin’s time: the sense of precariousness. It is the awareness of being not stabilized at all in your goals and objectives, of feeling yourself pass, with nothing permanent to give you security and the impression you’re on the right path.

People coming and going reminds me I may be forced to go, sooner than I want.

This precariousness surrounds me, just like the walls of the globe I was in.

If it was summertime I’d spoil myself thinking on having a walk to the beach or Stanley Park, but unfortunately if I look up now I just see clouds and rain.

I hope some good wind of news will blow them away soon.

Little by little

I’m literally exhausted. I’ve been so busy in these last days moving my stuff to a new place that I couldn’t even check my e-mail, never mind find some time for my blog.

Yes, I’m relocating again, going back to downtown.

The idea was in my mind for quite a long time: it was just to annoying to me to check every time the bus time on internet, then run desperately to catch it, maybe just to miss it for 30 seconds or to find out it was 15 minutes late. And after the bus, take the Skytrain and the bus again to go to the office or for my weekly shopping.

It’s good to keep fit, but I’d prefer to do it as a choice (like jogging) rather than chasing a bus driver who did not notice me. Plus, I really hate arrive late for any reason, and bus 15 is almost always late!

Yet the main reason was quite different: my housemate.

Anybody can say to have or have had weird housemates, but mine is, let’s say, out of ordinary.

The poor man is totally crazy, spending most of his time at home talking loud to himself, asking himself questions and trying to answer (but he often says: “I don’t know”).

It’s extremely annoying to have around such a person, as I work nighttime from home and I would prefer some quiet. Being an alcoholic, he burps and farts continuously, makes a mess every time he uses the kitchen and blames myself because I haven’t cleaned it, confuses the washing machine with a garden (better not to mention the amount of nails, stones and soil I had to take out from there before washing my clothes).

Curiously, he expects I clean the kitchen he makes dirty, but he believes the kitchen is his, and does not really stand I use it; I still remember when once he totally freaked out and started shouting like crazy at midnight, just because while I was there I had went out of my room to fill in my bottle with some fresh water.

Frankly, the last months have been quite a nightmare for me, feeling myself as I was in prison, having to deal with an adult man’s tantrums. Time to be released then, and in few hours I’ll leave this place.

Now I’m just impatient to get to my new room, and anxious for the feedback of the immigration.

Last month I applied to extend my work permit just before it expired. Years ago it would just have been a formality: “Do you have a job? Ok, approved”.

Not anymore. This is Canada 2013, during the worldwide crisis. It is my understanding this country panicked as a reaction to the downturn and, despite of being relatively healthy compared to others (included their big southern neighbor) they fear something bad and are making the immigration process something close to the impossible.

The process is double: you have to apply to extend your work permit, and your company has to apply for the LMO (Labour Market Opinion) which proves you’re really indispensable for your employer.

I don’t even remember clearly the amount of papers I filled in, partially alone, and partially with the help of an immigration consultant: I just know I was extremely nervous and not in a well mood.

It was a torture that is yet to be over, as my request could be rejected.

It would be tragic if, after so many efforts on my side to get a job in the field I like and real contract, I was forced to leave Canada for any reason the immigration service can find to kick back my ass to Italy.

There’s nothing else for me to do than keep my fingers crossed and the hope alive.

I must try to be optimistic and, after all, if I look at the past, I see some improvement: now I have a full-time job, and in few hours I will have a better place to live in.

That’s the lesson I got from Canada: you can make it, but this country takes it very easy to reward you.

You can get what you want, but little by little. I hope immigration officers will agree with me.

Thought of the moment #2

I'm just arrived from the office.
I am yet to get my dinner, and in less than an hour I have to start work again from home 'till 4:00am.
Tomorrow I have to visit an apartment (as I'm desperately trying to relocate) and then get back to the office.
The day after tomorrow I have an appointment with my immigration consultant.
Is there any supermarket selling time, as I really need it?

Losing your identity on holiday

I’m struggling in search of a reason to type something for my rusty blog rather than to sleep.

I don’t know if it’s because of the jet-lag or the long walk I had today with a friend around the Lighthouse Park in West Vancouver, but I just feel super-sleepy and my eyes are protesting against the idea to remain open to put together word after word.

Even to get up from bed to have my dinner has turned out to be a challenge today.

I look with terror at the fact tomorrow I will start again working.

Yep, that’s what they call end of the holidays.

I must say the twenty days break I got was really welcomed, as I really needed to get rid of some stress.

My holidays in Italy were a little troubled though. As soon as I arrived I was assaulted by muggy and extra hot weather, and in few days a 35C temperature was successful in ruining my attempts to sleep at night.

To go for a walk outside during the day was something impossible: I felt like getting into an oven, or as somebody had turned on a giant hairdryer.

Since the very first day I was a target for mosquitos, that obviously missed me very much while I was away.

But it was to meet my family after such a long time that really upset me.

I was somehow curious to see their and my reaction. When I was in Ireland I was used to get back home for holidays maybe 3-4 times a year, so obviously it was something totally new to me to be far away from my family for way over one year. When I met them at the airport I had an awful feeling: they were like strangers to me, people I was not really close to. It was horrible and I kind of felt guilty, as they are the most important people in my life.

That horrible feeling lasted only one day, but long enough to start seriously wondering what I want to do, if it is really worth to live on the other side of the world.

The sense of estrangement affected also my perception of the places.

The center of my hometown is going under massive renovation works that have turned it so far into something at a time uglier and unfamiliar to me.

But it was at the time of visiting some former colleagues that the bewilderment was complete.

I went to a close city asking for references at the journal I was used to work for 9 years ago or so as a journalist, only to find out that they moved the office somewhere else. When I got into the new office it was even worse: I knew absolutely nobody. The photographer, my former boss, all the people I was working with had left the journal or had been moved to other offices.

It was like to lose a piece of identity. How much is important a place that used to be part of your history, in order to give sense to your life and what you are, providing you with something stable? What happens when you can’t recognize places and people that made up your everyday reality?

I suspect it just means you have lost the contact and the roots with your home place, and you are like a little boat with no anchorage floating in the ocean.

I lost my inner ID and I'm afraid there's no office that can reissue a new one for me.

My return flight was simply a nightmare: it was delayed twice and cancelled once, and I (and many other passengers) got stuck in London and spent the night in hotel that, having no available rooms, could just give us the floor, a mat and a sleeping bag. Thank you BA: if you don’t refund me I’ll take another flight with you the next century!

The immigration/custom officers at the airport mustn’t have been impressed by my misadventure, as they found the way to complicate my re-entry in Canada, messing up my clothes in my baggage, searching for unlikely stellar amount of illegal drugs, but spotting only pullovers for the winter and milk candies for my colleagues. Yes, I admit it: I am trying to put in danger national dental health!

They also tried once again to confuse me about the immigration process, giving me information I later found out to be probably wrong.

At this stage I’d probably need a shorter holiday to recover from my previous holidays.

Finally, the warmth must have followed me: shortly after my departure the temperature dropped in Italy and increased in Vancouver. The stunning view from the Lighthouse Park reminded me there’s at least a reason I haven’t given up yet my fight for Vancouver: its beauty.