No, I don’t mean I changed my name from “Pat”.
As some of you already are aware, I am married to Weirddave. In order to do this, I have had to emigrate to the United States from my beloved home, Canada. I was raised in Alberta, and lived in the NWT for a long time (hence, “Of the North”) with a brief stint in Ontario. We currently reside in northern Maryland. My son is adjusting very well now, but had a really difficult time right after we got here, and was often in some kind of trouble in school. Thank goodness we came just a month before the end of the school year.
One of the things that I was shocked to find out is the level of racism that exists in this area of the world. I don’t know that it is because this was a slave state and that there wasn’t slavery where I’m from, but it’s something that surprised the pants right off of me. The KKK has a chapter not 10 miles away from us. It’s something I always heard about on TV growing up, but never expected to experience.
Another thing is the level of politeness. True, Canada is known for its polite people, but that doesn’t negate my surprise. I don’t hear ‘please’ or ‘thank you’ when making a purchase. My mother would slap me if she heard me speak to anyone the way that some of the customer service people here have spoken to me.
I come from the mountains. In fact, I moved to Maryland from Canmore, Alberta. Canmore is directly in the Rocky Mountains. My home was halfway up a mountain. Have you seen the mountains in the Eastern US? They are pretty, but they’re nothing like what I know mountains to be. The saving grace for this is of course, the Ocean. In September, Dave and I went to meet Zette and her husband in Dewey Beach, Delaware. I found myself transfixed, just staring at the waves. Dave always talked about buying a place on the water and I just didn’t get it until then. Fabulous.
I like to bake. Do you know what happens to an Albertan’s recipes at sea level? Let’s just say that I haven’t baked in awhile, and leave it at that. Not to mention, I couldn’t find lard to save my life (lard is rendered pork fat, much like suet is rendered beef fat. I used to use it instead of shortening). A local acquaintance is a butcher and found it for me, but since the altitude messes up my pie, I haven’t made any.
Grocery shopping, in the beginning, was an experience. Yes, there is everything under the sun available here, but it’s just different. I understand that even from place to place in Canada that brands vary, but this is ridiculous. Or, the exact brand that I’ve used at home, I’ll buy here, and it will be in different packaging, or an ‘off’ brand, or the texture or taste will be different than what I’m used to. The first thing that comes to mind is Coca-Cola. In Canada, it’s made of sugar. Here, it’s made with high-fructose corn syrup. If you don’t think it’s that much of a difference, head across the border for a cold one - and bring some back for me!
Canada was begun by the French and then taken over by the British. As such, we have a lot of words in our language that people here don’t understand. I mentioned that I wanted to make tourtiere - blank stares. I say ‘parkade’ instead of parking garage. I say ‘zed’ instead of ‘zee’ for the last letter of the alphabet. Llama is pronounced the same as lama. Poutine is non-existent, as are donair. Sure, I can get gyros, but they’re made with lamb, and tzatziki, not beef with the sweet sauce.
One thing that I love here is the winter. After spending the entirety of my life until this moment in cold-cold-cold, it’s a lovely change. Sure, we had a butt-load of snow, and a horrendous blizzard leaving us home-bound for a couple of days, but it’s now March 4 and sunny and melting. I will be in shorts before very long. I’ve been wearing sandals for most of the year, as well.
Anything I want to buy, I can get here. There are no restrictions for the border, like there were when I wanted to import things while still in Canada. If I wanted to get anything, even something outrageous, I could probably have it today, or have it over-nighted from anywhere in the US. Fresh oranges from Florida? I’d get them the next day. Pineapple from Cuba? Next day, thanks to ‘the guy’. Amazon.com takes only a few days even on the cheapest shipping option, where at home it was subject to search if it crossed through customs.
New York City is only three hours drive from me. Three hours. This is the centre of the known universe, and it’s only three hours away. Three hours. Did I say that? The Capital of the entire country is only 50 miles from here. Wow. I grew up reading National Geographic and Time - headquartered in Washington, DC. Oh, and did I mention that one of our more-or-less local friends works for Time? That another works in the Senate? Another two for a high-level agency.
Cheesesteaks, Baltimore-style. I thank heaven for Giorgio’s (Timonium and Loch Raven).
Relatively inexpensive air travel. Flying across country, say Calgary to Ottawa, is prohibitively expensive at home. Here, LA-NY can be had for much, much less, and there are many more options. I can take the train anywhere for a pittance. I can hop on I-95 and go from Maine to Florida, and know that along the entire length there will be rest-stops with gas stations and food, consistent quality throughout.
Tim Horton’s can be had with only a drive to northern Pennsylvania, or a call to a friend in Columbus. Probably not having Tim’s is a healthy and good thing; Mom sends the coffee, so I’m okay without the doughnuts.
What I ask of you, dear e-pat Dopers, is to share with me your stories. Where have you moved to and why, where are you from? How do you find life in your new home? Observations and ruminations happily welcomed.
