The glass is half full

Since we found out, two and a half months ago, that our visas were approved for Canada, I've tried really hard to focus on all the positive aspects: the travel, the excitement, a new adventure, an opportunity to realize our dreams, new life experiences, etc. This is something we've wanted and planned for 5 years, so of course there are many, many things to look forward to.

What I've also tried really hard to avoid is dwelling on the negative aspects of our move, which mostly boil down to leaving our wonderful friends and family, because I know we're going to miss them terribly.

While we're away, there's a lot that we'll miss out on. Like seeing our godchildren grow up and witnessing their daily triumphs. Will I know when Ella's favorite colour changes from "rainbow", and that she's now writing all her letters facing the right way? (Though I prefer her current style of writing the letter "n"). Will I know when Nommie stops stuffing her T Shirt with my socks, and when she gets her first bra?

There are pregnancies and births that we'll miss out on. New romances and engagements and weddings. Everyday events like supper club and quiz night. My father's 65th birthday and my brother's 40th. Impromptu lunches at Papachinos with the gang, and weekend braais with the family.

Especially difficult is worrying about everyone's welfare. Will our folks stay healthy while we're away? Will my 89 year old gogo stay strong into her 90s? What happens if there's a crisis and we're not there?

It's enough to make a control freak like me turn tail and give it all up just so that I can be around. Not that I have any control over everyone's welfare and happiness even when I'm in SA, but these things aren't logical.

So when these negative and worrying thoughts crowd in, I try to go back to focusing on the positives:

1. There are dozens of ways for us all to keep in touch: Facebook, email, BBM, WhatsApp, Skype, phone calls, sms, etc. I remember after high school when a friend of mine, Dimitri, moved to Greece. The only way to stay in touch then was writing and mailing letters! I especially remember when Bron and Shayne moved to Zim, and I couldn't get through on the phone for a few weeks. I got quite hysterical only to discover that elephants had knocked the lines down, and it took ages to get them up and running. Err, the lines, not the elephants. The telephone poles barely broke their stride.

2. Most of my friends and family are a bit scared of me, so they'll answer my constant stream of questions about favorite colours, morning sickness, first dates, quiz scores, etc.

3. People can come visit! We have a spare room and are prepared to travel to meet up! We're already booked to see the Broombergs in December, Don and Pierre in Vegas in March and my family in the Caribbean near the end of next year. All occasions that I'll be counting the sleeps until.

4. Some of my best friends have lived overseas for years, and the distance has actually strengthened our bond. (Love you Charmz and Craigie).

5. We are always just a plane ride away if we're needed back in SA for whatever reason. We will always, always be there for those we love... that will never change.

It's a balancing act - each day we walk a fine line between excitement and despair. All we can do is trust that it will all work out the way it's meant to, and hope that the universe will be kind.


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"Work" - it's a four letter word

So far, we've dealt with the issues of where we're going to live in Toronto, getting our pets across there, what we're going to do about furniture and how we're going to deal with the transport issue.

Now we get to what we're going to do to earn an income. It really is kinda scary to quit jobs that you really love and that earn you a decent living, especially in this economy. Especially since we pretty much can't apply for work until we get there and have applied for social security numbers.

Which means that when we leave South Africa, we'll be totally and utterly, for the very first time in our lives.... *whispers the word* unemployed.

Argh! If that isn't enough to give a control freak Capricorn an ulcer attack, then I don't know what is! I've been employed since I was 16 years old and in Std 9 for God's sake. I had two jobs at that point: I was waitressing at the Spur some nights, and working at Woolies over weekends. Being independent has always been extremely important to me, which is why I even left studying full time, so I could work and finish my degrees part time. Which has now come back to bite me in the wazoo.

Good old UNISA is not recognized as an acceptable institution by the Canadians, so as far as they're concerned, I have finished high school and that's it! Stephen is sorted because his degrees were done at Wits and then last year, he qualified for his CIMA which is internationally recognized.

So while he'll probably get work as a Management Accountant/Financial Manager, I'll need to re-evaluate what I'm qualified to do.

Hmmm, here's the list:

1. Waitress
2. Barmaid - though not in a wine bar as I'll get fired for drinking all the stock
3. Someone who stalks dogs to get urine samples (have a lot of experience in that)
4. A professional Scrabble/Words with Friends/Draw Something player
5. Dog walker (though I think I need more qualifications for that!)
6. Person who puts food in the microwave to heat it
7. Someone who takes on everyone else's shit, and then lies awake at night worrying about their problems on their behalf
8. A Guinea pig for research into ulcer medication
9. A stripper in a club for blind men
10. An advisor for the "Build a Papachinos in Toronto" project. I'm an expert on Papachinos. Tracey and Ethan can vouch for me!

Eish, I might remain unemployed for a while *gulp*




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Goodbye car, my old friend

Another big decision that we've had to make with the big move is whether or not to buy cars.

Now, as most of you know, South African culture is big on cars. We'll get into our cars to drive to a park to go walking. Or get into our cars to drive 200m to our local shopping centre. Hell, sometimes we just get into our cars and sit there without going anywhere because we love them so much.

It's very scary, but the only time you'll see white, middle-class South Africans walking anywhere without wondering if they've been hijacked is if they have their dogs with them as props to indicate that they do indeed have cars, they're just not using them right then. I've even seen people walking their dogs while they're driving and the dogs are running behind their cars. Seriously.





So, considering forgoing a car is a big deal for a South African. I mean, what's a boot for if not to fill up with Woolies' meals and wine? If I don't have a car, I won't have a boot and thus I'll have to carry all my Woolies' meals and wine? Gasp!

But that's exactly what we've decided to do. Forgo the cars.

What's the point of going on an adventure and wanting to experience all new things if you're going to cling to the old ways of doing things?

So no cars will mean that we'll have to use public transport. Now the last time I used public transport in South Africa, was 18 years ago when I was at varsity and I had to catch the bus to RAU every day. Not at all a fun commute when you suffer from car sickness, and the bus driver seems hell bent on seeing how much he can make the bus rock and sway without actually tipping it over. The fact that I was generally hung over during these trips didn't help. Early morning lectures would find me pale and sickly in the bathrooms which would explain my awful varsity marks. (Thanks again Delia for taking all those notes for me! I wouldn't have gotten my degree without you!).

Luckily Toronto has a decent Transit system, although if you ask any of them, they'll say it's kak. Okay, they won't say "kak" because they don't know "kak" but they'll say the Canadian equivalent. But to a South African, a city that has buses, trams, subways and trains is really jacked.





And huge bonus? They allow dogs on public transport! This is gonna get interesting ;-)





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Relocating the zoo

One of the major bonuses of moving to Canada is that there is no quarantine for your pets. A lot of countries make you put your furry babies in quarantine for up to 7 months, and I'm sorry, but how could you banish these faces for that long?











Note: If you don't think my pets are cute as sin, zip your lip or just lie. White lies are easy and socially acceptable. After all, I've told a lot of parents that their bald, cone-head, forcep-delivery, jaundiced babies are adorable.

So part of the whole preparation phase includes getting all 4 of our pets' injections up to date etc, which is what I spent this morning doing.

This is how it went:

Was wildly optimistic and loaded 2 cats and 2 dogs into the car and pulled off.
Within 2 seconds, ended up with a cat wrapped around my face with its claws embedded in my skull, and a Golden Retriever on my lap.
Reversed and decided optimism was wildly overrated. Popped a few Gavascon, offloaded the 2 cats, and headed to the vet with just the pooches.

It's hard to drive with a 26kg dog on your lap licking your face with the kind of enthusiasm only a puppy can maintain for such a task, but not impossible.
Got to the vet in one piece.

Opened the door and the dogs bounded out, ready for a walk. The bounding lasted thirty seconds until they realized they were at the vet, after which they rolled over, played dead and refused to budge.

Dobby, the Daschund, is 12kgs, so she's easy to carry. Muggle, the large golden one, is not. You can't even drag her when she puts her mind to being contrary.
So with a lot of grunting, groaning, pleading, sweating, pushing, pulling, threatening and swearing, I finally managed to get them inside. Where Muggle made straight for the treats, where she polished off a large amount of the really expensive ones before I could get to her. Revenge is sweet apparently.

An hour later, I was back home to drop off the pooches, pop more Gavascon, load up the kitties (this time in cages), and head out again. Note to self : always take your iPod when traveling with cats, so you don't need to listen to the blood-curdling hissing and yowling. It's like listening to the soundtrack of a particularly violent Kung Fu movie.

When I got back to the vet, I noticed the receptionist checking out my frothing white mouth, wondering if I didn't need a rabies shot. I had to explain about the Gavascon overdose.

Three hours later, covered in scratches, drool and fur (and a lot worse for wear), I'm home with 4 pets who have vaccinations and are ready for the jet setter lifestyle. Is it too early for a vase of wine?




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