First of all, welcome to my brand-new blog, Roll and Record. It’s been years since I last put one up, and after shutting it down some years ago, I maintained a LiveJournal account, then did a short-lived attempt to blog again at Blogspot, gradually abandoned the LiveJournal account (though I’ve never deactivated it–it still exists), then went to Tumblr for a bit but also gradually abandoned it (it also still exists). Well, here I am again. But this time, I promise to be a bit more active. After all, this is, as you’d see in my profile, my newest venture into attempting to write beyond 150 characters (which, by the way, you’ll also see somewhere else on this screen). Wish me luck.
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My family at our citizenship ceremony in Oshawa, ON on March 22, 2012, along with an RCMP officer (whose name I can't remember at the moment--my apologies), Oshawa Mayor John Henry and Citizenship Judge Philip Gaynor
If you knew me some four and a half years ago as a scrawny twenty-something with a twisted body clock after nearly two years as a call centre agent working in beautiful Eastwood City, you would know that I never, ever wanted to leave the Philippines. Migration was sort of a taboo word to me. And I never wanted to leave my friends, the simple joys I was comfortable with, and the country where I grew up. Because if I did, it would feel like I’ve switched loyalties–pretty much, perhaps, like being traded to another team in sports, or, particularly in the Filipino context, moving to your rival network after your contract expires or you had a fall-out with the bosses or whatever other reason.
Enter Canada. My parents had been planning for years to move the entire family there. It didn’t work out the first time (much to my delight), so they tried again (much to my dismay). Eventually, there also came a plan to move to New Zealand. Ahh, somewhere a bit nearer, I thought. But it was still migration–and I never wanted to hear a word about it. But as the years went on, I kept all the objections to myself. When the request from Citizenship Canada for us to take a medical exam came in January 2007, I started to think that that was it–the “beginning of the end”.
And then, later that summer, I finally got the text from my Mom one midday as I prepared for work: “We’re going to Canada.” I wasn’t as negative anymore as I was years back–or so I thought. But I still felt my heart sink. I thought of that old song line, “So little time, so much to do”. And indeed, there was so much to do: serve my resignation letter and get my work clearance done, pack our stuff and clean up the house we would leave behind, say goodbye to friends and relatives and all that. But we got through it somehow. And as we exited the plane into the Vancouver International Airport on July 24, 2007, all eight of us in the family knew that life was never going to be the same.
Fast forward to Thursday, March 22. Four years and close to eight months, three houses, thousands of kilometres travelled and a ton of challenges later, we finally swore our allegiance to Canada as new citizens. I’m amazed at some of my friends telling me that I’ve actually become more Canadian than, say, anyone they know or even a piece of Canadiana like maple syrup. To be honest, I couldn’t really say the same thing for myself.
Well…okay, for one, I love watching hockey now–heck, I have been helping put hockey broadcasts to air for a year now. Whereas, a few years ago, I never really understood how Canadians are so darn passionate about the sport and why they keep saying “Canada’s game” this and “Canada’s game” that. Until I saw that historic Canada-USA men’s championship hockey game in the 2010 Winter Olympics in Vancouver, leading up to the OT–and that “golden goal” by Sidney Crosby–all the way to the celebrations that happened coast to coast from Robson and Burrard in downtown Vancouver to Yonge and Dundas in downtown Toronto.
There is also the weather. Ahh, the change of the seasons, which I’ve become so used to–or “acclimatized”, as they say. Everyone here in this country can say so many things about the weather, especially the tail-end of the year when winter arrives. Okay, I’ll be honest: I still hate winter, especially after having experienced two bad winter seasons during my first two years here. Although I can’t complain about what we had this past winter–it was much nicer. There’s still that part of me who grew up in the tropics after all.
And I still have yet to get to know which side–or color–of the political spectrum I would eventually support when I finally get a chance to vote. But at least, I’ve seen how elections here are like–a bit more organized, results are out much faster (proof: TV networks here do a 2 or 3-hour primetime broadcast on election night, just like in the US…back home, it’s a marathon broadcast running about a day and a half), less possibility of violence (thank God), and–as far as I know–less chance for fraud. However, voter turnouts over the last few elections here, I’ve learned, still leaves so much to be desired. Well…I think Canada can absolutely work on that.
The one good thing about moving to a different country in this day and age is how the world has gotten smaller and smaller. If the Philippines’ two biggest and most popular TV networks broadcasting their international feeds into Canada isn’t good enough an example of that in itself, then I don’t know what is. I mean, we’re lucky enough to have that, as well as the power of social media and the internet to stay in touch with whatever’s going on in the country or with the friends and family we left behind. Sure, nothing compares to actually being there, but technology has made it possible to be on step closer to that.
However, other than that–plus…yes, I admit, the eventual weight gain–I don’t think too many things have changed. Our family is still together under one roof (except for my Dad, who recently just got an opportunity to work in another province), and we try our darndest to be together at least for dinner every night, as well as during the weekends. We still find time for occasional gatherings with relatives and our Filipino friends here (and believe me, food is always overflowing–just like back home). And yes, I still speak my native tongue every chance I get. You see, I think the best thing about becoming Canadian is how we who came from other countries and different backgrounds are still highly encouraged to embrace and stay true to the culture we grew up into while trying to integrate whatever we’ve learned from being in this country. You don’t have to change who you are or forget where you came from to belong here.
And so, I am grateful–to my family, our relatives, and all my friends here in Canada. Salamat. You’ve helped me change my outlook from years back. I have loved living here. And although I look forward to the day I could come home to the Philippines for a visit, I can honestly call Canada my second home now. After more than four years, I don’t think I’ll have it any other way.
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** “Salamat” means “Thanks” in Filipino
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