"They call you in", said my friend Mary, "and a man says something in French, then the same thing in English, then they play the national anthem. Then you get your card."
There was no national anthem, and I did not get my card. The appointment was at 8.15am; we sat for a few minutes, and then we were called in. "Do you still wish to sponsor Non-Workingmonkey?", said the lady. "Yes", said the French-Canadian veterinary research histopathologist with whom I share my life (and fleas). I signed something; he signed something.
The lady gave me a bit of paper , congratulated us, and told me that I cannot travel until I get the actual Permanent Residents' Card. "Four to six weeks", she said, "but you can drive over the American border with that paper. Just don't try and fly. You won't be able to come back in."
Still puzzled, we left to celebrate, and by 9.23am we were drinking coffee in a shopping mall and eating un-festive, faintly tubular muffins. "Thanks for moving here", said the French-Canadian veterinary research histopathologist. "That's OK", I said, and then I went to work.
I have a job, but couldn't even say the word "job" until I was legal, otherwise I would have been posted back to England. For my new job, I must travel to Austin tomorrow. There will be photographs, and perhaps stories about BBQ and hats.
These are strange times, my friends. Strange times indeed. But most definitely not unpleasant times.
Pip "ya'll" pip
NWM
There was no national anthem, and I did not get my card. The appointment was at 8.15am; we sat for a few minutes, and then we were called in. "Do you still wish to sponsor Non-Workingmonkey?", said the lady. "Yes", said the French-Canadian veterinary research histopathologist with whom I share my life (and fleas). I signed something; he signed something.
The lady gave me a bit of paper , congratulated us, and told me that I cannot travel until I get the actual Permanent Residents' Card. "Four to six weeks", she said, "but you can drive over the American border with that paper. Just don't try and fly. You won't be able to come back in."
Still puzzled, we left to celebrate, and by 9.23am we were drinking coffee in a shopping mall and eating un-festive, faintly tubular muffins. "Thanks for moving here", said the French-Canadian veterinary research histopathologist. "That's OK", I said, and then I went to work.
I have a job, but couldn't even say the word "job" until I was legal, otherwise I would have been posted back to England. For my new job, I must travel to Austin tomorrow. There will be photographs, and perhaps stories about BBQ and hats.
These are strange times, my friends. Strange times indeed. But most definitely not unpleasant times.
Pip "ya'll" pip
NWM
8 comments:
congratulations, on your card and job!
congrats! wish your trip to Austin coincided with mine, off by a month. Trying to think of what off-beat place there I could steer you towards..but pretty much the whole place is, well you know, weird. Do let me know if you need a henna tatoo or a hooping lesson while you there, or coffee or food. Have fun!
not fly. Not fly!?
Just in time for your residency, it appears that Canada just elected a majority conservative government - some welcome. Even Jack Layton's very excellent moustache couldn't save the day. I'm not very proud at the moment.
Congrats on being a legal alien!!!
Looking forward to hearing about the job and Austin. Can you fly to Austin?
Ali x
Wait. So there's a possibility that you will be trapped in Texas FOREVER?? That happened to me twice (forever lasting, in each instance, four months) and lemme tell you, the hats and the BBQ (and the dry-cleaned jeans with the knife-edge fold pressed in, and the ginormous hair, and the nails painted in the Texas flag, and the calico Bible covers) did very little to distract me from the horror.
I am alarmed.
Many congratulations. I don't seem to have any faintly tubular muffins to hand right now but if I did would be absolutely raising one in your honour.
I shall notify Homeland Security immediately. Wave when you fly over Ohio.
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