Liz's First Home in Canada

We anxiously waited for our broker for what felt like an eternity.

The broker (now called an education agent) was late picking us up from the airport, which meant it would take even longer to make our way toward the homestay. If my sister and I weren’t so distracted by the overwhelming experience of finally landing in Winnipeg, I would’ve been more fixated on how poorly this broker was doing his job. After all, his role was to help welcome us to this new country and provide us with a soft place to land.

Once the broker finally decided to make an appearance, we packed up our lives into his trunk and began the drive to our homestay family’s residence. This is where we were supposed to be staying long-term while studying in Canada.

As our plane landed late in the evening, the drive to our homestay was shrouded in darkness. The city was still and eerily silent, exacerbating my anxious energy. I was nervous about meeting our new homestay family, a Korean-Malaysian couple with two young boys. The wife also happened to be the broker’s sister, which we hoped would ease the awkwardness of our initial encounter.

We finally reached the house, and I paused in front of their yard to take in our first blush with a Canadian home.

The family’s children greeted us with curious yet warm expressions. It was a relief to connect with their kind, unassuming eyes. The look on their faces and genuine smiles will forever be etched into my memory.

After introducing ourselves to the rest of the family, my sister and I asked if we could borrow their landline phone to let our parents know we landed in Winnipeg safely. We used an international calling card that, at the time, cost $10 for a 10-minute call. Do you remember a time when international calls would cost $1 per minute?

After a brief conversation with our parents, we walked into our bedroom. It was a small, modest space with a double bed and single desk my sister and I were meant to share. After unpacking and showering, exhaustion took over, and we stumbled into bed.

Despite our staggering mental and physical fatigue, sleep eluded me that night. During those still moments in the middle of that night, I began to reflect upon the weight of our decision to move so far away from our family, our friends and everything we’ve ever known.

The following day, I woke up to discover the dry autumn ground covered in a thin sheet of fluffy white snow. My surroundings only validated Winnipeg’s frigid reputation that my mother had so pragmatically prepared us for.

I stepped outside to take in a big breath of brisk October air. In those serene morning moments witnessing a Canadian snowfall for the first time, I finally tuned into my body. It was overflowing with many conflicting feelings.?

While an excitement hung in the air teasing all the possibilities of what life could look like in Canada, I couldn’t help but feel a much darker, contrasting set of emotions. They were sombre, quiet and serious. There was an undeniable uneasiness of being so far away from a place of familiarity and comfort. I was also still uncertain how to process what it meant for our parents to send us to this foreign country without them.

The next day, the broker took us to the BMO branch on Mountain Avenue to help us open our first Canadian bank account. In this account, we would transfer over the funds my working-class family saved up to help give us a headstart in Winnipeg.?

The total sum of this deposit recorded more figures than I ever possessed back home in South Korea, and it was, therefore, essential that these funds were kept safe. Seeing this money in my bank account made me acutely aware of how much my parents had to sacrifice to ensure we could succeed in this new country.

The following weeks were met with unexpected disruptions and transitions as we learned that our homestay fees were much higher compared to others who were paying for a small, shared bedroom. When we asked our host parents why we were paying so much, they didn’t take kindly to the conversation. Instead, they dismissed us by telling us not to worry about money. They told us to let the parents deal with the adult issues and act like kids.

We would end up moving out of our first and only homestay six weeks later.

The transition to our first apartment downtown took place shortly after Christmas. It was January of the following year, only three months into our newcomer journey. What was meant to be a long-term homestay was cut short, and we had no choice but to quickly adjust to our new circumstances.?

Despite the initial hardships we faced, I was relieved. I finally felt like we were home. Our first home in Canada.

P.S.?

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