You owe me some flowers. That’s right, today is my Canniversary. Six whole years ago I arrived in Canada for the first time, pretty clueless about what lay ahead, but so excited to start a new life in this place I knew basically nothing about. It was an adventure in the making. And it’s been a good run. I’ve made some amazing friends, switched careers, tested my mettle in freezing winters, been introduced to the delights of poutine, and had countless other special Canadian experiences.
Now, the run is just about over. Yesterday I gave notice at my job and last weekend I booked the first leg of my Runaway Tour Outta Here (™). It’s certainly not the way I thought I’d be leaving Canada, but I’m attempting to roll with the punches. And in times of strife, I turn to my old friend Expedia. It never lets me down. Planning a holiday is my idea of therapy, and with an entirely blank schedule in front of me, I’ve really been able to go to town.
It might not be the most exotic itinerary, but I’m super excited to visit friends in Halifax, Missouri and London (England, not Ontario, that is). And after a resting period in NZ once spring downunder is on its way, the next chapter is wide open. Where will I be living in six months? No idea. Suggestions welcome.
All I know is that escaping can sometimes be the most appealing option. It’s a scary prospect, but there’s nothing like a drastic change of scene to slap you in the face and distract a distressed mind. Change, they say, is good. I’m sticking firmly to this mantra, despite some unwanted side effects including a sudden, disturbing penchant for terrible/uplifting pop anthems (Taylor Swift, talk to me) and a new friendship borne out of loneliness with my current housemate — a fly I call Jim.
Quick, get the lady a plane ticket.