There is no place like home

I have got absolutely the craziest idea I think. I decided that I have to buy a house in Toronto to live there with my family. You do not have to tell me that I am nuts.

House in Toronto, Canada, right now is about $300,000 approximately and it is quite average, 3 bedroom house. Nothing special.
I do not have a down payment money nor a good salary. Just my crazy wish. I just think that I have to. I cannot live in the apartment for the rest of my life with rental prices going up every year. That means that I will have to downsize pretty soon and again and again and end up in somebody else’s basement apartment that I hate to do.

I imagine myself being weak and climbing other peoples’ stairs in the basement.

When we came to Canada we bought a house in a small town B*** Ontario and lived there for 10 years and due to family circumstances had to sell it and move to Toronto, back to the big city.
I cannot tell that I regret I sold it, though I regret that I bought it for sure. It was a lemon, you know and a big one. It was tremendously overpriced, I (my family)bought it approximately for 20,000 dollars more than we should and we bought it like a rent to own program that was a b*s* because we just had to have more mortgage on that overpriced old junk, that's what we did and to pay for it for 25 years what we did not. It was a real “money pit” like in a movie. Only in a movie they managed to restore and replace everything very nicely and we did not. We did not have money, any money.

My husband was driving a truck to US and back at that time and I was stuck with my 3 kids without a job or possibility of it in a small town in a new country in that century home (it was built in 1892(or something?), no one knew for sure and had some features that have never been replaced. It had some charm though. It had high ceilings with genuine crown moldings in the living, dining rooms and in the hall. It had yellow brick walls darkened by time and pollution very nicely. Natural though painted wood all over the place.
Nice wooden floor covered by cheap broadloom wall to wall covering all wear and tear made by time and usage. We had genuine brass chandelier in the living room, very heavy. I constantly was afraid that it might go down and kill somebody.
Walls in the basement were so old that plaster or whatever it was there was dripping as the sand of a seashore if you would touch it.

In a bad weather when wind was blowing effortlessly through the house, windows were singing their moaning song, as if somebody was crying: release us, replace us, we are s-o-o old… In a big wind shingles from the roof were flying around and I prayed that there will be some of it still left after the storm , that not all of the roof will fly away.
Lucky for us we usually did not have tornadoes in our area. The heating costs were just staggering. When my husband was on the road in winter and kids at school, I used to sit at my computer with winter jacket on and a hat, turning down the thermostat as low as humanly possible, so my cat was looking at my jacket with envy.

In a bad frosty weather all pipes would be frozen and you could hardly squeeze some water from it. So you have tons of frozen water outside(snow) and no water inside to cook or take a shower! Nice. All plumbers we called periodically to help us with our problem would tell us all kind of fairy tales regarding pipe conditions and some of them even ventured into replacing process. Eventually they had to dig a big trench in our driveway and take out all outside pipes, that were full of tree roots and could not let water through no matter what. The procedure eased our pocket by $5,000 but no more frozen pipes in winter – Hallelujah!

To make our life in the house more thrilling, my nice kids one day decided to go camping in the basement( they had nice playground area there). So naturally they needed a fire. Everybody knows you need a fire in on a campground! They came home for lunch and made a fire in the basement and left. The results were devastating. We did not have money to move out so we had to stay and do renovations after the fire. It was a nightmare for 4 months but we survived the fire and the renovations and everything.

Now when I look back I miss my old drafty house, I long for it. I know my kids miss it too. Because it was our home, it was our life. It was hard and it was beautiful. As life is. We had good things and bad things and good things were more…I’ve been living in my mom’s house or my own for the most part of my life and when I lost it, I thought it is going to be okay, less worries about the roof and furnace and bills, but now I feel that I lost something else, something bigger and more important, that you cannot replace and I need that. My place that I can call my home. MINE. JUST MINE...

And I am determined to do that, just do not know how to realize my dream yet. Not yet. But I will have to figure it out. Well, I accept that I have to buy a house in a pretty miserable condition, but I agree to that and I have experience now, and interest will be considerably higher then normally bank would give me and I agree to that too.

I just need some time so I can save some money for closing costs if not for down payment.
But I’ll buy my own home and make it nice, swear to god, I’ll do that, no matter what, because there is no place like home, there is no place like home.

The most ancient meal on Earth...

I guess people invented bread when they started to collect grains and cultivate them. It's an ancient meal. Meal people ate by itself, with wine, cheese and later as a sandwich. Bread has a special meaning for me.

In my country you are not allowed to neglect it, to throw it away or step on it, it's sacrilege.

If you do not want it, you feed it to the animals or give it to the birds in the park. Or slice it thinly and dry in the oven, sprinkle some spices on it and give it as a snack to your children when they are hungry. Or if nobody wants it - dry it, grind it and make breadcrumbs for your cooking needs. You just do not waste it.

It is a lot of labor to create good wholesome bread and people cherish the creation if not the creator.

My mom used to send me to the bakery when I was fairly small and I would come home carrying still warm "brick", as we called it after its form, inhaling its wonderful nourishing smell, stealing some peaces of crust and nibbling on it.

My mom would never say anything for "spoiling" the bread, no matter how badly I mutilated it on my way home, because when she would go to buy bread she would do exactly the same, tearing the warm pieces of crust and nibbling on it.

It was irresistible. It was rye bread, dark golden brown and very delicious. We had white bread too. It had golden crust and was heavy and tasty too, but I liked the brown one better. I don’t know, may be in your childhood everything tastes better, may be your appetite is different. Though I should say I did not have any appetite at all as a child. I was thin, sickly and constantly with sore throat and something like measles – things you usually do not have as an adult. Pretty pathetic. But I was not a sad child or depressed, that came later.

I liked Nature and could be lost for hours among trees, flowers, birds and other small animals. Nature is still may major way to get some relaxation; forget the stress of everyday life.

But I think I stepped aside from my narration. I just wanted to say that bread was a very meaningful part of a meal in my old country, a necessity to have and eat with a soup or second course.

At one time I remember (long ago, when I was a small child), we had it on the tables of all diners and restaurants all the time, thinly sliced small pieces of bread with salt and mustard jars on the plate. If you do not have enough money to order a good meal, you at least can supplement your meager dinner with some bread. Not a bad idea. But as everything that is too good, it did not last long...

Sometimes when I come to the bakery, I can manage to find bread that looks almost like one from my childhood, but it never tastes the same. I understand that and do not complain. I have lots of things in this country that I never had in my childhood and would probably die for it then just to have it. Life is full of compensations and I remember that.

But I still miss that bread and the people who served it to me.

A confession of a pathetic person.

I am a coward. I am a coward and a sucker, because I betray myself every single day of my life just because, I do not have courage to finish it all. And I am not talking about physical killing myself; I am not talking about physical suicide. I am talking about moral suicide, when every day of your life you are spending doing what somebody else needs to be done but not you. I am talking about that miserable drudgery that life can be when you spending it as an employee.

When you have to get up in the morning and do the same thing over and over again every day at the same time. If you watched that brilliant movie Groundhog Day you understand what I mean, and if you do not, please do watch it, as it exactly shows what life is for people like me. You can vivisect 24 hours of your life into little clutches of time and most of that time is wasted on unimportant things, unimportant for you.
At the end of the day you have not accomplished anything, you just earned some money to survive that’s all. And it pisses me off a big time. Between things I would rather do and things I have to do to survive there is a big gap I cannot close, because I do not know how.

I do not hate my job. My employers are very decent people who are struggling every day to stay in their business and put their hearts and souls to it. They immigrants like me; the only difference is that I am their employee.

Well, I should not complain. Thing could be much worse. Not to have a job as an immigrant is a disaster. At least I can pay my rent and at the end of a day I can have my outdated computer and high speed Internet (the only indulgences I could not live without). But deep down I consider myself a coward. Because I am scared to change my life, I tied myself to employee position and do not see any other option, not for me, never. And if for some reason I will lose my job, I will go and find another, sucker as I am.
A JOB (Just Over Broke). Isn’t it pathetic?

I still feel different in this country.

After so many years, I still feel different in this country. I am from a different world, but I am a human being not a Martian.
When I came to Canada I made a huge mistake. I never followed my education. Somehow I forgot a very important thing that I am from a different country and I am not going to be treated equally from educational point of view at least, I have to prove my credibility and my diploma and that means that I have to reestablish my diploma and that means more education, more courses, more programs. I could not use my diploma and that was really disappointing. I needed some extra education and I did not do any of that.
The problem was that in my country education at that time was free , even university education. You just have to pass the exams to be eligible. In Canada I had to pay money, I could not afford that. I decided to take some practical courses in a vocational school so I could find some job in whatever I get training for. I finished my courses in 4 months instead of a year. It was a joke, completely useless and worthless. I still owe them money. I refused to pay for the b*s they gave me.
Accidentally I found a job in some translating company of Quebec but unfortunately I lost it as quickly as I found it. Simply put I did not have enough experience to work in Canada. I was not ready for it. I was very disappointed but I learned my lesson and gradually learned how to work in Canada.
We moved by a chance to B**d, Ontario. A small town, lost to the world. It was not a wise decision at all. Small town, no jobs. NO JOBS ABSOLUTELY.
My husband started a new business, my help needed, I agreed. Reluctantly. I wanted to do something else, surely I was good at something, but there was no chance even to try. I felt depressed at the end of a rope...
I started helping my husband, learned how to use a computer and bookkeeping - the last thing I wanted to do, but again, nobody asked my opinion. You do what you have to do. It felt like a prison sentence. I "served my time" for 10 years...
From time to time I wrote articles to the Russian newspapers in Toronto, but I did it for free and eventually I stopped. I did some creative writing but never published anything, never tried anyway.
I think I lost it big time. If you come educated you must keep it, sustain it. You should not go and work at the factory or bakery. Work like that kills your energy your creativity, your spirit and the ability to grow.
Assembly line kills your brain, your will to create something new. You have to find the means to educate yourself until you have enough credentials to get a meaningful job or a business viable and sustainable.
You have to learn the language of the country you are living in, it’s a must. Sacrifice a lot, get into bad debts if you have to but get onto your level, level you are comfortable with. It’s your obligation towards yourself and your family. In your new home you have to live with the same level of dignity if not more as you had in your old country.
A doctor should not drive a cab, a professor should not clean the dog kennels. It such a waste of human life, I cannot even find right words for it, just despicable.
It’s like you are going into a debt to yourself. You can change your profession in a different country but it should be compatible with what you had, no less.
You should not put yourself down for the sake of survival because survival in a civilized country is a little bit more than just putting bread on the table or roof over your head. We came to this country for a better life. We should never forget that.
And don’t call me a snob or something, because I am not. It’s just that you have to use god’s given talents in this world and not to sell yourself short. That’s what I did and I regret that. Big time.

Being immigrant, being different

When you come from a different world you cannot help feeling differently. You are used to dress a certain way, to talk and behave differently and on top of everything your mother tongue is... yeah, you guessed right it is different.

You suddenly realize, that you came to the world that is not like your own. You feel as if somebody stripped you naked up to your soul and left you exposed in the crowd and you have nothing to cover your body and your soul with. You feel shame and humiliation and urge to shout: people, please, wait a minute, I am not that different from you, just help me a little, push me into right direction, I’ll learn I am not stupid, I have some merits, I just need some time, be patient with me.

I am convinced that everybody lives in an emotional and social bubble/box and breaking out of this box can be very painful. You are surrounded by people you know and who know you and you expect them to behave a certain way and you behave a certain way towards them too.

You can love them or hate but their behavior to the most extent predictable and that predictability gives comfort and you do not have to feel depressed and stressful.

If you an immigrant (alien) your surroundings lack that familiarity, it takes time.

You gradually learn language and habits, you find new friends who morally support you. You can vent and cry on their shoulder. They understand.

You learn how to make a living in a new country.

Sometimes it's hard when you do not have new skills, or your skills are not enough, you need some extra learning, or you need something completely different.

When I came to Canada I had a University degree but with 3 small kids and my diploma meant next to nothing in Canada. I found a job as a translator but lost it right away for some stupid reason just because I did not know some trifle things.

With time comes the experience and gradually you forget what was so bad in your country, you remember good days only, you feel nostalgia and regret.

Finally you come back as a tourist and everybody treats you as a guest and you do not see any place there for yourself, you indeed is a tourist.

You come back into your new country more relaxed and glad you returned. You see the differences and understand them. You want other people to see everything with your eyes and share your experience with others.

And you join something like http://www.hubpages.com/ and you write about your experience and wisdom, your ups and downs.

And you do not feel like you are in a box anymore because your box suddenly expanded and it includes now a lot of people who are ready to listen and willing to understand, criticize you or applaud to you and with you.

You do not feel like a stupid immigrant in a box, but as a normal human being with lots of ideas you cannot wait to convey to others.

And it feels great.

Too tired to write...

This week I am completely flat and cannot write anything, my mind is blank and refuses to cooperate, so I fill like a total dummy. May be I should write some manual. Something for Dummies, or what should you do when you cannot do anything anymore? I cannot even reprint my material I’ve been writing before and was going to post. I’ll try to do it tomorrow, if I can. But as I have to work tomorrow I have no idea if I’ll be able to accomplish that. So if somebody expected something new, wait till next time, please. I am done for today. I need rest. I still managed to post something into Hubpages, I am absolutely in love with them. Here is my link if you are curious.
http://hubpages.com/_HG5/hub/yourmoneyanddignity_
I hope it will work as I am not familiar with all that link producing technique.
I'll just leave you a picture I made recently and that's it.

New pill, doctor? Will I have fun with it?

I am a Canadian citizen since 1997, but I still do not feel like I belong here. I always feel like a visitor, who for some unknown reason has been hold in here for too long. I live in Canada but part of me still lives in a different place, probably the place that does not exist any more. But that’s I think the cost of immigration, you have to accept it and play by new rules but you cannot help it you want to criticize those rules if you do not understand them.

I have a big issue with medical service in Canada. In a big city like Toronto god forbid, if you need some emergency or just after hours help, you can hardly get any of it on time, when you need it. Of course the ambulance will come pretty quick but then they will take you in emergency room and if you are not having heart attack or bleeding severely, you’ll be waiting for some doctor to attend to you for hours. May be they hope you somehow get better and just go home, without bothering the doctor, I don’t know. Sometimes it’s exactly how it feels.

I remember once my son who was 15 at that time developed a stomach pain so we called ambulance and we were sitting in the hall there for 3 hours in the middle of a night. Finally my son felt better and I told him: are you better? Let’s go home, I have to go to work in the morning. So we just left and I still do not know what was the problem with his stomach. Every time you go to a family doctor, you have to sit in a row for an hour or more before you can get to the doctor, and all he has just 10 minutes before he shovels you out with some pills. How wonderful! And if the pills do not help you can always go back, sit more and get another pill plus some pills for side effects if you have any. Most doctors are completely ignorant about the miracles of healthy nutrition and almost never give you a sound advice regarding it. Eat everything and in moderation is not working in certain occasions when you are having sugar or some other food addiction or just used to eat wrong type of food, or have a crazy life style etc.

Most babies come into this world amazingly healthy and what happens next? What do we do to our kids, why don’t we teach they healthy habits? They grow up looking for fun. I hate this word fun. I think we use it too much in this country. Not everything is a fun and kids should realize that early. May be then we’ll have less depressed teenagers in this country. They go to the doctors and trust them and then they get hooked on some vicious antidepressants and become dependant, they need more and more and cannot stop. Depression real or imaginary gets worse.

It’s a shame dear doctors, because we have by Nature, God, or whatever you believe into, build in amazing ability to get better no matter what with doctors or no doctors, pills or no pills, sometimes by determination and mere willpower. It’s in our power to make us healthy. Just do not mess with you health, please. And do not let doctors do that just because they need more patients and more money.
I sincerely wish doctors to be paid when a patient have recovered after the treatment AND ONLY THEN. Then they would work efficiently I think. May be in future it will happen. Right now by nature of their profession doctors have tremendous power to save us and to harm us at the same time and it is not a good thing.

That’s my reluctant immigrant’s opinion. I do not trust doctors especially here in Canada, where medicine is severely commercialized. I never go to any annual or whatever check up. I try to live healthy; it is not always possible, as I cannot protect myself from stress. But before I am really sick I am not going to go to any doctor, just forget about it. I’ll take my chances. At least he is not going to harm me. And I will try to help myself as long as I can. Stupid? May be. Sorry, but I have my reasons.