My very first impression of Canada was formed long before I actually set foot in the country. As a Thai teen hooked on Hong Kong TV series, I remember toward the end of several productions, certain characters would announce they were going to start a new life in Canada. The name sounded to me like an alien far-away land covered by snow all year round. Being cold sensitive, twenty degrees Celsius was already freezing to me, I had neither dreams nor interest to live in such a place. But for the Hong Kong TV characters whose tumultuous lives had hit a dead end in their homeland, Canada was touted as a blank slate of endless opportunities where they could begin anew, redeem themselves through leaving the old world and its baggage behind.

I did not really have a chance to explore the northern country until many years later. I don’t count the time I spent at UBC as a graduate student on scholarship as the memories seem more like a blur of perennial struggles to survive school. Settling down in the small town of Port Moody with my Canadian husband in 2014, I initially felt a little disappointed. My new home is so far from the centre of activities in Vancouver.

How I dreamed I could live near downtown where I would take a daily walk in Stanley Park, browse through millions of books at the public library, take interesting courses at either UBC in Point Grey or SFU’s downtown campus, attend concerts or other public events that would nurture my endless curiosity. How I fancied a chance to travel across Canada with my husband and perhaps write something about what I learned. With family obligations that increasingly require me to be home-bound, I felt at times frustrated at the ironic turn of events: being in a vast country of opportunities but most seem to remain out of my reach.

Almost five years later, I figure I have managed to tolerate the cold weather better — except when the greyish sky prevails too many days in a row. Admittedly, there are moments I wonder what I am doing in this strange country. I think I say”I’m sorry” too many times (my husband often teases me that I am probably practicing to become a Canadian). I have discovered a couple of pursuits that satisfy my intellectual, and spiritual, needs, also something my husband and I can do and learn together. I have come to love my new home in Port Moody for its small size and quiet trails in the woods. I have grown to appreciate the little things in life I used to take for granted. I cannot say I have exactly found my voice, a path, what people call an identity, in this new home, but I have not yet given up on the search.