Moving Blogs. Update your bookmarks!

The time has come that my blog has to move. It's been fun using Blogspot for all these years, but finally I've moved my site, and created a website dedicated to my journalism writing and photography.

You can find it at www.benallen.ca

Enjoy

Flagpoling, bacon, and finally landing

"You need to walk down the path, flagpole, come back and then we'll deal with you", the gun-toting, flak-jacketed Canadian Border Guard said to me; very matter-of-factly.

I came to Canada on a whim. It had been roughly nine months since I graduated university and the prospect of getting a "real" job was looming on the horizon. It was time for one last adventure, another twelve months of putting off the inevitable. I found a company online called BUNAC, who specialise in working holiday visas, applied for their 'Work Canada' scheme, and three months later I got on a plane to Vancouver.

Fast forward three years, and one huge life decision later, and I'm at Pacific Crossing, the US/Canada land border, about to give one of the scary looking immigration officials my landing documents.

It's a Friday evening, and it's raining. This is a slight issue, as the 40-year-old Chevy Nova that Tissa and I own is currently lacking working windscreen wipers. Whoever is in the passenger seat currently has to lean out of the window and manually move the wipers. I hope the rain doesn't intensify.


We walk down the path, past a stone marker signifying the end of Canada, and the start of 30 or so yards of No Mans Land, before the other marker, where you enter the United States. We're the only people on foot, and having got this extremely ceremonial, and perhaps slightly needless task out of the way, we continue back to the immigration office, where I get in line to be processed.

Fortunately we're the only ones there, so instantly the burly official beckons us to the desk. I tell him we flagpoled, and that I need to "land" in Canada, to finish off the past 26 months of paperwork, waiting, stressing out, and being tied to my job.

He ignores me and asks Tissa for her ID. She passes him her Drivers License. To which he asks her status in Canada. She's a permanent resident. But where is her Passport and Permanent Residence Card? "So you left Canada?" he asks. I guess we did, and technically that was illegal, as Tissa isn't in possession of her necessary documents. "Sorry," I reply, meekly. The border guard moves his attention back to me, and starts to study my documents. I'm told to sit down and wait to be called back.

A few minutes later and my name is called out. Mr Border Guard asks me the standard questions. Have I ever been convicted of a crime? Do I have any dependants? Have I ever been expelled from Canada? With those questions answered (no, to all - in case you are wondering!), I initial and sign a form - my landing document. A copy is put in my passport. "Congratulations", says the border guard. "Thank you," I reply. "This has been the most stressful process I've ever had to go through." The Border Guard breaks into a smile. "Can I shake your hand?", I ask. We shake hands, he grins, and we say our goodbyes. It's over, I'm a landed immigrant, a permanent resident, one of the locals.



We walk to the car and head back home. The rain isn't too bad, so we can see fine on the highway. Naturally, the first thing to do when one ends a process as immense as this is to find a place to eat. Bacon. Lots of bacon. We stop at Denny's. It's an American style diner. We both marvel at the ridiculous quantities of horribly unhealthy food on offer. Eggs Benedict. With Bacon. And a milkshake. Welcome to Canada.

Dreams become reality

The Jewell of the Pacific. Hollywood North. Rain City. All are nicknames for the great city of Vancouver, which celebrates 125 years today. I am proud to say that I live here, in such a beautiful place, full potential, full of nature, full of life.

I am also proud to say that on the morning of 24 March 2011 I received an Email from Canadian Immigration officials informing me that they were ready to issue me with a permanent residency visa. Finally, almost a year to the day that I applied for residency, and 26 months since I began the process - when I started work at Mink Chocolates, I can breathe easy. I can be a long-standing part of Vancouver's young history.


It's not been an easy ride. In fact at times I felt on the edge of oblivion. From doing the paperwork - knowing one missed tickbox, or one photograph submitted with incorrect dimensions could spell disaster; to the waiting period of more than four months without a word of confirmation that my application was filled in correctly. It has been a stressful year.

At any time I could receive a letter stating that my application had been refused. I would have to pack up the life I'd built in Canada for almost three years and jet back to the UK to start again from scratch. But it didn't happen. It's been granted. It's as good as over.

The day after I received the Email that made all my dreams come true I sent the immigration officials my passport. Now they will be attaching my landed immigrant visa, and I will meet with an immigration officer to confirm that I am in fact me, and I will officially "land" in Canada. From that moment on I am just another local. No longer hanging by the thread of a work permit that might not be renewable, no longer worrying that I might have to pack up and leave. Finally I can plan for the future. The world is once again filled with opportunity.


One huge aspect of applying for permanent residency was my ability, of lack thereof, to leave the country. Thinking that I'd be long since sorted by Christmas 2010, the Allen family made grand arrangements for what would be our first Christmas as a full family for probably five years. Tom, my brother, and Tenny, his wife, would be in England from Armenia, and Tissa and I would fly back from Vancouver. We'd all be together finally, Tissa and Tenny could talk Farsi to each other, and my dearest mother would cry!

Unfortunately it didn't happen. It was literally a week until we were due to fly out and I had heard nothing from my visa office. I called the hotline and was informed that since my application was at such a late stage I was strongly recommended to remain in Canada, as if I left I may not be allowed back in. I'd be turned away at the border. Possibly. Also possibly everything would be fine, but it was a serious risk, and not one worth taking. Distraught, I called home and all of our finely honed Christmas arrangements went up in smoke. Hotel bookings cancelled, trips to London and Klagenfurt to visit Tissa's family were lost, connections missed. I managed to salvage my flights at great cost, and now we are booked on another trip to the UK in a few short weeks. Hopefully this time we will be together finally, in the place my adventure began three long years ago, in the green and pleasant land of England.

Memories flow

One of my favourite memories from University is of a spontaneous trip to London to receive the gift of a free car. Naturally I have many other memories of drunken escapades, throwing flour around kitchens, sitting on roof tops drinking sweet Swedish cider, and organising, promoting and filming amateur boxing matches for no apparent reason. This incident however is one that lives in the memory and never fails to bring a smile to my face.


I thought about it again today at work, and decided it was about time to write it down, for sentiments sake. I remember the weather in Southampton, where I did my degree, being decidedly mild for what was winter at the time. I had been chatting to a good friend of mine who I knew through my various dealings in car owners clubs. (Anyone who knows me from back in the UK will know I was rather involved in collecting, restoring, and destroying cars in my younger years. The number of cars I’d owned or co-owned by the time I was 22 was the on the ridiculous side of 30. But I digress.)

So it was a mild late-winter's day. I`d been chatting to my buddy Marc, and now was on my way home from University. As I strolled down the damp street towards the T-Junction that led to the apartment I rented with two friends, I felt my phone buzz in my pocket. It was a text from Marc. ”You want a free car mate?” it read. Me? Free car? What a ridiculous question. I responded. It turned out that Marc had been offered an old BMW by a friend, but was lacking the space for it, so he got in touch. Not one to turn down an opportunity like this I contacted the owner and said I’d get the train to London to his house the following morning. He`d get rid of the car. I`d have a new project. Perfect.


It must have been a Friday, or having said that, any day of the week (since we were students after all) – as my friends and I were drinking that night. I’m not a big drinker, especially not these days, but for some reason my final year at University was strewn with excessive amounts of liver abuse, and abundant instances of post-alcohol bed-ridden syndrome. I’d booked a train ticket to London for early the following morning. Maybe I was being too optimistic.

The new day dawned, and with it, my hangover. I tried to get out of bed, but realised after one step that this was a bad idea. I was forced to run to my trash can and filled it up with the previous night`s beverages. Not the best start, I thought. Contacting the owner of the car I explained myself and my current plight. I was met with uncontrollable laughter on the other end of the phone, and he agreed that it might be prudent to catch a later train, and see him in the afternoon. I went back to bed.




Later on in the day, about 11:30am, and considerably more pilled up on paracetamol than before, I made my way to Southampton Station, and caught the train to London Waterloo. I enjoyed the train ride immensely, as it gave me time to gather my thoughts, get over my hangover, and play with my new toy – a Nikon D50 digital SLR camera. It had been raining and dull for a few days previous, but today the sun had come out from behind the clouds, and the sunlight reflected off the puddles on the pavement, and beaded off buses, trains, and buildings. It made for a great first photography adventure.

I knew I was going to Hounslow, a borough of South West London, but that was all I knew. I`d never been there before. Entering our nation’s capital for the first time in a couple of years was an interesting experience. Being on my own that day meant I could appreciate the sites of the old city all the more, with no distractions. I was in awe of the sheer scale of the city, the Victorian-era smog-stained buildings running parallel to new, shiny developments, and the incredible convergence of railway tracks at Clapham Junction. I`d always come to London by rail from the north before, so coming from a southerly direction, and seeing all the sites from this angle was new and exciting. Everything was so big, developed, industrialised, but with that run-down, ramshackle charm. Here was England.


I arrived at Waterloo, and somehow navigated my way to the correct underground train to get me to Hounslow. I enjoyed getting on the old Tube network, and working out how to navigate the spaghetti-like maze that is the Tube map. The map has become legendary these days. It`s reproduced in all manner of ways for your enjoyment – on posters, T-Shirts, postcards. You name it – the tourist can buy it.

Arriving in Hounslow the train left the depths of the underground, and breached the surface. Again I was bathed in post-rainstorm light. It was a quiet afternoon when I stepped off the train. I remember being the only one on the platform. The feeling of being in such a huge city, but being the only one around was strangely comforting. I took a few more photos, and wormed my way through the terraced streets of the urban sprawl of London to the car owner`s house. I got the keys, filled in some paperwork, and drove back to Southampton.

Edging Closer

Another day at Mink Chocolates. It's 10:30am. I've been at work for a few hours already, and the last of the 'morning rush' of regular customers has left the cafe. I'm on my break, sipping a Vanilla Latte. I think about the order of the day.

Lorraine comes in at 7:45am every day and has a large Costa Rica coffee. June, Angela and Idah order regular sized Americanos, a single shot Latte, and sometimes a couple of Dark Chocolate Fruit Parfaits. The Australian couple who live in Lions Bay will come in, order two large Mochas, and read the paper for 15 minutes, before wandering off. Terry has a regular latte in the morning, a regular Costa Rice in the afternoon. Latte Mike has a Latte - with skim milk, usually.

This is just part of the pattern will continue day after day. Week after week. Month after month. The longer serving members of staff at the cafe can often have a regular customers drink ready and waiting for them before they've paid for it. Sometimes before they're even in the door. Working in a coffee shop is fun - you get to know your customers very well, some of whom we now consider friends in their own right. I've met some extremely interesting people here. However after almost two years of it I'm about ready for a change.

There's an envelope addressed to me on the counter. It's from the Canadian Consulate General. "Thought this might be important", says my boss, Marc. He smirks. Important it may be indeed - it's four months since I did my medical exam for my immigration, and I've heard nothing. Is this what I've been waiting for?

I go into the back room and open the envelope. It's a letter with instructions on it. "We have now completed the initial assessment of your application" it reads. I peruse the rest of it. I'm told that there's no need for an interview, and I don't need to provide any additional documentation. What I do need to do, however, is provide $490CAD for the 'Right of Permanent Residence.' With that paid, and mailed by Express Post to my visa office things are looking good. Hopefully I'll have a passport request within a few weeks, so that the immigration officials can attach an immigration visa to it, and sometime early in the new year I'll finally become a permanent resident.

Things I miss about England

Clearly, there’s a reason why I didn’t return to England, after my year in Canada was up. I found that Vancouver was a place that suited my idea of a great lifestyle perfectly. It was, I thought, pretty much paradise.
I’ve always liked the idea of being outdoors. In the year following the completion of my journalism degree I spent a lot of time cycling, walking, hunting down saleable items in automotive junkyards, and just generally trying not to be nailed to a computer screen. It worked, I had a great time, and my eBay flogging of seemingly useless car parts meant that, at least for a while, I did not have to get myself a ‘real’ job to supplement my chosen lifestyle.


Fast forward three years and I’m in Canada. I still spend a lot of time outside, but now I spend it doing different activities. I still cycle as much as possible – my precious antique 10-speed road bike is my livelihood. It gets me to work and back, and was given to me by one of my first friends in Canada, Andrew, and until recently it cost me next to nothing. However, when things started to fall off it at will I decided it was about time to spend some of my hard-earned cash on the thing. $200 later and I had a bike that ran smoothly, and didn’t make a huge amount of ridiculous creaking noises.

Besides my cycle commute, I’ve been spending a lot of time in Vancouver’s undeniably brilliant backyard. The mountains are just begging to be hiked up, so as I mentioned in my previous post, I’ve been spending time with some friends climbing the peaks visible from the city. It’s an achievement to conquer any of them, be it a smaller one with a well-worn trail such as the Grouse Grind, or one that is more challenging, such as the epic, all-day hike that is The Lions. Scrambling through snow to get to the top, only to discover that there’s no tread left on your hiking boots for the way down is an amusing experience. I’ve yet to try a full weekend hike, such as the trail that leads from Cypress Mountain, which overlooks West Vancouver, to Squamish, half-way to Whistler, but hopefully I will be able to find enough time, and enough friends, to join me on that at some point.



As good as all these things are though; there are still a few small effects that I miss from my home country. Apart from the obvious things such as friends and family, the good old fashioned English country pub is one of them. There’s nothing better than sitting in a beer garden, cold beverage in hand, waiting for a hand-crafted doorstep sandwich to arrive, with chips (not fries) on the side. Preferably this would be by a river or lake, it would be June or July, and you’d be surrounded by old stone houses and fields filled with sheep. A few cars, and maybe a tractor, would pass, but generally there’d be the sweet sound of the English countryside. Some dogs would be heard barking in the distance, there’d be the soothing sound of distant conversation from a picnic bench opposite, and the trickling, peaceful backdrop of the brook flowing on down to the seaside somewhere on your left flank. The birds chatter excitedly to each other, and the waters shimmer in the sun.

Other than that there’s the cider. Cider is one of those drinks that offers instantaneous, joyous refreshment, after a long day of studying. I remember back at university in Southampton, heading to our local pub, The Giddy Bridge, with my close friend Luke, to have a pint or two, and talk over all things ‘Uni’. It was final year, and we had a lot of work to do. Really, we should both have been studying for our dissertation projects – assignments so huge that we were given a full year to complete them. I did mine in approximately eight weeks and did fine, but that’s another story. Anyway, the gratification of wiping the condensation from a chilled glass of Magners or Kopparberg, taking a sip, and talking about Wolverhampton Wanderers flirtations with promotion, and mediocre footballers, such as Arouna Koné, really capped off a day well.

Cider in Canada, however, just doesn’t have the same effect. It feels like a fizzy soft drink. So artificial. So acidic. It just isn’t the same. During my early days here, I tried to drink it, but ultimately turned to beer. As Billy Currington once sang: “God is great, beer is good. People are crazy”. Well Billy, I agree with you on about two thirds of that, but as good as beer is I just don’t enjoy it quite as much as having that special fruitiness in my drink. Bud Light with Lime just isn’t the same, sorry Bud.


Another thing – football. As good as it was to be able to watch the recent World Cup in South Africa, it doesn’t match Saturday afternoons in the pub, Magners, and Manchester United about to put four past Fulham in the English Premier League. It’s known as the EPL out in Canada, and that’s fine, but I don’t enjoy having to get up at some unearthly hour on a Saturday to catch the game. I manage to watch Match of the Day most weeks, thanks to the Internet, but it’s not quite the same experience as watching a live game unfold. Hopefully things will change with the Vancouver Whitecaps making their presence felt in Major League Soccer (MLS) in the new year, but I’m still not sure on the quality of the game out here, Beckham, Marquez, and Henry aside. Time will tell I expect.


Finally, there’s the English countryside. It seems like all I want to do is sit in a pub in some small, unfathomably remote village somewhere, watch football, and get plastered on cider; and I’m sure I will come Christmas, but there’s a certain charm these things have separately too. I used to love cycling along the old Roman roads just outside my home village of Middleton. The roads were narrow, the trees and hedges enveloping the tarmac, the sun’s rays streaming through them. Maybe you’d see a couple of people on horseback, riding to one of the endless fields around the area, or a fox skulking across the road ahead. It was just always a tranquil time to experience. Those days of limitless time. Endless freedom. Once I get my fix of these typically English things at Christmas I’ll be back in Vancouver, ready to complete another season of snowboarding after work, and every possible weekend, and once again be ready to jump off high objects into the waters of the Pacific Ocean when summer rolls around. Two years is a long time to be away from home voluntarily, so the Christmas trip back to the motherland will be one of great adventures, reviving old memories, and becoming refreshed once again.

Progression. Finally.

One thing I've learned from my time in Canada is that emigrating here takes a long time. More time than I'm particularly happy with. I first decided I wouldn't mind settling here in Vancouver just a few months after initially arriving, way back in June 2008. Now we're half way through the summer of 2010. I'm still shy of the finish line.

Since starting work at Mink Chocolates, in January of last year, life has been aimed at one goal: permanent residency. I think it's important to have some targets to aim at in life, to challenge yourself, and to keep yourself motivated. This is mine.


Back in 2006, sitting in my dorm in university, I heard that the next African Cup of Nations football tournament was to be held in Ghana, in 2008. At that point I decided I would go, and I did. It was a great experience to go somewhere that at the time I knew precious little about, and I felt I'd achieved something special. Following that trip I needed to find new direction. I'd graduated university almost a year earlier, and so decided it was about time I explored a new part of the world. Enter Canada.

After a few months of temp work, and selling broken pieces of car on the side, I had enough money in the bank to get on a plane and start my new adventure.

My life has been extremely happy since relocating to Canada. I've made many friends, found a new love, spent huge amount of time pursuing leisure, and my ultimate goal of permanent immigration moving closer. It feels like I'm finally nearing the finish line.

I first applied for permanent residency when I became eligible for it, in March 2010, and finally I received word in the mail yesterday that I'm due to take my medical exam - to ensure that I'm fit and healthy, and won't be a long-term burden on the Canadian health system. After this things should be about done. It's the final hurdle.

The whole process, from start to finish, has taken 18 months so far. But to be able to stay in a place I consider awe-inspiring is certainly worth the time invested. As I write I'm sitting in a park, basking in the glorious summer sun. To my left are the skyscrapers of downtown Vancouver, and to my right are the shimmering waters of the Burrard Inlet. In the distance I can see North Vancouver, flanked by the majestic Coast Mountains. In the summer I hike them, and in the winter I snowboard down. What else could I wish for in a city?


Once immigration is complete, it will be time for the long-overdue trip back to England, where I've only been for two days in the past two years. Tissa and I will be getting a flight back for a few weeks around Christmas. Tissa hasn't visited the UK before, aside from a fleeting stopover visit to the airport, so it will be a great opportunity to play tour guide, coupled with seeing family and friends.


Also, we plan on moving in together, and are in the process of securing a house to rent. The one we've found, owned by a friends father, is in a suitably leafy neighbourhood and has ample DIY potential. My dad would love it.


With summer being upon us I've recently been able to experience some of the extraordinary hikes on offer, in the mountains that surround Vancouver. A few weeks ago my friends Berta, Chris and I set off to 'The Chief' with a view to hiking up. We decided that the trail would be far too easy to follow, so made our own way up. There were sheer rock faces, exposed ridges, thick pouches of trees to fight through, and other obstacles, but most of all was the spectacular view at the top. Our hike up left me with aching legs for almost a week. The adventure however was definitely worth the pain.

I've set myself another goal for summer now - cycling from Whistler back home. It's a fair distance through the mountains and down the Sea-to-Sky Highway, but it should be fun, and another good challenge to beat. Hopefully next time I write, it will be as a permenant resident too.

Vancouver Olympics - epic times, great memories, high-fives

I don't think I've ever high-fived so many people in such a short time. It was Sunday 27th February, and Canada's hockey team had just won Gold against bitter rivals the United States, in the 2010 Winter Olympics. Canada had looked set to beat their southern neighbours in the gold medal game at a canter, before the USA tied things up with a mere 24 seconds remaining. The once jubilent Canadian fans in the pub we were at suddenly fell silenced, with the few Americans in attendance jumping for joy at Zach Parise's late goal. Proceedings would now go into sudden-death overtime.

Fortunately for the Canadians, the underperforming, but undeniably brilliant Sydney Crosby found his shooting boots, and scored the winner less than 10 minutes into overtime, sending the whole of Vancouver into raptures. People once on the edge of their seats jumped for joy, strangers hugged and screamed unfathomable screams, beer spilled, and everything was better.

We left the pub shortly after, and tried to get along Broadway on the 99 B-Line Express bus towards downtown. The street, one of the main ones in the city, was blocked though, with joyful locals blocking the road and playing street hockey. The police were on hand, but let things continue. This was no time to be strong arming. The time to celebrate was here.


Downtown was a sight to behold. Granville Street, the main entertainment street in Vancouver, was awash with celebration. The vibrancy of Vancouver's Olympics shone through, with almost everyone wearing the red and white of Canada. Security Guards left their hard veneer at home, carrying with them smiles, welcoming waves, and joining in the universal high-five marathon. People climbed on top of bus stops and up street lighting to get a better view of the crowds of celebrating people - Canadians and foreigners alike. There was no choice in which way to walk. The tide took you to the next location. Vancouver was a hive of activity.

Two days later and the city was once again empty. The Olympic Juggernaut had left the city, leaving with it only the remnents of the games - the signposts and advertisements, tourist info plaques and transport information.

One legacy of the Olympics was the incredibly mild weather preceeding and in the duration of the games. Authorities worried that the temperatures would spoil the conditions, and things got so desperate that snow was flown in to blanket Cypress Mountain, as the Olympic runs were barren, rocky, and green. Cherry Blossom, normally flowering in mid-April, was out before the end of February. It looks like it will be another hot summer.

When I first arrived in Canada I never even considered the possibility that I might be in Vancouver for the Olympics; but looking back now I couldn't even imagine life without them. Ever since I got here the talk of the town was the impending start of competition, with businesses flocking to the city to invest, and city authorities spending billions of dollars on infrastructure, to cater for the hundreds of thousands of extra visitors coming from all corners of the globe for the 2010 showpiece.

Now we are left with the benefits. The Canada Line Skytrain - a fast Metro link to the Airport, is a godsend for commuters to downtown from the south of Vancouver, and tourists from the airport. Roads have been resurfaced, more buses added, and many Skytrain Stations have been redeveloped.

There will be many pitfalls to come though. The games were countless millions of dollars over-budget - something that tax payers will be taking the brunt of, and there was the added controversy of native Canadians and their supports arguing that the games were held on stolen land, and events were damaging the environment.

Ultimately though, 99% of people I spoke to had the time of their lives during the games. Many people who opposed them beforehand had amazing experiences. I know I did. There were endless free events around for locals to take advantage of. Many many musicians from across Canada flocked to the west coast city to play free concerts - many participating countries had 'houses' where people could go and drink and be merry, and the mood around Vancouver was excited, but friendly. I know I had an epic two weeks and many many memories that will last forever.

Patience Pays

I said to myself, when I wrote my previous blog entry back in November, that I wouldn't do another post until I had some progress with my immigration application. Well, Dear Reader, I'm posting again, which means things have finally moved on.

After 12 weeks of wondering I was finally presented (in the mail) with an envelope from the Canadian Immigration people. Inside it was a big pack of paper, which had the satisfying title of "Provincial Nominee Letter of Acceptance" written in big, bold letters. I've been waiting, wondering and worrying for three months now, in the hopes that this day would come. When I applied for the BC Pilot Project - in order to become a Provincial Nominee, I worried that I'd left things too late. The scheme I was applying for was a two year scheme, due to expire January 2010. Well, that date came and went, and I had no feedback from the authorities until a couple of weeks ago when I received a short Email informing me that my application was being processed. Thankfully things progressed as I hoped, and I am now able to apply for Permanent Residency. With any luck, I'll be a landed immigrant in six to nine months.

Now, all I need to do is fill in another mountain of forms, pay a load more dollars and continue with life as I was before. At some point I'll be asked to go for a medical, to ensure I won't be a huge drain on Canada's healthcare industry, and all things being well I'll be granted residency.

Being a Provincial Nominee is a huge step for me, as what it basically means is that the Province of British Columbia has decided that I am an important enough asset to the Canadian economy to stay in the country permanently, rather than leave when I am no longer able to get a work permit. Having the backing of the province, when applying to the Federal Government should provide me with huge swing when the decision making process comes.

With the 2010 Winter Olympics only two weeks away I can now sit back and enjoy the games, rather than worry about immigration. Everyone at work will spend two weeks wearing Hockey Jerseys from various countries, so we'll be in the spirit of things. Hopefully I'll get to watch some sport on the TV, as my favourite winter hangout - Whistler, is pretty much off limits for the duration of the games. I did manage to get a day on the slopes there a few days ago with my buddy from England Nick, but I think that this is it for me in snowboarding until March.

Anyway, things are good. I have no complaints. Time to enjoy the winter.

Snow, friends, and immigration

Life in Canada is good. Very good. It's now November, in fact almost half-way through, and I'm getting excited. Why? Well, on my way to work this morning the suns rays shone down on my face, and the skies were clear for the first time in a week. In the distance I could see the results of a week of rain in Vancouver - the North Shore Mountains are now coated in snow. Here that will mean one thing - the ski and snowboard season is almost under way.


Being rather partial to the latter of those activities, and thus craving the slopes ever since my final evening up on Grouse Mountain back in April, the sight of the white gold to the North is one that got me very excited. I knew that the 2010 Winter Olympic Venue, Whistler, was due to open this weekend, but when I received a text this lunchtime from a friend telling me that the local mountains were also opening for business within the next 24 hours I almost spat out my sandwich. Cheese and Salami shrapnel however is a small price to pay for being able to go riding for the first time in seven months. How time flies.

I've already bought myself a pass that allows discounted rates for the duration of the season at Cypress Mountain, so that will be my first port of call. Soon I'll get to Whistler, but some patience will have to be enforced beforehand.


Another thing that I've been looking forward to greatly is the social aspect of snowboarding. This time last year I lacked many friends who were as into winter sports as I am. I had only a couple of 'boarding buddies, so now having made a number of new friends in the intervening 12 months who are as crazed about riding as I am I can forsee immense group trips to the mountains. It's going to be a lot of fun. I'm also going to enjoy teaching Tissa to snowboard. There are good times ahead.

So aside from strapping myself to a piece of wood, fibreglass and plastic, then throwing myself down a mountain at high speed, whilst enrobed in oversized and brightly-coloured attire, what else have I been doing?

Well, working a lot is the answer. Since I got back from my brother's wedding in Armenia, I've been catching up from my time off. It's not all doom and gloom though. I've now completed nine months of employment at Mink, thus I can now apply for the next stage of the immigration process.

As I've learnt over the duration of 2009, immigration to Canada is extremely time-consuming, and sometimes stressful. I like to think that I'm not easily knocked off balance these days, but immigration is one thing that does cause me a burden at times. It took a full six months to get my extended work permit, meaning I'm now legal in Canada until the summer of 2011, but my goal now is gaining landed immigrant, or 'Permanent Resident' status.


With Canada being almost entirely built on immigration these days, there are an untold number of ways to emigrate here permanently. A week ago, the day after I turned 24, I sent off my application for the immigration scheme I want to be on. Now I'm playing the waiting game. Theoretically I should have a response within a month or two, so once again I need to be patient.

Also I've recently been joined in Vancouver by an old friend whom I have shared many fond memories. Anyone who has known me for a while will know of my University buddy Luke. Back in 2006/7 we spent a lot of time hanging around on Luke's roof, playing PS2, being drunk, taking pictures, or generally driving aimlessly around the New Forest back in Southampton. Finally, in the summer of 2007 we embarked on something meaningful, driving around Central Europe, visiting hot spots such as the Nurburgring Nordschleife, the Bavarian paradise of Munich, and the historic city of Salzburg, with its baroque-era architecture.


The last time I saw Luke was in March 2008, and Luke and his good friend Felix I'd met back in the UK had flown on one-way tickets to Vancouver with the aim of buying an R.V. before driving south, to Central America, where they plan to teach English.



The day of arrival dawned, and so after heading to the airport I sat in Arrivals for a few hours, watching all the people the London flight stroll by. Around this time Luke and Felix were collared, and were grilled by immigration authorities regarding why they only had one-way plane tickets to Vancouver. Apparently there was no rubber glove usage, and eventually we were all reunited. Bantering about good times, bad times and ratherdrunken times commenced instantly, and the three of us spent a joyous time wandering around Vancouver, buying an R.V. which was lovingly dubbed 'Clive' before driving it up to Whistler for the day as a test run.



12 days after they flew in they drove out, aiming for Seattle and beyond. I have no idea where they'll end up, and I don't think they do either, but what I do know is they'll have a great time getting there.

Three continents, 12,000 miles, 10 days, and one wedding

Salzburg, Austria. It's summer, and the waters of the Salzach river shimmer in the afternoon sunlight. Locals go about their business, and tourists wander the narrow streets of the old city. I'm standing with my Univesity friend Luke on one one of the many cobbled streets close to the river. Across from us is the house that the world-famous composer Mozart once lived. The two of us are in the middle of a couple of weeks of driving around central Europe, a journey that took us from Portsmouth in England, to the tiny village of Rauris in Austria, via France, Belgium, Holland, and Germany.


That was two years ago - July 2007, and that day was the last time I saw Tom, my brother, and Andy - his best friend, as they embarked on what was the early stages of their global cycle ride - Ride Earth.

Much has changed since then. Tom has cycled 11,000 miles - a journey that has seen his thigh muscles bulge to epic proportions. I, on the other hand, came scarily close to getting something apparently called "a career" a couple of times, had a few trips away to various places, before making my move to Vancouver in June last year.


In the intervening 26 months since I last saw Tom his life has changed in ways that he would never have imagined when he set off. Cycling through the Middle East, journeying across the Sahara desert, catching Malaria, finding unchartered villages, sharing a boat across the Gulf of Aden with 300 cows, and having heat-induced nose bleeds at 56 degrees centigrade in Oman are just a few of the things he's done recently, but those are all eclipsed by his chance meeting with Tenny in February 2008.

She is the reason I've been on three continents and travelled through 12 time-zones in the past couple of weeks. Tom and Tenny are getting married, and so I've flown to Yerevan, the capital of Armenia for the wedding.

My journey was not a straight-forward one. I travelled, for the first time since last summer, to England, giving me a chance to see my 91 year old Grandmother, and many of my friends whom I hadn't seen since I left.


The day of departure dawned, and after a Ricky's fried breakfast in Downtown Vancouver with Tissa, Thomas and Sophie, I started my journey home. I was greeted with overcast skies in London as I was reunited with my parents, and we headed for home.

Being back in England gave me a chance to go over my decision to stay in Canada. It had been a long time since I left, and although I had many fond memories from the place I grew up, I felt that after I finished university it was time to move on. Relocating to Canada was a whole new challenge for me, and when I left to start my journey, I didn't even consider the possibility that I might not want to come back. Now, I couldn't even entertain the thought of coming back to England long-term. Vancouver is an amazing city, and in the months I've been there I've gone from being a random guy in a new city with a bag, a bank account, and a 12-month work visa, to having a whole life out here - great friends, a job that I enjoy which sponsors me, a brilliant active lifestyle, a girlfriend, an arrogant Russian cat, and the opportunity to stay in a place that I love so much.

I decided that being back in England was nice, but only for a visit. It was great to see my friends, but having seen what else is out there it was time to leave my hometown in the past.


A few hours later, having spent as much time as possible with friends, and being reminded of the green and pleasant lands, rolling hills, dales and old stone buildings that occupy my part of England, my parents travelled back to Heathrow. Shortly after we touched down at Zvartnots International Airport in Yerevan. Tom was waiting for us, and so outside the terminal building the Allen family was finally reunited. After cramming five people and six bags into a very small taxi we headed for the apartment we had arranged to rent for the duration of our stay.

My first impressions of Yerevan were indeed ones of Soviet times. We sped through the epicentre of Republic Square, with it's grand architecture, housing the National Art Gallery and History Museum, as well as the Marriott Hotel. And a post office.


We arrived at our apartment, located in the centre of the city. It was then that I was also reunited with Andy, who is now living in Tbilisi, Georgia, and best man at Tom's wedding. I hadn't seen Andy since the same day I'd seen Tom, and the three of us together again reminded me of times playing football in Andy's home village of Stoke Albany, relaxing in the surrounding fields, and making ridiculous home movies about finding musical enlightenment with garden hoes and ski masks.


The following day I started to get an idea of what Yerevan is about. The feel of the place was decidedly Russian. It turned out that the main city centre was designed by one man, with many of the main central streets designed to line up together, so that landmarks such as the Opera House, and the aformentioned Republic Square, are visible for miles around.

After my first walk around the streets in daylight something else became apparent - I am in fact a walking circus attraction. Armenia isn't your regular tourist destination - in fact most people I've spoken to don't have a clue where it is, and here societal fashions seem extremely regimented. Almost all young folk, male and female alike seem to comform to a strict dress code. Whilst 99% of men I saw on the street wore smart long-pants, pointed shoes, and had crew cuts; I generally wander around in shorts, T-Shirt and flip flops, so with my lack-of-haircut and general ragged appearance I caused quite a stir on Yerevan's busy streets. On more than one occasion someone would see me, double-take, grin, grab the nearest person, and point and laugh. Being a cause of amusement or bemusement was something I got used to very quickly in Yerevan. Fortunately it's not something that bothers me.

Another thing about Yerevan which is extremely apparent is the sheer quantity of unfinished buildings and untended gardens, pathways and roads. Armenia is not nearly as afluent as Canada or the United Kingdom, and things tend to go unfinished. The Cascade, Yerevans immense white steps which are set into the south-facing hill on the north edge of the cities 'downtown' area is another project which remains incomplete. The project was started in the 1970s, and includes a series of waterfalls which run down the middle of the impressive set of stairs from Haghtanak Park and the Monument Neighborhood down to the smart Boulevard, which houses a number of higher priced cafes and restaurants. Although still an extremely captivating site, there is still a lot to do, although recent privatisation of the project means that things may, or may not, progress faster now. Regardless of this, The view from the top of the Cascade is awe-inspiring with the dominant Mount Ararat towering over the city, dwarfing anything else in sight. Many buildings were in a similar state, and sidewalks and gardens were often not maintained. However, this is in fact the case in the majority of places in the world. English and Canadian people just aren't used to it.


Tom and Tenny's wedding however, was a complete and successful affair, and was more than worth the 12,000 mile round trip. To finally meet Tenny, my new sister-in-law was worth the trip alone. Tom has truly found a match, and someone who is fun loving, laid back, and a joy to be around. The wedding ceremony itself was also something I looked forward to. The service was conducted almost entirely in the ancient Armenian language, so many of the locals could not understand what was being said. As well as that, there were no rehearsals. This made for a flying-by-the-seat-of-the-pants affair, but an experience that was a lot of fun.


Tom being Tom, there also had to be cycling involved. Armenians as a rule don't see cycling as a viable form of transport, but for the drive to the church my brother had arranged his friends at the local cycle activist group to bring along a rickshaw bicycle taxi, to transport bride and groom. Following the strange looking convoy of cyclists all in bright orange shirts through Yerevan's centre was an experience in itself. Locals pointed, pedestrians stopped in their tracks, and many grins were cracked.


Following the service, the wedding party descended on the Arma Hotel in the hills overlooking Yerevan, for the reception. The geography of this place felt a lot like West Vancouver - a place where some of the most expensive real estate in the world is located, and I thought about how much accommodation here would cost if Armenia was suddenly transported across the Atlantic to the West Coast of Canada. It's strange to think - the view from here was spectacular.

The reception itself was a lot of fun also. Wedding receptions in England are often fairly formal affairs, where it takes many hours, and many whiskys later for the guests to open up and have fun. Not so here. The Armenians and Iranian's - who populated the entire guestlist aside from the Allen family party - love to have fun and dance, and here was no exception. Between courses the dancefloor would swell with people dancing to Armenian, Persian, and Western music. Much Vodka and Whisky was drank, the tunes got louder, and the stocks of food depleted.


Unfortunately things came to an end too quickly. My week in Armenia flew by, and soon I was back on a plane to London, where I spent one fleeting afternoon catching up with a couple more friends, and wandering along the banks of the Thames, before catching the next flight back to Vancouver the following morning. It was a great trip, and one with many memories that I will cherish forever. Landing in Vancouver again I was met with bright sunshine and a friendly bus driver who chatted to me about my trip all the way home. It's good to be here.

A visit to the UK, and a wedding in Armenia

So my second summer in Vancouver is almost over. The sun is still out, but the heat is gradually receding. The trees outside my work are slowly losing their leaves, and it's less than three weeks until I set foot on UK shores again for the first time in 15 months. It's going to be a flying visit, but one that promises to be packed with intrigue. I'll spend two days in the UK, catching up with as many people as possible, before heading to Yerevan, Armenia for my brother's impending wedding to Tenny, before flying back to Vancouver, via London, a week later.



Armenia is somewhere that before Tom's engagement I knew precious little about. As far as I knew it was a country near Turkey and Iran, and that was about it. Since then I've learned a lot about the place, the people, and the region.

Armenia is a tiny country located in Caucasus mountain realm of Eurasia between Western Asia and South Eastern Europe. It borders Georgia to the north, Turkey to the west, Iran to the south, and Azerbaijan to the east. The Soviet-influenced capital of Yerevan, with it's skyline dominated by the commanding Mount Ararat in neighbouring Turkey, is a large city with a population of over a million people, and the place that Tom has spent a large chunk of his time over the past 18 months.



Armenia is a place that has experienced tragedy on an epic scale less than a century ago. As Europe was dealing with the plight of World War I, large scale genocide was occurring further south in Armenia - at the hands of the Ottoman Empire, now known as Turkey. Although not as well-known as the Nazi-inspired genocide that occurred during the Second World War, it is thought that up to 1.5 million Armenians died between between 1915 and 1917.

Relations between Armenia and Turkey have remained strained ever since, with Turkish authorities often not recognising the past events, and presently the Armenian-Turkish border is permanently closed. The Armenian Genocide Museum has since been opened in Yerevan to help educate people about the events that happened almost 100 years ago, and this will be somewhere I look forward to visiting.

Although the wedding of Tom and Tenny is happening in Yerevan Tenny herself was actually born and raised in Tehran, Iran's capital. Tenny's family are ethnically Armenian, but have lived in Iran for many years, with Tenny spending the first 24 years of her life in the country before moving to Yerevan, where she met Tom in early 2008.



Their relationship has been blossoming ever since their chance visit that fateful January evening, and to finally meet my new in-laws, and have the Allen family back together again for the first time since mid-2007 is going to be worth a journey that spans three continents alone. The Armenian-Iranian-English wedding should also be an interesting blend of cultures too. I don't really know what to expect.

I've also met someone recently who has also added an extemely Iranian tint to my life. Working at Mink has allowed me to meet hundreds of new people on a daily basis, and with Vancouver being such a diverse place, the people I meet are from all over the globe. One day which turned out to be quite pivotal was when I asked one first-time customer at Mink where she was from. As it turns out, Tissa was born in Vienna, but settled in Vancouver five years ago. Her family though, is Persian, having moved to Austria from Iran back in the 1980s.

Our chance meeting at Mink turned out to be the first of many, and after getting on extremely well, and realising we had a lot in common, things have progressed. My relationship with Tissa has allowed me to meet even more new people - new people who I can call friends in their own right, rather than just friends by association, and it has made my second summer in Vancouver extremely enjoyable.



Since then we've spent many a day and night at friends houses relaxing, talking, playing drinking games, singing along to Frank Sinatra, listening to Pink Floyd, or whatever else. We've swam in rivers, slid down waterfalls, been to the beach in the day or at night, eaten meals out, driven to Whistler, and ridden Vancouver's new Skytrain line.



Something else I've been introduced to recently is Persian cuisine. Tissa's family is extremely close-knit - a lot more so than what I've been used to back in England. Huge family dinners, or what you could call banquets even, have been a regular occurrance recently with Aunts, Uncles, Cousins, Grandmothers, Grandfathers, and close family friends all in attendance, as well as the direct family members. I've met many many new people in Tissa's family at these dinners, had a lot of fun, drunk my fair share of alcohol, and gorged myself on plentiful and delicious Persian food. This type of cuisine, with many different types of rice, meat, sauces, herbs, and fruits has proven to be a real hit with me. Unfortunately I can't pronounce the names of most of what I'm eating, but I'm working on it.

Ultimately, this summer has been a huge success, and the next major event I have to look forward to is my trip in a matter of days. There is going to be a lot of flying involved, and with that comes a lot of jetlag, but I can't wait. Bon voyage.

Life in Technicolour

It’s 9am on another sunny Vancouver day, and I’ve just finished my bowl of Cheerios. I’ve got a few minutes until I leave for work, so I check my emails, do some washing up, and chat to Thomas, who has also just risen. Suddenly an unexpected knock comes at the door. We don’t know who it is. “Hide the cat”, whispers Thomas. We aren’t supposed to have pets in our apartment - it might be our landlords. I make a beeline for Handsome, who decides he has probably done something bad, and makes a break for it. After a few seconds of manic chasing around the living room, jumping over chairs and sofas I eventually have a rather bemused Handsome in my arms. Thomas tentatively answers the door.



“Letter for Allen Benjamin”, I hear a voice say, and so I join Thomas to collect a brown envelope with the unmistakeable markings of the Canadian government printed on the front. Suddenly apprehension hits. This could be my visa decision. I feel the packaging. My passport. Postman leaves as I hastily rip open the envelope to find a short, one page letter enclosed along with my Passport. “Your visa application has been approved, and your new document will be sent to you shortly”, it reads. Relief.



It had been six months since I made the decision to stay in Canada, so ever since then the prospect of being either unable to find sponsorship, or finding sponsorship but being refused a visa due to the current economic climate, loomed large. I’ve been very content with life out here, but always had the niggling doubt in the back of my mind that one day in the not-so-distant future that I’d have to hurriedly pack my bags and get a flight back to England. Now, a huge weight had been lifted.

Fast forward a few days and I had just cycled home from work. Thomas and our other friend Dave are sitting around in the living room. Sophie is at work, and so the other two are about to go bowling. Me? Well I was tired, and was planning on having a relaxing evening in. They leave, I stick the television on, but a few moments later the phone rings. It’s Thomas. “Come on down”, he says. There’s another letter waiting in our mailbox. A few minutes later I’m downstairs. We live on the eight floor, so the mailbox is a trek. I’d been checking the mailbox every day since getting my approval letter. Finally, it seems, my visa has arrived.
I am greeted with another brown, Government Issue envelope. Once again I tear it open. It is indeed my new visa. All I need to do now is staple it to my passport, and I’m set. But wait - the expiry date. It says July 2011. I was expecting only a year, but Canadian Immigration & Customs have given me two. I knew I had a two year Expedited Labour Market Opinion certificate stating that I was needed in this particular job, but I was expecting to have a one year visa, and have to reapply for a second on next year. Apparently not. I guess being English makes you entrusted.


The feeling I’ve had since that moment has been amazing. I’ve always had my doubts I’d be able to stay in the country, but now I have the piece of paper that allows me to live and work in the place that I love. Over the past weeks and months since I applied for the new visa I’ve been unable to make any plans more than a few weeks in advance, as I would never know if I was going to be around then. Now, this has all changed. Now I can get everything I’ve wanted to get in life arranged. And I know I can do this long into the future. Yes, I’ve been in Canada for just over 13 months now, and that has flown by, but another two years is a long time. Time to do so many things, and time to plan, plot and arrange life. Time to live.

It may seem like a small thing, but not being able to arrange to take a trip with friends, or save up for a new snowboard for the next season has been frustrating. Now I have a total feeling of release. I have no weight on my shoulders – something that I haven’t felt for quite a while. I have been extremely settled in Canada, but there had always been some feeling of uncertainty, or something holding me back. Now, that feeling has gone. I can now look forward to my future in Canada, the prospect of permanent emigration, building up my life here. I am completely at ease.


Next on the list of things to do is to head back to England. My parents had been waiting for my visa situation to be resolved before very kindly booking flights back to the UK, but now everything is arranged. My brother Tom’s wedding (see www.ride-earth.org.uk) is happening in Yerevan, Armenia’s capital in September, and so I will be making the epic voyage from Vancouver to Armenia via a couple of days in England. I can’t afford to take more than around 10 days off work, so I only have a short time in the UK, before I head over to see Tom for the first time in over two years, and meet Tenny my new sister-in-law, and her family. We have spoken on the phone, and over the internet, but have never had the chance to meet. Now, I am relishing it. The chance to visit a new country – one that I knew very little about until Tom’s chance meeting with Tenny in Yerevan one cold evening in early 2008, is going to hold a lot of intrigue for me. It will also be the first time my parents, my brother, and I have all been together since July 2007, when we sat in a square a few short metres from Mozart’s house in Salzburg, Austria, and ate lunch together. At that time, Tom had just begun his voyage on bicycle, and had no idea what his future held. Me? I was driving around Central Europe for a few weeks with my University friend Luke, and had no other plans formulated, having finished my degree a few short weeks earlier. Now, I’m living in Canada, and Tom is getting married in Armenia. Who’d have thought it? Life is Technicolor. I love it.

A Year On

So a year has passed since I came to Canada. In theory I should be back home, looking back on my 12 months abroad in Vancouver, and telling my friends back in my hometown about my experiences. My visa expired a week ago - printed on it are the words "Must Leave Canada by June 9".


Well I'm still in Canada, and still working at Mink Chocolates. Fortunately this is legal, because I can still be in the country and continue to work whilst my work permit application is processed. After a number of phonecalls to check the status of my papers, I was informed that my situation should be resolved by the end of June. The whole process has been extremely arduous; I first started looking into the sponsorship progress back in January - almost six months ago, and only now is there some light at the end of the tunnel.

It is amazing that a year has already passed. Last week I said goodbye to Helen, my flightbuddy from Heathrow last year. Her 12 months is also over, and she was about to head back across the Atlantic to England, to save up for her next big adventure. All of my friends from Jericho Hostel have now gone. Lynda & Andrew, my Aussie buddies, have both gone off to pastures new, with Lynda heading back home via the UK, and Andrew driving across Canada in a GMC Yukon. All that's left now is me.

I made a trip back to the Hostel recently, where I spent my first weeks in Canada, the surroundings of Jericho Park, and the local beaches. The Hostel itself has changed dramatically since I was there. It has had a generous amount of restoration carried out. New coats of paint adorn the walls and fittings, the kitchen and TV room have been refurbished, and everywhere generally looks clean and fresh.

Visiting there brought memories of last summer flooding back. A whole new country, new people, a new city, daily trips to the beach, playing soccer with the locals, Hide & Seek, sitting forlornly in the kitchen at the end of June still wondering where I was going to live, trying to communicate with a guy from Chile through pictures, the huge Canada Day party - just endless fun times. All that seems distant now, but the photos we all took, and the memories we have remain.


It seems strange now to think of how lost I felt when I first started wandering around Vancouver. Anybody would be when arriving in a new place, an it is now great to see the pre-Olympic development gathering pace, and is nice to be able to get around the whole city without even having to think about where I'm heading. Vancouver seems very much like home now.


So by the end of the month my future will be resolved. One place I do know for sure I'll be going to is Armenia. On 15 September I'll be flying there with my parents from Heathrow for my brothers wedding - now I just need to know if it'll be following a flight from Vancouver. If so it will mean 32 hours flying in 10 days - pretty tiring, but it will be worth it. My brother Tom, my parents and myself have not been together now for two years, so being reunited, at Tom's wedding no less, will be very special. Tom is currently in Dubai, awaiting news of his Iranian visa application. He travelled to the Arabian peninsular from Djibouti on the East coast of Africa in a wooden boat with 600 cows. Since then he has negotiated Yemen, Oman, and finally the United Arab Emirates. He is now very close to being able to take a ferry to the southern coast of Iran, before taking a sleeper train to the capital, Tehran. There he will be reunited with Tenny, his fiancee. I am very excited to finally be able to meet her, and to have a new sister-in-law.

With Tom's global cycle ride in my consciousness so much in the past couple of years, I have taken it upon myself to embrace this eco-friendly form of transport. To think when we were both younger Tom and I hated the bike rides our parents took us on. Now one of us is cycling the globe. It is an extreme change, but a very good one. I've also become very much into cycling over the past year. That will probably come as a surprise to people who know me in the UK as the guy who always bought and sold cars, but I've tired of that.


Now, I cycle to work and back every day on an old 10-speed racing bike. It's very enjoyable, Vancouver caters for cyclists very well, and it has the additional bonus if providing me with great exercise. It's also cheap. Life is good.