Well, I’ve finally arrived in Vancouver, although a little worse for wear. The drive was long and my bottom is likely entirely flat after a week attached to the seat of my car, but I’m finally in the city that will become my new home. The final stretch from Canmore to Vancouver was the most humbling experience of my life. You are a tiny speck on this extreme stretch of road, which is almost more dangerous than it is beautiful, as the mountains stretch up beside you and further into the sky than you can see. It was amazing. I have now officially been from one side of Canada to the other.
I’m now sitting in yet another hotel and have been to yet another hospital. My thyroid and heart tests are set up (although I still don’t have an answer for the shaking hand and the numb feet). I now have keys to my apartment that I’ve scrubbed clean and painted a bit. I have a British Columbia driver’s license and ridiculously expensive provincial insurance (I’ve gone from paying $98 dollars a month for car insurance to $156…and consider that’s with a 40 percent discount!!). Now all I need is my furniture. I’m praying it will show up sometime in the near future.
As of right now, Vancouver feels a little empty to me. The days are busy and full of preparation for my new life here. The nights are quiet and lonely, and at times where I would usually pick up the phone and call my family to hear their friendly voices, I can’t because of the three hour time change. I should be accustomed to being away from home because of military life, especially after speaking to all the wonderful people I’ve met in my travels who left their countries to come to Canada alone, without knowing the culture or the language. But I can’t help it. I have no friends here. No identity here. To put it simply, I’m homesick.
I knew I needed to get out of my funk and do something fun that wasn’t on my long lost of mundane ‘To Dos’. I do believe I’ve mentioned in earlier posts that my hair means a lot to me. The military controls our hair and how it looks (either in a bun or above your collar) and so even though I’m sad to be leaving that part of my life behind me, I thought it would be a great time to make a big hair change; embrace my opportunity to have crazy spikes or flowing loose locks. I chose my lifetime staple of something short and spunky (excuse the photo but it was taken by me, with my iPhone, in crappy hotel light). When I look in the mirror, it doesn’t feel like anything has changed. In fact, I catch glimpses of who I was once; fragile but fearless.
Although I miss everyone back home terribly, finally, I am back to myself. Sometimes I think I almost lost her in the identity of the camouflage green uniform.