Carpe Diem

I took a seat on the second row that is just across the immigration officer. The ticker board flashed 467, making me the 8th person who will be served next. The immigration officers are surprisingly young; there were four of them ladies and with no one older than 33, of the four, 2 are chinese. There were at most four nationalities that I could identify among landed immigrants. As per appearance of passport, there were at least 4 chinese, 3 koreans, 1 indian and 1 filipino (excluding me).

The other migrants didnt do much of a scene, except for funny things that migrants have to do when the immigrant officer asks for it. Because the counter was chest-high, the adults would have to raise their children high enough to allow the officer a precursory glance. Some takes a split second, while others have to hold them high and long enough for the arms to start shaking.

While the Indian migrant breezed through the entire process, there was this Chinese lady who, I should say, raised the immigration officer’s alarm. When she was asked about her husband, she couldnt give a straight answer why her husband didnt show up for the interview. The officer thought that the husband was just about the airport, but it turned out later that they were on a separate flight; the husband coming from mainland China and they from a place outside of Canada. What’s even odd is that when asked about the date of her arrival in Canada, she answered “Yesterday”, but when the officers checked, she landed in canada a few days ago. I thought she was just dazed after crossing the international dateline, and for having her biological clock disrupted, but geez! can’t she even tell how long she’s been on air? Though petty, these things added to my anxiety as my turn draws near.

It was during these cinematic moments when I got the chance to observe just a few more couples. A Filipina woman went alone to the immigration counter alone, with the caucasian husband refusing to approach. She did a bit of explaining in the best english she could muster. Apparently, all these were garbled for the officer that she motioned the husband to join them. To a surprising reaction, the husband motioned his exasperation about the situation by a quick yet hard brush of his hair with his fingers. All of us looked at him, 2-second shock: is it totally necessary?

At long last it was my turn. I handed my travel documents to the immigration officer and beamed her a smile. She confirmed three details from the CPR and then later told me to sign the document to complete the immigration process, with me as a landed immigrant. Then I asked for a form should I wish to nominate an address which is different from what I earlier wrote. Then I also asked her what to do if I will exit the country in less than a year. Then I also asked her how I could apply for an SIN. She was very good at answering, I’m impressed. I left the counter with her still trying to explain a bit of details. I don’t think I was being rude, I was just in a hurry as I remember, I phoned up someone to fetch me at the airport which was supposed to be 2 hours ago.

I headed for the customs counter and the lady officer simply asked for the amount of money that I have and on what form. I handed her my traveller’s check, and she noted the series and added the total money that I have with me. There was perfectly no need to show her some wad of cash; just the traveller’s check, a toothy smile, and a leap of heart would do exactly just fine.