Author Archives: simonewb

April showers bring snow plowers

Over a period of about 20 years, Roger and I built a life. I met Roger when I was in matric (Grade 12). He taught me to drive and I bought a pink Beetle. Her name was Deliliah and she would break down/run out of petrol at least once a week. Roger and I moved in together, slowly collected used furniture, and cheap plates and mugs. Later, we upgraded our things as we could. We both had jobs and cars; we bought a house; had a child, then another. We went on holiday to the US, and renovated our house. Over 20 years. Give or take.

We have been in Canada for three months. In that time we’ve stayed in two houses, found a school for Holly, bought a car, and got a driver’s license. We’ve seen and become people of Walmart (running, screaming kids will do that to you). We’ve learnt how to shovel and salt the snow. We’ve learnt which ketchup tastes good, where to find $3 butter, and that Fortino’s (it’s like a fancy Thrupps) makes the tastiest bread and has the freshest veggies. We aspire to become Fortino’s people.

We’ve learned that the 401 highway is jam-packed in rush hour, but the 407 is empty (because you pay to use it, which explains our $800 bill!) and you need to get a transponder for your car. We know that a Loonie and a Toonie will almost buy you 1.96 liters of milk. That’s two gallons. We use the metric system here but it’s complicated. People still want to use imperial so, in order to accommodate everyone, both units of measurement are used. We just recently learnt too, that spring is spring in name alone. In spring this year we had an ice storm that almost shut southern Ontario down!

We’ve learnt that despite the strong and ongoing propaganda, Tim Hortons coffee is in fact horrible; Starbucks coffee wins every time! (Shots fired!) Canadian Tire sells so much more than tires (and it’s one of Canada’s Top 100 Employees for 2018!) – it’s a giant man-shop (as opposed to a giant-man shop) but one that women like, too. A bit like Builder’s Warehouse but one that sells sports equipment and supporters’ clothes too. I haven’t actually experienced a Canadian Tire, but the blissed-out expression on Roger’s face told me everything I needed to know.

We’ve also learnt that there’s so much more to learn! This country is like the United Nations. When we take the children to the local playground we hear almost as many different languages as there are people there. No one twitches when they hear a different accent. And with each of those different cultural groups comes a festival or an ethnic supermarket, and a whole host of different stories and experiences.

We truly are privileged to be here and to be able to enjoy everything this incredible country has to offer. It took us 20 years to get to where we felt like we were acing it! We’ve had to fast-track all of that life stuff into just over three months. We’re not quite there, but we’re getting a little closer every day. Hopefully the Bloom’s adventures in setting up our lives will continue to entertain you.


Boobee with a chance of meatballs

‘Boooobeeeee! Boooobeeeee!’ he yelled with his head thrown back and a maniacal grin on his face. ‘Boooobeeee!’ This was at approximately the halfway point in our first IKEA shopping excursion. And to be clear, this was almost-two-year-old Eli, not his father. At this point I’d completely lost my sense of humour. With the little one demanding a boob and not taking no for an answer, and the big one crying because I wouldn’t let her choose a king-size sleigh bed and a cot for her bedroom, I was ready to throw in the grey towels I’d gathered and order an Uber. A note on that.

We do not have a car in Canada. We cannot buy a car until we have insurance. We can’t get insurance until one of us has an Ontario driver’s license. So until we can write the driver’s test, pass the actual driving test and get insurance, and buy a car, we’re dependent on Uber. Or walking to Walmart to buy groceries (this deserves a whole other post).

With Eli’s skinny little arm thrust far down my shirt, his war cry of boooobeeee ringing out through the mazes of hell, I hunted down a minion in yellow and blue. The directions to the ‘nursery’ sounded something like this: ‘Ya wanna know where the nursery is? Okay. Right. Go down there and turn right. Walk past the beds on the left and turn right then turn left. At the workstations turn left, then left and left again and follow the arrows right. That should take you right to the front entrance past the checkout with the nursery on the right.’ Somehow we found the nursery. Despite the directions! Eli was reunited with booooobbbeeee and, when he was done, danced a little jig to the music being played thoughtfully through the speakers.

Following this interesting little detour, our posse regrouped at the beds and we began the task we’d set out to accomplish approximately 90 minutes before: finding beds and trying out mattresses that we could order and have delivered ready for our first night in our brand new, empty house.

When we left Dante’s nine circles of hell (thanks for the reference, Ian Burt) it was snowing. But we left armed with veggie ‘meatballs’, a totally useless and unnecessary cushion my eldest decided she couldn’t live without, and some towels. So it wasn’t a complete bust.  

Six weeks to go!

6 weeks until we leave. I’m simultaneously thrilled and petrified. We have so much to do still to prepare! Stuff to sell and give away, things to buy, people to see …

Our passports currently living in a safe with our visas to the US, UK and Canada

In preparation for our leaving we’ve been selling the contents of our house. In the beginning this was difficult because everything is a part of our story, our 20-year, two-child journey together to this point in our lives. We had to emotionally disconnect before we could get rid of things. Now, though, we’re throwing things at the highest bidder! Discounts given to the person who can collect soonest. Here – have a free pile of books!

Dining room table gone, couch gone, rugs gone, nice curtains gone

I’ve met some interesting people during this process. We chat first on social media then we move our relationship forward and connect on WhatsApp. We organise a time for collection. It’s like a strange kind of date where pleasantries are exchanged for goods. When people hear that we’re emigrating we get all kinds of responses: encouragement, envy, justification why they aren’t leaving, political ramblings, and anger at the state of the nation. We always steer the conversation away from the negativity and emphasise that we’re leaving for a new adventure. It’s true. We want our move to be about what’s positive, exciting, new and full of opportunity. We don’t want to leave South Africa under a pall of negativity and shrouded in resentment.

Part of the preparation for the move has been figuring out what type of accommodation we’ll need and for how long. We’ve literally spent weeks slogging through Air B and B listings,, and random Google searches looking for a comfortable home for the first part of our stay. We need a place for 10 days while we’re looking for more permanent accommodation. But when you’re traveling with two shrinkies in the depths of winter there is much to consider! After hours of searching, clouds of sighs, and countless keyboard-inflicted blisters, we found our Air B and B match! We will no longer be homeless when we arrive in Canada. You’re welcome kids.

With flights and accommodation organised, at least for the first 10 days, we can turn our divided attention to our leaving date: 12 January. But before we can climb into the plane and settle in for the first season of our new lives, we need to clear out this damn house and buy ourselves some warm clothes! Leggings and a tunic just won’t cut it in -40c.  Anyone need salad bowls?

The piles of boxes we’re collecting to get rid of stuff and some lonely Tupperware containers a ‘time waster’ left behind

The first of many

Tonight I cried for the first of what will undoubtedly be many times until we leave in January 2018. I cried because I missed my best friend who left South Africa for Qatar more than a year ago. I cried because I was listening to music with her but we’re on opposite sides of the world. I cried because people were bemoaning the high levels of crime in the country. I cried because a friend experienced a random act of kindness when a stranger paid for her groceries. I cried because I don’t see my friends as often as I should and I don’t always know what’s happening in their lives. I cried because we have to find new homes for our dogs and we’re their people – we’re their people! I cried because I know my daughter is having so many feelings about leaving that she doesn’t know how to deal with. I cried for all of these reasons. But the main reason I cried was because I’m scared.

I’m scared of leaving all the familiar things. I’m scared of leaving the comfortable life we’ve worked so hard to build. I’m scared I won’t have this life and these comforts in a new country. I’m scared of flying to a country I’ve never been to, to start a whole new life without the security of a job. I’m scared because the support system we have here, though small, will not be coming with us. And, as much as I tell myself I’m not scared – it’s all a lie. I’m very scared.

But I know this new adventure is the right step for us. It’s the best path for our little family. This new adventure will give my family so many new opportunities. This adventure will give us so many exciting experiences. I know it’s the right decision. But I’m still scared and I’m still crying.

Maple leaves, Northern Lights and aquamarine glacial lakes

We’re moving to Canada. For real. There – that’s the first time I’ve made the announcement for all the world to see. We haven’t exactly been hiding the fact that we’re emigrating, but we wanted things to fall into place before we started making public declarations. Those things have fallen into place. So this is the public declaration.

We began this process to apply for permanent residence about sixteen months ago. And, after some milestones and phases, we are in the final stretch. We have our passports back with our permanent residence stickers in them. Why did we decide to move to Canada? I mean, you don’t get a country that’s more a polar opposite of South Africa than Canada, do you? There are so many reasons why. 

The Northern Lights as seen from the Yukon (Florian Schultz Photography)

Canada is such a family oriented country. It seems as if there are so many different ways the government is trying to make life for families richer and fuller. For example, the Canadian Education Savings Grant contributes 20c for every dollar you contribute to your Registered Education Savings Grant. So when Holly and Eli reach university, they’ll both have savings accounts we set up and that the government has helped us build! Also, children’s clothes are not taxed. Another thing, when you have a baby you get up to 18 months parental leave. Once the mother has taken just about four months, the rest of the time can be shared between mom and dad (not that we’re having any more children! This is just to illustrate my point).

We’ve sold our house and the paperwork is being prepared. We’ve begun to sell our belongings as we’re not planning on taking much with us at all. Except the kids’ toys – we need them to have some familiarity on the other side! And while all this is going on, we continue to search for the best (not perfect, that’ll come later) place to live. The best place for our little family to live. Because that’s what this is all about: doing the best we can for our family.

I hope you’ll keep reading my blog. I plan to chronicle our adventures both as a way to keep in touch with friends and family, and as a way to process this massive decision we’ve taken.

Banff National Park (Photo from

Serendipity went splat

You know when things are impeccably timed and result in the most serendipitous events? For example, you walk out of a change room in a shop to swop a shirt that was on the wrong hanger displaying an incorrect size and you bump into a friend you haven’t seen since you left school 20 years ago as she steps backwards out of her change room to get a better look at her jeans? Well, we just had a moment that was the opposite of that. So you could say it aserendipitous.

Our house is on the market and, as I explained in an earlier post, the business model of the estate agency we’re using involves us paying a flat fee for commission and then we show the house ourselves. So, tonight was a show night and we had four people scheduled to arrive at 15 minute intervals.

The house has never looked so tidy!

The first couple turned out to be Seth Rogan (well, it could have been!) and his wife. I know! We were as surprised as you are. My husband greeted them and escorted them in through the front gate while I pretended I wasn’t there. The plan had been for me and the littles to have a picnic supper on the lawn watching Full House while strangers walked around our house. Because things with children don’t ever (ever ever) go as planned, that didn’t happen. The picnic ended when Seth arrived. There I was left watching Full House with two mostly untouched bowls of macaroni cheese, a dog with halitosis, and a couple of mildly suspicious weaver birds. The children promptly ran into the house to follow our guests around from room to room, like two curious chihuahuas.

We had four sets of people come to judge our living arrangements. The chihuahuas frolicked and minced, minced and frolicked while I tried to look simultaneously busy and invisible in the garden. By the time viewer number four’s arrival was imminent, the boy child (who has had a stomach bug) decided he’d had enough and went to pick daisies by the front door. I saw him stomping around on something wet-looking that, on closer inspection, turned out to be his own poo. It had exploded from his nappy like an angry swamp monster and run all the way down his legs. As I turned to alert my husband of the code brown, our last viewer pulled up to the gate. Husband grabbed boy and sprinted to the bottom of the garden, holding him with arms out stretched and a look of determination on his green-tinged face. I leaped inside and grabbed a small plastic cup, the first container I could find, which in hindsight wasn’t very effective, filled it up and tried to wash the steaming puddle of poo off the path and front-door step!

The last viewer wasn’t particularly interested in our house, which may or may not have had something to do with the fact that as she walked into our garden the first thing she saw was me changing a nappy that was so befouled my eyes were watering.

Speaking of watering eyes… the day came to a close with our five-year-old daughter pouring peppermint essential oil all over the bathroom floor and smearing it in her eyes. That led to a fun 45 minutes or so of her howling and lowing like an injured cow. You absolutely cannot make this stuff up.