Landing

We left Helsinki yesterday at about 4 pm, holding our breath as we loaded our overweight luggage (read: bursting at the seams) and two bicycles onto the rack. The nice Finnair guy was the first in a series of helpful people that made everything go as smoothly as possible, averting his eyes from the weight meter and sending it all through without extra charges.
The flight itself was like a holiday; after three weeks of chaos there was nothing to do but sit still, read, sleep. We arrived and the border guard sent us into immigration, where we were led into a drab cubicle by a young blonde officer who was likely younger than either of us. She asked Mr. O a few questions, entered his employment info and address into her computer, and stapled his permit into his passport. The whole thing was over in 10 minutes. On the way out a woman at a welcome desk gave us an application for OHIP and a social insurance number.
What took us longer than anything was getting our luggage. Even after our interview the ramp hadn't moved an inch (okay, I'm already speaking imperial again) and after we collected our bags our bikes were still nowhere to be found. Another nice Finnair guy took down our info and sent us through to secondary customs, where I presented my list of goods to follow, mandatory for all returning residents. While we were adding up my grand total the same Finnair guy came running through to announce that our bikes had arrived, and Mr. O followed him back to the luggage area to bring them in with a porter. By the time they reappeared I had finished with the customs officer and was waiting with our two-cart caravan by the door. At this point, just metres from the exit, I started to feel excited for the first time all day. We had made it.
In general the process was smooth and easy for us. I noticed thought that others weren't always having such an easy time of it, as officers asked questions that people couldn't answer, most often in languages they barely understood. Our friends waiting on the other side asked an immigration rep how long it would take for us to make it through the whole process, to which the optimistic reply was, "Oh, three hours, easy." It did take us about three hours from landing to leave the parkade, but that was more due to the brilliant organization of the GTAA than to any immigration hold-up.