Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Final stretch
The criminal check arrived safe and sound today (despite a mysterious and unwarranted name change from Mr. O to Mr. W ?!?), which means we have a month or so to get it under the nose of the right person at CIC, who will hopefully waive the need for a renewal of Mr. O's work permit before the permanent residency is official. So we can have some summer. 'N' stuff.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Halfway home
Our woman in Abu Dhabi sent the papers back by FedEx today, so Mr. O should have his certificate of good conduct in a week or so. It only took us six months to pull it all together. And while I'm not celebrating yet - I wouldn't trust FedEx with my compost - it feels good to be one step closer to ending this entire ordeal. The ungrateful immigrant is grateful today for friends, and friends of friends.
Now if we get those documents to CIC before his work permit expires in June, hopefully he won't have to apply for another one before he gets his permanent residency. Hard to believe it's taken us almost two years to get to this point (I remember being outraged at the thought of nine months), and during that time the process has alternated between albatross and minor annoyance. The joke is, we don't know where we'll end up. I was talking to a friend yesterday who is planning to move to the UK, about the hassles of immigration, and how you are heavier than you think - the modern life is full of baggage. Already in the time we've been here we have accumulated so much stuff, and it all weighs on you and makes it that much harder to just pick up again. It would be easy to stay, like sleeping in on a Monday morning.
But on more than one occasion, many courtesy of an immigration-inspired frustration, Mr. O has declared that he's not staying here permanently. So it's possible we're going through all of this for nothing. We're lucky, we have options.
Now if we get those documents to CIC before his work permit expires in June, hopefully he won't have to apply for another one before he gets his permanent residency. Hard to believe it's taken us almost two years to get to this point (I remember being outraged at the thought of nine months), and during that time the process has alternated between albatross and minor annoyance. The joke is, we don't know where we'll end up. I was talking to a friend yesterday who is planning to move to the UK, about the hassles of immigration, and how you are heavier than you think - the modern life is full of baggage. Already in the time we've been here we have accumulated so much stuff, and it all weighs on you and makes it that much harder to just pick up again. It would be easy to stay, like sleeping in on a Monday morning.
But on more than one occasion, many courtesy of an immigration-inspired frustration, Mr. O has declared that he's not staying here permanently. So it's possible we're going through all of this for nothing. We're lucky, we have options.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
