Why Canada?

Funny thing I've noticed about blogging, you want to write about life in general but for some reason, your posts come out to be on renovating, decorating, gardening, knitting? 
I guess these little projects are part of our everyday life and I do enjoy coming up with them, but I'm surprised to find out that after 50+ posts, I haven't touched on one particular topic that I had in mind when I started this blog: our life as “new Canadians”.

Are we that integrated into life on this continent that I totally forgot to cover where we came from? Or, am I afraid that these posts won't be as “well received” as our diy posts? Have I fallen into the trap of writing about things “in demand” and not touching up on subjects that are more personal?
Good questions. Perhaps, many bloggers out there question same things at some point...and perhaps, there are no simple answers to WHY WE BLOG THE WAY WE DO?

So why Canada?
Or “why did you decide to come to Canada?”, or “where did you come from?” are the first questions that I usually get from people I meet for the first time. Come to think of it, that's not actually true, the first few questions I get are on my name - Ksenia. I guess it's not THAT common around here, so many people usually don't “get it” first time and make their own versions. It used to tick me off, but I made my piece with it over the years.
Once the “name confusion” gets settled, the “Canada” questions typically follow, which, I must say, come totally naturally from people. I mean, I would be asking same things had I been the one talking to a foreigner in my own country. As a reply, I usually use my “diplomatic” answers that I worked out over the years to give to people without having to tell them the whole story, without making the conversation too much about "me" and, without opening up too much when it's not needed.

Not here though.
That’s the beauty of having a blog - you can tell your stories without having to read people’s reactions right away, you get to go on and be though with it without being interrupted. And, believe it or not, I'm actually looking forward to reading what I have to say! How wonderfully weird is that?

Truth be told, I'd never thought I'd be living abroad in all my fully-gown 30 years. 
It wasn't my intent to be living in a country that is not my native and be speaking language that is not my mother tongue.
I'd been exposed to English very early though, from all those Disney cartoons and Hollywood movies that my sister and I grew up on. I had “officially” started to learn English in Grade 2 and had been to a few language schools in my early 20s; they helped a lot, but there is no day passing by without me learning something new and writing down new words and expressions. The learning curve here never stops.

My language skills, young age (23), some previous experience of living abroad short-term (language schools), had been tremendous help factors when I first arrived on this continent to go to college.
Thanks to my dear parents, who supported my travels and always encouraged me to learn new cultures and language, I knew what to expect when I arrived in Canada back in 2006 in terms of new place, new people and new culture.

So how did I come to a decision to stay and built my life here? I have to say that I wasn't really planning to...

Back in Russia, I had been living a very nice life, if you can put it that way. I had a lovely apartment in Moscow, a loving boyfriend and, I had just graduated from one of the Moscow universities. I was on a full intent to be looking for a job in marketing/advertising and was nowhere near the idea of going to study (more studying?) in another country.

Until I realized one day: is that all there is? Am I done? Had I settled on this life? In this particular country, in this city, on this street? 
The thought frightened me for some reason.
And once I had that taste of doubt, I couldn’t stop thinking about it...

To be continued...