#27 Home Sweet Home

We entered Canada not having any clue what to expect from our new Country. We found out upon arriving that it was the eve of a long Canadian Thanksgiving weekend. With the actual holiday on Monday, Canadians were getting ready to spend the weekend giving thanks with traditional turkey dinners. Celebrating Thanksgiving in mid-October made us feel more like foreigners than we had expected. We were thankful that Trav had the "holiday" off, delaying the longest summer vacation in history. However, we knew it would definitely impede our much needed apartment hunting so we decided to spend the weekend eating much missed Indian food.


We had been scouring Craigslist for the past 30 days, for endless hours each day, trying to find the perfect place to live in Vancouver. Hopeful searching had turned to complete desperation in the final days before leaving Florida as we realized that extremely expensive Vancouver was filled with paranoid, dog-hating landlords.


We had previously decided that we wanted to live in the heart of Vancouver to get a true taste of the city life. After 30 days and countless hours of searching, we found that 'city life' would cost around $3,000/month for 500 square feet. We were glad that 90-percent of the rentals we had seen online were furnished (after having sold all of our things) but we quickly learned that “furnished” in Vancouver meant “only dollhouse furniture fits here”. Places and their furnishings were so ridiculously small, I found myself expecting to see apartments that shared a bathroom per floor like laundry. When it became painfully obvious that "furnished" meant "nonfunctional", I started to panic. Potential landlords advising that Bob's wolverine-like weight exceeded their pet policy or that he "isn't allowed in the bedrooms of the residence" made me want to scream. I remembered that the homeless population in Vancouver all seemed to have dogs that were Bob's size. Made me think they weren't homeless before they came to Vancouver- they just couldn't find anywhere to live. What had we done?

north van in the background

The city was silent on the Saturday of the big holiday weekend and the weather was continuing it’s streak of amazing warmth and sun. Having found nothing on Craigslist for downtown Vancouver in our morning pining over coffee, we decided to expand our search across Vancouver Harbour to North Vancouver, aka "North Van".

convention center downtown vancouver

I've been telling everyone that living in Vancouver is like living in a National Geographic magazine. Every time I turn my head, the beauty is overwhelming. Travis wanted to strangle me, as every 30- seconds I wanted to stop and capture "the perfect shot". The sound and sight of sea planes taking off made me feel like a kid seeing a whole new world for the very first time. As the fog settled in to hug the small city, even the rain became beautiful. It was hard to stay focused on the task at hand.

view from north van

North Van starts right at the waterfront and ascends up the mountainside. There are gorgeous apartments and condos with cute restaurants that line each street inviting you to inch your way up the steep climb. We traversed each street through "lower" and then "middle Lonsdale", looking for “For Rent” signs. Since Craigslist wasn’t producing any results and realtors seemed to "Holiday" every day, we were told the best way to find a steal was to hit the streets ourselves. We saw plenty of ground level condos (our first choice with Cujo, I mean Bob), but none were for rent. We were literally looking for "signs" as we tried to picture home in Vancouver. We had previously looked at North Van as a huge concession and now it appeared there wasn’t any vacancy anyway. This wasn’t going to be easy.

As the fog crossed the harbour (Canadians like to add unnecessary "u"s to words) from North Van, we boarded the Sea Bus back to downtown Vancouver. We grabbed a beer and some nachos at the opposite waterfront as we watched North Vancouver, and our hopes of a big affordable home, get swallowed up by the rain.

The rain passed quickly, as it usually seems to do and we made our way to Stanley Park. Another absolutely indescribably beautiful place in Vancouver. As the rain turned to mist, we were all of a sudden in a distant forest, which seemed miles away from everything. Even though we had been walking forever, we didn’t want to stop. We kept turning each page of the most beautiful magazine, we’d ever seen.

When Tuesday came, Trav was ready to go to work and I was ready to find us an apartment. I had two afternoon appointments that we had managed to set up over the weekend, and I made sure to scour Craigslist prior to heading out for the day. I contacted a realtor 4 hours after what seemed to be the perfect place was posted online. I was shocked when she actually responded and was available right then to show it. Having nothing but this mission on my plate for the day, I flew out the door and down to Yaletown.

I didn’t expect that I would get to the building as quickly as I had from the hotel (which is a big plus for Trav) and was 15 minutes early to the appointment. I took the time to walk through the park and along the gorgeous sea wall just steps from the building. I walked down to the Sea Bus which provides transport to Granville Island (Farmers Market) and/or Olympic Village (Beer and Nachos). I wanted to tell the realtor that we would take the apartment before I had even stepped inside.

The realtor showed up to the Drake St showing under-dressed and disheveled, as I had expected, and as soon as the doors opened to the 11th floor apartment, I had a hard time keeping any kind of poker face. The view from the floor-to-ceiling windows seemed to smack me in the face and I nearly pushed the realtor over as I rushed into the circular shaped living room. Where had this view been all of our lives!? I not only wanted it, I didn’t want to leave. I had to compose myself and cross my fingers that the rest of the place wasn't repulsive as nothing could be this perfect. As we walked through two bedrooms and two bathrooms, past the fireplace and mud room off the balcony, I realized it’s never too early to give thanks as I said my own silent prayer of gratitude for Vancouver.

I’m not sure that “one and done” translates in Canada as the realtor gave me a weird look in response to my attempt at humor. She just limply shook my hand in parting. I was honest when I told her that I had two more appointments to get to and would get back to her by the end of the day. I tried not to skip the few blocks as I was already picturing how I’d decorate the Drake St apartment.


I waited outside the large apartment building on Seymour Street for the next realtor. I was deep in thought when I was almost run over by a rushing “Pippi Longstocking” in a bright pink pea coat. Of course it was the realtor. I couldn’t get past the pigtails and pinkness, as we rode the elevator to the 21st floor. With only one bedroom, this place was the same price as the Drake St apartment but was “furnished”. I tried to squeeze by the desk pretending to be a dining table and the loveseat pretending to be a couch as I pretended to be interested in the apartment to appease Pippi.  I promised I’d call at the end of the day and rushed to my last apartment.

I had 15-minutes to make it across False Creek to Olympic Village and decided to take my chances with the scenic route and took the Cambie Street Bridge. It was gorgeous. I know, I keep saying that. Now you know how Travis feels.

yaletown from cambie st bridge

I made it just in time to see the next realtor ushering out a couple who had just seen the apartment and were now asking for an application. Cutthroat. I had my work cut out for me.

I was led up to the 9th floor apartment and was impressed by the immediate view, but not by the lingering smell. As I entered the apartment, the difference between “furnished” and “tenant occupied by someone who’s had multiple cats for the last 6 years” was disturbingly clear. I was barely in the hallway when I was met by a sliding glass door that I guess led to the second bedroom and I heard panic in the realtor’s voice. “Oh Oh wait! You have to take off your shoes!”. As I turned, I actually heard myself say “Really?” I tried to wipe the look of surprise off of my face as I took off my boots and put them next to the pile of laundry... in the hallway... As if improper use of a sliding glass doors didn't make me want to run, the cat puke all over the furniture sure did. After very obviously refusing to make eye contact with the puke, the realtor entertained me with his continuous attempts to still sell the place. I thanked him for his time, and tried to remember my shoes as I ran out.  I rushed back to the hotel to make Drake Street an offer.

The first realtor had let it slip that the landlord just wanted it rented and she really didn’t even know how much it was listed for. I took advantage and we negotiated the deal of the century. That was only step one.

We had secured our work permits at the border when we arrived to Canada which meant Travis could start work right away. We then had to get Canadian social security numbers to be able to open a bank account. When the US counterpart of our Canadian bank acted like no American had ever moved North, the stress intensified as we tried to transfer the funds needed to hold the apartment. When I was finally able to drop off the check, I still wasn't stress-free. That was only step two.

The walk-through date was set and pending any repairs, we were going to get our keys. Yet the night before we gained access to the first place we've called home in seven months, I couldn't sleep. Travis had never even seen the place. Talk about pressure.


We gained keys to the apartment during the last week of October and Travis fell as much in love with the place as I did. It was even better than I had remembered. We finally had the keys, I couldn't wait to live here. Unfortunately, that was only step 3.

Our amazing apartment sits empty as we wait for more steps in this long process of 'coming home'. After 30 days in the hotel, our stuff that has gone from New York in April to the Bahamas, to Miami to Daytona, has been picked up from Florida and is in transit to Washington. Like starving dogs waiting for scraps, we wait daily for word on when our stuff will arrive to Vancouver. Securing a move-in date will only bring us through step 4.

We found out yesterday that step 5 includes us meeting our stuff at that crazy Canadian border...

Miles to go before we sleep...

Read Next: #28- The Map That Leads To You, Dec 30