Moving to Canada on an IEC Visa.

Arriving in Canada

(If you haven’t read Part 1 of this series, “The Application”, be sure to check it out by clicking here! Part 2, “Travelling to Canada”, is also available by clicking here!)

The travelling is over! You’ve made it to Canada and you should be proud. You’ve achieved an incredible feat. Something that so many people dream of doing! It’s a scary experience, but I am pleased to say, the worst is now over. Be that as it may, now you’ve reached the top of the mountain, you need to plant your flag. In this article, I want to talk about how I did that. Join me today as I discuss what’s involved in getting a social insurance number, arranging temporary accommodation, landing your first job and finally, getting your first apartment.

When I first arrived in Canada, I found myself at the bottom rung of a very tall ladder.

I had no immediate prospects, no car and no job. It sounds worrying but, I found it to be refreshing. It was a new start that I could craft into whatever I please, and I was eager to get underway. Yet I bore a weary mind and soul from the arduous journey, and no doubt you do too. For that reason, the first order of business should be to rest. You’ve got to shake that pesky jet lag and become accustomed to living in a new country, so do just that. Two years is a long time, and taking a week to yourself isn’t going to hurt. You’ve had a hard time getting here and deserve a well-earned rest.

In finding accommodation, I was quite lucky as I travelled with my partner. Her family live near Toronto, where we landed, so it wasn’t a problem for us. I know others on the IEC visa won’t be as fortunate, but hotels and companies such as Airbnb aren’t too expensive. For example, in Toronto, a stay with Airbnb will cost around $30-$60CAD per night. However, if you’re planning an extended stay, talk to the local hotels or hosts of the Airbnb accommodation; sometimes they will offer to reduce the overall cost of a long stay. 

Whether you do decide to stay at an Airbnb, a hotel or a friend’s place, I can’t recommend enough to do absolutely nothing for a short time, while you get yourself rested and organised.

When you finally decide it’s time to start working, then your next goal should be to get a SIN (Social Insurance) number. The majority of you should have received this right after crossing the border but as mentioned in my previous article (Part 2!), I had a bit of a problem here.

My plane suffered such a long delay that when I finally landed in Toronto, the company that provides SIN numbers had closed for the evening.

I don’t think the border officer realised this when I spoke to him. He stamped my passport, handed over my visa with a smile, and pointed at a “Service Canada” booth on the other side of the border. “The workers there will assign you a SIN number,” he explained. I jaunted over to the booth, asked the first worker I saw for my SIN in ever such a polite manner, and received a big fat “No!”  The kind manners of my border agent contrasted that of the SIN worker who dealt with me. I enquired further, unsure about what I would do without a SIN number and the worker replied in a blunt manner: “Go to another location.” He then pushed a business card into my hand (with no other locations listed on it but pointing here) and ushered me through to baggage claim. If it wasn’t for my Canadian girlfriend with her apt inside knowledge, I would have been at a loss. She explained that the business card was for a government initiative called “Service Canada,” (appropriately named, given the booth!) and that they have branches all over the country. So, if you’re not provided a SIN number in the airport, don’t fret. Look up your nearest Service Canada centre and show up whenever you please. No appointment necessary! Tell the receptionist that greets you why you’re there. Make sure you have your visa and passport with you, and away you go. You’ll walk out with a SIN number within the hour.

Relief was the most forefront of feelings once I had that settled. My irrational mind told me that by missing the collection of my SIN number, I’d never get another opportunity! I even had a brief moment of thinking I’d gone against the border officers’ rules in bypassing its collection. Illogical, I know. But I did all the worrying on that day, so that you don’t have to. With a SIN number in my possession, I could now get a job. Brilliant! But that wasn’t the next goal.

Time to open a bank account.

If I was to have a job, the money I earned had to go somewhere. We couldn’t earn cash in hand and have the taxman go hungry, after all. Enter the Big Five Banks of Canada: RBC, TD Canada Trust, Scotiabank, BMO and CIBC! They all offer varying packages and it can be hard to decide who to bank with. Especially considering that they all try to entice you with their “New to Canada” account. I won’t go into the details or the pros and cons (as I want to focus solely on my experience) here, so I’ll be blunt. I picked TD Canada Trust because it’s where my girlfriend and her family have banked all their lives.

They’ve not done me wrong in the six months I have been in Canada and we’re all perfectly happy, thank you very much.

I will, however, talk about my experience opening an account with TD Canada Trust and explain where you might find difficulty. When opening an account, TD required proof of my address within Canada. Though I was staying at my girlfriend’s parents’ house, I didn’t actually have any proof of that. At least, I didn’t think I did. I don’t know if it’s orthodox, but the teller at TD allowed me to open an account using my girlfriend as my proof of address. Yes, you heard it folks! I had a witness, if you will, to the address I offered TD and they were quite happy with that. Now, I know that might not be much help for someone new in the country with few contacts, so a bit of advice: I’ve heard some banks will accept Airbnb invoices as proof of address. Give it a go! Be warned though, whomever owns the Airbnb may receive your bank statements for the foreseeable future, unless you go paperless. My partner’s parents are still getting my paper statements today.

The experience of opening a bank account was so simple, it was refreshing. There’s a pattern here, isn’t there? I walked into the appointment feeling anxious; I knew the address may be an issue. And yet, I walked out surprised at how easy the ordeal turned out to be, and with a fresh new Canadian visa in my wallet (yep, they even hand those over in-store)!  With that settled, I could start working now, right?

Nope!

I needed a Canadian SIM card in my phone.

I could now work in Canada, but how would potential employers contact me? I couldn’t give them a UK number, but my phone was in good condition. I didn’t want a whole new one. No, a SIM only deal would suffice.

Not true.

I did need a new phone and you will too.

When I decided to take the SIM only path, I went with a Canadian company called Freedom Mobile. I agreed to a recurring pay-as-you go deal, with a pretty decent data plan, yet my phone could never pick up a signal or receive text messages. It just didn’t work. So, as soon as I could, I headed over to the local shopping mall and visited a Freedom Mobile branch. I presented the workers my phone and explained the issue. The technician clocked on straight away, asking if my phone was from outside of the Americas. I told him it was British and like a knowing genius, he let out a hearty laugh! For, it turns out, British phones work on a different frequency than American phones, so they won’t get a signal from the American TELUS towers.

That was the gist of it anyway.

Was I the victim of a sales-pitch?

Before I knew it, I had a brand-new phone. But I’m confident in what the technician told me, because the new phone worked with the new SIM card immediately. So, after a few light-hearted texts with the sister-in-law (my first Canadian number since my partner was still on her British phone!), I was ready to begin the job hunt!

The job hunt was a lot harder than I thought.

It wasn’t that I had a bad resume. In fact, in the least conceited way, my resume was pretty solid. Difficulty arose in the fact that recruitment agencies seemed to have a monopoly on the Canadian job market. I sent a thousand emails to different companies, via various websites including Indeed and LinkedIn, and found 99% of the responses I received were from agencies. Which would be fine, if the responses were job offers, but the recruitment agencies weren’t getting in touch with me for that reason. They were getting in touch with me to get me into their system, so that they could earn commission from finding me a job.

I despised it, but I crumbled. I took up an agency offer to help and let me tell you, it led to the worst job of my life.

I arrived at the agency, with my fancy resume in my bag and my best suit on, feeling like I was starting to get prospects. A well-dressed lady greeted me and took me through all the steps to register an account with them. At first, I thought it was all pretty standard.

She then offered me a job, without an interview, working in a warehouse.

To put matters into perspective, offering me a job in a warehouse felt like offering a vegetarian a ham. It wasn’t for me and did not reflect my resume in the slightest. It was as if the recruitment agency hadn’t even read my resume. They wanted to put me into work so they could get their commission and move me along. It didn’t matter to them where I worked.

It was as if someone else had taken control of me when I accepted their offer.

I wanted an income and it was the quickest way of getting one; that was my justification. I tried convincing myself that if I didn’t like the job, I could leave. Then I walked away feeling like the victim of a con. Who walks away after accepting a job offer, regretting it?! Something was afoot and my instincts weren’t wrong. The job was hard and mindless labour. I travelled an hour every day to get there, leaving at 5:00am, feeling exhausted before the sun was even up.

It. Was. Hard.

 When I came home, my face would be black with dirt and my joints would ache. It made me depressed, it made me regret leaving home, and it made me feel like I was underselling myself. My colleagues were rude, none of them would talk to me. If I said good morning, they’d ignore me. I was completely worthless, I didn’t matter, I could be fired in moments, I was being soul-crushed, I … I …

Even thinking about it now stirs a hornet’s nest.

But I don’t regret working for the warehouse because it earned me an income for the time I was there and, in fact, it led to my first apartment. Let’s talk about that!

When my partner and I felt ready to move out of her parent’s house, we looked on a website called Kijiji. The website had a slew of options, and we found the place for us after a few evenings of browsing. Though I must warn you, we did have to fight through scam offers to get to it. ANYBODY can post an advertisement on Kijiji so remember, if it sounds too good to be true, it probably is. Don’t pay money upfront without seeing a lease, and don’t accept a property without viewing. It sounds like common sense, right? But people did attempt it on us, believe me! Yet the apartment we did find was genuine. When we contacted the landlord, he offered us a viewing the very next day. My partner and I accepted. Without going into too much detail on the place, we loved it! We filled out an application to rent the same night, and though I had no Canadian credit history, we got the apartment!

Why?

How did we get an apartment without credit history?

… Because I proved I worked and was honest about it. Our apartment required a credit check but I levelled with the landlord. I told him I had no credit in Canada, but I showed I could get a job immediately; and to a landlord, that shows reliability. As much as I hated the warehouse, I know for a fact if it wasn’t for it, I never would have found the lovely apartment I am sitting in now.

So, thank you, recruitment agency monopolisation and thank you for your terrible warehouse job!

I learned in finding work, I couldn’t be picky. Because any job, no matter how hard it is, is a job. I went into work every morning feeling depressed, and came home every evening feeling even worse. There were some days where I didn’t want to show up at all — it was that bad — but I endured. For it, my girlfriend and I got the apartment and a constant income until, eventually, a more tempting job offer from a prominent company came along — with no agency involvement (I’m a little alienated from them right now)!

I am also so grateful the landlord took a chance on my partner and I, and that came from the fact that we were straight with him. You’ll find the best results by just being honest, which is an over-arching piece of advice in this series. Don’t be afraid to explain your situation, that you’ve just moved into the country and are still planting your roots. My landlord took a chance on my partner and I, because he said he’d been in the same situation before and knew what it was like. I wonder if we’d have still got our home had I not explained our situation. That being said, this piece of advice will only be relevant if you go for private rental. Bigger rental companies will focus simply on how your application competes with others. So, try to open an honest conversation with an individual instead of a faceless company.

… And that is my story! My first few months in Canada on an IEC visa and my experience in 2019, and a brief overview leading to where I am today.

I wanted to keep this article short and sweet for a quick read. BUT if you want me to go into more detail about anything, please don’t hesitate to get in touch via my contact email. I’ll be happy to help. Thank you for reading and best of luck in your IEC journey, whether it be in 2020 or 2050!

It’s not an easy journey, but my gosh is it a fulfilling one.

Welcome to Canada!

Moving to Canada on an IEC Visa.

Travelling to Canada

(If you haven’t read the Part 1 of this series, “The Application Process”, be sure to check it out by clicking here!)

_______________________________________________

Applying for an International Experience Canada (or IEC) visa involves many steps. Every situation is different. I don’t intend for this to be a step-by-step guide as there are already many great resources out there. Rather, I want to talk about my personal experience.


Furthermore, I applied for the visa in the 2018-19 season. Not only do I not remember every small detail, I’m also not 100% sure how the process may have changed since then. Please take what I write with a pinch-of-salt and as always, do your research!


Thanks for understanding.
_______________________________________________

I had done it! In my hands was my printed Port of Entry letter from the Canadian government. It felt so surreal. Even though the document was in front of me, I still anticipated an email explaining how there had been a mistake (luckily, that was not the case). The application process was one hundred percent complete. But that didn’t mean it was an easy ride onward. In fact, receiving the P.O.E raised a glaring question; “What do I do now?” I had a whole year to enter Canada but there was still lots to do in England. For one, I was in charge of much responsibility. I had a whole life back home, after all. Family, friends, work. I had no idea how any of them would react when I revealed the news. Would they accept it? I was confident it wouldn’t be a complete surprise; I’d mentioned my intentions to a few people but nobody knew I’d been successful, or that my dream was becoming a reality. Would those that supported the dream also support that it was becoming a reality?

For me, this was the cause of a lot of anxiety.

That evening, I returned from work and told my girlfriend the news in private. It was a fond moment for us both. She was moving back to Canada, her home, and now we wouldn’t have to part. The next two years of our relationship was secure. Then, I did nothing. I gave myself a few days to let the news rest (which I would recommend you do too). The surreal feeling of receiving a P.O.E never vanished, but after a few days my mind grew more rational and allowed me to create an action plan. It was February and I wanted to move in August when my girlfriend’s UK visa expired. That gave me six months to prepare, so I could take things slow. With that in mind, I set deadlines: I would tell my family by April and I would tell my work by July. They were the two aspects I was most worried about. My friends? Any night with a few beers would do the trick. Having a goal kept me from revealing things on an impulse. I was able to formulate how I’d tell all parties and, should I find the revelation met with criticism, I was able to rehearse in my head how to handle it. Doing this was refreshing. It was nice to have a plan though I will warn you now, dear readers, it did create anxiety as the deadlines approached. I had to be strong to not put them off further and no doubt, you will have to be strong too.

In the time leading up to April life felt pretty much normal. Since the journey to Canada was still a while away yet, all I could do was sit and wait for time to pass. It started to feel as if the move wasn’t happening anymore. Yet, the moment was fleeting. April arrived like a speeding bullet and I knew if didn’t tell my family then as planned, I never would. I decided on a weekend within the month and that I would take them all out for dinner. A positive was it allowed me to have a beer to help with the nerves, but alas, without a good reason it was hard to get my parents to accompany me. They questioned the occasion and my expensive restaurant choice and to my annoyance I had to relent, falling back on a cheaper location.

So, to the restaurant we went! The meal wasn’t much to write home about. Today, I can’t even remember what I had! But that’s not why we were there. I waited until the end of the meal. I didn’t want to ruin everyone’s appetite should my revelation go sour. When the plates were empty and the conversation had thinned, I cleared my throat:

“Mum, Dad. We have some news.”

They thought my girlfriend was pregnant.

In retrospect, of course they did, and to be honest, following that assumption telling them I was moving to Canada was easy. I remember the moment well. At first the table was silent. Everyone was taking the news in their own way and then my mother started crying. Somebody needed to break the ice. My Dad stepped up with an awkward smile, saying he’d seen the news coming from a mile away. Good man. That did it. My Mum shook away her tears and told my girlfriend and I how happy she was for us both. She reassured us that she was crying of happiness, because her son was moving up in the world.

Having my parents in the loop was a massive relief.

In fact, I wish I had told them sooner as my partner and I no longer had to discuss our plans in hushed tones.

With the first deadline in the past, the time between April and July – deadline two – was quiet. Though with my family now involved, the move started to feel real. They started to plan visits to Canada and a routine in which we’d still keep in communication. There were moments of struggle with the thought of parting, but for the most part we were all okay. I reiterate here that I wish I had told my family sooner. A loving family will always respect your decision. I learned that in April; that there was no need to be anxious about the reveal. So, if you’re juggling the notion of whether or not you’re ready to reveal your news, bite that bullet. Tell your family why you’re leaving and most of all, reassure them that you will strive to never forget your roots. Today, communication across great distances is a lot easier. The older generation may not realize that as much as you and I. So, keep letting them know you’re only as far away as the nearest phone or computer. I know it’s not the same as being there in person, but it’s better than nothing, after all.

Compared to telling my family, approaching work about the move in July was a lot easier. I was still nervous, but they had no choice but to accept my decision. With family it could have gone either way, but work couldn’t force me to stay. For that reason, I won’t linger too much on the work side of things. One sunny morning in July, I went in to the manager’s office. I explained everything and handed him my written notice. He was professional about it and after my notice period ended on August 1st 2019, I left my workplace for the last time. I had two weeks of freedom before the move on August 15th. Time to begin the real work.

With my girlfriend and I no longer in work, we booked the flight. We both purchased a one-way ticket from London Gatwick to Toronto Pearson via WestJet. I can’t quite remember what booking service we went through, but I digress. With it done, it was time to pack. My girlfriend is a minimalist, so she was happy to bring a small amount. But not me. If something had even a speck of sentimental value on it, I wanted to pack it. Our flight entitled us to one carry-on bag and one checked bag each and that wasn’t going to be enough. We were moving, this wasn’t a holiday. I wanted my whole life with me. Believe me, if my friends would fit, I’d have packed them too!

So, I went online and found on WestJet’s website that we could buy a larger baggage allowance for £40, with increments on each additional bag. Thank you, WestJet, for that cash grab. As much as it hurt, we bought the allowance and, in the end, had a total of five checked bags between us. We packed light on clothes because we could always buy new clothes in Canada, then stuffed the bags with items we didn’t want to leave behind.

I also took this time to check and double check I had all the documents I would need at the border printed out. To be thorough, I printed out the ones that weren’t stated as required on the CIC website as well as those that were. I mean, it was better to have them with me on the off-chance the border agent needed more details, right? By the time my partner and I had finished packing, I had a plastic wallet containing EVERY document I’d received during the application process. I was covering all bases. Among those documents was my health insurance for the two-year period of the IEC. Let’s discuss that.

For my health insurance, I decided to go with TrueTraveller. They offer three packages at varying price: True Value, Traveller and Traveller Plus. I elected to go for Traveller, without the additionally offered winter sports cover. It was a nice middle ground costing around £600 for two years. What made me decide to go with TrueTraveller as my insurer? To be honest, I chose them because it was the recommended one from the consensus of the Facebook groups. Nothing more, nothing less. Think about it. The social media groups are a collection of experienced travellers who have used the IEC Visa. They know what’s up! I put complete faith in them. I signed up on the TrueTraveller website, paid the £600 and added the documents they sent to my growing plastic wallet. Easy.

Last, with the packing complete and my girlfriend and I all but ready to leave, I needed proof of funds dated within a week of our departure. I was quite anxious about this particular step as I’d read all manner of stories online. I had the funds, that wasn’t the worry. I’d read that the proof of funds needed a stamp from the bank and that some banks were difficult about doing it. It turns out, I was over-thinking again. Of course I was. On the last weekend before the move, I logged onto my online banking account and printed my latest statement. Five minutes later, I was in the car on the way to the bank. I imagine with this, the dependability on whether you get your stamp or not is on the teller behind the counter. I was quite lucky because I was served by someone all too thrilled to help. There is a massive chance factor here. Yet, if one branch refuses, go to another and try again. Keep doing this, be forward and someone will relent! Bear in mind I am talking from an English perspective! I can’t attest for other countries.

As far as I’m aware, getting the proof of funds stamped isn’t a rule, but it can’t hurt to be safe, right?

The proof of funds joined the pile. I checked, double checked, and triple checked everything was in place. This was happening. The day before my girlfriend and I were due to fly, we booked the taxi from our house to the airport.

The day of the flight arrived and the taxi phoned, cancelling our travel plans.

British Airport Transfers said their only available car had broken down in the airport and there was nothing they could do about it. I protested but they may as well have responded with,
“Sorry. Better luck next time.”

It was so rage-inducing. How could British Airport Transfers be so incompetent and leave us in a lurch?!  I took to the internet looking for another service, completely panic-ridden. I thought it was going to be too short notice for such a long transfer. It turns out taxi drivers prefer short notice. At least that’s what our eventual savior told us. When you put a request out, the drivers fight about who gets to snap it up and the shorter the notice, the fiercer the competition. Drivers can slip in and grab a job like ours, teeming with a payout. That’s exactly what happened. A thrilled taxi driver showed up within a few hours of having the last booking cancelled, solving all our problems. Good riddance to British Airport Transfers.

The goodbye with my family was sad and the journey long. My girlfriend and I both had a lot on our mind, having left home and though we made a bit of small talk with our driver, most of the journey was in silence. It made for a long, depressing trip. Though the taxi driver was quite thrilled by the end of it. He requested we phone him personally should we need a transfer in the future, but alas his number has since been lost in all the chaos of the move. Should we ever return home and need to commute again, we’ll be back to square one in searching for a reliable driver. We’ll manage though, we always do. Even when British Airport Transfers threw hurdles in our path, we overcame them and made it to the airport.

Maneuvering around the airport with five suitcases and our carry-on bags was tough. The two of us had piled them onto a single trolley, fitting them like a game of Tetris. Our tower was unstable so we tied together several luggage straps to hold the pieces together. It must have looked comical to the other travellers. It was a struggle, but when we dropped the bags off at WestJet’s counter, the relief was indescribable. Each bag slipped under WestJet’s weight limit by mere grams and vanished into oblivion. I didn’t matter who took them or where they went now; as long as they showed up on the conveyor belt in Toronto Pearson.

There’s not much to say about the rest of our time in the airport. It was a pretty smooth ride, and everything went perfect. Which, for my girlfriend and I, made for a bit of a bad omen. Things were going too smooth. Something had to go wrong. 

It did. 

We boarded the plane at around 11:00am. As the scheduled departure time drew near, the pilot announced over the speakers that there was a problem with one of the emergency exits. Hello four-hour delay! My girlfriend and I were furious. For the entirety of the delay, we had to sit with nothing to do, while we were spoon fed information and excuses from the captain. It was agonizing.

When the flight did take off at last and I mean, at last, it was a typical, uneventful journey. Crying babies, little room to move and a bad selection of films to watch! But by the time we landed, the earlier delay was all but forgotten about. Everyone aboard was just thrilled to finally be in Canada!

Now I’ve hedged over the flight, onto the part you’ve all been waiting for (or skipped ahead to) …

Crossing the border!

As you can imagine, by the time my partner and I arrived in Canada, we were both shattered. To make matters worse, our plane landed so far away from the terminal, we had to get a bus to arrivals! It was salt on the wound but we wouldn’t let it get to us. We’d made it. I had to keep telling myself that was the most important part. We’d made it.

The first step upon arrival was to fill out a deceleration card using an electronic terminal. It’s pretty standard procedure. In fact, the only difficult part I discovered was when it asked how long I intended to stay in Canada. The machine doesn’t assume you’re in Canada on a visa, let alone an IEC. So, you have to enter the duration of your stay in days. I had arrived on a one-way ticket so I didn’t know how long I would stay in Canada for. Especially if you also consider I very much intended to return home and visit my family. If I put 730 days into the machine, would I be making the future more difficult if I visited England? Would the border accept that? The matter left me stumped and of course, there’s no help anywhere. My partner didn’t know either. To push us onward, I bit my tongue and entered 730 days anyway. If there were any problems, I would deal with them and be honest. It was as close to the truth as I could get without guessing when I planned to visit my family. Thankfully it sufficed. We got to the border and the officer that greeted us looked at the declaration receipt the machine spat out at me. He raised an eyebrow and asked if I was a permanent resident of Canada. I mentioned the IEC and with a glint of recognition in my eyes, he scribbled a big green cross on the declaration receipt and ushered me to a second checkpoint. Here a second officer greeted me. This was the real check. The one before was child’s play. This is where my papers would come out.

To my surprise, the officer was friendly! Very friendly. In my head, I’d always imagined a gruff old man with no thought of others but himself. One that would be by the book and as hard as rock. But the officer that greeted me couldn’t have been further away from that. He was all smiles and good spirits! I dropped my teeming plastic wallet in front of him, expecting I’d have to stand there for the next while as he dug through the papers, but interestingly enough, he only took my Port of Entry letter out. I handed him my passport, of course, but the biometrics, the proof of funds? Waste of time. He checked over the passport and letter and then asked what my plans in Canada were. I explained I was coming over to find work and settle for the extent of my IEC. He then asked if I had a medical check done, to which I responded I didn’t need one (it’s not a requirement coming from England). He nodded, tapped some buttons on his computer keyboard – I imagine bringing my file up – then walked away and printed off my visa. I couldn’t believe it. He handed it over, asked me to check my details were correct and directed me to a booth where I could get my SIN number.

Yep. That. Was. It.

Aside from my Port of Entry letter and passport, I didn’t need to produce any documents. At all. I don’t know if it helped having them in front of me in the big intimidating plastic wallet or if the officer just wanted to move me along after a busy day. It didn’t matter. The point is, I had made it through and it was easy despite all my months of panic and anxiety.

I was through the Canadian border in about twenty minutes.

I did have some issues at the SIN booth but we’ll touch upon that in the next article. What matters here and now is that I’d made it and I didn’t need to worry for all of the months I had. It was done, and you shouldn’t worry either. Be organized. Be on point and remember, there’s no limit to how much information you can bring with you. I got incredibly lucky but the person looking over your documents could be anybody. You could very well get the gruff old jobs worth. But the point is, I had all my paperwork prepared so even if that was me, then I would have still made it through no problem. Plan, plan, plan and don’t make the mistake I did. Don’t go in feeling anxious. You won’t get turned away if your documents are there. I spent months worrying — which I will reiterate — for only twenty minutes at the border.

In hindsight, I’d have been way more relaxed in the months before August 2019.

With that, my move was over and I had made it to Canada! Join me for last article of this series, where we’ll talk about settling down on the IEC Visa!

PART 3: ARRIVING IN CANADA

Moving to Canada on an IEC Visa.

The Application Process

____________________________________________

Applying for an International Experience Canada (or IEC) visa involves many steps. Every situation is different. I don’t intend for this to be a step-by-step guide as there are already many great resources out there. Rather, I want to talk about my personal experience.

Furthermore, I applied for the visa in the 2018-19 season. Not only do I not remember every small detail, I’m also not 100% sure how the process may have changed since then. Please take what I write with a pinch-of-salt and as always, do your research!


Thanks for understanding.
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December 2018. I’m sitting in a bus, a cold chill in the air outside, on the way to Toronto; thinking about how life would be if I lived in Canada. I was on holiday; spending a happy Christmas with my girlfriend’s family. At the time, I had never heard of the IEC visa. I thought moving to Canada would be a case of registering a few details online, paying a fee and waiting for a response from the government, but it turns out there is a lot more to it than that! Whether dictated by fate or my own dumb luck, on that dreary bus ride, I decided to look up the process on my phone. That’s when I discovered the IEC Pools. My heart sank as it struck me an invitation from the Canadian government is required to apply for a visa. In mere moments, the dream of living in Canada fell a million miles away. There was a chance factor involved and I wasn’t that lucky.

A little bit of background is necessary here. My girlfriend is Canadian and she had moved to the United Kingdom (my home) in 2016 on a similar visa to the IEC. The UK government granted her visa on a first-come-first basis so I assumed Canada would be the same. Upon learning they used a random selection process instead, it put our entire future on the line. I raged and cussed, feeling deep down that it meant an end to our time together was nigh. Thanks to the Canadian government, we’d go back to being a long distance couple and after living together, I feared it would put too much of a strain on us. The thought was agonising. Before my partner moved to England, we only managed to see each other two or three times a year. Could you imagine having to go back to that after spending everyday sharing the same house? It wasn’t a happy thought at all. So that night, I scrambled for my passport. It was still nesting in my carry-on bag from my recent journey to Toronto Pearson. With it in hand, I clambered to enter my details on the CIC website (Canada’s immigration home), diving head first into their selection pool. I was furious about it but I’d done my part. Our future was in fates hands now.

That was the last I heard about the IEC for a while.

Christmas and New Year sped by and like all that is good in life, my holiday had ended. I was back in England; back to the gears of work, turning with nothing able to stop them. I had dismissed the IEC in my mind to but a dream never to happen. It didn’t help ease that relegation when disaster struck. I had jumped into the pool in such an over-eager manner, in doing so I didn’t quite realise what I was getting myself into. When I finally had the time to research, I realised if I was successful, my passport would expire before the visa would. I didn’t know what to do. How could Canada issue me a visa when my passport would expire before that visa did? It didn’t sound at all plausible. I immediately took to the internet, discovering quickly that it wouldn’t happen. I’d get permission to enter Canada but as soon as the border officer saw my passport, he’d give me a shorter visa. For me, that was a big no. A once in a lifetime opportunity! Why would I want it shortened? I immediately applied for a new passport via the British Government and waited the 3 or so weeks for it to come. In that time, I didn’t receive an invitation from Canada but I didn’t want to pull my old passport out of the pool either. I’m sure the CIC suggested to do so and re-enter with my new passport but I thought that would lessen my chances of selection for some reason. I know the process is random, I do. Though in the moment, when uncertainty prevails, the mind runs rampant. I’d figure out a plan of action with the new passport when and if an invitation for me arrived. Yet, I asked myself so many questions, I put myself into a panic. I had applied with one passport number, what if they tied that passport to my application? What if it was too late to accept my new passport? What if it invalidated the whole process?

I was over-thinking.

It was while this panic was on-going that my invitation from the CIC arrived. It was a plain grey English morning, the middle of January. I’d not been awake for very long. My girlfriend was still in bed and I was getting ready for work; the IEC the last thing on my mind. In fact, if I remember correctly, I was eating a bowl of cereal when the email notification on my computer crept up. It wasn’t quite the celebratory, “Congrats, you’re invited!” I’d expected but rather, an email stating a new message was available in my CIC account.

I’d. Been. Picked.

I couldn’t believe it. I must have read that email a hundred times again and again even though this was still the beginning.

I’d. Been. Picked.

Little did I know, there was still a whole minefield to cross.

One bright side, however, is that after receiving my invite, the passport issue resolved itself. It turned out, all I had to do was update my passport on the application form. Job done. Easy. Leaving it at that would have probably been fine but I remained paranoid. What if the person reviewing my application saw I’d changed my passport? What if this affected my credibility as an applicant? I wasn’t taking any chances. Digging deeper, I discovered a section on the CIC website that allowed the upload of additional, non-requested, documents. I typed an explanation letter, my fingers flying across the keyboard like thunder; “I messed up!” I included scans of my original passport, I included the number of my new passport and I hit send. That was the last I ever heard of the issue. Much later, when I got my visa, it was tied to my new passport. All the panic, all the over-thinking fell into memory. If I could go back in time and talk to myself from a year ago, I would tell him not to panic, not to stress out. It all worked out, after all. The issue with my passport proved that the key to the application is honesty and confidence. The agents reviewing the application are human, so explain to them everything. There’s no limit to the amount of information the CIC accept. Okay, I admit, the extra document section allows only one extra document to be uploaded but how long can you make it, eh? There’s some food for thought.

Anyway, one problem settled so next, I filled in the application. I’ll level with you here. It’s been a year since I did this and I can’t remember the intricate details (hence my disclaimer). To hedge around my memory a bit and reiterate the last paragraph the key is honesty. Organisation helps too. Stay on top of all the paper-work, all the documents and if you need help; use the Facebook groups. Failing that, check the Moving2Canada website and even the official IEC website! All the information is there, I promise.

Next was the Police Check. I’ve only ever lived in England so mine was quite easy; I had to go onto the Acro UK website and apply. Simple. It cost £45. The hardest part, in fact, was finding a reference. It had to be someone I’d known for two years, that wasn’t family and worked in a particular industry. All roads pointed me in the direction of asking a colleague but in doing that, I’d be telling work, “Hey, I’m leaving!” Something I wasn’t yet prepared to do. In the end, on Facebook, I got in touch with an ex-colleague of sorts who’d moved away. He was all too happy to help but as it turned out, Acro never even contacted him. I didn’t bother with the quicker, premium service and in less than ten days, the police check had arrived. About 24 or so hours later after I submitted it, I received a request from the CIC to complete my biometrics.

For me, completing my biometrics meant going to London and in this regard, I was quite lucky as my home was only a two-hour train ride from the city. I understand a lot of people have to travel further, some even having to take flights! If you’re reading this and you’re one of those people; it’s worth it. Once you’ve been living in Canada for a month or two, you won’t be thinking about the hardship you endured in getting here. Trust me. In any case, at the time the Visa Application Center accepted walk-in appointments. Yet, with my paranoid mind, I still booked an appointment for a week or so later. That’s right, another waiting game. Though when the time did come, my girlfriend and I decided to make a day of it. My appointment was first thing in the morning, so we booked a hotel in London for the night before. My partner stayed indoors watching TV as I made my way to the Application Centre. As I recall, I bought with me a print-out of everything I’d received from the CIC website so far. Though the most important documents you need are your passport and biometrics request letter. The appointment was a quick process. When I walked in, a receptionist greeted me. I handed him my passport and my biometrics letter and I was soon shepherded to a waiting room. Within, everyone was assigned a number. They prioritised appointments over walk-ins, so I was through to a small office in no time. A lady sat behind the desk and took my finger-prints and some photos of me. She printed out a receipt and five minutes later, I was taking my leave. The application centre informed the CIC I’d completed my biometrics and that was that.

Once again, I had to wait and that was the hardest part of the entire process.

Up until this point, the application process had been pretty quick. Sure, there was waiting but each stage played right into the next. There was always something happening but not any longer. Worst of all, the CIC website itself sent me no notification to say they’d received my biometrics. I had to log-on and on my dashboard, observe there was a date listed next to the biometrics listing on the front page. It didn’t help much with my paranoid mind! There was no, “Cheers for providing that pal, we’ll let you know the results soon!

Silence.

Had I made a mistake? The doubt was one of the hardest parts of the application. Especially as more time went on. I knew the CIC website listed an eight-week processing time but I found myself stalking websites like Twitter; reading comments from people who’d received their Port of Entry within mere days. It drove me crazy! I even took to the Facebook groups, scrolling down the comments section, scaring myself more and more. The hardest part to accept about the waiting though is that there is nothing that can be done about it. As the saying goes, the ball is completely within the CIC’s court and as agonising as it is, one must endure.

It was about five weeks for me. Not quite the full eight but it felt like years. I was in work. Nothing at all to state that the day had at last arrived. Like my initial invitation, an email appeared in my inbox:
Your account has been updated
A new message has been received in your account.”
My wording might not be exact, I’m going off memory here but you get the gist! I walked into the hallway at work, looking around to make sure no managers were watching. On my phone, I logged in to my CIC account. I was shaking. What if they denied me? Could you imagine? In the middle of work! Having to finish the day as if no bad news had been given. Having to go home and explain to my partner I wasn’t going to Canada with her. In retrospect, I should have waited until I got home before even checking. We could have opened the email together but I was oh so eager. Like waiting for a response from the CIC about my invitation, the email took a lifetime to open. When it did it was to say my Port of Entry had arrived. Funnily enough, accompanied with it was a letter saying they’d received my biometrics. Why that took so long to come through, I don’t know! …But I did it! I was moving to Canada!

Join me in my next article of this series as I discuss the next steps! Telling my family, preparing for the big day and making the leap across the border!

PART 2: TRAVELLING TO CANADA

There is still a wealth of knowledge to come!