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“It took me a while to feel Canadian,” writes Gael Melville in a recent ã‚°ãƒãƒ¼ãƒ– & メール エッセイ, describing her experience as an expat who relocated to Toronto from her native Scotland.
She bemoans the difficulty of wading through the bureaucratic issues:
“What’s a SINカード?” “What’s OHIP?” “Why does the bank charge us for taking our own money out of our account?” …”Why can’t I register to vote?” “Why is my credit card limit a measly $250 when I have the proceeds of the sale of my apartment in my bank account?” “Why can’t I use my professional accounting designation in Canada?”
ã—ã‹ã—〠“what proved significantly more difficult to fix,” 彼女ã¯æ›¸ã„ã¦, “was the yawning gap in my cultural knowledge.”
“誰ã§ã™ã‹ セブンã®ã‚°ãƒ«ãƒ¼ãƒ—?” “Who are マーガレット·アトウッド 㨠レナード·コーエン?” Canadians indulged my lack of knowledge of the arts with patient explanations and visits to cultural sites, but pop-culture references were omnipresent and perplexing. “What is the Humidex?” “What is a two-four?”
ã‚ãªãŸã¯ä½•ã«ã¤ã„ã¦? What were your bureaucratic challenges when you first came to Canada? ãã—ã¦ã€éš™é–“ã«ã¯ã€ä½•ã ã£ãŸ ã‚ãªãŸ cultural knowledge?
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写真㧠odolphie (Flickrã®)