Not buying a house

It's interesting how you buy and sell a house here. In South Africa there is one agent, and he or she acts on behalf of both parties. This is obviously not the ideal situation but it has always seemed to work. My latest experience with selling a property in South Africa made it blatantly clear to me that once the deal is done, the agent is not interested (commission is guaranteed), and he or she will always be acting on behalf of the purchaser.

In Canada there is a buyer's agent and a seller's agent and it's strictly regulated as to how the roles function. We started working with our agent (realtor) in Canada months before we even arrived and Keith and I have been looking at houses since the day that Keith arrived. We've seen lots that we like and one that we love. So we decided to put in an offer. And this is how it went.

An appointment is made to present the offer. The buyer's agent takes the offer to the seller and his or her agent, in this case to their home. We waited outside in the car. They talked, and negotiated, and talked some more and then our realtor came out to the car with the counter-offer. We talked, and negotiated, and talked some more and sent him back inside with our counter-offer. They talked, and negotiated, and talked some more and sent him back to us with their counter-offer. And so it went, buy and seller in anonymous positions and buyer's agent and seller's agent in the line of fire.

We finally gave them 12 hours to make a decision on what was our final offer. They rejected us the next day. So we carried on looking but knowing inside that the house we loved, was the house we wanted. So we went back for round two. And an hour before the talk, negotiate and talk some more, the house was taken off the market.

We're not buying a house - not yet anyway.

House-hunting (do I really need windows and doors?)

We’ve rented a furnished apartment for a few months but it’s not perfect for us. We want our furniture, which has arrived and is now sitting in storage and we want a yard for the dogs. We’re staying in a great area called the Annex. Its part of the University of Toronto so there are lots of frat houses around us. We are close to the subway, busses, stylish Yorkville and downtown. But it’s an expensive area. Our South African Rand, after being converted to Canadian Dollars doesn’t mean much so our buying power is slightly limited but we definitely want to get into the property market. It’s certainly safer than leaving your money in the bank these days. We’ve been very fortunate to have secured a mortgage at a ridiculous rate (anything is ridiculous compared to South Africa where the prime lending rate is somewhere around 14% or 15% as opposed to here where it is hovering around 4%).

So Keith and I set off on Sunday to look at houses. We’ve been searching the Internet for about six months. Boy, were we in for a rude awakening. Our price range limits us to houses that made us want to cry. So off we went back to the bank this morning and begged for more, and they gave it to us. It’s interesting to hear the different perceptions that people have here. Toronto is essentially a safe city. The crime rate is low, there was something like 85 murders here last year (my numbers may be totally wrong, I’m just quoting what I’ve read) and when people talk about crime, they are generally referring to burglary and theft from cars. But one incident can make someone refer to an area as “high crime”, and “dangerous”. It’s relative when you come from a place like Johannesburg where you are surrounded on a daily basis with violent crime, hijackings, murder and rape. There are homeless people here, there are prostitutes and crack heads and there are questionable areas. I suspect that to a person who has lived here all their life, and not been exposed to crime like we have, that this is very dangerous. To us, who have become so immune, this is paradise.

So we are looking at three different areas that we like, and one is considered “dangerous” but we went and walked around the area tonight and for the Joburg people, it felt just like Melvillee; slightly grungy but full of life. We walked around for two hours, up and down the streets and I even stopped three people to ask them about the area and if they liked living there. We took the streetcar halfway home and then walked the rest of the way, stopping at Starbucks for the obligatory coffee (Grande, soy, wet, Splenda-in latte, and tall Americano with room please) and constantly amazed by the lone people walking around, lots of girls with headphones in their ears strolling along without a care in the world. It’s unbelievable for people like us, from the world we come from. Keith and I realise how much anger we lived with in South Africa, and how easily forgotten it is here.

So, I’ll take the crack heads, I’ll take the homeless and the projects, I’ll take the prostitutes, I’ll take the house that I can afford in the quiet street in the “dangerous” area and I’ll walk home alone late at night without looking over my shoulder, without fear that someone is going to kill me for my cell phone. I have no doubt that in a year’s time I’ll be able to sell my house in the “dangerous” area and move up. But I’ll take it, for now.

International Dogs

There was no question in my mind that if the dogs couldn’t come with to Canada, I wouldn’t go. Some people laughed at me but most understood, given how much a part of my life they are. A 7-month quarantine is one of the reasons why I would never consider going to live in Australia and I have no regard for anyone that puts their dogs down or gives them away when they leave. Owning a dog is a lifetime commitment; you don’t just give them away. I’m not talking about breakups and times when you just cant afford to keep them, or when you cant provide for them. I’m talking about having the conscious choice to emigrate, take furniture, children and money but leave your dogs behind because you don’t want the hassle, the costs or to have to pay more for a house with a yard. It’s horribly judgmental of me, but I make no apologies for how I feel. I honestly feel that we will be judged on how we treat animals (and our mothers, but that’s an entire blog on its own).

Anyway…I chose to bring all three of my fur children with me. The cost was not prohibitive, especially given the fact that there is no quarantine when coming into Canada. I booked them on the flight and then went through the agonizing process of reading up on the internet and calling the Pet Transport company constantly to ask questions about the containers, their food and water, the plane, the cabin pressure, the heat, the comfort, the delays, the layovers, the aeroplanes, the pilots and the staff. I even went so far as to email a friend, who is a pilot, to insist that they find the person flying the actual KLM planes and inform him exactly what kind of cargo he was about to carry and that if anything happened to them, I would FIND him (or her).

Petwings (who I think are absolutely fantastic) fetched the dogs last Monday afternoon from our soon to be ex-house in Parkhurst. Keith was hysterical. Dexter and Troy went quietly into their wooden crates, tail between the legs and lay down, dejected. Jessie was hysterical, screaming and throwing herself against the sides of the wooden crate. And off they went. Keith was about to fly himself, on a different airline and would be in the air when they landed. He wouldn’t know for about 10 hours if they were here safe or not.

I counted the hours, put a picture of them on my vision board, next to a picture of an aeroplane and tried not to think about it. I bought new collars, leads, food, bowls and treats (spending more on them than I did on the grocery shopping). At 4pm I made my way to the airport and went to KLM cargo. I walked in and announced that I was there to fetch my children just as Animal Services arrived to inspect them. I couldn’t see them, they didn’t know where the dogs were and all I had was a bunch of customs forms stating that 3 live animals needed to be inspected (damn straight they were 3 live animals). I was then told that I couldn’t see them until I went back to the main airport terminal and declared my import and paid my $42 customs duties. That took me an hour in the rush-hour traffic. By the time I got back to cargo the dogs had been inspected and deemed suitable for import and the three wooden crates were in eyes view. They were turned though so the dogs couldn’t see me but I could hear Dexter and Troy barking away, and Jessie chatting happily to anyone that walked past. Another South African family had arrived to fetch their two cats and they were just as anxious as me. Finally, after handing over my stamped forms, and paying another $60 I was allowed into the warehouse and boy did my babies go mad. I opened up the crates and they literally bounced right into the back of the car, lay down and went straight to sleep. We got home about an hour later and I took them for a nice long walk before introducing them to apartment life. All three are fast asleep at my feet. It’s like nothing happened and I would love to know exactly what they experienced on their journey. It’s pretty clear that they were treated exceptionally well, which is what I was promised. They flew for 11 hours from Johannesburg to Amsterdam, stayed at the animal hotel for 4 hours and then flew for 7 hours from Amsterdam to Toronto. They waited in customs for 3,5 hours before they got home. And they don’t seem to have been bothered at all. I have to pinch myself that they are actually here, in Canada. The squirrels fascinate Dexter, and they are all over the place. The other night I saw a raccoon and a skunk. I cant imagine what he would do if he saw that.

I am so privileged. I have International Dogs.

Tatooed

I have a tattoo on my arm that has been a work in progress. I think I had the first one done in about 2002. It was the same symbol that I later used as my company logo when I first went solo. It’s a design I came up with and I called it Jedex, after my two Boxers Jessie and Dexter. I had it infused with Reiki and consider it a good luck symbol. A few years later I decided to expand it slightly and Keith paid for it as a birthday present. We drew around it and filled my arm. I loved it. Last year I decided to do more, this time going up around my shoulder and down my arm so that the point of the tattoo peeks out the sleeve of a tee-shirt. My friends gave me money towards it as my birthday present. Jedex will always be the centre of the tattoo and the rest has been paid for by people I love, which means they are always with me (or on me?). I waited to have the tattoo extended because I knew I was due for a medical examination for Canada and they are strict. I didn’t want there to be any problems. And time passed, and before I knew it, it was time to leave South Africa. I finally went to the tattoo artist ten days before I was leaving, thinking that he could do the extension quickly. How wrong I was!

We drew the extension on a Saturday morning and the tattoo artist did the outline. Saturdays are really busy so he said I would have to come back to finish the rest. I thought that wasn’t a problem and tried to make an appointment for during the week. And then he said it…”you need 1 week for the outline to heal before I can continue”. “Nice”, I thought, “leave it till the very last minute”. I tried to convince him to finish it the following Friday, thinking that one day could not make that much of a difference but he wouldn’t budge. I had a friend’s 30th on the Saturday and I couldn’t miss it so I took the chance and make the appointment for the day before I was due to leave South Africa.

I arrived that morning at 9am and walked into a dark shop, a powerless shop, and one that would not have power for the rest of the day. My heart stopped. The tattoo outline had healed in three days; they could have finished it the previous week. Now I would be flying off to Canada with a tattoo and an outline and who knows when I would be able to have it finished, by someone I trusted. I called Keith in a panic and he suggested that he go down to the local tattoo artist in Parkhurst where we live and see if he could fit me in. The news was good, despite being fully booked for three weeks in advance; he had had a cancellation that morning and could see me at 3pm. I arrived in time, watched the boa constrictor for a while (all tattoo artists have boa’s in their parlours) and within half an hour the pen was happily buzzing against my skin. I was lucky that this artist had no problem finishing someone else’s work.

And then it happened. It happened half an hour into the tattoo, and with only half of the tattoo filled in…. the power went off! I could not believe what was happening to me.

It’s interesting, that the last straw for me in the decision to leave South Africa was the start of load shedding. It was one thing that I just could not handle. It was the thing that made up my mind. And it was the thing that bode me farewell.

We finished the tattoo the next morning and I flew off that night with a freshly tattooed arm, stinging all the way to Toronto.

What do you think?

Being Torontonian

I’m back in Toronto. I arrived on Friday night after a long, but uneventful trip home. I stopped to get something to eat, went to my apartment and crashed. We’ve rented a furnished apartment for a few months until we find something to buy. We’re in an area called The Annex. It’s in the heart of the University of Toronto complex, which forms part of the downtown area and spans hundreds of miles (ok maybe not hundreds, but it’s huge). Our building is small, only 5 apartments, on a leafy street and surrounded by parks and frat houses called “Si Phi Epsilom” and “Delta Omega Something or Other”. We have the entire top floor. There are two subway stations within walking distance, a 24-hour grocery store, dry cleaner and most importantly (according to Lisa), a Starbucks. It is these things that one should consider when determining where to live in Toronto, especially Starbucks (Venti, Extra-shot, Wet, Splenda-In, Cappucino please). We’re also 5 minutes away from the Shi-Shi Yorkville area and Whole Foods, Canada’s equivalent of Woolworths (on steroids). The interesting thing about Toronto is the variety. You can find anything you want, usually within walking distance and fifty options of it. You can have two streets right next to each other (ok I know, you can have that anywhere in the world). However, on one street stands $3mil dollar homes and on the other, low cost housing. The same applies to two sides of the street. It’s eclectic, vibrant and in many areas, gentrifying (a new word I learnt recently that is used to describe any up and coming area). There is a chill in the air as winter approaches and I’m realizing that soon the streets will be covered in snow and ice so the short walk to the subway station, or cabs on Bloor West, the main street a block away, will be welcomed.

I spent most of the weekend exploring. I spent Saturday in the heart of downtown. I could have been at Piccadilly Circus in London or Times Square in New York City. The place was buzzing with people, huge buildings covered with electronic signs that impose themselves upon you, and people walk, shuffle, sing, shout and hand out flyers. I took the subway and held tightly only my backpack, checking constantly that my wallet was still there.

I walked home last night, it was probably a 10km walk and I weaved in and out between the main roads and the smaller side streets. I stopped to get an ice cream a few blocks away from home. I was conscious of the fact that I kept on looking over my shoulder. There is a park near my apartment and as I approached I noticed a young woman, with headphones in her ears strolling through the park. So I though “if she can, so can I” and I made my way through the badly lit park towards home. The streets were quiet and clean. I could see into the houses because there are no fences, walls or gates. And I walked right up to my front door, just like they do on TV.

I spent Sunday on Queen West, a trendy street lined with shops and cafes. I was waiting for the traffic light to change when a lady pulled up next to me on a bicycle. She had her earphones in her ears (standard for Toronto), a helmet and her handbag and shopping were hanging off the back of a hook behind her seat. Anybody could walk up to her, lift the bags off and walk away. She wouldn’t hear a thing. And the great thing is…it probably wouldn’t happen here.

I’m sure it will take a while before I can walk around without looking over my shoulder. I’m sure it will take a while before I stop checking for my wallet, keys and phone every 10 – 15 minutes.

I don’t mind waiting.

Your flight is cancelled

Sometimes I really hate computers. I just wrote a whole new blog only to have it deleted because the hotel internet decided to send me a pop-up message reminding me that I am currently connected to the internet.

Thanks, I know.

Anyway, Im in Mumbai and not in Toronto where I should be. I was supposed to fly at 5:25am this morning and decided not to sleep last night so that I could sleep on the plane and try and get my body back onto Eastern time. I also didn't plan to eat on the plane - part of my avoidance of Indian food and associated Dehli Belly! I stayed up all night watching Heroes Season 2 on my laptop and was taken at 2am to the airport by the hotel driver. When we left the hotel he asked if I was in a hurry and I said no, so he informed me that we would take the relaxing drive. We made the 30km journey in under 15 minutes. I would love to know how long the rush drive takes.

I was the first person to arrive at the airport and was shown to the lounge. By 4am most of the passengers had arrived and at 5am we were told that there was a delay as the inbound aircraft could not land due to fog. The plane had therefore been diverted to Mumbai and would come in as soon as the weather cleared. And the stories went like this:

"The plane is due to arrive at 5:40"

"There is a slight delay, and the plane will come as soon as possible"

"We are waiting for more information"

"The plane has left Mumbai and will land in 20 minutes"

"The plane will leave Mumbai in 20 minutes"

"The flight will be here by 9 and it will take approximately 1 hour to turn it around and take off"

"The crew have exceeded their fly time and the flight has been cancelled"

Interestingly, none of the 36 affected passengers seemed to be too stressed about this. If this had happened in Johannesburg there would have been mayhem. I wasn't that phased, in fact I thought to myself "Hmmmmm, something to blog about". So we were all offered various options and everyone decided to fly to Mumbai as the outbound flights are more regular and there was less chance of this happening again tomorrow. We flew to Mumbai at 11:30 and after collecting our baggage were taken to the Hyatt where we were each given a room and some meal vouchers. By now I had not slept for over 24 hours, not counting the lack of sleep I have been experiencing anyway from all the travelling. So I took a hot shower, ordered a pizza (what are the chances of that making me sick?) and collapsed onto the very comfortable bed.

So I'm awake, slightly refreshed after 6 hours of sleep and a decent meal (the first in 4 days) and I'm waiting for someone to tell me if and when we will go back to the airport. I am booked on a flight at 3am tomorrow and then a connection to Toronto so I could be home by Friday night, only 1 day later than planned.

But who knows what will happen, I'll let you know where I am.