Series preamble: To settle into a city you just lease an apartment and change your driver’s license, right?  Well, it is not so simple if a) you’re a nomad with no permanent address; b) your most recent permanent address was in a different country; and c) there’s a pandemic.  Here are some of my amusing obstacles to becoming a documented member of structured society again.

Fourth up – getting my provincial health insurance card

I have long been confused by the health insurance system in the USA, and when I embarked on self-employment, I was even further confounded.  Part of the decision to travel the world, included a general leap of faith (with some decent traveler’s medical insurance) that whatever health concerns lay along that journey, they wouldn’t bankrupt me.  I knew that things like malaria pills and my third hepA/B shot would cost notably less in South Africa than California.  I had also read accounts of travelers breaking bones in various countries, and how smoothly they were tended and how little they were charged.  Such information made the leap easier.

But was traveler’s medical insurance the best answer for hanging out in Canada, with a rogue virus on the loose?  Given I was sticking around, I decided that I wanted “in” on provincial health insurance.

Series preamble: To settle into a city you just lease an apartment and change your driver’s license, right?  Well, it is not so simple if a) you’re a nomad with no permanent address; b) your most recent permanent address was in a different country; and c) there’s a pandemic.  Here are some of my amusing obstacles to becoming a documented member of structured society again.

Third up – getting my stored furniture

I decided that if I was ‘settling in’, then I’d be happiest with my favourite stuff.  Thus started the effort to get it from a storage unit in San Francisco, across 2,800 miles, over an international border, to my new place – during a pandemic.  Just hire a moving company right?  Well…

Series preamble: To settle into a city you just lease an apartment and change your driver’s license, right?  Well, it is not so simple if a) you’re a nomad with no permanent address; b) your most recent permanent address was in a different country; and c) there’s a pandemic.  Here are some of my amusing obstacles to becoming a documented member of structured society again.

Second up – getting a permanent address

In April, property managers and the government(s) were trying to adapt with limited information about COVID-19.  (Was anyone even moving?) How would they disinfect an apartment and how long should it be vacant to be safe for a new tenant?  How could they do any open houses with staff working from home and prospective clients also not going outside?  Normally enticing building amenities like fitness rooms, lounges, and terraces were all closed.  Even concierge services had moved from a front desk to a back room.  It was a real test of “imagine what it would be like to live here!”

To settle into a city, you just lease an apartment and change your driver’s license, right?  Well, it is not so simple if a) you’re a nomad with no permanent address; b) your most recent permanent address was in a different country; and c) there’s a pandemic.  Here are some of my amusing obstacles to becoming a documented member of structured society again.

First up – getting a cellphone number

For the last two weeks of March, I stayed in a lovely AirBnB in Ottawa, in 14-day self-isolation having arrived in Canada from a foreign country.  It was basically a vacation. I had no appointments or obligations.  I could binge watch Netflix, read books, do puzzles, drink wine, and eat chocolate.  After months of flexing my extrovert muscles, my true introvert was beaming at the simplicity and stillness of the situation.  Then my inner planner started to get into gear – what was I going to do on day 15, and beyond?!

“If you could go anywhere In the world, where would it be?” has always been a fun question to prompt some dreaming and laughing with friends, often over dinner.  It was the question that my Mom often asked to spark our next adventure together.  It is the question that leads to countless internet rabbit holes.  But I now realize that it has inherently included the condition “…and then come back home.”

On Monday, March 16, 2020, I was suddenly confronted by this playful question, in its rawest and urgent form.  It wasn’t “could go” but “needed to go”.  And it wasn’t for a visit or a jaunt but with the likelihood of not being able to travel anywhere else indefinitely.  “If you needed a place to feel safe during global uncertainty, where would it be?”