I Migrated Continents At The Height Of The Pandemic

From the prospect of derailment to final triumph, this is my journey across continents while the world is still gripped by a lockdown.

I had been scheming to move way before the outbreak in Wuhan. I plotted this move in 2018. Naturally, I hadn’t the slightest of clues that I’d end up moving amid a global — and growing — catastrophe.

I’ve just moved to Vancouver, Canada, from New Delhi, India. This is the story of my travel experience, shore to shore, and what I’ve learned about the fertile power of my creative imagination.

I frequently considered the option of not writing this piece at all, because a dwindling number of people want to read another post about anything remotely related to the crippling virus. We should aspire to move on.

But something inside me nudged at my moral desire to want share this journey, because I understand how unusual it is to migrate even between cities in these anomalistic times.

I, swimming against the current, decided to move 180 degrees across the planet, all by myself.

There’s a common thread that winds through us humans — it connects us through the stories we tell, the experiences we share, and the tales we collectively live. I deeply hope that this journey of mine helps strengthen your bond to all of humanity, through the force of our ability to redefine less-than-positive events to suit our needs. I wish for it to cultivate your understanding of the willful power that resides in each of us, regardless of what transpires in the world outside our comfortable — and predictable — corners.

We’re all essentially one big family, and if an invisible microbial creature has attempted to beat us down through its damaging trajectory, we could opportunistically view it as the beginnings of unprecedented personal creativity — and by extension, cooperation, looking ahead.

This post is effectively a personal call to action for me, moving in the direction of using my creative skill set to best serve my interests and those of others around me, such that the exterior (sometimes antagonistic) world doesn’t affect our grounded interior world.

My journey will help explain why. Stay with me.

Maybe, it spurs you to move down a similar path.

Vancouver, where have you been all my life?

I visited Vancouver in the summer of 2017, while on an extended vacation.

I instantly fell in love with everything it had to offer — the pristine scenery, the snow-capped peaks, valleys full of magnetic lakes and water bodies, and a cosmopolitan population — ranking as high on the “life satisfaction” scale as they come anywhere on the planet.

I knew in a heartbeat that I was moving here, sooner or later. I just didn’t know at the time that I’d have enough courage to begin my application for residency as soon as I landed back in India. It was swift. It was exhilarating.

As per my original plan, I should have been in Vancouver by the winter of 2019. But due to work-related commitments and a minor complication in my application, my move was pushed back by roughly 8 months. I was due to leave in August 2020.

At the time (in December 2019), I had read about Covid just once in the news — a small report of a few cases in China. Unconsciously, I brushed it off immediately, not knowing how this would eventually scale and try to upend my plan to migrate.

By the time March came around and India descended into total lockdown, I was completely convinced that there was no way I was going to make it out of the country before my deadline to get the Canadian residency stamp arrived. Getting this stamp required me to be physically present on Canadian soil, and with what I was witnessing on the news (across global and local channels), I was certain that moving out of India was a closed chapter for the foreseeable future.

However, three months in, somewhere in July, the lockdown began easing up. We were still right at the beginning of this shockwave, but a few of the airlines started operating repatriation flights, market areas were filling up with shoppers (albeit significantly less than pre-Corona times), and the streets saw an increase in vehicular traffic.

It appeared like life was reverting to a sliver of what it formerly was, and I was encouraged by this.

When we entered a countrywide shutdown in March, I reconsidered my option of wanting to leave at all. I am no scientist, nor am I an astrologer or highly awakened spiritual master who can accurately predict outcomes months in advance. I view the news on websites and TV through a healthy lens of suspicion, but I also believe that there’s an element of truth attached to the journalism I consume. I hold the view that channels may exaggerate claims for viewership metrics and sensationalism, but that they won’t lie outright to large groups of vulnerable audiences, perilously.

I knew that while scientific ingenuity will serve us with a cure eventually, I didn’t know how soon it would be accessible (in India, Canada, or anywhere), and more importantly, what the situation — and general psyche of the people — in Vancouver would be in these dreadful times.

I was also in the dark about whether the Canadian government was permitting new residents to come into their borders, especially from a country where over a billion of us were directly — or indirectly — in harm’s way, trying to keep an invisible virus at bay.

Luckily, through persistent correspondence efforts, I discovered that the federal government of Canada was allowing emergency workers and new residents to land, irrespective of the country they were arriving from.

I let out a comforting — and massive — sigh of relief, because for the first few months of this grey period, as you can probably imagine, I felt my residency dreams being flushed down a toilet.

Thankfully, the world, some of its forward-thinking governments, and some of its wisest decision-makers remained steadfast, refusing to succumb to the tidal wave of the virus.

Decisions aplenty

My deadline to arrive in Vancouver — to receive my residency stamp — was luckily the 20th of October. I say “luckily” because the virus reared its head at us in March in India, and the nation began lifting certain restrictions around the middle of July.

This provided ample room for me to book a flight ticket and escape any perceived chaos that might cast a shadow over India’s operations in the ensuing months, causing it to slip back into locked-down stagnancy.

After much deliberation, dwelling, and a combination of emotional and rational reasoning, I had made a conclusive decision, packed with conviction. I was escaping.

I managed to book a direct flight that cost me twice the regular, commercial fare. I bought a one-way ticket, and I vividly recall branding a massive grin across my face the moment I clicked on the orange “Purchase” button.

My emotions ran high, my feelings received a positive, potent charge, and I felt a force of fearlessness and adrenaline-related chemicals drench my body.

I was leaving in 2 months to begin a brand new chapter of life, and I couldn’t believe that it was all stringing together in a way that would have failed the predictions of even the smartest bookies in the world.

Prudent preparation

As the day of my departure inched closer, I made efforts to plug any loopholes that might disrupt my travel plans. I minimized physical interaction with people, curtailed leaving the house unless it was essential or for work, and kept my home and room in a highly-sanitized state.

I am far from anxious about hygiene, cleanliness, and sanitation, but the gift of common sense told me that this was a make-or-break circumstance for me. The last situation I wanted to confront was testing positive in a mandatory virus test that all individuals boarding flights had to take, 48 hours prior to flying.

I was abiding by a slew of prevention methods aimed at keeping one’s general immunity at and above par and was exercising regularly to keep my lungs in explosively good shape. Strong inhalation. Healthy exhalation.

Last-minute bank work, paperwork, and administrative tasks were a drag to wrap up and close, because a lot of services were either still closed, or drastically reduced in operational hours and staff. I stood in long queues, endured extended waiting times, and dealt with clerks and government officers who skewed heavily toward a negative temperament in dealing with customers — because of an ever-present fear they harbored of contracting the virus themselves.

The bureaucracy in the government, even at the lowest level, was suddenly magnified three-fold with the virus, and basic tasks that would typically take me a week to complete were now taking three weeks on average.

But because I was well prepared for the pace of activity to slow down, I managed to finish all my pending assignments — personal and professional — before my departure date.

Manic airport hustle

Any plans I had to meet my grandparents or extended family before leaving the country were canceled, and virtual hugs and WhatsApp video chats were relied upon to bridge that gap. I’m so grateful for the miracle of technology— it is a great marvel of our time.

On my way to the international airport, my mind was flooded with all kinds of diverse thoughts — from expressing gratitude for the possibility to leave to worst-case scenario thinking, picturing myself contracting the virus midair, and getting pushed off the plane because I was a flight risk.

The airport had diminished staff per airline. It was full of shouting, fearful, and anxious passengers, and a panic-stricken vibration — akin to being in a noisy fish market — engulfed the large building.

I saw couples being rejected from proceeding to the security gates because they lacked the correct documents, babies crying in agony because their parents were afraid and confused, and the ground staff looking exhausted and fatigued from being overworked, overburdened, and overstretched, trying to solve each customer’s specific issues.

Each customer interaction appeared to turn into a life coaching session, with airline officials trying their best to calm passengers down while maintaining a distance of 6 feet (a government-issued guideline), lest they inhale that which everyone collectively feared.

Checking in, scurrying through security, and boarding the flight were all conceivably high-stress situations, each with its own characteristics and dynamics.

People were stocking up on emergency masks, face shields, beverages, food items, and basic sanitary equipment. It was a frenzied push for cover and safety, as though the mass of people at the airport were taking inventory of ammunition and supplies for war.

Up until the last moment, none of the passengers (or the flight crew) flying on my plane knew if the flight was going to take off. This uncertainty was a result of flights being canceled altogether, or rescheduled all of the previous week.

But as fate would have it, we flew.

It was a 15-hour direct flight and was drowning in high-strung, impatient passengers.

Although the number of passengers was reduced to half the capacity of the flight, people of all age groups could be seen wandering up and down the aisles, aimlessly, and I suppose, hopefully — wondering what Canada had in store for them in these fractured times.

There were no tourists on the flight. Tourism in and out of India and Canada had been — and still is — banned. Everyone on that jet was a new or returning immigrant, and everyone was demanding repeated attention from the limited number of crew members, who were decked from head to toe in thick PPE (personal protective equipment) suits.

There was plenty of room on the flight because of the reduced numbers, but the movements of these immigrants seized the entire plane, and people were strolling around like it was a cocktail party at 32,000 feet. This was the perfect incubator for the virus to unveil itself.

I changed my mask four times in 16 hours, washed my hands five times in the same period, and made my way through one entire bottle of hand sanitizer. It was quite the cautious, chemical cleansing.

Touchdown

Flying into Vancouver, I couldn’t believe the sights from up above — the vast mountainous terrain, the placid lakes, the green covering, and the imposing Pacific Ocean we were now waving goodbye to.

I had finally made it, and the headwind that caused a turbulent landing was soon buried by the thrill of walking into a well-lit, super-clean, and very welcoming Vancouver International Airport (YVR).

As I sit here at the peak of winter in the city, watching fresh snow fall outside and blanket the grass with a slippery layer of ice, I feel enormously grateful for having the opportunity to move to this beautifully landscaped city of nature, notwithstanding an Earth-shattering virus.

It is a city that has no parallels, in my opinion, and I am fortunate to have made it here, healthy and happy.

Lessons to ponder and probe

Throughout this entire voyage — from making the decision to move to finally landing in Canada and acquiring my residency card, I trudged through a cocktail of swinging — and swaying — emotions.

I was enthralled by the idea of moving here to explore a distant land, but I also wrestled with a dose of trepidation when the media began injecting fear into the public around the end of February. At times, even switching the television off wasn’t sufficient to avoid stories of despair, dread, and nervousness, because invariably, someone in my family or friends’ circle was catching the virus, and word of this traveled through WhatsApp groups like hot wildfire.

The general mood — that of a palpable sense of fear — was permanently inescapable.

Back in April, I read stories online of couples and singles canceling migration plans because of the journalism they were buying into.

This stirred me. It had me practically weigh my options to try and think of the wisest route out of this conundrum, in an attempt to implement effective damage control measures.

On one hand, I could have allowed my residency deadline to pass, quashed my migration dream, and carried on with life as usual in India (which, by most modern measures, was an abundantly satisfactory and enjoyable life).

On the other hand, I had the very real option of diving straight into this mess, in the hopes of coming out the other side with a residency card and the fulfillment of my desire to live in Vancouver.

It was a black-and-white situation. A zero-sum game.

I could’ve flipped a coin and settled into whatever decision a 50% probability served me, but I chose against that, because I wanted to create my own path in such a way that minimized regret a year from now, or even a decade from now.

I’m so glad I went through each stage of this migration process, and wouldn’t trade it for the world, or change any aspect of its progression.

I have evolved a tremendous amount through this period, and the most prominent lesson I’ve learned about myself is that I’ve cultivated the powerful ability to rework a seemingly negative story into a personally positive — and productive — narrative. I did this each step of the way through my application.

When I was confronted with the disturbing news of the virus shutting state borders in March, I redefined that media story to my benefit, thanking my stars that I had time till October to make a decision about moving.

When I was faced with a resistant bank official in India, I offered her solace and empathy by striking up a conversation about the health of her family and loved ones. This relaxed our interaction, and I managed to get my work done.

When I couldn’t go see my grandparents physically, I vowed to make up for it by calling them on video every week once I arrived in Vancouver. This has nurtured a deep bond between us and has bolstered the quality of our relationship.

Lastly, when I thought of the pandemic stalling the world’s activities, and crushing my plans of emigration, I reframed that story to convince myself — and those around me — that it would be the perfect time to pivot away from India for me. I would encounter fewer crowds at the airport, would slip through immigration easily in Vancouver because of the lower footfall, and would find room to discover the city while everyone was in hiding.

Everything has come to pass in a grand manner.

Elixir

All of this was enabled by one learning mechanism — that of using my creative imagination to flip all external, adversarial events into useful, optimistic ones.

This creative imagination is a permanent resident in all of us. It is the seed of what makes us human, and I hope that reading about my journey allows you to take bold steps toward unknown, shining vistas, and an unseen paradise. It awaits your approval.

We have one life, and with the power conferred upon us, we have the right to choose how we respond to people, events, and circumstances. Let’s not lose sight of that right. Let’s use it for what it was built for — to live a full, fulfilled life of multi-colored richness and positivity, accomplishing all our dreams.

Happy holidays!