I crossed the Granville Bridge into downtown Vancouver listening to the Rolling Stones. I brought my things into Pedro's apartment, and then set out to buy some mayonnaise for tuna and some free wireless Internet at the coffee shop.

It's strange to be in the city. It's strange to think that this is now my home. There was a sense of finality in all the traveling today. As I crossed the clearly marked border and glanced at the giant, perpetually open gate of the arch, I knew that there was no going back.

It's time to live, work, and grow. This move is for real now.

Welcome to Canada.

his was the last morning that my mother would wake me up and tell me to get out of bed. "You've moving to Canada today," she said.

I finished what remained of my packing and went over the list in my mind of all the things I'd need. Barnacle knew something was going on -- she sat in the suitcase most of the morning with a concerned look on her face.

I loaded up the truck and took a brief stroll around the house. It was a beautiful day today, warm and sunny. The grass is finally completely green. There's still some snow piled up next to the shop. Winter won't leave us yet.

I tried to keep it together when Mom and Yukon joined me outside to send me off. I only shed a few tears as I pulled out of the driveway. And every now and then, on the long, endless drive across Washington, emotions caught up with me.

I took Highway 2 across the state, saving me miles travelled and gas burned. I made one stop: in Arlington to get Costco gas. And then I went on ahead north. Heavy rain started falling as I approached the border. I elected the Peace Arch crossing, and the border patrol agent pointed me towards the main office. I went inside and an officer printed off a work permit, stapled it to my passport, and sent me on my way.