It is not the land of milk and honey but its close as you can get.
I have lived in Canada since 1969. I moved here from New Zealand, a country that at the time was a socialist’s delight. There was compulsory unionism, heavily subsidized staples such as bread, milk, and butter and the country was fully reliant on Britain for its export market. Foreign currency was always in short supply and the only way for someone to buy a new car was by paying part of the cost in a common foreign currency such as US dollars or the British pound. Most of the cars on the road were British made. The exception was the Holden, a made in Australia vehicle manufactured through an agreement between the Australian government and GM.
When I decided to venture to North America my first choice was the US. When I was growing up, my family would receive copies of the US magazine Saturday Evening Post and I was fascinated by the advertisements for big cars with fins and chrome bumpers. Most British cars were small and very much utilitarian. American cars were luxury. There were adverts for television sets, blue jeans, leather jackets and cowboy boots, items in very short supply and very expensive in little old NZ.
In my teens, a group of us would sneak onboard US ships visiting the port of Auckland where we would buy Camel and Lucky Strike cigarettes from the American crew. It was considered very cool to smoke American cigarettes.
My plan to land and work in the US was dashed after a visit to the US embassy. There was a two-year waiting list for green card applications from New Zealand. My next choice was quite obvious - Canada. There was no waiting list for Canada and if an applicant had a trade or a profession it was pretty much a slam dunk after passing a medical. Six months later I was on my way.
Jobs were plentiful in Vancouver when I arrived in 1969. There were a lot of customs and language differences to get used to and I was ribbed a lot by my new Canadian…