"Home" - in between a maple leaf and the red, white and blue

After three hours at Charles de Gaulle airport (and this included 40 minutes of repacking and reconfiguring three overweight suitcases!) we boarded our plane and had a calm, uneventful flight "home".

Eventful came later in the customs and immigration line. The choice of US Citizens/Permanent Residents vs. Non US Citizens (voir "aliens") quickly let us know that we weren't exactly "home". While we were in the line, officials came to check our passport and our customs declaration card. Seeing we were Canadian, the first response was, "Oh, you're heading back to Canada right away?". I have developed a fairly short, official response about living and working here that I have had to trot out to various airport, government and city officials during this past year, and so I did this and it seemed fine. The "real" agent, behind the desk, was not quite so accepting. He asked all kinds of questions about the immigration/green card process and what stage we were at, why was our passport and visa a replacement and why/how were they stolen, as well as where did I work, why, etc. After this lengthy interrogation, we were the last to leave the immigration desk-but with the oh-so-important stamp of US approval in the passports. Our bags looked abandoned as they circled the luggage carousel, the last to be claimed.

I now have the urge to fly my Canadian flag high in front of my house this week in some sort of attempt to proclaim: "Yes, I am Canadian and yes I now call USA home -deal with it!"

In fact, I am now feeling like I need to hoist my CV and transcripts up the flagpole too.