Immigration, the sequel (part of Schema Magazine's Mo Canada column)

Two things I’ve learned (among many others): 1. It’s the little things that shape the immigrant experience. 2. How to tell the difference between British pounds and Canadian toonies.

I was born an immigrant.

My Egyptian parents had been living in Bahrain for a while before I was born there. It wasn’t until I was 15 that I became a Bahraini citizen.

I had always been aware that I was different, somewhere in between Egyptian and Bahraini. At the heart of it, both those countries are Arab, Muslim majority countries. They have a lot in common, but they also don’t.

Some differences are obvious. The Egyptian dialect is quite different than the Bahraini one. The moment I opened my mouth and started speaking Arabic I was identified. Other differences are more subtle, such as differences in how to greet someone or what to say in a funeral.

I had always been aware that I was different, somewhere in between Egyptian and Bahraini.

To me, it’s those little things that sneak up on you, or that you can’t really figure out, that shape the everyday immigrant experience.

There are different languages or dialects, different customs, different weather conditions, different job markets, different public transportation, etc. But some other things you really don’t expect or foresee, things that are minuscule in scale but that could be quite profound in effect. Things that could frustrate you or make you smile, things that could make you feel foreign or make you realize something about your own culture that you never really stopped to analyze.

To me, it’s those little things that sneak up on you, or that you can’t really figure out, that shape the everyday immigrant experience.

Today I am a different kind of immigrant, and everyday I learn something new about myself, Canada or my own culture. I came to Vancouver a little over a year ago to pursue my Masters of Journalism at UBC. From my first night in Canada, I started experiencing things differently and really realizing that I’m in a country strange to me.

I had just reached the on-campus residence where I was to live. It was a long trip with a 10-hours layover in London, England. As I passed the vending machine, I realized how hungry I was. I jiggled some coins out of my wallet and just stared at them. Queen Elizabeth stared back at me.

Which ones were the British and which were the Canadian? Do I even have Canadian coins? Wait, is Canada still under British rule? What’s the Queen even doing here?

I must have been quite the sight: a big, confused, disheveled, red-eyed Middle Eastern man who was shivering from cold and staring intently at a fistful of coins.

Luckily, someone passed by and helped me out without being too alarmed at my appearance. Since then, I’ve figured out that Canada is not really the Brits’ and I can tell a toonie apart from a £2 coin.

I must have been quite the sight: a big, confused, disheveled, red-eyed Middle Eastern man who was shivering from cold and staring intently at a fistful of coins.

My impressive list of cultural adjustment does not end there however.

In this column, I’ll be sharing some of my experiences with you. I’ve learned a lot about Canada and I’ve come to see things about the Middle East and myself from a new perspective.

I can’t wait to share all of that with you.