That is probably the most click bait title I’ve ever come up with, but it’s absolutely true. Today I’m sharing what the experience of flying, being processed by immigration and being screened for Covid-19 during a global pandemic was like. Not only are these mid-pandemic travel experiences new to all of us, but the title is true, I was flying into the unknown because I did not know if I would be given permission to enter Canada.
Apologies that there are no photos for the middle of this blog, the sickening feeling that I might be repeating the flight after being denied entry to Canada did not leave me much enthusiasm for documenting!
The previous attempt
As you know, our previous attempt to fly to Canada on 14th May (2020, obviously) had not gone to plan. Despite having a so called ‘exemption letter’ from the IRCC, I was not allowed to check-in and fly to Canada. We were refused on the grounds that my reason – ‘family reunification’ – made my travel non-discretionary.
This time it was different!
15 weeks later I had a work permit, a job offer and we were renting a house in Canada. In short, I had everything I needed to be properly exempt from the travel restrictions. Even though I knew I had the right to travel to Canada the experience of being denied boarding does not quickly leave you, and so I was convinced I would not get in. So convinced that we booked our tickets less than 24 hours before the flight and in place of a teary goodbye my Mum and I discussed who would cook dinner when we got back from Heathrow Airport.
Stage one: Check in at Heathrow Airport
The fact that my perpetually positive brother-in-law was free to drive us to the airport was a stroke of luck. He and my husband laughed about us not getting in the whole care ride, while I grew sicker and sicker at the thought of it. Once we arrived at Heathrow Airport he waited in the car encase we needed a lift back!
We were at the front of the short queue for check-in a mercilessly short amount of time. Here’s where things differed from our experience in May. Firstly, there were definitely more people in Heathrow Airport. Secondly, in May everyone who was attempting to board an Air Canada flight (who did not possess a Canadian passport) was screened by a Heathrow employee who then phoned Canadian immigration for a final decision. This time we were screened by a pleasant Heathrow employee who made the decision himself.
There were a few check-in desks open and when we were called to one we were asked if we had Canadian passports or work visas. We showed him Jacob’s work visa (he already had his because of his three week excursion back in March) and my work permit approval letter (you are given your actual work permit by immigration upon arrival). He was happy with both of those. Next he asked to see letters which prove we have employment in Canada. Trying to keep my voice steady and my hand from shaking I handed my two letters over, pointing out that one of the letters explained the position and the other had a start date. The start date seemed to be what he was checking for, presumably because this is the necessary proof that an individual needs to be in Canada. My letters passed the test, as did Jacob’s initially.
On a second glance at Jacob’s letter he decided he was not satisfied that it fitted into the tick boxes, as it didn’t have a specific start date. Jacob tried to explain that he didn’t have a start date because he has started months ago and had been working ‘from home’ in the UK. As his letter from UNBC stated he now needed to be back in order to ‘fulfill certain aspects of his contract’. Terrifyingly, at that point he called on the opinion of his colleague at the next check-in desk. Unlike our bumbling chap who we’d already bonded with over living in the local area (the house we left in January was ten minutes from Heathrow Airport) Mrs Follow-The-Rules next door was not so friendly. While we’d been going through the process with our guy, I’d overheard her refuse boarding to some poor person. Mrs Follow-The-Rules officiously told him if he was in any doubt about whether he should let us board, he should send us over to ‘them’. The daunting ‘them’ was a desk where someone would phone Canadian immigration, aka the process we had endured in May.
Rather than do that though our blessed ditherer said he thought we would probably be okay and he let us – doing our best impression of nonchalance – convince him that we had the right to travel (which we did!) and a strong quarantine plan (which we did!). To our relief we were putting our bags on the scale and back to chatting about living in Slough within a few moments. We thanked him and had just began skipping around to security when he called us back. Hearts pounding, we turned on our heels as he caught us up and apologetically explained that one of our bags was too heavy. PHEW!
Round two: Leaving Heathrow Airport
After we had cleared security, we turned to each other in disbelief and said round one complete. We called our Brother-in-Law to let him know the good news as he was still waiting outside to check that we didn’t need a lift! Next stop was Yo Sushi where I was able to relax a little and take on board the fact that we had made it this far. But the calming powers of three trays of Avocado Maki is limited, I was utterly convinced something was going to go wrong.
After gorging on sushi we made our way to our gate. They were, as we expected, checking people’s temperatures before boarding the plane. But they were also going over documents, checking that people had the right to travel to Canada. This surprised me a little because nothing had changed since we were checked and permitted onto the flight two hours ago. We scrambled in our bags to locate them, handed over our work documents to be checked and had our temperatures taken before we were permitted to board. Round two completed.
The flight to Vancouver
The plane felt pleasingly familiar: smiling staff, the usual fuss over what to place overhead and what to have with me, follow by the decision that I should have the window seat to enjoy the glaciers and mountains. Jacob could, I assured him, have it on the flight back after Canadian immigration refuse to let me in. Other than the two of us who were sharing a row, the plane was so empty that everyone else had a row each. But for the fact that we were going to be in face masks for the entire flight, it was much the same as usual. If anything, a little more luxurious then usual.
We both decided to watch 1917. Bad move. I’d assumed that it would be an action packed war film which would get me through the first few hours of the flight. Instead my unease and dread grew as I watched two young soldiers try and convey a message behind enemy lines. Suspense was not what I needed in that moment, I had enough of my own going on. I was happy when it ended and I could escape with the Absolutely Fabulous movie.
Even with the distraction of Patsy and Eddie’s hijinks, I felt sick with nerves for most the flight and remained convinced I’d be back on a return flight within a few hours of landing. I wish I was exaggerating, I really do. I managed a small peak at the majestic bucket list sight of the Greenland Ice sheet. But as we came into Vancouver I was near rocking back and forth levels of anxiousness and completely refused to look down at the incredible snow capped mountains below.
Round three: Screening at Vancouver Airport
Having something to do once we left the plane, even if it was only walking to immigration, made me feel better. I remembered that I had every right to be in Canada, ticked all the boxes necessary for someone arriving and reassured myself that if nothing else we were at the end now. However it went, the five month wait was over.
Vancouver airport was like a ghost town which made me feel sad and privileged all at once. The lack of people meant that we were quickly at a machine answering immigration questions. We had expected to be interrogated by a person regarding whether we had any symptoms of Covid-19 and then have our temperatures taken at least once. I had read that there would be two screening stations that all people arriving into Canada had to go through to make declarations regarding Covid-19. I had imagined Hazmat suited employees detecting symptoms on you and forcing you into a sealed case like they did with ET after they found him.
Perhaps this had been the case at the point when lots of Canadian’s were coming home from all over the world (just the intense screening, not the ET bit). But we just had to answer questions on a screen such as how many days you had been out of Canada, why you were entering Canada and a declaration that you didn’t have any symptoms of Covid-19. The machine then printed a piece of paper with a delightful mug shot and some official information about you. This was far less intimidating that a real person, particularity because a machine does not know or mind if you call out to your husband a few screens away to check your answers corroborate. Round three completed.
Round four: Immigration at Vancouver Airport (part one)
From the screens we were herded towards the normal passport control booths. Hearts thumping we went up together. Here we had to show Jacob’s visa and my visa approval letter, our employment conformation letters and explain our quarantine plan. Oh and you know our passports, those things that used to be enough to get you into a country. The young women was official, but friendly which immediately lowered my heart rate and meant we were able to calmly explain our reason for being in Canada and our plan to go straight to our own rented house in Prince George. There was no long pause while she considered our documents or additional questions or checking something with a colleague. She was satisfied that we met the requirements and – after warning us that we could be fined $1 million if we broke the quarantine rules – she welcomed us to Canada and pointed me in the direction of immigration to get my work visa. Round four completed.
Round five: Immigration at Vancouver Airport (part two)
After a few seconds to catch my breath and feel the waves of relief, I entered the immigration office to face the final round. I had imagined this moment so many times: a stern poker face individual asking to see my documents while I whimper answers to their interrogating questions. If is an opposite to that nightmare scenario, that was my experience. Relaxed is the only word I could use to describe my immigration officer. I gave him my work permit approval letter and the employment letters. He confirmed that the employer was School District 57 and then asked what was taking me to Prince George. Sensing that this last question was just out of interest I explained my reason and then asked him what Prince George was like.
What followed is laughable compared to what my expectations had been: he laughed at the idea of two Brits moving to cold, isolated Prince George and then he sauntered over to the printer to retrieve my work visa. The printer had stopped working and so I watched him and another official poke it a bit. He handed me my visa and I began packing up my documents ready to run out to Jacob. Just as I was about to leave – I kid you not – his fellow printer poking colleague came over to tell him there him was a problem with my visa.
Back up went the heart rate, goodbye mouth saliva, hello sweaty palms.
But I wasn’t being denied entry, apparently their printer fiddling had meant that two copies of my visa had printed accidentally. Smiling as if this was just a normal day, I stood by while they discussed which I should have and which they should destroy. Sure guys I haven’t had enough suspense today go ahead and make me wait. Finally, after they reached their decision, I walked until I was out of sight and then sprinted to Jacob to celebrate.
We collected our bags and I sat on the floor for a moment, head in my hands smiling in relief and amazement that round five was complete. It was over. I was in.
The flight to Prince George
We had given ourselves at lot of time between our arrival in Vancouver and our flight to Prince George but eventually we were walking out to the tiny propeller plane.
Suddenly we were airborne and it did not matter than I had not been able to enjoy the splendor of the mountains coming into Vancouver because here they were in the sunset. Their snow capped peaks were little islands at first popping out above the clouds. Then as the mountains grew larger and the sun dropped lower, the moon was visible in the pink and blue haze.
Expectations and realities of flying into the unknown
Looking back there are quite a few things which surprised me about the experience of flying, getting through immigration and being screened for Covid-19. Firstly, the fact that the staff at Heathrow Airport still did not seem 100% certain about who would and who would not be permitted to enter Canada. I was also really surprised that no one took our temperature at Vancouver. It wasn’t necessary of course, because we had had our temperature taken before boarding and we had to complete a two week quarantine, but I thought they would be keen to double check!
It was also surprising that every single staff member at Heathrow Airport, on the plane and at Vancouver Airport was really friendly and kind. To be honest they seemed fed up with the extra measures themselves. Which isn’t that surprising from Flight Attendants whose job criteria is looking after people. But as it’s an immigration officials job to be emotionless and unbiased I was expecting them to be extra cold and suspecting, which definitively was not the case. When we had our work documents checked unexpectedly at the gate just before boarding the women even apologised about the extra measures and I found myself reassuring her that we were all getting used to the new way of things.
I certainly can’t recommend immigrating during a global pandemic. This blog, written from the comfort of my new home in Canada, can never do justice to how anxious I felt at every stage of the experience. But I must admit that flying here, being screened for Covid-19 and questioned by immigration it could have been a lot less pleasant.
West Country Wandering 