At the Airport Bubble
– Nonfiction by Kateryna Mashtakova –

This is me—a newcomer who emerged at your Kelowna airport today.
Someone could complain, What brought her to my city?! We already struggle with lowpaid jobs, high rental charges, and pricey tags at grocery stores. Her arrival will simultaneously elevate the cost of goods in all sectors. And what if her skin colour is not as white as our mountain snow? And what if she does not hold our beliefs? An invader of our little paradise. And yes, she is not from Canada, but from somewhere between Austria and Australia, so her English will sound funny; maybe she doesn’t speak The Language at all?!
Precisely at this moment, I nestle in a cozy chair near the window, tired of dragging my suitcase through the airports of several countries. Ukraine, Turkey, Poland, Germany, and finally, Canada. It’s funny to imagine my tiny steps like a serpentine, red, dotted line on the world map.
Now, what are my thoughts? I am a modern Don Quixote, ready to fight the windmills of separateness, unemployment, and the impossibility of getting a lease agreement on a tiny basement only because I have no credit history in Canada. But clearly, I am delusional, and these creepy monsters exist only in the realms of my feverish imagination. A cloud of dandelion chutes floats in the air outside the window.
I will step out of the airport bubble. I will instantly get sunburned under the ice-cold sun. Ice-cold! you will exclaim. It is the Okanagan; the sun here works in bakingm ode. But don’t forget about stereotypes; I was convinced
I would arrive in this wonderful arctic country to meet polar bears, see the landscape of igloos, and be greeted by the friendliest and most polite people.
But, no joke, I believe in Canadians. Window glass mutes their words, but, for sure, they will not judge my traditional costume of a sky-blue sundress, embroidered shirt, and a wreath of wildflowers decorating my head; they will appreciate my choice of Horilka (I don’t drink alcoholic beverages, but Horilka works miraculously for massaging my granny’s back); they will genuinely try to comprehend my English (well, 10% English; the rest Ukrainian and Polish words, evenly).
I will find a tiny vacant spot in the field of education; daycares are not bad: I won’t become rich, but who knows, maybe my loneliness will be cauterized by the dozens of children’s hugs gifted to me daily. The housing issue will also somehow be resolved. Thousands of British Columbians will eventually find an exit from the labyrinth of the housing crisis, and I will, too. If, of course, anything will be left after the raging wildfires that destroy nature and cities on their way. I know this heartbreaking feeling when your land is racked. But we will rebuild the places and bring rebirth to the natural environment. Your home, and now my home, will be okay. And while working together, our friendship will grow because—though we all have individual tastes and habits—we, humans, are so alike. We cherish our loved ones; we are proud of our neighborhoods; we believe that the land that sustains our existence will always be great. And these are not pathetic words; this is the essence of the phenomenon called The Nation.
In the end (or perhaps it will be just the beginning), will I grow roots in the Okanagan soil? It will depend on your welcoming attitude and my stoical strength in fighting endless paperwork. I expect that a glass of Horilka for you and a shot of maple syrup for me will help maintain the most productive dialogue. Welcome to Canada!
About the Author – Kateryna Mashtakova

Kateryna Mashtakova settled in Vernon, BC, almost 3 years ago. She is a student at
Okanagan College and a debut author, who still wonders if her writings can be considered as writings at all. In 2023, Kateryna became a winner of a Short Story Contest at Okanagan
College, Vernon branch. In 2024, her poem “A Mourning Dove” was approved for publication in Existere-Journal of Arts and Literature.
Keep Reading…
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Meanwhile, at Dreamers…
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