Taihe: A Lawyer’s Story | The Moon Isn’t Round Abroad — Observations on Life in Canada from a Lawyer

In February 2025, due to my husband’s job relocation, our family of three moved to Ottawa, the capital of Canada, beginning nearly a year of life abroad.

Before I left, my friends all said, “Finally, you get to experience life abroad.” I felt both eager and a little apprehensive. In my youth, I always thought that moving to a new city or country was simply a fresh start; but after turning forty, with family, career, and children to consider, every step required careful deliberation. Still, such an opportunity comes only once in a lifetime, so I decided to slow down and, as an ordinary resident as well as a lawyer, take in this unfamiliar land.

The plane touched down just after five in the morning, before dawn. Colleagues from my husband’s workplace were already waiting at the airport to greet us. As we drove into the city, the world outside the window was a vast expanse of white, with thick drifts of snow piled along the roadside. Even though the municipal snowplows worked around the clock, they still couldn’t keep up with the pace of the snowfall.

In Canada, switching to winter tires in the winter has almost become common sense; nor can the snow and ice accumulating around one’s home be entirely ignored. As a lawyer, I quickly came to realize that many of the rules here do not exist merely on paper—they permeate everyday life through insurance, property‑management liability, and community governance. Here, the law functions less as a set of abstract statutes and more as a practical tool repeatedly employed in daily living.

Ottawa’s winters are long and bitterly cold. The last major snowfall of 2025 came on April 8, only to melt completely within a week—so much so that locals jokingly call it “spring in a single day.” From May through October, Canada enjoys its most pleasant season: blue skies, sparkling lakes, and lush forests, with hiking, camping, cycling, and boating drawing nature lovers to every corner. If the weather were like this all year round, I suspect many people would never want to leave. Unfortunately, the other half of the year is almost entirely a world of ice and snow; by four in the afternoon, darkness has already fallen, and without a car, one’s radius of activity shrinks considerably. That’s what I’ve found hardest to adjust to.

Compared to the weather, the second thing that caught me off guard was the food.

As a native of Nanjing, I used to hardly know how to cook at all. But after moving to Ottawa, I somehow turned myself into the family’s “head chef.” The reason is simple: finding familiar Chinese flavors isn’t easy. Toronto boasts plenty of authentic Chinese restaurants, whereas Ottawa offers far fewer options. And with takeout, you’ve got to factor in delivery fees, tips, and sales tax—by the time it arrives, the total price often leaves you too discouraged to place an order.

Later, I gradually realized that this phenomenon also reflects the differing levels of labor costs and employment protections under various systems. From the consumer’s perspective, service prices are indeed quite high; from the worker’s standpoint, wages, social insurance, and working hours all depend on institutional safeguards. Lawyers are accustomed to examining the same issue from multiple angles, and many everyday complaints, when viewed through a different lens, often reveal an entirely different set of underlying logics.

Many people envy Canada’s generous welfare system, but once I actually lived here, my feelings turned out to be far more complicated than I’d imagined.

Canada operates a publicly funded healthcare system. Its strength lies in ensuring that essential medical services are accessible to all, regardless of income; however, a significant challenge is the lengthy wait times. A system of family physicians, referrals, and appointment scheduling helps allocate limited resources according to urgency, yet patients still bear a time cost. It is not uncommon for individuals to wait several hours in the emergency room, and securing an appointment for imaging tests can also take considerable time. For patients whose conditions may deteriorate rapidly, such delays can understandably cause anxiety.

This reminds me that the healthcare system has never been a simple matter of “free” versus “fee‑based”; rather, it involves balancing equity, efficiency, and fiscal sustainability. Canada places greater emphasis on equitable access to essential services, and patients typically enjoy more convenient and faster care—but individuals may also bear a heavier financial burden. No single system can simultaneously deliver all its advantages; what laws and public policies seek to do is often to strike a balance among competing values.

The same holds true for welfare systems. In Canada, taxes are used to provide support to low-income families, children, the unemployed, and other eligible groups. From a systemic perspective, this is part of social wealth redistribution, aimed at ensuring basic security for people in diverse circumstances. Yet when it comes to individual experience, different groups perceive it quite differently: those who benefit from these programs feel the safety net provided by the system, while ordinary working‑class households are more likely to focus on the tax burden and the rising cost of living. Laws seek fairness at the collective level, but what individuals first sense is often what they bear and what they gain.

After arriving in Canada, I began to pay close attention to the country’s immigration system. Back home, when Canada was mentioned, many people immediately thought of it as an “immigration nation.” But only after living here did I realize that it doesn’t simply “welcome everyone”; rather, it employs a well‑structured, continuously refined framework to select the talent it needs while managing both the scale and composition of immigration flows.

Overall, Canada’s permanent residency system can be broadly categorized into economic immigration, family reunification, and refugee and humanitarian programs. Economic immigration plays a central role, with the primary goal of attracting individuals who can participate in the labor market, address skill shortages, and contribute to economic growth. Federal Express Entry, provincial nominee programs, Quebec’s immigration stream, as well as Atlantic and certain community‑based initiatives, assess applicants based on factors such as language proficiency, educational qualifications, work experience, occupation, regional needs, and employer sponsorship. Family reunification reflects the policy objective of preserving family ties, while refugee and humanitarian programs fulfill international protection and humanitarian responsibilities. Behind these distinct categories lie three underlying policy priorities: economic development, family values, and the protection of human rights.

Canada remains a federal state, and immigration management is not solely the responsibility of the federal government. While the federal government sets the overarching rules on entry, visas, and permanent residency, the provinces and territories can, through their provincial nominee programs, select applicants based on local labor market needs. In other words, the same applicant may encounter differing occupational demands and policy opportunities across different provinces. This institutional arrangement has left a deep impression on me: national-level uniform regulations and the practical needs of regional development are harmonized within a single legal framework.

Another hallmark of this system is its highly procedural nature. Applicants must submit documents such as language test scores, academic credentials, proof of work experience, a criminal record check, medical examination results, and evidence of financial resources; many programs also employ point‑based systems, invitations, or quota‑based management. Public transparency does not make the application process any easier, nor does it guarantee predictable outcomes. Policies are adjusted in response to changes in housing, healthcare, and education capacity, as well as labor market conditions, and the list of eligible occupations, available spots, and processing priorities may shift accordingly. In recent years, policy direction has placed particular emphasis on “sustainability”: while continuing to attract skilled workers, it seeks to curb the growth of temporary residents and places greater weight on facilitating the transition of those already living and working in Canada to permanent residency.

As a lawyer, I have come to increasingly recognize that immigration law is not merely a set of technical rules governing passports, visas, and status; it is also a vital instrument of national governance. A country’s priorities—such as the types of talent it seeks to attract, the regions it encourages people to move to, and the extent of its commitments to family reunification and humanitarian obligations—are ultimately reflected in its laws, annual plans, and administrative policies. What may appear to be individual choices about one’s life trajectory are, in fact, deeply intertwined with broader public issues—including demographic structure, employment, housing, and public services.

Our family came to Canada and, in the process, navigated everything from obtaining a work permit to mapping out our long-term immigration plans. Observing a system firsthand is entirely different from poring over regulations in an office. Questions like whether the documentation is complete, whether the timelines align, and whether policy changes might derail our original plans all underscore a stark reality: while legal provisions outline eligibility criteria and procedural steps, what a family actually endures is waiting, uncertainty, and the constant recalibration of their vision for the future.

More importantly, obtaining permanent residency is by no means the end of the story. What ultimately determines whether a family can stay is still employment opportunities, the cost of living, cultural adaptation, family togetherness, and expectations for their children’s education. While the law can grant an individual the right to live and work here, it cannot substitute for each person’s own answer to the question: “Is this place right for me?” Status is merely a ticket to enter a country; truly integrating into a society takes far longer.

What comforts me is that interpersonal relationships here are relatively straightforward. The Chinese community is very welcoming, and tennis and pickleball are widely popular—almost every neighborhood has free public courts. Though my skills are modest, everyone is eager to play together and to help newcomers, so I quickly found my own circle.

Compared with the intricate web of personal relationships back home, interactions here are much more relaxed. People maintain just the right distance from one another and respect each other’s boundaries. This may also reflect a social norm that has emerged over time through the steady accumulation of rule‑based thinking: when faced with a problem, people first turn to procedures, contracts, and accountability, rather than relying on connections or seeking favors from acquaintances.

A year has flown by in the blink of an eye. Some people ask me, “Is Canada really that great?” But these days, I no longer answer that question so readily.

Here, you’ll find a beautiful natural setting and a relatively well‑established system, alongside a leisurely pace of life and long winters. The emphasis on rules, fairness, and clear boundaries means that efficiency isn’t always at its peak. This place suits those who cherish a peaceful, quiet lifestyle, but it may not be the right fit for everyone who seeks vibrancy and rapid development.

As a lawyer, I am even more convinced that no system is perfect, and no country can meet everyone’s expectations. The law can define rights and responsibilities and establish procedures and order, but it cannot make the specific life choices for each individual.

And as an ordinary person, I still miss the convenience of life back home, the abundance of delicious food, the high efficiency of public services, and that pervasive sense of warmth and vitality that seems to be everywhere. My daughter, too, longs for the familiar school environment and her old friends. Ultimately, our judgment of a place never hinges solely on the size of its benefits, the beauty of its scenery, or how easy it is to obtain residency; it also depends on whether that place truly suits where we are in life right now.

This chapter of life in Canada has opened my eyes to a different kind of society and helped me rethink the gap between institutions and everyday living. It turns out that the moon abroad isn’t any rounder—it simply shines on different lands, illuminating the unique choices each of us makes.

Attorney Han Shijie

Taihe Law Firm

Attorney Han Shijie has been practicing for more than ten years, specializing in commercial litigation, matrimonial and inheritance matters, and family trusts. He has provided ongoing legal advisory services to over twenty large and medium-sized state-owned enterprises as well as private companies.

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