Starting fresh in a new city—from Sydney to Toronto.

Who the hell moves to a city they’ve never been to before? That’s insane! There’s so much that could go wrong. For starters, what if you hated it once you got there? Well, call me crazy—but five years ago, I did exactly that and I fell madly in love. (With the city, not a man.) However, it was one of the scariest, loneliest, and hardest things I’ve ever done.

To start this story off right, I should tell you that I developed a serious case of millennial restlessness before it was even a thing. Perhaps it’s because I grew up on an island. Or maybe because I genetically crave big adventures. (Both of my parents packed up their lives and moved to Sydney, Australia in their twenties, which is where they met and got married.) One thing is for sure: I’ve always been a big city girl. My dad told me that at age 6, I declared I was moving to New York. It still hasn’t happened, but I do go there at least once a year.

Anyway, that’s not to say anything negative against my nature-filled West Coast upbringing. I love being in the forest, I’m obsessed with the ocean, and I can’t get enough of feeling the sun kissing my skin as I relax on a beach. However, when it comes to my day-to-day life, I prefer to be in the heart of a bustling city.

Which is why I ended up starting fresh in not one, but two major cities across the world.

First, there was Sydney. Moving there was the first time I had lived away from my sweet, picturesque hometown of Victoria, British Columbia. However, I don’t necessarily consider moving there a difficult experience. Half of my family lives there and I was going to university—so it was easy to make friends, tour around, and get used to the city. Plus, I had been there many times before.

The biggest move, in terms of challenges, was when I packed up my life into three overly stuffed suitcases and hopped on a one-way flight to Toronto, Ontario. I’d never been before, I knew exactly one person there, I didn’t have a job lined up or an apartment of my own, and no family whatsoever. I had no idea what I was truly getting myself into.

My parents used to tell me that I make impulsive decisions without fully thinking them through; I couldn’t argue that with them anymore. This was Exhibit A.

I remember the night before I moved like it was yesterday. Until the early morning hours, I sat in my bed crying. Was I making the right decision? Was it too late to cancel my flight? Would I be able to make friends, find work, or a place to live? I was terrified—but I didn’t let that stop me.

So, why move to Toronto? Well, like I said before, I’ve been in love with New York City since I was a little girl. Ultimately, I wanted to end up in Manhattan but the next best thing—without having to go through immigration and all that jazz—seemed to be Canada’s most bustling metropolis, also referred to as “The Six.”

I figured that if Toronto could masquerade so convincingly as New York in movies, then perhaps I already loved it.

The one person I knew in Ontario was a girl I had met at a Canada Day party in Sydney. I told her of my plans to move to Toronto and she offered for me to stay with her at her parent’s house. I was incredibly relieved, although a little bit hesitant. We talked on the phone at least half a dozen times before I moved—going over flights, confirming the game plan. However, none of what we talked about ended up coming to fruition.

Long story short, it wasn’t cool with her parents for me to stay at their house and she didn’t tell me that until I was there. After lugging my suitcases to the front door she turned to me and said, “You can leave these out here because my friend is coming to pick you up in a couple of hours.” Oh, and another kicker? Turns out she didn’t live in Toronto but a 45-minute drive outside of the city.

She ended up passing me off to a high school friend (she told me they were “besties” and he told me they had barely spoken since graduation) who owned his own place. Luckily, he ended up being a really great guy who let me live at his house rent free for a month while I looked for my own place.

So, what about a job?

I was incredibly naive when I moved to Toronto. As a recent journalism graduate, I thought I’d get to the big city and just walk into a great writing job—preferably at a print magazine like Elle or FASHION, my absolute dream at the time. I applied for what seemed like (and probably was) hundreds of jobs but had no luck. My savings were dwindling from the $20 round-trip fare to get downtown every day and I was no closer to getting hired anywhere. My hopes were quickly crushed and I was contemplating getting on a plane to go back home.

If my pride wasn’t so strong, I probably would have given up. But I was too stubborn to admit defeat.

Instead, I decided to take a different approach. Why not try freelancing while earning an income another way?

That’s when I had the idea to become a nanny. I thought it would be a safe bet since I love kids, they seem to love me back and, well, I was running out of other options. After signing up for a nanny-hiring website, I landed a full-time job looking after the cutest and sweetest little 4-year-old girl. Five years later, her family has become my Toronto family. Even though I’m no longer their nanny, we still have dinners and keep in touch just like you would with your own relatives. I’m so thankful that they came into in my life.

Being a nanny was also a great way to learn my way around Toronto. I’d pick parks, ice cream shops, and toy stores in different areas of the city and make a day out of exploring the neighbourhoods. We went trick-or-treating in Cabbagetown, ate gelato in Little Italy, and played in the sand at Sugar Beach.

When it came to making new friends, having a blog helped me out a lot. First of all, I made a list of all the upcoming fashion events that I could find. Then, I got the PR contacts and introduced myself over email. More often than not, they invited me (or The Lady-like Leopard I suppose) to come mingle and enjoy the night. Even though I hated going to events alone, what choice did I have? At least with being new to the city, I always had a conversation starter.

I also volunteered backstage at Toronto Fashion Week during my first month here. That was another great way to make friends who had the same interests as me. Fun fact: I’m still good friends with a girl I met volunteering at fashion week and I was the Maid of Honour at her wedding a couple of years ago!

As for my living situation—after a month and a half of searching, I found a house with two girls who were looking for a third roommate. I moved in with them as soon as I possibly could. We didn’t all become best friends—in fact, one girl disliked me more than I dislike spiders, mushrooms, and math combined—but it did help me move downtown and start my real life in Toronto.

Of course, living here hasn’t been all roses.

I miss my family so much sometimes it hurts, even though I know they’re only a phone call or a plane ride away. I’ve lost touch with friends, I’ve stressed about rent and my freelance income, I’ve craved my mom’s home cooked meals, I’ve gone on some seriously bad dates and I’ve cried myself to sleep when I’ve had to spend holidays alone.

However, I choose to look at how far I’ve come.

Making the scary yet exhilarating move across the country was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. It may have seemed semi-reckless at first, but with fierce perseverance and my undying motivation to become something in life, I did it. It’s been five years now and I have a career, a boyfriend, lots of friends, and an apartment all of my own—with no roommates in sight.

And if I had to, I’d do it all again.

All images by Evangeline Davis.