Early Immigrant Days-11

Saccharine country or not...I had to earn a living as I settled into my new surroundings. The floor under my feet was grey and
very clean...the ceiling above my head was off-white and serried with rows and rows of white fluorescent lighting. I kept
expecting a white coated orderly to wheel in someone to be operated on. What is more...I was living a large part of my life
now twelve stories above the ashphalted and concreted ground far below...another first for me in a time of many firsts. I felt
disoriented spending so much time in my box up in the sky. The mud and water cocoon of my childhood...that had once been a comfort to me...was now long gone...and I had to get used to my new environment...the sooner the better. My life had
indeed gone through a bewildering metamorphosis. My externals had changed so suddenly...that it might have seemed to an
observer watching this plateau of my journey...that it would only be a matter of time before...my insides would change too
to match my space age surroundings. I suppose my accent in addition to soliciting references to two weeks once spent in
:The Barbados"...must have caused at least some amusement...and may have been a lightener of our grey surroundings. My
crew-cutted and permanently permanented compatriots of the twelfth floor...were pleasant enough...punctuating their
"pardon me's" as they tried to comprehend what I was saying with many an "Is that right?"...in response to my identity
seeking references to "back home". It was only a matter of time before...being told one "pardon me" too many...set me on a
mission...to be understood by my northern work-mates and others...the first time I said anything. I think it was around that
time... I started losing the heaviest parts of my Guyana accent...although it still reveals itself...to this day... when I say certain words.,.that give away...that I was not born and raised...under Canadian skies....................Quester.