Culture-shock bit us, but now Toronto is our home The flight was an eight-hour marathon of feeding, changing, toilet trips and mischief management. The Krypton Factor crossed with Supernanny, it wasn't something I'd repeat in a hurry. When we touched down at Pearson, we were sped by golf-cart through customs and immigration. The kids were thrilled - Canada was making a great first impression. It was a relief to spot my name among the placards held aloft at arrivals. As we followed our driver out into the afternoon sun, the Toronto summer hit us and I felt some of my muscles start to soften for the first time in days. A happy reunion, dinner and a swim in the pool later, my husband and I settled three kids down to sleep in our hotel room and congratulated ourselves on having made it this far with our wits (and marriage) intact. We moved into our rented property and our furniture arrived shortly after. In those early days, everything felt like an achievement: paying in the supermarket, new friendships, deciphering the bus timetable. Becoming an expat is like experiencing life through a baby's eyes. It's all new, even if the language is the same; the way it's used differs: tone and meaning, body language - everything needs to be re-learnt. All the small and seemingly insignificant differences like brand names and ways of doing things combined to unbalance me occasionally, but I loved the blue skies and wide open spaces and the way every day seemed so full of potential. As winter set in, culture-shock bit me and doggedly hung on. I mused wistfully over all that was great about Britain - the wit, the history, the NHS... it seemed to me they did everything better over there. My new friends must have needed dental treatment after gritting their teeth while I lamented my losses. I hung onto UK packaging, reading the familiar postcodes and telephone numbers with tender reverence, but by the next summer, I was over it and could say with certainty, I don't want to go home. Becoming an expat has been a lesson in taking one day at a time and appreciating what we have. We've come through tough times (getting through a Canadian winter without a car was one), but we have a stronger bond and that's priceless compared with the comforts of home. We may be living with less, but we're all the richer for it. We're a closer, more loving family. Now, when I enter my address online, instead of scrolling to the bottom of the countries list as before, I search for Canada, nestled in between Cameroon and Cape Verde. I don't know if it's where we'll settle, but we're grateful for what we've learnt. This article was originally published in the Telegraph Weekly World Edition. Do you have an expat tale to share? Email submissions of no more than 1,000 words to weeklyt@telegraph.co.uk.