For many young South Americans, immigration is more than a change of scenery; it ends as a leap of faith.
In this episode of Almost 107, I sat down with Tomas Martinez, a 21–year–old Colombian who has spent nearly six years building a new life in Canada.
The hardest part of leaving Colombia began before the plane ever took off. At just 15 years old, he learned his family would be relocating to Canada. Instead of holding on tightly to friends and familiar routines, he quietly stepped back and withdrew from them.
“I stopped talking to my school friends,” he said. “I didn’t want to feel this sadness of leaving them or thinking maybe I wouldn’t see them ever again.”
But the memory that he remembers more vividly is saying goodbye to his father.
“My dad didn’t want to let me go,” he recalled. “He knew we weren’t going to see each other for a long time. First, he was actually being hard on me about signing the papers to leave the country, as I was a minor. ”
The decision to immigrate wasn’t driven by dreams of luxury or the desire for adventure.
It was about survival and dignity. Tomas’ mother and stepfather were both pushed out of unstable and stressful jobs.
“With jobs getting harder to find in Colombia, we took the chance and came to Canada,” Tomas explained. “We came here with money that wasn’t even ours, just with the hope for a better life.”
Like many newcomers in Canada, Tomas and his family arrived with fears and assumptions.
“In Colombia, every day on the news there’s violence,” he says. “Here, nothing ever happens. London felt boring, but not in a bad way.”
At first, the transition wasn’t easy. He struggled with the language, joking that the first Canadian slang he heard, the word “dope,” wasn’t even in the dictionary he had.
Tomas also explained that his family arrived in Canada as international students, not refugees. This means they received no government assistance.
“In my case, we got zero help,” he said. “If our study permit extension got denied, we’d be sent back to Colombia immediately.”
To survive, the family relied on pet-care apps to earn income, eventually building a reputation on the platform.
The support they found came from strangers and fellow immigrants.
“It was always Latinos helping Latinos,” Tomas says. “The Colombian and Latino community here in London is really strong.”
When asked about the most significant cultural shock, Tomas points to something simple: respect and safety.
“In Canada, if someone likes your outfit, they’ll just stop you on the street to tell you,” he explained. “In Colombia, if that happens, you’re probably getting robbed.”
Even as he adapts to the country, Tomas insists his identity hasn’t changed a bit.
“I’m 100% Colombian, always will be. I never forget where I come from.”
What does he miss most? The food, he explained.
“Canadian food isn’t the issue,” he said. “It’s that the U.S. and Canada don’t regulate food well. It’s just not the same.”
Despite building a life in Canada, graduating from high school, and working full-time, Tomas remains uncertain about his plans, whether to stay or not.
“If I stay, I see myself with a house, two cars, a family, something like the American dream,” he says.
“But honestly? I want to leave Canada someday. Because of the food, man. I just can’t.”
Tomas’ journey is one of hope and hardship, sacrifice and strength. His honesty reflects the emotional reality behind immigration.
Listen to this episode of Almost 107 and explore more stories at 10690x.com or wherever you get your podcasts.
Finding Home again: Colombian immigrant youth experience (Daniel Monroy)
