Alberta Called. I Shouldn’t Have Answered.
The “Alberta Is Calling” ads first caught my eye in the fall of 2022. They were splashed across Toronto’s transit system, and I was jammed into a crowded subway car on my way home from work. The Alberta government rolled out its $2.6-million campaign to lure big-city folk, fed up with high costs and congestion, to come out west for the promise of a better life.
The promise was alluring: move to a place where you can buy a house, take home a bigger paycheque and spend less time commuting. As a single person renting an overpriced shoebox condo in downtown Toronto, it was a compelling argument.
The prairies weren’t foreign to me, either. I grew in Saskatchewan and lived in Calgary early in my career, so the ads’ pictures of wide-open skies and mountain views felt familiar. Maybe returning would give me a chance to slow down, reconnect with my roots and be closer to family.
It would also allow me to enter the real estate market. Even as a middle-class person with a reasonable income, homeownership was impossible for me, and many of my peers, to even consider in Toronto. And yet, despite sky-high costs, the social pressure to own was ingrained in us, as was the belief that a solid financial future was only possible by acquiring real estate. I loved Toronto, but staying would mean I’d be a life-long renter, without the nest egg of home equity.
I thought about the campaign a lot over the next year—and what homeownership could mean for my financial future. I had a great job in Toronto in the entertainment business, which didn’t exist in Calgary in the same way. I had incredible friends, and I loved the busy, urban lifestyle the city offered. But in time I convinced myself that I could give up those things, that moving to a smaller place with a cheaper cost of living was the best way to get ahead. So, in late 2023, I quit my job and packed up my car to move out west.
I was part of a growing trend of interprovincial migration. The mass exodus began during the pandemic, when people fled cities like Toronto and Vancouver for more affordable areas of the country, especially in Alberta and the Maritimes. Five years later, the shift is still ongoing. Between July of 2023 and July 2024, Alberta gained nearly 44,000 residents from interprovincial migration, while Ontario lost 25,000 (Toronto alone had a net drop of nearly 10,000). The move in both directions is largely driven by adults in their 20s through early 40s—people who, like me, may have been swept away by the promise of homeownership.
Before I left, I already lined up a good, stable job in Calgary’s communication sector, so I was able to put an offer on a place the first week I arrived. With so many people coming to Alberta, the real estate market was hot. Prices were expected to rise, so I didn’t want to waste any time. It took all my savings and everything I had socked away in my RRSP to scrape together a down payment, but it was doable. One month later I was living in a sunny one-bedroom-plus-den condo in the city’s core that cost me around $300,000—less than half of what a similar unit would cost in Toronto.
However, it soon became obvious that the move had not changed my finances for the better. Calgary’s cheaper housing had allowed me to become a homeowner, but the costs were higher than I’d budgeted for: moving expenses, home inspections, lawyer fees, fresh paint and new furniture. Things started to add up quickly, and I had no savings to fall back on. But at least I was a homeowner. No more landlords, beige walls or ugly blinds. This was the ultimate freedom. That is, until the monthly bills started to roll in: condo fees of almost $500 a month, property taxes of $175 a month, a mortgage with a whopping 5.89 per cent fixed interest rate, and an unexpected special assessment of almost $1,400 to make up for a shortfall in the building’s reserve fund.
In addition to the unexpected costs of home ownership, it also became apparent that the cost of living in Calgary was not necessarily cheaper. Groceries, insurance and even seeing the dentist carried unexpected premiums. I wasn’t imagining it; many basic necessities cost more in Calgary than in Toronto or Vancouver, according to Statistics Canada.
After using all my money to buy the place and paying monthly expenses that overstretched my budget, I soon accumulated a mountain of debt, which I’m now struggling to pay back. As well as working a full-time job, at the end of 2024 I started taking on side hustles to make ends meet, including a part-time weekend job and freelance writing.
At the same time as I was falling behind financially, I was struggling socially. I had known people in Calgary years ago, but most had long ago moved to the far-flung suburbs, where nearly all of the city’s new housing is built—part of the reason it can still offer cheap single-family homes. And, of course, time had passed. My old friends had other responsibilities, like spouses and kids. They couldn’t meet up for brunch or have a drink at a moment’s notice. It was a reminder of how much I had valued Toronto’s densely populated urban core and all the friends I knew who lived nearby.
To make some new connections, I signed up for pickleball, curling and belly dance. I became a member of my condo board and went on friend dates with complete strangers. I spent time in the mountains, hiked in Kananaskis and paddle-boarded in Banff. Alberta wins on this kind of thing. There’s no nature like this in or near Toronto. Most of the time you’d still be stuck on the 401 after an hour.
It isn’t all bad. I’ve learned some new things and made genuine friends. But I’ve also realized how much I loved Toronto and how much it had become tied to my identity. I thrived on its culture and civic character: covering the Toronto International Film Festival for my job, cheering on my favourite sports teams. Toronto was home, and its unique experiences were a part of my life. Living across the street from the Rogers Centre, I’d frequently go to Jays games or head down the block to check out the Raptors. Leafs games were too expensive for me, but there was always the opportunity to catch a glimpse of captain Auston Matthews in the neighbourhood. In Calgary, I miss walking everywhere, I miss the endless entertainment options and convenience, and I miss the supportive community I built.
If I hadn’t felt stuck in my living situation, I would never have left. And this is where cities like Toronto have failed. The lifestyles they offer are enviable, but they come at a premium cost in Toronto, and the city doesn’t make it easy for people who want to make their homes there. Homeownership is out of reach, of course, but the rental market is also expensive and filled with substandard options. In many countries, renting is a normal adult choice. In Canada, even in our costliest cities, it’s considered a fallback option.
I’m keenly aware I’m one of the interprovincial migrants driving up the cost of housing in Alberta. I’m also aware that people who love Calgary probably don’t appreciate me talking about how much I miss Toronto—and that for others, answering Alberta’s call was just what they needed. If you want a house that doesn’t cost a small fortune, with lots of space for a young family, it might be right for you.
But I’d caution anyone who is tempted like I was that there may be unexpected sacrifices. For me, it turned out that everything I needed was already right in my own backyard—or in my case, a 50 square-foot balcony.
In the year and a half I’ve been in Calgary, I’ve learned a lot about what home really means. I’ve even held onto my 416 cellphone number—a coveted status symbol in Toronto— and don’t plan to switch. Should a “Return to Ontario” campaign emerge, I can’t guarantee I won’t pack up again and head back east, even if it means going back as a renter. Until then, I’ll enjoy these majestic mountain views.
