One Life To Live

Sunday morning, I got a better look at the long-time renter living in the basement of my sublet. He was gathering up dead leaves in the backyard. Peeking through my kitchen's window, I revised his age downward: he was closer to mine. So it was a case of me not recognizing a peer and therefore misjudging how I appeared to others.

Leaving him to his chore, I went to Udupi Palace for lunch. The new location was a better fit than the old one. The latter seemed too cavernous for the number of diners Udupi hosted. The menu informed me that Udupi was a reference to Udupi cuisine, a mostly vegetarian style from Karnataka. Since the dosa was actually from there, I ordered a Pav Bhaji Dosa ($13.95). Normally, I don't mind eating with my hands but the mashed veggie ingredient was too soft to pick up cleanly. Along with the chutney and sambar soup, it was a delicious meal. I overheard the owner and waitstaff talking to a long-time customer with his new wife (1 year in Canada and baking at Bobbette and Belle). From the snippets I learned some lore: Udupi opened in 2004 while the proprietor arrived from Bombay in 1990. He gently chided them for not sticking to a pure vegetarian diet but the woman countered that while she used no eggs in cakes back in India, here you couldn't do without in a mainstream shop.

On Monday, I found out that the "new" Team Lead has taken a two-month leave of absence from what was originally a short vacation last week. This was the 3rd time they have taken time off to deal with health issues since they joined 3 years ago. As they were at least 20 years younger than me, I gave more thought to my own retirement. Especially since I also have some problems, although not as serious yet, from dentition to digestion. But what would I do and where would I live?

Back in 2019, when I did my training, I thought about changing (to a less lucrative) career as a yoga teacher. With the pandemic in 2020, I never got my chance. Since then, yoga studios have shuttered en masse (Toronto's yoga golden age was between 2008-2018) and there were now 7 years of new graduates. Also, the idea of having intestinal problems while teaching (all those folds and twists) was mortifying. It happened once at Downward Dog as a practitioner but luckily it was at the end of class. Still, I had to explain to my bemused instructor that there was "hot fire below". So would I just spend early retirement doom-scrolling all day? 

As for a place to live, if I become increasingly reliant to being close to home because of the same gut problems, then Toronto was it. My old neighbourhood of Bloorcourt and Bloordale had everything within walking distance. But living on a "fixed income" in an expensive city was financially less prudent. But in Ottawa, would I just spend early retirement doom-scrolling all day?

Give Or Take

A summer of activities is in full swing in Toronto as seen by the packed crowd at Do West Fest. Several events were on my radar during the week. A wet forecast for Saturday made them all tentative but with the rain coming in early on Friday, the day looked to be beautiful. So it will be an overstuffed day of big-city living. Gentle reader, I did none of it.

First, The Citadel was having a dance recital of two works: Dixit Dominus and Svaha. It sounded intriguing and it has been a long time since I have seen student dancers (part of the Svaha piece) in a production. Second, the Festival of New Musicals were showcasing several in-the-works pieces. I wasn't sure what that entailed: a sort of "table read", a rehearsal without the costumes, or something closer to the final show. Most of the performers were POCs so I definitely regretted not supporting this. Finally, there was a brand-new "festival" called TOgether at Nathan Phillips Square. With the current divisiveness in the world, this one-day event was meant to highlight the inclusivity and unity of Toronto by raising money for its hospitals. There were family-friendly activities during the day, culminating in a free concert in the evening with Canadian heavyweights Broken Social Scene, Alessia Cara, and Feist. Only in a big city can you get 20+ corporate sponsors including various banks (CIBC, TD), consulting firms (EY, KPMG), and others businesses like Kraft, Rogers, Fitzrovia (luxury rental), and MRG (concert promoter) to bankroll events like this.

What I did do was cleaned the kitchen and bathroom, did groceries at Food Basics, and stopped off at Huy Ky for a fried egg banh mi ($6). They sell other home-made items so I grabbed a banh giay ($2.50) and a banh gio ($3.50). With such tasty and cheap snacks, I sometimes wondered why I even bother risking $30 on disappointing meals. Also, the ground floor apartment currently sits empty. I thought about asking to sublet it after this sub-lease expires in 2 weeks. But paying $1900 to then stay home seemed a waste of money.

Tongue-Tied

I thought the chance of rain was over when I headed out around 7:30 p.m. on Friday for the Dundas West Street Festival or now more commonly known as Do West Fest. Since I was stuck in traffic the last time, I decided to try the subway instead. Luckily, the Greenwood bus, one of the less frequent route, came quickly. Everything proceeded smoothly until Ossington. The bus was at least a 20-minute wait so a large contingent of festival goers streamed out of the station to head south. As a long-time resident, I knew to avoid the car-heavy vibes of Ossington street by heading one block west to Concord.

When I got to Dundas and Dovercourt, about one-third of the way into the party zone (which extended from Ossington to Lansdowne), the street was packed. Do West has survived the street festival battles (there was a time when Toronto was crazy about having a street festival almost everywhere) and, being more or less the 1st one on the calendar, positioned itself as the official start of the summer. At first, I walked down the middle to check out the various food vendors. But like a good number of visitors, I then moved over to the sidewalk for the relatively lighter traffic. Though a crowd at a Baby G show just down the street was usually young, they do feel a bit indie. I haven't been among such a huge number of mainstream 20-somethings in their going-out clothes in a long time. I was struck by their youthfulness (eager, lively, joyful) and postulated that a large number of the hundreds of thousands coming here every year must be young folks. Given the expensive cost of living in Toronto, someone older might decide to save their money and avoid the big-city life.

My destination was a concert stage across from The Garrison. But with a new condo at the old LCBO parking lot, it was now placed right on the street. With the bar itself extending its outdoor patio to cover most of the other side, there wasn't much room for both concert and festival attendees. So the amount of listeners wasn't much more than at the Baby G. In previous years, it might have been several hundred.

Both bands were plagued by intermittent rain but they still did a bang-up job. Shilpa Ray and her band from NYC alternated between slow, broody numbers (reminiscent of a DIY Massive Attack) and fast-paced punk of furious chords and screamed lyrics. I was there for Mother Tongues, having skipped their concert last year due to a fever. I knew of front-woman and bassist Charise Aragoza, who started out as a back-up dancer with her brother for Maylee Todd, and later became a musician who played with acts like Luna Li. But somehow, for about a decade, I always missed them by a few hours.

I was pleasantly surprised by their set. The 90s dream-pop on their album rocked harder live. Aragoza light vocal still floated over the music, but now it was backed by driving drums and feedback-drenched guitar. Her bass kept a steady pulse though Mother Tongues liked to segue between languorous verses, driving refrains, and almost jammy extended codas. The older folks at the back by the Garrison entrance enjoyed this evolution of their era's music. At the same time, the young crowd at the front grew bigger and bigger, and even beginning to block the foot traffic. It wasn't quite a mosh pit, but there was definitely people (and sometimes umbrellas) bouncing up and down.

I stayed for Mother Tongues' entire show which lasted until 10:50 p.m. Afterwards, I walked back up to College St. Luckily the rain kept most people inside with Little Italy being noticeably empty. So my streetcar made excellent time to the East End. Compared to the 2.5 hours trek last Friday, I got back to my sublet in 40 minutes.

A Bowl Of Sadness

Hana Ramen took over from G-B Hand Pulled Noodles on Gerrard. I passed by it often to do groceries or eat dinner. With the window covered by cheerful, cat-themed decorations, I couldn't tell if it was busy. Missing out on pho from Mimi, I finally decided to give Hana a try on Thursday.

Inside, there were several occupied tables. One of them was mad for the dumplings and fried chicken. But this was the worst ramen I've ever had. My combo ($22) started out auspiciously: the green salad (cucumber, tomatoes, lettuce, dressing) was large and fresh. The agedashi tofu with bonito flakes was acceptable even though a crispier skin would be nice. But my plant-based chashu ramen was terrible. There was another vegetarian ramen option that had a tomato-based broth so I wasn't sure if mine was also plant-based. Its cloudy appearance resembled typical tonkotsu. In any case, it was flavourless and bland. But the ramen was even worse: soft and soggy, lacking any chew. If you have ever left your instant ramen sitting too long, that was the quality of the noodles. Unless you have no taste buds, Hanaramen must be a one and done for anyone. On the other hand, it seemed like the table that was effusive about the food here was a repeat customer. And they had bowls of ramen and did not just eat side dishes. As for me, the $30.66 bill (tax + tip) was the biggest dining regret I've had in a while.