What, Me Worry?

On Friday, I ate leftover injera and fried rice. They were perfectly fine on Thursday but caused some intestinal issues this time round. Of course, it had nothing to do with the food. The real issue was some sort of digestive problem. But I avoid that uncomfortable premise and will facetiously blame other factors. This time round, I pointed the finger at work.

I ate at home because I had no time to leave the apartment for lunch due to a deadline. Also, I reviewed the work of some co-workers and some frustrations leaked through. Not enough to get a write up from HR but I did leave some exasperated comments. Anyway, I need to find some equanimity because this job wasn't worth my health.

In in the evening, when I got on the College St streetcar heading to The Baby G ($20) in the West End, I was already feeling some gut pangs. But I blamed it on my widening mid-section pressing against my jeans. I didn't mind the slow trip as I watched people enjoying themselves at restaurants and patios. But the discomfort was worsening. By the time I got off at Brock an hour later and walked to Dundas, I was so certain that I needed to get home soon that I went to an ATM and got money for a taxi.

When I scanned my ticket inside, I headed straight to the washrooms in a small hallway next to the stage. They were empty because everyone was watching opener Sno Daze. I have abandoned concerts plenty of time before for stomach problems but usually while still at home. I only recalled 2 occasions when I was already out. Once at the Phoenix Concert Theatre but I don't have any memories of using their decrepit facilities. So I must have flagged down a taxi. I did have to use the washroom at The Mod Club. That time, I "blamed" standing pressed against the bass speakers (those low frequencies vibrated my innards!) and never did it again at any other concerts.

The bad news: it took 5 rounds of flushing before I felt more composed. The good news: it never got to the liquid stage like it often does. I was impressed that despite the graffiti the washroom was quite clean. Lee's Palace could never. In any case, I only caught the last two songs from Sno Daze so they sounded very much like other indie bands to my ears.

Though worrywart was the headliner, they were up next. This Toronto gig was 5 weeks into a 7 weeks tour which will end in their hometown of Vancouver. I liked the combination of cacophonous guitar and 3 part harmony. Combined that with a 34-city work ethos (most small bands might do 10 cities), which reminded me of Bright Light Social Hour 15 years ago, and they got $35 from me for a tour t-shirt. When I asked where they played in Ottawa a few nights prior, it was at House of Targ. In Ottawa South on a Wednesday, that was probably a sparse gig. I wasn't surprised that they were looking into Rainbow Bistro in the Byward Market for the next time.

I was preparing to leave when I saw that Blosum had 4 female members and a male drummer. This was an inversion of the typically band. I was intrigued and stayed for most of their set. It wasn't quite shoe-gaze (not enough knob fiddling) but there were some catchy numbers. But I hung around 1 song too many. Missing a streetcar heading East by literally 30 seconds cascaded into a 2.5 hour return trip due to a combination of traffic, being stuck on the tracks (and waiting too long due to my indecisiveness), and finding alternate routes. I couldn't even grab a taxi, because since the arrival of the pandemic and Uber, I don't see idle ones patrolling Toronto streets anymore.

Rice Is Nice

There was a follow-up personal practice on Tuesday, but I still felt sore from my Monday Yoga class. So I decided to do a morning run on Wednesday to bring blood flow and movement into my muscles. I headed East toward Gerrard Mall and up on the pedestrian bridge. This gave me a chance to look at the construction for the new subway station at Pape. They have demolished the old building and dug up the parking lot and surrounding land. But for a surface-only stop, there hasn't been much work. I continued on Pape and turned on Frizzelle. There was a trail that eventually connected with Kempton Howard Park and the old cemetery on Blake St. Then it was home via Myrtle and Harriett.

Wary of uncooked dough, I stuck to good old rice for the next few days. Samosa and Chaat was unexpectedly closed on Wednesday so I ate a Salmon Bento Box ($15.95) at Gerrard Sushi. It was a full lunch though you got bigger portions and more variety at defunct Mazz Sushi. For Thursday's lunch, I stopped off again at Yummy House for egg fried rice ($10) (fortune cookie: "You have common sense and a lot of charm"). I asked the owner's son about Yummy's age and was told it was 23 years old. He was probably around that age, too. I saw a pinned Toronto Star article about students at the local high school visiting this venerable and cheap establishment. It made sense that they got some business from the teens. But whenever I was out at noon, I usually see them at the 241 Pizza or the various fast-food places at Gerrard Mall (Popeye's, Tim Horton's, Little Caesar's). Some older ones might sit on the patio at Dineen Cafe.

In the evening, I headed up to The Danforth via Prust and other side streets for an Ethiopian dinner at Abugida. The vegetarian platter ($17) was delicious as usual. They provided more injera bread than other places so I packed up a large doggie bag with leftovers. Danforth was hopping in the warm weather with folks sitting on the patio at The Wren and other spots. I took a chance walking home despite the full meal. But in case things acted up, it was by the most direct route along Greenwood Ave.

The Body Knows

A few months ago, a friend recommended a Monday evening Yoga class at the same Coxwell studio where I have practiced a few times. I never found the time during my winter sublet but I finally booked a spot now that I was closer. It also gave me a chance to walk through a few neighbours East of Coxwell. The houses along Hanson were interesting. The North side looked organic and part of the neighbourhood. The South side were more cookie-cutter and though I thought they were recent builds, they have been there since at least 2007 (via Google Streetview). The homes on Hillington heading up to Danforth were more modest.

My friend was there and we chatted briefly. They were doing a driving tour around Iceland next week while their unemployed child will be home pet-sitting the animals. The instructor for this class was older but the attendees were uniformly younger than my previous classes. My friend and I probably had at least 30 years on them and I found out why. Teachers here seem to like doing a lot of lunges and twists. But this one also loved toe raises and generally making her Somatic Flow harder. Back when I practiced vigorous Yoga, I would have found it satisfying. Now that I only do gentle morning self-practice (and a bit of running now and then), it was punishing. I sweated buckets, my legs turned to jelly, and over the next two days, my thighs were sore and aching. The only downside to this style was no time for proper alignment.

With my t-shirt soaked through, I abandoned plans to have dinner at Abugida for a quick pizza slice from Pizzaiolo. They didn't have my go-to Bianca so I opted for a Capri. At first, I loved the pesto, feta cheese, and sun-dried tomatoes. Then I discovered the slices toward the centre were spongy and semi-translucent. Fearing uncooked dough, I ditched the remaining slice. I made my way gingerly to Monarch Park, through the pedestrian tunnel, and then down to Little India. There were no intestinal rumblings for this walk home but plenty of propellant. Luckily, no other consequences occurred through the night.

On Tuesday, aggravated at my lost pizza slice, I went to 241 Pizza near Gerrard Mall. Despite what the other 241 pizza's owner said about corporate requirements, this one still had printed signs. At first, the slices tasted great as I sat and watched passer-by. But then I noticed the same spongy feel if not quite as much as Pizzaiolo's. Maybe all pizzas were like this and I never noticed? But I don't recall this mouth-feel at the good 241 Pizza and Fresca. A quick research at home turned up the phenomenon of pizza gum line. No, I wasn't oblivious before; bad pizza makers created this layer of grey, undercooked dough. I won't be back at either businesses any time soon.

Turn A New Leaf

When businesses disappear from a neighbourhood like East Chinatown, they are usually replaced by something trendy. So I was pleased to see that the down-to-earth Vital-Life Vegan Rastarant has opened (about 2 years ago) in a former Asian bakery (Fu Jia Le) at Gerrard and Broadview. On Sunday, I combined a trip to a Chinese grocery store (Galaxy Fresh Foods) and also lunch. I usually walk but with a fine mist still coming down and possible post-meal problems, I opted to use the streetcar.

The owner of Vital-Life reminded me of my friend: an older proprietor who had mobility issues. They were still busy in the kitchen while my friend has mostly delegated that work. Looking over the short menu on a chalkboard, I selected the Jerk Bowl ($18). I've always thought that most of what makes an entree are the preparation and cooking method. After all, Jerk is a process not just the spice, according to AF1 Canteen. So the soy tasted like a typical Jerk dish though I won't claim that it was equivalent to an excellent Jerk chicken. 

There were two negatives though. First, it was too salty. I wondered if the chef/owner had diminished taste buds due to age. Second and paradoxically for a vegan spot, it didn't have enough greens. There were only 2 small slices of plantain, the arugula salad was only a few bites, and my meal did not have the avocado listed on the menu. So Vital-Life was similar to regular Caribbean spots in its lack of veggies. Other Jamaican vegan places that I've visited over the years (One Love Vegetarian, Veggie D'Light, V's Caribbean) offered more than just protein. To be fair, their chickpea curry bowl seemed to be more plant-friendly.

Bombs Away

On Thursday, the grim task of work continued. First, there was a poorly done interview on both sides. For their part, they struggled to reply to questions with confidence. There was a small language barrier but it was mostly lack of assurance and experience. But I could sympathize because my co-worker (and new Team Lead) didn't pose the clearest questions. I have encountered this before on both sides with leading questions: there were expected responses and anything else was considered wrong. Right afterwards, I had a live session with the scattershot co-worker where I had to show them everything. I admit I might have initially sped through the explanations but I had assumed a certain level of competency from people collecting a paycheck.

The session ran late so I wasn't able to eat lunch until 1:30 pm. I stopped off at Atomic Burger at Gerrard and Greenwood which replaced vegan shop Jinglepear Deli. With a 50s retro-futurism aesthetic, the inside was swooping curves, round portholes, a plastic fantastic orange palette and a menu with Space Cadet Burgers and (Onion) Rings of Saturn. I got a regular cadet burger ($11.99) and upgraded to a combo (fries and drink for $5.49). The front counter staff agreed with me that a savings of $0.50 (regular fries was $5.99) would have been a big deal 75 years ago.

The burger was simple (sauce, pickles, lettuce, cheese, bun) and delicious. I actually found two patties (at 3 oz each) was too much meat. Next time, a cadet jr ($7.99) should suffice. There was also a lot of nicely salted fries. In fact, a cadet jr combo plus a second jr burger would be cheap and enough for two people.

Earlier in the week, I had planned to grab a slice from Fresca and hear two bands at Dina's Tavern: see what the passage of time has been for By Divine Right (last seen by me in 2014) and Casper Skulls (idealistically young in 2017). But with another full day on Friday, I was less excited to head West for some evening entertainment. I ended up staying home with a dinner of naan and aloo gobi ($17) from Lahore Grill.

I also skipped a concert on Saturday at The Burdock. That did seem like a good show: quintet Parade featured Laura Swankey and Joyshape had frontwoman Zoe Alexis-Abrams. Swankey was interesting and I have never heard Abrams sing. She was a Facebook acquaintance (when I used to be on there) after our paths briefly crossed. In 2014, we were part of a "flash mob" doing backup vocals for Maylee Todd. In any case, it rained all day and into the night. I stayed in and raided the fridge for such odd combination as rice and fries.

House Bound

Tuesday and Wednesday had me talking with more clients. I did not enjoy these interactions. First, I was pulled into a live meeting because customer support needed some detailed explanation. The good thing was that the other side knew what they were doing. The bad thing was that they only know sort of what we were doing. So questions if I didn't explain enough, but dismissal if I talked too much. Then on Wednesday, I attended another 6 a.m. call. People re-calibrate their status quo quickly and I no longer got "kudos" like before.

For Tuesday afternoon, there was another sad interview. They reminded me of myself 15 years ago when I tried to pivot from a niche job to something more general at a hip start-up. It didn't work out for me though my skills exceeded that of the interviewer. But I was too fuddy-duddy for them. This one wasn't quite as adept and despite his young age, has found himself in a career with limited mobility. No doubt he could transfer his skill-set given time but on paper, it was a thumbs down (literally for the interview software I had to use).

This situation became comically ironic on Wednesday. Despite copious notes, my coworker could not accomplish some tasks I passed to them without being hand-held at every step. I recently learned that they earned a certificate in clock-building. It was odd that someone with such a detail-oriented hobby needed to be spoon-fed at work. Yet here they were on the employed side of the unemployment line.

On Tuesday evening, I went to a nearby Chinese take-out spot called Yummy House at Gerrard and Jones. They were definitely OG having been in the neighbourhood for at least 20 years. I got chicken fried rice ($14) which wasn't quite as good a deal as South Pacific. It had that wok hei flavour which improved daily since there was enough for several meals. Since I was so busy with work, the leftovers from Samosa and Chaat and Yummy kept me fed at home. My fortune cookie said to "keep [my] eyes open, and take advantage of the unexpected."

Mosey Monday

There has been a short burst of summer weather over the long week-end. So my morning run on Monday did not require a jacket. This time I headed south to Queen St. and the various side streets. Some of the houses were grand enough for the West End. Though the new builds were obvious (boxy and out-of-place), you can tell which streets have been mostly gentrified. The houses may remain Victorian or Edwardian, but the porches, doors, and windows were new. Another giveaway was the presence of pricier cars like Audi, Mercedes, or BMW parked on the road. Several new condos were breaking ground on Queen.

After breakfast, I cleaned up the sublet. Though it was relatively neat, an apartment with this much stuff will have problem spots. Sure enough, underneath dressers, sinks, and other furniture were months worth of dust and detritus. There were also ant and mouse traps which weren't around my first time here. I hope the strong fragrance of the ripening alphonso mangoes don't attract various critter.

For lunch, I heeded the advice from the man I met at the laundromat and headed to Que Linh. I have been here and was on-the-fence about their pho. But he pointed out that it was their banh cuon (Vietnamese rice rolls) that was their specialty. I ordered the large ($11.06) and he was right. With someone in the kitchen rolling out the thin, crepe-like rolls made from rice flour, these were soft and semi-translucent. But given how cheap the ingredients were, it was still a bit dear to pay out $15 (tax + tip), more than double what it cost in 2014.

This also gave me a chance to check out East Chinatown as I've only been back to buy fancy chocolate. The small grocery stores still had foot traffic but it looked like only those restaurants catering to the gentrified set (Dine & Dim - a dim sum spot, Issho - bakery and cafe) were full.

City Slackers

Early Sunday morning, I did one of the joys (for me) of big city living: going to the local laundromat. Oscar's was clean during my first stay and it hasn't changed except for the cost ($6.50 for a small load and 32 minutes of drying). It was full of older, Asian folks which was a reminder than Chinatown East and its residents once extended from Broadview to Greenwood. I was surprised at the crowd until I noticed a hand-written sign with a 5:30 opening time, much earlier than the 7 a.m. info provided by Google. That's great news for next time.

Not being the only one doing laundry meant that I did interact with some people. An older man spoke to me in our mother tongue. It turned out he has lived in this area for more than 40 years and he dropped some lore: Asian businesses once existed as far as Coxwell. It was only later that South Asian stores arrived to create Little India. If true, then Chinatown East was almost twice as long as the main one on Spadina. Nowadays, it and Little India have shrunk dramatically and losing out to gentrification.

When I heard he still had kids in university, I switched from the "uncle" honorific to "brother". He flattered me by claiming with a straight face that I looked no more than 35. He sympathized at being treated as an elder but asserted that I was still young enough to get married. As for himself, a work accident two years ago has him considering retirement. He was currently on WSIB after surgery and physical therapy. But with a pension after 40 years with car parts manufacturer Magna, it was time to call it a day.

Around lunchtime, I went back out to visit one of the last remaining Chinese take-out looking for a deal like South Pacific. But Yummy House was closed on Sunday. The hip restaurants were opened but in spite of gentrification, the only business that wasn't empty was local coffee shop Dineen. Perhaps everyone who hadn't left for cottage country was at the Leslieville Farmer's Market in Greenwood Park. There was an extensive number of vendors, far more than the one at Dufferin Grove or even Trinity Bellwoods. I wondered about the turnover rate though because despite being packed, only the food sellers had any traffic. Most everyone else (organic farms, artisanal products from dips to oil to wine, and so on) just stood around.

I didn't buy anything there but I did get byriani rice ($10) from Samosa and Chaat. Later on, I went to Kohinoor Foods to get a case of Alphonso mangos ($50) from India. This was 2.5 times the price of your typical Mexican mango but then I haven't had them since before the pandemic. Last time at this sublet, I had left just before mango season so couldn't procure some for my grandmother and my mom.

Quiet on the Eastern Front

It was nippy early on Saturday but donning a light jacket was sufficient for my early morning jog. Several things made outdoor runs more enjoyable in Toronto: less cars even on a thoroughfare like Gerrard and they travelled at lower speed; variety of visual changes from small buildings and storefronts on main streets and eclectic homes on side ones; woodpecker hammering away at an electrical pole (don't insects infest only living trees?) along a trail that ran alongside the train tracks; McDonald's delivery sitting untouched in front of Left Field Brewery on Wagstaff Dr (a gentrified alleyway) - order time of 1:47 am meant that this was either the wrong address or someone didn't wait.

For lunch, I ventured to Huy Ky for a bao ($3.50) and a banh mi ($6.00). Again, deviating from my usual vegetarian order resulted in a slightly disappointing meal. Two things this time: the cha ca (a Vietnamese fish-cake) lacked dill that usually gives it a strong, distinctive flavour. Second, since the patty was stored in the fridge and had to be microwaved, that made it too stringy. Fresh from a deep-fryer would have been ideal.

I had several plans for the evening. I would go to Fresca for the best pizza slice in the city. Then it was around the corner to Dina's Tavern for 2 acts. Headliner Paste channeled 90s alt-rock and was releasing a 4-song EP. To be honest, that seemed underwhelming to have only 1 recording in the 4 years since they graduated "Class of 2022". Megan Aversa (Velvet Beach) was also part this band but she wasn't the lead singer. Math-rock quintet High Tea sounded more interesting. Lately, microtonal duo Angine de Poitrine went viral on Youtube and was now selling out shows. So an evening listening to some cerebral wankery might yield some gems.

But I ended up staying in. The distance from the East End to more happening downtown or West End areas discourage travel. Also, somehow the quieter vibe (the streets were mostly empty all day) sink into your psyche and you turn into a homebody. I will have to resist this urge while I am at this sublet.

Survivor: Late Stage Edition

In the last few weeks, my workload wasn't just never-ending deadline but also interviews. A single job posting for my team yielded 800 applications. The ability to work remotely might have opened it up to all of North America but it was also indicative of the current work market. It was depressing interviewing people who were mostly in the same boat: laid off and looking for work since January. Superficially, they were all qualified and perhaps even more so than me and especially my co-workers. Also, I have only seen a fraction of the applications so I don't even know what automated gauntlet rejected the rest.

Speaking of trial by fire, a co-worker has been promoted to Team Lead. They did so on an informal basis for about a month last year but couldn't quite hack it. So we got a new manager hire who lasted all of 2 months. A few interviews for a replacement didn't go anywhere so now they had a second kick at the can. I don't know the amount of salary bump, but they were now in meetings until lunch before doing any "real work". It was sink or swim this time round since the company announcement has gone out.

So I wasn't surprised to find out on Friday that they had worked late into the previous evening hammering out a quick and dirty solution for a customer. I spent the morning helping them test before the client meeting. I also sympathized silently during our own meeting since the dysfunctional team dynamics hasn't changed since last year.

For dinner, I visited the 3rd best "pie slinger" in the city: Pizza Pide. I ordered the assorted ($16.49) and watched the passer-bys while waiting for my meal. I overheard the proprietor talking to a customer and got some history. Pide hadn't changed owner like I thought because the current one took over from their uncle about 10 years ago. The business was 30 years old so it was middle-aged when I first visited. I didn't love my selection this time round though a meat-lover might have enjoyed the variety: ground beef, chicken, lamb, and Turkish sausage. I liked the two ends best with spinach and especially the sharp feta cheese. The bland mozzarella that was used for the rest of the pide didn't compare. So I will stick to my usual veggie order.

A Few Doors Down

There seemed to be no end to work madness since March. I wanted to pull the plug on the whole thing because by any standard, my nest egg should be sufficient even with early retirement. On the other hand, the second half of my retention bonus arrived last week. But this lucre was pro-rated so it would be clawed back if I leave before next May.

For lunch, I wanted some adobo chicken from Teako. I was surprised that the servers weren't the owners but even more so to find out they only served tea now. They had stopped making food, at least until the summer (supposedly), because business was slow. This did not bode well for the store. So I made my way to the Greenwood intersection for Gerrard Sushi. Unlike ibet Sushi (or its spiritual ancestor Mazz Sushi), they did not play easy-listening jazz but pop. Specifically, smooth covers of songs both old (REM's Losing My Religion) and new (Olivia Dean's So Easy To Fall In Love). I was on the fence about their sushi lunch ($15.95). Good: the fish wasn't bland like Hana Sushi. Bad: the nigiri was on the small size but more egregiously, the nori for the salmon maki was tough to chew. I have never had subpar seaweed until now.

After work, I went to Coxwell because Food Basics did not cover all the basics. Little India looked a little run-down with numerous empty storefronts and development signs. This was a neighbourhood either in decline or about to undergo rapid gentrification. Some businesses had just moved to smaller digs: Udupi Palace was now at Regency Restaurant, The Famous Indian Cuisine moved across the street to replace Karma's Kitchen. But stalwarts like New Family Diner were permanently closed. The Dollarama and No Frills at Coxwell had larger selection, though the latter did not compare to the location at Dufferin Mall, and I was able to finish off my household checklist.

Circle The Square

I volunteered to attend a 6 am meeting on Wednesday since our clients was 12 hours away on the other side of the world. As an early riser, it was no actual hardship. But if management thought it was a great sacrifice, I won't complain much. It was the second of two meetings where the first one was handled by my colleagues in Europe.

But they were twiddling their thumbs and so did I when I joined. With the vagaries of modern technology, our customer was unable to download our latest product. Eventually an ad-hoc solution was found but by then, we were out of time. There was a tense debrief a few hours later with the bigwigs where blame was mostly deflected onto our clientele's IT department.

This wasn't the only critical update so I was busy until lunch. I snuck out for more Indian food, this time at Samosa and Chaat across from Lahore Grill. I received an enormous container of chicken byriani ($10) with enough rice for 2 meals. The chicken was good but not great since they had to reheat everything. I find that chicken, more than other meat, had an unpleasant odor and taste when microwaved. In this case, it was acceptable because of the tasty spices.

After work, I went to Food Basics at Gerrard Mall. Its selection wasn't as good as No Frills but the latter has been bulldozed for a new subway station currently under construction. There were maybe 2 business turnovers in the neighbourhood since I have been through here last year.

My kitchen at the back of the house looked out at a duplex on triplex that loomed over it from a hill. I finally tried to find its entryway. One street over from my place there was a small side lane that led to a some hidden semi-detached homes. Beyond them was a small foot path that finally led to the triplex. But it was boarded up and currently abandoned. I guess some developers had kicked out the residents but haven't gone ahead with any reno. Given its odd location, it was hard to see what they could build (at least for maximum profit).

Sheet Used To Be Mine

When I needed some space from the chattering mob, an old sublet came up. But the 6-week lease would also save me from the jacked up hotel prices in June due to the FIFA World Cup. I arrived at my new domicile in Toronto on a bright Tuesday afternoon. There was no chance for a breather though because of a customer deadline, I needed to juggle several balls on the bus trip from Ottawa. Then immediately after I unpacked, it was more work.

I finally got my dinner break and headed to Lahore Grill. The fresh naan ($3) and the daily vegetable ($14) were wonderful. But even for Lahore, the okra was soaked in oil. So good on the palate but so bad for the arteries. The upside was that there was plenty of leftover for lunch.

Later on in the evening, I wandered around the apartment to see what has changed in the 4 years since I rented the unit. The owner was a triple-threat musical theatre actor so there were plenty of mementos from shows and trips. I recalled most of them, so it was like stepping into the past. The ceramic ducks with rain boots on the living room table were new. They must have also picked up some additional hobbies as several new watercolour paintings dotted the apartment. A new microwave and toaster were found in the kitchen. But the collection of photos on the fridge was gone. Perhaps they disappeared after the end of a relationship (of which there were vague hints on social media about a year after my stay). From the welcome letter, which mentioned other tenants for mail pickup, it seemed that the basement renter was still around. But the long-time resident on the first floor, along with his British room-mate, have both left. A new couple (a singer-songwriter and a theatre artist) now occupied the ground unit.

In the bedroom, there were some surprising old items. The comforter, pillowcases, and bed linen belonged to me; I had left them behind, freshly cleaned and re-packed. I didn't expect that the owner would keep them since they were cheap polyester products from Walmart. How could I be sure? I had brought one flat sheet back with me to Ottawa. It was stowed away for 4 years until I took it out for my recent sublet in January.

For this return, I also included that flat sheet in my luggage and its pattern matched exactly. Interestingly, all items were in new condition. Mine was obviously because I haven't used it in years. I suspected that theirs was because they only brought it out for the occasional subletter when the good bedding was stowed away. Waste not, want not. But it was an odd feeling to lay down on a "familiar" bedspread, like an adult visiting his childhood home.