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.

Silence Is Golden

Research shows that chronically alone people have long-term health problems. But one advantage of my 3-month sublet was only occasionally talking to people. Because whenever I do, people usually opine unsavoury opinions. It could be that I am of the "intolerant left" as declared by those of a rightward bent. I am not a true leftist though because I don't care to fix society or make people see the light; apres moi and all that.

For example, during a company meet-and-greet in March, I found out that a co-worker held punitive and carceral views when it comes to unhoused folks and drug users. As they also lead annual missionary trips to "3rd-world countries", it didn't surprise me. There's no hate like Christian love, as the kids say. My annoyance surfaced over my typical politeness until we moved to less fraught topics.

It happened twice in one week since my return to Ottawa. On Easter Sunday last week, my sibling hosted a lunch with a big East-meets-West spread. Lately, our lunches have been smaller due to sick or unavailable relatives. When our chat turned to the current state of the world, my judgmental aunt and the "labourer" wife of my uncle both saw through the buffoonery of the Orange-In-Chief. But my mom kept repeating like an wind-up robot: "I am pro-Orange". This was the first time she had spoken out-loud what I have been suspecting for some time. How did someone, proud of her education and cosmopolitanism, and with no access to right-wing media got this way? Sadly, she watches endless videos of people of her generation who have nostalgic memories of our European colonizers, exaggerated views of the accomplishments of the ancien regime, and an abiding hatred of those "evil Reds". This means that these elders also align themselves with those here whose worldview also hearkened to an imaginary golden past and nothing but grievances for the present. The irony was that the supremacists' ideal society would not include her cohort even if they had carried water for them.

Meanwhile, my sibling was worried about their next-door neighbour. First, the house was foreclosed. Then the owners were seen back in the house. Were they illegal squatters? This led them and my cousins to recount anecdotes and hearsay from "a friend of a friend" that showed that landlords were the real victims in real estate. I was so tired of it all I went and sat by myself for a while. So on Friday, I decided to finally reply to a post on Craigslist about a sublet. It was the same apartment I stayed at back in 2022. Next month, I will once again have several weeks of quiet solo living.

On Saturday, I met up with a friend for lunch at Decca Delight. We both had vague memories that this place used to be another restaurant. I then recalled that I had wandered in here looking for Korean corn dogs at Seoul Dog until I saw the bar. Asian street food in an English-style pub seemed out of place. Decca offered mostly Indian dishes but also a handful of Hakka (Indian-Chinese) dishes. Our lunch consisted of Gobi Manchurian ($15.99), Malai Kofta ($15.99), Vijayawada Byriani ($17.99) and naan ($3.49). The portions were large, tasty, but a bit on the salty side.

The same could be said of our conversation. We touched on raising teenagers (them), work travails (us), and relaxation (I went to Toronto, they vacationed in Mexico and Spain). I talked about mutual friends who were considering retirement. I felt that they were unjustified in their worries because their government pension outclassed most Canadians' modest fixed income. They declared "not my problem" with the average Joe's precarity. Then came statements about the obsolescence of unions and lazy subordinates. We bid goodbye until the next time.