Milestones

I usually wait for the end of the year before writing a retrospective. But with Omicron restrictions, it is unlikely something important will happen next week to up-end this year's narrative. However, there are 2 milestones that are worth reviewing.

In 2002, a mildly embarrassing event happened to me. I was also unemployed because of the dot com crash in 2001 and still living in a roach-infested rooming house. An even-keeled person would laugh it off and spin it into an amusing anecdote about "all things come in threes". Unfortunately, I've always been anxious and neurotic so this one-off has lingered with me ever since. I don't know if it contributed to my teeth-grinding and insomnia, but it definitely boosted the baseline of my everyday anxiety level. Furthermore, I had vacationed in other countries like France and Vietnam prior to this. It's no coincidence that I have rarely traveled outside of Canada since then.

Well, almost 20 years later, it happened again on Christmas day. I can find it funny this time round, at least at the conscious level. But I'm sure that the frightened monkey in my unconscious has grabbed hold of the experience and is chittering away in the background. It's going to be "interesting" to see the eventual outcome. I don't think I'll become a hermit who never leaves their apartment, but fingers crossed.

The other milestone was changing jobs in 2015. People find new employment all the time but I joined my previous company in 2005. So that was a significant move which is now coming up on 7 years. In other words, almost another decade has passed. As I get older things seem to "change" in the blink of an eye and I remember "recent" events that, upon further reflection, actually occurred before this job change. So each time, I become discombobulated upon realizing that it has almost been 10 years that, for example, I was looking for love in all the wrong places, was once part of a Yoga "family" and not just practicing in a studio, and had my pulse on the local scene.

Update (01/01/2022): It's early days but the "simia clamosus" voice seemed to have double-down on routine. On the good side, I have been practicing yoga daily since this post. On the bad side, the number of "everything in its place", "every step in its time" rituals have increased. Also, I'm getting stomach issues again.

Root Chakra

On Tuesday, I returned to the Astanga studio to try a lunch-time class. The trip was mildly disappointing on two fronts. First, the class was once again the Primary Series but condensed to fit into the hour-long format. I would be quite bored if I had to always practice the same sequences. Second, despite numerous restaurants along Bank and various side streets, most seemed to be closed. I wasn't sure if this was typical or due to the empty office buildings due to the pandemic.

So after wandering around for a bit, I found Mad Radish at Albert and Metcalfe. It had the "clean Scandanavian" look and healthy food choices of these types of eateries. But embedded in, and surrounded by, bland corporate edifices made it felt like an airport cafeteria. In addition to its own menu, there were also burritos from Luisa and pizza from Revival. I wasn't sure if these were separate ventures sharing space or merely different brands but from the same corporation.

In any case, I stuck to the main menu and ordered a Santa Fe bowl ($13.95) with the cilantro-lime tofu. It turned out to be a good lunch with a flavour profile reminiscent of Urban Herbivore. Here it was mouthfuls of kale, cabbage, mixed greens, corn, black beans, and tortilla strips. However, the latter does have the edge because sprinkling mixed seeds on a salad bowl adds to a meal.

In Olden Days

With the re-opening of music venues, folk trio The O'Pears announced a last-minute Christmas show at the Cameron House only 10 days beforehand. This annual tradition has been wonderful when I was able to attend. Being in Ottawa, I was happy that they would live-stream it on Instagram.

So on Monday night, I settled snugly into bed awaiting its start. I was initially worried since there was no broadcast for a while. Finally at 9:45 pm their live feed appeared showing Meg Contini, Jill Harris, and Lydia Persaud on stage fiddling around with some cables. They'd probably decided to skip the opener. The venue sounded full with lively conversation and clinking glass in the background. But a hush quickly fell when The O'Pears began with A Candle Burned. In fact, this quiet reverence stayed throughout their set (as opposed to the usual bar chatter) punctuated by loud cheers between songs.

I can definitely understand this awe. These 3 women wrap you tight in their intricate and wonderful vocals on their original material (Terrified, Long Winter, Morning Song) and covers (Joni Mitchell's River, Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas). If there was a drawback to Instagram, it was that a phone with its tiny mic couldn't fully convey the spine-chilling power of their harmonies. Despite the short notice, they were able to wrangle a backing band with Christine Bougie (electric/slide guitar), Ben Whiteley (bass), and Steve Lavery (piano).

The fun of live concerts was all the unexpected touches. First, we learned that Meg was now a mother to a brand-new baby. Second, Jill got them producer credit on Pentatonix's cover of River. The former's version was, shall we say, "highly inspired" by the latter's arrangement. Appreciation was better when it comes with tangible benefits. Finally, we were treated to two great pop covers. From her collaboration with Queer Songbook Orchestra, Lydia brought over The Emotions' What Do The Lonely Do At Christmas. And when the O'Pears came back on stage because of raucous demand for an encore, despite no rehearsal and 7 years since they last sang it, they nailed an uptempo rendition of Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy. Amazing!

Twists and Turns

I have been wanting to attend a Yoga class in Ottawa though I'm quite happy with my self-practice. But since the re-opening after the pandemic shutdown, studios have increased their fees by huge amounts. I've seen upward of $60/class in Toronto last fall. Here most places seemed to have settled around $30. Add $7.50 for transit and I'm looking at close to $40. This was too pricey for classes that were likely "less difficult" that my home practice.

But Astanga Ottawa was keeping their old prices. Along with free transit in December (to win back riders from months of LRT problems), this made for an affordable option. So on Tuesday, I headed downtown to Bank and Laurier for an early evening class. It was a good practice with an attentive teacher though I'm not a fan of working through the Primary Series. I prefer more flow and custom sequencing. It was also a hard practice for most people: even the vinyasas between postures can be physically challenging with so many repetitions. So I didn't like watching some of my fellow yogis, who really should be taking slower classes focusing on proper alignment, struggle.

Afterwards, I went across the street to check out Roast 'n' Curries. This small Indian eatery had several tables with diners (friends in their 20s, a couple on a date). After looking at the menu, I opted for the Matter Paneer Combo ($17.69). The curry came on a bed of basmati rice with salad, samosa, and a drink. Overall, it was mediocre food. First, I still can't get over Ottawa's tendency to include salad with dressing for Indian meals. Second, the curry was acceptable but mostly bland. Finally, the naan was pretty bad. They do offer tandoori dishes like chicken here (the "Roast" part of the name?) but I don't think they actually have a tandoor oven. It was closer to a Middle-Eastern flatbread than a soft and fluffy naan. Its' dense texture and hard crust was not fun to eat even with big dollops of curry.

In Training

I don't write about my train trips between Ottawa and Toronto because I'm usually working on my laptop or listening to music. But on a recent trip I had extended chats with my seatmate, something I haven't done in years.

Both were older women around my mom's age. After years of work and raising a family, they were enjoying their retirement. They seemed to be in excellent health. The one heading to Toronto on Friday to visit her daughter and grand-kids in St. Catherines (after 2 years because of the pandemic) was an active walker as well as cyclist in her Lincoln Heights neighbourhood. That area is currently under major construction but it does have numerous cycling trails to scenic parts of Ottawa.

She confided that she was likely to move back to Duluth with her childhood sweetheart (now husband) in a few years. I guess that would make visits to her daughters (Brockville and Ottawa) less frequent. I told her that her 18-year-old grand-daughter should move to the downtown Toronto campus next year. What's the point of moving to the big city to study at the suburban Scarborough campus?

On my Sunday trip back to Ottawa, I commiserated with my fellow passenger because we were both bumped by Via Rail to a later trip. She actually had a "2 hour delay" because without access to email, she didn't realized that the original ride was canceled. So she had shown up bright and early at 9:30 a.m. to sit for hours in the departure area.

This lady seemed perfectly suited for Toronto. In Ottawa, she was renting an apartment in the Ottawa South area for its walkability. For this trip, and previous ones, her daughter would rent her an AirBnB spot in a vibrant neighbourhood. This allowed her to do some exploration on her own. This time around, it was The Junction around Keele and Dundas. She often went to Toronto to see Arts and Crafts show like The One of a Kind exhibition or The Distillery District with her daughter.

I suspected that a smaller nest-egg (and more familiarity with the Ottawa Valley) might be dissuading her from considering a move to The Big Smoke. But everything from food to transportation is actually less expensive in Toronto with the exception of rent or real estate. But it is possible to even keep that cost down by having roommates. She had an older sister (who really should be moving out of her Etobicoke house) and a daughter living there. On the other hand, both had spouses so that would complicate cohabitation. In any case, I kept these musings private and just recommended The Bloorcourt area for her next stay. As an avid pedestrian and lover of small businesses, she would love Bloor St. from Lansdowne to essentially Yonge, a walk of some 30 blocks full of interesting sights.

Whether Tis Nobler

Saturday night, I left my guest room to go to The Danforth Music Hall for a seated concert. This venue was usually standing for me except for a show with KD Lang, Laura Veirs, and Neko Case. I was shocked that it was so empty even though I saw on social media that the promoter was still posting about available tickets. But it turned out that, unlike Ottawa, most Toronto people didn't bother showing up for the opener.

The first set feature Luke (Luka) Kuplowsky in a trio set-up with Karen Ng (clarinet, alto sax) and Josh Cole (bass). He played mainly from his new album Stardust including Rough Times and City By My Window. Kuplowsky also adapted Ars Poetica II from Ukrainian poet Bohdan-Igor Antonych. There was only 1 song from his "romantic" days, the earnest Love Is The Eternal Weight. I haven't loved his descent into sad-sack indie but Ng and Cole gave interesting texture and interplay with pop/jazz riffs and solos.

The audience was appreciative but just polite for Kuplowsky. However, a foursome of 20-somethings behind me were quite critical ranging from being mildly negative (a girl who worked at The Burdock and has seen several of his "Team Building" songwriter showcases) to downright dismissive ("totally cheesy" stated a dude who apparently got some back-pats for his songwriting back in college). They were mystified that Tamara Lindeman (The Weather Station) declared that Stardust was one of her favourite record this year. Musical tastes are, of course, personal. But someone who has slogged at it for almost a decade to release several albums featuring musicians/friends from the local scene possesses something (if only belief and perseverance) that an "I had potential" cynic lacks.

The almost-capacity crowd was larger and different (especially a lot of older folks) from Lindeman's previous shows. I suspect they were attending because her latest album Ignorance was on numerous albums-of-the-year lists such as Rolling Stones and The New York Times. Tonight was her biggest backing band including Karen Ng, Kieran Adams on drums, Johnny Spence on keys, Ivy Mairi on vocals, and Ben Whiteley on bass. Dressed in black, they provided a complex, kaleidoscopic foundation for Lindeman to gently nestle her complex lyrics about heartbreak (Separated), suburban ennui (Subdivisions), and apathy (I Tried To Tell You). Anxiety around climate change made many appearances both literal and metaphorical. None more so that in Robber, where Lindeman donned her "disco-ball mirror" jacket to sing truth to power ("He had permission/ permission by laws/ permission by banks"), while the band propelled the song forward and Karen Ng drew huge cheers with a blistering, manic solo.

Lindeman revealed that she had come down with a cold but was determined not to cancel her biggest hometown show. Luckily, she didn't lose her voice for tonight. Her precised, measured vocals was somehow both intimate but also clinical. Like someone dissecting their life experiences to examine and reflect on every detail. After the rousing Robber, the set wrapped with a quiet 3-song encore. It wasn't unexpected as The Weather Station's discog was mostly lyrical folk-pop. So the audience and myself was delightedly surprised that Lindeman closed with a muscular Thirty, rocking enough to get feet stomping.

The Fisher King

Saturday morning, I headed over to the Bloorcourt area to visit a friend. We caught up over brunch at Eggsmart. As a cook, she was initially impressed with my Loaded Veggies omelette ($12.99) until she realized that the skillet, being plastic, was only for show.

We talked about changes to the neighbourhood. I remarked that though it's only been 6 weeks, several new stores have opened. Some I have kept an eye on during their renovation: Indian restobar Mumbaikar and Hogtown Vegan's Hunny were up and running, Orote turned out to be fine-dining Korean, and Gladrags Atelier (Atlantis Restaurant) has settled in. Others were unexpected: Rebecca Gallery now housed Lilith's Garden, Wise Bagel (which I knew was closing) has become an expresso/wine/dj spot called Now and Later, and bar/chicken joint Open House morphed into Royal Comedy Theatre (the bro-like tagline of "uncensored comedy" has me eyeing them skeptically). The buildings at the corner of Bloor and Dovercourt (including defunct Nova Era and a number of new, but short-term, businesses) now carried a discrete logo from condo developer Sierra.

My friend knew of Lilith as she had bought a custom "jean jacket" from them. She heard that the previous buyers of those buildings had off-loaded them since they couldn't develop high-rise condos over the subway line. Well, on their website Sierra still envisioned a tall condo here. On a more personal note, her eye problems haven't improved. A burst blood vessel back in October has now become serious enough to require specialist intervention. And her knees were finally receiving MRI examination. Depending how things go, she may not be able to run her restaurant. So she was talking to some folks about selling her business.

I bid her farewell to do some local shopping for Christmas gifts (Jill and the Beanstalk, Ziggy's at home, Red Pegasus) as well as food (Daily Dumpling Wonton, Bonne Nouvelle) to bring back to Ottawa. I kept to small items because of luggage requirements but I couldn't resist some larger toys for my nieces.

After dropping off my purchases in my room, I headed over to nearby Barbara Hall Park for Chanukah In The Village. Hora Machine was playing klezmer music while volunteers gave out sufganyot (Hanukkah doughnuts). I couldn't stay for the candle-lighting because I wanted to try Si Lom Thai Bistro. That was a bust because the restaurant was full so I ended up at Sehzade Kebab House. I brought back to my room a spinach and cheese pide ($13.99).

Apparently this spot has been savaged on Yelp for its pricey but terrible kebab, doner, and other questionable versions of Turkish food. My reaction to the pide wasn't as bad but yes, this was rather bland fare. Not even close to the good stuff or even the mediocre ones. I would certainly prefer a cheap ($8) but tasty panzerotti from 241 Pizza.

As I finished up, I realized this was my second dinner in a tiny room in what was likely a rooming house before becoming a boutique inn. I did live at one at College and Dufferin when I first moved to the Big Smoke. Perhaps in old age, I will eventually end up in another one again? If any such places might still exists in Toronto in a few decades, it would have to be in the East End.

Pressed For Time

On my way back to the guest house from Christmas shopping, I dropped by Torch Sushi for some to-go dinner. I selected their Mix8 set ($21.99) though if I had realized that it came with seaweed salad and edamame, I would have chosen the standard order ($17.99). Here they have combined Aburi (torch seared) and Oshizushi (pressed) sushi. Overall, this was a good meal because sometimes with non-Japanese joints it can be a major miss. The fish had good texture and a smoky flavour. The rice was moist and not tightly packed even though it was pressed into cube form. However, the cheese cake with the set order was heavy and cake-y.

After a short unwind, I headed over to Lee's Palace to listen to some punk bands. For a Dan Burke show, it actually started at a reasonable time. So I entered at around 8:50 pm to hear the first band warming up into their first song.  Anticipating some loud music, I had my earplugs tightly jammed in so I couldn't say what most songs were about tonight. Sham Family was grunt punk which is to say some heavy chords and a lot of short, shouty lyrics punctuated by occasional screams. Shitbats from Hamilton did lindy-hop punk. I have no reason to call their style this (publications name them garage surf) except that a certain rhythmic jauntiness in their songs encouraged vocalist Cat Clyde to shimmy and shake. In any case, they alternated between Ramones-like speedy tracks and bluesy tunes that Clyde imbued with an Amy Winehouse vibe. None more so than a mash-up that started with Dusty Springfield's Spooky and segued into a mosh-pit friendly "eff you" middle section.

I used to sometimes skip out on headliners if they came on really late. But now at my age, even the prospect of an 11-11:15 pm start time was too daunting.  So although Wine Lips' release of their psych punk album was the reason I got a ticket, I left the young crowd (with a smattering of grey-haired ex-punks) to their partying and headed back to the inn. The next day, I had one more reason to lament decrepitude. Despite being always diligent with ear protection against loud music, it was obvious that my left ear hear at about only half the volume of my right ear. No more pretending that cheap earbuds or weird Youtube mixing was the cause of my "off-center" and unbalanced sound perception.

The Old Vic

On Friday, I headed to Toronto for the week-end. I booked a 2-day stay at Victoria's Mansion near Church and Wellesley. First, this guest house was slightly cheaper than a chain hotel. Second, it would give me a chance to check-out this East End neighbourhood.

The train ride was sold-out but arrived about an hour late. Because of track construction, it had to detour via Go tracks through Markham, north Toronto, and the Don Valley instead of the usual route along the lake. This was for sure the less scenic ride to downtown. With an actual passenger next to me, I got to talk to a pleasant older lady. Originally from Duluth, she had spent 40 years in Ottawa raising a family. She was on her second marriage after recently connecting with her childhood (grade 5) friend. Her plans to extensively travel after retirement was scuttled by the pandemic, although she snuck in a 3-week European trip 3 years ago.

Whether Victoria's was ever a mansion, it has been a heritage building since 1984. It looked like one of the bigger Toronto homes. But inside, it was divided up into 11 rooms so although the queen and studio rooms were likely larger, my standard single was tiny. But it had a good-sized bathroom (bigger than my old apartment's). The renovation looked recent if shoddy: loose laminate strips, uneven bathroom tiling, TV cable shoved under the rug instead of being fastened along the wall. On the other hand, I saw rusty water stains on the underside of the sink bowl. So even if the reno was newish, its upkeep didn't bode well for down the road.

The cleaning seemed also mixed with everything looked clean overall. But then there was no liquid soap in the shower. I found soap scums on the sink, tiny flakes of potato chips on the floor (from the previous guest?), and dried leaves trapped in cobwebs by the radiator (since the summer?!). The mouse trap in the corner was a concern or maybe the weeks of dust on it? I nit-pick for two reasons. First, $130 (fee + tax) is still not that cheap and undoubtedly I am expected to tip the cleaning staff daily. Second, I was looking for a place in case I wanted to stay for several weeks. Did I want to give this dame more dimes?

I walked along Yonge from Wellesley to Eaton Centre to do some Christmas shopping. Then I made my way back on Church. Both streets have lost much of their charm with the few old buildings left surrounded by new condos 20-times taller. Only from about Alexander St. was there a few welcoming blocks of small businesses and restaurants.

Festivus Miracle

On Thursday, I got off at the Lyon LRT station and walked to The Bronson Centre. This neighbourhood reminded me of the likely fate of Sherbourne St. in Toronto: a few turn-of-the-century buildings surrounded by tall complexes, some decades-old and now looking a bit run-down and others new shiny 21st century constructions. Which would make The Bronson the equivalent of The Phoenix. But it turned out to be a smaller Danforth Music Hall.

This used to be a Catholic high school until it became a community centre for non-profit businesses and the auditorium was turned into a concert venue. When I first walked through the doors, things did not look auspicious. As far as I could tell, there were 2 single-unit washrooms for several hundred people. But once inside the main space, I was impressed by a great sound system including line array speakers and a large stage. It was actually better than The Danforth by having front fill speakers and the soundboard positioned at the halfway point. I hadn't heard such clear and balanced vocals, especially from a larger venue, in a while. But this improvement was actually a recent pre-pandemic renovation.

I was here to see Dwayne Gretzky, the cover band supergroup. As much as I enjoyed their New Year's Eve and 99-songs livestream,  in-person music hit a different sweet spot. They book-ended their set with Fleetwood Mac's Don't Stop and The Chain. In between they covered the 70s (Waterloo), 80s (Video Killed The Radio Star), and 90s (Walking On Broken Glass). The mostly middle-aged crowd loved all these classics but I prefer when Dwayne include more non-Dad Rock numbers. I had an early morning trip so I couldn't stay to see if they did songs newer than 1995 in their 2nd set.

All the members are consummate musicians which is why they haven't transitioned into tired bar band. But I thought Lydia Persaud had the best presence tonight. She commanded the stage when she sang lead vocals. I suspect this magnetic quality was due to the fact that unlike her buddies in Dwayne, she still performs in numerous non-Dwayne shows as background harmony but also singing her own music (including opening for Martha Wainwright a few days prior).

It took Dwayne Gretzky almost 10 years after their inception before they finally played in Ottawa in 2019. It was a good crowd tonight but not at full capacity. They did experience a Dwayne's first: some Christmas songs were added to this "Holiday" show. Ottawans need to up their participation. After all, this band is gearing up to play at History, the new 2500-capacity venue, on New Year's Eve.

Tropical Island Breeze

I was making my way along Ogilvie near St. Laurent when I saw a Mexican restaurant in a small strip plaza. Kukulkan on Montreal Road which was located in a similar spot didn't last too long. I returned to try it out for a Wednesday lunch.

Expecting something nondescript and likely not as trendy as the location on Wellington, I was pleasantly surprised by the inside. La Bonita was decorated with (fake) cacti and tropical trees, with the walls being covered with Mexican-themed tchotchke including old rifles and pistols, as well as many photos of movie stars and musicians. It felt like someone's cluttered, rather busy, but ultimately charming house.

I opted for the Caldo Tlalpeño ($8.50), 3 tacos ($22), and 4 churros ($7.50) for dessert. The soup was delicious with tender chicken, rice, and chickpeas. The fresh onion and cilantro added some minty crunch. The churros were also tasty, freshly fried and coated with sugar. They came with caramel and chocolate dipping sauce. The tacos were alright but I was expecting a bit more flavour. They were certainly more expensive than Toronto because honestly, a side of rice wouldn't add much to the cost. The Mole Con Pollo had good chicken but was a bit bland. The vegetarian Nopales fared better with a nice mix of cactus, guacamole, and mushrooms.

But the main issue was that these tacos lacked that corn aroma. This was also a problem with Ay Dios Mio. So I suspect that Mexican vendors in Ottawa don't have a good supplier. It's true that some taquerias in Toronto grind and make their own tacos and tortillas. But these are trendier places. Humbler (i.e., POC) spots still put out quite good product because they buy from specialized businesses. While waiting for my food, I have seen those delivery trucks pull up. It was clear (i.e., by their business name as well as the packaging labels) that these wholesalers procured everything from tacos to sauces directly from south of the border.