Fit To Be Fried

Two weeks back, during my stay in Toronto, I decided to go to Sunday yoga class at the old studio. I was prevaricating as the vigorous style was no longer a good fit for me. It was one of those days where I kept missing the next transit connection by a minute or two. But with frequent schedules thanks to the TTC, I made it just as class started. In Ottawa, I would have been at least 30 minutes late. And in some studios where they insist on promptness, I'd be out of luck.

Once again, it was an advanced and strenuous class requiring extreme cardio stamina, core strength, and flexibility. There were mostly regulars and a smattering of new yogis. Despite gaps of a few months between visits, I didn't see any "semi-familiar" faces. That is, someone who has been attending for less than a year. The instructor has been dialing up the difficulties over time to satisfy the old-timers. In my opinion, this has now left new attendees intimidated or frustrated, so they drop out after a month or two.

After class, I stopped off at Bobbie Sue for some mac and cheese. This was a regular spot when I was still in the neighbourhood. I don't remember the cost of the last few years but $9.95 for a small 5-cheese Classic was a bump from $6 back in 2017. I ate my lunch at a bench on College St. while people-watching and seeing how much business Barbershop Patisserie was getting post-pandemic. The pasta wasn't as satisfying as before, either due to nostalgia or the workers reducing the cheese amount so it didn't have the same gooey chew.

With detours and traffic, it took longer than usual to get back to my friend's house. I felt lethargic and this ennui lasted a few days. It wasn't just physical tiredness though. Leaving my apartment meant staying with a relative, a friend, a sublet, different airBnBs, or a hotel. Since none of these were my own place, I've felt a bit unmoored and not totally comfortable this past year.

On Tuesday, before my return to Ottawa, I went to Esquina Salvadorena at Jane and Lawrence. This eatery was eclectically filled with a combination of South American and Halloween décor. I ordered a quesabirria with soup ($24). Like my first taste of steamed tacos, my first experience of "fried taco-quesadilla" was outstanding. The crunchy shells held thick, melted cheese and tender stewed beef. More of that beef was also part of the tasty soup. This could make an excellent plant-based choice, perhaps with some shredded young jackfruit. Its substantial portion size would also be more satisfying than the vegan choices at La Bartola.

To catch the train at Union Station, I headed up to Weston Village to catch the southbound UP Express, a direct train connection between Pearson airport and Union. The first and only time I've tried this route was in the other direction. I was surprised by the number of morning commuters who were also using it. I supposed that if you were working downtown, it was a quicker transit option than local buses.

I've been sick since my return with something I probably caught at Massey Hall. But more worryingly, my other condition seemed to have worsened and become more chronic. More than just a source of neuroticism,  this could be an actual physical problem that requires medical treatment.