So This Is Christmas

I met up with a friend for brunch on Saturday. They were a rarity in that they did not live in the suburbs. Yet despite being relatively close to Tamis Café, they have never visited this downtown filipino restaurant. We were supposed to see each other again after meeting up in the summer, but they were incommunicado through the Fall.

I opted once again for dasilog which has increased to $19. After our orders, we got to talking about their "disappearance". They were busier than usual, partly because the oldest child had joined a challenging high-school program, but also their new role as manager in a different department was frantic. I was glad I didn't need 3 cups of coffee to get through the day. Being a CPA, they were aghast that I've been keeping my money under a mattress. Now I have an investment plan to grow my money. They actively managed their own financial portfolio but I'd rather pay investment fees so someone else handled the work. I recounted about my recent trips to Toronto and my friend expressed an interest in seeing the postponed Retrocity concert next year. We both saw that band when they lived in Toronto. I didn't think their schedule would permit it, but I promised to let them know.

On Monday, I went to my sibling for Christmas dinner. It was a bit shocking to realize that I haven't seen their family since last Christmas. The full extended family was there except for 2 absences: my oldest uncle who was no longer comfortable driving at night and my grandma who felt some joint pain. It was a large dinner spread. Their spouse had prepared a full turkey dinner with sides along with curry noodles and char siu pork. Relatives also brought spring rolls, Vietnamese coleslaw, dried persimmons, and grass jelly desserts. There was also a large tray of home-made cookies (so my Toronto cookies became a gift instead) and my niece tried her hands at a raspberry cake.

My youngest cousins were starting to feel stifled in Ottawa. One was heading to Calgary because a new romantic partner was going there for post-grad studies. I asked why they weren't aiming for Vancouver or Toronto. It turned out that, as a suburbanite, the love interest didn't like crowds. But on a trip to see a band, they realized that The Danforth was not Kensington Market. It was possible to experience peace-and-quiet in the big city. A lesson learned too late but Vancouver was still a remote possibility.

The other cousin was regretting their return to Ottawa in 2020 after undergrad in Toronto. I didn't say anything back then but I was skeptical of their decision. Sure enough, the lack of a nightlife and the unreliable public transit were problems. Could they re-establish themselves back in The Big Hog without a high-paying job? Unfortunately, they were someone with the skill but not the temperament for hi-tech.

This Christmas there was one new member added to the clan. And there will be another next Yuletide because a cousin was expecting their second child in March. But I suspect that will be it for another decade. On the other hand, with the older generation well into retirement now (my grandma is 95 this year), the family could start to shrink in a few years.

60s Minute

Thursday was much colder than previous days. After posting on social media about the allure of Bloorcourt and Bloordale, I headed out along College St. My destination was Barbershop Patisserie to pick up a pre-ordered box of Christmas cookies. I saw that Middle-Eastern café Arabesque was opened so I went in for a bedouin spiced tea ($3). I also ordered an arabesque pizza ($3.99) which resembled a rolled-up pita with stuffing. Mostly I wanted to chat with the owner as it has been over a year since I've stopped by.

He seemed to have aged quite a bit since then, having trouble remembering cities and locales. Since immigrating to Canada, Toronto has been good to him and his family. He spent decades working in auto manufacturing before retirement. The café was just a chill place to hang out during the week; on week-ends he drove his sports car up to the family cottage. His sons had successful lives in the States. But today I found out that, as a young man, he was a jet-setting journalist. Backed by Saudi money, it was the life to fly first class, stay in fancy hotels, and travel all over Western and Eastern Europe, the Middle-East, and even East Asia to report on "human interest" stories.

The topic came up because I was talking about Moroccan shop Mashi Moosh in the East End. It turned out his spiced tea was inspired by his visits to that country. He also had a connection to Ottawa. One of his sons got his doctorate from there and still maintained a house in the area. But as for himself, he also thought that the Nation's Capital was a boring place to live.

At Barbershop, I was tempted by the store display and bought some croissants and savoury pastries in addition to my cookies. I thought about doubling back for pho at Pho Linh due to the frigid weather. But I needed some greens and headed up Delaware to Bloor for a veggie plate at Laziza. I also grabbed samosas at Dosa Mahal though I was tempted to order masala fries.

In the evening, I pondered my choices because there's always something going on in Toronto: Jason Collett's Basement Revue at the Paradise, Jennifer Castle at The Great Hall, or Miranda Mulholland and Michelle Willis at the new Hugh's Room location in the East End. Maybe a showcase of up-and-coming POC comedians (Kulture Shock Comedy) at Comedy Bar or new music (Whisper Gang, Day Jasper) at The Burdock? But in the end, with the cold weather and all the walking over the last three days, I decided to stay in instead. You can't FOMO in Toronto even if you're visiting; it's a no-win situation.

Dark Comes Soon

I flip-flopped about heading out to an event on Wednesday night. But I remembered skipping out on what might have been a great show a few years back. Geary Ave. is more gentrified since then, but there was still room for fun. A small recording studio/event space called Division 88 was hosting a Winter Solstice party.

The industrial space had a hip vibe with wooden benches, graffiti, a wall papered over with comic book pages, and a section filled from floor to ceiling with vinyls. The studio area was partially closed off for the show. It was more house party than advertised event, even if there was a door cover and you paid for beer and wine. I was pretty sure any liquor license for the venue was likely of the nod-and-wink variety.

The two hosts for the evening started with a group sing. While Emily Steinwall accompanied the crowd with the repeated lyrics from Crosby, Stills & Nash's Find the Cost of Freedom, Kyla Charter improvised melody and harmony. With the crowd now engaged, Cheyenne Sapphire (a last-minute replacement for Merival) led folks through some moving meditation involving breath-work, body movement, visualization, and vocal releases (singing, yelling, etc.). She then did a combination of spoken word and performance art with Steinwall adding occasional sax and flute riffs. As this artist offered tantra coaching and related teachings, some of Sapphire's verses and movement got rather spicy. I was in awe with someone so unselfconscious and comfortable with themselves.

Charter returned for a proper set. Using a looping station, she layered a cappella vocals for originals (Doubts, Forest Jam, Thousand Goodbyes) and a wonderful cover of Radiohead's 15 step. When I first saw her, I felt she had a sweet but weak voice even if she sang backup quite nicely. But tonight I was astonished by her range and power. Full-throated Earth Mother was a better fit than sad indie girl. Charter had a surprise at the end for the audience (that included many friends) and her father. She was changing her name to Laila Noel as her current name was mostly a feminized version of her dad's.

I left soon afterwards because I was too old for these late-night events. I also don't enjoy house parties and certainly not an (in-all-but-name) one where I was a total stranger. But listening to Steinwall's album Welcome To The Garden (which won a SOCAN prize) the next day, I think I missed out on a great performance. Well, half a FOMO is better than a full one.

Tender Is The Bite

It was a slow Wednesday. I stayed mostly at my rental except for several trips to grab food. In the morning, I stopped by Uncle Sid's. It has gone full deli: opening at 8 a.m. and offering breakfast fare. I opted for the breakfast special ($7.95 all in) consisting of 2 eggs, sausages, toast and home fries. It was your typical diner food like you'd get at Billy's.

I visited Roll and Bowl for a dine-in lunch. I upgraded my usual order (veggie bibimbap) to a kimchi bibimbap ($13.45). The kimchi added crunchy fermented goodness but the veggies were a tad overcooked. That detail plus the fact that they didn't recognize me or my order (I always pick veggie bibimbap with no sesame oil) made me wondered if these were new owners. I could swear that, in previous visits, the proprietors were younger.

I risked a constitutional by walking to Ossington along Bloor and then circling back to the rental via the Dufferin Mall and College St. I thought that the massive construction at Bloor and Dufferin was the rebuilding of the high schools along with some new commercial spaces. But when I saw a massive banner for condo developer Fitzrovia, I realized bigger things were in store. It turns out there will be six massive buildings at this corner. With an additional 4 buildings planned for the parking lots at Dufferin Mall, Bloordale and Bloorcourt will be completely gentrified in 5-10 years. The buildings at Bloor and Dovercourt have also been torn down to begin construction on an 11-story condo. They might be keeping the walls of the corner building as a façade.

For dinner, I went to Island Hot and Spicy. I noticed this Jamaican spot the last time I stayed here. It was on the "wrong side" (less foot traffic, railway tracks, etc.) of the Bloor and Lansdowne intersection. My dinner seemed questionable with an empty restaurant and the sound of a microwave after I ordered. But I was wrong as my small jerk chicken meal ($11) was delicious: melt-off-the-bone chicken that was nicely spiced along with soft and fluffy rice and beans. Despite the quality of their meat, many Caribbean joints often have dry rice. The only negative note was the salad complete with Kraft ranch dressing instead of coleslaw. But it came with fresh carrots and tomatoes so it wasn't all bad. This was vastly superior to Jerk King and even the nearby Caribbean Queen of Patties.

Carol of the Belles

After the great meal at Pastorcito, I was feeling unsettled. Perhaps I indulged too much in the spicy sauces or all that meat wasn't great for someone who ate a mostly plant-based diet. Likely it was the same old digestive problem. But I came to Toronto specifically to see The O'Pears Christmas show. Their live-stream during the pandemic reminded me how wonderful they were live. So throwing caution to the wind, I gingerly made my way to 918 Bathurst for the concert.

The space was filled with about 130 people: the "biggest show ever" (exclaimed Jill Harris) for a "band that plays once a year" (quipped Lydia Persaud). That's what frustrating about this talented trio for me. Despite being together for 15 years, they've only put out 2 albums. And they still have un-released material.

In fact, they opened the show with one such song. Their spine-tingling harmonies on Thunder has always thrilled me. Tonight it made me forget about my rumbling stomach. The O'Pears had a full band (Christine Bougie on lap steel, Ben Whiteley on bass, Steve Lavery on keys) to accompany them over 2 sets of comforting lullabies (One Day, Morning Song), warm tunes for the cold season (Long Winter, Lose The Sun, Stay Warm), and lovely covers (The Roches' Hammond Song, The Emotions' What Do The Lonely Do At Christmas).

For their biggest show they've invited some friends to come sing. Harris explained that they loved doing backup vocals. Over the course of the evening, Joanna Mohammad (Aphrose) gave us the gut-wrenching Weapons, James Baley's Call On You was hymnal, and Alex Samaras and Mara Nasrallah's semi-improvised Braid 2 (Meredith Monk) segueing into Now I Walk Beauty was a celebration of pure singing. When all 7 singers came together on the penultimate song Ring The Bells, the audience leapt up in a standing ovation.

I didn't know if the older couple behind me was attending their first O'Pears Christmas show. But they ran out of superlatives by the end. Since a good number of people knew the trio from "all stages of their life", Jill Harris mused that it felt like a small town. Lydia Persaud teased her that "everyone knows of that small town Toronto". Well, a feel-good Hallmark Christmas movie, usually set in a small town, could not outdo the warm fellowship that filled this former Buddhist temple tonight.

Small But Meaty

On Tuesday, I was going to Toronto again in spite of being back in Ottawa for only a week. This was the first trip that Rider Express was "expensive" (i.e., $25 more than the usual trip). But it was still cheaper than Via Rail or Megabus. Oddly enough, perhaps being the 1st mover after Greyhound Bus had shutdown, Megabus had its own depot in Kingston as well as access to the bus platforms at Scarborough Town Centre. Rider Express has to settle for stopping in the parking lot of shopping malls. But on the plus side, you have access to more fast-food joints.

After several trips, I finally decided to buy lunch at Mr. Sub during our short layover in Kingston. I remembered this franchise at the Rideau Centre some 30 years back. Specifically an overpriced sub with just a few deli slices, no extra toppings, and the bread made tough by microwave reheating. No wonder Subway decimated this chain when it arrived in Canada. The Mr. Sub veggie sub ($9.19) was about the same quality as a Subway foot-long. One advantage with buying it fresh was that I could include wet toppings like tomatoes and get the bread toasted.

The bus made good time until we were about 200-300m from the terminal. From the Gardiner off-ramp down onto Lakeshore Blvd and finally to the entrance took over 1 hour because of bumper-to-bumper traffic. Worse was the realization that almost every vehicle was single occupancy. So I didn't get into my short-term rental until almost 4:30 pm. It was still a charming studio like last time. But unfortunately, it wasn't as clean today. I had to wipe down the plastic tablecloth and washed several glasses because they were covered with food stains.

Afterwards, I headed out for dinner. During my last stay in Bloordale, I noticed that the new Mexican restaurant Taqueria El Pastorcito near Dufferin and Bloor was always full. I decided to finally give it a try tonight. Pastorcito had a no-nonsense menu: tacos, burrito, quesadilla, or torta. I picked 2 al pastor tacos ($5/each) and a chorizo quesadilla ($7). I had misgivings about the cost as only gentrified, non-Hispanic spots charged these prices. But both dishes was stuffed to overflowing with meat. The al pastor was tender, grilled pork by way of the Middle Eastern shawarma spit while the chorizo was soft and finely chopped. Both taco and tortilla shells were toothsome and fragrant. In addition, they were (overly) generous with the sides: sauces, pineapple, and grilled onions.

This restaurant was a great new spot. No wonder it was packed with (mostly Mexican) folks looking for a tasty meal. But I feared for the other Latino joints in the neighbourhood including La Tortilleria, Tierra Azteca, and Latin World. In fact, on my way back to my rental, the latter was entirely empty. It was still early in the evening but things didn't look promising. There were no vegetarian options at Pastorcito so during my dinner, I wished that plant-based La Bartola had hearty dishes like here instead of fussy ones.

Winds In The West

It has been mild for the past few days, but the temperature dropped and the wind picked up by Monday evening. I hopped on the subway, then the Ossington bus to make my way to The Great Hall. My last show there was sublime. Tamara Lindeman (The Weather Station) now has enough of a local fanbase that she can have 3 shows where each night she will play 2 of her 6 albums in their entirety. If I was still in Toronto, I would have bought the pass and attended all concerts. Being in Ottawa now, I settled on seeing the 1st night before heading back.

It was a seated event which was appropriate since Tamera Lindeman doesn't write tracks you can dance to, especially in the early days. Also, I find this arrangement reduces the backroom chatter so that softer music don't get drowned out. I was curious about the near sold-out audience since most of them weren't around back then. But we were all in for a treat tonight, because as Lindeman pointed out later, in those days she played solo sets. This was the first time that a live band would accompany her on the earliest material.

The first set had songs from the EP What Am I Going To Do With Everything I Know. This was actually released after the relative success of her first album. As one can tell from the title, The Weather Station's songs (Soft Spoken Man, Time) tended to be dense lyrically but also a bit elliptical. She had just left behind her banjo days so there was plenty of intricate finger-picking on the guitar. With only 6 tunes on that EP, we also heard a few unreleased songs to round out the set. They were more straightforward though many thought Crooked Line was a country/blues banger.

With the album All of It Was Mine we started to hear quieter arrangements (Traveller, Nobody) but there were still tricky runs such as when Lindeman broke out her banjo for Everything I Saw. She had to restart the song, adding wryly that her banjo muscles were rusty. Compared to a decade ago when she didn't talk much, we got background information and insight about her work. For example, Chip On My Shoulder was her obduracy in the face of some people (in life and also the music business) who get (creepily) excited about young, inexperienced women/artists. The second set was also relatively short. Lindeman mused, to the audience's laughter, that she needed to pad out her songs with more choruses.

I don't know if Lindeman will have different backing bands for each show; I saw that frequent collaborator Ivy Mairi was sitting in the audience tonight. But there were familiar faces on stage such as Ben Whiteley and new ones like Georgia Harmer. The one who came from the farthest away was Kentucky fingerstyle guitarist Nathan Salsburg. He reached out to Lindeman after her first album and they've been friends ever since. He was warmly received after his introduction but some in the crowd got really excited when he revealed that his wife was singer Joan Shelley.

The encore was an interesting dilemma because Lindeman will play all of her songs but just on different nights. Tonight we got 3 great covers instead. She opened with a capella rendition of Black Is The Colour of My True Love's Hair. Lindeman's musical career started when she received positive encouragement after singing it at an Irish trad at Dora Keogh (now Noonan's Pub) in the East End. Salsburg played his instrumental number Impossible Air. Then the full band ended with Richard Laviolette's Snuck Right Up. This musician, an early inspiration for The Weather Station, had recently died. This song (about "pure love" per Lindeman) gave us a sing-along refrain to send us warmly out into the cold.

Bho Knows Cooking

After attending Raw Taiko, I took the streetcar to Broadview and Gerrard. Onyx Chocolate made iridescent bonbon and chocolate bars. They had a range of flavours including Asian inspiration like Gochujang, Mochi, and even pork floss. I tend to avoid gentrified businesses but the previous proprietor, Rose's Vietnamese Sandwich, had retired. Given the tiny space, it was unlikely that any other Asian business would move in.

I got a Durian chocolate bar ($14.75) for my mom, a small 4-piece box ($13.50) for my grandmother, and a 16-piece ($48) as a Christmas gift. But since the bonbons only keep for 2 weeks (4 if sealed airtight and stored in a fridge), I'll have to give them right away.

After I dropped off the package at my rental, I walked a few blocks east of Coxwell to Bhojan Ghar. This new South Asian restaurant had recently opened and was offering a 15% discount. As the owners were Nepalese, there were tranquil photos from their homeland framed on the wall. The dishes were mostly Indian but there were some Nepali dishes such as momos and a noodle soup called thukpa. I opted for vegetarian Dal Bhat ($16), naan ($3.25), and masala chai ($2.50).

My Nepali thali combo was delicious: tender chickpeas (chana), soft lentils (dal), fragrant cauliflower and potatoes curry (aloo gobi), steamed greens, and crunchy radish pickle. There was also a generous amount of basmati rice. The naan was a stand-out and better than most Indian restaurants. It came very close to matching the best naan (IMO) in the city.

There were numerous pick-up orders during my dinner. I didn't know if it was just to take advantage of the discount but this neighbourhood gem deserve continuing support. Even the picky eater a few tables over told their companion that the tandoori platter was a 10 out of 10. Though I enjoyed Karma's Kitchen, Bhojan was the better Nepalese place and one of the best South Asian restaurant in the East End.

I tip the recommended amount when dining out but I don't like it much. Most waitstaff are average at best; and that's ok because it's just a job not a calling. So just include this overhead in the price. But tonight I included a generous amount because service at Bhojan was impeccable. The two young servers were solicitous and prompt without being intrusive. Remember that picky eater? Changing tables, custom orders, and so on. All problems were handled with aplomb.

I'll Be Home For Christmas

Sunday afternoon, I was at The Betty Oliphant Theatre to watch Raw Taiko celebrate their 25th anniversary. It was formed in 1998 to allow Asian-Canadians especially women to create community and engage with issues such as misogyny and racism. In 2020, I enjoyed their set at The AGO a week before Covid news became a local matter and people started panicking.

There were 8 compositions that included several new works but also from their 2 decades of existence. The recital's theme was home and so in between the pieces, videos showed members talking about what this word meant to them. There was the typical remembrance of inter-generational meals but as the members were women or non-male, trans, queer, and often involved in community or social work, the concept of "home" encompassed deeper ideas of belonging, acceptance, and safety.

Coincidentally, I was at a concert on Saturday where the artists also tackled "big issues". But I was generally nonplussed with the vanilla "expand your mind" attitude there. These reflections felt deeper as they were personal and came from lived experience. There was no prevarication or blunting unpleasantness in vague therapy talk. Even land acknowledgement (de rigueur but generic and rote in most performances nowadays) included pointed reminders that these treaties were broken and we are all part of the existing colonial settler system. And for one of the works Palestinian keffiyeh were tied around a drum and worn by the orator.

As a matinée, there were quite a number of children in the audience. I don't know how much of the complex nuances they understood but hopefully something settled in their unconscious as ways to question the status quo. The pieces that used the entire ensemble were unsurprisingly the most thrilling as the air vibrated with the drum beats. The smaller works that fared best involved choreography thanks to the experience of some members in dance and movement.

Taking the streetcar home, I passed by the encampments at Allan Gardens park. Raw Taiko had already given answers as to why some people prefer to live outside in tents. Because it was home: where they can keep precious mementos, be among people who accept them, and sleep in a (relatively) safe place.

All The Gin Joints

During my stroll to Atto Sushi, I noticed that there were numerous stores selling goods between Coxwell and Woodbine. Since I hadn't finished everyone on my list, I decided to do some more Christmas shopping in the East End. I skipped the vintage shops as my family weren't into "used" items. I briefly browsed Arts Market but it didn't have the same selection as the larger, defunct location at College and Ossington. Then I came across Mashi Moosh, a store that stocked goods exclusively from Morocco.

Although I sometimes shop here and there, I generally prefer to buy everything from one place. Looking around at the variety on display, this goal looked doable here. I needed to keep things light and small for transport and ended up with several kitchen items made with clay from Fez and terra cotta from Safi. I chatted with the workers while they rang up my order. It turned out they left Ottawa almost 40 years ago after University. But unlike myself, they never moved back. I answered their questions that although it might be more urbane than in the 80s, Ottawa was still rather dull.

I wanted to have lunch at a Nepalese restaurant but it wasn't open yet so I stepped inside a Pizza Nova. Despite its ubiquity in Toronto (its headquarter is in Scarborough), I have never eaten at this franchise. I was impressed at the number of fresh pizza available by the slice. I chose one that was topped up with several types of mushroom ($6.50). It was quite good for a chain pizza but the small slice reminded me of Ottawa's poor money-to-food ratio. In fact, I had to return to the Pizzaiolo near my rental because I was still hungry.

Free To Be

There was a concert Saturday night that promised a singular experiment: Indigenous singer Jeremy Dutcher with U.S. Girls at Massey Hall. On top of that, this rising star would be accompanied by a choir (that also sang on his new album) comprising of numerous singers from Toronto including Lydia Persaud and James Baley. But I only found out about the concert just before my trip and it was almost completely sold out; I would be sitting up in the rafters for $60. So I consoled myself that U.S. Girls' Massey debut was not the full band but only a trio of Meg Remy, Alex Lukashevsky, and Georgie Gordon (once of The Magic) and I will see Persaud and Baley soon for The O'Pears Christmas show.

Instead I headed to The Burdock for my first show there since the pandemic. Both acts tonight covered a similar ground: earnest pleas of the granola crowd to be kind and love one another. The first was a choir called Minuscule. This large ensemble was fronted by Laurel Minnes but tonight they were a 4-member group accompanied by Minnes' partner on drums. It was good, catchy music (Oh Da Dee, Lukewarm Love). The harmonies were nice but I've been spoiled by the intricacy of The O'Pears. Minnes' verbiage and melodic phrases reminded me of Language Arts and The Burning Hell. But while the latter bands had rawness, sweetness, and occasionally humour in their dense verses, Minuscule was a bit anodyne.

The duo Moonfruits from Ottawa also mined the same territory. In fact, they invited Minuscule to provide backup vocals on one song. The two groups had met when they played in Red Rock, Ontario. Domestic partners Alex Millaire and Kaitlin Milroy sang about depression (Loki), climate change (Carousel), and greedy landlords (Renter's Ramble). It was still a bit hippie and flower power but as they were in the folk tradition, they were successful at adding some timelessness to their lyrics. Their songs had a surprisingly propulsive feel that got toes tapping. Throwing in some humorous French songs from their older albums was a welcome bonus.

It Is Thee Modern Danforth

I'm not sure how Atto Sushi came to my attention in 2021. Probably via a pandemic post about supporting local businesses in my Insta feed. I do remember looking for it during my bike ride along the Danforth. I gave up at Coxwell and went south to the Beaches to eat at the Georgian restaurant Tiflisi. But it turns out this sushi spot was further along past Woodbine station.

But since my rental at Coxwell was within walking distance, I finally visited Atto on Friday for dinner. Along the way, I observed changes to the street in the last 5 years. This far East, Danforth wasn't the trendy Greektown of Broadview and Pape. Still, there were plenty of new stores with a few remaining stalwarts like fruit markets, shoe repairs, and car mechanics. The recent businesses weren't all trendy restaurants but included a wide selection of shops such as hair salons, hobbies and crafts stores, and several vintage shops. Even a niche place that specialized in fingerboards (tiny skateboards) was opened.

Atto Sushi was a small restaurant with just 3 tables. It was at the edge of the gentrifying area as its neighbours were all car dealerships. After looking over the menu, I chose an edamame appetizer ($5) and a combo called Atto's Nine ($18). Although the prices were only slightly more expensive than a cheap sushi place, everything was made with care. First came a large portion of plump, nicely salted edamame. Next was the salad with arugula for variety and a miso soup that contained thick seaweed slices and firm, toothsome tofu. Finally, the nigiri was a lovely main: flavourful fish, some nice toppings like shiso leaf, and loosely packed sushi rice. The chef gave me a complimentary "sushi taco" that had a nice textural contrast. All in all, this was a local gem.

Speed Shopping

On Saturday morning, I wanted to get my Christmas shopping done within the 2-hour limit allowed by a TTC's transfer. I have done it before but this time I was targeting West End stores: Uppdo, EweKnit, Jill and the Beanstalk, and Ziggy's At Home. I thought I would also try Tsuchi Cafe because they were doing a 1-day sale of Japanese bagels as a collaboration with Lisa Kitahara of Okonomi Kitchen. And then make another attempt at Kiss My Pans for Singaporean food. The shopping was mostly successful but the lunches were a bust; there was a long line-up at Tsu Chi and all the tables at Pans were full. So using the last 25 minutes of my transfer, I hopped on the streetcar and entered the College subway station with 10 minutes to spare.

It was raining when I exited Coxwell station so I stopped off at the Pizzaiolo location near my short-term rental. Back when I ate at the Queen and Tecumseh location after my Sunday yoga classes, I stuck to their Mediterranean slice. Their Bianca (with zucchini instead or artichoke) did not compare to (now defunct) Amato's at College and Borden. This time round I retried the Bianca ($5.99) as I noticed that Pizzaiolo has now added artichoke. Along with some roasted garlic and other spices, the flavour profile was almost the same as Amato's. Now if they could only add some olive oil to fully replicate this slice.

Deck The Halls With Poison Ivy

My December stay started with a desire to see the 25th Anniversary show of Retrocity at the Redwood Theatre on Gerrard. It was unlikely to be as emotionally satisfying as their 20th Anniversary show but this 80s a capella group always put on a great set. It would also give me a chance to finally check out the Redwood despite passing by numerous times during my sublet last year.

But on the eve of my trip I received a message that for health reasons the concert has been postponed until next year. I then remembered there was another show that I came across but had decided that I was too old to attend two events in the same night. On to plan B. After digesting my huge Ethiopian meal, I headed to the West End for an evening at The Garrison.

I wasn't sure who the organizer CLASS were (good luck finding them online with such a generic name) but in addition to band merch there were also painted mugs, artwork, zines and other knick-knacks. They also decorated the stage with old TVs, a crazed snowman resembling a South Park character, and popcorn garlands made with styrofoam blobs and empty beer cans.

The show started with short sets by several comedians. By coincidence, I already follow Sima Sepehri on Insta. Her comedy revolved around having recently gone clean (no more booze, weed, etc.) and celibate. But for that kind of "serious material", you need Maria Bamford's level of honesty to connect with the crowd. Kari Johnson did better with her "gross out" comedy about exes hooking up with curvy women, privates with too much dangly bits, and the logistics of tossing salad.

The first band was a duo group called Waste Youth. The drummer shouted verses while the bassist pounded out heavy rhythm. This got the crowd going. By the time Burner took to the stage, The Garrison was full and receptive to their loud, head-banging music. A mini-mosh pit appeared near the front. At one point, the singer was carried around while he screamed lyrics. Oddly enough, in the softer moments, he had the same vocal inflection as Adam Duritz of Counting Crows.

Bad Waitress has had a good run over the last 18 months with bigger and bigger gigs and I wanted to finally see them as the head-liner. Though I was getting sleepy, I would have stuck around if I still lived in the area. But after calculating the probable start and end time of their set and the public transit time to get back to the East End, I headed out. I thought about the young crowd tonight that harkened back to a grittier Toronto: goth gear, jackets with pins and patches, non-binary outfits, and plenty of tattoos, piercings, and wild hair. Many of them were probably just regular folks who ditched their casual wear for the night. But how was the hardcore minority surviving in a "$2500/month for a 1 bedroom" Toronto of 2023? Where do they even find housing and jobs in the now gentrified neighbourhoods? Well, I hope they and their non-conformity can continue to exist in The Big Smoke.

Rhodes' Collard

Friday, I was back in Toronto for a few days. It wasn't as invigorating as the last time I descended on The Big Smoke. But 10 degrees warmer than Ottawa made up for the grey, overcast sky. This time, my short-term stay was in the East End on a side street near Coxwell subway station.

The communal kitchen and living room were cozy and nicely decorated. The most spectacular part was the pretty backyard with deck (covered for the winter). There were 6 rooms for rent: 3 on the main floor and 3 in the basement. The owner probably lived in one of the rooms though they all had keypad locks. My room was a basement unit with its own bathroom. There was also a second small kitchen to be shared among the subterranean dwellers.

After the initial wow factor faded, my room wasn't quite as pretty under a more critical eye. Firstly, this must be a grandfathered basement as the ceiling height was low. Secondly, the renovation used cheaper material and DIY workmanship. I felt the lumpiness of the floor as I walked around. Sure enough, a quick peek underneath the area rug revealed the laminate tiles starting to crack. There were several taped notices including an ominous warning that the toilet often clogged. To be fair, it's a nice enough space with a clean bathroom. Such a room at $114/night at Victoria's Mansion would be smaller and in worse condition.

For dinner, I thought about revisiting El Sol. But then I remembered being told that Ethiopian restaurants have mostly relocated to this area due to rising rent elsewhere. So in fact there were quite a few to choose from about 2 blocks west of Coxwell and Danforth. I stepped inside modest Abugida as their prices were cheaper than trendy La Vegan ($25 for a veggie combo!)

It was empty at first but became busier by the time I finished my veggie platter ($17). This was a delicious dinner with a huge portion. I would still have been happy if it was 20% smaller. The selection of veggie options was top notch: fresh salad, stewed lentils, cabbage, beet, green beans, collard greens, and berbere sauce. The last item added a bit of kick to the meal. Everything was nicely cooked and not too oily. The collard greens were just a bit salty but you could compensate with some earthy beet. By the end, I was overstuffed and a bit too full. A constitutional would be perfect but sadly after-dinner strolls are verboten for me. So I waddled back to my room for a short lie down.

Retail Therapy

Saturday night, I headed to my last event of this trip. Living in Ottawa has atrophied my Toronto transit-sense as I have been misjudging travel time. So the Four Seasons Centre was empty when I arrived for The National Ballet's recital. But it wasn't because tonight's program was more contemporary than classical. The crowd eventually filled up the multi-story atrium before the show started.

The first piece was Passion, acquired by the company as a retirement gift for Piotr Stanczyk. It was composed by his mentor James Kudelka. A modern dance couple (Stanczyk and Svetlana Lunkina) danced intertwine with 2 other couples and a small corps doing classical ballet. It was supposedly a contrast between the restrained decorum of the past with the freer feelings of a modern relationship. But I interpreted the leads as struggling between romantic passion (for someone) and devotion to work (a calling), in this case professional dance.

The cranky doyenne next to me didn't think much of Passion. I agree that it felt unclear and aimless as the couple kept pacing around and staring meaningfully at each other while the rest of the dancers swirled around them. But whenever Stanczyk and Lunkina joined up, especially in the long pas-de-deux halfway through, their crispness and speed were wonderful to watch.

Emma Bovary was a new work commissioned by the company based on Flaubert's Madame Bovary. It focused on the psychological journey of the titular character and not a straight adaptation of the novel. I thought it would be a traditional set-up but perhaps not as old-fashioned as Romeo and Juliet. So I was pleasantly surprised by its modern sensibility. This might be the first National Ballet piece that had both a choreographer (Helen Picket) and a director (James Bonas). There was a natural flow between the set pieces and a clear narrative. Though not as elaborate and expensive as Alice In Wonderland, the judicious use puppetry, wardrobe, projected effects, and (also likely a first) wire work made Bovary come alive.

Emma (Hannah Galway) was the most fleshed-out character from the unhappiness with her staid husband Charles (Donald Thom), the wild abandon with her lover Rodolphe (Siphesihle November), and the addiction to the wares of venal Lheureux (Spencer Hack). The men were painted in broader strokes and so was Charles' mother (Jordana Daumec). The choreography was the best kind for me: grounded in the language of classical ballet but re-imagined as expressive contemporary movement.

Opening night had a technical glitch about 5 minutes from the explosive ending (when Emma kills herself) that halted the show and brought the lights up. This gave my elderly seat-mate time to harrumphed about all that sound and fury. As for me, I much prefer this heightened character study to the static tableaux of typical narrative ballet (even if I am fond of Swan Lake). So when the lights came down and the final scene played out, I was enthusiastic in my appreciation.

Led Poole

Saturday morning, I left my short stay and walked along College St. to Little Italy. Almost all the old Vietnamese businesses except for Pho Ling have been replaced: jewelry shop Cuchara was once Do Hue Fabrics and interior design firm Spaces by JacFlash took over BQ Signs. My destination was a yoga studio at the corner of Montrose. Yogaspace was located on the busy Ossington strip for 2 decades. They muddled through the pandemic and even installed HEPA filtration, but finally closed for another location of Avoca Chocolate.

I wasn't really a part of that community as I practiced mostly at the YMCA and on Queen St. West. But I did get my training there just before everything shut down. The owner was retirement age so I was surprised that they would invest money in a new spot. Inside, it was much smaller than the old place. Whether or not they used pricey material or pulled off a miracle renovation on a budget, it looked great.

I've practiced with the Vinyasa instructor before, and especially with their spouse in the hard-core classes at Downward Dog. It was interesting to follow someone else's cues and sequencing since I haven't been in a class in a year. With decades of experience and fully immersed within yogic philosophy, they spoke with assurance and humour. Their story about the origin of the half-"lord of the fish" twisting pose was new to me. They advised the students against extreme back-bends with personal experience: from a giant poster as a Lululemon ambassador back in the day to a middle-aged body with back issues. But that didn't stop the younger practitioners from doing "full wheel".

Afterwards, I tried going to Kiss My Pans on the same block. This cheese shop also offered Singaporean dishes thanks to one of the co-owners. But this week-end was their grand opening so it was full even at 11 am. Their neighbour, the gluten-free/Paleo Konscious Kitchen (Yam Chops for a long while), sounded a little too kooky for me. I headed back but Prairie Boy Bread (which sank under debt) was now Lardo. Meanwhile, Shiba Poke's College location was in arrears. Then across the street, I spied a new place called Bricolage Bakery.

It was run by an Asian couple and offered items such as sausage rolls, cheese tarts, and baguettes. I settled on a butter croissant ($3.70) and a pretzel ($2.40). The croissant was large (not my favourite style) and reasonably flaky. But similar to defunct Bonne Nouvelle (also an Asian-owned store), I didn't love the sweet glaze. Give me more butter, please.

I bought some mixed nuts at No Frills that wasn't available in Ottawa. Then I ate a slice ($5.50) from 241 pizza while watching people queue up at the new location of The Common café. Buying lunch for my trip back tomorrow, I realized that even Subway subs were cheaper in Toronto!

Night Moves

Friday night, I made my way to Fleck Dance Theatre down at The Harbourfront. I've enjoyed ProArteDanza's recitals over the years. After the show, director Roberto Campanella explained that in conjunction with the dancers, they fleshed out his ideas of the Jungian archetypes Anima and Animus as an exploration of the "inner demons" that arise at night, when someone is vulnerable in mind and spirit.

In Night Shadows, there was numerous group and smaller pairings throughout the show. These were sometimes tender but usually it was hard contortions of the body. Eyes and mouths are covered, by the dancers or their partners. One section highlighted individual solos, while the cohort shouted improvised encouragement, snarky put-downs or anxious insecurities.

One through line was a moving door that sometimes allowed people to step through in curiosity and other times was a barrier where dancers forced themselves past in violence. It was a reflection, a lure, and even a respite. For me, I was intrigued by the meta idea that it was just a door frame prop. Yet it created a separation of spaces: inside, outside, behind, in front, and so on. Furthermore, at the beginning and at the end of the piece, 3 dancers were inside rectangular boxes created by light projection. These were also non-real ideas that had a physical weight in the world.

ProArteDanza often uses entire movements from classical music though they will create modern sound collages in shorter mixed programs. Tonight was the first time I've seen them composed a "contemporary" sound design in a longer recital. Although there were classical snippets, they were often chopped up or manipulated to sound distorted and disquieting. The rest included propulsive "EDM for goths" or eerie effects. During the question period post-show, some dancers said they were instructed to fight the music. That is, to not descend into kitschy lyricism for the soft passages or to give in to the beat for the catchy parts.

As for myself, I don't fight my inner demons at night. Probably because I'm usually too tired from only 5-hour of sleep. It must be equal parts thrilling and frightening to confront the "unreal yet also real" spectres birthed from your hidden self.

Made In Taipan

The heavy breakfast at Daily Grind was unwise since I was meeting some co-workers for lunch on Monday. The subway in Toronto can't be beat: I was able to get on the Bloor line at Lansdowne, hop off at Ossington to get money from an ATM, back on until Yonge station, then take the Yonge line to North York Centre. Despite only a 40-minute window, I made it on time to a Taiwanese fusion cafe called Petit Potato.

Last time here, I enjoyed their pan-Asian food with a dash of European-style desserts. This time, it was a more pedestrian meal for me. Perhaps they didn't do Japanese dishes as well since by accident we ordered all Japanese fare: omurice with chicken cutlet ($16.99 lunch special), pork gyoza ($7.99 add-on), and takoyaki ($10.49). Everything was just so-so, even the edamame was limp and bland. But the Earl Grey mille crepe cake ($12.99) was a good end to the meal.

My ex-coworker's temporary hiatus has transitioned into early retirement. With elderly relatives needing to be managed (health care, a life-time of personal belongings, and so on), an introverted child having trouble breaking into a hi-tech field that favours braggadocio, and prioritizing their own well-being (running, yoga, sleep), they didn't have the bandwidth to look for work at this late stage in the game. My current coworker was still at it but with married children, they were planning on how to transfer assets such as property in a tax-effective way. In fact, our discussion revolved mostly around retirement including various health issues, government benefits, and other grey-haired topics.

On the way back to my studio rental, I got off early at Bloor and Delaware to grab a veggie plate from Laziza for dinner. When this Middle-Eastern takeout opened about a decade ago, this entrée was only $8.99. But this meal was now $14.99. Though some employees were stingier than others, you could generally expect a good amount of food in the container. Today's taciturn server wasn't one of the regular workers behind the counter. From my vague recollection, he was typically miserly. But this time he piled on so much food that there was enough for two meals. The container was so hefty that I had to alternate arms while carrying it. Even with the higher price, I won't find this sort of deal in Ottawa.

Ong Tay, Ba Dam

Friday morning at my Airbnb rental, I was going to go to the Tim Hortons near Bloor and Lansdowne for a quick breakfast at 9. Then I found out that Daily Grind at St Clarens offered brunch. I have passed by this café countless times but I thought they only sell coffee. I'm not interested in a latte and not even a Vietnamese coffee, but do they offer Vietnamese-inspired dishes?

On the typical brunch list of French toast, pancakes, eggs and bacon, there was one such item: a take on the croque madame called Viet Madame ($17). It was two enormous slab of brioche with melted cheddar on the outside, gooey Swiss cheese on the inside, and a sunny-side-up egg perching precariously on top. The ham component was lemon grass marinated pork loin. The whole thing was too big (but not francesinha big) so I was glad I chose salad instead of potatoes for my side. Overall, it was an ok breakfast but much too dry. Either they forgot the Bechamel or their take on a croque madame's sauce was lacking.

The brunch area, through an archway next to their main coffee-only space, was clean and minimalist. But the exposed brick felt warm and homey. At least half of the room was the kitchen, so there was only 4 tables and a few seats at a counter. The service seemed a tad slow given that there was only 1 other occupied table: 2 brothers showing their Latino parents the hipster life in West-End Toronto. It'll probably pick up later on but at this early hour, it was mostly locals stopping by for a quick caffeine fix.

On the way back to the house, I saw application billboards for two new condos: one at Lansdowne and Bloor, and the other just a few steps away at St. Helen's replacing the Value Village building.

Teke To The Limit

From my short-term stay, I headed along Dundas St. W and down Dovercourt to Longboat Hall. This basement venue below the main Great Hall can be great and transcendent but also dull and listless especially for openers. What kind of show will I see tonight?

It didn't start well with experimental rock band Animatist. In a different venue, with a different audience (preferably chemically enhanced), their skittering EDM meets Colin Stetson might connect with the crowd. Tonight's set only got cheers from their friends but luckily they play "gapless sets" so applause wasn't necessary. Their percussive but noisy sound reminded me of this show at Somewhere There, when Sterling Road was still industrial. But I did enjoy Animatist slightly more tonight.

Headliner Teke Teke was a Japanese psych-rock outfit from Montreal. I was intrigued from a short set I saw on Youtube. In person, they were a high-energy band that combined surf rock, punk, funk-esque base lines, and complex poly-rhythm. I was pleasantly surprised that they had included more East Asian melodies and harmonies (especially in the guitars) than a band like Tricot that does not stray too far from a Western sound. Trombone, flute, and lead singer Kuroki's vocals often interplayed in dynamic ways. The most crazy-but-it-works moment came when the trombonist switched over to a bagpipe. Sometimes a song moves into a pulsing, trance-like loop that reminded me of Ethiopian music or the circular guitar of Aroara. It was a fun set that was both dance-able and sonically interesting.

Almost Paradise

On Thursday morning, I headed to Toronto for a short visit. All week, there was warning that a volatile weather system will cause havoc. Sure enough, snow and ice pellets piled up overnight in Ottawa. But amazingly the bus arrived in Toronto early (by a few minutes). It's often 30 minutes late even with perfect weather.

But it must be the Toronto effect because everything felt great. Even the setting sun seemed to glow winsomely. There was no snow here, just a pleasant fall afternoon. By 4:30 pm in Ottawa, I can barely keep my eyes open. But in Toronto I was invigorated amid the throng of pedestrians and cyclists. Even the cars were a part of the lively scene, probably because they can't travel faster than 40 km/h.

 It has been 6 months instead of the usual 3 since my last visit to the dentist. So there seems to be more gunk than usual when I rinsed after my cleaning. Though I appreciated his expert treatment, to charge an exam fee plus 0.5 unit of polish and 3 scaling units ($261 total) for 10 minutes of work was highway robbery. Afterwards, feeling ravenous instead of merely lethargic, I crossed the street to Pam's Roti for a chicken roti dinner. I was happy to see the regular worker there. Their eye operation didn't fix everything and they'll have to go back in early December for more surgery. I wished them luck because everyone seems to be having health issues.

I inhaled the curry chicken wrapped in a toothsome dhal puri shell. Was it always this large? Pam's has replaced the bland lettuce side dish with a tasty slaw. At $14.95 all in, you won't find such deals in Ottawa for flavour, portion size, and price.

For this visit, I found an Airbnb around my former stomping grounds of Bloorcourt and Bloordale. More precisely, it was at the edge of my old neighbourhood just down the street from where sin meets salvation. While I was unpacking, a cleaner knocked on my door. He hadn't quite finish setting out the toiletry. He also gave me a quick peek of the other rooms. I snooped around more thoroughly later on since there were no other guests Thursday night. It was obvious that these all used to be rental units: mine would have been a studio/bachelor. I think renters would be thrilled to continue to live in these ("rustically charming") apartments with exposed brick walls and hard-wood floor. But alas, they've been off the market for about 7 years to serve as pricey overnight rentals.

It's great these options exist now so people don't have to always stay in a bland hotel room in the touristy part of downtown. But if I was landlord, I would only set aside 1 unit for visitors, leaving the rest as long-term rentals for local residents. This would be a win for everyone. In any case, the cleaner wasn't my host. He was a next-door neighbour helping out while the owner was laid up from back surgery.

Even within the six months, many changes were afoot. The foundation for the massive construction at Dufferin and Bloor has been laid. Little Mexico (La Tortilleria, Latin World, Tierra Azteca) has a new contender at a former Ethiopian restaurant which was, ironically, once a Mexican place 15 years ago. A drug store replaced one of the last Portuguese business. But once the neighbourhood has gentrified, it was over for a hyper-local place that sells some women's clothes but mostly children's garments for religious rites like baptism and first communion. Across from the library at Gladstone, Taco Bell will try where Starbucks once failed. Fried chicken instead of vegan diner food is on the menu a block away. I was surprised that long-time stalwart The Common has shuttered and moved in with Wenona Lodge. But a coffee shop that closes at 4 and a bar that opens at 7 pm make perfect sense. Finally, will clayArt Studio and Sad Songs Cantina near Lansdowne survive? While some succeed, numerous trendy shops have also failed in semi-gentrified Bloordale. What will the next six months bring?

Doh-tawa

It's true I've been ragging on Ottawa ever since I moved back. But it's hard to give a thumbs up when even minor things are aggravating. For example: I'll be spending a few days in Toronto soon so I was buying tickets for travel and upcoming events. But since my 8-year-old BlackBerry will often turn itself off if unplugged, I couldn't trust it for displaying the e-tickets. So I needed physical copies.

It turns out the Ottawa Public Library supports mobile printing as of this past February. Toronto has had this service for years but better late than never. So I uploaded the relevant PDFs and headed downtown to the main branch. The printing stations took my money, flushed their queue (by sending my docs to the printers), but nothing was actually printed. No one could help me and it became moot when they stopped being able to log into their own work computer.

Over the next 2 weeks, this remained a problem as I visited several different branches. Some were pleasantly nestled in a charming neighbourhood ... but still. It was only after I put my docs on a USB stick that the library staff found a local workaround. During that visit to the St. Laurent and Montreal Rd location, I dropped by Ogilvie Pizza because they offered by-the-slice for lunch. 2 slices + a pop for $6.99 (all in) seemed a good deal. The first few bites of cheese-covered pepperoni were good, but the meal fizzled out because the dough was simply too bland. So my disappointment of Ottawa remains.

This past Sunday was actually a pleasant experience as my friend was hosting a belated birthday. Yes, it has been a year since we've seen each other. In any case, their spouse was an accomplished home cook so the meal included tuna tataki, shrimp with wasabi salsa, and other tasty appetizers. The entrees were Singaporean fried rice with grilled chicken and meatballs, and a delicious Thai curry noodle.

The birthday guest and their family had years of construction woes but they've finally moved in (including the grandparents). It was apparently a large multi-generational home that even had a small elevator. I'd like to have that house tour! My host also did some minor renovation and were generally doing okay. But their sibling continued to struggle with health issues: the cancer has spread to several other organs. I bid them good-night and not to be a stranger.

Ant And Grasshopper

On Saturday, I visited my grandma for lunch. I saw her a few weeks ago at a house party. But I wanted to drop off some magazines for her to read. The bus-only Transitway is being converted to an LRT line, so there were numerous detours.

As usual, she tells me stories about the old days. This time, she remarked that several of her kids and grand-kids (like myself) have few friends. She also didn't have many as a child and now at 95-years-old and living in another country, even fewer nowadays. Yet a solitary nature isn't the only thing I inherited, there is also a tendency to miserliness.

It's true that my culture usually hoard money. When the old country didn't have a robust banking system, you either buy land and houses or you keep your wealth as cash and gold. The former has its own problems, with many in the diaspora buying up properties here and contributing in their own way to the housing crisis. As for the latter, my grandma has thousands of dollars stashed away in her room.

I've emulated her for years, at least in the electronic banking sense. I finally talked to a financial advisor a few weeks ago. He was sanguine about it, but he probably told his wife later about his new hoarder client. We will hammer out more details about my financial plans in the coming days. But I suspect retirement isn't any time soon.

The Maze Runner

We headed to another family get-together on Sunday. Unlike last time at my youngest uncle, my cousin's new home was deep in suburbia. There was no reasonable way to get there except by car so my oldest uncle came by to pick us up. We were lost several times trying to find the house. On the way, the highway exits and arterial roads were confusing. Then we circled aimlessly through several winding streets and cul-de-sacs until we found the right sequence of turns.

It was both a Thanksgiving dinner and a tour of the house. Though it wasn't quite as large as the two-car garage homes of recent decades, it still seemed like too much space for a nuclear family. The main floor's dining room, living room and open kitchen comfortably accommodated my large extended family. But how often will my cousin entertain 15-20 people? The rest of the house also included 3.5 bathrooms, 3 bedrooms, and several offices and open areas.

The hosts provided a traditional dinner with turkey, sweet potato, mashed potatoes, and various salad and veggie sides. But guests also brought extra dishes including fried rice and chayote squash slaw. It was a good meal but I didn't indulge too much. I was too far from home (and dependent on a ride) to risk stomach problems. Luckily, my grandma felt strong enough to leave the house because I haven't seen her since her birthday party in August.

As for the rest of the family: the aunts were finalizing their plan to visit the old country while my millennial cousins were neck-deep in raising young children. It was interesting that the ones that were single or childless either talked about recent or future trips. Why stay in boring Ottawa when all the experiences worth remembering are about somewhere else? But they were also excited about new development at local malls and big-box stores. Perhaps the suburban virus infects everyone in the end.

Goo Fellas

Although I don't plan on visiting sit-down restaurants anymore, I wanted to support small eateries if possible. On Tuesday, I visited a take-out spot on Montreal Rd called Kin Malebo. It was next to the strip mall containing Golden Crust Pizza. The server didn't speak any English and I had only high school French. But we finally agreed that I wanted 4 samoussa ($3.50/each). They were stuffed with beef and were closer to Sa'hara's sambusa than an Indian samosa. Unfortunately, they weren't that good as they lacked the speckled texture of the former and the fragrant flavour of the latter.

On Sunday, I returned to the same area to try the last of the 3 food trucks. Whereas the other two served tacos and falafel, Frys Guys was your classic chip wagon: burgers, hot dogs, and fries. The medium poutine ($8 all-in) was comparable to the Great Poutinerie with thick gravy and chewy curds. Good portion size and fairly cheap? Sounds good to me.

While I was waiting for my order, an older man noticed the zombie on the back of my Alex Lahey's band tee. No, I wasn't really into horror movies. Our conversation led to an astonishing story about his friend's cousin who has been "possessed" for 25 years. Over 40 exorcisms failed to cure her, leaving her to live an isolated life with her elderly parents. The friend was also a priest so his own visits were usually fraught and tense. I was silently bemused: don't we live in modern times with better diagnoses like mental illness or neurodivergence? But once he mentioned that this was in some remote place in Southern Quebec, a lightbulb went off. Outside of cosmopolitan Montreal, la belle province can be a bit stuck in the past.

Blast From The Past

I attended a few shows during my first months back in Ottawa. Soon enough, the terrible public transit and heavy car traffic killed my desire to go out. I went out when I visited Toronto but it has been almost two years in my hometown. On Wednesday, I headed to the Byward Market to see Texas-based The Bright Light Social Hour at the 27 Club (formerly Zaphod Beeblebrox).

I was so impressed by them at The CMW more than a decade ago at tiny Supermarket that I saw them again a few nights later for a 2 a.m. set! They came through Toronto a few more times, getting progressively trippier. Their Ottawa show at Mavericks was actually cancelled. But at the last minute, the owner of Zaphod reached out (they apparently played there last time) and the concert was back on. Perhaps this was why it was a sparse crowd tonight. But they bought a lot of merch, so hopefully it wasn't a total wash.

The surprisingly great sound system at 27 Club was better than muddy Mavericks. TBLSH played high-energy, complex music and all the components including vocals, guitar, drums, synth were balanced and clear. The bassist recalled an early review calling them "hillbilly disco". Well, yee-haw because opening number Back and Forth and the penultimate Shanty still brought the funk. New tunes (Most High, Prefecture) from their latest album Emergency Leisure had a hint of pop but were still rocking. Even numbers from their psychedelic Space Is Still The Place I & II seemed more muscular for this show.

I loved (and so did everyone else) that their encore was the blues-rock Detroit. With the loss of the original drummer and keyboardist/background vocalist, I didn't think they would play it anymore. A big part of the song was a heavy metal-esque drum solo that segue into a coda with a soaring falsetto harmony. This version couldn't quite reached those heights but the new members did an excellent job.

I haven't enjoyed myself like this in some time. Tonight was better than the last time I was at Zaphod's and it certainly was better than my first time here some decades back. My lovesick delusion started at a show by The Shuffle Demons (also sparsely attended). I was already gaga for my crush for about a year but that night was the first of our solo outings. My hope was sparked when they wanted a non-group hang. It only grew when confided that they had ended an intense relationship.

If only my older and wiser self could talk to that callow youth. They were high-school sweethearts who tried to maintain a long-distance relationship in college with letters, phone calls, cross-country visits, and summer vacation back in their small town. People don't move on from experiences like that for a while. Also, here is an apropos quip from the future: "They're just not that into you". I'd thank myself for the advice and avoid 4 years of heartache.

Another Year Round The Sun

On Sunday, my mom and I headed to the other side of Ottawa. We wanted to save some money so took public transit to downtown first before hailing a cab for the rest of the trip. But the extra $20 in our pocket wasn't worth that hour-long commute because the distance to downtown would have taken 10 minutes by car.

My grandma was celebrating her 95th birthday. We don't usually host family gatherings at my youngest uncle's place since it was a smaller home. But ever since her fall earlier in the year, she hasn't left the house, not even for a get-together last Easter. There was just enough room because, even though there was still a lot of folks from the extended family, 8 people were on vacation. The food was home-cooked fare such as spring rolls, lo mein noodles with shrimp and beef, egg fried rice, glass noodles with fresh veggies from the garden, and green papaya salad with maple syrup beef jerky. The one exception was a Tiramisu birthday cake from Costco.

I caught up on the latest family going-ons. My cousin brought her second newborn (there's a big age gap between me and most of my cousins). Her partner was a bus driver and confirmed my suspicion that there was no active monitoring with the OC Transpo. So it was up to each driver to keep to their schedule or not, depending on their work ethic. No wonder transit was so bad in Ottawa. Another cousin had upgraded from their starter home because of a rambunctious first-born. It was a nicer house but these sort of decisions (in my opinion) continue to sustain the housing bubble. A few aunts were planning a trip back to the old country for next year. Speaking of which, my uncle who sponsored us all to Canada all those decades ago made an appearance. Other than my grandma, we haven't seen him since the start of the pandemic.

At the end of the evening, as we were packing up, my eldest cousin dropped by for a quick hello. They had just landed after a 3-week trip to Europe. An avid traveller of the "squeeze as much in as possible" kind, this time it was London, Brussels, Budapest, Prague and Vienna (and places close to those cities). I reflected on the contrast between us. In the last 25 years, I've lived in Toronto with its big-city amenities but rarely travelled. Meanwhile, they resided in suburbia but have visited 100+ places all over the world as vacation time permitted. On the whole though, I prefer my sedate lifestyle but filled with the daily pleasures of local shops, modest eats, park hangs, enjoyable routine, music, art, and culture.

A Bus Named Expire

The new CTO of my company has been making changes. During a meeting earlier this week, it was clear that he expected us to put our noses to the grindstone. It didn't matter as I decided on Friday to leave (remote) work early and head out for a longish lunch.

I didn't want to take the bus to get there. The route used to be the number 2: considered to be the worst bus route in Ottawa. After it divided into the East End 12 and the West End 11 some years ago, these buses still ranked at the bottom. I'll have to take both, but there was no shorter ride to my destination.

My bus made its way down Bank St. and then headed along Somerset West to Chinatown. The local BIA had installed a Chinese Royal Arch more than a decade ago to beautify the area. Since then, they have also added stone lions and other Asian street art. But the gentrification of the neighbourhood continues with non-Asian stores now outnumbering the old stalwarts. When the bus climbed an overpass, I realized that below was an entrance to the industrial complex containing the bakery Art Is In. I usually get there from the other end via the O-Train.

I got off at Hintonburg where Somerset merged into Wellington St. My family briefly settled in this working-class area more than 4 decades ago but I have never returned in the intervening years. The old buildings now housed fancier businesses including a Christmas decoration store (Tinseltown Christmas Emporium), a yarn shop (Wabi Sabi), and numerous restaurants and pubs (La Bonita, The Senate Tavern, Taco Lot).

We lived in a small apartment above a groceteria at the corner of Melrose and Wellington. I don't know when the store opened but, according to old photos on Google Map, its end came some time in the late 2000s. A pizzeria called Tennessy Willems has been on the site ever since. When I stepped inside Tennesy the waft of stale urine greeted me, but no other customers remarked about this odour during my time there. This seemed at odds with the trendy gastropub vibe. Perhaps I was hallucinating a phantom smell?

I ordered the capricciosa pizza ($22). Though it was a serviceable pie, it wasn't worth the price (almost $30 with tax + tip). There was no fragrant aroma or toothsomeness from the dough. Both the tomato sauce and the fior de latte needed more time in the oven. The olives, mushroom, and capicola ham were alright, but the artichoke didn't have that smokey tanginess (shout-out to the delicious Bianca slice of the late-lamented Amato Pizza on College St., even if its final days were sad). The chefs looked young and probably didn't have experience with pizza-making as opposed to simply making pizza.

Tennessy was another disappointing Ottawa restaurant. I might still visit cheaper options like Creole Sensations and Great Canadian Poutinerie. But given the poor transit, the general meal cost and lack of food quality in Ottawa, this was likely my last dine-in meal in my hometown. As for Hintonburg, I'll check out the neighbourhood again in another 40 years if I'm still around.

Tally

On Wednesday, some Americans from a distant family branch visited our common ancestor. Since my mom knew a bit about their side, she was keen on meeting them. As for myself, I was having dinner with an old friend. We both moved to Toronto around the same time and had fun eating out and watching classic movies back when Paradise Theatre was a repertory cinema. I haven't seen much of them after they moved back to Ottawa a few decades ago. The last time we met in person was at a wedding in 2015.

Thali wasn't too impressive on the outside as it was on the ground floor of a commercial building at Laurier and O'Connor. But it was nicer inside with that Scandinavian look. Since my last visit to a fine-dining Indian restaurant was hit-and-miss, I suggested that we stick to mostly appetizers: Pappadum Basket ($6), Kerala Crab Cakes ($17), and Shrimp Coconut Ularthu ($17). We chose only 1 main: a Vegetarian Thali platter ($30).

Overall, it was a good meal with some subtle flavour. Certainly the best that I've had here in Ottawa. But I was disappointed with the main. There was nothing wrong with it; in fact, the paratha was excellent and I usually prefer naan. But instead of 3 or 4 dishes in a typical thali platter, it was 9 small bowls. There simply wasn't enough there to make much of an impression.

The appetizers fared better. Both the crab cakes and the shrimp were tasty. The pappadum should be crunchier and better spiced though. This was my main critique of all the dishes. Thali has dialed down the spice: both flavour and heat. Perhaps to better appeal to the Ottawa palate? Also, I have to get used the prices here as comparable dishes in Toronto would be cheaper.

My friend wanted to know why I was back in Ottawa. Well, it was for family reasons as well as problems with my new landlord in Toronto. As for them, they were swamped with family and work. All those after-school activities added up in time and money, leaving not much leisure time for shows and concerts. And with a picky eater at home, restaurants were a hard-sell too. They admonished me for not meeting up though I've been here since 2021. We promised to connect again, but I have some doubt given their busy schedule. The days when we could walk down the street to watch a movie in our PJs were in the distant past.