Fed Full Sunday

The last two Sundays were pleasant for different reasons. After having fun traipsing through different areas on Saturday, I spent my last day in Toronto chilling out in the East End. Yet it was also a "typical" Toronto day that I don't have in Ottawa.

I woke early and finished off the last of my Ethiopian left-overs. Despite clunky sentences in need of an editor, these posts take over an hour to write. I then lazed around in bed reading magazine articles. I had remembered to bring some gym clothes for yoga this time but it was almost didn't work out. Toronto Yoga Co must have a vibrant community because every class was full. Luckily I was the first on the wait-list and a spot opened up.

It was a 5-minute walk to the studio. As it was my first time, I was given a quick tour. TYC wasn't quite as spacious as the old location of Yoga Space but it was bigger than most: a cloak-room with small lockers (and free tea), a Pilates room, and a yoga studio on the top floor. The class was excellent because the instructor gave detailed cues in a smooth cadence. I was impressed with her delivery and knowledge and looked her up afterwards. It turned out she was a Communications and Kinesiology double major before training for Pilates and Yoga.

I finished my chicken vindaloo for lunch. It was a big lunch for left-overs and still packed quite a kick so I rested for a bit just in case things went south. I felt fine so I strolled down to Gerrard Square at 3 pm. At Monarch Park, folks were practicing tai-chi, having picnics, and just hanging out. There was no good sneakers selection at Winners but I grabbed some banh mi (for dinner) and bao (for breakfast) from Huy Ky. A $5 mango lassi from Chai, Samosa & Chaat completed a simple Sunday meal.

This past Sunday back in Ottawa was also pleasant but it started out more stressful. To meet up with friends in Old Ottawa South, I took two buses through dense traffic. The local universities were having their annual football match and the roads were packed with students and cars. I got off at Riverdale and Sunnyside to walk through the neighbourhood. With poor transit, I have never visited this part of Ottawa. Older homes and tree-lined side streets, a busy main drag with numerous stores, there was definitely a Toronto-vibe here; this could have been The Annex or Dufferin Grove. I suspect this was why my friend, who briefly moved to The Big Smoke, raised her family here instead of in the suburbs.

My destination was a Korean restaurant called Table Sodam. We were five this day though we lost one person after ordering. A friend's spouse, who was a picky eater, decided to ditch the rest of us to go dine solo at Stella Luna after looking at the menu. The remaining 3 all chose the Bulgogi Bibimbap ($24) while I opted for the Dak Gang Jung ($23). It was a filling but average meal of fried chicken, banchan, and rice. Talk revolved around family life since several kids were wrapping up high school. One had sent her oldest to an out-of-town university in September. He was done with independence after a month and was ready to move back home. For now, there were daily calls to the parental units and no doubt many more to the high-school sweetheart. We made tentative plans for a December meet-up and bid adieu. With the game wrapped up, it was a quicker trip back downtown though the connecting bus to my East-End place still crawled along as per usual.

Go With The Flow

I previously said I have spent too much money travelling to Toronto for shows. But truthfully, if it was only that, I'd couldn't justify the cost to my frugal self. Saturday turned out to be the sort of day, just a "regular" one for The Big Smoke, which I don't have in Ottawa.

In the early morning, after eating leftover Ethiopian for breakfast, I took transit down to The Distillery District. I haven't been to this historic, cobble-stoned area in a while. Probably more recently than a decade ago but still not that often. I don't remember all the stores but it seemed like bigger eateries and indie breweries (and their large patios) have taken over the main corridor. Also, the whole zone was now surrounded by condos.

Once past The Distillery, I walked down Cherry St. and across several bridges to get to the new Biidaasige Park. Like most cities, the East-End was historically the location of plants, factories, and the dumping ground of wastes. With that land now at a premium, Toronto has been re-developing but also rehabilitating thousands of acres. So the street had clean sidewalks and bike lanes. Numerous plots had fencing announcing the development of dozens of buildings which would amount to entire neighbourhoods in the future.

The park itself was wonderful and part of the re-naturalization of the Don River (i.e., allowing it to meander again instead of being confined to a man-made channel). This flood-prevention would also open up the area to residential development. But on this sunny morning, it was the abundant green, native plants that made it seemed like you had left the big city. I was also there for A Lake Story where 400 people in 100+ canoes, carrying naturally-dye flags, paddled in formation through the river and into Lake Ontario. Similar to my approach to the Santa Claus Parade, I just wanted to see the start when they board and then be on my way. After watching the motivational speeches, the loading, and the group push-off, I headed back to the mainland. But I accidentally saw them for their entire trip.

As I moved back through the park, people were lined up at various points to watch the procession. The best view was just as they came around the first bend. I then walked back to Lakeshore with the intention of heading to Queen's Quay. I saw some new development and decided to do a quick tour. It turned out to be the East Bayfront area and many people were lined up by the water. Lo and behold, in the distance, the canoe armada was just coming out of the river mouth into the lake. The fluttering of the colourful flags drew oohs, aahs, and when they came closer to the waterfront, applause from the crowd.

East Bayfront was nice and I could see people buying condos here. Despite The Gardiner and Lakeshore Boulevard a few blocks north, there was a peaceful vibe. Two things surprised me. First, the presence of mature trees along the waterfront and at Sugar Beach. Second, it wasn't all new residential. There were quite a few businesses including George Brown College, Corus, Université de l'Ontario Français, Toronto Region Board of Trade and large retailers like Farm Boy and LCBO.

I jumped on the subway to have lunch at BHK Roll, a hidden gem inside a food court. This time, it was Chicken Vindaloo ($21) and thanks to my history with chef Saha, freshly-made basmati rice. But I admit I can't handle spices like I used to because the entrée packed almost too much kick for me. I think that more people have caught on because I saw someone eating Chicken Biryani and another person ordering several dishes from the pricier selection. My portion was huge and will serve as dinner on Sunday.

In the evening, I went to Koerner Hall (it has been a decade) for a concert by Tafelmusik, a group dedicated to "historically accurate" Baroque performances. Before I stepped inside, I asked a young woman standing alone why she wearing a cloak and carrying a lantern. It turned out she was waiting to lead a ghost tour. But I wasn't sure if there were any takers.

Rachel Podger (guest violinist and conductor) was leading this ensemble in 2 symphonies: Mozart's no. 40 and Schubert's Fifth which was an homage to Mozart in tone. Not being a regular classical music listener, I assumed from the liner notes that it was a composition for the cognoscenti as the symphony was likely never performed in Mozart's lifetime. He had fallen out of favour by that time.

Within the first phrase, I realized it wasn't obscure at all. The man next to me liked the performance but it wasn't "ovation worthy". But the horns were certainly better than "last night's atrocious playing". I didn't stay for the Schubert as I was ready to go to bed. You know you're getting decrepit when you can't even stay up longer than the grey-haired set for a classical recital.

Take A Chance On Meg

On Friday, I was heading again to Toronto for a concert. Will it be as mind-blowing as the last time I did that? Lately, Rider Express was packed especially after Kingston. I usually arrive the day before an event but there was no room at my East End rental for Thursday. After unpacking, I went to Abugida for a vegetarian platter.

As I noshed on some delicious lentils, okra, and other ingredients, I had 2 thoughts. First, my first experience with Ethiopian was in Ottawa back in university. Some Iranian friends thought it too spicy while I found the food quite mild. They would probably find Abugida's food intolerable. For myself, it was the perfect amount of kick. Second, last week I also had Ethiopian at Habesha with my financially-savvy friend. That veggie combo came in at $23, before tax and tip, for half the amount of food. This platter was $17 all-in! Maybe they didn't include tax because I paid in cash. But the price difference was eye-opening and why I rarely eat out in Ottawa.

On my last trip, I ended up going to only 1 concert. When I lived in Toronto, I often went to a show oblivious of the performers. But I listened ahead of time to the prospective bands and it deterred me because it all sounded mediocre. I did it again but this time, I was looking forward to the openers because hey sounded great.

When I arrived at The Mod Club just before 8, New Chance (with Johnny Spence on keys) was in the middle of a song. And that was it because Ticketmaster had moved the start time to 7:30 without sending out an updated notification. But the number (and the rest of her album online) was good enough for me to get a t-shirt ($30) and a vinyl ($30). Luckily, CJ Willey was also good. Whether it was their mentorship with Meg (U.S. Girls) or side gig with Shania Twink, they had a strong and lively stage presence with country-inflected indie (So Brand New, Get Paid, Cheap Therapy). Willey showed they could also do intense on new numbers Gasoline and Wasp. So their debut vinyl ($30) also went into my tote bag.

I missed U.S. Girls last tour at The Velvet Underground in 2023. So I shelled out some big bucks to be in Toronto this week-end. These 3-day excursions typically clocked in around $800 for AirBnB, bus, food, and entertainment. Was it worth it? Well, I forgot that for every U.S. Girls' transcendent show, there could be some head-scratcher. It depended on the venue and the audience. Tonight's gig ended up somewhere in the middle. So maybe.

This ambivalence was likely why her audience doesn't seem to grow. There were still tickets at the door and The Mod Club ended up only half-full. It was also obvious from the crowd (and crowd noise) around me. Some wanted to groove to bangers like 4 American Dollars and others preferred atmospheric numbers like Rage Of Plastic (Simone Schmidt) and Family Tree. The younger fans (did Meg have a recent radio or TikTok hit?) seemed confused that U.S. Girls closed out the show with songs that used sample-heavy pre-recorded tracks instead of her band. But I wasn't surprised given Meg's beginnings. In any case, I suspect (and overheard some snippets) that a good proportion of the crowd left with a feeling of "I liked a bunch of songs but ..." U.S. Girls' eclectic output (Scratch It is the 8th album!) simply cannot satisfy everyone 100 percent.

So for her next gig, it'll probably the same amount of folks: many will not attend, and they will be replaced by new fans. As for me, I'd still go her shows if I was living in Toronto. But I wouldn't travel from out-of-town like this time.

A Taste of Ewe

Before attending a concert on Wednesday, I paid $24 for dinner from a food court. Was it caused by the recent price hikes on groceries? Probably. But mostly because after reuniting with my favourite Indian chef, and eating his delicious parathi rolls for lunch, I knew I had to return to try the pricier evening offers.

The only downside was that I had forgotten my face-mask and was in the subway during the rush-hour. Even without the threat of Covid, I can't imagine being unmasked in that packed crowd and risking flu, colds, and other transmissible diseases. But apparently most people didn't mind breathing all that stale air. Now onto the good stuff. In a nutshell, chef Saha's Gosht Nizami ($24) was exquisite. The people around me, eating KFC and Subway, might have thought I was a little strange. Why was this person closing their eyes and savouring every bite? Because the spices were perfectly balanced, each cube of lamb wonderfully tender, and the biryani rice (I had some early doubt since it looked too wet) was fragrant and rich. I have eaten at fancier offerings that were half as good. I do love stick-to-your-ribs South Asian but this was on another level.

Back at my rental, I didn't experience any after effects of a rich meal. So I made my way to The Drake Underground. Opening band Burs was a bit all-over-the-map. When they stuck to propulsive folk-rock like on Country Song from their upcoming album, they were tight and on fire. But on several numbers, a middle section or coda degenerated into a noisy shoe-gaze interlude. This sort of mish-mash only worked some of the time.

Case Oats was a new band with some indie/alt country buzz.  Fronted by Casey Gomez Walker (of Midwestern small-town stock) but based in Chicago, they have already signed to label Merge Records. Toronto was officially 1 of 3 album release venues. So for their set, Oats played their debut album Last Missouri Exit front to back. These songs were essentially a snap-shot of Walker's coming-of-age since she originally wrote them as short poems or lyrical fragments. They were about looking back (Seventeen), growing apart from your hometown friends (In A Bungalow), and your exe's girlfriend (Nora). There was only 1 love song (Wishing Stone) but plenty about toxic men (Buick Door, Bitter Root Lake, Hallelujah).

After wrapping up Last Missouri Exit, Case Oats played several new songs and a cover of The Clash's Lost In The Supermarket. Overall, I really liked these sharply observed verses and Walker's matter-of-fact singing (she also had a small sneer) straddled the line between honest and cynical. The only snag was she started to lose her voice about 3 songs in. This made Walker quipped that "you'll have to buy the record to hear how they should really sound".

The audience were mostly young but I was surprised to see quite a few middle-aged men. I'm guessing it was partly due to the reputation of the drummer dad's (Jeff Tweedy of Wilco) that brought them out. I was going to get some merch but the line-up was long and slow. I needed to get back to my rental for an early morning ride back to Ottawa.

Walking Down A Dream

I forgot my gym clothes so I couldn't go to yoga class. So on Wednesday, I decided to get some more steps in. This time, it was a walk from Lansdowne to Spadina and back along College St. There are always changes in new businesses replacing a long-time store or a failed contender. I will limit myself to a handful of observations.

The cheap car-wash at Lansdowne was no more. There will likely be a condo there but it might take a while. Though close to red-hot Dundas St. West, this intersection was always down-at-the-heels. The block from Sheridan to Dufferin was "nicely" gentrified; that is, there was variety (Archi Element, Critter and Co, El Mitote Latin Lounge) and all storefronts were occupied. This doesn't always happen when gentrification kills long-time businesses without replacement. ZEI Pottery (Do Hue, barely-there Cuchara) is the 4th pottery studio I have seen in this part of town. I'm not holding out much hope for them.

Nearer to Ossington, The Carvalo Condos never got its Pusateri but a NoFrills moved in. Krispy Kreme was putting in final touches in a former convenience store. There were too many turnovers in Little Italy and from Bathurst to Spadina to mention. But notably the spot hosting Korean fusion Mashed Bistro, then traditional Korean Riceteria, then a very short-lived breakfast diner, the slightly longer Nile River, was now a Japanese/Korean late-night spot called Cheongju Izakaya. Belly Buster Subs didn't last long at the former Soundscapes record shop. Vegan joint Odd Burger (previously vegan GL) could be on its last legs. Nothing online yet except rumblings though the IRL For Lease sign doesn't bode well.

My reward at Spadina was a slice ($5) from Fresca the best pizza shop in Toronto. It has been more than a year and it was even more bustling. But this meant I didn't get any face-time with the owners. In addition to the young makers putting out pizza, there was a now someone helping in the kitchen. The fresh-faced crowd looked university-age as the high-school teenagers have yet to return from summer vacation. I'm cautiously optimistic that Fresca will be around till at least the end of the decade.

On my return leg, I stopped at Barbershop Patisserie for an assortment of croissant, chausson, brownie, and banana bread ($32.25). They were all delicious as breakfast treats over the next few days. When I was supporting this business during the pandemic, I noticed the owner was slim ("never trust a skinny chef"). I assumed, probably wrongly, that it had to do with the stress of starting a new venture during a tumultuous time. 5 years in, they were perhaps even more slender. Maybe this meant this was their natural size? Because the shop seems to be doing well, now opened daily instead of only a few days a week.

Let It Rain

Dosa Mahal Vegan Box

Less than a month later, I made another trip to The Big Smoke. Monday was pleasantly cool but sunny in both Ottawa and Toronto. A pair of French tourists sitting behind me on the bus talked excitedly about visiting "little New York" and Niagara Falls after their trip to Montreal and Ottawa. Unfortunately, it's forecast to be rainy and cloudy over the next few days. So they might not have good memories about T.O.

I was back in my rental on St Helens. For dinner, I stopped off at Caribbean Queen for a beef patty ($4.50). In May, she was talking about retirement. But now she wasn't planning on retiring any time soon; supposedly it was "actually a vacation" that we talked about. I couldn't say if it was a case of wanting to work or needing to work but she seemed refreshed and cheerful behind the counter. As the patty wasn't quite enough, I also went to Dosa Mahal for a vegan plate (rice + 3 sides). It has increased to $8.85 for takeout (and the masala fries were now $9.99). A large price increase in 5 years but still under $10.

Tuesday morning, I walked a loop from Lansdowne, west along Dundas St. W., and returning on Bloor. It still had some industrial businesses and a few stalwart (Cafe Pho Nho) but the condos and second-generation gentrifiers (Bandit Brewery, The Commoner, Tommy's Wine Bar) were spreading. First generation shops like Dundas Park Kitchen paved the way but haven't lasted. The massive condo complex replacing Loblaws, LCBO, and their large parking lot has not broken ground. 

In another life, this could have been my Toronto neighbourhood because my grandma found an old friend with a room for rent. But 3 decades ago, this area was too derelict for me. I ended my walk at Uncle Sid's Deli for a breakfast wrap ($7.75) of sausage, eggs, and home fries.

Lunch at Ibet Sushi was a combo ($16.50) of 8 pieces of nigiri sushi (mostly salmon) and 8-piece California Roll. No complementary miso soup or salad though. On my way to the dentist, I saw that the 6 new condos at Bloor and Dufferin were starting to have windows and other interior construction. The announced move-in date of 2026 seemed plausible. After my cleaning, which they have inexplicably reduced to 2 units instead of the usual 3, I went to see my friend.

Last time, she was contemplating retirement (perhaps in Morocco) and dealing a slightly lazy brother. Well, the brother has moved out since a week ago. Now she wanted to keep working if possible because she enjoyed interacting with people. In fact, an old customer had hosted her for a few days on her trip to Costa Rica. Given that the vacant 2nd bedroom was only $900/month, I impulsively offered to become her new room-mate. She was totally onboard with that idea.

There were several positives: the price (especially for this city), the location (my old neighbourhood and in my opinion, best area of Toronto), and the possibility. That is, I've been leaning toward semi-retirement instead of full retirement. But exploring 2nd career options seemed more tractable here than in Ottawa. The main barrier preventing my move was the exorbitant rental market in Toronto.

Back at my rental after 241 pizza ($5.50), I thought about 2 major minuses. First, Toronto apartments aren't large as a rule, but this bedroom was tiny. It wouldn't even fit a queen bed; the current layout was a twin with just enough space to sidle past. Yet it had the same general layout as the other more reasonably-sized rooms. But I couldn't recall why from the whirlwind tour. Maybe a large section was taken up by a support column or wall?

Second, the timing was wrong. With the recent passing of my grandma, I couldn't leave my mom right now. We were also relocating so there were practical concerns: packing, cleaning, and many other tasks. It will probably take until November or early next year before I could think about next steps for me. I doubt my friend could wait 2-4 months for a co-tenant.

What I Owe To Others

On Thursday, the family said goodbye to my grandma. Pragmatic as always, she had already bought a no-frills package some 15 years ago from a corporation appropriately named Modest Funeral Alternative Inc. It was to be family-only visitation, no open casket (e.g., no post-portem preparation/embalming), and cremation. However, with 6 living children, we were still required to get a signed agreement from all of them including my aunt in the old country.

So it was a simple set-up: a basic casket, her picture, and flowers from her grand-kids. Her favourite music, or at least songs mostly about her childhood city, played in the background. Without other guests, at first the 1 hour seemed long with the extended family milling around at the back. The youngest great-grandchildren wandered about without a care. But eventually, that time allowed people either alone or in small groups to approach the front in their own time to be with their grief and loss. We did receive some visitors: my grandma's best friend came with her son. At 90, I think some of her tears were also for her ever smaller circle of friends.

Our entire family weren't particularly talkative. My grandma has often said that most of us wouldn't survive back home where you needed hustle to survive. When it was clear no one was going to say any final words, I volunteered despite my usual reticence. But hopefully without coming across as a narcissist, I want to outline my reasons.

Decades ago when I was love-sick for my crush, I dreamt we were in each others' arms watching a sunrise. I woke up, and never having felt such bliss, I shyly told my grandma without going into details. Years later, I reflected at my brother's wedding that this was the few occasions where you could thank people in your life without mawkishness. And with no such ceremony in my future, it seems that some sentiments will remain unsaid. So on this day, even though grandma could not hear my thanks, the rest of the family will understand my gratitude.

Her impact was profound on the greater extended family. My grandfather and her were generous with their time, money, and aid. Several lives and families were changed. But I only briefly touched on that, and focused on 3 stories about her that affected our own families.

The first story: without my uncle who sent care packages home after the war, money to help some siblings escape, and finally sponsorship of the rest, we would all still be back in the old country or at best, scattered throughout the world. I thanked him for his sacrifice but also that it was grandma's effort that laid that foundation. Grandpa never wanted to send his son abroad as a foreign student; the financial burden could cripple the family (there were 7 people left in the household). So it was grandma who figured out all the ad-hoc paperwork by chasing down numerous bureaucrats and friends. At the 11th hour, with the final requirements unsatisfied (money deposited in Canada and a plane ticket), she found an old colleague turned bank manager, and a friend of a friend who was an airline executive. All this without a phone, just dogged legwork.

The second story: during the immigration interview, the agent was dismissive of my mother. My grandma speaking French without a translator was impressive, and so were my relatives who "risked it all" by boat. But a young woman with toddlers? Not likely to succeed in Canada. Without her persuasive words (swallowing her anger and pride), my immediate family would have stayed behind.

The final story: my cousins with kids benefited from help of the parents (nods all around). Imagine how things could have turned out for a single mom with 2 kids, learning a new language, trying to survive in a new country with no work experience. But my grandma was there: babysitting, cooking, doing groceries, and many other domestic work. When we were grown, she helped yet another set of family. Without her, my working-class uncle, aunt-in-law and their kids would have had a rougher 90s and 2000s.

After the cremation service, attended by myself and a few others (only 6-7 were allowed), we went to New Hong Shing for lunch. Grandma would have complained about the waste of money. There was one minor story that I did not tell.

After university, a Mississauga company hired me. They provided a small relocation stipend for a few weeks in a hotel. But I didn't find a permanent place for 3 months. How did I survive? Well, I didn't even have to use the money (actually, I never even billed them for my moving expenses). My grandma had pulled out her address book and asked around. She finally found a 2nd cousin in California whose daughter lived in Mississauga. This distant "auntie" gave me free room-and-board until I found that first apartment. So all my life, my grandma and the rest of my family and clan has made my path easier.

Tomorrow and Tomorrow

On Monday night, my grandmother passed away at home. Since her terminal illness diagnosis, she had progressively gotten weaker each time I visited. Two Fridays ago, she was unable to sit up without help. But we could still talk and she asked me about the band tee I got in Toronto the week before. Last Friday, she barely whispered a few instructions to my mom. Mostly she was in a sedated doze while holding my hand. When my mother returned home on Saturday I was told that a priest will be performing last rites on Monday just in case.

I hadn't planned on going, as I wanted to spend time with her, not stand around reciting prayers. But yesterday after lunch, my mom called to say that things had taken a drastic turn in the morning. According to the palliative doctor, who administered several different injections, it was only a matter of hours. When I arrived, she was no longer aware of her surroundings. Over the course of the afternoon, the whole extended family came: all her children and their children. My cousin who recently moved to Vancouver had booked a last-minute flight and came straight from the airport. The older 4th generation kids didn't come, but 2 of the toddling great-grandkids were there with the parents. Each made emotional good-byes upon arrival then caught up with the rest of the family. I think my grandma would not have minded the chatter even if she herself was never a fan of "gossip".

After last rites, my cousins ordered take-out. My mom and I returned to our apartment. The doctor had left behind multiple doses to last through the night. So perhaps she will make it to another sunrise. But after dinner, my sibling called to say that grandma had stopped breathing. The matriarch of our extended family and the last member of the greater extended family was gone.

On the way home, I thought about several things. First, my mom had lamented to her siblings that, despite several aunts taking turns as well as professional support (PSW, visiting nurses), my grandma's care was hard. For their generation, with fewer (and busier) children, it could be "impossible". Sadly, she's not wrong. My situation will be even more dire as I have no partner or progeny. So I will have to manage all my infirmities alone.

This led to my second thought about MAID. For sure I have to include the possibility in my end-of-life planning. I wondered if my grandma would have chosen it if we did not hide her diagnosis. Even in early July, she complained to me that she usually recovers quickly from an illness. This last month may be nothing compared to friends who have family members with more than a decade of care. Still, given the last few weeks of "indignities", she might have opted to leave while in a relatively healthier state. She was well enough at the end of June to receive my sibling and my nieces after their month-long trip to Japan and the old country. And to lovingly tease him about the many photos of eating food.

Third, without my mother, I would consider going "no-contact" with the rest of the family after this. There is no trauma or negative feelings. It's just that, similar to my old buddies, our interaction has become simply an annual Christmas get-together. Not among themselves, just with me due to my introversion and the age-gap (I'm closer to uncle age to some of my cousins and grandpa age to their kids). Better to let our relationships lapse and be out-of-mind until some decades in the future when they receive something in my will. No great riches but maybe enough for a vacation.

Finally, a possible exception to the previous scenario. If my nieces, in their middle-age some years hence, want to reach out to me about forgotten relatives, then I could share few stories from their great grandma. Maybe details about her own siblings and the "greater" extended family. But my generation has already never had any contact with the latter, so I doubt theirs will care except in a family-tree way. I could even talk about my own great grandmother, what few memories I have, augmented by second-hand tales. A connection through me back to someone from 1899 and forward through them (and their children?) into the 2100s could be affirming. On the other hand, they may not want to bother with the half-forgotten, hermit relative.

Eliza 6.0

I said that my trip to Toronto was on a whim. And although it was a last-minute decision, it wasn't without thought. Descartes a Kant was an art-pop band (devo meets nine-inch-nails meets kate bush) from Mexico. I saw a few videos online over the last year and liked their sound and aesthetic. Around since 2001 with a debut album in 2007, they've never visited Canada. Lately I've been to a some great concerts from Youtube finds: Penelope Scott, The Marías, The Regrettes, and Ginger Root. So with the likelihood that they may never play here again, I booked a quick stay in The Big Smoke.

Friday night, the 501 streetcar took me across town. Queen St. East (Leslieville) was fairly lively since gentrification but Queen St. West was absolutely packed. Nobody was lining up 20-deep for gelato (Mizzica Gelaterie) or filling up the shops and restos in the East End. They tore down The Horseshoe Tavern's next-door neighbour to make way for the new Queen/Spadina subway station (and additional commercial properties). Despite its heritage status, only the front façade was kept (a practice I despise).

Inside the Shoe, it was a small crowd for opener Beach Fox. Their music was a little of everything but mostly driven by a fast "double-time" tempo: hint of surf rock, pop-punk, and some noise. Their final song, a cheeky teenage dirtbag anthem about "I like cheap beer so eff you", was a bit out of left-field.

It wasn't a full house but still good-sized group that awaited Descartes. The nice thing about Toronto was no matter where the artist comes from, they will find their countrymen in the audience and locals who knew their music. So tonight's contingent included folks from Mexico and Torontonians (oddly a few well into their retirement years) who cheered every number.

The conceit of the new album was our feelings about a digitally-mediated life. So onstage along with the band was a cyberpunk computer that bleeped and blooped. With a flat electronic voice and 80s graphics, DAK promised to turn our pain into art, find our ideal partner (sex releases dopamine!), offer fixes for depression (cocaine, alcohol, but ice cream is best), and recommend ways to live our best lives (why not dance?). Meanwhile Descartes, dressed in futuristic orange nylon jumpsuits, on songs like Graceless and Woman Sobbing played music filled with changing time signatures, staccato riffs, furious drumming, and driving bass. By the time things wrapped up with the dance-friendly After Destruction, my faith in live music was restored. The show ended with the members donning lighted fishbowl helmets while DAK led everyone through some feel-good affirmations and meditative mantras.

With the thematic portion over, Descartes a Kant played an extended encore with several songs from their back catalogue. Early on, band founder Sandrusca Petrova told the crowd that she had a feeling that DAK's first show in Canada would be special. Each member professed their Canadaphilia: Ryan Gosling (a song was inspired by him circa his Drive era), Avril Lavigne, Norm MacDonald. When Sandrusca and guitarist Ana played the penultimate Buy All My Dreams while moshing in the crowd, everyone returned their love. But why did they finally make this first appearance? It turned out that their former synth player Ano Muños left during Covid to live in the Great White North. Maybe he reached to them for a show before they depart on a European tour. In any case, Muños joined Descartes for an emotional final number.

The band was diligent with manning the merch table themselves from the start of the evening. There was a steady stream of buyers early on. I bought 2 t-shirts myself ($30/each) since the ticket was a mere $20. I would have taken the vinyl as well (despite the $60 tag) but my last such purchase suffered some damage in transit back to Ottawa. I didn't stay after the show, but after such a performance, Descartes deserved a long line of purchasers. Even DAK, as a good corporate digital avatar, recommended consumerism as one form of therapy.

Dang It

On these trips to Toronto, I still work remotely. But I take advantage of the early wake-up to get most of my work in. So after the daily meeting before noon, I was done for the day. Friday morning, I struggled to get through some peer reviews. Perhaps I'm turning into a cranky greybeard, but these greenhorn always implement unnecessarily complex solutions to simple problems. Paradoxically, they don't scale to handle the hard problems. But our flat structure meant I have no authority to be the final arbiter. So perhaps it was time to take a step back: "not my circus, not my monkeys".

Filipino cafe Teako opened after my sublet. I tried their tea on one of my later visit to the area. I promised to sample the food, and one year later, I finally made good on it. Instead of crepes and sandwiches, I chose from the filipino section and ordered Chicken Adobo ($16.99). The sky was partly cloudy but the oppressive heat was still in place. So a Jasmine iced tea ($5.99) sounded like perfect drink.

The tea was refreshing with a hint of sweetness from the honey. I almost finished it by the time my lunch came out. The wait was worth it though. The chicken was exquisite: lightly sauced, tender, and juicy. The garlic rice was delicious but different than the typical one at filipino restos. Its buttery fluffiness called to mind an elevated version of Uncle Ben's. I felt bad that the owner gave me a complimentary slice of cinnamon roll. I would try their entire menu if I still lived in the area. But I might not return before they close because realistically speaking, their store was at a desolate intersection of a still working-class neighbourhood. The sad demise of Jinglepear Deli, just a few doors down, was proof. Ditto the loss of other recent contenders who didn't even make it to two years: Leni Poki became Cafe Xin Chao (itself not currently opened), Montreal Smoked Meat turned into a Josie's Lock and Key, Fusion Factory (replacing old stalwart Great Burger Kitchen) was also "temporarily closed". 

I spent some time at Greenwood Park digesting my food while watching numerous activities. There must be some sort of day-camp and/or community organization: the playground, wading pool, and outdoor rink were filled with kids. Adult softball teams were playing at the baseball diamonds. The games were from different rec leagues, though one set of teams had uniforms. There were also exercisers, dog walkers, and sun-tanners. This was much busier than my local park in Ottawa.

Since I supported POC proprietors at lunch, I decided to keep doing so for dinner. So I headed to Greenwood and Queen to the tiny Dang Smoke BBQ. Dang Quach started his food truck in 2017 (long after my obsession with them) and finally opened his tiny, mostly take-out spot in 2023. I didn't meet him but two workers sweating in the heat. I chose a Smoked Brisket sandwich ($16) with a side of slaw ($5).

Sadly, this dinner was a bust. The slaw was runny and a touch too sweet. The brisket did satisfyingly fall apart but it didn't have enough seasoning or smoky flavour. What little it had was masked by the "whisky bbq sauce". This cloying gloop came from a large, plastic jug bottle. It didn't matter if it was house-made or came from Sysco, it was just bad. The sticky, chewy brioche buns dealt the final blow. There is never a reason to use this overrated bread. After several great meals including Teako, this was an ignoble last meal for this trip.

The End of History

When I bought some bao ($3.25) from Huy Ky on Wednesday, I also purchased a tofu banh mi ($5.25). This worked out as I was too lethargic from the heat to leave my rental Thursday afternoon for dinner. After another hour of semi-slumber, I finally roused myself for a cold shower and headed to an evening concert.

My spot was only a 10-minute walk to the concert venue History. I hadn't planned to come back here after Rina Sawayama's show. I also felt mildly disappointed at my last Men I Trust concert. Though it turned out to be an excellent show, this was it for me on both counts. More on that later.

The opener Strongboi (a side-project of Alice Phoebe Lou) had a similar vibe as the headliner with chill songs like Tough Girl and Cold. There was more of a smooth 70s R'n'B foundation to their music. So it was apropos when they covered Bound (Ponderosa Twins Plus One). Though the big cheer from the  audience was likely from its sampling in Kanye West's Bound 2.

There were numerous negatives that made me side-eye History: long line-up (Massey Hall is larger without any waiting), airport security (overzealous bag check, scanner gates, screening trays), a young crowd (no masking, someone threw up at the front, another collapsed in the back as I was heading out). They did have a crystal clear sound system though, Men I Trust never sounded so good. But I don't want to set foot in here ever again.

Emma and her band released 2 new albums this year. Along with their back catalogue, they now have a large set of songs to choose from. Some preferred the new, folksy tunes. Others liked the older lofi music but beefed up for a live show. So the applause and participation varied but were never unanimous. Except for about 1 hour into the show when they did a "medley" of their old tunes. That got the crowd more excited than just some head-nodding. Even so, it didn't include other favourites so some wags by the bar screamed for Tailwhip.

Cognizant of the price I paid the last time I overstayed a show, I headed out after that high point. Lightning was flashing in the sky with thunder approaching rapidly. Just as I stepped inside the house, the rain came pouring down. I was mighty glad that I didn't stop by the merch table or for late-night taco (Holi Taco). Not to sound like a hipster, but I wished them much success with the newer fans. I have my memory of their Horseshoe Tavern show when the young'uns were still in grade school.

Dark End Of The Street

Back in 2022, I wanted to visit the Leslie Spit on the last day of my sublet. It was a good thing that I didn't try in my jeans because Thursday morning proved that I wasn't up to it. Ontario has been experiencing a heat wave for weeks and Thursday was projected to hit 40 degrees. Since I was already up by 5:30 a.m., I donned jogging shorts and headed to this rewilded area.

It was already 2 km from my rental to the end of Leslie Street. Even in the morning darkness, this semi-industrial area (big-box stores and condos have made inroads) was filling up with cars and trucks. It would no doubt be unbearably noisy and hot later on. From the park entrance, I ran for another 2.5 km but was only at "The Neck" before turning around. The bulk of it including the Lighthouse and Pipit Point were still several kilometres away. So I suppose I still haven't seen Leslie Spit but the distance explains why I only saw riders on speed bikes (on my way back) in this 500-hectare "nature preserve". Still, sunrise over Lake Ontario on one side, the marina and the Toronto skyline on the other, and abundant greenery made this section a pleasant run compared to the DVP trails. I later found out from signage that, officially, I was trespassing because Leslie Spit is still considered a construction zone and not open to the public until 4 pm on a weekday.

For lunch, I jumped on the streetcar heading downtown to Yonge and College. I found out that my favourite Indian chef opened a "fast-food" place inside the College Park food court after closing Spice Indian Bistro. He remembered me from back in the day, and despite the humbler surroundings, still dressed himself and his assistants in formal chef attire. The main draw at BHK Roll was a paratha roll plus various sides. Mine was lamb ($13) and I observed how chef Debu carefully prepared each roll. The flavour profile was subtle: hints of ginger, beet, a slight spicy kick, and tender cubes of grilled meat. I saw that the evening menu was more extensive. I promised chef that I would be back to try dinner but it'll have to wait until my next trip to Toronto.

Heroine On A Half Sell

My May visit was at the 6-month mark instead of my usual 3. So on a whim, I decided to book a trip to Toronto 2 weeks ago. Rider Express continues to impress me with its cheap rate: only $29 each way. People must be catching on because, this Wednesday, every stop had numerous customers. Luckily for me, I did not get a seat companion until Belleville.

I took the slower 501 street car to my East End stay. The ride was even more leisurely than expected because of traffic and construction detour. But unlike Ottawa, with plenty to look at whether it was people, businesses, or buildings, I felt no irritation. A little past downtown, a bevy of day-camp counsellors herded almost 30 children onto the street car. I have never seen such a sight in my hometown.

I was at a new location between Queen St. and Gerrard near Greenwood instead of the old spot at Coxwell. It also promised a private bathroom though that was only partially true. Here is my made-up backstory based on House Sigma (a real-estate site with past listing history) and the fact that my host has been on AirBnB for less than a year. The previous owner bought this modest semi for a reasonable $192K some 20 years ago. During the pandemic, they fixed it up with some nice features (hard-wood floor),  dubious ones ("waterfall spout" faucet, glass shower doors that won't close), and "good ROI" (modern kitchen appliances, washer and dryer) to sell in a hot market. Nobody bit at $1M but it eventually sold for a still astonishing $890K. After a few years of trying to cover the mortgage, the current owner moved their family to the finished basement hoping the extra income from renting out the main bedrooms will allay some costs.

On every East End stay, I kept planning to return to nondescript Lahore Grill at Greenwood and Gerrard. I wasn't going to pass it up again. So despite the heat wave, I dropped by for dinner. I was expecting an inferno inside from the tandoori oven and the open kitchen. But it was fairly pleasant so it was a sit-down meal in the end. First the good stuff: naan was freshly-made and delicious, chicken masala was fall-off-the-bone tender, curry was oily but so tasty, and sides including chutney and yogurt were refreshing. The only "downside" was my old age: $17 (with tax) was not a cheap eats though it probably is in 2025. I'm not yet used to the new $20 watermark. The area, like every other Toronto neighbourhood, had new stores and condos (in the works). But the worst indignity was that vegan shop Jinglepear Deli was now Atomic Burger. On the other hand, it existed as a butcher shop (Strickland's Choice Meat) for the longest time beforehand. In any case, every closed business (e.g., Prairie Boy Bread) usually came with life-altering economic woes. And this one was no different.

All Our Yesterdays

A few years ago, there was an article highlighting that as adults, we have already spent more than 99% of our allotted time with family and (old) friends. With work, moving, and other life events that put physical distance between us, we might only see them during Holidays. For me, this was an obvious if usually ignored realization. The corollary was that this was even more true with "strangers". In the city, you will pass by hundreds of people every day, perhaps a few minutes longer if on the subway or streetcar, and then never see them again. This led to a short period in which I felt a mild sadness as I strolled through Toronto streets, did chores, visited a shop, or attended a show.

In the end, that was simply a fun, self-indulgent exercise. With my grandma's terminal diagnosis, the reality was more stark. She has had a long life so I'm not really sad. But 3 years ago, I would have bet that she would reach the century mark. During my visits every other week, I was struck with the fact that our remaining time together was now measured in hours.

Though having potentially a few decades left between us (fate willing), my time with friends were similarly shortened since we rarely saw each other. This despite being back in the same hometown going on 4 years now. So when we met up in June for some noodles at Yun Shang, I silently did my tally: 7 months, 15 months, and 16 months ago. Though some things stayed the same (complaining about work), others were more dramatic (the oldest kids were heading off to university). One noticeable passage of time were more grey and lines for everyone.

On Saturday, I met up with another friend (it has been a "mere" 5 months) at Dosa King for lunch. Being on Holland, the restaurant was conveniently located near a light-rail station. I was surprised they had never had dosas but it made sense in retrospect. 25 years ago when they lived in Toronto, Indian food was limited to mainstream fare like butter chicken. Other regional dishes did not appear until the late 2000s, long after they had moved back to Ottawa. And dosa did not arrive here until recently.

She missed the June dinner due to a busy family life and gum graft surgery. I was sympathetic since I've also had the same procedure. We commiserated over the "perfidy" of dentists and I gave my rant about their competence. In her case, she delayed the operation by 6 months until she talked to her mother, a retired dentist, because she thought it was an "upsell".

We also continued our discussion about my financial naivety. Though my family knew about the company take-over, I finally revealed the value of my windfall to another person. But it wasn't just about cash and grills, our easy camaraderie gave us much laughter on several topics. My cheese paneer masala dosa ($17.99) was good and my friend's first Southern Indian food experience was a success. I'll have to change her skepticism about Indian seafood though there were no previous complaints.

Long and Winding Road

The last two days I've had both poutine and pizza. They were small pick-me-ups from a wracking cough that has persisted since early May and the return of my decade-long restless slumber. By going to bed even earlier than usual, I had almost 7 hours of sleep for a few days. But now the toss-and-turn and frequent awakenings have returned.

My mother has not been home because we received expected but still sad news. My grandma will likely not see Christmas or maybe not even her 97th birthday. The growth turned out to be cancerous and her advanced age made surgery or chemo non-viable options. I thought about my old landlord who flew back and died in India after being released from the hospital for a second hip surgery. A thoughtless decision by her brother according to his daughter, but a final wish according to his wife. I pondered about using my windfall to fly my grandma first-class back to the old country, for a last visit or permanently. But I didn't know how much time was left, and I was worried how we might handle pain management and other advanced hospice care outside of Canada.

The last two weeks have been a whirlwind of family discussion regarding issues like power of attorney and additional home care. The problem with the latter was that we had a shortage of candidates. Her daughters were still working despite all being retirement age (an indictment of capitalism) and her retired sons were useless. I have some sympathy as my grandma's generation would not feel comfortable being aided in their ablutions by males. But it was even in the little things. Instead of helping her to watch her favourite game shows, my uncle (whose family she has lived with and helped for decades) simply complained that she was too old to manage a smart TV. After I tuned in to The Price Is Right, he turned down the volume despite her being hard-of-hearing. Then he played a Youtube video through his laptop speaker instead of moving to another room. I was so irritated I almost said something regrettable.

Finally it was decided that my mother would take compassionate leave with the other aunts relieving her for 1-2 days per week. I have had a weekly phone call with my grandma even back in Toronto. With my relocation back to Ottawa, I see her in person about every 3 weeks when I'm not sick. So I have listened to numerous stories about her life and people (kin or friends) most of whom were dead. Living through colonization, two wars, and several emigrations, her memories were more eventful than my own. I wished that final trip could happen to bring her full-circle back to her beginnings.

Business Unusual

On Monday, I was back in Toronto. With the imminent buy-out of my company, they wanted people be present in-person at the office because there were several meetings planned for the next two days. I was still sick from last week but since it was company-paid, I opted to fly with Porter Air ($992 round trip) into the downtown airport. I also picked an old AirBnB spot because I didn't want to be stuck at a suburban hotel.

I haven't flown in more than decade and the view, although interesting, didn't grab me. Porter has become more of a budget airline compared to when I flew with them regularly in the aughts: bolted seats, scratches, dings, and stained carpeting. Although when my thought changed from "What lake is that outside?" to "Oh, we are here in Toronto already", the perks of speedy travel became apparent. In fact, with taxi rides in both cities ($60 average), it was downright pleasant. Still, I was sick enough to need a few hours to unwind in my rental. In the early evening, I walked down to Little India and revisited Karma Kitchen. The Nepalese thali option was better back in 2022. The crispy beef with honey sauce ($14.99) and rice ($2.99) was tasty but boy, it gave my jaw a workout. I was a bit afraid for my teeth.

Tuesday started with a bagel egg sandwich ($5.95) from La Prep after an interminable bus ride up Victoria Park Ave. The doldrum continued with a Zoom meeting from some C-level execs from our parent company. Then it was a long discussion with the CTO and a senior product manager who were in Toronto. I barely remembered what we all talked about. I did recall that HR ordered some of the worst pizza I've ever eaten. I was dog-tired from the commute back (even though I had smartened up and took the express bus) so I just dropped by a barBurrito (replacing Retro Burger) at Danforth and Coxwell. While there was a brief downpour outside, I ate a regular-sized spicy chicken wrap ($11.99).

Wednesday breakfast was also at La Prep for a bagel with cream cheese ($4.25) and a fruit cup ($5). For more than $5 with tax, I expected more than a thin swipe of cheese though. There were more meetings though it ended early as the new bosses were driving back to Cleveland. Some recent hires (2 years or less) and I went to a nearby Vietnamese place called La Sen. We all agreed that though lunch was good, it was too much food and a bit pricey. We all would be happy to pay two-third the menu price for a half portion. My own pork chop rice plate was $17.95 and I was surprised that they used actual broken-head rice instead of just typical jasmine. Still full from lunch, I later stopped off at a local market named Daily Goods for a small Greek Pasta salad ($4.44) and an Apple Crumble slice ($6.49) for an eat-in dinner in my room.

Thursday was supposed to be a non-remote working day with my entire team, our first ever because several members were hired during the pandemic. Unfortunately, we had trouble with the office wifi on Wednesday so my manager decided we'll have to work from "home" instead. While he was working in the hotel until his evening flight back to San Francisco, I decided to see if I could change my own night departure. Luckily, with 6+ daily trips to Ottawa by Porter, it was no problem switching to a 9:30 a.m. flight. Airport food is famously expensive but $11 for a bowl of oatmeal with fruit topping from Café Obispo was criminal. Thank goodness for corporate reimbursement.

Once in Ottawa, I finally checked the value of my stock options. I was alerted by some colleagues Wednesday night that the paystub with our buy-out was already in the system even though we won't be paid until next week. It was a tidy sum if nowhere near what our own execs were getting. My personal beef was that in addition to all the recent hardship, I had no salary increase for 7 years because we were a start-up. This pay-cheque would be the equivalent of a raise every year over that same time. So no retire-to-a-tropical-island money, but one less gripe/regret about my late-career choices. In some ways, this mental unburdening was just as valuable.

Wishful Thinking

I caught up on some remote work from 5:30 am since I was sick yesterday. I took a break at 8:30 and walked over to Uncle Sid's Deli for a sausage breakfast wrap ($7.75). Previous times, it was some random employee but on this Thursday, I recognized that it was the son-in-law. That first time, he told me about why they re-opened as a deli instead of continuing with the roti business. This time, I related that I had been a weekly customer at Vena's Roti for almost 20 years. The roll was warm and tasty but I struggled to finish it. I wondered whether it had extra filling or more likely (foreshadowing), I haven't been my regular self on the porcelain throne.

I was so full that I worked through lunch. Finally in the late afternoon, I went to visit my friend at her restaurant. Our brunch had been cancelled due my illness. I asked after her brother who came to Canada last year. The good news: he was working (even if only temporarily) as a carpenter nearby. The bad news: he abandoned his ESL studies and spent his hours hanging out with new friends watching sports. Goofing off might be acceptable but he doesn't help with rent or cleaning. Her own health was a bit touch and go either from recent accidents or something chronic from childhood polio. She might give up the business and move somewhere warmer with a slower pace of life.

After I paid for my veggie plate ($18.50) and bid her til next time, I thought about walking "the world in 10 blocks" back to my rental. But the heaviness in my belly from previous experience changed my mind. It was a good thing too that I took the 2-stop subway trip instead because I needed to visit the washroom right away. It wasn't quite as bad as other times, more of a case of a week's worth of stuff gone in a few minutes. Still, there were several flushes and in this older bathroom without a fan system, things lingered in the air. Luckily, the host was out until the evening.

Which is why despite how well-furnished and pleasant this apartment was, I won't rent this on AirBnB again because I need my own private bathroom. But in general, I'm surprised that this nondescript house at Lansdowne have 9 apartment units. If most of them were as nice and well-maintained as this one, the landlord was actually doing their job.

Most of the other units weren't likely to be AirBnB rentals since I only saw 1 lockbox at the entrance. I wondered if the owner knew that my host was renting out a room. She was a retiree from Winnipeg who recently moved to Toronto to be near her daughter. She professed not loving the Big Smoke yet but, in my opinion, treating her scoliosis with aquafit in the saltwater pool at the Miles Nadal and frequent chiropractic sessions on Richmond were big city perks. If she followed through on her Spring resolution to start biking on Bloor St (at least until Doug Ford tears up the bike lanes), I think she'll be a convert.

Though my digestive problem was mild compared to similar times in the past, I knew that I wasn't going to the concert tonight. It was already a long-shot when I purchased the $20 ticket a few weeks back. I couldn't stay out late because I was heading back to Ottawa early next morning. But I had been looking into short-term sublets and was hoping to close a deal so this trip would become a "permanent" stay by Friday. Then a late show wouldn't matter. Perhaps describing myself as a "middle-aged early riser" translated to "cranky roommate" because I got no replies.

The show certainly sounded interesting. Carlyn Bezic is simply sensational as Jane Inc. And seeing for the first time Charise Aragoza fronting her own band Mother Tongues promised a "full circle" moment. Our paths briefly crossed on College St almost 15 years ago. Being my usual early self, I was chatting with Maylee Todd and her crew including Aragoza since they recognized me from various shows. Some behind-the-scene brouhaha with the promoter or venue caused Maylee Todd to pull out at the last-minute and I helped her pack up her gear. Todd invited me to a roof-top party instead but as an introvert who was decades older than likely everyone else, I politely backed out.

Remembrances of Things Past

My throat became increasingly sore during Tuesday's concert. I spent the night in a restless slumber with my esophagus feeling like sandpaper. I woke up on Wednesday with a fever and cough. I had leftovers from Laziza for breakfast but I had to venture out for lunch.

Luckily, it was a sunny day with 22 degrees weather. Although in my weakened state, it still felt a tad cold. I've passed by Tavora many times over the decades but never went inside. Given the industrial neighbourhood, I've always thought it was a wholesaler. But from my bedroom window,  I could see that it had normal shelves. Once I stepped inside, I immediately knew it was Portuguese-ran by the codfish ball near the entrance. I used to buy them from now-defunct Nova Era. Sure enough, they were well-stocked with products from Portugal and Brazil. Feeling nostalgic, I bought a small jar of Maçarico olives ($3.79).

The industrial environment now hosted some trendier stores like Remya Juicery and Propeller Coffee. But what's most interesting were the new construction on Wade and the empty field at Paton and Lansdowne. These weren't condos but a research lab and a long-term-care facility with affordable housing for seniors. I then made my way to Roll and Bowl for a veggie Bibimbap ($13.95). I took back what I wrote the last time. These were the same owners who knew me as a regular. I explained that with a 97-year-old grandma, I was living in Ottawa now. I had to disabuse them of the notion that Ottawa was a clean city.

I spent the afternoon in a daze from both the illness and the large lunch. Since I didn't feel like a full dinner, I went to Dosa Mahal for 2 samosas ($2.99) and Caribbean Queen of Patties for a beef patty ($4.50). Remembering what happened to Mr. Siddiqi, I asked her when she will retired. She said soon then smiled and asked me if I want to take over the business. I told her it will be the end of an era as I have been going here for decades. She replied "Blessings" and I wished her all the best. Places like Mahal and Patties reminded me when $10 could get you good eats (ice-cream crepe, pho, wraps) with change. Now that watermark seems to be $20, same as in town.

Beasts From The East

I had a concert Tuesday night so I headed back to my rental from Christie Pits. On the way, I stopped off at Long and Mcquade for some Alpine ear plugs ($26.99) and Laziza for a veggie plate ($14.99). A new hire was light on my portion until he was set straight by a coworker. Since there was a 2-hour limit on transit rides and I would need to go to Massey Hall later anyway, so I hopped on the subway for a quick 2-stop skip back to Lansdowne.

Ginger Root is the Citypop project of Cameron Lew. As an opener, they only had 40 minutes but this allowed them to packed a lot of material into their tight set. As Cameron said, Ginger Root wasn't only an "audio-visual feast" (they had a roving cameraman shooting live on 80s equipment), it had a "cinematic universe". This was the cheeky cue to splice some scenes from their music videos, all imagined as drama at the fictional Juban TV, into the show. They played upbeat, funky music that showed a wide range of influences. There was a touching moment when Cameron admitted that the college essay he wrote 7 years ago on his way back from an early gig was about Psychopomp, the headliner's debut album. There might have been more fans on the 2nd night compared to the 1st, and some of them even knew about the tap water kerfuffle, but Ginger Root definitely won new fans with their high energy songs.

Japanese Breakfast (Michelle Zauner) has come a long way from playing solo at The Horseshoe with Toronto being the city to host her first big show. Though she might not have sold out both nights, it was still close to 80% full. Many probably knew her recently from the Grammy-nominated Jubilee and her best-selling memoir Crying in H-Mart. With success came a giant backdrop, large props including stylized waves and an oyster shell, and dramatic lighting from their own set-up as well as the venue's. The music also spanned several genres: the most recent album leaned heavily on plaintive ballads, but the earlier synth-pop and indie rock sound also made appearances. Her new fans leaned younger than millennials as few recognized her cover of Donna Lewis' I Love You Always Forever. Success also brought more generic stage banter. Gone were stories about her smaller Toronto gigs including the infamous and not fondly remembered 3-day residency at The Silver Dollar.

I should mention that because these bands were fronted by Asian leads, I shelled out some fairly big bucks for the whole evening: ticket ($99 + $30 fees), a Breakfast tee ($55 + tax) and a Root tee and vinyl ($80 + tax). But this will be my high watermark as my concert limit will be $50 even though tickets now typically cost $20+ even for local indie bands.

Tooth Fairy Tale

I guess this week is full of shockers. I woke up quite early to do some office work and then headed to a morning appointment with my dentist. It seems my diligent thrice-daily oral care routine (going on decades) only has a minor positive impact. The difference between a 3-month and a 6-month check-up was inflamed gums and more extensive cleaning. But the shocker was that after my full mouth X-ray, I was told that I had 40% bone loss. My previous dentists mentioned gum recession from overbrushing (about an 8-month period in the 2000s), genetics (thin gums), and teeth-grinding (bruxism). I even had gum surgery but no one mentioned other problems. Moreover, past prevention strategies were either suggested quite late (wearing a mouth guard) or initiated by me (going first to a 4-month then 3-month cleaning schedule). Once again, I felt that dentistry is filled with either incompetence (undiagnosed causes) or greed ("we won't offer solutions unless we think you can pay"). In any case, the grim prediction was probably another 20% loss in the next 10 years.

I didn't have a chance to absorb the news because I was back at my rental for online meetings that lasted past lunchtime. I rushed over to 9 mile for some tender and delicious jerk chicken ($13.99). There was no slaw with my order; 2 cucumber slices as the veggie side was almost insulting. I then had a private chat with another long-timer from work. It turns out management did talk to the whole company about the buy-out on Monday: seems like everyone were getting their options. I'm glad for most people except the "senior" Negative Ned who is leaving at the end of May after barely a year with us. That's a nice bonus for doing little except complaining, sabotaging meetings, and implying that everyone else were subpar.

Finally, the day was done. I enjoyed my stroll in the sunshine along a vibrant Bloor St and then spent time sitting at Christie Pits Park. Though it was a pleasant afternoon, my mind kept returning to my dental predicament and prognosis. I soon realized that, for the 20-somethings there, I had become the forlorn elderly figure staring vacantly at nothing from my own younger days. Honestly though, they probably didn't even noticed.

Giddy On The Ninth

Monday morning, my trip to Toronto started inauspiciously when I had to call a taxi. Despite being only a 10-minute drive to the station, it became clear at the bus stop that I would not make the 8:50 departure time using transit even though I had more than 1 hour to spare. This only reinforced my feelings from Sunday that Ottawa transit lost potential customers instead of winning new commuters with their free rides all week-end promotion. Unfortunately, the interminably slow and late buses left many people frustrated.

My mood improved slightly at the rest stop in Kingston. My server at Fat Bastard told me that my small veggie burrito ($9.79) was only 5 bucks for Cinco de Mayo. Then halfway to Toronto, I received a shocking email from my CEO. After 10 years, our options were worth something due to an acquisition from a unicorn start-up. It wouldn't cover my decade-long salary gap (compared to market rate) as we've always been a struggling company. But it might make for some nice pocket change. Nevertheless, my heart was racing fast enough that I had to stop working to do some meditation and breathwork.

My usual rental in the old neighbourhood wasn't available so I found a new replacement. First positive, it was next to the subway stop instead of being closer to College St. Second positive, the entire apartment including my bedroom was large and comfortable. But although I approve (in theory) that this was an actual "spare bedroom" set-up (the original AirBnB raison d'être), I do feel more constrained with another person around cooking, watching TV, and using the bathroom.

The 6 condos at Bloor and Dufferin were continuing apace. In the distance, the one at Dovercourt was also rising up to block the sky. It's likely they'll all be completed by year's end. Surprisingly, it looks like Bloor Collegiate has been rebuilt but maybe with smaller dimensions. Students could probably return in the Fall. After a quick trip to the grocery store (towels are available but not toiletries), I stopped off at the new/2nd location of Latin World for dinner.

The last time I stepped inside this spot was 15 years ago for Dosa Mahal before the large fire. With statues of the Virgin Mary, an Aztec god playing an electric guitar, a Mexican mermaid, and other decorations, this place reminded me of the East-end joint El Sol. First negative, the tacos were $5.50 (asada), $5.50 (pastor) and $4.90 (home-made chorizo); I remember when it was 4 for $10. To be fair, these were larger and double-shelled. Second negative, the asada (sliced steak) was bland while the pastor (marinated pork) was dry and salty. For the latter, go to El Pastorcito just a few blocks away for a superior version. But there were a few positives: crunchy taco chips were still complementary and the chorizo was actually quite good. They do offer other toppings but I would stick with the "choritaco". Final positive, for the Cinco celebration, they gave me a small bottle of hot sauce complete with glued-on sombrero and rebozo.

Once In A Lifetime

Sunday afternoon had pleasant Spring weather for the biggest family get-together in a while. I haven't been in this aunt's backyard since the height of physical distancing in 2020. Everyone was there including a cousin, recently located to Vancouver, who was coincidentally back in town; and the uncle, absent from these gatherings the last few years, whose sponsorship of his siblings and their families gave us all better lives. There were 2 no shows: an aunt whose level of pet ownership verges on alarming; and my grandma who stayed home due to aches and dizziness. I suspect that these pandemic years of house-bound isolation has given her a touch of agoraphobia. Though some of us made the 2-minute drive to visit her after dinner, her absence meant that the most complete family photo we ever took spanned only 3 generations and not 4.

First up were the family news. The peripatetic cousin left their high-paying Amazon job to found a start-up and also a pottery side-business. He was coding late into the night. Another cousin, perhaps startled by a brush with serious illness, came out to their parents. They seemed more comfortable adding queer-coded accessories to their wardrobe now. I was surprised that beneath the quiet exterior, they knew all the after-hour clubs and rave venues in Toronto and Montreal. As the years passed, I think some of my female cousins married duds. Stay single like me if you want to drift through life (also like me). But you have to help out with finances and domestic labour if you have kids. Finally, my oldest niece was accepted into Canterbury, an arts-focus high school. But this meant that my brother and his wife, who found the good life in the exurbs, will have to manage the hour-long commute.

The guest-of-honour was a cousin from the old country; her mother was the only one who stayed behind. Some 24 years ago, I met her as a child. Now she was a grown woman of 30 with an American beau in tow. Sunday was likely her one and only chance to see the distant family members. It was too bad then that my aunts and uncles monopolized her time. She exchanged a few words with us cousins and spent no time with the 6 nieces and nephews. The 97-year-old matriarch wasn't there but they had met when she flew in on Saturday.

Her paramour left no impression on me since he hardly spoke to anyone. He was voluble when it came to his postdoc research but was otherwise mum: no pleasantries or light conversation. This seemed hard ground to build on considering she would be moving halfway around the world, leaving behind family, friends, career, and native language. Up ahead was the alien landscape of car-centric California suburbs, a partner with a mere toe-hold in the precarious world of academia, and uncertain job prospects for herself. But as someone who has been unattached their entire life, I'm wholly unqualified to give romantic advice. Still, I remember my grandma's words about her courtship with my grandpa: "You can't choose who you love, but you can choose who you don't."

19/05/2025: While I headed to Toronto, my cousin spent another day in Ottawa with a relative. It turned out she also had similar misgivings. But whatever the case, they had signed the papers in California in lieu of an elaborate wedding. Now it was time to let the slow wheels of American immigration turn.

Spring Cleaning

It has been dreary Spring with a few sunny days amidst long stretches of overcast weather and a snowstorm or two. The melting snow does Ottawa no favours as piles of litter and garbage are revealed on my walks. Since my return in 2021, I'm still shocked at how much dirtier this city is compared to Toronto.

I normally head back to the Big Smoke every 3 months for a break and to see my dentist. Poor genetics means I have to be more careful of my oral health. Unfortunately, I missed my last trip because I caught something over the holidays. I have booked my 6th month checkup for early May. Here's hoping that it merely means a longer and less pleasant cleaning than usual and not some serious problem that has developed.

There aren't any regular eats except for a slice of pizza on my weekly grocery run. I found out from the current proprietor that the store has been here since 1982. The name came from its first location on Ogilvie road (now housing Bobbie's Pizza). The original owner had to relocate the business after a divorce.

The only other time I ate out was after I voted in the Ontario election,  unsurprisingly won by blow-hard nepo baby Doug Ford, at Gloucester High. There weren't too many choices at the strip mall near the school so I settled on Thai Express. My vegetarian curry combo was expensive ($20+) for a "fast food" joint. There was almost no curry flavour but the use of an (unexpected) blazing-hot wok set-up meant that there was a welcomed wok hei taste to the veggies (baby corn, bok choy, broccoli, and so on). But overall, this lunch only proved once again that non-Thai workers can't cook Thai dishes.

With the return of slightly better weather, the poutine truck has re-opened. During my visit last week, I ended up eating my lunch inside a nearby bus shelter to avoid torrential rain. On Friday, I dropped by my final "regular eats" for the first time since last summer. The Hill Bakehouse carries an eclectic mix of lunch items including sandwiches, finger food (samosas, patties, etc.), and Chinese stir-fry. My $5 chicken fried rice portion wasn't as full since 2 other diners had also ordered the same dish. Beacon Hill Mall doesn't have the foot traffic to warrant re-stocking your offerings. When it's gone it's gone.

Speaking of which, this mall is now even more forlorn than before with the departure of the local bank branch. With almost all empty storefront,  I wonder why they don't simply sell to to real-estate developers. The corporate owners can't be making much rent from this sunk-cost property.