Death Be Not Loud

After decompressing at my rental after my trip, I headed to Parkdale for dinner and a show.  Every now and then I have come to the area for a concert, Caribbean food, or momos and other Tibetan fare. But the visits were few and sporadic so I don't really consider the neighbourhood to be part of my Toronto foot-print. Its most significant impact on my life was that a decade ago, I accepted a job offer at my company over some beer.

Parkdale wasn't too busy on a Wednesday night. Despite gentrification, there were still a good number of local stores. Dinner was a slice of vegetarian pizza ($5.31) and a root beer ($1.63) from Cici's Pizza & Wings. I saw on social media that this take-out was profiled by the local newspaper because a young lady took over her parent's business to preserve a neighbourhood institution. I was hoping that since they were Vietnamese it was Toronto-style pizza (invented by Vietnamese folks) such as at Fresca. But it was your average soft-crust pie found at other old-timer places like Bitondo.

Next door was a small bar called Three Dollar Bill. There was a trio of performers for a PWYC Queer Folk Night. First up was Eli Howey although his set wasn't really folk. He mostly adapted songs from his punk band Little Window for the night. There were some sad lyrics but things really got depressing when Jordaan Mason came on. Shocked by the sudden death of an ex (of a decade ago), they poured all their ruminations and feelings into what were barely songs. I simply mean that lyrics were closer to a torrent of free verse and the chords were there to provide just the outline of some structure.

Tireless Foliage was the trio of Jiaqing Wilson-Yang, Germaine Liu, and Karen Ng. Wilson-Yang has written songs to process the death of her friend Richard Laviolette. The lyrics were more straightforward but each number evoked striking images. Perhaps the most potent was the closer "Chorus of Mothers". The idea that Laviolette was not only beloved by his friends but also by their parents such that they'd sing him to his final rest got a few eyes teary. Restricted by the tiny stage, Liu somehow generated a wide variety of percussion sounds with just a tom, a snare, and a cymbal sitting precariously either on top of the tom or in her hand. Ng provided expressive sax runs that interweaved with Wilson-Yang's delicate guitar picking. This was wonderful, cathartic music and I'm glad Wilson-Yang was in the process of recording these songs.

I Choo Choose You, I Choo Choose You Not

On Wednesday, I was heading back to Toronto though I was also there last week. The new parent company offered 3 days of paid travel for remote employees to go to the closest office Holiday party. Similar to my trip in May, I took advantage of the reimbursement but this time I took the train from Ottawa.

It has been almost 3 years since I rode the tracks and more than 15 years since I stayed in Business class. Via Rail had recently revamped their cars. I don't know what it's like in economy but up here it meant large, leather seats, (faux?) blonde wood panels, and multiple electric outlets. Best of all was the leg room and the modern toilet. The downside was the chatty business folks who preferred to be productive instead of just chilling out. Morning perks included pretzel nut mix and booze. For the all-inclusive lunch, along with white wine, I chose the salmon from a list that also had vegetarian chow mein and tandoori chicken curry. The salmon was reasonably tasty, sitting on a bed of pilaf rice and saute brussel sprouts which were good but not on quite the level of Lynn Crawford. It also came with a peach and cranberry coleslaw and a lemon square dessert. Post-meal had more alcohol (I opted for orange juice) and chocolate truffle. Business class might be 7 times more than my bus ride ($218 vs $29) but an economy ticket on the train wasn't cheap. So I don't know why company nickel-and-dime on these low-cost perks. Given how much people love free stuff, similar offerings for the "hoi polloi" instead of an over-priced snack menu would build much loyalty.

But the main reason I picked the rail was to avoid traffic on the highway. The last few times I was delayed for an hour arriving back in Ottawa. Unfortunately, the train came into Union station 40 minutes late. It was stuck behind another passenger train and then 2 freight trains. This trip made me realized I should also stick to planned itineraries. For the commute to the Ottawa station and the one from Union to my rental, I had mapped out the route with known timetables. On a whim, I deviated from both at the last minute and neither worked out. In the first case, I would have been late if I had not found an idling taxi nearby (a rarity in Ottawa). In the second, an emergency in the subway caused us to sit idling for a long while.

Live and Let Fly

The last time I went to Toronto specifically for a concert was a hit-and-miss U.S. Girls show. On Friday, I was at another, though I did combine other activities like a dental visit and Christmas shopping. Well, the $20 concert at the Baby G was absolutely terrific.

Except for old-timers like me, every 5 years or so I notice a new, young crowd at small venues. But they all seem to always like being fashionably late. So Baby G was still empty at 9 and around half-full at 9:45. There was a smattering of older folks who were here because they had read about the circumstances surrounding the headliner's latest album. The opener was poet Aisha Sasha John who started with new poems (some written only in the last few weeks) about dementia and meditation but eventually concentrated on her recently published collection called Total. At these events, you usually hear the typical cadence of word poetry. But Aisha's free-form verses lent themselves to natural speech. Still, I wasn't sure if the up-speak rhythm was deliberate or an affectation.

Carly Bezic was fun as the duo Ice Cream but she really hit her stride being the art-pop solo act Jane Inc. She was also terrific on bass/vocals of the female incarnation of the U.S. Girls tour band for 2020. It was on a 2023 tour with U.S. Girls as the opener that was a catalyst for the new album A Rupture A Canyon A Birth. Bezic's van was rear-ended by a semi. Then followed operations for cancer on her vocal cords, diagnosis of Crohn's disease, and the break-up of 10-year relationship.

The album, which was Jane Inc.'s entire set, wasn't a sombre reflection on the fleeting randomness of life, though there were pensive lyrics. It was a celebration of second chances. Bezic shedded all high-concept aesthetic for danceable bangers starting with reborn (On The Dancefloor) followed by tracks like elastic, freefall and i'm alive!!! When she picked up her guitar half-way through, some art-pop vibes did appear. If the modern musical scene wasn't fragmented, Bezic's closer "what if" with its thumping piano and repeating refrain "I! want! more!" deserve to be a radio hit. When a capacity crowd in Toronto actually danced through your set, you got some great songs.

Jane Inc's new music would go so hard with a full band. Yet I appreciated that it was mostly pre-recorded tracks and live synth from Bezic's co-producer (and new partner) Edwin de Goeij and backing vocals from Felicity Williams and Dorothea Paas. With no amps on stage to muddy the sound, this was one of the clearest-sounding show I've been too. For such a great evening, I shelled out $60 for the new vinyl and a t-shirt.

Wheat Thicks

Our omnivorous nature let us eat wheat (or its ancestors). Though some of us have problems like gluten sensitivity or celiac disease, we have developed so many tasty food based on it. On Friday, I ate two such items.

Around 12 pm, I headed to a stretch of stores a block from North York Centre. These holdouts are slowly being consumed by newer commercial buildings and condos. It is also happening to some downtown streets like Yonge or King so I wonder when it will spread throughout older neighbourhoods like Bloorcourt beyond just the intersections. I was looking for General An Potsticker, located inside a modest "food hall" (think food court without the mall). I saw a post about it having better Xi'an noodles than in Xi'an China itself due to the quality of Canadian wheat. The video only had a few thousand views when it came across my feed but it has since garnered several million across social media. So despite 15-minutes from opening, a line-up formed behind me. Some of the other curious seekers included a student from Earl Haig skipping school and a lady with luggage in tow. Apparently, they had sold out yesterday by 1:30 pm (only 35 portions for lunch) and she was determined to get her noodles this time round.

 I don't usually chase trends, but yes, I did pick An for the claims. However, it was also a closer commute for a co-worker. She limped in about 5 minutes before opening hours so I asked her to just grab us some seats at a Formica table. She had just come back from vacation in China. It turned out that she wasn't the only person laid-off in September after the company take-over; 3 others were let go even the founder's nepo-baby. The China trip was partly for fun (a tour in Shanghai) but also for serious reasons. Her husband had misaligned vertebral discs which improved after receiving traditional adjustment techniques. She herself had back and sciatica pains, hence the limp. I asked her since she was in her early 60s, why not retire back in China for the cheaper living and health care? She wasn't in the retirement mindset yet and they were also worried about their adult children who were struggling to get financial and employment stability.

As for the food, I ordered beef and chives potstickers ($7.99), a regular Youpo Mian bowl ($11.99) and a three-topping Youpo Mian ($14.99). The toppings and chili oil were alright but not memorable. But the hand-made noodles and dumplings were wonderfully toothsome with excellent chew. As Chinese noodles were usually a miss for me, this was a definite win.

Since I was still full from those lasagna-sized noodles, dinner was a slice of pizza from Acute Pizza at Dundas and Lansdowne. This shop took over from Yummy Pizza which was there for a decade. I admit I've passed by Yummy many times without going in because for cheap, modest pizzerias, I already had Fresca and a few others. But for Acute, it looks like taking a (NY style) page from Badiali has made it a success with the neighbourhood. The joint was hopping with lots of delivery and pick-up. Unfortunately, that meant they were too busy to keep their per-slice offerings topped up except for a solitary Margherita piece. Using sourdough gave it a slight tangy base and lots of chew. But the $5.25 slice was not even half the portion from Fresca or 241 pizza. So I'm sticking to the OG places until they close up shop.

Hearth and Home

In the early morning of Thursday, I headed out of my rental to get breakfast. I met a German tourist coming out of the unit across from me. His noiseless presence made sense when I found out that he was in Guelph visiting friends. The puzzle was the babbling of a toddler in the 2 bedroom-suite on the first floor. Although I hear some people coming and leaving, the baby stayed inside at all hours. Who rents an airBnB with a tiny child (that doesn't go anywhere)? While waiting for my breakfast wrap ($7.75) at Uncle Sid's, I noticed that they have expanded their menu. I don't know if business is good or bad with posters advertised $5 ham sandwich, the same price for an assorted pie slices, as well as dinner options including turkey and beef brisket.

Around noon, I decided to do some Christmas shopping along College St like previous years. A while back I told my cousins that I was only getting gifts for their kids as they themselves were full-grown. But I still buy for them even though the knick-knacks often come from a single location. Still, there was some thought behind the gifts as opposed to the Tim Horton's mug or an Indigo gift card I usually receive. I found chili oil ($13) and sweet olive oil ($38) from Pasta Forever on Dundas. The stretch of shops near Pho Linh only yielded peanut butter treats ($11.99) and beef sticks ($9.99) at Critter Pet Outpost. Archi Element seemed like a nice tea shop (complete with green tea ceremony) that also carried hand-made pottery wares from various artists. But a tiny cup started at $60 and things only got pricier. Finally, near the Ossington intersection, I got a leather wallet ($40) from After Hours, a small indigenous-own shop, educational toys ($89.95) from Jill and The Beanstalk, and small goods ($65.15) from Ziggy's At Home.

I didn't carry my Christmas haul back to the rental though, but hopped on a bus heading north. I was meeting an acquaintance I last ran into around 2019 as I was on my way to my yoga training. We knew each other from the early 2010s when we practiced together at a boutique studio on St. Clair. It wasn't just to confab, but to also check out her sublet.

Her parents moved to Toronto a long time ago and as such, owned a few small buildings typically with a store on the ground and apartments on the 2nd floor. But this sublet unit spent most of its life as a garage or storage unit (according to Google Photos). Unlike her family members who have all moved to fancier neighbourhoods, she stayed and turned it into a Japanese-like tiny home complete with Murphy bed and Tatami mats. Since she now lived with her partner, it was available for a short-term stay.

Although further North, it was still in my old neighbourhood and a 10-minute walk to busy Bloor St. There were a few stores nearby that could become regular haunts even if local businesses like the cobbler of her youth were long-gone. The unit was rebuilt with nice features: heated floor, magnetically-latched cabinets, and the aforementioned Tatami mats. I was iffy about the secondary loft since it was only 4 feet from the ceiling. With no room to even stand, you'd have to scootch on your butt to get into the double bed. But if I wanted room to practice on the mats, I'd have to push in that Murphy bed and use the loft.

The sticking point was the $2100/month rental price. I know this was the typical going rate in Toronto nowadays and cheaper alternatives had their minuses. Still, when you factor in other daily costs, this was approaching $3000-3500 extra on top of the Ottawa living expenses that I share with my Mom. But I decided to take the unit for several reasons.

First, since we sort-of knew each other, she wasn't going to require that I provide pay stubs, credit reports, and so on. I have always found this "invasion of privacy" irksome. My previous rentals in Toronto (spanning several decades) were agreed upon with a firm handshake. Second, I did receive a small windfall this year and should do more than just hoard money. Finally, I will treat the $10-12K price tag (for the next 3-4 months) as an extended vacation. After all, I have claimed that I'd rather be in Toronto than travelling to anywhere else. But I'm still going to track the sh*t out of my expenses because who doesn't love spreadsheets?

Has The Student Become The Teacher

Wednesday was a messy day. An overnight snowfall had blanketed the ground, but as the morning progressed, the warmer temperature and rain turned all that snow into slush and melted puddles. When I made my way from my rental to Roll and Bowl for veggie bibimbap ($13.95), my shoes and socks were soaked through. Lunch wasn't as tasty as last time but was overcooked again. I didn't recognized the young server but on my way out, the regular owner came out. The former was either a younger sister or her daughter (I didn't ask) but apparently, the store's decorations (hand-fired teapots, ink drawings, etc.) were her handiwork. On Sunday, they were having a small Christmas market for her and her friends to sell their wares, along with some Korean snacks.

Later in the afternoon, I waited on the corner for the bus since I didn't want to risk more soggy sock by walking to the subway. This was a mistake since the 47 bus behaves like Ottawa transit. So it took 25 minutes (20-min wait, 5 min travel time) to get to the station. Luckily, the subway was fast enough that I made it to my yoga class at Coxwell. Compared to my 1st slow flow class, this vinyasa session was more effortful though nowhere near as vigorous as my old classes. I appreciated the instructor's clear instructions though I'm picking up on her cues and poses as most teachers have typical patter and sequences.

On my way back, I stopped off at College Park for two reasons. First, the Winners store here had better selection than other locations. I needed clean socks and new shoes. Second, it was time for more "high-end" food-court fare. Chef Saha wasn't there and they were out of Biryani (my first choice). I should have listened to my gut and deferred to another time. Instead, I opted for the Sag Paneer ($20). But Saha's replacements was not up to his standard. The spinach and cottage cheese curry was reasonably flavourful but the basmati was bland and somehow both dry and clumpy. Usually, there is delicious leftover but tonight, I ate as much as I could and threw out the rest.

Songs Unglued

With the world turned grey from snow and a cloudy sky, heading to Toronto on Tuesday felt like a chore. But once I walked through Union Station and absorbed the get-up-and-go vibe of the crowd, so rarely found in Ottawa, I was energized.

My trip to the dentist was rough, even though my last visit was only 3 months back. It boded ill for the state of my teeth despite my diligence. Afterwards, I inhaled a chicken roti ($16.95) at Pam's Roti. Odd that I could eat a dinner twice the size of my typical meal in Ottawa. I was happy that the long-time employee got her 2nd eye surgery. With the lunch special listed at $9.99, even the cheap meal here has crossed the $10 threshold. Its phenomenal price of $5.99 was a distant memory.

At The Drake Underground, a couple of American bands were playing a show. Both channelled a modern emo feel (or at least sad indie) fed through fuzzy distortion with a twangy drawl. Villagerrr came from Ohio even though they had a Canadian member. But she was laid up at the AirBnB with an illness. Their slow numbers were lightly propelled along by a touch of steel pedal guitar or a quiet riff. Teethe from Texas maintained the languid vibe but amped up the noisy palette. Their contingent of fans right up against the stage might have ringing ears the next day.

Given the rental cost in Toronto and the $35 ticket, I wonder if any young folks can afford the $35 vinyls and $40 tees. But I didn't stay for merch and left about a third of the way into Teethe's set. Unlike the show thwarted by poor Ottawa transit, I was able to go to a concert, saw most of it, and headed home on a single bus ticket (with its 2 hour validity window) in Toronto.

 

Missed Opportunity

Beverly Glenn-Copeland  has been on my radar. Similar to the underrated but iconic Mary Margaret O'Hara, I felt that any live performance was likely to be memorable. But Glenn-Copeland doesn't seem to do many shows. The closest I came was back in the winter of 2019 when she was on a bill with Loom at the Cafe and Jam Factory, a loft space in an old building in East End Toronto. Unfortunately, freezing rain kept me ensconced in my attic apartment.

I was excited to find out Glenn-Copeland was playing in Ottawa on Friday at the Bronson Centre. But despite buying an early ticket ($40), I was defeated by local transit. My bus never came and even if it did, the prospect of waiting for a second transfer in the biting cold was too much. So I turned around and walked home.

I decided to make up for it (as I have not gone anywhere in a month) by trying Haitian breakfast on Saturday. Creole Sensations recently posted in their window that they would now offer morning meals. It reminded me of my friend who always wanted to offer brunch (including her country's version of shakshuka) at her African restaurant. But my breakfast ($18.95) at Sensations was perhaps a little too authentic and unlikely to appeal to mainstream taste.

Given the choice of beef live, codfish, or smoked herring mixed with scrambled eggs, I picked the last option which is likely to be Zè ak Aransò. Now eggs and fish (think lox) isn't an unusual combination but the herring aroma and flavour was quite strong. It reminded me of egusi where a briny taste seemed out-of-place or unexpected in a dish. It's a combination that would require acculturation. The sides was a small salad (lettuce, tomato, and watercress) and a large amount of boiled plantain. The latter doesn't compare to potato for starchy chewiness and lacked its primary draw for me: caramelized sweetness. Given the price, I think there won't be many takers for these dishes.

Saturday Night Life

Unlike my 10-day outing before leaving Toronto that included several events, Ottawa has been mostly eating out. Primarily, it had to do with being far from the downtown core. Long transit rides make me reluctant to head out after dark. But it also seemed that any events here sell out; perhaps the lack of fun activities meant that any going-ons quickly fill up. So a trip to the NAC to hear a Peruvian musical show-case or seeing local bands covering other bands (similar to Death to T.O.) at the 27 club were no-go.

I had given up on continuing this exercise but then I remembered that near Laheeb on Montreal Rd was another grill place called Lazare's BBQ House. The curry goat at Royal Prince was all right but in general I have found African-descent food in Ottawa (Creole Sensations, Boukannen) to be disappointing. There was no 9 Mile, Pam's Roti, or the exquisite Afrobeat Kitchen. But I was glad I gave this spot a chance because it was a delicious dinner.

At first, I thought the owner was Muslim since the food was halal. But an open Bible on the counter and people singing at an African church on TV cleared up the restaurant's name. There were a few tables inside but it was obviously a take-out place. The quarter-chicken combo ($20.80) was substantial and filled with flavourful ingredients: chicken was smokey and tender, plaintain sweet and freshly fried, and the rice was a bit oily but so good. If I can forget that a half-chicken dinner at Sardinha (The King of BBQ Chicken) was once under $10 (and didn't now eat a mostly plant-based diet), I'd put Lazare on regular rotation.

Friday I'm not in Love

With the Blue Jays hosting game 1 of the World Series, I planned to be home on Friday. So while I was pondering what to do, this week's daily posts reminded me of the song by The Cure. In the early evening, I headed over to Chahaya Malaysia. Why? It was one of the last dinner my crush and I had some decades back. Before going, I should have consulted my entry about Chahaya because I ordered the same bad dish.

Found on busy Montreal Road, near a run-down motel and a condo construction (formerly an autoshop called Marier), the trip to Chahaya wasn't quite as romantic as strolling along the Rideau Canal from the university campus to The Glebe for its old location. They had long taken over half of what used to be Chinese diner Kung's Palace. From the utilitarian interior without much charm, apparently they haven't bothered with any upgrade in the decades since.

My vegetarian Sayur Masak Lemak (now $18) was spicy but not much else: tough onions, unremarkable young jackfruit, and a forgettable mix of veggies. I even missed the wok hei flavour of fast-food joint Thai Express. The bowl of traditional basmati rice ($4) was also a problem. The Nasik Minyak was dry by itself (nothing like chef Saha's) yet it retained a tasty hint of spices and ghee. But when you add the curry, the latter overwhelmed the rice. I might as well have chosen white rice and save $1. Mostly though, I mistook the dish's description of raisins and almonds garnishes (they were barely there) for another dish. I'm pretty sure my crush and I had Nasi Goreng, even if the typical preparation isn't vegetarian-friendly. Raised by hippie parents as a vegetarian, either we had asked for some changes or agreed to gloss over some of the ingredients.

Compared to the last few days of delicious eats, this was a major disappointment. I suppose the lesson here is that whatever magic (or so you think) happened back then, it's unlikely to be duplicated in the present day. Nostalgia is best left as a daydream.

Tuck-In Thursday

On Thursday, I had planned on visiting Old Ottawa South again. The venue House of Targ had a concert that promised some weird synth-pop. But in the morning I looked at the poster and realized despite being a 3-band show, doors was at 8 pm. A decade ago, comedy band Blimp Rock opined that "I see there's more than 2 bands on the bill, so I don't think I'm gonna go. Cause I wished it started at 7" (Let's All Stay In Tonight). They took the words right out of my mouth.

I then remembered that at the corner of Hemlock and St. Laurent, where there was an Algerian restaurant (Idriss) and an Indian diner (Mia's), there was also a new business with the odd name of Explosion persian style. It opened about a year ago in the old location for Golden Crust Pizza. A Persian-flavoured pizza sounded interesting but I wasn't sure I could finish one.

So I settled on the cheaper Bandari sub ($14.90), an Iranian street-food,  and a can of Coke ($2). In a nutshell, Explosion was the rare Ottawa spot that hit the trifecta of taste, portion, and price (sort-of). It was a large, crunchy sub stuffed with flavourful pickles, fried onion, potato cubes, and very messy sauce. I was thoroughly full and satisfied. 

But there were two caveats with my meal. One, there wasn't much sausage. The few slices I had was tasty, even though it mostly reminded me of bologna. Two, most of the wonderful flavour came from cheap ingredients like pickles and fried potatoes. Similar to my experience with the tacos at Vegena (and they had in-house vegan chorizo as the wow factor), I would have preferred a few bucks off. I'd gladly return if the Bandari sub was closer to $10. And given the other ones were $20 or more, Explosion would not be a regular dining spot for me. I might come back once to check out that Persian pizza.

Warming Wednesday

It has been dreary and raining since the week-end with only sporadic sunshine. Unfortunately, I think it's the same overseas for my mom on her trip. On Wednesday, I thought that a hot dinner might dispel some cold. During my childhood, there was only Fat Albert pizzeria in the plaza at Ogilvie and Montreal. Now the strip mall housed a few eateries. I ate at Creole Sensations regularly for a short period. But I finally had to admit that the $10 lunch special was a good price but the food was middling: rice was dry, fried plantain was tough, and the veggie stew was gloopy.

I stepped inside Pho-V to find two older women eating. Over the course of my stay, several diners, online deliverers, and take-out orders came. In the corner, two children sat doing homework. One brought me my water and even practiced taking orders from other tables. This was my second encounter this week with the cliché of good restaurants having children "employees".

After perusing the menu, I chose a medium bowl of Bun Bo Hue ($16). The version here was essentially a spicier pho complete with beef brisket, even if the flat noodle was replaced with a chewier round one. Missing was the rarer ingredients such as pork knuckles and congealed blood cubes. However, they could have included cha lua, which was easily available from other dishes.

In any case, it was a tasty soup with both broth and beef being better than the usual pho place. There was actually a generous helping of the latter: enough to last to the very last slurp. Pho-V wasn't quite at the same level as Ca Phe Rang in Toronto. But for an Ottawa business outside the city core, it offered a decent meal (if you are old like me, you have to forget that these mains used to cost $5.99).

Taco Tuesday

The second day of my 10-day outing was Tuesday. So without much debate I headed over to the Montreal Rd and Vanier Parkway neighbourhood for Latin American food. It remains to be seen what will happen to the area once all the condos are finished. But currently this two-block stretch hosted some stalwarts (Fontenelle diner) and a few relative newcomers. There was a mini-Hispanic zone with 2 restaurants and a handful of businesses (grocery store, electronics).

I arrived fairly early because, unlike Pastorcito in Toronto which remain open until midnight, Aztec Tacos closed at 7 pm. It was a cozy place with a small child doing homework, cheerful Mexican decoration, and TVs showing variety shows. I opted for 2 tacos ($5/each) and a Quesabirria ($8.50). Like all restaurants in Ottawa, it failed in portion size and price. But I'm happy to say Aztec delivered on the taste.

The pastor and chorizo were on par with Pastorcito with rich and fragrant stuffing. This was a better meal than I had at the old stand-by (albeit 2nd location) Latin World a few months back. The flavour of the quesa was also good, but wasn't the beef I was expecting. Then it struck me that this tender, but stronger, meat reminded me of the lamb shawarma (only $4.49 back in the day) I used to eat at The Empire in Bloorcourt. Sure enough, a quick search revealed that the original birria uses lamb or goat. So North Americans who equate quesabirria with beef (officially birria de res) might be in for a surprise. It was a messy entrée with tasty, but oozing, cheese and oil. So I consumed a liberal amount of cilantro and onion as a palate cleanser between bites. All in all, this was an excellent if not overly full dinner.

Messy Monday

Before I left Toronto, I went out for 10 days straight to enjoy my last days in the big city. This week being the 4th year anniversary of my departure, and with my mom going on her first overseas trip since the the pandemic, I decided to try to see if I could replicate it in Ottawa.

Monday wasn't promising with rain coming down all day. But it cleared up in the early evening by the time I made my way to Live on Elgin. This upstairs venue seemed to be a cross between The Burdock and a cleaner The Cave. I was curious about the headliner, as touring musicians don't usually visit Ottawa.

Opener Emma Bayash layered vocals, sound effects, and piano on songs about the ennui of modern-day dating and heartbreak (a recent break-up inspired 3 numbers). As a full-time nurse, her encounter with the highs and lows of the human experience also made it into her music. Sometimes she ventured a little bit into the clever wordiness of Penelope Scott. But in general, her earnest lyrics were a little on the nose. My favourite song was Lingerlust, which because of an upcoming two month stay in Montreal, Bayash had translated into a French version. I can identify with wanting great travel adventures but being happiest staying close to home.

Rachel Sunter (once Arsoniste) recently moved Montreal after a 10-year stint in Halifax. But it turned out this was a hometown show.  Her music was moody art-pop, punctuated with fragmentary and melancholic piano riffs. Although a classically-trained pianist, Sunter mostly sang or played guitar about inconstant Brit beau (nowhereman), emotional life (sad song), and moving on (goodbye to the purple room). Her composition was quite good with interesting touches and variety. Sunter must have played Toronto now and then. But being based on the East Coast, her Big Smoke gigs may have been infrequent enough that I didn't catch a show in the past 15 years.

It was too bad both performers suffered from poor sound. The mix was simply too loud given the room size and modest crowd presence. The high frequencies were clipping while the lower registers were muddy. This did not showcase Sunter's atmospheric pop and Bayash's balladic confessionals in the best light. The last time I left a gig that coincided with a championship game, the streets were loud with cheers. Tonight, the people in Ottawa wasn't as excited that the Toronto Blue Jays had won the ALCS in game 7.

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.