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 filling 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 linger 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 is actually doing their job.

Most of the other units aren't likely to be AirBnB rentals since I only see 1 lockbox at the entrance. I wonder if the owner knew that my host was renting out a room since that might be against the lease. She was a retiree from Winnipeg who was a recent transplant 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 follows 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. Honestly, it was already a bit of a long-shot back when I purchased the $20 ticket. I couldn't stay out late if I was heading back to Ottawa early next morning. 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. But perhaps describing myself as a "middle-aged early riser" translated to "cranky roommate" to other people 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."