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.