Not Bigger On The Inside

For Saturday's trip to Toronto, I booked with Megabus. With the collapse of Greyhound Canada, they were the only inter-city bus service left in Ontario. It has been more than 15 years since I traveled by bus. With a double decker layout, it was tight conditions aboard. I'm small and short and with the exception of leg-room, even I felt cramped. Luckily, there was no one in the next seat. Instead of the local highway 7 route of Greyhound, my bus took the provincial highways.

It was pretty to watch the landscape quiet under freshly-fallen snow from high above. Next time, it might be worth the extra $15 to reserve the front seat. These reserved seats do not allow for the adjacent seat to be occupied so this is a nice perk. But I suspect this is only during the pandemic. So price-wise, Megabus is only competitive with Via Rail for last-minute bookings. Otherwise, the train is more comfortable with more luggage allowance.

The other usual problem with bus travel are road conditions. Today, it was a detour through Belleville, Trenton, and Quinte because of a fatal accident on highway 401. I haven't been through this area in just as long and it was nice to see that sushi and pho were now available even here.

I used Greyhound for years, starting with my very first post-college job interview in Mississauga. Back then, there wasn't much online information. So I don't remember how I found all the details to make my way through 2 transit systems to an industrial park at highway 10 and Eglinton in Mississauga. Then I retraced my route back to downtown Toronto to catch a 9 pm Greyhound to return to Ottawa. But not before I had my one and only Taco Bell experience near Dundas and Yonge, when the area was still seedy and vibrant. That was a long, tiring day but I got a job offer that got me to Toronto.

Frequent travel delays due to road traffic eventually soured my relationship with Greyhound. The nadir was an 8-hour trip where people from the rural towns stood in the bus aisle instead of risking a next ride that may never come. Then for a while I got fancy and bought 10-trip passes from Porter Airlines. My last Greyhound trip was for my brief move back to Ottawa, when I loaded my belongings into 2 large suitcases and bid farewell to the rooming house at College and Dufferin.

Bubba Gone Crisis

These are personal entries so I don't comment on world events. But given the rise of the pandemic, far-right populism, extremist demagoguery, and now war, the future feels uncertain. I haven't even touch on the elephant in the room, climate change, which two years ago seemed at a tipping point. Nobody talks much anymore about Greta Thunberg, her generation, and our environmental legacy.

As for myself, I'm feeling my age. I did the late-night shows stage of life as a late-bloomer, so I felt perhaps not young and hip but at least in the loop for a while. But now I don't go out for weeks thanks in part to downloadable books, streamed movies, and even grocery delivery. Last Thursday, I rejected seeing Charlotte Cornfield though music tours don't often come through Ottawa.

My weight gain has contributed to that creaky feeling. I ate out more often in Toronto but I think the home-cook meals in Ottawa have more calories overall. Perhaps they also contribute to my stomach problems. So dreams of extended visits to far-off cities may not happen. In addition, I've seen testimony from BIPOC visitors and students online about their treatment in European cities. I'm not excited to spend thousands of travel dollars to be racially insulted by locals.

Last Friday I visited an elderly relative. At their advanced age, even their son has recently retired. Although if he plans to spend it just watching videos on the sofa, his golden years may be shorter than expected.

On a positive note, my daily Yoga practice that started on Boxing Day is at 75-days strong. With fewer restrictions, I returned to the Astanga Studio for an in-person class on Saturday. Unless you have a one-on-one (guru) relationship, which is hard to do in Western society, or years of practice, don't do this very traditional style. In my opinion, The Primary Series doesn't benefit the average yogi and some aspects such as the constant vinyasa flow between asanas will likely cause injury.

After the yoga class, one of the students complained that because of the pandemic, she doesn't know much of Ottawa despite moving here from Edmonton 2 years ago. I wanted to tell her two things. First, stop practicing astanga yoga. Second, if she made the journey East, she should have aimed for Toronto or Montreal.

I was surprised to find out on Wednesday that another colleague is moving on to another job. Since they were older and only a few years from retirement, I thought they would simply stay until the bitter end and then hang up their keyboard for good.

I'm heading to Toronto this week-end for a longer stay. I'm generally excited though I am surprised how negative and cranky my internal voice is now. Maybe being back in a more urban milieu will let my inner fogie rediscover some joie de vivre.

A Strange Reflection

I headed to the West end to visit a 93-year-old relative on Saturday. It was an adventure by transit because the LRT did not run all the way downtown from the East End this week-end and there were also bus detours throughout the city core due to the demonstrations for "freedom". It wasn't just out-of-town people occupying Ottawa though. On the way I saw entire families with kids in tow, parking their cars at Gloucester Centre and St. Laurent Mall, to take the train and wave their signs, flags, and jerry cans. So I felt some satisfaction that they will be inconvenienced.

We had a nice lunch of stir-fried shrimp and veggies. As usual, they told me stories (though some of them were repeats) of their childhood in the old country. Afterward, I received a big bag of food to take with me. Instead of taking the zig-zagging bus I decided to take the train to the Ottawa University stop and walked about 15 minutes to get to my connection home.

I haven't been on campus in decades. With limited acreage on which to grow, the university has sprouted new buildings everywhere. When I got to King Edward and Laurier, I took a right turn on it to see if a certain building was still around. The walk-up still existed though it was now owned by a property management company. My crush lived there during our collegiate days so for every happy hour I spent inside, sadness greeted me when I left. I had a "twilight zone" thought as I passed by yesterday.

Ever since my family moved to Ottawa, I have lived in a series of rentals. So the closest to a childhood home was a modest town-house condominium in former Gloucester. I have joked with relatives that I will buy it to retire in my old age. We all agreed that such a decision would be rather odd.

So if I move into that exact apartment on Laurier, we would be in Stephen King territory. On the surface, it was ideal. It was close to several streets with amenities like the Bytowne Cinema. There were now stores on that block. Finally, I do love small buildings in an urban setting. But even for someone with aphantasia, living there would stir up too many memories.

I Know King Food

In previous years, Groundhog Day was a day for nostalgia. There was no such dinner plans in 2021 but there were "I've seen this script before" situations. First, my company had an all-hands meeting. Various C-level execs were promising yet again bright futures despite a rough period including 50% with-held salary in 2019 (finally paid the next year), a 4-day work-week (i.e., 20% paycut) in 2020 and 2021 (though I was one of the few that went back to 5 days in 2021), and a mass exodus of people. I noticed that no mention was made of the revolving door of execs. Last year, there was a continuation of breathless announcements when new execs came in with "laudatory" experiences and big goals, only for them to quietly leave a few months later amid company silence. For me, it was the departure of yet another long-time colleague just before Christmas that was a downer.

To clear my head, I went to see an afternoon matinee since movie theatres had re-opened on Monday. Appropriately enough, it was Matrix Resurrections, a film steeped in nostalgia and callbacks, many of which was acknowledged within the movie itself in numerous meta ways. This has been a box-office bomb because probably audiences wanted more whiz-bang fight scenes and CGI. I actually enjoyed everything but the derivative and muddled fighting and the post-apocalyptic scenes. I wished they had leaned more into all the "talky" bits inside The Matrix and made it a straight-up drama. It would be even more box-office poison but at least this would be chutzpah.

Afterward, I remembered from my lunch at the restaurant La Bonita nearby that its next-door neighbour was a Chinese take-out joint called Lucky King. I stopped by and ordered for dinner some Szechuan Spicy Beef ($16.20) and Shrimp with Mixed Vegetables ($16.80). Lucky King may not look like much, and honestly its food was what you'd expect from these places, but it did brisk business. During my 20-minute wait, close to 10 customers came for their orders. Toronto don't have these once ubiquitous eateries anymore, but I suppose Ottawa is always behind Toronto in all aspects, even gentrification.