Dark End Of The Street

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

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

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

Heroine On A Half Sell

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

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

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

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

All Our Yesterdays

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

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

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

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

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

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

Long and Winding Road

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

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

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

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