Planes, Trains, and Automobiles

Heading back to Toronto, I got more adventure than I wanted. Just as the train pulled out of the station around 5:30 pm, word came that an Idle No More related strike would delay the trip. The Mohawk activists were occupying the tracks around Belleville and it was likely to last for several hours.

After a quick conversation with a fellow traveler, a Londoner via Montreal on her way to a friend's wedding in Hamilton, we hopped into a cab and sped to the airport. On the way, I booked two cheap tickets with Porter on my smart phone. Printing out the boarding pass using the self-served kiosk on arrival, we breezed through security and were aboard the 7 pm flight. No doubt her travel tale, including the quick-witted stranger, will enliven the reception.

Sadly, reality wasn't quite so easy. With my typical wishy-washiness, I wasted 20 minutes second-guessing my options. By the time we left at 6, fearing we would miss final boarding, we decided to wait to buy physical tickets. With the lineup at the airport for an agent, the cheap tickets and the flight were gone. The next flight at 8 pm costed twice as much. I bit the bullet but she balked at the price. She eventually resigned herself to a similar flight with Air Canada. The good news was that hers was leaving on time. The bad news for me was that mine was delayed. I forgot from experience that Porter flights to Toronto in the evening will always be late as there is always some issue leaving the Halifax leg. We wished each other good luck and I settled down for the wait.

I wasn't airborne until 10. By that time, I was worried that the plane might miss the noise curfew and have to divert to Pearson or even the Hamilton airport. I got into a Toronto taxi close to 11:30. At home, I found out that the situation back in Ottawa had resolved around 7:30. Ms. S_ still benefitted from her flight but I would have arrived in Toronto not much later if I had stayed put on the train. So it was a wash and I spent $300 unnecessarily.

Looking back bemusedly, what would have been a satisfying and enjoyable result (cheap and quick flight instead of waiting out an uncertain delay) fell apart due to my usual anxious reticence. Given similar precedents, and happening on almost the last day of the year, I think the universe is trying to teach me an important lesson for 2013.

Out With The Old

Spending time in Ottawa over the Holidays, I realized that the passage of time is deceiving. It doesn't seem like much has changed, until it becomes obvious a lot has. I got a lift from a high school friend back to my hometown. This was a bit reluctant on my part, as I had sworn off road trips after some disastrous voyages. No more being at the mercy of egoistical drivers!

But aside from having to jam my limbs into any available spot due to an excess of luggage, it was a pleasant trip. Eating junk food, listening to music, reminiscing about the good old days, the deepening twilight as a snow-covered Ottawa came into view, it was a blast from the past. This was a bit of faux nostalgia though, as we had never travelled together before.

Unlike recent brown winters, this was the Ottawa of yore, with hip-high snowbanks and trees laden with the fluffy white stuff. Christmas dinner with the whole clan had all the familiar food and decorations, my family was never one to throw out anything: even cheap plastic trees and ornaments. But it was a shock realizing my oldest cousin is now engaged and the youngest one is heading off to university next fall. When I left Ottawa, they were finishing high school and starting pre-kindergarden.

Boxing Day was at my brother's, as he fed the kinfolk and showed them his new house. My goofy younger sibling, whom my grandma feared was insufficiently serious, was now a proud dad and owner of a suburban home, complete with den and playroom.

My last dinner in Ottawa was at an old friend's, we had known each other since elementary school. He was utterly domesticated, with wife and child. This was no surprise, since I see him several times a year. But looking at his wall of Christmas cards, full of university friends I haven't stayed in touch with, in their Christmas finery alongside spouse and 1, 2 or even 3 offsprings, it didn't seem that long ago that we all were cramming for exams, whooping it up in the Byward Market bars, and full of future plans.

Christmas Tradition

Every ballet company puts on The Nutcracker at Christmas. For many, it is their most lucrative show and is essential to their bottom-line. The National Ballet has its own version, created in 1995 by its then resident choreographer James Kudelka. I finally went to see it on Friday accompanied by a tiny dance enthusiast.

Unfortunately, I think 6 years old is still too young for a 2 hour show. She found it too long and was fidgety throughout the performance despite our excellent seats. I enjoyed the piece but also found it just on this side of dull. The staging and props were wonderful, from the large homey Victorian hearth, to the giant Christmas tree, to the gigantic golden Faberge egg wherein dwelt the Sugar Plum Fairy. The costumes were likewise magical: rat soldiers, unicorns, and snow fairies. Accompanied by the familiar score, it was a feast for eyes and ears.

But the choreography, perhaps keeping in mind the typical Nutcracker audience, was very classical, very traditional and very safe. As each set piece came: the Snow Queen, the Sugar Plum Fairy, The Dance of the Flowers, and so on, I admired their prettiness but not moved. I liked attempts to modernize the ethnic dances especially the Egyptian/Middle-East quartet who snaked and pulsed like mirror images come to life. Overall, it was sufficiently glamorous and thus befitting a well-loved tradition.

Come What May

Heading home from the Tegan and Sara concert, I got a tweet that Weezer cover band Sheezer was doing a set at the Monarch Tavern in Little Italy. Sure enough, they were rocking out at the Christmas party for local community choir Choir! Choir! Choir!. It was a short set so they played only the big hits such as Holiday and The Good Life. But the crowd was also up for B-side tunes like Susanne.

I then headed south to Dundas to The May, a new hipster joint that used to be a Vietnamese karaoke bar for a Silent Shout concert. But given a few people who didn't quite fit in and the Buddhist shrine on the wall, it may be only rented out for live music. The crowd skewed quite young, even more than usual.

Miss Elizabeth came out, now down to a duo. They played plaintive synth pop with lots of alto singing and sustained chords and reverbs. The drum machine allowed them to add unusual syncopated drumming that kept the songs moving. It was reasonably danceable music, but only a few took up the challenge.

Majical Cloudz was another duo that played trance-y synth. The shaven-headed singer reminded me strongly of Michael Stipe not only for his emotive singing, but tendency to gesticulate and move his whole body. The music was directly from another bald singer, Sinead O'Connor circa Nothing Compares 2 U: bleak, emotional lyrics backed by long, slow synth chords.

It was getting late for Moon King, a collaboration between 2 members of defunct Spiral Beach. I will have to catch their take on synth music another time.