Anyone who reads these blogs from time to time probably
knows that we take our kids everywhere. If I think back to before Ana and I had
children I am pretty sure we expected to do what most others do and take short
"sanity breaks" from time to time away from the kids, banking on
somebody to take care of them so that we could have some time on our own. But once
we had kids, we didn’t really do that, and I don't remember us ever having a
discussion and making a conscious decision on this topic. On the rare occasion
that we found ourselves together without the kids we really missed them,
especially as the kids got older, and it didn't seem right that they were
missing out as members of the family. It also worked out easier for us not
having to find and pay for babysitters!
Now I do realize that we are really in the minority here,
and I completely understand the reasons for doing trips without the kids – it's
cheaper, it's easier, it is definitely more relaxing, but also it allows the
kids to develop independence. These are all good reasons. But we've simply
never been comfortable with it. And as a result our kids might be a little less
independent than others who have spent more time away from their parents, but
on balance we've always felt the benefits greatly outweigh this.
So as our fifteenth anniversary approached we decided to
take a short trip away without the kids. We have been leaving them on their own
more in the past year since they are now old enough to be at home by
themselves, so both parties are getting a little more used to spending time
apart. We asked the kids what they thought about this and Stella was pretty
sure we should be celebrating our anniversary as a team, but I suspect Magnus
may have spoken to her later and convinced her that we should be allowed out on
our own.
So on Friday after work I drove over to Glenhyrst to pick up
Ana. As she was still finishing up a few things I had a chat with her colleague
Yvonne.
"So what are you guys going to do all weekend?"
she asked.
"Well, we're going to a Toronto FC soccer game on
Saturday, besides that we have no plans so will just wander around and see what
happens. Although on the way over I realized I forgot to grab a jacket so I
might have to pick one up," I replied.
"Oh, so you'll be doing some shopping?"
"Shopping?? Hell no, we're way too cheap to spend money
on frivolous clothing. Ana will probably just steal a jacket from some homeless
guy in Toronto that looks about my size. I'll shake off the dirt and grime and
it should be fine."
With that we took off, made a quick stop to say hi to the
kids and Ana's folks, and were soon on the 403 highway heading for Toronto.
After a deadly serious 30 second discussion about the wardrobe situation, we
took the next Brantford exit and went straight to Value Village to pop some
tags and get properly geared up for the weekend. Now normally I refuse to go
into any retail store – especially clothing stores – but in this case I
considered it an excellent surprise start to our weekend adventure so I marched
in there, went right to the men's section and started trying on jackets, as I
sang that awesome Macklemore song out loud, over and over again (I wear your granddad's
clothes, I look incredible). I have never enjoyed a Value Village visit as much
as I did in that moment. But my joy was short lived as Ana too decided she
might like a weekend jacket so we spent the next half an hour going through
each and ever ladies coat they had, in an agonizing search for a perfect one.
She did eventually find one she liked but it was missing a belt so she sent me
gathering all the belts I could find (on the sly). I found it was easier to
actually crawl on my hands and knees down the isle because then I could see
which jackets had belts hanging off them. I removed each one, walked it over to
Ana, presented it to her, got the nay, and then returned it. After a dozen or
so I finally found one that was a suitable match, so I dusted off my knees, we
paid for our jackets and were on our way.
The drive into Toronto was reasonably non-congested, but
since we weren't in a rush the traffic we did hit was less irritating then
normal. We found our hotel – a Holiday Inn near the intersection of Carlton and
Yonge Streets – and squeezed the car into the underground parking, checked-in
and then continued up to our room, which was small but very cozy. I had packed
a cooler of drinks so we enjoyed a round of happy hour bevvies while we
discussed our plan for the evening. We went with our default plan that comes
into effect anytime we aren't sure what do to – start walking and keep on
walking until we find something interesting to do.
This moment was the one I had been most looking forward to.
Our visits to Toronto are typically day trips, characterized by an endless
search for parking spots, manoeuvring our van through narrow streets congested
with vehicles, bikes, streetcars and pedestrians, watching the clock to make
sure we leave in time to beat the highway traffic, and a generally blistering,
frantic pace. What we never get to do is have the time for leisurely exploring,
so that is what we did. We slowly walked the streets, checking out some shops,
listening to the plethora of languages we heard being spoken by the people we
passed who originated from a hundred different countries, and smelling all the
big city smells. Some were nice - frying food, perfume and cologne, leather,
e-cig vapour, and others not so nice like car exhaust, the ever lurking smell
of sewage and the updraft of oil, grease and mechanical smells as we walked
over the giant grates beneath which the ferocious, speeding subway trains
passed. We saw many young people, primed, beautiful, and looking for a party.
We saw middle aged couples and groups of couples enjoying meals and drinks on
the outdoor patios. We passed homeless people, and their faithful dogs, sitting
together in small nooks between buildings, covered with blankets, sticking to
themselves. We passed glamorous couples, looking the part. We noticed tourists,
with their maps, and thick glasses, looking around mesmerized, perhaps lost.
The sounds of the city were excellent - the screeching of streetcar steel
wheels on steel tracks, jazz music, rock music, people laughing, the howling
sirens of emergency vehicles, the idling of cars stopped at traffic lights, and
the muffled conversations of people inside those cars, the honking horns of
impatient taxi drivers, girlie show hawkers enticing young men to come in and
enjoy the views, patio waiters taking orders, and their customers telling loud
stories to their friends. Everywhere we looked lights punished the darkness.
Store lights, billboard lights, headlights, streetlights, traffic lights, and
the ever present glow from the ever present smart phones.
We passed many restaurants that appealed to us, but decided
on a sushi place, and at 11 we were their last customers for the evening. The staff
was all Japanese and spoke little English. I ordered a Sapporo and Ana, a lemon
water. Our plate of sushi arrived and it looked and tasted magnificent. The
waiters and cooks gathered at a table beside us, to enjoy their own meal at the
end of an undoubtedly long shift. They devoured a giant pot of noodles,
flavoured with several bowls of different coloured sauces, and ate greedily,
spoke little, and appeared very tired. Ana and I talked about things, I can't
remember what. But I do know that even after fifteen years of being around each
other nearly all the time, we never run out of topics to discuss. There are
always ideas to consider, events to be discussed, viewpoints to be presented,
decisions to be thrashed out, memories to be celebrated, and plans to
deliberate. We talk a lot about our kids, and we love talking about our future,
and what it may hold.
After paying the exceptionally modest bill for the fine
meal, we turned ourselves back towards the hotel and walked until we arrived
there. We were tempted to stop for a nightcap along the way, but decided
against it, as a sense of tiredness was creeping in after a long week and a
long walk, so we returned to our room and enjoyed a lovely night's sleep in an
enormous hotel bed.
Saturday arrived and I switched on the television to see
what we've been missing in the cable world. Turn out…not much. I flipped
through 50 channels of garbage, and then flipped through them once or twice
more hoping something good would appear but it did not. So I finally settled on
MuchMusic and watched lame pop videos while Ana went through her morning routine
of beautification.
Once we were ready for the day, we left the hotel, looked
across the street and saw two breakfast joints – a Cora's and a Golden Griddle.
I have been to Cora's on a few occasions and really didn't care for it too much
as the amply supplied fruit tends to overwhelm the meaty and doughy aspects of
the breakfast, so we decided on the Golden Griddle and got exactly what we were
expecting. We were seated beside the window so could watch the city coming to
life outside. A group of girls walked by and one of them had somehow gotten
part of her shorts tucked into her shirt and half of her ass was exposed to the
day. Perhaps party goers from last night?
Directly beside our hotel was the old Maple Leaf gardens
hockey stadium that had been retired many years earlier. The rink was still
there but is now the Ryerson University's athletic centre while the other half
of the building had been converted to a flagship Loblaws grocery store. We went
for a walk through Loblaws and it was an impressive store indeed, and huge. We
noted that they had a breakfast counter there where you could get breakfast
sandwiches and fresh coffee so we marked that as a possible option for the next
morning.
Ana's retail radar had been pinging off something big to the
west of us and sure enough we found a massive Winners store there. Ana dove
into the deals while I had a cursory look for pants, but I followed my usual
routine of giving up if I don't find something in the first 90 seconds of
looking and then went outside to watch the city. The city was now fully woken
up and there were many people on the streets and cars on the road. A group of
cyclists pedalled by and they were all wearing helmets with skewers protruding
out of the top and sides, and upon each of these skewers was impaled a single
marshmallow. I figured this was probably a big city biker gang, maybe called
Satan's Shmallows?
We walked up Yonge Street and passed a Nerdery that sold
Magic the Gathering cards - Magnus's
latest obsession. If you have never heard of a Nerdery, here's how it works.
Remember when you used to play Dungeons and Dragons in your mom's basement back
when you were 11 years old? And how you had a massive collection of Star Wars
cards that you spent every penny on and fawned over for hours? And how you used
to collect figurines and paint them and set them up and pretend they were
battling? And how you used to collect superhero comic books and guard them with
your life? Well, it turns out you are not required to ever grow out of that.
It's called Nerd Culture and they are taking over the world. These little
Nerdery shops exist everywhere and are a gathering place for proud,
self-proclaimed Nerds who revel in the land of the imaginary. We were the first
customers of the morning and the dude who unlocked the front door and let us in
was happy to show us the latest and greatest in his inventory of Magic the
Gathering card sets. We picked up a set for him, and were tempted to buy an 18
inch tall Wonder Woman action figure for Anna's colleague Yvonne, but when I
saw the price tag of over $200 I axed that deal.
We continued up Yonge Street all the way to the main branch
of the Toronto public library. Libraries have always fascinated me and since I
have never been to a library in Toronto I just had to see it. We stepped
through the doors and into a magnificent, multi levelled chamber complete with
a glass elevator, book store, fish pond, hundreds of public computer terminals
and who knows how many thousands of sweet, juicy books, journals, newspapers
and magazines. We noticed there was a free cartography exhibit featured in the
gallery so we began there and found an incredible collection of old maps (many
of which were of Iceland) that were handsomely displayed and painstakingly
annotated.
From here we took the elevator up to the level which housed
the library's awesome collection of vinyl records. With the help of the super
friendly staff I checked out an old Miles Davis album and we sat down at a
listening station, plugged in our headphones, and listened to some fine jazz
music. From here we wandered the floor for a while, enjoying the view offered
by the wide open central galleria to the levels below. The entire building was
so artfully designed, angular, inviting and functional. Another interesting
feature was the glassed-in, sound proofed study bubbles, which were futuristic
capsules dotted throughout the library, and available by reservation. I was
tempted to tap on the glass to see if I could get the attention of the student
creatures inside, but I remembered getting into trouble for doing that one time
in a pet store, so I restrained myself.
From here we continued to Yorkville, one of the more
expensive areas of the city and home to a number of ritzy art galleries. One of
these is called Hefels and is also an art auction house and Ana had to speak to
somebody there about slogging off some Glenhyrst art they didn't want anymore.
As I am unable to participate in art speak without breaking into rude laughter,
I excused myself from the conversation and browsed the gallery while Ana did
her negotiations with the art ladies. After I had enjoyed all the paintings I
slipped outside to admire the Joe Fafard sculpture just in front of the building.
It features Emily Carr slouching in front of a dog who is sitting under the
legs of a big horse being ridden by a monkey that is not paying attention. The
surfaces are all sloppy and creamy and the whole presentation is rather
strange, but I loved it. I was to learn many weeks later from my father that
Joe Fafard is actually a Saskatchewan boy and specializes in sculpting giant
horses, cows, pigs and bison. Just as I was about to hop up on the horse to sit
with the monkey, Ana came out so I played it real cool and pretended like I was
handling the boredom well.
We continue our walk through Yorkville, and then past the
University of Toronto and then found another gallery with a lot of old
religious art and stopped in to check it out. The owner was there and tried his
best to sell us a hideous ancient painting for fifteen grand but he must have
mistaken us for something other than thrifty window shoppers.
We decided to take the subway to Bloor West village, which was
new for me as I'd never taken the Toronto subway before. It wasn't as bad as I
was expecting as I'm used to hearing the traffic reports on CBC Toronto every morning,
and every morning seems to be a disaster on the subway, but I guess it helped
that we were traveling on the weekend. I was just happy that we were not in a
car fighting the traffic and struggling to find parking. Being on a subway
always reminds me of the years I lived in London, England and the many, many
hours I spent on public transport there, and really never feeling the need for a
car.
We got off at the Jane station and immediately found a Thai
restaurant for lunch. As it was already close to 3pm we were the only lunch
patrons and were extremely well taken care of by the attentive staff. I ordered
up a Singha beer and Ana went for an ice water and we made a toast to a lovely
day in such a remarkable city. After a full load of green curry, pad thai and
spring rolls we continued on our walk and explored the many shops along Bloor. I
didn't actually explore any shops, instead I like to stand just outside the shop
and watch the people and cars go by while Ana hunts for deals and squares off
with the merchants. She picked up a fancy water bottle for Stella that had this
misting feature where you could spray your face – apparently a hot item with
the grade five crowd these days. The afternoon had heated up nicely so we found
a gritty little pub on the sunny side of the street just in front of a giant
intersection. I ordered up a big pint of cheap Moosehead and inhaled that while
we inhaled the car exhaust from the hundreds of vehicles passing by. It made me
think about how nice it will be when we are all driving electric, emission-free
vehicles and can sit and enjoy a beer in a big city without smelling and
tasting the spewn remnants of burnt diesel and gasoline. At times like this, I wonder
why we get all wound up about battling climate change, trying to convince
people it's the morally right thing to do. Instead, why not just stop burning
filthy carbon products because it's bloody disgusting and makes a mess out of
the places we live?
We jumped back on the subway and returned to Dufferin where
we got into the queue to catch a bus to BMO field for the soccer game. As we
waited I learned a nifty trick from a homeless guy sitting on the sidewalk
right in the midst of the bus queue. He had a plastic donation cup and he slid
it out right in the path of the pedestrians who already had limited space to
pass by all the people waiting for the bus. Naturally, every third person
accidentally kicked over the cup, scattering the meagre collection of coins
across the sidewalk. About half of them would stop and help him collect the
coins and then drop some of their own money into the cup, feeling guilty. The other
half would scoff at the huckster, knowing damn well what he was up to, and they
would continue walking. Too bad the homeless dude couldn't apply his initiative
and creativity to an actual job, I think he would do well.
A bus finally arrived and we were drawn into a crush of
people jamming into it. Once it was packed to capacity the driver lurched
forward and we were on our way. To put it simply, the bus was hot, smelly, and
extremely slow due to all the construction delays. At one point, when we were a
mile or two from the stadium, and had been at a standstill for ten minutes, a
guy on the bus lost it and yelled at the driver to open the door so he could
get out and walk. Turns out, it was the best idea of the day and practically
every person on the bus followed buddy's lead and hit the pavement to march the
remaining distance. As we were halfway there the ear piercing roar of a fighter
jet pierced through the sky, but we couldn't see where it was coming from. One
of the other walkers yelled, "We're under attack!" and pretended to
hit the deck. We would find out later that the day's game was dedicated to the veterans,
and the CF-18 fighter jets were there to salute our war heroes.
There is really nothing that compares to the energy of a
professional sports game. Toronto FC is a relatively new team to the city, and
one that has been having an excellent season and is shooting for the
championship. We found our seats, which were high up mid field and offered an
excellent view over the entire pitch. Toronto was playing Philadelphia and the
game was good, but what was even better was watching the insane supporters
behind Philadelphia's goal. Every so often somebody there would ignite a smoke
bomb that would first blind the choke the goal keeper with a blanket of thick
red smoke, and then spread out and gas the entire stadium. It was quite
hilarious.
In the end TFC managed a 2 – 2 tie which was…better than a
loss. Ana really loves soccer and she went wild every time FC scored. The game
was great fun, especially towards the end when the crazy FC end zone supporters
pulled out a giant drum and let the crowd in an "Icelandic Viking Clap",
made famous by those crazy Icelanders and their magnificent team during this
year's Euro cup. When the game was over, the crowd spilled out into the parking
lot and started moving en masse through the exhibition grounds. We walked and
walked for a very long time and Ana and I talked and enjoyed being outside and
not stuck in a giant traffic jam. As night fell we reached King Street and
jumped on a streetcar all the way up to John Street. The streetcars in Toronto
are a real pain in the ass when you are a driver - as you often get stuck
behind them - but as a passenger they are great fun and almost take you back in
time as there don't seem to be a lot of electric streetcar systems still in use
in cities. Maybe that's because the last time Toronto did any transportation
infrastructure upgrades was back in the roaring 20's.
We walked up John, leisurely checking out the many
restaurants and their menus and eventually settled on one which didn't even
have a sign, but the patio was loaded with people – always a good indication,
unless it's a Hard Rock Café, Hooters or Rain Forest Café. The server crammed
us into a small table and served us up some beers from their expansive drink
menu. There was a big table of Quebeccers beside us who were loud and funny and
effortlessly switched back and forth between English and French all night. Ana
and I ordered fancy salads and enjoyed our meal as we talked, watched the many
patrons coming and going and also the tourists and locals passing by on the
sidewalk. It was a beautifully warm September evening and such a great time to
be able to enjoy the city at a leisurely pace, on our own terms, in our own
way. I felt very much in love with my wife at that particular moment.
We finished up our meal and, though it was getting on in the
night, we weren't ready to call it yet so we walked over to the Cineplex cinema
and bought tickets to Star Trek! This particular cinema actually served beer so
I dished out twelve bucks for a Stella tall can and enjoyed that while Ana
munched her popcorn and diet Coke. The movie was mediocre at best, leading me
to believe it's time to put this particular Star Trek reincarnation to rest.
But I did mange to stay awake…I think.
By the end of the movie, we were finally done for the day so
we jumped on a bus which took us back to the hotel. We considered walking but
since Ana's phone was reporting that we had already walked over 20 kilometres
during the day, we decided that more exercise was not required.
The next day arrived and after packing up and checking out
of the hotel we returned to the Loblaws for coffee and breakfast sandwiches and
were not disappointed. Here we discussed our plan for the day. I originally
wanted to visit the AGO (Art Gallery of Ontario) or maybe the new Aga Khan
Museum but Ana instead talked me into going bra shopping with her. That sounded
like a lot of fun. But it really wasn't because she didn't involve me at all. I
thought maybe I could help with measurement, cup analysis, closeness of fit, lift
judging, handling and ease of removal, but she didn't even let me stay in the
bra department after she saw me pick one up and sniff it. So I just waited by
the front door and tried to look cool.
By this time we were missing our kiddies so decided to head
for home, but we had one last stop to make. We pulled up to Nosso Talho, which in
Portuguese I assume means "cheap pork". This is the ultimate
Portuguese supermarket and they sell all that weird food I have come to love so
much – octopus, pork feet, pork ears, blood sausage, salted cod, little frozen mackerel,
and smelly cheeses of all cuts, colours and eye-watering odours. We picked up a
few of these goodies, but our main purchase was four huge pork legs with which we
would make the winter supply of chorizo sausages with Ana's folks. I had
brought along our Yeti cooler but could only fit a single pork leg in there so
we laid the rest out in the trunk of the car on plastic bags and I felt like
quite the serial killer as I closed the trunk on all that raw flesh and sped
away.
Our drive home was fast and smooth and soon we were back in
Brantford at John and Maria's house delivering Magic cards, water bottles, pig
legs and cod bags and all were overjoyed with their gifts. Although we were
only gone for two nights it seemed much longer and we were very happy to see
the kids and tell them all about our adventures.
And thus ends the weekend of our 15th wedding anniversary.
