Toronto, Pt. 2: Episodes

The first night was basically spent settling into the creaky bunk beds at the Global Village Backpackers hostel. It’s not a bad place to stay, if you don’t mind dorm living, and all of it’s accompanying nuisances. But on the second day it was time to set out and explore.

It was also time to discover that calls don’t ring through on either of our phones while in Canada, and text messages don’t give alerts when they arrive either. Plans to meet up after Timm’s appointment at the school fell through due to a complete and total lack of ability to communicate. But that did allow me to explore a broad swath of the city on my own, on foot. I walked a several mile long, circuitous route around the center of the city, from the University, Westward down Bloor, then back East and down Yonge, around College, and back to Spadina (our mnemonic device: Spadina rhymes with Vagina), passing about a million interesting sights along the way. I also wore my feet out completely that day, not realizing yet how excellent the transit was, and how it could have saved my sorry ass some discomfort.

We finally met back up, and for entertainment that evening, stumbled across the Rivoli theater. I recognized the name, being an obsessive Kids in the Hall fan from back in the day, and we went in to check out some stand-up at the club that got that troupe it’s start. The first comic was terrible. We’re pretty sure he was on speed; his delivery was fast but tentative, and his material was uncomfortably self-deprecating and misogynistic. I was getting a little worried, but the rest of the night was well worth it. Out of a total of 8 comics, only the first was what I would call “bad,” and several of the other ones were excellent. At least one had me in tears. Interestingly, there were far more jokes about American politics than Canadian, despite a somewhat tumultuous recent election in Canada. There were also two comics from suburban Ontario who based their material on the favorite pastime of bored suburban males: getting drunk and picking fights on weekends. Interesting…

Tuesday comprised the bulk of what we dubbed our “Scott Pilgrimage”; we spent some time wandering around, scouting out real life Toronoto locations that appeared in the comic book series Scott Pilgrim, by Bryan Lee O’Malley. Yes, we realize this is incredibly nerdy, and no, we don’t care. We took in everything from the stark existential horror of Honest Ed’s, a discount retail behemoth like no other, and the stately gardens of Casa Loma, where we braved frigid rain and threats of snow before finding our way back to that quintessentially Canadian institution, Tim Horton’s, to warm up and rest our feet. The trip was bookended by stops at Sneaky Dee’s, possibly a favorite destination on this trip, for nachos in the early afternoon, and beers in the evening.

The bulk of Wednesday was spent at the Royal Ontario Museum, and it wasn’t even close to enough time. If I’d realized how amazing it was, I would planned on at least two days. As it was, we took the 1pm tour, which gave a good overview of all the assorted collections, then spent the next 5 hours crawling through the top two floors. We saw a special exhibition of current art focusing on urban China, ranging from fashion design to video installation; an excellent Egyptian collection; South Asian and Middle Eastern religious artifacts that were simply breath-taking; a gallery of textiles and costumes, including everything from a dress worn by Marie Antoinette to modern couture. We barely touched on the dinosaur exhibit, the massive Chinese art collection, the Canadian First People’s exhibit (though we did spend some time with the massive, 4 story totem poles that the main spiral staircases were built around), or any number of other fascinating displays. I highly recommend visiting if you’re ever in town. Come with a plan though. Don’t get caught off guard by closing time like we did.

Our search for a place to unwind with some coffee and spend time with our books/journals was assisted by the local alt-weekly, which had a feature on the best local coffee shops. The nearest one was Kindred, just a few blocks away off Yonge. A mention of a smoking patio made it the ideal candidate, though we didn’t realize until we got there exactly what that meant. We arrived at the converted townhouse, ordered coffee, and were asked if this was for upstairs or downstairs. When we replied upstairs, we were asked if we were members, or if we’d been referred. So the upstairs is apparently a different type of smoking patio! We got our coffee and settled in to the chairs downstairs, and listened to the staff try not to be too obvious about their operation around us “non-regulars”. Choice conversational snippets:

“Hey, do we have any coffee?” “Yeah, tons!” “No, I mean real coffee….like, coffee beans.”

“Can we order two milkshakes for upstairs?” “Sure, would you like the $15 or $20 milkshakes?”

“How can we run a  coffee shop with no coffee?” “Let’s talk about this upstairs, we have non-members here…”

And so on.

Stay tuned for Toronto pt. 3: In which Timm becomes a target at the Cock & Tail on West Queen West; plus, what it sounds like when 12 musicians miss the point of Motorik entirely. Same Successless time, same Successless channel.

Toronto, Pt. 1: Impressions

I caught my first glimpse of Toronto as the plane banked steeply left on it’s descent into Pearson Airport (YYZ). Damn, that’s a big city, I thought. Followed shortly by Damn, that’s a flat city.

Not to come across as a country bumpkin from the wilderness of Seattle, visiting the big town, but Toronto is much larger, much flatter, much taller, has a larger urban/highrise centered Downtown, and sprawls out without the geographic restrictions that make Seattle a mass of oddly angled roads, bottlenecking bridges, and steep hills. These are easy conditions to plan a build a livable city in, and Toronto has taken advantage of them.

Though it’s a big city, it feels much smaller. Most of this is due to the well thought out and ubiquitous public transit. On paper, it doesn’t look like much. A long East-West subway line, with a North-South loop that crosses it twice in the center of town, plus two auxiliary lines serving a couple of far flung suburbs. Those two main lines cover all the major urban centers of Toronto though, from the extreme East and West limits of the city, through the Waterfront and Financial Districts, around the University and major shopping districts, and out into the gentle hills to the North. There are also streetcar lines that run on every major street that’s not served by Subways, and buses cover pretty much everything else. Not only are you never more than a block or two away from a transit stop, but you’re also rarely more than 10 minutes away from the next train or streetcar, including many main lines that run 24 hours a day. As a complete newbie to the city, I never needed to look at a transit map or timetable.  Just go to the nearest stop, wait up to 10 minutes or so, and catch the first train in the general direction you’re heading, get off at the right intersection, and walk a few blocks. Every neighborhood in this sprawling city was accessible in under 30 minutes.

Of course, it helps that the entire city is laid out in an almost unbroken grid pattern, making it easy to navigate. And since the city is so flat and the CN Tower (like a taller, re-proportioned Space Needle), is visible from everywhere, it’s easy to find out what direction you’re facing at any given time. There was never a single moment where it seemed like a car would be a more convenient way of getting around. I can’t imagine wanting to have a car in this city.

Beyond that, there’s plenty of character here at the street level. Each neighborhood has some unique character, architecturally or otherwise. There are definitely “typical” Toronto buildings, like the 2-story duplex houses that fill the Annex neighborhood and other areas of the city, with their split paint jobs and basement apartments. And there’s plenty of flash, from the old Victorians of Cabbagetown, to the ultra-modernist, conforntational new addition to the Royal Ontario Museum.

It also feels like the town never stops. Most nights presented multiple options for entertainment, and I ended up attending a fashion show, a dance club, a stand-up comedy showcase, and an avant garde rock show, while also stumbling onto a zine festival, a bluegrass performance, a singer songwriter show, a Punjabi street fair, and a Hardcore punk festival. It’s worth mentioning that two of those events happened at the same night, at the same venue (which also had a room generously set aside for a meetup with some local electronic producers).

I did miss a good beer selection though. For all its reputation as a country of serious beer drinkers, Canada doesn’t offer a lot beyond lager and pilsner. Most bars had a selection of several of each, and only the more adventurous ventured into the realm of pale ale, amber, porter, or stout. The ones that did tended to have good ones, but it was odd to not find anything darker at many places. Especially during the early winter!

I’m sure I could go on and on about this city. So many little things jumped out at me while I was there, way too much for me to remember in one blog post. However, I did keep track of exactly what I visited, broken down by day. I won’t bother to list it here, but there were some definite highlights:

Sneaky Dee’s: Visited here at least 5 separate times, for breakfast, nachos, or beer.

The Bovine Sex Club: A goth-y dive bar and venue.

The Cock & Tail: A new, very lovely little bar on Queen West.

The Green Beanery: An organic coffee shop on Bloor, in an old bank building. It still has a vault in the corner.

The Rivoli: The comedy club where the Kids in the Hall got their start.

Kindred: A “coffee shop” with a “member’s only patio” where they apparently sell $15-$20 “milkshakes”, Amsterdam style. Not that I’m into  those type of “milkshakes”…but we stumbled upon it looking for coffee. Overhearing the not-so-subtle conversation between the proprietors was entertaining.

Royal Ontario Museum: This deserves a post of it’s own. It’s a museum of art and natural history, with a collection spanning eras and civilizations. I could spend weeks in there, easily. We barely got through a floor and half before closing.

The Beguiling: A comic book store tucked into a converted house. It’s cramped and somewhat disheveled looking, but the selection in unbeatable.

David’s Teas: For Seattlites, think Remedy Teas, but with a more retail-oriented atmosphere. Service was incredible, and I felt bad about only paying $2 (Canadian, at that) for a cup of tea after the thorough recommendation process.

Moog Audio: A well stocked DJ/Producer oriented audio shop, with records and T-shirts for sale alongside MIDI gear, new Moog synths, and Serato scratch setups.

I could go on and on, but I won’t. Though I will write a second post about Toronto, recounting some specific incidents. Stay tuned.

Great White

I don’t think I’ve mentioned of here yet, but I’m currently hanging out in one of the great cities of the Great White North. That would be Toronto, Canada for those keeping track. At the moment,I’m sitting in the lounge of the Global village backpackers hostel, trying to shake of the beers I drank at the Bovine Sex Club tonight. Links and more detail to come later, since I’m laboriously and un-coordinatedly typing this post on the non-tactile keyboard of an iPod Touch. But let me just say that this city is amazing. Best transit system ever, and I’ve ridden the Tokyo subways. More later…

Ich Sein Nicht Ein Berliner

I shouldn’t be here right now.

I should be approximately 5,050 miles away, in Berlin. I should be staying at the Backpax hostel, preparing for a completely debauched and raucous celebration of the New Year. I should finally have a stamp in my new passport, the one that was supposed to be stamped in France earlier this year, on the trip I never ended up taking. I should be visiting the Bauhaus Design Archives, Checkpoint Charlie, the Gainsbourg Lounge, The Holocaust Museum, Karl Marx Allee, Potsdammer Platz. I should be taking notes on cool records shops, cafes, bars, and clubs in my Moleskine City Notebook that I got for Christmas. I should be buying a train ticket to Poland, for a trip through the Polish countryside into Krakov.

This year was apparently not my year to visit Europe though.

I’m disappointed for sure, especially since the reasons I couldn’t make it are so banal and stupid. But it just gives me extra reason to make my way over there during 2008. Look out…

Maui, Bitches

That’s where I’m heading. Flight leaves at 10:30. Got In Rainbows all up on my iPod and a bag full of swim trunks and beach towels. You can find me on the beach with a Mai Tai in my hand for the next 5 days. Peace out playas.

Discontent

It feels like Seattle again suddenly. Meaning, of course, that the slightly damp, often gray film of precipitation that we live with for 2/3 of the year has made it’s return, almost immediately after a run of abnormally high temperatures. We’ve gone from sleeping with the sheets thrown off and the windows open, to huddled under a comforter in a matter of days. But on the upside, that means more excuse for afternoon tea and comfy sweaters. And scarves, soon enough.

So this winter has been dubbed the Winter of Discontent, for reasons I’ll leave alone. Though I will say that it involves a lot of tumult and discord and struggle, mostly in immediate social circles, but seemingly in the world at large as well. If I were into astrology, I’m sure I could point to celestial evidence of some great unraveling, puring entropy down upon us. I’m not, so I can’t.

Before we hunker down for a dark winter, there are some bright spots. Decibel Festival is this weekend. I’m not sure if I’ll end up as a volunteer again or if I’ll have to shell out for the festival pass, but either way it’ll be worth it. A little escapism will be nice, and the four on the floor beats and ambient soundscapes should provide plenty. Then there’s Maui. Soon, just a short little hop over and a how-you-doing, drinking Mai Tais on the beach before returning to the Seattle gloom.

Naturally, all of this is just preparation for an even colder and more far flung New Year. But more about that later. Layer up and keep your kettle ready, kids.

South By Southwest

I guess I should have figured out that some sort of fortune was smiling on our Albuquerque vacation when we showed up at the rental car counter. “I see you have a compact car reserved for the weekend, but we have a special right now. For only $6 more a day, we can upgrade you to a Mustang.” Glances were exchanged, followed by a “Why Not?” shrug, and we ended up in a brand new silver Mustang (only 2 miles on it before us) to cruise around Route 66 with.

Not only were we riding in style, we were staying in style too. Our gracious hosts live in a rambling adobe house in the South Valley, with a beautiful courtyard, large yard with garden, a spacious guestroom, and heaps of Southwest character. The neighborhood just screamed Southwest, right down to the light-up Jesus lawn display down the block.

Oh, and then there’s the food. I’m hard pressed to think of anything I ate that didn’t include a generous portion of green chile. After being starved for good Mexican food here in bland, dry Seattle, the rich spice of New Mexican food was just perfect. I think I packed on ten pounds worth of breakfast burrito fat.

The baby shower that we were in town for was great also, with everything from monster-themed craft activities to a surprise (to some) visit. Follow up a full day of party preparation, crafting, and socializing with a mojito run in Old Town Albuquerque, and you’ve got a recipe for a day well-spent.

There are really too many high points to the trip to list them all, and the only low point was the very end, when US Airways got us stuck in Phoenix overnight. I don’t understand how anyone can live there, with temperatures regularly cresting 100 early in the day. It’s not a climate I’m looking forward to visiting again anytime soon, but at least we got some free beers at the free hotel the airline put us up in. It didn’t make up for the inconvenience really, but it was a small comfort.

So now we’re back in Seattle, with it’s oddly inconsistent summer weather, it’s lack of decent Mexican food, it’s gentrifying neighborhoods and high cost of living. But we brought back fresh tortillas and real salsa, to hopefully fend off the wanderlust a little longer.