I’m so glad that Toronto remains a place where I can go to get away. There are places to stay, an endless cycle of friends or acquaintances to visit, and someone else takes the wheel and drives.

It’s amazing to see how much Toronto has changed. How certain streets downtown have turned into trendy, expensive shopping districts, a Canadian version of Rodeo Drive, and a far cry from the run-down roads I would visit every lunch in high school by rollerblade and subway to buy Magic cards and Warhammer figures.

After Bill Clinton’s speech at the CNE, there was a brief question and answer period. The host asked him, “What do you like most about Toronto?”, adding that Torontonians seem to have a sort of self-deprecating humour¹. After making a diplomatic comment on the Aboriginal art as being his favourite thing, Clinton said, “You folks can make fun of yourself, but people would kill to live a society like this. You should be very proud.” I had to agree.

Before leaving, I had dim sum with my dad, and we caught up on each others lives a little bit. He sounded pretty happy when I called to ask him if he wanted to go.

I bought a pair of windshield wipers but didn’t replace them, bringing them with me to his house instead, hoping he could show me how to install them. I could just as easily have read the car manual, but I wanted something to share with him. Maybe now I can catch up on these father-son things that I seemed to have missed in my childhood.

1. I suppose you have to, with how well the Leafs have been doing in recent years. [↑]

Something weird happened while I was in Toronto.

I was sitting on a patio with John on Queen Street West, when I noticed Mike walking down the street with a girl. I met Mike as we were simultaneously earning our computer science degrees in Ottawa, so I call him over, and I ask him what he’s doing it Toronto. He tells me he moved here about a year ago, which I didn’t know; the last time I saw him was at Pat’s birthday party.

We make some more small talk, and he introduces me to his friend. Then, for some reason, he turns to me and says, “I don’t know how things are between you and [the stalker], but she’s friends with her too”.

I also met “the stalker” in university. We started as friends, but at some point she told me we were meant for each other, then got all psycho when she said I wasn’t spending enough time with her, and started sending me rambling e-mails like this:

u have a beautiful mind dude… i donno who told u different was it that
redhead bitch that wouldn’t date u? i think i’m feeling homicidial against
her right now >:{

yor mind is awesome!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

who the fuck cares if yor good at school or not……..

I haven’t talked to her since — in early 2005 — and I’ve been avoiding any contact with her, desperately hoping she would forget about me, but she kept sending me e-mails, some as recent as last year, and reading my blog. I don’t know how Mike knows about the whole situation between us, because I didn’t say anything to anyone but my close friends¹.

So I remain silent, hoping the entire matter will be dropped, but a voice in my head is screaming “WHY ARE YOU BRINGING THIS UP?!” Then Mike’s friend turns to me and says, “Oh, you know [the stalker] too! I’m going to CALL HER AND LET HER KNOW YOU’RE HERE” (emphasis mine) as she pulls out her cell phone.

As politely and calmly as I can, I say, “Please don’t”, while trying to mask my growing discomfort. In order to remain civil, avert gossip, and avoid turning her against “the stalker” with my side of the story, I don’t say anything or offer an explanation. For some reason, she doesn’t get it, and she brings her phone to her ear. I’m paralyzed by anxiety, unsure of what to say, wondering to myself, “Is this really happening?”

I realize it would probably be inappropriate to smack the phone out of her hand, so I sit. And wait. And after what seems like an eternity, she puts the phone down, and says, “I couldn’t get a hold of her”.

Oh thank you god thank you god thank you god, I promise to add something to the collection plate next time I’m in church.

When she sees the relief in my face, she says, “Oh, I didn’t realize there’s some kind of history between you two. I thought you were joking. I won’t bring it up with her.”, and I do my best to muster a calm, “Probably a good idea”.

John says it makes a great story. I think it made a great heart attack.

1. Although she did choose to publicly embarrass herself by posting crazy comments on some of my entries, so maybe that’s how. [↑]

Back in the summer, John and I went to the Ontario Science Centre. The planetarium was up-and-running, so we got to view the latest Mars landscape pictures in 360 degrees. We also arrived at the Science Arcade just in time to see a girl on the stage with her hand on the big Van de graaff, one of those mystical flagship images you often see in their advertisements.

We hadn’t been there since we were little kids, but the interactive tests and experiments are always fun, even when you’re older.

I’m going home today. It’s been a great trip. Just one more stop for lunch with an old boss before I make the drive back to Ottawa.

I miss sleeping in my own bed. It’s been a different bed almost every night. But the trip was also filled with good people. People who are truly touching. And cats.

I’m not feeling as overstimulated as I expected. Maybe I’ve been too busy for it to sink in.

I’ll be leaving in the early afternoon to catch the sunset in the 250km stretch along the 401.

Sometimes, I wonder whether it’s me or this city that’s changed more.

I’m driving out to Toronto tomorrow. Instead of a long vacation, I’ve decided to do long weekends until Christmas.

I’m praying for a safe drive, as it’ll be my first winter with the Civic, and the fact that it already snowed in Toronto today. I’ve always pictured myself in my car, warm inside, protected from the cold outside. I like that idea.

As per usual, I’ll be packing all my camera and video gear.

I’ve been so busy getting ready for this trip — organizing plans with people, getting my pictures printed and framed, packing, doing extra work for my first boss — that I’m already feeling somewhat overwhelmed. It’s going to be four days packed with people, so I know I’ll be feeling overstimulated by the end.

Normally, I don’t like to have things this tight, but there are so many people I want to see. If I could, I’d fit in Andrew and Alex, maybe even explore on my own.

I’m still pretty excited though.

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I hope this reaches you. I don’t know how else to contact you.

I know we haven’t talked in a while. It’s not like we ended on bad terms or anything — far from it. For me, high school was filled with people in that uncomfortable category known as “acquaintances”. And while we never hung out much outside of school, I still considered you somewhat close for a schoolmate, cause the fact of the matter is that I didn’t hang out with anyone outside of school.

I’m glad I was in the same house as you, and that for part of it, your locker was across from mine. In many ways, I used to look up to you. You were different from everyone, but you fit in everywhere. You carried yourself with a combination of humanity and intelligence. On more than one occasion, you taught me how to be a decent person in a way that my parents never could, without even realizing it I bet.

To be honest, I don’t look back on my days at UCC very fondly. They were awkward and uncomfortable for me. The only person I keep in touch with on a regular basis is John. Aside from him and a few others, I was glad to leave my UCC past behind me. I still think of you from time to time though, whether it’s out of concern or curiosity.

I’m coming to Toronto in a few weeks, and was hoping we could meet up. I’d like to find out what you’ve been up to in the last ten years, because you used to be good at anything you were interested in. Maybe you’ve changed as much as I have. I remember you as a good person, and as I get older, I’m learning that good people are few and far between. I’d like to keep in touch with the ones I’ve been fortunate enough to know.

— Jeff

Ah yes. My first trip “home”¹ in about a year and a half, since my parents got divorced.

The entirety of my trip was in the company of Andrew and Alex, who hosted me for the weekend. Pictures tell the story.

Drinks at the Madison

On Friday night, we went to The Madison to catch up with their old dragonboat teammates. The Madison is a massive pub, made from two or three amalgamated houses in the downtown district. A very popular spot, which was apparent from the amount of people in it as the night went on.

I hadn’t been out drinking in…two years? Something like that.

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1. I’ve decided that from now on, the quoted “home” will refer to Toronto, and the unquoted home will refer to Ottawa [↑]

Taxi, bus, car, 500 km from Ottawa to Toronto.

John, coming from a weekend wedding, took a flight from Thunder Bay to pick me up. We spent the first three days at the house of John’s parents. Circumstances like these always put me on edge; with adults around, we tend to behave, and I’m generally obnoxious when I’m with John.

The step-mother rules the house with an iron fist. No noise after ten. No noise before seven. No using the guest towels or soap.

One morning, I was having toast with some marmalade when I realized that the orange, unlabeled spread in the back of the fridge had a rather sharp taste, signifying that it was either offal or expired. John stopped me as I opened the kitchen garbage bin.

“You can’t throw that out”

“Why not?”

“It’s food. Food smells.” John pointed to the dish drying rack. It was filled with milk bags which were used, emptied, washed, and dried before being thrown out.

“What am I supposed to do with it?”

“We’ll throw it in the back yard for the birds”

“What if the birds won’t eat it? A piece of toast covered with marmalade would be harder to explain than food in the garbage.”

Eventually, we put the toast in a Zip-Loc bag and disposed of it in a public trash bin four blocks away from the house.

The beautiful garden in the back presented some great photo opportunities.

Toronto was our chance to relax. We just hung around and rented movies. When I’m with John I get to see the classics that I’ve missed — every time it’s mentioned that I haven’t seen a certain title in the store, it’s always met with his button-pushing, “You haven’t seen that?!”. He already has of course, but his memory is so bad that it’s like he never watched them in the first place. This time it was The Shawshank Redemption (very satisfying), Diner (a great coming-of-age film for guys), Four Weddings and a Funeral (ruined by Andie MacDowell’s delivery of “Is it raining — I hadn’t noticed”), and Sideways (fucking amazing). We also saw Out On Bail, which garned many an excruciating reaction.

I still laugh my ass off every time I watch this.

I’m finally in my own house again. Going to Toronto means I give up the comfort of my kitty, my computer, and my enveloping duvet for a few days of authentic Chinese food, real Chinese kung fu movies, silkworm sheets, and a few moments of family dysfunction every now and then.

Time at home left me drained. Turns out that I had an extra party to go to, and this year, I pulled myself up to go boxing day shopping. It was killer on five hours of sleep, but definitely worth it, my best score of clothes in years. Mom was running around every spare moment, preparing food for over 40 people for the New Years Party, while dad practiced his karaoke between runs for groceries. There were two nights that I sat by myself and enjoyed the new projector, and it was the most relaxing time I had during my stay.

As nice as it is to get away, I’m glad this only comes around once a year.