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Canada archive
Travel plans are afoot. Brandon, one of my best friends back in Charlotte, and I are formulating a trip for sometime in the fall. The shortlist of destinations right now is:
- Portland, Ore.
- Austin, Texas
- San Francisco
- Montreal
- Seattle/Vancouver
We have friends in Portland and Austin. Anyone have recommendations for any destination in particular, even ones that aren’t listed here?
I was also thinking about a trip to Germany in October, but I don’t think I can reconcile the costs right now. Unless there are some lovely, kind, generous Deutscher out there who want to offer a free place to stay? Ja, Deutschland?
Saturday in Toronto is gorgeous weather — blue skies as far as the eye can see. We head over to the Distillery, a “heritage site” in an old distillery building where there are many artists galleries, studios, shops and restaurants. It’s a welcome respite from all the retail that surrounded us the day before.
Around 3 p.m. we get in line for the ferry to Virgin Fest. Now, my past concert festival experience had me expecting dirt and gravel and no luxuries whatsoever. But the island where they hold the concert is really gorgeous — grass and trees, and even a little carnival area with rides.
We see M.I.A., Arctic Monkeys, and Interpol. The last show of the night is Bjork, and she is amazing. All glittery and hyper and kooky — exactly like I’d expect her to be. Granted, it’s standing room only, and I am not a tall woman, so I can’t see too much, but the music is awesome, and I have a good view of the video screens. Poor Lori ends up with some woman with ginormous boobs squashed against her back. But she still has fun.
As soon as Bjork leaves the stage, there’s a mass exodus to the ferry entrance. We have to wait an hour amid a crush of people before we can board the ferry. If I was claustrophobic, I would have had a meltdown. We get back to the room about 1 a.m. and fall into bed, blissfully fatigued.
The next morning, we’re up early so we can check out and catch the bus to the airport. It’s gray and and a little rainy. We had a great time, but we’re glad to get back home.
After checking in to the Canadiana Backpackers Hostel, we drop out bags in our “cozy” private room (with bunkbeds!) and head over to a bar across the street for a beer.
Lori shows off our cozy digs.
The Fox and the Fiddle is one of those noisy pubs with dark wood and a decent beer selection. We hang out and chat/yell for about an hour until the day’s fatigue sets in and we head back to the room for the night.
Canadiana has free pancakes in the morning, but we sleep in too late to get any. No matter, because we already know what we want for brunch – crepes.
We head over to the subway to take the train to the Yorkville neighborhood. The Toronto subway system is ridiculously easy – one line, going north or south, is all you have to choose from. We buy a daypass, which looks like an oversized lottery ticket.
Lori had read about Crêpes à GoGo on the Web, where it got great reviews. The restaurant is small, which a counter where you order and four tables. The staff mostly appear to be native French speakers (though they speak perfect English, of course) and you get to watch as they make your crepe. The food is fantastic and affordable – a perfect brunch.
Afterwards we walk around for about an hour, taking in the neighborhood. Then we take the train to Dundas and try to follow the PATH, an underground walkway. It appears to be one large shopping center, filled with stores that you can go to in the U.S. Not too exciting (though we did make a detour into H&M).
Me in one of the malls on the PATH.
Once back outside, we pass by the Old Toronto City Hall and take a rest at Osgoode Hall’s grounds, where we see a bagpiper taking a break and a ton of black squirrels.
We make a stop by the room, then walk ove to the CN Tower to see if we can go up to the 360 Restaurant for a snack (and also to skip paying the ticket price to go up to the observation deck). It’s already full though, and we’re super hungry. We walk back toward the hostel and have a leisurely dinner at Urban, complete with wine and good bread.
Our after-dinner plan is to go to the room and rest for an hour or so, but a film we want to see that’s part of the festival is screening in 30 minutes at the theater around the corner. “Les Chansons d’Amour” is described as a “musical sex romp”, but turns out to be a lot more than just that. It’s an enjoyable little film.
Earlier in the day, we saw a stage being set up near out hostel. When we come out of the theater, we see that a concert is about to start starring… Hillary Duff! We watch her lip synch for one song, then squeeze through the crowd to get out. We find out the next day that she only played for 10 more minutes after we left.
We finish the night at a local bar/restaurant with peach bellinis and spinach artichoke dip. Then it’s off to bed, because tomorrow is Virgin Fest!
Dear Toronto:
Thanks for being such a gracious host. My friend, Lori, and I had a wonderful visit during our weekend getaway.
We left DC on Air Canada on Thursday evening and arrived at the Toronto Pearson International Airport around 9:30 pm. Our first stop was customs, which, as usual, had long lines and a bit of a wait (it didn’t help that I had drank a bottle of water on the plane and now really needed a bathroom).
While I’m waiting, I look around at all the different people in line. In the line next to me, but slightly ahead of me, is a woman with short, crimson hair. Because I’m a big movie geek, the first thing I think of is “That looks like Tilda Swinton.” The Toronto Film Festival is in town, so it’s not out of the question that she would be at the airport. After she goes through customs, the woman turns to look back at her companion, and lo and behold, it is Tilda.
Past customs, I tell Lori “I just spotted my first celebrity.”
“Who?”
“Tilda Swinton.”
Blank expression. “Who’s she?”
“She was in ‘Chronicles of Narnia’ and ‘Constantine’.”
“Oh.” Still no recognition.
Five minutes later, while waiting for the bus, Lori says, “Sooo, her name was Tootsie Swonstanstine, right?” I die laughing.
My customs agent is a 30-ish guy with a goatee circa 1995. I’ve forgotten to fill in my address on my customs form, and take the pen off his computer keyboard to write it in.
“No, you can’t use that,” he deadpans. I start to put it back. “I’m just kidding.”
“Oh, OK, I was about to say, you guys are pretty strict!” I joke.
“No, we’re Canadians. It’s Americans you have to watch out for.”
(Is he joking back? I have no idea.) “Why is that?”
“In America, if you have a big gun, you get what you want.” (That is what he said, verbatim.)
“Well, that’s the dream I guess,” I say, trying to laugh it off. (This is bizarre.)
The customs agent then proceeds to grill me about how much I paid for my trip to Canada. How much was my ticket to Virgin Fest? Why am I only going for one day? Where am I staying? How much is the room per night? I wonder if this is how you catch a terrorist — with numbers and prices.
Needless to say, I make it through in the clear. We take the bus into the city, and check into our hostel at around 10:30 pm.
So I’m back from Toronto - have been back since Sunday - but everyday life has kept me from writing about my trip. Fret not, all three of my readers, I plan on putting fingertips to keyboard this weekend and telling you in great detail about my travels.
Behold, as I will regale you with tales of:
* The indie actress that I recognized based only on the back of her head.
* The popstar who lip synched for 14 minutes on the street.
* The perils of being short at a standing-room only concert.
I know, you’re now dying of anticipation. Stay tuned.
In 30 hours, I’ll be Canada-bound with my good friend Lori, off to celebrate my 30th birthday with Bjork (oh, the times we’ll have, Bjork and me). I dropped off my dog at the kennel to stay until Monday and get a bath, I’ve packed everything but last-minute essentials — toothbrush, comb, mascara — and my roommate will look after the cats and their neverending need for more food now.
Since I never took a real vacation this summer (because unlike most of Europe, I can’t take off from work for the whole month of August), I’m chomping at the bit to get away and have some leisure time. This trip will also be my Europe “dry-run”, where I test out how much I can pack in my one carry-on and how much I can tolerate sharing a bathroom with strangers.
A couple of birthday shout-outs: to my sister Sarah (Sept. 9), my friend Wassa, my birthday twin (Sept. 8 ), and to fellow blogger Jenn, who’s celebrating her 30th today in Nevis. This weekend, I’ll drink a few (too many) cocktails in celebration for you all!
For those of you who’ve been on board with my story from the beginning (or are just bored enough to browse the archives), you’ll remember that originally, my trip to Europe was going to take place during my birthday (Sept. 8 ). I’ve since moved back the time I’m going to end of September/beginning of October, mostly because waiting three weeks makes everything much cheaper. No biggie, but it left the question of what to do to celebrate my impending 30th.
Turns out there’s a reason for everything. One of the disadvantages of living in the Southern US for so long was that many of my favorite singers and bands never toured in my region. On my shortlist of singers that I’m dying to see live, Bjork has been in the top three for a long time. The other day I did a search for her on Ticketmaster. Lo and behold, she’s playing in Toronto at the Virgin Festival. On September 8. My birthday. Yes yes yes yes YES! (Insert happy dance here.)
Apparently, you can be a groupie at any age, because my friend Lori and I are heading up to the land of hockey in September for a weekend of music and drinking. I visited Toronto once before when I was 14, but don’t remember much beyond Niagara Falls and the Skydome. All in all, I think it’s going to be a pretty sweet birthday.
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