Crazy Canadian goose and Toronto the Lame

For the last couple of days we are laughing at this persistent goose who managed to chase away a fisherman and his dog. In Canada even the geese come with attitude!


In one of my previous posts I mentioned how Toronto is falling from grace as a tourist location. The reasons cited in the survey say that Toronto doesn’t have much to offer. Once you’ve seen the CN tower and the lakefront, you’re pretty much done. So the city hired comedian Russel Peters to act as the spokesperson for Tourism Toronto. What can he do? Probably crack a few jokes about the city so we can officially laugh at ourselves! Wouldn’t it be wiser to work on attractions which could bring the tourists back? Now Toronto is not only lame, it’s laughably lame. This morning CHFI radio hosts Erin and Mike couldn’t understand what’s so lame about Toronto. “There are so many nice places to shop and to eat,” they said. From my own experience as a tourist, eating becomes important when I am tired of sightseeing, and shopping matters only for the souvenirs. Sightseeing would be nice if there were sights to see. Torontonians, it seems, are not only unfriendly, they are quite blind and pretty dumb. When we figure out there has to be more to offer than shopping and eating for tourists to flock to the city, then we’ll be on the path to improve its standing. Until then, “lame” is the right qualifier.

Speaking of food—apparently, raising cost of food worldwide will soon reflect in the restaurants across Canada. This summer, just in time for the tourist season, we can expect reduced menus and higher prices and the worse quality food. Which will add to the Toronto’s list of attributes: lame and laughable with expensive and bad food.

Today I managed to escape from work two hours earlier to start the long Victoria Day weekend. We spent the evening talking about Dubai, about the possible move, about the possible stay and everything in between. In her mind, Maggie is already furnishing an apartment in Dubai, while I’m torn about what to do with the house: to sell or to rent out? I wonder how disappointing will it be for both of us if the offer falls through? We are trying to focus on the positive aspects of staying in Toronto if that happens, but we are both nervous and excited. In just two days our steady, boring (or should I say lame) life in Toronto turned into a whirlwind of excitement.

Job interview

If you were following the running saga of my life, you read about the job offer from Dubai’s paper. The reality of it really hadn’t sunk in until today, when they emailed me to set up the phone interview for this Sunday. I am equally excited and terrified. Who knows, maybe the offer will be so good that I can’t let it pass. Still, the prospect of moving yet again across the ocean makes me nervous. Maggie, however, cheers for Dubai. Well, no point fretting about it until Sunday.

The price of gas is really bugging me. A liter of car fuel is $1.25 today. And raising! The radio is talking about another 30% price hike by July! If it keeps going up like that, I better oil my rollerblades—they are going to be the only transport I can afford!

Since last week we are being bombarded with events celebrating Israel’s 60th anniversary. Well, celebrating on the Jewish side and mourning on the Palestinian side. I can’t help wondering what’s all the fuss about? So, Israel managed to grow into a pocket-size super-power in the region, but I am getting tired of constant nagging of the Jews against the countries surrounding Israel and against anybody who doesn’t think like them. Grow up already, you’re 60 now! Even Einstein had enough of that bull when he said "…the Jewish people to whom I gladly belong and with whose mentality I have a deep affinity have no different quality for me than all other people ... As far as my experience goes, they are no better than other human groups, although they are protected from the worst cancers by a lack of power. Otherwise I cannot see anything 'chosen' about them."

Offer from Dubai

Monday night was long and painful. I woke up with a bad stomach ache around 4am and that was it for the night. The morning found me in the bathroom. Felt like zombie for the most of Tuesday. There was a bright point though—a newspaper from Dubai, UAE, contacted me and offered a job. It’s a management position overseeing the online operation for a major English language Arab newspaper. At first I dismissed the thought of leaving Canada, our house and friends, but when Maggie reflected on the past winter and pointed out how much closer we’d be to our families in Europe and Hong Kong, the whole perspective of a job in the dessert changed. Negotiations have started, stay tuned for updates.

The freelance video job I did for a book publishing company is slowly turning into a nightmare. Last night I was burning DVDs for the client until 3am. So if I felt like a zombie on Tuesday, today I fell like a roadkill.

What’s wrong with the planet? The death toll after the cyclone in Myanmar is still raising, now over 250,000. Its rulers are still blocking international aid, which is waiting on Thailand’s border. In the meantime an earthquake ravaged China, killing tens of thousands and counting. Feels like the good ol’ Mother Earth had enough of people-infestation and decided to get rid of some.

Toronto is apparently sinking on the list of the favorite vacation destinations. According to Global TV, tourists find it lame, unclean, uptight and unfriendly. Couldn’t agree more! We could start the improvement by increasing traffic violation fines, curbing the road rage and street racing. It would be too much, though, to ask for smiles. I am not sure Torontonians remember how to smile.

Ahhhhhh, what a relief. After skipping my regular run last night to finish the above mentioned freelance job, I finally did 6 km today and I feel like a brand new person. A very tired brand new person.

Sunday's visitor

Last couple of days were so busy, I barely had time to check my email, let alone blog something. But, I was faithful to my commitment to keep the diary, and jotted down notes for my next entry. In life as uneventful as mine, every bit counts.

We had a very colorful visitor on Sunday morning. It perched on our tree of unknown kind and its yellow “outfit” went in sync with the tree’s new green leaves and red buds. Here’s the photo—meet our friendly neighborhood goldfinch.

It spent quite some time on the branch to Maggie’s delight. She confessed it’s her favorite bird. As for the tree, we found it just before the first snows last winter, planted by the builder (we bought a new house recently). No one ever mentioned that we were supposed to get a tree, so it was quite a surprise to see it in the middle of our tiny backyard. Our surprise turned into anger; how dare they plant the tree without notifying us at all, not to mention not asking for permission. But, when we gave it more thought, we liked the idea of getting a tree for free. Now, if only we could figure out what kind it is…

Longest run

This morning I completed my longest run. I can’t remember the longest run of my youth, but ever since I re-discovered running in November last year, this is my personal longest: 14.26 km. On my iPod+ Nike set I was congratulated by Lance Armstrong for completing my longest workout to date. But even more important than (pre-recorded) Lance’s congrats is the personal victory. About two years ago I suffered herniated disc which pinched a spinal nerve and numbed my left leg. For about a month the leg was numb and although I could walk, I could not control it when climbing the stairs or when getting out of the car, off the chair in the office, etc. More often than not, I ended up sitting on the floor, left leg balking under me. During the 2-month-long physiotherapy I re-gained the feeling in the leg, but it stayed weaker and prone to cramps. Jokingly, I told the physiotherapist that I supposed running marathon is out of question. He smiled and said I could do it if I set my mind to it. Well, judging by the run today, I am on the right path.

After that victorious run we visited our favorite dim sum restaurant Ruby’s in Scarborough. There I found the Ten Commandments for Drinking Tea, which I selflessly want to share with you here:

Maggie, my Asian doll, was in charge for ordering bite-sized delicacies from the passing carts. Sure, I could have done that too, but I’d need to resort to the sign language, because I don’t speak Chinese and the ladies pushing the carts don’t speak English. So I just leaned back and watched Maggie in her element. She asked me why I like looking at her? I could not explain that every move of hers is like a dance of a butterfly in mid-air, and all the pirouettes of her arms, all the nods, smiles and winks are so familiar, yet so new to me that I’ll never tire watching her. Instead, I just smiled.

Ahhhhh, Barcelona! Here we come!
It’s official—we booked the plane tickets, redeemed all the travel points collected on our Visa cards, and come September we’ll be enjoying the vacation in Spain. We’ll have 14 days to explore Barcelona, its Gaudi, Picasso and Dali, its food, life, culture and people. Maggie is busy compiling the list of the places we should see—I’m afraid it’ll grow quite long in the 4 months until the trip, but at least the countdown has begun. We squabble about the hotel booking; we want it cheap and in downtown, but “cheap”, “downtown” and “Barcelona” don’t go together in the same sentence.

I love what I do, but I hate my job!

I love what I do, but I hate my job!
I am a multimedia producer. They say I’m good. But I have no control over the projects I’m creating. I am stuck rescuing other people’s bad ideas and making them look good. As a result, I am increasingly frustrated, stressed and disgruntled. I think it’s time to find a new job. Anybody needs a good video/audio producer and editor?

OK, moving onto more cheerful and definitely more voluptuous subject--a local girl has become the Playboy's Playmate of the Year - Jayde Nicole from Port Perry, Ontario, had all the attributes needed for the title. No wisecrack comments necessary.

Last week I finished Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s book “Love in the time of cholera”. Like any good book, it caused controversy at the online book club on Facebook (mea culpa, I am a member). I’m glad I didn’t read the comments before reading the book, because I really liked it. How puritan Americans and Canadians are when it comes to the matter of love, romance and sexuality, how double-faced and quick to judge! Someone even wrote on the forum how disgusting is the description of the lovemaking of the main characters, both in their late 70s. To me, the only disgusting thing is that comment. I can only wish that my Maggie and me discover the same flame when and if we approach 8th decade.

I love listening to an audiobook during my daily runs. I usually go from 30 min to 90 min, longest runs on the weekend, and I already know all the music on my iPod, so audiobooks are quite a discovery. They keep my mind focused on the plot rather than my aching legs and the whole exercise is less painful. So, when I discovered podiobooks.com, it was like being left alone in a candy store when I was 5 (that, unfortunately, never happened). All the independent, emerging authors’ self-published audio books! There are a few duds, but most of them are quite good. The one that keeps me company now is “7th Son: Book Two – Deceit” by J.C. Hutchins.

Curry

It’s funny how they build houses these days. We bought a new house recently and standing on our porch I can stretch my arm and touch our neighbor’s house. That’s how close they are. The neighbor’s kitchen vent exhaust blows straight into our entrance. To make the matter spicier, the neighbor is Indian. They cook with a lot of curry. And I mean A LOT. I came out on the porch to pick up the newspaper today and in 5 seconds I was exposed to the “smellements” my sweater soak in the scent of curry. It makes me worried that our wall on that side may turn yellow. Maybe I should try subtly to change the neighbor’s diet? I could inconspicuously leave some recipes, maybe even cook some curry-less dishes and leave them at their door, ring and hide…
Alas, instead of me influencing them, the smell of curry made my better half crave Indian food and we ended up ordering a take out from Tikka Tikka, our local Indian poisoner.

If someone ever stumbles across this text many years from now, the most remarkable event to remember would be the U.S. Democratic Party elections for the presidential candidate. We will remember the first black president-wannabe Barack Obama squaring off against the first female president-wannabe Hillary Clinton. Obama reminds me so much of the black president Wayne Palmer from the TV spy series “24”. The problem is that DB Woodside, the actor who plays president Palmer, is too much of an actor, and too little a president, if you know what I mean. He comes across as overly self-confident, even cocky, and pretty empty. The same impression I get after watching Mr. Obama. Not that I’m any more inclined toward Hillary, but luckily no one cares where my preferences lay—I’m Canadian, after all, and have nothing to do with the slugfest down south. Except the fact that usually the whole world pays when Americans choose the wrong guy (see George W. Bush). Let’s hope they’ll be wiser this time around, for everybody’s sake.

Rainy run

Yesterday I had a job in downtown Toronto. So I descended there a bit early, worried I might get caught in traffic, which left me some time for a coffee at a window-seat in the business area. The view was fascinating. I usually avoid rush hours in downtown at all cost. Since I couldn’t avoid it this time, I actually found ways to enjoy it. I watched the tides of people and cars, raising and falling like breasts of the town, breathing people across the intersections, spouting cars along the streets. Sculls of businessmen in smart suits with briefcases would swim to the red light and stop like a single living organism, followed by smaller fish of businesswomen in suits or skirts, clacking their heels and occasionally dragging their wheeled cases. The smaller fish would intermingle with big and, on green, the scull would contract a little, then swim forth, dispersing in the busy morning.

Wednesday was a miserable affair, wet and rainy, not fun for my 8 km run, but I braved the elements and ran. Actually, I quite enjoyed the run—there was no dogwalkers, they all kept indoors with their pe(s)ts. Not that I dislike dogs, I just have hard time with the combination of the dog with the owner, especially when they are attached to each other with a leash. They are a curse for a runner, they tend to separate across the sidewalk, the owner on one side, the dog across and the leash as a perfect obstacle cutting my running route. That’s why I mostly run on the road, to save my nerves and my legs from the dog+owner+leash deadly combo. Anyway, today was a dog-free day, thanks to the rain, and I enjoyed it for the full 8 km.

A Man With a Hammer

"To the man with a hammer every problem seems like a nail"
Mark Twain, as quoted by Newsweek On Air (which I listened on the podcast during my Monday’s run)

Radio plays in the car on the way to work. This morning the operatic pop singer Josh Groban calls the station from one of his tour stops somewhere in Europe. He is often a guest on the show and has taken quite a liking to the hosts Mike & Erin. Besides, it's all great promotion for him. He is a likable kid. But, oh boy, is he talking fast! Like he needs to compensate for all the slow, mellow melodies he delivers on stage. His words come out welded to each other without the space between. I wished he would sing out in his melodious way whatever is that he's trying to say, so I could stop straining to un-weld his words and grasp the meaning.

It’s amazing how some news can grate on your nerves. There has been a cyclone which ravaged Myanmar this past weekend. Another freak weather tragedy, just like the freak tornado in Arkansas last week, which came way too early for the tornado season and killed a few unsuspecting Arkansans. Myanmar used to be known as Burma before its ruling military junta turned it into Myanmar with a single wave of its magic wand, or rather magic tank. The country is in densely populated southeast Asia and could count on higher numbers of casualties than Arkansas. But tens of thousands? And we find out about such astronomical number FOUR days later? Because the military guys, for unknown reason, decided to keep the numbers under the cover, until they became too big to conceal! At least, the ruling gang finally accepted offer of foreign help, which they declined last time when tsunami swiped the country.

Finding ski-legs

I was born with a set of long legs. OK, that's probably an overstatement -- I was born as a normal, tiny, crying bundle, but soon my lower limbs showed inclination towards unusual lengths. It would be every girl's dream, but, alas, I was born a boy! Luckily, Mother Nature solved this by covering my legs with hair -- not too much, just enough so they wouldn't be mistaken for girl's legs.

For Family Day weekend, the first ever in Ontario, I ended up with a couple of pieces of lumber attached to those legs of mine and was trying to remember the long-forgotten art of skiing I used to know in my early twenties. To my delight, the balance, the turns, the rush of wind on my face and of joy in my veins came back to me at once. After 18 years, I still know how to ski! Not bad for a Canadian-wannabe. If I could only get rid of the accent, I could easily be mistaken for the Canadian-born, Slavic features and Greek profile notwithstanding.

My exploration of the Canadian snow slopes was limited, for now, to Moonstone, a ski resort on Mt. St. Louis just north of Barrie, ON. Neat place to grow back your snow legs, after such a long pause. Although, if possible, try to stay away from it during the holidays! Family Day packed over 3500 skiers on around 10 running lifts and skiing was a perfect resemblance of a video game in which objects on skis and snowboards could materialize in front of you at any turn, or can run you over from behind. But, unlike the video games, you get unlimited number of lives to get up, dust the snow off and continue. I must say I was lucky not to ride the collision course, but my partner for life had a few close calls and didn't like it. I myself prefer skiing with space for turns, rather than doing it in a shoulder-to-shoulder crowd. It reminded me of trying to ski through a TTC bus during the rush-hour. Watch for your poles, don't hit the fellow would-be-skier behind. And watch for those damn snowboarders, they'll take you down, cut you right under the knees where you stand no chance of staying afoot!

That is exactly why we came back a day later - a workday Tuesday! Oh, what a pleasure, what an unbound skiing experience, a freedom and width of slopes for us to enjoy fully. Sure, they were a few overconfident teenagers on slopes with the school, mostly testing how close they can get to us on their snowboards, checking if they can make us fall without touching us. Of course, "sorry" is not in the vocabulary of the new generation of ski-bandits. Fortunately, along with the long legs, Mom Nature gifted me with bushy eyebrows and a fierce glare which kept the snow-thugs at a distance.

I am writing these lines with sore arms and legs, and a couple of naughty bruises on my shins, curtesy of rented ski-boots, but happy that I found my snowy self again. I can't wait to hit the slopes again.