Smells like Christmas

Although it's almost a month away, it smells like Christmas in our kitchen today. Meg tackled goulash first, made a huge pot that'll feed us for a week. Then she moved onto dessert.

Two years ago during our vacation in Barcelona, we tasted "crema Catalana" on many occasions. It featured in many photographs we took during the trip. We enjoyed it so obviously in those photographs that many of our friends on Facebook, having seen the photos on our profiles, asked what is that thing we're clearly enjoying so much. So, what is crema Catalana? It is a version of creme brulee specific for the Catalan region in Spain. No, it's not quite the same: it's lighter, less sweet and contains different ingredients than creme brulee. Tonight Meg found an original recipe and the result is six small pots filled with deliciously sweet yellow creamy substance. I can't wait to sink my spoon in it.

Eco-tree

Our eco Christmas tree is out, taken from its resting place in a box in the basement. All three segments are attached, its pre-assembled lights on, its fake frost made of transparent plastic beads dropping all over the house. Meg will take care of decorating it some time later.

The reason we put the tree up already? It felt bad that we had no visible Christmas trinkets on the house, while more and more houses in the neighborhood shine in bright lights of all colors. The next-door neighbor, who previously only had the white lights which resembled icicles hanging from his awning, now has wrapped the colored lights around the poles on his porch. It's quite bright and christmasy. Which is very weird, considering the neighbour is a devout Muslim.

Things to look forward to...

We are looking forward to Christmas! Not for the reasons most people do - there'll be no shopping spree, no Christmas party, nor family gathering. On Christmas day Meg and I booked vacation. Two weeks away from our increasingly frustrating work places. Yeah!

The thing I am NOT looking forward to is the Christmas music. It has already started on most radio stations, it plays through the speakers in stores throughout the town. It's going to be a long month of incessant Christmas carols and other songs of the season. No wonder those songs are playing only during this season - by the end of it we are so sick of carols it takes 11 months to recover.

Only in Toronto: deer drugged and tasered in downtown

I should start a regular section under the headline "Only in Toronto". It just seems that every week there's something wacky about the town we live in.

On Tuesday morning a deer took a stroll through the downtown. It was first spotted at Union Station (the main train station), and was finally cordoned off by the police and animal services a little later on a grassy patch just behind the City Hall. The standoff took 5 hours, even ETF was called (that's Emergency Task Force, the super-cops who usually deal with extremely dangerous and armed criminals). Someone counted 15 police cruisers at the scene at some point. The deer, meanwhile, laid at the grass, snacking on the leaves of the nearby bush. Allegedly, the police was waiting until the end of rush hour, in case their action provoked the deer to jump on the street. I think the cops had more troubles keeping the spectators with the cell phone cameras away from the animal. Finally, the time had come for the brave joint police and Toronto Zoo forces to move in. The cops spread the nets and with help from the zoo veterinarian the deer was shot with a tranquilizer dart. It then jumped and ran into a group of policemen, and was promptly tasered. It collapsed to the ground. The cops jumped on the poor Bambi, covered it with nets and took it away. It was checked by the zoo's vets and released into a park on the outskirts.

So many things are bizarre about this - from the wacky deer not bothered by humans or cars, to the laughable overreaction by the police. But, it gives us residents the confidence that, if ever a gang of terrorist deer invades Toronto, they'll be dealt with decisively: they'll be drugged and tasered. We practised that with immigrants!

"The Good Thief", a novel

by Hannah Tinti

A boy without a hand in a Catholic orphanage in the midst of the Protestant east coast gets unexpectedly adopted. But, his adopted father is a thief and a cheat who uses boy's handicap for his schemes. The boy is a willing participant in swindling and his good nature slowly turns even the people they swindled to his side. He is changing everyone and makes them better. Along the way he befriends a murderer and uncovers a secret from his own past.

Although it sounds like a book for young adults, it's not. There is action and violence in the story which is told with so much charm that I couldn't put it down. Its prose is like a good wine - it flows smoothly with sweetly rich taste, warms you up and leaves you content at the end. And, just like with wine, you wish that there's more. Among the top three books I read this year.

A party

We did this before: we had the so-called backyard shuffle in the Summer, where the 4 families from the neighborhood cooked different foods, then we went from house to house, sampling. Today it was slightly different in that we all went straight to Sun and Jas, our backdoor neighbors. Everybody brought food, the hosts provided wine, beer and desserts. Meg made cabbage rolls, which were a huge success, after initial disappointment. The neighbors still remember the noodles she made last time and were expecting the same.

The evening started with apple cider and a casual conversation, with kids playing in the basement. Then we all went to a buffet style table and loaded plates with food. After this hard work, I picked the guitar. Wine and beer was flowing freely, so was unfortunately the conversation too, especially during the guitar play. The Argentinian neighbors clearly enjoyed singing and listening to guitar music, so did the Indian hosts. But the other two families, Asian Canadians, weren't in the mood and kept on chatting, making me feel like an unpaid pub musician.

Finally, the kids were called, the younger of the two Argentinian boys had a birthday few days earlier, so the cake was brought up, candles lit. The boy especially liked having his birthday song sang with the guitar.

After midnight, coffee was brewed and the party broke up at 1:30. Some kids were asleep and had to be carried home, other hopped around us adults on the last reserves of otherwise boundless energy. It was a pleasant evening amongst friends.

Stirring

Yesterday I've heard of a colleague who's leaving the newspaper for a job in Montreal. She is a city reporter. On a whim, I asked to replace her, and today had a conversation with the editor in charge for the replacement. The editor was surprised that I showed interest, but was very supportive. Even if nothing comes out of it, at least they'll know now that I have interest in writing and maybe they'll consider me when there's another opening. If I don't sound overly enthusiastic, that's because I ain't. Not much faith left that anything can get better at work. Still, I will keep trying to change things around.

Only in Toronto - public transport chaos

Today afternoon a contractor was digging a trench to lay a cable on Jackes Ave in midtown Toronto. The trench went right over the subway line. As it happens in cheap thrillers, the contractor dag too deep and dislodged a piece of concrete from the subway tunnel. Then the chaos in style of Stephen King's best horrors ensued: the TTC (Toronto's public transit company) closed the subway line. Since it all happened during the evening commute, thousands of people were stranded on the streets. Busses sent to pick up spill-over passengers were sparse and late. No one bothered to inform the public. Traffic was jammed. Taxi drivers charged insane fares for a short haul to the closest functioning public transport - in some instance $60 for a ride of a few city blocks, that would originally be under $10. It always amazes me how such a wannabe metropolis like Toronto gets crippled and even completely disabled with smallest of troubles. There's no inventive thinking or a contingency plan for pretty much anything. The city gets paralyzed when it rains, when it snows, when someone digs in the neighborhood, and for any other number of reasons. It would be laughable if it wasn't real.

"Old Filth", a novel

by Jane Gardam

Filth stands for "Failed In London, Try Hong kong." It's a story about an old British lawyer and judge who dispersed justice in Hong Kong, India and other former Far East colonies of the Empire, although his work was mentioned briefly, only as an afterthought to outline his outstanding reputation as a lawmaker. He retires with his wife to Dorset, she dies (while planting tulips in the garden) and that sends him to revisit people and places from his childhood and youth. Through these travels, the fragmented story of his early life is being told, flashing back and forth from WW2 time to present. Finally, a dark secret (which somehow doesn't seem neither dark nor horrific) is revealed, but by then the reader is so numb of all the pre and post-war Britishness that it feels anticlimactic. Old Filth reminds me of Love in the Time of Cholera, British version.

NPR book reviewers call Gardam the best British author you've never heard of. Call me demanding, but this book left me indifferent. I am not sure I'll give her a second chance.

New week, old routine

It's back to the old routine: waking up at 5:10 AM, going for a run while the night still rules outside, then shower, work, dinner, book, bed. Repeat 5 times and that's a week in my life. How terribly exciting! I have to change something and do it soon, while there's enough life worth living left in me. Maybe join a circus? Or write a book? Hmmmmm...