I’m feeling really rundown from what will be known as April Madness 09 and don’t have the energy at the moment to write an entry on our entire trip to the Great White North. It also doesn’t help that I’m detoxing from my evil coffee addiction as well. (Will be v. happy when I start to reap the benefits of the lemon cleanse.) So consider this installment number 1 – Day 1: the first 8 hours.
Flights up to Buffalo were all easy with no delays. The only bad transport issue was our crappy tin can of a rental car. At 100 km/hr – it would start to rattle and shake rather ominously. Yes it was an American car – a compact Chevy no less. Unlike the poncy Youth Group boys, we were met with neither tea nor scones at the border crossing. But pockets filled with loonies and toonies, we continued puttering around Lake Ontario towards Toronto in v. high spirits.
We stayed in a nice inn in High Park, a neighborhood 6.5 kms west of the city. It’s a 2 minute walk from the Keele subway station and 3 minutes from High Park – 500 acres of gorgeousness that got far more gorgeous when the cherry blossoms finally bloomed 2 days after we left town. (Bah!) The Inn was owned by an artistic Polish couple probably in their early 40s. The wife was pleasant enough but very condescending in that annoying Teutonic way.* The mattress in our room also reflected the comfort of the former eastern bloc but little did it matter as we were only there to sleep, shower and doctor sore, battered feet.
By the time we got settled, it was around 4pm so we decided to start our tour of Toronto by hitting the Roncesvalles Village – a lovely 2.2 km stroll from the Inn. Roncesvalles used to be the old Polish part of the city, and the Eastern European imprint is still felt. Polish drug stores, butchers and bars are interspersed amongst the hip coffee shops, cafes, book stores and corner grocers. We took advantage of this atmosphere by visiting the Inter Steer (or Romantic Place) for an introduction to polish beer. Dark and narrow, this quaint bar hit the spot. Refueled and invigorated by this fun and funky neighborhood, Matt and I decided to venture into the city for dinner and to catch a band or two.
Walk. Hop on a train. Walk some more.
Once in the city or more accurately near Toronto University, we explored Bloor and Bathurst Streets before deciding on North Indian/Nepalese for dinner. Thursday was still a bit nippy so a hearty curry sounded delicious. Lucky for us Mt Everest restaurant didn’t disappoint. Matt had the lamb vindaloo and absolutely perfect garlic naan, and I had the best palak paneer I’ve ever had.
With nice full bellies, we headed over to Lee’s Palace to see the Bellewoods and Youth Group, one of my old favs from Australia. This was my 8th or 9th time seeing them over the last 6 years, but I was excited nonetheless. It felt like being back in Melbourne for a couple of hours…. The venue was great with nice bar staff, good beer and great acoustics. The only odd bit was no light in the toilets, but that was eventually remedied much to my bladder’s delight…
I’m not sure whether there wasn’t much promotion for this show or what, but it was dead. Lee’s Palace probably holds around 500 people, but on this night there were maybe 50 people at best. This pitiful crowd didn’t seem to make the Bellewoods any happier about performing, which was unfortunate. They’re a good Toronto band who seem to be friends with almost every person we met during our 3 day stay, and Erik Arnesen of the Great Lake Swimmers usually plays banjo for them. (I love banjos and the GLS!)
Flights up to Buffalo were all easy with no delays. The only bad transport issue was our crappy tin can of a rental car. At 100 km/hr – it would start to rattle and shake rather ominously. Yes it was an American car – a compact Chevy no less. Unlike the poncy Youth Group boys, we were met with neither tea nor scones at the border crossing. But pockets filled with loonies and toonies, we continued puttering around Lake Ontario towards Toronto in v. high spirits.
We stayed in a nice inn in High Park, a neighborhood 6.5 kms west of the city. It’s a 2 minute walk from the Keele subway station and 3 minutes from High Park – 500 acres of gorgeousness that got far more gorgeous when the cherry blossoms finally bloomed 2 days after we left town. (Bah!) The Inn was owned by an artistic Polish couple probably in their early 40s. The wife was pleasant enough but very condescending in that annoying Teutonic way.* The mattress in our room also reflected the comfort of the former eastern bloc but little did it matter as we were only there to sleep, shower and doctor sore, battered feet.
By the time we got settled, it was around 4pm so we decided to start our tour of Toronto by hitting the Roncesvalles Village – a lovely 2.2 km stroll from the Inn. Roncesvalles used to be the old Polish part of the city, and the Eastern European imprint is still felt. Polish drug stores, butchers and bars are interspersed amongst the hip coffee shops, cafes, book stores and corner grocers. We took advantage of this atmosphere by visiting the Inter Steer (or Romantic Place) for an introduction to polish beer. Dark and narrow, this quaint bar hit the spot. Refueled and invigorated by this fun and funky neighborhood, Matt and I decided to venture into the city for dinner and to catch a band or two.
Walk. Hop on a train. Walk some more.
Once in the city or more accurately near Toronto University, we explored Bloor and Bathurst Streets before deciding on North Indian/Nepalese for dinner. Thursday was still a bit nippy so a hearty curry sounded delicious. Lucky for us Mt Everest restaurant didn’t disappoint. Matt had the lamb vindaloo and absolutely perfect garlic naan, and I had the best palak paneer I’ve ever had.
With nice full bellies, we headed over to Lee’s Palace to see the Bellewoods and Youth Group, one of my old favs from Australia. This was my 8th or 9th time seeing them over the last 6 years, but I was excited nonetheless. It felt like being back in Melbourne for a couple of hours…. The venue was great with nice bar staff, good beer and great acoustics. The only odd bit was no light in the toilets, but that was eventually remedied much to my bladder’s delight…
I’m not sure whether there wasn’t much promotion for this show or what, but it was dead. Lee’s Palace probably holds around 500 people, but on this night there were maybe 50 people at best. This pitiful crowd didn’t seem to make the Bellewoods any happier about performing, which was unfortunate. They’re a good Toronto band who seem to be friends with almost every person we met during our 3 day stay, and Erik Arnesen of the Great Lake Swimmers usually plays banjo for them. (I love banjos and the GLS!)
Next up Youth Group. Oh mother of god! Why did Toby Martin change from his normal street clothes (minus the brown man purse) into the ratty wife beater, holey blue shirt and ridiculously short, tight jeans that revealed an unsightly plumber’s crack every time he bent down (which was often)!!?? That “costume” was horrifyingly bad in Australia 11 months ago so why on earth bring it across the globe for a world tour? These were my first thoughts. And then came the exaggerated “I’m-a-rock-god” moves that had me laughing out loud. Half way through their set, I was actually waiting for Toby to start humping the mic stand, and no – that’s not a suggestion. I’m guessing this is not exactly the reaction Youth Group hoped for in North America. ‘Tis a pity because they’re a great live band when they aren’t being so incredibly “douchey”, and I personally think they’d get a far better reception if they just played their music and cut the attitude. What a disappointment.
With eyes barely open we walk. Catch train. Shuffle home. Fall into bed. Zzzzzz.
* Excerpts from my last conversation with said inn keeper 30 minutes after arriving in town:
me: So are the trams and trains in this neighborhood safe late at night?
Inn keeper: Yes of course it’s safe. But we do not have trains. We have the subway -- like the London Underground.
me: Ok. Thanks. (To myself – What do you think a subway is, lady? It’s an underground TRAIN!)
Of course in the “subway” stations, every sign gave directions to the “trains”. Grrrr. Sometimes I loathe people.
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