Shantario

Shawn Desman wasn’t waiting for me at the airport (at least, not that I saw), but my dear old friend Shannon was. She had taken the afternoon off and chauffeured me and my giant suitcase through Toronto’s clogged expressways over to their cute little house at the end of a quiet street. We then hopped on the TTC and took it down to the ROM (Royal Ontario Museum) for some free history-ogling after 3:30 PM, EST.









We plucked through the jammed museum at a relatively rapid pace as I was kind of starving. I should have brought snacks. Wahhhh. The dinosaurs were my favourite. They always are.








RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!


This guy is just kinda supa-ugly.





After escaping from the museum, we headed down into Yorkville to look at some overpriced clothes in shops and find sustenance. It was hot, so we journeyed up to the rooftop patio of Remy’s for pasta. Ahh…back in the land of patios.





We hauled our heavy bellies down Bloor and then down Yonge for the long haul over to Dundas Square. UGH. Such a long walk, what were we thinking? There were so many skanky shops along the way. But, I was experiencing Toronto! And besides the painful feet, I look back fondly.





We traversed Eaton Centre for hours before requiring a Frap-up from Starbucks. Then, we traversed some more. Eventually we resigned ourselves to the train ride home where I discovered Angry Birds. But since I suck at the game, the obsession didn’t last long.

The next day, with my hosts back at work, I journeyed over one stop to Yorkdale Centre. WTF TORONTO. What is with the heat everywhere? It’s humid and hotter than hades and yet even indoors, shopping at freakin’ H&M or whatever, I’m breaking into a sweat. Give me a break. But I digress.


Cute little house!


These deserted TTC hallways freak me out a little…



I had a disgusting lunch at Pickle Barrel Express – some smoked gouda wrap with cold eggplant or whatever. So gross. I should have just sprung for eating at the Rainforest Café. After wandering about and buying nothing, I settled for a Frocoa at Second Cup and some Textropolis on my phone. Now THAT is the good life.



Shannon picked me up when she was done work and we headed over to Pacific Mall (read: fake goods from China + Japanese cosmetics + cellphones + bootlegged Korean dramas). My kind of place.





Shannon treated me to some ball-waffle things and we both bought some completely authentic Chanel and LV scarves. Successful shopping trip!

We enjoyed a home-cooked dinner with a bottle of wine and caught up on the last handful of years of life. When Brent (Shannon’s other half) got home, I apparently talked his ear off. Sorry Brent! Get some wine into me and you’ll likely hear about all of my life plans. I wouldn’t make a good spy.

The next morning I wandered off downtown once again while the hosts worked, as I was determined to take home a Toronto memento. I hopped off at Dundas Square once again, and it was blistering hot with a little Canadian mayhem everywhere. The Times Square of the North.





I spent some time at The Bay on Queen Street and attracted quite a lot of attention from the staffers for my Comme des Garçons shoes – the one lady kept bringing more and more staff around as I perused the racks and we chatted about fashion. What a breath of fresh air! People who don’t think I look ridiculous…in Canada! I eyed some Junya Watanabe dresses up and down and gently stroked the fabric of some amazing coats, but I just can’t bring myself to spend that coin when I know I can run over to Japan and get them for less…and that damn HST in Ontario is 13 percent. Purchase killer.

After another Frocoa at Eaton Centre, I hopped on the TTC again and headed down to Bloor.





I plucked through Holt Renfrew on Bloor but I’m not going to lie – the customer service at Holt’s always turns me off. They are always filled with snobby people who cater to Asians. They only help you if you flag them down and even then they treat you with only feigned interest. Ick. One time I had tracked down a pair of Alexander Wang Ines shoes in my size at Holt’s in Vancouver and the guy who was “helping” me stared at his cuticles and the ceiling while half-heartedly telling me that the shoe (which was far too narrow) could be stretched and then it might fit, but of course, if it didn’t work, I’d be stuck with ill-fitting $500 shoes. Gee, thanks. But again, I digress. I did end up buying something at Holt’s in Toronto, but only because it caught my eye - a gorgeous, red and black Givenchy leopard-print scarf. The saleslady proceeded to wrap it around her own head before tucking it into a bag for me. Um, thanks.



It was Friday, so we headed out for a night on the town. We gussied ourselves up and headed down to the club district for dinner and drinks at Crocodile Rock. Yeah, that was the actual name. Sad. But again, PATIO!


I found this guy on the TTC. In case you couldn’t tell, he just gave off this “cool” vibe. Yeah.





We hung about until the dance floor livened up and I would have danced…had the game not been broadcast on the big screen. GO CANUCKS!


Yeah, they lost. Boo.

Chris was in town, coincidentally, the same weekend I was and stopped by the club to say hi. “Hi Chris! See you back in Vancouver!


Actually, that wave was for Shannon before she headed outside…so yeah.

What does one do after a night of drinking? Head for Asian soup, of course. Where in Japan I would always go for ramen, I now found myself wandering the streets of Toronto in the early hours looking for pho. Hook me up, Vietnamese people!



Next up, a long-weekend with the Bourne-Penner team. Tomorrow, Niagara Falls, then diving deep into Toronto sub-culture the day after. Ah, I miss our adventures already.

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Senators Only

I work with a few people who sound exasperated when they have to travel around the world for business. I get one trip a year, within in Canada, and I’m thrilled out of my mind. I can’t wait until I’m old and jaded like them. My trip this year was back to Ottawa, where I was two years ago for this same conference. I’m hoping for a repeat on my sweet room at the Westin. Surely the fates will look upon me favourably, yes?...





It’s no short flight across Canada, especially when coupled with a stop in Calgary. But after a hearty breakfast at Chilis in the airport (which I always want to call “chill-jeez” thanks to their logo) and the massive time change, we arrived in Ottawa late afternoon. (We, of course, means me and my flying compatriots from the Research office at work.)



Unlike two years ago when I reigned supreme up on the 18th floor or whatever, I was now stuck in a non-upgradable room on the 8th floor with two double beds. Woe is me.





Boo hiss boo! Strangely enough (isn’t it?), I was incredibly cranky when I realized the ho-hum-ness of my room. I couldn’t control it. I eventually trudged down to registration for the conference which was to begin the next morning at the hideous hour of something like 9 AM, and was faced with a packed elevator when I attempted to head back up to my room. An elevator jammed full of men in suits stared back at me as the door hung open and I mumbled for them to continue on without me. One man tucked a few rows back shouted, “You look nice!” The whole group smiled at me as the doors shut. Okay, I feel better now.



My compatriots invited me out for dinner in the Byward Market down the street and we ended up at this Irish pub because Brad wanted Guinness. Gross. However, they did have the most heavenly-smelling carrot cake ever made.



The next couple of days flew by in a blur of accounting, research, rain, and the sights of Ottawa.



On one afternoon in particular, I had a chance to swing by Parliament Hill to gawk at all the Canadian-ness.








I like to take pictures through the gate. You wouldn’t understand. It’s a parliament thing.






That’s meeeee! (someday)


The lone Quebec photo.






Tulip Festival at Major Hill Park.



I made my way home through Byward Market, which was a little more quiet this visit than my previous, two years ago. The crazy people were still out in full force though. Ottawa has a PILE of crazy people. And I’m not counting parliamentarians.






Oh! It’s that awful Zak’s place than Janelle and I visited last time.



On the Monday night of the conference, they have their big gala dinner and it is always a fairly reserved affair. But this year during cocktails, there was this pimp guy who kept walking around and changing his suit every three to five minutes into different colours. When you’ve had three glasses of wine, this becomes very interesting. When the doors to the banquet opened, there stood the pimp underneath the disco ball, spinning tunes and the room was covered in glow sticks. WHEEEE! It’s like a rave for old people!






Yvette, rocking the glowsticks. Being the young people at the table, our enthusiasm was quite amusing to the oldies. Mostly.


No good rave is without flashing jelly rings.



What can I say…at one point before dinner but after the conga line, we were all jumping up and down to ‘I Gotta Feeling’ by the Black Eyed Peas. As I looked down on this little older fellow with glasses jumping beside me, I realized I was in the twilight zone. Awesome.

On my last full day in Ottawa I cruised downtown to find their Holt Renfrew. After peeking through what appeared to be a glorified K-Mart-style basement shop, I bolted and decided on some street meat and poutine for lunch. YUM.








Represent.



Another night, another day, and I’m heading out of town in a taxi with a driver who is yelling at his son who needs to go to the dentist. Where does the time go?



Goodbye Ottawa, and on to the next segment of the adventure – in TORONTO! I’m coming Shawn Desman!

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