A Short Story Ending in Delicious Irony

Last night we went out for the first time since we moved, I think. We've had concerts or been sick every weekend.

An old friend of Capella's was in town from Montreal for a show with his bluegrass band, Notre Dame de Grass. (If you've never been to Montreal, there's a neighborhood called Notre Dame de Grace) His show was awesome. It was in a residential neighborhood, so it finished by about 11. Andrew, Capella's friend, had a friend from Montreal who was also playing a show in Toronto last night. Since it was on our way home, we decided to stop by and check it out. When we got to the club, there was a line up outside that didn't look like it was moving anytime soon. Andrew called his friend, who had just finished her show, and we agreed to meet at a bar down the street that we knew, called the Beaver. We been there a few times before for breakfast.

So Capella, Andrew, another friend, and I walked down the street to the bar. We got there and were surprised to see a gay dance party going on- men in unitards and briefs packed to the rafters.

As the extreme irony of a gay dance party happening at a bar called the Beaver dawned on us, we failed to suppress extreme giggles, and retreated back down the street.

Give 'er!

For the best definition of "give 'er" I've ever heard, download this week's CBC Radio 3 podcast. It's about 10 or 15 minutes in.

I've got a quiet Sunday evening to myself, so it's time to write. I had a cold over the weekend and didn't go outside much, except to the grocery store and a rehearsal at school. Instead I did lots of puttering, and now our apartment finally feels like home. There's pictures & mirrors on the walls and a place to put our toothbrushes in the bathroom. And best of all, the cat's sleeping on my lap...

The conservatory orchestra had its first concert a few weeks back. The dean got up and spoke before the concert, and began his remarks by saying something about how he was sure everyone on stage was wishing he would shut up so we could start playing. It was intended to draw chuckles, I'm sure, but an elderly man sitting a few rows in front of Capella started clapping. I wish I could get away with stuff like that.

Now the cat's gotten up and my legs are cold. Bah.

The day after I wrote my last post and said something about not having time for doing fun stuff there was an all night "contemporary art thing" in town. It went from 7 pm to 7 am, and there were all sorts of crazy art installations and happenings all over. The pool by Jim and Anna's house (we also moved since the last post... The apartment was painted dirty-mop-water brown, and they painted every wall, light switch, and electric outlet. Now it's blue, orange, and lime green [kitchen] and looks so much better.) So, the pool by their house was turned into a modern Roman bath, with DJ's playing music, and gold reflective plastic across the ceiling, and lots of inflatable pool toys floating around. My two favorite things, though, were both dance-related. "Ballroom dancing" was a big room, with music DJ'd by 10-year-olds (for the attention span and lack of musical prejudice, I think), and lots of playground balls. I don't think the artist intended a giant crazy game of dodgeball, but that's what he got. The other cool thing was a group of dancers that dressed up as cops and EMT's and responded to 'emergencies' (at least, I'm hoping the quotes are deserved) by holding each other and dancing. Very sweet, somehow.

We went to IKEA and bought things without causing the other person to cry.

I've had this list kicking around my head for a little while now, and it's time to share it. Here are Things I Like About Toronto:

1. Streetcars.

2. The direlect streetcar turnaround near out apartment. It used to service the Canadian National Exhibition, I think.

3. The streetcar drivers ding their bells at each other when the pass by.

4. Street addresses ending in "1/2" are fairly common. My favorite so far: 2 1/2 Palmerston Avenue. So British and quaint.

5. You buy beer at the Beer Store, but wine & liquor at the Liquer Control Board of Ontario.

6. Municipal composting.

I like more things that just these 6 things, but specific Toronto things are a short list. Our apartment, school, the great people we've met, are all non-Toronto specific, if you see what I mean.

I'll see you at the show

When a two year old tells you he loves you, your heart melts. When he sings you the first two lines from "Bird on a Wire," your heart breaks. I guess when your dad plays in a band, you learn Leonard Cohen tunes instead of Raffi...

A couple nights ago Andy Creeggan and Mike Evan played a show here. I've tried writing this paragraph a few times. Let's just say it was a great show, and it was fun to see Andy again. He's a great musician & performer (listen to one of Jim and Andy's songs). Jim got up and played about half the show with them. Much fun.

I've had two great lessons with my new teacher at the Con, Steve Dann. He's got an amazing sound, and great ideas about how to play music, and how to play the viola. Also, his name sounds like a superhero, or a PI. I feel like his philosphy is a good complement to the tools I already have.

Again, tried writing that paragraph a few times, but it's really hard not to be boring with details that aren't important. You can just be happy knowing that I'm happy and learning a lot and growing.

Capella and I went to the Red Sox/Blue Jays game on Saturday. The Sox lost, but it was a close game until the end. We had good seats by the left field pole that would've been twice as expensive at Fenway. Also, they still sell beer in the stands and don't shut down after the seventh inning stretch. Our section was about two thirds Sox fans- some Dominicans from Fall River brought signs with messages for Jerry Remy, hoping to get on NESN. A guy a few rows behind us yelled "Hey Fall Rivah" a few times but couldn't get their attention.

We walked home and passed an adult clothing & book store (if you know what I mean) that had two women dancing in the windows. It was especially shocking because they normally have maniquins. A bit like an episode of Doctor Who.

We're moving into our new apartment on Tuesday. I'm so excited to finally live in my own home again. We've been living out of boxes for two and a half months, and it feels like it. At the same time I've gotten used to living with Finn and Jim and Anna. They're such positive people, and have become good friends. Jim just left today to start a tour, so I think we'll be seeing Anna and Finn as much as we can.

I think now that I'm actually busy doing stuff I won't be writing as often as before. Less time for writing & less time for exploring. Time to be a grown-up (sort of).

A long overdue installment arrives! Apologies to anyone waiting on pins and needles for this- it must have been painful, I'm sure.

And now the first in a short series of homemaking and cooking tips, courtesy of Julia Child. I give you: the perfect hard boiled egg. Put your eggs in a pot so that they are all touching the bottom (so none are crowded up) and cover with an inch of cold water. Bring to a boil, remove from heat, and cover. Let sit for seventeen minutes. Go read a magazine. Transfer the eggs to a bowl of ice water, and let them cool. Bring the hot water back up to a boil and put the eggs in for about ten seconds, and then back into the ice water. Seems fussy, but the last step seperates the egg from the shell and makes it easy to peel. I made these for Capella last week, and the whole bass section of the opera was jealous.

My other tidbit for the week is the proper use of the phrase "give 'er." I'll start with an example. It's a little lengthy, but worth it.

A few weeks ago in the late afternoon Capella, Jim, Anna, Finn, and I were all in the kitchen puttering around. It was warm out and the windows were open. The neighbor's mother was at her (the neighbor's) house, taking care of her (the neighbor's) kids. (Interesting sidenote for the Canadians reading this: the neighbor used to be on Degrassi. I'm not sure which series. I'll ask Capella when she gets home.) The grandmother was playing guitar and singing to the kids, which was sweet and nice to listen to. She started playing "Free Fallin'," by Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers. When she got to the chorus we all got ready for it to kick in, but she kept singing along like before. We were feeling somewhat frustrated, and Jim said, "When you get there, you just gotta give 'er."

Perfect.

For those still a little unsure of using give 'er themselves, I suggest renting the movie FUBAR, available at finer video stores near you. The people behind have also written a book.

And a quick summary of what I've actually been up to in the last two weeks or so. Started school at the Con (OK, the Glenn Gould School of the Royal Conservatory of Music. You see why people call it the Con.) Went to the dress rehearsal for the first part of the Ring cycle. Fabulous. The opera house is brand spankin' new & sounds amazing. Capella got me a free ticket so I was in the fifth balcony (the very top) and I managed not to fall asleep! Just kidding, it was very exciting. I also went to Vancouver for a weekend for our friends Nathan and Naila's wedding. It was beautiful. I was honored they asked me to play at the ceremony as my present to them, and got more nervous than for any concert in the last few years. I stayed at Nathan's parents' house in an older suburb of Vancouver. Their house overlooks an inlet of the Pacific, and I woke up every morning and had a coffee and watched the mists travel down the valley. Didn't get to see Vancouver but I don't feel like I missed much.

Song of the week: Stripper in my Car, by Mike Evan. One of the rare songs that I can't possibley imagine the composition process. Buy this man's record. While you're at it, the Barenaked Ladies have a new album, and Capella plays on one of the tracks. If you buy it, she might get residuals. Not sure.

Time for bed. Tomorrow's a school day.

*Update* the neighbor was on Degrassi Street, Jr. High, High, & a couple more specials. I'm told she played Lucy Fernandez... Also, I saw Mary Walsh of 22 Minutes on Bloor by Yonge last week.

A modest proposal

This week we went to the fair. The Canadian National Exhibition has been going on at the fairgrounds down by the lake, not too far from where our new apartment will be. It's like I always imagined a state fair is like, but bigger. (On a side note, does anyone have any idea why Massachusetts doesn't have state fairs? Or does it, but out in Worcester, so we never notice?) In the agriculture building we saw cows, pigs, sheep, turkeys, and horses of various breeds and ages, and one ostrich. The pigs had a big sign above them that said, "From Farm to Fork." If you can eat bacon after watching 6 piglets suckling, well, hats off to you. We also saw butter sculptures. They were in a refrigerated trailer in the middle of the hall with Plexiglas windows. There was a young woman inside, wearing a parka and sipping a coffee, working on her butter sculpture. Farmers.

We wandered down the fairway past all the games for suckers- the strongman thing where you try to ding the bell, the various throwing games that are way harder than they look, the different "racing" games, a few gambling places, and a million junk food stands. We doubled back to catch a human cannonball show. David "the Bullet" Smith, Jr. is a second-generation human cannonball, and several of his siblings are apparently also human cannonballs. If you've never seen a human cannonball shooting in person, I highly recommend it. Dude shoots out of a canon and flies through the air.

We tried to hoof it to the opposite end of the fairgrounds to see a circus from Quebec City that wasn't Cirque du Soleil. I don't know what they were actually called, but the promos looked pretty similar. We didn't get in, so I'll assume it wasn't that awesome, anyway. I don't recommend them.

So we walked back to the rides. Your usual collection of spinning things, flying things, cars of various types, slides, and funny mirrors. We decided to give the bumper cars a whirl, and ended up getting a free ride because the gateman's scanner wasn't working properly. Instead of buying tokens to give to your kids to spend on rides, they sold debit card-type things, but with a supermarket-style scanner. Anyway, we had fun, but Capella backed herself into a corner and couldn't get out for most of it, so I went around in circles and bashed into her every lap. Soon after we decided it was time to go, and walked home.

On Thursday and Friday the Snowbirds, the aerial team of the Canadian Forces, were practising for an air show at the Exposition. The show was all weekend and today, making five days that the skies of Toronto have been filled with jets doing loop-de-loops. Over the weekend there have also been various propeller planes and older bombers. Having now experienced five days of jet fighters constantly overhead, I propose that all major cities of countries about to wage war experience the same thing before the decision to go to war is made. Of course, Isreal and Lebanon experience that already, but I'm thinking of, say, the U.S. and U.K. It's one thing to read about war, but when the fighter jets shake the ground you're standing on you begin to have some empathy for anyone caught up in it.

Just a thought. Comments?

Vive le Quebec!

We decided to take advantage of Capella's only two days off in a row from the opera for the next month to take a trip to Montreal for the weekend. It was good timing, because our friend Matia from McGill (hi Matia!) was in Montreal for a few weeks visiting from Germany. Our friend Greg, who is also a violist, and came to McGill the same year as I did, and is also tall and brown-haired, and a source of endless confusion for a few years, just got a job with the Winnepeg Symphony and is moving in a day or two. So it was good to see him and his wife Donna before they move across the country. And another friend of ours from McGill, Lana, another violinist (hi Lana!), came to Montreal to see Greg and Donna, and arrived just before we left. So we got to see her, too, for a few minutes.

We mentioned to our friend Nathan, who lives around the corner from us, and also went to McGill, that we were planning on going to Montreal. His eyes lit up and asked if he could come, too. So we decided to rent a car and split the cost three ways. Somewhere between Kingston and Cornwall one of the tires blew out. We pulled over and called the car rental company to ask for help (I didn't much like the idea of changing a tire by the side of the busiest highway in Canada in the dark- and no jokes about the relative busyness of Canadian highways, please). While Capella was on hold with them I called AAA. They managed to get our info, call a truck, and call me back, and Capella was still on hold. So we put sweatshirts on and leaned against the side of the car and looked at the stars for 10 minutes until the truck came. You can't see stars in Toronto. The air's too dirty.

So we made it to Montreal eventually, and have a fridge full of bagels and beer to prove it. Capella also bought a jacket at the St Laurent Street Fair. For one weekend every year Bvld. St Laurent (or St. Lawrence Bvld, as Mordechai Richler called it) is closed off to cars and all of the stores bring out racks of stuff onto the street. There's a similar thing in Toronto; once a month the Kensington Market- an area of a few blocks with lots of used clothes stores and organic fruit markets and such- is blocked off to cars. They call it Kensington Pedestrian Sundays. Because it's Kensington Market, only Pedestrians, and on Sundays. I'm not saying St. Laurent Street Fair is the most imaginative name, either, but really... But anyway, I ran into an old teammate from the McGill Track and Field team. She just finished her doctorate in pharmacology and has no idea what to do next. I'm just impressed that she can talk to our coach; I have to avoid him like the plague when I visit because he's scary.

If it ever gets released in the US, go see Bon Cop, Bad Cop. It's in the same vein as 48 hours or Lethal Weapon, but set in Montreal and Toronto. The basic story is that a crazed hockey fan goes on a killing spree against those he feel has harmed the great game. His first victim ends up draped over the sign marking the Ontario-Quebec border; as a result, a very straight Toronto detective and a very laid-back Montreal detective end up having to work together. It's bilingual- the french release had all of the English subtitled, and the English release had all the French subtitled. If you speak any French you might understand the scene about how to swear in Quebec. You'll thank me later anyway.

photo update (the show part of show and tell)

Tony, Andy, and I enjoying curry dinner after loading up the truck.



Me at Niagara Falls. (Canadian side)



Capella at Niagara Falls.



The Portugese church on the night of the crazy party in the park.

No more crazy rock star stories just yet.

Aparkalypse Now; or, Greg and Capella take a ride.

We did some serious biking today.

After a morning of sleeping in and practicing, Capella and I biked west to look at an apartment (it was nice, and cheap, but had dingy wall-to-wall carpets that the landlord wasn't keen on taking out). Then we went along the Lake to downtown. Ordinarily the bike path peters out and you have to ride in the street through the downtown core, which is a pretty silly place for the bike path to end, if you ask me. I guess I'm not the only one who thinks so, because for this week only the city has transformed the east-bound lane (closest to the lake) of Queen's Quay Ave., the street that follows the shore through downtown. The right-hand lane has been covered with grass- like, actual grass- and the left lane has been painted down the middle to make a great bike lane. Between the bike lane and the streetcar tracks they've planted bright red geraniums. This whole thing goes for a kilometer through the city. At the eastern end there's a big gate, like the Arc de Triumph, but made out of bicycles that have been locked to posts and abandoned in the city. There's free movies at night, Adirondack chairs all over for people to hang out, all sorts of crazy stuff going on.

We locked up our bikes and wandered around for a while. There were free copies of the Toronto Star (the non-tabloidy one), so we picked up a copy and eventually found two empty chairs. We sat and read the paper and watched the boats sail by in the late afternoon sun. It was warm, but with a slight breeze blowing in off Lake Ontario. Heavenly.

We saw a guy making rock-balancing sculptures. He makes 4-foot towers out of rocks. We walked by just as he was placing the last two stones on a tower. The second-to-last rock was fairly small, and round. Then he knelt down in front of the tower, picked up the last rock- much larger than the previous one. Like, much larger- took a few deep breaths, and placed the rock on the tower, rotating it slightly until it found its place. As he stepped away, he made a short speech about how he hoped that his sculptures, and the transformation of the road, would help people to eliminate the word 'impossible' from their vocabularies, and that we wouldn't teach it to our children. When you're unstoppable, impossible is just a word.

The whole thing is called Quay to the City.

Jim, Anna, and Finn got back from California on Saturday. The house is very different with them here. Finn is a bit shy of two years old. He's learning his words, so most of his talking is names of things or people. On Tuesday Jim and Finn came into the room where I was practicing because Finn was curious. He got Jim to put him in front of the drum set, Jim picked up a guitar, and we had a little jam session before lunch. Finn was picking up the beat most of the time, and was pretty creative with different sounds from the drums and cymbals. Of course, he also likes to wail on one drum and play loud. I don't improvise much (or, really, at all) so for the first few seconds all I could think was "What key is Jim playing in? What the hell do I play? How about this?" Once I started playing I began to forget about that and played. Fun.

It's a little crazy with everyone here now, but at least it doesn't feel empty anymore.

Happy Simcoe Day

Happy Simcoe Day, everyone. Because a month without a holiday is no month at all.