Posts in Category: Musings
Salt-Water Moon
Playing now until March 13th at the Factory, this beautifully uncluttered production of David French’s play left me in tears. Kawa Ada (whom I’ve already encountered this season in Bombay Black) is just breathtaking, as is his partner, the wonderful Mayko Nguyen, plus a remarkable supporting musical role by Ania Soul. Run folks. Run. The Globe and Mail reviewer loved it so much he bought himself a second ticket.
Cyclepath
I have a serious attachment to my bicycle. I’ve never been particularly aware of it, but I’ve been in London for a month now and I’ve finally understood what that pang in my heart is about. Have you ever seen a kid staring at you wide eyed and licking their lips absently as you eat an ice cream cone near them? That’s how I stare at cyclists. Like a desert hiker without water.
I have the same attachment to my bicycle that I think people have to their pets. I love it without reservation for it has never led me astray. It’s not like that boy that you love madly but he’s always let you down so you’ll never really trust him. It’s like the one who’s never let you down so you love him even more.
It’s a recurring symbol of my life. My mom’s husband taught me how to ride a bike when I was 6, it was pink and had one of those wooden sticks in the back so that he could control it and keep me from knocking my teeth in. He might as well have taught me how to fly. Once I mastered stickless tricks, I bolted over to my friend’s house and got the crap kicked out of me by grandma when I came home long after dark because I lost track of time.
When I met a boy at a young urban dinner party eight years ago, he asked me out for a bike ride. I was in my mid-twenties, and surrounded by peers who drove BMWs and drank martinis and wore really high Jimmy Choo’s and talked about investment and mortgages and were super serious and super mature. I was none of these things. When he checked my tires for air and filled them up without hesitation, I knew I had met a kindred spirit.
And then, well, Amsterdam. Then there’s that.
I’m a kid. I think I know now that I always will be. But that little shit who got her wings at 6 in a crummy concrete Gdansk playground learned how to breeze through the toughest of times on two wheels that day. And that stays.
Notes on London
1. Buildings have names. You might work for Starbucks, but your office will be in Commander House or Senator House or something similar. How lovely.
2. People vape here. A lot. I never understood where the market was for these things since I never really encountered them in Amsterdam or Toronto. Now I know.
3. When I’m coming home from work at 6 pm or whatever, newsboys are handing out the London Evening Standard Post on every busy corner. It’s adorable.
4. Everybody seems to eat porridge for breakfast, and it’s offered as ubiquitously in eateries as donuts in Canada.
5. Hawksmoor has a full fat old fashioned that will make you think you’ve died and gone to heaven
6. You’ll get the best Pakistani meal at Tayyabs and pay so little that you’ll quicken your step on the way out, assuming that they’ve made an error and will getcha
7. Hackney Broadway Market is lovely.
8. The London buses are far superior in every way to the under- and over-ground
9. The Brick Lane Beigel House will feed you for a quid. No joke. You’ll be a little scared of the owner, who’s super no-fuss and will bark for your order and practically whip it at you from across the counter, but you’ll instantly forgive her ‘cuz she’ll call you “Lovey”
10. I reckon only 10% of people in London are British. Everyone is from everywhere.
11. If you want to go to Rennie Scott’s you’d dang better reserve ahead. It’s sold out every single time I try.
Ninja Tune
Ninja Tune is probably my favourite label, responsible for keeping me in my bubble of happiness during my every day from the 90s onwards. Herbalizer, Mr Scruff, Cinematic Orchestra, Bonobo, Andreya Triana and most recently Yppah, and countless other fantastic, moody, meticulous artists have been signed by them. The office is not too far from where I am, so I went for a wander. Unassuming and without signage, passersby looked at me quizzically as I stood there smiling at it, thanking it for the years of aural medication.
And on the way back, passed the Ministry of Sound. Double whammy!
Fight or Flight
I’m flying back to Iceland en route to London. I finished up a contract at SapientNitro – performing a delta analysis on the content management group of a Canadian giant – and having failed to find an equally stimulating immediate next foray, I instead did the only thing I know how when my brain lacks challenge – I got on a plane.
Icelandair is quickly becoming my favourite airline. The staff exude a kind of calm pleasantness and sincerity that I realize now is characteristic of their countrymen. The food is good. Their earbuds are cool. They offer wifi on flights.
A Polish girl (I say girl, though upon initial conversation she reveals many life milestones that make her arguably more adult than I) is sitting next to me, and she’s terrified of flying. It takes a mere moment to figure out that she’s not a nutty drama queen but genuinely handicapped in this phobia. She whimpers quietly beside me with her sympathetic nervous system in overdrive, eyes darting around madly and sweat collecting between her brows. She asks if I mind that we talk a bit, because it calms her. I don’t mind, I tell her. My mom has always had bad anxiety and there were nights that I stayed awake massaging her legs to try to get her warm and blood circulating around her body. I offer up my hand to hold, should it soothe her, and she grips it instantly, clutching at me with cold, soggy fingers. She apologizes for the grossness of it all, almost releases me from my duty, but I smile that it’s no bother. It’s an intimacy that I tend to avoid like the plague. It embarrasses me to witness other people’s personal pain. In this teeny space, however, it’s unavoidable, and completely in my best interest to keep her from melting down.
We sat like that for four hours. The plane landed, and she gave me a quick hug before frantically dashing out the barely opened hatch and disappearing into the terminal.
Plenty Lamenty
Moderat just released a goodie. It gets better and better each time I listen to it. Do yourself a favour and put on some proper earphones and turn it up.
Winterlicious
One of my favourite Toronto events is right around the corner! Winterlicious will be starting on Jan 29th and running for two weeks, packing restaurants during that maddening annual lull after the holidays and before Valentine’s.
Now, I know many chefs hate this tradition and bare their teeth at the cheap and classless clientele that they feel come in droves to their beautiful, carefully crafted establishments. I get that.
But I also remember how magical it was when my girlfriends and I (as we’re paying off loans, working six jobs at the same time, and anxiously putting aside our money) got this opportunity to fantasize about wining and dining in style. Not because our parents took us, not because a date could afford it, not because we were blowing off rent payments. It made us feel sophisticated, classy, and empowered, and motivated us to not only keep working hard, but exposed us to the incredible offerings of Toronto dining that would otherwise be completely inaccessible to us during that time.
I’m grabbing my ladies and making some reservations.
New Years Escape
I’ve always been a big fan of escape games, and when the first live-action escape rooms started popping up in Amsterdam, I was beside myself. The opportunity to immerse myself in the creepy and crafty world of these puzzle games was impossible to turn down. I’m delighted, then, that Toronto seems to have a whole bucketload of these downtown. Some more legit than others, and several that appear to be full fledged theatrical productions. The one at Casa Loma, for example, looks amazing.
Now I must dash off, for I have been informed by those who love me well that there is a miniseries remake of Agatha Christie’s “And Then There Were None” with Charles Day and Noah Taylor, and knowing this does not allow me to sit here any longer. Love to you all in this new year – may it bring you as much intrigue and mystery as it already has brought me!
Domesticated
Saw Paul Gross, Martha Burns and the entire fantastic cast of Canadian Stage’s new play Domesticated last night. Was floored by Tori Higginson, whose command of the stage and confidence in voice and physicality were just outstanding.
Next up at CanStage – Hedda Gabler. I have the screenplay sitting by me, and have loved this play for ever. I’m so excited to see what they’ll do with it!