Toronto

After three cities in which we would arrive at an airport or bus station and have to figure out what to do next ourselves, it was completely awesome to be met at Toronto Airport by the familiar and lovely faces of our dear friends Matt and Shiloh (well technically Sam didn't know them yet, but they were soon to become his dear friends too). It quickly became apparent that we probably couldn't have negotiated the route ourselves anyway, as it involved three different modes of transport (bus, subway and streetcar) and the use of Canadian coins, which Matt thoughtfully provided for us. If only each city had such a top-notch welcoming committee...

We went out for a late dinner at a place just across from where we were staying called 'Shoeless Jacks,' where Matt introduced us to the joys of the Canadian beer Steamwhistle, and I had some kind of amazing wrap thing with jalapenos in it. If you like jalapenos, then Toronto is the city for you; I think ninety percent of what I ate there included them, and we also came across such gems as jalapeno popcorn and jalapeno flavoured peanuts. In fact, on the whole, although Toronto wasn't somewhere we would live (it reminded me a bit too much of Auckland for some reason), the food was absolutely the best. To add to the list of things Dunedin needs: all-night hotdog carts, where you can get a veggie dog with all the trimmings for two dollars. Two dollars! Two-four nachos, you have been replaced in my affections...

View out of the window we're were staying

With Matt and Shiloh at work for the next couple of days, Sam and I did some Toronto exploration on our own, wandering through Chinatown and the downtown area, where we were most pleased to overhear lots of Canadian conversation involving the word ‘aboot.’ We went to Dundas Square (a smaller version of New York's Times Square, with huge screens everywhere, and where apparently some pretty cool free gigs happen each year – sadly, none were scheduled while we were visiting), and found a really cute little art supplies shop where we had to restrain ourselves and limit our purchasing to the bare minimum. It's quite frustrating while travelling knowing that although I may have the money to buy something, I also have to take into consideration the practicality of lugging it round for the rest of the trip. On that note, I think we're going to have to send a box of stuff back to NZ soon, because records and books are not conducive to manageable suitcases.

Dundas Square

In front of the CN Tower

After a blissful shower (our first since Las Vegas, as the shower in the hotel in San Francisco was broken, and then the hot water in Matt and Shiloh's building was turned off for repairs for the first day and a half in Toronto. Although I'm not known for my rigorous adherence to cleanliness, even I was starting to get a bit desperate for a shower at this stage), it was time to catch a bus to Hamilton (an hour out of Toronto) for the Mudhoney show. Cue excited whoops... In our usual fashion, we were running late and made it to the bus exactly two minutes before it departed, and ended up taking our seats at the show about 30 seconds before Mudhoney played their first chord. And so began the weirdest gig I've ever been to...

Mudhoney, from our terrible vantage point

 Because Mudhoney were opening for Pearl Jam, it was in this huge awful arena called Copps Coliseum, and the whole thing was seated, even the area directly in front of the stage. To get decent seats, we would have had to pay upwards of $400 each, so we opted for the $100 crap seats behind the stage and about a million miles up. As we were going in, we were dismayed to see huge lines for everything (ATM machines, bottled water, vending machines, the merch stand), and so figured we wouldn't have time to waste standing in line to get beer. Curiously enough, and in direct opposition to a gig in New Zealand, there was no line for the bar, and we were served immediately. It was a complete travesty how few people actually watched Mudhoney - at a sold out show of 19000 people, only about 400-500 were even in the stadium while they played. Jerk Pearl Jam fans obviously don't appreciate good music. Although it was the worst venue ever in which to see them, Mudhoney were great, and played most of the songs I wanted to hear (set was waaaaaay too short though, maybe only 45 minutes, but highlights included ‘You Got It,’ ‘Touch Me I’m Sick,’ and ‘Judgement, Rage, Retribution and Thyme’), and they seemed like they hadn't aged at all, with Mark Arm bouncing round furiously, all flailing limbs and energy. About three songs into it, and after sculling my two super-sized beers, I thought screw this, and left my seat to go and dance at the bottom of our section. A security guard approached me and I said to him “You're going to tell me to get back in my seat aren't you,” and he surprised me by replying no, and that I could dance there up until Pearl Jam came on, and just not to fall over the railing. Hooray for casual Canadian security. I was later joined by another Mudhoney fan, and we yelled and whooped and made up for the unappreciative crowd around us. 

The few Mudhoney fans (or more likely Pearl Jam fans wanting to get to their seats early)

We decided to stay for some Pearl Jam songs to see what the fuss what about, and the contrast between the two bands was obvious. I’m not sure what they were like back in the day when they played, but there was barely any movement or energy, and they definitely seemed their age. Their music was certainly at home in the bland arena rock environment, and the songs sounded very slow and same-y. I did like the song 'Even Flow’ when I was in high school, so enjoyed hearing that, but didn’t recognise much else, apart from a snippet of ‘Jeremy’ that we heard as I was buying a Mudhoney t-shirt at the merch stand while we were leaving. Such a pity that we couldn’t have been in Toronto five days earlier, when Mudhoney did a 400 capacity show at the Horseshoe Tavern, which sounded like it was more our thing. There’s something wrong with watching bands play in a venue that usually hosts sports games...

The crowd for Pearl Jam

The next day we just hung round the apartment recuperating and catching up on internet chores, and then when Matt and Shiloh arrived home from work we got pizza, beer and started in on the pre-Kyuss partying. We managed to make it to the show in time to hear the last few songs of opening act The Sword, and then Kyuss - minus naughty bass player Nick Oliveri whose recent arrest meant that he had to be replaced by Scott Reeder - took to the stage. The sound was phenomenal, and they played a great set - yay for ‘One Inch Man’ and ‘Rodeo’especially! Afterwards we went back to the apartment and continued drinking, and our parents were lucky enough to receive what were probably overexcited and slightly ranty phonecalls at about 1am where we were (but something more sensible like 4pm their time). The night then dissolved into many rounds of hypothetical questions, in which Shiloh stumped me with ‘would you rather be covered in spiders, or have to have one big, live spider in your mouth?’ I mean really, how do you choose between two such tempting options...

Fun and games at Kyuss

On Saturday we headed to Kensington Market, a cool little area full of quirky shops and stalls, where we found an amazing yet overpriced army surplus store (no Sam, buying a gas mask would not be a good idea, we have enough fun going through airport security as it is), and a hipster version of Acquisitions called Blue Banana that had heaps of interesting bits and bobs. But best of all was the Halloween store we came across on the way home. Halloween is a huge deal in the US and Canada, and they have entire stores dedicated to it that open up months in advance. All the staff were in costume, there were enormous models of creepy clowns and zombies that moved when you went past them, and there was not just one Michael Jackson costume, but an entire Michael Jackson section! I could be a different era MJ for like the next five halloweens! MJ aside, I think my favourite costume was the Edward Scissorhands one, complete with bladed gloves.

It was then time to head back to Matt and Shiloh’s for the pre-UFC warm-up. We had been informed upon our arrival in Toronto that Saturday night was UFC fight night (Ultimate Fighting Champion for those of you not in the know), and that we would be expected to participate enthusiastically in this ritual (well, Matt was insistent, Shiloh was rolling her eyes). Luckily all it required was watching TV, drinking beer and perhaps pumping our fists in the air when something exciting happened, so we thought we could endure it in the name of experiencing new things. However, Matt’s enthusiasm was catching, and while we watched the pre big fight matches at home (we were heading to the charmingly named bar ‘The Dog’s Bollocks’ for the main one later on), we somehow got caught up in the whole thing and I was soon repeating fight statistics and making - surprisingly correct - winner predictions. Shiloh cooked us a fabulous yet unfortunately timed dinner, as we found ourselves eating during the bloodiest of the UFC matches we’d see all evening, and I slowly started to lose my appetite for the gnocchi in a rich, red tomato sauce as the blond fighter’s hair became dyed red with the other fighter’s blood.

Still feeling a bit hazy after last night’s antics, I thought I’d maybe last an hour or so at the bar before wanting to head home, but I was not to get my wish, as Matt and Shiloh’s friends had a penchant for ordering rounds of shots. It seemed that it was going to be another long night... Some jalapeno poppers helped, as did the $10 pitchers of beer, and after the main UFC event (a shocker - the guy everyone else was cheering for and who was predicted to win went down in the first minute. If only I’d had money on it...) we headed on to more bars. There had been talk of a tranny bar which put on some good drag shows, and although some of the boys were reluctant, the girls talked them into it, but we were thwarted at the last minute by an unexpectedly high cover charge. The boys breathed sighs of relief, and we found another bar nearby. This one was not without its drama either, and in the first five minutes Shiloh and I were befriended by an intense Canadian girl who wanted to be our new BFF and was very Single White Female, then Shiloh got crushed in the door of the toilets as a girl who looked like she was OD’ing had to be dragged out. Another couple of bars and some entertaining boozy photos later, then it was finally last call for drinks (this happens in Canada at like 2am), and home time. Home time did not mean bed time unfortunately, and I don’t think we crawled into bed till after 4.30.

Watching the big UFC fight at the Dog's Bollocks

This is why Sam and Matt were not in top shape the next day

The next day Sam and Matt in particular were sorry sights, and although there had been vague plans to go to the zoo, these evaporated fairly quickly. Instead, we had brunch at a diner (can it still be called brunch if it doesn’t happen till 2pm?), then spent the rest of the afternoon in various states of napping and laziness at the apartment. The day was most noteworthy for Shiloh revealing a certain hidden talent (in addition to her swing dancing of course), which had me in fits of giggles. When Matt and Shiloh went to Jamaica, they stayed at a resort that ran all these weird workshops and couples activities, and they participated in one on the art of towel folding (yes, there is such a thing - apparently when you stay in fancy hotels, they will often leave towels on the bed arranged in a witty or decorative manner. Towel origami, if you will). With very little encouragement from me, Shiloh was eager to show off her newly acquired skills, and an artful swan was soon produced using only your standard bathroom towel. At this point I may nearly have been in tears from laughing so much. I’m sorry Shiloh, I’m sure your towel swan will come in very handy some day and I will be forced to eat my words...

Shiloh in full swan-making mode

Voila! The finished swan, definitely not an ugly duckling...

So ends the Toronto rant. There may have been some delicious Indian food for dinner, and I bought a much-needed suitcase, etc etc, but after you’ve encountered the towel swan, there’s really not much more that needs to be said... Cheers to Matt and Shiloh for an awesome Toronto experience, and for the plethora of ridiculous in-jokes that accumulated over the course of five days (a special nod to ‘my left foot,’ although the one that Matt favoured the most probably should not be repeated here).

Montreal next, where it turns out that the most important phrase I learned in four years of high school French was “Je ne parle pas le Francais”....