May 31: The heat is on

Oh glorious heat. You are finally here!

I ditch my original plan to visit MOCCA for a long leisurely bike ride along the Harbourfront to Humber River. I view Ontario Place’s 60‘s vision of futuristic achitecture. This place is slated to undergo ‘revitalization’. I will miss it. I continue on past Summerside Bathing Pavilion and Palais Royale to Humber River. These estuaries and ravines leading to Lake Ontario form the main geographical feature of Toronto. The rich habitats attract birds--and May is high season for migrating birds.

I am not the only one playing hooky today. The Waterfront trail is busy with cyclists, bladers, strollers. I pop over to Harbourfront to continue my heat worship. Patios are filled to capacity with people heralding this year's first 30 plus degree day.

May 30: Bold strokes

I am at day 7 without a voice. Recovery is painfully slow this time ‘round. Really, I am resting my voice completely. Yet, each morning when I attempt to make a sound, all that comes forth is barely a croak. At this rate, I will have to get a colleague to scope my larynx soon.

Plans for this year’s creativity include dusting off my acrylic paints. Finally, I get around to this--something I can easily do without a voice. I am surprised. I quickly finish off a painting I started about a decade ago. I cover the lifeless stilted paint strokes with bolder strokes. I continue on to my take of Haida style art. No matter that my whale resembles a seal. I am less afraid of creating something displeasing to the eye. No longer do I feel a need to produce a masterpiece. I revel in this freedom.

May 29: Functional beauty

Elaine joins me for Doors Open Toronto day 2.

Li Ka Shing Knowledge Institute puts science in the midst of beauty. The wishbone staircase and tubular walkway are artful yet functional. Up the street is City TV. While the outside may appear interesting, the inside is all business with no beauty--just monitors and production equipment. It really does not belong to an architectural lineup.

I continue my exploration up the street. I pop into a charming Lutheran church whose congregation is 160 years old. Across the street is St. George’s Greek Orthodox Church, with its hand painted iconic murals. Such hidden gems amidst us!

Greek church ladies are selling tyropita and baklava in the church basement. Elaine and I boost our blood sugar levels.

We finish off with a visit to the Corkin Gallery where renown architect Brigitte Shim is giving a tour of her recently renovated space.

I attempt to host a meetup dinner event without a voice at Hanoi 3 Seasons--not quite successfully. My lack of a voice seems to throw my fellow diners out of sync. At some point, they start to mirror my gesturing and whispering.

May 28: Water purification is art

“You don’t have to whisper,” the librarian says to me without looking up, not realizing that I have lost my voice. I am visiting some of the many local architectural landmarks open to the public for Doors Open Toronto.

I was heading for art but it turns out to be science. This year’s lineup includes the rare opportunity to visit the R.C. Harris water filtration plant, an art deco gem featured in Michael Ondaatje’s In The Skin of the Lion. The misty morning lends to the aura of the place. I try to tune out the overheard snippets of how water is purified: too much like my previous life of a chemist.

May 27: Miming conversations

The radio declares what I have long suspected: Toronto has the worst pedestrian and cyclist safety record. I chance it with a Bixi bike, cycling to Boulevard Cafe. D. gets to do all the talking over Peruvian food. Once again, I try to socialize with no voice.

I ride by the ivied University College and Convocation Hall. Proud parents are all decked out to see their sons and daughters graduate. Such happy times--university days conjure up such happy memories for me. Very briefly, I toy with the idea of working towards my next degree. No, it won’t be anytime soon.

MOMA’s Abstract Expressionism exhibition is in town. I drop by AGO for the preview. Staring into Rothko’s bold blocks with their blurring borders is so calming. I learn to appreciate Barnett Newman a bit more--his ‘Voice of Fire’ in the National Gallery of Canada caused such a stir 2 decades ago. The Pollock’s and Motherwell’s. One thing tying this collection together is that each artist’s style is so different from the other. I guess that is why it is called expressionism--allowing one to express something from within.

May 26: Sea to sky

I declare my love for the Canucks. I pick up my Luongo t-shirt at the airport and immediately don the shirt. I bond with other Canucks fans at the airport.

Flying east during the day, especially with the circuitous route stopping in Edmonton, is not my favourite travel option. The day passes too quickly. One consolation is the view. We follow the coastline briefly before heading inland. Horseshoe Bay, the still snow-capped Lions, the Sea to Sky Highway to Whistler, the Gulf Islands--Vancouver is stunning even with the grey skies.

Rosemary comes for a visit. We have a heart-to-heart--she gets a rare chance to do all the talking.

May 25: The morning after

A down day. Maybe it was the restless night after the adrenaline pumped hockey game. Or maybe the outings are catching up to dad. His kidney’s function is tenuous and the higher salt content in restaurant prepped food can take its toll. Besides, once again, I am voiceless. Allergy season plays such havoc with my vocal cords. Strangers I encounter all assume that I had lost it cheering for the Canucks (which is partly true). Maybe I should be a model patient for once and get ENT to ensure that there are no polyps.

May 24: Kesler shoots! Kesler scores!

What a nail biter! Luongo impresses with his spectacular saves. Yet he makes a small but costly error giving San Jose the go ahead point 24 seconds into the 3rd period. Then when hope is all but gone, Kesler scores with 14 seconds left in regulation time to tie up the score. The Canucks are definitely the better puck handlers, but San Jose plays with will and smarts. The game ends with Bieksa’s bouncy flukey goal in second overtime. Games don’t get better than this. The Canucks are heading to the Stanley Cup Finals!

May 23: Cannery row

Vancouverites are making the most of this rare sunny hockey free day. We inadvertently do the same. We visit Steveston’s fishing village. Thirty years ago, I'd bike here between school and home to enjoy this real life Japanese fishing village replete with boats next to the cannery. Today, it is a bona fide tourist attraction, complete with a National Historic Site designation. Despite the throngs, the charm exudes through. I search for a good salmon meal for Dad. This is the easy part. The vegie option, on the other hand, is nigh impossible.

We celebrate my great aunt’s birthday 4 months late, making up for a postponed meal while Dad was sick. Great excuse to eat a good meal at Red Star and finish off with a chestnut cream cake.

May 22: Hockey fever

I fly into the midst of hockey fever. Game 4 of the Western final between San Jose and Vancouver is on. I can’t say that I am a hockey fan but do enjoy the occasional game--usually the gold medal Olympic hockey game or the World Juniors. I shout myself hoarse egging on the Canucks. Final score: 4 to 2. They are returning home to game 5 with a 3-1 lead in the series.

I am in Vancouver. Of course, good dim sum is on the agenda. We run into Professor Wong at Rainflower. He was Dad’s roommate at Vancouver General Hospital and ward mate at rehab. The wives had bonded over the weeks sharing this life changing experience. How is Mr. Li doing? What about Mr. Chan? We enjoy this impromptu reunion comparing walking progress.

May 21: Home cooking

I neglect to adjust my clock back to Eastern time zone. Luckily, Louise wakes me up and serves me breakfast. I am happily her food taster once again. Her Russian egg salad sandwich with the fresh dill and sauteed mushrooms tickles the palate. I hurry to the airport with little time to spare. I miss the 30 minute bag dropoff deadline by a minute, but this being Thunder Bay, the bag still manages to get into the plane.

I fly over an ornithologist’s paradise, Sibley Peninsula and Sleeping Giant Provincial Park. The giant’s form is not apparent from this angle. I spy Silver Islet. This sliver of land was once the richest silver mine in North America.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Silver_Islet,_Ontario

I search for art and creativity at Pearson Airport. Contact has some large scale photographs by award winning architectural artist, Josef Shulz, lining the walkways, providing colour and diversion from the building’s sterile lines.

We hurry up and wait: we board then sit inside the cabin for a brake repair job. I’d rather that the brakes are working than to find out midair that they are not.

Dad comes to pick me up at the airport, an achievement unthinkable 4 months ago.

Mom even treats me to an increasingly rare home cooked meal. I polish off all the sauteed long beans with relish.

May 20: Biking big

The only thing keeping me upright today is adrenaline. My night’s waking hours were hardly broken by sleep. And the morning’s pace does not slow. I transfer a sick patient to Thunder Bay. I vow that this will be the last work day until my year is over. That is, unless I end up going overseas. (I have completed 4 1/2 weeks of work out of the maximum 5 1/2 as planned, see blog entry September 1).

The big bike cruises by. The appearance of the big bike, the holiday train, a powwow, the bass fishing boat parade are big events. In Toronto, these events would hardly cause a stir--sadly so, I think. Toronto life involves bombardment of the senses--sights, sounds, tastes--all thoroughly enjoyable. Yet, I can appreciate the simpler paced life in Atikokan.

May 19: Home stretch

I but crawl through the last call. Except for a short break at lunch, I work non-stop. I don’t even have bright starry skies to make my midnight trips to the hospital worth their while. I really cannot complain. After all, I did cruise through the first 3 calls.

Teresa, an Atikokan doc who is locuming also, is back in town. She returns from a visit with her first grandchild, just a few weeks old.

May 18: Christmas in May

My brain is a bit hazy on this post call day. I keep having to reorient myself to date and time and task at hand.

I attend Joanne’s annual Christmas potluck dinner party--in May. For someone who does not reside here, I know a good percentage of Atikokan’s population. I have a grand time socializing, sticking around until the last stragglers head home.

May 17: Beaver fever

Canada’s national animal is a bucktoothed rodent. So typical of Canadian unpretentiousness. Yet the beaver was instrumental to the creation of this country--its highly valued hide was used to feed the felt fashion frenzy.

One would assume that beavers roam the land in abundance. Yet I have not spotted a beaver in the wild. That is, not until today.

I drive by the dilapidated buildings and abandoned rail tracks of the old Steep Rock iron mine site. There! A big black furry animal scurry past the front of my car. I grab my camera but he senses my presence and speeds up. He jumps into his home habitat, the pond nearby. I get closer. He dives and disappears. (Sorry, the photo is a bit fuzzy.)

May 16: The call of the loon

Post call. I have a rare short work day. What better way to spend an hour than to sit by Perch Lake, watching a loon dive?

May 15: Town dump attraction

Word is out: there are bears roaming around town. I try my luck for a spotting, heading to the choice spot--the town dump. No luck. I go for a much easier sight: Little Falls. Just a few minutes from the steady patient flow to soak in the sun.

May 14: Bonus views

Driving in the morning instead of late last night was a good decision, worth the income loss. I do not have to subject myself to the dangers of encountering moose at night.

I drive leisurely away from the Sleeping Giant past lakes, now no longer frozen. Birches stand tall, still void of leaves, among the jack pines.

I get into Atikokan and immediately start work. Work goes at a clipped pace: foreign body in eye, lacerations, even tick removal. I certainly am not bored.

May 13: Dressing down

I meet with Caroline at a Lida Biday sample sale. The line is not budging. Time feels like a rare commodity right now, just in case I am deployed on a mission. Besides, I would not be wearing any Lida Biday dresses anytime soon if I do go on another mission overseas.

I return home to pack. My hallway’s current luggage count: eight. All have a role: awaiting repairs, transferring contents, upcoming trips. I put much thought in preparing my ERU (emergency response unit) personal kit. No room for error with this.

Frantic last minute schedule changes: I arrange for a later start time for work tomorrow. I can now get a good night’s sleep before the two hour drive to Atikokan.

May 12: Midnight ride

I rent a car for the day to run errands from Thornhill to Oshawa. I drop off my camera for repairs. Readers, I may be subjecting you to iPhone camera quality for the next couple of weeks.

Having wheels enables me to meet Nancy for a pleasant bento lunch at Sagano.

I discover that there are two Brock exits off the freeway in GTA. There is a rule that streets cannot have the same name in the same city lest there be confusion. But then, General Brock is a significant figure that deserves to be remembered. He led significant battles in the War of 1812. This war between U.S. and the British (leading to what is now Canada) was pivotal in the countries’ histories, ushering in peace that has continued to the present day.

My BIXI key arrives. It may be nigh midnight but I am keen to try out these funky commuter bikes. The three speeds manage to get me up a couple hills. The 30 minutes pass quickly.

May 11: Better late than never

I thought I had a ticket for the evening show, but alas, I have a ticket for the matinee! I discover this at home 10 minutes after the show starts. The usher is nice enough to seat me 25 minutes into the show.

Billy Elliot may not have the catchiest tunes, nor the flashiest set, but as far as inspirational musicals go, it beats all. I am touched by the drive of a young lad, memory of a loving mother, positive mentoring by a dance teacher, and a father who puts his son’s future above his own hang ups.

Elaine is understanding with the last minute schedule change. We visit O&B’s patio after the show instead. This place is so not my scene: short tight black skirts paired with 7 inch heels seem to be the women's uniform here. For the men: ties, pinstriped suits, and grey hair.

I get a call from the Red Cross. This changes up things drastically. I reply with a resounding yes--as long as they can wait until the end of May. Now I wait for a reply from Geneva.

May 10: Fleeting beauty

A tinge of green is finally appearing on local trees. Toronto’s cherry blossoms are at their peak. I soldier through strong winds to High Park to catch a glimpse. Picnickers dine under swaying branches of delicate pink blossoms. I walk past with thoughts of the recent earthquake and subsequent

tsunami: sakura represents fleeting life and mortality.

I continue my quest for good food. Vena’s makes a mean roti, but the spot is so messy that even I opt for takeout.

May 9: In the loop

The mobile clinic services the Chinese community today. How odd that I find working among Latin Americans easier than among the Chinese. Recently immigrated Chinese speak mostly Mandarin and expect other Chinese to be able to speak the national dialect. Cam, who is fluent in Mandarin, Cantonese, Vietnamese, and English keeps me in the loop.

I sacrifice my lungs for a good dose of French immersion. Nicolas has the illusion that I understand him perfectly and comments on my excellent French. I think he is slightly drunk. I do manage some deep discussions though. I learn about minimum wages and taxes in France. I am surprised to hear that the French finds Toronto expensive. I always thought that prices were higher in Paris.

May 8: The calm before the storm

Cycling does not seem to worsen my musculoskeletal woes. Even then, I try not to push too much. I meander through town in search of art. I drop into Contrast, one of many Contact Photography Festival showings.

http://www.scotiabankcontactphoto.com/

Getting into HotDocs, the other festival in town, is more difficult than expected. Hard to imagine documentaries being so popular. I line up for an hour for Adrian Ferran’s El Bulli screening with no luck. I am not too sorry, as today is too nice to spend in a theatre anyways. I cycle back to Harbourfront. I run into Genny while grocery shopping and end up with an impromptu visit sitting on new stone banks, just soaking in the sun--much more pleasant way to while away a Sunday afternoon than sitting in a dark theatre.

I cap off the day with a leisurely walk along Harbourfront. I am the only viewer of blown glass installations and photo essays at York Quay Centre. My neighbourhood will soon transform into a well-peopled vibrant art scene in the next few months.