Hello Quatchi

I just looked at the pictures of the Vancouver Olympics mascots and boy do they ever remind me of the "Hello Kitty" paraphernalia that seems so ubiquitous in the Metrotown area when I lived there. I suspect the mascots will be big hits with the kids. I'm not sure if they will be as popular with the adults, though.

I suppose we should be thankful for small miracles though -- at least the mascots are (loosely) based on living creatures. The living creatures are: Quatchi,asasquatch; Miga, a "sea-bear" (half-orca, half-kermode bear); and Sumi, an animal spirit with the legs of a black bear and wings of a Thunderbird. There is also Mukmuk, a Vancouver Island marmot who is not an official mascot but who does act as their sidekick. (Sounds like a cheap excuse to sell a fourth stuffed doll to me, but tonight I am cynical.)

It could have been a lot worse. They could have made the official mascot an animated version of the inukshuk that serves as the logo for the games.

We Won!

It was not a particularly pretty Grey Cup, but the Saskatchewan Rough Riders won! No doubt they were aided by the fact that I watched the entire game and the half-time show. I reckon I'll be getting a Riders t-shirt in the mail for my valiant contribution.

Go, Green, Go

Tomorrow is the Grey Cup game and my team is playing in it. In fact, the Rough Riders are the favourites to win, although Winnipeg Blue Bomber fans dispute that vehemently.

Now, I am not a huge CFL fan. I watch the occasional game on TV (or rather, I watch parts of the occasional game), but I am not religious about it. Every year I threaten to buy some tickets to watch the Argos play the Riders, but to date the threats have been empty. However, if I were to watch football regularly, the CFL is the brand I would watch.

Anyhow, none of that matters on Grey Cup day. That's the day that once-a-year fans like me can enjoy the game as if we had watched it all season.

Morning Commute

6:51 The sun is beginning to creep up the eastern horizon, the layer of red and yellow and pale blue sky a pastel contrast to the rich, dark blue of the western sky. Five minutes ago the houses and the trees were all solid black silhouettes. Now the features and colours are starting to stand out.

6:53 It is a cold, crisp day, but pleasant none the less. The sharp stinging of wind borne snow was absent as I waited by the bus stop. And the bus arrived on time, unlike yesterday.

6:55 We just passed a Country Style doughnut shop. It reminded me of that painting, Night Hawks, by Edward Hopper. You know the one -- three patrons (one by himself, a man and woman together) sitting at the counter of a cafe while the cook reaches for something under the counter. The doughnut shop was not as dark, not as frightening. The man who read a newspaper while he drank his coffee would not have felt out of place in the painting.

6:57 Someone coughs at the front of the bus. Another person answers further back. The eastern sky is brighter now. The red tinge is gone and a light orange-yellow is smeared against a pale blue blanket. The sun is still low enough that the cell phone tower is silhouetted, looking for all the world like a small, functional Eiffel Tower.

6:59 Richmond Hill is a melange of churches and signs in Farsi. At last someone sits in the seat next to mine, so I close my book and rest my eyes.

Reaction to Winter

It snowed last night.

It snowed this morning.

It snowed this afternoon.

It is still snowing.

I miss Tanzania.

Commuter of the Day

It was raining today when I got out of the subway station. As might be expected, a lot of people opened up umbrellas as soon as they got to street level. One commuter in particular caught my eye -- where all the others had black or grey umbrellas, hers was a light pumpkin colour.

Another Day of Sadness

Yesterday two more Canadians died in Afghanistan. Corpoal Nicolas Beauchamp of the 5e Field Ambulance and Private Michel Levesque of the Royal 22e Regiment were killed by a roadside bomb, along with their Afghan interpreter, becoming the 72nd and 73rd Canadian soldiers killed in that country.

Every fatality we've suffered in Afghanistan has been a small tragedy, but there is something particularly sad about this particular incident. Private Levesque had just become engaged to his pregnant girlfriend. Corporal Beauchamp's wife is a Canadian military medic who is also serving in Afghanistan with him. And there is the unnamed interpreter who died alongside the troops. You can guarantee that he left grieving relatives.

Friday Evening, Dundas Square

Today's Concert Calendar

I almost think that I should rename this blog "The Street Musicians of Toronto", given the fact that I have written so much about buskers lately. Having said that, the most interesting part of my day involved not one but two musical acts.

The first was a group of five young Asian musicians playing near the King Street subway station. They were playing a forgettable medley of schmaltzy pop tunes, but there was something different about them that made me pay attention. Maybe it was the fact that the drummer had a suitcase in front of her snare drum. Maybe it was the languid manner in which the electric guitarist contributed to the melody line. Maybe it was the fact that the dominant instrument was the flute.

The second act -- and the one I actually gave some money to -- was an old black man playing saxophone at Sheppard Station. The upper level of the station is incredibly roomy, and the melancholic sounds expanded to fill the space. He played the most beautiful version of I Had The Craziest Dream that I have ever heard.

I can hardly wait to discover what kind of musicians haunt the streets of Hog Town tomorrow.

Piper at the Gates of Dusk

I was walking down Yonge Street after work heading to the subway station. A man in full highlander regalia was playing the bagpipes in front of the Eaton Centre, a slightly different twist on the traditional busker.

I say "slightly different" because one of the coolest aspects of Toronto life is the international flavour of the buskers. I have heard Caribbean steel drum bands, eastern Europe balalaika players, south Asian sitar musicians, Andean guitar-and-pan-flute ensembles, and reggae musicans on the streets of Toronto. And that is just the musicians who readily come to mind.

Random Beauty

I was getting ready to leave work today when I happened to look out the window towards the west. I am glad I did, because I saw an absolutely beautiful sunset. The blues and purples and pinks of the skies were framed by tall office buildings, and the centre piece of the whole vista was the spire of a church that rose between the towers.

Today's Commuter of Note

One of the things I like about taking public transit is the interesting range of people one sees. For example, I caught the subway at Queen Street station after work today. Although I was lucky enough to get a seat, a young man who got on at Dundas station was not so fortunate. He had to stand until a seat was freed up at York Mills.

If called upon to provide a detailed description the best I would be able to come up with is young guy, probably in his early twenties, dark medium length hair, and a bit shorter than me. No visible scars or tattoos, no distinguishing features, no unique clothing. In many ways he was the sort of anonymous commuter that fills the seats on the subways.

Well, he would have been anonymous except for one small fact -- he was carrying an accordion on his chest. I have no idea why he was carrying the accordion. Perhaps he was a busker. Possibly he was a member of an accordion marching band on his way to practice. Maybe he was on his way to or from accordion lessons. The possibilities seem boundless.

I suppose I could have asked him about the instrument, but in the end it doesn't really matter. It is enough that he was there, sitting on a busy subway car, resting an accordion on his chest. It's a sight you don't see in the suburbs.

New Job, New Perspective

I started a new job three weeks ago. Unlike my previous job, this job is deep in the heart of downtown Toronto. In other words, my ten minute walk to work has been replaced with a commute that is at least 90 minutes. Each way.

Some people might not think I made the right decision taking a job in the city. For a lot of people, the dream is to move out of the suburbs and find a good-paying job close to home. I guess I'm not like most people, though, because I have been dying to move back into the city for years.

I like the hustle and bustle of the city. I like the feel of downtown Toronto. I like the interesting mix of people I see every day. I like taking public transit. I even like being part of the crowd that waits on the subway platform during rush hour.

There is a beauty that is unique to cities. You walk down a street and look up, only to find yourself in a canyon of sky scrapers. You turn a corner and find yourself in a sea of people. You emerge from the subway station and hear the sound of street musicians playing salsa music on the corner.

It is early days still, but I am happy with my decision.

Remembrance Day, 2007

Poem: Veterans

Veterans

One mild November
When I was a child
I watched the old men
Gather in the park.
I talked to the old guy
Who spent Easter morning
At Vimy Ridge.
“What was it like, sir?”
I managed to ask.
“Noisy,” he said
And he went back
To sucking a biscuit.

(c) J S Phillips

The Plagiarist Strike of '07

Hollywood's television writers are on strike at the moment. According to some analysts, this will mean television programs run out of new episodes within weeks. Well, all I can say is that it could not possibly reduce the amount of creativity on the air.

I am watching Numbers right now, and the detectives are involved in tracking a murderous criminal in a simulated reality in cyberspace. Wow, what an original idea! At least, it was when we saw it on CSI: New York and Law and Order. Who knows, if the strike had not happened we might have seen the scenario raise its head on the The Simpsons.

It's Here

It snowed last night. In fact, there was still snow on the ground when I left for work this morning. The warm temperatures of two weeks ago are a thing of the past. Soon the leaves that I photographed will be nothing more than moist, broken fragments on the ground. I guess winter is here.

Priorities

I just started a job in downtown Toronto, which means a rather hefty commute both ways. The net result is that I have gone from having lots of spare time to having very little. This, in turn, has forced me to prioritize how I spend that spare time.

I had considered watching CSI: Miami but I only usually watch it to see how cheesy the acting and writing will be. My days are too short for that, so tonight I am listening to some acoustic Brazilian music and reading a book. I think I made the right choice.

Leave the Poor Guy Alone Already

What is it with King Tutankhamun lately? A few weeks ago he was in the news because a new documentary was claiming to know the real reason of his early death. Today, there is a news story about how his face is now visible for the first time in 3,000 years. That's right, folks, the face of his mummy is now visible behind the glass of a humidity-controlled case. At last we have a mummy for the 21st Century.

The Last Rose of Summer

I came upon this flower as I walked this morning in search of photographs. It is, perhaps, the last blossom we will see before the rains and snows of winter arrive. As I took this photograph I was reminded of the first verse of the Irish poet Thomas Moore's beautiful song:

'Tis the last rose of summer
Left blooming alone;

All her lovely companions

Are faded and gone;

No flower of her kindred,

No rodebud is nigh,

To reflect back her blushes,

To give sigh for sigh.

Today's Playlist

I was in the mood for something different, so tonight I am listening to songs sung in French. Not that I speak French. Having spent most of my high school years in American schools that did not offer French, I have never acquired much beyond "Bon jour", "Merci", and "Tout le fruit". I do, however, like the sound of the language.

Here's what's on the playlist :

• San Franciso - Mouloud
• Si la Photo est Bonne - Barbara
• Pop Art - Rouge Rouge
• Sang d'Encre - Jean Le Loup
• Jungle Man - La Phaze
• Eternelle - Brigitte Fontaine
• L'Ere des Effets Secondaires - Roche, Roche
• Isabelle - Jean Le Loup
• La Boob Oscilator - Stereolab
• Lebanese Blonde (French version) - Thievery Corporation
• L'Amour Est Sans Pitie - Jean Le Loup
• Parisien du Nord - Cheb Mami
• Sympathique - Pink Martini
• Vadzimu - Peace of Ebony
• Valse des Hypocrites - Mathieu Gaudet
• Voulez-Vous? - Arling & Cameron
• Cache Cache - Rouge, Rouge
• Edgar - Jean Le Loup

I know, Parisien du Nord is primarily in Arabic but the rap portion is in French so it made it onto the list. As for Jean Le Loup's repeated appearance on the list, what can I say? The man is fantastic.