ML and I flew to Toronto on Saturday, the 11th and returned the following Friday from Montreal. I’m not sure if we’ll be able to follow a self-imposed decree that mandates one international sojourn each year, but we have complied two consecutive years. Our Canadia journey proceeds vacationing in the Maya Riviera in March 2008. We plan to leave this continent some day. Some day…
We settled on eastern Canadia, splitting time between Toronto to visit HoJo and Montreal to get a flavor of western Europe without actually flying there. My one regret is that we spent too much time in Toronto (sorry HoJo), losing out on an opportunity to do a day trip to Quebec City. Ultimately, Toronto feels like any other major American city except for the fact that I wanted to pull aside everyone we encountered and ask, “Do you realize that you are Canadian?”
We had a lay over at JFK before reaching our first destination Saturday night. While en route to the hotel, ML ruefully announces that she has misplaced her passport. I assure her that she must have transferred it into her main luggage, nestled safely in the underbelly of the moving shuttle bus. ML is not convinced and appears a bit frantic, attempting in vain to hide the alarm that has now settled upon her face. I, on the other hand, am much more confident that her passport is secured in one of her bags. I felt this way because ML is the least forgetful, least absent-minded person I have ever met in my life. Apparently, Canadian ML is American ML’s doppelganger.
Canadia: 1, GreensandBrowns: 0
We scurry into the hotel lobby and rummage through her bags. Nothing. Her passport is gone. Mild concern quickly replaces first night excitement. We talk to a few people in the hotel and are instructed to file a police report. After unloading our bags, we make our way to the nearest Toronto police department. I am excited to meet the Mounties and pet their horses. We arrive; they are not Mounties. We waste our time filing a report that will make no impact on retrieving ML's passport. While the officer (not sure that they were actual cops as much as just hired administrative help) jots down relevant information, another "cop" begins to tell me about her brother that lives in San Francisco. He lives in Diamond Heights. He works for Sales Force on the Embarcadero. He used to live in Los Angeles. He may have worked for Google at one point or another. She is going for her second visit this August…
We leave the station a bit discouraged because Toronto’s finest won’t be able to help us at all. I really feel we need this guy to resolve our issue. Even worse, we are told that we won’t be able to settle the matter at the U.S. Consulate until Tuesday – the day we leave for Montreal – because Monday is a holiday. Which holiday you ask? You silly American. Easter Monday, of course. This makes perfect sense to me. I look forward to The Day After New Year's Day next year.
I read online that an emergency passport can be processed and created within 24 hours; everyone we talk to estimates a week or longer. ML acquiesces to an unfortunate fate and mentally makes plans to take the BAR exam in Canadia.
Being the great Catholics that we are, we cabbed to University of Toronto’s Newman Center to celebrate Easter Vigil mass and catch up with HoJo (Here is a good story about Hojo's calm demeanor - I call him prior to us walking to the police station and tell him that we may be late to mass because of the lost passport. I expect sympathy and some concern or shock. I get this: "OK. Well, you want to get there early if you want a seat. It will be crowded tonight...").
We endure the longest mass of all-time. The risen Lord would probably have wanted to take a cigarette break during this thing. Holy crap. I remain focused enough to lift up an earnest prayer to my Maker:
- For an overlooked pocket in ML's luggage containing the passport (scratch this, this is too selfish)
- For easy retrieval of ML's passport, preferably by way of a friendly Canadian Samaritan who will walk up to us and say, "I believe this belongs to you, eh." (scratch this, this is asking too much)
- For ML, that she may dutifully accept her new life in Canadia (scratch this as well)
- God's Will (ok, this will work)
Mass mercifully ends. (Did I mention that I am a great Catholic?) We finally meet up with HoJo and head with him and his people to a 24 hour pasta joint (It is past 2am by this point). I am eager to try some indigenous beer but am denied due to the late hour. I tell our server that it’s ok, “It’s only 11:30 in California.” She does not have a sense of humor.
Canadia: 2, GreensandBrowns: 0
On our drive home, ML comments that homeless people are not prominent like in San Francisco. Unwilling to concede anything to the United States, HoJo corrects her and proudly claims there are plenty of homeless people in Toronto. We stop at a red light and HoJo points at a man lying underneath a blue tarp on the sidewalk, trying in vain to keep warm from the cold. HoJo points at the homeless man and says, “See, there is a homeless man.”
Canadia: 3, GreensandBrowns: 0
The next day, HoJo picks us up at our hotel room and we begin a tour of the Greater Toronto Area. As we drive through various boroughs and districts, HoJo informs us of its history and the type of people that reside in each respective area. HoJo returned to his motherland a couple of years ago to commence a career as a real estate investor. He spent the better part of two days teaching us about the up and coming neighbourhoods in Toronto. I couldn't help but think he was just driving through various areas for his own research.
We eat lunch in Greek Town at a spot called Mega (This reminds me of a joke that a high school kid told me when I used to teach Sunday School - "What do you call a gay dinosaur? Mega-sore-ass" - we called him Mega from that day forward). HoJo tells us about the various ethnic ghettos that are established in Toronto. He wonders out loud why “Jew Town” or “Little Israeli” has yet to be officially recognized by the city. Jew Town.
HoJo: 1, Jews: 0
The day passes fairly quickly. Thus far, ML has been a really good sport about losing her passport and being forced to live out the rest of her days in Canadia.
We get back to the hotel and conduct a second barrage of phone calls to contact numbers we uncover on the internets. Lo and behold, the airport has a hold of her passport; she must have dropped it at some point after we passed through customs. Praise the risen Savior!
We dart to the airport and ask a woman at the information booth where to go for a lost and found passport. She asks us if it is a Kenyan passport. Huh? Kenyan. Perhaps we should be thankful for her not assuming we are missing a Chinese or Japanese passport. ML politely explains it's a U.S. one.
We reclaim the Precious.
Canadia: 3, GreensandBrowns: 1
There were other memorable happenings during the Toronto leg of our trip that have been carefully stored in photographs and memories. Thanks to HoJo for taking so much time out of his busy schedule (even hanging out with us on Easter Monday) and being such a terrific guide. See you in October!
Cuisine: Caribou pot pie (above), Greek style quail, East Indian style roti (ask me about this please!)
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2 comments:
this is funny. good job.
calm demeanor? thanks for the euphemism ;).
I'll make sure to bring some roti when I come in october (assuming customs allows me)
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