There’s something very Edward Gorey-esque about Allan Gardens that keeps me coming back. Maybe it’s the moody Victorian atmosphere that they invoke, or maybe it’s the holiday weekend crowds — they can be murder. For Sarah it’s all about those sinister turtles.
Throw a little sunshine in and it’s not a bad way to get to work. Here’s my morning car dodge in near real-time: Allan Gardens -> Pembroke Street -> Moss Park -> George Street -> Richmond Street -> Jarvis Street -> Queen’s Quay -> anon and yonder
Every once in a while a well-meaning relative or friend asks me, “why don’t you come and live out here?”
Part of the answer is in the question, really, isn’t it?
“Out here”.
“Out” can be nice, sure – for a visit — but “in” is definitely more my style. Yet often that’s a bit too abstract to be accepted as an answer. Not like you can’t get good doughnuts out in Whitby or a decent cup of coffee in Burlington. I’m convinced you can even get a good Greek meal out in the far-flung mining town of Sudbury. And the people? Yeah, sure, I bet they’re not all backwoods rapists and gun-toting hillbillies. Somehow, though, the context lacks poetry.
So in lieu of a concrete explanation, I hope to use this post to paint a picture. Perhaps I can print it off and simply hand it over next time the question is put to me – save me having to put up half-smiles and awkward references to twanging banjos.
…continued from previous part.
It’s mostly the rhetoric and misinformation guiding the protest that I take exception to. After all, people were just expressing themselves and exercising their right to peaceful protest which, much to John Clarke’s chagrin, ended up actually being peaceful. There were a few arrests made along the route, that’s true, but I suspect they involved the kind of people that would get arrested any old day, protest or not.
For most of us on the street the Friday afternoon was more like a parade.
I had to see it for myself, dear reader. I knew that nothing like it would be in town for, potentially, the rest of my life. So I had to see it for myself.
I am, of course, referring to the G20 summit that shut down most of Toronto over the weekend. I’m sure most people are now well aware of the outrageous costs surrounding the event and I wanted to see what kind of security that kind of money could buy. Even more than that, I wanted to see how the situation would be handled.
At every one of these meetings there are accusations of police brutality, protest situations getting out of hand, riot police, riot police, and more riot police. I needed to see the instigators for myself and not have to rely on either the media, the police, or the protesters for the facts – they could be quite skewed in all directions. The only way I can say anything with authority is to be right there between the riot police and the balaclava’d opposition.
But I’m getting a little ahead of myself. Lots of stuff happened over the weekend but plenty happened before that. There were a number of protest marches and demonstrations throughout the city that, unfortunately, were lost in the subsequent shuffle. There were also a couple of related news items that I think are worth mentioning.
Despite some of the images you may have seen coming out of Toronto over the past few days, the vast majority of the protests and protesters were entirely peaceful.
Yes, the G20 protests are in full swing and there are photos and stories. However, I have another full day tomorrow and I somehow got myself involved with a Tweet20 meeting (you may be able to guess what’s that’s about).
So, until I get a chance to sit down and do it up properly, here’s the OCAP-led (Ontario Coalition Against Poverty), protest in hastily slapped-together videos.
My favourite was when the riot police came out in formation. :D
Everyone gathered at Allan Gardens…
My ex-wife used to call me a critical [replace with colourful afjective]. I’m starting to think she may be right.
I mean, the G20 meeting is easy to criticize. The cost, the purpose (or lack thereof), the way the rights of the citizens of Toronto are seemingly being shoved aside without regard; yeah, that all needs to be questioned.
Now more than ever, it seems.
Folks who follow my tweets will no doubt have read about my concerns about the seeming lack of any legal basis for any of the security restrictions. And that’s not just me saying that. Plus, I’ve been asking police what laws I’d be breaking should I breach the security barriers or if I fail to comply with their demands. Not that I necessarily plan to do so, but I’m deeply troubled by the fact that the police themselves don’t know what, specifically, they’re enforcing. If there’s a law (or laws), so be it — if I don’t like it then there’s a system through which it can be changed. But if there is no law…
In other words, if I was put into handcuffs, what would I be charged with? Keeping the peace, protecting private property, these things I understand and respect, but I want to be assured that I can’t be detained for no other reason than “heightened security”. That’s not a law, that’s an excuse, and a very dangerous one at that.
And that’s no longer just my pontification on the subject.
In the middle of the afternoon yesterday I heard about an impromptu protest being staged by the Toronto Community Mobilization Network, a group playing host to many of the protesters coming to the city. They started their march in Allan Gardens, moved down adjacent Sherbourne Street, and were routed west along Dundas by police until they decided to “take over” an Esso gas station at Jarvis. This route wasn’t planned in any way and by the time I got to Sherbourne the group was gone. I though they might’ve moved farther south so I continued along Sherbourne to Queen Street East. There I spotted a number of unmarked vehicles carrying riot police – must be the spot the protesters are heading towards, I thought.
This morning, on my way through Allan Gardens to get my daily jitter, I noticed a City of Toronto truck parked smack in the center of the central path with a curly-haired city employee standing beside it waving down passing cyclists. After a brief lecture the cyclists all dismounted and walked their bikes until over-the-shoulder glances confirmed that the guy was no longer looking, at which point they got back on and rode off.
“What gives?”, was my initial reaction, but without a jolt of caffeine and the other magical energy ingredients found in my canned morning concoction, I’m pretty much useless at that time of day, so that’s as far as that line of questioning went.
But once I got back to the flat and downed all 473 millilitres of liquid inspiration it suddenly dawned on me that something in the park was amiss, so I grabbed my camera and my curiosity and headed back.
After the last few days, I kinda felt like I needed to escape to a calmer space for a bit. To some place filled with the smell of the nutrient-rich poop of thousands of microscopic organisms healthily digesting vegetal material. Good, healthy soil kinda place. With plants stuck in it. So, since I hadn’t been to Allan Gardens in a while, I thought I’d give it another go.
As usual, the place was transcendent:
Here’s the online thesaurus:
baking, blazing, blistering, boiling, broiling,burning, calescent, close, decalescent, febrile, fevered, feverish, feverous, fiery, flaming, heated, humid, igneous, incandescent, like an oven, on fire, ovenlike, parching, piping, recalescent, red, roasting, scalding, scorching, etc.
I believe they’re all applicable. Except maybe calescent (and its cousins), because it’s supposed to mean “growing warm” and it’s way too obscure besides.
Oh, sorry, I’m talking about this past weekend. And today. Probably tomorrow too. And for a few more days beyond that.
It’s hat. That’s hot said with a mouth that’s too hot and tired to form a proper “o” sound. If you start off hissing like a cat, you’ve got it bang on.
The right uppercut is the heat, the repeated left jab is the humidity. I was down for the count since Saturday morning, hardly able to peel myself off the sofa where my new window fan is paying dividends! I actually fantasized about having this fan last summer, kind of like a heat-induced delirium. So I got one this year. But she struggles. I have a neat little neo-vintage desk fan too, but that one’s been dropped a few times and now makes all sorts of interesting, potentially explosive noises. I keep it on at night. That way, when it happens, I die in my sleep. Groovy.
So, what would cause me to grab the fifth shower of the day and begin contemplating venturing out? Have a listen for yourself:
(If you don’t see anything, you might need Flash installed [my bread and butter; 100% legit, I promise], so click here to install it. Then just reload. )
If you invested in a good set of computer speakers or, failing that, headphones, you should be good. And turn it down a couple of notches; it’s supposed to be ambient :)
What you’re hearing …
What? You didn’t start it playing? Just hit the little triangle! Jeez, what’re you saving your bytes for a rainy day or something?
…good. Thank you.
What you’re hearing is an unpublicized event that took place in Allan Gardens park, obviously not too far from my place. Judging by the signage, the show was put on by the Carpenters’ Union. They had a couple of politicians show up, and I have no idea what it was for. My best guess would be that it was just a union summer picnic with a talent show tacked on. If you read casually, as I do, you’re probably hearing the results of that talent show now. (You did start the audio, didn’t you?)
The first chunk was a bit of bad (in the Michael Jackson sense) bidness that was the deal breaker for me. Had to go check it out. Looped riddims and live vocals:
Yup. Hurt my pelvis a couple of times. Good stuff.
And then there were some rather fierce Punjabis. Or Pakistanis? I must confess my ignorance here and if anyone can correct me, I’d be much obliged. In any event, they beat up on the stage pretty good:
My elbow still hurts from resting it on that red strip. Thanks, guys!
I was going to leave after that; the following act were some young ladies showing off their choreographed Beyonce moves and, I must say, I didn’t approve. Terrible. No photo for you!
But then, about thirty minutes in (you can fast-forward in the audio player), comes the saving grace. A local Toronto busker named Smokie. Smoky? Yup; he’s that local:
I’m gonna go with Smoky. Again, corrections welcome.
Anyway, he really ripped up the stage; while I was busting a sweat pressing the trigger. Even more impressive, Smoky’s daughters and sons barely broke a sweat either:
Truth be told, aside from the drummer and Smoky, the act was a lot more demure. Well, except for the way those girls slapped those guitars; they should be ashamed of themselves!
So at this point, if you hadn’t pressed play on the audio player, you’ll be missing out on the performance that Smoky and his family put on. It’s a bit quiet, but you’ll get the gist of it. It was … awesome.
Okay, I know he probably sang the same tunes every week busking at Yonge and Dundas. But c’mon, with that much practice, he’s got it down!
Hands-down winner. I’ll see if I can crack a web address out of him next time.
Right. And that’s it. Too hot to do anything else. Back to the flat, plunk down on the sofa, and grow roots.
Now if you’ll excuse me …
... with pictures
... with sounds
... with videos
... with opinions
... that's shorter
... that's longer