my "coming home" to Newfoundland

One of the difficult aspects about growing up in southern Ontario is grappling with what some have referred to as the Canadian identity crisis. Endless books, blogs, essays (including this one) have been devoted to lamenting "just what exactly is a Canadian?"

There are some groups of people for whom this is not a problem: the Québécois is one of the more obvious that comes to mind. I would also imagine that different First Nations groups, such as the Inuit, don't really struggle with the Canadian identity either. This is because identity, to these folk, is attached to the Québécois and Inuit cultures, and not to an ethereal "Canadianness." What Canadians don't realise is that each of these are our cultures. Canadians should not be defined by qualities common to all citizens; Canadians should be defined by the celebration of the multitude of subcultures within our national borders.

Newfoundland is home to another subculture that emerged from a province late in joining Confederation (not "being Canadian" is still well within living memory), as well as a province that is removed, both geographically and (I think as a result) metaphysically. This relative isolation, alongside the special relationship Newfoundlanders have with the sea, fostered an intense amount of community-building and island-specific culture that survives to this day. Some examples I witnessed first hand on my recent visit:

• an entire room will slowly tap their feet to a rousing mandolin performance
  
• the colourful local language and turns of phrase
  
• the flying of the "pink, white and green," the unofficial flag of Newfoundland
  
• fishermen will hum along with the traditional songs that they can hear coming over the water
  
• the art and crafts (even some of the local, non-tourist work) that reflects iconic Newfoundland images
  
• the deep desire to "come home" back to Newfoundland after any time away on the mainland

So in response to that lack-of-identity instilled upon me in southern Ontario, I find myself compellingly drawn to Newfoundland because I'm discovering what I consider to be a piece of my Canadian identity. This was only my second visit, but I'm already looking forward to my next chance to "come home."

missing

I've kind of disappeared, didn't I? And to tell you the truth, I'm not really sure when I'm going to be coming back. The thing is I'm no longer enamoured with this "daily" thing. It has lost its sincerity. But I *do* have things I want to tell you, about the people I've seen and the places I've been, and there *are* thoughts in my head that I would love to get out; I'm just currently struggling with the process of expressing myself.

So really what I'm saying is: I think there is more to come (less often, more substance). But when, I'm not so sure. Hopefully you'll still be around.

Toronto skyline (east view)

Toronto, I love you.

CONSUMED: 333 Adelaide St East; Moss Park

photo/art by Thomas Allen

I know you've seen his work: vintage paperback covers X-acto knifed into melodramatic dioramas. I've been seeing them all over the place (here, here and most recently here). It was showing up so often that I became worried that someone was stealing his bit. But no no, it's all him. If I had the money, I would definitely purchase one of his stunning prints. In the meantime, I'll resign myself to lusting over my pirated self-made desktop wallpapers.

CONSUMED: various media, including the covers for (a) Laura Rider's Masterpiece by Jane Hamilton, (b) the May 2009 issue of the Walrus Magazine, and (c) Born Ruffians' most recent album Red Yellow & Blue

Delancey "bike bus"

When my rear axle broke, that incredibly unlikely accident, it happened when I was coming down off the Williamsburg Bridge in the middle of Delancey. Thank goodness it happened when the traffic behind me had stopped, and not as I was dodging cars. The thing is there isn't a bike lane on Delancey, a straight and speedy through-fare that delivers Brooklynites into lower Manhattan. WIthout this little piece of infrastructure, cyclists are forced to weave in and out of the cacophonous car traffic coming off the bridge.

It was this, as well as hearing other less adventurous riders express their hesitation in riding in Manhattan, that got me riled up for this very simple demonstration organised by Marin with Transportation Alternatives. We started at the corner of Chrystie and Delancey, and once we had the light, we rode as a pack (aka a "bike bus") into the centre lane, where we coasted all the way down Delancey to the entrance to the bridge.

To our surprise, no one honked, the officers directing traffic smiled at us (we obeyed all traffic lights), and we picked up a few commuters here and there and escorted them to their destination. It was a really fun and positive awareness action, and I really wished I had more Monday evenings to contribute.

CONUSMED: Delancey Avenue, between Chrystie and the Williamsburg Bridge (Manhattan)

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If you want to get involved, they are doing it the 1st and 3rd Mondays of the months in the summer. Just show up at the corner of Delancey and Chrystie at 6pm of afterwards. You can also in touch with Transportation Alternatives for more info.

honey lavender shake

Honey lavender (or toasted marshmallow, depending on your mood) shake in Washington Square Park? It's just shy of the goodness of a coffee shake in Madison Square Park (but it avoids the 90+ minute line).

CONSUMED: Stand; 24 E 12th St, Greenwich Village (Manhattan)

Death & Co.

Death & Co. is legendary amongst the speakeasy cocktail circles, or so I've heard. I've also heard that D&C was meant for a more reserved clientele, keeping the number of guests strictly to the number of seats (i.e. no standing spots). This is only half true. When Laura and I tried to go there for the last stop of our lovely evening together, we were almost denied entry because of the lack of seating. The person at the door said he would have to take our number and call if/when there was space. Fate smiled on us at that exact moment and two people came through the heavy stained wooden door, leaving us two seats at the bar.

Instead of a quiet, intimate affair, Laura and I were greeted with a loud, raucous crowd. Nonplussed, we took our seats and peered over the drink menu. I ended up choosing a whiskey sour-like number, The Faithful Scotsman, in honour of my company that night. Laura asked the bartender to throw something together for her (which was also tasty, made from the brambles after which it was named). However, despite the fascination I had with the mixologists' library of tinctures, I wasn't convinced of the virtues of the establishment. Perhaps I'm just one for a sparsely populated dive bar with a good local brew on tap.

CONSUMED: Death & Co.; 433 E 6th St, East Village (Manhattan)

Andrew Bird (at Radio City Music Hall)

Nothing says "whimsy" to me more than the music of Andrew Bird. "Brilliance" also comes to mind. And his show at Radio City Music Hall was nothing short of brilliant. Each piece was crafted in layers (of both violin and whistling!) and slightly reinterpreted from the recording. With each song entrance, it took a few moments — a sort of musical trivia game — to figure out which song he was launching. And satisfaction of the epiphany, the swell of excitement with the moment of recognition ... well it was such a wonderful way to experience a concert.

CONSUMED: Radio City Music Hall; 1260 6th Ave, Midtown (Manhattan)

Economy Candy

I'm only ever down in the LES in the evenings, apparently, because this was the first time in nearly five years that I ever saw Economy Candy without its grill pulled down. I tried in vain to find my favourite British blackcurrant pastilles. I seemed to have over-estimated the store; all they seemed to have were American (albeit often nostalgic American) products. Sour watermelon slices would have to do.

CONSUMED: Economy Candy; 108 Rivington St, Lower East Side (Manhattan)

New York City

Dear NYC,

I know we've had our differences over the years. But despite our tumultuous times, we really nailed it in the end, didn't we? At least I feel that way. There are so many things that I want to say to you, but I can't bear to say out loud because, well to tell you the truth, the only way I've been able to cope these past few days/weeks/months is through denial. So rather than listen to me fall apart in front of you, just know that you will always be there with me as I leave you. And know that I'll visit soon. Because yeah, you're that good.

Thanks for the good times; and even some of the bad. All the best.

CONSUMED: New York City, for the past 5 years

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Dear Canada: Oh how I've missed you so. C'mere you.

The Doughnut Plant

I don't understand why the Doughnut Plant is not a legendary institution, considering the love New Yorkers have for their sugar (see: cupcakes, frozen custards, shakes, cheesecake). But it seems that no one knows (or at least the small sample size that I've told) about the Doughnut Plant and their fancy donuts. Tres leches? Yum. Peanut butter and jelly? Bizarre but satisfying. Crème brülée? Oh for god sake stop your tempting and give them to me already!

CONSUMED: The Doughtnut Plant; 379 Grand St, Lower East Side (Manhattan)

The High Line

I have a crush on the High Line.

It was nearly 4 years ago when I was first told about the prospect of turning the raised railway line into a public park. I and a few adventurous friends took a self-guided tour of the northern segment, starting at the sloping ramp that frames the westside rail yards, shimmying under the corrugated metal siding meant to keep out trespassers, and walking as far as 25th street where the neighbouring buildings squeeze the line from both sides.

Then I saw the design plans. And I was smitten.

I thought I wouldn't get to see the park before leaving the city, believing the red tape would hamper its proposed June 2009 opening. However the Friends of the High Line delivered and opened the first section of the park to the public a few weeks ago. And yesterday, I got to walk along those old rail ties with Katie and Virginia. My infatuation grew with each step as I witnessed the attention to detail in the perfect execution of the proposed design. I am looking forward to the completion of the park, even though I myself may not get to enjoy as often as I would like.

CONSUMED: The High Line; Meatpacking District/Chelsea (Manhattan)

MJ tribute

So it's already clichéd to post a tribute to Michael Jackson. But you know what? He fuckin' deserves this praise, even if it's being done posthumously. What's even more awesome? People are remembering Michael for his peerless brilliance and not for any of the shit that has gone down in the past 15 or so years. Michael, wherever you are, know that you touched so many, and that you have left us with an incredible legacy that we will be proud and honoured to parade until the end of our history.

CONSUMED: various bars and walking the streets of Brooklyn

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P.S. Apologies for my failure to blog over the past couple days. I could say I was all torn up about Michael's death, but really I've just been very distracted. Anyway, I will try to do better in the future.
P.P.S. Best Xmas album ever (and my favourite memory of MJ) = the Jackson 5 Christmas. Oh shit, maybe I'm giving away a future post....

WNYC tote bag

I know I shouldn't admit this, but part of the reason why I decided to pledge WNYC is so I could get this tote that I can use-slash-flaunt around San Diego. Yeah, lamest reason. But whatever gets me to give, eh Soterios?

CONSUMED: on my bedside radio every morning when I wake up

Diner

OK folks, it's official. Diner is my favourite restaurant in all of New York. It is, admittedly, a completely biased judgment, but one that I will maintain as long as it remains open.

I shared my first Diner experience with Katie and Emily. Both Katie and I, Diner virgins, were floored by the food. And for reasons that remain a mystery (we think it was because Katie whipped out her camera, thereby making us look like food journalists/bloggers?), we scored free desserts that night. I remember falling a little in love with our server, and a lot in love with the restaurant.

My last (?) Diner meal was last night with my roommate, Dory. It was sort of a last roommate hurrah as Dory is going to leave this week, just a few days before I depart from New York for good. I asked to sit in the booth that Katie, Emily and I had shared one year prior. And once again, we had an incredibly gracious server, matched with plates "compliments of the kitchen" (this time, the thanks goes to Ken!). Every dish was fantastic, and Dory and I left sated beyond what our belt buckles would allow.

Thankfully, it appears that the Diner family is still thriving (they recently got the cover of Saveur, article here; moreover the place was completely packed last night, a Tuesday night!). So I am looking forward to making this my favoured drop-in when visiting the city in the many years to come.

CONSUMED: Diner; 85 Broadway, Southside Williamsburg (Brooklyn)

to-go margaritas

One of the most brilliant ideas to ever come out of Williamsburg (the land of the drunkards, apparently) are putting margaritas in to-go styrofoam cups so that you can bring the party to the park when it's drop-dead gorgeous outside. I'm sure the police know; for some reason, they turn blind eyes.

CONSUMED: Turkey's Nest Tavern, then McCarren Park; Bedford and N11th, Williamsburg (Brooklyn)

sunset

Our rooftop can provide a beautiful skylined sunset ... if you crop out the billboards that infringe upon your view. (There are apparently two types of people: those that can ignore ugly billboards, and those that can't.) I particularly enjoy watching the JMZ train snake its way slowly across the Williamsburg Bridge. Also a rooftop must? A cold bottle of Brooklyn Lager.

CONSUMED: my rooftop; Southside Williamsburg (Brooklyn)

East West Quintet (at Joe's Pub)

One of the kids that I know from Brooklyn is a musician. A real bonafide musician. It blows me away, actually, that people can indeed make it on their talent in this outrageously expensive city. Simon pays the bills with Broadway show gigs and giving guitar lessons; but his real deal is his band, East West Quintet.

So I was extremely proud to be there when Simon's band put on their CD release show at Joe's Pub. It was the tightest I've ever heard them play, and they seriously packed the place. Even more impressive is how these guys self-released their new album after their label went belly-up. It just goes to show how invested these kids are to their craft.

CONSUMED: Joe's Pub; 425 Lafayette St, NoHo (Manhattan)

tuna melt

I had the first tuna melt of my life when we stopped at the Monticello Diner on our way to Buffalo via the scenic Route 17. I made the poor decision to replace the American cheese with cheddar; the sandwich would have done better with a milder cheese. Suffice to say that it tasted exactly as it looked.

CONSUMED: Monticello Diner; 405 Broadway, Monticello, NY‎

the pedestrianisation of Times Square

On Memorial Day weekend, New York's Department of of Transportation rolled out an new street plan for Times Square and Herald Square (by Macy's). It basically involves closing off Broadway as it cuts diagonally through both of these squares, and turning the road into new pedestrian space.

The final space will have a new gravel-like tarmac with tables and chairs for the tourists to rest their weary legs, unaccustomed to the rigours of the New York pedestrian lifestyle. But for the moment, the area is littered with bright jewel-toned plastic lawnchairs. As someone who loathes Times Square for its crowded sidewalks, I am hoping this new development will open up the space, allowing bustling New Yorkers to peacefully coexist with lingering tourists.

CONSUMED: Times Square, Midtown (Manhattan)