Frozen in Toronto

Before I sprinkle yet more linguistic confetti into cyber space, I would like to make a frank, albeit less-than-ladylike confession: My enthusiasm for campsite showering correlates entirely with the weather. Whilst there are no signs of eau de Mitsubishi just yet, I am prepared to take a leave of social absence should the temperature drop any further. I have several friends that would be mortified by this admission (mosts notably the immaculate Marianne), but I’m afraid if it’s a choice between my extremities and social propriety, I’d chose the former all day long.

If it wasn’t for Lucan’s friend Eric, my abstinence from showering would have most definitely been tested in Buffalo. Less that twenty-four hours after leaving the area, five foot of snow fell, obliterating windows and turning houses into multi-storey igloos. It is possible that without his generous offer of a bed and shower (which ran hot and constant) we might have stayed the night in our van, resulting in two very frozen gypsies. So for that, I am eternally grateful; Eric, you quite literally saved our lives!

Our trip into downtown Toronto wasn’t so much an act of defiance, but an expression of enthusiasm for a city that inspired, in spite of the icy roads and bitter winds. Our exit from the highway was an entry into chaos, festive chaos that is. Santa was in town for his annual parade as was everyone under the age of twelve. The streets were teeming with multi-coloured knit sets and rubber boots, which was the very least you needed to survive the four hour for our favourite man in red. When he eventually did show his rosy cheeks, the place erupted; children were ecstatic, parents were elated and I was relieved that my digits were still all in tact. Thankfully there was pho at hand to help thaw us out, but it has to be said, it was no match for those whipped up at chez Conor. (I hope it’s not too late to add pho for christmas dinner to my wish list.)

The rest of our time in the city was spent ambling along Queen Street and fastidiously foraging through the vintage stores of Kensington Market. To recuperate we spent the first evening in Java, a fun little bar where your boyfriend can drink until he loses all rational thought and convinces himself that he needs to buy 94 full size chocolate bars.

The following evening was a more refined affair, spent at the beautiful home of a rather wonderful friend I made in Sydney. Whilst it only took a five minute conversation to form the bond, I truly believe it’s one that will last a lifetime. And not only with Jordan, but her best friends Amanda as well. Honestly, the only thing more gorgeous than what you see on the outside, is all the beauty that these two girls have within. Two years have passed since I last saw them, and yet it felt like I’d just opened my eyes from a blink. I’m going to take this opportunity to thank Amanda, Jordan and Brenda for all the effort they went to, to create such a beautiful evening. We appreciated everything, from the smiles to the french pastries and all the wonderful stories we got to hear. That night really was a testament to the beauty of traveling and the magic of friendships, particularly those formed so far away from home.