Toronto: Memories of winter

Winter started with a snowstorm which slowed the downtown traffic to a crawl. University Ave could not be seen any more under the stripes of white, grey and black. Slush was at all the curbs, threatening to send you on a wild slip-spin adventure. I dug out my Sorels which I had inherited from the universe via Toronto Western Hospital, and wore them every day (sometimes they were so warm my feet would sweat). I bought a $20 parka from Value Village and wore it religiously, initially with layers like I am used to in winter, but finally realising that even a T-shirt with this parka on was too warm. Amongst other thrift shop bargains I found a $3 woollen scarf in my favourite lost beige colour (A had a jumper in this shade that I would steal from him and wear again ad again). So that was my winter wardrobe, and surprisingly just like the rest of my minimalism experiment, it is fine just to wear the same things again and again.

As December progressed, the light became more and more lost. I would go to work in the dark, and most days also go home in the dark. Looking out the window during the day, a uniform blanket of grey would greet me. I felt depressed by the weather. At the same time I worked an insane block of 17 days with just one day off (including 4 24-hour calls). Around this time I felt like everything was unravelling, like a loose thread pulled so hard that the yarn of your knitted sweater just starts to disintegrate. Each day I got up feeling a little worse than the last, and I was afraid that the slip would not abate. During this time I was so thankful for the small things that kept my head above water – a little music here and there, some nice food, P who stepped in and became a steadfast support. But still, I worried about the strain that struggled to be contained within me, and about the darkness that threatened to take over my life. Thankfully this time passed when the physical hardship of that horrible work arrangement passed. I started to speak to people about seasonal affective disorder and found that even Canadians often felt affected by the weather.

I had a wonderful 5 day mini block off over new years. One day I went out with friend #1 and her sister to Hardwood for cross country skiing. It was so wonderful to be out in the snowy forest with fresh snow falling gently. I gave up and snow-walked my way to a rambling path where I could enjoy the beauty of nature alone. I made a snowman at the junction of a path, paused to chat with a few people, and ultimately snow-walked back to the chalet where the hot chocolate had never tasted so delicious. Another day I went to piano quintets (Mozart, Dvorak and a little Schumann) but we were so bad the pianist left in disgust (poor girl, it must be so hard on the soul to be so serious). We had tea and regrouped as a string quartet, and enjoyed a little Beethoven. We enjoyed playing so much that we forgot to eat lunch.

On New Years eve, I had all my friends over for a couch party, knowing this would be my only new years in Toronto. We started out mashing at #3’s house, then migrated to my place for endless rounds of food. We made our own dumplings and savoured them though the skins were inedibly thick and chewy. A chocolate and ginger cake and a pineapple upside down cake set each other off well. Then we made glutinous rice dumplings which turned out much better than expected. We celebrated the new year with some expensive champagne and continued talking into the morning, napping in various corners of the house. The next day the party finished after lunch with a chocolate fondue, and we went to EE’s house to pick up her piano, the best welcome to 2017 present.

Toronto: Memories of fall

The weather was unusual this fall. Initially around Thanksgiving we had a few cold days and Richmond Hill even had some snow. Then it warmed up again and we had a few weeks of nice weather before it got properly cold. So my dad was lucky that it was warm-ish for most of his visit.

One day we went up to Algonquin, a pretty long roadtrip but one of the most spectacular I have ever taken. In October, the leaves turn incredibly vibrant shades of red and yellow. We missed the peak of the reds but the orange and yellow were just as amazing. The drive there was beautiful, with whole swathes of colour lighting up the highway. We stopped at the Bethune house and felt inspired by his spirit. The drive through Huntsville to the trans-Algonquin way was surreal, the colours felt like they were out of this world. When I had visited with P we had just gone to a few areas, so this time we tried to visit a few more. We ended up having lunch by a tranquil lake, and we had the whole place to ourselves for about 3s0 minutes before someone else showed up. Pure magic, to soak up the sunshine, watching the water gently lapping at the shore, the trees in the distance lit up like fire. We made our own banh mi style sandwiches with pumpkin, tomato and boiled egg. It felt just perfect. After lunch we drove around some more and did a short walk through the forest. We were tired as we started heading back, but the sun setting low also gave us a different perspective on the leaves. Nearly running out of petrol between Bancroft and Peterborough was not fun though!

E was here briefly on her honeymoon. We spent Thanksgiving weekend together at #1’s brother’s place, and the day after we went apple picking which was so much fun. We wandered through the orchards stuffing ourselves with different varieties of apples, and of course went home with huge bags of apples.

Then dad went on his own to Montreal/Quebec on a Chinese bus tour, and had a good time. He went to Niagara falls too, 23 years after the last time he was on the US side. When I wasn’t working we went to different places in Toronto – leaf rolling in High park was particularly fun, and Scarborough bluffs was really beautiful. Before long his visit was over, and we settled into a slightly more dreary November.

Through summer and fall, my music fun activities really started to pick up. I had moved here with no music, having once made a scrapbook but then annoyingly lost it. I started out playing the Beethoven spring sonata with #3, then we moved onto playing other things like the Bach double concerto, some Mozart violin sonatas… and finally one day we decided to play a trio with her brother, who I had met when my laptop died in August. We started the doofus trio, mashing all the music that we could find, like the Mendelssohn piano trios. One time when my dad was here, he came for a little “concert” where we played and laughed. We each played a violin solo – I played the Romance in F, #3 played the Accolay concerto and her brother the Praeludium & Allegro (what a virtuostic performance!) We also mashed the butterfly lovers, and I think my dad had a really great time. Another time he came to hear just #3 and me play – she played the Swan, air on G and Vocalise on cello, then I played the spring sonata, and finally we did some piano duets. This is just a little snapshot of everything we have done, but it has been some phenomenal fun.

The last weekend in November, I went to Quebec City for a long weekend. I flew out post call into the magic snowy world – I somehow arrived on the first day of snow! I stayed in a cute little house slightly out of town owned by an eccentric man Maxime who had a map of all the people who had airbnb’ed in his house. I went for long drives in the snow out to the country, and went for a snowy walk near Montmorency falls. I felt like I was in another world. I spent a day wandering through old Quebec city, a charming little town with a European feel. Ate a ridiculous amount of poutine. It felt wonderful travelling again and exploring.

A few weeks later, I went to New York city just before it got too cold. For Australians it is strange to fly an hour and be in another country, but America is so close here that you can feel it everywhere. Getting in from Newark, surrounded by people listening to awful noise (“music”) and shouting at each other on the train, I felt distinctly that I had left the gentle Canadia for a more crazy country. New York is big, crowded and rushed. People stare if you dawdle, and push past as if they had better things to do than be held up by a lost soul. I met with friend #3 and we trawled the city eating here and there, poking our head into places. I visited MoMA, a place that I had dreamt about since I was a teenager, and was awed by the collections all under one roof. The most striking piece for me was a naked woman sitting contemplatively, peering into a mirror in which she was black and white, and somewhat distorted. Isn’t this how we see ourselves?

Toronto: Memories of summer

At the end of June, I said goodbye to Sydney and moved to Toronto. It felt harder leaving than usual, the amount of luggage I had hinting at a bigger trip than I usually take. After a few days in Hawaii, lapping up the sunshine and having some real good times with V, I landed on a muggy afternoon in Toronto. The first few days were surreal, suspended in jetlag and frustration with bureaucracy. The newly found companionship of friend #1 and swimming gently to the sunrise were the only saviours during this haranguing time.

Soon I moved to my own apartment, at first a barren space that I could do cartwheels in. I borrowed some things from #1 and went on massive shopping sprees at Walmart & Ikea on a scale I had never undertaken. Before long I had filled it with furniture and “things”, and now my little abode feels like a cosy home. Humans are always looking for familiarities from home, even if it is something tiny like the Ethiopian scarf that used to cover my accordion, now resting over the violin table.

Work started and I was reminded of how human beings adapt to new environments. There is an acute sense of unease whenever one is thrust into unfamiliarity. The initial days, especially the first few disasters and challenging situations, were really difficult. My first intubation was unexpectedly complicated, and no-one understood me when I asked for a Guedel. I struggled with the ethics and politics of the Canadian health system. But little by little, just as I knew I would even at the near-despair of the beginning, I began to settle in. Strangers turned into familiar faces, and I started to feel happier and lighter at work.

The flurry of moving, furnishing, settling in, paperwork, redtape, finally ended in mid-July. Then I could really take a big breath and look all around me in this new exciting city. I met friend #2 on a post call day when I went to a downtown walking meetup. We were naturally drawn to each other given we were both Chinese and of similar age and temperament. The day after that, on a whim, I went to a piano meetup and met friend #3. The piano meetup was interesting – we drew numbers out of a hat and played whatever we wanted on a warm toned Yamaha grand. She asked me at intermission whether I could sightread, but before we could continue the conversation we lost each other. Quite out of character for me, I messaged her through the meetup app and was happy that we got in touch again. And so, there it is, the story of how friends #1,2,3 came about. How lucky I am to chance upon these three wonderful women in Toronto.

Food is never far from my thoughts, and moving to a new country brought so many new excitements. Canadia doesn’t really have its own food, but I love the snacks like poutine – crispy fries doused with gravy and topped with squeaky chewy curds and beavertails – who doesn’t like fried dough? Toronto is so multicultural and we can get pretty much every type of ethnic food – from Ethiopian to Lankan to Chongqing noodles. We enjoyed fancy summerlicious meals at Auberge du Pommier and Momofuku Daisho. Also lots of cheap and cheerful meals like the wonderful black garlic ramen at Sansotei.

The weather was glorious for all of summer. Torontonians complained about the heat and humidity, but I loved every moment of it. I went for long walks exploring various corners of the city. I invited myself to #1’s civic day long weekend in Ottawa and spent the entire time sunbathing, swimming and kayaking (and chasing Canadian geese with the kids!) Some work people invited me along to their outings and I gladly went with them tubing in Elora, caving at Warsaw and canoeing. One day I had planned to go kayaking on the Humber river with #3 but she was sick, so a friendly Italian guy showed me around the waterways instead. Everywhere I turned, the scenery was utterly gorgeous and I fell in love with the water activities. Outdoors and summer go together so wonderfully, and I cherished every moment of it.

Before long it was time to head back to Sydney for a brief sojourn at E’s wedding. P came to visit for a few weeks in September and that time passed by just like a blur. We went for a long drive around Ontario, first heading up to the Bruce peninsula where we saw some amazing clear water and climbed down to a secret cave at the Grotto to chill. Then we had a rocky moment at the French River provincial park, a stunning river with ancient trees all around, though a scene that we could not fully appreciate. We camped for a night at Sturgeon Bay and watched the stars by the campfire. A rainy day drive took us all the way to Ottawa where we hunted for poutine. Finally we had a couple of romantic days at the cute cabin in Golden Lake, relishing the beautiful sunrises and sunsets, and the wonderfully clear warm lake. We went to Algonquin and looked unsuccessfully for beavers (never mind, there was a cute stuffed beaver at the cottage). And on our last night, we managed to order takeaway from the wrong Golden Lake Chinese restaurant – who knew it would be in Missisauga!

Another weekend we went to Niagara falls and pretended we were on our honeymoon as our second date. We gaped in awe at the amazing falls every time we saw it and giggled at all the silly tourists. We went to America for breakfast and found everything closed except Starbucks. We went to the game arcade and collected silly tickets to swap for a blue plastic penguin. I loved this trip and was so glad I went with P - the kitsch could only be enjoyed with a loved one.

Then he was gone and with him, the last warmth of the summer. We had still been swimming in Golden Lake the 3^rd week of September, but quickly the nights got chilly and the leaves started to turn. The summer was over.

Five Toronto winter dreams

1.   Roses and music

In this dream, I am living inside an abandoned Indian fort. There are aspects of it that look like the fort in Agra which we visited with that strange older woman who lived next door to Mr Jurd. The dilapidated fort overlooks a river (quite possibly the Yumna), and I inhabit one of the rooms upstairs. My room is really quite beautiful, even though it has no ceiling. The view over the river is expansive and very calm, I can see miles into the distance.

One day someone drops off a package at the front of the fort, and I find it some time later. There are no clues to where it came from as it is completely unmarked. I open the package in my room and inside there are hundreds of fragments of sheet music which looks like it has been ripped up. Interspersed with the fragments are hundreds of rose petals all of different colours.

Then I receive a whatsapp message from Emily along with 6 photos of roses all from different angles. She says that one of these pictures holds the key to the music. I click on the picture of six red roses next to a statue, and an unfamiliar piece of music starts playing. I know this is what the music sounds like if I can put it together. But how can I put it together? Then I wake up.

2.   Bananas and a fall

In this dream, I am in bed with P in my apartment in Toronto. Suddenly he says, I can hear something outside! I go out into the living room and all is quiet, no one is there. But when I look at the fruit bowl, there is a bunch of green bananas in there.

How did these bananas get here? I wonder. I don’t remember buying them at all.

I call my father and ask if he left me bananas in my apartment. The person who answers the phone is a nurse in an orthopaedic hospital.

今年哈尔滨大雪非常厉害，你爸爸摔了一跤，大腿骨骨折了。

(The snow has been very bad in Harbin this year. Your father had a fall and broke his hip.)

I am so shocked that I woke up.

3,  Swimming and crying

In this dream I am at a cabin in the forest with P. The season must be fall, the leaves are just departing the trees and everything feels like it is just winding down. The cabin is very rustic, made of rough slabs of wood and sparsely furnished. We are the only people staying in the forest.

We have a big fight over something, but I really cannot remember what. He tells me to leave him alone, so I pick up a book and leave the cabin. I walked down a path next to the cabin and after some time, came to a small lake. I cannot see any way to get around the lake, except for some stones which are just out of the water. I started jumping across the stones but halfway I realised that I was crying and I could not see clearly because of the tears.

I slip and fall into the lake, and still crying, try to swim across to the other side. Whilst swimming I have to keep one arm above the water holding the book, making the progress very slow and difficult. Whilst crying I keep inhaling water, and very soon my lungs are full of water. I cannot see, and I cannot breathe. Then I wake up.

4.  Cookies and loss?

In this dream, Emily and Ryan and I are in a car together, driving along a highway. It looks pretty non-descript, like any major Canadian highway. It’s snowing but the roads are heavily salted so there is no real danger and the atmosphere in the car is relaxed.

Suddenly Ryan shouts here is good!

We stop the car on the shoulder and jump out. We climb over the fairly tall snowbank and walk into the forest. Despite the heavy snow and the thick layer there is a visible path leading through the forest. The scene is magical, like a winter wonderland. The trees are coated with the finest powder, and our boots squeak pleasantly as we pass between the trees.

Suddenly we come to a handful of condo buildings. What are they doing here, in the middle of the forest? I wonder

We go inside the building and Ryan starts knocking on all the doors asking for unwanted cookies. We collect them into a big black garbage bag and tie up the opening. Back on the path we walk a little further, with Ryan lugging the now huge bag of cookies a la Santa style. I pause to take photos of the silvery pine needles, and with Ryan walking so slowly, the three of us soon become separated.

Further along the path, I come suddenly to a beautiful lake, completely frozen and surrounded by snowy mountains. It is one of the most wonderous things I have ever seen, everything white with just the glimmer of the orange setting sun beyond the mountain range. Ryan catches up and dumps the cookies on the ground. The next thing I know they put on ice skates and skate into the distance. I am left watching the sunset alone. Then I wake up.

5.  A riddle by a patient

In this dream, I have a very unwell patient but the diagnosis is not clear to me. Even though I think really, really hard about it, I really don’t know what is wrong with this man. But I am convinced that his life is at grave danger, so I take him home to my Canadian apartment with me.

I set up a bed for him in the corner, covered in blankets and cushions to try and make him comfortable. The sun is trickling weakly through the large window, and the season feels distinctly like winter.

I’ll be fine, doctor. He lies down and closes his eyes.

I go to my room and shut the partition doors. I close my eyes and rest, but my sleep is broken by the sound of people talking outside. I get up and go back out to the living room. A middle aged woman wearing a pilot uniform (complete with the cap!) is standing next to the patient, gesturing wildly and speaking in what sounds like Russian. Next to her is a younger man who is wearing a dark suit, looking very serious. The patient looks unperturbed as if he is still sleeping, but with a chill I think is he unconscious?

When I approach the woman she introduces herself as the patient’s wife, and the younger man as a friend of the patient. He says he was there when the patient started to get sick, and I ask him if there are any clues to his illness.

With a very serious expression on his face, he begins to explain

If you pick the flower bud of a tea plant, it causes the whole plant to die.

He pauses for effect, and I see in my mind’s eye this exact action.

So if you want to keep it alive,

you must decide if you want flowers or tea.

I know this is the answer to the patient’s illness, but I still can’t figure it out. Then I wake up.

Dream: the Korean boy and rock flowers

In this dream I am returning my rental car, a small dark blue hatchback, into the multi-storey carpark of an airport. I don’t recognise where I am or where I have been, but a quick glance at the backseat suggests I have been on a long trip.

Once parked, I get out of the car and mentally make a note of don’t forget anything now from this big mess! I walk away for a few moments and when I return there is a Korean boy sitting in the backseat amongst the junk. He is around 12 or so, quite small and thin. His hair is long at the front with a lock covering his eyes, making him look older than he is. He is silently licking an icecream cone.

What are you doing here? I ask him.

He shrugs and continues to eat his icecream.

With a little more prompting he says he is trying to get away from his mother and his sister. I tell him that he has to go back to them and I have to return the car.

He shrugs and gets out. Next to me he seems even more diminutive as we start walking through the carpark, seemingly aimlessly.

Suddenly he says, have you seen the 石头花? (Rock flower)

I am struck by a sense of awe – what is that? I am filled with an insatiable curiousity to find out what it is. Further questions don’t bring any answers other than he saw it very close to the airport.

We get back to his family car, which is a long white limousine, and his mother thanks me for returning him. I ask her politely if she also saw the 石头花 and she says – sure! We all saw it, it’s very close by.

They offer to take me there, so I get into the limousine which moves almost silently. The mother and the sister (herself a teenager, maybe around 16) are very heavily made up and it is hard to discern their features. The boy sits sullenly in the corner. I look out the window and try to remember which way we are driving, but nothing is recognisable.

Outside the sky is grey and full of clouds. The airport seems to be in a rural area and within minutes we are among farmland. But there is something impalpably strange about the landscape – the hills are green, but are they really green? The animals look strange. The car feels odd as it moves so smoothly.

We take a turn down a side street and it looks like an ordinary domestic street in one of the Toronto fancy suburbs like Bayview. Every house is huge and has a basement. We pull up outside one large white house, which looks like every other one. The boy gets out of the car first, shouting 石头花! 石头花!

I look at the flowers planted along the front fence of the house and from afar it seems that some of the plants are sprouting smooth white pebbles. Incredulous, I walk closer and see that they are not pebbles after all, but rather the slim white petals packed very closely together seem to be fused together. How can that be? I wonder.

Selfie time! The sister calls out. Even the mother gets out of the car and the four of us gather in front of the white flowers.

Let’s take a selfie of the 6 of us. She says.

6? Who else is there? I wonder, and wake up.

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PS. Lithops is the real name for 石头花, a stone-like succulent originating from South Africa which is very difficult to care for and has exquisite fine blooms.