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.