Canada

I am back in Toronto for the weekend. It's a long way to fly for just a few days, I know, but I had to come back for a big event. My father is turning 80 this week, and we had a big party for him this past weekend. (Happy birthday, Dad!).

It was an excellent event, lots of friends and family stopping by. Many people made the same comments to me. "I can't believe he's 80. He certainly doesn't look it."

"No," I would reply, "he's still going full strength."

I got to see a bunch of people I hadn't seen in a long time, and got to visit with all my family for the first time in a couple of months. Being away for a little while made me realize how tall and grown up all my nieces and nephews had gotten. One of my nephews towers over me, and another one is just an inch shorter than me at this point. By the next time I see him, he'll probably be looking down at his uncle. I remember each of their births, it doesn't really seem that long ago, but in reality 10 to 20 years have passed since those days.

Later in the evening, after a lovely supper, I was standing with my Aunt. We worriedly watched smoke waft along the ceiling and over the smoke detectors of my father's condo's party room as sparklers on a large cake crackled away.

Once the sparklers extinguished without triggering an alarm, my Aunt and I started discussing age.

"It's hard to believe your Dad is 80," she said.

"I know," I replied, and then not sure what to say next resorted to a tried and true cliche. "Time sure does fly."

"It does," my Aunt replied. "Then again, it's hard for me to imagine that I am the age I am. I don't feel that old," she said.

I knew exactly what she meant. My birthday is only a few months off at this point, and I am closer to 40 than I am to 30. Actually, to be truthful, I am closer to 40 than I am to 35.

When I was a teenager, 30 seemed so mature, so adult. That was the age of people with good jobs and families, living in nice houses in the suburbs and driving Land Rovers. It certainly wasn't the age of unemployed, single guys who pick up and move to another country on little more than a whim. People who were 30 were stable, reliable, past their younger days of immaturity and spontineity. If you asked the 16 year old me what I would be like at 30, I can guarantee that the younger I would have answered something about a good job, a nice house and a Land Rover.

30 came and went, and pretty soon 40 will be upon me. No house, no job, no car, no family and probably little chance of any of those things in the future, save (HOPEFULLY, FINGERS CROSSED) the job. And while the 16 year old me probably never would have believed it, I'm pretty happy about it.

Frankly, after visiting with more friends over the weekend, none of my friends really seem that old to me, even the ones with families and jobs and nice cars and houses. I don't think that people nowadays are less mature than previous generations, though maybe that is the case. More likely though, I think that young people always view old people as being mature, boring, responsible and dull. When really, people are who they are, no matter what age they are.

So 40 is creeping up on me, and I'm not too upset about it. I looked at my 80 year old father, who is still enjoying life and love, spending nights out and getting in a fair bit of travel. Hopefully he will still be with us for many more years.

And hopefully, by the grace of God or Allah or good genes or a steadily improving diet and a little exercise, I'll still be going strong by 80, which means I still have more than 40 years of life ahead me (hopefully much more). And if the next 40 years can be as cool as the last 10 have been, that seems like a really good deal to me, Even if I never do get my house, my family, my excellent job and my Land Rover.

Only a couple more days before I am...

...Europe Bound! I had been hoping to use my last couple weeks in Toronto to play a little more tourist and get to see the sites before getting on a plane, but things quickly started to pile up, and the amount of time I was spending getting my stuff packed up, donated or thrown out took a lot longer than I would have expected. Eventually, though, I was able to clear everything out, and spent my last couple days in the apartment sitting in a lone chair and sleeping on a carpet in a sleeping bag.

I have since moved a little closer downtown, and am staying in a hotel. Given that I am staying in a hotel and I finally don't have anything left to do to enable my move, I figured I might as well take a day and really go all out tourist. So I got my camera ready, grabbed my tourist map, put on a sweater emblazoned with the name of the place that I am visiting, and hit the town!

Seeing as I am staying at Yonge and College, I decided to head south and follow the PATH.

PATH is downtown Toronto's underground walkway linking 27 kilometres of shopping, services and entertainment. According to Guinness World Records, PATH is the largest underground shopping complex with 27 km (16 miles) of shopping arcades. It has 371,600 sq. metres (4 million sq. ft) of retail space, and connects more than 50 buildings. It's southern end would be my eventual destination for the day, and it's northern end is the Atrium on Bay at the corner for Yonge and Dundas.

On the south-east corner of Yonge and Dundas is Yonge-Dundas Square. The corner of Yonge and Dundas used to be quite a sketchy area, full of strip clubs, head shops, XXX theatres and tacky t-shirts shops, not unlike New York's Times Square back before it got cleaned up. Much like NYC's Times Square, the City of Toronto took it upon themselves to turn the dive atmosphere of Yonge and Dundas into something more tourist friendly. So they knocked down a bunch of the buildings and made part of it a square.

The square at Yonge and Dundas is now a meeting place, and they often hold music, film, and community events in the square and on the stage at the east end. This weekend was the Desi Fest, a South Asian music festival in celebration of South Asian Heritage Month. Yonge-Dundas Square is transformed into a South Asian bazaar and live music showcase for more than 20 Canadian and international artists. This picture of the square was taken this morning, long after the Desi Fest party had cleared the area.

Across Yonge Street from Yonge-Dundas Square is the Eaton Centre, a massive mall originally named after the main tenant. However, Eaton's department stores went belly up a few years back, but the name was so intrenched they decided to keep it, claiming that the complex is now named the Eaton Centre as it represents a tribute to Eaton's founder Timothy Eaton and the small shop he once opened at this location.

The Eaton Centre has a massive glass roof that runs the length of the mall, and the floors are designed to have many large gaps to allow for light to stream down, creating a very large atrium. At the south end of the mall, an art installation called Flight Stop by artist Michael Snow hangs from the roof. The art piece depicts a number of Canada Geese heading south. The artist and the management of the mall had a falling out one year, after the mall put red ribbons on the geese to celebrate Christmas. Michael Snow ended up suing the mall, and the Eaton Centre was forced to remove the ribbons, as the judge ruled that the "distortion" of the work infringed on Mr. Snow's copyright.

Personally, I thought it looked festive, but whatever... I'm no artist. Here's the geese, sans ribbons.

The south end of the mall empties out onto Queen Street. Heading west on Queen you will come across Old City Hall.

Built in 1899 and serving as City Hall for Toronto until 1966, when the city council moved west, across Bay Street to the new City Hall.

Designed by Finnish architect Viljo Revell and engineered by Hannskarl Bandel, the modernist architecture building opened in 1965. Two curved towers flank the main council chamber, which sits like a big round flying saucer in the middle of the buildings, almost looking like it's ready for flight. Given some of the loonies we have on city council, it wouldn't surprise me to learn that a few of them are aliens, actually.

In front of City Hall is Nathan Phillips Square, named after mayor Nathan Phillips of Toronto (1955 - 1962). The square often holds concerts and events, and in the winter the small concrete fountain in front is frozen over to provide a large, outdoor skating rink.

Even though my plan called for following the PATH, I decided to stay above ground and enjoy the sunny weather. I headed south down York Street, and came across one thing that you can't escape in Toronto, the hot dog cart.

Due to public health regulations requiring food serving establishments to have sinks and bathrooms and a number of other things, only "prepared, pre-cooked food" can be served by street vendors, which means that every food stall sells pretty much the same thing, hot dogs and sausages. It's one of Toronto's great failings, if you ask me, that you can't get a decent meal from a cart vendor in the city. They are working to change it, but like all things related to government, the right to sell a decent empanada or taco on the street is mired in red tape.

The other thing you run into, much like any other city, is people handing out flyers and free samples of stuff. It always bothers me when they try and hand something to me, but I must admit that I feel overlooked and sad when they ignore me.

Today I passed two young ladies handing out samples of something. I rolled my eyes as I approached, thinking, "oh great, somebody else trying to pass me garbage." The young lasses were handing out the samples to everyone but as I approached, they both looked away.

I stopped and cleared my throat. One of the girls turned to me. "Am I not good enough to receive your pamphlet and product sample? Have you thought that perhaps you've just lost a potentially loyal consumer?" I quizzed her.

Looking confused, she handed me the sample packet for new super-absorbent tampons.

"Thank you," I said. "I was running short of ammunition for my tampon blow-gun."

Okay, I admit, that last whole conversation was made up. But some girls did snub me when handing out their pamphlets this morning, though I figured seeing as they only seemed to be targeting women that there was an obvious reason why I was excluded.

Continuing south I arrived at Union Station. The main train station in Toronto as well as a bus depot and local transit hub, millions pass through the station every day. Outside the station is Francesco Pirelli's Monument to Multiculturalism, the statue depicts a naked, faceless man. The statue was a gift to Toronto by the National Congress of Italian Canadians in 1985. The statue has raised some eyebrows over the years, as some have questioned why a man with no facial features should have such an accurately sculpted groin area, but I've always liked it.

The statue, I mean, not the groin area.

The birds in flight and the globe shape have always made me think of travel, which is also helped by the fact that the statue is outside the train station.

It also makes a great place to tell people from out of town to meet you when they arrive at Union Station. "I'll be by the statue of the big naked dude." That's a hard one to forget.

Kiddie-corner from Union Station is Brookfield Place, which holds the Hockey Hall of Fame.

I guess I won't get to see much hockey over in England, so I took one last, longing look at the shine to Hockey, and moved on.

East of Brookfield Place and Union Station is one of Toronto's most iconic buildings, The red brick Gooderham Building (commonly referred to as the Flatiron Building) was built in 1892. At the triple-corner of Wellington, Front and Church streets and with the financial district as a back-drop the building and it's setting are almost an idiot-proof picture opportunity. Of course, my picture happens to come when the outer exterior is being worked on, so the building is partial obscured by scaffolding, so I guess no matter how idiot proof something is, there is always a better idiot.

I doubled back and headed west along Front Street towards the CN Tower.

The CN Tower is probably the most distinctive thing about Toronto's skyline, and is a major tourist attraction. Built in the mid-seventies to serve as a radio and TV tower, the last minute additions of a couple of observation decks turned the massive concrete shaft (nothing phallic about it) a tourist sight that has (depending on which list you read) been called one of the "seven wonders of the modern world."

As of today, the tallest man-made structure is the Burj Dubai, a skyscaper still under construction in Dubai, that has reached 636 m (2,087 ft) in height as of May 12, 2008

The CN Tower in Toronto, Ontario, Canada, standing at 553.3 m (1,815 ft), was the world's tallest freestanding structure on land from 1976 until September 12, 2007, when it was overtaken in height by the rising Burj Dubai. The tower does, at this point though, still have the world's highest public observation deck, though that will most likely change once the Burj is finished and opened.

I went to both observation decks today. The lookout level is 346m (1,136’) above the ground, and from there you can get some pretty excellent pictures of the Toronto skyline.

Island Airport

Downtown core, often called the "Financial District"

Looking towards mid-town and up-town

One level down you will find not only the Glass Floor, offering you the vertigo inducing opportunity to stand 342m (1,122’) above the ground below with nothing but a few panes of glass supporting you up.

The glass floor opened in 1994, and I had the opportunity to attend a corporate event a few years later in 1995. To prove that it is safe to walk on, the CN Tower had put a sign indicating that the glass floor was "five times stronger than the required weight bearing standard for commercial floors." That's reassuring, until you are back in your office the next day, looking down at the floor below you and thinking, "Dear God, this floor isn't even as strong as glass!"

Heading up from the look out level, you get to the Sky Pod. Sky Pod is 447 metre (1465 ft.) above the ground, and offers even more dizzying views of the city. I snapped this shot, looking straight down, giving a view of both the roof of the look level section and railway Canadian Pacific's former John Street roundhouse, it is currently home to a brewery, and soon to be a furniture store and small rail museum.

Enough dizziness, and feeling adequately Canadian (see photo with moose dressed as Mountie as proof of my Canadian-ness for the day), I headed out of the tower and back east towards Yonge Street. Walking up Yonge, I pass a statue that I had seen many times before, but today it draws my attention even more.

"Immigrant Family" is a work by Tom Otterness. A bronze sculpture found at 18 Yonge Street (Yonge south of Front Street), the statue depicts a new family arriving on the shores of a new land, suitcases and baby in hand. The figures are cartoonish, which has always given me the impression that this family of newcomers was happy to be in their new land.

So it will be for me on Wednesday morning, happily clutching my luggage on the shores of my new home. Assuming, of course, that my luggage doesn't go missing in Heathrow airport.

It’s been a crappy week. If I look back on the past 7 days, I find myself seeing nothing but memories of packing, sweating, moving, sweating, driving, sweating, talking to bureaucrats, sweating, stressing out and sweating.

Despite my desire to be a tourist in my own town for my last month in Toronto, mostly the past couple of weeks have been spent using up my time taking care of moving stuff. While it is all fine and dandy to say to oneself, “self, I am going to take care of as much of this moving stuff as I can as early as possible to free up my time in the last few days I have in Toronto,” the reality is that one cannot do enough up front. After all, I still have my apartment for a couple of days, and I still need places to sit, places to sleep, shampoo to wash my hair, towels to dry me after showering and forks to use when eating take-out Thai food.

When you are moving away, you can’t get rid of everything early, as you need so much of it to live out your last days in your old home.

That really tees me off. And that reminds me of another time when I was teed off and moving.

Back when I was a young 18 year old, living at home and getting ready to move out of my parents place and go away to university, I was, apparently, a bit of a jackass, or at least so said my mother. Quite often, actually.

Back in 1989 when I was 18, I was a bit of a sarcastic ass. I still am a sarcastic ass, and in fact was a sarcastic ass prior to 1989. In fact, that is a trait I am sure I inherited from my mother, which I hope will some mitigate any damage to my reputation that the comments I am about to repeat here that she made about me.

Back in 1989, when I would make a comment that an 18 year old sarcastic ass would be expected to make, my mother would look at me and say the following. “I know that you are just saying that to create some distance between us, so that the pain of separation won’t be as great when you leave for University.”

Her argument was that I was not, in fact, a sarcastic pain in the neck because I was a teenager with a sharp wit (honed for years by my mother), but rather I was a sarcastic pain in the neck because it was a defense mechanism to make separation more bearable.

At the time I didn’t put much stock in her theory. I didn’t feel like I was being especially sarcastic or cruel. I liked my home and my mother and I knew that I would be back there to live at some point (as I was in the summer of 1990, 1991 and then for a whole bunch of time during 1995 through to 1997), so I couldn’t see any reason why I would want to make it a less nice place to live.

However this past week has started to make me think that perhaps my mother was on to something. For with less than one week to go before leaving Toronto for London, I must admit that Toronto is really getting my goat.

It could be that Toronto is just especially annoying this week. Or it could just be that I am tired from a week of packing, moving and sweating. It could even be that I am starting to actually realize that I am 1 week away from moving to another country without a job, a permanent place to live or anything resembling friends.

But it could also be that I am just trying to make the city I am leaving less desirable so that the impending move seems more so.

Lest any of my Toronto friends think I don't like them, let me assure them all that I have had lots of fun going out with all my friends these past few weeks, so I hope you don't take this blog as an insult. Trust me, it's not being out with old friends that is needling me. It's everything else.

I find myself tired, even in the mornings after a full nights sleep. I find myself looking at boxes or furniture and sighing, just on the verge of breaking down thinking about what the crap I am going to do with the item. I find myself talking to stupid people about stupid things like what size storage locker I want, what the address on my bank statements should be (even though the bank knows that all my statements are electronic) or how long I want my mobile phone active for in Canada.

Last night, though, took the cake. I went out to dinner at a local pub, a place I have enjoyed for the 10 years I have lived in my neighbourhood in Toronto. Despite trying to look like I was intently reading a book, I still got engaged by a crazy old lady with an allergy problem (which she detailed in some depth) and a dude on crutches who apparently got some sort of brain injury in Mexico running from the police. I quickly said my goodbyes and moved on.

Next I went to another restaurant, a sports bar a few blocks away. I was hoping to sit at the bar, have a pint and enjoy the playoff hockey game. Instead I found a bar jam packed with old, creepy men staring at the bartender, a well-endowed blonder who (knowing her audience) was wearing a very low cut blouse. I left upset, not sure if it was because I felt icky because of the old pervs, or because I was upset that I couldn’t get a decent seat and be an old perv myself.

Onto the next place, a joint that is best known for showing European soccer but that does show National League Hockey during the evenings (as Euro sports tend to be on during the morning and afternoons over here in North America). I took a seat at the empty bar and watched as the puck dropped on game 3 of the NHL finals.

My peace was not to last though. A guy walked in, probably in his early 60s with a white goatee. He took a seat and ordered a beer, and started to look around the bar. I caught him looking around out the corner of my eye, and I could tell immediately that he was looking for someone to talk to.

“Damnit,” I thought, “I’ve already talked to the crazy old lady and the crutch dude tonight. Can’t I just enjoy the hockey game in peace?” So I stared straight ahead, never moving my gaze from the TV set in front of me. If he can’t make eye contact, I reasoned, he can’t engage me.

My plan worked, though the guy found others to engage. He complained to the bartender that hockey was on, and demanded one of the TVs be turned to something else. She flipped around the channels, and once the TV landed on horse racing, he seemed content.

He wasn’t content, though. He spent 15 minutes speaking to the man on his right, bemoaning the fact that we all in Canada watch hockey, even though no Canadian teams were playing, and that in 10 years we Canadians would probably all be walking around with TVs attached to our heads so we wouldn’t miss a minute of hockey.

I just kept my mouth shut and my face forward towards the screen, no doubt proving his theory that we Canadians are all hockey obsessed. While I was interested in the game, I was more interested in not speaking to him.

The guy on the old man’s right started to ignore him, so the old man engaged the bartender. She spoke to him for about a minute before the following words came out of the old dude’s mouth.

“You know, you are a beautiful girl, but your voice is like nails on a blackboard.”

Take a moment to think about saying that to a woman you don’t even know. Reread that if you like. It’s not very flattering.

“That’s not a very nice thing to say,” the bartender replied. Her voice, which had moments before had a certain joyous tone to it became cold and monotone. The kind of tone that a North Korean interrogator might use right before pulling your still beating heart out of your chest.

“No, it’s not an insult. I’m trying to help you,” said the old man. “I know an opera singer who can train you to change the tone you speak with. Don’t feel bad. So many Canadian women can’t speak well.”

I could see the bartender out of the corner of my eye, and her eyes had daggers shooting out of them at the old man. I prepared for a fight, in that I put my hand around my beer, so that if the bartender came over the bar at the old man, I could quickly get out of the way without spilling a drop.

She didn’t come over the bar at the old idiot, though. Instead she did what I thought was a very composed thing. She looked at the old man and said, “well, if you don’t like my voice, then I just won’t talk to you anymore.” Then she walked away.

I was impressed, because I think I probably would have popped the old guy in the eye, or at the very least spit in his half pint of Creemore.

The old guy left quite soon after the above incident, and I was able to finish watching the hockey game in peace. A few weeks ago I might have continued on, perhaps grabbing another pint and going over and saying hello to the Ultimate Frisbee team that was celebrating a victory at the bar.

Instead, I decided to go home. I was tired from a day of moving stuff into storage and worn out from meeting three different crazy people in one day at three of what were my favourite Toronto hang-outs. I used to quite like meeting and talking to the crazy people, it is part of what makes living in an urban setting unique. But last night I just couldn’t take it anymore. Instead it just wore me out, and I couldn’t help but find a bunch of faults with the places that I used to frequent.

Perhaps my mother’s theory holds some water then. Prior to leaving a place for another pasture, you need to make your current pasture seem a little browner. That way, even if it isn’t, the new pasture will feel greener by comparison.

The NHL finals are set, and games start up tomorrow. The Pittsburgh Penguins are taking on the Detroit Red Wings. It should be an exciting final, as both teams have pretty potent offenses. I, however, am worried that I won't get to see the champion crowned. The finals are a best of seven series, with the final two games scheduled for June 4th and June 7th. With both games at 8:00 PM Toronto time, that would put them at 1:00 AM London time. Even if I can find a place to watch the games, they'll probably shut down before the game is over.

Me with the Stanley Cup, taken in Denver in 2001 when they hosted the All Star Game

Anyway, I need to concentrate on starting to watch European sports. No more American football, baseball and hockey. I have to start watching Rugby, Cricket and (most importantly) Soccer, or as they call it over there, football.

The UEFA Champions League final was played on Wednesday, with Chelsea from London facing off against Manchester United. As Chelsea is from London, I was thinking of cheering for Chelsea. The game ended in a 1-1 tie, and went to penalty kicks, where Man U ended up winning a nail-biter.

So now I can't cheer for Chelsea. I mean, not only did they lose the UEFA Champions League Cup to Man U, but they also came in second in the Premiership to Man U and they lost the 2008 Carling League cup to Tottenham. Obviously they are not closers. I'll have to pick another team to cheer for...

Luckily, Maple Leaf Sports and Entertainment (MLSE), the owners of the Toronto Maple Leafs of the National Hockey League, Toronto Raptors of the National Basketball Association and the Toronto FC of Major League Soccer are looking to purchase a team. They are eyeing a Premiership team (source). As the article says, "A sports banking executive who specializes in European soccer said three English Premier teams would probably merit interest from the like of MLSE: Everton, Newcastle United and Tottenham Hotspur."

Personally, I hope they buy Tottenham, as that's a cool name for a team. Hotspur. Plus they play in London.

As such, I'll just wait for them to decide who they will buy and then I'll just start cheering for them. And I can wear my Toronto FC jersey to the games and not look out of place, right?

Me at the FIFA Under 20 World Cup last summer (July 22, 2007)

Just kidding, of course, both about Chelsea not being closers (obviously coming in 2nd a lot means they are good team, so please don't write me) and also about having to pick a team right away. In all honest, I can't even figure out how the soccer leagues work over there. There's promotions and demotions and apparently 5 different cups that a teams can win. Some of the games don't count towards some of the cups, and some games are just friendlies that apparently don't count for anything.

It's going to require a hell of a lot of study before I understand it all, I'm sure. By study, of course, I mean sitting in a pub having someone explain it to me over a pint of beer.

So, if anyone understands it all and wants to explain it to me, I'll buy a pint at the local.

Cheers,
Greg

I flipped the page on my calendar on May 1st, and realized that I really only had one month left in Toronto before departing for the United Kingdom. Despite living here all my life, or actually more likely because of it, I realized that there were a number of things that visitors to Toronto seek out that I hadn't seen in a long time, and in some cases ever.

So, along with getting ready for my trip, all that packing I talked about in my last entry, and going to for drinks with all my friends, whom I suspect are just seeing me off so they have a free place to crash in London, I have been treating my hometown like I was a tourist visiting it for the first time.

Flags of Canada and Toronto

I've still got a couple weeks to go of being a tourist in my hometown, but thought I would share some of my experiences up to this point.

First up was a trip to Niagara Falls (which actually took place in April, but we'll pretend it took place in May, otherwise the whole "Flipping the page on the calendar and realizing my time was short" literary device falls apart). I briefly saw the falls, but most of my time was spent walking around the tourist zone of Clifton Hill and in the Casino.

It is very tacky and overpriced, and in a lot of ways detracts from what is an otherwise beautiful and majestic natural wonder in the falls, but it can be a hell of a lot of fun. After all, they have a MIDWAY!

Luckily, the weather in Toronto this May has been quite nice, so it's been good weather to go and hang out on the patios of my favourite bars.

The Sports Centre Cafe, at 49 St Clair Avenue West is my favourite year round location. A good selection of beers, excellent views of multiple TV sets to watch your favourite teams and some very pretty waitresses and bartenders make it a cool place to go.

But come summer, I must admit I find myself spending more time at The Fox and The Fiddle at 1535 Yonge Street, if for no other reason then they have three patios, and that every patios provides the following view...

It always reminds me of sitting in a medieval square in Eastern Europe drinking, even though I have never been to Eastern Europe, but I imagine that you would have a similar view of an old church while sitting on a sunny, Prague patio.

The nice weather has given me the opportunity to spend some time just walking around checking out the city, and I took a few snaps of nice places and views.

The following statue is on St. Clair Ave. W, between Yonge and Avenue Road. It is a man's torso, lounging in front of a building that sells insurance. I am not sure if it is meant to represent the relaxing attitude one can take when one is fully insured, or the fact that your insurance will probably cost you a couple arms, a couple legs and a head just to afford it.

The Canada Life Building in the foreground, with the CN Tower in the background. The Canada Life Building is interesting for its weather predicting abilities. Atop the building is a weather beacon which shines red for rain, white for snow, and lights running up or down it indicate a change in temperature. It provides "weather at a glance," and if you want to be able to decode its sometimes cryptic signals, check out the handy decoder at Wikipedia.

One of my favourite buildings in all of Toronto is Brookfield Place, formerly known at BCE Place, because of this amazing atrium:

Official known at The Allen Lambert Galleria, it was the result of an international competition and was incorporated into the development in order to satisfy the City of Toronto's public art requirements. The atrium was designed by Spanish architect Santiago Calatrava, and is one of my favourite places to hang out in downtown Toronto. It also is a favourite place for film directors to film, especially for crappy sci-fi films, as it looks very futuristic.

These tulips are in bloom outside of the Toronto Dominion Centre, where I had my first job in Toronto back in 1992. I was a computer programmer at a large bank in the Centre, and I put on 30 pounds that summer from just sitting behind a desk and not doing any sort of physical work. Damn you, Computer Science Degree, for making me fat!

Back to the more tourist sites, I went to the Royal Ontario Museum recently, the first time I had been there since the expansion of the museum with the Michael Lee-Chin Crystal. The crystal was designed by architect Daniel Libeskind and Bregman + Hamann Architects, and provides an ultra-modern contrast to the older Neo-Romanesque building.

The ROM has lots of exhibits, including dinosaurs and Greek statues.

That's the shadow of a dinosaur skeleton on the wall. It's scary, like Jurassic Park meets the scene in Sinbad where the skeletons attack his crew!

(Make up your own Greek behind joke here)

Very impressive in the museum is also the architecture, especially the ceiling in the main atrium.

It's worth taking a short lie down just to admire it.

The ROM is in the area called Yorkville, which is a very "posh" area of town with tons of fancy restaurants and bars. It also has a pretty nice little open area, with a nice water feature that people like to have lunch or coffee nearby.

Finally, yesterday I went and saw the Toronto FC of the MLS (North American Soccer) play the Columbus Crew.

I happened to wind up, without any fore planning on my part, in section 118, which is the home of the Tribal Rhythm Nation.

The Tribal Rhythm Nation is a support group of the Toronto FC that, according to their website, "This movement was created to bring a true multi-cultural presence to Toronto FC soccer games. We represent the African, Caribbean and Latin communities in the GTA. The goal of the Tribal Rhythm Nation is to create an atmosphere at Toronto FC games that energizes the whole stadium. The beat of our drums will be heard by all."

It is a very different atmosphere than my last trip to BMO Field to see the Toronto FC, with whistles, drums, chanting, singing and lots of flag waving. It was a lot closer to the experience I had last year seeing the 2007 Under 20 FIFA World Cup finals in Toronto, and probably good preparation for what I will experience at soccer... er, I mean football matches in the United Kingdom.

Another two weeks of packing, having drinks with friends and a few more tourist experiences to go until I can see if I'm right about the atmosphere at European football matches.

The Europa countdown continues...