Birds Of A Feather....

 I have no fears of any living creatures in Toronto.

What about bears, Ian?

Let me start again. I fear only one thing in Toronto....bears. Beyond that I am fearless in terms of my fellow humans. I do, however, fear that I will become a Torontonian, always looking down on others.

Umm, like you live on the 17th floor of a condo. Of course you'll look down on others. This is natural behaviour when you're 'above the crowd'. Besides, you see some interesting people on the street when you have a bird's eye view. So what have you got for us to look at today?

Yesterday was a glorious day in Toronto. Plus 12, sunny, very little wind. It seemed like everyone in Toronto crawled out from under a their respective rocks and went for a walk. It was a colourful parade. I even saw a heterosexual couple in our neighbourhood!

Who is this...joker?

I'm not sure how to characterize the style of the man pictured to our left, other than to politely say 'different'. I'll tell you what I think when I see his get up/costume. I think Keebler Elves. Now, don't get me wrong, I don't think he looks like one of the cherubic Keebler brothers himself. Oh, no. Imagine if the Keebler Elves had to deal with a villainous character who was always lurking behind toadstools, trying to break into to the factory to steal cookies. There can be no question that this dude fits the bill. Rarely have I ever seen someone who looks more like a leprechaun, although he could also be a pimp's stunt double. Confusing....

Do you remember when Dad was in the hospital having his gall bladder removed and we would take Mom to visit him. Riddled with the confusion of Alzheimer's, Mom would lean over Dad's hospital bed and ask genuinely "are you a man or a woman?"

It seemed pretty strange at the time that Mom couldn't tell whether Dad was a man or a woman. It wasn't Mom's eyesight that was the issue. It wasn't Dad's looks. It was simply Alzheimer's playing tricks on the brain. It's an odd disease that can bend reality into shapes that the rest of us struggle to see.

What is reality, anyway? Is reality what we see, or what we think we see?

In retrospect, the 'are you a man or a woman?' incidents were quite 'entertaining'. I'm not sure Dad, being the co-victim of the inquisition, chuckles as much as I do. It's not a question one often gets asked, or gets to ask, although from time to time....

So, are you a goose or a gander?

These two feathered friends touched down in the Jarvis Collegiate playing field about three days ago. A sure sign of spring? Yes!

I'm assuming it was a goose (female) and a gander (male) as it's that time of year. At street level I'm now seeing male sparrows singing their hearts out to their betrothed. They're flying into little cracks in brick buildings and around eavestroughing, no doubt building nests. I saw a red-tailed hawk carrying a nest-worthy stick in its talons the other day. Male pigeons are puffing up their chests and strutting their stuff for the hens.

Everyone in this town is 'showing their finest plummage' and I, the ultimate flâneur/minimalist, use only one quill to document their activities.

A dandy job you've done, Ian!

My Life As Dogg Snoop

 Living in our Toronto condo has been a great success. I love the view, the building itself (especially the gym) and our neighbours appear to be friendly. The management and staff of the condo are very professional and likable. Getting back to the residents for a moment, I have made a few observations. Hey, I'm a flâneur, it's what I do! Here goes:

- there are virtually no children living in the building.

- there seem to be a lot of well dressed men in the building who go everywhere together...brothers??

- there are a lot of dog owners in the building.

- generally, the dogs are better dressed and groomed than I am.

I've been fixating on the dogs all winter. It seemed like every day I'd get on the elevator with a dog and a dog owner. Talking about their dog was a good way to break the ice with the dog owner. I announced to Wendy, sometime back in the depths of winter, that I was going to start collecting and recording the names of the condo hounds, then detail my finding in a future blog. The future is now.

I was curious to know what names people would give to their dogs. When I was a boy all dogs were given names like Fido, Spike, Kujo, Maggie and Muggins. Also, when I was a boy, dogs had fur and didn't need to be dressed in goose down or the fur of another animal. Take a look at the dog pictured to the left. It's got a fur collared coat on! Is this not akin to a sheep eating cow brains, or pig eating a hot dog, or a bear posing 'seductively' on a bear skin rug?

Can't we have one blog without the mention of bears? You know I'm terrified of them!

Sorry. I'll bear that in mind for future blogs. So, returning to the hound list, here are the names that I (we) managed to acquire: Toby, Chester, Apple, Pippin, Abigail, Molly, Cam and Edan. Gathering the names became quite comical as it quickly turned into a competition between Wendy and me to see who could discover the dog's name before the elevator booted us out at the 17th or ground floor. Typically we would get in the elevator, spot the dog, give each other the evil eye, and then the game began. Wendy is naturally more talented at generating chit chat with strangers but I reached into the depths of my soul, took out my stone heart and used it to crack a portal in the protective shell around me. I'd say we tied as investigative reporters/competitors.

The names we gathered were satisfactorily amusing and original. Most names fit the dogs rather well. Chester, the English bulldog was the most aptly named in a traditional sense. Apple seemed like a fitting name for a chihuahua, or the darling child of Über celebs.

What really got me going was the lengths to which people would dress their dogs.

Fashionable booties, lest Apple should tread in other dogs' doodies. 

Cable knit sweaters. Goose down vests. Lap dogs. <insert howls of laughter at the absurdity of it all> Dog store owners must be lap dancing their way to the bank with the profits made off the backs of fashionably hot designer dogs. Hot dogs, indeed. Admittedly, it was a cold winter, but putting a naturally furry beast in a fur or feathered or sheepish coat? C'mon. I think dog owners have good intentions, but they've deluded themselves into thinking that they're the parents of bare skinned, helpless babies.

When the apocalypse happens, the humans will die off. We deserve it for what we've done to our pets. The planet will be over-run with cockroaches, dogs and perhaps Ben Mulroney (his greasy hair and Teflon exoskeleton will protect him from the fallout). There will be no one to put booties on the dogs. No one to knit cable sweater for them. No one to put their legs through arm holes, or their arms through leg holes(??). They'll be just fine without us, perhaps even better off. They won't have to deal with the psychological humiliation of being dressed like yuppie puppies. They will run like proud wolves once again, no longer looking like leashed dingo dung in sheep's finery.

Flirting With Fate...The Rascals!

I've had a few close calls as a pedestrian here in Toronto. People in cars seem to be in a rush to get somewhere, and sometimes they cut corners. I've nearly had my toes crushed and/or my knee caps removed.

Cars hit bicyclists. It happens, regularly. I've seen two since I got here....imagine how many must be happening across the city over the course of a year.

It must be equally dangerous for motorcyclists, if not more so.

I wouldn't fault the two people in today's picture for driving motorized wheelchairs (Rascals) on the street. Being physically handicapped in this city must be a nightmare. My worry, of course, is that the odds of them being hit, at some point, are pretty high. I wouldn't dare do it. It simply isn't safe to be on the Toronto streets at anytime in anything less than a tank. But what can you do? You've got to move. You've got to live, even if it might stop you from doing so.

Even in my limited life experience I know:

- someone who killed a pedestrian (Toronto).
- someone who died after being hit by a car while driving on the street in a Rascal (F'ton).
- a bicyclist who has been hit by a car...three times (Toronto).

I'll bet if I asked people to share stories about close calls, nearly everyone would have a tale to tell.

Are you nervous yet? All I can say to my fellow pedestrians is 'look both ways before crossing...and keep looking while you're crossing'. You are never safe in Toronto. Or Fredericton. Or anywhere.

The Flâneur Takes His Camera For A Stroll

I had some time on my hands yesterday (see definition of 'flâneur') so I decided to take my camera on a walkabout. Before I even left my condo I snapped the first picture you see. A worker was on the roof of 15 Maitland Place, the condo building where we rented a place for the past two years, and with the Scotiabank Tower in the background it made for a dramatic scene. 

I then left the relative safety and comfort of my condo and went out onto the street. I had set my goal for the day to get a photograph of a red-tailed hawk. I had seen them earlier patrolling Allan Gardens, looking for a Happy Meal (pigeon McNuggets).

I walked down Homewood Avenue, my condo's home street, in a southerly direction. I first crossed Wellesley Street, making my way to Carlton Street where  I jay-walked. Now I was in Allan Gardens, a multi acre city 'oasis'. Here's what Wikipedia says about the park: 

The trees in the park represent the northern tip of the Carolinian forest with species such as black cherry, American beech, red oak, sugar maple and sassafras. Most are over one hundred years old and a 2008 inventory showed 309 trees in the park.The park is home to three varieties of squirrel, the gray, the black, and, unique to this park, the red tailed black squirrel. The park is also home to the city's largest flock of pigeons, a roving peregrine falcon and a statue of Robert Burns.

It's also home to a dog playground

and I took the opportunity to photograph the giant green dog sculpture, slightly obscured by the giant blue dog sculpture. I kept my eyes to the sky but didn't spot a single red-tailed hawk while I was there. I decided to amble in the direction of downtown Toronto.

I wandered across Gerrard Street, past two panhandlers outside of the Harvey's restaurant. One was 'working' the cars at the intersection, looking for spare change. The other guy was working the sidewalk. I wasn't asked for change as I walked briskly past with my $2400 camera on my shoulder. Everyone knows professional photographers are poor and amateur photographers are rich. I must have fooled him!

I made my way to the Yonge Street sidewalk and took the image you see. The sidewalk was busy, for sure, but the compression effect of my 300mm lens exaggerated the effect rather effectively, I'd say. The scene was basically people dressed in black walking past sex shops. Same old, same old. Oh, how I tire of this town.

After circling around Aura, the new 78 storey condo tower, I decided to head home as my hands were getting chilled in the +3 degree weather. Holding a cold metal camera/lens exacerbates the sense of cold. I could have popped into a strip club to 'warm my digits' but that's not my style. My style, as you now know, is to stroll around, observe, philosophize, and write.

I watched for red-tailed hawks as I walked along the fringe of Allan Gardens but, again, nothing.

Don't you mean 'ruthin', Ian? You have to work more Moothaisms into your blog!

Indeed I do. "There was no ruthin." Just as I was approaching my building I saw something of interest overhead. I assumed it was a red-tailed hawk with lunch. Even better.....it was a peregrine falcon with lunch!  Squab!! In its talons was a pigeon that I assumed it nabbed in the Sherbourne/Wellesely neighbourhood, just to the east of my condo. The falcon was flying a very direct and purposeful path, headed west-southwest towards Bay Street. I watched it until it went out of sight. Of course I felt badly for the pigeon, but I suspect 'death-by-peregrine' was swift.

Seeing the peregrine falcon and the pigeon was the highlight of my day. I did go to the opera in the evening, making a Herculean ninety minute effort to stay engaged during the first act. There was some world class warbling, no question, but sadly I identified more with the pigeon than the songbirds.

Who Put The Crime In Crimea?

Who PUT The Crime IN Crimea?

Is it just me, or does Vladimir Putin appear to be acting like an asshole these days?

Umm, he's not acting.

No, it doesn't seem like he's acting, does it? His stance on homosexuality is regressive and unrealistic. What will he do next?

I think he might make freckles illegal.

As outrageous as that sounds, that's where he's headed. It's odd to see a man who is seemingly intelligent behaving like one who is not. When that man is the leader of a country, especially Russia, that makes him very dangerous. I think he's like a big child who thinks it's cool to feel powerful, like an eleven year old who just annexed his first Swiss Army knife. In many ways he's acting very immaturely. Not what we'd expect of a world leader.

Today's image was taken at the intersection of Bloor and Church Streets. It's a place where I've seen a number of pro-Ukraine rallies/protests. In general I'm not a fan of anyone being compared unfairly to Hitler but in this case I get their point. First of all, Putin makes it easy in Russia to discriminate against homosexuals. People can no more be not gay than be not Jewish. Secondly he invaded a region (Crimea) without the support of the United Nations and with the overwhelming condemnation of most civilized countries. Poland, anyone? Perhaps Crimea, with it's majority of Russian speaking residents, would have legally voted to join Russia in a more diplomatically palatable way, but we'll never know. When you add in the actions of Ukraine's former pro-Moscow President, Viktor Yanukovych, the whole thing smacks of corruption.

I'm glad these women were protesting Russian aggression. It makes me think about the Crimean situation where I might not have otherwise. Instead of three people thinking about what's happening in Crimea, there are at least four now. By the end of yesterday's protest there will be thousands. If protests like this happen in multiple cities, then there will be tens of thousands, or more. When their protests are filmed by the media, the number jumps to millions.

I should mention that I believe the protest was solely based upon the Ukraine situation and had nothing to do with Putin's stance on homosexuality, but I've lumped them together to make the Hitler comparison approachable. Clearly Putin is no Hitler, but he seems to have fallen on that side of the fence. I just tell myself that he was born this way and he can't change, so I accept him as he is.

There's no guarantee that the protesters' actions will change what's happening on the ground in Crimea, but when you believe strongly that a wrong has been committed, it's good to find your voice. One of the three women offered me a Ukrainian ribbon, blue and yellow, to wear on my lapel. Though I support them, I declined the offer because I knew I'd just lose the damn thing. Instead, I write this blog as a show of support.

In Toronto I'm Not A....Leisurologist

It happened at a party on Saturday night. I was asked the 'dreaded' question....

'What line of work are you in, Ian'?

My reply was the standard 'Leisurologist'. I fleshed the answer out by stating that I basically walked the sidewalks of Toronto observing people, art, architecture, etc. 'I'm a sidewalk philosopher', I added.

'You're a flâneur'!, my questioner added with an excitedly impish grin. 'Your type was once the darling of Parisian society and highly regarded', he elaborated. I liked what I heard. The next day I did a little research on the term 'flâneur' and I was gobsmacked. In New Brunswick I am a Leisurologist, no question. In Toronto, I'm really not a Leisurologist. Far from it, in fact. I really have had no idea who or what I am in Toronto, until now.

There is no question that I am at least 90% flâneur!. So, what exactly is a flaneur? From Wikipedia:

Flâneur (pronounced: [flɑnœʁ]), from the French noun flâneur, means "stroller", "lounger", "saunterer", or "loafer". Flânerie refers to the act of strolling, with all of its accompanying associations.

The flâneur was, first of all, a literary type from 19th century France, essential to any picture of the streets of Paris. The word carried a set of rich associations: the man of leisure, the idler, the urban explorer, the connoisseur of the street. It was Walter Benjamin, drawing on the poetry of Charles Baudelaire, who made this figure the object of scholarly interest in the 20th century, as an emblematic archetype of urban, modern experience. Following Benjamin, the flâneur has become an important symbol for scholars, artists and writers.

Shockingly apt, wouldn't you say? Here's what Baudelaire said on the subject:

The crowd is his element, as the air is that of birds and water of fishes. His passion and his profession are to become one flesh with the crowd. For the perfect flâneur, for the passionate spectator, it is an immense joy to set up house in the heart of the multitude, amid the ebb and flow of movement, in the midst of the fugitive and the infinite. To be away from home and yet to feel oneself everywhere at home; to see the world, to be at the centre of the world, and yet to remain hidden from the world—impartial natures which the tongue can but clumsily define. The spectator is a prince who everywhere rejoices in his incognito. The lover of life makes the whole world his family, just like the lover of the fair sex who builds up his family from all the beautiful women that he has ever found, or that are or are not—to be found; or the lover of pictures who lives in a magical society of dreams painted on canvas. Thus the lover of universal life enters into the crowd as though it were an immense reservoir of electrical energy. Or we might liken him to a mirror as vast as the crowd itself; or to a kaleidoscope gifted with consciousness, responding to each one of its movements and reproducing the multiplicity of life and the flickering grace of all the elements of life.

If you'd like to read more about the life and times of the flâneur, then you can read the entire Wikipedia entry here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fl%C3%A2neur   

There is the odd reference to being a dandy which worries me. I live in a dandy condo building, that's as close as I'll get to being one! 

Have you seen how Ian dresses himself? Not gay. He likes motocross for God's sake!

It's also worth pointing out that I haven't been "the lover of the fair sex who builds up his family from all the beautiful women that he has ever found". Shucks.

I do consider myself to be 90% flâneur while living in Toronto and I've already changed my business card to reflect my new found status. It's official....I'm a seasonal flâneur. I love it!

Wendy The Brave

On Wendy's first day with her new 'red rocket' accordion, she tried Scotland The Brave. She's a quick study. She'll have it nailed before premiering it for Mootha. She'd better have it perfect as Mootha wouldn't stand for anyone butchering her national anthem. And if she does stand...look out! Run, Wendy, run!!