Summer in the City

This is the first summer in a long time that I've actually been at home in Toronto all of July and August; and it's been so great it now makes me want to always take my vacation in May or early June so that I can be home all summer. I loved the two Junes I spent in Berkeley. Both times I experienced and enjoyed a vibe that just wasn't there during the school year. And I'm noticing the same thing about Toronto this summer.

The last Friday in June was very hot and very sunny. After a lunch with E. and C. where we started off outside but before our food came had to seek shelter in the air conditioned interior to relieve the steady sweat that dripped off, and the glaring brightness that surrounded us, E. and I took her dog to the park. The whole time there was so relaxed. First we hung out in the off leash area with lots of other dogs and their owners, and then we moved over to a different part of the park, sat on E.'s blanket and proceeded to just lounge around a whole lot more. After a while I told E. I should probably go home, to which she replied "why?" Realizing I really didn't have an answer and that I had absolutely nothing pressing to do at home, I happily continued to hang out.

Though I started work 10 days after that, and therefore have not been able to wile away as many afternoons in dog parks as I would like, that late June day really set the tone for a July and August filled with lots of sunshine and lots of hanging out. This summer has also seen 2 picnics on M.'s front lawn (which, despite my initial reluctance given the fact that I'm not a big fan of sitting on the ground, even if on a blanket, were actually super fun!), some tanning/lounging on the chaise lounge in my backyard, 2 shows at the Molson Amphitheatre, and just generally enjoying being outdoors.

I always tend to make comparisons in my head about lots of things (my moods, my situations, my feelings about this or that, etc.) and so fittingly, I've found myself comparing summer, to its polar opposite, winter. During the past winter I stayed indoors, a lot, and wore warm sweat pants and big sweatshirts and often went to bed with my hot water bottle. And I actually really liked it. I love warm clothes, and the feeling of being completely covered and warm in those clothes. This summer, in contrast, has been very hot, and very humid. Other than my bed, my favourite place to go on the internet (and the place I do most of my work) is the dining room table. The air conditioning doesn't reach the dining room that well. Therefore, on really hot days in July I became desperately in need of something cool to wear. One would think I would just choose shorts and a tank top, but no, when I'm at home I'm all about lounge/sleep wear. So I found my old black nightgown, which is light, low-cut and short - leaving lots of my skin exposed, and therefore keeping me cool. After having not worn it for over a year, the black nightgown has become my defacto summer-at-home outfit. Sometimes I sit at my dining room table and instead of working, have fun imagining I'm a bored housewife in lingerie waiting for my husband to come home. Those fantasies are all well and good, but I know that I'd be so embarrassed if anyone - be it a neighbour, the mailman, or even a friend - happened to see me in it.

Sadly though, my days of wearing nightgowns are almost over. I've noticed, particularly over the last 10 days or so, how the sun really is setting earlier. From a window on the landing of the staircase going to the second floor I can see the sunset and it makes me a bit sad that we're almost in the homestretch of summer. Though there are a few things I'm looking forward to about colder weather coming again, I know I'll miss the summer, and particularly this summer, once it goes.

Pedicure Persuasion

When E. and C. gave me recommendations for things to do in Japan, they included getting a manicure on the list. The one & only time I ever got a manicure (it was free, my mom had won it and didn't want it) was on my 21st birthday -- a wintery, snowy day made worse by my dejected and lonely state caused by the weird no-man's land I was inhabiting between Berkeley and Santiago. I chose bright red because at the time I had been listening repeatedly to the U2 song Vertigo and wanted to be like 'the girl with crimson nails' Bono sang about. My nails looked fine but not spectacular, and my memories of that manicure are more about my fragile homesick for Berkeley state of mind than anything else. And since then I've never wanted another manicure. Maybe I worry the manicure will bring all those feelings of that month back and I just don't want to go there? In any event, I returned from Japan without getting a manicure, much to the chagrin of E. and C. who, when I met them for lunch, showed off both their new manicures and pedicures. I gladly admired theirs, but did not feel the urge to get either myself.

Until, L. came to town earlier this month and told me she really wanted a pedicure. I wasn't totally gung-ho but I figured it could be fun, and I wanted L. to be happy. After getting turned away from a few places because they were all booked, we came across a place with a friendly guy outside handing out business cards. It turns out this new salon had just opened, and they were more than happy for L. and me to come in and get pedicures. I'd only ever seen people get pedicures in the movies or on TV, and to my surprise, our experience was exactly like that, if not better.

Everyone at the salon was so nice, from the Asian man and woman who actually did our pedicures to this other man who worked there and brought us water in champagne glasses and chocolates (multiple chocolates in my case). I felt both special and indulged -- a good combination. It was fun getting to talk to L., but we also both read magazines for part of the time which made me think it could be cool going alone too. One of my favourite parts of the whole experience was my mom telling me after I'd gotten home and shown off my new toe nails, that my grandmother (who I died when I was little) wore the exact same colour nail polish (the dark pink in the picture below) as I had chosen. I know that if I'd had the chance to know my grandmother for longer, we'd have gotten along extremely well and though in a way it's a superficial thing, knowing that we liked and chose the same nail polish colour just confirmed that all the more. After all, there were hundreds of colours to choose from and I chose that one.

All in all, I am now completely hooked on pedicures - to the point that I've already begun planning my next one. L. told me that she and her mom and some of their friends get pedicures at the same salon in Dallas every Christmas time, which made me think that getting pedicures in the winter is a fabulous idea. Now I've got something good to look forward to.

Post World Cup Blues

I read an article on Sunday in which one of the organizers of the 2010 World Cup in South Africa said that come Monday (so yesterday) there was going to be a nation-wide case of the post World Cup blues. I totally understood that. It is always so sad when a really great event that has been anticipated for so long is over. I always feel so sad when the Winter Olympics are over, knowing that I have to wait another 4 years before they happen again. Last August when I was in South Africa, people everywhere kept mentioning the 2010 FIFA World Cup. It was really cool to see how 10 months before the whole thing started, everyone was looking forward to it so much. And now it's done...For the last month I regularly watched soccer matches, (or at least checked scores), reminisced a lot about the last World Cup, and had numerous World Cup related conversations. So while I am sure I feel only a fraction of what South Africans feel, I can definitely relate.

I first started to pay attention to/like the World Cup only four years ago, during Germany '06. (Although I went on a school trip to Italy in June 1998 (the World Cup was in France that year), and I remember one evening in Rome there were huge celebrations going on as the Italian team had won one of their games. Rome became a sea of giant Italian flags, honking cars and smiling and exuberant people. I remember my 14 year old self thinking all the celebrations were cool, but the World Cup - and how it could inspire that kind of display - was completely over my head.) L., and her entire family are big soccer/football fans and thanks to her enthusiasm, L., K. and I attended many a game at the Starry Plough in Berkeley in June 2006, primarily cheering on Argentina. We were crushed (absolutely crushed! After the match, we stood outside on the sidewalk in front of the bar trying to cheer ourselves up by acknowledging that in sports there always has to be a winner and a loser) when Germany beat Argentina in penalties in the quarter finals.

This time around, I cheered on Argentina again (although I greatly missed L. and K.!) wearing the Argentina jersey my dad bought me at Winners. Sadly, Germany beat them in the quarter finals...again! It was awful. But even once Argentina was out I still enjoyed watching the other matches, all the way to Spain's victory in the final. I like the World Cup because I think soccer is a cool and fun sport in general, and to watch. And also because I really love the (mostly positive) relationships between team mates, between players and their coaches, and players and the fans. Hugs, high fives, smiles, tears abounded.

What I found most touching of all was the welcome the Argentine National Team received at the airport in Buenos Aires, the day after their loss to Germany. Between 15,000-20,000 fans came out to the airport that evening, singing, waving flags and cheering on the team as the bus moved slowly through the crowd. These fans didn't care that Argentina had lost, they just wanted to cheer on their team. Huge crowds (literally a mass of people and flags) turned out in Montevideo when the Uruguay team came home - you'd think Uruguay had won, not come in 4th. It's difficult not to be inspired by that kind of cheer and good will, and wish it existed all the time. Although I know a big part of what makes the World Cup special is that it only happens every four years; so with that, I already can't wait for Brazil 2014!

Home Sweet Home

When I moved back to Toronto last summer, I was originally determined to make some changes in my bedroom. My room seemed perpetually stuck in the year 2002, with a few 2009 (now 2010) calendars reminding me I was no longer 18. I hadn't changed anything since I was in high school - there were the same pictures on the walls (including a very faded cut out ad from the newspaper of my favourite movie when I was 15 : You've Got Mail) and the same glow in the dark stars on the ceiling above my pillow.

S. told me the last time I saw him in Austin a year ago that he only likes staying at his parents' place in Baltimore for at most a few weeks at a time, because because being there makes him feel like a kid. "I still have my childhood bed" he told me somewhat sheepishly. Then last September I read an interview with Gwen Stefani who talked about how crazy it was to come back to her parents' house at age 26 after a year of touring with No Doubt to find all this fan mail. She said she lay in bed at night in her little single bed, totally surprised by how popular the band had become. She also made fun of herself for still living at home at age 26.

Well, I'm 26, I'm living at home, I still sleep every night in the bed I've had since I was 6, and I totally don't feel sheepish! (I think it may help that I love my bed (and have loved it since I was 6!) as it's high and has bed posts which are super cool.) Maybe it's because I didn't live at home from age 18-25 and so I know I can get by and be happy away from home, but I've loved living at home this year. It's been very stress free. I also love all the windows and my bath tub (I will forever & ever love that bath tub) so much. My bedroom is also a corner room - which are my favourite types of rooms. I realized the other day that probably my love of corner rooms stems from the fact that my bedroom at home is a corner room. It's interesting how certain likes or dislikes become so ingrained that we don't realize where they come from. I lived in and benefited from windows on two sides for the majority of my life, so it's no wonder that that's the type of room to which I'm most drawn.

Usually I love putting up pictures and making a room my own, but I actually barely made any changes to my old bedroom this year. Maybe it was because I had slept here for so many years before, but it just felt so comfortable exactly the way it was. So I still fall asleep each night under my glow in the dark stars, and they still make me happy like they did when I first put them up when I was 13. I have to admit that I am looking forward to living alone again in the fall; but I will miss my bedroom, and my house, and my parents very much. I won't be putting up glow in the dark stars in my new apt, but I like that my bedroom in Toronto will always stay - and feel - the same to me whenever I come home.

Strawberries & Skyscrapers

Before I went to Japan, I had so many ideas and images of the place in my head. I had wanted to go there for so long, but I was a bit worried that it wouldn't live up to what I had imagined. When I was in high school, my next-door neighbour moved to Japan to teach English and I thought that was the coolest thing ever. Over recent years, my imaginings of Japan grew bigger and more varied. Classical paintings of Mount Fuji or of majestic blue ocean waves juxtaposed with Tokyo's bright lights and skyscrapers from Lost in Translation. When I read Haruki Murakami's Norwegian Wood in the first (cold, snowy) days of January 2006, I couldn't put it down for many reasons, but I especially liked when the main character(s) would take long walks around Tokyo. That city seemed like somewhere I desperately needed to visit.

Before leaving Berkeley four years ago, I was loading up on supplies at (my favourite store) Avant Card, and came across this really striking card of a Japanese woman with long black hair and a peace sign necklace. For me, this woman, in ways I couldn't and still can't quite express, represented another facet of why I wanted to go to Japan so badly. She seemed so confident, and alluring, and the peace sign necklace came across as totally genuine - and added another layer to her 'personality' - instead of being cheesy or tacky. As much as you can say/know this about a picture, she was someone I wanted to be friends with.

Sometimes we anticipate something for so long or build something up so high that it almost seems inevitable it won't be what we hoped; that reality will be much less cheerful than what we expected. Fortunately this time for me, Japan in general, and Tokyo in particular, surpassed all my expectations. The country has gorgeous (green at this time of year) scenery, and genuinely cheerful, friendly, and helpful people. I was so happy to be in Tokyo. It is a city I would definitely live in, and a city I could see myself being very happy in. I loved the skyscrapers and bright lights I expected, but also the things I hadn't expected: the smaller streets with their little shops, the parks, the way the trains run right next to parks with tall trees whose branches and leaves lean over the tracks, the stationery stores that had better collections than I could have ever imagined, the outfits (both men's and women's), the French patisseries whose selection of cakes and tarts in the windows would give any Parisian patisserie a run for its money, and the preponderance of strawberries. I have long loved berries (raspberries the most, but strawberries are second) and the Japanese love strawberries. I found (and of course bought) some very sweet strawberry stationery, and I indulged in quite a few pieces of strawberry shortcake while there. If I really did live in Tokyo, I think I'd want to spend an hour (or more) each week, staring out the window at the city and the skyscrapers before me, while writing letters on my strawberry patterned paper and eating some strawberry shortcake.

Celebrity Withdrawal, Or Not...

Last December, sort of out of nowhere, I decided to stop reading two celebrity gossip websites (People and Just Jared) I had been reading every day for a long time. I'm not sure what exactly prompted me to stop. I think I just finally (and really about time!) got bored of looking at pictures of celebrities I really didn't care about go about their daily lives. I also realized how the approximately 20 minutes (give or take) I was spending each night looking at these two websites while I ran my bath, could be much better spent doing other things. I have not, for a second, regretted my decision. I now don't stay on the internet as late anymore and instead spend more time reading my book every night; as well, I now more regularly read and look at other, much more interesting blogs like Salon and Jezebel (which conveniently regularly mention celebrities...)

So in a way I quit cold turkey, except that I still read the Entertainment section of the Huffington Post almost every day. Clearly I haven't been able to tear myself completely away from celebrity gossip, and I wonder why? The desire to click through 30 barely different photos of Jennifer Garner (or any other celebrity) walking down the street is thankfully gone (was it even ever there to begin with? I'm not sure... It must have been in a small way, but it really became more automatic in the sense that I went to Just Jared and clicked through the pictures pretty much on auto pilot). But, the desire to know more about celebrities' lives is not. Every time I watch a movie or a TV show and like one of the actors in it, I always look them up later on the Internet Movie Data Base. I like seeing their birthday, where they're from, what else they've been in, if they are married or dating anyone, if they have kids, etc. etc. I think it's just because I am inherently interested in people, and different aspects of their lives. And aspects of celebrities' lives - though often in distorted ways - are out there on the internet, just waiting for me to find them.

When I studied abroad in Santiago, my parents came to visit me at one point. I asked my mom to bring me some gossip magazines. Feeling tired from their long flight, my parents went to sleep pretty early on their first night. I, on the other hand, stayed up late, wrapped in blankets (it was May, and quite cold being almost winter there), and caught up on months of celebrity gossip. After I was done reading US Weekly, Star, and In Touch, I gave them to C. so she could catch up too. At her birthday party a few weeks later, after we'd had the cake and sung Happy Birthday, one person found the magazines and soon everyone was gathered around, discussing, exclaiming,and savouring the link to American celebrity culture which wasn't present in Santiago. Looking back now, I definitely feel I've come a long way. But I still look back fondly on that first night with the blankets and the tabloids, and how, as sad as it may seem, I did get genuine pleasure out of reading those magazines.

The prominence of celebrity culture can also be found in unlikely places. In December 2006, while on a trip to New York, I had lunch at Cafe Fuego, a Cuban restaurant in the East Village (sadly now closed) that was owned by model (and also Halle Berry's then (but now ex, which I know thanks to Huffington Post!) boyfriend Gabriel Aubry. I had read online about the restaurant and how tacked to the bathroom wall were People and US Weekly magazine covers. Naturally I went to the bathroom to investigate, and sure enough there were 3 magazine covers - recent ones too, leading me to believe they were regularly changed. I still can't decide if I think that's funny and cool, or a bit tacky. Were they trying to make fun of celebrity culture? or embrace it? Probably a little of both, which is about where I am too.

Ash Clouds and Empty Cities

My friend N. was trapped in Berlin last month during the fall out from Iceland's volcano. Her three day stay turned in to a nine day stay before she was finally able to make it back to Oxford. N. explained that the city seemed to be paused, no one was leaving, and no one was coming in. I read an article by a journalist based in London who described how the city was empty of both many of its inhabitants (the volcano erupting during school holidays, thus trapping a lot of vacationing Londoners abroad) and of tourists, who couldn't get in due to the cancelled flights. He said he'd never seen London so empty, and that he really appreciated it like that.

These thoughts of static Berlin and London bring to mind images of ski towns in summer or beach towns in winter. I can never decide if I like them or not. On the one hand, it's nice to be somewhere that is normally bustling and crowded and instead have it all to yourself. But on the other hand, something seems really off. There is this lonely, abandoned, disused feeling that permeates and sometimes makes me feel utterly alone.

I was also reminded of a somewhat related incident closer to home. Last summer all City of Toronto workers were on strike. While the largest downside was the lack of garbage pick up (public garbage cans on the streets were the most disgusting as they were literally overflowing with trash...), there were some upsides, depending on who you were and where you lived. I read an interesting article in the Toronto Star in which a woman who lived on Ward's Island (one of the Toronto islands located in Lake Ontario, just across from downtown) described how she was actually enjoying the strike. City of Toronto employees operate the ferries which ship mainland residents and tourists to and from the islands (during the strike there was still one ferry running - maybe by a private company? - to let actual residents of Ward's Island get back and forth). So no regular ferry service meant the islands were very quiet. The woman interviewed said it was really peaceful, and that the island residents were savouring having their home completely to themselves during a time of the year when that never usually happens.

I've never been in Paris in August - the month in which most Parisians supposedly leave en masse for the beaches and sun in Cannes and St Tropez, and Paris becomes overrun by tourists. But the whole concept of that month fascinates me. The underlying implication seems to be that while the Parisians want to enjoy a summer vacation by the Mediterranean, they also want to get out of Paris precisely to avoid all the tourists. It seems like a mutual (unfounded) dislike in which tourists love to say Parisians are rude, and Parisians love to hate tourists. I, for one, don't find Parisians noticeably ruder than inhabitants of any other city, and I also don't find tourists in Paris any worse than tourists in other cities. I do, though, think it would be very cool if one August there was another volcano ash problem (or something along those lines)keeping all the tourists out and letting the Parisians -who for whatever reason did not go south- the chance to have their city all to themselves.