Following a highly enjoyable two weeks on the North American continent, this evening my feet will leave Canadian terra firma for the first time in a fortnight when I board my return flight to Blighty. That’s unless you count the occasions when my feet metaphorically left the ground, a consequence of awe manifesting from the beautiful Ontario scenery, a frequent visual companion while venturing around this vast province.
Sights generating my reverence including chromatic canvases painted by towns such as Brockville, Merricksville, Kingston, Prescott, Niagara Falls and Toronto.
These colourful scenes enhanced further by the fact I’m visiting the land of the maple leaf in the Fall. A season creating fire-like foliage on deciduous leaves whose race is almost run.
These moribund bracts victims of Mother Nature’s edicts. Dying foliage that in around six months will be replaced by the class of 2020 leaf buds. Their legacy not solely bestowing aesthetically pleasing kaleidoscopic views, but also the life elongating qualities of converting carbon dioxide into the oxygen we ultimately need to breathe. This an infinite cycle dictated to some extent by seasonal meteorological conditions.
Poetically, I perceive the red, yellow and orange colours of 2019’s deciduous foliage as a representation of a funeral pyre for the falling leaves. Observations manifesting from deep within my neurological corridors while being driven hundreds of Canadian kilometres by my hosts……. Poetry in motion if you like.
As I commence this paragraph I’m residing in a departure lounge bar within Toronto’s Pearson airport. I’ve just paid the equivalent of £10 for a pint of Heineken. With my flight due to depart in two hours, I’m passing time sitting on a bar stool with my laptop, aiming to try shut out the background distractions of the bar tunes. Not to mention the chatter of fellow passengers bar side, aiming to comp[ete this literary piece prior to heading boarding the Air Transat plane back to the UK.
I visited Toronto this morning. A venture that included the obligatory holiday snaps of the city’s iconic sights, including the CN Tower, Rogers Centre, the Blue Jays baseball stadium and an eatery that was named Fat Bastard Burrito Co……. I kid you not!…… A restaurant name of such whimsy it even got a miserable so and so like me to smile.
As much as the joint’s moniker amused me, I didn’t lunch there. Instead dining at a St Louis Wings & Ribs eatery on Bremner Boulevard opposite the Blue Jays stadium. Yours truly also intrigued to learn the vast Rogers Centre on Bremner Boulevard was named after Ted Rogers….. Which just goes to show working with Dusty Bin on TV gameshow Three, Two, One wasn’t the millstone around the presenters neck as was previously thought!!
Here I dined on a shredded pork poutine; made up of fries, cheese curds and gravy, not the healthiest of lunches. However, on my last day on the North American continent I concluded not sampling one of Canada’s signature, and probably unhealthiest, dishes would be impolite…… I suspect my cardiologist wouldn’t be impressed but you only get one crack at life and I may never get back here, so I bit the bullet and partook in this cholesterol packed ‘delicacy’.
Yours truly’s overnight flight (UK time) has just been called to board at Gate C34; coinciding perfectly with me finishing the quaffing my 10 quid ale…….. Canada, it’s been a blast!!