How to Change Well

Loyal readers, I apologize for my lack of presence here. It has taken a few weeks for me to adjust back to a regular routine of being back at work and home. Home doesn't quite scream to be written about like foreign countries do. It's my dog Angus' seventh birthday today and I noticed that he has quite a large lump on his side. Here's to hoping that it's just an inconsequential fatty cyst. His smile as he romps freely around the park is one of my favourite things about being back home.

Tomorrow is the supposed 'black friday' which means consumerism is ramped up to high gear as many gadgets and gizmos are discounted in efforts to move older stock. I almost got sucked into it, eyeing a good value bundle of DSLR + lens + tripod at a reputable camera store, but why buy something until required? I've got a loaner camera now, and absolutely adore it. Photography has really captured my imagination, and I need to spend more time and effort getting out there and better at composing photos rather than focusing on equipment. 

Tokyo Skyline, Oct 2013

For more of my photography, click here. 

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I've been heartily considering ways out of my current career trajectory (full-time retail employee and maybe retail middle-management at best). The best options currently seem to be:

a) go back to university and pursue a masters degree in Sociology with the aim to moving in to teaching, writing, or social work.

b) apply to become a police officer aiming to become a detective, or to assume a more managerial role with the force. 

c) look for an upstart company that needs somebody with my leadership abilities and organizational skills with the potential to grow together in to something mutually exciting and profitable (brewery? internet website? import company?). 

I'm relatively happy with my current job, but I'm afraid that I will not remain happy if I continue on this trajectory for the next 40 years. I'm not particularly proud to be a member of the company that I work for, as it does many things poorly (professionalism, internal development/training, industry leadership). The work is easy and can be fun, but the challenge of the job has shifted from figuring out what to do, to grinding out for the long-haul in a job that will not change much. 

Child Flyer

Whoever decides what weather to bring upon me seems to like me wet. Another typhoon has been flung near Tokyo, although this one looks to remain off the coast and send only its weaker edges to spray their moisture at us. I was the subject of many chuckles as the foreigner marching without an umbrella, but I found the misting to be quite nice. I've thoroughly mapped out Shibuya, Harajuku and to a lesser extent Shinjuku, although I think tomorrow I will venture out somewhere new, perhaps the northern area around Ueno. I think I might be ready to see another museum, temple or castle now.

I helped myself to an unofficial tour of the Tokyo metropolitan government building's 17-25th floors for a nighttime view of the metropolis, which was quite nice --the elevators were beautiful, quiet and quick, and made me almost wish to be a child again flying up and down the floors. I'd read that the building had a nice free observation deck, but I couldn't find it, and it seemed to be closing down, so I just decided to get as high as I could until somebody told me to scram (nobody ever did). It was almost for the best, as the clouds hovered somewhere around the 25th floor, and I'm sure that the (official) observation deck would be blind, and closer to the 36th floor. I intend to re-visit later on a sunny day, and catch the glimpse of Mt. Fuji that was denied me on my earlier fruitless journey to its base.

I've tasted much ramen and other cheap foods recently, as well as read voraciously (I ought to finish the 2nd book of the Game of Thrones series tonight), and walked a good deal since arriving. I am starting to warm to the city, now as I count the days before my departure to be few. The weather looks to open up to clear skies by late tomorrow, and no doubt my early impression of the city has been tainted by the foul weather which I've largely avoided this trip.

An open letter to madness

Dear Tokyo,

You are insane. I'm sorry to say, but there is just too much of you. The population of my whole country is crammed into the space of a city. Your subways are are as mad as your rampant shopping districts. Watching thousands of people surge across a Shibuya intersection when the lights go green is fair reminder of why that type of pedestrian crossing was invented (no offence to Bay and Bloor -- but c'mon). Your Tokyo Skytree tower looks almost indistinct compared to the spaceship shopping mall straight from a sci-fi manga, or the Gotham city-like government building. Yodobashi camera sells everything under the sun. I feel myself craving the woods of Blackwater lake more than ever, as this madness is just too much. I've bumped my head on every one of your archways, my elbows are bruised from banging the walls of your weensy showers, my back aches from your shitty beds, I'm sweaty as a mosh pit from your subway ride and my feet ache from walking barely halfway across your downtown. You have a madness that has spawned maid cafes, love hotels, otaku, and more than the moon knows what else. I don't even hate to say it, but I'm leaving you. I'm going to the peace and serenity of Ontario, with cold lakes and room to breath.

Sayonara,

The Youngest Mr. Mills

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Well Tokyo isn't that bad (at all). But it is overwhelming. My JR Pass has now expired, and I have eight days to explore this place (less if I do a day trip to the temple cluster town of Nikko). After the capsule hotel in Osaka I went back to Kyoto (a regal city, I had a perfect time on a rented bike where I met a hilarious old drunken woodblock print master), made  a day trip to Nagoya (spent a good part of it at a wonderful Toyota museum that was wonderfully informative on automotive design more than simply a sales pitch), spent a couple of days cruising around on a junky orange bike in the quaint town of Matsumoto (staying at a place that felt like the Campbell's cottage), and wasted a day going to an amusement park at the base of Mt. Fuji (which was obscured by fog -- and I got there late in the day and got in to only one ride-- a stupid treasure hunt that was not the Haunted mansion that I thought I had lined up for 2hrs {solo!} for). Yes, that was a terrible run-on sentence, but now we are caught up. Oh how much I crave my own good and reliable computer! Hostel comptuers universally suck.

I have a pretty good grip on Tokyo's layout now, and spent today wandering about most of the main highlight areas (Akihabara, Ginza, Shibuya, and Harajuku), visiting many guitar shops and generally just taking in the atmosphere of the city. I'm 7 books down so far this trip, and swimming through book two of the Game of Thrones series now, which is as good or better in print than on screen. Hopefully I'll be caught up or even slightly ahead of the TV show by the time I'm back. It's supposed to rain for a couple of days now, so I might just get my wish.

Whoops for Wipha / boo earns

The reflection in a window

As you fly through a tunnel

A foreign country of inspiration

The good vibes emanate

With the velocity you crave

Which so often lies obscured

In the corner of your dormant mind

Back home in the warmth 

Of your cozy apartment

While the wide wise outside

Churns out its next victim

Broadly swimming in the deep blue

Of a haunted fate

Muddled by the experience

Of escaping your nice cell

Green grass always saved up

For next time's viewing

And pondering

Where to next? 

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Unfortunately a large typhoon has struck Nippon, and it caused my ferry to Yakushima to get cancelled. Giving up hope on getting there and ready to move on to somewhere new, I jumped on a bullet train to Osaka thinking that I could get far away from the rain, but of course the typhoon is even stronger here! 

I'm currently bunked out in a capsule hotel, although it's not a coffin at all but more like a mini luxury hotel room with a partition instead of a door (I think this is a swanky 'capsule' hotel). There is some regulation that restricts this class of lodging to having no door and only three permanent walls (for tax purposes?). At any rate, it feels like a hostel for grown-ups, with shared bathrooms and showers, but a nice little alcove to yourself too. 

(couch) Surfing!

Surfing (by way of couch), ramen from the heavens, getting buried in volcanic sand, renting a car and getting the onsen (Japanese spa) experience, hanging out with a gang of stray cats, bicycling around an active volcano and watching it erupt (twice), conveyer belt sushi, clouds of ash, a Japanese haircut (which includes a massage!) and a seven-course posh dinner including the best tuna and salmon I've ever had (served with garlic!?). It's been a busy several days down here in lovely Kagoshima.

My first experience with couchsurfing at someone else's place has been amazing, and far better than I imagined. My host has taken me to a lot of great spots and restaurants, cooked great food for me, explained a lot of things for me and helped me out immensely. I feel so lucky to be welcomed so well to such a foreign country.

Tomorrow I board a ferry to the exciting Yakushima island, which contains the forest which largely inspired the one in the great movie Princess Mononoke. I'm still on the hunt for yokai (demon) figurines and a yukata (lounging gown), but have collected a fair number of things already, enough to weigh down my bag to its limit. I might need to purchase a piece of rolling luggage in order to cart it all home...

Run to the Castles, Shake The Hills

Fukuoka City, Hiroshima, Miyajima, Kyoto and Kumamoto in 5 days. This JR Pass is definitely worthwhile. I feel a little bit crazy to hop around so much, but I just can't resist the temptation of seeing what's on the other side of another train station. Tomorrow I head even further south to Kagoshima to try couchsurfing for the first time. I'm starting to feel like I will make it to Hokkaido after all... just because I can.

I was really pleasantly surprised by how much I like Kyoto. I had a feeling that I wouldn't enjoy the place due to the rampant tourism, but I found that despite it, it had a really nice charm. People were very warm and polite (as usual here), and the general architectural ambiance was very old fashioned--although frankly much of the main streets were thoroughly modern. I've never been a big fashionista, although lately I've taken a liking to dressing well, but I was in for a shock when I found myself nearly buying a pair of $700 handcrafted jeans from a boutique in Kyoto(!). The place was a kimono maker that decided a few years ago that the bottom had fallen out of selling kimonos, but that people love their denim, so they took the age-old processes of kimono dyeing and applied it to denim. Unfortunately (but fortunately for my wallet) the biggest size available in the 'Shinobi style' jeans were too small for me. However the 'Samurai style' fit just fine... I'm not quite sure which Samurai house I represent now, but their flag does touch my butt.

Nijo-jo (the suffix -jo meaning castle) in Kyoto was a very ornate castle, a bit more like a palace than an impregnable fortress. It was really nice to get inside and see the faded and beautiful paintings on the walls --hawks, waterfalls, forests etc... It was super cool how they designed the floorboards to squeak when you walk so that intruders would be easily detected. I tried my best shinobi-style to evade detection (as if anyone cared) but I failed. The gardens were typically beautiful, like looking at a postcard.

Today I woke up and hopped on another train to take me 700km back South to Kumamoto on Kyushu island, where I went to a seriously impregnable fortress dating 400 years to the Shongunate era. The first building I entered was an originally surviving five-story guard tower (the rest of the fortress burned down just prior to a major seige at the dawn of the Meiji era) ----and was breathtaking. An all wooden structure that was five stories up from a huge moat that was probably 15-20 meters already was really amazing. I could picture myself there in the 1870's, as 60,000 rebel (anti-Western/modernist) troops surrounded the fortress but were unable to invade it. The main seven-story structure looked impressive and had a great view of the city (the tallest structure in the vicinity) but was a reconstruction and failed to have the historical feel of the aged wood.

Walking back to the Ryokan-style hostel that I'm staying in tonight, I was hungry and decided to enter the first lively good-smelling Izakaya (Japanese pub-style restaurant) that I found. Upon entering I was laughed at heartily because I spoke such poor Japanese and struggled to order a Teriyaki dish and beer, but quickly made friends. Before long the doctor next to me was feeding me shochu (it tasted like tequila), the businessman from Sendai (north of Tokyo) was encouraging my trip to Hokkaido (the northernmost main island), and I was fielding many questions about Canada and my trip from the hostess and cooks. It was such a fun atmosphere, and they brought me some delicious kimchi-like dishes to try as a bonus (local specialties). They all approved of my quest to visit Yakushima, universally regarded as intensely beautiful. They assured me that the recent typhoon had passed, and that it was really only in the north around Sendai (near Fukushima) that the tidal waves posed any risk anyhow.

Back to the hostel where I met Walter, a elder German-Australian and a quiet young Austrian, where we had a nice long chat about the future (the excitement and possible frights of the next 20 years), the past (the violence of World War Two and the lingering racist attitudes afterwards), the value of challenging oneself, differing international pensioning systems, what it was like being in East Germany and many other meandering topics. All-in-all it was a delightful day, although I promised myself to finish my book tonight (my fourth so far this trip), and I have forty pages yet to indulge upon.

I can assure my dear readers that Japan is the most stimulating and wonderful place that I've been to yet in this short life, and I look forward to returning again. Please do see for yourself what this place is like.

Nuclear Horror House

Japan is safely a world beyond the one that I hail from, its cities cleaner than my kitchen after the hardiest scrubbing, its people friendlier than I imagined and its charm immeasurable. A ride on the Sakura is classier than any other ride I have ever been on. The mountainous landscape, delicious food and stylish people are awe-inspiring. I trip over myself trying to match the level of conduct that is so normal here, and I was led to believe that Canadians are polite and successful...

It is so beautiful to see so many people riding bicycles here, and charming to see them do it in the rain while holding an umbrella. I have quite the urge to rent a bike and join them, but that will have to wait until tomorrow in Kyoto (and hopefully the edge of this typhoon will have passed).

Today's visit to the peace memorial museum in Hiroshima was gut-wrenching in its honest pursuit of peace as a global goal. Pictures of mutilated people and artifacts as testament to what occurred in the very same spot 68 years prior were a reminder of the brutality that humanity can inflict, but the whole atmosphere held a strong hope of the humane possibilities that the future can hold if we focus our energy in the right direction.

After a visit to the Korean war museum, it was so very beautiful to see such a balanced reaction to the horrors of the past in contrast to the anger and hurt pride that was evident in the Korean exhibit. I left this place feeling both uplifted and frightened to realize what a huge nuclear arms stockpile still exists and how much more powerful many of the warheads are than that which levelled this city. It is easy to be comfortable in Canada and forget about how much latent and pointed violent exists elsewhere.

KTX Lady Milk

When we last spoke (or when you last listened), I was on a high from climbing my first mountain (even if it was closer to a baby-hill in a proper mountaineering context). Today I climbed in another way, and cheated for most of the way up. I took the elevator to the 36th floor of the building of the guesthouse that I'm staying in, then climbed a few flights of emergency exit stairs up to an open hatch to the roof. I'll plead ignorance of the Korean language in thinking that what was written was saying: stay the hell out, but it was not only unlocked, but held slightly ajar by a rope. I took this as a sign that I was meant to whip out my camera and take a few nighttime shots of the Busan skyline while perched 10ft up on an emergency ladder perilously close to a terrifying drop. I wasn't actually on the roof, but more like peeping out on it (the hatch was tied in such a way that it would neither open nor shut). I really love the colours of long exposures at night--such magical illumination.

Backtracking a little, I took the Korean bullet train (KTX) down, which was very comfortable and pleasant. I was a little sad that we have no such similar option back home to get to Montreal. VIA is nice, but it doesn't travel at 300km/h or cost $50. The kind old lady that I sat next too didn't speak any English and my Korean is pretty much limited to saying please and thank you, hello and goodbye, which exhausted half of my vocabulary by the time we'd sat down. She was very grateful for my long-armed help in putting her purse up above in the storage compartment, such that she bought me a milk from the trolley when it came by later. She really aggressively slapped my hand when I offered to pay. She was nice. I'm grateful to her for showing me that delicious milk product, because all the writing is in Korean and I had no idea that it would be so tasty without her gesture. I believe it is some kind of red-bean flavoured soy milk, and I've been drinking it ever since (edit: I've since learned that this delicious beverage is banana-flavoured milk).

Yesterday from awakening to sleeping involved four movies and half of a really good book (The Sisters Brothers). It's safe to say that my head had a lot of stories to sort out and think about. 'The Fifth Estate' spent the first half building Julian Assange up to be an idealist prophet, and the second half tearing him down as an out-of-control egoist. The original 'Dawn of the Dead in 3D' had a campy 70's feel to it, with really good vs. really bad, and despite the weird pink paint colour of all the blood, was actually very enjoyable. 'The Keeper of Lost Causes' is a Danish thriller about a cop with conviction about an old case being improperly handled, and the main character reminded me of a Danish version of McNulty from The Wire. My favourite movie of the night however, was 'The Devil's Path', a Japanese movie about a gangster on death row who seeks out a journalist to uncover his own past digressions with the law in order to incriminate his former boss in retribution for his betrayal. It kept me really engaged between 4-6am, so it's safe to say that it is a really engrossing watch.

Anyonghi Kesaeyo

Get that boost and enjoy the view

Bukhansan mountain my baby, you have got it going on. In order to fulfill declarations made and plans forged years ago, my brother and I had one day left to complete our plan. Seoraksan mountain off in the East coast got written off due to the magnetic nature of Hongdae neighbourhood and the soothing Jiljimbang experience. However, that was of no negative consequence, as our four hour hike to the summit of Bukhan-dong (?) at just under 600m of elevation was plenty spectacular.

Our nighttime activities on the eve before delayed our start to the point of being pretty much the only ones going up as all the giggling Korean senior citizens in their full-blown mountaineering gear laughed at the funny foreigners beggining to climb a mountain in jeans and t-shirts at 3pm. The infrastructure of concrete paths with ramps and steps, roads, and rest stations with vending machines made the first half of the climb pretty easy. After missing several trail options due to our negligence of the written Korean language, we eventually decided to venture off the beaten track on a much more fitting mountaineering trail after feeling that we were more circling the peak than ascending it.

This section of the climb was much closer to what I envisioned as mountain climbing, although again the infrastructure in the form of well placed knotted ropes and grooved stones at key points still made the climb relatively easy. Sweating it out in long-pants was the real difficulty. The first plateau of the mountain was surreal, as we finally crested through the treeline and made it to the view, it became apparent just how high we had climbed. After a drink of water and a few posed photos, we headed up to the summit, which was made easier by the installation of a steel handrail on a very steep incline (I don't think I could have made that climb without proper gear had it not been there). Here my fear of heights was put to the test, as there was a 3-4 meter high boulder at the crest, where after a boost from Tom and clambering around in fear, I managed to become the tallest point on the mountain, with a 360 degree view. Looking down at a metropolitan area of upwards of 25 million people (albeit viewing the backside) from a height is pretty special. A few shameless selfies later, I descended to the regular summit, where I tried not to brag about the view to Tom, who could not make it up on his first attempt. After convincing him that I was truly strong enough to boost him and the trust in that, he managed to take in that wonderful sunset view.

Due to our late start, I began to worry about us getting caught in the dark, so we began our descent (and incidentally ascent up another peak). After negotiating some more foreign signs we made it down to base camp in no time. The pictures (forthcoming) don't really quite capture the feeling of being up so high, so I highly recommend climbing a South Korean mountain if you've never climbed one before. The infrastructure and multiple paths make it not such a difficult task, and the reward is a view to remember.

Hanging in Hongdae

Que the shirtless guy pounding soju to hand out some buckets and a pot for us to commence the wild Friday night of rhythms in the park. Realize that mixing soju and beer is a dangerously delicious way to enjoy such festivities and provide a late night show to the populace of my new favorite hangout. The backstreets of the Hongik University area are the spot to be if you like a) coffee, b) beautiful people c) amazing food and/or d) a great weekends.

Saturday involved coffee shop cruising with my brother, ultimately leading us to a kicking spot with a nice view and delicious cappuccinos, where we heard screaming as a zombie hoard stumbled by, frightening the local Korean populace. Fearing not for our lives, we managed communication with some of the undead and located their final resting place for the evening, which was pumping nineties dance music out of a big garage in a back alley, just down from my beloved park. This turned out not to be the final resting place of the night however, as our zombie friends took us on a circuitous path to another late night dance club, where we tasted tequila several times and enjoyed the company of our mostly hagwon teacher new friends. The English teaching in Korea is a very tempting possibility, several nights of sleeping on that decision are required.

Climbing Seoraksan has been cut from the plan, and been replaced by the relatively mild Bukhansan. It is on the edge of Seoul, as our legs are a little bit tired from many day-long walks around, combined with our reluctance to leave Seoul. The view of Seoul should be very nice, and another day of hanging in Hongdae is no difficult thing to ask of me.

Last night we took our tired legs to a Jjimjilbang, a 24hr Korean bathhouse/spa complex where you get segregated by gender, hang naked in public baths (of several different temperatures including one of tea), melt in a couple of saunas, then throw on some uniform pajamas to enter the unisex hangout section that includes a restaurant, massage (painful --but very good), an internet cafe, yoga room as well as mats and pillows where you can sleep comfortably on the floor. It was a very nice place to take tired legs.

Spicy Kimchi Soup and the Battle for Comfort

A baby who cried more than it didn't, the background music for my battle for the 38th parallel-- airplane redux. Squishing into economy class, slurping free beers and trying to maintain a level of comfort meant an ongoing clash of elbows between myself and the middle-aged Korean businessman to my left. It was a high-stakes game of move it and lose it.

So far I've done more sleeping than anything interesting, although the long walk to the Korean War Monument (museum) gave me a good sense of different areas of Seoul, and a reminder what big Asian cities smell like (sulphur?). There were tonnes of tanks, jets (including a massive b-52 bomber), and a re-build of a patrol boat that got shot up by N. Korea in 2002 all sitting outside where you could climb up and even get in some APC's (very small inside).

I had some Kimchi soup from a local Korean joint that didn't score better taste marks than my beloved Sunrise house, but it was still pretty damn good and only $5. Seeing as it's 2:30
AM and I just awoke from a way-to-long nap, I guess I'll go an snap
some nighttime photos of Hongdae.

Tootaloo

Dr. Spruce

Buckle up against the high flying altitude swim because the next adventure will shortly begin. If haven't you heard, I'm off like a bird, whiling away this fine fall. A burst of your camp is one we don't stamp, fiddling with porcelain buttons. Hop in a plane, then speed on a train, to welcoming spirits, and I'm off again.

Travel like a dog on a steak. 

Space Pack Swamp Monster Levitation

Bruise the breakneck watering can's plummeting

Upwards from the skillsaw's clenched expression

A sky with a lumpy demeanor lingers long

So strap on your space pack,

We'll go for a ride 

This time it's nothing

But next year is waiting

What hangs in the balance of obscurity

As the knots scrape feelings together

Are gutless treasures awaiting blood

So dream of the present and forget the future

This seems to be real

Trash your headset and lose the cap

Examine twice and click the shutter

What lies in wait amidst all the clutter?

J-Pan vs. S-Ko

Thermonuclear mechanical accelerator speeding through a glass pickle jar of shattered vinegar soaked dreams entrancing the magical lighted sky with robots punching giant lizards.  Or just go see Pacific Rim. A safely epic choice of gut-level fun.

It's Hollywood trying to scare me about my choice of romping through S-Ko and J-Pan come this fall. I like it. Checklist:

-Climb a mountain
-Cycle around some beachy Pacific scenery
-Explore the flavour territory of freshly made kimchi
-Watch Akihabara light up at night
-Bask in the serenity of a Japanese garden
-Get feudal in a Ryokan

Dark histories don't preclude bright futures

Homefield Pine Tree Disco Radius

Apologies for the delay in communication, it has been a busy several weeks. The gamma ray nectar fruits have blossomed into full agitation, while the thick heat wave plunderous clouds continue to dump threatening glances. Full prospects of motorcycles, South Korean meanderings and Western explorations have continued to float on in the midst of mild-mannered distortions. Beck's history is being investigated from the pages of an out-of-date book found in the dusty attic, which has become a temporary home to one of the nations finest underachievers. Long sprints on the two-wheeled monster have inspired conversations of reversing Laura Secord's run on wheels with bbq stops and backcountry hill-bombing. The age turning is almost upon us and new pages will turn on old books carrying discarded scars and fresh air. Let the banana tune you into the discarded wasteland of the rusty television racket. Scrape together enough coins to jingle your way across the water, and insult your better judgement with praises to the moon-king.

Rocking out

K-Cine

Park Chan-wook my man, you do well. Thank you for opening my eyes to the darling that is Korean cinema.   Oldboy, Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance and Joint Security Area? All that and you still have more gems to unearth. I must pace myself. Last night was a treat in watching The Man from Nowhere, which is another director altogether. It is such a great feeling to discover this deep well of good movies that had largely gone unnoticed by me (save for Oldboy). Official Summer is just around the corner, yet I can't help but feel this draw to the flashing light screens that mesmerize so well these days. Oh well, the money saved from time spent idly satiated makes the day I set foot in those lands that much closer.

Blue Spring

Feeling inspired by the rainy day
In a good way downtown
Sinking weights being cast off
Lighter moments await
Singular strings vibrating the evening
And harmonic overtones released
Back and forth on meetings past
And forward directions gaining steam
New spurts of energy rebirth
Blossoming circular repeating patterns

Deadbeat Motel

Last night a strange dream took hold somewhere between my ears. It was late and I was tired, driving somewhere in the rain, and looking to park my dads car. In an industrial area or a deadbeat motel, I found an empty spot and began to reverse park, when for some reason I decided to slam it in first gear and ram into a nearby car. I vividly recall the impact and hugely exaggerated damage to the front-end of the car. Then I woke up feeling like I had to explain to my dad why his car was wrecked, but thankfully it was just a weird dream.

Despite all my commitment and dedication to the currently named Dirty Safes band, I had no reasonable option left but to quit and move on. It's been several days since this decision, but perhaps the thoughts percolating around above my neck brought on the strange dream. It's a sad day to know that the end has come to something that I've worked so long and hard on, but my patience ran out on the viability of a band that always finds a reason to not get out and play shows, or get things together to record/finish recording multi-tracked songs. These frustrations boiled over recently and after expressing them, some long-held criticisms came out that left me feeling unwelcome in a project I'd founded and fuelled for so long. I wish them the best of luck, but have little faith in their ability to manage all the things necessary for a band other than the songs themselves. If a band plays a song in the middle of an isolated forest and nobody hears, what's the point? I'll miss the good times, be glad to be rid of the headaches, and am relieved to be back steering my own ship.

Quit and Slingshot

The trials of returning to the daily grind after a month abroad have started to take their toll. Doing the same old, same old again just doesn't have me sold. Toronto is a nice place, but I've seen so much of it, and am ready to dive into a new world. I'm only young once, and youth doesn't last forever.

Three main possibilities compete for achievement:
-Work and live in Germany on a youth mobility visa (and get to Goethe institute level A1 before departure)
-Meet my brother in either Vietnam or India for Christmas and then travel around for about a year (or as long as money lasts).
-Travel around in Southeast Asia for a bit, then take on work as an English teacher (and teach kids how to rock out in ball hockey)

Doing any of these things requires moving back in with my parents for a few months as a grown man, but the hit to my pride is well worth the subsequent boost. I think of it like a slingshot, pulling back somewhat in order to move drastically forward.

Johnafranko DelGregor The Third

You left me so long ago, and it hurt. You warm my heart and with your presence I grow, the glow won't return without you. Everything is so much more colourful with you around, and so cold and drab when you leave. Now that you've finally returned, I can feel whole again, because damn SUN, spring is here baby! These boots are ready for some grass beneath them, some leaves above them and birds singing to them because this long cold winter has been around for too long.
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Johnafranko was a guy who took no whistles from anyone. If you saw him walking down main street, you'd be sure to see mean looking biker dudes stepping out of his way, because despite his diminuative size, he had a death stare that would send death himself packing.

One sunny Saturday afternoon in May, a young buckaroo by the name of Flemington Dark happened to be strolling down Clarkson Ave. when the narrow sidewalk forced a confrontation of velocities that left old Johnafranko in a heap. The whole city stopped dead in its tracks and hushed to hear what  kind of madness would ensue. However, none were more surprised than Flemington when after Johnafranko stood up and dusted himself off, gave a most gracious bow, a tip of the hat and walked away smiling.
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Tip of the day:

Coffee is delicious and comes with perks, but lately the regenerative health properties of tea are making inroads on this collection of bad ideas. Rediculous flavour, no jitters and some kind of bodily chi flow enhancement. Definitely a vitality booster. Try it out, because three to five coffees per day is not as good of a balance as could be.
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The guy who gets cut off and smiles

It's been awhile 

since the weekend

We both pretend its good

While thumbing our favorite thing

Loud blender of chaos

Thinking of nothing

But the calm taking over

In the face of madness

On Queen west

Why Toronto is not a World-Class City

I have called Toronto home for 26 years, and have a good idea of how this place is. What I did not quite realize is how things are done differently (read: better) elsewhere. Having just returned from a trip abroad to several fine European capitals, I have to recognize how far we lag behind in being a world-class city. You can look at assessing this in different ways, and my focus is on transit infrastructure.

If the world is a living organism, with breathing ecosystems that are all interconnected, it goes without saying that if you industrialize and burn fossilized fuels for hundreds of years, the fertility of the organism will decline. Hence, in order to maintain the fertility of our planet, we must take measures to reduce our human impact on the natural ecology. Does anybody remember how the deserts of Iraq were once the fertile plains of Mesopotamia? If you smoke like a chimney everyday, it is well known that you have a high risk for life-threatening health problems. How is our planet any different? If we burn coal and oil profusely for hundreds of years, how can we not expect life-threatening health problems?

My idea of a world-class city is one that balances its size and modernity with liveability and sustainability. Here are my reasons why Toronto is not a world-class city:

1) Bicycles

Toronto is not a bike-friendly city. Cyclists are not embraced as equals on the road. There is no good cycling infrastructure here. Some paint lines in the road which most motorists ignore does not qualify as bona-fide cycling infrastructure. As a short-term temporary measure it is a good start, but without more permanent raised (or at least separated) lanes dedicated to pedal power and/or real enforcement of the lane as a bike lane (not a temporary parking spot for a car), it is just a half-measure. Also that at every intersection the lane mysteriously disappears and becomes a car turning lane is a joke, and speaks to how half-assed our 'bicycle lanes' really are.

A current cycling debate revolves around a city-council decision to retrofit a portion of an underused parking garage at city-hall as a bicycle locker station complete with showers. The papers and naysayers are all over it as an excessive waste of 'taxpayer' money -- as if cyclists aren't taxpayers too... However, this plan is exemplary of how disconnected our city planning is with reality. Why start building bike lockers at city hall? Firstly why do we need bike lockers to begin with? In Copenhagen people leave $1000+ bikes unlocked outside overnight and they remain when they return. Shouldn't we be focusing on the bike theft problem at the core, rather than putting these bike locker bandages over the existing problem? Secondly, why choose city hall? Does it not make much more sense to install these things (which unfortunately are useful at the moment, as bike theft is currently rife in Toronto) at a transportation hub such as the currently under-renovation Union Station, where tens of thousands of people on the move travel through each day?

2) Public Transit 

The TTC has an extensive network of buses, streetcars and a small number of at capacity subway lines. However, during rush-hour the main lines are so overcrowded that the experience is very unpleasant. Information regarding when the next bus or streetcar is coming is left to those with smartphones to check for themselves (not very public or equal, is it?). Why can't all stops have readouts that give a precise estimate of the next arrival? Standing in the cold wondering when the next ride is coming is not a world-class experience. Having no direct rail connection to the major international airport is not a world-class experience. Needing to fumble for exact change or tokens that feel suspiciously like really expensive dimes in your pocket is not a world-class experience. Needing separate fares and multiple tickets to travel to the nearest suburb is downright embarrassing. It will only take until 2016 (!) for the Presto fare-card system to be fully implemented, which is beyond playing a little bit of catch-up. World-class cities lead, they don't follow.

The Long Quick Goodbye

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This town is old
It's breathing
Time to leave
I'm seething _______________________________________________________________________

Copenhagen you slick little devil you. Your food is making me ever-hungry, and that despite just having eaten. Your fantastic National Museum made it easy on my non-Danish speaking Anglophone bones and displayed a good number of all kinds of sacrificial and ceremonial bones as well. You have quite a long and interesting history for such a small nation. I especially like your ancient sun-chariot worship, and that at one point your people believed that musicians were shamans who could traverse between the breathing and spirit worlds. Perhaps there are still believers in such un-scientific madness.

Although your charms are constant, I must admit that my darling Berlin was dearly missed as soon as my butt hit the bus seat and I knew that my goodbye had come and gone before I could accept it. Why did I feel so at home in the German-speaking lands? Berlin especially is so effortlessly cool, despite many similarities to Toronto; it just felt like nobody was trying as hard yet reaping twice the cool beans. However, unlike some goodbyes, my goodbye with the Deutsche is only temporary.

How far Toronto lags behind in cycling infrastructure is extremely apparent, and perhaps it is no coincidence that Europeans are so comparatively fit. Beyond mere lines of paint in established car dominated streets, both recent cities have full boulevards dedicated to cyclists, and not just down one street, but all major arteries. It is a dream to see, and makes me wish I had my pedal monster with me. I can't believe not just how many bikes are on the streets here, but in Copenhagen, how many nice bikes aren't even locked up. I was horrified in Berlin to see most people ride up to a bakery, leave their bike unlocked and run in for some delicious breads and pastries. And yet nobody got their ride stolen... Some kind of mutual respect is missing back home.

Tomorrow marks the end of this chapter of traveling, and returning to working for a company that doesn't strive for greatness will be a massive challenge. Perhaps schooling looms closely on the horizon, and if not as soon as would be welcomed, at least traveling to more inspiring lands until official intellectual betterment is possible.

To all who read these words, thank you (and fear not the comments box).

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If every day you lay a brick
It will take a long time
But eventually you will have a strong foundation
If every day you start a fire
Even a small fire
Eventually you will have created an uncontrollable blaze

So beware of the burn
Whose scars will remain
And the magical elixir
Which exists not in that bottle

And start laying bricks
One at a time
So that one day
You will have built a home
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Hauptbahnof Mitte

Today involved a visit to the East side gallery, a remaining portion of the Berlin wall dedicated to murals. A nice place for a stroll on another cold day. Visiting the 'memorial to the murdered Jews of Europe' was the sombre second half of the day. The information presented as nothing new to me, but the pictures were quite powerful, as was the memorial itself: thousands of coffin-like slabs of varying heights arranged like an unburied cemetary. A friend tipped me off to visit an old Nazi-era airfield that has been re-claimed as a park, which will be tomorrow's excursion. It looks like to Copenhagen from here on Monday. Cheerio!

Style Monster Berlin

Berlin you sexy city, you. Small wonder why everyone speaks so highly of you. Everybody is so stylish, in that excellent, understated Berlin way. I could say its hipster at its best, but I think it goes above and beyond that... more like slickster. I mean that it the most complimentary way. Please forgive the typos, I'm not a fan (nor pro) of iPad typing.

The hostels here are far nicer than most hotels I've ever stayed in-- slick, stylish and modern, excellent staff, and clean as can be. They are really quite like everything here. Of course I'm enamoured, and removed from the drudgery of daily working life, but the charm of this place is hard to resist for a young man of Torontonian origins.

Last night, after meeting up with Canadrian (and going for a Chinese massage) we went on an 'alternative' pub crawl, where we (~30 of us) did shots in a convenience store, mobbed several u-bahns, visited some funky nightlife spots, had absinthe properly (though I am still not a fan), and I capped the night of by giving dancing lessons to a very nice teacher from Luxembourg. Who said you need to know how to dance to teach someone?

This morning was not the sunniest feeling morning, so after waking early to check out, I visited the Deutsch equivelant of the Bay, where I proceeded to drool over all the awesome cookware and kitchen tools. I managed to stuff a good deal into my now quite plump travelpack. Tasting all of these regional foods while traveling has re-awakened my love of the culinary world.

While visiting the memorial of terrors (a large photo exhibit of the third reich, near checkpoint Charlie) I came upon the idea of doing a masters degree focusing on propaganda, as the control, manipulation and dissemination of (mis)information is a key tool in the bag of all large organizations past and present-- and understanding how people are affected/influenced is a skill that I believe would be beneficial in shaping how our future unfolds.

This darling of a city will be hard to say goodbye to, and I think that my gut was right in thinking that this should be the next place that I call home.




Th

Vienna my darling

What a nice streak of days here in lovely Vienna. My gracious local friends did me an amazing favour in taking me around and making me feel so welcome here. The dour Viennese attitude that they warned me about seemed so impossible given them being so utterly kind and generous (and beautiful!).

Day one involved Viener Schnitzel at a fine Stube around the corner from the hostel, followed by some rum + cokes at McDonalds (provided by my excellent friends -- mind you, McDonalds sells beer here!). After meeting some of their friends for a birthday at a swank hotel bar, we went to the hottest club in Vienna, where the light show made us feel like we were on drugs (we were not!). Dancing all night lead us on a quest for breakfast, although our efforts were largely fruitless, until luckily the train station had some places open. I was urged to have a Viennese speciality, essentially a sausage loaf with cheese, which was far more delicious than it looked at first sight. We bumped into Austrian reality-tv star Conchita Wurst, a drag-queen (?) who rocks a trademark beard -- pretty styling in my opinion -- and we did an impromptu photo shoot.

Being so wiped from the late-night festivities (call it an Easter celebration?), I barely made it in time to see Parsifal, and upon making it there on time (3 Euros for a world-class opera, are you serious?), I could only make it to the end of the first act before retreating back to the hostel for laundry and naptime.

Today was another excellent day of sightseeing and cafes with my lovely personal tour guides, who escorted me to the impressive Shonbrunn Palace and gardens, followed by a walk around Stephansplatz. We went to a very fancy coffee-house (coat-check required), where I got to have the Viennese speciality Sachertorte chocolate-apricot cake. After that, with their persuasive charm we managed to go on the crypt tour of Stephansdom Cathedral at a discount, where we saw lots of bones and creepy corridors (not particularly pleasant). I almost wretched when looking into a room stacked full of the bones of 400+ people -- and wondered why we went there... The girls said that there was no smell, but I felt that there was something gross in the air.

For dinner we went to a very nice funky restaurant where I got to have a dish of wild-garlic pasta, which was extremely delicious (and only available in spring). Tomorrow will be a travel day, with a bus to Prague and hopefully a train connection up to Berlin.

Solo travel is hardly travelling alone :)

Gaisberg Views on Salzburg

Hallo und herzlich willkommen auf Austira. Zie keyboards are different, so forgive me if my y's become z's and other funny business. The overnight bus ride from Prague to Salzburg in an aisle seat after not properly sleeping was a bit tough, but nothing a good snooze couldn't fix. Getting dropped off 4-5 km from the hostel in the suburbs at 5am and hardly half-awake was a little bit awesome, seriously. Knowing that nothing would be open at that hour (gas-station coffee never tasted so good), I walked to the hostel. I hadn't planned on it raining so much during the walk, but it was no matter. Halfway there I stumbled upon a criss-crossing underground tunnel system beneath the intersection which was littered with nice graffiti, and was quite nice to walk through alone in the dark (photos to follow).

A walk around town and a trip to the supermarket yielded a bounty of truffle salami and an assortment of cheeses (which did not make my belly rumble), along with some potato salad and deliciously seeded bread. At the cafe bar I met an older German man named Manfred who was in town for his son's birthday, and we had a nice long chat about everything German. He was stationed in Winnipeg for a time as a German soldier, and his English was much better than my German! He was griping a bit about the solidarity tax that the West Germans still have to pay for the re-building of East German infrastructure, and he felt that it was unfair now that West German infrastructure in his opinion has fallen behind, and yet they still must pay this tax which the East Germans don't. He said that the re-unification of the country is still largely incomplete in a spiritual sense; he described things as 'fractured'. After some tips on good Germanic foods and beers (local brews are always the best, he said), I bid him farewell and headed for a darkened evening stroll to Motzartplatz for an view of whatever I could still see.

On my way back around, some young Austrians were having a beer by the river and literally poured a whole bottle down my throat. With these new friends, we marched from club to club for about an hour, never staying in one place for long. There was no room to dance in the main club, it was more like a squishy sardine situation. I believe that I was the oldest person in the club, it was really a foreign feeling! With no room to exercise my excellent repertoire of dance moves, and feeling a little bit self-conscious about my age, after a quick session of being a photographer and lying about being friends with Justin Bieber, I marched back to the YoHo hostel for a good night's sleep.

Now, hopefully the weather will cooperate for some nice views of the Alps from Gaisberg mountain, then for a hop on a train to Vienna to meet some friends I met in Prague.  

Sorry, auf Wiedersehen!

Throw them out the window

Just when I thought that the architecture couldn't get more impressive, I went to the castle district across the Vlatva in Hradcany. I'm not much into the idea of guided tours generally, but at the urging of a friend, I decided to give this one a go. My man George was a killer guide, with an interesting story on the history behind a lot of the buildings, monuments and statues that we passed. His sense of humour was always present, and really made the experience that much better (and merely being in the presence of such grandeur was something). Situated up on a hill, there were some seriously impressive views of the old town. George plays in a local folk band which is playing a gig tonight, so I'm staying on another day here before probably heading to Pilzen to catch another Extraliga playoff game (game # 3 of the series). I feel like I should get on booking some stuff ahead this week because Easter is a pretty big holiday in these parts, and a lot of people are on the move, so I may get stuck without ideal accommodations. 

I met a friendly girl from couchsurfing for a real-deal hot chocolate in the evening, and after some initial confusion (we were both at different choco-cafe's), we met up and had some good conversations. She currently lives in Copenhagen, and offered me a place to stay there. She studies public health and was adamant that bicycling helmets are a marketing scam and provide little to no protection from the way people fall off of bikes. She refuses to wear a helmet while cycling because she says that it's essentially a style piece. I don't think that she's right, but haven't really ever investigated the efficacy of bike helmets in reducing injury. I think it's funny that helmets are fashionable too --seeing as I've always felt like a dork for wearing one. 

Extraliga: HC Slavia Praha FTW

Currently in Czech sector two, Praha district one. I slyly blended into the local population by wasting now time in making a beeline to the local hockey arena to watch an Extraliga playoff game between Prague and Pilzen. A few scarf twirls and some ooooOOOHHHhhing later and I felt right at home. The freezing cold weather does that as well. I recruited an English friend of mine to go to her first professional hockey game, and she had a blast. Martin Straka was both the GM and the most impressive player on the ice. Very quick for a forty year old pro-hockey player. The fans were very well organized, much like a soccer match, the home team die-hard fans sat right behind the home goalie, all dressed up in team colours with scarves, chanting in unison, with a set of people playing drums to lead them. Opposite them at the far end of the rink were the visiting team's fans, with the same approach. It was much more impressive then the rag-tag NHL fans who have no organization to their screaming besides the teleprompter on the big scream dictating when to make noise. Some strange power-play formations by Praha were on display, with two cherry pickers inside the opposing team's zone during the breakout, who would loop onside and then charge in. 

Prague would feel more charming if it weren't so bloody cold, but maybe its in the architecture to feel imposing and tough. I really do like it though, and it has quite a different feel than Brno (besides it's obviously being much larger). The food here continues to be delicious, if a little thin on the greens. I snagged some delicious sauerkraut-type spatzel with pork dish from a market before jumping on the cheap but cheerful Student Agency bus, but not before stopping for an excellent espresso with pastry (served with a shot glass of cold water on the side--a very nice touch). 

Brno Sector Clear

Movement has been detected in Brno sector, Czech Republic. Drifting through cold winds and snow, a lone stranger from the distant land of Canada was spotted departing from the dark and unwelcoming bus station. After an initial bout of uncertainty, confidence quickly re-appeared in his step as he resumed his onward direction and managed to locate his pre-determined warmth drop-in point. Beneath covers for a bit too long to be considered a nap, his initial attempt at locating sustenance was thwarted by a closed kitchen. It appeared that he had no choice but to helpfully extinguish a delicious pint of pilsner before locating an adaquate supply of meal.

Not far away, near a beautifully ornate gothic church, full of Sunday evening patrons, lay a repository  of the most amazing pork tenderloin with incredible horseradish. After ingesting a meal of that calibre, there was no other option than to march a few dark and aimless circles before retiring in preperation for another cold and beautiful day in Moravia.

Gimme Some Jet Dry

Our being has been detected in inner Londonia. The gargoyles watch our movements from their perches above the bustling streets below. Last night's walk along the darkened Thames was a nice touch, although a door stained with bloody fingerprints did quicken our pace... No times for photos there. They call Bixi bikes Barclay bikes, but it's the same, but on the other side of the road. A late night ride home was exhilirating to say the least. The British museum is filled with gems both literally and figuratively. The Tube is pleasant enough, and certainly extensive. English ales are really nice both because they have almost no carbonation (amazing) and are lower in alochol than the North American average. The radar stations are picking us up, looks like we need to head underground to Churchill's war bunker.

Elapsing Moments

Forgive the gaps in transmissions. My radio antenna has been malfunctioning. T-Minus one week and counting for liftoff to the Europa nebula. Strange moons have been sighted on the horizon, and careful steps have been taken to avoid purpling the spirit kingdom. The sun has awoken from its slumber, and the snow has gone into hiding. In searching out the way forward, some hurdles remain. The suits request another move, despite contradicting what they claimed to be a certainty merely a month ago. How much do you trust the mosquitos?

The handsome elder brother visits his comrade in preparation for the final step into adulthood, as he makes his own progression towards solidity. Time passes unevenly amongst the carriers of blood, and the sway of the pendulum fails to bring perception in line.

What do you seek from this existence? Comfort? Status? Influence?

Listen to this: Atlas Sound - Parallax

The Velocipedes

Go climb a mountain
Chasing the stars
No you're not vacant
But space is a start

We'll be taken up in arms
I'll be braking your heart

We'll be taking up our arms
I'll be breaking your heart

I don't know
Just quite why
Must be sorrow
A disguise

Oh baby I'm shaking
Oh cool, you are too
There's no way to fake it
Lets make out, woooo

We'll be taken up in arms
I'll be braking your heart

We'll be taking up our arms
I'll be breaking your heart
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So a meteorite struck Northern Russia, and that shit be crazy looking. Dash cams captured that insanity like a boss. Will NASA save us all? Or will megaton blasts find their way to our eyeballs nuke-induced or not? What a big and crazy universe. The moon is currently pulling in the direction of Jacques Dutronc. The Dutronics? Total love. Good pipes on that fella. Reverberated to the level of mega-echoey vocals is dang fun. DANG FUN.

The Special Goodness in Doing Right

So it's mid-January and you thought about driving to that big old decrepit apple. YEAH RIGHT. It's youthful. But of course you drove to Moonstone instead. Jump down a big hill with bunch of metal beneath your feet and then fly back up again. Chug some coffee and breath in the fresh country air. Sit near a window for barely a bite out of your health food before a stranger makes herself comfortable and assures you that she is not a creep. Damn that cheeseburger is delicious. Have you ever heard of paperface? Re-discover Weezer, who have shit in your ears but also done nice things. Did you know that the drummer for Weezer can also play guitar? The Special Goodness is pretty alright. Pinkerton still has charm. The Blue Album will always be boss. Remember that forgetting about using effects and a pick when playing a bass isn't always one hundred percent better. Get your yell on.


So there's this place in the world called 'the old world' or something, and I figured shit yeah I'm gonna go walk around it and it will be completely mathematical. Glob temples and fight stations, stare walls, rot drinks, and cow tit fermentations, they all await. March 18th I'm going to stick my head in to a can of difference. Activities may include: using my feet to go somewhere new, using somebody else's knowledge to try something tasty, looking at somebody's hard work, stepping inside a burial chamber of Parisians, being awed by the haul of history collected by the plunderers, riding parellel steel fingers, jumping around, (maybe) yelling at the moon. It's 2013 baby!

Long after work

A new day in a new year, wrung in with old friends in an unexpected location. A furry creature who barks orders with conviction. A frozen homeland draped in a slushy cloud of malleable water-soaked possibilities. What promises did you make a night ago that were held off for calendrical reasons? Will you reckon with yourself in such a way as to effect the change desired by some portion of self? Or will you allow old forces to pummel you into slipping backwards again? Those ruts of desire run deep within the core of your experience.

An old tyrant emerges from the ashes of an inferno to claim possession of that what is not yet deservedly his. None step forward to impede the self-inflicted desecration of all that is decent, as the pull of the moon overwhelms the sensibilities of the weakest of hearts. A man so imbibed as to fall down still musters the willpower to snort a shot of cheap powder, well beyond any sense. A woman bouncing between lame-men fuels the courage to refuse the pervasive gluttony, amidst a chorus of broken hearts. A startling challenge to fight descends into a smirk, when the street fighter controller is taken up in arms. Old technology falls down without breaking; a sweat breaks on the brow of a relieved host. After the lord descends on the spillage and his scolding has evaporated, the remnants of the beating drum fades into a slow walk home.


Blur - For Tomorrow
Sam Roberts - Brother Down