North American Celebrations June 30, 2009

Tomorrow’s Canada Day, I’m not going to go into depth about how unhappy I am that it’s on a Wednesday and that I had to work Monday and Tuesday and have to go back to work Thursday and Friday. All the while, our American office will be enjoying Thursday and Friday off. End rant.

I’m sitting here, trying to figure out what I’ll be doing to celebrate the big day and am coming to countless hurdles. My first idea, ohhh, spend the day at the Island and watch fireworks (if you can spot them from the island, can you?). Sounds lovely, doesn’t it? Unfortunately, those plans won’t work out. The city of Toronto is currently a stinkfest. The city’s pesky union workers are on strike thus making things like garbage collection, ferries to and from the Island, many farmer’s markets on city property and many fireworks displays canceled, too. Very smart, union workers. Very. Smart. I don’t even think I’ll be able to enjoy some of the city’s parks as they’ve since become temporary garbage dumps. Disgusting.

So after some searching, I think I have a plan of action. BBQ at a friend’s house, then off to a free Constantine’s concert. That’ll do. Non?

So have a wonderful day off fellow Canadians. And to all of you lucky Americans who have the last 2 days of the week off, happy day to you as well.

My Long Lost (Cooler) Twin June 29, 2009

We were discussing look-a-likes in the office today. A coworker thought I looked a little like Punky Brewster. You be the judge.

This is what Dutch Dreams are made of June 29, 2009

Had ice cream at Dutch Dreams with B last week and saw this on their shelf. Is it strange that I have a problem with this? It’s like Nutella, but gross.

What’s your fave? June 26, 2009

In honour of MJ’s passing, I ask you: What’s your favourite Michael Jackson song?

Mine? Beat It. For dancing. Rock with You. For chilling out.

Beach Me June 26, 2009

Thanks to scotteh on Flickr

Breaking news! I’m moving!

This decision wasn’t made because of my noisy neighbours. My lease is up in September, roomie is heading back home and Boy and I l-o-v-e each other enough to tolerate one another’s company in close quarters, as tested during our 8 day long trip out east, basically in isolation, and we didn’t beat each other up, threaten to break up or have superfights.

Searching for an apartment in Toronto is difficult, especially in September, when students are taking up all of the good places but not nearly as difficult as it is on Toronto Island. We started our search early and fortunately after only seeing 3 places we found the perfect place.

We had limited our search to just one Toronto neighbourhood: The Beach (or Beaches for those who don’t live there – superfight over which is the correct term), It’s Better in the Beach. The neighbourhood gives us the feeling of living in one of the cottages on the Island, far away from the downtown core, but in reality we’re so, so close to the hustle and bustle of the city… examine the photo above – CN Tower = hustle and bustle.

Our place is a cute 2 bedroom on the top floor of a triplex and totally 60s traditional. I’m in love with out adorable seafoam green tiled bathroom. The best thing about this place? Walk out the front door, look to the left, oh look at that a 2 minute walk to the beach. Look to the right, Queen St. is a 3 minute walk away – as is the cutest Startbucks in T.O. I’m also looking forward to hanging with my new neighbour and watching fabulous movies together at Fox Theatre.

So now that I’m a Beach resident, am I allowed to place a BEACH sticker on my car?

It’s Night’s like this, I wish I were Deaf June 20, 2009

I’m up at 4am on a Saturday, writing this post. Why ever so, Ivana? Yoy may ask. Unfortunately, I’m not dealing with insomnia, a broken heart, nor am I too excited to get to sleep. The truth is, the neighbour above me is having a party tonight… again.

Since the weather got warmer, it seems that she’s been having guests over every weekend. Great! I’m glad she’s popular to demand this sort of dance card, much more popular than I. The problem is that week after week (after week) these parties run late into the night and not only wake me from my slumber, but keep me up and eff with my sleeping schedule!

I can’t believe I’ve become this person so young but I have and that’s just that, I can’t change it. So tonight, she had some friends out in the backyard. I had my window open on this lovely summer evening. But wait, what do I smell in my room now? Cigarettes! Argh! Fine, shut my window, no problem. 

I knew that their talking was going to bother me, so I solved this by lulling myself to sleep with the lovely sounds of Arrested Development. This worked! I was out like a light. I was woken up around 2am to some super loud pop music. Grreeeaat. The minute I heard the pop music, I knew exactly where the night was heading. 

Upstairs neighbour was in the first stage of drunk girl night. The stage where all is fun and dandy and top 40 music is where it’s at. It seemed that all of the songs she was playing were direct from my iPod. I managed to convince myself that she was stealing it from my iTunes. I had to ensure that the computer was no longer connected because I’d be damned if I was being kept up all night by my own music. 

Soon after, she got into stage 2: ABBA. So much ABBA was playing only moments ago. To make matters worse, I could hear her singing. It’s terrible. It was at this point that I decided to pay her a visit and politely ask her to turn it down. I’m making out full words and can even hear her sing, it’s 3:30am, I don’t think I’m being crazy? Am I? Please confirm. 

I finally get the courage to knock on her door. The talking stops momentarily, yet no one comes to answer. Strange. I wait a minute and knock a few times again. Louder. As I start knocking, I hear this terrible, nasal voice yell, but then yell louder as I continue to knock. Is she playing a game? Does she think this is funny? I wouldn’t put it past her, seeing as she barely has the tact to say, “hello” in the hallways… there’s 4 apartments in this house, come on now! Eventually I give up on the knocking, fearing I’ll try her doorknob next and that’ll be a whole other level of crazy. 

Stage 3: the last dance. Or what usually is the last dance. But I feel like it’s just the beginning. She’s playing the Canadian bar, last call favourite, Home for a Rest. This is always the last song before heading out and it’s so painful to hear right now. Not only am I listening to this tune on high but I think they’re doing a jumping, skipping, folk dance jig. The floor is creaking, shaking and my nerves and patience are at their wits end. 

It’s at this point where I decide that drastic times call for drastic measures. The Boy has told me that I’m famous for my passive aggressive notes and that I should post one of my notes to this site one day. I pull out my trusty passive aggressive notepad and start writing away. It wasn’t even mean, really. I explained that after 2 failed attempts to knock on her door, I’ve had to resort to this. Asked her to turn down her music and even signed my name, that’s not THAT passive aggressive, right? If you answered no, you may change your mind momentarily. I folded up the paper, wrote APT#2 in big, bold letters and taped it to the window by the front door. I then, rang her buzzer repeatedly and ran back to my apartment. In an effort to conceal my identity (although my name was on the letter), I turned my lights off and didn’t lock the door – she was right there, it would’ve been far too obvious. I wait a few minutes, as she retreats back to her apartment, expecting for the music to be lowered, or worse, put up even more. Nothing happens. WTF?!

BITCH DIDN’T TAKE THE NOTE!!!!

At this point, she’s entered stage 4: Classic rock. I don’t know if there’s a stage after this one, so I’m hoping her evening will come to a close shortly. I’m cutting this stage short, because in all honesty, I started writing this after I left her the note, it’s 4:42am. She turned off the music a few minutes ago and all is quiet up there now. She’s asleep and I’m sitting here, writing about how I’m waiting for the music to stop so I can get back to bed. I’m the only loser awake in this house now. Now, as I abruptly leave this post, I must retire. Peace out, homies.

Bergy Bits, Growlers and big honkin’ ‘Bergs June 15, 2009

I just got back from a fabulous trip to the western coast of the eastern coast of Canada (confused you yet?). So much happened and I was excited to get a bunch of things to write about, so here is installment one, Bergy Bits, Growlers and Icebergs.

A few days into our trip, Boy and I drove up to St. Anthony, pretty much the most northern point of the island for Iceberg season and Vikings (more about the Vikings in another post). I really didn’t dress appropriately for this vacation, I was expecting normal weather for June, very stupid. Fortunately, the owners of the cabin we were staying at had a great supply of warm outer wear because the weather in St. Anthony was cold, I’m talking snow on the ground and huge chunks of ice floating in the ocean.

We stayed at a lovely little place, Fishing Point B&B, it was everything I was expecting from my first ever B&B stay. Lovely owners, quaint room, traditional decor and the most delicious breakfast. Ever.

The morning after our stay, we took a tour with Northland Discovery Boat Tours, a family-run business with Captain Lewis (father) and Tour Guide Paul (son) on board in hopes to find some whales for us. The minute we head out, we’re greeting by a couple of seal, although too quick to capture a photo of. In the distance we spotted some whales, as we inch closer to them, Paul let’s us know that they’re humpbacks, a mother and her calf, up north feeding after a long, starving winter down south.

Humpback Mama diving

When they’d dive into the water, they’d leave behind footprints:

Humpback Footprint

This is caused by the whale, thrusting its tail up and down as it dives deep into the ocean. This pair kept us entertained for a short while, until we started heading towards our first ‘berg, enough time for me to start feeling seasick. Observe:

Pukity, Puke, Puke

Before I go further, I’ll quickly explain the difference between Bergy Bits, Growlers and (Big Honkin’) Icebergs.

First, Bergy Bits, usually less than 15ft in size. Broken off bits of ice, from Growlers and Icebergs.

Bergy Bit, courtesy of adactio on Flickr

Growlers are as small as a car and can be as big as a small house. They get this term because of the sound they make.

Growler

This one has an amazing blue glow, the intensity of the glow is dependent on how compact the ice is and how many air bubbles are inside.

We then visited, a (Big Honkin’) Iceberg:

(Big Honkin') Iceberg

This one was about 100ft high, keep in mind, that’s only 1/8th of the iceberg, it’s really quite something.

Now that you’re caught up on your ‘berg vocab, time to fill you in on some fun facts about them ‘bergs. The icebergs that float into “Iceberg Alley” in St. Anthony begin their 2 to 3 year trip from Baffin Bay. I was shocked to learn that after that long trip, it takes about 2 months to melt in St. Anthony.

Sometimes, polar bears float their way to St. Anthony from the great white north. Paul told us of a time that his neighbour saw one peeking into a window of Paul’s home, the neighbour called the family to warn Lewis to get his gun ready. Eventually, the polar bear finds it’s way over to Labrador/home.

As we made our way back to St. Anthony Harbour, we caught a glimpse of a bald eagle (I’ve never know anyone to see these, I almost thought they were a myth, like the unicorn), a puffin (a cross of a penguin and toucan) and some moose perched at the top of a mountain.

This tour really was amazing, so informative and entertaining and really these photos don’t do the animals and ‘bergs justice, you must see these for yourself. For some more interesting info on icebergs, check out the Newfoundland and Labrador website.