Toronto ...and it's Mayor

Toronto, Ontario Canada.

My home town.

First, I'm going to write about the wonderful things that I love about Toronto (aka T.O), and then there is Mayor Rob Ford...he comes later.

When I get the opportunity to "go back home" between the months of May and November, I'm all over it.

Bluffers Park Marina Houseboats

If there is any advice I can give to a Toronto Newbie...

Save yourself the headache and don't rent a car. Learn the Toronto transit system (TTC), a city wide subway, bus and streetcar system and the GO Train system. The Go Train connects at Union Station and takes you to places the TTC doesn't.

Both are safe, clean, relatively cheap and easy to navigate. For TTC travel, buy your tokens/Day Pass from real live people at any subway station or use the automated token vending machines.

Toronto Transit Commission

$3/ride - exact coin change
TTC Tokens - about $3 each
Day Pass for $10.75 .

Canadians have coins that are called "Loonies" ($1) and "Toonies" ($2) so the exact change issue is not so problematic but if you happen to arrive at Toronto's Lester B Pearson Airport and want to travel into the city via TTC...

1. Stop off at any Currency Exchange booth in the airport and exchange cash for a couple of "Loonies" or "Toonies" or purchase TTC tokens there.

2. Go outside of Baggage Claim and look for a TTC bus stop. You are looking for the '192 Airport Rocket'. It is outfitted to stow travel luggage and will take you to the 'Kipling' subway station. From there, you're on your own. When making your hotel reservations, just ask what subway station is closest.

Note: You won't always need it, but when traveling around Toronto (without a Day Pass), get or ask for a "transfer". It's a paper ticket that ensures you can get on to the next bus or train without having to pay again.

Soon, (2014?) Toronto will have a train that will take you directly to Union Station from the airport.

Toronto's amazing Subway ...

The GO Train service is separate from TTC but as effective for travel outside of the city boundaries... Look for this logo...

 

Go Transit

Back to "What I love about Toronto"...

"Butter Tarts".

Mr Something thinks "they taste like Pecan Pie without the pecans" but he is wrong. "Butter Tarts" are in a class of their own. That is all I have to say on that subject.

"Tea".

Tea in Toronto is generally flavoured with milk (not cream) and sugar. Lemon? Not so much. Be aware that if you order tea in Canada, you will get hot tea - not iced - unless you specifically request it.

Toronto has been defined as a "Mosaic" and not a "Melting Pot".

A "Mosaic" is a city where the many cultures have been encouraged to maintain their 'roots' through their art, culture, music, religions and food.

The 'sub-cities' within Toronto include Little Italy, China Town, Greek Town, Little India and a host of others. Visiting these neighborhoods are a feast for the senses and make dining as authentic an experience as one could imagine.

The Royal Ontario Museum  -  'Museum' Subway

Outdoor markets - 'Jane' Subway

Chinatown - 'Spadina' or 'St Patrick' Subway

World Class Theatre - 'St. Andrews' Subway

Scarborough Bluffs - Take the "GO Train"

...High Park, The Science Center, The Planetarium, The Kensington Market, Casa Loma, Yorkville, Yonge Street at night and Toronto Island.

Kid-Friendly...
- Toronto Island
- Casa Loma
    - A real castle in the middle of the city.
- Black Creek Pioneer Village
   
- High Park
    - It's got its own little zoo, great place for a picnic. Beautiful gardens

- The Toronto Zoo

Canada's Wonderland
   - might be too far outside of the city - its like Six Flags

Will appeal to adults..not so much for kids
- The Ontario Science Center
          Very cool place devoted to Science
- The CN Tower
- Rogers Center
           Home of The Bluejays
- The Royal Ontario Museum
 

I'm certain I'm forgetting someplace spectacular. Any fellow Torontonians out there want to add a place not to miss?

Mayor Rob Ford

...and then there is Toronto's crazy-ass, Mayor Rob Ford who refreshingly admitted to smoking crack cocaine last year but defended his actions by explaining he was in a 'drunken stupor' at the time. Despite his honesty, there comes a time in life where self-examination and reflection are warranted. This looks like one of those times for Mayor Ford.

Photo Credit: Chris Young / THE CANADIAN PRESS

His televised tirades, sophomoric antics, public use of foul language and disrespect for city council protocol combined with his drug use tells me he is in serious need of counseling. Maybe he is receiving it. Maybe not.

What can I say about the mayor of a city I love?

An expression used in the south fits nicely..... "Bless his heart".

Canada: The Bruce Peninsula

Recently, Mr. Something and I headed north to discover a "Biosphere Reserve"- The Bruce Peninsula - nestled between Lake Huron and Georgian Bay, our final destination was the lovely town of  Tobermory, Ontario, 'Mecca' to Canadian SCUBA enthusiasts, a 3.5-4 hour drive north of Toronto.

According to Wikipedia..."A biosphere reserve is an area proposed by its residents, ratified by a national cammittee and designated by UNESCO’s Man and Biosphere (MAB) program, which demonstrates innovative approaches to living and working in harmony with nature. One of the primary objectives of MAB is to achieve a sustainable balance between the goals of conserving biological diversity, promoting economic development, and maintaining associated cultural values".

Who knew?

So, for all you nature-lovers out there...here's some eye-candy...

We got lucky and saw The Aurora Borealis -aka- The Northern Lights

I almost stepped on the little fella - A Massassauga Rattler

The Town of Tobermory

One of many sunken ships seen by the naked eye

Rock Formations secondary to erosion "Flowerpots"

The water of Georgian Bay is Caribbean Blue

An "Inukshuk" - Stones marking a path's direction

September 11, 2001

Toronto, Canada

9/11/01
Confused and dazed, I was alone and attempting to navigate myself through a sea of dismembered bodies, covered in dust, on the streets of the city. My thoughts were of... where to begin? How to triage? There were so many. So overwhelming. Hard to breathe. Almost impossible to see for the dust. The high pitched squeal of what sounded like a thousand birds chirping was deafening despite the otherwise silence.

6:00 am
I woke up panic stricken, sitting bolt upright in bed, bathed in sweat and short of breath.


My husband and I were in a downtown Toronto hotel room that day, with plans on returning to Dallas on an afternoon flight scheduled out of Buffalo, New York.

8:46 am.
After witnessing the jets crashing into the twin towers, a sense of urgency prevailed. Compelled to leave the city immediately and drive to the Detroit, Michigan border, I knew instinctively that crossing the New York border would be impossible.

Within minutes, firefighters were entering the World Trade Center. Carrying close to 100 lbs of gear on their backs, they began the arduous climb up to do their job.

This is where it became personal. My husband is a firefighter and I know he would never question the futility of this mission. This is what they train for and who they are.

It was my last real-time view of this tragedy.

No mention had been made of "Terrorism" yet. The Pentagon had not been hit and Flight 93 had not crashed. The Twin Towers were still standing.

9:37 am.
As we were checking out of our hotel, the desk clerk informed us of the Pentagon strike.

1:00 pm.
We arrived at the Detroit border. The US/Canada border crossing was slow but still open. Shortly after we crossed into the US, no one was allowed to travel into or out of the US/Canada.


9/13/01
Radio accounts kept us informed throughout our trip home. We were spared the first hand televised news coverage and for that, I am grateful. We arrived home, safe and sound.

It wasn't until I turned on the TV and saw...

People looking confused and dazed, attempting to navigate themselves, covered in dust, on the streets of the city. It appeared as though it would be hard for them to breathe and almost impossible to see for the dust. There was a high pitched squeal of what sounded like a thousand birds chirping

Was my dream on the night of 9/11/01 a premonition or a coincidence?

I asked my husband what the high-pitched sound was and he told me that it was the locator alarms that all firefighters wear.

The alarm sounds once you stop moving.

DART

OK. So, we might not have an extensive transit system like those found in Paris, London, Tokyo, Toronto or NYC but at least Dallas has DART (Dallas Area Rapid Transit) and it's a whole lot better than what we had when I first arrived in Dallas( See: Coming to America ) .

Lately, I have joined the ever-growing numbers and became a DART commuter. And I like it.

Memories of growing up in Toronto, navigating an absolutely incredible public transit system - that I (regretfully) took for granted - came rushing back to me on my first early morning ride into the heart of Dallas and it gave me a feeling of calm. Similarly to how some might respond to the scent of home baked bread.

All snug in my seat, prepared for my leisurely 45-minute light-rail train trip, engrossed in Anthony Bourdain's, 'Medium Raw'. I was home.

Being amidst people from all walks of life, ethnicity's and cultures was a refreshing change for this suburban fifty-something who normally drives everywhere.

On my way home that evening, I put my book down on my lap and paused to observe and reflect on the fact that commuter behaviour seems guided by a few universal tenets...

• At all times - Mind Your Own Business
• When accompanied, speak softly
• In the event of blatant craziness...avert your eyes

In my experience, most commuters everywhere follow these unwritten rules of behavior faithfully. But Dallas might just be the exception. Talking on DART is a whole lot louder, the crazy, drunk and/or high guy is stared down and it is not uncommon to witness stranger joining into someone else's debate.
 
Why have many DART riders not caught on to the universal commuter-vibe? 
Could it be that DART remains relatively new to Dallas?
Could this be the only mass transit exposure that many of its passengers have experienced?
I'm thinking it has a lot to do with just not giving a rat's ass.
Society has changed.

Comfortable in my little microcosm, I had not been exposed to 'society' since I had stopped working in the E.R.  Driving alone to and from work in the I.C.U. - an environment where most of my patients are unconscious - has perpetuated my isolation from the real world. And I've missed it.

Last week, on the way home from work, while preparing to sit quietly and read, I found myself prisoner in the middle of a heated exchange about 'feelings' between two people that were sitting across the aisle from one another.

Do I quietly walk away and choose another seat? No. I took notes. On the back pages of Medium Raw...my apologies.

She: "You feel the way I was feeling before you was feeling that way."

He: "You don't know how I was feeling because you were feeling that way when you brought this up."

She: "You always think it's always my fault. You always feel that way."

He: "You illiterate fuck. My feelings are not even considerated (sp). It's all about you."

It was at this time that "He" stormed off and into another car.

Stranger: "You go girl. You don't have to take no shit from your man"

She: Nods, smiles and mutters something unintelligible.

Despite my keen desire to see how this scenario played itself out...

I: Had to change trains.

It felt good to be part of the world again.

Snakebite

It was in the early 90's and I was an ER nurse at Sunnybrook Health Sciences Center in Toronto, Canada.

Sitting at Triage early one Sunday morning, my mind dulled by inadequate sleep the night before, I was interrupted by a young man of the ‘skin-head persuasion’ who was in a panic. “Ya gotta help me!” he shouted. “I've been bitten by a Black Naja Cobra" He showed me his very swollen finger. A red bandana was tightly wrapped around his wrist as a tourniquet. I didn’t know a lot about snake bites back then and had no idea of what a "Black Naja Cobra" was, but I did know that if the bitten area has a gross local reaction, and the snake was called a "cobra" - you've got yourself a big problem.

As I was taking him back into the ER, I learned that ‘Randy’ raised “Black Naja Cobras” as pets and he was "helping" one of them to "him shed his skin" when he was bitten. He didn't happen to have any anti-venom as he procured these snakes illegally from Africa and the seller did not supply him with any. “You know how it is”, he said. I didn’t. I'm no snake expert but I would think snake-lovers everywhere should have some basic rules like Rule #1 - Do not help a venomous snake shed its skin - they 've being doing it for centuries alone. Rule #2 - If you own venomous snakes, and if you must help them shed their skin - have anti-venom available.

Supportive treatment was initiated including oxygen and IV Fluids. When I got the ER doc’s attention, orders for tons of blood work spewed - chemistry, hematology, clotting panels, bleeding studies and ABG’s. Black Naja Cobra…was its venom neurotoxic, hemotoxic, cardiotoxic or what?

At the time, our doctor could choose from text, microfiche or expert resources. He called The Metropolitan Toronto Zoo and knowing that the chances were slim anybody who knew anything about anything would be at the zoo on a Sunday morning, he explained the situation then asked the zoo operator to get a hold of the person in charge of exotic snakes. Within a few minutes, the 'snake person' called back and following a brief conversation, the appropriate anti-venom was secured and The Metro Toronto Police were alerted to deliver it to us.

I got pulled from Triage.

Randy’s blood work had come back and we found out that his pet's venom had a profound anticoagulant effect. His clotting mechanisms were failing rapidly.

When the anti-venom arrived, the ER doc turned to me and casually said, “OK, Joan, go for it." Trying to disguise the 'edge' in my response to that ridiculous statement, I said"How?"

Clueless on how to administer this stuff, we found the directions in the box.

Anti-venom or ‘anti-venin’, (as it was labeled on the packaging) was to be administered via IV drip and based on kilograms of body weight. The anti-venom was derived from various species of cobra. I clearly remember myself and another nurse having to draw up at least ten vials or so and mix them in 500 ml of NS. A skin test was to be performed first in order to check for a possible allergic reaction. “And if he's allergic...then what?’ I asked. The doc ordered steroids and benadryl and told me to skip the skin test as we would have to wait an additional twenty minutes for results to be read accurately. I began the drip. The anti-venom would infuse over thirty minutes and then repeat blood work would be collected.

The response to the anti-venom was truly remarkable. By the time the infusion was completed, Randy’s post anti-venom blood work had improved significantly and within a few hours, it had returned to normal limits. Unfortunately, his finger had become blackened and necrotic. I learned later that week that Randy had lost his hand secondary to gangrene. Plastic surgeons said that the tourniquet he had applied to his arm might possibly have slowed the transport of the venom but that it caused pooling of it in his arm and worsened the tissue damage.

That same day, as I was wheeling him out of the ER, Randy was repositioning himself on stretcher and that’s when I saw the back of his head. Although at first glance, his head appeared clean-shaven, it wasn’t until he sat up that I noticed the hair on the back of his head was shaped in the form of a cobra’s head.

Nice.

Coming to America 1

The Welcoming Committee:
I had completed the college requirements to be a Registered Nurse in Toronto Canada, and was looking forward to my first nursing position.

Unfortunately a hiring freeze was in effect for area hospitals and my graduating class was facing a bleak job market. I was nineteen and one of the youngest graduates in my class. A poor college student, I was ready to start making some cold, hard cash.

The light at the end of the tunnel appeared when a group of nurse recruiters from Fort Smith, Arkansas arrived at our nursing school. They regaled our graduating class with facts, figures and a slide presentation that showed nurses water skiing, disco dancing and sunbathing.

We were hooked.

The ‘sunbathing’ part was the biggest draw as we Canadian nurses typically spent six months of the year in snow and another three months in rain.

Twenty-six of us signed up to work at Sparks Regional Medical Center on the spot. We had no idea where Fort Smith was - but it was in “the states” and the weather had to be a whole lot better.

Our flight to Fort Smith was in August and included three airplane changes. I suppose that should have clued me into what could lay ahead of us but my nineteen-year-old “city-fied’ brain only had visions of handsome men in three piece suits, Wall Street, palm trees. Rodeo Drive and cocktails in fancy glasses.

As the plane was preparing to land in Fort Smith, we were looking out the window of our aircraft and could see nothing but trees. "What did we get ourselves into?” Stepping out of the airplane, the blanket of heat was like no other I’ve ever experienced.

We had never stepped onto a “tarmac” before and (for some unknown reason) really got a kick out of it.

Hospital representatives from Nursing, Dietary, Housekeeping, etc. were waiting for us and standing in a receiving line began introducing themselves. Soon, we were traveling with them to our new apartment complex, “The El Conquistador”.

As we approached "El Con" - we couldn't help but notice the numbers of people lining the driveway with lawn chairs and beer coolers, ‘horseshoe’ games in full tilt. Apparently, they had been waiting for our arrival. They were all men and we were the attraction. Word had gotten out that twenty-six single Canadian nurses were arriving and it looked as though every single guy within a fifty-mile radius was there to check us out.  Part 2: The Welcoming Committee