Okay, the Non-Fictional Toronto Trip Log
Anecdotes & Observations
Hit a used bookstore. Pleasant chat with the owners; they recommend a nearby Greek restaurant and as I walk out I ask, "not too expensive right? Just moderate?" and she smiles and says, "oh you Americans have plenty of money!". "So they say" I say.
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Mass today. Homilist quite good, quotes the poet Auden. Talks about how we usually think of love between a man and woman as having an infatuation phase and a "realistic" phase, the former seeing too much in a person. But Auden argued that the infatuation stage was more accurate, more realistic, because we are seeing with the eye of God, Reality Himself. When we see what they are capable of becoming - little less than angels - we then realize that thinking too well of people is more accurate in the long run than thinking less of them.
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I have the spa (what they call a hottub) to myself and it's medicinal for my sore, sore legs. Walked all o'er the city, saw wonderous cathedrals, visited an old housing district ("the only street in Toronto that shows how working class neighborhoods might've looked a century or more ago"). Pictures say more than words sometimes and the art in these Cathedrals held a radiance and inspiration. Seeing St. Thomas in the pantheon around Christ's mosaic sacred heart, it melted my heart, it made me realize anew that these apostles, though heroes, were ordinary Joe's - that was the point! They were nobodies till Somebody loved them. And the readings at Mass today were powerful. We were meant to be good because it reflects on our Maker and God is a maker of quality; his Word will not come back empty. We are his wine, his vintage, just as He is our Wine.
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At the Cathedrals I visited there were many adorers who were Phillipinian women. Their piety is obviously exceptional, may their tribe increase. I don't want to look at the state of the Faith in the Philipines for fear of discouragement. As we see the European nations fall in faith in their post-war affluence, it's hard not to assume the Philipines are next.
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Torontoans are nothing if not patient. No wonder they're content to wait six months for an MRI. I sit in traffic on a Sunday for 45 minutes to go 3 miles. The worst part was not knowing if the 45 minutes would be 2 hours. But I consoled myself with two thoughts: if there's a better route, the natives would know it and there's got to be some natives in this large group. Second, if they can wait, so can I. And truth be told the wait was wonderful. There were multiple classical music stations playing wonderful music and the AM dial was chockful of interesting programs. I listened to Camile Paglia on poetry and might've paid for the privilege.
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I like the idea of being more profligate with this gift of time - part of me wants to sit all day outside the hottub, in the still warm sun, where a bevy of books and comfortable patio furniture await. And yes a beer or two. The patio seems to be mostly deserted. People are probably going to Toronto, like I did today. I like the idea of unaccounted time until, that is, I'm faced with it, and then I'm restless and
think: I may never be here again and what self-respecting traveler passes up a day in Toronto? I feel ashamed for heading back to the hotel at the tender hour of 3pm. And oh was it nice to sleep or lie in bed from 10 (early due to last eve's Oktoberfest) to a leisurely 8:30am, not bothering to shave or shower.
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Days off with plenty of time makes me feel sort of Bill White-ish, with an urge for a smoke and to catalog something: my books or CDs, or maybe it's just a longing for order, like his clean, well-lit blog and Liturgy of the Hours steadiness. My affection for the city grows in part due to three factors: 1) beer 2) I'm on vacation 3) beer. I'm even tempted to buy a Toronto t-shirt, the sort of identification with this cold-climated British city that this hot-blooded Irishman couldn't have imagined. Okay, so I'm easy.
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One false note: One of the grandest Toronto churches, St. Paul's, proudly displays a Catholic diocesan paper filled with anti-Bush propaganda, which, I suppose, was amusing if only for its lack of subtly. The front cover shows the White House deluged with water with the headline "An Incompetent President is Humbled". The ol' schadenfreude meter went off bigtime. And inside there is a long article - get this -by Michael Moore. Yep, that Michael Moore.
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Caught a 30 minute panel discussion titled "Uncle Sam vs. US" in which two journalists and the Canadian ambassador to the US discuss the state of US/Canada relations.
I was surprised by the level of honesty and humility displayed: they pointed out that there are many Canadians - including themselves - who have a psychological need to tear the U.S. down in order to feel better about themselves. The idea being to raise the status of themselves by lowering the status of a "higher", although that's pretty debatable. They admitted that they were insensitive in the wake of 9/11, not having a memorial service until a week later, a beat in front of Germany (said with the inflection that Canada should be a far greater friend than Germany). They also agreed that the government had sixteen positions on Iraq and that's not helpful in an ally. They said they should've just said they can't be with the U.S. in the very beginning.
Of course we are not without sin. They were passionate and outraged concerning their timber industry, saying that we are trying to "bust NAFTA". If we are reneging on our word, our Nafta agreement, than that seems perhaps a worse sin than theirs. One of the journalists said of Canadians, "if you think you're morally superior you're not morally superior."
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The parable of the Good Samaritan can be interpreted in several ways, one more Pelegian, one more Quietist, and one in the middle. The tendency is to think of it merely as a lesson Jesus teaches: that we should be a good neighbor and be good Samaritans. Another way to view it is that Jesus is the Good Samaritan, binding our wounds, saving us when we were near death at the side of the road, paying for our injuries and leading us to the hospital, the Church. This can induce a Quietist rendering, as if we are just to relax and be merely receivers. But in the parable Christ instructs: "go and do likewise". And that means that we are to be both givers and takers, receivers and givers.
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The word "Niagra" has pleasant associations of youth: namely Niagra Spray Starch, which my mom used to use. I was walking by the Falls and a bus titled "Le Quebec" rolls up and out pops a group of six or seven fit, well-dressed men in their early to late 70s. They're giddy to see the falls, two of them run towards the lookout, camcorders in hand, hungry for that first look.
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Saw a couple of Hasidic Jews in the lobby. It's nice to know they're not going to blow anybody up or fly planes into buildings. They were holding High Holy Day services in a conference room just beside the elevator. I heard the wailing of some sort of trumpet and peak in. About two dozen were chanting prayers, reading from their Hebrew books.
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