Niagara Falls & Toronto

I left out at about 10:45. I knew the rain was coming, so I had to hit the road. Niagara Falls awaited. The sun was out for now. I took the Lake route, down the parkway, Hwy. 18, and then across the US/Canada bridge. It felt good to be back on the highway, going somewhere. All of my time in one place has been very strange and I will say hard. I am used to being all over the place. The stability has been good, but it is too much sometimes.

The sunroof was open and The Beatles played. As is the case with me, I got lost. My dad had spelled out the lake directions (I did my own on Mapquest, but it was not as scenic). I missed the turn to Canada. It was marked very clearly and the picture in the Gallery is the one I was looking at, but I did not get off on the exit. I was looking for a sign that said Bridge to Canada. It only said Canada. I ended up driving at the top of the gorge and stared at Canada for a few miles.

The Whirlpool Bridge was ahead and I relaxed knowing I could cross there and not have to double back to where I errored. The bridge entrance was on my right. I pulled in to barricades and a CLOSED sign. I lost my patience. I had left early so I could see the Falls and still make into Toronto before rush hour traffic. I turned around and made my way back to where my dad said to turn. Easy as that, I was driving across the bridge getting ready for the border guards.

I had not been across the border since 9/11, so I wasn’t sure what to expect. I remember as a kid my parents always prepping my sister and I. “OK, what nationality?” and then followed by, “Where were you born?” and “What is your purpose for visiting?” Caytie and I would always be serious and tense when answering. I don’t think they would have given much lip to a 10 and 7 year in the backseat, but we were still tense.

I went through the questions in my head anyway, and was prepared as I pulled up. I answered their questions flawlessly, brilliantly as a matter of fact. They opened the gate and gave me a big welcome to Canada. That and the $2.50 toll.

I made the quick right and found the sign for the Floral Clock. It was as I remembered. I didn’t remember it was a few miles down to the falls from the entry. The sun was still shining and I was ready. Nature is always so impressive and to see the power and size of Niagara Falls, it leaves an impression. I was armed with my camera and video camera and took shots as I walked the sidewalk. The same sidewalk where the kid falls down over the railing and Superman swoops in to save the day. Luckily there was no need for any of that today.

My time was short, but I still soaked it all in. The pictures and video came out good. The Maid of the Mist, a boat company that goes to the base of the falls, was out in full fleet. As I stared and shot from above, I freaked myself out. I had a notion I was about to film a great tragedy, as the boat would go into the falls and all hell would break loose. That feeling went away, but it still was weird. Again, luckily, nothing like that happened. Your brain can do weird things sometimes.

I got out my ham and cheese, set my back down, and ate staring down at the falls. It was a very peaceful time. But it was short. Food done, cameras away, and back to the car.

Onward to the QEW and to Toronto.

A strange feeling came over me as I got on the QEW. There were no longer U.S. flags being flown from the manufacturing plants along the side of the road. Leon’s was the store front I remembered most of the drive. And of course the road signs were different. Maximum 100 km/hr. I stared into my odometer and did the calculations. It came out to about 60. I wasn’t sure the unwritten rules, so I did not go faster than 100/60. Soon I was being passed and I disregarded Maximum and went with the flow of traffic. I guess that is the same as in the States. I knew I was in a different country once the QEW began. I should say felt. I always knew I was in a different country, but this is when I felt it.

I made my way east, still on the lake border. I passed St. Catherine’s and Hamilton. I knew Hamilton had a CFL team. Sports can help with geography. Traffic never grew too bad, although coming the other way out of TO was much different. I zoomed along and made it the burbs at about 3:30. I missed another turn and was lost much worse than in Niagara Falls. My directions said I needed York Rd./11A. I looked for 11A. I never saw it, only York Rd. as I passed the exit close to the south/center of Toronto. I cursed. And drove. I stayed the path and searched frantically for the map my host, Mark, had sent me. It was the details of his neighborhood. He’s 5 miles north of the CN Tower. I saw a Bloor St. on the map as well as a sign for Bloor St. I signaled and made my way right, through a couple of lanes. All set.

I was on Bloor which goes East/West. I knew I had to be way east, since I had missed my turn. I got on Bloor right when a school was letting out and had to wait for a few lights. To cut to it, I was going the wrong way. I turned around and got to see a lot of Toronto. I started in neighborhoods, went through the heart of what seemed like business district, and finally saw my York Rd., which is also Avenue Rd. And I found the apartment.

Mark was not home from work, it was close to 4, so I got out my walkman (still old school, no Ipod, no CD) and walked around.

As I walked I realized that Toronto is very diverse. I was only in one section but I heard many languages and saw many different colors. It was great. I went into a coffee shop and had some hot chocolate. The owners were very nice. As I was talking with them Mark text messaged me and said he was home.

He had a beer waiting for me. We caught up, brought up my things, and planned the night. We were supposed to meeting a group from his work at a place that did not accept jeans. I knew I had to get my game face on. Jeans and I have become close. It had been a long time, maybe since Charlotte, that I was out at an in place. That is probably wrong, but it felt like a long time.

None the less, we were off to go to a club. It was very nice looking inside with high ceilings, many bars, and a lot of people in black. We paid the $10 cover, checked our coats, and made our way in. I was not in my element, but I went with it. Of course my eyes looked for pretty girls. I didn’t have to look that hard. Mark’s group was already on the floor dancing (way out of my element), but we went up and had introductions. I am not a dancer, especially at 10:00 when I don’t know people, so I milled about the place.

I didn’t dance and we didn’t leave with any Canadian lovelies. It was time to eat and Pizza Pizza called. A slice later and on onto James Joyce. We were going to meet up with some other members of the group, but they had headed home by the time we were done.

Day 1 in Canada was great. New places and new people.