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Published: August 26th 2010
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The kiss
Making it official! Getting married likely deserves an entry of it's own. After all, the journey of a life together, is likely the most epic trip, barring child rearing, that one takes in life. However, for the purposes of brevity and in holding true to the central character of travel blog.org this entry will focus mainly on the events that took place following the festivities. Once the quilts were folded up and put into storage, and the bicycles stuffed hastily into our shed, after the hangovers had faded, and the dancing shoes peeled off our sore and sweaty feet. Once the presents had been opened and the cake eaten, we began a journey East that would take us to Toronto, Montreal, Quebec city, Nova Scotia, New Brunswick, Prince Edward Island and New York City. The itinerary was ambitious and would likely be expensive, but cheered on and convinced by our friends and family that honeymoon's only happen once, and that indulging in a trip of luxury is a necessary tennet of marriage, we would, with a little help from couchsurfing, attempt a 23 day travel marathon.
The incessant ring of the cicadas could drive one insane. Like the buzzing of a dying light
A little traditional dancing
Outside the German club prior to the big party! bulb, the sound augments reality just enough to cast doubts on perceptions of reality. This could explain the wild concoction of eccentrics who call cities like Toronto home. We, however refused to let insects affect our high spirits. As we touched down in Toronto and made our way to our lovely bed and breakfast, The House on Mcgill, Wedding memories seemed to overshadow the sights, sounds, smog and heat that is Toronto in summer.Toronto resembles many North American mega cities in that it is a mish mash of cultures and traditions that creates the impression of chaos. While many cultural and ethnic groups have segregated themselves into certain areas of the city, either because together the culture shock of moving to a new country is lessened by surrounding ones self with those who have had shared experiences, or because of affordability, everywhere one travels in Toronto, languages from around the world can be heard. For someone from a relatively homogenous part of the country, when confronted with this diversity, my senses become a touch overwhelmed in my effort to take everything in. I do believe that the senses of locals eventually become numb to the chaos, and within a few
The ladies
preparing to bike to the ceremony days of travelling the busy streets of Toronto, I could already feel that I could walk without constant distraction.
Everywhere that I travel I find myself staring at people, or eaves dropping on their conversations. Though I tend to watch people with curiousity, I have noticed that nearly everyone else has trained themselves not to stare at others. This allows me to stare with impunity and wonder about the lives of passing strangers while they stare absentmindedly into space. In large cities, and in particular in public spaces like subways the most interesting people watching can take place. I do this so often that in my travel writing there may be huge tracts of time when readers could wonder what we have been doing. Assume that during these times I am people watching, and Dennie is reading. At any given time during our trip if you were to observe us from afar you would likely see us doing these very things.
On our second day in Toronto, Dennie was presented with Envelope #1. Prior to discussion regarding the contents of said envelope, I will briefly describe what my intentions were and perhaps later on share some insights into
The Gentlemen
looking great at the ceremony what happened. I suppose my plan had it's roots last summer when my dear friend Shawn presented his new wife with a bed that he had crafted in secret. Countless evenings leading up to the wedding, he would sneak away to work on this ambitious project. While the bed was beautiful, Shawn unknowingly set an impossible standard of romance from which all others would be compared. Initially I drafted plans in my head for a handcrafted door which I would somehow secretly install without Dennie knowing, and I would carry her over the threshold of our home after the precedings, thus symbolizing a new beginning of our lives together. All the metaphors checked out, and it seemed a perfect plan. Alas, as the wedding day approached and my schedule became very busy, the plan dissolved and I was left with days to go before the wedding and no idea what to give Dennie. In a moment of desperation, my envelope plan was conceived. In each city we would travel Dennie would open an envelope which would, in the cheesiest form of rhyming couplets explain an adventure or planned event that we would attend together. Envelope #1 would have us spend
Shawn
handily winning the limbo contest at the reception a morning at Niagara Falls and an afternoon and evening in Niagara on the lake. The day began well enough as we watched the falls from the Maiden of the Mist and gawked at the Las Vegas like attractions lining main street. Bikes were rented for the 20 km journey to Niagara on the Lake and as we passed wineries and forested rolling hills, it began. Slowly at first, then with more intensity. At first the rain was more than bearable, and once we had become thoroughly soaked and we found it impossible to become more wet, the rain became a joy and our spirits soared. We laughed and I was sure it would only be a matter of time before we would spontaneously break into song. Suddenly however, without warning, my left pedal flew clean off of my bike, making it impossible to carry on. Our moods took an immediate turn, and we walked until we finally sought shelter in a nearby garage where we were met with a man who graciously fixed my bike. We carried on through the rain where we spent the evening at the home of Ms. Elizibeth Maplesden. A lovely women who once own
our lovely friends
serenading us as we laft the ceremony a bed and breakfast, and who happened to still be listed in my outdated copy of Lonely Planet. While she hadn't officially ran her home as a B&B for years, she allowed us to stay the night.
Most of our time in Toronto was spent with gracious hosts and friends, Nuno and Vivian. Upon arrival at Vivian's home, a plan was conceived to cook a traditional Spanish meal. While living in Valencia I had witnessed many a Paella being cooked in restaurants, streets, and parks. I understood something of the process, and knew the reverence with which Valencianos created, and talked about their paella. And so it was that Nuno and I bumbled our way through the creation of a Paella Valenciano over the illegal open fire pit we dug in Toronto's Annex Neighbor-hood. Of course, more important than the paella itself, was the waxing philisophical that tends to take place regarding the recipe, technique and approach of the paella process. Normally, stories would be exchanged about grandfathers and great grandfathers catching wild rabbits in the great Spanish hinterlands and growing fresh saffron in order to complete the perfect and ancient family recipe. Our roots were shallow, but we
carried ourselves with false confidence and there was a sureness of movement that came to me as I channelled the Spanish forefathers who invented the simple but hearty rice dish. The Paella was delicious.
Our 4 days in Toronto passed quickly with bbq's, shopping, visiting, and bicycling. It was with bitter sweetness that we boarded our train to Montreal. The city had shared it's richness with us and we would not soon forget it's sights, sounds and smells.
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Overlanders
Dave + Suze
Congratulations!
Looks like you had a fabulous day! Enjoy the journey of married life!!