Today, the end of my first year of graduate school started to set in. I moved out of my apartment. Sure, the place was a mess and most of my neighbors were mumbling homeless people, but I enjoyed my roommates and my little room with good sunlight. Now it's gone. I turned in my key and packed my Aunt's truck with the last of my things. It was sad to know that the year is coming to an end.
I arrived to Toronto with so much time ahead of me it seemed. So much time to explore, learn, grow, see, photograph. I feel I haven't done enough, but learn my way around Toronto. The city is as much home to me as it is still strange. I am finding new unexplored corners, cafes and restaurants everywhere. But in less than a month, I'll be more than 12,000 miles from here, in Australia. I'll still be blogging my adventures though, as numerous as they will certainly be. As I am sure there will be excitement and frustration in Rochester.
The adventure doesn't end when I leave Toronto. Especially not the story. I think of Toronto as a beginning to the next part of my life. Whatever it is.
However, I thought my eating days were ending tonight when I decided to have one last shindig with the roommates (including the Matt that moved out in March) to celebrate our time together. Of course, my roommates have a thing for all-you-can-eat sushi. I'm not sure which is worse, binge drinking on beer or binge eating raw fish for $14.99.
Now, I like sushi. I don't LOVE sushi. But I love tempura yams and vegetable sushi and I'll eat California rolls. I'll try nearly everything once before I develop an extreme hatred of it. It's the least I can do for raw fish. Well, maybe it's nights like these when we order 20 rolls, and manage to eat enough chicken wings to have killed 25 chickens and two plates of calamari and another two of tempura, topping it off with sashimi that I start to run from sushi places.
One thing that you should note about all-you-can-eat: what you don't eat, you pay for a-la-carte. And my roommates and I refuse to pay for what we don't eat. Especially since we can't take it home! So we eat..and eat...and eat, until it's gone. Even if halfway through our second meal we feel full, sick and unable to move ourselves properly, we still eat. Until every last piece is gone. Or dropped on the floor....
Post-meal, I had to walk. For at least two hours. The meal had me sleepy and unable to walk properly. I was in a raw fish coma. Similar to any other food-induced coma. Shannon decided he would take me to Little Italy where we could find proper gelato, even though our all-you-can-eat sushi was churning around in our stomachs. But we took the hike to see if we could find it.
Little Italy was hard to miss on College St. Big lights molded in the shape of Italy were affixed to light poles. But the section of town itself was quite swanky. It was longer than a block! It puts every Little Italy I have seen thus far to shame. It makes Little Italy in New York look like an alley. It's worth the trip for good Italian restaurants and nice lounges or bars. Also, for gelato at Dolce. I was pleased with the gelato and more importantly, I could actually eat it after sushi. Probably because it didn't have the pungent odor of fish. The things we do at all-you-can-eat places.
It's when eating becomes a marathon, where you just have to push through the pain.
Until your stomach bursts.
But, I'd go back to Little Italy again. Hell, I'd live there! Everyone knows I'm a sucker for good cheese, Italian foods, gelato, Italian Chianti (most Italian reds though) and those great Renaissance artists. But enough about food, I just think I heard my stomach grumble.
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