All-You-Can-Eat is NEVER a good idea.

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.

"It tastes awful, and it works"

Have you ever heard of Buckley's? It's this Canadian cough syrup that's noted for how well it works...and just how bad it tastes. In fact, it tastes so bad, the company does a "Bad Taste Tour" every year, taping people trying the medicine and having a contest for the best grossed-out face. Well, I've been sick for over a week, and Robitussin just wasn't cutting it. So in my desperation to feel better, I bought Buckley's.

Well, I can't accuse the company of false advertising. While the medicine tastes like a combination of paint thinner and pine sap, it actually works surprisingly well. It just reminds me that I have a gag reflux.

Apparently, since the medicine has a reputation for being so bad, Buckley's has built an ad campaign around it. And it has helped them maintain success with phrases like:

"Since 1919, we've been leaving Canadians with a bad taste in their mouths."

"Our largest bottle is 200 ml. Anything more would be cruel."

"People swear by it. And at it."


But it really works. I owe my lack of a hacking cough to Buckley's. Who knew the Canadians could invent something that tastes so awful, but actually works. I still have a lot left in my bottle so I'm going to bring it back with me. Anyone with a cough next year should come to me. I have the miracle serum. It will just make you wish you didn't have taste buds.

A Surgical Affair

It's been over three weeks now since I've had my surgery. It's amazing how quickly the mind can forget experiences. It was a dreary, rainy Wednesday morning when my mom marched me up to the surgical center. I hadn't slept well the night before. Not that it would matter much as I was about to be put back to sleep in a few hours.

I was the youngest person there being prepped for surgery. I don't think there was a person within 30 years of me. Seriously. But everyone there was so nice, especially since I was so grumpy from no food since 8pm or water since midnight. My tummy kept rumbling at the sight or smell of food. But I was able to maintain self control when I thought to getting sick after anesthesia.

Gowns are probably the most embarrassing thing a person can wear. Especially on the day you have your period. Nothing like going for a cystoscopy (this is a surgery to your bladder) on a day when you want nothing more than to wear underwear. Instead, I got to wear only a surgical gown and shove a maternity pad between my legs.

Humility: 1 Dignity: 0

I finally awkwardly climbed on the hospital bed in a strange place, where I am only separated by curtains from my fellow patients. We are all somehow in this together. I've never had and IV before, and if I never have one again, it'll be too soon. I immediately bruised and if that wasn't enough they kept pushing the needle around trying to straighten it. This sudden rush of fluids caused me to need to pee. How am I going to pee with a pad between my legs, an IV in my arm and a hospital gown with a peek-a-boo back. I'll tell you: the nurse holds your IV and gown and leads you to the bathroom.

Humility: 2 Dignity: 0

Once I get into the bathroom, she lets that gown go. Before the door is even shut! She needs that hand to shut the door, thus exposing my bum to her and anyone else that can sneak a peak.

Humility 3: Dignity: 0

Eventually I pee, and get re-situated on my little hospital bed next to my mom with that lovely pad between my legs. My anesthesiologist comes in. She turns out to be great and she comes bearing Valium for this adventure into the operating room. Of course the doctor performing my surgery is a good 45 minutes late, so we have time to chat.

She mentions my surgery in detail. After I am put under, they stick my legs in stirrups. Ladies know them, the ones for pap smears and childbirth. Before I was put under, I counted four people in the room, excluding the doctor. I'm not disappointed that I don't remember any of that. In fact, I'm slightly relieved.

Humility 4: Dignity: 0

After drifting off into a peaceful, Valium happy sleep, I awake in the recovery room, attached to monitors that are beeping away. I can barely see the nurse through my bleary eyes as she says, "I'm going to take the catheter out now." YANK! And she walks off with a very large bag full of what looks like blush wine. I immediately have to pee. Strangely enough, the pad has been replaced between my legs after surgery. Hmph?

Humility:5 Dignity: 0

I wearily look around after taking unknown drugs for my mom. I can hear her heals clacking the linoleum. I know she is there! And she appears from behind the curtain. I state my need to pee. Once again, it is a production to the bathroom. This time without the IV bag, just the IV needle still in my hand. It was some of the worst pain I have ever experienced. But, I was still quite drugged, so I took it in a sort of dazed way.

Humility 6: Dignity: 0

Once I return from my adventure to the toilet, I beg to go home. I can't dress myself so my mom has to help me. They remove my IV and I turn to walk out of the hospital, but the nurse stops me. She instructs me to sit in the wheelchair and then proceeds to wheel me out to the entrance I came in that morning. Such door to door service. But my mom doesn't arrive with the car for another 10...long...minutes.

Humility: 7 Dignity: 0

At the end of this adventure, I was rewarded by food. glorious bagel sandwiches and a comfy bed to sleep in. What more could you ask for after that?

Humility: 7 Dignity: 0 Stomach: 1

To be honest, it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. But, I'm glad it's over. I'm still dealing with some of the effects. It was good to be home with my family. I went out the next night when I was coherent with my older brother and Carla. I haven't seen her in so long, it was good to catch up. It's also good to be getting along with Matt now that I'm growing up. Your parents will tell you that you'll grow up to love and get along with your siblings, but you never expect them to be right. It's a good feeling to be wrong. It's good when your brothers can be your friends after years of hair pulling and shoving and locking each other in closets. I'm excited for Matt to go to Scotland--another family member has taken up traveling. And he's got a pretty sweet camera, so it's been fun to share pictures as well.

Well, spring time has come to Toronto. I have a chest cold, but have been sitting in the grass drinking Starbucks every day with Shannon. I forgot how wonderful warm weather and sunshine can be. These days feel so good to just remember how simple everything can be in the sunshine. It also makes me miss sailing. Springtime always does.

Kat's Visit

I have been thrust this week into the middle of finals, a mess of pain and painkillers, delirious and drugged. It's not exactly the best condition to be attempting finals in that count for a large amount of your grade, but life doesn't wait for finals, it goes on. And I go with it.

Before surgery and these disruptive finals, Kat flew up for a visit during Passover. Working for a Jewish organization has its charms. I'll show you our few days together in a short picture story. Mostly because I think my pictures tell the story better than my words can.
Our night at Toby's. Enjoying the bar and a hockey game and $10 dollar pitchers. The night ended with a shot called the "cowboy cocksucker" (sorry if that offended anyone) and our taking a photo in the bathroom of the Plan B ad in a stall. The picture didn't turn out so well.
At the Harbourfront. I find it amusing. Not to mention I love Captain Morgan and fancy myself a pirate. I have sailed on several tall ships, so my claim is not without some basis.
The very long boardwalk that winds all around. It's the best kept secret in Toronto, but not always easy to find since you have to go under the Gardiner Parkway.
I definitely took an interest in the wildlife that day.
I love the colours on the duck. It's so pretty.
I've never actually seen a water taxi before, but they actually exist.
It seems impossible that I go to the water without ever finding a tall ship. Here is the Kajama which is apparently one of many in Toronto that do evening sails or day sails or almost any kind of sail around the harbour and Lake Ontario.
There we are with our new found ship. Not as good looking as some of the ones I've been on or worked for, but she's a schooner. I deeply respect all schooners, especially gaff-rigged.
It was one of the few times with sun. I have a thing for pins and line. I can't explain it. There ends the majority of our week, seemingly less adventurous than before. Certainly more sober. But hey, it happens. Lately, with my bladder problems, I haven't been drinking. It's become a rather rare occurrence. Finals end on Friday, I promise you that I'll be having a good night at the class party afterwards. I consider it a little gift to myself. I was pretty sober on St. Patrick's Day as well. Shannon came later and managed to get more intoxicated than me. Then again, I did keep shoving off my green beer at him.

I feel awful about my lack of updates lately. I still owe a geeky explanation of my day at the Gatineau Preservation Centre and I promise to update about my exciting first surgery. I'm sorry that I don't have any scars to show for it, they're all internal. My apologies. I promise to keep up with my updates.

I do have one funny thing for you to do though in the meantime as a source of entertainment. Go to Google Maps and "get directions" from New York, New York to Paris, France and read line "23." Line 23 will have you laughing. I promise it will brighten your day.