The old joke goes: Do they have a fourth of July in Canada?
No
Then what comes between the 3rd and the 5th.
I was also curious; Are Canadians really friendlier than Americans. There were so many jokes about how nice Canadians were. Was it true?
As I was driving up through Buffalo and over the Peace Bridge, I had a number of concerns about my trip. How easy would it be to get in? Would they check my vaccination status? Would they search my car?
As I got closer to the immigration gate I saw a sign that said, “You must have your ArriveCan online document finished before you can enter Canada. I had seen something about that on the internet when I was preparing, but then they asked for credit card information and it said it was a private company, and they didnt say how much it cost. I smelled scam.
As I approached the gate I mused, “Hmmm…I guess it wasn’t a scam afterall”. I hurriedly tried to find the website but since I didn’t have any wifi and my phone wasn’t giving me internet, it was rather futile. Sometimes the internet would suddenly come on and then just as suddenly go away.
It was my turn. I told the immigration agent my story truthfully. He sternly asked for my passport and vaccination record and then even more sternly said that he shouldn’t do this but that he would let me in this one time but not again. Wow. I guess I dodged a bullet that time. I guess all Canadians are not super friendly but he did save me a lot of trouble (without the smile).
I was still a long way from Toronto. Luckily the GPS on my phone seems to work independently from internet connection. I had been driving for 7 hours, 2 hours longer than I had expected. The signs gave the distances in km so it seemed longer than it really was. Still I was in Canada and happy for that. I could still pick up NPR from Buffalo so I was happy to listen to the latest political news. Finally though I lost the NPR station. I was getting Toronto radio stations and they kept talking about the big holiday weekend. What? So they DO have July 4th in Canada?
For the most part Canada is less than the USA. The dollar is less (one Canadian dollar =.75 USA dollar. Kilometers are less than miles. Gas is in liters which is less than gallons. You have to make these shifts. Meters were longer than yards but Kilometers were much shorter than miles. So….if gas is 2 Canadian dollars per liter what is the price compared to the US price. These little problems help to amuse me and keep me awake during my drive.
Another thing I noticed as I was driving was there were a lot more non-white people around. Canadians invited immigrants, Americans, especially under Trump, tried to exclude them. Even on the radio, I heard so many non-English stations. Of course, French, but I also heard other languages that I could only guess at. It seemed like a true multi-cultural country. Also everyone had there lights on. I guess there was some study that showed it was safer. I doubt if many people would do that in the USA. Probably they would complain about government control and some conspiracy; need to be independent. I turned on my lights.
I was getting closer and closer to my destination when for some reason, my map stopped working. It would get confused and then just showed me a little circle going around and around. How cruel. That was me. Still I knew the street name and address but I couldn’t seem to find it. I started asking people. No one seemed to know about Elsie Street. I asked one guy who seemed to be a taxi driver who was picking up a fare. He was very friendly said he could find it on his map. He told me where to go. I followed his directions for about a block and turned then stopped, confused. The same guy pulled up behind me and smiled a big smile. “Just follow me”. and he led me there.
There is was, 1 Elsie Street. But where was Townhouse 70. I figured out the keycode which my host had finally sent me. He didn’t seem to realize or care that I might not have internet coming from a different country. Luckily I could see his message with the door code. I parked right in front but I could see right away that parking would be a problem. The sign outside said, “No parking from 7:30 am to 4:30 pm. It was after that but what about tomorrow.
Inside I tried the wifi code the host sent me. I messaged him and an hour later he messaged back, “Maybe Paul your roommate changed it. You can call him.” I wondered why I had to call him. I was paying this guy a lot of money and I have to run down basic details like this.
I called Paul and it sounded like I woke him up from a deep sleep. He said that he would text me the new password. I wondered why he had to change it. Finally I got on the wifi. These days without internet you are a dead duck.
Ok. I only had to move my stuff in to the room and I would be ok. Yes, my room was on the 3rd level (30 steps…yes I am a counter) and after 5 trips I was moved in. Ok.
Now my main concern was parking. I wasnt really worried about tickets but I was worried about towing. My reluctant host kept sending cryptic messages like “I can send you the Stipe pay link.” What’s that? And why not just send it? That would take another round of messages, hours later.
It was about 7 pm and I thought I should go out and see if I could play somewhere. I talked to a neighbor whose ethnicity I could only guess at, maybe Nepalise or from Singapore. He said the subways didn’t go downtown and the best place to play would be right over there on the pathway 100 yards (meters?). I looked over there. There were just a few people walking. That was not what I had in mind.
I grabbed my sax and 2 amps and started walking around. Sure I was dead tired but I thought a good play would boost my spirits. I walked toward High Park. Along the way I saw many ethnic places, sushi, Indian, and some chain stores I recognized like Tim Hortons and Subway. Everything looked farther than I had guessed. I finally came to High Park. From the northeast corner it looked like a homeless encampment. My bags were too heavy to keep walking and it was starting to lose the light. I was worried about finding my way back. All I had to do though was to follow the subway tracks. I knew my apt was close to that. Luckily I was able to find it and get back at around 9 pm. I was dead tired.
I had to figure out parking. Then subway. Did I really want to be in this neighborhood? Did I even want to stay in this city with its obsession with parking? Where else could I go? 1849? No. I needed a break.
I woke up early at 4 am and was worried about parking. I didnt want my entire time here to be worrying about my car. I went out at 5 am to look at the street signs. One sign said I could scan the QR code with my phone and arrange for parking that way. I wasnt sure that my phone without internet would do that. I went to the other side of the street and looked at the signs closely. You could park there for 1 hour from 7 am to 7 pm but not at night. ????
There was an old man walking his 3 yapping dogs. He was looking at me strangely. I explained I was worried about parking. He told me he had lived in Canada since 1966. He was from New York. He preferred Canada because of the health care system. I told him about my parking concerns. He said they wouldn’t tow my car, just give me tickets. “Since you are from the USA you can just forget them.” I considered that position. I could add those Toronto tickets to my Pennsylvania, Virginia, and North Carolina tickets that were outstanding. Thank God for states rights.
I looked on the internet when I got back and figured out the puzzle. It wasn’t July 4th they were celebrating, it was July 1st, Canada. Everything would be closed, there would be parades and fireworks, everyone was leaving town and coming into town. What a day to arrive! I didn’t even know how to park or ride the subway.
I miss Haifa. I miss Memphis. I miss New York. I miss…..Youngstown.
the World Saxophone Bus 