TR # 6 - First days in Canada (No Mac, no party)

I leave Philadelphia curiously looking at the shoeshine at the airport, and wondering what the hell my neighbor is doing, so important that he's glued to his blackberry all the time. The arrival in Toronto is very heartening: in less than half an hour I'm already in a taxi, with the visa in my pocket ...nothing like the States! I notice that the greenery abounds, and I also appreciate the residential streets leading to the great shopping streets, and realize that I'll hardly be wrong when coming home: the sign "REMOVE YOUR SHOES" is visible from miles away. I immediately learn the rules and restrictions of MM, my landlady: take your shoes off, lock the door when you go out, dinner at 18.30 with food of all colors, no towels on the bed and no electricity before 9 o'clock in the evening! Gulp. I go with her to the grocery store, and notice the Canadian irony -a bit British- on the bus' windows: "Move to the rear of the bus, thank you" says the first and the second "well, maybe a little FURTHER back, THANKS. " I discover that there are no buttons to request the stop: you pull a cord that looks like a rubber electric wire and runs along the walls of the bus. On the bus and at the supermarket I hear no English at all, except by MM: I hear Russian, French, Italian (mostly dialects), Portuguese, Spanish... but then they all use English again when addressing strangers. It 's a first taste of the melting pot that Canada has managed to create over time.

On the third day in Canada, without any time to get used to the amount of paprika and garlic in the dishes of MM, my Mac surrenders to the change of voltage and dies. I bring it to the Mackhospital -the Apple Store- where the clerks talk to each other through a Macbook, and open the cash counter with an Iphone. Mackie is hospitalized, and I find myself completely puzzled. Not being able to communicate through my computer, all the shock that I didn't experience so far falls upon me, especially because of the distance from home and my loved ones. At the same time, I feel in tune with Toronto, I still feel that nothing can go wrong and that everything happens for a reason. I begin my pilgrimage looking for a job, at the Dante Alighieri (sorry, but you know...), at the gelati place Novecento in Corso Italia, on the online ads for Italian lessons, so on and so forth. Italian institutions are disinterested to say the least in the fate of compatriots on a working-holiday, even if it should be their role to promote us! Mah. At night I console myself with a stroll along the lake. On the bus there's a group of bad boys, which here means "guys who put their feet on the seats of the bus" but they later move them, apologizing, when I mention I want to sit... real thugs!! Among other things, they are six and of six different races: Asian, East European, North African, South American, African-American... again, the melting pot made in Canada. The spectacle of the lake at night is incredible: fresh air, the ideal temperature, the parks and the CN Tower in the background. Besides me there are girls who are jogging, people walking, everybody on the sidewalks of those that are not roads, but highway with sidewalks on both sides.

I've always loved the cities on the lakes, and Toronto is no exception. Here one feels safe, cannot get lost (because if nothing else, the CN Tower is a point of reference) and the transport network is so efficient, punctual and safe to be astonished when hearing those who complain -MM for example- to have to wait 5 minutes for a bus! I am going to make friends with this city, and I get ready to explore it far and wide.

TR # 2 - First impressions

My notebook's first page says “my dream is....”: not enough dots, I leave it blank. I leave my home persuading Ma' that, altough the suitcase is half empty, Klappar the hyppo wouldn't fit in it. At the airport, after saying goodbye to Pa' and Gogo, I head for the check-in desk with a blasé attitude. After the first passport check, I find out that the beauty case counts as suitcase, so please pay the extra fee thaaaanxx. There's the huge novelty in Venice, the body scanner, ooohh yes. Nice. Shut down. Unused. Nicely spent. The plane is on time, we're served lunch -cheese maccaroni, not so bad as I tought- and I realize how much people overstates. When they say there's a lot of room for your legs, or no room at all -the room is always the same-, that you're given lots of stuff -a pillow and a dressing gown, which I assumed to be a cover-, that you must walk or your blood will not flow and you run the risk of a paralysis -I stood up only once and never suffered any consequences. I enjoy two movies, the Christmas time kind, and observe that a trans-continental flight is no more silent than the others, on the contrary. When the pilot says that we're going to land one hour earlier, the old man sitting next to me can hardly contain himself and starts telling me about his 15 days in Italy. After descending and finding the exit among a thousand labyrinths, I line up on the "visitors" line, and I'm told I must fill in a green form. Exactly the same as the ESTA form, which I already filled in, asking me once more if I'm a relative to Bin Laden. NO, WHAT THE FUCK. After which I line up for the security checks, which make you feel SO welcome in this country. There's a sign describing the procedure: right hand's fingerprints, then left hand's, digital picture, and in the end it says “welcome to the USA”... woah, what if I wasn't welcome?! The hour of advance is already wasted, while I'm explaining to the cop that I'm a turist... "and you're staying in Bensalem??! To visit what?!" I'm staying at a friend's, HOLY GOD!!! I rescue my suitcases, hurled off the conveyor belt, and go outside. Until I'm on the street I can't believe I don't have any more checks to go through.

After a quick call home, I drag myself to the first available cab, giving the driver Mel's address. The energetic driver, while busy setting the GPS, ends up on the sidewalk, but the situation is under control. Then I meet the very first local tradition: the air conditioning at full blast. My neck cervicals are grateful. Along the way I see the skyscrapers, typical of Philadelphia's skyline, and the bridge: these are the first images I record. In the end, the nice driver can't find the right street "I cant see numbers, I cant see!" so I decide to call Mel to give me a ride. The weather today is what we would call "suffocating" in Venice, so hot and humid that you would rather stay at the Equator. After leaving my suitcases at Mel's cats' mercy, we drive -of course- to the local supermarket. The car are huge here, on the other hand streets are immense too. At the supermarket I meet my friend Air Conditioning of course, and in the fruit and vegetables department a storm breaks out: you can hear the thunder, then a light rain waters the produce -choreographies made in USA. Every product -fruit, vegetables, bread, delis- lasts up to a month, open in the fridge. Gulp. And in facts you don't buy hundred grams of delis, but a pound... half a kilo, who cares, since they last?! Luckily it's Mel who prepares dinner, meat pizza, and then it's time to go to sleep... or to play with Ninì the female cat, in my case, thanks to the jet-lag.

The next day I'm numb to say the least, because of the sleepless night, therefore I spend my time on the Internet. When my Macbook's battery runs down, I realize to my chagrin that the expensive transformer I was sold in Italy and said to be absolutely necessary, is useless, and all I need is plain adapters. Hmmmmmmm. In the afternoon we go for a stroll at the Mall, the shopping centre, with Mel and the faithful Air Conditioning. At the Mall you can find all kind of brands on sale, not necessarily in "sales weeks" as in Italy. Thus the Guess store sells bags at 25 dollars, while the Levi's store hauls jeans at 30. On the other hand, unlikely sweaters by D&G and Missoni reach $500-$600, but they used to cost $2,000-$3,000! While you walk through the mall's hallways, you can find any kind of stuff: candies machines, masseurs, estheticians who depilate your eyebrows USING SEWING THREAD, make-up stands where you can ask for a free trial to see how the make-up looks on you. Many dummies here have a 42 bra size... local beauty model; the Nike store sells a purse that you can fasten to your sneakers; the Lindt store is shutting down, therefore they're selling 4 pounds of Lindor at $7... that's too much even for me, the local super sizes are giving a hard time even to my undeniable voracity. Every shop assistant is smiling, and even if I know they're posing, I love to hear their greeting "Hi, how're you doing?", 'cause it sounds as if they gave a damn. After dropping by Victoria's Secret -which actually exists, I couldn't believe my eyes!- we head back home, and finally tonight I manage to sleep!

The third day couldn't start any better, with the skype-call home, and it goes on even better, with the trip to Philadelphia. It's boiling hot, and the temperature range between outside and inside must be around 20 degrees. An inspector validates the tickets, then puts them on your seat, and takes them when you're supposed to get off. The first stop we make in Philly is the Liberty Bell, which is the symbol of the American Independence. It has a whole museum of its own, where they stored souvenirs dating back to 1960... memorabilia indeed!!! The rangers won't allow us to sit on the very valuable outside little wall -it could date back to 1980, show some respect!- and finally we're admitted to the guided tour to the Congress Hall, where others valuable memorabilia are stored... 1700's stuff... the guide gets excited while talking about the best Constitution ever written and represented in those very halls... yeah, we must be in the middle of the world. After a tasty Mexican lunch, we take a stroll in the skyscrapers' area, which couldn't exist until a short time ago, because no building could be higher than Penn's statue's hat -Penn is the founding father of Pennsylvania. It's still boiling hot, but at least we have some shade from the skyscrapers. We seek shelter at our friend Air's, in one of the most recent skyscrapers, and after drinking a smoothie we head for the station, which is conveniently connected to the skyscraper, underground. Our train is canceled, therefore we squeeze ourselves into the next one and then we go shopping: tomorrow it's time for me to leave, New Jersey is waiting for me.