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brother from another series
Mar. 26th, 2019 12:33 pmOccasionally I see things like my cousin Francine's blog about her international Overlanding adventures and wonder what the hell I've done with my life. Then I think about how she knows a multitude of languages because she and her husband Dave have moved more than a dozen times following his job, and she does all this outdoorsy shit, and she's happy with staying in hostels and picking up hitchhikers and meeting brand-new people everywhere, and I feel just fine right where I am. XD
In actual travel that *I* can manage, Lori and I visited our half-brother Richard in Toronto for his 50th. We only had a few days so we saw our cousin Brenda, who fed us fresh pholourie and jerk chicken (*weeping*); Richard took us to a roti buffet (*weeping increases*), where we had the most delicious mauby and also bought some kurma and currants rolls and doubles (*weeping at maximum levels*).
There were West Indian restaurants on every corner! Why won't anybody come out Vancouver way and open a roti shop, goddammit? The doubles were like $1.25 each! Here at the single roti shop out in New Westminster they're EIGHT FUCKING DOLLARS EACH!!!! Anyhow we glutted ourselves quite properly and then for Rich's actual birthday we went to a steakhouse called Harry's. Torontonians will probably know how expensive this place is. Lori and I had no idea (not that we were expected to pay thank god). The bill for four people was like $600. I have never nor ever will again have a meal that pricey -- but the steak sure was delectable.
While I wouldn't want to live in the T-Dot, I can't help but be a little wistful that we grew up on this side of the country while all our Canadian family live on the other side. Meeting them again as adults was very ... enlightening, without the extremely biased opinions of our mother to colour our views, and I felt for the first time a real connection with them. We got lots of exhortations to stay longer next time so we could spread our days among the family, who were eager to host us. It was a nice feeling.
Plus talking to family always gives us unexpected gossip and insights into the reality of our relatives, rather than what Mom (an unreliable narrator) decides to share and Dad (who lives in denial) doesn't talk about. For the first time we learned our Nani wasn't a living saint the way Mom tells it! And that's a relief, tbh.
In actual travel that *I* can manage, Lori and I visited our half-brother Richard in Toronto for his 50th. We only had a few days so we saw our cousin Brenda, who fed us fresh pholourie and jerk chicken (*weeping*); Richard took us to a roti buffet (*weeping increases*), where we had the most delicious mauby and also bought some kurma and currants rolls and doubles (*weeping at maximum levels*).
There were West Indian restaurants on every corner! Why won't anybody come out Vancouver way and open a roti shop, goddammit? The doubles were like $1.25 each! Here at the single roti shop out in New Westminster they're EIGHT FUCKING DOLLARS EACH!!!! Anyhow we glutted ourselves quite properly and then for Rich's actual birthday we went to a steakhouse called Harry's. Torontonians will probably know how expensive this place is. Lori and I had no idea (not that we were expected to pay thank god). The bill for four people was like $600. I have never nor ever will again have a meal that pricey -- but the steak sure was delectable.
While I wouldn't want to live in the T-Dot, I can't help but be a little wistful that we grew up on this side of the country while all our Canadian family live on the other side. Meeting them again as adults was very ... enlightening, without the extremely biased opinions of our mother to colour our views, and I felt for the first time a real connection with them. We got lots of exhortations to stay longer next time so we could spread our days among the family, who were eager to host us. It was a nice feeling.
Plus talking to family always gives us unexpected gossip and insights into the reality of our relatives, rather than what Mom (an unreliable narrator) decides to share and Dad (who lives in denial) doesn't talk about. For the first time we learned our Nani wasn't a living saint the way Mom tells it! And that's a relief, tbh.
