I got up early the next morning and threw my pillow at the girls. They were sleepy-eyed and not in a mood to enjoy the joke. I cleaned myself and went downstairs to have a doughnut breakfast in the lobby. I read the morning paper while waiting. The headline of the day was an air show disaster in Germany. More troubles in the world, but I really wasn't interested; I was going shopping.
I parked the car at the Victoria subway station and we all took the train in. At Yonge Street they got out and I stayed on until the transfer stop for Spadina. Chinatown was in full swing. I headed for the restaurant we went to last night to get another good Chinese meal but they were closed on Mondays. So I walked with the throngs of people in the street and eventually found another place. I had a bowl of chicken porridge. Hadn't had that for such a long time.
I had a small surplus of money because I had paid for the motel room with a credit card and my companions had reimbursed me with cash. I was wondering how to spend most of it so I wouldn't have assets tied up in Canadian currency. Down at Queen Street West I found the solution: an old book store. Penguin paperbacks were overpriced in the US and I happily walked away with a pile of paperbacks. That and a LP of Andreas Vollenwieder's Down to the Moon did it for shopping.
My companions were anxious to leave soon to reach the Niagara Falls hostel in time. I thought leaving at 3 pm would get us at Niagara in good time but I had not reckoned with Toronto traffic jams. Not even quitting time for work and the Gardiner Expressway was clogged up. The traffic dissipated as we drove eastwards on the Queen Elizabeth Expressway.
My companions dozed off in the afternoon heat, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I felt very unperturbable at that point. It wasn't that I was satisfied with life, it was more an absence of either sadness or joy. I didn't want to think about going back to Rochester but neither did I want to stay on the road much longer, I had run out of all clean clothing.
I had always thought Niagara Falls was like an old lady who has seen better days. It still drew crowds but gone were the days when honeymooners made it their destination. I think they go to the Caribbean these days. The Canadian side is not as sleazy as the American side but has its share of game parlours and side attractions. I drove past the falls, through the fine spray, which was like a persistent drizzle on the shore attractions, partly to show my companions what the falls were like and partly because I was looking for the hostel. There was a queue at the office when we arrived and the girls spent several nervous minutes before being told that they had got the last beds in the place. They were visibly relieved. I said my goodbyes to my French friends. I was getting weary of P's prattle, but not in any way put out.
So I was left alone again to cross the border. It seems that one is always alone when facing the small crises of life, like dentists and border crossings. I would have crossed at the Peace Bridge but in my desire to finish off the last few frames of film, I drove around and discovered a second bridge further downstream. This one was a strange double decker steel structure. I think the upper deck carried pipelines. Always one to try an untried path, I drove on. Fortunately the immigration formalities were quite nominal.
At 5 in the afternoon I decided it would be possible to buy wings from Barnaby's, said to be make the best wings in Buffalo. The last time I went through Buffalo, it was too early for them to be open. This time, the wait was worth it. I ate half in the car, parked outside Barnaby's, and saved the rest for later. Then I cleaned my hands as well as I could and set out in search of a soda machine. Seeing a car wash, I decided it was as good a time as any to get all that grime off the car and fill up with petrol. The counter clerk started on his deluxe car wash wiith all trimmings spiel, like a tape recorder, but I cut him short, saying that I only wanted the minimum wash. He was disappointed not to get his word in. In America, selling frivolous extras is a standard ploy to increase profit margins.
Car sparkling clean, I headed out east. It would be good to sleep in a familiar bed.
I parked the car at the Victoria subway station and we all took the train in. At Yonge Street they got out and I stayed on until the transfer stop for Spadina. Chinatown was in full swing. I headed for the restaurant we went to last night to get another good Chinese meal but they were closed on Mondays. So I walked with the throngs of people in the street and eventually found another place. I had a bowl of chicken porridge. Hadn't had that for such a long time.
I had a small surplus of money because I had paid for the motel room with a credit card and my companions had reimbursed me with cash. I was wondering how to spend most of it so I wouldn't have assets tied up in Canadian currency. Down at Queen Street West I found the solution: an old book store. Penguin paperbacks were overpriced in the US and I happily walked away with a pile of paperbacks. That and a LP of Andreas Vollenwieder's Down to the Moon did it for shopping.
My companions were anxious to leave soon to reach the Niagara Falls hostel in time. I thought leaving at 3 pm would get us at Niagara in good time but I had not reckoned with Toronto traffic jams. Not even quitting time for work and the Gardiner Expressway was clogged up. The traffic dissipated as we drove eastwards on the Queen Elizabeth Expressway.
My companions dozed off in the afternoon heat, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I felt very unperturbable at that point. It wasn't that I was satisfied with life, it was more an absence of either sadness or joy. I didn't want to think about going back to Rochester but neither did I want to stay on the road much longer, I had run out of all clean clothing.
I had always thought Niagara Falls was like an old lady who has seen better days. It still drew crowds but gone were the days when honeymooners made it their destination. I think they go to the Caribbean these days. The Canadian side is not as sleazy as the American side but has its share of game parlours and side attractions. I drove past the falls, through the fine spray, which was like a persistent drizzle on the shore attractions, partly to show my companions what the falls were like and partly because I was looking for the hostel. There was a queue at the office when we arrived and the girls spent several nervous minutes before being told that they had got the last beds in the place. They were visibly relieved. I said my goodbyes to my French friends. I was getting weary of P's prattle, but not in any way put out.
At 5 in the afternoon I decided it would be possible to buy wings from Barnaby's, said to be make the best wings in Buffalo. The last time I went through Buffalo, it was too early for them to be open. This time, the wait was worth it. I ate half in the car, parked outside Barnaby's, and saved the rest for later. Then I cleaned my hands as well as I could and set out in search of a soda machine. Seeing a car wash, I decided it was as good a time as any to get all that grime off the car and fill up with petrol. The counter clerk started on his deluxe car wash wiith all trimmings spiel, like a tape recorder, but I cut him short, saying that I only wanted the minimum wash. He was disappointed not to get his word in. In America, selling frivolous extras is a standard ploy to increase profit margins.
Car sparkling clean, I headed out east. It would be good to sleep in a familiar bed.
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