I remember the day clearly. It was the 9th of Februrary, 2012 and I’d recently begun using Last.fm, a music recommendation service that takes note of the songs & artists you listen to and attempts to find other bands you might enjoy based on your listening patterns.
One of the first recommendations offered to me was a band I’d never heard of called Great Big Sea. The blurb on their Last.fm profile declared them to be a “Canadian folk-rock band from Newfoundland and Labrador, best known for performing energetic rock interpretations of traditional Newfoundland folk songs.” Straight away I was intrigued, given that I love the folk-rock genre and that they hailed from such a remote & faraway location you rarely hear about in the music world.
I quickly navigated to Youtube where I clicked through to one of their more recent releases, Nothing But A Song, an original tune from their 2010 album Safe Upon The Shore. It’s rare that a newly-discovered song resonates so well with me: I had a beaming smile on my face by the second bar and from the moment Alan Doyle’s captivating baritone made its passionate entrance, I can honestly say I was hooked.
I found the album on iTunes before the song had even finished. Over the next 49 minutes I embarked on one of the greatest journeys of musicianship and songwriting I’d been on – from the uplifting reflective opener of Long Life (Where Did You Go) to the hauntingly grievous title-track shanty that is Safe Upon The Shore; from the faith-restoring Good People to the comical cover of The Kinks’ Have A Cuppa Tea – and then there’s my personal favourite ballad, Yankee Sailor, the heartbreaking tale of a Canadian courtship torn apart by a wealthy & charismatic American seafarer, delivered with such an intensity and conviction that it brought shivers to my spine. These guys epitomised the type of music I loved.
And such began my musical love affair with Alan Doyle, Séan McCann and Bob Hallett, the mighty talented bunch of folk-rockers from the city of St John’s, Newfoundland who make up the core of Great Big Sea (that’s not to mention Darrell Power who retired in 2003, as well as Kris MacFarlane and Murray Foster who have been supporting members of the band since Darrell’s departure). Formed in 1993, the group today boast a discography of 9 studio albums (7 of which have made the top 10 in their home country), 3 live concert recordings, a plethora of singles and a lifetime’s worth of tour dates across Canada, the US and indeed the world.
Over the next six months or so I relished in getting my hands on the whole GBS back catalogue. I’d buy a new record of theirs on iTunes every couple of weeks and it never ceased to amaze me how each one held my attention and captured my imagination from start to finish. I was particularly impressed with how they were able to sustain such a positive, upbeat attitude while developing their musical style quite substantially over the years. They delivered a raw, traditional folk sound on their first few albums such as their self-titled Great Big Sea in 1993, Up in 1995, and 1997’s breakthrough record Play, before branching out to the more pop-inspired melodies of Sea Of No Cares and Something Beautiful in the early 2000’s.
They returned to their heritage in 2005, releasing an album entirely of traditional Newfoundland folk tunes called The Hard And The Easy. It’s been the greatest Great Big Sea discovery for me to date and it may just make the cut as my favourite album of all time. Each time I listen to it I feel richly immersed in Canadian maritime history made up of intertwining Irish, Scottish and French lineage; I’m transported to the ports, harbours and seaside communities along the Newfie coastline such as Tickle Cove, Harbour LeCou, Angle Pond & St John’s itself, and I’m carried away by stories of murderous captains, Arctic whalers, legendary horses and able young seamen both hard working & voyeuristic. Their two most recent albums Fortune’s Favour and the aforementioned Safe Upon The Shore yield a slightly more rock-influenced and heavily-produced characteristic which in my opinion, perfectly caps off nearly 20 years worth of recording.
Merely 2 months after first setting my ears upon Great Big Sea, I chanced to see in a local gig guide that they were about to embark on their first tour of Australia. I immediately booked a ticket and was lucky enough in April 2012 to catch their show at The Basement, an intimate venue in the heart of Sydney’s Circular Quay, where I was offered my first glimpse into exactly how energetic these guys really were in real life. Up until this point they were a barely-accessible folk band from the other side of the world, of whom I’d only ever heard a handful of recordings, but now here they were metres in front of me performing a killer set of in front of a devoted ex-pat Canadian audience. It was at that point I can say I officially became a devoted fan of Great Big Sea!
To give you an idea of exactly how much I’m into these guys, this is my graph of top 10 artists I’ve listened to since I began using Last.fm in early 2012, and the number of times I’ve played tracks by each of them:
I’ve only listened to them 2,146 times!
Crazy huh?! As you can tell, their music has taken up a large portion of my life over the past few years. I even recorded my own little cover version of Safe Upon The Shore, and I namechecked them in a song I wrote a few months ago called I Wish I Lived In Canada.
Earlier this year I did actually go through with the decision to leave behind my job, home and life in Sydney, and embark upon a new adventure in Canada, where I have since settled in Toronto. There were a number of reasons why I chose Canada above other destinations, but one of them was for the opportunity to see Great Big Sea perform to a local crowd within their home country. And on the 28th of November 2013 I succeeded in ticking off the #1 entry to my Canadian bucket list, after catching Alan, Séan, Bob, Murray and Kris play a sold-out show as part of their XX tour at the General Motors Centre in Oshawa, around an hour east of Toronto.
It was an absolutely incredible performance that fulfilled my every wish, to the point where I couldn’t even sing along with the opening tunes Ordinary Day and The Chemical Worker’s Song because I was too overwhelmed 🙂
The one thing that strikes you about a Great Big Sea audience is that as soon as the band sets foot on stage, EVERYONE gets their arses up off their seat and claps/moves/dances/sings/screams their lungs out along with EVERY song. The vibe is indescribable, unlike any other show I’ve been to – and this is coming from a huge live music fan with very high expectations, having seen over 350 artists perform in my time.
I booked well in advance and as such, scored perfect seats in the centre of the auditorium, only 4 rows from the front of the stage. Highlights for me were Bob’s rousing a-capella rendition of Come And I Will Sing You, Alan’s kick-arse guitar solo in When I Am King, the chilling singalong harmonies of Séan’s classic, General Taylor, and the montage of fans projected onto the screen during the beautiful Good People. The two & a half hour show left not only me but the thousands-strong Oshawa crowd with a soul so uplifted that I doubt I’ll reach that level of musical contentment again for many years to come.
The boys during the first set of their Oshawa gig
The beautiful montage of fans projected onto the screen during Good People – Alan is up the back watching the show 🙂
Rock On
Waiting for the encore…
Murray, Kris and Alan during the encore
Only a couple of weeks ago, Séan announced that the XX tour will be his final with Great Big Sea. I’m extremely grateful I got to witness the GBS boys live in concert in Canada before Séan’s departure, and I wish him all the best with his upcoming endeavours.
I wanted to write this post not only to express my adoration for the band, but to hopefully inspire newcomers to check them out, and also as a way of saying a heartfelt thanks to each and every member of GBS over the years for giving us all the wonderful gift of music that truly changes lives for the better.
Whatever the future brings for Alan, Séan, Bob, Murray and Kris, one thing will remain for certain:
Great Big Sea fucking rock!
Me after the show in my awesome new Great Big Sea hoodie 😀
Have you got a Great Big Sea story to tell? Where did you first hear of them and what do they mean to you? I’d love to hear from any likeminded fans – feel free to leave a comment below!
Yesterday was the day of the 2013 Toronto Santa Claus Parade! At 5.6km long and having been held every year since 1905, it’s one of the longest running and altogether largest parades of its kind anywhere in the world.
Now, I’m normally a major grinch when it comes to Christmas-related items. I’ve always thought it was a silly celebration in the southern hemisphere (commercially speaking, anyway). We’re bombarded with images of snow and Santa and reindeer when in reality it’s 42 degrees under the blistering hot sun and as humid as a sauna. But seeing as I’ll be in the northern hemisphere for Christmas this year, I figured I’d at least make a small effort to soak in the traditional wintry Christmas imagery we’re all so familiar with.
I almost didn’t bother going to the parade until my friend Laura mentioned on FB how impressive the floats all looked as she walked past them lining up for the event early in the morning – not to mention the fact that there was a One Direction float in the mix. That was enough to convince me to get out of the house, but I still had the inkling I wouldn’t be impressed, so I declined to carry around my camera.
Thankfully I still had my phone camera, because it actually turned out to be a darn lot more impressive than I could have imagined. Never in my life have I seen such a conglomeration of clowns, marching bands, gorilla/monkey/bee/squirrel/giraffe onesies, fairy floss, Santa Claus hats and floats featuring all kinds of crazy Christmassy characters… it was insane! And I couldn’t believe how many participants there were and how many people lined the streets to observe the jolly festivities.
I’m still not a Christmas convert but I’m glad I made it out to see the parade in the end. Here’s a little of what happened on the day:
Precisely an hour ago as I write this, I was laying unconscious in a Toronto clinic undergoing a medical procedure. For the first time ever, I’d been given general anaesthetic.
IT WAS INCREDIBLE.
The closest I’d had so far to general anaesthetic was around 7 years ago when I was given a shot of morphine to ease some pain. I was taken aback at how it only took a matter of seconds to come to life, instilling me with a magical golden glow all over and instantly relieving me of all discomfort. The full effect lasted an hour, followed by another semi-blissful hour of the comedown.
Fast-forward to today and I found myself between the siderails of a hospital bed, complete with peripheral cannula in a vein in my hand awaiting the intravenous fluid. I was wheeled into the room where I spoke briefly with the the doctor & the anaesthetist and signed the form giving my consent to release the sedative into my bloodstream.
Similarly to my morphine experience, I almost instantaneously began feeling its soothing effects. My senses narrowed within the space of 10 seconds; all external stimulants vanishing into an internalised tunnel of comatose perception. My final few words were something along the lines “Oh, this is quite relaxing” before total darkness ensued.
I didn’t see or feel a thing during the 25 minutes I was under. I wasn’t completely dead to the world, though. I don’t know whether it was my imagination or if it was an actual physical awareness, but I could hear the reassuring beep, beep, beep of the cardiac monitor. And there was one other thing. Constantly, throughout the entire 25 minute session, I had a line from the lyrics of California by Phantom Planet repeating over and over again in my mind:
California, here we come, right back where we started from California, here we come, right back where we started from
I have no idea why my mind selected California of all songs – it is a fantastic tune but I hadn’t heard it for probably two years, and aside from my three hour stopover in LA 7 weeks ago, I have very little connection with The Golden State.
All of a sudden, my peaceful slumber came to an abrupt end. My body started shaking as if I was having a fit, and some nearby nurses reassured me that everything was ok and I was just waking up.
The first thing I said to the nurse in my groggy and generally unaware state was, “I dreamt of this amazing melody and lyrics to go with it, I need to write them down so I don’t forget!” And indeed, as soon as my possessions were handed back, I went straight to my phone notes & keyed in “California, here we come, right back where we started from,” thinking I’d had one of those almost-religious moments you hear about where a songwriter receives material for a hit song directly from God or whatever spiritual entity lies in the realms beyond us. It wasn’t until I got home that I remembered it was actually a Phantom Planet song and not a creation of my genius subconscious or assistance from divine intervention. Dammit :-/
I was fine to leave the clinic within 10 minutes of my awakening, and I’m pretty well recovered right now. It felt genuinely enlightening to experience the effects of general anaesthetic this morning – it’s another tick in the box of uncharted territory, and at least I know what to expect now if I ever need the stuff again. If you’ve never had it yourself, I’m sure you’ll love it should you get the chance.
Have you ever been under, and if so, what was your experience like? Did you sing Phantom Planet songs in your head too? Let me know about it in the comments section!
(And for the record, everything health-wise is fine!)
I had my final few days of freedom last week before beginning work in Toronto, so I decided to book a getaway to the US on the Greyhound. My ultimate destination was Chicago but I was also very curious to stop over in the city of Detroit, Michigan, for one night. With 2,137 cases of violent crime reported per 100,000 people in 2012, Detroit is famous for being the second most dangerous city in the States – second only to the city of Flint, merely 70 miles north-east. Not only that, but the city filed for bankruptcy earlier this year with around $18 billion dollars in debt, making it the largest Chapter 9 bankruptcy filing in United States history. With these two statistics in mind, I wished to experience its seemingly bleak atmosphere for myself.
During the 20 hours I spent in town, I came to see first-hand how it maintained such a notorious reputation. Amongst the abandoned buildings, ramshackle neighbourhoods and suspicious-looking individuals I passed on the street, I couldn’t begin to imagine how the recent economic woes have further affected a city that’s already suffered so much hardship over the years. Yet despite its tribulations, I was surprised to witness many pockets of joy within its streets – from a beautiful community garden sponsored by the downtown Compuware headquarters, to an entire street in an eastern ghetto dedicated to community art and peace.
In all my years of travels I’ve never felt more uncomfortable than walking through the suburban streets of Detroit – but that ambience of constantly being on edge is what I loved so much about my visit. Here are a handful of stories telling of the crazy characters I met and the beautiful places I saw during my day in Detroit.
The Bus (a.k.a. Kentucky vs Customs)
It had been a long afternoon on the bus.
We were late leaving Toronto by half an hour, but we managed to gain time due to some shorter-than-planned stopovers in the Ontarian towns of London and Windsor along the way. With 10 minutes to spare until our scheduled arrival into Detroit at 8:40pm, the bus hastily pulled into customs on the Canadian/US border.
The clearance process remained largely uneventful from my point of view. I did think the questions fired at me from the immigration officer were slightly more demanding than normal, but I eventually got the ok for entry and was back on the bus in no time. There were nine people on board and it took around 15 minutes for us all to clear.
Or so we thought…
As the bus pulled away, we’d just about reached the point of no return when a customs officer came racing towards us, yelling to the driver that there were still people inside who hadn’t cleared. Indeed, upon counting the heads on the bus, there were only six of us! Three still remained within the building. Embarrassed and annoyed, the driver reversed to the carpark and we patiently waited for the remaining passengers to complete their clearance. There is a very strict rule that the bus isn’t allowed to leave until all passengers have cleared – up until that point, we were all prisoners of the Greyhound in no-man’s-land.
I started chatting with a guy from Kentucky sitting opposite me, who had been staying with a friend in London, Ontario. He was on his way back home and had a connecting Greyhound from Detroit at 9:15pm. With 20 minutes to go until its departure, it was a frustrating setback for him to still not be on US grounds. Once he found out I was Australian and about to spend a day in Detroit he took pride in telling me everything he knew about the local gang culture and street crime, placing a bet that I wasn’t going to make it out alive. Unnervingly, two other people on the bus who had overheard our conversation agreed wholeheartedly with him. An old guy up the back chimed in as well: “Don’t listen to them, Detroit ain’t that bad. Just stick around the downtown area and don’t venture into the neighbourhoods or you’ll end up with a cap in yo ass.”
Mid-conversation, Kentucky checked the time once more and completely out of the blue he snapped! In a split second his face turned from a look of slight frustration to one of sheer hatred as he erupted: “WHAT THE FUCK ARE THESE FUCKINGCUSTOMSCOCKSUCKERS DOING?!! I NEED TO BE ON MY CONNECTING BUS IN 12 MINUTES!” He stormed off the bus, yelled at the driver as if it was his fault and paced around the carpark trying to figure out how to make his escape.
Customs saw what was happening and quickly made their way outside, presumably with handcuffs at bay. The rest of us on the bus watched and listened in disbelief as Kentucky tried to hold up an argument.
“I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS SHIT, WHY WON’T YOU JUST LET US GO THROUGH? I’M GOING TO MISS MY FUCKING CONNECTION”
“Sir, you need to get back on the bus right now.”
“THIS IS BULLSHIT MOTHERFUCKERS YOU JUST WANT TO MAKE ME MISS MY BUS”
“Sir, please hand me over your passpo…”
“FUCK YOU I JUST WANT TO CATCH…”
“NOW LISTEN HERE MO’FUCKER. YOU CAN EITHER HAND ME OVER YOUR PASSPORT AND WE LOCK YOUR SORRY ASS IN THE CELL OR YOU CAN CALM DOWN, SHUT THE FUCK UP AND GET BACK ON THE BUS”
And with that, he raged back up the stairs of the bus, proclaiming “I HOPE AMERICA GETS INVADED TOMORROW” and “I CAN’T WAIT TIL SOME ASSHOLE DROPS A NUKE ON WASHINGTON DC”
Shortly afterwards, a customs official came onboard and offered to walk anyone through the building if they didn’t want to wait on the bus any longer. Except for Kentucky. He was told to stay right where he was.
I chose to remain on the bus because we were still quite some distance from my hotel. Kentucky apologised to us for his outrageous behaviour. Eventually customs gave the bus driver the ok to continue – apparently the three passengers we were waiting for had issues and weren’t going to clear any time soon. We didn’t end up making it into the terminal until nearly 10pm, and Kentucky had to hang around Detroit until the following afternoon for his next connection.
Welcome to America 🙂
Lafayette Greens
After my tumultuous hour spent on the border and a night at a very shady hotel (1. a couple in the queue in front of me booked a room for two hours; 2. the infused stench of marijuana wafted freely through the corridors; 3. there was a vending machine in the foyer that sold panties and lingerie), I set foot on Detroit streets in the morning with potent curiosity.
I’d barely walked for 15 minutes when I stumbled across a surprisingly lovely community garden called Lafayette Greens. Sponsored by Compuware (a billion-dollar IT services company based in Detroit) and built on the site of an abandoned building that had since been demolished, the garden offered a very welcome and refreshing change from the landscape of desolation I’d been expecting to encounter. It was designed first and foremost to beautify downtown Detroit, but it also aims to encourage urban gardening and acts to spread the word on how derelict surrounds have potential to be transformed into areas of enchantment. This is a theme I would revisit later in the day upon visiting the Heidelberg Project.
The entrance to Lafayette Greens
A cute robot girl residing in one of the garden beds, made out of reused household items
Robot girl’s boyfriend!
With half an acre of space on which to grow, the garden consists not only of artsy robot-like installations but also scores of raised beds full of flowers, herbs, vegetables, fruit trees and ornamental plants. The large number of volunteers who help keep the garden at bay kindly donate the edible produce cultivated on site to local food banks, which is a productive and invaluable means of community involvement. I highly enjoyed my time strolling around Lafayette Greens and I was heartened to see how well it succeeds at its mission.
Pumpkins
A Lafayette owl
The Heidelberg Project
I left the garden and had a late breakfast at American Coney Island (one of the two famous Coney Island hot dog diners in Detroit – the other being the much-rivalled Lafayette Coney Island next door). I browsed the web over my hot dog for a few touristy things to do in town, and I was particularly intrigued to discover an attraction called The Heidelberg Project. It was located 4 km away in one of the eastern suburbs. Completely ignoring the advice of the old man on the bus who suggested not to walk through the ‘hood for fear of “a cap in yo ass”, I set upon the 45 minute stroll along Gratiot Avenue up to Heidelberg Street.
For somebody not used to the image of municipal neglect, this stretch of highway leading out of downtown Detroit sure was an eye-opener. I passed cars parked on the side of the road with smashed windows and missing tyres. There were countless buildings and construction sites that had clearly been abandoned and left for squatters to inhabit. I saw at least three houses that had burnt to a crisp, with nothing left but a charred outer shell. I trampled through drastically overgrown sidewalks, came across numerous public phone boxes minus the phone, marvelled at the sheer amount of graffiti sprayed over every available wall/door/window, and wondered about the lives of the locals congregated in parks and on street corners.
And then I reached Heidelberg Street.
In 1986, a resident of Heidelberg Street, Tyree Guyton decided to react against the ever-increasing poverty and neglect within his community – a trend he was all too familiar with ever since the riots of 1967 which burnt the city to the ground and claimed the lives of 43 victims. He began creating colourful and enticing works of art out of discarded household items and put them on display in vacant blocks and abandoned buildings along the street. With help over the years from his likeminded neighbours, Guyton has succeeded in constructing the ultimate oasis within the ghetto. It’s a symbol of hope for a community in need, having won multiple awards and drawn enthusiastic visitors from around the globe to dwell upon the urban plight faced by locals for so long.
Walking around the Heidelberg Project after just having experienced the forsaken streets of suburban Detroit proved to be the ultimate contrast. I genuinely felt like I was wrapped in a safe, peaceful blanket as I explored the incredible art installations. The further I made it along the street the more it surprised me with its charming eccentricity – I swear I had a permanent what the fuck?! look upon my face all afternoon!
The Heidelberg Project is a must-see for any visitor to Detroit.
The Number House, one of the many houses that have been converted into entire works of art along Heidelberg Street
There’s no stopping the Heidelberg Project 🙂
A sign of hope from above beside this house plastered in giant reproductions of coins
A couple of playful creatures hanging off the walls of the Party Animal House
The Party Animal House. What a crazy dwelling this is.
A bunch of doors all piled together
The Record House. An entire house covered in 33″ vinyl
A CD Clock on the Record House
There are hundreds of thought-provoking works like this located all around Heidelberg Street
Shopping carts and all kinds of randomness
A collection of vacuum cleaners underneath the Obstruction of Justice (OJ) House. Unfortunately, the house was burnt down by an arsonist only a few weeks before my visit 🙁 The community had done a fantastic job at cleaning up the charred remains and showering it with quirky Heidelberg artefacts.
The People’s House (previously known as the Dotty Wotty House) as seen from underneath the remains of the OJ House. The multi-coloured polka dots symbolise human diversity. This is where Tyree Guyton himself occasionally lives.
An evil doll amid more vacuum cleaners above OJ House
A delightful fence made of shoes outside the Number House
Saved by Jesus
I must have spent three hours hanging around the very uplifting Heidelberg Street. By this stage, having refreshed myself and knowing I survived the journey east to Heidelberg, I felt street-hardened enough to confidently return to the city the same way I came.
There were so many photo opportunities along the walk in but I didn’t feel safe enough to take my camera out for fear of being a robbery target. Not far into my journey back, I took my chances and stopped briefly to take a photo of this very cool graffitied wall:
Just as I was packing my camera away into its bag, I was approached by two middle-aged ladies who had quite possibly consumed some kind of narcotic concoction within the last hour or two.
“Man, y’all shouldn’t be stayin’ in one place too long lookin’ like that or yo gon’ get yo-self done for.”
Thanks for the welcoming advice, I thought.
“Do y’all think yo could spare a couple o’ dollars?”
Here we go. “What do you need a couple of dollars for?” I enquired.
“Oh Lord Jesus, you not from around here! Where y’all from? You know, we just tryin’ to survive these streets an’ we need to find us somethin’ to eat so we just wonderin’ if a kind young gentleman like yo-self could spare us a couple o’ dollars.”
I gave them a couple o’ dollars just to keep the peace and explained that I was from Australia. With dollar signs presumably in their eyes they decided they’d keep walking along the road with me. They were friendly enough and we chatted for a while about Crocodile Dundee, koalas and kangaroos. And all was going great until I noticed up ahead a gang of around 15 murderous-looking guys all hanging out on the street, smoking, drinking and acting extremely suspiciously.
They saw me. Here I was, the idiot foreign white guy walking along the footpath towards a gang of crooks with two girls tagging along behind who were probably from a rival gang for all I knew. And the guys all stopped what they were doing and stared right at me as if I’d just committed cardinal sin. You know the feeling when you’re in somebody’s territory and you know you’re not welcome? Multiply that by about 100 and that’s precisely how I felt.
I kept calm, not looking at any of them and continued on walking & chatting with the girls as if everything was just dandy, despite each member of the gang turning their head toward me, eyeing my every move as I edged past them.
Then the girls started again, “Hey my man do y’all think you could spare us a couple more dollars? We just need a little spare change, y’all know?”
Shut the fuck up! Not now! I wanted to snap back at them. This is bullshit, how am I going to get out of this without being shot?
We cleared the gang. Phew.
“Our car’s run outa gas and we need a bit o’ spare change so as we can fill it back up again, y’ know what I mean? We gonna walk y’all to our car up the road that’s run outa gas so you can see we ain’t tellin’ you no lie, we just need a bit o’ money so we can buy us some gas to put into our car up the road that’s run outa gas” and on and on they went.
I was fed up with them by now and politely reminded them I’d already given them some money up the road.
Then one of the girls stopped, pointed at the sky and looked me square in the eye. “Look up there,” she said before shifting her glance toward the heavens. “Ya’ll know what’s up there?”
Here we bloody go again. What now? I was half expecting her to draw a knife or a gun or call upon the gang for some homicidal assistance.
“That’s Jesus Christ and he’s our lord, he’s our saviour and he’s gon’ pay you back for being such a kind gentleman for sparing us some money! Praise be to our lord Jesus Christ!”
And with that we said our amens & goodbyes and they went on their merry way.
Thanks be to Jesus, I survived my first and hopefully last suspicious human encounter in the Detroit ghetto.
The Ex-Marine
I spent much of the remaining afternoon in the safe confines of the downtown loop, checking out the Detroit Public Library, Campus Martius Park, the very impressive Compuware building and devouring a delicious late lunch at the Detroit Beer Co that included a side of beer and cheese soup. Yes: beer and cheese soup. It was as incredible as it sounds.
My bus out of Detroit was scheduled for 6:45pm, and with an hour and a half to spare I decided to pass the time by searching for inspiring photo opportunities along the inner-city streets. I passed through Grand Circus Park and was heading along one of its off-shooting southbound lanes, when I noticed a fence had been installed around an upcoming footpath. I say installed with an emphasis on the past tense… it had since been ripped down and was lying on the path horizontally. I saw no reason to walk around it so I just walked over it.
“Hey man, what the hell are you doing? Do you think that’s safe?” I heard from behind me. “They must have put that fence up for a reason, I’m not game to walk through it like you are!”
I turned around to find a tall, well-built but friendly looking guy with a blonde crew cut and slight hobble to his step. “Hey man, would you know where the Greyhound terminal is?” he asked as he approached. “I’ve gotta get up to Ann Arbor.” As it happened, I was headed toward the Greyhound terminal so I took out my map, figured out which route to take and invited him along for the walk. He told me his story along the way.
His name was Rick and he served as a marine in the US Armed Forces, including a stint in Iraq before being discharged due to injuries. He suffered some major trauma to one of his wrists, extending up along his arm, which has left him in constant pain today. Although he lives in Ann Arbor, a small city to the west of Detroit, he had to visit the big smoke today for an MRI at the hospital to check on some of his injuries. There was just a slight problem upon exiting the hospital: he couldn’t find his car. After some investigation it turned out he’d parked for too long in an illegal spot, and the authorities had towed his car away.
He managed to track down the grounds where his car was held, but they weren’t able to release it because he didn’t have any credentials on him let alone the money to pay the fine. He tried the police, thinking they might be able to intervene because he was an ex-marine, but they were powerless to help him, explaining how the company that had towed and held his car was well within their rights to do so. His only way out of the situation was to take the bus to his home in Ann Arbor, collect his credentials and the money to pay the fine, return on the bus to Detroit and complete the deal.
But right now, he was thirsty, hungry, and needed to get on the bus, which he was pretty sure departed around 7pm. He hinted that he didn’t have enough cash on him to pay for his ticket; I figured it was good karma and he was a friendly guy after all so I gave him the $5 he needed to cover his ticket plus a few extra bucks for a drink. I hadn’t quite figured out yet how legit he was, but if he turned out to be a bullshit artist he was at least a bloody good one and deserved the $ for his effort.
There was still some time before the bus so we went into a nearby diner where he decided the drinks were too expensive and chugged down three massive cups full of tap water instead. He didn’t like the look of this particular fast food joint so we continued up the road back to American Coney Island, where I went for breakfast earlier in the morning. Part of the petty cash I gave him was put toward some chilli fries… and then he counted his cash and decided he still didn’t quite have enough. He borrowed my phone and called a guy named Bo, also an ex-marine, and asked if he could meet outside American Coney Island in 10 minutes. Apparently Bo was a good mate who looks out for Rick whenever he’s in town and would be able to lend him some cash.
We went outside to meet Bo, who arrived on a bicycle looking as sinister and suspicious as the members of the street gang I walked past earlier in the day. We were introduced but he acknowledged me with only a nod of his head. Bo and Rick huddled together and walked a fair way up the street where a transaction was made outside the view of the passing public. Bo scooted off on his bike as quickly as he appeared and Rick returned with his newly acquired cash, a.k.a. *insert whatever you believe he acquired here*
Intrigued and beguiled by the turn of events since I met my new friend, I suggested to Rick it was about time we made our way to catch the Greyhound. He told me to carry on ahead without him – he needed to stop by a restroom to freshen up first, and he’d meet me at the terminal in 10 minutes.
Upon arrival and with 20 minutes to spare, I found that my bus at 6:45pm was the same bus that Rick would need to catch to Ann Arbor. I figured that if he made it to the station and caught the bus, there may have been some legitimacy to his story; if he didn’t make it, then I’d clearly witnessed first-hand the lengths a poverty-stricken local would go to in order to score.
I never saw him again.
Me and Rick
A final few photos
Here are a final few photos I took throughout the sometimes-beautiful, sometimes-impoverished, always-enigmatic city that is Detroit, Michigan.
It’s worth a visit – but maybe pack a bulletproof vest just in case 😉
No Ping, Ding or King allowed in Detroit
The abandoned Metropolitan Building in the CBD decorated with LOVE
The base of the abandoned Metropolitan Building
A friendly addition to the garden at Campus Maritus Park
The burnt-out shell of a house in the eastern suburbs
Michigan Cherry Salad with Detroit Beer Cheese Soup at the Detroit Beer Co
A funky, colourful design inside the very modern and not-abandoned Compuware Building
I had a few hours to spare the other night in Chicago and took the opportunity to venture up North Michigan Avenue and check out the John Hancock Observatory. 94 floors above the famous Magnificent Mile, it’s a spectacular destination for anyone wanting a birds-eye view of Illinois’ most illustrious city.
I didn’t have a tripod to steady my camera for the long exposures required at such a time of day, so I decided to have some fun instead.
I present to you: the Chicago skyline on LSD.
Ok… my camera did manage one relatively sober shot before it tripped 🙂
Never before have I been to a city so abundant in labyrinths!
My first week in Toronto led me on a chance discovery tour of said structure, first developed by the Ancient Greeks and featured over the ages on coins, walls, rock, paintings, tattoos and pottery. These days the labyrinth predominantly appears as a path set into the ground for the purposes of walking as if it were a pilgrimage – it’s said to bring a sense of meditational peace to anybody who follows its trail.
Unlike a maze, which is made up of a path that branches into multiple directions and often leads to dead ends, a labyrinth comprises only of a single twisting, turning path that eventually terminates at the centre of the pattern. And Toronto just happens to be full of them.
The Toronto Public Labyrinth
It was my second day in Toronto, walking toward the Eaton Centre along Dundas St West, when I noticed a street map at an intersection advising me the Toronto Public Labyrinth was in the vicinity. I made mental note of its location and took a right along Bay St, expecting a jungle of perfectly-trimmed hedges to pop up in front of me at any moment. At this stage I wasn’t aware of the difference between a hedge maze and a labyrinth – of course, the hedges were nowhere to be seen.
‘It’s definitely a good labyrinth if I can’t find the bloody thing to begin with!’ I thought to myself. I forgot about it and went on into the Eaton Centre to do my shopping.
I decided to have one more search after I finished at the mall. Upon exiting, I eventually found its giant granite arch gates and set foot upon the intricate spiralling pattern that was the Toronto Public Labyrinth.
The granite arches guarding the entrance to the Toronto Public Labyrinth
I had walked through numerous hedge mazes in the past, but I’d never before encountered a labyrinth laid into the pavement such as this. The guidelines suggested I enter the labyrinth with a specific question or intention in mind, follow the path from the entrance to the centre, then stay in the centre to reflect on my question for as long as I want before returning back to the entrance via the same path. I did just that, and it felt surprisingly refreshing!
Looking toward the centre of the Toronto Public Labyrinth
The hypnotic path
Twists & turns
Walking the Toronto Public Labyrinth was as though I went on a mini expedition in the centre of the city, where I was able to drown out everything that surrounded me and instead focus all my attention onto myself walking the path that lay ahead. It was humbling to stand in the centre and reflect upon my question, before reversing back along the path the same way I came. It’s a form of relaxation I would recommend to anybody who may wish to slow down for a few minutes and look inward.
As impressed and intrigued as I was, my interest in labyrinths probably would have ended there if it wasn’t for the fact that I walked past another one the very next day.
Ashbridge’s Bay Park Labyrinth
I’d formed a plan during my first week in Toronto: on each day, I would visit a different area of the city. On my third day in town I took the streetcar to the end of Queen St East and walked through the beautiful Beach District. Toward the end of my walk from east to west, I found myself in Ashbridge’s Bay Park, where – lo and behold – there was another labyrinth. Two labyrinths in two days!
Colourful curves
Just up from Woodbine Beach, the labyrinth was set in the middle of the gorgeous Ashbridge’s Bay Park
The outer perimeter
A rose along the trail
High Park Labyrinth
As if two wasn’t enough, a trip to the picturesque High Park a few days later led me to my third labyrinth for the week. I was running out of questions to ask myself but I still took the course to the centre and back again.
The High Park Labyrinth from under a few nearby trees
An autumnal path with a flowery centre
The spiralling orange trail
A beautiful setting amid the greenery
Labyrinths everywhere!
There’s something quite remarkable about Toronto in that I’d never visited a labyrinth before in my life, and of a sudden I’d seen three in one week. It didn’t take long to find there is a Labyrinth Community Network dedicated to collating information on all sites not only across Toronto, but the whole of Ontario, as well as spreading the word about the goodness of the labyrinth in general.
I was also impressed to find a World-Wide Labyrinth Locator, which is an online resource that lists details on their whereabouts across the planet. Although the majority of listings in the database are located in the US and Canada, the labyrinth is clearly a global sensation.
As time goes on, I’ll surely visit more sites and continue enjoying the serenity of the winding path to the centre – I encourage you to do the same if you happen to be close to one! For now though, I thank the good people of Toronto for opening my eyes to the labyrinth 🙂
Post-script: The bicycle arena
A few nights later during the Nuit Blanche celebrations I happened to walk past the Toronto Public Labyrinth again, where it had been converted into a nighttime bicycle arena. Anybody could line up for free and take one of the many bikes for a spin around the pavement 🙂
Not everything goes smoothly along the travellin’ road. Today’s backpacking blunder was brought to you by – wait for it – fabric softener!
I’ve been floating around the hostels and hotels of Toronto for the past week and today I checked into my third place of accommodation since arriving here. I find the constant moving around to be a good way of keeping things fresh and seeing different parts of the city.
One of my first priorities was to wash my clothes. It’s not at all a task I would ‘prioritise’ if I was at home, but when you’re living out of a backpack this seemingly simple feat becomes quite a logistical challenge. It’s difficult enough keeping clean & dirty clothes separate in your bag on non-laundry days, let alone finding the space in the cramped dorms to organise yourself on laundry day without waking sleeping roommates, all this time bearing in mind you’ll have to share the laundry with scores of other travellers who all want to use the limited washing & drying resources at the same time.
I was in luck today though – the laundry was deserted & out of use aside from one dryer half-way through a spin. I paid my $5, loaded the washer, scooped in the detergent, poured some fabric softener into the little compartment, set the cycle and went on my merry way.
Half an hour later I returned to find almost every item of clothing I’d washed was now completely royally fucked!
They had a series of awful, discoloured blotches & stains all over them. This had never before happened in all the years I’d been washing my clothes. What the hell, washing machine? (Yes I actually asked that question out loud to the unruly device in front of me that had just seemingly destroyed a couple of hundred dollars worth of garments, including my favourite expensive trousers I’d bought specifically for my Canadian venture as well as the best most comfortable jumper I’ve ever owned)
It turns out I’d used bleach instead of fabric softener. Hey, the damn bottle was written half in French and called Springtime Fibre Sure: tough on stains, soft on fabrics!
(or in other words: I’m clearly a typical male who has no idea what to do in the laundry)
The internet suggested I should fix the bleach stains with some rubbing alcohol, but this had no positive effect whatsoever. Now if this had happened back at home it would have been a lot easier to shrug off but here I am on the other side of the world trying to save money / find a house / land a job and now I have to buy a new wardrobe… ugh.
But until I do, at least my backpack will be a bit lighter 🙂
Have you ever had a laundry disaster or wardrobe malfunction while you’ve been travelling? Let me know in the comments below if so, and also feel free to subscribe to my blog (in the sidebar to the right) for all the latest updates!
It was the night of the annual Scotiabank Nuit Blanche (“sleepless night”) festival – a city-wide, night-time arts & cultural exhibition developed by the French over a decade ago which has since spread across the world. Ontatio’s largest city was the first North American location to take on the Nuit Blanche concept in 2006; 8 years later, 2013’s event saw 110 official art locations scattered around the CBD with easily a couple of hundred thousand sightseers taking to the streets between sunset & sunrise to revel in the festivities.
I had no idea the festival was even happening until the last minute – a friend pointed it out to me the day before so I decided I might as well check it out. Not knowing what to expect, I left my hotel in time to make the 6:51pm starting time, and as it turned out, the vibe was so electric that I didn’t get home until the very wee hours of the morning.
As with most cultural festivals of this stature, the artworks and performances varied greatly in dynamic, coherence & relevance, with a lot of room for interaction & participation from the public. From the traditional to the downright absurd, some of the exhibitions included:
– An impromptu streetside performance of Romeo & Juliet
– A panoramic screening of a future Martian landscape
– Artificially intelligent fishing rods playing tug-of-war with a canoe in the middle of a pond
– A raised platform where the crowd were encouraged to strap on a blindfold, walk around and see in the dark
– A wolf, hawk, frog, penguin and dodo (I think that’s what they were anyway) all having a tea party in a magical medieval garden
Here were some of my favourites!
The magical medieval garden from A Quack Cure, which helped raise awareness in animal extinction due to human neglect
There is an elephant in the truck: an elephant made out of cardboard mâché, its intention to point out the ignorance we lend to political and social issues going on around us
Parallax: thousands of cardboard tubes stacked together with a light source behind them
Part of the patchwork dress worn by the very pompous Queen of the Parade
A few eerie, shadowy frames from the Tanks installation, where patterns from lace fabric were cut into steel to create the perfect juxtaposition between materials
A tree embraced in LED rope in Pink Punch v.2
A performance artwork called Night Shift. Paper was shredded to produce gold confetti; dancers then contorted their bodies relocating the confetti from one end of the stage to the pile at the other end.
The Familia as seen through the contorted floor mirrors in the Church of the Holy Trinity. The pipe organist belting out contemporary rock tunes added tremendously to the atmosphere.
5,000 pairs of socks in Clothesline Canopy, reflecting the number of people in Toronto without adequate housing
The pièce de résistance, Forever Bicycles, by Chinese artist Ai Weiwei. 3,144 bicycles were used in the construction of this exhibit.
The final piece I saw on the night made the cut as one of the most magnificent artworks I’ve had the pleasure of witnessing. By this stage it was well past midnight and I was on the walk home to my hotel in the city’s north-west, when I chanced upon the Trinity College Chapel, discovering an off-program exhibit called The Composition Engine.
Positioned within the gorgeous chapel were a number of musicians, vocalists and script-readers, who each had a light assigned to them. Members of the visiting public were able to walk the halls of the chapel and turn the lights on or off: if the light was switched on, the performer would play; if the light was switched off, the performer would stop. It was an incredible concept – words can’t describe how peaceful it was to be part of this ever-changing soundscape and lightscape. I was there nearly an hour before completing the journey home in newfound harmony.
The Composition Engine
Toronto – all I can say is that you’re doing a fantastic job at welcoming this newcomer to your beautiful city. I can’t wait to see what else you have in store… and bring on Nuit Blanche 2014 🙂
If you went to Toronto’s Nuit Blanche 2013, I’d love to hear in the comments below what your favourite installation was!
During the final week of September 2013 I paid my first visit to the mammoth, perpetual metropolis that is New York City.
Armed with my camera I set foot in a decent portion of the neighbourhoods that make up Manhattan, from Harlem down to the Financial District; occasionally venturing further to the boroughs of Brooklyn in the south and Queens in the west.
For me, it was a city of extremes. There were aspects of NYC that I adored more than anywhere I’ve been, from the glorious range of cuisines available at my fingertips to the remarkable ease of navigation thanks to the famous numbered streets & avenues. On the other extreme, I was taken aback at how tarnished the city appeared – it’s as though the urban thoroughfares hadn’t seen a scrubbing brush since the 1940’s! At the end of the day though, I must say the grimy streets do add to the charm and help make the most populous city in the United States what it is today.
I’ll definitely return soon to see more – but until then, this is what I’ve seen already:
A bright flower garden near Bryant Park on 42nd Street
Satan apparently dwells on 5th Avenue
A chimney in the middle of the street!
Splendid view of Macy’s (the world’s largest retail store) from the summit of the Empire State
Masters of chess at Union Square
I love how there are American flags like this posted on the doors at every subway station
The majestic Brooklyn Bridge
Padlocks of love
Some indecipherably unique musical notation on a Brooklyn Bridge pylon
A Jay-Z inspired message on the wall?
Facing the Manhattan Bridge from Water Street in Brooklyn
No parking sign in the DUMBO district (Down Under the Manhattan Bridge Overpass)
DUMBO was my favourite area in the whole of NYC to explore… it has an unrivalled character to it
Some bright DUMBO street art
A Brooklyn sunset
The roof of an apartment building as seen from the north side of the Manhattan Bridge pedestrian crossing
At the 9/11 Tribute Centre <3
One of the nearly-completed new World Trade Centre buildings, with the Survivor Tree in the foreground. This tree not only survived the horrors of the WTC collapse, but also made it through Hurricane Sandy alive. May it live many more peaceful years.
A fenced-off block near the Civic Centre
A typical NYC subway
Leading into the subway darkness…
Some unrecognisable but interesting devices on the subway ceiling
A playful Madison Square squirrel
Soho health alert #1
Soho health alert #2
Looking down at the railway passing beneath 11th Avenue
The streets below the Chelsea High Line
Getting hitched on the High Line!
A reflection of the MetLife building, above Grand Central Terminal
Last Sunday I went to my very first baseball game at Citi Field in Queens, New York City! Before I left work in Sydney, my very kind colleagues had chipped in for a ticket to see the New York Mets vs the Milwaukee Brewers as my leaving gift. I thought I’d share some observations & pics here so that everyone back at home can see what the experience was like 🙂
Pretty much everything I knew about baseball up until this point, I’d learnt either from The Simpsons or from the baseball game on Wii Sports. I’d never even seen a match on TV before. Well, I did actually play a bit of softball in year 7 but it is a different game and I can barely remember a thing about it – so I will admit to being a true baseball virgin as I made my way along the crowded #7 subway line headed to Mets – Willets Point station.
Pre-match presentation
I arrived at the stadium around 1pm along with many thousands of Mets supporters (I didn’t see a single Brewers fan all day) and we all queued for quite some time to get through security. Unlike most attractions I’d been to in NYC so far, there was no annoying X-Ray scanner here – just a simple bag search and a pat-down.
As soon as I got in I was chased by a woman who threw a free Mets 31 t-shirt at me! I wasn’t expecting a free shirt and apparently I walked right past her as she was handing them out at the entrance.
It took a while to find my seat – it was up four flights of stairs accessible only at the other end of the stadium, but I was presented with this awesome view once I got there:
I doubt there was a better seat in the house!
The mayor of NYC, Michael Bloomburg, had just begun a pre-match presentation, inducting a charming fellow named Mike Piazza into the Mets Hall Of Fame. I had no idea who he was but he seemed well-loved by the crowd.
After a short speech, Bloomberg proclaimed the 29th of September 2013 to be “Mike Piazza Day.” Oh, how the crowd cheered!
A bloke called John Franco came up to the podium and said a few words, followed by a few others who all beamed about ol’ mate Piazza. Bloomberg came back to present the award, which Piazza received to a standing ovation:
Mets Hall of Fame inductee Mike Piazza accepting his award
He thanked The Mets. People cheered.
He thanked God. More people cheered.
He thanked Fonzie, and then he thanked his agent because if it wasn’t for him, he might have ended up playing for the The Dodgers. People cheered again.
He thanked Fred & Jeff. People booed. Poor Fred & Jeff 🙁
He was very emotional when he thanked his dad. That brought the biggest cheer from the crowd. He thanked the rest of his family and promised to teach his young son how to hit – “the rest is up to him,” he said. That got a laugh.
After the presentation he took part in the Ceremonial First Throw, which was caught by the current Mets captain, David Wright:
The Ceremonial First Throw
The ticket holder of the day then appeared on camera – a lass named Bonnie who had been a Mets member since 2006. She had the honour of saying “Play ball!” into the microphone – and so the game began.
A full stadium of Mets supporters
The Game!
The Mets started on the field with the Brewers batting. After merely five minutes, three Brewers players at the pitch and not a single hit of the ball, the teams changed sides – what the…? So soon? Did someone call time out? I had no idea what was going on.
It took me a few innings to realise there are three outs per frame, two frames per innings, and that not every innings results in runs.
The first run was scored 20 minutes into the game by the Mets. I was sure he was out because the ball reached home base before he did, but apparently he made it in time.
In the next innings, one of the Brewers made a successful dash from first to second as the pitcher was about to deliver the ball to the batter. Sneaky little bugger. I didn’t know they were allowed to do that.
It was around this time I noticed there were no sponsor logos painted on the field, which made a pleasant change from Australian sporting fields that are plastered with corporate emblems at awkward angles so that they look good on TV.
At the fourth innings there was a massive cheer when a Brewers player at third base ran home & got caught out. Sucker.
Some people came out between an innings to rake the field. Interesting.
The field rakers
There was a deliberation about another Brewers guy who safely made it to first base, but the crowd didn’t agree. Lots of boos.
The crowd made an unexpected cheer when #5 David Wright was called up to bat – and then I remembered he was the team captain who caught the Ceremonial First Throw earlier in the proceedings.
In between one of the innings they showed 1800 Kiss Cam on the video screen. A roaming camera focused on couples in the crowd and the idea was that they’d see themselves on the screen and kiss. The most heartwarming kiss was from an elderly couple probably in their 70’s, it got a big “Awwwww” from the audience. Such a cute idea 🙂
The Hot Dog
During the 5th innings I decided to go for a walk and buy some food. But first I went to the bathroom to change into my free Mets 31 shirt, which I now realised was in honour of Mike Piazza’s Hall of Fame induction.
I made my way to the bar and ordered a hot dog & large Budweiser (with souvenir plastic cup).
While my order was being prepared, a guy who had just been served came back to the counter and asked the assistant if he could have an empty cup for dipping sauce. The guy at the counter wouldn’t give him one and said he’d have to pay $1.50 if he wanted the empty cup … “That completely puts me off the Mets, man!” he jeered back in frustration as he cuplessly walked away. Haha.
With hands full of beer and sausage I climbed over everyone to get back to my seat, eager to try my first proper Nathan’s Famous New York hot dog – and what better place to try but the baseball! But hang on… I opened my container and all I got was a bread roll and a sausage, what’s going on here? There was no sauce / mustard / onions, nothing!
I learnt the hard way that you have to put your own bloody condiments on the hot dog at the condiments stand. I couldn’t be bothered climbing back over everyone and proceeded to eat the most miserable looking hot dog I’d ever had in my life.
NO CONDIMENTS
At least the beer was tops!
Some more of the happy Mets crowd
Good singing, bad Mexican Waves & the result
Around two thirds into the game we were all asked to stand and remove out hats for a rendition of God Bless America, sung by a young police officer. It was quite a humbling moment to be amongst thousands of patriotic Americans singing their praises at the top of their lungs.
Then some people dressed as chickens came out onto the field and got everyone to sing Let’s Go Out To The Ball Game.
I could hear a lot of cheering in the grandstand above me and looking up we could make out the beginnings of a Mexican Wave. They attempted to start it twice, but both times it didn’t even last a quarter of the stadium until it fizzled out. Americans might rule at singing patriotic songs in harmonic unison, but they suck at Mexican Waves.
The Mets at play during the final few innings
At the eighth innings the Mets pitcher suspected another sneaky Brewer was about to make his way from first to second base unannounced, so he threw the ball to his teammate on first to scare him – but he missed the catch and let the Brewers guy complete his run to second with ease!
There hadn’t been a run scored since the fourth innings. It was 2-1 to the Brewers and being nearly 3 hours in, the game was starting to get a little slow and uneventful to be honest.
But the biggest moment of excitement was yet to come. In the second frame of the eighth innings, the Mets batter hit a short ball which was overthrown by the Brewers catcher to first – the Mets guy who was on first at the time made it all the way to home, hurrah!
That was followed straight afterwards by another perfectly angled shot, resulting in yet another Mets run.
At 3-2 to the Mets, the Brewers were unsuccessful batters in the ninth innings and the game was called.
The Mets won and we all went home happy!
Cheers to that!
What sport should I see next?
The baseball was (surprisingly) a heap of fun. While I’ll never be a sports aficionado, I am pretty keen on at least seeing one match of every major sport while I’m based in North America. In my last few months in Sydney I managed to see a live match of AFL, NRL and Association Football, so I’ll try my best to continue the trend while I’m running hot.
So what should I see next?
Basketball?
NFL?
Hockey?
Lacrosse?
Curling?
Or something else entirely?
Feel freeI to leave a comment below – I await your suggestions 🙂
