Four years ago, my first year of teaching abroad had just come to a close. I close my eyes today and breath into the past, still feeling the heavy heart I had at the end of that first year, as I came to terms with the transiency of people I had grown close to. Throughout that first year abroad, I often thought, "How can anyone actually do this long term?
I cannot do this, I cannot connect with such kindred spirits simply to say goodbye so soon." As I continued to
process this part of the experience of life abroad, I did find some solace by reflecting on the ways that new relationships had shifted me, challenged me, and helped me to grow. In this way, these new friends, who were soon to be further away, would stay with me.
What I have also come to see is that as friends have stayed to teach in Ecuador, or settled in Mexico, Venezuela, Albania, and Japan, I continue to learn from them, as they recount their experiences on social media, in blogs, and through our Skype conversations. And then, to my greatest delight, in these past four years, my path has crossed again, in both unexpected and premeditated ways, with international friends. Most recently, I connected with Michelle in Toronto for a whirlwind, three-day tour of the city's best restaurants, a lot of reflections on this past year, and a visit to a museum that I hope residents and visitors to Toronto may venture to, too.
When I landed in Toronto, my first observations were of the diversity of the people. The airport was full of Sikh men wearing dastars, and Muslim women wearing hijabs, and people milling about from dozens of different ethnic heritages. I do not know to what degree this is true, but in my short stay, it did not appear that races or cultures are particularly segregated in Toronto. Internally, I kept noting the smiles on everyone's faces when they greeted me, or one another. As other experiences have reminded me, this is the energy I want to extend towards others, when I am home, and when I represent my country abroad. To have a spirit of kindness, openness, and hospitality, it is to inspire smiles on the hearts of others. I am deeply grateful to all of the strangers in Toronto who placed such smiles onto mine.
Really, I loved the flavor of this city that comes in the form of such diversity ... and, as you must have guessed, that translates then to food. In one day alone, Michelle and I made a world tour simply by visiting restaurants serving Middle-Eastern, Mexican, and Ethiopian cuisine.
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| Eating at Ethiopiques ... this was dinner numero uno that night. |
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It is no wonder, then, that Michelle baked this food baby in three short days.
I wasn't there for the birth. That's probably for the best. |
There was also amazing Thai food, shared with Sarah and Jameson, and my stay culminated in eating breakfast poutine!
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| Sipping ciders in the park is a beautiful way to end an evening. |
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Those are french fries, smothered in cheese, and hollandaise sauce, mixed with sausage and topped with a poached egg.
If your heart just stopped, mine almost did too, after eating the whole bowl. |
So, in this way, Toronto was a moving experience as it inspired my stomach to grow. Michelle and I did at least begin each day with a workout in the park. From the East to the West, it is always about balance.
We did do a couple of other activities aside from eating. One of the first places Michelle took me to, due to an infection, was the health clinic. This is where I learned something about Canadian healthcare. While it was about a three-hour wait, after presenting her health card, Michelle did not have to pay to see the doctor. While the line of patients moved slowly, everyone was so chill. I kept waiting for someone to go up to the desk and ask in an irritable tone about how much longer it would be, but this never happened. Nobody was even tapping their toes, save the little American in her chair.
In addition to the clinic, I got to experience some beautiful city sites as we went to
Harbourfront Music Garden, designed by cellist Yo Yo Ma and landscape designer Julie Moir Messervy. At the Toronto Music Garden, you will find that Bach's Suite Number 1 in G Major has been interpreted through statues, shrubs, flowers, and other landscape design. It is serene.
It was not this serenity, but heartrending emotion, that I experienced at the
Aga Khan Museum. The museum currently houses artwork of Muslim civilizations spanning centuries and a good deal of physical terrain. The artwork includes pottery, rugs, manuscripts and metalwork. I am rather ignorant to the Islamic faith and Muslim culture. I have started a book entitled
The Heart of Islam, by Seyyed Hossein Nasr, and I am still working to get my hands on my dear friend's recent publication titled,
The War against al-Qaeda in order to learn more. The museum certainly offered a glimpse into the beauty of these Muslim civilizations.
The exhibit that struck me most, though, was the
Syrian Symphony: New Compositions in Sight and Sound, which "explores the roles of art and artists during times of upheaval and conflict." As we listened to the four movements, we walked around the upper floor of the museum, gazing at artwork inspired by the music, and life in Syria. Questions flooded me: To what degree has the West played a hand in the state of affairs of predominantly Islamic countries? What if oil stopped being the commodity that it is? Why do so many of us reduce the Islamic faith to extremism? What will become of Syria and her people? Will light conquer the dark? I looked and listened to the haunting beauty of the music and the art, in a state of wonder and horror, and in awe of the human spirit.
It is upon this, the human spirit, that I have pondered most in the past four years. It is the depth, the complexity, and the beauty of the human spirit that has me unsettled for too long in any one place right now. I want to be everywhere. Every place, to taste its spirit. Every place, to see its people. Every place, to feel the vibrations that connect us all.
The physical distance between my family, my friends, and myself that often exists still causes many aches and pains, but it is within the span of this distance that I continue to grow.
While sometimes I would like to gather all of my friends and family in one place, as Thoreau noted, "Nothing makes the earth seem so spacious as to have friends at a distance; they make the latitudes and the longitudes."
Many thanks to Jeanette and David and Michelle for hosting me in Toronto -- a new city that I love -- for such hospitality, and for more delightful conversations and delicious food. Until our paths meet again, nos vemos.
Love and light,
Jame
