Hello from Toronto, Canada.

I arrived this evening around 8:30pm to a beautiful modern airport where French and English are on every advertisement and directional sign.  I followed the crowd to a longer-than-normal customs line where I was surprised to see the customs officers wearing bulletproof vests…in Canada…the land of few guns (yes I watched Michael Moore).  Andy did meet some militant Canadians at a pool bar in Puerto Vallarta a few years back so maybe that is why they were wearing bulletproof vests.  If the customs guy wasn’t trying so hard to look mean and tough, I would have asked him why he could possibly need a bulletproof vest in the Toronto airport, but I didn’t.

I guess I should have done my research…Toronto is much bigger than I realized.  Wow, 2.7 million people, I just looked it up.  Had I known that, I think I would have thought twice about getting a rental car.

Let me back up a little bit.  The last month or so I have been dreading this trip, 98.4% because I did not want to leave Belén.  After all of that dread, I had this sudden realization yesterday that I was actually kind of looking forward to doing something independent on my own with nobody else to take care of or consider.  I started to feel that sense of excitement about being free to do whatever I wanted, like my carefree days of youth.

That feeling flowed through today, was almost interrupted by me missing my baby while reading the first chapter in The Help, but I was okay.  I felt strong.  I felt independent.  I felt like my old pre-baby self, but with engorged boobs.

This feeling lasted through two flights and was bolstered by having time for my long lost love of reading (uninterrupted).  It made it through the airport, customs, baggage and even in the bowels of the airport rental car system.

As I was waiting for them to find me a car, I called the hotel I had reservations with and asked for directions from the airport.  The woman who answered the phone replied to simply take the 427 south get on the Gardener Express Way and take the Young Street exit north, then go nine blocks.  Sounded simple enough.

That is where things went from lollipops and cupcakes with sprinkles to dragons with pointy fangs and pitchforks.

That Express Way, even after 9pm at night was INSANE with cars in every lane of which there were five and offshoots on both right and left sides of the road.  I tried hard not to grip the steering wheel with white knuckles while my eyes darted in all directions and the GPS directions machine told me to get in the right lane before 1.4 kilometers or merge left in 1.6 kilometers so I didn’t accidentally take the wrong prong to the fork and end up at Niagara Falls.

After a good 15 stressful kilometers on the Express Way, I saw the light of tall skyscrapers in the distance and knew I must be arriving downtown.  We (GPS lady and me) took the correct exit and then somehow managed to get pretty lost trying to get on the street the hotel is on.  At one point, the GPS lady told me to take a left turn on a street that does not allow left turns between certain hours and this took me in a direction in which I eventually became way off course trying to stay out of the way of the other competent drivers on the street, electric trolley cars and the stream of pedestrians.

My unintended downtown city tour allowed me to see a university, the hospital, a bunch of fire trucks and the nearest Starbucks before I finally arrived at my destination.

I checked in and ordered room service and immediately made plans to pump my engorged breasts.  It dawned on me that I wasn’t 100% sure Canada didn’t use 220V for power, so I called the front desk to ask.  They didn’t know what I was talking about but they said it was like the US so that was good enough for me.  It was perhaps overkill to call, but the last thing I wanted to do was blow up my breast pump with engorged breasts in a new temporarily scary city with people who do not seem all that friendly.  I can just see the 10pm Twitter campaign to find a mother not ready to give up on breastfeeding a loaner breast pump in the Toronto area.  And God forbid I would have to get on that Express Way again to go and pick up the pump from some willing ex-Toronto breastfeeding mother.  So yes, it was good I called.

Once I was finally pumping I realized there is no refrigerator in the hotel room.  I called the front desk again to see if I could get a room with a fridge.  Nope, they don’t have them…but they agreed to bring a mini fridge, like the one I had in my sorority bedroom to my hotel room.  The worse case scenario is that I have to pump and dump but it really is a shame to dump all of that breastmilk.

Now I have made it through the Express Way, eaten a very late dinner, pumped and unpacked so I am finally getting back to my almost zen state of earlier today where I feel I can relax and enjoy my independent time.  I had forgotten how scary it can be arriving in a big city alone at night and in retrospect, I wish I would have spent at least 20% of my mental preparation for this trip on those circumstances.  Luckily, my sense of adventure was very high after so many months of the same old Boise baby thing and I was having so much fun with all of the newness upon my arrival…until I freaked myself out on the Express Way.

I look forward to waking up (after sleeping in) tomorrow and exploring a bit of this new city before my work obligations commence.

More to come from Canada’s economic capital!

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