The Immigrant's ultimate Dream!

Dear Friends,
Tonight, I took myself out to dinner to the best restaurant in town - nothing ordinary there! However, the occasion was extraordinary! First, I raised a glass of bubbly to my health, wealth and happiness. Then, I accompanied the most delicious spaghetti and meet balls with a glass of Pinot Noir. Lastly, I toasted my cannoli with a shot of limoncello. When I deemed that the occasion had been honoured par excellence, I headed home, walking so ever slowly by the marina, taking it all in. Tonight, I was celebrating the end of a long affaire with The Toronto Dominion Bank. I'm debt-free! 
This morning, I paid off my mortgage and cleared my credit card balance! When I got home, I literally kissed my Visa card, thanked it for all services rendered and shoved it in the back of the bottom drawer of a well-hidden chest, right where all the hardships and anxieties belong.
Now, if realizing every immigrant's ultimate dream is not worthy of a celebration (both in cash and calories), I don't know what is!
The only flaw in the evening was that no one, but me, really cared - a price one pays for flying solo!

Five-dollar change!

Dear Friends,
Tall trees, rolling hills, a pond, a boathouse, a dock and an art exhibit— a scene out of a Hollywood movie.      
A travelling play, on a porch of a mansion in Canton, with two young actors — a page out of a romantic novel.
Neither the persistent mosquitos, nor the patchy drizzle could impede guests' enjoyment. The hosts were inconspicuous, patrons of art? Benevolent? Certainly not pretentious! Every lawn chair they had brought out, every umbrella they had passed out had genuine 'old money' written all over it!
Seated on a wooden bench, in the third row, I enjoyed every sip of my five-dollar Pinot Grigio and every word of David French's play. Although, a couple of times, my internal monologue interfered with the actors' dialogue. "How so gauche of you to ask for your change!" I reproached myself. But then, I thought, if I want to tag along with my new friends to all these fantastic fundraisers, well dressed and manicured, able to buy not one, but two glasses of wine, I better have the guts to ask for my five-dollar change!

Cobourg - Week One

Dear Friends,
One full week in Cobourg has entailed an afternoon at the art gallery (volunteering), thirty laps in the outdoor pool, a day at the beach with friends, lengthy walks, hours of unpacking and cleaning, ironing, shopping, shopping and shopping, listening to live music twice, and two thunder storms, one Hitchcock movie-worthy! It has been a very busy and educational week.

1. Down with minimalism! I don't like to look at bare walls (thus shopping)!
2. Power-walk by the lake — impossible! I simply have to stop and watch the ducks move so ever gracefully in the shimmering water.
3. iPad — a must companion, to take pictures and make poetic notes!
 4. Feeding myself — still a challenge, regardless of No-frills (at a good walking distance) or the Saturday farmer's market. Neither have the meat that I would like to eat!

Most importantly, I've learned that not everybody will appreciate or even acknowledge me, especially the blond, blue-eyed offsprings of the loyalists who founded the town! But, that's alright. I don't particularly like people who fence the beach and the lake, calling them their own! As if nature can be monogrammed!

Crimebourg!

Dear Friends,
Cobourg, Ontario's Feel Good Town, has turned into Crimebourg!
First, the thirty registered sex-offenders in the K9A postal code, covering Cobourg area (reported in May)! Then, D & W (drugs and weapons) bust in June! And now (July), the curator of Art Gallery of Northumberland charged with theft and fraud!
Busy little town, isn't it?! Can't wait to see what August brings about!

Cobourg - Day Two

Dear Friends,
Four days have elapsed since my, Cobourg - Day One, entry. My time in Toronto was spent running around tying loose ends, and eating out. This morning, my craving for a healthy homemade  meal pushed me towards metro, the mega supermarket in the mall. It didn't take me long to find Italian olive oil, Balsamic vinegar, a chunk of French Brie for a reasonable price, mangos, avocados and even curly purple kale! Although I definitely could've used another 40 minutes of brisk walk, I decided to contribute to the local economy, and return home in taxi, taking full advantage of senior-friendly rates. Come Saturday, I'll try my luck at the farmers' market, only a few metres away from my doorstep.
At noon, although I had a vague idea in which box the salad bowls might be, I walked  to the cute kitchen store up the street, and bought my kale a round glass bowl, and my morning coffee a glass mug. Recently, I've become obsessed with transparency. The other day, I transferred all my toiletry to clear plastic cosmetic bags, and now, I'm thinking of replacing my faux-wood closet doors with sliding glass ones. I'm sure somewhere, in some expert's professional opinion, there is a perfectly good explanation for my new maladie.
The afternoon was dedicated to reconnecting with Frances, the acting director of Art Gallery of Northumberland, where I'll be volunteering twice a week.
A leisurely evening walk on the beach wrapped up the very busy day.
Although the remaining boxes are whispering, open us, open us, I decide to ignore them and put up my feet, literally!
Smile, I say to myself, you are in Cobourg!

Cobourg - Day One

Dear Friends,
Honestly, gastronomy in a small town, sucks!
I found only one eating establishment that offered take-out, a $1.75 chubby roll is sold as half a baguette, a piece of dried chicken breast on a hamburger bun is called club sandwich, and is sold for $15.00, a sliver of a sliver of Brie goes for almost $4.00.
While back, I wrote an article for Northumberland News, about Cobourg's lack of direction. It hit and hurt a nerve or two. A couple of local people went on accusing tourists of not spending money in their town. At the time, I agreed with them (hence avoiding the mall). Personally, I shun capitalism, all in favour of small private retailers, but these mamas and papas are ruthless! No wonder everyone shops at the brand new Walmart, at the town gates.
 I'm sure glad they didn't install a fresh produce stand on the main stretch. Who needs to pay a carat for a carrot!

Adieu Toronto

Dear Friends,
It's hard to believe that, tomorrow night, although sleeping on the same old mattress, I'll be sleeping in a new life. As I opened and closed the cupboard doors, making sure I've packed everything, I realized that I'm beginning to feel the magnitude of my decision. In less than twenty-four hours, everyone and everything dear and familiar to me will be considered "long distance." 
I'm fully aware that I'm leaving my home. An awareness that I never felt when I left Iran, also my home, perhaps because I left Iran on my tiptoes, without even saying goodbye to my children. However, this time, par revenge, I bade farewell to everyone I knew, including my salespeople and dry-cleaner. Certainly, conditions surrounding an escape and a move are not the same, neither is the weight of the baggage. A floral Chador and a small black gym bag have turned into 29 boxes, 3 suitcases and 2 trunks full of mostly unnecessary objects. 
Of all my moves, even the one to Los Angeles, some fourteen years ago, this one feels permanent, just like the one that took place almost thirty-three years ago was. 
Perhaps the lump that's crawling up my throat doesn't have anything to do with moving out of Toronto. 

Bad Blood!

Dear Friends,
Many years ago, I heard, or read somewhere, that it was better to be happy than right. Of course, being young and idealist, I dismissed the concept.

But, today, old and grey, I’m here to tell you that, indeed, it is better to be stress-free than right. 
Two years ago, there was a leak in the unit above mine. Trickling down the pipes, it damaged my living room ceiling. My tenant, my property manager and my neighbour, they all failed to leak the information to me, the owner. Of course now, two years later, no one is willing to take any responsibility. I watched my blood boil while talking to the tenant, I felt my right eye twitch while listening to the property manager, and I saw red when arguing with the neighbour. The first didn’t think the leak was report-worthy, the second hid behind the statute of limitation and the third went around in circles, "I suppose I should've gone through my insurance, but I didn't."

I know I’m in the right, and I’m sure if I pursue the matter, eventually I will get a few dollars from one of the parties involved, but my physical reaction to the pursuit of justice dictates I let go. I suppose there will always be people who make a living out of our wise choices.  

Double Whammy!

Dear Friends,
The other day, tired of living in a messy apartment, surrounded by packed, half-packed and empty boxes, I grabbed my bag and boarded on a train to Cobourg! Picking up my keys from the management office, was my excuse, but I knew better, I just needed to be alone with myself! The one-hour train ride was very pleasant, giving me a chance to read and reflect. Firmly believing in the Buddhist proverb, when the student is ready, the teacher will appear, I took to heart what I read.

I spent the night on a firm, unbroken mattress. Sandwiched between two waterproof mattress pads, I wondered what was keeping me awake, air waltzing through some pipe nearby, or the stubborn dog, barking somewhere in the distance. Perhaps, the culprits were streetlights, peeking through the old, tired blinds, or my achy feet, or what I'd heard during the day.
Both, a shopkeeper and the bed assembler, mentioned that the locals don't like Torontonians, because they seldom spend any money in Cobourg. When I asked why the grocery store under the building adjacent to mine closed down, I was told that the locals don't support the people from the condos.
Double Whammy - that's what was keeping me awake!

As I tossed and turned on my overpaid mattress, counting in my head how many times I had entered my pin number into the 'locals' visa machines in a few hours, I realized that a lot has been said about smooth city operators, taking advantage of small-town folks, but not much has been documented regarding intelligent, but gullible, people like me who knowingly pay the price of being from the city.

The following morning, sitting on the bench in the train station, letting the morning breeze dishevel me further, I remembered Dr. Phil's words of wisdom, "There is no reality — only perception. If you are a hammer, everything looks like a nail."
Then, I said to myself, 'Smile Lili! Soon, you will be a local!'