🇨🇦 Not My Town

Hello Adventurers, 

One of my big ambitions for this newsletter is to hook-up readers with prizes and rewards. This proved difficult to execute when I was abroad...because I was lugging a gear-filled backpack that was already filled to the brim.

However, I'm happy to announce that I'm doing my first giveaway in this very issue, and will be doing more over the next few weeks...because I'm currently landlocked in Turonno, and can finally make it happen. As with everything I do, it'll be punk and DIY...so don't go splurging on that yacht yet.

And lastly, I was on CityNews last week. Thank you to Michelle and Karim for the TV interview, and for braving the cold...it was freezing when we filmed!

Okay, this issue of the newsletter covers five marathons done in Canada's biggest meh-tropolis. It's an overview that may read like a diss. However, I'll be going deeper on 'place' in the next few issues...and will show it some love with a kiss or two. Please forgive me?

- Ben Pobjoy

P.S. I owe my old colleague Joel a belated 'thank you' for advising me on where to go in the West Indies. He spends a lot of time in this part of the world, and I benefitted from his wisdom in February and March. Thanks Joel!

2023 TREK TRACKER

Where in the world...record am I?

• Countries visited: 16

• Flights taken: 25

• Kilometres flown: 37,227

• Marathons completed: 55

• Kilometres trekked by foot: 2,602.8

• Total kilometres trekked since 2015: 65,694

RAPID WEEKLY RECAP

A speedy synopsis for time-crunched readers

• The Wildest Thing: The generosity of total étrangers🫡

• The Biggest Obstacle: Staying asleep at night. I keep waking up panicked...thinking I've missed a flight🥱

• The Lesson Learned: More of a reminder, but the box of hand warmers I buy each autumn makes Toronto winters more bearable for one's hands in mitts🤓

A SHOE GOD TOOK MERCY ON MY SOLE(S)

Within 48 hours of publishing the last issue of the newsletter — where I recounted the state of my shoes — I received a shipping confirmation in my inbox for a free pair of new shoes. And I gotta be real: I didn't earn them...because I'm a nobody in the endurance sports space. Rather, my pal Mike at Ciele pulled some (shoe) strings. And Nick, the co-founder of Norda came through like a saint.

I can't say I deserve the Norda x Ciele 'Gravel' 001 shoe...but I am very, very grateful. This generous gesture saved me hundreds of dollars (which unlocks better eating for me on the road). And I'm touched...because I didn't know Mike or Nick at all before this Marathon Earth Challenge project. Like, I've never met them IRL...yet both have been kind and supportive...which is a miracle since many Montrealers think Torontonians are boners.

And what's great is that when I informally polled everyone on shoe recos, there were two general camps: Team Norda and Team Saucony. And my grade school friend Adam messaged me on two occasions being like, "Dude, it's Norda or bust man!" As such, I feel honoured to go marathon Africa and the Middle East in these 'heavily vouched for' shoes on the Q2 leg of my Marathon Earth Challenge. And even though I didn't buy the shoes, the header of this really sold me on them.

And for transparency: Mike and Nick are mensches. They hooked me up, and didn't ask for anything in return. I wrote this passage on my own volition just to let y'all know they're a bunch of real-ones. Furthermore, I have no financial relations with either brand.

FIELD NOTES: TORONTO, CANADA

Here, you're either iced out or priced out

Toronto was turned into 'The Six' by the rich and greedy...because residents must now earn a six figure salary just to be renters here. And it's a total joke...because this place is not worth the price of admission. Well, unless you want to enter a real-life Alex Colville exhibition. The famed painter was born here, and his drab and dreary colour palette is the defining lewk of this mulch-and-turf coloured place.

My statement may ruffle some feathers (Blue Jays fan or not)...but I've lived here for decades (thankfully on and off), and I've trekked more than 50,000 kilometres around Toronto by foot. Plus, I'm well-travelled and have lived elsewhere...so I have a big sample pool from which to objectively compare and contrast cities with. And lemme tell you, if anyone wants to challenge my position with a local Munk Debate, I will easily win any 'Be it resolved, The Big Smoke blows' argument...because this place is expensive, the quality of life is low (and you get the shit worked out of you here...just to exist here), it isn't cosmopolitan, COVID-19 decimated the 'you gotta be here for the opportunities' ruse, and the city has no appreciation for beauty (e.g. bare minimum public parks, a missed opportunity waterfront, and bricky architecture full of aluminum siding skin grafts and/or eyesore home extension tumours). And like DJ Khalid, here's another one: grown men bike on the sidewalks here, despite there being loads of bike lanes. So why am I still here? Well, because my wife lives here, and that's how marriage goes.

Grievances aside, I can report that there are some really good individuals as well as communities in Toronto, all making the best of a bad situation place to be situated in. And this week, I'm starting with a bad macro overview of 'place' before I get micro on the good in the city...in the next few issues.

Sure, I'll figuratively throw Toronto under the bus...but locals have it worse on public transit. That said, one thing I'll always defend, is how wonderfully multicultural Toronto is. IMO, its the city's best attribute...despite racist 20th century policies that tried to keep the nest WASP-y. And too bad honey, immigration makes everything sweeter:

Chinatown along Spadina Avenue is a gem with its bright colours, theatrical parades, noodles, dumplings, barbecue, killer grocery stores, and wall-to-wall bric-a-bric shops. Little Portugal on Dundas Street West has the best pastries, and the best old dudes chilling on sidewalks and in little social clubs. Little Tibet along Queen Street West has the joyful Lhakar Gorshey on the basketball court at the Parkdale Collegiate Institute. Little Italy does street festivals like a good time graduate over on College Street, and the Caribbean community sprinkled all over town makes the best Caribbean food outside of the Caribbean (with Ali's West Indian Roti Shop being my fave).

And sociologically, Gerrard Street East is like nothing else: Chinatown East in the west, Honkytown in the middle (i.e. the Walmart), and Little India in the far east. And there's a real spot for jerks within it all where Rihanna and Drake filmed a music video.

Me? I love Full Worth in Parkdale. It just seems to encapsulate everything, and it's where I buy Indian TVP (and where I always wave to the Indian spiritual healer in the back of the grocery store).

I quit this place in 2021 — like mentally stopped envisioning any future here — when the Toronto Police Services forcibly evicted unhoused people from public parks...I'm talking people who were living rough in tents through the freezing-ass winter because COVID-19 was ripping through the over-crowded shelter system. It was the most inhumane thing I've ever seen. And while I'm not daft enough to think one can shelter themselves from the world's cruelty, one also doesn't have to live in a place where the property taxes fund cruelty. Like in Toronto, where the city then hired private security to set up fences around public parks to prevent the public from using them...and stuck taxpayers with the million dollar bill.

And while I'm a Toronto quitter, I applaud the winners fighting for their neighbours, and for human dignity. Zoë Dodd and the Toronto Overdose Prevention Society are doing God's work. I'm a forever champion of the PCFB and I've used my DIY marathons to fundraise for them for years. And Community Fridges Toronto (pictured above) is a thing of beauty amidst an ugly cost of living crisis.

If you live in Toronto — and if I can ever inspire you to do just one marathon here — I'd encourage you to do it with a backpack full of non-perishable food to make deliveries to all the Community Fridges Toronto locations.

Using one's physical movement to help power social movement is a radical act of compassion. Anything less is just self-serving exercise.

And Will Munro. We will always make sure you're remembered here.

Excluding the aesthetic cohesion of Cabbagetown*, Toronto is a visual mess. Here, I wish I needed prescription eyeglasses...because this place would look better without them, and with blurred vision.

But do look up, because Toronto has a Ludwig Mies van der Rohe in the Toronto Dominion Centre. And it is the last major work by the last director of the Bauhaus. And at nearly 60 years old, it remains quintessentially cool and modern (i.e. no grey hairs, and better looking than anything younger in the city's skyline). Oh, and a local psycho once worked there, and this was years before the building was in American Psycho.

*And for the record, I'm not a historical preservationist per se. Old is cool, but today is now, and we must design for tomorrow's needs yesterday. As such, I welcome the development of condos...because they're far more conducive to public housing and/or affordable housing. But Lord, Toronto has little-to-no style in the skyline, and needs to find its angle on aesthetics.

Psst...There's also a Mies in Montreal. It's less grand...but MTL is less expensive, more beautiful / people there have a greater appreciation for beauty, and while politically fucked up...that place is more laid-back side-boob than fast-forward side-hustle (which is just a way of saying they do good living better).

Josh Roter is a style icon, a legendary local, and a human encyclopedia when it comes to clothes. And if you're shopping in Toronto, you gotta swing by his shop.

Roter is the co-founder of the inimitable In Vintage We Trust, which is technically a vintage store...but something I'd argue is on a whole 'nother level: it's more like a museum with buyable artifacts. And Roter can tell you anecdotes about nearly every piece.

He's a Toronto treasure, hilarious on social media, and someone who is fascinating to chat business with: the store doesn't do online sales, and instead announces 'thematic drops' on social media to lure people to the store. And it works. I lived in the neighbourhood for years, and it wasn't uncommon to see people lined up before the store was open for business.

And if you want a piece of me, Roter bought all my boxing tees last summer. But they're probably all sold by now. And I only shared the link to illustrate how he thoughtfully releases collections of vintage clothes as 'drops'.

In Vintage We Trust is as interesting as Josh, and you might find this piece on both an interesting read too.

In closing, if you think my opinion on Toronto is garbage...all good. Everything is subjective, me included. But know this: rip-off 'Ronto objectively expects you to do garbage collection (see above). And regardless of your gender, that's a wasteman ting...to have your finances incinerated and/or trashed by this place, and then be nudged by city operators to clean up the mess for free. Pfft.

MEET-A-MAKER: T. REILLY HODGSON

I think I first met Reilly when he was a teenager in the early 2000s. Back then, I knew him as a young photographer that started a little thing in Toronto called 'Blood of the Young'...which published 175 zine titles in like five years. No, that number isn't a typo.

And then Reilly started No Fun sometime thereafter. And with the very same work ethic, it became a real thing fast. How? Well, he released this one shirt design that really resonated with young people in the city. It captured their ennui like a badge of (dis)honour, and continues to say something about the city...which No Fun was born in, and of.

Reilly jokingly minimizes No Fun as being a, "Softgoods & specialty items brand"...and he's not wrong. But No Fun is more nuanced than that; it is pop art full of some really poignant commentary...and sometimes just some dumb shit / shit talk. But when Reilly says he makes, "Comfortable gear for an uncomfortable world" he's right, getting closer to the dispirit of it all, and also consciously burying the lead...because that's his style, and that's the nuance of it all. IYKYK.

I think many old people in the city — being those who bought a house for $6 in 1982 with their guaranteed-job-for-life — would likely find No Fun snarky, and maybe slightly nihilistic in tone. But that generation has a 'if you can't beat 'em, join 'em' attitude...because they were the last generation of breadwinners that never lost and/or had to join a bread line. But the next generation, the No Fun one, we subsist on crumbs and kinda lost out. And our vibe is sorta 'if you can't beat 'em, beat yourself up', and that's why No Fun clicks. It ain't for everyone, and it's not supposed to be. And that's what makes No Fun so punk.

Reilly could've rode his one shirt into the sunset, but he didn't. He's too much of a doer, and is one of the most creative and crafty people I know...which is why he'll also hand-make everything from a rug to leather fobs to a zillion other things.

Oh, and he's also the best copywriter in the city. And I'm so glad he didn't get sucked into the advertising world....because that's where failed artists go to die (and be rebranded as 'creatives' 'cause they couldn't cut it in the art world). And I should know. I mistakenly went there, died, and had to leave to resuscitate my creativity and my street cred.

But Reilly is persistent and imaginative, and the real deal. And that's something worth celebrating in a city like Toronto where it's hard to survive as a working artist these days. And plus, his art often makes me laugh. And that's no so fun.

UP FOR GRABS: 'NO FUN' GIVEAWAY

For years, Reilly had the most hilarious 'studio rules' sign on his studio door. Everyone loved it so he re-created it as a piece of merch with an empty 'header' that you can 'DIY personalize' with your name or logo or whatever else.

The 12" x 17" embossed aluminum sign is perfect for angsty teens or idiots (like me and him)...and maybe even you?

Reply to this email with a quip or anecdote about whatever you think the most 'no fun' thing is about life or aging or dying, and you might be chosen as the one unlucky winner!

RULES AND REGS

• One No Fun 'Studio Rules' sign is up for grabs

• This giveaway is open to all BPN subscribers — no matter where you live — who received this issue at the time of publishing

• You have until 5PM EST on Friday, March 31st 2023 to reply to this email with your quip or anecdote. I will keep your 'submission blurb' private / it ain't gonna end up in the newsletter

• Feel free to blast / vent / treat this silly lil exercise like free therapy...just don't expect me to reply with any wisdom short of, "Shit...that sucks!"

• Whatever quip or anecdote I deem to be the most hilarious or hardest-hitting or the realest will win

• Fuck it, if you think Toronto is awesome and I'm no fun / all wrong then roast me with a reply and I'll consider it as good a submission as any other

• I will announce the winner by first name only in the next issue of the newsletter

• I will then email you for your mailing address

• I will more than likely mail you the free prize on / from a marathon the week after

• No purchase necessary

• This isn't legally binding

• Let's not collectively screw this up or game the system...'cause I want to do more giveaways ahead, capisce?

BEST LOCAL THING-Y

I'm 99% certain that my unintentionally hilarious yet always intentional friend JK first put Parallel on my radar. And I say that with total hazy certainty because it's up on Geary Avenue, and because the first time I hit it, I did so on a marathon while high on shrooms (I'll maybe write about that pastime one day).

JK knows I love hummus and was like, "Benny Boy, you gotta go to Parallel!" And, yes, that's what she calls me...and no, I didn't give myself that nickname because nicknames don't work that way.

Anyway, way back then I cruised up there while sorta tripping out, and ordered the hummus for take-out as per JK's reco. I was mildly holding it together and minding my own biz. Well, that was until this vision of JK appeared near the cash register in the restaurant...like original resto suggester turned resto spirit. And all of this had the effect of turning 'Parallel the restaurant' into some weird parallel universe.

And then it spoke to me! And my eyes began to bulge in disbelief...because it just felt so...I dunno, real? But I didn't know what to say — or how to react — because it was all in my imagination. Until suddenly it wasn't. I don't know how, but I somehow clued into the fact that it was JK. Like, it really was her in the flesh...just totally wild timing on her part.

She was at Parallel IRL ordering take-out because she lives nearby. And I think it was a Sunday night...and she likes to eat grub while binging TV shows. The rest is a bit of a blur, but I remember the hummus being super good, and I went to work the next day and was like, "Yo Jade, sorry I couldn't talk last night...I was marathoning on shrooms blasted." And she probably said something in her signature dryness like, "No shit, dumb-ass."

Shrooms or not, the hummus at Parallel is mind-blowing. And this is no big revelation...everyone in Toronto sorta knows. And that's why it was the first place I hit on a marathon for lunch this week...after 10 weeks away.

Everyone can tell you what bad hummus tastes like, and what it feels like in your mouth: it's bland, and has the consistency of drywall joint compound. And much of that bad hummus is sold in grocery stores, and that's why many people think hummus looks — and tastes — like something made in a baby's diaper.

But Parallel's hummus is the best hummus I've ever had. And I've eaten hummus in places like Tel Aviv, Jerusalem, and the West Bank — all on marathons sans shrooms — so I'm no phoney, and was in the right state of mind to evaluate all of it.

Anyway, I'd chalk up Parallel's hummus victory to a few things: they make their tahini in-house on an old basalt stone mill they imported from Israel, it is whipped to a fluffy airy consistency like no tahini I've had before, their olive oil is robust in its taste, and the multi-ingredient topped hummus adds texture / is dusted with a premium cumin and a smoked paprika with a nice heat-y kick. And their pitas...the Ozery brothers behind Parallel first founded a bakery, and really mastered the pita there. It's thick, small, and served warm (and holds moisture)...making it a superior conduit for hummus compared to those thin, dry-ass pitas that go brittle quick like wheat-y frisbees.

So if you want the best hummus with the best pita...do yourself a favour and hit Parallel (this place is great for annoying vegan people like me as well as traditional meatheads...it has something for every type of eater...all the staff are friendly...and the industrial-esque dinning room as well as the patio are great).

Also...a bunch of totally illegal 'shroom dispensaries' opened up in Toronto while I was away, and it'll be interesting to see how the City of Toronto and the poo-poo-on-the-party popo deal with this. I wager they'll fumble it and/or expensively blockade it.

POBJOY'S GLOBAL PRICE INDEX

This is an on-going documentation of how much things cost in different places around the world. Here are some of the things I bought — or services I paid for — in Toronto (all prices converted to USD):

• Keep me in your 'thoughts and prayers' as I do nothing for gum control AKA head scan from some dental place for an impacted wisdom tooth that ain't getting yanked until 2024: $155

• Two Katso Sandos and a 500 millilitre carton of water with tip from the only joint I know of in the city that has Japanese toilets: $16.15

• Two Peanut Butter Cups and two Boston Cream donuts with tip from down the street, eaten while making this issue of the newsletter in one 20 hour sprint: $15.23

MARATHON MUSINGS

The Public Library: The Last Bastion of Humanity

I don't know life without the public library. Like, some of my earliest memories upon returning to Canada as a young boy were riding in the car with my Dad to go pick up my Mum from her 'general staff job' at some library near Square One mall (which I think was her first job back in Canada). And then her taking us two boys to the South Common Library in Mississauga about a year or two later to choose books. Weekly, and for years.

Every night around 7PM, we'd crawl up onto her bed and she'd read to us from the books we had selected from the library. And then, when I learnt to read, I started reading to my Mum and my brother. And then I started reading alone in my own bed when I was proficient enough...and when I got into more text-y / less picture-y type books. My Mum continued the protocol with my brother until he was about 22 years-old. Kidding about the latter...but sorta not...Elmo never let my Mum ever have a full night's sleep, and it remains a bit of a joke in the fam.

Anyway, the public library really taught me to love reading and to love books, and to be curious and to like ideas, and just be open to discussing them as well as accepting other perspectives and appreciating how different 'takes' make the world way more interesting. But mostly, I just really loved R.L Stine and Dean Koontz when I was like eight years old...which is funny because my parents didn't care what I read as long as I was reading, and I now hate anything scary and grew up to dislike fiction...but love journalism and non-fiction. And my 37 year-old brother? He's a better case study: the library played some part in making him the absolute genius of the family: he has like 37 uni degrees and was enthusiastic to be in school from the time he left the vagine until about 37 seconds ago.

And since then, everything and nothing about me and/or the library has changed:

I still go to the public library weekly; in Toronto and pretty much everywhere else I visit when I marathon abroad. But for me, it's no longer about books. Huh...what? You see, these days, the public library is one of the only places left where I can reliably use a bathroom for free, and with no catch while marathoning.

I don't have to buy anything.

I don't have to ask nicely.

And I don't have to compel someone to grunt, take pity on me, and give me some door key or pin code.

At the library, I can just stroll in, take a leak, and stroll out.

Anyway, I don't know when you were in a library last, but they've innovated like a motherfucker over the last decade. And I don't know how the Toronto Public Library stacks up to other library systems, but the services the TPL provides are incredible.

Here's a quick rundown of some of the things it offers: you can borrow carbon dioxide monitors, they have a hotline that families can call to listen to children's stories in 16 different languages, they have a delivery service for the homebound, they do laptop lending, you can sign out passes to go to the museums and galleries and provincial parks for free, there's piano practice rooms, they provide free transit passes to people in need, and they lend out WiFi hotspots to people who don't have internet at home.

Re-read the above paragraph a few times. It fucking slaps. Beyond a lifesaving hospital, the public library in Toronto is now like the most important pillar of a neighbourhood in terms of social services.

And that's why the culture war over books and libraries in the US worries me...because Canada is lil bit of a bitch. As in, we're America's lap dog. Their pundits give cultural commands down south, they travel via hive mind, and people north of the border start obeying like they're on a leash. And I'm embarrassed to admit, but it's been this way my whole life.

And on that subject, I'm a draft dodger...I don't care much for the culture war. I have an average sized penis, and find that war 'small dick energy' vibes by — and for — dickhead people with too much time on their hands, and not enough tact to mind their own business.

Don't like drag queens reading to kids? Easy. Don't attend

Think some agitator author is a drag? No probs. Go read something else.

Me? I absolutely loved the 'Choose Your Own Adventure' series as a kid, and that's my MO in life: be you, do you, and let others do their version (as long as no one infringes on anyone else).

But I'd wager that a lot of the people currently waging war on books and libraries don't frequent libraries much. And you know why? Because I spend a lot of time in libraries (especially in Toronto), and can accurately judge a book by its cover: and I just don't see those khaki pant critic types in — or using — the libraries.

You know who I do see there? I see unhoused people doing laundry or bathing in the washroom sink or warming up when it's freezing out or cooling off when it's hot out, I see stressed-out students studying, I see new Canadians accessing crucial services and/or quietly using corners as de facto community spaces to gather with others, I see senior citizens with ginormous eyeglasses reading newspapers with their buddies, and I see economically challenged people using computers and the internet and electrical outlets to charge whatever they can.

And we cannot fuck this up for them. Because the library isn't just about books anymore, it's a legit social safety net, and one of the last bastions of humanity.

I'm no fan of no fun Toronto but I'm a big reader, and can read a room anywhere...and yo, we need to leave our public reading rooms alone.

So let's stop the sacrilege, and just respect the space. It's really sacred. Maybe not for you, but for others who depend on it for way more than books...I swear.

And I'll swear on any book in any library, that this is the absolute truth about the public library.

Have any questions about the content of this newsletter? Reply to it, and I'll try and answer you when it's safe to do so!