One last walk around the very chilly block before hopping into a taxi.
One block over from Rue St. Nicholas.
The French-speaking to me is not hat specific. I wasn't wearing it today as I knew the airports would be vastly overheated. I am standing ON the curb with my gigantic suitcase beside me and a couple comes up and asks me where their doctor's office is. While I didn't know the specific address, I did know where the huge hospital was and guessed that individual offices were in that block. I sent them on their way~hope they made their appointment...
I think it's a chipmunk?
I would like to drive somewhere where it's kph (yes, I know it's listed on my speedometer, but it's tiny print). We blasted to the airport at 125. It's odd to me to sit and watch the propellor spin (where the free seats are) on these tiny planes.
Flying in/out of Toronto, you spend a great deal of time pondering how chilly and how vast Lake Ontario is. Remember those photos of Niagara freezing over?
There's something both exhilarating and tortuous about air travel~one moment you are marvelling that you are crunching away on your snack so far above the earth. And the next, you are ready to stab your seat mate who is man-spreading all into your space (and this was a tiny woman, so really no excuse for her.)
I sailed through customs and my checked bag was waiting~only 20 minutes from plane to curb. Found my car and rememebered vaguely how to drive. Came home to kiss every inch of my top-floor flat; looking forward to sleeping in a quiet, modern building tonight.
Here's to the second half of my life!
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