Author’s Preface-
Excuse the informal tone which I have adopted for the conveyance of my thoughts, but as the weather around my small, but hearty band of travelers has become less agreeable to any quill wanting ink, may I simply state for you, my gracious reader, the facts and nothing more. I can only hope my humble words are happily met by you, my unseen confidant, and you are regaled by the progress of Ms. L and Mr. R’s adventure as of late.
Entering the Wild North-
For over a month now, my travel companion, Ms. L, and I have been exploring this icy, but lovely land, held in its vast, chaffed bosom. We have found its customs, speak, and tr
aditional delicacies to be strange yet filling, familiar yet entirely their own. From the very moment we were first met by the honorable and officious guardians of the country’s border, we (Ms. L and I) realized that we were definitely (to use a Plutonian quotation) “not in Athens anymore”. We came to the awe-inspiring “Peace Bridge”, newly constructed to be sure for its most modern girder construction of what seems to be iron, and followed the darkened, snowy highways into the unknown. The sometimes confusing signposts leading to Canada’s main metropolis, Toronto, made Ms. L’s navigational skills a welcome virtue…and within less than the time it took you to read the above lines, we were within the city herself.Toronto-
Identifying the shimmering capital of this noble country was hardly difficult due a huge and conspicuous tower, created I am told by the conglomerate media group CBC, slicing th
e icy night sky with its magnificent, multi-coloured majesty. Ms. L and I found ourselves traveling upon one of the larger, well-kept thoroughfares of the city, Front Street, and then onto the oddly named Bloor, (I am guessing it must be a word from the indigenous peoples who first settled here), as directed by a friendly native who chattered its name from beneath his frosty parka. We drove our trusty white wagon to the doors of The Intercontinental Hotel, where Ms. L had arranged a room for us a week prior, ready for a hot supper and warm beds… little did we know that the inn had been overbooked! The staff was more than apologetic, and in response Ms. L and I were truly gracious, as they arranged for us some lodging mere meters from where we stood at the Hyatt Park Place. Aided by a valet, Ms. L and I exited and unloaded our transport with great ease then met with the establishment’s manager on duty, a Mr. George, who, already aware of our dilemma, made great haste in preparing our room with great aplomb…with one slight oversight- the room had but one bed!(Author’s Note: If this fore-stated information has created a sense of shock to any ladies who may be espying my words, please excuse their utterance, but know, again, these are but simply facts and not meant to over-sensationalize this memoir.)
Thank Providence Mr. George was quickly called for and the corrected arrangements made available to us. Again Ms. L and I showed great mettle of character and politely ignored the inconvenience.
Wherein We Meet the Locales-
The next glorious dawn arrived and Ms. L made arrangements with our valet and some porters to repack ou
r wagon. While in the lobby, she encountered a truly remarkable sight. Giants! Much to Ms. L’s surprise, this towering race of people were not simply the thing of myth and fertile minds’ whimsy but living, breathing personages who, upon spying Ms. L’s sensible brimmed hat with the embroidered words “Costa Rica”, inquired about her being in the frosty north and her career. In return these gentle giants informed Ms. L that they had traveled from New York City and were part of a nomadic clan that calls themselves the Knicks. I must confess to you that this tribal name holds no glimmer of recognition in my mind nor can I vivisect the meaning of the word “Knicks” to better understand its origin, but I must report that when Ms. L returned to our room she seemed in quite a state of excitement having heard of this group before (perhaps from an article in the New York Times) and was equally elated that they plan on journeying to Costa Rica for a future visit!
Soon after this adrenaline pumping experience, Ms. L and I ventured off once again in search of Toronto
’s famed Metro Toronto Convention Center where we were to exhibit our recent findings from our extensive journey to beautiful Costa Rica and, most especially, The Oaks- an enormous luxurious acreage cum modern village, located near the Pacific Ocean’s coastline. In moments, we lone adventurers were traversing the corkscrew-like loading dock area of the Convention Center, meandering ever deeper, as if intrepid spelunkers, into the mineshaft-like darkness. Once fully arrived in the true bowels of this subterranean leviathan, Ms. L and I passed several workers in brightly coloured vests carrying electric torches, and talking loudly on portable telephones of some kind. Although thoroughly intrigued, Ms. L and I were determined to get to our destination and “make camp” for what was sure to be a productive exhibition.
We loaded a gurney provided us, and with our wares now piled from the wagon, wheeled said cargo through the labyrinthine hallways to the spot allotted us, soon realizing from the lack of fellow exhibitors about us, that this first convention day was going to be more placid than initially expected. Still, to the “early birds went the worms” as they say. The few of number but anxious of heart fully enjoyed questioning Ms. L and I about Costa Rica and all that The “now mythic” Oaks has to offer. Several fellow exhibitors also came by our “booth” to inquire about our adventures, seeking to peruse our pamphlets and view our most modern accessory, the pictorial slideshow, featuring images of beautiful Costa Rica.
Prior to day’s end, Ms. L and I were well met by the organizer of this most exclusive event, a Ms. Nancy, who offered us information about the inner workings of Toronto’s streets and nightlife. Providing us with a crude but useful map, Ms. Nancy was instrumental to locating affordable food stuffs and delicious locale cuisine. Following Ms. Nancy’s instructions, Ms. L and I discovered a nearby British-styled pub named The Fox and Fiddle in the heart of Toronto’s downtown (not to be confused with The Elephant and Castle, The Bull and Bear, The Bangers and Squeak, or any other of the other oddly dubbed restaurants of the area) where we enjoyed som
e traditional beefy fare and regaled all within earshot about The Oaks and Costa Rica. Happily sated and understandably fatigued, my companion and I made our way back to The Intercontinental where we were to lodge that evening. Much to our pleasure, the Intercontinental staff made some special arrangements for Ms. L and I to stay in a large suite with all the possible amenities at no additional charge for our previous inconvenience, leaving also a note of apology accompanied by some delicious chocolates and fruit for our enjoyment. Our Costa Rican companion, the 
Aroma Muchacho got the best of the fruit, as is his nature, while we of the more upright bipedal inclination enjoyed the rest. Before retiring, Ms. L and I visited the Intercontinental’s downstairs lounge where two very lovely and amiable ladies, a Ms. Gita and Ms. Susan, gave us even further locale history and tourist information while fawning over our dear friend, Aroma; giving him a spot of honor in the establishment.
Potential Investors Abound-
Our second day at The Learning Annex Exposition was more animated than the first immediately with “swarms” of excited investors descending upon Ms. L and my booth, ready with even more questions than can be answered by the Encyclopedia Britannica. Well ready and able, The Oaks Duo satisfied these anxious investors by plying them with multiple colored brochures, vibrant images of Costa Rica, and friendly, good humoured conversation. We learned from our newly found friend, Ms. Nancy, that the “guest of honour” of this convention, a Mr. D. Trump, was physicalely unavailable to meet his adoring conventioneers, but instead sent word that he would still be speaking to them remotely via something called “streaming feed”. The term itself, tho
ugh utterly offensive to the ear, was quite an intriguing process wherein Mr. Trump appeared upon a scrim-like sheet affixed to the ceiling, while what I can only ascertain as a pre-recorded capturing of his voice could be heard throughout the convention hall speaking to the crowds’ desire for guidance toward their individual investment interests. I must confess I found the whole situation rather tacky, bordering on medieval spectacle, made worse by the fact that the honourable Mr. Trump’s wig seemed so askew, unkempt, and foppish. But I digress, being neither bastion nor slave to fashion myself. One last observation of the convention if I may: The whole “flow of the thing” seemed a bit piece-meal to me with conventioneers running hither and thither while, what I can only imagine as “uninvited” exhibitors or their minions, splayed their wares like “swine before pearls” in front of our booth! I must detest this kind of behaviour for swarthy competition such as this is that which no true gentleman would ever partake of! All in all , the day was a great boon to The Oaks Duo with our calling cards quickly dispensed of and allotted materials run out. Thanks once more to dear Ms. Nancy for her thoughtful care-package of confections and the like to boost Ms. L and my humours during the day! Pip Pip.
Taking in the Sights-
The next morning, with the convention now ended, Ms. L and I had some time to enjoy our new surroundings and see all that Toronto had to offer. Walking about the Yorkville area of downtown, bundled like Eskimo, The Oaks Duo needed to take some breakfast and found just the establishment- an “off the beaten path” bistro with the appropriate moniker, 7 West, indicating its location on the street. My companion, Ms. L, a dabbler in numerology, would have been more satisfied if it were called 8 West but we thoroughly enjoyed ourselves none the less. With real Canadian bacon, maple syrup, olive oil doused eggs (a Canadian specialty?), and some of the better coffee we had encountered on our adventure, we truly recommend finding this “out of the way” place for its quaint décor and deliciously prepared delights. Entirely satisfied with our meal, Ms. L and I continued on toward what I had read as the best and brightest of Canada’s Natural History Museums, the Royal Ontario Museum or ROM.
Mad Men, Mo
nsters and More-
Upon seeing the architecture of this utterly modern building, with its mirrored crystalline windows and strange geometric forms jutting willy nilly, one is struck with the idea it must house quite the extensive and impressive collection within…and it does. From huge golden Buddha, perfectly preserved indigenous totem poles launching toward the heavens, recreated local settlements and medieval castles brimming with jewels and artifacts, this may be one of the most incredible institutions this humble chronicler has yet beheld! Ms. L and I wandered from exhibit to exhibit in pure rapture, commenting on this and that, when suddenly we were confronted with a sight unbelieved…Monsters! Dinosaurs to be more exact, but the reaction wasn’t any more mutable. There they stand before us, hundreds of prehistoric beasts, their remnants expertly reassembled in terrif
ying poses, lit by unearthly lights! Deadly, razor sharp teeth and formidable tails, some with barbs and spikes just waiting for weaker prey, grew from these skinless demons of the past inciting modern-day awe. I could tell Ms. L, also prone to amateur paleontology, was overcome with fascination, as was I. While exiting the museum, the two of us came upon one final exhibit, that of a dedication to the work of one Charles Darwin. Again, I wish not to shock any of my readers by f
ully detailing the accusations or assumptions put forth by this gentleman, who could easily be perceived a mad man, but his in-depth observations are intriguing. Over time he has documente
d the flora and fauna of a small, uninhabited island called Galapagos, the observations of which has lead him to conclude that all life on this planet has under gone subtle modifications based on environmental conditions creating the creatures we know today. Even more curious a concept than this, Mr. Darwin is of the belief that even man, in his placement as the sovereign benefactor of all Providences’ great gifts, was once no more intelligent or enlightened than the adorable Howler monkeys which Ms. L and I have observed frolicking in Costa Rica at The Oaks! Needless to say, this simple trip to Toronto has been an eye opening one!
There and Away Again-
Our business through and future Oaks family met, Ms. L and I packed our wagon again the next morning with all we could carry. Saying good-bye to lovely, metropolitan Toronto, we questioned the valet who assisted us from leaving the subterranean parking area below the Intercontinental about how best to drive on to Calgary in the Alberta province. We were quickly met with rolling eyes and a slight chuckle. It seems undertakings such as the one we attempting are unheard in Canada…and that, my devoted readers, is the difference between true pioneering adventurers and Sunday drive enthusiasts. So, it is onward and northward for The Oaks Duo with all our very best to you, our silent compatriots, as we further explore this grand and untamed country, the discovery of which we have just simply scratched the surface.
Until next we meet,
yours truly,
Thomas Ryan Ward!
Excelsior!
Wherein We Meet the Locales-
The next glorious dawn arrived and Ms. L made arrangements with our valet and some porters to repack ou
r wagon. While in the lobby, she encountered a truly remarkable sight. Giants! Much to Ms. L’s surprise, this towering race of people were not simply the thing of myth and fertile minds’ whimsy but living, breathing personages who, upon spying Ms. L’s sensible brimmed hat with the embroidered words “Costa Rica”, inquired about her being in the frosty north and her career. In return these gentle giants informed Ms. L that they had traveled from New York City and were part of a nomadic clan that calls themselves the Knicks. I must confess to you that this tribal name holds no glimmer of recognition in my mind nor can I vivisect the meaning of the word “Knicks” to better understand its origin, but I must report that when Ms. L returned to our room she seemed in quite a state of excitement having heard of this group before (perhaps from an article in the New York Times) and was equally elated that they plan on journeying to Costa Rica for a future visit!Soon after this adrenaline pumping experience, Ms. L and I ventured off once again in search of Toronto
’s famed Metro Toronto Convention Center where we were to exhibit our recent findings from our extensive journey to beautiful Costa Rica and, most especially, The Oaks- an enormous luxurious acreage cum modern village, located near the Pacific Ocean’s coastline. In moments, we lone adventurers were traversing the corkscrew-like loading dock area of the Convention Center, meandering ever deeper, as if intrepid spelunkers, into the mineshaft-like darkness. Once fully arrived in the true bowels of this subterranean leviathan, Ms. L and I passed several workers in brightly coloured vests carrying electric torches, and talking loudly on portable telephones of some kind. Although thoroughly intrigued, Ms. L and I were determined to get to our destination and “make camp” for what was sure to be a productive exhibition.We loaded a gurney provided us, and with our wares now piled from the wagon, wheeled said cargo through the labyrinthine hallways to the spot allotted us, soon realizing from the lack of fellow exhibitors about us, that this first convention day was going to be more placid than initially expected. Still, to the “early birds went the worms” as they say. The few of number but anxious of heart fully enjoyed questioning Ms. L and I about Costa Rica and all that The “now mythic” Oaks has to offer. Several fellow exhibitors also came by our “booth” to inquire about our adventures, seeking to peruse our pamphlets and view our most modern accessory, the pictorial slideshow, featuring images of beautiful Costa Rica.
Prior to day’s end, Ms. L and I were well met by the organizer of this most exclusive event, a Ms. Nancy, who offered us information about the inner workings of Toronto’s streets and nightlife. Providing us with a crude but useful map, Ms. Nancy was instrumental to locating affordable food stuffs and delicious locale cuisine. Following Ms. Nancy’s instructions, Ms. L and I discovered a nearby British-styled pub named The Fox and Fiddle in the heart of Toronto’s downtown (not to be confused with The Elephant and Castle, The Bull and Bear, The Bangers and Squeak, or any other of the other oddly dubbed restaurants of the area) where we enjoyed som
e traditional beefy fare and regaled all within earshot about The Oaks and Costa Rica. Happily sated and understandably fatigued, my companion and I made our way back to The Intercontinental where we were to lodge that evening. Much to our pleasure, the Intercontinental staff made some special arrangements for Ms. L and I to stay in a large suite with all the possible amenities at no additional charge for our previous inconvenience, leaving also a note of apology accompanied by some delicious chocolates and fruit for our enjoyment. Our Costa Rican companion, the 
Aroma Muchacho got the best of the fruit, as is his nature, while we of the more upright bipedal inclination enjoyed the rest. Before retiring, Ms. L and I visited the Intercontinental’s downstairs lounge where two very lovely and amiable ladies, a Ms. Gita and Ms. Susan, gave us even further locale history and tourist information while fawning over our dear friend, Aroma; giving him a spot of honor in the establishment.Potential Investors Abound-
Our second day at The Learning Annex Exposition was more animated than the first immediately with “swarms” of excited investors descending upon Ms. L and my booth, ready with even more questions than can be answered by the Encyclopedia Britannica. Well ready and able, The Oaks Duo satisfied these anxious investors by plying them with multiple colored brochures, vibrant images of Costa Rica, and friendly, good humoured conversation. We learned from our newly found friend, Ms. Nancy, that the “guest of honour” of this convention, a Mr. D. Trump, was physicalely unavailable to meet his adoring conventioneers, but instead sent word that he would still be speaking to them remotely via something called “streaming feed”. The term itself, tho
ugh utterly offensive to the ear, was quite an intriguing process wherein Mr. Trump appeared upon a scrim-like sheet affixed to the ceiling, while what I can only ascertain as a pre-recorded capturing of his voice could be heard throughout the convention hall speaking to the crowds’ desire for guidance toward their individual investment interests. I must confess I found the whole situation rather tacky, bordering on medieval spectacle, made worse by the fact that the honourable Mr. Trump’s wig seemed so askew, unkempt, and foppish. But I digress, being neither bastion nor slave to fashion myself. One last observation of the convention if I may: The whole “flow of the thing” seemed a bit piece-meal to me with conventioneers running hither and thither while, what I can only imagine as “uninvited” exhibitors or their minions, splayed their wares like “swine before pearls” in front of our booth! I must detest this kind of behaviour for swarthy competition such as this is that which no true gentleman would ever partake of! All in all , the day was a great boon to The Oaks Duo with our calling cards quickly dispensed of and allotted materials run out. Thanks once more to dear Ms. Nancy for her thoughtful care-package of confections and the like to boost Ms. L and my humours during the day! Pip Pip.Taking in the Sights-
The next morning, with the convention now ended, Ms. L and I had some time to enjoy our new surroundings and see all that Toronto had to offer. Walking about the Yorkville area of downtown, bundled like Eskimo, The Oaks Duo needed to take some breakfast and found just the establishment- an “off the beaten path” bistro with the appropriate moniker, 7 West, indicating its location on the street. My companion, Ms. L, a dabbler in numerology, would have been more satisfied if it were called 8 West but we thoroughly enjoyed ourselves none the less. With real Canadian bacon, maple syrup, olive oil doused eggs (a Canadian specialty?), and some of the better coffee we had encountered on our adventure, we truly recommend finding this “out of the way” place for its quaint décor and deliciously prepared delights. Entirely satisfied with our meal, Ms. L and I continued on toward what I had read as the best and brightest of Canada’s Natural History Museums, the Royal Ontario Museum or ROM.
Mad Men, Mo
nsters and More-Upon seeing the architecture of this utterly modern building, with its mirrored crystalline windows and strange geometric forms jutting willy nilly, one is struck with the idea it must house quite the extensive and impressive collection within…and it does. From huge golden Buddha, perfectly preserved indigenous totem poles launching toward the heavens, recreated local settlements and medieval castles brimming with jewels and artifacts, this may be one of the most incredible institutions this humble chronicler has yet beheld! Ms. L and I wandered from exhibit to exhibit in pure rapture, commenting on this and that, when suddenly we were confronted with a sight unbelieved…Monsters! Dinosaurs to be more exact, but the reaction wasn’t any more mutable. There they stand before us, hundreds of prehistoric beasts, their remnants expertly reassembled in terrif
ying poses, lit by unearthly lights! Deadly, razor sharp teeth and formidable tails, some with barbs and spikes just waiting for weaker prey, grew from these skinless demons of the past inciting modern-day awe. I could tell Ms. L, also prone to amateur paleontology, was overcome with fascination, as was I. While exiting the museum, the two of us came upon one final exhibit, that of a dedication to the work of one Charles Darwin. Again, I wish not to shock any of my readers by f
ully detailing the accusations or assumptions put forth by this gentleman, who could easily be perceived a mad man, but his in-depth observations are intriguing. Over time he has documente
d the flora and fauna of a small, uninhabited island called Galapagos, the observations of which has lead him to conclude that all life on this planet has under gone subtle modifications based on environmental conditions creating the creatures we know today. Even more curious a concept than this, Mr. Darwin is of the belief that even man, in his placement as the sovereign benefactor of all Providences’ great gifts, was once no more intelligent or enlightened than the adorable Howler monkeys which Ms. L and I have observed frolicking in Costa Rica at The Oaks! Needless to say, this simple trip to Toronto has been an eye opening one!There and Away Again-
Our business through and future Oaks family met, Ms. L and I packed our wagon again the next morning with all we could carry. Saying good-bye to lovely, metropolitan Toronto, we questioned the valet who assisted us from leaving the subterranean parking area below the Intercontinental about how best to drive on to Calgary in the Alberta province. We were quickly met with rolling eyes and a slight chuckle. It seems undertakings such as the one we attempting are unheard in Canada…and that, my devoted readers, is the difference between true pioneering adventurers and Sunday drive enthusiasts. So, it is onward and northward for The Oaks Duo with all our very best to you, our silent compatriots, as we further explore this grand and untamed country, the discovery of which we have just simply scratched the surface.
Until next we meet,
yours truly,
Thomas Ryan Ward!
Excelsior!
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