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Posts from the ‘Personal’ Category

Gerrard Street East, Toronto

Gerrard St. E.

Gerrard St. East, Toronto

Lisa and I met at the corner of Gerrard and Jarvis at 2:30 p.m. for a 12km walk to Little India. Gerrard St. is one of the most impoverished neighbourhoods in Toronto and often overlooked by locals as a place to stroll on a Saturday afternoon. Gentrification is slow but not entirely absent as immigrants from India have claimed it as their own, and as they should; Allan Gardens is nearby along with a wide variety of Indian restaurants and department stores. Armed with only our cameras we soaked in the beautiful and unusually mild April weather with a passion typically reserved for a scrumptious dessert.

Gerrard and Coxwell is the main intersection of Little India

Gerrard and Coxwell is the main intersection of Little India

Remnants of old Toronto are easy to find on Gerrard St.

Remnants of old Toronto are easy to find on Gerrard St.

I'm not sure where this can take you, but it sure looks interesting

I'm not sure where this can take you, but it sure looks interesting

This odd looking house recently sold for $300,000

This odd looking house recently sold for $300,000

WTF?

WTF?

The Ashbridge Estate

The Ashbridge Estate

A typical home on Gerrard St.

A typical home on Gerrard St.

An abandoned building inspires an entrepreneur's spirit

An abandoned building inspires an entrepreneur's spirit

The India Centre

The India Centre

Sideshow café and ice cream parlour

Sideshow café and ice cream parlour

United Church, all gays welcome!

United Church, all gays welcome!

Reunited with Maude

Franco and Maude in Toronto

My beautiful dog

It was a long trip but I’m back in Toronto with Maude. The cutest dog in the world. She looks very well and has fully recuperated from her knee replacement surgery in December. Her seizures are also completely under control. I love her.

Elephants Never Forget

I often struggle whether writing about subject matters that I’m passionately and personally involved with is a good idea. Like animal rights. There is so much cruelty towards animals in this world that it breaks my heart over and over again. But so many of us pay no attention, even though our hedonism is responsible for much of the injustices inflicted on animals. I don’t want to sit on top of my soap box, or be preachy or pretend that I am better than anyone else, but something has to be done.

Early this evening I was conducting some research on an independent feature-length film by CanazWest Picture Inc. about Asian elephants. They are hoping for a theatrical and television distribution but have to raise sufficient funds. I was going through their Twitter photos when I caught a glimpse of an elephant whose trunk was cut off of his face. He was left alive, and in agony. How could someone do such a thing?

I want to help but how can I? We live in a world where the majority believe that animals exist only for our entertainment and then nourishment. People proudly post photos on their blogs of the steak from their dinner the night before with no acknowledgement that it was once alive and probably suffered a great deal to end up on their plate. It sickens me. It really does. I know I should reserve judgment, but I can’t understand how we’re capable of ignoring cruelty. Our attitude is what we don’t know won’t hurt us.

Elephants are exceptionally intelligent creatures but that shouldn’t be reason enough to save them from harm. We should want to protect them not because they are smart but because it is the right thing to do. I don’t know where humans ever got the idea that they were more worthy of life than any other animal. Especially since it is humans who behave the most horrific.

I do what I can. I haven’t touched meat in seven years. I try to educate myself about where I buy my clothes and I frequently make my own dinner and buy local fruits and vegetables. But it isn’t enough.

Collectively we need to think differently and respect the rights of every creature on this planet to live their life free of violence and neglect. Including dogs. Including elephants. Including sharks. The list goes on.

I pray that by the end of my life that the Canadian seal hunt will have been abolished and those responsible will be brought to justice. The idea that it’s legal to club a seal to death is a stain on humanity, and it will always remain.

But what I find worse than such callous disregard for life, is our apathy about it. The simple belief that what lands on our plate, or what is used to make fashion is not our problem. It might not be our problem, because we are the problem.

Autumn’s here

The sky over Belgrano

The sky over Belgrano

As autumn begins in the southern hemisphere I can’t quite believe that summer has passed without so much as a goodbye. Porteños are bundled up to the chin while walking home at night, quite the sight for a Canadian.

The sky over Belgrano

The sky is beautiful, but we're often too busy to notice. What a pity.

When I was younger my family and I used to cottage in Cape Breton, Nova Scotia. Natural beauty is easy to find and there is such an abundance of it around the world. My brothers and I used to lay on the dock and watch as the satellites floated in space. Life is simple when we’re young, or maybe it’s that we don’t ask too many questions, because the answer is so obvious: No one knows.

Uncertainty is remarkable. Even comforting.

I’ll never forget you

On April 30th I turn 33. Ten days earlier, I will mark my tenth anniversary since my university graduation. A whole decade. God I was so young. And stupid.

What did I think about my future then? Not much. I remember living life like I do today, one day at a time. My greatest wish right now is to maintain my health and make it to 43. Middle age. It doesn’t seem so scary to be honest. In fact I look forward to what the future holds, good and bad.

Maybe I’ve had it too easy, but nothing has ever been bad enough to fear another day. I look back on my younger self and think, “I’ll never forget you,” but ultimately I prefer my older version.

Help me make a decision

I’m growing tired of the free blog templates WordPress offers. I’m thinking about investing in one of their premium themes. Anyway, I thought I would change things up again, and I would like your feedback. Please let me know what you think in the poll below.

This is where I live

Pedestrians found this woman unconscious in her vehicle and called the police who responded to the scene. While they waited for the paramedics to arrive (they never did) they took it upon themselves to rob her and quickly left before she woke up. When she did, she frantically circled her car until two new police officers arrived, but by then the woman appeared fine, and they washed their hands of the entire affair. The woman didn’t realize that she had been robbed until after she returned home.

The video above is causing quite a stir among porteños who already distrust the police. Nothing new there, considering almost every major city in the world has issues with the way their law enforcement conducts business. But in Argentina, where corruption is the rule of law, it’s no surprise that most police officers behave in such a fashion. It’s common here.

I remember when I was pick-pocketed and discovered that a police officer nearby witnessed the whole thing. He shrugged his shoulders at me, and laughed. I’m hopeful that I will never be the victim of a violent crime in BA, because I’m pretty certain that I couldn’t count on the police to help.

Most people in Buenos Aires, when I told them about my iPod incident, said that I should just be lucky that I wasn’t attacked. Hmmmm….. Sometimes I have to wonder about this place. Porteños are so accustomed to crime that they consider themselves lucky if it wasn’t violent.

I was speaking to my Canadian friend Sabrina this weekend and she told me about a time when she was walking home and a man came up from behind her and pushed her up against the wall and demanded all her money and whatever else was in her pocket. She kicked him in the balls and ran like a bat out of hell. When she entered her house she burst into tears.

My former student Rosario was a victim of crime on three separate occasions. The first was her discovery, upon returning from holiday, that her house had been ransacked. She said that it didn’t bother her so much that she was robbed, but that they completely destroyed her house. The second was when she was visiting her sister in Retiro and two men approached her and demanded that she forfeit her purse. Frightened, she pushed them and ran like mad. And third she returned home to find that her purse had been pick-pocketed while on the train.

We’ve been lucky. There is the unfortunate case of the Frenchman who was approached by two men demanding his camera. When they applied physical force he fought back, only to be fatally stabbed.

In Argentina these episodes are tolerated by locals because they are at the mercy of a corrupt law enforcement and have been for decades. All they can do is laugh. Literally.

La Soberana

I’m blogging a lot because I’m glued to a desk writing articles all day. Today I completed 6 assignments, each requiring intense research because I know little about the topics. But that’s life. When I need a break I write blog posts, or view videos on YouTube.

This evening I had dinner with Ramiro who recently returned from his work-related trip to Dallas and Miami. There’s this take-out place on Cabildo in Capital Federal called La Soberana that he thought I might like. The man who took my order was really nice and tried to speak English with me. I’m always surprised at how proficient Argentines are with the English language.

Anyway, for dinner I ordered bomba de papa y queso, (a rice ball stuffed with potato and cheese):

Bomba de papa y queso

Bomba de papa y queso

And for dessert I had a delicious slice of budín de pan (bread and milk) with a dollop of dulce de leche:

Budín de pan con dulce de leche

Budín de pan con dulce de leche

Ramiro ate terrina de verdura stuffed with espinaca:

Terrina de verdura

Terrina de verdura

And for dessert he had a tiramisú doused in rum:

Tiramisú

Tiramisú

I devoured my portion in record time. Now I’m listening to the news. I love the ominous music they play with everything. So dramatic. It’s almost worse than CNN or FOX. Almost.

What the hell have I done to my hair?

I have a big forehead, kind of like Frasier Crane. I like it.

Let me confess that I don’t have much hair left on the top of my head. On a particularly sunny day I have to wear a baseball cap to protect my scalp from sunburn. I would say that I’ve been slowly losing my hair since I was 22. It’s been very gradual. To be honest, I like my hairline a lot more now than I did when I was younger. I used to have way too much hair, it was thick, didn’t move and was impossible to style.

I am a red-head, but the side effect of male pattern baldness is that your hair colour dulls. Now my hair is more brown than red, but I often hear people refer to it as ‘reddish.’ I’ll take it. When I was growing up I used to hate having red hair. First I was the only kid in elementary and high school with the name Franco and second, besides Melanie, I was the only red-head. People used to call me carrot top, and I would reply that the top of a carrot was green. Dumb asses. Kids are so stupid.

Along with my receding hairline, I’m going grey. Grey hair is the best. I started noticing that my hair was becoming more sparse after catching my friends looking at my hairline one too many times. I didn’t know why they kept staring at the top of my head and then one day I figured it out on my own. I didn’t quite mind going bald, what bothered me was society’s reaction to a very natural process. I felt like I was losing my looks, or my desirability among other gay men. I don’t know why that bothered me, but it did. Now I’m older and more comfortable with my appearance. I’ve learned that if it bothers people that I’m showing signs of old age than that’s more their problem than it is mine.

But that’s sort of what is wrong with our global culture I find. Advertisers prey on our insecurities to sell their products that rarely work. All of us show normal and natural signs of aging, and it’s okay. If we were stronger and more secure with ourselves, it wouldn’t matter very much what people thought of us.

This month Cate Blanchett agreed to pose for the cover of Intelligent Life without Photoshop. Airbrushing is out of control, so much that celebrities don’t look like real people anymore. Unfortunately this has become an expectation when it should be blacklisted. Blanchett received a lot of criticism on the comment section of many blogs, calling her old (she’s 42) and past her prime. Oy. Some people get what she was doing, and others clearly don’t. I wonder how some of the latter individuals will cope when they turn 40.

We shouldn’t pretend that we can defy the physical signs of aging. It’s okay to get older and to find that our bodies are changing. The majority of us don’t want to be judged for things that are out of our control but we’re so quick to point the finger at others, without acknowledging how hurtful and damaging it can be to someone’s psychology.

We often speak without thinking, and what I mean by that is that we say things without having ever thought about the counter argument. We’re simply regurgitating what we’ve heard from others in the desperate desire to fit in. Rather than acceptance, we choose to ostracize people who are different. You know, high school all over again.

A few months ago I was listening to Rosie O’Donnell speak about her friendship with Madonna on Howard Stern’s radio show. Rosie expressed that in the beginning of their relationship it was shocking to her how many people would introduce themselves to Madonna and openly criticize her appearance to her face. Rosie asked Madonna why it didn’t upset her and she responded, “Their criticism is more a reflection of how they feel about themselves, and has nothing to do with me.” I appreciated her resolve. It was refreshing.

Okay so back to me. I keep my hair very short because a) it doesn’t grow long or down, but up and b) I don’t like to touch my hair. I was a little bored yesterday afternoon and decided to give myself a haircut. Here is the result.

Self haircut

The funny part was that I kept telling myself, "It'll grow back." But maybe it won't!

In the past I would have shaved my head entirely but I kind of like it, and I am curious how people will receive my new style. In Canada, WASPs will stare and pretend nothing is out of the ordinary and then later, behind your back, say something cruel. In Argentina, porteños are cruel right to your face. I prefer this instead of the alternative. So far no one has said anything, which I find disappointing.

I would like to say that I don’t care about other people’s opinions about how I look, but it’s a daily challenge. I have to keep telling myself that the only person who I have to please is myself. But I think we all have this problem to some extent, and it’s based on the perceived notion that there is only one standard of beauty. I don’t want to look like Brad Pitt. I want to look like myself, and I want to be appreciated as much as the next person.

But still, even after I’ve written all this, I can’t help but ask myself, “What the hell have I done to my hair!?”

Unconditional love

Street art in Brazil

Street art in Brazil

Owning an English Bulldog has been one of the happiest experiences of my life. People assume, due to their sourpuss appearance, that they’re an aggressive breed, but nothing could be further from the truth. Maude is the most affectionate and loving dog I have ever had. She has brought a lot of joy into my life. Being in Buenos Aires I haven’t been able to see her as much as I would like to, but I’m going home in April to reunite with her, and my cat Beenie of course. I miss weekend mornings cuddling in bed and taking early morning walks. I miss how stubborn she is and her sloppy kisses.

I don’t ‘get’ people who don’t like animals. One of my dreams is to buy a house with a huge backyard for all my animals that I intend to have. Dogs demonstrate unconditional love, and in return they ask that you’re nice to them. Just nice. A couple of years ago I was reading a story about a woman in the U.S. who was criminally charged for picking up her English Bulldog and throwing it on the ground. There was a video that accompanied the article and against my better judgment I watched it. Why did I watch it? I remember sitting in front of my computer and sobbing uncontrollably. I couldn’t understand why this woman would take all her unhappiness out on her dog. All he required was a little love, a little tenderness, but instead he got a dose of human cruelty.

I wish I could save every animal in distress. There is no such thing as a bad dog, just bad owners. Why can’t we get that? Anyway, Maude is lucky. She has more love than I’ve ever received in this world, and for her, I would expect nothing less.

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