"I'll be hermiting within for a month." I had declared upon returning from Calgary. "A month, if not more - whatever it takes to finish."

And while I've proven loyal to these words, my endurance is withering. Exhaustion perpetuates as I tirelessly sort through the expanse, simultaneously balancing matters demanding attention in the present. 

In the days following Valentine's, I munched on the remnants of my chocolate creations and smiley fries to assuage me till Friday.

​These crisp rounds with ketchup-gushing eyes were paired with kale (of course) and a bottle of Heineken into which I mixed a few glugs of Yuzu Choya, then immediately regretted.

Returning from vacation brings about a new slew of stresses. While having all laundry completed, items re-arranged in their original position, and luggage stashed back into the storage room constitutes the "end goal" of a successful trip, the incredulous quantity of raw footage rests upon my shoulders, demanding attention.

But, in the very least, access to my trusted array of tools is reinstated. Coffee - be it in espresso or filter format - can be crafted at will. Should Hot Cross Buns be desired, I have the option of venturing out, in my own car without the pains of connecting to the decidedly dreadful Android Auto.

The days after my return consisted not only of laundry and unpacking, but also the slow evaluation of my purchases.

Both the gargantuan bag of Choco Churro Turtle Chips and Mango Passion Fruit Tea mix from H Mart were deemed worthy despite the troublesome transport back. The former was far more economic than any sale in the GTA, especially given Alberta's province-wide 5% tax. As for the jam mix, it boasts a loose consistency ideal for incorporating into chilled beverages. That said, a little does not go a long way. In the meantime though, it should suffice in place of CoCo's Bubble Gaga.

Without any particular desires to leave the house, I spent them housed in my room, attempting to regain whatever energy was drained over the five-day duration out west.

Homemade meals were my soul food, in particular a Tomato, Potato, and Pork Soup that simultaneously soothed and nourished the iron-deficient soul.

The readily available status of fresh produce and juicy oranges was another welcoming aspect.

Highly anticipated was the reveal of my Cococo haul. The sustainable chocolate shop had intrigued me in its assortment, leading to the purchase of a 12-piece "Best in Show" gift set, a 250 g pouch of Ruby Couverture, and an affordable box of Dark Chocolate and Almond Biscuits.

Read Part 1 HERE !

​Complimentary snacks would again be offered just before landing. Miss Vickies was plucked for the sleepy polar bear; KitKat was selected for my own devouring.

​Our return trip spanned just over three hours, an impressive feat that entailed an early arrival outfitted with glorious sunset gradients over deep blue ripples and descent into a city brimming with sparkling lights. Ah, urban development! The familiar bustle caused me to breathe a drawn-out sigh of relief.

​In wait of luggage (and the sleepy polar bear), I headed to the luggage belt first. Once rejoined, Cow Chips were retrieved for interim munching.

​Then, it was finally time to head home.

​​When most Ontarians think of travelling domestically, we either venture all the way East (to the Maritimes) or all the way west (to BC). There are also a handful that opt for the north, primarily to Yellowknife, Northwest Territories, to experience the wondrous dimension of the Northern Lights.

Before embarking on this last-minute trip, I expected little of the city. From top to bottom, the city spanned roughly 50 km - at best 60 km if routing along the perimeter. It was a small region quantifying even less than a one-way trip to Richmond Hill.
Thinking back to my younger years, when I had watched NTSA (more commonly known as 新秀) on cable television, Calgary's stages paled in comparison to that of Toronto and Vancouver. Where the urban cities of the nation had grand stages with LED monitors, stairs, colourful lighting, and several angles supporting the livestream, Calgary's show was always set on a barren stage with nothing beyond a black curtain. Even the camera, the only one in presence, captured just one angle of footage and barely aired for the viewing of other provinces.

By the time our fifth day in Calgary rolled around, I was more than ready to go home.

​Barrow's scrumptious Morning Glory Muffin eased me into early morning packing. A self-concocted yuan yang, in all its milky magnificence, was used to pair alongside the moist, tender crumb. It goes without saying that an Americano hailing from the same coffee roaster as the muffin would prove far superior.

​We checked out around 10 AM, just one hour earlier than the hotel's mandated time. After loading the extent of our baggage into the rental, we set off for YYC. The trunk would hold heavier baggage and one additional passenger: the fellow Torontonian we had met at the wedding.

​After dropping off the rental vehicle, we crossed towards the terminal building. I made a beeline for the priority check-in counter and obtained my sticker in no time.
​The sleepy polar bear, who had been leisurely chatting with our new friend whilst I hauled my luggage onto the belt, failed to inform me of yet another wait at the regular check-in counter. A grueling twenty minutes passed us by, not a second being justified as queuing in separate lines could have happened in parallel.

​"Who's Who In The Zoo" was a name I had spotted while we whizzed through the arrival gate. Mistaken for the official gift shop of the Calgary Zoo, I made it a point to visit before passing through security. ​

Read Part 1 HERE !

"Notice how there are no lights here?" I pointed out to the sleepy polar bear when we had first began heading west.
​
There were no light poles in sight, and surely nothing even closely reminiscent of the chaotic cable network in downtown Toronto. Reception was, as I noted previously, nonexistent along the trail, though would grow stronger as we neared the Town of Banff.​

​The glorious view of mountains furnished our drive back towards the tourist district, with sunlight receding ever so gradually along the way.

​By the time we had settled a one-dollar parking fee at the Beaver Street Parking Lot 300 Block, a dreary indigo fell upon the Banff Avenue Square.

Embracing temperatures far balmier than back home, we leisurely navigated towards COWS.

My memories of Banff are hazy, given their generation nearly two decades ago. Beyond the meticulous selection of amethyst and magenta slices at Rocks and Gems, I recall only sparse segments from the guided bus tour: my uncle running towards the bus with my finger puppet affixed to his zipper, a family friend's incredibly minimal luggage, and the phenomenally clear waters of Lake Louise.

COWS' Banff outpost was an unexpected surprise to behold, yet decidedly different from how I remembered the Whistler location to be. The store was divided into two sections: ice cream to the north and merchandise to the south.​

​I persuaded the sleepy polar bear into purchasing a medium-sized box of Cow Chips - the dark chocolate version to avoid sweetness overload. The cow-patterned scrunchies also caught my eye, being a mere $1.99 each.

The hours following the wedding confirmed two things for me:

1. Foreign environments abolish routine and wreck havoc on my body, primarily in the departments of digestion and sleep
2. Korean liquor and I is a duo that just doesn't do

Being away from home, or a general area of familiarity, brings about tremendous anxieties. As opposed to the adaptation measures required to thrive in new surroundings, it is the place of rest that incites the greatest of woes. For much like the four in-hotel evenings spent with the Thai ahgase, general discomfort was experienced in our hotel room in Calgary. My hands cracked painfully in response the dry conditions, while feelings of bloatedness persevered for nearly the entirety of our stay.

Makku, while delicious paired with my Birthday Cake cookie from Element, rendered the same nausea-filled response as soju and Jinro's larger format makgeolli. Later that evening, several hours after consumption of the 355 ml can, I suffered a horrible, pulsating headache to the right side of the head. It would resonate from the temple to the back side of the head, then back to the temple. Acidity was felt in the throat, with a looming sensation of vomiting. The sleepy polar bear was kind enough to place a plastic bag by the floor, should I require it.
At the late hour of 2 AM, I accidentally clogged the toilet. Concierge services, which were supposed to be available 24/7, were unresponsive. Instead of sending a member of the facilities team to remediate the situation, a plunger was merely provided for self-sufficiency. Thankfully, I am no stranger to unclogging toilets. The sleepy polar bear groggily awoke to retrieve the plunger, while I rolled up my sleeves to reinstate flushing capabilities to our unit.

Needless to say, neither of us were particularly energetic the next morning.
While I reached for my acquisitions from Barrow, the sleepy polar bear had ventured to the lobby for an AYCE breakfast buffet. Spectacularly flavourful was the Iced Americano - notably the best cup consumed during our short-lived stay. The Oat Bran Muffin was another pleasant surprise. Retailed at just $3.50, I was surprised to find impressive height and heartiness in the baked concoction. The combination served to supply fuel for the upcoming agenda items.

A late departure from the hotel led me to bump into the groom and his friend while exiting the elevator. "Are you joining yumcha?" the new husband inquired.
"Oh no, we gotta go. We're late!" I hastily responded before dashing out the automatic sliding doors. Moreover, yumcha? the thought of greasy Chinese food had me grimacing in contemplation.

When we had unsheathed ourselves in Signal Hill the previous day, I was already in awe at the sight of snowcapped mountains in the distance. Being an Ontarian, flat terrain was the norm; peaks and ridges were rarities. Driving westward, into the mountains, was a super surreal experience.

Sunny, blue skies served as the backdrop. The first forty minutes of the trip comprised primarily of asphalt, a handful of vehicles, and plains with advertising boards. Sightings along the way weren't entirely unlike northbound drives to cottage country, except for grazing cows instead of horses and mountains instead of barrenness.

​As we found ourselves weaving between the mountains, cloud cover increased overhead. Away from the azureness we went, diving deep into overcast climate. Rockiness surrounded us, as did bodies of water.

The trees were observed to be shockingly straight, as if pins manually arranged in a row. This same observation had been made while hiking in Vancouver: tall, exceptionally straight trees had bordered the trails within Lynn Canyon and also at the Capilano Suspension Bridge - a disparity from the wonky medley of unkept twiggy forestation observed in the GTA.

Read Part 1 HERE !

​Returning to the hotel with less than forty minutes till we were to report downstairs meant hasty moves. In order to remove all obstacles in my path, the sleepy polar bear was urged to remain in the lobby as I scurried about the room, fixing my makeup and unveiling the second bulkiest pair of footwear in my luggage.

Getting ready in a foreign environment is never an easy feat. As such, I was grateful for the choice in ceremony venue, and consequential minimal travel time.

​At the core of this last-minute Calgary trip was the wedding celebration of my dear friend. Our friendship commenced in ̶t̶h̶e̶ my first year of high school, persisted well into university years, suffered a brief period of stagnancy during the post-grad, job-hunting phase, and was ultimately revived upon reaching some degree of life and career stability.

​Having witnessed how several of her past relationships had unfolded, I was extremely thrilled at the news of finding her Mr. Right.

​The exchange of vows took place in a conference room at the basement level of our hotel. Family members had ventured far and wide to assist in room setup, wedding dress train handling, and, most importantly, to witness the "legal joining in matrimony" of two loving parties.

It was a tremendous honour to partake in the ceremony, for the primary constituents of the audience were family members. A total of three Torontonians made up the close friend list in attendance.

Having awoke minimally throughout the night, it was with glee that I declared having slept significantly better than the previous two nights.

​Sunrise took place between 8 AM - 9 AM, approximately half an hour later than back home. From our grimy southward-facing windows, I gazed into the distance at cascading layers of blue-violet, orange, and pink hovering about the airport terminals.

​For our second full day in Calgary, I had proposed brunch before the main event of the day.

​​The drive estimated twenty-five to thirty minutes, with clear skies and (surprisingly) light weekend traffic. Remarkably saturated was our outlook, as if painted on, CS6-style, by a baby blue paintbrush gradient.
Heading to the southwest edge of the city, we passed by distinctly Alberta-sounding names (Deerfoot Trail, Crowchild Trail) and a CF-owned retail building.

Slowly but surely, we were making our way in the direction of mountains - the very mountains we'd have the luxury to explore on the following day!

Sunlight had receded to an overall greyness with our arrival in Signal Hill. Cloud cover had amassed, casting a bleak, Raincouver-like aura on the commercial district.

It was with slight bewilderment that I regarded the intersection: Despite appearing very much like a tourist stopover spot, the neighbouring establishments were primarily residential in nature. The image could be linked to the calm but critical Stoney Creek, where the Red Hill Valley and Mud Street exit boasted similar sightings of Cineplex, Tim Hortons, and other typically North American franchises. There were, might I add, familiar West Coast names of Save-On-Foods and London Drugs observed en route as well.

Parking was secured in the unploughed asphalt lot before the entrance of The Bro'Kin Yolk just short of 10:20 AM.

The first night was spent in restlessness. Bloating and waking at odd hours throughout the night made for nonexistent sleep that cascaded into the next morning.

​The sleepy polar bear had woken before me, rustling, coughing, and exuding all sorts of noises while I desperately tried to ease myself back into the darkness. But, when the desk lamp flickered on for the clamorous consumption of tuna tartare from the night before, I could withstand no more. Jumping up, I furiously turned off the light and hushed the room's other occupant.
Alas, I was fully awake by this point.

​In spite of a late night with little rest, I resolved to readying myself for the day instead of undertaking further attempts at slumber. Tugging away the curtains, I gazed outside at the snow-covered grounds, spotting the airport to the left and mountains to the right. A few lonely vehicles graced the road at the early hour of 8 AM.

Element's Iced Americano and Coffee Cake assumed my breakfast. The slice was a surprisingly thick slab for three dollars, taking into consideration that cookies were priced at $4.50 apiece. It was rigid and dry on its own, but decent after microwaving for about 10-15 seconds. The Iced Americano was mild yet potent enough to serve its purpose of caffeination.

Tickets to the Calgary Tower Observation Deck had been reserved for 11 AM. With a bit of time to spare, I suggested stopping by T&T before continuing onwards.

We pulled into the slushiest parking lot I had ever witnessed in above zero temperatures. As with our hotel lot, it hadn't been ploughed at all! And although the atmosphere was warm, ground conditions were atrocious, resolutely resisting dissolution.
The same plaza housed a CoCo outpost, as well as Xing Fu Tang and Chicko Chicken, revealing shared franchises with BC.

In we prodded for a gander. The ceilings were taller than the ones back home, while the corridor housed additional kiosks like Galleria in North York (or the newer T&T at Lansdowne).

Navigating to the produce section, I found large Envy apples on display. My grandmother had raved about this breed on countless occasions, yet we had failed to find any sweet enough to warrant her extravagant review on the east end of the nation. (Ambrosia and Gala were the prominent yields of autumn in Ontario.)

On a penchant to quench my curiosity, I took to two of the warm-fleshed apples. They rang in at the extremely affordable price of $4.32 for two! I placed these into my handy dumpling print eco bag, which I had slipped into my backpack in preparation for the odd, plastic bag-banned excursion. This was one of them.

We then slid back towards the car over icy curbs and muddy sludge. The apples would come along with us for the trip.

​Downtown Calgary was a breezy drive from Harvest Hills.

​Traffic was minimal, skies were blue, and main arterials were dry and clear.

​I had investigated parking options leading up to the trip, and eventually selected a garage with a flat rate of three dollars until 7 PM - what a steal! Three loops led us to the 5th floor, from where we descended down the elevator to 10th Avenue.

​As we began our trek to Calgary Tower, it dawned on us that closer metred spots were priced identically. The sleepy polar bear cast a side-eyed glance in my direction; we proceeded along the concrete sidewalk until eventually reaching our trip's one-and-only scheduled tourist attraction.

​It was with mixed confusion and surprise to witness such a low volume of visitors at the Tower. Only two families hovered about the check-in desk - a number unfathomable at the CN Tower or Ripley's on a gorgeous weekend morning.

​With e-tickets secured beforehand, we were advised to head directly to the elevators.

One would service the Observation Deck (denoted as "OB") as well as the Sky 360 Restaurant (denoted as "R"); the other was labelled as serving the OB only.

​An introductory video played on the LED panels affixed to the elevator walls throughout our gentle ascent. At arrival, the doors pulled away to reveal a 360-degree view of the city, as well as a glass-bottom lookout for maximum enthrallment.

Observation Deck - Lower Level

​In the distance, we spotted snow-capped mountains. For flat-landers such as ourselves, their persistent presence was truly a sight to behold.

View the full album HERE !

Read Part 2 HERE !

This information was relayed to the sleepy polar bear, who agreed on venturing east to find the product of interest. "Did you still want to walk around Chinatown?"
I pondered the prospect, then suggested reviewing the possibility after the detour.

​Crossing over Elbow River into Inglewood, I really wasn't sure what to expect on the other side. The district appeared fairly developed, their colourful murals intriguing and wide concrete sidewalks inviting for a stroll. With two lanes in each direction and the curb lane partially occupied by ice and snow debris, the path grew narrow.

The sleepy polar bear demonstrated some degree of difficulty slipping into the closest street parking spot, though we managed in the end, with one wheel on the ice, like every other vehicle in the lane.

​Outside Rosso, we spotted yet another lime green fire hydrant. Darting about it was a solo adventurer: a black-bodied bird with a white tummy and long, black tail streaked with blue. The same species had been spotted earlier in the day while traversing along the highway; those, on the other hand, fluttered in a group.

To my dismay, the Inglewood Rosso did not carry the Essential Collection Box either. The staff had been kind enough to make correspondence with the other location for confirmation, despite the heavy customer volume. We learned that the item was apparently an online exclusive only until five days ago, and neither Tuxedo nor Inglewood locations had received their allotted inventory as yet.

​Rather than drifting out emptyhanded, I resorted to individual bags of beans for experimentation. The bearded cashier had advertised Lover Boy, the coffee shop's bourbon-tinged roast of the month for February, prompting purchase of the 200 g limited time offer. While browsing the shelf for a second option, another staff member came to our assistance, offering recommendations to suit my preferred brewing method(s). The standard-sized (340 g) Kilimbi was also chosen on the basis of being suitable for both filter and espresso, and adopting a light yet sweet profile.