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 1 HERE !

It was around 1 PM when we departed the gift shop.

"What's next?" asked the sleepy polar bear, who had been ravenous enough to devour a mini KitKat from my bag while I browsed the gift shop.
I admitted that I didn't have a plan for the few hours to follow. The purpose was to explore the vicinity, obtaining sustenance wherever convenient.

We quickly learned of the limited pathways permitting access North/South over the CN tracks, the closest being either 1 St or Macleod Trail via a pedestrian underpass. The former led us underneath the tracks through a dim corridor devoid of illumination, natural or artificial. Frankly, the Bay and Yonge Street underpasses are often no better in terms of visuals, but the 1st Ave one was horribly eerie even during daytime hours.

Our steps led us past a number of eateries, none piquing my interest. With every stride southward, the sleepy polar bear urged for a decision to combat hangriness. Bistros with high Google Review ratings did not entice me, nor did the bustling crowds spotted within.

Just when our options along the stretch seemed to diminish into commercial territory, First Street Food Hall emerged as a pleasant surprise.

Its concept was akin to Assembly Chef's Hall, offering a range of various independent kiosks with a communal dining environment. The cuisine assortment included Indian, Vietnamese, burgers, tacos, pizza, local coffee, and beer on tap.

Seating was found at both ends of the building: tables at its dimly lit southeast corner and bar stools at its comparatively grander west. These accommodations were in closer proximity to the bar, bathrooms, and large LED screens suitable for catching game nights.

In contrast to my sheer delight, the sleepy polar bear griped about the facility being a "food court" without table service. Immediately retorting that table service equated to a slower meal, prolonged hunger, and reduction in exploration time, I also defended the establishment for its avant-garde presentation. Furthermore, neither of us would need to concede to the culinary wishes of the other. The Food Hall was, instinctively, the ideal choice for swift execution of a late lunch.

We placed our respective orders at Hi5 Burger and Moose and Poncho, then took our beepers to the bar seating overlooking the snowy grounds of Haultain Park.

​This five-day trip to Calgary was definitely not planned early enough for my liking. Travelling within the first quarter of the year is rare, for beyond a hefty number of annual renewals and the all-too-taxing tax season, Q1 trips deplete vacation days that could be reserved for later use in the year.

​Shortly after the arrival of January, and my widespread declaration of making "me time" a more conscious decision, I was informed of a last-minute wedding ceremony taking place just one month later. Details were few, but contemplation around schedule arrangements began. Ultimately, the decision lay between a short, domestic trip to Alberta or a larger future ceremony in Guangzhou. Alas, China was not a destination on my bucket list - not now, not ever.

The sleepy polar bear would tag along on the availability of a plus one invite. I selected one of the few reasonable westbound flights, then commenced logistics planning.

​Bidding farewell to Larry, Mini Sulley, and Mr. Buttons, I set out with my incredulous bag count around the 11:18 AM mark, arriving just before 11:40 AM. There were, thankfully, no issues with the luggage belt this time around.
The timing worked out well, enabling a swift commute under off-peak traffic conditions and a virtually vacant array of check-in kiosks. Even the lineup for the check-in cashiers didn't span more than five parties. Staggering was the difference from the early AM rush (presumably business meetings) and red-eye budget flights.

Also unthinkably quick was the security screening process: A trial lane was opened for select flyers, in which passengers did not need to remove electronics from their bag for a screening. What a blessing it was! There were significantly fewer people in this lane, meaning that there was no rush to assemble all of one's belongings to keep the queue moving.
Of course, in spite of this, I ended up dropping a handful of chargers on grimy floor when attempting to rearrange belongings between backpack and carry-on.

​Unlike my usual airport course, I actually completed all baggage drop-off and screening procedures early enough to procure Starbucks. Once again, the lineup was notably shorter than the AM flights. A water refill was requested, then a Turkey, Provolone, and Pesto Sandwich. The toasted sandwich was cheesy and gratifying, succeeding to appease lunchtime hunger before boarding.

The sleepy polar bear found me gazing out at the sunny, subzero scene outside with serenity.
"You are actually easy to find." I was informed. "You are the most purple person here." Admittedly, the hair and jacket speak louder than I often anticipate.

​Boarding commenced around the 1:30 PM mark, at which point I filed into the Zone 2 lineup as part of Premium Economy benefits. Despite finding myself at the end of the line, Zones 1 and 2 alighted the aircraft quickly.

​The next morning, I awoke to haziness. A thick layer of cloud cover hovered about, foreshadowing the dreary weather that was to befall on southern Ontario.

I reluctantly pulled above the covers; having engaged in sporadic periods of sleep the previous night, I was less than excited to enter a new day while partially recharged. The inconsistent room temperature had resulted in a fitful night. My legs burned, then my neck, until I ultimately rearranged the blankets to expose my fuzzy pajama pants only.​

​To combat sluggishness, the sleepy polar bear acquired an Americano for my caffeination needs. My eventual trip down to the lobby was met with a Blueberry Muffin. Despite its depressing visuals, the voluminous, oil-based profile was surprisingly decent.

Hustling between my various carrying cases, I was simultaneously folding clothes, charging electronics, and checking to make sure any personal items has been safely stowed away. Removing my camera from the foot of the bed, I was utterly appalled to discover questionable diarrhea-hued stains on the sheets. Revolting was this revelation. We added this observation to the hairy pillow concerns from the previous night.

Few establishments were open on Sunday, leading us to eliminate the planned detour through Saint Catharines.

The main agenda  event was hiking Ball's Falls, yet there was but one McDonald's within the five-kilometre radius. RPM Bakehouse emerged as a reasonable brunch/lunch destination within proximity to the falls, thus I punched in the address without hesitation.​

​Our path would be lined with a multitude of local wineries, including the infamous Inniskillin.

​After securing a spot in the expansive asphalt lot, we proceed to explore an art retailer, jeweller, hat shop, and independent clothing store. Destinations of interest were few along Main Street, for me at least. The sleepy polar bear grew somewhat intrigued by the checked scarves in one shop, but I found the snow-covered installations along the elevated, cobblestone walkway much more remarkable.