Out & About #1030 | Bata Shoe Museum, More Bike Share + Adulting

When office days take an unexpectedly steamy turn, one is compelled to consider indoor alternatives for lunchtime ventures.

The trek towards the office usually spans no more than fifteen minutes. Before I had even reached the halfway mark though, I had already shed my cardigan and powered on my neck pan. Extremely humid days make for miserable walks in the city, and when the early morning hours had already posed difficulty breathing, I knew Mother Nature was foreshadowing an imminent surge in mercury levels.

​By the time noon rolled around, I had secured a last-minute admission pass for the Bata Shoe Museum using the TPL Map. The reservation enabled a total of two adults and four children to visit; I proposed the idea to my coworker, who eagerly joined me upon hearing the word "museum".

​To combat the dreadful heat, we opted to take the subway from St. Patrick to St. George. Mind you, as someone seldom takes TTC nowadays, I did struggle slightly with finding the correct exit from the Line 1-2 transfer station. Upon rearing our heads onto St. George and Bloor, we were graced with the sight of ongoing cycle track work at the intersection.

New asphalt, fresh pavement markings, and dazzling concrete came into view - all much to my delight as a recent member of the Bike Share community.

On the southwest corner of the intersection was our destination of interest, the Bata Shoe Museum. I led the way through the accessibility-enabled glass doors, then halted by the elevators as it occurred to me that I hadn't downloaded the pass as yet. I quickly saved the PDF, then approached the counter with both the pass and library card in hand.
"I can help you over here." a young gentleman offered. "I'll just need your order number, library card number, and a piece of ID."
This was possibly the most comprehensive check to date, for not even Ripley's had verified that the name of the booking member matched the ID of the member on site.

Following check-in, the man provided an overview of the museum. Spanning a total of four floors, he recommended commencing from the basement level and working one's way up. Besides a spacious staircase, visitors with mobility needs could also utilize the nearby elevator and Wave-to-Open sensors to access each exhibit.

At the bottommost floor were washrooms, a seating and lounge area, and an area where one could try on shoes of various styles and sizes. I wasn't particularly keen on touching surfaces with which others' soles have come into contact, though I did enjoy the amusing array of footwear available.

The basement level also featured an exhibit titled "All About Shoes: Footwear Through the Ages". As the name implied, it showcased various styles of shoes worn throughout the decades. These styles would vary drastically in size, shape, and material to reflect the needs of those inhabiting different parts of the globe. 

An Ameblo Pigg-style staircase would lead one up to a smaller section of the same exhibit. This portion featured comparatively modern styles: suede, leather, and hide were shed for patent leather, canvas, and rubber. Sneakers and loafers announced the departure from moccasins, cowboy boots, pointy heels, and sparkly platforms.

​"All About Shoes" led us back to the ground floor, where we'd climb up the stairs towards the second floor exhibits. Immediately piquing our interest was "Exhibit A: Investigating Crime and Footwear".

Themed in black and red, this compact room garnered immediate interest. Neither of us had envisioned a possible link between crime-solving and shoes! The tidbits were exceptionally engaging, and we wished that we could have read them all during our stay. Unfortunately, the lunchtime visit had restricted the duration of stay per room to a mere few minutes.

At the end of the corridor was "Dressed to Impress: Footwear and Consumerism in the 1980s". Characterized by neon signs and retro backdrops, this room was notably the most colourful and also most nostalgic. Beyond its remarkable visual appeal, the faux Galleria layout reminded me of shopping centres during my early childhood years (pre-renovation, naturally) and hand-me-down apparel from my parents' era.

Creepers, in particular, prompted me to recall my high school days of dressing. J-Rock, punk, and Visual kei had influenced me greatly, and the "rebellious" footwear choice was, no surprise, a highly sought-after style from Japanese street fashion and KERA magazine.

​Prior to our entry into "All About Shoes", both of us had picked up a scavenger hunt card to accompany the visit. My coworker's card would be associated with the first exhibit. Meanwhile, mine would be specific to "Dressed to Impress". Between the display cases along the perimeter, faux vined species, and centre fixtures, I succeeded in locating most, if not all, of the shoes. The front side of the card featured six pairs of shoes, arranged in the same orientation in the respective exhibit; the back included close-ups to showcase texture and material.

Towards the back of the exhibit was even a mini cinema! Two rows of patterned cloth benches were positioned before a small screen. Once again, the television graphics and soft, spongy seating reminded me of entertainment in the 90s (likely inherited from the mid to late 80s).

​On the top floor was a creative studio and office area as well as an exhibit by the name of "In Bloom: Flowers and Footwear".

This room was noted to house a rotating display. At our time of visit, the L-shaped space was filled with artificial buds, floral wallpaper, and tall, glass display cases reminiscent of MV sets.

​Maintained at a generally dim illumination level, "In Bloom" allowed the flowers and shoes to take the spotlight. Though never to have adopted a green thumb personally, the sheer presentation and associated description of each shoe choice and their implied meaning was quite admirable. 

By this point, we were required to make haste and gradually began descending back to the ground floor. Along the way, we began to discuss our overall thoughts: "Exhibit A" was the conclusive favourite, proposing a truly unique link between seemingly unrelated articles. Nevertheless, we undoubtedly enjoyed our stay as a whole. From exhibits of historic significance to modern culture displays to even crime, the Bata Shoe Museum proved much more interesting and expansive than expected. An abundance of shoe trivia had been presented across the four floors in fantastically curated, themed rooms, and even boasted scavenger hunt sheets to keep visitors - young and old - engrossed. Had we not been short on time, up to two hours could easily be spent roaming the floors and reading the entirety of the information plaques.

​Before our departure, we browsed the gift shop briefly. Indigenous pouches, souvenir magnets, and shoe-themed dangly earrings were barely of excitement. Instead, a roomy canvas tote bag caught my attention. For starters, the blue-white-and-red colour scheme aligned with the palette of the city's flag. Next, nestled on its front were popular attractions within the downtown area. These names weren't simply tourist hotpots, but rather local favourites spanning assorted neighbourhoods. Ranging from Bloor West and High Park to the ROM, St. Lawrence Market, and, of course, the Bata Shoe Museum, I gleefully declared that I had laid foot on nearly all of the attractions. Just the Toronto Islands (and possibly the Rogers Centre?) would remain for now.

​Heading back to St. Patrick, I had mistakenly routed towards the southwest corner of Dundas and University as opposed to the southeast corner.

My blunder enabled a stopover at Tim Hortons for an Iced Mocha Latte. The chocolate-y drink was tremendously enjoyable - almost unthinkably so. Also unexpected were the lofty ceilings, self-serve kiosks, and sleek interior of the Canadian coffee giant. Suffice to say, I had always envisioned the location to be a dingy space haunted by homeless.

​The subsequent office day was far more forgiving, featuring frequent breezes amidst ample sunshine.

​Grey and overcast was the first half of the day. It wasn't until around the 1 PM mark that natural rays of illumination finally settled in for good.

With temperatures hovering just about the 20-degree mark, I deemed the day fitting for yet another Bike Share moment.

​I had contemplated a number of routes, for not all streets featured bi-directional cycle tracks. Should active transportation infrastructure be unavailable, then I'd be required to adhere to rules for vehicular traffic. As one who's visited the city by driving, one-way streets are prevalent in the downtown core. Poor signage and wayfinding elements further contribute to frustration and confusion. In order to combat these anxieties, comprehensive planning would prove pivotal.

The stretch of University Ave between Dundas and College has generally made for untroubling rides, though pedestrian encounters are not uncommon along the northbound section. South of Queen, however, is brimming with potholes and uneven asphalt surfaces. Combined with a rather rickety brake on my chosen bike, my grip tightened on the handlebars to avoid being flung off the seat. Accelerating down the slope than I could read the road signs, I missed my right turn onto Richmond. Consequently, I'd detour eastbound on Adelaide, then south along the newly installed cycle track - complete with concrete barriers - on York. When the separated pathway abruptly terminated at King Street with no option to continue southbound, I swerved towards the northwest corner of the intersection. Taking advantage of the stopover, I eagerly swapped bikes to rid my ears of the horrifying screeching brakes. Unfortunately, my subsequent choice later revealed the same issues as I continued on my expedition.

I proceeding along King to Simcoe to Wellington. At John/Wellington, vehicular traffic had been halted due to construction. Two PDOs were on site observing the works taking place. I settled for walking the bike on the sidewalk until Blue Jays Way, where bi-directional cycle tracks on the south side of Wellington would enable an uninterrupted travel to Strachan. Travelling northbound on Strachan, I eventually arrived at the doors of Trinity Bellwoods Park. Frankly, the sight had come as a surprise to me, for I'd known of its relative coordinates without ever considering its neighbouring streets.

About thirty minutes remained of my lunch break when I met the concrete curbs of Dundas Street at the park's north limit. I'd be required to traverse along a portion of Dundas Street alongside vehicular traffic before finding the nearest bike-friendly route on Tecumseth. My supervisor later praised me for this venture, though I argued that parked vehicles along the curb had essentially enabled a sliver of space for cyclists to ride along the through travel lane. The southeast corner of the intersection was familiar from my downtown bike tour in the spring. I docked briefly, then breezed down the slope.

​An e-bike wielding citizen halted some few metres before me to permit the right turn maneuver of a nearby vehicle. His uncharacteristic approach caught me off guard, and I came to a grinding - quite literally - halt as the brakes on the Bike Share bike screeched in opposition. Needless to say, I drew the attention of many passerbys.
Shaking my head angrily, I'd make a sharp left onto Adelaide. Routing through the quietest section of the street, I'd then find a designated waiting zone for cyclists crossing over Bathurst. Too often do I find myself wondering about the "proper" way of crossing intersections, but this beautifully designed corridor removed all uncertainties.

Adelaide and Bathurst, looking west; Source: Google Maps

Adelaide and Bathurst, looking north; Source: Google Maps

​Speeding back along Adelaide, I was admitted surprised by its amount of shade and gustiness. The biggest fear would not be returning to the office in a puddle of perspiration, but dodging pedestrians that seem to enjoy risking their lives by jaywalking before a cycle track with plenty of traffic.

All in all, the trip was fun with plenty of breeze. I'll admit: navigating through the downtown core is becoming easier, though I'm still not a fan of the intermittent stop-go format.

​Meals of the week comprised of Spare Ribs in Zhenjiang Style from Bayview Garden, Steamed Pork and Pickled Radish, Braised Chicken with Scallions, and Braised Pork in Portuguese Sauce with Carrots and Potatoes over Choy Sum and Rice.

Sake sampling and the conceptualization of an Iced Matcha Latte with luxurious notes of Ovaltine and Tim Hortons' Hot Chocolate would provide mid-week support. (For the record, I remain a firm believer that Hokusan is overrated and unworthy of its steep price point.)

Feelings of satiation had crept up in the latter part of the week, giving rise to cravings for warm, soupy broths. I took to a packet of Nissin's Black Garlic Oil Instant Noodles as the base for a last-minute lunch creation. The monosodium glutamate seasoning packet was discarded; in place of the synthetic flavouring, a can of Swanson chicken broth would be combined with an equal quantity of water and infused with dried sun-dried tomatoes acquired from Tavazo some several months prior. Just before serving the black garlic oil would be incorporated for an aromatic finish brimming with umami.
Other components of the bowl would include: blanched choy sum (of course), sweet corn kernels, IKEA meatballs, a poached egg, and crushed pieces of lightly seasoned Tao Kae Noi.

Between the gooey golden yolk, sweet bits of corn, and tangy, refreshing broth, the colourful concoction was an unmistakable upgrade from the desaturated, ever-basic instant ramen packet.

Alas, two meals of noodles in broth were declared insufficient. Pho Big Bowl's No. 18 Well-Done Beef Brisket Pho Noodle Soup would supplement these desires. While their noodles and overwhelming portion of beef brisket never fail to curb cravings, the broth revealed itself excessively greasy this time around - as if someone had mistakenly dropped a container of oil into the vat.

One of these days, I must remember to request the omission of onions and Sriracha.

Work-from-home days were, again, filled with chores and errands. A tedious pick-up procedure in the east end of the city provided my the opportunity to visit Palm Bites.

The shop was near impossible to locate in the industrial-commercial area, and merely served as a storefront for date-based snacks. A couch could be found near the entrance, though a washroom-less establishment is hardly the spot for lounging. 

​I procured a Medium-sized Knafeh Chocolate Bar to quench my curiosity about Dubai chocolate once and for all. The package measured no longer than the length of my palm, yet set me back a whopping $17.99 plus tax. A Small size was available for $9.99, however the standard bar seemed most suitable for my investigation.

Placed in the glovebox of the car, I returned home to find the package decently malleable. This observation sparked concern towards texture loss, but also confirmed that the chocolate wasn't tempered. The opaque surface, plethora of air bubbles, and separation from the plastic-y green splatters further ascertained my suspicions.
About fifteen minutes in the freezer would allow the exterior to firm up once more. Consistent with BamBam's findings, the creation was interesting in its incorporation of texture and creaminess, but wholly undeserving of a cult following. Just a few pieces were dense enough to constitute an entire meal's worth of calories. It didn't taste any better than a Reese's cup, in my opinion; if anything, it probably tastes worse and melts easier.

​Once again, I cannot comprehend the exaggerated adoration for food trends and their obnoxiously steep prices. Even my own creation hadn't fallen short of delivering quality chocolate products and crunchiness. Dare I say, it tasted better overall without the satiating aftertaste.

Amidst the chaos of adulting, my mind had eliminated the existence of Labour Day long weekend altogether. Between troubleshooting Wi-Fi networks, ensuring functionality of my new Ring cameras, and resolving indoor plumbing issues (without adequate knowledge of plumbing and water leakage), there were limited instances left for decompression.

​Pilates and dance cardio sessions remain a constant in my life, yet have unfortunately been omitted more frequently than preferred. Some days, I am operating strictly on auto pilot; others allow for challenges that do not require copious mental investment. Conditioning and strengthening routines have, without a doubt, made a difference in my day-to-day routines, simultaneously improving range of motion while decreasing pain and tension.

​Over half a thousand spent in house operations later, I heave my deepest sigh since departing the corporate underworld.