Out & About #593 | The Dr. Seuss Experience + Kenzo

Growing up, Little Bear played a prominent part in my childhood. The same can be said for Pokémon, as well as all its forms of N64 releases, and I hope I'm not dating myself here.

Phineas & Ferb filled the mornings of my pre-university prep days, and then select anime series in my convention-attending days.  My final days on campus marked the gradual complete transition to K-Dramas.

​So I guess this is a really long way of saying:

I didn't grow up with Dr. Seuss.

Dr. Seuss hardcovers were always one of those books at the children's section of the doctor's clinics that I never dared to touch due to hygiene reasons, just like those wooden bead contraptions (that have now become obsolete in the age of iPad-wielding toddlers). To the best of my memory, the books smelled like dust and stale cheese.​

Having said that, I was nonetheless ecstatic at the announcement of a Dr. Seuss Experience exhibit. This was especially the case when I inspected further: its presentation grounds of Square One was far closer than the AGO.

​Me being me, I signed up for one of the first spots the first day of the exhibit's public unveiling. Contrary to my assumption
of the exhibit being held in the holiday market spot next to UNIQLO, it had, in fact, taken over the old Sportchek location on Rathburn, outside the shopping centre. This discovery emerged amidst casual discussion with a coworker - one that I cannot appreciate enough, for I probably wouldn't have double-checked.

The parking lot was largely vacant at our time of arrival. With windows decorated with the range of Dr. Seuss characters though, we knew we had arrived at the correct location.

Beyond the doors was the exhibit entrance, in addition to a gift shop and simplistic photo-pretty backdrop. A stroller parking area by the staff-monitored access was an early indicator of the event's popularity amongst families with young children.​

​A total of nine interactive rooms awaited us. The first was Oh! The Places You'll Go!; being the largest, it was placed in the general area, just beyond the doors of entry. A substantial fortress of columns and colourful plastic balloons, the see-through maze was an amusing appetizer and unmistakably kid-friendly.

Bordering the maze were doors to more rooms. As we approached one by the name of The Lorax, an elderly lady peered at us anxiously, like we would barge past the nonexistent lineup or entry. She ran over a few rules ("Don't swing on the swings.") with great difficulty, even appearing to blank several times. 
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Meanwhile, I peered at the two doors behind her. At the foot of one was a red binder, presumably containing contents pertaining to the individual exhibit.

​Plastic coins were then handed to us, rather apathetically if I may add. Presented to us were two choices:
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     1. I choose to listen
Relinquish the coin to the Onceler's pink pail and enter into a world of seemlessly endless furries (known as "Truffula trees").

     2. I keep what is mine​
Keep the coin and pass into a room of severed trees and deep violet barrenness. This room would feature another pail by the door, where visitors would eventually surrender their shiny symbol of wealth to enter into the forest of fluffiness.

View the full album HERE !

​Mirrors were installed along the perimeter of the room - some slightly wonkier than others - to yield the impression of a 
neverending playground of orange, pink, purple, red, and yellow. An amusing aspect observed was that some trees had been embedded directly into the mirrors.

​After having our fun on the swings, we headed to The Lorax's neighbour, The Cat in the Hat. Inside were two bins of soft figures, one azure and one dusty red. Visitors' abilities to form a balancing tower were put to the test.
This room was spacious and permitted clear paths of access and egress, however this may have been owed to majority of the toddlers being concentrated in the adjacent space.

​Did I Ever Tell You How Lucky You Are? was a wholly interactive exhibit that effortlessly summoned the curiosity within every child (or former child). Enclosed inside the brightly-lit space was a real-life rendition of Herbie Hart's Throm-dim-bu-lator, a machine with multiple components and, consequently, multiple facets of attraction.
The highlight, personally speaking, was a vacuum-like contraption in which multi-coloured fur balls were fed through, then launched into the air so the process could repeat itself.

Other engaging parts of the room included a rotating plate with golf balls, a machine that kept plastic balls afloat with bursts of air, a substantially-sized structure with streamers, handles, and levers, and even a series of gears that could be shifted to produce different configurations. Beside the entrance was, again, another red binder.

​Next up was There’s a Wocket in My Pocket embracing the full spectrum of colours the literary series had to offer. Another interactive experience, visitors of all ages could take part in a scavenger hunt for the various fictional characters placed about the living room space. Overhead, a narration - taken straight from the acclaimed story itself - would play, prompting roamers to search for the "Bofa on the Sofa", "Woset in the Closet", "Jertain in the Curtain", "Zamp in the Lamp", and more.

"There's a NINK in the SINK."

It was as if we had found ourselves living and breathing the tales of the little boy, searching left and right, top and bottom, 
in search of mystical creatures that would have otherwise only been conceivable in our wildest fantasies.

​Horton Hears a Who! was a controversial one in terms of enjoyment.
​Flossy magenta clovers in a room of pink walls and artificial grass, this was hide-and-seek utopia, yet, simultaneously, a cotton-wearer's nightmare. Being waist-high, many children took to ducking beneath the clover fixtures and crawling about the field, camouflaging themselves in a corner in anticipation of being uncovered by their parents.

Approximately three-quarters into our visit, lineups began to form at specific exhibits. If I Ran the Circus had a fully functional carousel - large enough to seat adults, operating slowly enough to take in the furnishings of the room. And just like Circus McGurkus, the pyramid of white cups stood tall beside the pink lemonade dispenser, ready for photo time.

In How The Grinch Stole Christmas was a rotating belt of present boxes; "Team 1" and "Team 2" players could take turns fishing them out, then piling them on scales at opposite ends of the fairy light-bedecked chamber. A faint jingle could be heard in the background.

The Sneetches was the attraction most reminiscent of last year's heavily hyped Yayoi Kusama exhibit at the AGO. With only a handful of visitors permitted entry at a time, this was the sole display that was both timed and static.

A gift shop resided immediately outside the event grounds, offering an expansive selection of souvenirs in addition to hardcovers of the classic, colourful titles. Spotted scurrying behind the curtain was a members clothed as the Cat in the Hat. Rumours had it that Thing 1 and Thing 2 would appear later onwards as well.

​An immersive, imaginative exhibition for families of all sizes and ages, The Dr. Seuss Experience was a solid destination to devote a morning of exploration, discovery, and amusement. Tickets were not cheap at thirty-nine dollars (for General Admission), though I found myself enjoying the event to a much greater degree than Infinity Mirrors. Recall that this verdict has been achieved without any sort of prior familiarization with the series.

For those that wish to take part in a more budget-friendly capacity, keep in mind that the gift shop lies outside the event grounds. Tickets are not a prerequisite to take home a furry friend for your little one (or for yourself).

Washrooms were a bit tricky to reach, as they were situated at the depths of the former Sportchek space, at the end of a winding corridor.
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One lasting point that I'd like mention would be the diversity in staff members. Most were regular citizens, though one could not deny that a couple fell within the special needs category. Inclusivity reigned above efficiency.

​We exited the premises around 11:30 AM and promptly made our way over to Kenzo.
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Free time on Saturdays are a rarity in my life, and Sundays mark the ramen joint's sole day of closure. Hence, an opportunity for ramen is far and few between, especially when neither Kinton nor Sansotei live up to expectations.

Wait time was, fortunately, very minimal. Orders were placed almost immediately after being seated.

< Pictured above and below: Spicy Chashu Ramen, Tonkotsu Shoyu Ramen, Shio Ramen, Gyoza (6 pcs), Takoyaki >

The assortment was absolutely scrumptious - completely consistent with my collective past visits. For this reason, it is beyond me why those that question their quality continue to exist.