Out & About #762 | Downtown Niagara + Rainforest Café

Would you believe me if I told you I've never seen the Santa Claus Parade firsthand?

Unlike orangecane, the thought of crowds does not nauseate me, but rather the impact on efficiency. Once upon a time, when cable television had yet to be replaced by Wi-Fi-enabled live streaming, we would huddle before the TV to observe the highlights of the holiday event from a heli-cam. Captured from above were the hoards of giddy parade-goers, usually clad in countless layers for warmth as they resided on the edge of the Bloor Street W.

"How early must they have gone to get that front row seat?" a member of the household had commented.
"You're right." I recalled myself thinking. Whether it was the act of waking early or the process of navigating downtown, or the combined proposition of dragging a sleepy body far from home and into the cold, the entire ordeal had just seemed so...unpleasant, especially if it was merely to wait some more.

​As an adult, the intent to travel into Toronto in the early hours of morning for leisure diminished even more, despite acquisition of a PRESTO card and a full license to boot. But venturing to Downtown Niagara was a different endeavour altogether. It served as a short getaway from the suburban ritual that was my daily work-from-home life. And quite frankly, I wouldn't have learned of it had ads not infiltrated my Story-viewing habits.

​Departing around the 2 PM mark, we arrived in the downtown district some ninety minutes later. A detour stemming from the Parade's road closure contributed a short delay at the highway exit.

View the full album HERE !

Majority of the attendees were local residents. Nearing the BIA, families could be spotted slowly making their way eastward. I quickly rounded the corner of a residential street and assumed a spot by the boulevard. Our lawn chairs were left in the vehicle, though it would have been fitting to lug them forth for viewing pleasure. Infants and young children and the families to which they belonged had established territory on both sides of Victoria Avenue as well as nearby parking lots, blankets either on their lap or wrapped about them.

Road closures were in effect on Victoria Avenue, with PDOs positioned just south of Huron Street, where the parade would transition onto Queen Street, through the Downtown Niagara Christmas Market stalls.

Our arrival of 3:50 PM was ideal, as we had managed to beat the last of the participants to gather just in advance of the 4 PM start time.

​Downtown Niagara's Santa Claus Parade featured performances and participation by the local community, ranging from dance studios to U14 sports teams to businesses whose storefronts could be found on Queen Street. With each appearance came sponsor banners, gripped between the gloved digits of two or more members of the parading group.
There were no floats, much to my dismay, however we were graced with numerous dance routines and appearances by Iron Man, Olaf, Mario, Christmas edition Minion, and the Grinch. Further appearances were made by drumming stilt walkers, a juggler of fire, Mrs. Claus, the Burlington Teen Tour Band, and, of course, the jolly old man himself.

​Leaving the strongest impression was the Burlington Teen Tour Band, a group that boasted admirably synchronized footsteps and seriously satisfying right-angle turns.

​Looping around to the east end of the BIA, we found parking and debarked for exploration of the Christmas Market.
The Tree Lighting by the Olympic Torch Run Legacy Trail was forgotten amidst the crowd; instead was a 1 km trek down Queen Street, back to the point where it joined Valley Way.

​The Christmas Market adopted the format of booths positioned outside storefronts, many of which had already closed for the day.

Like the Seasons Christmas Show, the strip mainly comprised of vendors selling knickknacks for the upcoming gifting season. It was of minimal interest to us, thus we retraced our footsteps back to the car while on the lookout for hot chocolate and bathroom facilities.

The entrance of Queen Bean Café had been brimming with eager customers the first time we sauntered by. Seeing the volumes dissipate, we neared the entrance. Behind the door was a compact waiting area, and nearby one sign pointing left to "Washrooms" and another pointing right to "Order". Patrons could weave through the seating area to use the gender-separated stalls, or queue by the counter to place orders of hot beverages and baked goods.

The washrooms were extremely clean despite heavy usage and a constant lineup by the door. At learning the extent of the lineup, we inserted ourselves before a man hovering by the door, not knowing that he too was waiting. Despite this, he was kind enough to offer the earlier spot to us.

​Just prior to leaving, a quick gaze was cast at the menu. From the Order side, we sourced a Peppermint Hot Chocolate (sans whipped cream) and Hot Apple Cider, then proceeded to slide down the counter. A sign posted beneath eye level informed of cookies, complimentary with a social media post or Google review.
Swiftly capturing the curls of steam escaping our drinks, I exhibited my compliance to a member of staff, who then migrated to the kitchen in search of cookies. When none were to be found, she offered a Brownie as a substitute. I politely declined, explaining that I had made brownies myself earlier, then agreed on the Apple Crisp instead.

The drinks had rang in at four dollars each - quite reasonable given market value. That said, they weren't as consistent as other establishments in the GTA. The Peppermint Chocolate was tacky - excessively sweet - with pepperminty elements submerged at the cup's depths. Tangy was the Apple Cider, which served to quench thirst more effectively in a lukewarm or chilled state.

​In stark contrast was our response to the Apple Crisp.
Folks bearing utmost laziness (or those that fear scalded lips and tongues like myself) can opt for devouring the treat cold. Its cozy cinnamon-y notes are resilient against temperature drops, even in consideration of an overnight stay in the fridge. That said, it was phenomenal when slightly warmed as well, and, really, simply amazing regardless of cold or warm.
I will not preclude the potential that its edges and bottom may have once retained crunch. But crunchy what may, I hadn't been patient enough to let toasting conclude this hypothesis.

The sun had set by this point, and while it was too early for supper, I plugged in the coordinates to an izakaya by the Falls.
Along the way, we detoured to see the Winter Festival of Lights along Niagara Parkway. Traversing south, our left glowed with multi-toned mist while the right with flickers of colourful LED arrangements.

This illumination would continue until Dufferin Isle Road, making for approximately 2.8 km of pedestrian-friendly entertainment. Leisurely driving the segment would total eleven minutes, with a margin of error of five minutes depending on lane choice. Brilliant was the vast assortment of light fixtures, yet most memorable to me was the night view of the Falls - luminous yet vivid, spanning the rainbow spectrum.

Our path involved a dusky, Baby Park-esque loop onto Portage Road, earning us enough elevation to eulogize the brilliant fixtures from afar.

​Maps would lead us back to our original destination, only to be distracted once again by a Rainforest Café sign. The sighting of Cha Cha the Tree Frog could not dismissed. Swiping open the navigation screen, I succeeded in inputting the new destination before the next signal change. We would then immediately turn onto Sheraton Fallsview lands, bordered by the Falls and the most unseemly Canadian tourist area to exist. 

​Responsibilities were split into table acquisition and parking acquisition. The first lot spotted was full, while the next was barely full but induced a hefty rate of twenty dollars. Hourly options were not permitted. Venturing along Clifton Hill (later Centre Street), I found a discounted lot with a ten dollar day rate. It wasn't the most cost-effective for a dinner engagement, but still far more practical than the likes of closer lots.

Rainforest Café - Oh, the epitome of my childhood and its all-encompassing monkey-loving circumstances! It was too easy of a decision to drop an up-and-coming izakaya for nostalgia.

​Our wait had estimated one hour at first, then retracted to a matter of minutes upon the arrival of all members of the party. Vaccination records were verified against ID cards and menu QR codes were urged for scanning prior to entering the dining floor.

It was dimmer and louder than I remembered, yet nonetheless as appealing and wondrous as my child self had painted it to be. The atmosphere was, in fact, the same! As if deeply immersed within the jungle environment, a night sky of twinkling stars hovered over us. Behind was a fish tank, before a family of elephants, and adjacent a tree of parrots and swinging baby gorilla. With each glance about the room allowed for a new observation: flowing water, dangling snakes, and more!

The first ten minutes of our arrival enabled witnessing of my favourite scene of all: the jungle storm. With a loud rumble, the lights would flicker and the animals would grow wary with agitation. Trumpeting elephants, gorillas pounding their chest, and squaks from all directions were not untraditional details of this experience, and I wallowed with glee throughout every millisecond of it.

Two members of the serving staff had paused by our table during this period of reminiscence; our minds had yet to be readied for reading. Moreover, the surrounding environment had made review of the menu quite challenging: the restaurant's illumination (or lack thereof) was not suitable for scrutinizing text on a small but brights screen, while prominent noise levels presented a hurdle for discussing items of interest.

Eventually, we settled on sharing Maya's Mixed Grill with a side Caesar Salad.
Plastic cups with randomized figurines of the crew were available with purchase of a slushy, sugary, and food-colouring tinted drink. In place of soft drinks were plastic glasses of warm water, for no longer am I kid with no qualms of sugar overdose.

​The sustenance, while delivered in a timely manner, definitely did not live up to price.
Veggie sides of zucchini, red pepper, and green beans were largely unseasoned and likely derived from frozen packages - not that I could complain of grease-free vegetables. Prepared in a similar manner were the fries. I debated whether they were reheated Cavendish, as they were crunchy and thankfully not that salty. Their hollow interior was superior to the mushy homefries of many establishments; not being particularly salty, they were as kid-friendly as the side veggies.
​
Protein ranged from Chicken Breast to Ribs to a skewer of de-shelled shrimp. We learned that, while the marinade had not been depicted in advance, the chicken was tender and not spicy in any regard. Tender was its profile - an unmistakable leanness with unidentifiable sauce - and rubbery it was not. ​The Ribs were satisfying, even in the absence of a charcoal grill, and completely mild. There was but no satisfying char, only a platter suitable for diners of all ages. Tiny and slightly rigid were the shrimp, indicating pre-packaged properties.

​Praise is owed to the makers of the Caesar salad, for Rainforest Café was the first of many establishments to conquer memory loss for requests of dressing on the side. Accompanying the greens were slivers of Swiss cheese and croutons; the leaves were otherwise crispy, undressed (as I prefer), with only a few wilted at the edges.

​Washroom facilities were debatably clean, for the sighting of a spitball on the stall wall was quite questionable. One sink included a plastic stepladder before it, primarily for the children old enough to take hygeine into their own hands, but not tall enough to reach the faucet.

The conclusion of our meal paved the way for journeying through the gift shop. A small space with limited merchandise featuring the original lineup, I sifted through its offerings until landing on the OG Rainforest Café crew. My familiarity is most extensive with Ozzie Orangutan and Cha Cha Tree Frog, the franchise's trademark mascot. Two magnets were secured to pay homage to these longtime pals.

​For the first time in my existence, I learned the names of the others as well:

• Cha Cha Tree Frog
• Ozzie Orangutan
• Rio Parrot
• Iggy Iguana
• Maya Jaguar
• Bamba Gorilla
• Tuki Elephant
• Nile Crocodile

We exited onto the Clifton Hill strip, which brimmed with bright lights and visitors even in the late evening hours. The scene was admittedly touristy and more reminiscent of the bustle of Las Vegas than the peaceful scenery of the Great White North.

​Lusting for a sweet finish to the night, Hola Churros came to my rescue. The establishment operated in the form of takeout counter, as well as CoCo's immediate neighbour. Motivation had stemmed from the sighting of loop churros in the hands of a passerby and prompted entry into the cinnamon- and grease-filled environment.

At six dollars a portion, the traditionally Mexican confection was priced rather steeply. #2 with Dolce de leche was confirmed as the most popular pick off the menu, and for good reasons. The dessert was crisp without overly sweet, and satisfying without being satiating. Devoid of the denseness seen in North York's once-popular Mr. Chu, it was crowned the best churros sampled to date.

 Fatigue catching up to me slowly, I made a beeline for the closest gas station and persevered through the hour-long drive home. With much gratitude did I view the absence of congestion and presence of highway-side streetlighting.