We went into Toronto the next day to visit the “Taste of Danforth”, a Toronto festival which Ellen had found online and other people had recommended to us. It took us a little while to navigate the public transportation system, but with the help of some very helpful bus drivers, we managed to make it to this street, which was absolutely swarming with people. Every few feet there were stands selling every kind of food, from Thai to Haitian to Chinese, though the majority of it was Greek since it took place in the Greek neighborhood of town, and there were several dance companies putting on shows interspersed along the road. There was one very strange pavilion where a stunt troupe was performing a live-action interpretation of the Expendables 2 trailer. It wasn’t so much their chosen source material that was so amusing, as it was the intensely serious looks on all their faces as they fake punched, kicked, and shot each other (poorly), seemingly oblivious to their stupefied audience, who was standing there with bemused looks on their faces wondering simultaneously what was going on and why they were still there watching it after five minutes. The rest of the festival was truly amazing, with so many different stands to see, as well as the stores lining both sides of the road, which were kept open for the festival.
We finally walked back to the ferry (through another rainstorm), and got back to the island exhausted. I was the only person compelled to go out that night, and so I ended up in a boat of strangers from the RCYC, bound for Donut Island for a bonfire. After running aground 4 or 5 times on the way over, and beaching the boat, I discovered that their conception of a bonfire was very different from my own. I had envisioned a structure of some sort, perhaps made out of wood that would then be lit to construct some type of large conflagration. You know, a fire. As far as I could tell, however, my new friends’ conception of a bonfire was created in direct proportion to how much gasoline was added. The small bundle of sticks on the ground provided maybe 10% off the fire’s power, as gasoline was repeatedly poured all over and around this tiny stack to the great enjoyment of everyone involved. It was, in fact, a very good time, in spite of the intermittent bursts of heat and light from the fire pit, and I got to meet and hang out with a ton of cool people, before finally resigning myself to bed sometime quite early in the morning.
The morning of August 12th, we awoke far too early for my liking and decided that we had to depart the RCYC. We’d had fun there, but it was, after the first night, a little too expensive for us, and we decided to head instead to the Queen City Yacht Club, maybe a half mile away, on another island. We understand that this is probably frowned upon, and so if anyone from either yacht club is reading this, we sincerely apologize. We did not intend any offence, we are just young and on a budget.