East West North South

It started so innocently!

THOUGHT: “HEY!  Let’s get some Brazilian food…with our Brazilian friends!!!”

REALIZATION: “HEY! There’s a Brazilian restaurant just up the street, at Broadview and Danforth!”

PLAN: “HEY! …let’s…call them…and set this up.”

And so, yesterday at 7:15, we departed to hit up The Red Violin.  Good reviews online.  Loved the movie (…which is irrelevant). OH, text message!

“It appears to be closed.”

…and it was!  The restaurant was closed.  (NOTE: Two days later it appears it’s under renovation and has changed it’s name to ‘Rodeo’) We met up with our two friends, and one informed us that there’s a restaurant he knows of!  Except…it’s in the west end.  Lansdowne and Dundas.  Very much East to West.

You see, I live in the East End.  I’m an Eastender.  I don’t go to the West End.  I’m not a West End Girl.  There’s a weird wall, I put it somewhere around Bathurst Street, and I’m not used to breaking through that wall.  Last year I went to Hugh’s Room, and to Mitzi’s Sister…and both times it was strange and alien to me.  It’s like people spoke a different language, dressed differently…even the buildings look different.  East to West…it’s like crossing a border into an unusual country.

So I’m not all Toronto-centric…I realize this is pretty standard everywhere I’ve ever lived and probably pretty standard for most people.  In Erin, I lived on Main Street so I knew Daniel and OUR Dundas…but I rarely ventured much past Beckers.  In Guelph, I lived all over the place…except the West End (GAH!  It comes back again!)  There’s always a part of the city or town I’ve lived in that was…’THAT’ place.

I joked the entire trip that the West End was weird.  And it was!  It looked so strange.  So much…nicer…and more diverse…far more interesting stores and restaurants and houses.  ICKY!

So, we got to the new restaurant…and it was NOW A PIZZA SHOP!  Apparently we were Brazillianly Cursed!  Now we turned to Urban Spoon, a nifty iPhone app, that sent us to a place called Cajú.  It means ‘Cashew.’  NEATO!  We can’t possibly miss out a third time!

“We’re having a private party.”

Getting food had now become a seemingly unsuccessful adventure. At this point I was ready to assume that there was NO hope of Feijoada or to drink any cocktails made with cachaça!  The West End, it lies!

But the nice lady…she pulled two tables together in the front of the restaurant and served us anyways.  I mean, we had been ALL OVER TOWN (read: drove to the scary west end) and wanted to try this tasty food!

Where am I going with this?  Ummm…I guess I need a meaning, huh?  Erm…Brazilian food rocks, the West End is weird but far more interesting to look at than the East End (…I don’t know if I could move there though) and adventure nights are far more interesting than ordering in from the same ol’ place.

And also…sometimes I think you need to go through strange worlds and crazy adventures to get what you want.  We could’ve just gone to McDonalds, or ordered in from a local pizza place.  But instead I got a story.

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