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Sunday Brunch at Le Petit Dejeuner and Finding R2D2

I woke up this morning with the impending doom of check-out hanging over my head. No lazy coffee write the bloggy morning – just coffee, edit & post, get dressed, repack and call Mom. Call Mom – crap it's Mother's Day! and I need to go to brunch. Another impossible restaurant experience in Toronto (the sequel to dinner alone at a popular restaurant on Valentine's Day). So of course I chose the smallest little brunch place in old town to try and get in.

As I was waiting in line in front of the Le Petit Dejeuner I began to doubt my choice, and wondered if perhaps there was a place I could just walk into down the street. But at that very moment a group of tourists (as if I am not one) walked by and asked the lady in front of me what the fuss was all about. The local woman excitedly explained that the eggs benedict at this fine establishment was "to die for" and she regularly travels here and waits in line just for it. I decided I could wait twenty minutes.
Alas, I did not even have to wait that long – as I was "just me" and a single spot at the bar awaited my company as soon as the hostess came out to seat the next group. Coffee and mimosa here were also expectantly waiting for my presence.
While eating my eggs benedict with in-house sliced Canadian Bacon I had a realization – the menu called it "bacon"! Not "Canadian bacon." Duh – silly American. It was salted pork deliciousness with a tenderness from curing that landed a pillow on the tongue perfectly complementing the poached egg fluff. And the Hollandaise! Who could forget the most light slightly lemony brush of an angel's wing Hollandaise sauce – so far from the oppressive slurry poured over inferior benedicts experienced in places that shall not be named.
Despite its angelic lightness of being the hidden richness of the dish won the day with my stomach.
I could not finish – but I did eat my greens. Beet greens at that in this lovely specialty request side salad.
One thing about downtown Toronto I have noticed.
All bathrooms are down a foreboding case of stairs. I am so appreciative I have full access to my ankle's faculties again but can't help but wonder what the physically disabled do in this city.
Brunch down it was time to take in the St. Lawrence Market, which on Sundays is transformed into an antique fair.
Curiosities abounded but I found my very own special brand.
I had to leave this glass because 1) it would break and 2) I had no cash and 3) it would break on the way home and I would be really sad. So I just took a picture and walked on. Then I found R2D2.
Smiling brightly at me at the end of a table – alone among the other lost artifacts waiting for adoption. "He follows commands too." Said the man selling him brightly. A failed attempt to demonstrate the trick brought the price down and I said "sold!" They were nice enough to wrap him up for me as I went to find cash.
Large toy in tow and coffee in the other hand I was now official photo disabled and awkward – ending my antique fair shopping experience. I shuffled past a stand and bargained a travel bag off the seller to put R2 in so I could sling him over my shoulder (he is the size of a large baby, and only just a tidge lighter). As it was getting to be mid-afternoon it was time to get my luggage and cab it to my next destination – the airport Holiday Inn and the real reason I came to Toronto.
Upon arrival at the Holiday Inn my landscapes changed dramatically. Where I spent the last two days surrounded by tall things and people. I found this upon my exit of the cab by the airport Holiday Inn.
It seemed way more topographical when covered in snow in February when I was last in the area. My new adventure on this trip is inward, not outward so it is not the geography or the creative menus that will be the rewards of the next five days but the growth and transformation that result from the of experience practicing something. It will a very different type of adventure.


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