Good sign

I'm a "It was meant to be" kind of guy.

I like to look for life's little signs to help justify my big decisions.

This year, more than any other, has been a year for some pretty big decisions - going overseas, resigning at work, ending my delicious relationship with KFC and a litany of others.

I'm slowly building my way up to responsible adult decisions. It's all about baby steps.

Sometimes you can get all the positive signs in the world and the end result is still heartbreaking. But, if you're willing to follow them, they will look after you more often than not.

Now, when I say signs, I'm not talking about the alien crop-circle movie starring Mel Gibson that no one should ever watch on a farm, at night, alone with the lights off like I did...

I'm talking about the perfectly-timed song in the background that speaks to you, chance encounters with people thought long gone, personal messages within advertising or the right quote at the right time.

If you're paying attention, these signs should make you pause, tilt your head to the right and rub your chin. Smoking a pipe and having a long white beard is optional.

So, after arriving in Toronto for the first leg of the trip four days ago, I was looking for signs to convince me that the trip would be a success. That I wouldn't regret another big decision.

Toronto delivered.


The city provided a benchmark for fun that will be tough to top. I don't really know what I was expecting, but it wasn't this.

In amongst the beauty, the hospitality of the people, the incredible sights, the vibrant atmosphere, the jaw-dropping power of Niagara Falls, the drinks, the girls, the partying and the sleep deprivation were a few signs worth sharing.

The friends, the family and the catch.

The friends
If you're willing to sacrifice some privacy, some sleep and some water pressure during a shower, hostels will reward you with like-minded people, new friends... and the occasional bed bug.
To be back in an environment where everyone is free from responsibility and looking for adventure is liberating.
Instead of being in a shared room with a group of three or four friends and having to weasel my way into picking up some drinking buddies, I found myself in a room with two lads in the same boat as me - travelling alone. An Englishman, an Irishman and Aussie - no one understood us, but we had a ripping time.


On top of this, I'm treated to the amazing hospitality of Canadian friends made while travelling through Europe two years ago. Nadine Green, Andrew Brandt, take a bow - They absolutely went above and beyond to show me an amazing time. Couldn't have asked for better tour guides. I was picked up at the airport at 1am, wasn't allowed to pay for anything despite my protests and was given a 'behind the scenes' tour of the city.

Good sign.



The family

Travelling alone for 60 days, I was sure I would be saying goodbye to a decent home-cooked meal and the fun banter of Italian relatives trying to one-up each other around a table until I got home.

How wrong I was.

Through the magic of Facebook, we found direct relatives that lived in Toronto some time ago and I was lucky enough to stay in touch and meet up with them when I arrived.
Tom Ciconte, his wife Liz and son Luke picked me up On Saturday and drove me out to another relative's birthday party near Niagara.

With a little research, Tom had informed me that we were related directly through our grandfathers, who were brothers.

When we got to the party, I was introduced to the birthday boy, Richard Paola, who, somehow, recognised me.

"You're Gino's boy right?" he asks casually.
"What!!?? How do you know dad?"

Turns out Richard had visited Melbourne 20 years ago, visited all of the family and took an interest in following the entire family tree. It was incredible to listen to a relative in another country who you've never meet talk about relatives you grew up with.


The night was fantastic, I felt right at home, laughed all night and didn't want to leave.

Canadians just know how to host.

Good sign.

The catch

This is the sign to beat all signs. It's actually more of an open slap to the face. I'll never top this for as long as I live.

Nadine and Andrew surprised me with a baseball game on my first day in the city. The Toronto Blue Jays were hosting the Baltimore Orioles at Rogers Stadium, which is an incredible sight at night with the CN Tower in the background.
After getting a pre-game beer at a nearby sports bar, we arrived at the beginning of the second inning and the Blue Jays were batting.
Our seats were incredible. Second level above home plate, cushion seats, beer and food a few metres away.
As we sat down, we quickly saw one batter walked. A Blue Jay named Eric Thames came to the plate. The first two pitches were balls, the third was a foul ball hit hard in our direction.


As soon as it came off the bat, I knew it was mine. I stood up, beer in left hand and caught the ball with my right hand clean as a whistle. Those who have seen me field in cricket may not believe it, but it happened. I plucked the ball clean with one hand, without dropping a sip of my beer.

The reality of what happened took a few seconds to register. My first baseball game, the fourth pitch I see and I catch a foul ball. The crowd around us cheered, we laughed and I stared at the ball in disbelief.
Nadine and Andrew were on the phone, shocked, telling family and friends. I had a quick chat with Andrew's dad that went something like this:
"Ive been going to baseball games my whole life and I've never caught a foul ball. My father went to baseball games his whole life and never caught a foul ball. You sit down for your first at-bat and catch one straight away! Where's the justice?"



First night of the trip and I end up with a souvenir that I will cherish for life.



Almost like it was meant to be.

I don't want to jinx anything, but...

Good sign.