Living in a new neighbourhood has given me a new perspective of a very familiar city. On my way to work, I hit the pavement in the middle of the business district, winding my way along the streets to the Byward Market. The city blocks always seem a little bit different as I work my way, like a salmon going up-stream, against all of the day walkers coming home from a hard day’s work. The sun is usually low in the sky, casting shadows of sky scrapers shifting along the pavement. Dusk is an unusual time to be heading to work, I’ll admit. It’s also an unusual time to feel out a city that is usually so familiar by day and by night. At dusk though, not often will I pass a familiar face, nor am I able to navigate the streets without turning the corner onto a street I’ve never met before. It’s easy to feel (once again returning to the gill-bearing analogy) like a little fish in a big pond. That being said, there are a few gems in this city helping to curb that singular feeling. A long time ago, I was lost in this downtown neighbourhood and stumbled upon a restaurant, which is a welcome contradiction to that big(ish) city feel. It’s a quaint tapas bar, called “Tapas Bar” (they really wanted to throw customers off the scent with that name. . .) on the corner of Lyon and Gloucester. An old home turned-restaurant, it still has that homey-feel, with stained glass windows and dark wood throughout. Most importantly, the food is truly mouth-watering and is still one of the best tapas bars I have experienced. Any of the seafood dishes will surely not disappoint (I’ve tried all and have never been dissatisfied). The service is consistently pleasant and makes you feel like you’re part of a spanish family, sitting in the dining room of their spanish home. After my first visit, I was hooked on this tapas bar and whenever I stop in for a bite, I always forget that just a few steps outside of the door is a buzzing city and an aqua-marine analogical struggle of some sort.