The painting of Dale Earnhardt in the Atlanta airport was somehow refreshing, a reminder that I’d made it back to America. I’d become more than a bit homesick while in Toronto, which says nothing about my feelings towards Canada, but much more about how little I travel, and how easy it becomes for me to miss my routines at home.

It’s been a few days since my last dispatch—blame that on time and an aversion to lugging this laptop around. Nevertheless, there’s plenty to tell you about, so let’s get started.

This trip to Toronto is the first time I’ve ever left The States, a fact that I’ve found is surprising to most. The city, in many respects, reminds of New York but less bustling and less intimidating. It’s a strange town in a way, too—a place that has adult cinemas, sex shops, and male strip clubs across the street and up the block a bit from the American Apparel. What’s oddest is that it all seems to fit, and no one—at least from my experience—seems to mind.

For the next week, the Xpress’ own Justin Souther will be whiling away his time at the Toronto International Film Festival—getting, in many cases, an early look at what we’ll be seeing in Asheville during awards season (which is just about upon us). Since the rest of us are stuck here—holding down the fort, as it were—while world-traveler Justin is awash in movies and hob-nobbing with the famous, he has promised to send us updates on his experiences. This is the first.  —Ken Hanke