We've
returned from a week in Orillia which included a side trip
to Toronto. [Warning, this is a long post. Go get yourself
a coffee. I'll wait. :) ]
The
following bits were jotted in my notebook during my travels.
Toronto,
Part One
*
Only in Toronto will you see a woman doing Tai Chi in a busy
public park, one that is populated with as many pigeons as
people. In fact, this isn't even a park. It's a strip of grass
between city hall and Queen Street.
*
Only in Toronto will you see so many different faces. And
in the financial district, which spans only a few city blocks,
you will see the poorest of the poor, the richest of the rich
and everything else in between.
*
The most frequent items seen in a pedestrian's hands: disposable
coffee cup (T.O must produce a mountain of these every day),
cellphone, reading material, bottled water.
*
Only in Toronto is there such a profusion of coffee shops.
Coffee Time and Starbucks, v. the Tim Hortons and Second Cups
in Ottawa.
*
Only in Toronto can you buy a $2.00 hot dog that's the length
of your arm from elbow to wrist. And it's good.
*
Only in Toronto will you see people with "fashionably"
torn clothing. I'm not just talking about the odd rip, but
an entire missing leg, and half of an exposed ribcage.
*
Only in Toronto, can you not find a place to eat for lunch,
despite the fact there are about a trillion restaurants. (Note:
we had takeout sushi from a place in CBC HQ. I had RAW FISH
from a takeout place. I am nuts.)
I
used to visit Toronto as a teenager. The group of us would
make the trip via bus and subway. At that time I had a mild
sense of ownership of the place, at least the kind that comes
with a city that is both familiar and so exotic. It was my
city, but it's not anymore. In fact, I feel more and more
like a big yokel every time I visit.
So
noisy, so large
in so many ways, so vast and full of weird and wonderful things.
Toronto, you are a great
place to visit but sometimes you scare me. :)
Toronto
Part Two
I
am camped out in the reception
area of the Royal York Hotel. I'm waiting for Mark, who
is wrapping up with a client.
I
don't mind sitting around like this. In fact, I excel at sitting.
It gives me the opportunity to people-watch. Besides, I have
a coffee beside me and a notebook to keep me company. I am
far from being alone.
If
I had nothing in my hands I might grow more fidgety and possibly
even impatient as time wore on. Others may need a cigarette
or a book to keep them occupied, not me. If I'm writing I'm
good.
It's
funny how these objects seem to protect us from the public
at large. This pad of paper creates a wall around me, and
makes me less vulnerable to unwanted approaches.
I
appear to have seated myself around members of a gray-haired
convention.
The
fellow in the wingback chair beside mine is a member, as are
many of the others who are milling around.
I
see he is busily reading The Constitution of the Grand
Lodge. (I knew it had to be a gathering
of this kind.) He is also trying not be be too conspicuous
about picking his nose. It's not working. Perhaps the Constitution
is meant to be a cover.
As
I sit here I allow my eyes to linger on people. Every once
in awhile my gaze meets someone else's.
I
think that given the size of this city people enjoy a greater
degree of anonymity than they do in Ottawa. I encountered
a few rude people so far.
I
have a feeling that the men are slightly bolder here than
they are in Ottawa. I have had a record amount of nods and
smiles from the opposite sex, nothing more than that, but
it's an unspoken acknowledgment (that isn't completely Neanderthal)
which doesn't happen very frequently back home.
There
are so many people here. I wonder about their stories.
-
Elderly man carries a strangely wide and flat briefcase. What's
in it?
-
An irritated woman in tight pants, yelling at her partner.
Why so angry?
-
Slightly overdressed 30-something woman surrounded by a group
of mother hens. She has Country & Western hair, and cute
shoes. She looks like the type of woman who would be much
more comfortable in a pair of old jeans. You can tell by her
posture.
-
A tall dark model-like woman with braided hair cuts through
the crowd. She's wearing spiked heels with her cargo pants.
The
Royal York is not a great hotel. There are better ones in
Toronto, ones that are a little more modern.
The
RY has a great history,
and it has made a name for itself based on this history. The
RY is synonymous with Toronto.
I
look around the lobby, but it's more run-down than antique.
Browns and golds are the predominant colour here. Once upon
a time this used to be a grand establishment. It probably
hasn't changed in many years.
In
another 25 to 30 years the regular patrons will have died
off and management will be scrambling to replace them with
a younger generation. Unfortunately these people will have
grown up in an era that witnessed the introduction of the
boutique hotel.
Who
knows how the RY will deal with it. One thing I can say however,
that whatever food we've eaten there has been amazing. Eat
at Epic, located right in the hotel. You won't regret it.
Toronto
Part Three
On
a busy corner there stands a man with a sign propped up on
the sidewalk.
I
approached his corner, and out of the corner of my eye I noticed
he was wearing a fur coat.
Wow,
must be hot.
Then
I noticed seven or eight dangly things hanging down from his
arm. This was no coat. No sireeee. He was toting a row of
live
rats on his sleeve.
Later
on I passed by him again, this time with Mark. I dropped some
change into his box and asked to take his picture. Our conversation
was interrupted by a small group of Bay St. suits.
"Hey
____! You got the whole brood out today huh?" "Oh no! Just 10 today!" He motioned to the
eight
on his arm and the two hanging around his neck, the tails
framing his collarbone like some kind of wild necklace. (Here's
a close-up
of the row.)
He
pointed to a stretch of grass behind him.
"And
there's another 17 running around back there!"
I
looked at the rats, half-wondering if they were sedated. They
were so complacent.
He
picked one up and held it to his lips.
"C'mon,"
he said playfully. "Give us a kiss..."
I
was slightly horrified to see the rat actually "kissing"
his lips. The little tongue (the rat's) was flickering. I
missed this photo
op by a hair.
Then
he held out the kissing rat and offered to let me hold it.
Rather, he wanted to let it sit on my arm.
I
totally chickened out. I stepped back and laughed (which must
have come out pretty shaky-sounding) ... uh, thanks but no
thanks.
I
couldn't imagine holding the thing. Many many horrible scenarios
replayed in my mind over the course of half a second. All
of them dealt with biting, scratching, various bodily fluids
(the rat's) and ratpox.
I
took the pictures and went on my way.
Toronto
Part Four
After
a busy day of walking/looking/shopping Mark and I returned
to the car and head out toward the Beaches. Friends of ours,
Chris and Kerry, are new homeowners and were having us over
for dinner along with Cindy and KJ.
We
all basically know each other from school, and they are always
a good group to get together with.
They
keep me laughing.
Anyway,
on the way to dinner we stopped at the beach. It's a wide
expense of sand and water, with a boardwalk wrapped around
it.
This
is the kind of open space that one doesn't see very often
in this kind of city. It was nice.
Being
a weekday there were relatively few people around. We walked
a bit, pausing near a large public pool with high diving boards
visible from afar. In my mind I could envision this place
in the 1920s and 30s, back when this was practically cottage
country. A day-trip from the city. (A little bit of history
can be found here.
A little pic of mine here.)
After
our stroll we drove to Chris and Kerry's. We committed the
terrible social faux pas of arriving 30 minutes before the
appointed time. However our hosts were gracious, and nobody
seemed terribly inconvenienced. Or if they were, they hid
it well! Poor Kerry was cleaning the bathroom, and understandable
chore that is always done before the guests arrive.
Cindy
and KJ arrived soon after. Dinner was prepared and the wine
was poured.
Everything
came together wonderfully, the food and the company. My enthusiasm,
however, was slightly dampened by a headache and the return
of an unsteady stomach that has bothered me for the last couple
of days.
(For
the record, no, I'm not pregnant.)
I
even found myself forgoing dessert for fear of throwing up.
Orillia
was our home base for the week. Mary and Gary graciously agreed
to take care of the kids for us while we wandered around the
city.
Otherwise
the rest of our trip was pleasant and mostly uneventful. Mark
played golf, I hung out with the girls, and we ate and ate
and ate.
We
did manage to squeeze in a trip to Santa's Village in Bracebridge.
But I will have to leave that story for another day. (I have
pics too!)
And
as much as I love to travel and see friends and family, it
is also very nice to be home again.
So
good to be back. Hope you're all having a good summer!
So
good to be back. Hope you're all having a good summer!
