Report: 2 Months in TO

At this moment I am sitting in the massive Toronto Reference Library, by a window that overlooks the bustle of the streets Yonge and Bloor, on a windy and overcast day. I like it here--for the most part. When I left Victoria, there were some people I spoke to who could not understand why I would ever want to leave, especially for big ol’ smoggy Toronto. Of course I miss Victoria. The air is certainly fresher there, for one. It takes less time to get around. I have a lot of fond memories of Victoria, being the home of my alma mater and all. But after two months, Toronto hasn’t killed me yet, (though certainly not for lack of trying). In fact, I dare say I’ve even enjoyed myself. If nothing else, there’s certainly never a dull moment here.

In this post I want to give you a brief glimpse of my experiences in my new home, thus far.

Getting Around

The drivers here seem to be angry, angry people. I’ve never heard so many horns honked in one place at one time (i.e. any major intersection in the city). I’m fairly content not having a car, but I am especially glad I don’t have one here. I'm terrified enough of being a pedestrian, and I’m from a big city, too. Furthermore, this place ranks pretty low in the biker-friendly arena, exacerbated by a mayor who simply does not give a flying you-know-what for two-wheelers, of which there are many. This place is full of cyclists, which is good, but there's very little infrastructure afforded them, and even less goodwill from motorists. I know cyclists can be a pain, but remember, drivers: you are bigger than them in your 4000 pound hunks of moving metal--they are more afraid of you than you are of them.

Transit is a mixed bag. At a whopping $126 it costs over forty dollars more for a monthly transit pass than it did in Victoria. We are not amused. Unfortunately, and strangely enough, Toronto has one of the least publicly funded transit systems in the country. But besides that I have yet to be really frustrated with the service here. Buses, trains and streetcars are more or less punctual, and I find something strangely romantic about riding the subway. It’s kind of dirty, it’s dim, and it has that quintessentially big-city quality to it. Plus, I've come across some amazing buskers down in the stations, playing accordions, pianos, cellos, and of course, guitars. 

And then there are the recorded voices used to announce the stops. The old trains use a voice I like to call Margot, a middle-aged woman who always sounds reserved, and rather bored, and almost certainly took deep drags from her cigarette between takes in the recording studio; the newer trains ring with the voice of Cindy, who sounds like a sexy young robot, the kind 2001: A Space Odyssey's HAL might want to date. Margot and Cindy always cheer me up, in their own ways. Also, I love the sounds that reverberate all around underground stations: the echo of footsteps on the platform when it’s half-empty, the otherworldly howl and throb of wind from deep in the tunnels, the rumble of an approaching train, like a giant metal worm in a cave...I dunno, I’m weird like that.

Talkin' about the Weather

Yes, there’s the smog. It’s mostly noticeable on the really hot days. The dull, oppressive haze above, and the hot garbage-y vapours wafting up from lodes of sewage beneath your feet. And the heat. My God, the heat. Cold showers are a necessity, sometimes more than once a day. You can’t really do anything on those days, as almost everything requires too much heat-inducing physical effort. (On days like that it’s best just to hang out in an air-conditioned library!) Nights offer no relief, either. Today, and for the past week it’s cooled down, but who knows how long it will last. It’s unbearable, and it makes everyone cranky. Yet somehow I still don’t mind. And except for those days when the divine ant-bully in the sky focuses his mighty magnifying glass on our lowly hill, the weather’s been wunderbar.

Sights

One guy I spoke to about Toronto said it was just a concrete jungle (this man was the definition of curmudgeon, but he had more experience in the city than I did, so who was I to contradict him?) I was told if I left Victoria for Toronto I would lament the loss of being surrounded by natural beauty. Certainly I miss Victoria’s fecundity, but you’d be wrong to think nothing green grows here. There are several lovely parks in and around town: Trinity-Bellwoods Park, Queens Park, and the vast High Park, which I haven’t even been to yet. 

My apartment overlooks the lush canopies of the neighbourhood called Forest Hill, and I’m about a 20 minute walk from Casa Loma, a castle in the middle of the city that could put Victoria’s Craigdarroch Castle to shame (Casa Loma is also where Scott Pilgrim battles Lucas Lee, one of Ramona Flowers’s evil ex-boyfriends). The older neighbourhoods are made up of beautiful, narrow red brick houses, with tree-lined streets. Greenery abounds, right in and among the “concrete jungle”. Even downtown places like Queen Street West and Ossington have some amazing graffiti. (Imagine: a city covered in the most astounding graffiti, instead of obnoxious ads. Alas, 'tis but a dream.)

No sir, this place is not without its gems. There’s Kensington Market, which I imagine is actually just a few streets lifted up from Salt Spring Island, carried over by helicopter and dropped in the middle of Toronto. It’s full of vendors selling clothes, books, music, food and other wares on the sidewalks; prayer-flags float on the breeze in the front yards like clotheslines; punks, hippies and hipsters alike mingle in the streets. There’s the sprawling U of T campus, just on the edge of downtown, with gorgeous 19th century architecture, like the Hart House Theatre, and the Royal Ontario Museum, an old-world edifice that looks like it was hit by an alien space ship, or perhaps the All-Spark of Cybertron. It’s a bit kooky, but why not? 

And the libraries. We can’t forget the libraries. I must admit Vancouver’s downtown library is a far cooler design for a main branch, but with its open, curvaceous quality the Toronto Reference Library is not without its elegance and charm (it’s good enough for citizen-of-the-world Alberto Manguel to praise in his book A History of Reading, and he’s seen his share of libraries). And there’s the fact of sheer quantity: Toronto has nearly a hundred branches. Victoria had eight. 

Downtown

Then there’s downtown itself. Unlike Calgary, this core doesn’t shut down after 9 pm. But like Calgary it’s full of Suits running around, doing Important Things and feeling very very Important. And oh! The hot dog vendors! I’ve never seen so many. If only I still ate meat/liked veggie dogs...and then there’s the garish and hyper-consumerist Yonge-Dundas Square, which is actually a fun place to be, though a little overstimulating. The last time I was there I saw two old men playing chess at a table--not the most idyllic setting for it, but endearing all the same, a kind of hub of stillness and calm amid the neon whirlwind. And when you get bored of watching the large digital ads on repeat, the fire-and-brimstone preachers with microphones never fail to entertain. 

I dare not imagine what Freud would say about my fondness for tall buildings, but I do think it has something to do with awe, feeling so small beside something so large, whether it’s manmade or not, looking straight up a high structure with a sense of the irrational threat of it folding in on itself (à la Inception), even toppling over and crushing you. I must admit I am fond of urban landscapes, when they’re done well. The environmentalist in me laments their existence (buildings being the number one emitter of carbon dioxide in the world), but the kid in me was kind of hoping for more, or at least more densely packed ones. Except for the financial district, downtown Toronto is fairly spread out, and every time I look up I can’t help but wonder if Spider-man would be able to sling his webs with ease here. New York has way more skyscrapers and they’re much closer together, making for comfortable swing-time for Spidey. In Toronto, I’m less sure. I fear he may try and swing away from downtown, only to hit the ground and be dragged along by his web before he reached the next high-rise. I think about these things quite a lot, you see.

Anything Else?

So is that it? Are these the reasons why I came here? Surely there must be something else? 

Why else did I come here? Well, let me think...

Tarragon. Factory. Passe-Muraille. Soulpepper. CanStage. Buddies in Bad Times. Necessary Angel. Mirvish. Lower Ossington Theatre. Summerworks. Fringe Festival. TIFF. Luminato (where I saw Rufus Wainwright do a faaabulous--and free--outdoor concert). NXNE. Second City. Massey Hall. Toronto Jazz Festival. The ROM. The Art Gallery of Ontario. CBC headquarters. Dozens and dozens of bookstores (Theatre Books, a bookstore dedicated entirely to the performing arts). The largest Pride celebration in North America. Oh yes, and just a couple hours drive away from Stratford. 

That’s why.

The biggest downside is the employment situation. Or the lack thereof. Jobs are tough to get here. Well, jobs that I, Liam Volke, BFA, actually qualify for. But I can hardly blame that on an entire city as a single entity. Still, it’s frustrating. But let’s just say it builds character. I haven’t lost hope, but I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a slog. Thankfully I have Kayla with me, and even a handful of new friends I’ve made from working on the play Top Gun! The Musical. It’s not always friendly to the wallet, but it’s awfully nice having an actual social life again, after being such a homebody in Vic. Even better is that feeling of support, which makes all the difference when you’re living in a new world.

There are plenty of other reasons why I like it here, like the ethnic diversity, the hundreds of pizza joints, the fabled friendly Torontonians (they do exist! In blessedly large numbers, too). But I think what I like best is the total feeling I get. It’s open, it’s overflowing with life, and I am young enough to enjoy and thrive on the energy. It may care not a jot that I’m here, but I’ll take it anyway. Even if I didn’t end up liking it, I simply had to find out for myself. The rest of Canada can have it’s opinion about this place. But this is, thus far, the greatest experiment of my life, not someone else’s.

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*Except for the picture of the concert, the busker, and Spider-man, every photo was taken and provided by the lovely Kayla Sankey.