Oh Boy, …was I wrong. Or was I?
A couple of friends told me that my last post was utterly disrespectful to Toronto. One wondered if I was drunk when I wrote it. Another one, the most riotous one, said I should be taken outside and drowned at the Pond Park, and then have my body fed to the geese.
Maybe I should explain. I write this review from an interpreter’s perspective: someone who parrots everything that is being said into a different language for 8 hours. At the end of a workday, my brain has the consistency of ricotta cheese. And it is exactly at that point that I take to the streets to unwind and learn something about the city.
You should know: I have lived in big cities. I like them because they stir in me a feeling of familiarity. I can go on never-ending walks, and be taken aback by the unexpected artistic surprise that awaits at every corner, and that sits well with me. And in this regard, I can say that Toronto does not deceive you. Not one bit.
Okay, maybe a little bit. Toronto’s artistic surprises are found every few blocks away but not in every corner. Not all of them are beautiful. Some of them have the level of refinement of a farmer repairing a tractor.
Nonetheless, Toronto has its own distinct flavour. It is known to be the most multicultural city in Canada. (Note to self: I also need to visit Vancouver and learn Mandarin). In Toronto, people display their preferences and allegiances by following religious dress codes, sexual preferences, and age. Others could care less about any of those things, and just simply dress according to their own preferences and their fashion sense. Most people seem fit, but it’s probably due to long distances they must walk to get simple errands done. For example, the other day I wanted a box of matches to light a cigar, and I had to ask an Ethiopian tourist to do me the favour because I was seriously going to spit up a lung after walking 400 meters.
«How beautifully diverse!» you may say. Well, you may be surprised. Toronto says «Yeah, all is good, but we are, after all, a Protestant city. Have a butter chicken roti». On the other hand, the architecture seems to have been designed by someone named Adolf. This city is as straight as the Pastor’s scrotum. Every single building is a straight tall line, and none of them seem important enough to convey: «Okay, this building belongs to Toronto, it is a unique creation, an icon you will remember «. Yes, you are going to talk about the Museum’s curves and how those two twin buildings at the Waterfront look like women’s thighs. They indeed have curves but remember this: each postcard from Toronto has the Tower on it. Yes, you are going to talk for hours about how creative the building at the Waterfront looks (like a badly stacked sandwich). Must we also remember that Central Offices and Corporate Headquarters siege in Toronto? Must we say that they adore the game of «Guess on which floor is the money?» («Ha-ha, you lose, it may or may not be in Panama»)?
I said it: Toronto has a distinct flavour. At some point, after the financial district, if you follow Dundas Street up, you are going to find open air and sky. You will immediately feel relieved, and happy. The Asian neighborhood (as I like to call it, because you are in India, and a block away you are in China, then in Korea, and then, plop, mango bubble tea). Food is everywhere, amazing, and delicious, even if I did not know what I was eating. Most of the menus are in foreign languages, and I forgot to bring my glasses with me. I am not exaggerating I had to point my finger at picture in the menu, like a child, in two different restaurants. I have no clue what animal protein I ate. But I can tell you it was delicious.
For a second, I felt like I was abroad. There in a corner, I witnessed an old toothless rocker playing a steel guitar and then it suddenly hit me: I saw Canadian Indian teenagers laughing and speaking Hindi; a couple (she was Asian and he from another race, who cares?), tenderly speaking baby language to each other and completely in love; a stunning Muslim veiled woman, and I mean stunning up to the point that her guardian looked uncomfortable, took our gaze to a ride with her imposing elegance ; I mean, I felt like I was given the fabulous opportunity to live 20 lives in a span of a second. I was in Quantum mode. And for that reason, I thank Toronto.
I must also give a shoutout to the Westin Castel Harbor Hotel and to Mariah, at the Front Desk. People from the Westin: You have a staff one can only dream about, an amazing hotel, a great bar, and a joke that looks like part of a gym. Thank you for keeping me fat.
Proofread by: Elizabeth Martinez
Pedro Carbajal
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