Sunday, NOV 1 Vancouver to Toronto
An older Asian couple at the airport, masks AND Face shields, busy taping themselves into clear plastic garbage bags, head-to-toe DIY PPE, it makes you think, you don't see Asian anti-maskers, they know better, know this shit is serious, they've been talking to family back home and they aren't taking any chances.
The flight, long, masked, just stare in to space.
And, finally, arrive, airport, bungle through trains until finally I arrive at Union Station, the hotel Cosmopolitan a short walk, just off of Yonge and King Street.
Toronto.
The change, from the rainy Kootenays to the relatively balmy weather of TO, the change in scenery, people, it's a welcome thing. Masks, masks, everywhere, they've become a fashion thing, Louis Vuitton, masks that match your shirt, your tie, your trousers, coat, socks, masks, comfort of your own breath on your face...
Walk, explore, bright lights, big city...
The hotel room, on the 23rd floor, a view of the CN Tower, unpack my bags, a proper glitter storm, glitter everywhere, raining on the carpet, one of Stormy's gifts has exploded in transit...
Friendly Police -their motto "To Serve and Protect", cliched but it describes the ideal, directing traffic, helping pedestrians crossing, everywhere the homeless, the down-and-out, in the evening all the corners are claimed, a sort of turf-war,
Arrived on a Sunday, the city is dead, lockdown makes it even more so, finally, a room of my own, ensuite laundry, shower, kitchenette, a sofa, TV, bed, a commanding view of the city, the CN Tower is lit up only a few hundred meters from my room, Unpack, ready to retire to the sofa but - wait - WAIT - There's a bed, and I think to myself "Why Not?" ...
It's been a long while.
MONDAY: Walk the city in increasing spirals, discover...25 KM.
Shops, cool, unique, Masks, Xenophobia, Fetishize this, anonymous in the big city, the mask completes the outfit.
Lunch with Ari, lovely Ari, catch up, old times, these friends like distant memories from the days of sobriety.
Evening, too tired from all the walking to find a liquor store, unbelievable that in a City the Size of Toronto, given my location there isn't a liquor store for miles, none open, and I have to be tired because I'm not bothered to go find them...
TUESDAY: Internet, cell service intermittent in these glass and concrete canyons. Morning wakes me on my window a full hour before it breaks to the street, walking, West Bloor to Yonge, there are bead shops, fabric shops, a perfumery where you can have your own custom scent made up - in more prosperous times, maybe.
Everywhere the homeless and drug addicted, midday, lying twitching in the middle of the sidewalk, the mentally ill, shouting and madly gesticulating at traffic, pedestrians, no-one and the whole world at once, their bedding and homes built into the cracks between buildings, under scaffolds and tarps, in the evening they'll all be called to their corner, cardboard signs detailing the unfortunate circumstances that led them here, for now they're tripping, recovering. Neighborhoods, some better, some worse, through bombed out ghettoes filled with abandoned and empty shops, then into lively and vibrant neighborhoods, fashionable, upping my game, I'm clearly the out-of-towner, the rube, in my dirty jeans and wool-nutted sweater. There are the ubiquitous repeating Starbucks, Tim Hortons, A&W & Subway, but there are still great pockets of independently owned businesses, unique, non-generic, this appeals to me.
Finally, 13 KM later, home, the hotel room, TV, the election, news, it's looking grim, a TRUMP sweep on CNN, their reporting completely over the top...
WEDNESDAY: St. Laurence Market, Lakeside, Church Street, the pawnbrokers overflowing with old watches, but it's unlikely there will be any treasures found here. A few art galleries - Stormy's time is coming, for sure, more neighborhoods, people that know each other, walk, walk, 16 KM today, home, TV, the election, no results as of yet. The world is on fire.
THURSDAY: Cabbage Town. Meh. The Royal Ontario Museum, down the fashionable West Bloor, Hermes, Louis Vuitton, down through Queens Park, a mere 12 KM today, home, election news, still none, CNN's frantic pace as if it's the final auction at the end of the world, electoral districts yet to be counted, a few hours to report at breakneck speed that nothing is new, it's insanity made worse by the fact that I'm watching it...
FRIDAY: Take the train to Scarborough, get out and walk, I'm working a theory that the thrift shops out here will be better than the ones I've found closer in to Toronto.
This was a mistake. Grueling, boring redstone suburbs, nothing of interest, all the charm of walking the Calgary Trail, generic shops selling generic products. A thrift shop every couple of miles. When I find them - as predicted, they are infinitely better than the ones downtown - but really, what do I need? I'm here with buggerdly-fuck for luggage and little room for any more. Walking beside highways, the homeless encampments and garbage strewn beside the highway, the mask is the new water bottle of disposability, future archeologists will date this layer of trash by the thin blue cotton layer, the year of the pandemic. By the end of the day - a few treasures spotted, one acquired (separate post), in total over 42000 steps walked on hard concrete, more than 30 KM. I'm exhausted.
SATURDAY: West St. Claire, the neighborhood quickly decays, from posh and upmarket to ghetto, Thrift Shops, like those nearer the city, picked, walk back via a peculiar Occult Shop, the back portion - where it would be curious to browse, closed off due to Covid, nothing to see here, walk on, a shop devoted to Weird Antiquities, but nothing so weird, mostly rusty bits of metal, belt buckles, the kind of stuff a metal detectorist might turn up in a few years combing the playgrounds and churches. Accosted by gypsies, trying to sell me gold plated lead jewelry, I've seen this done before, it's more of a European thing, but it's here as well, proof of how cosmopolitan Toronto is. Down West King Street, the Entertainment district, the theatres are all closed but the Cafes, restaurants, people vibrant, I notice people looking after the homeless - buying them cigarettes, food, you never see this in Calgary, more so in the Kootenays.
16 KM. On the TV tonight - The election is called, celebrating in the street, Biden has won, and the tyrant still is tweeting about his victory, not conceding, the world is mad. CNN, adverts for medications that promise more side effects and damage than the illnesses they're treating, adult diapers, mental health, if your mental health is suffering just TURN OFF THE FUCKING TV!!!, no, don't do that, we have a product for you...
Find another channel. Storage Wars Canada. Garbage, I enjoyed the original, but this, too scripted, the characters - well, again, too scripted. It's not amusing.
SUNDAY, MONDAY, resting, I'm done. The Museum of Illusions, expensive, boring. This hard walking on concrete has exhausted me, the perpetual grey of the city, the memory of fresh air, trees, mountains, I've overstayed - Toronto, great, but I've no business here other than friendship, there's nothing for me out here, and any thoughts of settling are eroded by the pandemic, the flat horizons, perhaps - a return to more properly explore the suburbs, with a truck, collect the treasures I left behind and flog them all back west, but - really - I'm not a dealer.