Toronto, Skyscraper Village

The Greyhound to Toronto was full to the last minute. I thought about sleeping for two hours, I don’t know how much. We all arrived at 10am, off to the subway to find Suhail’s accommodation. With 45kg, even 2km is an ordeal. Arrive soaking wet again. Suhail welcomes me. He’s all orange, like I was blue. He is a web designer and also studied architecture. And clears his throat after eating cheese. A quick shower, an email. And back out onto the street.

Toronto’s centre is tiny, the high-rises are limited to just three by four kilometres. All around are small Victorian buildings. It looks like Skyscraper Village.
At some point in a very limited period of time, a few architects thought: let’s go out to eat! They went out for beans together. Then they decided to squeeze their arses together until one of them couldn’t take any more. Only then should everyone be allowed to. That’s exactly what Toronto is like. A huge pile of skyscrapers in the centre. Concentrated, tall and gleaming in the sun. And surrounded by cosy Victorian sauce.

The city centre is so clean that I don’t dare sit on the floor for my first meal on Canadian soil. I would have soiled it with my trousers. I looked for a balustrade made of red marble. Unfortunately, it shone so brightly in the sun that I sat down next to it, blinded. I took a step forwards on all the paths, followed by lunges to the left and right. So much free space has to be utilised somehow.

I can’t go home, I have to keep going, Suhail said: Surfing? Ashbridges Bay Park. Into the subway (totally confused by all 4 lines), over to the tram, out across Queens Road to the east. The little Victorian houses look like Duckburg, very soporific. I fall asleep every third stop. Then walk another 1 km to the beach. A quick bearing, beautiful. Afraid of falling asleep with my passport and waking up without it. Home. Lay down briefly at around 6 to sleep.

I woke up at 9 the next morning. Was necessary. Suhail makes a Jordanian breakfast. Good black tea and pitta with so much oregano that my tongue goes numb. Awesome. Suhail is gay, just like the whole neighbourhood. Hairdressers, dentists, florists, supermarkets and all the flats have rainbow flags. Proud to be pride, with piggy beef-ball posters featuring the quintessential gay image. There’s a parade here on Saturday, in the centre of the gay village. And a big protest. The town counsellor is currently shagging one of the property sharks, which poses a massive threat to the continued existence of Gay Village.

I’m off to see Irmgard, my great aunt. I’m travelling the world. She tells me all day how proud she is of where she’s been. And she’s been to many places. I hope I’ll be more than proud. We go out for lunch, immediately followed by ice cream and a café, followed by the beach, this time with a kiteboard. The wind is blowing 90 degrees offshore. As I don’t feel like rescuing my kite from Alaska in an emergency, I leave it to watching volleyball and giving kite tips to a few girls. Home again.

In the evening I invite Suhail for dinner. The neighbourhood is buzzing, one day before Pride Weekend. I pay $90 for 2 burgers with fries, a salad and 2 pitchers of beer. I think I should blog less and work more…

The next day I went straight back into town to buy a ticket to Buffalo / Niagara Falls. A bit of a stroll. The whole centre of Toronto is connected underground, the purest shopping bunker complex. In the afternoon I go to the beach again. Another 20kg carried 2 km for nothing. Wind 3-5 Beaufort, very gusty, but good. But unfortunately fully offshore again. As I don’t want to arrive in America until tomorrow, the lifeboat isn’t motorised and I’d be the only kiter, I don’t bother. Volleyball. Back to Suhail, having girl talk with a friend. Girl talk? Sounds good and important anyway, feelings and all. Straight men rarely do that.

The whole gay village is cordoned off for the party. Boom basses everywhere, and I’m the only straight girl for miles around. It looks like Mardi Gras, only without the nupsis. I invest my last Canadian dollars in a 300-beer liquor store. Impressive. You’re not allowed to drink on the street in Ontario, and alcohol is only available in these stores. That’s why it’s quite expensive in the pubs (from $5 a pint). If you hang your arm over the fence with a beer, you’ll get a scolding. At the same time, the police chief of Toronto announced two years ago: “Smoking pot in public? We won’t care.” Since gay marriage was also legalised in Ontario on the same weekend, there was freedom in a double pack, so to speak. The Americans are said to have invaded like locusts.
Getting married stoned. And on Sunday they went to church :-)