From the back seat of a cab en route to the hotel I was reminded of Sydney. The shops made of glass and steel with their bright signs showed that it was a clean and capable city, but it hardly told me much about the character. Is this what international tourists think of Sydney? Lucky we have that harbour to keep them happy. Further afield from Yonge St it was easier to see what makes Toronto different from the next city. Tree lined streets covered with autumn leaves, Victorian houses, streetcars and radical contemporary additions to early 20th century buildings
The next day we set off on foot to the western side of the city. Past the Art Gallery of Ontario with its bulging submarine-like facade, a recent addition by Frank Gehry; past the Royal Ontario Museum, an old stone building which has been attacked by a contemporary steel with pleasing results; then to our destination Kensington Market. This is an open air market where the stalls all have shop fronts, more akin to shanty-town markets I’ve seen in South East Asia than to something like Paddy’s market in Sydney. Colourful fruit and vegie displays, smelly fish shops, European delis and Middle Eastern stalls of dried fruit and nuts sat amiably next to signs of gentrification.
The area around Nassau St is one place to find the work of local designers. There’s Hardboiled printing t-shirts with designs from locals, and across the road is Kid Icarus, a stationary shop with pretty cards, paper and actual prints from locals. Can we have one of these in Sydney please?
The area has a laid back hippy vibe, helped by the shops being more like converted houses with front yards. Like stumbling into a tea party you’re not invited to, I was on my best behaviour and decided against whipping out the camera. In front of the bookshop, This Ain’t The Rosedale Library, two guys solemnly tinkered on their clarinet and guitar as if they were sitting in their own lounge room with no one else around. Girls in beanies stood around with coffee in cups and saucers, presumably from the cafe next door.
Further south and a couple of days later we would welcome more of this hippie vibe. Want soy bacon with your French toast and maple syrup? Sadie’s Diner is known as one of the few places in the city to get a decent vegan breakfast. We met a couple of ex-pat vegans there who had recently relocated to Toronto with much ease, commenting on just how pleasant the customs people were.
We also met up some some “Irish” relatives while in town. I say “Irish” because, like my Mum, this cousin of hers left Belfast some decades ago. Being chauffered along the scenic route to Missisauga showed us more than we could cover on foot. The site of the yearly fair, leafy inner suburbs, High Park, a Polish neighbourhood and a strip known for its gigs. Despite having never met these relatives before, a common history and some similar interests – music, theatre, online media – gave us plenty to talk about. And we were of course pleased to have a wonderful home cooked meal after many nights eating out. Can anyone make mashed potato as well as the Irish? I think not.
Two other great things I must mention about Toronto: shoe shops and the Art Gallery of Toronto.
The Bata Shoe Museum in Toronto is dedicated to the history of the shoe. Yes, it sounds frivolous but the best bits were thoroughly educational from the oldest known footprints (found in volcanic ash) to early shoes from different continents and religions.
So given there is a shoe museum it makes sense that there are also many great shoe shops, particularly boots. If you’re going to spend half the year wearing boots you want to have a few to choose from. Gum boots are taken to a new level, and apres ski-boots are just as fashionable as regular boots. Even Camper and Nike make snow boots.
The Art Gallery of Ontario with its $18 entry fee almost didn’t make the cut. The special exhibitions weren’t that exciting and we’d just been to plenty of museums and galleries in NY and DC. But with nineteen Canadian dollars left in my purse and a few hours before our bus left I decided it was meant to be. The stars must’ve aligned because it was the best gallery experience I can remember. The Gehry extension to the gallery made a smooth transition from looking in the gallery to looking through the windows to the park and street below. The elevator had a video installation work which went for as long as your ride (“You don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to”). There was a whole room of Henry Moore sculptures naturally lit by skylights at the request of his daughter. Canadian art was well represented and its significance explained. There were two floors of contemporary art, many rooms of drawings and a room crammed from floor to ceiling with paintings minus labels to demonstrate how women’s art used to be exhibited. I peaked around a corner from the drawings to look out the window and was invited to have a look at their study room and adjoining print archive where they store 60,000 works. They had a few works out on the tables for closer inspection, including The Vampire by Edvard Munch. The only disappointing bit was not being able to find postcards of the Gehry building in the shop!
