In Toronto, Again

Because of scheduling conflicts with VIA Rail, it is impossible to take a train straight from Halifax to Vancouver (or back for that matter). Rather, all travelers must spend one night in Toronto and catch the next "Canadian" train to Vancouver the next evening.

(View of Toronto from the train, on the way in to town. That's the steeple on St. James' Cathedral to the left of the crane, and St. Lawrence Market is building that looks like a barn to the right of the crane.)

Before leaving Halifax I had wanted to wash half of my clothes, but I got in too late the night before to use the machines, and hostels typically monopolize the washers and dryers until late afternoon to clean all the sheets for the beds. In Montreal I had noticed that I only had enough detergent left for one load, and that if I had washed my clothes then, I would have ran out of clean ones before leaving Vancouver. However, through pure luck, I had randomly added just enough clean clothes to my travelling wardrobe to make it back to Halifax in a relative state of freshness... if I waited until Toronto to wash all of my clothes once I had worn them once, that is.

In Toronto I literally took off everything I could, even using my fleece coat in lieu of a shirt, and stuffed everything into one load in an old Maytag washer. I was worried I would break it, but my clothes came out fine. However, in perhaps the only downside of the Canadiana Backpacker's Inn, in Toronto, for all 4 buildings, and probably more than 100 rooms, there are only two washers and two dryers, and one of those was broken during my stay.

This meant that it took three hours to wash and partially dry (I overloaded the dryer too) one load of clothes. Regardless, I had completed my single-minded goal for this first night, and so turned my attention to my new goal: trying to survive the horrendous heat and humidity inside the hostel bedrooms (HI hostels may lack character, but at least they don't lack good air conditioning.)

The next day at 10:30 AM, after the free all-you-can-eat pancake breakfast, I had to check out of my room. I was wondering what I would do with my bags while I waited for my 10:00 PM train, but the hostel was kind of enough to store my bags for free, and to let me bum around in the hostel all day.

I didn't spend too long inside that afternoon though, because I had to find my way back to Kensington Market to try and pick up some organic snacks for the four day journey to Vancouver (or at least to get me the day and a half to Winnipeg).

(A bustling Richmond Avenue, in down town Toronto.)

I succeeded in finding some excellent 7-grain crackers, and organic granola bars, as well as picking up another bottle of cool and refreshing Ting to help fight the blazing hot sun. I couldn't find any organically grown fruit though, so on the way back I picked up a bag of nectarines from a market in China Town.

Over lunch I had stopped in at a Korean restaurant in Kensington Market that was selling the most expensive bottles of imported Korean soju I've ever seen (see pic below). I had noticed that all the meat I had been eating over the course of the trip had not been doing my body composition any favours, and with four days of sitting on a train ahead of me, I thought I'd best order something vegetarian.

While my kalguksu was delicious, if not entirely authentic (I don't remember round carrot slices in my bowls in Korea), I unfortunately left my tourist map at the restaurant. By the time I noticed that my map was gone though, it was too late and I was lost and couldn't remember where my hostel was.

As I stumbled around in the heat of the afternoon sun, I was stopped by another tourist who needed directions. By this point I had more or less developed a rudimentary grasp of the lay-out of the streets in the Toronto core, so I was more than willing to give him the help I had received upon first arriving to Toronto. As I looked up to show him the way though, I noticed, standing there on the corner of Richmond and John St as if it were waiting for me to come across the country to find it, Canada's greatest treasure - the National Film Board (NFB) of Canada's Media Theque.

The Media Theque is essentially the physical version of the NFB's online free media collection, but with way more titles. There are over 5 500 titles from which to choose, all of which are viewable every day, for free, on personal mini-theatre viewing stations. The system is similar to the in-flight personal entertainment systems you may have seen on modern aeroplanes, but without having to wait ten minutes for the advertisements to finish before being able to view another film film. You can also buy physical copies of these, and any other NFB produced movies, from the Media Theque. On top of all that, there is a theatre which shows advanced screenings of unreleased NFB films every day.

The Media Theque is air conditioned, and open until 10 PM most days, so I was able to escape today's heat by watching a french language, subtitled film called The Fight for True Farming. The film is about the struggle faced by Canadian independent farmers as they try to battle their own seemingly inept (or corrupt) government and the Monsanto corporation and other huge multi-nationals, in order to maintain their right to farm organically and sustainably.

Apart from being wonderfully made, The Fight For True Farming was a frightening look at how dangerous our food really is (Monsanto's own tests show that its products cause cancer), and how the Canadian government often ignores the advice of the Canadian Food Inspection Agency when allowing products from American agricultural corporations to be sold/tested inside Canada.

After finishing The Fight for True Farming, I selected another great documentary by a Canadian author and artist, Douglas Coupland, called A Souvenir of Canada. In A Souvenir of Canada, Coupland attempts to create a house, as an art exhibit, that captures what it truly means to be Canadian. The house in question was distinctly Canadian itself, since it was one of the tens of thousands of identically made 1950s Canada Mortgage and Housing Corporation (CMHC) houses made after World War II for the returning veterans.

In his quest to find things that are distinctly Canadian, Coupland tries to first discover what it actually means to be Canadian. I thought it a fitting way to spend an afternoon in Toronto (perhaps the most Canadian city in Canada) as this whole cross-Canada adventure I am on, was a response to my own desire to discover Canada, and what it means to be Canadian.

After watching a third documentary, I found directions back to my hostel which was actually only a block away. I had a "last supper" before being confined to the train, and tried to freshen up as best as possible.

(The outside of the Much Music/CTV building.)

On the way to the train station I walked through the background as a Much Music VJ did some report outside the Much Music building. This was actually the second time I had inadvertently found my way on TV, as earlier in the day I walked through a report for a Naked News broadcast, while a topless reporter interviewed a random woman about her thoughts on Tiger Woods.

While I waited behind the camera man for the light to change so that I could cross Spadina Ave, I was impressed with the reporter's courage and concentration. Not only did she have to stand there at a busy intersection literally half naked, but she had to be professional about it despite all the oglers, cat callers, and amateur paparazzi with their cell phone cameras.

I can report happily that she made it through her segment without making any mistake or showing any sign of being phased, and I dare say she even sounded better than most professional TV news reporters while doing so.

While I was standing at the light I also over heard two young women say "if you got it, flaunt it", in reference to the reporter. I got mad at them and said, "she's not 'flaunting' anything, she's doing her job. All you girls in your short shorts and tank tops are the ones trying to 'flaunt it.'" After this I felt much better.

Toronto to Ottawa: 386 km, 5.5 Hours

I really enjoyed my time in Toronto, and I also really enjoyed my time at the HI-Toronto hostel. The hostel was a pretty standard HI hostel, but I had the same room mates for all three nights, and so it started to feel like home before I had to leave. When it was time to leave, one of my room mates even walked with me and wheeled one of my suitcases the 1.5 km to the bus depot.

Despite getting to the bus depot relatively early, there was already a very long line-up waiting for the 11:30 AM Express bus to Ottawa. As more and more people boarded the bus, I started to think there might not be enough seats to hold everyone since the line behind me had also grown in this time. With about eight people in front of me I saw the bus driver start counting passengers in line, and tell the person in front of me that she was the "last one". This did not suit my plans though, so I looked around for some possible explanation and noticed a second bus waiting some distance back, which turned out to be for us.

While this new bus may not have been nice and new, like the other bus with a Texas licence plate, but with only 12 passengers, it was virtually empty and I thought perhaps I would be able to spread out for the 5 hour trip. My hopes were soon dashed though, for fifteen minutes later we stopped at a small station on the way out of Toronto and some twenty people were waiting to board the bus, some of whom had been turned away from the 9:30 AM bus, which was also full.

The two high-school aged boys in front of me were part of a small group carrying instruments, and so I asked them where they were going? They said they were heading to Ottawa for a music festival. At the time I thought nothing of it, but little did I know it would soon affect my stay in Ottawa too.

Toronto: Full Day #1

Before I came to Toronto I made a list of things I wanted to do whilst in the city. While I do this for every place I visit, it's rare that nearly all of the places I want to visit are in roughly the same place. This is yet another reason to love Toronto.

The day's sight seeing started off with a walk all the way up the famous Yonge Street - famous because I had actually heard of it before. I turned west on College Street, and walked past the Legislative Building, and the edge of the University of Toronto campus, where I stopped for lunch at Frankie's hot dog stand. I wasn't planning on buying any hot dogs, but the guy's name was Frankie, and he had a Brooklyn accent, so how could I not? Frankie prepared a massive ten-inch long Italian Sausage for me, and I sat and ate it on some steps while tiny birds hopped around me waiting for crumbs to drop.

From here I continued west on College Street until I hit Spadina Ave, where I turned south to explore Chinatown. Ironically, most of the restaurants in Chinatown seemed to be Vietnamese, or some other Asian variety other than Chinese. The real Chinese businessmen were instead concentrating on selling products like "Sweet Mangos" from Mexico, that weren't very sweet, for slightly less than standard price. From Chinatown I turned down a side street to explore the Kensington Market area.

My French roommate told me that Kensington Market was one of his favourite areas, and that it was full of "ee-peas" (hippies). At first I just noticed colourful, re-painted Victorian-era houses, but no hippies. Then I noticed that I had turned down the wrong street.

The real Kensington Market was originally supposed to be a suburb for rich Englishmen, but those plans fell through when no one bought the mansions, and so the developers turned the large lots into ten mini-houses all attached together - a "deca-plex"? - and turned the buildings into the original "affordable housing" units. Later, the area became a Jewish neighbourhood, and finally it made the transformation into an eclectic "ee-pea" market in the '60s. In 2006 it even became a National Historic Site of Canada.

(This bike shop wasn't in Kensington Market, but it should have been.)

While this was apparently the first sunny day all week in Toronto, it was still a Friday afternoon, and so the streets were not as full as I would have thought. Tomorrow will be Saturday, and I will come back to see the area at its best.

(Torontonians relaxing and enjoying the incredible weather in Grange Park, down town, behind AGO.)

From Kensington Market I started to walk south towards the CN Tower, but stopped in to check out the Art Gallery of Ontario (AGO) along the way. It was only about 2:30 PM at this time, but I was told the gallery took about 4-5 hours to peruse, even at a quick pace, and that the gallery closed at 5:30 PM. Furthermore, I needed to get to a chocolate shop called SOMAs to taste what I was told was the world's best hot chocolate (I love hot chocolate).

Eventually I did make it to the CN Tower, and did my duty as a tourist to ride what must be one of the fastest elevators ever invented. (See below for a video of the ride up all 147 stories.)

(Toronto's CN Tower during the day and night.)

(Looking down at Toronto, 500 metres below me, through the Glass Floor.)

(Looking down at SkyDome from the CN Tower.)

(Looking up at CN Tower from inside SkyDome.)

SOMA is located in another National Historic Site area of Toronto called The Distillery District. As the name suggests it used to house an old whiskey distillery, but ten years ago it was transformed into an eclectic collection of small art galleries, bakeries, what I assume are "artsy" restaurants, and of course SOMA.

(Some art? In The Distillery District of Old Toronto.)

SOMA is what I am prepared to call the world's best chocolate factory; or at least the best I've been to so far. The chocolate is prepared on site from imported Fair Trade, organic cocoa beans (oh no! I've caught The "Ee-pea"), and then used to make delicious drinks and treats. I had been urged to try one of SOMA's famous hot chocolates by Tourism Toronto's "Top 25 Things You Must Do In Toronto" web page, and I never knew that I didn't know hot chocolate could so incredible.

I had ordered a regular dark chocolate hot chocolate called "The Dark Side of the Mug," but I think I was given the "Spicy Mama" hot chocolate instead. I was not worried at all though, because it turns out the Spicy Mama is the best hot chocolate ever invented. It contains dark Peruvian chocolate, melted, and mixed with chili peppers, Madagascar vanilla, ginger, and orange peel; in short, it's a real zinger.

Since I was now in Old Toronto, I decided to visit the St. Lawrence Market to see if I could find some fresh fruit actually grown in Ontario. I didn't make it in time to catch the farmers at the Farmer's Market though, so I stopped in at another Mediterranean fast food restaurant to have a gyro (lamb and beef) pizza instead.

The man working at the restaurant told me he had been working in Edmonton for two months, but "couldn't take it any longer" than that before he just had to move back to Toronto, even though he could not find a full-time job there. I told him I had lived in Edmonton for four years, and upon hearing this he appeared to become very ill and looked like he was going to throw up.

Up to this point, it should be obvious that I had done a lot of walking around the Toronto Core, and so I feel qualified to say that this area of Toronto is a great walking city. I've yet to visit Montreal or Vancouver, and so I will hold off calling it the best walking city, but it must definitely be in the top-three; it even has bike lanes! (For my readers in Grande Prairie, a bike lane is a section, or "lane", of the main road that has been reserved for commuters riding bicycles, and is a sign of a progressive city.)

(Toronto also has street trolleys.)

In my travels this day I must have crossed at least 200 intersections, yet I can count the number of times I had to wait more than twenty seconds to cross any one of them on the fingers of my two hands. Furthermore, even at night, down town Toronto feels incredibly safe. And despite what Alberta students are taught in school, Torontonians are very friendly. As I mentioned in my last post, I had a number of friendly interactions with people on the street, and it should be noted that even the shop keepers and employees in Toronto are friendly. The nineteen year-olds working behind the counters of some of said shops even do actual work, and don't just stand there "texting". But I digress...

(Even the graffiti artists have a sense of humour. The "Post No Bills" Sign was painted on this construction barrier by the City of Toronto. The "Bills" were added on afterwards.)

After finishing my pizza I rushed back home to grab my jacket, and then raced over to the SkyDome (now called The Rogers Centre) to watch the Toronto Blue Jays play the Texas Rangers.

I expected the stadium to be packed, but there could not have been more than 10 000 fans in attendance- the stadium holds 50 000 - so it created an odd empty sensation, what with entire sections empty. Regardless, I was determined to enjoy this rare experience, and there was a small section of drunk fans a few rows over who provided some extra entertainment with their boisterous, if not always coherent cheering.

When I arrived at my seat at the top of the 2nd Inning, the score was already 3-3 and I feared I had missed all the scoring. I needn't have worried though, for no sooner had I sat down in my seat than the Rangers scored, and then scored again and again and again until they were up 9-3.

At this point, some guy behind me proclaimed the game to be "over", but in the bottom of the 3rd Inning the blue jays scored 8 runs to take the lead, 11-9. By the bottom of the 4th Inning the score was 15-10, and I wondered if I was not actually watching a CFL game.

(3-run home run in the third inning to start the come back. I can't believe I actually caught this on video.)

By the end of the 6th Inning the score was still 15-10, but the time was 9:45 PM, so I left back home. As if this had not already been a memorable day/night, on the way home I came across no less than ten Torontonians coming back from watching the NHL Playoffs at the bars, but wearing Montreal Canadiens jerseys. It was such a break from tradition that the local papers had pictures of it all over their front pages.

It appears then as though we have been poorly misinformed about Torontonians, and Toronto in general, in the rest of Canada. In the small section where I walked, it seems Toronto is a lovely city, and one which every Canadian should visit at least once. I'll be back to Toronto for one day on my trip back across Canada to Vancouver, and this thought gives me a fizzy feeling inside.

Toronto's Core: don't knock it 'til you try it. (For those of you who have already tried it, you can knock it all you want, and I probably will too after I've been to Montreal and Vancouver.) Note: I only went up to Bloor St. I hear north of that is a "no-go" area for the hip, happening people.

Winnipeg to Toronto: Over 2000 KMs, 32 Hours

I had planned to wake up early this morning in order to find a Tim Horton's at which to buy breakfast, but even though I had set my alarm the night before I'd forgotten to turn it "on," and so I woke up with just enough time to shower, dry off with my tiny sports towel I received as a gift from Choi in Korea, and eat yesterday's left over dinner from the hostel's next-door hippie vegetarian pub. Eating supper for breakfast and drying off with a tiny towel made me feel like I was back in Korea again.

After my shower I cleared the sheets off my bed, and was in the process of taking them downstairs to be thrown in the "to be washed" bin, but an Aussie staffer (it's a hostel, so it has to have an Aussie working in it) told me that I could just leave them in the room because the hostel was "self-catering" (I'm not sure he knows what self-catering means).

The bus to the airport - where the Greyhound depot is - was packed, and so I felt a bit guilty for taking up two seats with all of my luggage, but I distracted myself from my shame by looking at the pretty, old houses along the way, and the stunning Manitoba Legislative Building. Along the way I also got to overhear a busker explaining to his mother (he must have been visiting her in Winnipeg) how to work the streets at the right time in order to make money more efficiently.

Up until now, the buses on which I had been travelling were relatively empty, and most of the passengers could take an entire row to themselves. However, the line-up for this bus to Toronto was so long that the security check before boarding took over over half an hour. (Yes, they have security checks on buses now.) It goes without saying that it was hard finding a free seat.

The trip to the Ontario border did not take too long, and shortly thereafter we entered the Canadian Shield and came to the stunning Lake of the Woods near Kenora - made even more stunning by having travelled past nothing but grass for the last two days. It was also in Kenora that I bought a hot chocolate at a Tim Horton's for the first time since leaving Alberta.

Later, in Dryden, I became sick of eating rest stop food, so I found a supermarket and bought a giant bag of apples. I noticed that people in Dryden eat the same fruit that we do in Alberta (BC fruit), but that their fruit comes from much further away. After eating a vegetarian meal the night before I must have caught "The Hippie", because I searched through the entire fruit stand until I finally came across the only Ontario grown piece of fruit there - some Ambrosia apples from Eastern Ontario.

(Tow Mater in Dryden.)

(Its comforting to know that this restroom is not running out of toilet paper any time soon.)

We travelled deeper into Ontario, and just as the sun was setting we came to Lake Superior. From here on we'd be travelling in the dark, but I was spared at least some boredom when my neighbour invited me to watch a movie with her on her laptop.

I thought I was on a long journey, but my neighbour, Angel, was travelling from Vancouver to Montreal on the Greyhound, and was currently on a three day stretch from Regina, Saskatchewan, to London, Ontario. Later, the person sitting behind me said he had hitch-hiked across Canada five times, and one time even made the journey in five days (faster than the Greyhound). He was also on a trip across the country.

At 11:30 PM, we pulled into Schreiber, and had a short rest at the Two Rooms Cafe (I can't remember the exact name, but it had Two Rooms in it somewhere). The elderly couple that owned the small restaurant had stayed up all night to cook a pizza for our bus, which I thought was exceptionally nice, but I was suffering fruit withdrawals, so just ate three of my apples instead.

After an awful, neck-breaking "sleep", I arose to see the sun just coming up over the horizon near Timberland. With the long, thin, wind-swept clouds radiating out from the red sun, it looked like the flag of old, Imperial Japan.

Five minutes later we reached Sault Ste. Marie, right on the U.S. border with Michigan, and I was dazzled by its charming three-storey red brick houses with white, painted wood "fire escape" ladders on the side. A roommate at the hostel in Toronto told me "that's why everyone says there's something about The Sault."

At Blind River, I jumped out of the bus to take a picture of Lake Huron. The busker I met on the Winnipeg city bus had apparently been travelling on the same Greyhound as me, and he told me that this was the place Neil Young wrote about in the song Long May You Run.

(The Mighty Huron, as viewed from Blind River.)

While I had been enamoured with the beauty and character of Sault Ste. Marie, the same cannot be said about Sudbury, where we passed through later. Angel used to live in this region, and told me that Sudbury was just a large work town. I know all about work towns, and so I vowed never to come back.

At this point, the "local bus" on which we had been travelling turned into an express bus, but we still had another five hours to travel in order to reach Toronto. Here I feel it must be said that Albertans tend to pride themselves on their ability to drive long distances of ten hours or more in a single day, but the sheer expanse of Ontario is nothing but humbling and will send even the most hardened of Albertan travellers home with his (or her) tail between his legs.

Finally, at 6:12 PM, on Thursday (we left on Wednesday), we pulled into the coach terminal in downtown Toronto.

Now, as an Albertan, I am trained from birth to be suspicious (jealous?) of Toronto and Torontonians in general, which is putting it perhaps too nicely. However, on the walk home I was helped by no less than three strangers, which left me to wonder if I had perhaps gotten off the bus in the wrong city.

After settling in at my hostel and greeting my roommates, I took my first shower in two days and tried to find a restaurant.

If I had been in Calgary now I could have walked around downtown for two hours without finding even so much as a coffee shop, but this is Toronto, and so two blocks from the hostel I walked in to a Greek restaurant, at which the owner gave me way too much delicious food for my money and urged me to sample all of his food before taking my order.

Tomorrow I will explore the city more, and perhaps attend a Toronto Blue Jays baseball game. For now though, I look forward to my first decent sleep in 48 hours.