Toronto

Toronto, a lot of the time, makes me sad. Although it's promoted as a model city and an international point of comparison, my short trip home from work, which takes me west on Queen Street and north on Bathurst, gives me a lot to be sad for. I see people who are cold and unhappy. I see people throwing garbage into the streets. I see grafitti and neglect and sidewalks that are crumbling into the gutter and the skeletons of bicycles that have had their seats and tires stolen, and faded signs for concerts covering more faded signs for concerts, plastered onto windows. I have become almost blissfully ignorant, carefully donning my headphones as I leave my safe, tree-lined street each day. But today, I took the headphones off and tried to absorb some of the environment around me. I noticed for the first time the thead-bare seats of the streetcar, and wondered how many people had sat on them this week, this month. I wondered what their stories were, and who cared about them. I watched traffic race by me. I don't think they notice me, watching them in their cars. Sometimes I wonder, if it were 50 below outside and blizzarding and I was standing waiting for the street car, would someone in Toronto offer to stop and drive me where I needed to go? If I were driving in Toronto, I would probably be stopping all too often. This is my best and my worst quality.

I saw homeless people. In fact, I saw a homeless man deep in conversation with a well-dressed business man. The homeless man was perched on top of a garbage can, wrapped in shards of material and torn clothing. He had a small dog with mangy hair and bits of a garbage bag tied around his feet like shoes. The business man was talking with him about the weather. They were both laughing, which I found incredibly humane. I wanted to see what they were laughing about.

I saw a couple try to board the streetcar that I was travelling on. The man looked like he hadn't showered in years, and the woman was shaking and muttering to herself. After trying to convince the driver that they were part of the "Homeless Ride for Free" program and obviously being denied a ride, the woman started to scream obscenities at the driver, really foul things. This made me sad. I didn't even know how to look at her. I find that I have been keeping my eyes down more now that I've moved here. I think that cities probably aren't for me. I don't like the crowds. I don't like how impersonal a block of buildings can feel. I don't like the transience. It's important for me to feel like I belong, but I'm not sure if anyone really belongs in Toronto, or if we are all just passing through it on our way to something more personal. The city is full of people but nothing familiar to me.

Billy Joel wrote love song to a city called "New York State of Mind", and it ended up being one of the most empathetic and emotional songs that was never written for another person. I wish I could feel my feet on the ground here, could find beauty in the chaos, patterns in the traffic, feelings in the small places that haven't been covered in posters of Telus Bunnies. I might wear my headphones again tomorrow. Hopefully soon, I can start looking for signs of spring, and stop writing about the sadness of the dirty, cold street corners. How do people survive without beauty around them? Without feeling like they're known and understood? A city girl at heart, I certainly am not. Give me crickets and uneventful country life any day.