edwards block

Toronto (Sightseeing). June 25: DAY: 0.00km. ODO: 3,993m. AVS: 0.0km/h. MXS: 0.0km/h. ATM: 0:00:00.

Toronto (Sightseeing). June 29: DAY: 0.00km. ODO: 3,993m. AVS: 0.0km/h. MXS: 0.0km/h. ATM: 0:00:00.

…sweating profusely, inhaling carcinogens, and being driven to premature deafness by the noise but, somehow, it’s all good. Toronto is a great city, and I’m enjoying being here.

Haven’t decided when I’m leaving yet, Maybe this week. I don’t want to be in Ottawa for Dominion Day, though.

Millgrove to Toronto. DAY: 99.79km. ODO: 3,993km. AVS: 23.7km/h. MXS: 57.0km/h. ATM: 4:12:21.

As it is only about 75km to Toronto, I had a leisurely morning, and then departed at about 11am. What was I thinking? Thirty degrees and 1264% humidity, and I start cycling at midday. Naturally, rather than ride slowly and take regular shade and water rests, I rode at my normal rate, which is pretty much non-stop. I’m just not good at goofing off.

I took mostly rural roads all the way to Port Credit, but I was relying on my new, $17, small scale map book of Ontario, which as it turns out is less accurate (and much heavier) than the free large scale folding map that I got from the tourism office, and ended up taking a longer (though very scenic) route around Mount Nemo. Once in Port Credit, I found a “Waterfront Trail”, which is a mostly paved route along the waterfront, all the way to (and beyond) Toronto. Parts of it are very badly signed, so it wasn’t a speedy route, but it wasn’t in the traffic of Highway 5 / Dundas street, so I didn’t mind.

Ah… The clean, crisp air of the Lake Ontario!

I arrived at the hostel downtown at Church and King at 4:30 with a headache, probably from the heat, and maybe a bit from hunger.

I’d forgotten how big, hot and noisy Toronto is. You have to pay for cultural opportunity, and I guess that’s how.

I decided to forgo non-stop partying in “The Big Ugly” in favour of a shower, dinner, and good nights sleep.

(Now in Toronto)

It’s hasn’t warmed up much, unfortunately. I arrived at about 5:00pm, and hadn’t eaten a heck of a lot since breakfast, so I was a little hungry. I still had my packet of Air Canada’s “Gourmet Sesame Snacks”, and munched on those while considering the options. Sesame Snacks aren’t much of a meal. 14 grams in total, of which six grams are fat. The bag they come in has more density than the contents, I suspect.

After almost two weeks in the US, my colon will go into spasm if I eat one more piece of red meat. Before I started travelling for work, I was a vegetarian, but vegetarian restaurants are seldom easy to locate in America, especially in the midwest, and one can only eat so much fettucine. Add on a per diem expense account, and soon I was off the wagon.

(American restaurants usually have something on the menu that they bill as “vegetarian”, based only on the fact that it doesn’t contain meat. The lack of vegetables is of no consequence to the menu planners. In Hawaii once, I was excited to see “Veggie Burger” on a fast food restaurant menu. When I received my order, I got a hamburger bun with mustard, lettuce and tomato. And that’s it).

So I found a vegetarian buffet just off of Bay Street, and gorged myself on garbanzo beans, cous-cous and a medley of assorted vegetables. It’s OK, sweet colon. I still like you. Please forgive me!

So much for Canada. Now I’m in Cleveland. One of the computers here crashed, and as I was the closest stooge (I mean, technician), I was nominated. I never did get the work done that I was supposed to in Toronto, but I did go to a lovely dinner party at the home of some friends in the Beaches. I’ll be returning to Toronto on Tuesday to complete the job. In the meantime, here I am in America again.

At the building where we house our computers, there is a lobby security guard named Ed. He’s quite a friendly guy (for an “Ed”), and we’ve had a few good chats. I often find it rare to encounter Americans that I find interesting conversationalists (for some reason though, when I travel in Europe, some of the most interesting people I meet are American). Ed is obviously quite intelligent and we discussed a wide range of topics. He grew up in LA, and told me a bit about what it used to be like when he was a youth (he’s probably 60ish now).

Cleveland, like most of the US cities I visit, has a downtown core that is dying a slow and painful death, the majority of businesses having relocated to suburbia, following the money. It’s not as bad as some (St. Louis springs to mind). However, like St. Louis, there are many beautiful old buildings. In Cleveland they are generally in better shape, and more utilised, but things are still pretty quiet compared to downown Vancouver or Toronto. You can’t get any food after 11:00pm unless you get pizza delivered.

Did I mention the air and water in Cleveland? The first thing I noticed (after the frigid temperature) was the air. I can taste it, and the taste is reminiscent of much-handled pennies. The water has a similar taste. Perhaps it’s all those smokestacks I see on the horizon (in between the cooling towers of the nuclear power plants).

Cup of acid rain, anyone?

Well, I’m back in Canada. That is, if you consider Toronto “Canada”. This city is more American than some American cities, in the sense of traffic and billboards. There was a snowstorm right before I arrived, so walking is a bit of a pain. I only have a pair of black Rockports, but at least they are waterproof. Unlike Vancouver, though, the snow just lays there, rather than turn to slush and back up the storm sewers.

I’m staying at the Sheraton, downtown. It’s a 42-floor concrete monstrosity on Queen St, across from Nathan Phillips square, also known as “City Hall”. For some reason, I always want to call it “Mel Lastman Square”, before I remember and correct myself. I’m on the 14th floor. There is a sign on my door explaining the emergency procedures. I am advised that if I hear a “whaling sound”, the fire alarm has been triggered and I should evacuate by the nearest stairwell. So far, the hallway has been devoid of the sounds of harpoon guns and shouts of “Thar she blows!”.

You know what I can’t stand about hotels (I mean, besides everything)? The way they fold the toilet paper into a point on the end. Apparently this is supposed to give me the sub-concious impression that the roll has not been used (despite its’ suspiciously small size). It’s toilet paper, not fucking origami, and I don’t feel any more relaxed about using it knowing that the woman who just scrubbed out the toilet used those same hands to grope the end of the roll. Like most things, this trend began wth one chain, and was soon adopted by every hotel in the land. I recall staying in a condemnable roach motel in Fort St. John that had a bare light bulb, peeling paint, and a yellow-stained bathtub, but hey, at least the toilet paper was shaped into a pleasing white arrow.