Learning to Like Toronto

I have to admit it: I've always been one of those Atlantic Canadians who hates Toronto. Maybe I'd heard too many jokes about the "Newfoundlander who went to Toronto and..." Or maybe it had something to do with being born in a Montreal Canadians family and knowing that the last time Toronto won the Cup, there was only black and white television. A lot of it was the Toronto-centrism of Canada (events in Toronto make the front page of national newspapers while Atlantic Canadian news only squeaks in on page 8 or something). And as usually happens when one approaches a situation knowing already what one is going to think about it, during my few visits to the city, all my dislikes were confirmed. I found that it was all concrete and steel, with not much character and rude people.

But bushwhacking changes everything. I'm back now from my most recent trip to Toronto where I had quite an amazing time with Dr. Fem, celebrating her birthday. We shopped a bit, had tea in a cozy Vietnamese tea shops, ate great Chinese food, went to a really bad queer play (the Queen of Sheba and the Grand Poobah would be proud: we walked out), and hung out with Dr. Fem's very cool dyke friends.

Now I have to wait another six weeks to see her again and it's back to counting weeks and sleeps. This time, my excursion north will take me to Sudbury. Double the bushwhacking pleasure.