I had a "what are we going to do next with this post-diploma program" meeting scheduled this evening across town and decided to bike to it. There is a distinct chill in the air these days, although it isn't exactly "cold" … it isn't balmy, either. I bundled up a bit for the bike ride.

My meeting was at a coffee shoppe at Spadina and Queen. I left early enough to bike leisurely. I'm not an experienced enough cyclist in this city to know the "best" route from A to B, but it is fun trying to figure it out. I tend to sort of make up my route as I go along.

I proceeded along Wellesley, past Church, towards Yonge. Church/Wellesley has been, for better or worse, the centre of my world for over 20 years. A focal point, a hub, even when I lived far from Toronto. It is plump with memories and energy. Some good, some not.

I carried on, past Yonge, to Bay. The traffic lightened up here and it seemed as good a time as any to head south. As I pedalled along Bay, past Grosvenor, I realized that I was passing the downtown Y – a place near and dear to my heart – from a perspective that I don't usually see. I approached College St. and noted that I was only one block from the MaRS building, another landmark for me. A tad further along and I was at a building on Bay known as LuCliff Place, famous in my life as being the place where a bunch of us used to gather regularly about 12 years ago to play pub trivia in a pub that no longer exists. Further still on this street, I realized that I was just north of City Hall and had last been here with Dry Ice and her husband as we strolled to the art exhibit this summer.

Veering right on Queen seemed a good idea, given the traffic patterns at that moment. I kept my eyes carefully on the road as I crossed University, but if I had been able to look up a bit, I would have seen the sculpture that one of my friends in undergrad dubbed "Gumby Goes To Heaven" shortly after it was unveiled 24 years ago. About a block and a half along Queen, past University, I passed Trimurti, the best Indian restaurant in the city that I have had the distinct pleasure of introducing several people to. The complex aroma wafting from Trimurti almost caused me to be late for my meeting!  Steeling myself, I forged onward. Traffic was oddly quiet in that moment so I decided to head south again because I mistakenly thought the Lettieri was at King and Spadina, rather than Queen and Spadina.

I hit King just east of John, which took me past the Second Cup at King and John and, moments later, Mountain Equipment Co-op, which all the cool kids refer to as MEC.  This whole stretch of road puts a silly little smile on my face. Just as I reached Spadina, I noticed a stray, lost baguette in front of the streetcar stop on King. It cried out to be photographed and I can see that I'm starting to stretch beyond the limits of my equipment and my skills. But, you get the general idea of what I was going for here. The pedestrians, and the drivers no doubt, wondered what the hell this person was doing crouching down in the gutter with her bike helmet still on, light flashing, to take multiple versions of this with a variety of settings.

The Lost Baguette

Moments later, I had reached my destination. After the very enjoyable and enlightening time with an alumni of our retired post-diploma program (RIP), I headed north on Spadina. I think I've eaten at at least one restaurant per 100 metres along this stretch, both sides of the road. I carried on past College and remembered attending meetings at the U of T's women's centre on Spadina Circle. A right turn on Harbord puts me almost directly under the overhanging "O". Its existance is a bit of a mystery, but there it is. I drive under the "O" about six times a week, heading to/from hockey. The lights at Huron remind me of a long, cold walk and a long, cold and teary conversation with someone I was seeing briefly a few years ago. I love cycling through Queen's Park but at this point I noted with alarm that the batteries were fading in my headlight – it is really dark in that park at night!

I was shortly back on Wellesley, headed directly for home.

If you had told me 20 years ago that I would find myself happily living in downtown Toronto, I would have said "You're insane". I remember saying Toronto was a nice place to visit but I wouldn't want to live there. I found the energy of the place too frenetic, too fast-paced, too self-indulgent. Visting Toronto from the outside would inevitably put me in a state similar to caffeine-induced jitters. Yet, here I am – no jitters at all. Feels pretty peaceful, really. Roots have taken hold. It seems to fit me at the moment, and I like that feeling, that sense of place and fit.

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