Take an aimless wander through downtown Toronto, and it isn’t hard to see why the locals love it so much.
It’s a place where commerce meets community head on; where a small town feel permeates through all the big business, and a history creeps out of the cracks in the brick, of which there are many, if you slow down long enough to notice.
Toronto is a city that has not forsaken its roots. Like any decent big town, there are still folks in the doorways and streets who remember when it was a small town, and a smile still went a long way.
My day in the big smoke started, innocently enough, with game seven of the NBA finals, and a classic match-up between the Los Angeles Lakers and Boston Celtics.
By the time the last single malt was quaffed, it was almost time to get up and watch the day’s World Cup soccer game. The only proper thing to do, then, was to stay up all night, squint into the morning sun, and belly up for breakfast at the legendary Musket.
Our gin blossomed host Helmut plated us a high German breakfast of sausage and schnapps, to enjoy alongside the German football game, and his packed house of rabid motherlanders.
The sorry 1-0 final for Serbia was not what the local reich was hoping for, and gave you a sense it was going to be a long day at work for many of the fans in attendance; and that was before the sausage and coffee even went to work on them.
Another schnapps and hopps later with our new friend Horst Karl Richter, and it was time to make the trek east into the heart of the city, where my friend had a day at work waiting for him, and I had an entire city to knock around in and explore.
Stop number one was the Hockey Hall of Fame, where any good Canadian boy would go after choking down soccer and a plate of steaming hog fat.
Part of the magic of any hall of fame is seeing where the greats come from, learning that their small towns are the same as yours, and greatness comes from the most unlikely of places.
Which took me to the distillery district, where the buildings are made of stone, and the staff gives you stony looks because they know you haven’t been to bed yet. Most won’t give you any trouble, because they’ve all been there, and that’s the heart of community.
For all its congestion, misdirection, dissention and anal retention, downtown Toronto is still a place where an honest man can wander a day away, soak up the sights, and be better for it.
We’re lucky to have such a city nearby, if for no other reason than to remind us there’s a bigger world out there; and that sausage and schnapps is no way to start your day.