Toronto Journal
A Farewell to the City
I am leaving Toronto. After arduous federal government exams (the preparation for which doesn't leave time for anything else) a position in education is mine at last, but at the cost of my beloved city. The new position is in Edmonton, the capital of Alberta, at the western end of Canada and the distance is not inconsiderable - equivalent to roughly the miles between the distance between Dhaka and Tehran. The new position means travel to the Northwest Territories as well as the Pacific province of British Columbia. The spirit of travel in me has re-awakened by the lure of Rocky mountains and the call of the North, but my heart, I fear will remain in my city, the city of Toronto. As I walked the streets of downtown Toronto a few days back, I followed a well-worn path to the harbor front. Luminato 2009, the festival of arts was in its final show. My last snapshots of the harbour front: A warm wash of sunshine lighting up people's faces, a murmur of low voices…look, look…balloons…a clown! the swish of the waves beside the lake, couples walking hand in hand, different shapes, colours, species, look mummy look, a dog show! , Dogs of all sizes trotted by with their noses in the air, taking a pause to sniff an interesting ankle from time to time. The smell of popcorn rose into the warm air and children tugged at hemlines and trousers to reel in their parents towards the vending machines. We approached a crowd gathered around a little manmade lake. A show is about to start. Mikhaela, my girl, pushed her way through the legs of the crowd, found a tight spot near the front, wriggled enough room for herself, made more room and gestured at me: "Come Mom…there is space for you". The crowd around her turned and looked at me in expectation. I blinked. Do I dare? Squeeze myself through the crowd and into that tiny space? I did. I took a deep Yoga breath, navigated the crowd and plonked myself into that tight space. Then Mikhaela dropped herself onto my lap and says: "Now I can see better." So much for mother-and-child reunions. Children always have ulterior motives…we are the naïve ones. The show starts up! It's the Cirque du Soleil, a world class performance from Montreal, Quebec. They have outperformed other shows in Las Vegas to exuberant crowds. Two groups of dancers wearing masks and skirts that look like the Hawaiian Hula skirts approached the lake. They leapt into the balmy summer night, yelled to each other in a language we didn't understand and plunged like children into the lake where the water only came up to their waist. Some of the water splashed on us and gave us welcome relief from the humidity. A song filled the twilight hour, a song like no other, from the throats and voices of the dancers, taking us back to a time perhaps before language existed, before symbols were created, this was the way that humans communicated. As night began to fall the dancers donned rich colours and had fire balls in their hands, which they plunged with into the lake -- their movements mimicked the dance of life, ever changing, ever fiery. We wandered over to the food festival. A myriad of smells, colours, textures and flavors assailed our senses. Where to start? The Thai stall with Thai soup? Or the Caribbean stall for mutton roti? What mouth-watering delicacy lay beyond? My better half scouted the stalls, while we grabbed some chairs around a table. There were hundreds of people around: Torontonians, tourists, retired holidaymakers from other provinces. And with those images in my mind, I bid the city of Toronto and all its inhabitants farewell and hit the northern trail for the Rockies…
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