A City Like No Other

Some classify Toronto as a world-class city like New York, London, Paris, Berlin, Tokyo. It might make ranking lists, but for people living here, it is often alienating, lonely and isolating.

“Could we expect Canada to compete with European cultures that have existed for centuries? Their history is literally carved into their cities. Toronto will often claim it’s a world-class city. Paris simply claims it is Paris.”

—Mike Myers, Canada (2016)

One of the first things you notice about Toronto is its lack of Canadian identity. It seems like so many American cities that I visited, with its shopping malls, car culture and empty downtown streets when the working day ends. There are also the homeless, the dirt and grime, the monolith architecture of condos, office towers and more condos, the same fast-food places, Big Box stores and restaurant chains, and the general feeling of ennui, because Toronto could just be another large American city.

There is also the constant noise of emergency vehicles blaring their sirens. On peut facilement se demander où se trouvent toutes les urgences ; où vont-ils? Est-ce qu'ils savent?

Lest I forget the most important factor in its emulation of America: the desire for money and its singular focus here. It is true that Toronto is an expensive city in which to live—the most expensive city in Canada and the 13th most expensive in North America. So, people here focus on making money, which leaves very little time for anything and everything else. Yes, there are cultural venues, but the cost is so high, only the top 10 percent can easily afford to partake of such attractions.

Truly, this is not a healthy situation, and it might go a long way of explaining the overarching feeling of desperation and despair that I feel in many parts of the city, including in North York, where I live. It is a city built on a high level of inequality and blithely unaware of it. I do not hear or read about anyone in government talking about the deep structural problems that Toronto faces, especially how unaffordable housing is. There is a housing crisis, and it has been a problem since I moved here (2012). What has happened since then is that it has gotten worse. Much worse.

While the media talks about it, it is only briefly and superficially. There is no sustained reporting; no investigative pieces; no long-form journalism on the roots, the reasons and possible solutions. The media here is too busy cheer-leading the city to have any understanding of what regular people are facing. The media reporting here is as bland as bland could be. They are excellent about writing an article while saying nothing, just like our politicians.

Sure, there is some discussion around the edges—build more houses—but no discussion on why housing is so expensive, and what measures various levels of government can implement to make housing in this city more affordable. How about a ban on short-term rentals? How about having more housing inspectors? How about making rental laws more fair for renters? Can there be more humane policies? Or is everything reduced to acquisition and money?

None of these things will happen, because Toronto cares chiefly about development, the building of high-rise condos that sit empty and the building of McMansions. There is very little of the low-rise apartment buildings or two-storey duplexes or triplexes that are common in Montreal. And which are attractive because they are not imposing on the streets. They do not dominate; they blend in nicely. Quietly. Aesthetics do matter.

I suspect that for Toronto developers and city planners it is about money. Such affordable-housing projects are not lucrative enough for developers, for builders and for the city’s tax base. So, Toronto is caught in a vicious circle of housing unaffordability leading to building more expensive houses, thus leading to greater unaffordability. You get the picture. Toronto has never been known for having creative or imaginative thinking. Just look at its architecture. It is functional at best.

After spending more than 10 years here, my sense of Toronto could be summed up as a city that has no sense of history, has no sense of itself, has no defining characteristics that sets it apart in Canada, let alone in the world. It has unappealing architecture, high-rise condos, functional streets and sidewalks and, yes, nice green spaces, where I can see my animal friends, the only part of Toronto that I like. They can bring life and are a joy and a comfort. The birds and the squirrels that I see and feed are not unique to Toronto, but I am glad that they are here. They are beautiful; they provide me a true and clear sense of the natural world, and they help me keep my sanity and have harmony with Nature, as well as imparting positive energy, which is no doubt important. Always. As is aesthetics.

All Photos by Perry J. Greenbaum

Even so, I return to a question, one that has been on my mind for some time, one that has plagued my soul. What stands out in Toronto that set it apart from other Canadian or American cities? I can stop now and say, “I have not noticed anything that sets it apart.” That would be polite in a Canadian sort of way. But I would rather tell the truth. My truth, as I see it; and as I feel it.

There is, indeed, one essential characteristic, something that is not initially noticeable, but after some time, you do notice something unique that sets it apart from Montreal, Paris, New York City and most American cities in which I visited, and I have visited many. Toronto is cold and unfriendly. Let be say it again for clarification: Toronto is cold and unfriendly. It is a city in which it is nearly impossible to strike up a conversation with a stranger or a neighbour, even if you have been living in the area for years. Toronto is not the place to talk to strangers on a street corner, on the bus, in the supermarket, in a restaurant or at the mall. No, that would not be Toronto. It is ranked as city with a high number of people saying that they are lonely, at 37 percent. Not surprising, the figure was less than half of that, at 17 percent in Montreal.

In fact, I would say that Toronto is a city where it is a miracle if you can make any friends. I have not seen this miracle in my more than 11 years here. Cities can either be healthy or be sick. I find that Toronto is a sick, indifferent and callous city, lacking in humaneness, in humility and in humanity, important characteristics that make a city appealing and liveable. I do not know if it can be rehabilitated and healed, because there is a deadening sense in the air, infused with grasping despair, imbued with a lack of vitality; I see no evidence that the process of healing has begun. It is a city lacking in awareness of how ill it really is, enamoured chiefly with money and its acquisition. As if this is the doorway to salvation. No doubt, the accountants, the financiers, the dealmakers and the citizens of commerce find all this appealing and energizing. Its lack of poetry; its functionality; its busyness.

So be it. I am a poor writer, with a particular sensibility, attempting (perhaps feebly) to raise consciousness and increase awareness. I am now neither surprised by the way it is nor expecting it to change its unfriendly cold ways. This is the way Toronto is, which is a characteristic deeply ingrained in its core. I have noticed and, more to the point, felt that every city has a feel, a type of soul, a way of being. Sensitive persons can feel it. There is not a good feeling here, not one that gives off positive energy, not that gives off hope. It is not enough that people have jobs and places to live, though not everyone does. It is chiefly the people who make up the city; buildings are secondary. It is as simple as that. A focus on the material will lead to similar results—a spiritually dead city devoid of the good.

So, it matters not one iota how Toronto is ranked in the world according to a major business magazine or some corporate travel group. Not if the city is far from having the necessary aspects, including positive energy, life-affirming energy, that make it liveable and enjoyable. And humane. So important.

Some might think that I am full of resentment and unhappiness, such as the fox was in this famous Aesop Fable:

A Fox one day spied a beautiful bunch of ripe grapes hanging from a vine trained along the branches of a tree. The grapes seemed ready to burst with juice, and the Fox's mouth watered as he gazed longingly at them.

The bunch hung from a high branch, and the Fox had to jump for it. The first time he jumped he missed it by a long way. So he walked off a short distance and took a running leap at it, only to fall short once more. Again and again he tried, but in vain.

Now he sat down and looked at the grapes in disgust.

"What a fool I am," he said. "Here I am wearing myself out to get a bunch of sour grapes that are not worth gaping for."

And off he walked very, very scornfully.

Sour grapes, no, that’s not applicable to me. Sorry, no, it is not that I want something Toronto has, like the Fox with the grapes. Quite the contrary, Mesdames et Messieurs. Toronto offers me nothing of the kind, nothing enticing, nothing at all.

When all is said and done, it is about home, about returning home. La maison est le mot essentiel de cet essai. Certaines personnes pourraient ne pas s'intéresser beaucoup à ce mot : « Maison » ; Je le fais avec beaucoup d'envie. La douleur du désir ou du désir est présente, je suppose, de manière à forcer l'action, avec votre esprit et votre corps en harmonie. C’est-à-dire jusqu’à votre retour chez vous. Montréal n'est pas parfait, c'est certain, mais Montréal, mon chez-moi, me manque

Oui, je reviendrai à Montréal. Dans environ 2 ans, j'espère ; c'est le but sentimental, je pense.

Merci et à bientot.