Hidden Gem in the City

Two years ago in the late spring, we moved out of our old, familiar neighbourhood into the great unknown just west of where we had spent more than two decades. I had heard great things about this little corner of the city, which is, even though real estates keep referring to it as "up and coming", still a largely working class, mixed enclave near the water and where, 100 years ago, people farmed and cottaged away from downtown. We curve around lake Ontario and have some beautiful views of the skyline day and night, and Whiskey and I often run into swans down at the water line. I didn't know much more about the community other than it presented an affordable alternative to our old one, and promised a chance at neighbours who weren't going to meddle like many had in our old condo life.

Largely, I have found myself very impressed with the people who live around us and those who run and frequent the shops along what is quaintly called Lakeshore Village. For those of you who don't know much about Toronto, the city really is a ravine system over which the British style of the high street has been implemented; every corner has its own set of little individual businesses, and even though we live in a city of 2.5 million, I would bet that most people walk from their residential pocket to the stores along their high street. This was true in the other 4 neighbourhoods I have lived in, and it's still the case. I appreciate that people say hello and greet you when you walk down the street, and that they smile when our eyes meet, or when the dog ambles towards them; more close to home, we have neighbours who routinely cross the street to mow the patch of grass between the sidewalk and the road, knowing we have no front lawn anymore but need the five minute gesture, and still others who volunteer to help us pick up friends and their luggage at the airport "just to help out". This is the kind of street I grew up on, and I am so happy that we made the move out here. I laugh when charity workers come to the door, because they largely and good-naturedly complain that they are rarely efficient on our local streets because people are too friendly, and often slow down their pace by inviting them in for tea or a glass of water.

Just over two weeks ago, I joined the local public gym, which is run in a city recreation centre but still operates like a private membered fitness centre. Every weekday morning since the first week of September, I've been starting my day with a different workout class and then walking back home. The choices are quite impressive: there are low cardio, body conditioning, step, stretching and strength training options, some mixed together in the same program, and from week to week, the same class and instructor seems to focus on different areas. The music goes from 50s rockabilly to industrial and post-apocalyptic classical fusion (how's that for a genre description?) and the group likewise seems to be a diverse group of all ages. What I have appreciated, aside from the fact that there are no LuluLemon yummy mummies at 9am, is that the same open acceptance that I see in my neighbourhood is also present at the gym. Both the men and women have come up, asking my name and shaking hands right from the get-go. I get a lot of "glad you've joined our group" and "nice to have you here for the year" comments, and already feel at home. Likewise the small yoga studio a few streets away, whose classes are run by a sweet woman who lives two doors away; her husband is an artist, and his paintings decorate her makeshift studio at the back of a holistic health centre. From the first class, I have felt at home there too, and was completely unsurprised when one of the other class attendees invited us to her house for tea after the class. Just like that, not knowing some of us from a hole in the ground. She told us her garden looked out onto the lake, and that it would be a splendid way to spend a sunny Saturday afternoon. Sadly, I had an errand to run, but the generosity of spirit that seems to envelop this "up and coming" area is rampant and genuine.

I actually hope this little gem of a neighbourhood never gets beyond that designation. As the Eagles used to sing, "Call some place paradise, kiss it goodbye."