Section B


By Cornelius A. Fortune MANAGING EDITOR


T T


of city life from the streets. ❑ ❑ ❑


Contrast and element Ricky, the taxicab driver, is waiting


outside the hotel leaning against the cab. He’s a brown skinned twentysomething with dark, wavy hair tied back in a pony- tail. His accent sounds vaguely Mexican, but in Toronto, nearly everyone you en- counter has an accent, so there’s really no telling.


He’s waiting for some scalped tickets


so he doesn’t start the meter. About five minutes later, Ricky peels off the curb down Front St. His contact isn’t coming.


I ask him about the area. “Things are expensive now, bro,” he


Cornelius Fortune photos A Scrapbook: oronto view from the streets


ORONTO, ONTARIO — The pale woman with blush on her face (hastily applied it seems) sits in front of the Queen’s Quay Ter-


minal, a district shopping mall in down- town Toronto. As the sunlight bends around the gently undulating crowd, short, tiny blunted shadows touch the sidewalk, reaching out towards the To- ronto River, where a couple of mid-sized boats are docked.


She dusts herself off, turns over a


wooden box and mounts it, pulling on gloves that have the snap of latex. She looks around, pleased. Some stop to watch, even as the wind causes her dress to do an accidental Marilyn; either way, it’s clear there’s entertainment about to happen. She laughs, embarrassed (of course, there are children everywhere). Then she takes a deep breath, exhales, and her limbs go rigid.


This is what she does: She panto-


mimes. A guitarist plays with a large PA


speaker to some faintly Latin rhythm, leaning into each phrase, watching the neck of his instrument closely because he hasn’t actually gotten it under his fingers yet. He stops a moment, lights a cigarette, starts again. Passersby simply drop in a coin or two into his guitar case and keep going. The streets of Toronto become his practice hall. He squints from the smoke, starting all over again…riffs above riffs, behind notes that trail away, dying in the air.


Soft, mournful, longing — this is the


music of Yang Qin, who plays Chinese dulcimer. But it is also the theme to “The Godfather.” Qin is assured in every stroke, his fingers move effortlessly, almost independent of him. It seems so…intuitive and dreamlike.


A juggler hurls insults at the crowd,


ending each quip with, “I’m just joking. Really.” His juggling feats do solicit ap- preciation and applause.


Harbourfront Centre’s a lot like Hart


Plaza, only Harbourfront Centre has taken the concept to a more accessible level, perfect for tourists.


This is just a taste of Toronto, a slice


A WOMAN performs for the gathering crowd.


said. “See those condos, bro?” He point- ed towards a rise of new housing on the left. “Five hundred thousand dollars. Cost of living is way up, you know?”


We pass through some alleys accent-


ed with graffiti. The alley is barely large enough to contain the taxi. Ricky slows to avoid the speed bumps. We finally leave the enclosure of the alley and enter another street.


Whirring down the streets of Toron-


to in a taxi is an exercise in bravery it seems.


We waited almost a full minute after


the light changed because a truck driver was giving the trolley operator the finger


1 THE STREETS of Toronto. 2 THERE ARE still telephone booths in operation.


HORSE TENDERLOIN served at Parts & Labour. In defense of the chef, the 3 writer didn’t want the peppercorn sauce on the meat.


CBC TV


and they had to stop traffic a moment in order to glare at each other.


Ricky drops us off at a place called


Parts & Labour. He scribbles a cell phone number on a business card and goes in search of those discount tickets.


The triumph of the horse Parts & Labour sits on a grittier street


of the city. This district, as I was told by the waiter, has improved consider- ably. There was drugs and prostitution. Though it hasn’t been entirely purged, new businesses are cropping up every day.


Queen St. West is busy (crammed


during rush hour). It’s a district with some grime on its face, the alleys and back ways filled with graffiti.


Parts & Labour (1566 Queen St. West),


a seemingly ordinary bar and grill, catch- es you literally by the throat. They serve fried pig face, buffalo quail, horse tongue and the centerpiece, horse tenderloin.


A Western sensibility virtually leaves


you reluctant to try any meat used pre- dominately for transportation or racing; and yes, I’ll admit it, dog food. But this is the best cut you can get, expensive stuff ($35). Served with organic greens and mashed potatoes (I opted for French fries), it really was quite good. In fact, it’s better than venison.


They also have a great bar and mixed


me an old fashioned gimlet like Heming- way used to drink back in the 1920s.


Live music spills out from downstairs.


The crowd is a mixture of the college stu- dent, working professionals, and artsy folks looking to have a good time or to celebrate a recent achievement.


‘Caribana’s not what it used to be’ The men watch the girls and smile.


They turn their heads in awe. Each cos- tume seems to be more revealing than the next. White, Black, Asian, and mul- tiracial; a diverse range of people are preparing for the Caribana festival. The steady pulse of raggaeton.


See Toronto page B-2


August 4-10, 2010


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