I purchased tokens....eeeek $3 for one ride. I made my way to the northbound train, a miracle really through all the construction. I was excited when a newer looking train arrived almost immediately. I was no longer impressed when I saw that there were very few seats and that they were suited to the size of a tinier than average population. Nonetheless, I wedged one cheek onto a spot and started thinking. Where shall I get off? The options were limitless or should I say linear?
We passed, King St. where I later planned to see the Stanley Kubrick exhibit. We passed Dundas, home of the Eaton Centre. I briefly thought of leaving and heading east or west on the Bloor line, but changed my mind when I noted that throngs of people were exiting here. I daydreamed until we got to Davisville where I had once worked in the TTC offices. Then I had an idea.
I remembered that there used to be unique shops and cafes north of Eglinton. I got off and made my way up stairs, down stairs and through lengths of tunnels. As I found the outdoors, I opened my umbrella and began to walk while taking photos. Some places advertised entertainment. Other signs were just amusing. This area of town seemed to be a happening place in the evenings. Oh to be a little bit younger and more energetic late in the day!
Then there were those shops which one might call educational.
After I had wandered a few blocks, I discovered a designer clothing store...not in my budget but with outfits that I'd remembered seeing on the internet. The fashions intrigued me. I imagined how wonderful it would look on someone tall and svelte. I was neither, but nonetheless, I was curious. Feeling like a fish of its element (I was in fact quite rain soaked at this time), I peered in the windows. I wandered back and forth daring myself to enter the shop. The clerks were starting to look a bit concerned by my actions.
Then I observed their outlet store next door. After pacing back and forth several more times, I took a deep breath and went in. I was surprised that I didn't feel totally awkward as I tried on a few super discounted items. As you can see, I didn't leave empty handed...well, except for my umbrella which I ran back to retrieve.
My feet were getting tired and wet so I determined that it was time to go back toward the subway. But first, another stop. For some reason, I thought it was time. I had never tasted poutine. I had never even been interested in tasting it. How could I call myself a Canadian? Today, it seemed like a good idea...a part of the overall experience of my adventure. I found a corner grill that claimed to have superb poutine. I ordered a small portion and got ready to indulge. It tasted exactly as I had imagined. Is poutine the French word for clogged arteries? I have no need to ever have it again, but nonetheless, I'm glad that I can at least say tried it.
My French connection continued when I saw a patisserie advertising genuine macarons. Since I have a personal history with macarons, I had to go in. I was concerned that the macarons might be a tad stale if they came all the way from France. I seemed to offend the saleslady by suggesting such. I noted that she was tall and slim with a lovely French accent. I'll bet she'd look great in those Kaliyana clothes I thought to myself. Then I saw the cookie prices. One macaron was $2.25, not outrageous considering they swam all the way across the ocean, so I ordered one. I was going to suggest they change the signage since I was unable to tell the difference. False advertising. For a change, I managed some restraint.
I checked my watch, shocked at how quickly the day was going. Now, it was pressing. I had to get back to King St. lest I run out of time. It was the first day of the Kubrick exhibit and I planned to be there.
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