In which Layla and Roz sample the food, drink, bikes and parades of sunny Toronto... and battle jetlag

by Layla

As you may recall, our final day in Lisbon had us feeling dismal about the prospect of returning home, so to alleviate the misery, we rather randomly booked Toronto. Some weeks later, almost having forgotten our plan, we stepped aboard the plane for an 8 day holiday in Toronto.

We arrived pleasingly in the evening and checked into the Drake Hotel, the occasion for such fanciness and trendiness being Roz’s birthday the following day. Indeed we realised it was far too trendy for us when the reception desk let us know that the downstairs club was open til 4am but sadly the bar closed at 2am. Our eyes already stinging from jetlag, we nodded weakly and climbed the stairs to an achingly trendy designer room and prodded each other awake to prevent immediate succumbing to the sleepy lure of bed. Instead we got changed and went to the hotel bar, Sky Bar, which was outside, elevated above the arty Queen Street West, and bustling with clearly trendy locals. We ordered cocktails and nachos and sipped, trying to prompt each other into scintillating conversation to cover our yawns.

After a couple of cocktails we decided to go for a walk in the hot evening, along Queen Street West past little boutiques and galleries til our legs gave way into a bar opposite the hotel where we had more drinks and shared a veggieburger and observed that every woman in Toronto wears hotpants. This not being a fashion trend ideally suited to flattering either of us, we mused over our holiday wardrobes with some amusement. And then, finally, we allowed ourselves to go to bed.

I went unrewarded for my restraint and awoke at 4am. Roz managed a more respectable 7am, and we had a cheery morning of her opening her birthday presents (including the cool new MacBook Pro on which I’m typing this) and coffee and a muffin from the hotel’s café. We then proceeded to another little diner for our proper breakfast, of pancakes and fruit and Canadian maple syrup. My plan for Roz’s birthday had been to take her to the Toronto Islands, beautiful islands of grass, flowers and beaches just a 15 minute ferry from Toronto itself. Sadly I’d decided to walk there, which took an hour in the blazing sun through what started as interesting streets with cool shops, which rapidly turned into non-beautiful streets. We then hit the harbour and wandered along by the marina with Lake Ontario glinting in the sunlight, and popped into the Harbourfront Centre which seems to have some cool arty events going on (and watched a little glass blowing). This meant that by the time we reached the ferry terminal we were exhausted and hot and about a million tourists were waiting in line. Caught in indecision, Roz determined we’d postpone the trip to the islands, and took control of the situation with her Lonely Planet iPhone app, located a cool Italian restaurant in Little Italy, and we jumped in a cab and headed for its shady patio. Soon we were tucking into a tasty lunch of bruschetta and frittatas and a bottle of prosecco in a sweet little neighbourhood restaurant (St John’s Café, I think) and speculated about why the Italian area had bilingual Mandarin signs all over it.

After lunch we walked through the University of Toronto to Pride, an event we hadn’t been particularly excited by, but had come to realise that rather than being the niche interest of the gay community as in most other places, the citizens of Toronto embrace absolutely. They go for a full week of events and parades, with all the shops sporting rainbows and selling gay-related garments, and every mainstream newspaper and magazine full of it. We thought we’d go and check it out. And so we squeezed into the six-layered crowd lining the parade route (and then ducked when the parade participants used supersoaker waterguns) and watched a bit of it. In fact, it turend out to be very cheery and touching, particularly the parents of gay kids (‘we love our lesbian daughter’), and the schools and universities (‘we support our gay students’). Roz sniggered at me as I shed a sentimental tear.

Next, the Batu Shoe Museum. I must note that this was Roz’s choice, but to be fair, it was her birthday. It also turned out to be very nice (though like everything else in Toronto, unfeasibly expensive). We travelled by subway, which was efficient and cheery. Public transport people here are very different to their UK counterparts – you’d have thought the ticket salesman’s main dream in life was to make sure I got the right train… After a quick drink, the Shoe Museum was much fun, admiring the history of shoes and having a sneaky ‘wedding dance’ to the 1920s music playing in one room where there were no other visitors.

We caught an extortionate taxi back to the hotel, changed, and after a lovely 45 minutes drinking cocktails and reading our books in the Sky bar, we braved the streetcar system (essentially trams) and caught two to our evening destination, Woodlot. Roz, having done lots of research, had identified it as a glorious combination between cool and trendy in an understated way, and really excellent food. We were disappointed on neither front. The food was fantastic. From the halloumi bruschetta to the tofu steaks with white beans, it was inventive, flavoursome, pretty and hearty. An absolute delight.

That 4am start started to show in my eyes and Roz, while rather more perky, was also beset by jetlag. After we polished off every last delicious morsel, we staggered into a taxi and headed straight for bed. Where our 10pm bedtime punished me again, though this time I managed to sleep til almost 5:30. Roz slumbered til 8 while I looked on bitterly.

Having failed to go to the islands yesterday, we decided to do it today. We started with granola, yoghurt, coffee and juice in bed, then packed up and took a streetcar most of the way. This made us rather more amenable to the queue for the ferry – which was also far more bearable than it had been at the weekend. After a speedy cruise through Lake Ontario, we found ourselves disembarking in a strange world of no cars, beautifully manicured lawns, and water on all sides. The millions of children who had accompanied us on the ferry mercifully decanted into the old fashioned fairground, while we proceeded through fountains and flowers to a bicycle rental place.

We had a rather idyllic hour cycling round the multiple islands that are connected by a quaint boardwalk and car-free roads. We stopped at pretty beaches and to take photos of the Toronto skyline, and peered into people’s homes, wondering at what life would be like living on such islands. We passed kids at summer camp, and marinas full of boats. And then, having deposited our bicycles, we walked back up to the Old Rectory and eventually secured a table in a sunny patio that has been apparently voted the most scenic patio in Toronto. The food was also rather good. I had a tofu tikka panini and Roz had a tasty chickpea dish. We shared a salad of leaves, brie and strawberries and toasted the incoming news from our lawyer that we had eventually managed to extend the leasehold of our flat, and both of our names graced a brand new mortgage. And then we strolled in the rather-too-hot sun back to the ferry terminal, via the ice cream stand…

We took the ferry back to the mainland, and spend a pleasant time whiling away the afternoon with books under a tree on the grass overlooking the lake. Til I noticed we’d whiled away a bit too much of it! We sped up the hill, stopping at the rather convoluted Union Station to buy tickets to our evening destination. Again, unfeasibly expensive (says the mean Scot). And then a mad dash to the Drake (including streetcar and two taxis) to pick up our bags and return to the station, just in time to catch the train. Destination St Catharine (to transfer to Niagara on the Lake), for a couple of days of exploring Canada’s wine country by bike, attending the annual Shaw theatre festival, and looking at some rather big waterfalls…