Bloor Street

My favourite street, hands down, has to be Bloor Street, Toronto. It's the most diverse street I've ever seen, as well as one of the first I used to tramp around when I was young. I used to follow my mom to work whenever I had P.D. Days and occasionally during the longer holidays. Since my mom works at Bloor and Church, Bloor Street was a familiar taste of downtown as we would shop around after she left work. It was on Bloor Street that that my mom purchased my first Tiffany & Co. necklace, as well as my first exposure to the high-end shops where the rich and the extravagant shop to furnish their houses and cover their bodies. It was also on Bloor Street where I watched my little brother demonstrate his first act of compassion towards the homeless when he begged my mom for a coin to give to a homeless man on the street. But I never ventured far on the Bloor I explored until I grew a little older.

One summer, my friend, Amanda, recommended that we try a Portuguese restaurant near Bloor St. At the restaurant, we tried an incredibly interesting dish that the waiter actually recommended that we NOT try called "Seafood Bread Soaking." It's a dish that not even all Portuguese enjoy and we weren't able to finish it since it's actually bread soaking in a dish of seafood soup. Nevertheless, it was a memorable experience and we made our way down to Bloor St. and started heading towards downtown. We were quite far removed from downtown proper and this portion of Bloor was surprisingly different from what I had known and seen. It was a far cry from the business area of Bloor and at times we even felt our safety somewhat compromised. The socioeconomic environment was much lower judging by the shops and the people. As we continued walking, we traveled from the Portuguese area and hit the Korean area. Suddenly, all the shops, restaurants, and bakeries were Korean, as well as most of the pedestrians on the street. I remember being amazed at how drastically diverse and how different each area was. Bloor Street was a microcosm of the multiculturalism of Toronto.

It's incredible how strong is the connection between a person and a place. A longer visit to Toronto isn't a complete visit without a trip down to Bloor Street. I missed my opportunity during Christmas Break and found myself longing to return quickly to Toronto so I could go down.

On Saturday, I went around town with a couple of International students from Queen's and briefly strode along Bloor, but that wasn't enough. So today, armed with my mother's MetroPass, I woke up early to accompany my mom to work. But when she got off at the Bloor-Yonge station, I switched onto the Bloor line and rode the subway almost all the way to the very end of the West side to Etobicoke. As the train I was in switched from Westbound to Eastbound, I continued sitting until I went past Bloor-Yonge again. I finally decided to choose at random a station to get off at, hoping to find a cafe to sit and journal in. I chose Castle Frank.

Upon exiting Castle Frank, I realized I was pretty far from most coffee shops. In the cold, I traversed across the bridge where thin, steel dowels line the sides to prevent any further suicides from people jumping off. Here, Bloor Street turns into Danforth Avenue. Walking along, feeling quite chilled despite the quiet sunshine, I entered into Greek town where I finally began seeing some coffee shops like Second Cup and Timothy's. Yet I found a tiny little place called Mocha Mocha where they played loud Spanish music and none of the workers were Caucasian. It felt so good to sit inside and warm up with a pot of peppermint tea and just write. It felt good to be able to sort out some of my thoughts that I've carried around since second semester started, but haven't been able to express or even understand.

I never thought I would still be searching for my future in third year. I thought I would have figured out more of where I was headed by now, but I feel more stuck than ever. Perhaps I have lost my focus. Perhaps my focus is changing. Perhaps I will temporarily leave my dreams of teaching in China and become an environmental activist. perhaps.

I think the reason why I have so much trouble deciding is because I'm so afraid that the decisions I make now will define who I become in the future. And I'm afraid to make the wrong decision. Especially if that decision leads me far, far away from Bloor Street.