I just arrived back from the big city, the big city being Toronto, ON. I'd spent about a week there visiting my daughter Brandi, grandson Ethan and her husband James. Instead of flying this time, I decided to be a touch daring and use the bus lines for my method of conveyance, thought it might be a touch adventurous since most of the trip would be through Quebec, where the main language spoken is French. And, I have to admit, since I transferred four times during the journey, I became a little tense when speaking only English and a smattering of French, when I had to converse with a bus driver and a couple of ticket agents that spoke only French or a smattering of English.
One of the destinations from Woodstock, NB to Toronto was Montreal and at 3:00am in the morning, a 3 hour wait before I caught another bus to Ottawa, I proceeded out into the bitterly cold night to a coffee shop, which was located a couple of blocks away. Unlike Fosterville, NB, where I live, population about 135 people during the winter, everyone most likely asleep in bed snoring away, the downtown streets of Montreal were alive with people. An amiable young man at the counter, although we couldn't converse, smilingly served me a cranberry muffin and a coffee, which I'd pointed to. Money wasn't a problem as I just made sure I gave him more money than what the bill would have come to and he would make the appropriate right amount of change.
While I sat near the window sipping my hot coffee and nibbling at my muffin, I couldn't help but notice a man dressed in a coat with a hoody that covered most of his face. He had a very peculiar way of walking. His head was held back as if looking at the stars and his body was arched at a severe angle as he constantly circled the corner, arms flailing in all directions. I was surprised, since the sidewalks were slightly icy and the wind was blowing quite wildly down the streets between the towering buildings, that he didn't stumble or fall into an oncoming vehicle's path. Although traffic lights were situated at the corner, I watched him suddenly awkwardly dart across the street during a red light, where he stopped just past the window I was looking out and began talking to a man that was dressed in a similar fashion. Although, I couldn't hear them, I saw them both reach into their pockets and exchange something, which I concluded to be money for drugs. At least that was my guess, because the man once again crossed the street to the corner and then entered an apartment building. Just when I thought he was set for the night, he came back outside and resumed circling the corner and asking anybody who came near him for a handout.
Inside the coffee shop, seated near the door, were two young couples, quite likely University students. Although I couldn't understand anything they were saying, I enjoyed listening to them as they talked quite loudly and very animatedly, their smiles and laughter almost contagious. An older woman, around 60-65 years of age, was sitting at a nearby table. She was surrounded by plastic bags (I suspect everything she owned). She was nursing a cup of coffee, obviously prolonging her stay before she would be once again on the streets of Montreal at the mercy of the freezing cold. I felt sorry for her - at that age, to be all alone must be a misery in itself, let alone not having any money to afford a place to live.
Where I live, like us, people don't have very much money, and after 3 years, seldom going to a large city like Montreal and Toronto, I forgot about how many homeless people are on the streets, and during the winter, their lives must be totally abysmal. In Toronto, I saw two men in the early morning; people busily going to work. They were laying on the corner in front of Starbucks. Before I reached them, I saw a woman who was passing by, stop and kneel down. I don't know if she received a response or not because neither man moved. When I drew nearer, about to cross the busy street on a green light, I noticed one of the men wasn't wearing any socks or shoes. His feet must have been frozen because the temperature that morning was -22 degrees and a stiff breeze was blowing. I can only imagine that a street person in need of footwear had taken the man's shoes and socks - I sometimes wonder what sort of people we've become. Although I did throw some money into a few extended cups, I could see that if one were to walk around the downtown areas and handed out money to all the needy, one would soon become one of the needy.
Instead of arriving at nine in the morning, which I had been assuredly told by a bus depot ticket attendee who spoke a little English, I arrived at 2:30 in the afternoon. Brandi was worried, although they had taken Ethan to Emergency at the hospital because he had breathing difficulties and he was now fine, that her dad, which is something I often do, was wandering to their house through the alleys; I have a high regard for graffiti when it is very well done.
I had a great time in Toronto; never watched so much of Tree House with Ethan; if I'd stayed much longer, I probably could have sang a lot of children's tunes and even got some exercise as they taught the wee viewers to stretch, jump up and down, touch their toes, etc. It's a touch strange now, because when I lived in Nanaimo, BC, Brandi lived the farthest and since moving to NB, she's now the closest. But still, Toronto is a long way off and whether I journey by plane, bus or train, it's a touch on the expensive side, so it's something that can't be done on a regular basis. Besides visiting with Brandi's family and extended family, which is always a good time, I also took in the Ontario Art Gallery; not sure if it inspired me or not; still have yet to pick up a paint brush.
I could easily write more but like a lot of old men my age, I really should pay attention when people start falling asleep listening to me - most likely, a few of you readers, if you've read this far, have fallen asleep on your keyboards and when you wake up will have the alphabet in reverse imprinted on your heads - cheers, eh!
No comments:
Post a Comment