Learning to Love the Neighbourhood

I’ve begun a mission to rediscover my appreciation of St. James Town and Cabbagetown. I’m gearing up to renew my lease for another year, so I reckon I’d might as well learn to stomach the patina of grime on the high rises and enjoy the bargains on bruised produce at Food Basics rather than get the creeps every time I leave my apartment.

The apartment itself is fine. I have a fab view of St. James Cemetery and Don Valley, the walls are sound-proof, the laundry facilities are great, and I pay cheap rent for a junior 1-bedroom I share with my cat because I’ve had a hard time living with humans. I really should love it here, especially since I’ve experienced several classes of squalor at various spots along Gerrard Street, where I lived with deceptive and messy student-types. Bloor and Parliament is better than my bedbug-infested digs beside Hooker Harveys, and the decrepit house across from Regent Park, and the sweltering attic down the street from the Don Jail, thank god.

However. St. James Town/Cabbagetown is unlike any other Toronto neighbourhood I’ve visited. Eighteen thousand people live in its 18 apartment buildings, which (according to Wikipedia) makes it Canada’s most densely populated community. It’s also one of Toronto’s lowest income areas. Taking that into consideration, it’s curious that the trillionaires in Rosedale are connected to us by a footbridge that extends across the valley like an undefended border between rich and poor. A hop, skip, and jump down Parliament reveals Old Cabbagetown millionaires walking briskly to the bistro, past beggars, immigrant families, and the residents of Regent Park. I can’t define the “community” here, other than to say that we’re an uncomfy mix of everyone and anyone, from CEOs to Tamil Tigers, to the cockroaches in my kitchen.

Therefore, I celebrate the great things about my hood by sharing these beautiful photos with you.

I took these pics last winter at Riverdale Farm, which was the original location of the Toronto Zoo before it moved to Scarborough in 1974. Riverdale isn’t quite my hood, but it’s close enough. Horses make me happy.







St. James cemetery. Some people think I’m morose for enjoying graveyards. But they’re just parks with spirit. Plus I have ancestors buried here. I look down at them from my balcony and say hi.