The charm of Toronto
is like the one of a favorite item that, following an accident, someone has
tried to fix in the best way, replacing possible lacks — a chip lost, a useless
little arm — with some inventiveness.
It also reminds of
the beauty of those ruins where moss, ivy and lichen have finally come to take
back what human hands had stolen them. Although in its case, houses covered
with thick green stuff and apparently abandoned reveal, to a closer look,
undeniable leads of lives still lived inside them — a starchy curtain, boxes
neatly piled over a sad, little window.
This patched-up
feature, friendly Frankenstein-wise, has become, year after year, one of the easiest to recognize characteristics of the city that, thanks to it and yet
ironically, suffers the destiny of the common-featured person, unique and yet
multiple: walking along its streets, in fact, it seems like cutting through
neighborhoods already visited over and over again in tens, hundreds, thousands
of different places.
This does not imply,
though, the city is careless about its appearance: on the contrary, it takes
good care of it, radically renovating only if strictly necessary, still
preferring to it meticulously accentuate wrinkles, cracks, signs of History.
A little Europe, a
little Unites States, the shtetl
turns into a hoard of prairie houses, into lines over lines of respectable
working-class townhouses, into Parisian buildings back from the first half of
the XIX century, into fortified churches medieval castle-like and, less often,
into short skyscrapers, leaning towards dwarfing.
Toronto, by the way,
has not only charm and beauty: it also has temper; a temper strong and
unstable, similar to the architecture that marks it.
It may not have the
warmth of the California people or the friendliness of those from New York or
Chicago. Better, it is capable of that all, but would rather convey it every
once in a while, according to the situation it is in.
It welcomes its
visitors in a dry, brisk yet impeccable way, giving them the pleasant feeling
of being first among equals.
It does not sport
lavishness as it often happens beyond borders. It flaunts outfits, the most
different and weirdest one could think of, that matches according to the whim
and the mood; expensive jewels and watches contrast with funny goggles and
crinkly t-shirts retrieved from the bottom of a drawer.
Had it not a solid
economy, somebody could maybe say it is a "decent poor", which, of course, would be true only in a superficial way. For, in spite of such an illusory carelessness and
indifference, the Canadian dollar rules undisputed (and even stronger than the
US one).
And this might lead to the
important lesson hiding behind each wonky balcony and each proudly odd face:
the certainty of one’s own roots and skills capable of shaping, with no big
fuss, any feature of daily living.
E.M., Toronto