Appearing under the flattering glow of a street lamp, two statuesque queens of the night sashayed effortlessly through the crowd. They were a vision of glamour beneath their glorious crowns of red and blonde curls. Swathed in figure-hugging satin gowns, these glitzy transvestites fluttered their long, sweeping eyelashes as a prelude to a dance. Overwhelmed by their sheer sassiness, I stumbled back into the throng. "Dear God," I gasped in disbelief, "Is big hair back?"
Stumble, I did. But I had landed on my feet. I arrived before the Toronto Film Festival and Olympics (Toronto has bid for 2008). But, my word, this was ample compensation. I was in the midst of a street party celebrating one of the year's quirkiest sporting events: the Gay Softball World Series, with 124 teams from across North America. I normally feign dizziness in crowds. And je deteste techno. But Toronto, and my hosts' welcome, batted my expectations clean out of the ballpark.
So, what does one expect of this Eastern Canadian metropolis, synonymous with Peter Ustinov's observation that "Toronto is New York run by the Swiss", which merely reinforces the myth that it lacks an edge. True, it doesn't have New York's big apple, London's royal heritage, Rome's faded empire or Moscow's imperial history. But with liberal immigration policies, resulting in over 80 ethnic groups and nearly five million people, it defies definition. The United Nations has tried, calling it the most ethnically diverse city in the world.
Not unlike San Francisco, Toronto has the cosmopolitan qualities of a bustling metropolis AND the warm, intimate demeanour of a town. It has cast off its matronly past and has much to its credit: its style (it is home of Fashion Television, shown here on Sky News), theatre (take the Shaw Festival, from April to October in nearby Niagara-on-the-Lake) and humour (during my trip, a member of the National Pie Brigade mushed a cream pie in the prime minister's face for cutting welfare).
Staying with friends east of the city - next to one of the many Chinese and Indian districts, and not far from Cabbagetown - I was charmed by Toronto's multi-cultural suburban life. (One Indian restaurant used to be a Dairy Queen franchise. How often does that happen?) Walking off my jet lag with Duke, my hosts' border collie, I gazed at my Chinese neighbours practising Tai Chi in the local park - moving statues piercing the haze of the early morning mist.
A couple of hours and tram-changes later, I was ambling around downtown Toronto, which has many cultural quarters, including Chinatown, Little Italy, Greektown and Portuguese Village. Eating out on the sidewalk one afternoon, I spotted a young homeless man upgrade his paper cup, popping the old one into one of the city's three-in-one recycling bins: paper, bottles or miscellaneous, take your pick. What a simple, but powerful environmental message from Big Brother.
The city centre, which appears to have evolved more organically than New York, is eminently walkable. It's also impossible to go anywhere without being greeted by one of 300 multi-coloured, fibre-glass moose erected around the city. Chicago's cow-in-the-city project last year sparked a continent-wide craze. Although most of their antlers have disappeared, the moose will be auctioned at the end of October to raise funds for local charities and Toronto's Olympic athletes.
With the pound's strength against the Canadian dollar, the consumer lure was irresistible: from vintage magazine stores, with rare covers of Life, and Canada's venerable Maclean's magazine - founded in 1905, to the endless string of art deco furniture stores. Apparently, Queen Street West came alive 10 years ago. (Still is, if you ask me). Now College Street, from Bathurst eastward, and Kensington Market, behind the main Chinatown, are full of second-hand clothing and book stores.
Old City Hall, now a courthouse, is one of the city's finest Romanesque/Gothic buildings. The story goes that the founding fathers forbade the designer from signing his work - some say because he refused to centre the clock tower - so he put letters on sporadic brackets around the building, which spell "E.J. Lenox, Architect". The more clam-like New City Hall was completed in 1965. Here, I visited City Councillor Kyle Rae, whom I first met at the softball street party.
Rae is helping to develop a swathe of Yonge Street, replete with dollar stores, in an attempt to create a piazza that, in tone, is somewhere between the revamped Time Square and Meeting House Square. It will have an entertainment complex with cinemas, but no mall: "Across North America, malls are dying. I'm not interested in morally cleaning up the street. And it's not about gentrification. (He has, rightly or wrongly, been accused of both). We want people back on the street."
Toronto's municipal government has played a key role. In 1992, Rae joined the mayor's committee on community and race relations for minority groups and immigrants. In 1990, the city gave same sex benefits to its employees and spouses. The provincial and federal governments embraced this spirit of inclusiveness in 1991 and 1997. The city has carried out several anti-homophobia and anti-racism campaigns with posters in bus shelters. "Immigration made this country," Rae said. "It's why Toronto has been so successful."
Toronto's name may actually come from the Mohawk term for "poles in water". The first European settlers around the 1720s were fur trappers and French colonisers. The majestic French River, just beyond the city, is a grand glacial waterway cutting through masses of pink granite. Lolling about on the rocks and swimming in the green, mossy water on one weekend, it was hard to believe we were just three hours from the city. (Niagara Falls, I decided, would best be experienced off-season.)
On my final day, I rocketed up the 1,815-foot CN Tower, which appeared to cause swelling of the ankles. Lake Ontario glistened, unfolding effortlessly like a sheet of blue silk. Surrounding the striking skyline, there was a surprising amount of green space. With time running out, I soon realised this would be the view from my plane and I wanted down again. Descending was, indeed, an affair to remember. After battling queues, the CN Tower experience took two precious hours.
Bidding farewell to Toronto wasn't easy. At the airport, I must have looked mighty glum. An elderly Muslim lady spoke softly to me in Arabic. She kept repeating herself, despite the language barrier. (Okay, she may have been asking me the time for all I knew). But her kind face and warm gestures said otherwise. They were worth a thousand words. "Buck up," she was saying. "We're all on the same plane." She was right. And this last, albeit brief, encounter made all the difference.
Getting there
Canadian Airlines, Air Canada and British Airways have daily flights directly from London Gatwick/Heathrow to Toronto's Pearson International Airport.