Travel

Protests, preaching, and photos : My Arrival in Toronto Part III

After the earlier farcical events I decided to just go with the flow

It was now around 4.30 PM and the weather was much better as I walked into Yonge-Dundas Square for the third time. The skies were still grey but there was sunshine poking through the clouds; the sidewalks were more or less dry.

The flow of the crowds circled, manoeuvred, rather than parted for the silent spectacle of Anonymous for the Voiceless and its Cube of Truth. I had passed by a demonstration a month or so earlier in London (Leicester Square) so it felt all a little too déjà vu.

As I moved away from Yonge-Dundas Square I still hadn’t removed my camera from my bag. At first it was because of the crowds and because I was filming small clips on my phone. Then it was just easier to use my phone and play tourist.

I turned a corner and saw an old building with a clock tower that shot up into the sky. This was Toronto’s Old City Hall.

Outside, at the base of the building, were a number of tents, banners, and placards. It was a ground-in protest against the stealing of indigenous land and it also decried the deaths of First Nations people¹

To the left of the Old City Hall (when facing the front of the clock tower) is Nathan Phillips Square. Named after a former Toronto mayor, it’s unsurprisingly home to the new City Hall.

I didn’t know it yet — and there was no obvious clues as to why — but this was soon to be my favourite place to hang around during my visit. But not this evening.

When I arrived a demonstration regarding Nicaragua² was just finishing up; there was a group photo session in front of the pool. In the background I noted the national flag at half-mast³.

As the gathering dispersed, the tourists began to flocked back to the centre of the square, eager to clamber over the large letters of the city’s name.

Nathan Phillips Square wasn’t a pretty place…at least not to my eyes. There were curves, arches, and a reflecting pool, but they did little to soften the square and rectangle blockiness.

It wasn’t long before I was beginning to feel tired. It had been a few years since I’d travelled west so it felt like the day was lasting forever.

I made my back to Yonge-Dundas Square again (I had walked a large rectangle).

At one of the corners was a preacher. He was railing against those in league with Satan, those who practised evil and subjugated women as sexual slaves.

But despite the portable loudspeaker his message still wasn’t heard: the ambient sounds and the indifferent crowds in Yonge-Dundas Square were greater. I was probably the only one listening.

I was hungry and after some deliberation I settled on an upstairs Asian café and a plate of Hainanese Chicken Rice. It probably wasn’t that much less Canadian than the McDonald’s I’d had for lunch.

There wasn’t yet any sign that Downtown was heading into Saturday night, but I was going to miss it anyway. Instead, I’d head back to the hotel and fall asleep in front of the Discovery Channel.

My holiday would start tomorrow.

¹ In particular the deaths of Tina Fontaine and Colton Boushie (Source: Wikipedia). The two trials ended without convictions in February 2018. I arrived in Toronto on 28 April.

² It was in solidarity with the protests in Nicaragua that happened just over a week earlier (Source: Wikipedia).

³ Just five days previous there was a domestic terrorist attack in Yonge Street. Eleven people were killed (Source: Wikipedia).