Field Notes 003: Four Days, Lower Humidity, and a Sore Back

I woke up last Wednesday morning with a sore lower back. Days in uncomfortable chairs and an intense workout took a toll on me. My back handled the flight to Toronto okay, but a cramped Uber ride and unsupported patio furniture were too much. Over a glass of chilled Spanish red wine, I decided to stand to give my back a break. Within a few sips, a head popped out of the door, framed by the bright yellow facade overlooking Harbord Street. “I’m sorry, but you must be sitting to drink on the sidewalk.” Apparently, her small business had already gotten in trouble for letting a dad stand, wine in hand, next to his baby stroller. We laughed, and I sat down in pain.

Years earlier, during college, you could only order mini bottles (you may know them as airplane bottles) from bars in South Carolina. They were larger than a normal shot, so it was typical to order split shots (e.g., ‘two, three ways’). It wasn’t until I went to Nashville in my early twenties that I ordered a round of split Jäger-bombs (yes, I judge myself too), and the bartender said, “We don’t split shots,” that I realized how weird it was. Toronto, despite having a cannabis dispensary on every corner, apparently still has pretty strict regulations on the consumption of alcohol in public spaces.

The next morning, we hopped into another Uber to head to the new Biidaasige Park on the Toronto Waterfront. A short stroll across the Commissioners Street Bridge and along pathways snaking through constructed wetlands, surrounded by birds, kayakers, and public art installations, quickly made me forget the aggressive braking by the Uber driver, which made my back pain hard to ignore. Habitat restoration sat in the middle of land still scarred by industry, framed by Toronto's ever-growing skyline.

Another morning, we walked north along Yonge Street. The street dipped into a ravine. Brilliant greenery briefly hid the omnipresent construction of residential high-rises. We veered right along the stream. Metal awnings and vintage typeface announced the Lawrence Park Lawn Bowling and Croquet Club. ‘Covid Times’ graffitied a curb in front of the club. A short walk further and out of the park, new, modern townhomes replaced older homes. Rigid steel and large glass windows marked the arrival of new, modern architecture of today.

The mall trend seems to have faded, at least temporarily, across much of the US. The glass atrium of the Eaton Centre funneled thousands of people into switchback queues stretching down corridors and across the center of the mall. When I was in elementary school, we’d sell ‘World Finest Chocolate’ as a school fundraiser. If you sold enough, you won the opportunity to stand inside a glass box in front of the entire school. For a few brief seconds, air would blow through the box, lifting dollar bills. Whatever you grabbed, you could keep. My back hurt thinking about it. Those in line through the Eaton Centre were waiting for their chance to stand in a similar box. Rather than money, the box was filled with coupons for a Canadian luggage brand.

Scrolling Instagram later that evening, I got an ad for the Salonpas patch I'd bought that morning