Favorite Places

when i lived in toronto i loved the AGO (Art Gallery of Ontario), the ROM (Royal Ontario Museum) and the Zoo

the art gallery and museum for the same reasons roberta mentioned about her love of the museum, the chance to witness history and learn more about your place in the grand scheme of things (if one exists)

the zoo is easy, it's quite modern, well laid out and of course the animals

the one thing these places all have in common, along with my other favourite places, is people, i love to people watch, in large crowds or small street settings

which brings me to my favourite place of all

anywhere

i just like being out and about when i can

small towns, big cities doesn't matter, but i'll take small town alot of the time

pull into a small town, look for a local smal coffee shop, and just sit back and watch the show

and used bookstores and weird little local craft or handmade or homemade crafts

and farmers markets (which reminds me of another great toronto spot, Kennsington Market)

Thanks for responding, dj.

I used to sit on a particular bench in Central Park on Sunday afternoons for the express purpose of people watching. A great activity. And, you're right. You can do it just about anywhere.

THe first place that comes to mind is the North Bridge in Concord where the minutemen once battled the redcoats to bring America it's independence. I'm not sure exactly why that was the first thought. But, I grew up not far from that site and we used to visit the grounds fairly often. In the summer it was a wild garden through which we could rompy, chasing butterflies and bullfrogs. I learned here that bullfrogs will pee like racehorses when picked up. A sense of history pervades the place and one can't help but see the ghosts of those who fought here. On a couple Patriot's Days we made the march along the minutemen's route to the fight and watched re-enactments there. I was left behind once, forced to try to heroically, if tearfully, march myself back home at the age of 5 (I can still milk my parents on that fact). I didn't make it very far. I wonder about all those people who saw me wandering by my own little self - those who didn't stop to ask if I was lost. Eventally I found a cop. I've returned with friends, alone, with my dog, with my camera, with my niece ........ I've canoed the river. Love that place. Guess I just explained why I thought of it first!

I'll have to think about it to make my post in any way coherent - I've a strong sense of place and many happy memories...

My parent's Lake.

They own 20 acres, 7 of which are underwater. It's a man-made lake from back in the day you could do that sort of thing, 1950-ish. It was a gravel pit, my Uncle saw it and thought, "That would make a great Lake!" The story goes on, experts looked at it, and said it would never hold water. My Dad's family went ahead. There's an underground intake pipe that comes from the stream, and another pipe at the other end that allows the water to go back to the stream. Anyways, the story goes, after everything was in place, a big storm came in, the lake filled up, natural springs erupted and it's been full ever since.

Over the years, my Dad has managed to own the majority.

And as for me, I spent every summer there until I was seven. And then we moved there year-round. As a child, I had a stream and lake and woods and fields. I caught frogs and nightcrawlers at night and sunnies and turtles during the day. I swam, I played and I worked.

I grew up there. As a teenager, I would go to the front field and lay in the grass at night with my dog and watch the bats fly overhead. The lightening bugs at night were my fireworks.

I went to Art school in a big city. The first year I missed the feel of the water near me. The look of the trees reflected in the water. It showed up in my art. And now I know it will always be a part of me, those feelings and images...

I love it there.

Well, I'll just start to type, the hell with coherent. I can always rearrange the order.

Venice boardwalk (California). I love it for the ocean, the sand, the long walk, the people watching when it is jampacked and the quiet breadth of sky when there is hardly anyone there. I love it in winter and summer, and sometimes for the grey-y days of June and the blazing hot days of January when the Santa Ana conditions interrupt the cold rains. I love it for all the memories. I had a studio right at Windward and the ocean for a few short months. I've walked the miles of it at least 1,000 times. We used to run along the water with our irish setter, sometimes an easy run, sometime a killer. I've had several, well, at least 100 great croissants at the corner of Rose and the boardwark, at Ali's, and amazing strong coffee to go with that. I bought dozens of pairs of tacky earrings, each pair for $1.00, at the Reckless Woman jewelry store, now quite defunct. I still have the big palm tree pin made out of painted rubber with gaudy fake jewels...
I used to buy my tights, and lycra type tops at the Korean family run cheapo clothing shops. I've taken many photos, and done some paintings from some of the photos. I've mostly been happy there, but when my marriage went kerplunk, I cried and cried and cried my heart out as I walked, for months of days... A healing place, past all the crazy history of the scene.

Now, in some contrast to that, I'll mention the Pantheon in Rome. I like it near empty, preferably raining through the ocular in the dome.. I used to be a religious sort, forty years ago, and rarely if ever now feel a sentimental pull in the great and small churches, though I like them for architectural reasons, well, as places.. And I know the pantheon is officially a church (huh!!) at this point. I am dumbfounded by its architectural strength, and walk way out of my way to go in each day that I manage to get to walk Rome, may the good lottery be kind to me.

Museums, well... last time I was in Siena I went to the Pinacoteca (museum of priceless treasures) and it turned out that since I'd been there last they had gotten more wary of tourists and various art malefactors and more orderly about conducting groups through. I couldn't keep up with the group because I was so moved at seeing Lorenzetti's Good and Bad Government panels again, and and and... and the Tour Conductress eventually came over and told me to move along and I started weeping and burbling about how happy I was to be there - half in english and half in bad italian - and couldn't I just go back and look at that room.. anyway, they left me alone with my tear stained but then happy face. I suppose I was watched from afar. Thing is, I always treat a museum or gallery as mine for the nonce. I go back and forth, look for connections in, say, paintings, revisit what I liked after a quick look, revisit a piece perhaps many times in one day. Decide something I overlooked was more interesting than what I was first drawn to, and so on. If only they'd pay me to go to museums...

Cities as a whole, gads. Maybe living in cities as a child set me up for loving them, but I don't like every city. Still, there are a few that raise my endorphin level on just standing there in them, no matter what good or tough things have happened to me there. San Francisco. New York, Chicago. Rome. I love my birthplace, Los Angeles, too, a tad more caustically.

My/Our house in Venice. As I've mentioned in some post here on a2k before, the day I left after my sweet house and garden were sold, I drove away up Lincoln Blvd. screaming, wailing, in the car. And I'm not a very loud person. Enough said.

Driving 101, I have a thread on a2k about that. Not about learning to drive, but the experience of driving that highway, a long swim through beauty.

I wish I could list country walks, or great monumental places like Yosemite as at the top, and many of those are right up there, but my own old garden beat them for experience.

One - I hope - last mention of top places: inside a train. I've ridden across the US with my family in the early fifties several times, and retained the physical sense of it, the sense of roller skating just above the earth, and the memory of hot chocolate in fancy pitchers.
Only recently have I ridden trains again; that was in Italy, once going to 13 cities in 29 days via the trains. (No, I'm not nuts, it was for photography.) Nothin' like it, they could pay me to ride trains..

Thanks for painting such vivid pictures.

littlek, A strong connection. With the childhood memories and with history. I like that. Thanks for the info about bullfrogs. I had no idea.

caribou, A family lake. That makes me smile. I'm such an urban person that owning a lake sounds like a fantasy to me. You're right. The places we love remain with us. It's nice to be a species that has a mind's eye.

osso, I took a walk on the Venice Boardwalk once back in the seventies. Maybe we passed each other. I loved the life-feel of the place. I was also at the Pantheon in Rome. I think there's a photo of me somewhere standing in front of that wonderful building. I don't have a clear memory of it. I'm glad you do.

Our approach to museums is different, but I do understand your sense of ownership. If I love something, I think of it as mine. Take people to see a favorite painting as if I were sharing something personal.

There's a special place in my heart for cities. Noo Yawk for sure, London, San Francisco, Firenze, Paris, New Orleans. I could go on. I'm a city person. After a while, I need concrete under my feet.

I'm sorry that you had to leave the house and garden that you loved. Wouldn't it be nice if we could take such things along with us wherever we go.

I like riding on trains too. Not the subway especially, but train-trains. They're so, well, civilized. In my case going somewhere by train means that I most likely will get to go to Grand Central Station--not a favorite place, but a place I love to be in.

My two favourite places are completely unalike: the sparsely settled north and the bustling centre of a city. For years we have camped in northern Ontario and enjoyed the quiet and especially the stars with no competing lights. Our favourite site was near a village (population 40) and our kids saw deer, otter, the usual chipmunks, red squirrels, turtles and toads, and one unforgettable summer, a young black bear. For days on end there was nothing to do but swim, read, fish and hike. At the end of a week we would move to a campground an hour away near a small of town of 800. It was like going to the big city (without any franchise restaurants, doughnut shops, or even a stoplight, thank heavens). Now we have ourselves an acre in the north and have seen foxes, porcupine, grouse and many deer. The only sound most nights is the wind in the tops of the trees. A passing pickup is an event! I love it.

My other favourite place is Kensington Market in downtown Toronto. I've read lately that it's having some severe problems with drug dealing these days but when I lived there 30 years ago it was perfect. My mother had heard an interview on the CBC with a coffee shop owner in the market and when she visited me at university she insisted we go find it. That's how we met Joe at Louis' Coffee Shop and found the best blintzes in the city and amazing apple cake. It was Joe who told me about the apartments being built around the corner when I was looking for my first place of my own. And so for a year I lived in the market overlooking the first Jamaican Patty Palace, the Anshe Shalom synagogue, Tiger's Coconut Grove and a chinese fruit and vegetable market. My apartment was one large room but it had a full size stove, fridge and hot water heater. Downstairs there was a Caribbean record store and I listened to reggae all day (didn't need a radio or TV). There was a bagel bakery on the corner and a couple of great cheese stores. Anything you wanted you could buy in small quantities. Only need 2 potatoes? No problem. I learned to cook from scratch. (Not everything of course -- there were those amazing Jamaican beef patties after all, and bulla cakes, mmmm). Every Sunday I went to the kosher chicken place and bought a bag of chicken wings to make soup (for a quarter). Once the young man behind the counter slipped a chicken breast into the bag before handing it over and when I demurred he insisted I take it. I was a poor student then and certainly dressed the part. It was a kindness. I ate well on @ $15/week and gained weight in spite of walking everywhere. Now when I visit Louis' is gone, the bakery is gone, so much has changed but it's still a vibrant mish mash of cultures. I still love it.

Being able to site on any beach on any ocean.

Anywhere warm.

Tsi Chi, I understand... when we got our studio in Venice, in an old Eagle's lodge, we had seven broken windows...

No one saved us, we fixed it little by little on my salary at the university, such as it was (I was a tech), except for what we could nail the landlord for, the landlord with the seven roll royces..

We had a great indian restaurant downstairs, which we eventually alienated with our theater on weekends... which resounded below....





Sorry husker, I don't mean not to listen. I getcha. Was talking a certain kind of lively city....

Glad to see you, husker, how are you doing?






And re Roberta's topic point... places, we remember places.

Gustav, that is simply not adequate. I and others of us pour our little hearts out - and I know you have one underneath all that cover. Go ahead...



(we won't tell....)


No, I don't mean about the swamp. I mean about your actual take on all this.

I spent the afternoon today in and around one of Tai Chi's places. Kensington Market. Different, but the same. Now it's all about the empanadas. Another wave of immigrants is primary now. Still quite a few of the old-skool Jewish and Portuguese cheese/egg and meat places, the strange vintage clothing and herb joints, still the best place to get luggage for 100's of kilometres.

We spent the early evening at the Free Times Cafe. I used to go there a lot. Had one of my most embarassing moments moments there about 20 years ago- with Roy Forbes and an order of nachos. He mentioned it the next day in a radio interview

Tonight the three of us split a blintz and latke platter AND a middle-eastern platter as well. Urp.

Bob Snider's playing there tonight (that means something to CBC listeners). A rap video was being filmed in the room in back through most of our meal.

There's still something really energizing about the overlap of groups of immigrants in and around Kensington Market.

My other place is, well, a region - the Rideau (Canal and River) - all the way from Kingston up to Ottawa.

Years ago, a friend and I were out driving in north-eastern Ontario - on our way to Manitoulin Island. About 5 minutes out of Sudbury she asked if we were out of Ontario err no. She asked again about 20 minutes later. errr no. Finally she said, is there nothing here but rocks and trees and water. errrrrrrr no.

And that's what I like about the Rideau.

Rocks and trees and water. I like being on the Canadian Shield. It's harsh and rugged, and I feel at home there.

Roberta, if you do want to ever pick up a bull frog, hold it away from your body and not above your shoes.

Hmm.... another place. I have always had an affinity to the southwest. I visited with my family when I was 8 or 9. I visited again to do an archeological dig when I was 20. I lived out there for 4 years in my 20s and I visited 2 after I moved away. After college, I wanted to move away from provincial new england. I went west. I drove across the country, left my travelling partner in san fran and headed south to visit my aunt in LA. That was crazy. I hated LA. I felt my crazy aunt screwed me over. My uncle was set to come save me ...... I finally ended in sants fe a few months after I left the east coast - it had always been my destination. I was set up in a temp apt. until I found one for myself (networking!). I think it was the second day there that I drove up the highway that splits santa fe and turned left onto a small road. That road turned to dirt at a cattle grate and I kept on going. It dead ended at a spot where a dry wash entered a tiny canyon. For a short time the place was all mine. I wandered around and went back to collect some friends to show them. While the boys hiked to the top of the mini-mesas, I wandered into the cleft. I climbed a big rock, looked at the sagebush, listened to the canyon wrens and wept. I felt like I was home for the first time in months. I returned many times while I lived there. Found out it was the local high schooler party spot........ if I followed that dry wash, I would end up at the rio grande.

Tai, Love the contrasts. Love the different feelings you describe from each place. Glad that you have your own acre of the north. Kensington Market sounds like a place I'd enjoy.

husker (good to see you) and gus, Not talking about a kind place. I'm asking about a specific place that holds memories for you. However, if you want a warm beach or a warm anything, that's ok too.

beth, Great that you were able to get to Tai Chi's favorite place. Small world. Rocks and trees and water. Sounds wild. What's the Canadian Shield?

littlek, Amazing how a place we've never been can feel like home. I'm glad you had that experience. I felt that way in London. As if a part of me knew it. If it hadn't been for the mishugina money (no offense), I would have felt completely at home.

some photos from a couple of walks around from Kensington Market and Spadina Avenue

beth, I tried looking at the pictures. I saw a few of Kensington Market. Then weird stretchy lines appeared and the photos disappeared. Thanks for posting them, though. I got a peek.

The Canadian Shield



more on the Shield




rocks and water and trees (from one of my favorite places on the Shield - in Bon Echo Provincial Park)

This site has some great Kensington Market photos from 1976 (the whole site has great photos of some of my favourite spots in Toronto, and around Ontario).