Touring Toronto: Part 1

A RENDEZ-VOUS
Okay so I may have let out a squeaky squeal when I saw Kate at O'Hare airport on Thursday evening after she made it safe and sound to Chicago from Paris.

And within about 10 minutes of 'speed conversation' (that I actually kept up with!), Kate and I were pretty well up to date and simply glad just to see each other and to sit still together for a while. Our 55-minute flight to Toronto was effortless, but the search for an ATM that took VISA cards at Tornto airport was not so carefree. Fortunately our taxi driver had no such qualms about credit cards and, after checking into the palatial Sheraton Center Hotel in downtown Toronto around 11.30pm, we retired for the night in the most comfortable double beds that either of us had ever been in. Memo to travellers out there, I wish to submit a shameless plug for the Sheraton's Sweetsleeper beds. They truly live up to their names.

WAKING UP IS HARD TO DO
The morning after gave Kate and I a proper chance to see the beautiful view of Toronto from our hotel room (the heavy fog - not to mention the darkness DUH - had made it impossible to do so the night before). Well, we were utterly spoiled. We had beautiful facilities in our room, and the view to match. Actually, I have to confess that I loved the shower so much, it was hard to determine whether I wanted to sleep in the Sweetsleeper bed or in the bath. In the interests of both convenience and hygiene, I chose the bed.

So there we were on our first day in Toronto, with the city literally at our feet, and neither of us had consulted a guidebook or website to give us an idea what to do first. Our stomachs decided for us, and sent us up to the Club Lounge for a buffet breakfast and yet another stellar view of Toronto.

Venturing down to the concierge desk, we were just in time to book ourselves on one of those hop on-hop off City Tours and the bus even came to pick us up at the Hotel. Our tour was run by Tim, a young and good-looking, but very enthusiastic Toronto native [imagine Steve Irwin running a bus tour and you'll know what I mean].

Because Kate and I weren't familiar with the city, and given that our bus ticket was valid for two days, we just sat back and relaxed as Tim drove around and narrated about sites we passed and points of arguable interest along the way. We pulled up at the Saint Lawrence Market, a massive fresh produce market reminiscent of Adelaide's Central Market on a Friday night. The sights and smells, particularly the Greek pastries, freshly-ground coffee, and the oozing honeycombs, were a treat for all the senses.

The bus would not be around to pick us up for a further hour, so we just walked up and down the street past the Market, and wandered in and out of the small shops lining the road. I was in a good mood, and not being jostled by too many fellow tourists, so I chatted amiably with the shop keepers, and even bought a few little keepsakes to remember the trip. I was disappointed to learn, however, that unlike most of Europe, Toronto did not offer any postcards resplendent with glitter or holograms. Nothing. Only sensible ones - well, except for the one with the moose dressed as a Canadian Mounty but that was too silly even for me. As you can understand, it was very hard for me not to write a letter to the Canadian Tourism Minister right there and then.

But I digress. Having found our way back to the agreed meeting point for the bus, we returned to Dundas Square (the central public square in Toronto) and wandered through the shops. The Eaton Centre is a massive shopping mall that occupies an entire block, and we went in there. And emerged with nothing but a coffee and a cookie each. We were so disciplined. One shop was full of Asian import clothes that smelled distinctly of gasoline, and the other shop had a terribly tacky range of prom dresses in it that Kate and I were seriously tempted to pretend to be bridesmaids and have a fashion parade in the store. But we grew bored with that idea just as quickly as we had thought of it.

But Kate then started to nag me about not having brought my bathing suit with me, given that the Sheraton had such a beaufiul and inviting swimming pool bla bla bla. Now my body has not seen a Speedo in years. And nor have I submerged myself in a pool in just as long. So I initially laughed at her comments, until I realised she was serious. Next thing I knew, I was up in swimwear in the shopping centre, and buying a two-piece black swimsuit. For anyone not fortunate enough to be legally blind, you will be pleased to learn that my swimsuit top is actually what the fashionistas call a "tankini" (which I believe is French for "mercifully covers your fat stomach"). But I have to say that my new purchase held up well in the pool and the spa, and I was feeling most relaxed at the end of the day.

IS THERE A CARNIVORE IN THE (STEAK) HOUSE?
Chicago is famous for its steak houses, but Toronto has its fair share too. And one of them was conveniently located right downstairs in our Hotel. So for our first dinner meal in Toronto, Kate and I enjoyed delicious steaks with red wine. Yes, friends, it was definitely the life.

(More Toronto adventures to come - plus photos of course)