A Weekend Walk
It was such a relief when the week of rain we’d been having finally eased up this weekend that I went a little crazy and decided to walk all over the damn place. My poor legs had about had it with me after Saturday and Sunday morning barreworks classes and then a walk from Kensington Market to the Distillery District and back home. But there was just so much to see!
Lucky for me, my lovely pal Niall was game for an on-foot adventure. So we fuelled up on quiche and pizza and monkey bread (which I am obsessed with, pictured above, it’s like a giant twisty cinnamon bun from heaven) at Wanda’s Pie in the Sky café before making our way down to the Sunday Antiques Market (where I resisted the charms of that tiny “fancy camera”) and then on to the distillery district.
I love walking around Toronto. I feel like there’s so much you miss if you just zip here and there underground, or even hop in a cab or on a streetcar. For example, if we’d taken transit down to the distillery, I wouldn’t have gotten to pet a soft horse and chat with the hilarious policeman atop him. He told us he felt terrible because the little elderly woman who he’d just been talking to started crying as she told him about a similar horse her father had when she was a girl, and just when I was about to start crying about that he looked at me, shrugged, and said, “I told her to get off the sidewalk.” I think my ensuing guffaw may have spooked the horse a little.
We also never would have come across the above giant swing at a parkette on the Esplanade. I kept trying to tell Niall how comfortable it was, although, looking back I may have just been delirious from all of the strolling at that point.
Fortunately we made it to the Mill Street Brew Pub where we rested our weary feet and I astounded Niall with my beer expertise by saying “Oh cute, that wall’s covered in beer tabs, I mean tops!…caps…?”
Needless to say, he took the lead on placing our drink order.
It was great to see so many people out running around smiling in the long-awaited sunshine. And it must be said, there’s nothing like a little ten kilometre hoof around the city to make you sleep like a sedated log.
Now who wants to come over and rub my feet?