Starting Over

I walk down the streets of the city so alien and yet so strangely familiar. My eyes are heavy from sleep deprivation, my mind racing in a million directions with things that I have to do to re-establish myself here. In Toronto. My new home for now.

Four hours after landing I have a cell phone and a new bank account. When filling out the forms for the new account it hit me – the U word: “UNEMPLOYED”. Although it’s been all of two weeks since I have officially been unemployed, and it was my choice to do so, and all of this happened in a different country and I do have interviews lined up, there is always that nagging insecurity that six months down the road I’ll be without work. There is the nagging insecurity now that I have no more money coming into my bank account so my credit card bills are getting higher and my bank balances are getting lower. Not a pretty situation. That is always the risk with moving I suppose.

I navigate the subway system with reasonable success, watching the tin-can like trains pulling in and out of stations. They all seem uniform unlike New York where they come in a variety of shapes, sizes and inevitably marked with some colorful expression. I ride the Yonge-University-Spadina line at rush hour and see something akin to what I’m used to: the crowds, the multi-ethnic mix, the I-pods. Nothing quite compares to those flushing bound 7 trains though. The announcements are clearly articulated, never mumbled. There is no local or express. The whole thing is geared to be user friendly. Which is weird. To me at least.

Everyone seems friendlier. Really friendly. In fact, when en-route to an interview this morning I found myself at Yorkdale subway station with no clue of which direction I was going, a helpful bus driver wrote down the address and dropped me right across the street. They smile, they say thank you, and I notice their accents ten times more. I do miss the harsh gruffness of New Yorkers but this is a nice change. They’re not overly friendly to the point where it’s uncomfortable, but you may have the occasional person actually speak to you in an elevator.

Overall it’s been a good two days. On Sunday I move into my sublet for the summer which is in Kensington Market. I’ve heard good things but this is kind of like the first time I moved to New York. So many familiar names but no meaning attached to them. I am looking forward to discovering more and associating names with memories and meaning. I am looking forward to the next few months.