The objects of my affection
I remember the moment I first fell in love with cities. I was about ten years old and visiting family in Pickering, Ontario. My Glaswegian aunt took my family into Toronto one day to show us around downtown. Having grown up in a village of about a thousand people and far from any place of substantial population, cities were exciting and bustling with possibilities for me. I had visited Calgary for the Stampede years earlier but apart from going to that event and to the zoo, I really didn’t spend any time in the actual city away from my aunt’s residential neighbourhood. Likewise, most of our time spent in “Toronto” was in fact spent in the park near my aunt’s house in Pickering. But this day we were going downtown with no real objective other than to experience the city.
I have no memory of our entire day except for this one: in Chinatown, at an outdoor market, my aunt passed me a fruit I’d never seen before. Reddish-beige in colour, and hard, she showed me how to open up the outer coating to reveal the fleshy whiteness inside. She told me to put it in my mouth whole but to mind the pit. My first lychee. Its sweetness burst in my mouth like a revelation, and as I savoured its juices I gazed up at a neigbouring skyscraper. In the reflection of its windows were the bright blue sky and a few fluffy white clouds. How I envied the residents of Toronto and their ability to seek out a new experience every day if they sought it. I never wanted to leave.
Now, as a Montrealer, I love when the shops in Chinatown feature bunches of lychees bundled together and hanging in front of windows. They signal to me that it’s time to try something new and not take for granted the millions of opportunities afforded me by this diverse and lively city.
Happy Chinese New Year!
