A
AlvinofDiaspar
Guest
From the Post:
You can see the world without leaving station
Kennedy Terminal
Peter Kuitenbrouwer, National Post
Published: Saturday, June 10, 2006
Kennedy Station in Scarborough is one of Toronto's true great transit crossroads -- not quite Grand Central, but certainly Toronto's answer to King's Cross in London, Atlantic Avenue in Brooklyn or St. Michel in Paris.
Kennedy Station is on four levels. The lower level is the subway, the second level is the street entrance, the third level is for buses, and on the top level runs the Scarborough RT, the comical little light rail train that runs just five stops east from here to McCowan Road.
At rush hour, Kennedy is a great sluice through which pour workers and students of every possible race. The bonus is natural light on the top two levels, from huge banks of floor-to-ceiling windows.
My favourite spot here is the Gateway Newsstand on the third level, staffed by two efficient South Asian women who move at a frenzied pace -- far quicker than Tim Hortons. Transactions are completed in the snap of your fingers.
"Do you have batteries?" asked two tall brothers in baggy jeans hanging off their bums, in a scene straight out of Spike Lee's Do The Right Thing.
"Panasonic $2.75, Duracell $4.50," replied Paras Kana, who staffs the stand weekdays with Dharshini Granasekaran.
This week Kennedy Station became my home away from home, the portal through which I travelled to explore Rouge Beach, Toronto Zoo, Sheppard Avenue East, Malvern and Morningside Park in Scarborough, on the first week of my Walk Across Toronto.
But you can get a good taste of Scarborough (or the world, for that matter) right at Kennedy.
Ms. Kana and Ms. Granasekaran arrive here at 5:30 a.m. Each morning, a Chinese supplier delivers spring rolls, a Jamaican supplier delivers patties (beef, chicken and veggie) and an Indian supplier delivers Samosas (also beef, chicken or veggie.)
Three different bakeries deliver cookies and cakes; the shop also sells delectable cheese danishes, plus plantain chips, pizza, sandwiches, and even iced cappuccino. For coffee, you buy an empty cup and serve yourself.
People normally order according to their ethnicities, but I saw one Muslim woman enquire what was in the spring rolls.
"Pork and veggie," Ms. Granasekaran replied. The woman shook her head.
"But it gets all mixed up," said Ms. Paras. "Sometimes the Canadian people ask for something spicy."
The shop sells the four English Toronto dailies, two Jamaican newspapers and one in Chinese.
If you're heading to the zoo, do check the place out; the RT itself is worth the fare. The train is quite narrow, just one row of seats on each side facing each other. Great for people-watching. The other day I sat across from a young woman with black hair in a Club Monaco sweatshirt and sunglasses listening to an Ipod, a woman in a Middle Eastern head scarf and dark sunglasses, a young Asian man with an LA ball cap and thick coat, a young Japanese woman in a denim miniskirt and died red hair, also with an Ipod. I wanted desperately to pull out my camera.
Two things have amazed me about Scarborough this week: its green lushness and the incredible diversity of its inhabitants.
But not everyone is so thrilled with the colours of Scarborough. Yesterday, I walked west on Ellesmere Road and then south on Morningside Road, and swung into Morningside Park just as a rain began to fall. I had a soggy walk along Highland Creek with Ron, retired from Toronto Hydro, who was more sensibly dressed with his windbreaker from the Canadian Union of Public Employees.
Ron (he didn't give a last name) moved to Malvern in the 1970s, but 20 years later he left the neighbourhood.
"It used to be 50-50," he said, referring to the balance between whites and people of other races, "but now it's 80-20. It's supposed to be mixed. Isn't that the idea? Instead, all the immigrants gather in one place: Scarborough. It's like Agincourt. You send your kids to school and every other kid there is Chinese. Are we in Canada, or are we in China?"
Now he lives on Weir Crescent north of Lawrence Avenue East and Kingston Road. "We're in a little pocket," he said.
Me, I find pockets a little confining.
I emerged from Morningside Park via Greenvale Terrace onto Kingston Road and searched for lunch. Young's Food Mart offered Chester fried chicken as well as "top-quality diapers"; somehow the combination held no appeal.
I ended up at Twice as Nice, a wonderful Jamaican place at 4190 Kingston Road. "What would you like?" a smiling young woman asked. "Please don't say chicken. Everybody when they don't know anything, they always want chicken, chicken, chicken. But it's good to try different stuff."
I ordered curried goat. It was unctuous, not spicy, wonderful, plus I got to watch Germany beat Costa Rica in the World Cup.
I'm not quite done with Scarborough; I'll continue walking here next week. Scarborough's not quite done with me, either. I picked up a case of poison ivy strolling through Rouge Park, and if any reader has any brilliant remedies, other than the calamine lotion I am already slathering on my spots, I'm all ears.
pkuitenbrouwer@nationalpost.com
AoD
You can see the world without leaving station
Kennedy Terminal
Peter Kuitenbrouwer, National Post
Published: Saturday, June 10, 2006
Kennedy Station in Scarborough is one of Toronto's true great transit crossroads -- not quite Grand Central, but certainly Toronto's answer to King's Cross in London, Atlantic Avenue in Brooklyn or St. Michel in Paris.
Kennedy Station is on four levels. The lower level is the subway, the second level is the street entrance, the third level is for buses, and on the top level runs the Scarborough RT, the comical little light rail train that runs just five stops east from here to McCowan Road.
At rush hour, Kennedy is a great sluice through which pour workers and students of every possible race. The bonus is natural light on the top two levels, from huge banks of floor-to-ceiling windows.
My favourite spot here is the Gateway Newsstand on the third level, staffed by two efficient South Asian women who move at a frenzied pace -- far quicker than Tim Hortons. Transactions are completed in the snap of your fingers.
"Do you have batteries?" asked two tall brothers in baggy jeans hanging off their bums, in a scene straight out of Spike Lee's Do The Right Thing.
"Panasonic $2.75, Duracell $4.50," replied Paras Kana, who staffs the stand weekdays with Dharshini Granasekaran.
This week Kennedy Station became my home away from home, the portal through which I travelled to explore Rouge Beach, Toronto Zoo, Sheppard Avenue East, Malvern and Morningside Park in Scarborough, on the first week of my Walk Across Toronto.
But you can get a good taste of Scarborough (or the world, for that matter) right at Kennedy.
Ms. Kana and Ms. Granasekaran arrive here at 5:30 a.m. Each morning, a Chinese supplier delivers spring rolls, a Jamaican supplier delivers patties (beef, chicken and veggie) and an Indian supplier delivers Samosas (also beef, chicken or veggie.)
Three different bakeries deliver cookies and cakes; the shop also sells delectable cheese danishes, plus plantain chips, pizza, sandwiches, and even iced cappuccino. For coffee, you buy an empty cup and serve yourself.
People normally order according to their ethnicities, but I saw one Muslim woman enquire what was in the spring rolls.
"Pork and veggie," Ms. Granasekaran replied. The woman shook her head.
"But it gets all mixed up," said Ms. Paras. "Sometimes the Canadian people ask for something spicy."
The shop sells the four English Toronto dailies, two Jamaican newspapers and one in Chinese.
If you're heading to the zoo, do check the place out; the RT itself is worth the fare. The train is quite narrow, just one row of seats on each side facing each other. Great for people-watching. The other day I sat across from a young woman with black hair in a Club Monaco sweatshirt and sunglasses listening to an Ipod, a woman in a Middle Eastern head scarf and dark sunglasses, a young Asian man with an LA ball cap and thick coat, a young Japanese woman in a denim miniskirt and died red hair, also with an Ipod. I wanted desperately to pull out my camera.
Two things have amazed me about Scarborough this week: its green lushness and the incredible diversity of its inhabitants.
But not everyone is so thrilled with the colours of Scarborough. Yesterday, I walked west on Ellesmere Road and then south on Morningside Road, and swung into Morningside Park just as a rain began to fall. I had a soggy walk along Highland Creek with Ron, retired from Toronto Hydro, who was more sensibly dressed with his windbreaker from the Canadian Union of Public Employees.
Ron (he didn't give a last name) moved to Malvern in the 1970s, but 20 years later he left the neighbourhood.
"It used to be 50-50," he said, referring to the balance between whites and people of other races, "but now it's 80-20. It's supposed to be mixed. Isn't that the idea? Instead, all the immigrants gather in one place: Scarborough. It's like Agincourt. You send your kids to school and every other kid there is Chinese. Are we in Canada, or are we in China?"
Now he lives on Weir Crescent north of Lawrence Avenue East and Kingston Road. "We're in a little pocket," he said.
Me, I find pockets a little confining.
I emerged from Morningside Park via Greenvale Terrace onto Kingston Road and searched for lunch. Young's Food Mart offered Chester fried chicken as well as "top-quality diapers"; somehow the combination held no appeal.
I ended up at Twice as Nice, a wonderful Jamaican place at 4190 Kingston Road. "What would you like?" a smiling young woman asked. "Please don't say chicken. Everybody when they don't know anything, they always want chicken, chicken, chicken. But it's good to try different stuff."
I ordered curried goat. It was unctuous, not spicy, wonderful, plus I got to watch Germany beat Costa Rica in the World Cup.
I'm not quite done with Scarborough; I'll continue walking here next week. Scarborough's not quite done with me, either. I picked up a case of poison ivy strolling through Rouge Park, and if any reader has any brilliant remedies, other than the calamine lotion I am already slathering on my spots, I'm all ears.
pkuitenbrouwer@nationalpost.com
AoD