Toronto

By Jason Sutcliffe

I love my city! Toronto is my home, and it always has been. I love everything about it. Since I was a kid I have grown up in a middle class area of East York, and I appreciate my city and community for everything that it is.

The multicultural element to the city is second to none. International cuisine is one of the many gifts our city gives us. We have Greektown, Little Italy. Little Portugal, Chinatown, Koreatown, Little India, and many others where we enjoy the best culinary dishes their countries have to offer.

Toronto has all kinds with street festivals and events; Ribfest, Taste of the Danforth, Beaches Jazz Festival, Taste of Little Italy, Gay Pride, multiple concerts at Dundas Square, the Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF), which draws a number of global celebrities, and many more.

When you live in Toronto, you will experience sport fever like never before. There is not a city in North America that supports every one of it is sports teams the same way we do. We are not just fans we enter a marriage of sorts with our teams, and often until death does us part. We will support them regardless of their success or lack of success.

When Hockey season starts our city goes nuts. We packed the stadium every home game for ten years without making the playoffs once. The Raptors are the only Canadian team in the NBA. Why? Because, even when they are not winning, we buy tickets, show up, buy paraphernalia and scream our faces off in support. This is a sports city, and as a sports fan there is not a better place on earth.

Toronto is cleaner than most other cities its size. We have a valley that runs right through the middle of the city, with a bike path that will take you from one end of the city to the other. In fact, our city is known as a city within a park. It is beautiful here.

It is not perfect like any metropolis there are things make it hard for some people to deal with, but those are the same things I have grown to love. I need the drunk teenagers making noise walking down my street, the police, ambulance and firetruck sirens at all hours, the mentally ill lady at the top of the street who calls me an asshole every morning after I say hello to her.

I can not live in the country; there is no excitement, and I can not sleep at night when it is so quite, it drives me nuts. After three days, I need to get back to the city. I used to think it was because I was sick of the country, but I eventually realized it was because I loved and missed my city

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