So this is (really) goodbye...

My intersection

This past weekend I had to say goodbye not only to the place I called home for over three years but to my neighbourhood. Throughout my time in the Fashion District, I've developed so many relationships:

• With neighbours who would call you at 3am and for who you'd cross the street over that late just to hang out, drink tea and chat
• With the neighbour next door who would constantly sing "Dream Girls" and opera songs so loud it kept me and my roommate up at night
• With the neighbour across the hall who would go downstairs every 30 minutes or so for a cigarette and when I asked him why he didn't smoke in his condo, he replied with "eww", which shocked me because he always smelled like an ashtray
• With the security guards I saluted everyday
• The grumpy Jay who I once caught listening to Ruby
• Dolly who always said "hello dear" and once got angry at me asking her if she was Sri Lankan (in fact, Dolly told me she was "British Guyanese", embracing colonialism it seemed) 
• With the awkward Donald, who always seemed to be in...space.

• Coffee shop employees that see you so often you seem to get free coffee and treats when you are going away on vacation (or for school) and where the employees are genuinely interested in the work you're producing while you've reserved a seat and a table for hours
• And even with the superintendent who complains more than she helps and always tries to sell you her husband's under the table repairs (that $25 caulking job was junk)

View from my rooftop (2009)

[Via]

I moved to King West Village in December 2008 and I've been around for quite a bit of its constant transformation. I've seen the condo footprint expand in the 'hood where every parking lot, gas station and vacant lot became condos and lofts, seen some hipsters move in when the Drake General Store set up shop, followed by the Hoxton, witnessed the convenience store below me change ownership from a friendly Iranian owner who knew the meaning of community, who had numerous female problems and included at least three f-word's in every sentence to a Chinese owner who speaks zero English and knows only to charge you ridiculous prices for items like a Bic pen, I've seen restaurants come and go, witnessed the Travelodge get demolished instead of converted and the Thompson hotel go up behind it, the Coffee Time, which I was convinced was merely a front for money laundering, finally became another King West wing shop that has yet to open, and so much more.

Thompson Hotel Rooftop View
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Although the neighbourhood wasn't my favourite place to be Thursday, Friday and Saturday evenings, it was great during the daytime, and I always felt safe on its streets no matter how many wacko clubbers and other "sketchyness" was out there. The infamous McDonalds below my house where King West clubbers leave their dignity at the door is a place I'll miss. This is the place where I've seen the female anatomy in every position possible and all forms of the "walk of shame". It's also the one McDonald's in the city that numerous people have labeled "the worst Mickey D's in the city". No matter how simple or complicated your order is, it takes 20 minutes and there's always an employee yelling at another in the back.

 

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My subway station

McDonald's isn't the only thing I'll miss in the neighbourhood, there's an abundance of businesses, people, conveniences and happenings that I'll be nostalgic for: the derailment of the Bathurst streetcar, sending sparks everywhere is one, the constant reminders for tenants not to throw cigarettes out of the south facing windows (looking onto King West) is another, alongside all the other "reminders" and "attention attention" signs we have in our elevator, the beautiful rooftop view, Jimmy's Coffee, La Merceria, Zoe's Bakery, Sadie's, its proximity to Queen West and the park, I could continue for awhile.

Changing the tracks
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My condo has seen its share of pleasant and unpleasant guests, and even though she was small and slightly uncomfortable at times, she was mine, and the first thing I've ever owned. I didn't realise I wouldn't spend another night in my condo until I signed the papers and the sale became a reality. The hardest thing I had to do was write a letter to the new owner - overwhelmed by emotions, I wrote: "I hope this place means as much to you as it did to me," and I sincerely hope it does. Farewell my first home, farewell 700 King.