When I got the keys to our new place a week ago, it marked the beginning of a lot of things: the start of life as a home owner, for one. Among the other firsts is a biggie: by the end of the month, I will no longer call Little Italy home. Home will be the Far East. Home will be Scarborough.
To put this in perspective, I have never in 20-going-on-30-odd years of Toronto dwelling, resided east of Yonge Street. Born more or less at the intersection of Yonge and Bloor, I am a serious downtowner/Westender (admittedly, not quite as hardcore as my mother, who believes the boundaries of Toronto are Dufferin, Eglinton, Greektown and the lake). A story I often tell is how wonderful it was as a kid going to an elementary school that had an atypical catchment area consisting of the whole city of Toronto. My classmates and friends were bussed in from High Park, Regent Park, Cabbagetown, Rosedale, the Danforth, the Beaches, or Dufferin Grove. Yet as broad a sense of the city as this might have impressed upon me, these were nevertheless pre-Mega City years and Scarborough was not really on my radar.
Enter my now fiancé, who was born in Calgary, raised in Scarborough and more recently lived in Pickering. In the time we’ve known each other I’ve been on more GO Train rides than I care to count, and have a clearer picture of what it looks like east of Victoria Park. So it was a little less of a mental shift when this past summer we began our house hunt, and decided to focus our search on the east end, knowing that this was a more affordable area than the downtown and that many of our friends and family have settled in the area.