As I bit into my brioche breakfast sandwich again I started to think that maybe my ideal “day-in-the-life” as an East Villager would go no farther. Maybe I’d just lounge peacefully on the banks of the Bow for hours and hours.
But… how long could my latte last?
I did eventually hoist myself up. My vague plan was: write, read, bikeride and not get sunburnt.
I was drawn to St. Patrick’s Bridge throughout the day while crews assembled Michel de Broin’s towering Bloom. It was a feat of art and engineering that stopped foot traffic all day.
Lunch beckoned and I asked my boyfriend if I could tear him away from work to have a sandwich at the zoo with me. It didn’t take much convincing.
Post-zoo, I got a text from mom, reminding me we had a to-do list to tackle. On a stroke of brilliance, I invited her for to-do list ice cream. Spots like Village Ice Cream (or Lukes Drug Mart, where I stopped later) just outside East Village are a considerable perk of inner-city living—you’re never far from a local treat.
Ice cream turned into dinner. I had just enough time to meet a friend to go to Night Writer at Loft 112. The funky space in Orange Lofts is a weekly chance to write and chat and sip local beer. After, host Gina took us to the rooftop for a view of the neighbourhood and told us historical tales.
That was going to be the evening’s capper, but Jason and I returned to St. Patrick’s Bridge. Rumour was, Bloom’s lights would be turned on for the first time.
The collective intake of breath at first light was a snapshot of East Village. It was the exclamation point (or the ellipsis…) on an ideal day.