The Life of a Mole
The life of a Mole does not sound attractive at first hearing but believe me, the nobility of the Mole species lives well and is the envy of the non-Mole remnant of the city’s population.
Okay, these are not short snouted, half blind fuzzy bodied moles. These are downtown Toronto condo hotel and apartment dwellers whose buildings link to the PATH, a 26 km underground shopping maze that has everything but an airport. Toronto maybe one of the world’s great cities but from November till March, the rain, snow, sleet, ice, wind combination means preparation for outdoor visits is a comedy act of hats and mittens and parkas or rain coats and boots or overshoes with scarves and balaclava face covers. Countryside winter has some fun to it. Downtown city winter is where moles are king.
During our last two week stay in Toronto, we hibernated in One King West, a wonderful residence midway on the Path between the financial district and Hudson Bay Company/Eaton Center. Everything was at our feet or perhaps beneath our feet: restaurants, supermarkets, clothing stores and the whole world of fashion. Entertainment centres require a 50 meters sprint outdoors. Even Grumpy can hold his greath that long. The Subway is in the Path and with that the Railway, Pearson airport and the whole world sits within the temperate zone.
You can feel the moles when you’re walking in the Path.
Non-Mole pedestrians are covered in layers of dripping cloth or leather and make quiet sneezy noises as they lumber by.
Mind you at lunch time they come down the 50 story shaft from their office bird perches to fluff their skinny pants and high fashioned finger nails at the much more casually dressed resident Moles.
In the evenings, the Moles own the Path. The 50 story office dwellers reluctantly return to the remote suburbs where they sleep and the peace of open and well lit walkways once again is the exclusive home of the Moles.
There’s a rumour that at least one visitor has been lost in the Path for some years and lives on the kindness of restaurant staff who speak little English but have agreed to mislead the poor Doofus for eternity.
But once learned, the underground Mole shafts make winter possible even enjoyable in what is otherwise a most fabulous city.
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