countries that start with the letter c

i have been in australia for over three months now. this also means that i have not been in toronto for over three months now. obviously. this is, i have realized, far and away that longest i have ever been away from the city i have called home for nearly twenty-five years. one would expect a certain element of homesickness, and while there are things about home that i certainly miss, i wouldn't say i'm sick about it. (people, well now that's a different story- i miss some people desperately.)

it's funny the things that i do miss. walking past christie pitts to scoop up some mint chocolate chip or german chocolate cake ice cream at baskin robbins. riding my bike along the treacherous stretch of bloor from bathurst to spadina. banjara's veggie combo. my thursday afternoon attack class. twizzlers, which haven't immigrated to australia. paying one (albeit exorbitant) fare to ride the subway for as short or long a distance as i please. my blundstone boots. things like those. it's in the infrequent moments when the canadian inside me all of a sudden wants a tim horton's double-double that i remember how far i am from home.

it was my and chris's trip to southeast asia that brought me to the constant reader, a book store in nearby crow's nest, and found me thumbing through the lonely planet c titles in search of 'cambodia, laos, vietmnam, and the lower mekong'. but it was the part of me that misses home that made me reach past cambodia and cameroon and wrap my hand around the spine of 'lonely planet: canada.' hungrily skimming past british columbia and the prairies, my eyes came to rest on the chapter entitled: ontario. and right there, the first city profiled in the chapter, in all its leafy, semi-self-conscious glory was toronto, my home and native landmass. page after page after page of home.

and so it was that i spent the better part of an hour reading all about the place i've lived since birth. from the eaton centre to centreville, high park to regent park, sassafras to scarborough, it was all there. i loved the recommendation to try the seared tuna salad at utopia, my favourite college street eatery. i scoffed as the travel editors tried to talk up the non-existent charm of our waterfront. i smiled at the mention of kensington, smelling the incense and the smug, holier-than-thou attitude of its denizens. my eye twitched when they directed hipsters to 'west queen west'- don't they know i call it queen west west? but it was all there. yitz's at avenue and eglinton, where i used to gum breadsticks from a sassy seat before i cut my first tooth. edwards gardens, where i poked my curious nine-year-old head into a limousine, just to see if they really were that fancy. beck taxi- need i say more?

i must have cut an odd figure, standing in the middle of the travel section in a country full of newness and difference, lost in the warmth of the familiar. future's bakery. metropasses. goose shit in allen gardens. page after page after page of home.