I've officially moved away from Toronto a few times, with a stint in Prince Edward Island, some time abroad, and a New York adventure thrown in there, too. Now, though, I'm gone for good, settled across the country in Vancouver — a Toronto expat story as old as time.
If I'm honest, Toronto never really felt like home to me. Technically, I'm from Pickering (part of the GTA), so maybe that's part of it. Still, Toronto always felt like a second home. It was just a 40-minute GO Train ride away. I grew up going into the city for Blue Jays and Leafs games, wandering the AGO and the ROM, and later, as a teenager, hanging out on Queen Street West (back when it was actually cool, but more on that later).
In my thirties, I even lived at Bathurst and Eglinton for a while, working in the city, early on in my career as a writer and editor. So it's not that I don't know Toronto. I do.
But I'm glad I don't live there anymore, and here's why.
Condos. Everywhere.
I know: bold words from someone who lives in Vancouver. But I'm not from here, so maybe that's why it doesn't bother me in the same way. In a city surrounded by mountains, it almost makes sense to have this many condos (almost). How else is everyone supposed to take in the views?
Toronto feels different. The sheer volume of condos has taken over the skyline — and even the suburbs — in a way that feels both crowded and strangely lifeless.
For a city that already struggles to preserve its historic buildings and define a clear identity, the level of condo saturation is a hard no for me.
The dreaded traffic
I hated the traffic ten years ago, and by all accounts, it's only gotten worse. I can't imagine dealing with it now.
I have a life to live, and I don't want to spend 100 hours a year sitting in my car. That alone is enough to turn me off.
Yes, Vancouver has its own traffic issues, but I haven't experienced anything close to the frustration of creeping along the DVP or sitting bumper-to-bumper on the 401.
It did nothing for my mental health, and I don't miss it. I definitely don't miss needing the 401 just to get anywhere.
What happened to Queen Street West?
Maybe I'm aging myself, but I remember when Queen Street West was the coolest strip in Toronto. It was full of record stores, vintage shops, independent boutiques, and hole-in-the-wall restaurants. It even had MuchMusic, which gave it a distinctly Toronto energy.
Now it's changed. Storefronts have closed, familiar spots are gone, and it's become noticeably more commercial.
There used to be a creative, slightly gritty character that made it feel alive. That feeling is harder to find now.
People point to Ossington and Dundas Street West as the new Queen West — and maybe they are, for now — but that's kind of the point.
Toronto has a habit of constantly redefining what's 'cool.' What starts as creative and a little rough around the edges quickly becomes expensive, overdeveloped, and eventually replaced by the next 'it' neighbourhood.
Lake Ontario
I mean… do I really need to say more?
Yes, it's a Great Lake, but it's also kind of a boring one. You can't always swim in it, you can't see much beyond it, and unless you live downtown with a high-up view, or live around the Beaches, you don't even experience it that often.
It just doesn't have the same pull. Give me the ocean any day.
What is Toronto, really?
It has the CN Tower. It has… whatever the SkyDome is called now. It has… whatever the Air Canada Centre is called now. It has TIFF.
But what is Toronto, really? That's something I could never quite figure out.
Yes, it's multicultural — but so are a lot of major cities in Canada. It was once known as a top-tier foodie city, but even that reputation feels like it's faded over the past few years.
The more I think about it, the more Toronto feels like a collection of things rather than a city with a clear identity. It has landmarks, neighbourhoods, and moments. Yet what actually defines it?
Even the idea of getting away for the weekend feels underwhelming. Where are you going: Barrie, Muskoka, or Niagara Falls for the millionth time?
For me, Toronto always felt like a place that had everything on paper, but harder to connect with in real life.
It's too big
Toronto feels too large, too spread out, and too difficult — read: traffic — to really enjoy and make the most of.
Getting from point A to point B can easily take an hour, even for a simple errand. And even then, the drive isn't exactly scenic enough to make it feel worth it.
Downtown feels worlds away from the Danforth. Yonge and Eglinton feels like it takes forever to reach Dundas West. Add in multiple subway stops and streetcar transfers, and it's just… too much.
It's expensive (and not always worth it)
Again, I know. I live in Vancouver, which is also very pricey. But in Toronto, the financial tradeoff for sky-high rent, groceries, and everything else isn't always clear.
You're paying top-tier prices for a lifestyle that still involves long commutes, crowded spaces, and constant movement. And for what? To look at the CN Tower? To push through another long, grey winter?
At a certain point, it starts to feel less like you're living in a world-class city and more like you're paying a premium just to keep up.
The weather
The winters are too long, cold, and slushy (getting on a streetcar in January is terrible — almost as terrible as sweating on a subway in the middle of summer). And the summers in Toronto are too humid and hot. I don't like extreme weather, and I don't like going from wearing layers and a bunch of blankets to barely anything to bed in a matter of weeks.
Maybe it's because I didn't grow up there or go to university there, but Toronto has never felt like home to me. It always felt like I was a visitor rather than a resident.
Something about the city just never clicked the way it seems to for other people.
Toronto is a city loved by many, and I can understand why – there are many things I enjoy about it. I'll always visit, but I know now I'll never call it home.
The opinions expressed in this article are the author's own and do not necessarily reflect the views of Narcity Media.
