9 things I wasn't expecting as a Vancouverite who moved to Toronto

If you don't move, you will be run over

Toronto sidewalks operate at militant speed. Nobody tolerates slow walkers, scenic strollers, or anyone who pauses for a single reflective thought. Window shopping is also not for the faint of heart. People here have a thousand places to be and are always running ten minutes late. If you get in their way, prepare to be run over. It's almost like a cute Downtown Toronto hazing ritual. I think back on this quite fondly, actually.

It's not THAT cold

I know this is a controversial take — but hear me out. Everyone loves to scream about East Coast winters, and every Ontario transplant loves to lecture Vancouverites about how "mild" we have it. I respectfully disagree.

When you're mentally preparing for Arctic-level trauma — layering fleece leggings under your jeans (a horrific thing but besides the point) — and it's -7 degrees and snowing, you step outside in Toronto and think… wait, this is it?

It's cold, sure, but it's not the dramatic near-death experience that everyone warns you about.

Vancouver, on the other hand, will hit you with 5 degrees, nonstop rain, and that damp coastal chill that seeps into your bones and stays there until you take a scalding bath or a 40-minute "I deserve this" shower. It's an entirely different beast, and on my bad days I might even argue that it's worse.

You want a winter that actually lives up to the horror stories? Montreal. In February. Toronto doesn't even hold a candle.

How simple the TTC actually is

Though I am essentially all right-brained and grew up hating math, there is something deeply satisfying about a grid. Clean, relatively straight lines that take you north, south, east, or west — no surprises, no chaos. Toronto's transit system is genuinely idiot-proof (and I say that as a certified, directionally challenged idiot).

Vancouver, meanwhile, is looping and curving and detouring. Our city's urban planners were clearly also right-brained and directionally challenged. After 18 years of Vancouver buses taking a million inexplicable turns, the TTC — aside from the occasional *eclectic* commuter — felt like a gift.

Everything goes straight? In the direction you need? Say less.

How loud it is at all times

Vancouver goes to bed. Toronto does not. It's as simple as that. Even at night, there's a constant background track of sirens, construction, mysterious clanking, drunken laughing, and loud yelling — the whole urban symphony.

Personally, I didn't mind it. I'm half-deaf in one ear, so I would just roll to my quiet side like a human noise-cancelling headphone.

Plus, there was something undeniably Carrie Bradshaw about it. Is that an armed robbery I'm hearing at 2 a.m. on a Tuesday?! Ugh! I love the big city!

The theatre scene actually exists

Don't come for me. I'm so sorry to Bard and the Arts Club in advance (your work is wonderful)...but Vancouver's theatre scene doesn't quite compare to Toronto's.

There, you've got Soulpepper, Mirvish, Tarragon, Factory Theatre — and that's just scratching the surface. You're spoiled for choice every single night of the week.

Waterproof mascara is non-negotiable

Toronto might not be as cold as you expect, but it is absolutely windier than you could ever prepare for. There's this awful, faucet-like eye-watering effect that hits the second you step outside. You'll be crying, you'll be sniffling, and if you're not wearing waterproof mascara, you'll look like a raccoon.

The restaurant variety

Toronto's diversity shows up most deliciously in its food scene. Every neighbourhood is its own little melting pot — Jamaican next to Korean next to Polish next to Vietnamese next to Italian, all packed within blocks of each other.

I don't think I'm being dramatic when I say you'll eat better in Toronto than almost anywhere else in Canada.

Realizing how small Vancouver truly is

Toronto makes you feel tiny in the best possible way — like there's endless room to reinvent yourself and try on a dozen different hats without anyone batting an eye.

Vancouver, meanwhile, operates like a scenic small town. Go to your local Safeway and you'll run into three people from high school, your soccer coach, and someone who once dated your cousin. It's cozy. Sometimes, a little too cozy.

Realizing that being a “King West girly” is kind of an insult

King West is a perfectly fine street — lots of restaurants, plenty of finance bros, a general aura of "work hard, play hard." The internet told me it was Toronto's version of New York's SoHo. So, when someone called me a “King West girly” for the first time, I smiled. I was wearing Aritzia. It tracked, I guess.

I absolutely should not have smiled. This messaging is shorthand for: club rat, bodycon enthusiast, and someone who radiates bottle-service energy. I'm not knocking this. I just advise you to learn the lore before you claim the label. It's more like Yaletown on steroids.