Of all the cities that I’ve ever visited, few feel as much like home as Toronto. Maybe it’s because, between my dozen or so trips to Toronto, I’ve spent a collective two years of my life here. Or maybe it’s because, in stark contrast to the chilly, dull weather, Torontonians are some of the warmest, friendliest and most colorful people that I’ve ever met.
Whether it’s partaking in the city’s annual Pride festival (which is one of the largest in the world), climbing the 147-floor CN tower, exploring Toronto’s epic ethnic neighborhoods, sunbathing on the gay (and nude) beach or kayaking in the city’s surrounding rivers, I feel like I’ve experienced much of what the city has to offer.
That is, except for the bathhouse.