There Goes the Neighbourhood

            On Saturday I went to the food bank for the first time in a few weeks because I’d been on a fruit fast. There would have been no point going through the work of lining up for the sparse quantity and low quality of fruit they offer at the food bank. This was also my first time going to the Parkdale Food Bank at its new location since April 1^st at the Parkdale Activities and Recreation Centre.

            I was surprised when I got there to see that there was a line-up on Queen Street. I had been informed by volunteers a few weeks ago that outdoor line-ups would be no longer necessary at the new space because there would be plenty of room for everyone inside. I was especially looking forward to the promised smoke free space, but here we all were, out in the cold again.

            Some people were waiting inside the western door where the space that leads to the basement stairs will hold about ten people in line. They were told though that they had to line up outside because it was a fire hazard and because the basement stairs was also the location of the Tool Library. A few people came to get tools while we were waiting and they all looked like they were of the newly arrived well-fed gentry invaders to Parkdale. They walked out with power tools borrowed probably to help them renovate their charmingly rustic old Parkdale apartments.

            There seemed to be more people smoking in this line-up than at the Cowan and King location. Maybe having to stand around on the main street makes people more nervous.

            I noticed that a woman that had arrived just after me was five places ahead of me and I told her, but she told me that I was supposed to be ahead of her up there. She didn’t understand that there had been a few people ahead of me that were not standing in line when I’d arrived. One guy was down the street leaning on a wall and two others had been up beside the door. There was no reason to accuse her of cheating since she just didn’t know what was going on.

            When the line finally started to move, later than it was supposed to, the people in the front went inside to line up in the entryway, until the person in charge of escorting the first group of five returned to tell us that we all had to back up and go back outside. This made the line even more uneven than it was before because of course the line on the street did not back up to accommodate those who’d just been ejected from inside, and so we accumulated around the door. There was however plenty of space for the Tool Library customers to get in and out with their electrical gentrification instruments then walk quickly to their cars and drive back to their studios in Liberty Village with their sanders and floor polishers as fast as they could.

            There was a group of PARC volunteers standing and smoking in front of the main doors. They were looking over at us and though I couldn’t hear their words they seemed to be discussing us in a perturbed “there goes the neighbourhood” sort of way. Finally, one volunteer that I recognized from when I used to teach my yoga class at PARC, came over to sternly inform us that we weren’t lining up properly. Their complaint was kind of ironic considering that if they ever tried getting many of the regular PARC clientele to stand in a line-up it would be like herding cats.

            When I was escorted downstairs at the head of a group of five, were led through a maze of corridors. At the bottom of the stairs there was a left turn, then a walk to a right turn to stand and wait again. I asked why they just don’t let everybody in since the corridor would fit the entire outside line up. The volunteer explained that there are tons of fire codes and so they might never find a way to keep the previously made promise of no outdoor line-ups. He added that the people at PARC have been very accommodating, but I think he was being sarcastic. While we were standing there a biker type who I think was associated with the Tool Library came up to ask if Dave was there. Our escort told him that Dave wasn’t there. The guy started complaining that there should be someone at the street door to manage the line-up. Our escort defended that he was all by himself this time so he had to bring people down as well. The guy argued some more about what the food bank needs to do and our escort said sarcastically, “I’ll get right on it!” The guy walked away while calling back, “See that you do!”

            When we were finally escorted into the food bank area I was surprised at how small it was compared to the previous space. There was talk in the line about this being a temporary inconvenience because there was construction going on downstairs, but I didn’t notice any areas where any renovations were being done. The receptionist, who may be the new manager, was sitting at a desk checking clients in and giving them numbers. I asked him why there was still an outdoor line-up and he just explained that they were still adjusting to the new space with less staff than they should have.

            At least we didn’t have to leave and come back. As soon as I got number 28 I was next in line to get food, which made bothering with numbers kind of redundant as far as I could tell. I gave my number to Angie, who was standing on the other side of a window in what looked like a kitchen area. She said, “Hi babe!” and offered me a lot of dairy products but I wasn’t eating dairy until Easter Sunday, so I just asked for the one carton of organic chocolate soymilk that was sitting there. She said, “It’s got your name on it!” She offered me several frozen meat choices and so I took the meatballs. Angie seemed to approve of my choice, as she enthusiastically informed me that they were chicken meatballs and they were to die for. She also gave me a package of four frozen mini-pizzas. I could take the frozen stuff because it would keep in my freezer but I didn’t want to risk the dairy choices going bad over the next week.

            The next stop was the vegetable section with lots of potatoes, some carrots, a big turnip and two nearly rotten pears. I was offered some slightly brown cilantro but I already had a greener bunch at home.

            The next volunteer led me through the rest of the shelves. I didn’t want any taco kits or mixes. A lower shelf offered a choice between chocolate chip cookies of a fancy bag of Kettle Chips. I took the chilli lime with citrus infused sea salt even though it sounded like an infusion of salinity to me. The chips were fried in 100% avocado oil. That seemed pretty decadent, since I’ve never once seen a bottle of avocado oil in the supermarket.

            She gave me a handful of Star Wars themed granola bars and another of fruit and not Larabars, which I could actually eat at the current stage of my diet.

            I took a can of spaghetti sauce and another of chickpeas.

            From the cereal section there were choices of a box of kids cereal and small bags of corn flakes and cheerios. I picked the corn flakes and noticed later that the process of scooping them into the bags seemed to have turned about a third of the flakes into powder.

            She handed me a few of those pods of coffee designed for the automatic machines, but which I’ll just open up to pour into my French press.

            I also got two packages of razor cartridges, which means that sometime I’ll have to buy the razor to go with it.

            She told me I could help myself to the bread, so I grabbed a couple of whole grain loaves, one sliced and one not.

            Hopefully the food bank and the PARC people will settle into a less tense relationship as time goes on.