There is nothing cool about living in the east end.

And this is the coolest part about living in the east end. Sometimes I’ll think about all the mind-blowing things that are not within a five-kilometre radius of my front door and feel a surge of relief. I now appreciate the east for everything it is not: chic, electric, hip, boisterous, trendy, cutting edge.

The other night before an event, as I jumped out of a cab on Queen West, it was like I crash-landed on an alien planet. The air smelled like microbrews and charcuterie. Fine, it mostly smelled like exhaust. But in this choking haze of snarled traffic, none of the passersby on sidewalks or in foggy bar windows resembled faces on the other side of the Don Valley.

These are not people who jostle for spigots in Gerrard Square.

The young women were garbed in fashionable coats and non-sensible footwear. They scowled even when they smiled. Their male companions skittered past in jaunty caps and loosely twirled scarves.

There were more beards, side-whiskers and retro glasses than you’d find at the optometrist booth in a recruitment centre for Al Qaeda.

It was such a blur of bipedal commotion, of things that seemed to be happening, I wanted to grab someone by guitar case and ask: “Why is everyone in such a rush?”

VIEW FROM THE WEST SIDE

Michele Henry says there's no debate as to which side is more vibrant

In the east, where I’ve lived near Pape and Danforth for 14 years, the speed of life is more leisurely. I suspect this is why we have more time for a life.

We are not suffocated by our city. We have space to breathe.

There are no lineups to get into hot new restaurants. The traffic congestion is less tormenting, which may explain why drivers on Kingston are more courteous than drivers on University. People are laidback because there’s no reason to be riled up: we are happy to not be the centre of the universe.

East vs. west

That’s not the attitude in the west. I recall a restaurateur once telling me he’d never open a place on the Danforth because it was nothing but “moms with strollers.” What he didn’t understand is these new families — along with a kaleidoscope of residents from all social, cultural and economic backgrounds — form the lifeblood of any real community.

Leslieville boasts a stretch of shops and restaurants that rivals any neighbourhood west of Spadina. The difference is you don’t have to fight crowds and traffic to get there, as you would in The Junction or along King West.

You know why everyone in the Beach looks way more relaxed than people in the Annex? It’s not the close proximity to water; it’s because they are removed from urban chaos.

This calm is etched on faces throughout the east: people enjoying the best happy hour in the city at Globe Bistro; people making small talk in the waiting room of the achingly tender Beaches Animal Hospital; people trudging through the Distillery District snow; people carting boxes of chicken tikka in Little India; people Christmas shopping near Laird; people flowing out of the Danforth Music Hall.

This combination, let’s call it “uncool serenity,” means the east has also not endured the balkanization in the west as new neighbourhood boundaries are drawn and areas are branded. I mean, what is going on in Liberty Village? It seems like they are trying to create a separate society. Then there’s Little Italy, Little Portugal, Koreatown, Dovercourt Park, Mirvish Village, Bloor West Village, Palmerston, Parkdale, High Park, Dufferin Grove, Roncesvalles, Seaton Village, Trinity-Bellwoods, West Queen West — the former Soviet Republic had fewer regions.

My daughters were born nearly two months premature. It was a terrifying time. On many nights, when I’d reluctantly leave their beeping incubators at Toronto East General Hospital, sometimes around 4 a.m., I’d loiter outside for a few minutes. Alone under a night sky, with nothing moving on Coxwell, it felt like I was in a small town. The smallness was soothing.

Loading... Loading... Loading... Loading... Loading... Loading...

Driving home, past the darkened coffee shops and convenience stores, that’s when the east really started to feel like home.

If someone had stopped me then, and forced me to riff divisively on our tribal rivalries, I would have said: “The west is where you go to live in the present. The east is where you stay to plan a future.”

RELATED:

Toronto's east or west? Comedians gear up for battle