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Nuit Blergh

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I like art. I do. And not in a “hey that Andy Warhol was awesome” kind of way.

And thus, I like Nuit Blanche. But only in theory. In practice, my enjoyment of the all-night fest has been waning.

Most of what I remember from last year was sore feet, a stolen Metropass and cursing the King streetcar.

The problem possibly stemmed from poor planning. We started off at Ryerson when the sun set, then seeing the massive crowds on Yonge Street, we decided to head to West Queen West, hoping to beat the suburbanites too afraid to venture west. Bad idea. After struggling with streetcars for two hours we arrived at Trinity-Bellwoods park for a campfire installment whose description warmed the cockles of my ex-Girl Guide heart.

In reality, it was a bunch of drunk teenagers sitting around a tiny fire, no one willing to move on and allow the swelling group of observers to take a participatory seat on the circular wooden bench.

Moving on then.

Next was a “playground” that no one was allowed to climb. By then it was nearing 1 a.m. and with work to do the following day, we headed home (which involved another streetcar battle where the previously mentioned Metropass swiping occurred).

It’s very fashionable for native Torontonians to hate on any large event that takes place within the downtown core and I’m probably no exception. But what was an interesting, adventure of a night in Nuit Blanche’s first year is feeling more like an excuse to get trashed and run amok until the sun rises. The crowds and the TTC bombardment are making it difficult to enjoy what should be the coolest night out in the city.

So tell me Ryerson, what am I doing wrong? How does one enjoy Nuit Blanche without missing all the good stuff while still not letting crowds ruin the effect?

No really, tell me. Tweet us @theeyeopener and tell us your Nuit Blanche success secrets.



  1. Can’t be avoided..every year I go expecting to be wowed by all the avant-garde art/artists and every year I’m let down. It’s always super crowded, I get pushed and shoved on the subway and there’s never anything there that I come home and think, “Now that was creative.”

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