There are many signs that tourism season if picking up: aside from there just being more people out and about (many of them eyes-very-much peeled), tour buses with tour groups (often with matching t-shirts or lanyards), the double-decker tour buses ply Elgin Street and the boats the canal, and around Centretown, I can hear the quiet murmur of people recapping their day's experiences in a new city.

There's one other sign: I get stared at much more.

For example, today, when I was coming out of the Farm Boy at Metcalfe and Lisgar with the day's groceries, a woman (who seemed a little older than me) with her husband and daughter locked on to my chest, seemingly unable to look away. My internal voice wanted to say "they're small, but they are indeed mine!"

During another walk later in the day, I was given some very intense up-and-downs from a passing group of older men and women, seemingly not quite sure what to make of me.

(Over time, you get to know the differences in how people look at you. These were definitely inquisitive, or rather transquisitive in nature. This feels very much different than apprehension, disgust, and my favourite, the death stare.)

During the off-season, the frequency with which I receive these looks is quite low: usually only happening when there is a higher concentration of people who do not visit the downtown often, or when there is some sort of national political convention being held.

Throughout the summer, it all increases until it hits its true apex when students are moving into town (or back into town) to begin the school year.

Unlike tourist season, that one is a little more unpleasant. Combined with the stress and emotion in moving, I find the parents (almost always the father) feel a little more free to communicate how they feel about seeing people like me around.

June 9, 2026