After wonderful days in Tokyo, smoking Cubans each day, wherever I wished to, drinking wonderful Coffee, wherever I chose to, I arrived in New York, knowing that within days I would be on non-USA soil again. Today I entered a tobacco shop and was greeted with the sad news that in Toronto there are many places to smoke, but these are the homes of the Canadians.
My cigar walks have been often documented, so I decided – not freely, obviously – to make another one, after being assured at the tobacconist that it is alright to walk the streets of Toronto while smoking. Yes, I noticed some looks of disgust, but I finished it without verbal complaints. As I reached my hotel and, knowing the attitude of cleanliness and order in Canada, asked for a place to dispose of my cigar butt, I was pointed towards a corner where smokers are allowed to smoke and a typical street ash-pole is found. The whole to discard of tobacco is so small that only with great effort I was able to leave my finished cigar there.
As a result, my assignment for tonight is to find a cigar lounge, somewhere in Toronto.