Every May, Toronto hosts something called Doors Open, which entails buildings around the city opening up their doors for free to the public. It's an opportunity to visit buildings of architectural, historical, and/or cultural significance that might normally be closed to the public.

This year, over 150 buildings are participating, including a number of sites that are new this year. You can find the complete list here.

When I was in architecture school, I used to always make a point of going. But I honestly can't remember the last time I participated. That's a shame, and so this year I'm going to try and check off some sites.

If you're around the weekend of May 24-25, you may want to do the same. The new St. Lawrence Market North building is on the list, as is the Consulate General of the Republic of Bulgaria.

I sometimes describe Toronto as a city where you need to scratch beneath the surface to find its true architectural beauty. It doesn't hit you in the face as much as it does in some other cities. But it's there. And initiatives like Door Opens Toronto are a great way to help you see it.

Cover photo by Scott Webb on Unsplash

This week, Globizen announced a new journal series called Global City Builders. The idea is pretty simple. It's about having conversations with city builders from around the world who are working to create better places. This obviously includes people like architects and developers, but it might also include artists, local entrepreneurs, activists, and countless other change agents. The format is a simple Q&A and for this first one we spoke with Paris-based Avenier Cornejo architectes and its two founders: Christelle Avenier and Miguel Cornejo. Here's the link. I hope you enjoy it.

If you or someone you know would like to connect with us about future editions of Global City Builders, feel free to reach out to hello@globizen.com.

Cover photo by Charly Broyez via Avenier Cornejo

Some of you might remember that I grew up going to a French school here in Toronto. My mom had rightly decided that I should be able to speak both of Canada's official languages. But truthfully, I never really loved it as a kid. I started midway through elementary school and so I always felt a little insecure about my French abilities. Which is partially why in the fall of 2023, I decided to enroll in night classes at Alliance Française. I've been doing it ever since and I can feel my French getting markedly better. There's also something deeply nostalgic about being in a French class.

Generally speaking, the classes are pretty relaxed (sometimes we learn grammar and sometimes we just talk about delicious cheeses), but at the end of last year I decided to register for the DELF exam. DELF stands for Diplôme d'études en langue française and it's a diploma for non-native speakers of French offered by France's Ministry of Education. It's offered at various proficiency levels and I registered for level B2, which France describes in the following way:

One of the reasons why I registered for this particular level is that it will soon become the minimum level of language proficiency required to become a French citizen. Currently you need the equivalent of B1, but starting January 1, 2026, I understand it will jump up to B2. I, of course, don't know if I will ever need this, move to France, and/or seek to become a citizen, but it became a goal. I told myself that I wanted the diploma that proves one's French is good enough to be an actual citizen. I guess it was a way to conquer my childhood insecurities.

So I'm happy to report that I ended up taking the exam in early March and that last week I received my passing grade. I scored just under 90%. (My weakest section was the handwritten essay.) After I got the news, I came home to the below book sitting on the kitchen counter with a bow and thoughtful handwritten note from Bianca — in French I would add — congratulating me on achieving this goal. One of the first things I said was, "wait, when did you buy this? How did you get it so quickly?" And she responded with, "I ordered it a long time ago, because I knew you'd pass."

The book is called Paris Haussmann and it's a comprehensive look at Haussmann's 19th century plans for the city. It covers every scale, from the city's boulevards (morphological scale) down to individual floor plans for each building type (typological scale). It's a truly extraordinary book and it's also highly relevant to one of the things that Globizen is focused on right now, which is the building of infill housing on Toronto's major streets. The urban context isn't exactly the same, of course, but there's a lot to be learned from this human-scaled building type. So even if you aren't trying to overcome some childhood insecurity related to the French, I highly recommend you check out this book.

Cover photo via Pavillon de l'arsenal