An Afternoon Exploring Athens' Diomidous Botanical Garden

Nature always has a calming effect on me and even the shortest trek through it is enough to clear my mind, body, and soul from any stresses it might have. I never thought to wonder what a botanical garden would be like in another country prior to this trip, but I'm glad that our family friend proposed the Diomidous Botanical Gardens as it provided a welcome change of scenery (as we were getting pretty tired of ruins at this point) and a nice respite from the scorching Greek summer sun.

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For the Rebel With a Cause: Rebel of the Sands by Alwyn Hamilton

I was hooked from the very first paragraph,

"They said the only folks who belonged in Deadshot after dark were the ones who were up to no good. I wasn't up to no good. Then again, I wasn't exactly up to no bad neither." 

*Rubs hands together excitedly* 
*Sips tea* 
*Tightens ponytail*

With an intro like that, it has got to be good!

The first line of Rebel of the Sands literally sucks you right into the story. From the get-go, you can tell that the main character is a BOSS (emphasis on the B, O, S, and S). And from that first paragraph onwards, a fantastic rough and tumble, action-packed, magic-filled adventure ensues. This is the tale of the birth of a legend and how an oppressed group of people are slowly regaining their strength. Of how one girl went from focusing on her own survival to being the key to her people's salvation, in a society where speaking up for yourself (especially as a female) can prove fatal.

Amani is a desert girl who has learned how to shoot before she could walk. A useful skill when people around are mean and the landscape is even tougher to navigate, for the desert is home to mystical creatures and beings who are quite deadly. But something is stirring in both Amani and her beloved country and her search for freedom rises just as her people begin to search for their own.
As Amani works her way to freedom, twists and turns along the way reveal the true secret about her past that will help her to unlock her country's future.

Honestly, I am a sucker for a book about anywhere warm, a heroine with spunk and bite, and a good old fashioned revolution, and this one by far takes the cake. In this book, we're taken on a cross-country journey through treacherous territory and amid death-defying feats, all the while untangling a sticky web of secrets and lies that reveal just enough to spark the beginning of the revolution and kickstart the first installment in the series. Amani is quick-witted, severely honest and incredibly brave, and smart. It makes her a heroine worth following anywhere. I can't wait to read the next book.

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Discovering the 1000 Islands

Since I was a little kid, I dreamed of getting my driver's license, putting the pedal to the metal (figuratively of course) and going on a road trip with my friends. Our journey would have all the makings of the typical girls trip road trip. There would be plenty of singing, story-telling, laughter, and roadside pitstops and burgers. At the time, I envisioned that we would have a big map sprawled out on the dashboard, and yes, we would get lost a few times, but each twist and turn would make the stories we would share with our grandkids all the funnier. So, I waited to turn 16 with great anticipation. Then my 16th birthday came and went. No license, no car, no road trip. Then my 17th birthday came and went. Then my 18th, my 19th…you get the picture.

Finally, this summer (at the age of 21) my dream came true. Friends? Check. License? In my purse. Music? Already organized into a long playlist. Car? Fueled and ready to go. Destination? The second star to the right and straight on till morning. (No, I kid, it's Mallorytown).

So, one summer morning, my friends and I piled in my Jeep (the perfect road tripping car, honestly, especially if going semi-all terrain like we did) with our belongings and a stash of food and cool tunes and we headed towards Mallorytown, the doorway to the aptly-named 1000 Islands. With me at the wheel, and a full tank of gas our adventure began as we drove towards our destination: a lovely AirBnB hosted by the equally lovely Ruth.

Honestly, while Mallorytown itself is quite dull, but if you bring a car — and I would highly suggest you do so you can head to neighbouring towns (like Brockville and Gananoque) and discover the thrills and delights that each place has in store, on top of exploring what the region's 1000 Islands have in store for you. One thing to note about the 1000 Islands, is that the islands are actually split between the US and Canada. Therefore, if you plan to do any island hopping (even if it's via canoe or something), make sure to have your passport on hand.

Day 1: Mallorytown

Despite being completely wiped out from our drive down, we were determined to make the most of our stay. The scenery in Mallorytown is beautiful, especially the waterfront. So we decided to spend the afternoon after our drive on the beach. We walked a good 40 minutes to get there (because we could not stand being in a car any longer) and enjoyed a very relaxing time in the cool blue water. Then we kicked off our first night with good old fashioned pizza (the epitome of girl's trip cuisine) at Brockville's Boston Pizza.

Day 2:  Gordon's Island 

There was no time to waste. So after a lovely breakfast provided by our host, we headed out in search of adventure. After some searching, we found a canoe rental place with our name all over it. We drove to Gananoque (another gateway to the 1000 Islands) to rent a canoe to go visit some of the islands. In the end, we only ended up exploring one, but only because a) canoeing was harder than we remembered it being and b) we encountered plenty of surprises that day, that made us stay at our chosen location even longer. Thus, we spent the day at the neighbouring Gordon Island, where we met a lovely and diverse group of experienced sailors and houseboat renters who quite literally showed us the ropes. We learned how to tie a boat to the dock, they gave us a tour of their houseboat, and they provided us with floaties and a ladder to get in and out of the lake. They were so kind! We ate food, swam around, played games, explored the island, and then we canoed home.

Day 2: The Brockville Tunnel

That evening we headed to Brockville, to witness the famed Brockville Tunnel. The tunnel is essentially a decommissioned railway tunnel that runs through a good portion of the underground of the town. The highlight by far is the changing colours, lighting, and music that makes the walk more interesting and allows for some pretty fun photo opportunities.

Day 3: Home?

Since it was our last day together, so we squeezed in as much fun as we possibly could. After a yummy breakfast provided by Ruth—she makes some great muffins—we drove to the nearby National Park and did two hikes. (Note: Make sure to bring bug spray, because mosquitoes and flies up there do not mess around). Then we began our equally adventurous journey back home.

Pit Stop 1: Reid's Dairy Parlour, Belleville, Ontario 

My friends insisted that we stop here, for this ice cream parlour is famed for their high-quality dairy and their enormous portions of ice cream offered at super low prices. I will be the first to admit that it was well worth the stop. We got sooooo much ice cream for like $3. I am still in shock and am looking forward to stopping by again to try the other myriad of unique flavours available.

Pit Stop 2: Sandbanks Dunes Beach (aka The Dunes), Prince Edward County, Ontario

The waiter at the Brockville Boston Pizza had recommended that we check out The Dunes. According to him, it was a beach in Prince Edward County that was known for its Caribbean-like waters and sand that made you forget that you were just somewhere in the middle of Ontario. We could not pass up this opportunity and so we decided to see for ourselves if The Dunes were all that it was cracked up to be. It was. The sand was lovely and the water was great apparently, but I was way too tired to get wet again (but it gets two thumbs up from Myriam and Printsessa on my behalf). (P.S. Printsessa is also a Youtuber! So make sure to check her videos out for more fun content)

Pit Stop 3: Toronto (finally!)

We got home in safe, sound, and exhausted, but excited for all of the adventures next summer has in store for us.

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For the Sweet Tooth: Old School Crêpes

I was in Lubumbashi (a major city in the Democratic Republic of Congo) this summer where I got a great chance to get back to my roots. It was a trip full of firsts! It was my first time meeting my grandmother and many, many of my beloved cousins. It was my first time having a dog (well, three to be exact). And it was my first time going anywhere in Africa. We stayed for a little over a month, and throughout our stay, we had a variety of big and small adventures, that both taught me a lot about life, and myself.

Our stay in Lubumbashi taught me a lot about patience, creativity, and improvisation. Coincidentally, those are the very same characteristics required for baking. The city is probably the antonym of the term "reliable electricity", in fact, it is essentially synonymous with "power cuts". But no matter where I am, the baking bug cannot be squashed. I was determined to make the best of it, and so I have learned how to bake on-the-fly, by trusting my instincts, using a little scientific logic, having an adventurous spirit (and an empty stomach) determined to create whatever the desired food happened to be. 

A few days after arrival, my desired food turned out to be crêpes. And so, one morning, I woke up completely determined to make them. The electricity woke up to and decided that it was going to take a day, and so, lo and behold we were out of power. The solution was simple. I would have to rely on the old school method of pure fire, an old school charcoal grill (Makala in Swahili), and my own stamina (I was pretty hungry at that point, and refused to eat anything but crêpes) to make them. I am sure that both the grill masters and crêpes legends of yesteryear, were rolling around in their graves as I poured the first bit of batter in the pan. But who cares. They were great! It took forever (so long in fact that I never did end up having breakfast, we ended up eating them for late lunch, but nevertheless, mission accomplished), but they were very good. Overall, it was a lot of fun too because I learned a new skill, and I finally got to bake for my grandma and family--I know that they enjoyed them very much (although they did hope that I would be a bit faster next time, oops).

Here is a short list of other things I baked with substitutions:

• Sugar cookies without eggs
• We had run out of eggs, and I really wanted cookies right then and there, and I so I used mayonnaise instead. Listen, it sounds awful, but it works!
• Pound cake without any leavening...just a lot of intensely beaten eggs
• It's needless to say that my hands were exhausted after that
• Pizza dough and pizza, without electricity (sort of)
• Thankfully, there were no substitutions, but there was also no power at one point. Sigh. So, the pizza crust was not as crunchy as it should have been, but it was still pretty good.
• Pancakes without light
• Well, the lightbulb burst, in the kitchen of all places. But I really wanted pancakes, so by the light my solar lamp and iPhone, I made a batch of pancakes for our guests.

By the way, the recipe I used is my all-time favourite one from Ricardo's cuisine: Thin Breakfast Crêpes

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A Sunset at the Palamidi Fortress

It has only been two short years since I have been to Greece, but I still remember it like it was yesterday. Now, more than ever, as I write this to the sound of the rain pattering against the window, do I wish that I could hop on a plane and head right back. Why has it taken me so long to write this post and share these photos you ask? Well, because a) I needed to savour the moment a bit more, and b) I wanted to get the words juuuust right.

Throughout our visit, most of the time was spent riding with our lovely friends from their favourite tourist (and not-so-touristy) spot to the next. We spent so much time in fact that my sister dubbed us, "The Backseat Buds". The name encompasses the frequent napping, question asking, and photo snapping that characterizes the backseat driver experience. And I learned that as much as I would like to drive, I prefer the liberty that comes with being a passenger (preferably not in the backseat) as you roll through your given landscape and watch as it swirls into one big blur as you cruise on by. And that's how from a distance we saw our next destination perched up the mountain, and a single thought passed through my mind. Just three words: Castles are cool. When we eventually got the top, I was able to add two more: Fallen castles are even cooler. This was quickly followed by: Man, are we high up!

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My first recommendation about checking out the Palamidi Fortress is to make sure to go around sunset. This is more out of necessity, in order to get a friendlier South-of-France-vineyard-in-a-movie brand of sunshine and less of the ant-caught-underneath-magnifying-glass or the dreaded frying-egg-on-the-sidewalk variety.

If you don't mind being the (albeit tasty) egg or the ant in either of these scenarios, or you're Superman and need extremely concentrated levels of sunshine to survive, here's another good reason to go later in the day. The sunset sets the whole place aglow and suddenly the abandoned fortress comes back to life. With the light heat from above and below, it feels like you're walking on sunlight. In the sunlight, you forget that the Palimidi Fortress is, in fact, an abandoned prison, as it becomes a sort of time-travelling prism that absorbs sunlight and reflects the history, wonder and awe of the ancient world all around you.

Wild fruit, fresh breezes, and forgotten homes are what we saw and felt. But as we walked through the not-so-forgotten-fortress it seemed to cast a small spell on us we wound up the fortress, where we entered homes, climb stairs, stepped over cannon balls and saw forgotten weapons (and the damage that the enemies' left behind). Finally, we arrived and quickly entered the itsy-bitsy teeny-weeny cavern-like of a prison cell that Kolokotronis (more on him here) was forced to call home. My last words were "Remember me!" as I turned on my phone's flashlight and crawled into his old abode.

We left the fortress eyes twinkling, feet a little sore, tummies rumbling (we had had a long day at the beach) and with our hearts and minds full and ready for the next adventure.

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For the Sweet Tooth: Black Forest Cake

With school finally out, I have finally been able to get back to baking. And one of the first things I wanted to tackle was a dessert that's been on my mind throughout my much-longer-than-anticipated hiatus...Black Forest Cake. I hadn't had it since I was little, but I remembered it being the only cake with fruit in it that my (approximately) 5-year-old self would eat without grimacing. Chocolate and cherries! Who knew? Certainly not my childhood self. 

I also remember being pleasantly surprised by the (at the time) foreign, but (now) totally logical and tasty combination. And in that first mouthful, I learned an important lesson: Sometimes even the most unappealing of things can pack a flavourful punch. That fateful slice of cake nurtured a lifelong desire to try new things, even if they did look a little strange. But I digress.

Black Forest cake happens to be my mother's favourite cake. Coincidentally, the beginning of my freedom also marked the countdown to Mother's Day. So, with my surprisingly vivid childhood memory in mind, a sense of purpose, and my tummy rumbling at all the images of chocolate, cake, and chocolate cake I could find online, I put my hard-earned research skills to use to figure out how to test and combine all of these delicious elements together in a harmonious way.

The final result was incredibly...messy. And in the building of this cake, I learned another critical life lesson: Just because it looks easy on TV doesn't mean that it actually is. This was my first layer cake...ever. And I'm afraid that the aesthetics of the final product were less than stellar. I levelled up too much, too soon, and let's just say that my ganache was a bit too thick and may or may not have left the final outer coating of the cake looking like a tragic (but tasty) landslide rather than a reflective pool of chocolate delight. The bottom line is that those photos will never see the light of day. They will remain in my personal archive, and the mere memory of will be the source of laughter between myself and my family for years to come. However, while the final product may have been visually atrocious, the cake was extremely, extremely delicious. No lie. It was gone in two days (my personal best). This was surprisingly unsurprising not just considering my past experience with Black Forest Cake (see childhood lesson #1 above), but also because most importantly of all, it was made with a lot of love.

Here are the links to the recipes I used to make the cake:

• Chocolate Cake Layers
• Chocolate Ganache
• Assembly + Whipped Cream

As for the cherry filling, my mother did it (thanks mom!), using her special brand of intuition, logic, and cooking savvy (so I'm writing this based off of my memory of what I saw while I was running around the kitchen). Essentially, we used canned Bing cherries and put them and the juice they're preserved in, inside a saucepan. Then over medium-ish heat, we added a bit of brown sugar, lemon juice, and a splash of vodka (the store was all out of kirsch). This was in no particular order or set of measurements, just a bit of trial-and-error and common sense. Don't worry you'll get it!

P.S. The following month, I attempted to recreate the magic. And thankfully, this cake looked way better.

Bon Appetit!

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A Jaunt Through the Rockwood Conservation Area

Every once in a while I feel a great calling to nature. The call sweeps in on a northerly wind, which feels like excitement and smells (or sounds) a lot like sunshine. It awakens the buds on the trees in my neighbourhood and begins that tell-tale tingle that radiates from throughout my body like a heartbeat. When the urge gets too strong I convince my family to come along. After some Googling, I settled on our destination and armed with the promise of ruins, caves, and croissant sandwiches, one drowsy afternoon in May we ended up in the Rockwood Conservation Area (about two hours outside of Toronto).

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For the Faith Leapers and Ambitious Wanderers: The Alchemist by Paul Coelho

Every once in a while there is a book that takes you by surprise and absolutely captivates your imagination. It's the first sign of falling in love...with a book. You become totally engrossed in the novel's world. You cringe with the hero, you cry with the hero, you fall with the hero. The Alchemist allows you to do all of this and more and takes you on a journey of faith, perseverance, and most importantly of self-discovery.

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Road Trippin': Winter Edition

Winter is about to hit us with all its got once again. And amidst the semi-consistent sniffling, occasionally having to do that erratic dance as you struggle not to fall over after slipping on some ice, and oh, of course, the cold, the fun of winter can lose its shine really quickly. But when the going gets tough, there's nothing like a road trip to liven the spirits. Because as I have (and most certainly will continue to) mentioned before, I love road trips. As much as I love leg room, I like pit stops for roadside burgers or coffee, and seeing the countryside a lot more. As a kid I coveted the rare times when I could eat whatever junk food I wanted and was privy to a smorgasbord of fast food delicatessen and Shaggy's "Hotshot" CD or James Brown's Greatest Hits on repeat. As I grew older and the backseat was now occupied by a second passenger, my backseat fortress's size (not to mention the amount of leg room) decreased, but the love for it never faltered. As a result, my dream car is a VW Comby, preferably equipped with a very long and embarrassing horn and lots of space for friends and leg room galore.

However, I am not fond of winter. Last, last winter was like an itch you couldn't scratch. No, it was more like a leak in a boat. Just when you think it is clogged it spreads, spills, and swallows you whole. But not without leaving behind a runny nose, red fingertips, and frozen lips and ears and nose and toes. However, there is something about whizzing through a curtain of falling snow that is simultaneously frightening and exhilarating at the same time. Suddenly, a curtain of semi-opaque white particles appears and as you pass through it, it feels like you are the miniature figures in a giant snowglobe. Except that the snowglobe has fallen off the shelf and the snow is coming from all angles before it settles after being caught by a pair of experienced hands (with excellent reflexes).

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