Battambang, Sihanoukville, and Kep, Cambodia: Powder me pretty

If I left my heart somewhere in Cambodia, it’s probably in Battambang. It was here that I developed a close-knit relationship with my Battambang host family. They were hospitable and kind-hearted, and I felt the love and depth of care emanating from their hearts. Together, we celebrated Cambodian New Year with young locals.

Celebrating this festive event in Cambodia was a first for me, and I was impressed by the spirit of the community; everyone participated, laughed, and had fun. It’s tradition for locals to line the streets holding water guns, buckets of water, and bottles of baby powder, and to shoot them at passersby. I myself joined in and got completely soaked, and by the end of it looked like a geisha gone wrong! In essence, I had a wonderful time filled with laughter. We also attended live performances and floated lanterns into the night sky.

As for the eats? Well, being the adventurers that we are, before coming on our trip we made a pact that we’d try bizarre foods in Battambang. It was unfortunate, however, that we were only able to find fried insects and fertilized duck eggs. (I’ve eaten the latter before — pretty good, I dare say.) A sure food highlight for me, though, was eating Khmer desserts, my favourite being sticky rice in a bamboo tube, also known as “num krolan.”

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Decades of making “num krolan” and a star at what she does

Another highlight of Battambang was having a traditional Khmer picnic in a bamboo hut which sat above the water. A usual Khmer picnic often involves ordering and sharing an array of dishes, and at the end of the meal, retiring to a nearby hammock for a relaxing afternoon nap. But, fret not. Besides stuffing ourselves, we also exercised by visiting Wat Banan, which involved a hyperventilating climb of over 300 steps!

Phnom Sampeau, where the killing caves are located, was another mountainous site that involved a steep climb. Here we saw the skeletons and skulls of those who’d been bludgeoned to death and then tossed down this cave during the Khmer Rouge Regime. Every evening at dusk, millions of bats pour out of this cave. This astonishing sight lasts for about a good half hour.

Occheuteal beach in Sihanoukville

Occheuteal beach in Sihanoukville

Sunset on Occheuteal beach

Sunset on Occheuteal beach

Kep

Kep

Selling waffles in a mini food market in Kep

Selling waffles in a mini food market in Kep

The last places we visited in Cambodia were Sihanoukville and Kep. The beaches in Sihanoukville were lovely, and it was common to see people walking around selling food on the spot and offering massages. I enjoyed spending time with our Battambang host family and eating seafood by the beach every day. (Except that I got eaten alive by sand fleas.)

Kep was just as stunning — if not more so. The drive along the stretch of the water was very scenic. I was lucky to stumble upon a lovely lady at the market who made some fine waffles, some of which were plain and some of which were filled with sweet beans and coconut. Just what I was craving. I think I stuffed myself unconscious that day!

Something to note is that Cambodia is home to some exquisite islands, such as Koh Kong, Koh Rong, Koh Tonsay, Song Saa Private Island, and Koh Ta Kiev, most of which aren’t so well known and visited (which is why they’re gems). It’s unfortunate that I didn’t get to visit them this time around. Alas, next time.

Siem Reap, Cambodia: The untimely visit of the Tokay gecko

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Phnom Penh was followed by a trip to Siem Reap, and on the way there, we stopped at this awe-inspiring ancient bridge called the “Kampong Kdei Bridge.” Built in the 12th century by King Jayavarman VII, it was recognized as the longest bridge in the world with corbel stone arches. Notice the Naga head.

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At Banteay Srei.

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Monkeys were everywhere in Angkor! I fed them bananas and found them to be quite amusing characters. One even sat on a motorcycle and checked itself out in the mirror.

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Meet our new friends

I met these three beautiful children at a local village in Siem Reap. When the boy’s mother put him down and walked off to attend to her tasks, he began crying, and when I picked him up and carried him, he stopped and stared at me intently with a shy grin on his face. (He was naked by the way.) Moments like these tugged at my heartstrings, for they served as reminders that love and compassion extend beyond socially- and politically-constructed identities, and are universal in nature. Suffice it to say, we became friends after that.

First tuk tuk ride!

First tuk tuk ride!

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My first time watching a live Apsara dance performance. The dancers were adorned with decorative accessories, making them appear like enchanting goddesses. The dance was breathtaking, too — elegant, graceful, feminine. Such grace of movement!

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Angkor Wat, dating from the early 12th century, is the largest religious monument ever built. Upon entering, I was rendered speechless, for it was beautiful — and almost hauntingly so. I experienced, at once, a deep appreciation for the beauty of Khmer architecture and a feeling of sadness for the loss of what once was an exceptional civilization. Angkor Wat is undoubtedly a long-standing remnant of an extraordinary empire, carrying within its walls spirits of the past.

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I remember how peaceful I felt praying at this holy site. (Not to mention how surreal it felt to be praying in one of the most ancient temples in the world.) I was also blessed by a monk who tied a beautifully-scented red ribbon around my wrist, adorned me with holy water, and chanted prayers offering me blessings. It was both a sacred and heartwarming moment for me. I continued wearing the ribbon until I returned to Canada, at which point to preserve it, I snipped it off and stored it in a treasured place.

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Carvings of Apsara dancers. Such intricate details of carvings are spectacular and are found at every nook and cranny of Angkor Wat. If I were to trace every single detail of this temple with my fingers, it would probably take me many lifetimes.

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Final goodbyes to Angkor Wat.

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Gateway into Angkor Thom. It was at this site that I began to feel sick. I don’t think there was a moment more comical during my stay in Cambodia than emergency tuk tuk-ing to a washroom, only to be greeted by a baby gecko on the wall, on top of feeling as though I was physically disintegrating and on the verge of saying goodbye to earthly life.

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At Prasat Bayon, which lies at the heart of Angkor Thom. Notice the giant stone faces.

Ta Prohm

Ta Prohm

Apparently, this was one of the sites where Angelina Jolie’s Lara Croft: Tomb Raider (2001) was filmed.

Preah Khan temple

Preah Khan temple

There's me feeling like an ant!

There’s me feeling like an ant!

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From atop the Baphuon is a magnificent view of the ruins. This temple is known for its built-in reclining buddha statue, which can be easily overlooked if not keenly observed.

In retrospect, when I entered Angkor, a “city” of over 400 square kilometres which served as the heart of the Khmer Empire from approximately the 9th to the 15th century, I was at a loss for words. Home to countless abandoned temples, Angkor was so majestic it was humbling, and I feel blessed to have had the chance to witness it at least once in my lifetime. And to think that I’d only seen a small chunk of it!

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Here’s a traditional Khmer dish called “amok.” My first taste of it (besides what I can recall from childhood) was in Siem Reap. This version of “amok” consisted of fish and veggies steamed in coconut milk curry and wrapped in banana leaves. It was so delicious, I ate the whole thing! From that point on, it became the dish that my body and soul longed for.

Phnom Penh, Cambodia: Day 1: One with the car seat

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The time I spent in Asia was short; however, if I counted moments instead of days, it felt like a lifetime. Each day was an adventure filled with surprises, from being greeted by a gang of cackling chickens in a washroom, to stumbling upon a fortune teller, who awakened a spark in me, to witnessing the disheartening inequalities between the poorest of the poor and the richest of the rich. In essence, we’d experienced it all — the bizarre, the marvellous, the sweat, the tears, the smiles, the laughs.

What’s striking is that I felt most at home when I didn’t have a place called home, and was on the constant move from one place to another. I’ve met strangers along the way who’ve felt like family — family I never knew. Thus I understood that home is where the heart is. In retrospect, I regret not having extended my stay, or better yet, buying a one-way ticket at the beginning. But for what it is, it’s been a beautiful and humbling journey — certainly one of self-discovery, and I’m grateful for the experience.

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Something I really enjoyed during my stay in Phnom Penh was exploring street vendors and food night markets. If you’d like a taste of authenticity, rather than visiting touristic restaurants, opt for local. Eating like a local is not only inexpensive, but the food is delicious and watching the vendors cook live is a neat experience. I also loved trying an array of traditional Khmer desserts, which can cost as little as 500 – 2000 riel (4000 riel is about 1 USD).

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The fish section at Orussey Market wasn’t the greatest smelling place to be, but I purposely sought it out; after all, I was on a mission to buy some “trei ngeat!” A staple in the traditional Khmer household, “trei ngeat” is essentially dried, preserved fish (quite salty) that’s often eaten with rice or rice porridge. My favourite type of “trei ngeat” is called “trei ngeat samyong,” and it’s made sweet.

If you’re a true Khmer, you can’t visit Cambodia and not shop for dried fish to bring back home with you. (Not that I was raised in a traditional Khmer household either — far from it — which is why this feat is ironic and comical.) I purchased a few kilos to share with my family; depending on the fish, the price can range anywhere from 10 to 70 USD a kilo. These perishable items are also quite travel-friendly; they just need to be wrapped and sealed well, and vendors will happily help foreign customers with it.

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Markets selling handcrafts, souvenirs, clothes, jewellery, beauty supplies, and home goods abound in Phnom Penh, so another exciting development for me was learning the art of bargaining. Here’s a tip: Give your lowest price and then work your way up. I was particularly fond of all of the paintings and the hand-carved sculptures of Apsara dancers, mythological figures, and temples made out of such bases as wood, stone, and metal.

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The Royal Palace. Visiting the scene was heart-warming for me because it’s where my mother used to practice Khmer classical dances when she was young. It was also neat seeing the university where my father studied. He was part of the choir at the Royal University of Fine Arts in Phnom Penh in the years preceding the Genocide, and was nicknamed “kon saw” — literally translated as “white son” — by King Norodom Sihanouk, due to his light skin colour as a Chinese. Needless to say, it would’ve been enriching if my parents were able to accompany me on my trip; I would’ve loved to have been given a glimpse into their past.

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While sitting in a tuk tuk in traffic, sometimes we’d be approached by someone selling these traditional handmade Khmer jasmine garlands, and every time I saw a basket of them, I experienced a surge of joy. My mother loved jasmine flowers — we call them “pka malis” in Khmer — and we even grew them in our home when I was a child.

Sometimes I’d buy these garlands and place them under my pillow for a lovely scent; other times I’d buy them and hang them in the tuk tuk for the driver and his clients to enjoy. It was a way for me to support families especially the children selling them.

“Phsar Thmei” market

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Speaking of crossing, an interesting sight in Phnom Penh was the traffic and the driving. Ay Caramba! If you’ve been to Phnom Penh, you’d know what I mean. So if there’s something else I learned, it’s the art of crossing the street, which tends to involve closing both eyes and taking a leap of faith. (Not sure if I’m crazy or if I’ve just reached a heightened state of enlightenment. Pretty sure it’s the former.)

Grandma sheep and baby sheep

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This year, I spent Christmas and New Year’s with family in Montreal and had a memorable time. Some of the highlights were visiting the Grande Bibliothèque for the first time; seeing baby Andy, the newest addition to the family; having a heart-warming late night conversation with my sister-in-law, for which I’m very thankful; watching movies and playing games with my parents, brother, and little nieces; attending my cousin’s New Year’s gathering, where I witnessed a low key but sweet proposal; and baking candy cane and thumbprint cookies for my sister’s co-workers and friends.

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These festive thumbprint cookies were very easy to make; I used a recipe that required only four ingredients. I didn’t roll the dough in orange zest, toasted almonds, or crushed candy canes either, which I had done last year. But simple really does wonders, you guys, because these cookies had great reviews! A delicious treat for all the jam lovers (hint hint), or for those who simply appreciate soft butter cookies with just a touch of sweetness.

I felt ecstatic when my sister decided to bake these with me. Baking isn’t her cup of tea, nor did we share any hobbies or passions growing up, so baking together that evening definitely made for an intimate moment. Props to her for doing the jam filling!

Thumbprint cookies

Ingredients

  • 1 cup unsalted butter, softened
  • 2 cups all-purpose flour
  • 1/2 cup white sugar
  • 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
  • 1/2 cup raspberry jam

Directions

  1. Preheat oven to 375 degrees F (190 degrees C).
  2. Cream butter and sugar until light and fluffy. Add sifted flour and mix well, then add vanilla. Shape dough into 1 inch balls and place on cookie sheets. Imprint your thumb in the centre to make an indent. Fill with jam.
  3. Bake for about 10 minutes or until golden brown at the edges.

See original recipe here: http://allrecipes.com/recipe/rosenmunnar/

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Meanwhile, Happy New Year! Wishing all of you the very best — love, happiness, health, success, and all the wonderful things that life has to offer.

From myself and little Miami, the furry ball of sass you see there, who also sends you sweet wishes. 

There goes Daddy Long Legs

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Hiking on Wolf Trail. This trail leads to one of the highest points in Gatineau Park, and stopping at the lookouts for snack and lunch breaks while enjoying the picturesque views was really neat! Steep as it was, I still enjoyed the climbs and the muddy and slippery slopes, and would’ve actually liked to have gone at an even faster pace or tried running the entire way. It’s nice to step out of your comfort zone, for it’s in that mystical area that you discover your hidden potentials, and a world of possibilities await.

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After an awesome hike, while the sillies all went out for pizza, I craved a delicious hot drink instead, so I ventured on my own to Les Saisons Cafe Coffee House, a quaint little cafe just outside of Gatineau Park in Chelsea, Quebec. A pumpkin latte to warm up my body after a chilly day outside was just what I needed. Yum!

Thief of the village

Sunshine - eggs, sausages, baked beans, pancake filled with fruit and English cream, potatoes, toast & coffee

Sunshine – eggs, sausages, baked beans, pancake filled with fruit and English cream, potatoes, toast & coffee

Eggs Benedict - poached eggs and ham served on English muffin, topped with hollandaise sauce

Eggs Benedict – poached eggs and ham served on English muffin, topped with hollandaise sauce

Allô Mon Coco @ 239A boul. Samson, Laval, QC

I’m back home from visiting family in Montreal. I enjoyed spending time with the big sis; we had a fun-filled weekend. On Saturday, we had brunch at Allô Mon Coco, did errands during the day, and then attended her co-worker’s get-together in the evening.

I try to challenge myself to do something different every day, and attending a stranger’s intimate family gathering was certainly different for me. I’m grateful for being welcomed into their home and culture with such great warmth. Everyone was inviting, animated, and comical. Not to mention they even fed us enough to last an alpacalypse.

I also met their cat, Garfield, who of course resembles Garfield. However, I think Grumpy Cat sounds more fitting because he really does look grumpy. Besides that, his face looks as if it had defied the laws of physics. I’d post a photo of this ball of cuteness, but I’m afraid his spirit will murder me in my sleep.

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Meet Miami

Meet Miami

The following day, my sister took me on a tour around our childhood abode which I haven’t visited in years. She waited in the car while I walked about and explored, trying to trace footsteps to the past. It was unfortunate that I couldn’t recall much, which is why listening to her tell stories about our childhood was so enticing. Who would’ve known I had a thing for hiding in the corner of Harvey’s and pooping? (In my diaper, that is.)

While in the area, we also visited my cousin and I met her dog, Miami, for the first time. I find it really precious that once her dog arrives home from a walk, she’d run straight to the bathtub and wait for her paws to be washed. I think this deepens my desire to become what my friend calls a petophile, driving around in a white van and kidnapping animals. Either that, or becoming something along the lines of a tree whisperer, a cat whisperer, or in this case, even a dog whisperer.

Marché Jean-Talon @ 7070 Avenue Henri Julien, Montréal, QC

Together, my sister, cousin and I took a trip to Jean-Talon Market, a farmer’s market located in the Little Italy district of Montreal. It was my first time there, and I really enjoyed scanning the endless aisles of fresh produce and witnessing the heartfelt interactions between the friendly staff and keen customers. There’s just a communal and inviting vibe to farmer’s markets that makes me feel a deep sense of belonging. My moment of utmost failure, though, was when I bit into my sandwich and my sausage flew. I’m sure it was entertaining for the world to witness.

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Ponki

Ponki

Spiced hearts

Spiced hearts

Wawel Pâtisserie Polonaise @ 3628 Bld. St-Laurent, Montréal, QC

Call it serendipity, call it synchronicity. But on our way to Kitsuné, of all places, we parked in front of a Polish bakery. I have a love affair with traditional Polish spiced or gingerbread cookies, and for quite some time have been trying to find a local Polish bakery that sells them. I even asked my good Polish friend for some pointers. So stumbling upon this humble little shop, and so unexpectedly, was quite a blessing. The spiced hearts and ponki were a delight! A note to all who wish to see the next sunrise: Please, hands off my cookies, because this is what I’d call a crime of passion.

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Maple syrup waffle - waffle topped with blueberries and strawberries, served with vanilla ice cream and maple syrup

Maple syrup waffle – waffle topped with blueberries and strawberries, served with vanilla ice cream and maple syrup

Juliette et Chocolat @ 3600 Bld. St-Laurent (coin Prince-Arthur), Montréal, QC

Vermicelli bowl with spring roll and pork

Vermicelli bowl with spring roll and pork

Restaurant Hoai Huong @ 5485 Avenue Victoria, Montréal, QC

I try to explore the coffee shop scene whenever I’m in Montreal, and Kitsuné, a gem of a cafe with a minimalist and eclectic feel, is one venue that’s been sitting on my list of places to visit. But since it was packed, we decided on an alternative: Juliette et Chocolat. Funnily, I’ve been meaning to try this dessert haven anyway, and to our luck, it was nestled in the corner of the street.

A perfect palm-sized portion, their Maple syrup waffle was oh-so-heavenly. It’s certainly satisfied my tigerous cravings for waffles. Desserts and hot choco were then followed by a visit to Restaurant Hoai Huong, which is now my top contender for the best vermicelli bowl. Methinks my body’s in a coma now from all the yummy food I ate this weekend. I probably need a new hobby.

On our own

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Autumn is my favourite season. Besides my affinity for sweater weather and all things pumpkin spice, I appreciate nature’s wisdom. She ebbs, she flows, she sails her own course, reminding me every day to embrace change and uncertainty, to practice non-attachment and non-resistance, and to enjoy this process we call life.

I’ve always wanted to spend a whole afternoon hibernating and immersing myself in nature, especially during the autumn season when the scenery is beginning to become a canvas of warm colours. Couple this with my thirst for outdoor activities and trying new things, and today, I did something different: I joined a hiking group, and together we set out on a journey in Gatineau Park.

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Even though the organizer never showed up, fellow hikers and I ended up hitching a ride together anyway. After all, dressed for the occasion and ready to go, we weren’t about to give in to a little mishap, and so we improvised our plans, and boy, did we have fun. We bonded on many levels and shared sweet conversations touching on spirituality, meditation, love, life. For strangers who’d just met, it felt as if we’ve been friends since time immemorial. Sometimes I’d encourage M to listen to the sound of water trickling; other times she’d point out species of plants to me. There were times when we even surrendered our senses to the environment and walked in complete silence.

What’s neat about joining such group outings is, not only do I get to meet people with similar hobbies and interests, but on a deeper level, I’m also matched with those who share similar values and perspectives on life. In fact, the speed at which we all became acquainted with each other today, sharing life experiences and hearty laughs, was quite remarkable.

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Meanwhile, I’m thankful for several things: spending a relaxing day outdoors and experiencing nature’s healing effect on my soul; meeting new people, receiving their kindness, and loving them as they are; purchasing children’s delicious baked goods and sharing them with loved ones; and being in the comforts of my own home, all bundled up after a chilly day outside.

Le mal du pays

My ideal Saturday afternoon involves hibernating at a bookstore, my humble abode, and reading. Yesterday, before meeting a friend, I ventured to Chapters, picked up Murakami’s Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage, sat in a quiet corner on the second floor, and read my afternoon away. Before I was aware of it, by the time I had to leave, I was already 136 pages into the book.

I’ve been meaning to see N ever since she stepped foot into the city for school, but due to work and volunteering, I couldn’t muster the time and energy to do it. So seeing her yesterday was sweet. We took a stroll in the ByWard Market, had brunch at Cacao 70, attended Nuit Blanche and witnessed the cool works of art, and tried steamed buns from Gonfu bao, a cart that I’ve been virtually stalking and meaning to try.

It wasn’t surprising that we ended up back at Chapters later that night, given it’s our second home. Despite feeling fatigued, we were still able to carry a stimulating discussion about doctoral theses and lab experiments, and the ethical issues with which they’re associated. We both purchased Murakami too. Sometimes I feel as if we’re an awkward, old couple. Like PB&J or Humpty Dumpty.

Atlantic City, New Jersey: Know thy geography

Recently, I went on a road trip to Atlantic City, New Jersey with my brother and his family. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision that resulted in me packing my bags in only minutes. But I appreciate spontaneity — it adds some spice to life.

Although we hit the road in the early hours of the morning, it took us the whole day to arrive at our destination since, besides taking a few breaks along the way, at one point, we got lost — and miserably so. Thus, by the time we arrived at our hotel, it was almost midnight. But I was glad the kids were still up, because the hotel lights from afar were splendid when we were driving in.

The day after our arrival, rather than relaxing on the beach with my family, I decided to take a stroll alone along the boardwalk strip instead, capturing photos and exploring food venues. Initially, I was on the hunt for an ice cream cone, but then I stumbled upon Boardwalk Cupcakes, a cute-as-a-button cupcake shop, whose colourful banner was enough to tickle my curiosity and lure me in.

Given all the time in the world, I would’ve spent the day sampling all the flavours on the menu, for they looked tummy-satisfying. But because I had kids to entertain, I left my wild cupcake fantasies aside and headed over to the beach, where I surprised my nieces with a box of Oreo and strawberry cupcakes. The munchkins screamed in excitement.

My brother and sister-in-law, who aren’t big dessert eaters, thought these cupcakes were divine and not overly sweet. They also laughed at the fact that I kept appearing at the beach with food and then disappearing, only to reappear with more food and then disappear again. I don’t deny my strangeness but I figured they’d be hungry since they were at the beach all day.

I wish I’d taken a walk along the strip our final night there and witnessed the spectacular views, especially when A was kind enough to invite me out. Instead, because my batteries had reached complete depletion after a long day of exploring, I fell asleep like a baby. Not to mention I felt psychologically exhausted.

On our way home, we took a final stop at the Woodbury outlet in Central Valley, NY. Exploring and people-watching was pleasant, but part of me still couldn’t wrap my head around the hype surrounding designer clothes, shoes, cosmetics, and handbags. Go figure. The only item I’d purchased was pizza. A whole box of it. And it was amazing.

Looking in retrospect, getting lost was quite an adventure. It was an experience where, not only did I trust my intuition and take initiative, but also one in which, despite the external conditions surrounding me, I made a conscious decision to maintain a healthy internal landscape, watering only the seeds of trust, compassion, patience, and perseverance. Lessons in challenges. Always.

Ray Donovan’s doppelgänger

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Cacao 70 @ 2087 Rue Sainte-Catherine Ouest, Montréal, QC

After having dinner with our cousin S, M and I had a date night at Cacao 70, a dessert haven for all the chocolate (and sweets) lovers. I heard of Cacao 70 only after stumbling upon reviews of it here on WordPress, and ever since then, it became the first contender to occupy my list of dessert joints to visit in Montreal.

As anticipated, because it’s a popular late night dessert venue in the downtown area, it was packed. However, it was precisely the sight of young adult couples and friends around the room laughing and having a good time, that gave the atmosphere a vivacious and heart-warming touch. It’s no secret that each one of us share a weakness for sweets, and therefore, I think it’s safe to say, an unbreakable soul-to-soul understanding of each other’s life longings.

Scanning the shop, I couldn’t help but eyeball other people’s plates of delicious goodies. Classic chocolate fondue, chocolate marshmallow pizza, Nutella and fruit crepe, Tutti-Frutti waffle, raspberry brownie parfait — you name it, everything was on the menu. Although M likes crepes and I like waffles, we decided to share a plate of dessert as we were still recuperating from dinner, and together we compromised on a selection that could be said to have fallen from the heavens: the banana split waffle.

Topped with caramelized bananas, drizzled with melted milk chocolate, and served with a side of vanilla ice cream, chocolate-coated cereal, and chocolate melt, this plate was divine. The waffle was warm, soft, and fluffy; the caramelized bananas were sweet and crunchy from the coat of caramel; and the melted chocolate spelled heaven on earth for the chocolate fans.

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It was a breezy summer evening, and instead of heading straight home, M gave me a tour around Mount Royal knowing that I’ve been longing to visit the site again, as it’s been years since I’ve last stepped foot there. The site was beautiful — just as I remember it. In fact, sanding atop the mountain overlooking the mesmerizing city lights made me long for my childhood days.

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Meet Pepé Le Pew

Raccoons at Mount Royal! There were so many of them that everywhere I stepped, I could almost feel a little furry body brushing up against my legs. At first, I wasn’t sure if I should be running for the hills like my life depended on it, wrapping my limbs around a stranger’s back like a koala bear, or simply relaxing and befriending these raccoons.

Everywhere around me, visitors were petting, feeding, and playing with these wild raccoons without the slightest fear. In fact, one gent rolled on the ground next to a raccoon just to take a selfie. I couldn’t help but laugh, because one thing’s certain: Montrealers are hilarious and crazy. Especially crazy. I know because they’re my people.

Apparently, these raccoons are harmless because they’re already used to having human interaction, so it’s normal to feed and play with them. M told me that they can even be selective about what food they eat; that is, between regular chips and ketchup chips, they prefer the latter. I thought this was pretty funny.

Mother, father, babies — they were all so fluffy and chubbs that my inner Agnes was about to manifest itself. I even entertained the idea of kidnapping them and bringing them home with me. So adorable!