PenRei has moved to another site!

Hello all,
This is just a little announcement to… uh announce that PenRei will no longer be writing as a strugglebot in this blog, but instead in a new one. It will chronicle her journey as an indie and aspiring writer, while struggling all along the way. You can check it out here!

Stay in touch everyone! And keep on struggling with a smile! ūüėÄ


TO Sightings part VI: Monday night shenanigans are the craziest kinds of shenanigans

by Nomes

A short one for those who miss these crazy streets/streetcars of Toronto.

So this one time, last Monday night, I was taking the streetcar to meet my friend at the modest hour of 10pm, when I witness a little ruckus being had at the front of the vehicle.

It appears a certain young man has decided to skip over the whole payment portion of this program, and walk right on by the driver. It became apparent, rather quickly, that he was intoxicated to the point of dumbness. And I kind of really mean like “unable to speak” because he wasn’t making sense with words and such.

As the driver attempted to get the man to pay, said man was repeating such things as “I’ll get you back next time man.” “Thanks man.” “I don’t have change man.” “Don’t worry about it…man…” The driver offered options such as:

Get off the streetcar.

There’s a bank, get money.

Ask the next streetcar driver for a free ride. (He would probably have given him a free ride if the guy had asked, saying he was “drunk and very sorry but had no change”, but since he just chose to breeze on by the driver, with an entitled air¬†about him: No dice was offered.)

It’s only 3$. ¬†(Man: “Anyone have 3$ for me?” Everyone in the streetcar: *glare*)

It continued on for a while until we had been stopped at a particular intersection for 4 green lights and everyone else in the streetcar was getting IM-patient.

I eventually just went ahead and reached into my purse for money I was going to use on streetcar anyway (but I got a free ride thanks to my aunt lending me her pass) and walked on up to the front to pay the guy’s fare.

There was literally NO WAY of reasoning with this guy in his sorry state, short of physically throwing him off the streetcar/calling the cops. I am not good at waiting. I have 3$. There, settled…

Comments of appreciation, as well as, “You shouldn’t have done that.” (people were looking for some blood, that Monday night, apparently) and “You just saved a life, tonight.” were thrown my way as I regained my seat. A tap on the shoulder from the girl behind me and a smile and nod confirmed further appreciation and on our way we were!!!

Then “You just¬†saved¬†someone’s life.” again.

Me: “How so?”

Guy at the front who had been arguing, on the side of the streetcar driver, with the drunken mess: “Cause he would have gotten killed (implying: by him).”

Streetcar driver: “Wow, now. None of that kind of talk.”

The guy at the front with the strong opinion, continues to tell the guy off for being a jerk etc. cause “He would have given you a free ride if you had just asked.” and on and on it went with the drunk guy interjecting once in a while, increasing in aggressiveness and every once in a while turning to the poor girl he sat next to and trying to talk to her, leaning a little too close. Note that he had had a wide variety of empty seats to choose from upon entering the streetcar and had chosen to sit next to this poor girl at the front, effectively trapping her. I kept my eye on the situation but until then, he was busier slurring to the driver than bothering the girl… until…

Eventually I couldn’t stand it any more; the poor girl had nowhere to go and he was leaning real close.

I got up again and went up to her just as he started putting his arm around her. I tapped her on the shoulder and proceeded to practise my craft. Sing? No. Act!!

Me: “Oh my god hey!! How are you?”

Girl: (relief in her face) “Hey!!!!”

Me: “I haven’t seen you in so long! Come and sit with me. Let’s chat!!”

Girl: “Ok great!”

We go back to my seat. She had been talking to her boyfriend on the phone and proceeds to reassure him she’s ok.

Drunk guy slumps down in his seat at the front…annnnd then eventually gets up and comes to sit right in front of us. Oh good God.

He proceeds to try to communicate something about being…drunk…No shit, eh? Further slurs and sad faces, leads me to want to ask if he knew what stop to get off at but I’m stopped by:

Driver: “Hey! Come back to the front and stop bothering those ladies.”

Guy… As usual..does not.


ANNNNND why if it isn’t my stop?

The girl decides to get off with me, thank me profusely and once I confirm she’s ok, we proceed to walk our separate ways. A glance back into the streetcar confirms that our man-du-jour is back at the front of the streetcar and there are raised voices/flailing limbs. *sigh*.

Wherever he is now, I just hope he’s sober. Seeing as it’s Wednesday morning. :S

In any case, I offer a little sympathy for the poor bugger who was clearly having a rough Monday.

The rest of my night was not as dramatic and definitely more pleasant. Rooftops, laughter and curry meals from Macs for the win!

Monday night shenanigans, I tell you!



“On The Third Day Chivalry Rose Again” or “Someone Get Me A Medic!”

by Nomes

It has recently (as well as not so recently) come to my attention that chivalry is not so much dead as has had a really long month of binging¬†and just woke up with an array of unfortunate new tattoos on it’s rear-end¬†and¬†face,¬†as well as a rainbow mohawk on its head and perhaps a toe or¬†two missing…and a slight heroine addiction. So it’s not dead. Just a little confused and sickly and emaciated in¬†oh¬†so many ways…

My need to speak about this comes from a not unusual situation:¬†Guy starts chatting you up¬†on the subway to Brooklyn (from Manhattan). At first it’s friendly/curious/a little too smiley¬†(*insert raised eyebrow here*)¬†chatter about your Spider Solitaire game, then it’s chatting about being from Canada, travelling¬†and the educational system in North America¬†as well as the positive socio-economic and cultural¬†repercussions of the economical crisis on certain Brooklyn neighbourhoods. Yep. That was my 11pm MTA conversation on my last night in NYC, folks. Life.

So naturally he offers me his number and the next time I’m in town I should call him up. Me: “I make no promises…” Him: “I don’t expect any.” Friendly chatter, goodbyes, followed by a hilarious walk home through a slightly-less-“affected”-by-the-economical-crisis, neighbourhoud of Brooklyn… Sidebar, I have to describe that situation:

Guy¬†on the street corner with friends (being closely watched by a cop on the opposite street corner) “How’s it going Becky!”


Guy: Katie!


Guy: Jessica! Cassandra? Savannah! Julie! Carolyn? I’m trying to guess your name, here! (said in a completely genuine manner)

Me: *bursting out laughing at his impressive attempts and gesturing for him to keep trying as I keep walking*

Guy: Linda? Sarah! Kayla! Ok. Good night Becky!!! Well… at least I made you smile!

Me: Yes you did!¬† *and I’m unable to stop chuckling the whole way back*

Legit lovely….Maybe you had to be there. But¬†I digress.

So here’s where my hesitation comes to play. If I call this guy from the subway¬†up (which at first I was like.. “No. I will not.”¬†But after our lovely and interesting chat, I thought… Maybe! A cool guy, potential friend!) then what are the implications? If a guy buys you a drink or two. If a guy buys you dinner. If a guy offers you a piece of chocolate. If a guy gives you his number and you want to call him up to hang out the next time you’re in NYC. What is expected of emancipated women of the 21st century? I call upon you: Feminism? St-Agatha? Madonna? Lady Gaga? SOMEBODY HAVE AN ANSWER?

It has been my guilty-white-girl attitude to offer a kiss in exchange for a (very expensive) dinner even if I’m not feelin’ the love (if you will).¬†Should it be my policy to¬†show an ankle when a guy holds the door for me?¬†I mean give a guy a smile on the street¬†and he might just¬†offer you a good ol’¬†stalking, complete with creepy-voiced “compliments”. So you gotta gauge it, sure, but…

My question is, whatever happened to chivalry? Those 1950s days when a boy would chase a girl around (and hopefully sing a song or two along the way) in order to woo her into letting him hold her books. When holding hands made your heart go pitter-patter and sharing a soda didn’t mean you were gonna spread your legs for him later on that evening.

Don’t get me wrong, I love a good ol’ modern world and wouldn’t have loved living in the 50s… I don’t think. All I’m saying is: is it just me? Or are we expected to “give back” to the chivalrous (mohawked and hangovered) man or else suffer the wrath of being called a “cold, manipulative bitch” and add to our already besieged self-esteem/self-worth struggles and confusions. Men, why?

So where do we draw the line? Can we be emancipated women of the 21st century and still expect a gentleman to pay for dinner? Is it rude of me to think that he is rude if he doesn’t offer to pick up at least the first check. (Rules on this vary, but I do believe that if he asks you out on the date, he should probably offer to pay. Sue me!)

Ok now after that date: If you’re not sure of the vibe, I mean it was a good meal, you chatted for hours even though it felt strained at times but maybe it was because you were nervous, I mean he’s really cute…. do you kiss the guy? (asks the 14 year old girl to Cosmo Girl’s advice column…)

What about out at a bar/club… the most UNCHIVALROUS PLACE OF THEM ALL. Where Chivalry goes to die by flaying followed by drowning in a vat of pure alcohol. IS it unchivalrous of us ladies to accept a drink or several from a young “gallant”, knowing full well that though we may dance (even that is questionable) we will most definitely not makeout with you on that dirty dance floor? Is it not more unchivalrous for the young man to insist on grinding (…how ELSE are you gonna dance? RIIIIGHT?!…sigh*) because he GOT you a DRINK!

Me: Hey man. You offered the drink. Who am I, poor student/struggling actor to say no? WHO?!

Funny story: this can sometimes backfire, as my friend experienced on our most recent outing to a slightly scuzztastic (but cheap drinks!) bar for a friend’s birthday. The guy buys her a drink. He is slightly unfortunate. She accepts it nevertheless. He starts to “dance” with her. She declines. He actually takes the drink back from her hand after she had taken a sip. Her: ….

PROOF that drinks are the new currency for luck in the bedroom. The Dance Floor: Meat Market in a new and even more literal way than ever. Now who’s to blame for this unfortunate mathematical equation? The emancipated “emerging female adult” is one of the culprits, that is for certain. Gosh darn it but we crave the attention, don’t we ladies? I mean we all love to go out dancing, get some drinks bought for us, maybe flirt with a guy or two, harmless fun. Some girls hope to find the man of their dreams there. Some girls do. Most will not. In any case we are partially to blame for this. But as in love, lust and disgusting bar behaviour (DBB for short) are a two way street. Two two way streets? An intersection?

So again, I ask. Where do we draw the line? Granted the men who have been less gentlemanly in the past,¬†have mostly been very drunk and oh so young, but was this behaviour¬†not indoctrinated into their sober brains? Cause the idea has to come from somewhere! Let’s not kid ourselves, alcohol doesn’t make stuff up, it just loosens up the already present urges and moral beliefs. So who’s the jerk who’s spreading the news about the dance floor and other such areas? The idea that girls are only there to let loose AND WILL “DANCE” WITH ANYONE IF HE’S FORCEFUL (doesn’t take no) ENOUGH (points towards the bedroom will be attributed with any drink purchased). LET THE GAMES BEGIN! *bell tolls 11pm*

THAT BEING SAID!!! I would like to say, that some bars are worse than others and that chivalry still exists in beautiful moments such as :

The guy from Manchester who not only paid for my cab ride home but accompanied me all the way home to make sure I was fine. Not forceful AT ALL, he said goodnight (after I gave him a grateful peck) before taking that same cab all the way back to his hotel. No guilt trip. No muss. No forceful exchange of numbers. Thank you, wherever you are!


The guy (and his friend) at that same scuzztastic bar which was previously mentioned, who kept offering to buy drinks for me and whoever couple of friends I happened to be dancing with at the time. Strings unattached. In fact we were the ones who invited them over earlier, to buy our Birthday Girl friend a drink and insisted they stick around. Cool guys for the win!


The guys who offered me a ride home cause I was wearing a cool hat (there were also girls in the car or I would never have accepted. Also they were from Ottawa and quite sober) and even though they kept saying I should go to the club with them, and I adamantly refused time and time again, they were totally cool with dropping me off closer to home.  *shrug* Cool guys for the win x 2!

So there are some cool people. There are some wonderful guys out there. And to those men, I say thank you. Thank you for offering a girl a good time without the bitter after taste of a scuzzy and guilt-tripped roll in the metaphorical hay. To those other men and to the girls who encourage them… don’t. Just don’t.

Final words of wisdom: Men, here are 3 simple rules to follow whilst drunk, sober or otherwise…

1. Know how to read the signs. 2. Don’t be a creep. 3. Class will get you everywhere and crass will get you STDs. **CLASS OVER CRASS PLEASE!**

So say we all. ūüėČ


On¬†a similar¬†note, here’s a little tip from our favourite Jenna Marbles on how to get a guy to remove his groin from your hiney (and other unfortunate interactions you may suffer):

Ariane Moffatt

by PenRei

This post is LONG overdue.

Back in June, a few friends I went to see the awesomely-stellar Ariane Moffatt in concert at The Drake Underground. Who is she? Well fellow readers, I am about to introduce you to a fantastic artist that I’m sure you will grow to love as much as I have.

Ariane Moffatt and her band

Ariane Moffatt is a canadian singer-songwriter-musician with a cathardic and poignant¬†electro-pop sound – occasionally dipping into reggae-rock and drum and bass –¬†that will become an addiction. She’s been around the at least 10 years and has seduced French-Canada and France with her amazing sound. I wonder how it is that I just found out about her last winter. Oh how I’ve been missing out. She is a bilingual artist, which means that her songs are in both French and English, but don’t let one of the languages deter you from her; all of her songs have a rich and complete sound with that will evoke pleasant and¬†visceral sensations within you. There is both an intimacy and power in her voice that you can not deny. What’s even more impressive, she sounds even better live! Her range, strength, and huskiness are not generated by a computer during the music production process of her recordings. It’s the real deal!

Ariane Moffatt

Firstly, Moffatt delivers a killer concert. The drum and bass already present in her¬†songs is amplified to a point that you can feel the music vibrate within you. I swear, my heartbeat probably synched up with it after a while. It was another one of those concerts where you HAD to dance, and luckily, the audience didn’t seem to be effected by hipster-standing-judgement syndrome. That’s right people, dance to the beat of the drums!

Ariane Moffatt, her keyboardist and bassist, and her band

Amongst some of my favourite songs that she played were Mon corps, Rules of Legal Love, In Your Body, and Sourire sincère. All of these are on her latest album MA, released in February of 2012.

“MA” par Ariane Moffatt

Other noteable songs are Réverbère, Je veux tout, and Jeudi, 17 mai from her previous 2008 album Tous les sens (which you should also check out if you enjoy MA).

“Tous les sens” par Ariane Moffatt

She prepared a special treat for us with Jeudi, 17 mai (in English: Thursday May 17th). It has been 4 years since she originally wrote the song and the lyrics were related to events that happend on Thursday May 17th 2008. This year, May 17th fell on a Thursday as well, so Moffatt explained that it seemed appropriate to rewrite the lyrics in relation to the events of the date this year. Her song focused on the new and special temporary law imposed by the Jean Charest government in Qu√©bec to help control the growing protests in Qu√©bec (especially Montreal)¬†with regards to post-secondary education, but still allow the population to have a voice¬†and continue to protest. I won’t get into that whole political scenario since I have my own very strong opinions about it, and this is not what this post is about. Instead, here is the 2012 version of the song Jeudi, 17 mai.

I can’t tie up¬†this post without mentioning that she did an¬†UNFORGETTABLE¬†cover of the Kate Bush song¬†Running Up That Hill that puts Placebo’s version to shame (and I am a big fan of Placebo’s cover). Here’s hoping that she’ll record it on her next album.

Ariane Moffatt tours a lot in Québec, so check out her website for a concert near you. As for the rest of us, here are some dates:

  • Friday September 14th @ Sudbury, Amphith√©√Ętre Grace Hartman, 7:30pm
  • Monday November 12th @ Paris, Trabendo, 7:30pm
  • Friday November¬†23rd @ Chateauguay, Salle du Pavillon de l‚Äô√ģle, 8pm
  • Friday November 30th @ Waterloo, Maison de la culture de Waterloo, 8pm
  • Saturday December 1st @ Montreal, Th√©√Ętre Corona, 8pm (for any of you thinking of travelling to Montreal during this time)

Official website:
Artist’s blog:

Click on the link below to see her music video for the song In Your Body, one of my favourites (vimeo won’t let me insert it in my post). Vive la musique!

A Super Canadian Weekend

by PenRei

Warning: It’s about to get super Canadian in this post, because this is all about the Canadian weekend I had with good company, good food, good music, and nature (which is good in every aspect).

It started off Saturday morning with Nomes, Douggy Fresh and I heading over to the Evergreen Brickworks, as mentioned in Nomes’ previous post. It is such an eco-friendly park that there is not only a garbage and recycling bin, but also a compost bin. What a brilliant idea! I believe that the option of all three separate bins should be everywhere (and I mean across the world). I’ll admit that we Canadians can seem a little self-righteous when it comes to protecting the environment, but I am partly proud of it because our environment is an incredibly important part of everyone’s lives (despite how some may disagree).

We got there a little late to take in all of the festivities, but we were able to partake in a quick look at the various Farmer’s Market stalls (to be repeated in the near future). One stall that especially interested us was a honey stand. A very nice and cheerful young woman ran it. She sold organic honey, which is FAR superior to regular¬†store-bought¬†honey. I can’t remember when it happened, but one day I tried organic honey and I couldn’t go back. To be clear, ¬†I’m not a hardcore organic grocer, but when you can taste the difference, you get my vote. She had wildflower, lavender, cranberry, and cinnamon honey. Of course, I wanted to buy ALL OF THEM, but my wallet wasn’t burning a hole through my bag, so I opted for just one wildflower honey jar. The winning side, IT CAME IN A HONEY BEAR JAR!!! Douggy Fresh pointed out that if you bought various types of honey in honey bear jars, you could make yourself a drinking glass set. She often comes up with brilliant ideas like this out of nowhere. Here is a shot of Nomes and Douggy Fresh with our purchased honey (Nomes got the cinnamon one).

Afterwards, we heard the sweet call of music from The Honeyrunners. As you may know from my previous post, I’m a fan; a fan who is impatiently waiting for them to release their EP (dated to come out in October, in case you’re wondering). We were hoping to hear their original music, but they played a cover set that was still impressive. We also discovered that they have a new drummer with beats as killer as his awesome afro. Since I’ve already gone on and on about them before, I will simply leave you with a few photos I took of their gig and you can imagine the fun time we had.

Starving Artist Jar

Also, here is a photo of them with my jar of honey. After all, I bought a jar of honey than saw The Honeyrunners. How could I not?

The Honeyrunners with my jar of honey

Since it was Douggy Fresh’s first time at the Evergreen Brickworks (and Nomes and I are nature junkies) we had to take a walk around the nature park behind the buildings. It was such a beautiful day. Words can not describe the amazing weather we had, so instead I will leave you with this picture.

On Sunday, it was Canada Day… which to anyone from Ottawa, is a BIG DEAL!!! Even when other people in your city aren’t huge into partying it up, Ottawa people will make their own party.

The three of us started off with a Pride brunch at Johnny Be Good’s apartment. He has a balcony that overlooks Yonge street, hence, the perfect place to both watch the parade and have access to running water, thus keeping at bay dehydration from heat.

Pride Flowers

I’ll start off by saying there was A LOT of bacon. There was so much bacon, that I should show you this photo I took, because you wouldn’t believe me otherwise. There are some sausages in there, but it was about 83% bacon.

Bacon Mountain

Mountain of bacon

It seemed perfect to start Canada Day with a Pride brunch. After all, Canada is awesome with its legal rights, gay marriage and openness to allow same sex couples live full and happy lives out in the open, without shame. I wish I could say that this was everywhere in Canada, but sadly, there are still some small pockets that are evolving in their mentalities. We had an awesome time, eating brunch, meeting new people while catching up with good friends, and dancing to music for 3 hours.

Afterwards, we had to leave the party to continue our Canada Day festivities. Nomes went off to celebrate a friend’s birthday party, so we said our temporary goodbyes.

In the evening, Douggy Fresh and I headed down to the Harbourfront centre. The sunset was GORGEOUS. We had to take a moment to just absorb the pinks, blues, and purples in the sky, the gentle cooling breeze, and the sound of moving water. If you live in Toronto and haven’t experienced the sunset at Harbourfront, I suggest you put it on your list of things to do during your next weekend.

We were primarily there for a free live concert of The Hidden Cameras. They are a 9 piece independent Canadian band that plays an interesting and playful mix of folk, pop, progressive, and rock. I didn’t take pictures of this event since the lighting wasn’t ideal for the type of lens I have on my camera, but I believe that this music video will give you a sufficient idea of how good they are. If you are a fan of Broken Social Scene and other Arts & Crafts bands, I know that you will love The Hidden Cameras. For those of you who are impatient. The song starts around 1:30.

I guess that’s it. HAPPY BELATED CANADA DAY!!!!

Up next, the 4th of July in Washington DC. It’s gonna be CRAZY!

Parks and Recreation or Why We Need More Shrubberies

by Nomes

As a girl born and bred in mostly cities and… small cities, I have somehow always remained a country girl at heart. Perhaps it was the summers spent in rural Quebec or at my Nanny’s farm or at a friend of the family’s cottage or camping (the only way to travel on a budget with 4 kids!). Perhaps it’s that in a past life I was an otter, who can really know? In any case: Nature. I will always and forever love you. No matter how hard humankind tries to emulate your colours, your shapes and your sounds, your sights, your smells and your feel… nothing comes close to sitting on the edge of the highest cliff in Algonquin park and looking down on a vast expanse of deciduous and coniferous forests with their shades of green and earth tones, mingling on the shores of beautifully wild lakes as the sun and the wind dance their dance and make the air just… perfect…

But I digress.

Having almost always had a backyard of sorts and, as mentioned, access and opportunity to roam beautiful parks (Gatineau Hills in the Outaouais region is a good one, and just a short trip from my Ottawa home), I am at a loss when it comes to living in the downtown core of such a vastly concrete city as Toronto. In my previous post, I mentioned the lack of lawns around downtown homes. This results in a few negotiations such as patios (rooftop and other) as well as parks, for residents of these areas. It was a beautiful surprise to me to see wonderful parks such as Trinity-Bellwoods being¬†well used. With facilities such as a kids park, tennis courts, baseball diamonds and a dog pit (…ravine-like portion of the park which usually holds a whole LOT of dogs), this is a buzzing place to be on weekends, day AND night. It occurred to me, rather quickly, that this popularity was due to a few factors, but mainly: the fact that no one had a back yard. When you just have to get out of the house, when you just want a breath of fresh air, what¬†better than a beautiful park, not too far from home, if you’re lucky enough to have this.

Another option is the Harbourfront, the marina, Toronto Music Garden or any other portion of the waterfront not devoted to roads and condos. The Toronto Music Garden is one of my favourite little spots, for its diversity of flora and beautifully original landscaping work. It has several “spots” which were designed with a movement of music or type of musical piece typical of Baroque composer Johann Sebastian Bach, in mind. Being a music nerd from a young age, this tickled me pink the first time I came upon it, and continues to do so every time I introduce this magical place to friends or family. It is just across from the National Ballet of Canada on Queen’s Quay West and up against a part of the marina which includes fantastic boats and a view of Lake Ontario and islands (namely the Billy Bishop Airport Island). It is a gem of landscape architecture with a little bit of wildlife preservation on the east side.

One of the “music spots” inspired by a musical movement often composed by Bach. This one is the “Courante”, with an upward swirling path, surrounded by wildflowers and leading up to a Maypole. Landscape architect: Julie Moir Messervy

A few weeks back, with my parents, aunt and a friend of my aunt’s, we discovered some interesting Waterfront parks, newly installed which had highly original concepts and architecture. One in particular, a water park near the south end of Sherbourne st was a lovely little discovery. This all gives me hope for the future and maybe we CAN build a beautiful city (if you can name that reference, you get a gold star). With all of this talk of Ontario Place closing, building a casino there and other silly ideas, I have been cringing at the thought of this city becoming more tacky than ever. Though I understand budget constraints and just the need to make money instead of losing it, I believe that there are FAR better ways than building a casino, which, as I have learned usually uglifies a landscape like no other: litter and such, have been known to define the area surrounding a casino, such as in Atlanta: known for its beaches and casinos killer combination.¬†That being said, I do appreciate the efforts to create a beautiful waterfront in other areas, just as long as it is sustainable and eco-logic-al.

My next and final discovery of a natural wonder, is the Evergreen Brickworks/Ravines, just north of Bloor/Danforth, around the Sherbourne area. Not it is a well kept secret for us avid TTC-ers and if it wasn’t for PenRei being such a hiker, we probably would never have discovered its wonders. It’s a short walk north up Glen road, from Sherbourne subway station, to the ravines; a beautiful place, apparently never touched by the city as far as construction goes. The through the ravines a bit of a ways, down various paths and suddenly… there it is: Evergreen Brick Works, better accessible by car or bike but well worth the walk to get there.

Brick Works is the site of the old Don Valley Brick Works, brickyard, where they made.. you guessed it.. bricks. When it closed down, it was preserved for its historical and geographical value, with the quarry nearby creating an interesting bio-system in the area. In the 1990s money was raised to restore it and it opened in 1996 as a beautiful preservation maintained by Toronto Parks, Forestry and Recreation. It holds many pavilions for exhibits and visits of the old factory as well as interactive areas for children to explore nature. The Weston Family Quarry Garden is also one of the most beautiful havens, where you can forget you’re in the city and just breathe it in. PenRei, her besty Douggy Fresh and I, ventured there last Saturday where we got to enjoy a BRILLIANT Farmer’s Market, complete with organic, local and EXTRA local (tea made strictly from plants grown IN the Evergreen Brick Works!) produce as well as delicious looking meal options from all places of the globe and even our favourite local independent band: The Honeyrunners, performing throughout the morning. We then walked through the quarry garden and just took it all in.

Source : Toronto Life’s article “Wild Thing: the story behind the Brick Works”


This place hosts many activities, year round, but as one can expect, the majority of events are in the summer and fall months with such things as the Kilns where kids (of all ages) can experiment with clay and pottery, Bike-In movie nights as well as a Wild Blueberry Festival in August!

More to discover, as I didn’t even mention High Park and other such green hot spots, but those were my own personal highlights. Nothing makes me quite as at peace, as a good hike in nature, I recommend it to all of you! Get out there, get a little sun and stay hydrated!


T.O. / Montreal sightings : Re-occuring Doorway Incidents

Nomes here.

Couldn’t help but notice I have been rather silent on this blog we call “the struggle”. I have been caught up in my final term at Musical Theatre¬†school, struggling through final¬†classes and first weeks of rehearsal for our final show.¬†It is time for me to recount further tales of woe whilst walking down these city streets and then maybe recount a thrilling tale of many adventures and discoveries of said city’s greeneries and parks(which do, in fact, exist!!).

First on the docket: Nudity in doorways. A re-occuring occurance. Once in Montreal and once in Toronto.

First, “L’incident pr√©-Ste-Catherine”: a¬†life experience.

Whilst walking with my oldest sister in the streets of Montr√©al, in a story we quickly started to recount as the Pre-Ste-Catherine Incident. Ste-Catherine (for those who really don’t know Montr√©al) is a main street (maybe even the¬†main¬†street)¬†in downtown Montr√©al and at the time we were just about to reach it.

As you may know if you live in a big city, a lot of houses on smaller residential downtown streets are right on the sidewalk. There is simply little to no lawn in cities. A sad reality. So down the small sidewalks we walk and converse, probably about the latest Lord of the Rings movie or youtube video we shared (I forget what year it was but that sounds about right) and we see, up ahead, one of the houses’ front door wide open. Not unusual but what WAS unusual was as we walked by ,there, in the front hallway, naked as the day he was born except for a towel covering his face and head¬†as he dried it (I assume after a shower), was a fully grown homo sapien male. He was walking from what I assume was a room a little further down the front (small) hallway, into what I assume was the front room of the house. Nothing left to be desired and really no way of not getting a front row seat to that one. Again, sidewalk=against house, hallway=small and door=open.

Well my sister and I had been walking in amiable silence and managed to maintain it at the moment of the “incident”. But, both of us having turned our heads in sync¬†we then¬†turned them back to face ahead equally in time and¬†exactly 7 steps past the house we both burst out laughing. It took exactly that much time for it to sink it. We then proceeded to share our thoughts about the absurdity of what had just happened and affectionately name it “L’incident pr√©-Ste-Catherine”.

You’d think this was a once in a lifetime thing. One of those crazy things of being in the right (or wrong..depending) place at the right (wrong?) time. Well, folks, never underestimate the power of ridiculous happenstance and…the city.

So I’m walking home one day, from school. Once again I was on one of the residential downtown streets at a part where the houses are cramped on the sidewalk but more specifically I was just passing an abandoned storefront/storage space. As is my habit, I look into windows when they are near me and the door to this place had a large window in it and what was there, behind the windowed door? But a fully naked man except for the fishnet stockings he was sporting,¬†crouching,¬†right at¬†the door, and just about to get up. He was looking down (I think!) so I assume he was picking something..up…? But what, I wonder, leads a fully naked (except for the fishnets) man to go to the windowed door and …pick something up? QUESTION MARK!

Well needless to say I quickly looked away in confusion and kept walking home. Should I have gone back and asked if he was part of a Doorway Nudist Society? Asked for a pamphlet on the subject?….To this day I regret not doing so, but what can you do?

That’s all for now, next¬†time, you will hear more on the (more) serious business of parks and nature in these concrete jungles most of us call home. Stay tuned, and stay hydrated!




Hooker Sheets and Airport Seats

by PenRei

Last weekend, I was forced to live an experience I wish to never repeat EVER again. It is an experience that has now carved deep into my soul the conviction that Air Canada is amongst the worst airlines from a first world country. It is a long and painful story, yet I have been told it’s a good one to hear, so get ready for a very wordy post.

Between June 17th and June 22nd, I was in Melville, New York, to be trained on an animation and design program used at my job. It was well worth it since this specific program had a tendency of making me feel stupid at my own job. Now, I won’t feel so pathetically slow when I’m asked to design or animate something. Hooray! The training week went well, but it was the departure that frustrated me to the point of tears.

Friday June 22nd
I arrive at Laguardia Airport, check in my luggage, take a seat in the lounge-waiting area. My plane doesn’t take off until 4:30pm, so I have plenty of time to read and watch stuff on my laptop until the plane gets here. I might even make it in time for Am√©lie et les singes bleus and Ariane Moffatt,¬†who¬†are playing a free concert¬†at Francof√™te. Plus, I’ll also get enough sleep to get to work the next day (Saturday) for the kids show I’m teching on.

One of the earlier flights gets cancelled. That’s weird, but at least it’s not mine. Sit tight, everything is going to be okay.

More flights are getting cancelled. Okay, this is weird, but mine isn’t. It’s just delayed… until 6pm. I’ll miss Am√©lie et les singes bleus, but at least I’ll still get there in time for Ariane Moffatt!

More and more flight’s are being delayed. What’s going on?

It’s official: they’re cancelling flights one by one every 30 minutes. Ugh! Now mine is only delayed until 6:45pm. Come on! Don’t cancel my flight! A migraine is starting to settle in.

A massive lineup of passengers with cancelled flights are filed one by one in front of the Air Canada travel agents desk. They are hoping to book a flight for the next day as quickly as possible to get out. It looks like at least a 1.5 hour wait. Yikes! I am now looking after a nice canadian woman’s heavy carry on while she’s in line. She told me that if my plane gets cancelled that I can just bring her bags to her then.

My flight is now delayed until 7pm. A bunch of flights around mine are being cancelled. This doesn’t look good for me.

It’s official: my flight is now cancelled! Air Canada makes an announcement that those who recently had cancelled flights shouldn’t even bother waiting in line. They should call a 1-800 number and book with an agent over the phone. This isn’t good! I immediately bring the nice lady’s luggage to her. She’s about 4 people away from talking to an agent. As a thank you, she tells me to cut in with her; she feels bad for me. I thank her profusely! It may not have been the most honest thing, but in times of great frustration, I’ll take what I can get. My brain has now gone into focussed mode. Step 1: Tell my boss. I turn on my phone to call my supervisors to let them know what’s happened. Phone call with scheduling supervisor goes as follows:
Me: Hi (name)!
Super: Hi PenRei! How are you? (she’s clearly puzzled since why would I be calling her on a Friday evening.)
Me: I’ve been better. My flight back to Toronto has just been cancelled and I’m stranded in New York.
Super: Oh no that’s terrible. Thanks for letting me know.
(Moment of silence, I’m guessing she still doesn’t entirely know why I’m calling her.)
Me: Uh, (name), I am suppose to work the kid’s show tomorrow at Francof√™te.
Super: … OH SHIT!
Me: Yeah!
Super: Okay, don’t worry PenRei. I’ll find someone to replace you. Just take care of yourself.
Me: Um… also, I have the dvd’s with all of the media. So the team will either have to use the P2 player or go through the back ups.
Super: Okay, I’ll make this work. Thanks for letting me know. Don’t worry about any of it. I’ll figure it all out.
(We say goodbye and I am glad to have such a nice and sympathetic scheduling supervisor.)
I call the technical director of the show and leave him a voicemail with what’s going on. I then proceed to call my father, who is expecting a message when I’m back in Canada, and text the friends I am meeting up with at the concert to let them know that I won’t be able to make it.
Step 1 accomplished!

Step 2: Book my flight. I get to a travel agent. They are clearly swamped with frustrated and angry customers, so I’m doing my best to stay calm and carry on. While she’s helping me, she’s also talking to someone on the phone and directing an agent to help a woman in a wheelchair. Such little dialogue is exchanged between us that at one point I’m wondering if she’s helping me at all. I decide to not be an impatient customer and trust that she’s doing her job. She tells me the earliest flight she can get me on is at 6:30pm the next day. With no better option, I take it. She makes the changes, hands me the booking information and explains that they will be booking larger planes on Saturday, so I could show up early and maybe get squeezed into an earlier flight. I thank her. Step 2 accomplished!
Lastly, Air Canada isn’t providing anyone with any accommodation information. I’m worried since Step 3 is finding a hotel room. It looks like I’m on my own. Frustrated by their lack of customer service, I leave.

Both the nice lady and I have our flights for the next day. Now for Step 3: Find a hotel room for the night. The nice lady continues her kindness and allows me to use her laptop (with internet access) to find and book a hotel. I go to and scour the website for hotels nearby. Everything is fully booked! Why am I not surprised? There are probably close to 1,000 people now stranded in New York (Air Canada flights from JFK have also been cancelled). There is an option for me to return to Long Island, but the taxi ride is so long and expensive that I’d rather find something nearby. I look for hotels in Manhattan, crossing my fingers that there will be at least one. Lucky for me, there is one hotel who’s price range fits within my work’s requirements (140$ a night) and there are only 2 rooms left. I book it without hesitation. My confirmation is sent to my email and everything looks good. The hotel is even listed as having free WiFi. Necessary Bonus! The nice lady and I separate, wishing each other good luck. Step 4: Collect my suitcase from baggage claim.

I’m waiting at baggage claim for my suitcase. As soon as I’ll get it, I’ll be off and heading to my hotel. My migraine has now accelerated to full-pain mode and all I can think about is getting some food in my system and then lying down on a bed with all the lights turned off. Come on suitcase, show your face!

The same 20 suitcases are just repeatedly spinning around in a circle. We’re about 60 people all wondering what’s going on. Where is our luggage? The conveyor belt is only about 2/3rd full. A man goes over to an airport employee and asks why there’s no new luggage. The employee says that the conveyor belt is full (not true) and they are waiting for the luggage to be claimed before putting anything new on. Um, thanks for telling us earlier! (sigh) The same man, who I found out to be Canadian (yes, Canadians are nice), puts a smile on his face and starts taking suitcases off one by one and putting them into a pile in the middle. Two others help out! I want help, but the pain in my head is so intense that I can barely stand up straight. Eventually, new suitcases begin to appear and mine finally shows up. Step 4: accomplished! Step 5: Get my ass over to my hotel.

There is a long lineup outside for a taxicab. What else can I do but take a spot in line and wait for my turn! I plant myself behind someone, massaging my temples to help alleviate some of the agony. My stomach is starting to eat itself, adding to the overall physical pain I am dealing with.

There are only 5 people in front of me. Awesome! We’re almost there. I distract myself by watching others walk out of the airport and find a place in line. I spot the nice lady from before and flag her down. She is also going to a hotel in Manhattan, so I tell her to join me in the line and split a cab. This time she is thanking me and comments that we make a good team. I am happy to have someone to share this experience with. I push back my migraine to keep a positive attitude about the situation like her. Soon, it’s our turn and we jump in a cab. During the ride, we find out that her hotel is only 5 blocks from mine. I tell her not to worry about the cab fare since my work will reimburse me and we’re so close to each other anyway. She thanks me again for the free cab ride. Before being dropped off, she extends an invitation for me to join her mother (who is still at JFK waiting for her luggage) and her for dinner. I thank her, but I am so hungry that I can’t wait another hour to eat. She says she understands and we part ways.

I get to my hotel. It’s the Pennsylvania Hotel near Times Square. There’s a diner called Lindy’s right downstairs and I note it as a place to grab some diner. I check in and make my way up to my room, incredibly happy to finally lie down. Unfortunately, the hotel room is HORRIBLE! To anyone venturing to Manhattan, DO NOT STAY IN THE PENNSYLVANIA HOTEL!!!! If I knew this would have been the state of the room, I might have taken my chances sleeping at the airport.
The carpet was dirty and made me afraid to take off my shoes.
The washrooms were cleaner at the airport than at the hotel.
The bedsheets had stains on them.
The hotel smelled like it wasn’t aired out in a decade; there was an unpleasant mix of cigarettes, dust, alcohol, bleach, and old carpet.
On top of that, there was no WiFi as promised. I asked the hotel and they said that there was none in the hotel rooms, only in the lobby, and you had to pay 10$ to get access. I showed them my booking clearly specifying “free WiFi” the clerk simply said “what do you want me to say? It’s not true.” Uh, how about the minimum customer service you could offer? Such as giving me at least free WiFi in the lobby for the evening!
Unable to stall my hunger, I went to the dinner. I was completely unprepared for the prices on the menu. The only thing I could afford within my work per-diems was a chicken sandwich and frozen vegetables on the side. Safe to say, not particularly appetizing and not worth the 22$ I gave them.

I’m back in my room with my take out container. ¬†I swallow an Advil and wait for its effects to make their way to my neck and brain while very slowly eating (I occasionally get severe nausea if my migraine is really bad). Now that I have a flight for the next day, a roof over my head, and some food in my stomach, my head steps out of ubber-focussed mode and for the first time in hours, I let everything sink in. Feeling incredibly lonely, after being disconnected from all of my friends and family in Canada for a week, I call my dad and ask him to call me through the hotel phone number so we can talk. He does and after a few tears and telling him everything that has happened, I finally begin to feel better.

After talking to my dad and watching an episode of The X-Files. I decide it’s time to go to bed. Now I’m not too sure what to do. The bed is so disgusting that I’m worried I might get crabs (that’s how bad it was), but the air conditioner (which I can’t control) is pushing too much cold air. I decide to sleep in my clothes underneath one blanket. Before falling asleep, I pray that there are no bed bugs. I don’t need more stress after this.

Saturday June 23rd
I wake up to the sounds of some very loud Portuguese  tourists next to me. Impossible to go back to sleep. I watch another episode of X-Files on my laptop while eating the other half of my sandwich from the previous night.

I can’t stay in my room for much longer. The smell and the grossness is getting to me. I’d like to go to the Metropolitan Museum, but without internet, I have no idea where it is or when they open. Also, I have to check out at noon, most likely not giving me a lot of time. I opt for just walking around Times Square. In the process, I stop by Starbucks and buy some breakfast (the only place that will fit within my per-diems). I walk, browse through stores, and try to just keep a positive attitude despite my single desire to go home.

The streets of Manhattan are getting too crowded for my taste, so I decide that it’s time for me to check out. I do so and go outside to catch a cab. I don’t have any American money in small bills, so I decide to call a cab myself and not ask for help from the bell boy. As my arm stretches up in the air at an upcoming cab, the bell boy jumps in front of me and does the same. I don’t understand what’s going on. Is he hailing a cab for somebody else? Turns out he was hailing it for me… even though I had already done that for myself. He opens the door for me and I get in. I close the door and then he yells at me “What about my tip?” I’m shocked! I never asked for his help, and all he did was hail a cab I already had. I just give him an expression saying “why would I tip you if I didn’t even want your help?”. He decides to yell at me some more through the car window and I ask the taxi driver to get me to LaGuardia.

I get to the airport and am thankful that I didn’t have a driver who wanted to talk to me. That last scene with the bellboy was just enough to set me back in my lonely mood from the previous night. I admit, I cried a bit in the cab. I walk into the Air Canada check-in station and the first nice thing happens to me all day.
I don’t want to check-in at the kiosks in the hopes of getting an earlier flight, but I couldn’t find the regular check-in counter, just the baggage line. I walk up to the woman at the business class check-in since she has no one in line and ask her where I’m suppose to go. She points to the baggage check-in counter. I sigh and am about to turn around, but she stops me and says “I can ring you through here, I don’t have anyone in line”. I am dumbfounded! Is this even real? She asks to see my passport. It is real! Friendly service from Air Canada? I decide not to question it too much and just go with it. She rings me through and says that there are seats available on the 3:30pm flight. I accept without hesitation. She also says that she can check my suitcase right there. She hands me my boarding pass and I thank her profusely. There may have even been a tear of joy.

I am back in the waiting-lounge area. Boarding for my flight starts at 2:55pm and takeoff is 3:30pm. Renewed with hope, I am convinced that today is the day that I am going. I also know that if I have to repeat this nightmare again, I might just breakdown in the airport. But no, I choose to try and stay positive! If all goes well, I’ll be back in my apartment around 6pm and will make it to Running Man’s (besty Douggy Fresh’s boyfriend) birthday party.

A later flight is delayed. Worry begins to sink in. No! I try to be positive. I will not give up hope!

An airplane docks in gate 7. My flight is departing from gate 7. That must be the plane! HOORAY! I’m going home! I continue to read my book while keeping my ears open for any announcements.

They’ve begun boarding the plane. This is happening! This is actually happening!

Everyone has boarded the plane. It’s just a matter of minutes before we take off. I can already breathe the fresh Canadian Air and see all the trees and nature again. (That’s right, I was so deprived of it that TORONTO felt like nature). I jumpstart my return to Canada by watching a NFB documentary called Cry of the Wild about wolves.

We still haven’t taken off. What’s going on?

Oh no! They’re going to ask us to get off the plane and cancel the flight. Please don’t let it be!¬†Please don’t let it be!¬†Please don’t let it be!

The captain over the intercom: “Sorry to have kept you waiting folks. We initially didn’t have any staff to put the luggage on the plane, so we were just waiting on that. Soon we’ll be closing the cargo doors and we should be ready for takeoff any minute.”
Seriously! THAT was the hold up! For crying out loud, I think most of the people on this plane would have gone out themselves to put their luggage on the plane. Air Canada, you’re disorganized ways are bringing me nothing but GRIEF!

The captain: “Thank you for waiting folks. We have now closed the cargo doors and are waiting for our turn to takeoff. It shouldn’t be much longer.”
By that do you mean 10 minutes? 15 minutes? I can handle 15 minutes.

I can’t take it anymore! What’s the holdup! Please just get me home!!!!!!

The plane is moving. Wait, the plane is moving? Yes, it is! The plane is MOVING! YES! Finally, FINALLY I can go home. There’s no way they would cancel the plane now. Shh, no, don’t say that. You’ll jinx it! Don’t say anything until you are past customs in Canada. (Can you see the slow degradation of my sanity by now?). The plane takes off. Now it feels real.

We land in Canada. Oh sweet Canadian soil! You are amazing and I love you so much. I’m soooo sorry that I left you for so long!

I pass customs. Now I really am in Canada. There’s nothing that they can do make me go back to LaGuardia. Oh LaGuardia and Air Canada, how I despise you completely!

I’m home! I’M REALLY HOME! My tiny bachelor apartment has never looked so wonderful. My neighbourhood, with a strange mix of immigrant families and drug-dealers, has never looked so welcoming. The trees outside have never been greener. Everything is WONDERFUL! I proceed to spend my evening doing my laundry (and putting everything in the dryer in case of bed bugs), buying some well-deserved sushi for dinner, skyping with my family, and reading. I told Running Man that I couldn’t make it to his birthday party. If I really wanted to, I might have made it for 10pm. I found out the next day that the party had pretty much winded down by then.

I slip under the covers of my bed and prepare for sleep. Before closing my eyes, I pray with all the energy I have left that I will not wake up tomorrow morning back in that horrible hotel room. If this whole day was just a dream, I would breakdown in that hotel right then and there.

Sunday June 24th
I wake up. I’m still in my apartment! Now it feels over.

And there you have it! 3,517 words later, the story is over. Congratulations to you if you made it to the end. This must be the longest post I’ve written so far. Despite my desperate need to leave the states by the end, I’m excited to return and visit my dear friend Gretchen in Washing DC and West Falls Church. I’ll also be taking Porter this time, an airline I have taken often in the last year and always had a great experience with. I am now convinced to ¬†use Porter whenever possible and avoid Air Canada at all costs.

Air Canada Sucks

Are You Insane Enough For Insanity?

by PenRei

Back in early June, my friend RoboMon, massage therapist and fitness enthusiast, introduced me to Insanity. She texted me one afternoon asking me if “I’d like to join her for Insanity”. I texted back saying “sure”, and then five minutes later with “What’s insanity?”. Knowing RoboMon, I was positive that she wasn’t referring to the the abnormal mental state associated with strange behavioral patterns… but still, it’s good to know what you’re getting into. She then told me it was a series of workout videos that she wanted to try. Sounded safe enough! Plus, ever since the end of the holidays, I have been trying to get back to my regular weight. It’s been a challenge that at many times makes me wonder why I even bother trying.

By mid-May, I was FINALLY starting to see some progress in my weightloss. It took a whole 5 months of exercising 4 times a week and changing my diet, but it finally happened. My potbelly was shrinking and very slowly starting to flatten out. My bootie didn’t feel as tight in my jeans anymore –¬†although I have accepted that it will always be oversized for a half-asian. It’s hard to keep track fo your progress when you don’t weigh yourself or keep track of your measurements, but as previously mentioned, I’m choosing to judge my weight based on how I feel about the way I look. For those of you who need a number description, in December I was a size 10. Now, I’m nearly a size 8 (so so close, as in I can fit in it, but there are some specific areas that are a little tight). All of this to say that¬†after seeing some of my weight shed off, I was motivated to try different types of exercises.

After trying the Fit Test and the first workout video (Plyometric cardio), I was hooked. I’m a fan of exercise routines that don’t require me to buy accessories (except yoga matts, those I accept). I think this¬†comes from my days of competitive dancing –¬†I’ve learned how to use the weight of my body in specific positions for exercising. Separately, the various exercises in Insanity aren’t that difficult (except for pushups, I SUCK at those), but when done repetitively and in sequence, you can feel your heart beating while the sweat drips down your neck.

Beach Body Insanity contains approximately 14 videos, comprised of a fit test, cardio workouts (both in intervals and marathon style), ab workouts, resistance training, and recovery (but don’t be fooled, squatting for 2 minutes at a time is part of recovery). The workouts are hard! Even the people in the video have trouble finishing them and are dead on the floor.

What I really like about Insanity is that in the videos, Shaun T mostly talks about personal goals and progress, not about weight. I for one prefer this form of encouragement, because it prevents me from focussing on my physical appearance, but more on how far I can push myself. To me, knowing that I started with only 7 half push-ups in 1 minute and am now up to 10 real push ups is something to feel good about. I also appreciate that Shaun T repeats the following statements:
1) Take a break when you need it (he even tells people in the video to stop and take a break)
2) Stay hydrated, drink water (water breaks are included and recommended)
3) Don’t compromise form over speed (despite the exercises going faster and faster, it’s more important to do it right than pick up the tempo)

I haven’t been following the program on a daily basis (nor have I adoted the nutrition guide), but I can honestly say¬†that I have felt a difference in myself. When I first started, I couldn’t complete the first workout video. By the end of the second week, I was able to do everything from beginning to end. Sure, I was still dead afterwards, but it was a good and accomplished kind of dead. Walking up 6 flights of stairs is easy now, versus when I would get winded by the 4th.

All in all, I have thoroughly been enjoying Shaun T’s Beach Body Insanity workouts and recommend it to anyone who is looking to strengthen their cardio (or even shed a few pounds). Douggy Fresh is already planning on giving it a try. I will get¬†Nomes hooked to it this weekend. Next week, I’m heading over to Falls Church in the US. Watch out Gretchen! You better be ready for the Insanity that’s about to come your way!

Beach Body Insanity Sneak Peak

Homemade Onion Pancakes… Now With Less Junk!

by PenRei

I have a problem.

I LOVE green onion pancakes. They are SO delicious! I can eat them for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and as a snack. I usually buy them frozen from T&T since they’re easy to fry up when you have a strong craving or just need to eat something and soon. There is one major problem: at 13.5% of my daily fat intake, 22% of salt, and a whopping 414 calories each, well… let’s just say they don’t like me back. But still, I must believe that somewhere out there is a solution to this conundrum: continue occasionally eating onion pancakes without sacrificing my health and figure.

The answer was so obvious that I couldn’t believe I hadn’t found it earlier: make them from scratch! After all, once upon a time, they didn’t come from the frozen section of the grocery store, but from your Chinese mother’s hands in the kitchen. It was time that I continued my love for green onion pancakes without compromising my figure.


  • 3 cups of flour
  • 1 cup of hot water
  • 3-4 stalks of long green onions
  • 2 tablespoons of salt
  • 2 tablespoons of sesame seeds (if you’d like to add flavour, but it’s not necessary)
Mix the salt and flour into a large bowl.
Add the hot water two tablespoons at a time while mixing.
Mix until it becomes a dough. Drop the spoon! It’s time to get your hands dirty. Knead that dough!
Once the dough is soft and even (leave no clumps of flour behind!), ball it up, place it in the bowl, and cover it with a damp towel. Let it sit between 30 minutes to 1 hour.
Separate the dough into lime-sized balls. I was able to make 10 with my dough.

Roll out the dough as flat as possible. It’s very thick, so be prepared to use those arms muscles (which I don’t have). A rolling pin comes in really handy here!

Sprinkle on the green onions (and sesame seeds if desired). Squish the green onions into the dough to lodge them into place and squeeze out some of its juices to help seep it into the dough while cooking.


Roll back up into a ball.

For maximum tasting experience, repeat the last two steps. Roll out, sprinkle green onions, squish in, roll into ball.

Flatten out your pancake! The thinner the better (about 4 inches across)! That thick dough can be mighty difficult to cook all the way through if you leave it too thick.

Cook! With olive oil in a frying pan at medium heat. Flip occasionally.


Cook until both sides are slightly golden and solid.

Are you ready now? It’s time to eat!



HOORAY! That is one stamp of approval I can trust!

So, to recap what we talked about at the top, the frozen onion pancakes I buy at T&T have 414 calories each, while the homemade version only has 130 calories. Surprisingly, even though the homemade ones are smaller, they are MUCH more filling than the store bought ones. Success! Less calories for more hunger satisfaction! I brought one as a snack to work this week and it kept me surprisingly full for 3 hours before lunchtime.

As an added bonus, I know everything that went into my food, versus questioning half of the ingredients on the package. Preservative free!