#Guadalajara tourist places

[travelnags]

Best Places to Visit in Mexico | Holiday and Vacation Packages

Explore most beautiful tourist places in Mexico that you need to know. Plan your trip for holiday & vacation to see popular destinations. Cheap tour & travel packages. Despite the wide variety of craft beer brands produced in the area, Tijuana is largely regarded as the beer capital of the world.

[wolfcrisp-69]

Cafe Leona - Cafe (No CC)

Named after the previous owner of this house Leona Velez, this antique home turned into a cafe and has been the hot spot in the neighborhood for a few years, specially now that people from all over the world have started to move into the city. Maybe their prices have exponentially risen, and maybe the staff began ignoring those born in Ciudad Enamorada in favor of tourists and immigrants from rich countries, but hey, at least its a pretty place to have an expensive coffee.

Lot size: 30x20

Lot type: Cafe

Gallery lot name: Cafe Leona

Gallery ID: Wolfcrisp69

I was inspired to build this by a building I sometimes see when im going to the historic downtown of my city. This is 100% the type of cafe that would be product of gentrification, but also, before that it would probably be too expensive for normal people to afford. I have never been inside or up close, so it was more of an inspiration, rather than a recreation. I would recommend y'all to take a look at the colonial architecture in the cities of Mexico, its really cool and it may help with some inspiration for yall's builds, heres an article:

More pics under the cut

Floor plans

Special thanks to TwistedMexi for his TOOL mod, it would have been impossible to make this without TOOL.

[soutienshivam]

Discover the Charm of TAR Aerolíneas

TAR Aerolíneas, also known as Transportes Aéreos Regionales, is a prominent regional airline in Mexico, renowned for its commitment to connecting communities and providing reliable and convenient air travel. With a focus on service excellence and regional connectivity, TAR Aerolíneas has become a preferred choice for travelers exploring the diverse and beautiful landscapes of Mexico. In this blog, we'll delve into the unique features of TAR Aerolíneas and why it should be your airline of choice for regional travel in Mexico.

A Brief History

Established in 2012, TAR Aerolíneas has quickly carved out a niche in the Mexican aviation market. Headquartered in Querétaro, the airline has grown steadily, expanding its fleet and route network to serve various destinations across the country. TAR Aerolíneas aims to provide high-quality regional air travel, ensuring passengers can reach their destinations efficiently and comfortably.

Extensive Regional Network

TAR Aerolíneas specializes in connecting regional destinations within Mexico, offering flights to over 20 cities across the country. From bustling urban centers to picturesque coastal towns and cultural hubs, TAR Aerolíneas makes it easy for travelers to explore the rich diversity of Mexico. Key destinations include Guadalajara, Monterrey, Puebla, Veracruz, and many more, making it convenient for both business and leisure travelers.

Fleet and Comfort

The airline operates a modern fleet of Embraer ERJ 145 aircraft, known for their reliability, efficiency, and comfort. With a seating capacity of around 50 passengers, these jets provide a cozy and personalized flying experience. The airline's commitment to maintaining a modern fleet ensures a safe and pleasant journey for its passengers.

Customer-Centric Services

TAR Aerolíneas places a strong emphasis on customer satisfaction, offering a range of services designed to enhance the travel experience:

Flexible Fare Options: The airline offers various fare classes, allowing passengers to choose the level of flexibility and service that best suits their needs and budget.

In-Flight Service: Despite being a regional carrier, TAR Aerolíneas provides complimentary snacks and beverages on board, ensuring passengers have a comfortable and enjoyable flight.

Friendly Staff: The airline's crew is known for their warm and professional service, creating a welcoming atmosphere for all passengers.

Convenience and Connectivity

One of the standout features of TAR Aerolíneas is its focus on regional connectivity. The airline operates out of strategically located hubs, making it easy for passengers to connect to larger cities and other regional destinations. This connectivity is especially beneficial for travelers looking to explore Mexico beyond the major tourist hotspots, offering access to hidden gems and lesser-known destinations.

Commitment to Safety

Safety is a top priority for TAR Aerolíneas. The airline adheres to stringent safety protocols and regulatory standards to ensure the well-being of its passengers and crew. Regular maintenance and rigorous safety checks are conducted on all aircraft, ensuring a safe and reliable travel experience.

Tips for Flying with TAR Aerolíneas

To make the most of your journey with TAR Aerolíneas, consider these tips:

Book Early: Secure the best fares and your preferred seats by booking your flight well in advance.

Check Baggage Policies: Familiarize yourself with the airline's baggage policies to avoid any surprises at the airport.

Stay Connected: Keep an eye on the airline's website and social media channels for updates on routes, promotions, and special offers.

Arrive Early: Given that regional airports can vary in size and facilities, arriving early ensures a smooth check-in and boarding process.

Enjoy the Journey: Take advantage of the airline's complimentary in-flight service and enjoy the scenic views of Mexico from above.

Conclusion

TAR Aerolíneas offers a reliable, convenient, and customer-focused travel experience, making it an excellent choice for regional travel within Mexico. With its extensive network, modern fleet, and commitment to safety and service, TAR Aerolíneas ensures passengers can explore the beauty and diversity of Mexico with ease. Whether you're traveling for business or leisure, consider flying with TAR Aerolíneas and experience the charm and hospitality of this regional carrier.

Safe travels!

[treadmilltreats]

Traveling the world

So if you know me or follow me you know that I love to travel. I will pack my lunches every day, only eat out once a week, and never buy Starbucks just to save my money to travel. Everything I do I do with travel in mind. I pay all my monthly bills on my credit cards just to get the points to travel for free.

There is nothing I love more than seeing how other people live. What their beliefs are, their cultures, and of course my favorite thing, what their foods are like.

I have a United Nations of Friends. I am always asking them about how they were raised, their culture and customs. I am so interested in hearing about our differences and what we have in common in other religions or cultures. I am happy that we are not all the same but that we are all different and unique.

Recently, on a trip to Guadalajara,Mexico, I had expectations of what it would be. Here's the thing we should never assume, remember what your mother told you happens when you assume? Yeah, that.

I assumed, and it definitely made an ass out of me. I didn't realize that it would be a beautiful city filled with all kinds of industries just like we have here. They had Costco, Walmart, McDonald's, and everything we do. It was also filled with many years of tradition, like The Day of the Dead and why they do what they do.

They all celebrate at the gravesites of their loved ones who passed with food and music. They tell stories and bring pictures to keep their memories alive. At first, you may think it's morbid, but actually, it is so touching.

They also have one of the biggest lakes in Mexico, where many people go for the weekends. I didn't know that American money isn't used here, like in Cancun or Cozumel. And that most people don't speak English. Who knew? I didn't and I wouldn't have if I didn't come.

There are so many things you can learn by traveling and so many things your mind will be open to. You will see things that will immediately make you grateful for your life back home, and yet it will teach you that some of the poorest people have the most joy.

So today my friends don't say you can't afford to travel or you're going to wait. If Covid taught us anything, it is that you never know what will happen. You can be gone tomorrow. Open your mind up to new places, new people, and new things. Don't just go to the tourist places, see the culture around you. Immerse yourself in because nothing opens your mind more than traveling the world.

“Be the change you want to see “

@TreadmillTreats

Check out my daily blogs @ https://treadmilltreats.blogspot.com/?m=1

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**Now released my latest book**

The Blessing in Disguise.... revealed

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***Now available***

My 1st book The blessing in Disguise

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[saratravel]

Hey! It's Rīga!

Rīga is the capital city of Latvia, and my 3rd capital of this trip (of FIVE, holy moly). I'm really racking up my streak of "country captials I've visited before I've visited my own country's capital" 🤐 I think I'm up to seven.... and now I think of it, I haven't been to any of the capitals on my home continent, even- I only saw Guadalajara, Mexico and Vancouver, Canada 🫣🫣 Oh well, future trips for future Sara.

Rīga has a really different history to all the places I've visited so far. As it was under Germany for a long time, much of its Old Town was owned by Germans. Then, before the Nazis came in, they told those Germans it may be a good time to leave the area, so they just up and left. The buildings that stayed were all empty and eventually became random stuff around town, so there's a lot of bars, clubs, tattoo shops, etc, etc, right in the Old Town area. Additionally, there's not too many locals living in Old Town, so it's pretty much all tourists.

The buildings, while gorgeous, are all post WWII reconstructions made throughout the 20th century all the way up to 1999 reconstruction of the House of the Blackheads, which was historically (in the 15th century) where all the young bachelorsbstayed as they were learning their business trades and were generally being ruffians.

In fact, it is said that the first decorated Christmas tree came from the Brotherhood of the Blackheads guild after they got so wasted on Christmas that they ended up putting food in the trees. The magic of Christmas, truly.

Here's some pics from around Old Town.

These next buildings are the Three Brothers, which was another example of the 1950s Soviet reconstruction of older architecture styles. The facades represent three different types of architecture that were used in various points of history there. It currently houses the State Inspection for Heritage Protection and the Latvian Architecture Museum. The guide joked that the first thing they do when someone says they want to restore a historical piece of land is take them outside, point to their own building, and instruct them not to do that.

Here is an example of a building that has not been restored yet. It is very expensive to do so accurately to preserve the history (and not get UNESCO status taken away) so some stand like this today.

Due to its pretty European reconstructed buildings, Rīga has been used as a filming spot for a number of movies and shows. The one I learned about on this tour was the Soviet version of The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson from 1979. It was very popular in the USSR and even got its approval from the Doyle estate for its accurate characterization of Holmes. Rīga was used to film Baker Street. Close enough, I guess. Here's the show (first episode at least is available on YouTube with English subtitles) and the picture of the street I took today. I watched about a third of the first episode over lunch, and I gotta say it is really quite good. The character dynamic between Holmes and Watson is excellent. I plan on watching as much as I can find when I get home.

I learned about the history of the Rīga Old Town square, which is famous for its Christmas Market during the opposite side of the year cycle. It was created by a Latvian dictator, Karlīs Umanis, who really just wanted a space to stand and watch military demonstrations, so he demanded the destruction of 90% of Old Town in the interwar period. However, only 25% of it was taken down when WWII started and interrupted the project.

Anyway, that's all well and interesting, but the wildest part about this is that the Latvian dictator graduated from the UNIVERSITY OF NEBRASKA?? HUH??

Turns out, he fled the Soviets at one point, studied agriculture in Nebraska, and then later used that degree to get him a job as dictator of Latvia. Who'd have thunk.

He, of course, got beaten out by the Soviets and was shipped off to somewhere as a prisoner. He died, and no one really knows where his grave is.

After the tour, I grabbed a coffee, bought some postcards, and walked in the rain back to my hotel. I had checked the weather before I left so I had my raincoat on me. Still, my socks, shoes, and pants got pretty wet, so I took a while to dry off and eat lunch in my hotel room before the final excursion. Around 2, I headed in the opposite direction to a Saturday market in Kalnciema quarter, a suburb of Rīga. I meant to stay a while, maybe buy a bracelet and snack on some stuff, but I quickly found an upcycled top that called to me and I blew more money than I intended all at once so I ran quickly back to the hotel with my prize and nothing else to keep myself from bleeding dry.

I am now the proud owner of this funky oversized top about cowboys in Arizona, stitched together by a women in Latvia 😂😂 it's so stinking cute and the woman and I chatted about Arizona, the Baltics, amd upcycled clothes (I was wearing my upcycled flannel from the Tempe thrift shop, Rocket A GoGo). It was a great time!

[novumtimes]

Woman mayor shot dead in Mexico day after Claudia Sheinbaums historic presidential win

The mayor of a town in western Mexico was killed on Monday, the regional government said, barely 24 hours after Claudia Sheinbaum was elected the Latin American country’s first woman president. The Michoacan state government condemned “the murder of the municipal president (mayor) of Cotija, Yolanda Sanchez Figueroa,” the regional interior ministry said in a post on social media. The murder of the woman mayor comes after Sheinbaum’s landslide victory injected hope for change in a country riven by rampant gender-based violence. Yolanda Sanchez Figueroa facebook.com/LicYolandaSanchezF Sanchez, who was elected mayor in 2021 elections, was gunned down on a public road, according to local media. Her Facebook profile says she is “defined by my preparation and the desire to make Cotija a better place to live.” Authorities have not given details on the murder, but said a security operation had been launched to arrest the killers. The politician was previously kidnapped in September last year while leaving a shopping mall in the city of Guadalajara in the state of Jalisco, which neighbors Michoacan. Three days later the federal government said she had been found alive. According to local media reports at the time, the kidnappers belonged to the powerful Jalisco Cartel – New Generation (CJNG), who allegedly threatened the mayor for opposing the criminal group’s takeover of her municipality’s police force. Michoacan is renowned for its tourist destinations and a thriving agro-export industry, but is also one of the most violent states in the country due to the presence of extortion and drug trafficking gangs. In March, three farmers were killed by a bomb apparently planted in a dirt road in Michoacan — just days after Mexico’s outgoing president acknowledged that an improvised explosive device killed at least four soldiers in what he called a “trap” likely set by a cartel. Election marked by bloodshed At least 23 political candidates were killed while campaigning before the elections — including one mayoral hopeful whose  murder was captured on camera last week. Alfredo Cabrera’s death came just one day after a mayoral candidate in the central Mexican state of Morelos was murdered. The week before that, nine people were killed in two attacks against mayoral candidates in the southern state of Chiapas. The two candidates survived. Last month, six people, including a minor and mayoral candidate Lucero Lopez, were killed in an ambush after a campaign rally in the municipality of La Concordia, neighboring Villa Corzo. One mayoral hopeful was shot dead last month just as she began campaigning. Around 27,000 soldiers and National Guard members were deployed to reinforce security on election day. More from CBS News Source link via The Novum Times

[mexicodailypost]

Guadalajara toll booth heading to the tourist beach raises its price  

Summer vacations continue and one of the most visited places in recent weeks has been Puerto Vallarta, however, if you are thinking of going to this tourist destination it is important that you keep the following in mind.  Today going to Puerto Vallarta is faster but more expensive, since with the new road section you can get there in less than four hours, however, the economic outlay in toll…

[whatsonmedia]

Behold! 3 Best Music Festivals of Summer 2023

With the rapidly rising heat, music fans are getting more and more excited about the upcoming summer music festivals, and undoubtedly the season is filled with them. That's why, we are here with our picks of 3 best music festivals of summer 2023 so you don't get left behind on all the fun. What's more, we will discuss everything you need to know about these music festivals to find you just the right one. So stick around for a while and get ready to hop on the crazy ride. Summer Breeze Music Festival Brazil When and where> 29th and 30th April at Barra Funda, São Paulo, Brazil. Let's start this list with something really special for all my fellow metalheads! Shall we? Summer Breeze is a world renowned open air metal festival and it is expanding to Brazil this summer. Even more, the music festival is a home to many of the greatest names in metal and hardrock genres along with the craziest crowd on the planet. So there will be super energetic performances, music louder than hell, and a whole lot of headbanging for two whole days. On top of that, a very strong lineup of around 40 metal bands are all set to bring the heat this year and around 15,000 fans are expected. So if you are ready to embrace your inner wilderness and dive headfirst into the tremendous mosh pits then book your tickets now! Lineup> Lamb of God, Kreator, Sepultura, Blind Guardian, Testament, Stone Temple Pilots, Apocalyptica, Napalm Death, Krisiun, Skid Row, and many more. Electric Daisy Carnival - Las Vegas 2023 When and where> 19th to 21st May at Las Vegas Motor Speedway, Las Vegas, USA. Up next, we have this majestic music festival to serve you an experience of a lifetime. Electric Daisy Carnival or simply EDC is one of the largest dance and music festivals in the world that takes place in several countries on several continents. However, EDC Las Vegas is the flagship event for this global festival series over the last 25 years. What's more, the festival proudly offers the very best production and a magnificent lineup of EDM and electronic musicians every year. On top of that, you can experience mind-bending interactive art installations, along with meeting dancers, acrobats, stilt walkers, and many more. Around 130,000 audiences will be joining the event including both locals and tourists. So don't miss out on this extra special one. Festival Corona Capital Guadalajara 2023 When and where> 20th and 21st May at Arena VFG, Guadalajara, Mexico. Lastly, we have one of the largest and most anticipated music festivals in Latin America. Corona Capital started its incredible journey in 2010 and established itself as the most important international music festival in Mexico over the years. What's more, the music event is known for covering a whole lot of genres and bringing together renowned international artists as well as emerging new talents. Around 25,000 fans will be joining this music event to witness the stunning performances by this year's fabulous lineup. So go for it for all its worth. Lineup> Imagine Dragons, The Chainsmokers, Charlie Puth, Pixies, Interpol, Bloc Party, Bastille, Rosin Murphy, Foals, and many more. If you liked our list then you should also check out these splendid music festivals we covered last week. Adios! Read the full article

[writers-against-drug-cartels]

If you value your life, think twice before you travel to Mexico.

The kidnapping and killing of US travelers this week in the Mexican city of Matamoros, just over the border from Brownsville, Texas, has put a glaring spotlight on violence in a country that millions of international visitors flock to each year.

Here’s what to know about travel safety in Mexico:

The US has “do not travel” advisories in place for six out of Mexico's 32 states: This includes the Tamaulipas state, where Matamoros is located. But that's far from some of the most sought-after tourist destinations in the country, according to Zachary Rabinor, founder and CEO of travel company Journey Mexico. “To put things in perspective, Matamoros is about 1,360 miles away from Cancun; that’s about the equivalent distance from the Texas side of the border to Chicago, Illinois.”

The US advises travelers to “exercise increased caution due to crime and kidnapping" in popular destinations like Playa del Carmen and Cancún. Rabinor highlighted other popular destinations carrying the “exercise increased caution” advisory, including France and the Bahamas. France receives the caution because of possible terrorism and civil unrest. Crime is listed as the reason for caution in the Bahamas.

The State Department notes in its advisory that violence and criminal activity may occur anywhere, “including in popular tourist destinations.”

It is relatively safe for travelers to head to tourist destinations and major urban centers such as Mexico City, Guadalajara and Monterrey," according to security expert Jaime Lopez-Aranda

Caution and situational awareness are key all over the world. For Mexico, Lopez-Aranda recommends the following ten safety steps:

Travel with a trusted     driver in a private vehicle

Go outside urban centers     or in higher-risk locations only during daylight hours

Avoid the trouble spots in     major cities

Avoid traveling alone

Stay up-to-date through     news and government alerts

Keep your cell phone     charged

Research the security and     medical risks of your destination

Share all your plans with     friends and family at home, and stay in constant communication

Get insurance

Keep copies of your     documents, contact information for your country’s embassy or consulate and     the location of the closest hospital with you

[travelwiththefallons]

Dia de los Muertos

Dia de los Muertos or the Day of the Dead has quickly become one of my most favorite traditions. My Grandparents retired down to Mexico not long before covid. In 2019, they suggested that we come out for the Dia de los Muertos celebrations. Jimmy always loves going to Mexico and I did some research, including watching the movie CoCo and I was in! Traditionally it is celebrated over a few days, sometimes starting on October 31st through the 2nd of November and sometimes November 1st through November 3rd. The tradition states that during these nights, the veil between the afterlife and our plane of existence is the weakest and that your loved ones (including pets), can come back to visit and celebrate with their friends and family that remember them. During this time, families will erect altars with their loved ones which include pictures, marigolds, candles, their favorite food & drinks, and a variety of things special to that individual. For instance, the family of one grave owner had set up chairs and were watching a soccer match around it. Some will have soccer balls and bottles of tequila or just be decorated in elaborate displays of flower arrangements. In addition to decorating and erecting altars, most towns have huge celebrations with parades, dancing, drinking, and general revelry. It truly is a celebration of those that have passed on and is a time to reminisce.

The first time we went, we stayed in Tlaquepaque just outside of Guadalajara. Everything was decorated in marigolds and skulls. Most places of business had altars set up for their loved ones covered in more marigolds and various offerings, like bread, tequila and fruit. At night, the streets were packed with La Catrina and El Catrin face painting, merrymaking, and parades. We came across beautiful chalk artwork and watched some parades. To say it was chaotic would be an understatement. As tourists, we weren’t really sure what we should do outside of enjoying amazing food, drinking tequila and painting our faces. We agreed that we would want to come and experience Dia de los Muertos with locals so that we could fully understand the celebration.

These are made of various sand, flowers, seeds, etc.

Several years and a pandemic pass and we decide to join my Grandparents to for a tour group traveling to Oaxaca for 6 days in 2022 during the celebration. When we arrived in Oaxaca it was as we would imagine, the locals were busy creating their altars and decorating for the celebration and the tourists were busy getting in the way. We stayed at the Oaxaca Real where their team was beginning to build an altar and decorate their doorways. We walked around the town and you could feel the energy as well as see where larger altars were being set up. On top of that, most squares were already starting to fill with vendors.

We found these paper mache decorations everywhere

One of many marigold decorations

We spent our first few days in Oaxaca enjoying great food and visiting some of the local towns, which I will talk about in Part 3 of this series. On the 30th Jimmy and I went out to find a local cocktail bar and imbibe on Mezcal drinks. What we quickly learned while in Oaxaca is that you would hear what sounded like a firework go off and then a band would start playing and a parade would start. We couldn’t see any real rhyme or reason for these parades, but they were always exciting. Sometimes it was about 50 people and other times it would be 300+. While we were sitting at our table, I heard one of these fireworks and a band, then a walking party came passing down the road of the bar that we were in.. Being the content creator that I am (totally joking), I walked to the door and started recording the parade. I made eye contact with a guy in a lucha libre wrestling mask and a huge bottle of Heineken. Apparently, he saw a blonde girl by herself (Jimmy had left for the bathrooms) and thought it was an invitation to make a beeline across the street and try and kiss me. Everyone is the bar was so stunned that we didn’t know what to do but laugh. It was hilarious and goes to show the bit of chaos that surrounds these parades.  

Typical parade with an appearance by my lucha libre friend!

On the 31st, Jimmy and I had a free afternoon from our tour group and decided to take advantage of our free time with a local food, drink and art tour. We met our new friend Peto and were off to check out the local graffiti, try some street food and drink more Mezcal. Since it was Dia de los Muertos, Peto decided to take us to the graveyard to see the decorations in action. Before entering the graveyard, Peto stopped by one of the vendors to buy two bouquets of Marigolds and explained that this was a celebration, but should also be taken seriously.. He explained that since we were going into the graveyard, we should look for graves that weren’t being decorated and “adopt” a couple. The idea here being that as long as a soul is remembered, they continue to live on, so by us “adopting” an undecorated gravestone, we allow a soul to continue living on. This would allow the spirit of the inhabitant to come and visit and celebrate for the holiday. We walked around for a while in awe of the decorations and the various gravestones and mausoleums and the drastic disparity in wealth, even in the graveyard. I spotted a gravestone that looked like it hadn’t been visited in awhile and had a few cracks in the concrete and laid down my bouquet. Peto asked me what the name was, and we took a moment of silence to think about Ernesto and then said, “See you later Ernesto!” Writing this now, my description doesn’t seem to carry much significance. However in the moment and surrounded by the solemn festivities, it felt significant and spiritual. I definitely got a bit choked up, and while the act was small, it still felt really impactful. Jimmy adopted Aurelio and we went through the same process. As we exited the graveyard, you couldn’t help but feel both somber and excited for the night. There were so many families that had set up chairs next to their family members and you could tell they were sharing stories and enjoying each other’s company.

These cute flags were found over many streets

We loved running into these artist made altars

Later that night, we rejoined our tour and visited the oldest graveyard in Oaxaca. The graveyard was much smaller than the one we had seen earlier in the day, but was covered in flowers, candles and families reminiscing. The vibrant oranges, purples and pinks were just stunning in the candlelight. The community had ensured that every gravestone had at least a few petals, but we still found a gravestone that wasn’t decorated beyond those petals and laid down a bouquet and lit a candle. Held a moment of silence and told Florencio hasta luego!

Standing in front of the oldest church in Oaxaca

The last night of the celebration, we made our way to Jalatlaco with our group, where we were promised a huge parade and celebration. They had a huge stage set up in their square and had a MC that appeared to be trying to raise money. Like most things in Mexico, the parade did not start on time. When it did, it was 50 people at most but, boy, was everyone having a great time! It was our last night, so we made it back to the cocktail bar that Peto had taken us to for a night cap a few days earlier. Within 10 minutes of our arrival we saw the biggest parade of the week go by. It was well organized and had at least 500 participants with massive bands and fireworks that would have gotten the ATF’s attention in the states. It was the perfect ending of Dia de los Muertos.

[importanttigercreation]

Welcome to the news channel of the Angry Nature,Today we will tell you about Caceres Storm,Spain,, Spain's state meteorological agency Aemet has warned residents and tourists about the effects of the storm, which is expected tonight and tomorrow. According to the Spanish publication ABC, severe "subtropical" weather will hit the Iberian Peninsula, approaching from the northwest of the Canary Islands. In these regions, the amount of precipitation can exceed 30-50 l/m2 in a short period of time. Maximum temperatures will drop in the east and in the Balearic Islands Tomorrow, the list will be expanded to include five more regions that may be affected. These are: Barcelona, ​​Girona, Valencia, Cuenca and Guadalajara. Spanish media reports that the rain will first reach the north of Galicia and Asturias, and during the day clouds will appear in large areas of the Iberian Peninsula. Intensity is expected to be stronger in the north and more scattered in the south, with the possibility of dry storms that could increase fire risk. On the Cantabrian coast, showers may be locally persistent, while the area may be affected by severe hail. During two days, 40 l/m2 can accumulate in the north and northeast of the peninsula, meteorologists warn. #spain_storm #caceres_storm #angry_nature #spain #caceres #badjoz ________________________________ The channel lists such natural disasters as: 1) Geological emergencies: #earthquake  #volcanic_eruption  mudflow, #landslide landfall, avalanche; 2) Hydrological emergencies:  #flash_flood #tsunami  Limnological catastrophe, floods, flooding; 3) Fires: Forest fire, Peat fire, Glass Fire, Wildfire; 4) Meteorological emergencies: #tornado, #cyclone #blizzard  Hail, Drought, Hail, #hurricane #storm, Thunderstorm, typhoon Tempest, Lightning. ATTENTION: All videos are taken from open sources. The selection is based on publication date, title, description, and venue. Sometimes, due to unfair posting of news on social networks, the video may contain frames that do not correspond to the date and place. It is not always possible to check all videos. We apologize for any errors! Thank you for watching, don't forget to subscribe our channel, We Wish you good Weather,

[fatehbaz]

Chances are that you have been a tourist, traveling to experience new things, learn from others, encounter new landscapes and emotions, and give back or rediscover your inner self. And chances are that you have also “suffered” from tourism – its prices, its stereotypical cultural, gendered, and racialized representations, or the pollution it creates in oceans, rivers or mountains where tourists eat, sleep, shop, swim, dive, ski, hike, or camp. You may even have worked for the hospitality industry, as a bartender, a volunteer, a guide [...] We are all impacted in some way by tourism. The current pandemic has made this even more vivid by showing how much national economies and contemporary lifestyles depend on getting people to move for pleasure, and the consequences of putting this privilege on hold. [...]

[T]ourism became one of the most powerful vectors organizing the predatory geographies of late capitalism and how we all ended up “stuck in it.” [...] [T]he Mexican Yucatán Peninsula [...] [is] a region voraciously transformed by state tourism development over the past forty years.

Contrasting labor and lived experiences at the beach resorts of Cancún, protected natural enclaves along the Gulf coast, historical buildings of the colonial past, and maquilas for souvenir production in the Maya heartland, my [research] shows how tourism development works by trapping and capturing people in paradoxical moral regimes.

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For those who work for the industry, such as low-wage service workers, city planners, and government officials, participating in tourism is necessary to make a living, to govern, and to open up spaces of hope. Tourism, they say, has brought “progress.” By progress some mean access to food, shelter, electricity or potable water, a seasonal job, education, housing and modern services. For others, tourism is the possibility, often the only possibility, of avoiding migration and staying at home living according to valued inherited socio-cultural practices.

But all of these opportunities come at a cost. Tourism creates entangled futures of exploitation and dependence. It extracts resources, labor and health, trapping people’s livelihoods and imaginaries in a present ruled by short term consumption trends, while fueling environmentally unsustainable and socially inequitable forms of flexible production, distribution and labor. [...]

[T]he tensions of these paradoxical moral regimes feed a sacrificial logic that is at the heart of the patterns of uneven, gendered and racialized domination and ecological neglect that tourism creates in its wake. [...]

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[T]he success of Cancún as a leading tourist destination in the global market depends to a great extent on minimizing the potential contradictions between tourists’ lived experiences of Cancún and its brand image in the tourist market, which conditions tourists’ expectations.

Minimizing this friction between reality and representation requires daily toil. For example, inside the gates of hotels, workers are trained in what to say and what to do to keep tourists captive and to respond to marketed imaginaries of escape. Tourists are offered the official tourism map of Cancún, which does not contain any visual or narrative reference to Cancún City. [...] These representations and interactions secure the Caribbean imaginary of a self-contained leisure island “out of place” by preventing tourists from venturing and circulating outside enclosed spaces of tourism consumption. As a North American young woman and health professional who regularly visits Cancún’s resorts put it in an interview for this research, “When I come to Cancún I want to feel in paradise. I don’t want to be bothered with poverty or suffering. I just want people smiling around me, I want happiness.”

I interviewed several tourists during my fieldwork, like [M] and [J], a couple visiting Cancún from Guadalajara, Spain, for their honeymoon, who did not know that Cancún was part of Mexico. When they learned this, they became concerned about their safety and tried to book their day-trips to Chichén Itzá and the nearby Biosphere Reserve Sian Ka´an through international providers based in Spain. Their experience is far from unique and reflects larger efforts by the federal government to disassociate Cancún from Mexico in branding campaigns.

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One of the key sites to secure the continuity between imagined and lived reality of the tropical paradise at all-inclusive resorts and high-rise condominiums is the beach, which has to be kept as close as possible to the paradisiacal image advertised in brochures. “Beach guards” play an important role in upholding this image; they usually stand at the border between one resort and the next, keeping unwanted visitors out of the enclosed beach perimeter. They constantly surveil people walking along the beach, verifying whether they are wearing the hotel’s identifying bracelet, either by visual identification from a distance or by conducting “stop-and probe” interviews of passersby. Guards also keep pedestrian vendors away from guests lounging on the hotel’s beach hammocks and under its hut-like umbrellas, restricting vendors’ circulation closer to the water (as this is still public, federal land).

These practices re-create, through repeated performance, the boundaries of a predatory tourist geography organized around racial and socioeconomic profiling. As pointed out earlier, for many locals and tourists, the fear of the public embarrassment of being stopped while walking on the beach effectively deters them from using public areas, which are de facto privatized. However, while these practices of profiling and monitoring are acknowledged as wrong and unjust, they are generally accepted as necessary sacrifices in exchange for gaining access to the benefits of the tourist industry and enjoying its possibilities. Leonardo, a thirty-five-year old interior designer from Guadalajara and regular visitor to Cancún’s beaches, elaborated in an interview about being stopped at the fence of the resort where he was staying: “I am used to being stopped. I am just used to it. I am brown and the people working in the hotels just think I do not belong. . . . They ask for my wristband and identification and then they let me in. . . . They never apologize. . . .I do not think they are racists or something. They just do what they are told to do and I just come the same way!” His words are an example of how tourism has advanced through a sacrificial logic that becomes accepted and internalized as part of daily life.

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Text by: Matilde Córdoba Azcárate. ‘How We Got “Stuck With” Tourism.’ UC Press Blog. 16 November 2020.

[cregan-starks]

Colibri | Beholden

Summary: A stranger offers Walt a light.

Words: 5,459

Pairing: Walt Breslin x OC (not really)

Warnings: politics, Ronald Reagan, Christianity, mentions of death, mentions of torture, mentions of blood, mentions of drug trafficking, mentions of guns, mentions of communism, implied nudity, one innuendo, sexism, alcohol, smoking, cussing. Under no circumstances can you copy, plagiarize, steal my work, or post it somewhere else!

Notes: This chapter totally didn’t take ages ‘cause I had to figure out Magnussen’s apartment on my own. If you wish to be added to or removed from my taglist, my DMs and ask box are open.

Credits: Huge thank you to my beta @maharani-radha-writes​ 💛 and to my darling @cleastrnge​ for the Mexican Spanish translations 💜

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MARCH 4, 1986

GUADALAJARA, MEXICO

          The trip to Belize had been an unforeseen but welcome win, with Calderoni’s intel on Amado Carrillo Fuentes actually turning out to be useful. Federation’s building its own air fleet. Carrillo Fuentes had bought six Boeing 747s at the auction, and Ossie had successfully planted transponders on all of them. Walt hoped that this would give them a new lead to pursue. Progress had been slow in the past few months, so he expected Heath to be satisfied with the latest achievement. He hadn’t taken it well when Walt had shown him the list of the expensive equipment that their Belize mission would require. The positive aspects pretty much ended there. Calderoni would inevitably come to demand updates and, although Walt didn’t entirely trust the commander, he had to admit that he hadn’t steered them wrong, yet. Besides, Calderoni was the most valuable informant that they had. He wasn’t exactly disposable.

          Oh, and on top of that, Heath had notified him that another agent would replace Kenny, which Walt considered suspicious. What the fuck’s that about? He had selected his colleagues himself, but, for some reason, the DEA wouldn’t allow him anywhere near this guy. Walt despised being kept in the dark. He had been assigned to head the operation, and he firmly believed that Leyenda didn’t need an additional team member. Worst case scenario? They would send a rich asshole’s Ivy League prick of a son.

          Walt lightly kicked Danilo’s bag with his foot, to move it away, releasing a yawn that he shamelessly didn’t hide. He felt exhausted – having not rested the previous night – and despite his efforts, Walt couldn’t rub the sleep out of his eyes. He put his aviators on his nose, further sinking into his seat before lifting his wrist to check his watch. His partners had abandoned him roughly fifteen minutes ago; Ossie had gone to the bathroom, and Danilo had left to grab food. Based on their prolonged absence, they were both stuck waiting in endless queues. The Guadalajara airport seemed particularly crowded today; people stood in line at counters to purchase tickets, boarded their planes, dozed off in their chairs, and the security personnel supervised everyone like teachers at a playground. If the smell of cheap coffee weren’t overwhelming enough, the place was loud, too – from the chatter of the staff and tourists to the sound of squeaky wheels sliding across the tiles. Occasionally, a woman announced in Spanish the departures and delays on the speakers.

          A couple of rows in front of him, a kid insistently tugged on her grandfather’s sleeve, to get his attention. The elderly man continued to read his newspaper, unfazed, causing the girl to cross her arms over her chest and pout. Walt smiled fondly at the sight. Looks like we’ll both be here a while. With napping off the table, the last resort appeared to be indulging in his favorite vice, so he started to fish in the pocket of his jeans for a cigarette.

          When he attempted to light it, however, Walt failed spectacularly. Second time, third, fourth, fifth, same result, testing his thinning patience. That kinda day, huh? He eventually gave up on the endeavor with a heavy sigh, running his hand through his curls, in frustration. Maybe he should call Sal and ask him where the fuck he was, since he was supposed to pick them up.

          ‘Need a light?’, quipped a smooth, feminine voice, next to him.

          Fuck. Walt turned towards the intruder, slightly startled. He hadn’t even noticed the woman’s presence until then. Shit. I’m getting old. Or she sneaked up on cops for a living. She held out a lighter, expectantly, and her own already lit cigarette in the other hand.

          ‘Uh, thanks,’ muttered Walt, accepting the offering, hesitantly.

          ‘You are welcome,’ she chirped, in a thick European accent.

          A passenger plane landed on the tarmac, outside the immense windows, temporarily distracting Walt, but a custodian dutifully mopping the floor blocked his view. Great. He took a drag from his cigarette, pushing his aviators back on his head, to study his companion more meticulously. Her young features attested that she couldn’t have been older than thirty. The sunlight reflected in her eyes – remarkably green – yet Walt found them unsettling. Her dark hair fell in waves, framing her oval face, ending above her shoulders, and her bangs revealed her full, arched eyebrows. She tittered, averting her gaze, shyly, fiddling with the key ring attached to the luggage trapped between her knees. Walt glanced at the dark red lipstick stains on her cigarette.

          ‘You are staring,’ she commented, practically murmuring, leaning a bit closer.

          Walt remained silent, unsure what to add. What can I say? Guilty as charged. To his knowledge, staring hadn’t been criminalized… and, honestly, she wasn’t unpleasant to look at. He unclenched his fist to examine her golden lighter. Colibri. How fancy. Because “smoking” and “pretentious” were mutually exclusive.

          ‘You’re not from here,’ guessed Walt, casually; he could tell from the everything about her, mostly her peculiar accent that he couldn’t pinpoint on the global map – not that he encountered many Europeans.

          ‘Neither are you,’ she teased, flirtatiously, wide lips flashing him a charming grin, ‘So, where are you from?’

          The fuck’s it to you? His disorientated radar didn’t help much. Walt blew the smoke away from her direction as the corners of his mouth tilted upwards. A harmless piece of information, undoubtedly. What if she were a stranger, simply making small talk? Walt ought to loosen up. Not everybody was a narco with ulterior motives.

          ‘Houston,’ he provided, truthfully, stroking his mustache, ‘You?’

          ‘Napoli,’ she acknowledged, then paused in contemplation before curiously inquiring, ‘What brings you to Guadalajara?’

          State secrets, so, mind your business, sweetheart. A Texan in Mexico wasn’t uncommon, but a young Italian woman on her own? Definitely a rarity. Worse, she didn’t strike him as Italian.

          ‘I’m on vacation with my buddies,’ lied Walt, automatically.

          Surely, tracking down Carrillo Fuentes to Belize counted as a vacation. Working for the DEA permitted agents to travel more than the average bureaucrat. Dream job, if one overlooked the shootings, illicit drugs, and shitty salary.

          ‘Well,’ she began, kindly, ‘I hope you enjoy your stay. It is a beautiful city.’

          And an oasis for drug traffickers, but they don’t include that in brochures and leaflets. Judging by her phrasing, it wasn’t her first time in Guadalajara.

          ‘What about you?’, prodded Walt, nodding once, ‘Why are you in Guadalajara?’

          Her answer might’ve been the only highlight of his day – or of the next weeks. This better be good.

          ‘I am doing my PhD,’ she declared, smugly, crossing her arms over her chest, careful of her cigarette.

          Bullshit. Who picks Guadalajara for their PhD? Anyhow, every student had an inner peacock, and Walt might have just discovered how to ruffle this one’s feathers.

          ‘PhD, huh?’, repeated Walt, impressed, ‘What’s your field?’

          Dibs on Arts. If her eccentricity weren’t a testament to it…

          ‘Diplomacy,’ she replied, her half smirk anything but subtle.

          PhD in Diplomacy. What the fuck does that even mean? Walt recalled having a conversation with Heath about the consequences of Leyenda’s actions, following Machaín’s abduction. Heath had warned him about diplomatic repercussions, among others. It’s a good thing we’re not diplomats, Walt had sassed. Miss Napoli here could fit the bill, though.

          ‘That’s rough,’ he snorted, downright patronizingly.

          Walt grew increasingly wary of her, yet he couldn’t identify the major flaw. The polite stranger narrative checked out… until it didn’t. Two gabachos at the airport, and she somehow managed to find him. Strength in numbers, right? Unfortunately, Walt didn’t believe in coincidences.

          ‘I do not mind,’ she admitted, shrugging, ‘I quite like it.’

          ‘Yeah, I bet you do,’ huffed Walt, tone unintentionally implicit.

          They peered at each other, both amused by the innuendo, her eyes flickering with mischief. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, biting her bottom lip. Walt fought the urge to smile. So, she has a sense of humor.

          ‘You haven’t told me your name,’ reminded Walt, spreading his legs to sit comfortably.

          ‘Sofia,’ she disclosed, extending her hand for him to take, ‘What about you?’

          Fair enough. Pretty name for a pretty girl.

          ‘John,’ he introduced himself, dryly, shaking her hand and simultaneously inspecting it.

          She had long, slender fingers, several decorated with rings. Walt noticed the tattoo on her inner wrist; a cat sitting on a crescent moon. Interesting choice. Too bad that the DEA’s policy strictly prohibited him from showing his own tattoos.

          ‘I like your sunglasses, John,’ complimented Sofia, chuckling.

          Was she hitting on him? At this point, Walt couldn’t tell, and he didn’t have time to find out, either. Try again in ten years, sweetheart. After I’ll retire, and you’ll… have a doctorate in Diplomacy or whatever the fuck.

          ‘I like your T-shirt,’ he asserted, referring to Electric Light Orchestra’s colorful spaceship, ‘What’s your favorite album?’

          Walt couldn’t decide what stunned him more: her toned biceps – unusual for a PhD student – or her firm, confident grip – unlike her demeanor. Bit by bit, her alibi fell apart. Or she was an odd character. Convenient excuse.

          ‘Out of the Blue, obviously,’ she claimed, playfully, ‘Mr. Blue Sky is a masterpiece.’

          ‘I prefer Secret Messages,’ grumbled Walt, flicking his cigarette in a nearby trash can.

          Their discussion ended abruptly when a middle-aged man burst into an angry rant in Spanish, at Customs. He seemed to be having problems with his passport. Walt shifted his attention to the screens that displayed flight numbers and cities, despite the blending of colors making him feel dizzy. He craved to lie down and close his eyes, just for one minute. Meanwhile, Sofia used the opportunity to take her leave. She was shorter than Walt anticipated, though the size of her hand compared to his should’ve been a sign.

          ‘Someone is in trouble,’ she observed, nonchalantly, putting out her cigarette with the heel of her shoe, ‘Well, it was nice to meet you, John.’

          ‘Thanks for the lighter,’ said Walt, intending to return the item, after its owner had finished gathering her bags.

          ‘Keep it, cowboy,’ encouraged Sofia, sending him a wicked wink.

          Walt’s breath hitched involuntarily, his response having died on his tongue, promptly followed by panic. He spotted Ossie in the crowd of people, heading their way, his facial expression indicating confusion. Fuck. Seriously? Now? Walt was prepared to jump out of his seat and do damage control, but Ossie and Sofia walked past one another, blissfully unaware – until the former caught the latter turning her head and smiling warmly at Walt. Shit.

          ‘Who was that?’, laughed Ossie, heartily, elbowing him in the side.

          Walt groaned in exasperation, pinching the bridge of his nose. Fucking hell.

          Confirmed: taxi drivers are talkative in every country. And a little too friendly for Magnussen’s taste. Carlos – who joked that driving is his job and his name is Carlos – had been delighted that his client spoke fluent Spanish and had bombarded her with questions – “¿De dónde eres?”, “¿Es tu primera vez en México?”, “¿Has estado en Guadalajara antes?”, “¿Qué te trae a Guadalajara?” (Where are you from? Is this your first time in Mexico? First time visiting Guadalajara? What brings you here?). Magnussen had politely answered all of them, avoiding the details. After the initial stop – an exchange, of course – Carlos had briefly rambled about the weather before allowing the faint music on the radio to replace him.

          While the taxi drove in comfortable silence, Magnussen absentmindedly stared out of the window. Guadalajara hadn’t changed much since she had last been here. It had an eerie, almost haunting feeling to it, because of the horrors that had happened, yet people had moved on with their lives. Strange, how the world stopped for some, but carried on for most. Coming back reminded Magnussen of the lack of safety that the city brought with it. Except, this time, she wouldn’t attend classes and write papers. Instead, she would become a target for narcos who wanted nothing more than to put a bullet between her eyes.

          Nevertheless, Guadalajara and its rich history continued to fascinate Magnussen. Although its reputation had been tainted by criminal activities, things hadn’t always been like this. The name originated from Arabic, meaning “fortress valley.” Home to the mariachi, tequila, and birria, Guadalajara was “founded” on February 14th, 1542, by the Basque conquistador Cristóbal de Oñata, as the capital of the kingdom of Nueva Galicia, part of the Viceroyalty of New Spain. Allegedly, only 126 people lived there. Several epidemics had dramatically reduced the indigenous population, but by the 19th century, Guadalajara had taken its place as Mexico’s second largest city. In 1810 – the year that marked the beginning of the Mexican War of Independence – priest Miguel Hidalgo y Costilla established the first revolutionary government here. In 1823, it became the capital of Jalisco. The Three-Hour Revolution overthrew President Santa Anna in Guadalajara, and in 1856, at the time of the Reform War, President Benito Juárez made the city the seat of his government. Although Guadalajara had flourished during the Porfiriato, Jalisco saw multiple regional wars following the 1910 Mexican Revolution. The city’s landmarks included Hospicio Cabañas, Templo Expiatorio, the Sanctuary of Guadalupe, and the Metropolitan Cathedral, and it had served as the cradle and dwelling of important figures such as José Clemente Orozco and Luis Barragán.

          When they arrived at the address that Bowen had provided – Av. Ignacio L. Vallarta, nearly three blocks away from the U.S. Consulate – Carlos miraculously found an empty spot in the parking lot, behind the building. On the outside, the construction looked ordinary: a regular, concrete four-store, recently painted. Ironic. Last year, Mexico City had been hit by an 8.1 earthquake; thousands still didn’t have food, water, shelter. Add to that the national economic crisis and you got yourself incompetent leadership. Or worse, ignorant. In Guadalajara, however, the local government was busy repainting shit. The PRI has its priorities sorted.

          Magnussen declined Carlos’ offer to help with her bags, making sure to tip him generously before biding him goodbye. It was a surprisingly cloudy day for Guadalajara, yet pleasantly warm. The gathering of the clouds. She had lived there for two years. Why would the city represent a source of unease? Maybe because the rules had shifted, and so had the territory. Magnussen needed to adapt and accept that she would be obliged to do things she disliked or hadn’t previously done. Her hands would only get dirtier. Bloodier.

          Kiki is worth it, she tried to reason.

          According to Audrey, the neighborhood was quiet, fairly isolated, and far enough from the main road. Good. Magnussen felt safer surrounded by tall buildings. Once indoors, she made the unfortunate discovery that the complex lacked an elevator. You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me. Since her apartment was on the fourth floor, she ended up practically dragging her luggage up the stairs, on her own. The natural light barely illuminated the place, so she had to be extra careful.

          Magnussen’s arms had already begun to object by the time she reached her apartment door. Number 9. She scanned her surroundings, sighing deeply, recalling Bowen’s instructions. Your keys will be in the Aloe’s pot. Luckily, the mission didn’t require any gardening tools; they were hidden among the plant’s fleshy leaves. She inserted the item in the lock, twisted, and entered cautiously, searching for the light switch.

          The grand reveal… Not bad. The hallway was spacious enough to fit a wardrobe. Magnussen closed and locked the door after hauling her bags inside. She stepped out of her shoes, relieved to be rid of the heels, then regarded herself in the mirror on the wall. While she fixed her bangs, Magnussen realized that she saw what she had always seen. A woman, uncertain about her choices and her actions. A tired, fractured soul. A lucky impostor who refused to die. A survivor with slightly uneven eyeliner wings.

          The white oak hardwood flooring creaked softly under her feet as she explored her new home for the upcoming months, possibly years. An idea she had better become adjusted to. I never had a home, she corrected. But that’s not why I’m here.

          In the living room, two steel blue recliners flanked a large, polyester sofa of the same color. The TV – situated opposite the sofa – sat atop a wooden dresser. A rectangular X-base coffee table rested on a burgundy nylon carpet. Further to the right of the TV stood an umber, laminate bookcase. Instinctively, Magnussen pulled the burgundy drapes over the window beside it. One of the tricks she had picked up courtesy of Kiki. The cartel had frequently run surveillance on DEA agents. Lip readers and tailing vehicles may had been their preferred methods, but they hadn’t shied away from violent measures to remind the gringos who was in charge. Magnussen vividly remembered the incident when the DFS had shot at Agent Knapp’s car. He and his family – including his young kids – had been in their house, oblivious, about to have breakfast. Following the attack, Knapp was transferred back to the States. Standard procedure, embassy’s call, that kind of fuckfest. Others hadn’t been so fortunate. Kiki’s neighbor had wound up shot in a restaurant, in broad daylight.

          Kiki’s death had changed things. Supposedly. Magnussen wasn’t familiar with the Federation’s operations nowadays. The bloodthirsty sharks were undoubtedly still in the water. You just couldn’t see their fins anymore.

          The bedroom – down the second hallway, to the left – contained a California King bed, with coal grey sateen duvet covers, cool to the touch. The white bedside three-drawer chests each had a lamp on them, and the grey drapes behind them matched the light grey wool carpet. Magnussen curled her toes through it, relishing in its texture. The writing desk and chair had been positioned next to the sliding door wardrobe, where she found a vacuum, a broom, a dustpan, a clothing basket, and an ironing board. Mandatory polishing. A few cacti and a stereo, for starters. A lover or two, eventually.

          White ceramic tiles decorated the kitchen, contrasting the mythic blue cabinets, which stored pots, pans, jars, plates, bowls, food containers, cups, and glasses. At first glance, the place seemed to have everything; top-freezer refrigerator, four-burner gas stove, island, stools, sink, microwave, cutting boards, blender, toaster, garbage can, cupboards containing cutlery and can openers. The one essential component missing was food. Magnussen wasn’t opposed to going shopping for necessities, but she was too lazy to cook today. She figured that ordering some birria from Birriería Aceves would suffice.

          Her full bladder led her to the final destination: the bathroom, covered in grey tile. Magnussen removed the rings on her fingers and set them on the edge of the sink before washing her hands with cold water, too impatient to wait for the hot one. If it weren’t for the infernal queues, she could’ve solved this problem at the airport. And lose the chance to talk to Breslin? Never.

          While she urinated, she busied herself with studying the rest of the room. The majority of the objects that she expected was there; toilet, sink, mirror, front-loading washing machine, small window, mat, hair dryer, towel bar, bucket, mop, cleaning supplies. Admittedly, the custom shower and the built-in tub astonished her. They’re really spoiling me… Shower curtains are ugly, though. She flushed the toilet, washed, and dried off her hands, then slipped her rings back on.

          Okay, time to unpack.

          Magnussen began by laying out her footwear in the entrance hallway – shoes, sneakers, boots, sandals, flats, high heels, Oxfords, moccasins, slippers. The pairs that didn’t have any space left went inside the wardrobe, along with the umbrella, headwear, bandanas, sunglasses, ties, gloves, scarves, shawls, shoulder holster, hoodies, sweaters, coats, jackets, blazers, cardigans, and vests. The bathroom had the honor of hosting her perfume, deodorant, shampoo, body wash, hairbrush, toothbrush, toothpaste, and makeup. She hastily arranged the books she had brought in alphabetical order, according to the author’s surname, on the bookcases’ shelves.

          When she organized the living room dresser, Magnussen realized that she had yet to decide what to wear to her reunion with Heath tomorrow. Bowen had repeatedly warned her about that. Heath had been appointed to oversee Leyenda, so Magnussen would inevitably bump into him. She had met with Audrey on so many occasions that she had memorized every damn wrinkle on her face, as well as her physical and verbal ticks. By week three, the paperwork had become torturous. Magnussen must’ve been signing shit in her sleep. They had even subjected her to multiple drug tests. Most nights, she craved to crawl into bed and nestle against Maia, who had been ridiculously patient and supportive throughout the mess. They had discussed the situation thoroughly, and after Maia had expressed her reservations, she offered a precious piece of advice.

          ‘Look, I’m not questioning your intentions,’ clarified Maia, gazing down at Magnussen, whose head rested in her lap, ‘I understand why you want to do it… You know these people better than I do. What they’re capable of.’ She caressed her hair, cautioning, ‘Don’t let them sink their teeth into you. Turn this on you. It’s a big change. Stakes are high.’

          Maia had been right. Switching from researching and profiling criminal behavior to working with the DEA was a significant leap. Magnussen had had enough time to think over the issue, and she had made her decision – albeit not easily. She wouldn’t allow anyone to intimidate her into budging. She placed the socks, bras, panties, and lingerie in the dresser’s first drawer, the bedsheets and pillowcases in the second drawer, and the belts and suspenders joined the swimsuits and bikinis in the last one.

          Moving on to the bedroom, Magnussen deposited her book, Chapstick, phone, and contraception pills on the nightstand and hid her ID and passport in one of its cupboards. She had lost her train of thought somewhere among the clothes and semi-existential crises regarding the U.S.’ procedures for selecting people for the bureaucratic apparatus. Don’t be so hard on them. They have the electoral college.

          Alas, I digress.

          Edward fucking Heath. He had graduated with a degree in Being a Misogynistic Asshole and had perfected the art of it. Benefit of the doubt privilege suspended indefinitely. Knock-off Ronald McDonald had been constantly useless to the agents in Guadalajara – rejecting or ignoring their intel – but he had truly outdone himself when Kiki had gone missing, refusing to act until forced to do so – mainly by Mika, who had embarrassed him in the presence of both Administrator Lawn and Ambassador Gavin. Magnussen wasn’t particularly elated about seeing Heath again, though a small part of her hoped that she didn’t have to deal with him that much. Shouldn’t it be Breslin’s duty to report back to Heath? As far as she was concerned, she only had to pick up her gun, car, phone, and DEA badge from him. Their obligatory interactions ceased there, and Magnussen had no intentions whatsoever of applying for any optional ones.

          The wardrobe turned out to be the most challenging, and it quickly became obvious that she would require more hangers. Magnussen divided the rest of her belongings into six categories, as if they were sectors of the economy, arranging them into two sections.

          trousers, leggings, shorts, jeans – shelves

          gowns, dresses, skirts – hangers

          tuxedos, suits, jumpsuits, overalls, rompers – hangers

          robes, bathrobes, pyjamas – shelves

          blouses, tops, shirts, T-shirts, turtlenecks, V necks – shelves

          accessories – cupboard

          Magnussen’s eyes lingered on a silver bracelet – a treasured gift from the Camarenas, when she had completed her dissertation. They had even invited her out to celebrate – a fond memory, the closest one that she associated with “family.” Magnussen had eventually summoned the courage to reach out to Mika and shamefully confess that she had agreed to join an operation meant to bring justice to Kiki. No matter how she phrased things, it sounded wrong, but the reality was that Mexico City didn’t plan to finish the job. They had swept what they could under the rug, wishing that no one would bat an eyelid – or that everyone would forget.

          Mika had been encouraging and polite upon hearing the news, yet Magnussen struggled to assess whether she had been genuine or not. She must be thinking, “They recruited a child for a professional’s task.” Magnussen couldn’t blame her. A year had passed since Kiki’s demise, and Mika hadn’t been granted a sense of privacy, to mourn and move on. This would haunt her and their sons forever. Magnussen couldn’t comprehend what that felt like. She wouldn’t want to live long following her partner’s death. To her, it resembled a version of hell. She had once been told that those who died shortly after one another had been soulmates. For a moment, it was nice to believe. To be naïve.

          Nevertheless, Mika had thanked Magnussen for getting involved. “Kiki would be proud,” Bowen had said. I assume that he would rather be alive. I’m not doing this to make anyone proud. Kiki was gone, and what had happened to him had been a tragedy, so cruel and vicious that it was difficult to wrap your head around it. Leyenda had slowly but surely advanced towards achieving its goal. If Magnussen could contribute at all, she would try. At least it’s better than Reagan’s shitty phone call to Mika. Magnussen’s best guess? It was somehow supposed to comfort Camarena’s widow and offer reassurances, which was bizarre, because “comfort” and “reassurances” weren’t concepts that Magnussen would affiliate with Reagan. He probably gave a delirious Hollywoodian speech about patriotism, remembered that communists existed and got a raging erection, then had a stroke when he entertained the idea of sane healthcare policies.

          Before stepping out to run her errands, Magnussen replaced her ELO T-shirt with a peach blouse, pulled on a black maxi coat and a pair of sneakers, and grabbed her keys, wallet, and pack of cigarettes. The habitual chaos was deafening – unnecessary honking, cars and trucks driving by, tires screeching, pedestrians conversing, shouting, or laughing – an anthesis to her apartment’s quiet bubble of solace. Trees of various shapes and sizes lined the sidewalk, as well as tall streetlights and colorful traffic signs that few obeyed. The wind increased, causing her hair to whip her cheeks and the strong smell of gas to invade her nostrils. The corners of her eyes watered, in protest. Magnussen almost gagged. Urban charm.

          She decided to take a detour, so she started down the congested boulevard, tightening her coat around herself. A stray cat sneaked between the bars of a fence, into someone’s front yard. Early in the morning, Magnussen would wait for the bus in a station, not too far from here. After class, she would sometimes go to the park and read on a bench for hours. The image of kids joyfully playing might’ve been permanently soiled by the looming threat of the cartel. The youth grew up defenseless, exposed to violence, with little to no opportunities. Many viewed illicit activities as their salvation. Everybody had become absorbed by narcotics, but the equation wasn’t that simple. The War on Drugs was a hydra, stretching its tentacles and suffocating all aspects of life. The current strategy seemed inherently fucking Christian; concentrating on the sinners, disregarding the victims. It should be their new motto.

          The U.S. Consulate General looked bleak and deserted, just as the last time Magnussen had seen it; neither imposing, nor welcoming. And they didn’t get rid of the hideous beige paint. Memories flooded her mind, both bitter and sweet. She had lost count of the number of instances that she had walked in and out of that building, usually accompanied by Kiki or Jaime. While Magnussen hadn’t been authorized to join the DEA on their missions, she had participated in discussions at the office, analyzed files, and helped piece together intel. At first, their knowledge had been so deficient; how the cartel operated, who its members were, the officials it had corrupted. They still didn’t have much, yet they had gathered enough to attract the attention of the narcos and turn the U.S. Consulate into a crime scene. Magnussen wasn’t standing far from the spot where DFS agents and sicarios had abducted Camarena, in broad daylight, in February 1985. Her stomach twisted, mouth going dry. The beginning of the war. Of the nightmare. Searches, news reports, political tensions. The U.S. government had even shut down the border with Mexico and ordered every vehicle to be inspected.

          The longer a person is missing, the slimmer the chances of finding them. Kiki had been gone for a month. Doomed from the start. All of the parties involved had been aware that the cartel was behind it. Then, the bodies had been discovered, and hell had slowly and silently broken loose. Truthfully, Magnussen had been surprised when Fonseca and Quintero had been arrested. When Félix Gallardo hadn’t been, however, things had finally begun to make sense. The system had worked; sacrificing Camarena and protecting the Thin Man. Kiki hadn’t had any information about the politicians on the cartel’s payroll. Neither had Zavala, though there hadn’t been tapes of his interrogation. Magnussen rejected the theory that Camarena had been in the wrong place, at the wrong time. No, they had sought him out; threatened him, followed him. The cartel had known precisely where he would be on that day, at what hour, and what he would be wearing. The entire fiasco was a splintered mosaic, mutilated maybe beyond repair. Kiki had been obsessed with the idea of Félix Gallardo knowing his name, and, in the end, his wish had been granted – at an enormous cost. His patriotism had flown him too close to the sun.

          Now, it was Magnussen’s turn. One way or another, Félix Gallardo would learn her name.

          Magnussen’s shopping trip had resulted in a strategic disaster. She had returned with more bags than she had anticipated, having to balance them and the birria when climbing the stairs to her apartment. A success, nonetheless. It hadn’t been until Magnussen had smelled the meat grilling that she had realized how hungry she was. Luckily, the queue hadn’t been long. Magnussen had passed the time by listening to the ranchero music playing at the diner, harmoniously joined by cutlery clinking against plates, smokers coughing, stools creaking, and people slurping coffee.

          Magnussen drank the rest of her red wine and sat up to deposit her glass on the floor. Her back touched the cold edge of the bathtub – causing goosebumps to erupt all over her skin – so she sank into the hot water, taking a drag from her cigarette. In the living room, Judas Priest’s Love Bites blasted on the stereo, which she had set up after she had eaten.

          Softly you stir

          Gently you moan

          Lust’s in the air

          Wake as I groan

          In the dead of night, love bites

          The butterflies tattooed on her right ankle peeked out of the bubbles, droplets trickling over their wings. Magnussen watched the smoke rise to the ceiling, her thoughts wandering to her earlier encounter with Breslin at the airport. Accidental encounter. He had looked familiar, but things hadn’t initially clicked. Once they had, Magnussen had improvised and half lied during their unofficial introduction. Breslin had seemed a bit stiff and antisocial; probably common, given that he’s an undercover cop. Ironically, his appearance hadn’t wholly indicated that he was in law enforcement. What if the curls are meant to throw everyone off? Breslin’s photo in the Leyenda file had definitely been deceiving; his hair was dark brown, not black. Magnussen felt betrayed. His sad eyes were a distinctive shade of brown, almost hazel – especially if light reflected in them. Breslin’s voice had been the most striking; low and deep, likely because of the smoking. The other details she had deemed uninteresting. Magnussen hadn’t been able to help herself when Mejía had materialized and fucked up Breslin’s state of Zen. She had deliberately flashed him a smile, making sure that Mejía would notice the action.

          Professional relationship, off to a great start. Magnussen had never assumed that it would be smooth sailing. A European woman in her mid-20s born in a communist regime amidst conservative American cops in a propagandistic narco-war in Mexico? Peachy. Except Magnussen would fight the war on two different fronts; against the cartel and the DEA. Nothing new. She had faced much worse.

          Yet, Magnussen hadn’t come to Mexico to prove something to her future colleagues or to do the U.S. administration “proud” or to be awarded a medal. While some might ignore or forget the reason why they were there, to Magnussen the message resonated loudly and clearly.

          I’m here for Kiki.

TAGLIST: @a-dash-of-random-magic​ @agirllovespancakes​ @artthurshelby​ @buttercup--bee​ @captn-andor​ @cleastrnge​ @dameronology​ @frodo-sam​ @itssmashedavo @maevesdarling​ @maevemills @maharani-radha​ @miawallace​ @mitchi-c​ @moonlight-prose @nicolettegreen​ @operator-sero @pascalisthepunkest​ @queenofthefaceless​ @revolution-starter​ @sullho @tisbeautifulfreedom​ 

END THE WAR ON DRUGS: Equity Organization & Drug Policy Alliance

READ MORE: Guadalajara, U.S. Consulate, Police Policy on Tattoos, Birriería Aceves, Love Bites by Judas Priest

[soutienshivam]

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[fangirlings-things]

The Border Control Project [Part. 2]

• ───━━━━─ ● ─━━━━─── •

Fandom: Extraction

Pairing: Tyler Rake x female reader

Summary: you're Tyler's next mission and turns out, you need him more than you want to

Word count: 2.4K

Warnings: curse words, violence and mentions of kidnapping

Based on this imagine

Gif credit: @thoresque

A/N: thank youuu so much for all the feedback guys!! I was so happy to know that you liked the story so here I am with part 2, hope you all enjoy it!!

Part. 1

Theme song: Shameless, Camila Cabello

Right now I'm shameless

Screaming my lungs out for you

Not afraid to face it

I need you more than I want to

• ───━━━━─ ● ─━━━━─── •

In a matter of five days, Tyler had learned a lot about that (Y/N) (Y/L/N). The file he had asked for had been delivered with not less than sixteen pages and a pen drive. There, the intelligence people had gathered everything they could find on social media and informations passed to them by the family. With that intel, he was supposed to know her even before he actually did. 

He found out that (Y/N) had been born in Chicago, on the 4th of July. The bloody fireworks of independence day were blowing up in the sky while her mother finally gave birth after a 13 hours labour. Through all her childhood, she went to private schools and had the best education a kid could possibly have. She graduated high school with excellent grades and went strictly to the University of Illinois at Chicago, to study History. 

She loved coffee and was fascinated by ancient artefacts and events. Her favorite movie was Star Wars. She was a great fan of Queen and even had a Freddie Mercury poster at her beedrom back in Chicago. Books were a passion of hers, she had read over forty at the age of 18, when other teens would probably be causing trouble around and getting themselves into the life of alcohol and sex. But that didn't mean that that girl didn't knew how to party as well. 

She frequently attended to parties, drank just enough to the alcohol in her system to make her happier and would dance through the night with her friends. Tyler saw some pictures and a video and in all of them, that girl seemed to have no worries at all. She smiled, laughed, passed her hands through her hair and closed her eyes to feel the beat of the music that was ringing in her ears. The thought that she might never smile like that again after what was happening, kinda disturbed him. 

It took some watching through surveillance cameras, intel and study of some rotes of the city, but the team Nik had putted up together called a meeting with everyone who was out after exactly a week since they had first gotten there. They had found (Y/N)’s location. 

She was being kept at a incredibly large house for Guadalajara's standards. That part of the city was one of the richest and yet, that place stood out.

With it's enormous extension, the odd distance from every other building in a raid of three miles, metal huge gates and the two heavily armed men guarding the way in, it pretty much seemed like a fortress. A place where important people would probably hide in troubled times. Although in that moment, it was being used by a total different goal.

Such goal placed Tyler just where he was, on the inside of an old '75 Chevrolet, driving smoothly and calmly while heading to the adress he had watched for a day and a half from the woods near by. He had gone there with questions, and came back with it's answers. How many men? At least twelve, plus the two at the gates. Who went in? Not a single soul. Who went out? Two men in a black SUV. Probably the driver in the front and the big boss, whomever that was, in the back. He didn't get a clear visual on any of them to get facial recognition. Which pretty much, pissed him off.

Tyler had gotten into his head that he wanted to figure out who was behind that shit. Who wanted to shut down the Border Control Project and had gone far enough as to kidnapp the daughter of the Senator. Nik had been right before, when she said that a lot of people could have done it. Dealers, traffickers, corrupted politicians, dirty cops. A bunch of them could go down with that project's approval. Whomever it was, the odds weren't good for (Y/N). But well, that's where he came in. To improve those odds. To fucking rescue her and get his money.

When Tyler made a turn to the left and the house he was going to invade showed up in his sight, he took a deep breath and instantly began to slow down the Chevrolet, making the velocimeter drop quickly, until he stopped right in front of the metal gates. 

"¿Qué estás haciendo?" the smaller of the two men guarding the gates was quick to approach the car with his ACR firmly between his hands, a stern expression on his face. 

What are you doing. Tyler putted on his face the best surprised and scared look he could, while taking his hands out of the wheel and then raising his hands in the air. He kept his bright eyes locked on the gun the man caried, trying to make him see the fake fear he was showing. 

“Salga del coche, cabrón!” again the smaller of the guards spoke up, just as Tyler reached for the window of the car that was closed. The fact for itself seemed to piss the guard off, because now from up close Tyler could see that his knuckles were white from gripping the ACR too tightly. “Vamos, vamos!”

“No habló español! No hablo español!” Tyler placed as much accent as he could on those words, eyes still on the other's gun. Get out of the car, of course he understood. But oh, he wasn't going to do that. Not before the other guard came closer as well. 

“Step out of the car” translated the taller man, doing exactly as Tyler predicted, taking a few steps towards the Chevrolet. 

Tyler nodded, keeping the frightened expression in his face. Slowly he opened the door and got out of the car, stepping in front of the two men with as much causality as he could with his hands in the air again. The smaller one kicked the door of the car closed and held his gun straight to Tyler’s face, as the taller one came even closer and analyzed Tyler up and down with a uninterested look.

“Who are you? What are you doing here?” the taller guard asked, calm but yet, as dangerous as the other one. He had his hands on his gun, but just for protocol. His grip wasn’t that tight in the metal beneath his fingers. His mistake, Tyler thought to himself.

“My name is Jeffrey, I’m a tourist” Tyler said with the best worried voice he had, keeping his eyes locked on the one who could speak english. “I lost my turn on the road and don’t know how to get back to the city. Please, I just stopped for information”

The taller man squeezed his brown eyes, thinking about his words. Deciding if he should believe him or not. After minutes that seemed like hours, he bought the story and nodded for the other to lower his weapon. His second and last mistake.

Tyler acted like a lightning. Too quick. He elbowed the smaller one that was closer, kicked him in the legs and made him fall, hitting his head on the ground. Just before the taller one could grip his weapon firmly enough to shoot, Tyler grabbed it and took it out of his hands after throwing him a punch. Two shots, the taller one was gone. He turned around to shot at the smaller one and was surprised to see that he had already gotten up and charged forward, aiming the gun to his face again. Tyler pulled the trigger four times. The blood wet the ground and he was alone.

“The front gate is clear” he said, after pressing the wire in his right ear so that the team could hear him clearly. Leaning down, he inspected the smaller one’s pockets and after finding nothing, went to the other dead man and found the keys to open the gate in his back left pocket. The keys he had seen they use while he was on watch.

“Well done, Jeffrey” Nik’s voice seemed to come from inside his own head, like she was his consciousness. As he smirked for a moment for the childish thought, he couldn’t deny, that would be a good thing for him. To be rid of his bloody consciousness, if he had one at all.

“I’m going in” he twisted the keys on the gate and heard the lock click, opening. 

Instead of entering though, he stepped to the side and leaned against the big walls. As he expected, the men from inside had heard the gunshots and went to the gates. Now, they were stepping outside slowly, with their guns held high and strongly.

Tyler took a deep breath. Feeling excitement run through his whole body in the form of pure adrenaline, he started to pull the trigger over and over again.  

            • ───━━━━─ ● ─━━━━─── •

You woke up to the sound of gunshots. Endless gunshots. They scared you and ringed in your ears as if they were coming from millimeters away. You thought if some of the men had began a fight between themselves. You had heard some of them arguing before, but they never got violent. Until now, anyway.

The idea that they could be distracted occurred to you and you found yourself realizing that that would be the best moment for you to escape. To try and get out of there without being noticed. Even the man that guarded your door, Juan, as you had heard other call him, was gone. Probably to inspect the origin of the firing.

Pulling against the restrains with enough force to scratch your skin you tried desperately to be free, not allowing yourself to make a single sound behind the gag. Oh no, you wanted them to continue forgetting that you were there and that you were now alone.

The gunshots stopped after so much time that now the sudden silence felt weird. The quiet made you panic, because you were very aware that your chance to escape was slipping away from you. Your only chance.

You started to scream from frustration behind the gag, crying and pulling so much that your arms ached and hurt as if they were being cut open. The door then was kicked open and that was when you really started to scream.

That man, you had never seen around the house you had been taken to. He was really tall, blond. Wore a blue shirt that had the same color of his eyes and old jeans. He was covered in blood. So much blood. In his face, arms, boots. Blood everywhere. The sight made you sick with fear. Was he the one sent to finally kill you? The moment he pulled out a knife from his waist, you got the confirmation you needed.

The tears wet your face and you made one last, useless attempt on the restrains. He got closer to the mattress, towering over you like a fucking building. You closed your eyes and took one last deep breath, finally accepting your fate as he kneeled on the floor beside you.

And then the restrains were gone.

Opening your eyes, you felt his rough hands touching your skin as he took the ropes completely out of your arms and then reached for your gag. Instantly, you kicked him in the legs making him fall on his side.

You ran out of the room, your hand flying to your own mouth and taking the gag out. You tossed it aside and forced your legs to work as without any orientation you tried to find your way out of that place. You ran as fast as you could, but you only made it to two corridors until you found yourself falling to the ground with a heavy weight upon your body. That man’s body.

You screamed and kicked, pushed and punched. Freedom was so close. You just had to…

“Stop fighting!” the man spoke for the first time, turning your body towards his and grabbing your hands when you tried to punch him in the face. He pressed your wrists with an iron grip to the ground. You continued trying to kick him, and that made his grip get harder. “Listen to me, (Y/N)! I’m here to save you!”

That made you go still. Frozen in place. None of the men there before had used your name. Never. You had the feeling that they didn’t even knew who you were. They were just tools, used to keep you under control under the command of someone much more important.

You stared into the man’s eyes, analyzed his expression. It was serious, dangerous. Some of the blood from his face fell on yours as you just stared at him and thought of the odds of him being actually telling the truth.

“If what you say is true then get the fuck away from me” you growled at him, every word hurting your throat as you spoke again after so much time in silence.

“Will you run if I let you go?” he asked fiercely, staring deeply into your eyes with such intensity that it made you nervous. Only when you denied with your head, he complied to your demand and released you, getting to his feet.

You got up slowly, without taking your eyes out of his for even a moment as you did. Your eyes went down to the knife that was back at his waist. You swallowed dry and tried to run again, but he seemed to have predicted that for the way he grabbed your forearm before you could get even a few steps away.

“Listen to me!” he grabbed both of your arms and shoved your much smaller body into the nearest wall. “Your father hired me! The Senator! I’m here to get you to safety but I cannot do that if you keep trying to run from me!"

“And I am just supposed to believe you?” you looked up at his face, the dry tears on your face now were mixed with blood you had gotten from him. “How can I believe you?”

“Your name is (Y/N) (Y/L/N)!” he said firmly, his grip still firm. “Your mother is Eleanor and your father is Charles (Y/L/N)! You love coffee, you were born in Chicago! Your best friend’s name is Maggie! Your favorite movie is Star Wars and you study History at college! Your first cat was named Thomas, he died two years ago!”

You just stared at him in complete shock. It was true. Everything he had just said about you. He new everything. Stuff no one could know unless they had spoken to your family. He was telling the truth.

“Y-you’re telling the truth” you said in a weak tone, trying to wrap your mind around the fact. After such time being a prisoner, you couldn’t believe it.

“I am” he seemed calmer now that he could see you believed him, but his eyes were still dangerous. Still completely alert. “Now let’s go. We have to get out of here before whomever kidnapped you notices what I did and sends reinforcements”

• ───━━━━─ ● ─━━━━─── •

tag list: @posiemax ; @annaallicce ; @alievans007 ; @imiiimargo ; @chickensarentcheap ; @fangirlsarah16 ; @innerpaperexpertcloud ; @ri-wantstorunaway ; @keikomia