#also i imagine food trucks are like the line cooks of the car world. they absolutely fuck and are the backbone of society

[xubbles]

Draw your car as a people !

Other character & prompt belong to @marsoid

So when I saw Mars’ car OC I was floored, naturally, and thought this was a really neat character design prompt! So I took a stab at it with my own carrr *peace signs*

Trixie is the kind of gym goer that has a dedicated schedule of going to check out everyone else which is why she goes to the big boy gym despite not being a heavy lifter herself. She IS however very competitive, and manipulative, and loves getting a rise out of the real heavy lifters when she can. It’s 100% just to get their attention.

She daydreams of them taking even just a temporary interest in her. In the meantime she’s just a very obvious lurker. When she caught sight of that blue haired work of art the clownery was upped to full blast. From experience she knows these types often go for others like themselves — those that are, yknow, built different — so she likely has close to 0% chance, but Trixie remains persistent. She sees that as motivation to get as beefy as she can herself — if she could ever focus on the working out part of going to the gym 🥵

Anyway just a silly headcanon as an excuse to draw Mars’ car OC too because of.. reasons... I don’t know a single thing about their character, I’m just over here having fun !

[livingmybestfictionallife]

Two Dharma Bums

Request (anon):  Ayo I saw that you were taking request, can I have some platonic Klaus x reader? Maybe klaus just kind living with the reader and them bein all domestic n shit

Summary: Klaus and the reader bond over their shared love of the beatnik counterculture and Kerouac. Klaus convinces the reader to come with him and travel across the country to live out the reader’s dream of the freedom displayed in Jack Kerouac’s On the Road. Also, I’m sorry if it’s rough. It’s unedited and quickly written.

A/N: No pronouns are used for the reader, so this can be female!reader or male!reader. Also, Klaus is 10000% a beatnik in this time period and would have thrived with Burroughs, Ginsburg, and Kerouac.

Arriving in 1960 Dallas with nothing but the spirit of his deceased brother clinging to him, Klaus desperately tried to suppress the anxieties that immediately plagued him. Why was he here? Where were his siblings? Was he the only one who made it? What made him so special and deserving of life over his brothers and sisters? What was he going to do now? 

After days without anything more than a passerby’s leftovers, Klaus was desperate for something to eat. He stumbled down street as he followed the familiar aroma of diner food. Growing up so close to Griddy’s, Klaus knew the smell of a moderately priced home-cooked style meal, and his stomach immediately twisted into angry knots of starvation. Without thinking anything through, he flung open the door and dropped himself into a booth near the front of the diner. Compared to the attire of the other inhabitants of the diner--the men’s nicely pressed trousers paired with comfortable overcoats and the women’s long skirts and petticoats--Klaus’s tattered and sleeveless army shirt, laced leather pants, shaggy hair, and dirt covered face instantly earned him the full attention of the diner.

All eyes being on Klaus wasn’t something he would normally turn down. His family knew he loved being the center of attention, and normally, this much attention would be cause for a snarky comment about his importance; however Klaus was tired. He was too tired to think about anything other than how much he wanted to sleep and eat, and that exhaustion led to his eyes drifting shut despite Ben’s continual pestering him to stay awake.

“Um, Y/N,” a young woman holding a notepad and pen said in an attempt to get her coworker’s attention.

“Yeah?” Y/N asked as you turned to meet your coworker’s eyes. With a furrowed brow, you examined her face. She normally wore a kind expression, full of smiles that earned a lot of tips, but her brows were furrowed and she wore an obviously concerned look over her face. Discreetly, she held her pen pointed in the direction of the front of the diner. The ball-point landed on a man with dark hair and grimy skin leaning against the wall with his legs stretched out across the booth and eyes fallen shut. “That’s my section today, isn’t it?” Y/N asked as the girl nodded in a way that instantly made Y/N assume she was thinking, ‘Better you than me.’

It was a chilly twenty-three degrees, which is fairly colder than normal for a Texas winter, and Y/N could see the man in the booth didn’t seem to be dressed appropriately for the weather that was only getting colder. The man shivered suddenly as Y/N reached the booth, and he shot upright as if he had been startled awake.

“Hi, I’m Y/N. Welcome to Norma’s Cafe,” Y/N greeted the man with a half-smile. “What can I get for you?”

“Water, please,” the man said in a somewhat pathetic and empathy inducing tone, “and if you have any crackers, I’ll take those too, please.” As the door to the diner opened, Y/N couldn’t help but notice the man begin to tremble as the bitter air found its way to his exposed skin.

“Sure thing,” Y/N sighed upon witnessing the tragedy that was this homeless man. Already, Y/N’s heart was softened into feeling complete sympathy for the stranger. After returning to the kitchen to fill up a cup with water, Y/N grabbed a pot of hot coffee a mug, and a plate of toast before returning to the table. “I put in an order of the special for you as well. I hope you like your eggs scrambled,” Y/N said and placed the tray of drinks and toast in front of the man.

“No, no, no, no, no,” he hurried to repeat the single syllable until the server turned around to face him again. “I can’t pay for this. I don’t have any money.”

“It’s on me,” Y/N said with a reassuring smile.

“No, I’m fine with some crackers. I’m skinny, I don’t need a lot of food,” he tried to argue with the kindness of the stranger before him.

“You’re my last customer before my shift is up,” Y/N said with a shrug. “Seriously, don’t worry about it.” Once again, Y/N rose in an attempt to wait in the kitchen for the food she ordered for this man only to have him protest one more time

“Can you at least keep me company? Maybe I can repay you with my witty sarcasm and great sense of humor.” A slight chuckle escaped Y/N’s lungs.

“You know I have to leave first to get your food, right?”

“So that’s a yes?” with a roll of Y/N’s eyes, a gentle smile fell over Klaus’s face. He was slightly surprised that Y/N decided to sit in the booth across from him as he ate, and even more so when he was encouraged to tell his ludicrous tale of how he ended up in Dallas in the first place. Their conversation was chaotic and jumped from so many different, interconnecting threads, somehow managing to find its way back to the point of origin after discussing Klaus’s past and Y/N’s seemingly illogical dreams and fascinations.

“Either you have a ridiculous imagination or your a beatnik like Ginsburg or Kerouac,” Y/N huffed and an entertained smirk flashed in Klaus’s direction.

“I’d consider myself to be more like Burroughs,” he retorted with a laugh as he finished the last of his food and sipped on the last of his coffee.

“Well, you certainly look like a dharma bum,” Y/N commented with an endearing and longing gaze. It had been a dream of Y/N’s to be able to pick up and leave, taking minimal belongings along on a journey across the country to a destination that had yet to present itself. Since reading Kerouac’s works, this dream had began to manifest as a pest in Y/N’s mind, constantly scratching at the part of the brain that controls impulses.

“In a way I am,” Klaus responded as he thought back over the course of his adult life. “I’ve never had a place of my own, no place to call home or people who wanted me around for longer than a few weeks at a time. Then there was the war, then ending up here.” His voice seemed to trail off as his mind went through everything he’d experienced in his short thirty years.

“I’ve read ‘On the Road’ and ‘The Dharma Bums’ so many times the spines are falling apart,” Y/N admitted. “There’s something so enchanting about that lifestyle that I can’t help but long for the open road and the uncertainty of where I’ll end up.” Y/N could see the ideas turning around in Klaus’s head as he thought over the words that had been dumped between them.

“Do you have a car?” It was a short and simple question that was answered with a nod of Y/N’s head. “Then let’s go.”

“Just like that? No thinking anything through? You don’t have any ties or anything keeping you here?”

“I just told you my true story. I have nothing and no one,” Klaus stated, subsequently earning an annoyed grunt from Ben. He could tell Y/N was thinking the offer over and the idea repeated in both of their heads like a broken record. “Come on,” Klaus urged, “You’ll be surprised by how easy the act of leaving is, and how good it feels! The world is rich with possibilities,” he loosely quoted the line from On the Road that circulated throughout Y/N’s mind.

“I have nothing to offer anyone but my own confusion,” Y/N responded with another quote, hoping Klaus would understand.

“What are you getting here that you can’t get anywhere else?” Klaus prompted. He had leaned across the booth and was excitedly staring into Y/N’s eyes as his heart raced at the possibility of not having to be alone anymore. “Because in the end...” A hopeful smile formed on Klaus’s face as he began yet another famous quote from Kerouac.

“You won’t remember the time you spent working in an office or mowing your lawn,” Y/N continued.

“Climb the damn mountain!”

***    ***    ***    ***    ***    ***

As weeks turned into months and months turned into years, Y/N and Klaus traveled across the country, hitching rides from farmers, truck drivers, and anyone who was still kind enough not to discourage the allure of being a vagabond.

Stories and poetry were the fuel they doused on the fires of their freedom, and always they found themselves immersed in the artistic and melodic talent of telling tales the other seemed to posses. Throughout their happiness and sincerest sense of freedom, they would occasionally find themselves seeking the comfort of one another. At night, often when the music, poetry, and stories had fallen asleep with their traveling companions--Klaus’s silver tongue and ability to fabricate realities out of small truths had accumulated quite a large following throughout their journey--their minds would drift. In these moments of perceived weakness, that they let their vulnerability shine through to one another.

“What’s wrong?” Y/N asked upon noticing Klaus sitting before a fire beneath the stars of California.

“What’s in store for me in the direction I don’t take?” Klaus asked, once again mirroring the words of Kerouac to allow for the deeper meaning to seep into Y/N’s soul.

“It seems like what you have done, in starting an unorganized cult, is the most absurd thing that could have happened in all of the endless possibilities presented to you at every decision you’ve made.”

“But what about my family. What if they’re alive and they’re looking for me? I thought the love of the people I surrounded myself with, the like-mindedness of the commune, would be enough.” Y/N lowered to be beside Klaus as he stared up at the stars. Silently, the pair sat, feeling the heat of the fire against their faces, until Y/N leaned against Klaus’s side and he fell gently into the genuine human connection.

“Unlike Kerouac, I’m not a believer of Buddhism, but finding enlightenment is an important theme throughout his novels. Maybe the enlightenment you’ve found is that this life that you’ve found on the path that you’ve taken isn’t the one that you’re searching for,” Y/N’s wisdom rolled through Klaus’s mind as he fell backwards into the grass in frustration.

“I took this path in hopes of gaining happiness,” Klaus sighed angrily as he slammed his fists into the soil beside him. “I failed my family and I failed at this; this concept of letting go and accepting the endless possibilities before me!”

“You didn’t fail,” Y/N stated firmly in defiance of Klaus’s self-depreciating words. “Experience is the only thing that can teach you. If I were to give you only water and crackers all that time ago back at the diner, we wouldn’t be in California right now. If you chose a different diner to fall into, you would have never met me, and your life would be even more miserable,” Y/N joked and nudged Klaus’s arm in an attempt to invoke the smallest of smiles in his face. “If I would have ignored your idea of taking to the road as two dharma bums searching for a sign for where our lives were supposed to go, I’d probably still be wasting away as a server in that diner. Just because you got to the place we set our course for doesn’t mean you’re at the destination you need to be at. It took getting here with all of these people following us, following you, for you to realize where your passion and happiness lies.”

With a tear in each of his eyes, Klaus sat up and pulled Y/N close to him. As he felt Y/N’s arms fall around him, a reassuring sigh left his mouth and the tears of joy fell onto Y/N’s shoulder. Klaus tightened his grasp on his friend, and hesitantly spoke. “Thank you, Y/N. I know this distance is what you wanted and that the road was kinder to you than to me, but I have to go back to Dallas. I’ll miss you, but I’m grateful to have met you.” Slowly, Klaus rose from where he sat and blew a kiss to the person who had been at his side through it all. It was all he could do as he hid the pain of losing the first person who had shown him kindness three years ago.

“My path is with you. You’re my friend, Klaus, but more importantly, you’re my family now. If not for you, my life wouldn’t have changed. If not for me, yours could have gotten worse. Our paths were intertwined for a reason, and I’m not going to ignore that. When you need me, I’ll be there. That’s what family is for.”

Klaus smiled as Y/N strode to his side and the pair hurried off towards the van. The same thoughts and anxieties that flooded their minds when they left Dallas floated in their minds like a veil of mist that clouded their vision, but this time was slightly different. Sure they had many miles ahead of them, hardly any money to afford the trip back, were in dire need of sleep, and didn’t know the way back, but they knew where they were headed and why, and they had each other, and that was enough for now.

Tags:  @multifandom-ramblings, @bisexual-with-adhd, @ne0n-gh0st, @thehanwen @helena-way07 

[medeafive]

Blood and Stone - 25

Masterpost

"Are you sure?" Clint asks as she makes her bed. "I can come with you."

Natasha snorts, fluffing up the pillow she won't sleep on soon, or ever. "No thanks. Don't need you fighting with Bobbi every day."

"I'm serious," Clint insists, playing with an arrow at his belt.

"So am I," Natasha replies, holding her belly. "Nothing you can do. It's gonna be fine, don't worry."

Clint pulls a face, clearly disagreeing but biting his tongue. "I'll pray for you. Seriously."

He hasn't prayed since he fled the war, as far as she knows, so she smiles at him sadly. "Thank you. Really."

There's nothing more to say after that. The room's largely empty. Not like she ever had much personal possessions anyway. She looks around, weird floating feeling. It's true, she's in between, removed from the world of hunting but not yet in… she doesn't know yet. Motherhood? A strange thought. She hasn't really thought about what this is going to be . If it's going to be at all.

Downstairs, everyone is waiting in the lobby, blinds pulled for James' sake. The bags are already in the car, as far as she knows. Pepper hugs her, a tear in the corner of her eye. “You’re going to be fine, Nat. We’re all going to be fine.”

Sharon hugs her next and by the time it’s Sam’s turn, Natasha herself is teary-eyed. She might just never see them again. “I’ll see you soon,” Sam mutters into her hair.

“I hope it’ll go well,” Bruce says. “Bobbi will look after you.”

“Oh, come on,” Tony says. “Like this would take you down. You, of all people.”

Clint is gritting his teeth, muscles of his jaw working. It looks aggressive but she knows he’s just trying not to show his emotions. “Stay strong. Don’t give up.”

“You’ll be back soon,” Fury says. “Can’t lose my best tracker.”

James is the last in line and she can’t really look at him, after the fight yesterday. It is what it is. As Bobbi said, the rest is between her and God, if that guy’s even out there somewhere. The only thing left to believe in is herself. James steps forward and kisses her forehead with his cold lips. It is what it is. She notices everyone else looking uncomfortable or looking away. “Good luck, Natalia. Good luck.”

That’s what it comes down to in the end, isn’t it? Sheer dumb luck. Life and death, happiness and misery, stability and societal collapse from a vampire epidemic. Nobody is ever really in control. Certainly not James and her. And she knows it's all downhill from here, whatever happens, James will always be a vampire, Schmidt will be out there until they kill him, she will always be on the run until she's dead or undead. It's all fleeting, unstoppable, out of control, and only getting worse. She smiles at him, thinking she might never see him again. "I'll be fine."

"Your stuff's in the truck," Bobbi remarks, staring at the claws against Natasha's red hair. "It's all ready to leave."

The silence is tense and uncomfortable. "We'll call you," Pepper hurries to say. "At least that much."

Natasha spots an unusually bulky figure in the background, hunching slightly, too heavy for his own liking. Looks like Steve's up. "Hey, you. I know you don't remember me but… You'll figure it out. I hope they take care of you."

"Sure will," Sharon mutters, blushing pink.

Natasha squeezes James' hand, still cold- well, that's just how it is, and it doesn't really matter. The baby kicks slightly and her mouth drops open but it's not that bad. She lets go, takes Bobbi's arm and lets herself be led outside.

It's really a small truck more than a car, plenty of space in the back, rusty but actually not in all that bad shape. Not like the Soviet car industry. Bobbi leads her to the passenger side.

"Morse?"

They both turn their heads. Fury is standing outside, beckoning. "Come over, I got something for you."

"Just a sec," Bobbi replies, helping Natasha up into the truck. "You okay?"

Natasha breathes heavily at the slight exertion, holding her belly. At least she didn't burn in the sunlight. "Yeah. It's fine."

"Just a second then, be right back." Bobbi walks to the back of the truck. Natasha closes her eyes, heart drumming in her ears. Oh, she's really not doing well. Stairs are hard, even when it's just one step. She hopes this is over soon. Little over a week now. Also, she hasn't been out in the daylight in what feels like years and it's awfully bright. Somebody opens the door at the back of the truck.

"Oh. Oh, I see."

"I think you're going to find that very useful."

"Sure thing. Where'd'ya get this beauty?"

"Had it for a while. Don't tell the others."

"Won't, boss."

"Well. Do your best."

The doors are slammed shut again. "Will do. Good luck with the vampires."

Bobbi comes around, climbing into the driver's seat. "What did he give you?" Natasha asks.

Bobbi grins, starting the car. "Oh, I'll tell you sometime later."

  They drive for about an hour and a half, or maybe two. It's really been forever that Natasha was outside the city, in broad daylight no less. And she's so exhausted that she nods off several times, only to be rattled awake by a bump in the road.

It's quite deserted. The vampires may have hit the big cities the hardest but the countryside wasn't exactly spared. Most of all, people do not trust each other anymore and they avoid congregating, as if that would attract the monsters. In some ways, it does. Only about half of the fields are actually being farmed.

The house is half tucked away into a little forest, built out of broad wood planks, many gables. Bobbi tells her to wait, climbing out alone. Natasha leans forward, trying to get a better view. Not a person in sight, let alone another house. This is quite literally the end of the road.

However, before Bobbi reaches the house, a woman appears between the trees, rifle slung around her shoulder. She's rather tall, though not as tall as Bobbi, brown hair, and rather not up for a chat. Thick brown coat with what looks like fox fur around the neck. Bobbi raises her hands as she approaches her, though the woman shows no signs of reaching for a weapon.

The baby kicks hard and Natasha groans, slumping over, holding her belly for fear that it'll break. She wonders whether Tony meant that literally, with the baby breaking through her stomach and crawling out, or just- the tight skin holds for now and that’s all she’s going to think about.

The two women are still exchanging tense words. Natasha notices their host has binoculars around her neck, as if she just came back from the hunt. Animal hunt. Probably the only way to get food around here. Thinking about meat makes-

The baby kicks again, this time longer, even harder, and Natasha gasps and bends over, slumping onto the dashboard, moaning in pain as her belly's pushed out from inside repeatedly. She can almost feel the shape. The car door is being opened. "Hey, are you okay? Come on, let's get you inside so you can lay down."

She can't breathe. "Is she okay?" the other voice asks.

"Under the given circumstances," Bobbi replies, unfastening her seatbelt and reaching around. "But I'm gonna need a hand."

  Natasha can't remember or imagine how they got from the car to her lying on a couch, under a blanket, with a hot bowl of soup. The kicking has subsided for now but she still feels the soreness from the last time.

The house is quite dark inside with all the wood and so few windows. There are antlers on the walls, stuffed pheasants, at least one set of vampire fangs. Trophies. A shudder goes down her spine, despite the warm blanket and the chimney fire. The cold winter wind rattles the tiny windows, cuts around the edges, trying to claw its way in. The room is lit solely with candles, probably no electricity in the house.

“Hey.”

The brown-haired woman is sitting behind a big wooden table, face bright against the wooden wall, candle light dancing over her skin. There’s meat on the table, cooked meat. Natasha’s belly contracts almost painfully. Bobbi is nowhere to be seen.

“You’re Russian, aren’t you,” the woman remarks.

Natasha snorts, staring at the ceiling that’s so dark she can’t really see it. “Is that the first thing you ask?”

The woman shrugs, opening a flask of liquor with a biting smell escaping immediately. “I don’t mind.”

She sounds Czech which means she most likely speaks Russian but, like Pepper, clearly does not want to. “Where’s Bobbi?”

“Toilet’s outside,” the woman replies briefly, taking a sip from the flask. “You hungry?”

The smell of the meat is overwhelming, to a degree it shouldn’t be. Natasha tucks the blanket up to her chin. “Yeah.”

The woman makes her way out from behind the table, bumping into it or the bench several times. The rifle is hanging on the wall behind the door, as Natasha notices. The vampire fangs are right over the fireplace. “You killed a vampire?”

The woman nods, grabbing the plate with the meat and sitting down on the couch table, also made of heavy wood, holding out the plate. “You mind?”

The meat is cooked but it still smells of blood. Natasha can’t resist grabbing a piece with her bare hands and stuffing it in her mouth, shaking her head. She’s a hunter. She’s always been a hunter. She- She needs to devour all of this bloody meat right now.

The woman merely raises an eyebrow as Natasha rips the plate from her hands and starts wolfing it down, barely taking the time to chew, tasting the flesh, the blood, the dead life of it. She inhales it so fast that she gags, coughs, spits it out and shoves it in her mouth again, unable to stop. When she’s done, the plate entirely empty, fingers greasy and dirty, she leans back, exhausted. The woman is still watching her quietly. Natasha clears her throat, uncomfortable. “Do you live here alone?”

The woman shrugs, not moving otherwise. “Less people to worry about.”

She feels that. “I’m Natasha.”

“Maria,” the woman replies. “Maria Kopecká.”

The door opens, cold rush of air, then closes quickly behind Bobbi who’s stamping her feet to get rid of the mud. “Phew. Gotta say, taking a dump outside in the dark is quite the adrenaline boost.”

The woman- Maria gets up and pours water from a bucket into a big bowl. “Here. To wash your hands.”

“Thanks.” Bobbi rolls her sleeves up, looking towards Natasha. “Hey. Feeling better?”

She must have grease around her mouth, probably, with how fast she was devouring the meat. Embarrassing. She wipes it with the back of her hand quickly, which is not exactly clean either. “Mhm. Yeah.”

Bobbi dips her hands in the water, then grabs the bar of soap. “I see you already got something to eat.”

Maria makes her way around to the back of the hut, opening a cupboard. “She’s quite hungry. I’ll open a can.”

Her stomach growls at the mention of more food. “She needs to eat a lot,” Bobbi remarks. drying her hands off. “I hope you’re stocked.”

Maria huffs, pulling a can opener from a drawer. “Always.”

Bobbi turns, crossing her arms. “So, how do you know Fury, if I may ask?”

The can opener cuts through the metal deftly. “Work,” Maria replies. “Before.”

“Oh, I see.” Bobbi’s eyes drift to the vampire fangs over the fireplace, placed prominently. “Do lots of vampires come by here?”

“Few,” Maria states, grabbing a pot and pouring the content of the can into it. “Last one I shot was two months ago.”

“Huh.” Bobbi walks over to the couch, making space for her to narrowly sit, reaching for Natasha’s wrist. “Let me take your pulse.”

It feels rather quick but she’ll let Bobbi decide. Maria hangs the pot over the fireplace. It smells of sour tomatoes. The fiery light accentuates the harsh lines of her face. Bobbi checks her watch. "Mhm. Better give you a dose. Have you tried getting up?"

Her fingers are really greasy. "No."

"How did you come to be with that vampire thing?" Maria asks, peering out through the window.

Well, that. "I'm going to inject another dose," Bobbi announces, letting go of her wrist and getting up.

Natasha clears her throat, tucking the greasy hands under the blanket. "Just… just how anyone else comes to be with child."

Maria turns around, seeming unconvinced. "Really."

It would be great if she could disappear into the couch never to be seen again. "Gimme your arm, darling," Bobbi asks, sitting down on the couch table.

"And what's that?" Maria asks, crossing her arms.

"Vampire blood," Bobbi replies, looking for a vein. "Not from that guy. It helps with cell regeneration, healing and strength and… I really don't know how it works, but it works."

"You're a weird bunch," Maria remarks, crouching down in front of the fireplace and stirring the pot.

Natasha gets the empty feeling in her arm as the vampire blood floods in. "Do we really have everything here? No offense, but Fury said it would have more… equipment."

Maria straightens, walking across the room and pulling open a floor hatch Natasha hadn't noticed. "Oh, don't worry, it's all downstairs."

"Electricity, too?" Bobbi asks.

"There's a generator outside," Maria explains, peering down. "I don't run it usually because it might attract vampires, but it should work."

"Let's hope it does," Bobbi says. "Not that I haven't worked under candlelight but it'd be better if I didn't have to."

"It'll work," Maria states.

Bobbi sighs. "Okay. So, Nat, I… we haven't talked about this yet but I would like to induce early."

Natasha is too tired for this. "What does that mean?"

"Induce birth," Bobbi adds. "Basically, you take a pill and then the contractions start. I'd check again that the baby is big enough but I think it already is."

"Why, though?" Natasha asks. "Why not wait?"

"Every day of pregnancy brings more risk," Bobbi replies. "And the birth will be easier if the baby is not that big yet, so less complications. And we might just not have the time, depending on whatever else happens."

"And you're sure that's not bad for the baby?" Natasha questions.

Bobbi snorts. "Trust me, that thing has the most solid vitals I've ever seen."

"I wouldn't worry about that thing ," Maria interjects, holding the hatch open. "So, do you want to go down or can I close it?"

"I'll check it out," Bobbi replies, standing. "Natasha, just stay here for now."

Maria holds the hatch open dutifully and hands her a candle. "You need my help down there?"

"Should be fine," Bobbi replies, carefully climbing down the creaking wood. "Is that- oh."

"The hatch opens from inside," Maria states and closes it promptly.

The food over the fireplace smells quite strongly, tomato and something like pasta. Maria crosses over and stirs it again. "So. You fucked a vampire."

When Natasha doesn't reply immediately, Maria adds: "Or did a vampire fuck you?"

Natasha sighs. Jesus Christ. Why is all of this so complicated? "No, no, I… I fucked a vampire."

"Huh." Maria pulls her sleeves over her hands and lifts the pot off the fire. "Why?"

"I liked him," Natasha replies, immediately worrying about the past tense that came out so naturally. Why does it matter to her so much? Maybe she's never going to see him again, and… she's already lost so much, and there's nothing he can do to really change her situation, and she's doing this for herself anyway, they're not going to be a family - but she hasn't worried about dying since she got to know him, knew he wouldn't let anything happen to her- at least until she turned out pregnant. Does she really love the monster because he's strong enough to protect her?

Maria is watching her attentively, not clear whether she said anything or not. Natasha rubs her eyes demonstratively. "Sorry. I'm very tired."

"You can sleep on the couch," Maria states. "I usually sleep on the bench. Or on the floor."

Natasha nods, closing her eyes and crawling further under the blanket until she's lying almost flat, pretending to be already out. Bobbi is doing something downstairs, though it's very hard to hear, and Maria starts eating out of the pot, by the sound of it. The wind is very loud once it's silent.

After some time, the hatch creaks open and Bobbi climbs up again. "Good equipment, I gotta say."

She walks right past Natasha, even stops to look. Maria is quiet. "I thought that was for her."

"She wanted to sleep."

"Oh well. Let's not let it go to waste, then."

Bobbi finally walks away and Natasha can breathe normally again. The floor creaks, and the bench creaks. Everything in this house is dead and alive at the same time.

"So, all this stuff… is that from when you worked with Fury? It's not exactly new."

"Yes."

"Huh. So you're a doctor?"

"No."

"There was someone else?"

"Not… everyone is still here."

"Oh, I see. Emigration or vampires?"

"Both."

"I actually immigrated pre-vampires. Because everyone else emigrated."

Maria laughs, barely distinguishable from the rattling wind. "Bad choice, if you ask me."

"Oh, well. It's certainly very folksy, with the antlers and all."

"Rusty beyond repair."

"You're quite pessimistic. I thought there was quite a spirit of… I mean, after the stagnation of the 70s and 80s, and with Havel… of course, that was before the vampires."

"I think you're the one with the rosy eyes."

"The rosy glasses, yeah! It's probably nostalgia on my part, really."

"Nostalgia is fair. We had barely gotten back to where we were… and now this, of course. Best to resign to it."

"You certainly seem to have adapted to it. In your own way."

Maria snorts. "I'm not going to run around trying to stop something that cannot be stopped, fix something that cannot be fixed. Get my hopes up and have them crushed."

"That's absolutely fine. I mean, you're still helping us."

"Ah, well. I owe someone a favor."

[aniray]

Where You Least Expect It... Part 2

Part 2 of 5

@maryams-things

~*~

Day 1

Lizzie sat in the moving truck watching men carry her life into the Shelby guest house. It wasn’t much- she’d barely had enough to fill the small truck. But the men acted as if she’d the crown jewels tucked away in those boxes. Or perhaps her clothes were couture instead of from the clearance racks. It was odd, and more than a bit uncomfortable, knowing her little things would be living inside such a nice place. Even if it was only for a few months. 

But it was easier to imagine her clothes and books and trinkets in the house than it was imagining herself in it. It seemed wrong somehow, like she was playing a trick. She’d always known her place in the world, always known she’d not be anyone important or do much that would matter. She’d wake each day, go to work, pay her bills, and then maybe one day she’d find a man to settle down with. Maybe one day she’d have a kid or two. It hadn’t been her dream- not really. But she’d figured it in, just in case. The future had always been murky on those types of details. But the one she was sure of was that she’d live, work, and then die. And the world wouldn’t miss her or know the difference. 

So yeah, it left Lizzie feeling a bit off to know she’d be living in such a fancy house. She glanced out the side window and tensed when she caught sight of Tommy Shelby walking towards the moving truck. Taking a quick breath, Lizzie waited as the man made his way to her window. He didn’t knock. He didn’t even turn his head to look at her. But she knew he was there to talk to her. And somehow she knew he’d stay there until she acknowledged him.

The window hadn’t stopped lowering before he turned to face her. “Nothing broken?” She shook her head. “Good. Have you been in?” She shook her head again. He gave a slow nod. “Right. You plan on going in?” Lizzie shot him a sharp look. It wasn’t like she had much of a choice- not after she’d just had all her things moved over. But Tommy ignored her glare. She’d a feeling it was something he did often- ignored things. “Come on, then. I’ll show you around.”

It wasn’t a question, so Lizzie didn’t respond. Instead she opened the door of the truck, ignoring the weight of Tommy’s gaze as she hopped down. It took another deep breath before Lizzie started walking, the idea of stepping inside that house making her skin prick with nerves. But Tommy wasn’t patient and Lizzie wasn’t one to hide when there was someone to see her do it. 

“Its…nice,” she started, taking in the place. Tommy let out a grunt beside her. She took it as agreement, but who really knew. But as she took in the house, she realized that aside from the size and the neat landscaping, it really was a nice house. It was one storey- she was sure they called it a bungalow. There were big windows and a nice porch with chairs and a table. Two small windows were set above the front door on either side. Blue-grey paint with white trim around the windows and door. And curtains in the windows. Lizzie’d didn’t much like curtains- reminded her of her mother. Still, it made the house seem light and welcoming, even if she wasn’t truly welcome. 

The inside was lovely. All warmth and light. It was the kind of place Lizzie might have dreamed of once- before things got so bad. It was dark wood floors with blue and cream colored furniture. The walls were paneled from the floor to about waist high, with pale blue paint going up the rest of the wall. And it was all so big and open. The kitchen was nice, though she wasn’t much good at cooking. And there was a dining area that she knew she’d never use- not when there was such a cozy little window seat facing a side garden. Everything was modern, but somehow felt liked she’d stepped back in time a bit. 

“So it’ll do, then?” Lizzie turned from where she’d been heading down the hall. Tommy stood just inside the house, hands in the pockets of his dress pants and he leaned against the wall. Lizzie nodded. “Only one bedroom, on the right. Bath’s on the left.” A quick peek around an open door showed the bedroom. Just as nice as the rest of the place. Still too nice for her. “Long way from Small Heath, eh?”

“Not much different. No money there, no money here, same problems everywhere.” There was a sound, but Lizzie wasn’t sure if it was a cough or a laugh. Didn’t really care. She turned and walked into the bathroom. Clean and tidy with a glass shower and nice towels. “But…I guess for you it’d be a nice change. Leaving and being better for it, I mean.” 

“There’s stairs at the back, up to the attic.” Lizzie jumped at how close Tommy’s voice was. Her eyes went to the mirror. Tommy stood in the doorway and their eyes met through the mirror. His face was just as expressionless as always, but his eyes seemed a bit cooler than they’d been. She hadn’t really thought that possible. “There’s a car in the garage out back. Use it whenever. Key’s in the drawer at the front.” 

Then he was gone. 

Lizzie stood for another second staring through the mirror at the now empty doorway. Then she blinked and started after him. He was just getting around to the truck when she got to the door. “Hey!” Tommy stopped. “Just- I mean-“ He turned around to face her properly and Lizzie almost wished he hadn’t. Even from where she stood she could see a bit of something that might have been…She wasn’t sure what it was- she just knew she didn’t like it. “Thanks. For showing me around.” There were a hundred other things she wanted to say, but none of them came out. She was glad of it. 

Tommy glanced at the house behind her, then set his blue eyes back on Lizzie. Eyes were the window to the soul, they said. But his eyes were so empty, like nothing was inside. There was, though- something inside of him. And whatever it was, made Lizzie curious. He blinked, head tilting forward in a slight nod. And for a moment she thought she caught something- something light or curious or… 

He turned and was gone. 

~*~

Tommy came back two days later. 

He had two big plates wrapped up with two smaller plates stacked on top. Lizzie barely had a chance to open her mouth before he’d pushed into the house and headed for the dining table- the one she hadn’t used yet. “Come. Sit.” For some reason Lizzie found herself doing both. She watched as Tommy took his seat, unwrapped the plates and set one of each in front of her. “Why’d you leave Small Heath?”

Lizzie tensed. She hadn’t known what to expect from this surprise visit, but it hadn’t been that. She didn’t like it. But he stayed silent while those cold blue eyes bored into her from across the table. Lizzie looked at the plate in front of her. There were no forks. She got up from her chair and moved into the kitchen, dug around in the drawer for to forks and two knives, grabbed a few napkins as well. Carefully, she folded the cutlery into the napkins- like when she’d been a waitress. She set one set down beside Tommy, careful not to stand too close. Then moved back around the table to her seat. 

“Lizzie.”

Her eyes went to his again. Same blue. Same coldness. Only now there was that hint of annoyance that told her his patience was running thin. She wasn’t surprised- he didn’t seem to have much to begin with. “Parents were dead. Boyfriend started leaving bruises where people could see. No one was hiring.” She shrugged. “Figured it was time to move on.” 

His face didn’t change. To read his expression you wouldn’t know she’d told him anything at all. Especially not anything that meant something. But it might have been him ignoring things he didn’t like again. Glossing over it like it never was. “Ever think of going back?” No. The answer seemed obvious to her. Why would she go back when there was nothing and no one to go back to?

“Why’d you leave?” She didn’t expect an answer. Tommy Shelby didn’t seem like the kind of man to answer questions. Especially not questions about himself. But if he could ask, then so could she. “I looked you up. Says you’ve got brothers and a sister back in Birmingham. Says there’s an aunt and an uncle, too.” She watched a line of tension tighten his shoulders and the corners of his mouth. His eyes got colder.

“Eat your food, Lizzie.”

She didn’t. Neither did he. And not another word passed between them. She was still sat at the table- four plates untouched- when he stood and left. The door closing let her heart finally settle. The sound of the clock ticking helped clear her head. But it was still a long while before she could move. Then it came to her- that feeling she got when things were about to change. And somehow she knew this was the first of many nights with Tommy Shelby. 

~*~

Day 36

Tommy held his hands clasped loosely in front of him. He didn’t look to the clock- knew what time it was. He was late. The meeting had been an emergency. So he’d sat and listened and waited. But his phone had vibrated twice now. He knew Grace was waiting for him- knew that the surrogate was probably already at the doctor’s. But here he was, ignoring his wife’s calls to listen to his men tell him shit he didn’t really care about. Things they should have been able to handle without him. 

“…alright, Mr. Shelby?”

He nodded. didn’t know what the fuck he’d agreed to, but if it meant he got out of  the office and to the doctor before the appointment ended, he’d worry about it later. “Get it in writing and have it on my desk by tomorrow,” he said while he stood up, straightening his suit jacket as he did. Morris nodded while the rest also stood up, preparing to leave. Dismissing them all from his mind Tommy turned and left.

Stepping out of the conference room and into his office, Tommy pulled out his phone. Four texts and two calls- all from Grace. He read the last text but didn’t bother reading the others or listening to the voicemails. Picking up his keys and wallet, he walked out barely stopping to let his secretary know he’d be out the rest of the day. Then he was outside and getting into his car. 

His phone rang as he pulled onto the street. He didn’t bother to check the Caller I.D. It’d be Grace’s name in the screen, he knew. “I know. Got stuck in a meeting. But I’m on my way now.” It was always best to get the first word in when his wife was upset. She didn’t get angry with him often, but things had been different since Lizzie had come- since he’d started having dinner with her a few times a week. 

There was a moment of silence that lasted a bit too long. Then, “Mr. Shel- Tommy?” His eyes went to the screen on his dashboard. Lizzie Stark was the name on display where Grace should have been. “Um, yeah. It’s over. Things are going fine, doctor said. Mrs. Shelby- well, she drove me. But she’s gone now and I-“

“Grace left you at the doctor?”

There was a long beat of silence. That was answer enough. Lizzie may not like Grace, but Tommy had never heard a bad word towards his wife come from the woman’s mouth. “Just thought maybe I’d stay at my apartment tonight. Give everybody a little space from each other.” She lived in the guest house. There was plenty of space between where Lizzie stayed and Grace. But Tommy kept quiet. “Thought I’d just…tell someone,” she finished, hint of what sounded like annoyance in her voice. He didn’t’ ask.

“Yeah, alright.” He saw her before she saw him. She was sat across from the doctor’s office, at the bus stop. “Not letting you take the bus, though.” He pulled to a stop as she looked around in surprised confusion. It made her look younger, softer than she usually did. Then a barely there smile pulled at the corners of her mouth and he imagined a little girl with his eyes and that smile. He coughed a little, ended the call and leaned over to open her door for her. 

He’d never thought of what features she might give to his child. He knew, of course he knew, that the kid wouldn’t look like Grace. It hadn’t been a conscious thing, though- the knowing. But now, in that split second, he realized. His kid would have features that looked like Lizzie. It left an odd feeling in his gut. Like he’d cheated on Grace somehow by having a baby with this woman’s genes. But also a bit of something else, something he couldn’t put a name to. 

The door closed and Lizzie pulled on her seatbelt. It was the distraction he needed to make the thoughts in his head go quiet. He pulled out into traffic and headed towards Lizzie’s apartment. He knew where it was- had driven by once. Before they’d met at the clinic- before things were what they were now. Knew what the inside looked like, though he’d never set foot inside. Places like that all looked the same. Windows painted shut; too hot in summer, too cold in winter. Broken sinks, faulty wiring, and rent too high. It was why he’d fought so hard to get out- clawed his way to the top with bloody hands and blackened soul.

“Thanks for this. I just… Thanks.” 

He didn’t look at her. Somehow knew she wouldn’t like it. He was learning her, Lizzie. He had picked up on the way she’d cut herself off when she was nervous. Noticed how she kept her head up when the staff gave her sideways looks. Watched her meet Grace’s eyes with some strange mix of deference and defiance. He didn’t like that look. Didn’t like that he usually agreed with Lizzie more than Grace when that look came out. 

The rest of the drive was quiet. Grace didn’t call or text. Lizzie kept her face turned out her window. And Tommy let himself think about work- deals and strategy. Anything to keep his mind off of the mess that his personal life seemed to be becoming. So it was only Lizzie’s quiet voice reminding him to turn that kept him from driving on past her apartment. He parked the car and watched as Lizzie stared out at the dirty brick building. “I’ll walk you up.”

“No. My landlord’s watching. Don’t want him to see you.” Tommy turned and caught sight of the rough looking man standing by a side door. He didn’t like the look of him. Didn’t like the way he stared at Lizzie as she got out of the car. She took a step away from the car before turning back. “Thanks again,” she said. He nodded slowly, eyes going back to the landlord. 

Lizzie walked into her building ignoring something the man said. Then the landlord was walking over to Tommy’s car. He rolled his window down as the man stopped beside the car. “Always knew she’d give it up for the right price.” Tommy kept his face blank. “Trust me, she’s easy on the eyes, cunt tastes like sugar-” Tommy’s eyes narrowed as a burst of anger flared in his chest. “-but she’s got razor blades hidden behind that sweet exterior.”

Reaching over to his phone Tommy dialed a number, putting it on speaker. “I want two men to Lizzie Stark’s address. No one goes near her. If anybody tries… You know how to deal with it.” He disconnected the call and turned back to the landlord. The man was glaring at Tommy, but there was a hint of fear behind his eyes. “Ms. Stark is not your concern. If you forget that, I will make you my concern.”

“And who the fuck are you, anyway?”

 Tommy didn’t answer. There was no point. The man would know his name soon enough. Then he’d wish he didn’t. He pulled out of the drive. He saw the landlord standing in the same place, face red with anger and eyes wide with fear. He caught a glimpse of Lizzie through her curtains. For a moment he wondered if he should stay a while longer- until his men came. For a moment he wondered what she was thinking. Then he reminded himself that whatever was between Lizzie and her landlord had nothing to do with him. 

It didn’t quite set right, but he kept driving.

~*~

The lights weren’t on at the guest house when he got home from work the next day. 

Pulling up in front of his house, Tommy watched as Grace stepped out to greet him. She always did. Even on nights like this, when her phone was pressed to her ear as she kissed his cheek. It didn’t matter what was happening- Grace was always there. It made him feel soft, almost weak, the way he lived for that bit of normalcy. But tonight it felt different- like something was missing. Nothing was, nothing had changed between him and Grace in the time between yesterday and that moment. But something was still off. 

Stepping into the house, Tommy shrugged out of his suit jacket and loosened his tie. He still wasn’t used to the clothes- even after having worn them for years. Sometimes it felt like he should still be in jeans and work boots, the sound of a forklift ringing in his ears. Sometimes he could smell the horse shit at his Uncle Charlie’s place. But those memories brought with them visions of his mother’s sad eyes and bruised skin, his father’s fist and loud voice. 

He wrapped his arm around Grace, moved them into his study, and held her to him. She didn’t fight him, didn’t question it. She knew where his head was at when he got like this. She tipped her head back to rest on his shoulder and he buried his face in the crook of her neck. He leaned them against his desk and still she kept talking to whoever was on the phone. But Tommy didn’t care- business was business. As long as he could still hold on to her, he didn’t care who she talked to. 

“Yes, that’s fine. Mhm, sounds good. Thank you. Goodnight.” She ended the call and turned to face Tommy. “Now. What happened?” He shook his head, fighting back a smile at the way she arched a brow at him. Her lips parted, no doubt to try and coax words out of him. But he kissed her before she could say anything. This was what he’d needed- this closeness that they had. It helped quiet the noise in his head. Only Grace had ever been able to do that. 

He pulled back, lifting his hand to cup her cheek. She was so much better than him, but he’d gotten her- stolen her from the proper men she was truly meant for. Whisked her away from the safety of her family and their money. Pulled her into his world and gotten her hands a bit dirty. But her soul- it was still pure and bright. He hadn’t tainted her yet. Sometimes he wanted to- just to make sure she was as bound to him as he was to her. It was that ‘devilment’ Pol said came from his father. He might use that in business- scheme and cheat and twist things to his will. But not with Grace. Tommy wouldn’t let any part of his father touch her- it was too dangerous. 

“Come back. I miss you.”

He smiled. Turned and sat in his chair, pulling Grace onto his lap. She settled in, fingers sliding through his hair. He drew circles on her thigh with his thumb. This was what he needed, what he looked forward to most after coming home. Only tonight there was still something inside him that wouldn’t settle. Some bit of his mind that still whispered to him. His eyes went to the window. The guest house was just barely visible. Still dark. The whisper came a bit louder, a bit clearer. Then a light came on and he caught a glimpse of Lizzie as she passed a window. His mind went quiet. He held Grace a bit tighter.

He kept his eyes on that one bright window.

~*~

Day 64

The door seemed to be mocking her. Grace had been standing outside of the guest house for almost a full three minutes, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to knock. It felt wrong somehow- knocking when she owned the door and the house and the land it sat on. It seemed wrong when the woman inside was carrying the baby that Grace would be raising, loving, cherishing.  She knew it was illogical- truly ridiculous, even. But she couldn’t help how she felt. She’d tried.

But as she stared at the door, she knew she couldn’t put this off any longer. Things were getting worse and the pregnancy had only just barely started. And if she were honest, which she did try to be, Lizzie Stark hadn’t done anything wrong. Not on the first day or any of the days since. And Grace…Well she was mature enough to admit that she’d been cold and rude when the poor girl didn’t deserve it. But even with that mature knowledge and the desperate desire to fix what she had broken, Grace still couldn’t make herself knock. 

Tommy was beyond annoyed with her over how she treated Ms. Stark. And things had only gotten more difficult between them after Grace had left her at the doctor a month ago. It hadn’t been out of spite- Grace truly had forgotten she’d brought the girl to the appointment. But Tommy… She couldn’t quite blame him for not trusting her word where Ms. Stark was involved. But his coolness towards Grace only made it that much harder to accept the woman- made it that much harder to push down her own insecurities and fears. And really, did he have to defend her at every single turn? You’d think he was married to her and not me.

It was a petty thought, but one she’d found circling her mind far too often, recently. 

Suddenly the door swung open and Grace jerked back in surprise. The woman that brought out so many feelings in Grace stood with a blank expression on her face. Her green eyes gave none of her thoughts away, and it had a strange tension flowing into Grace’s body. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Shelby. Did you need something?” 

Her tone was polite, but still Grace felt a twinge of annoyance at Ms. Stark’s words. “I was hoping to catch you. I thought we should talk.” The dark-haired woman hesitated for the smallest moment, but it released some of the tension Grace had been feeling. Lizzie stepped aside. Grace stepped in. It was the same as it had always been once she entered the house. The décor was exactly how she had chosen it- though there were a few things that must have belonged to Ms. Stark. But overall, it left Grace with a feeling a security, knowing that even here she still held the power. 

“I was going to make tea.”

Grace turned slightly to meet Lizzie’s eyes again. It wasn’t an offer- Lizzie didn’t want Grace to have tea with her. But still Grace let a small, cool smile play on her lips. “Yes, that would be lovely.”  She didn’t miss the way Lizzie’s fingers tightened as she turned toward the kitchen. Taking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly, Grace reminded herself of why she was doing this- why it all mattered. My baby. The little child that Thomas and I will raise together. It was the only thing that mattered.

Settling into the loveseat, Grace watched as Lizzie moved in the kitchen. She seemed comfortable, like she’d always been there. She’ll be gone soon. The thought brought little comfort. For all that Grace wished Lizzie Stark were a million miles away from here, she still wasn’t happy about the woman moving back to her own apartment for the last bit of the pregnancy. But she pushed those thoughts aside as Lizzie carried in two cups of tea.

Grace expected Lizzie to take the seat across from her- face her opponent head on. But instead, Lizzie chose the arm chair to Grace’s right. They both sipped their tea. Lizzie stared at the table, Grace stared at Lizzie. They both waited. She wanted Lizzie to speak first. She wanted to hold on to the position of power. But her tea was half gone and neither of them had said anything. Besides, she hadn’t come to make things harder. She had come to try and smooth things over. So Grace took a quick breath and set down her cup. 

“Thank you.” Grace paused. The words she had been ready to say dying on her tongue at Lizzie’s words. “I know that the clinic did most of the work matching us up, but… Well, you could have picked someone else. They didn’t have another couple lined up for me, so I would have been in trouble. But you picked me. And even though I didn’t agree at first, I’m glad you’re letting me stay here. So… Thank you.”

Grace watched the woman beside her. Lizzie’s eyes were clear. She hadn’t seemed manipulative or dishonest. As far as Grace could tell the woman meant what she had just said. And hearing it eased some of the fear that Grace had been carrying around. Fear that Lizzie was just waiting to sabotage Grace’s plans. And for the first time she looked at Lizzie- really looked at her. She wasn’t a threat- she was just a girl doing a job. 

A job you couldn’t do. The one job you should be able to do.

She shoved those thoughts away- like she always did. There was nothing she could do about her body. She’d tried. And it wasn’t Lizzie Stark’s fault. “You’re welcome.” The words didn’t come easily, but they were sincere for once. “This whole thing is nothing like I’d planned. And I reacted poorly. But I’d like for things to be better between us going forward.” Lizzie didn’t try to hide her skepticism and Grace didn’t blame her. Lizzie had no reason to trust her. But the tentative nod Lizzie gave loosened some of the tightness that had built underneath Grace’s ribs. “Good. I’m glad we could-“

A knock came at the door startled both women. Lizzie recovered faster though. Her eyes slid to Grace for a moment before she stood and went to the door. It shouldn’t have been a surprise to see her husband on the other side. Grace knew he met with Lizzie for dinner some nights. She knew he had been trying to make her feel comfortable, since Grace had…not. But still, hurt flared in her chest at the easy way Thomas entered the house- greeting Lizzie with a casual ‘Evening, Liz’. He’d never called Lizzie anything but ‘Ms. Stark’ when he and Grace spoke of her. She hadn’t thought the two were close enough for nicknames.

Thomas stopped when he saw Grace sitting in the living room. His face went blank for a moment and she watched s his eyes darted towards Lizzie. The hurt dug deeper. “Hello Grace. Didn’t think you’d be here.” She gave a slow nod, tried to keep her expression pleasantly neutral. Thomas started towards the kitchen again. “Didn’t bring you a plate, but you can have mine if you want.” 

Grace looked to Lizzie, who was still standing by the, now closed, front door. “No, darling, I think I’ll have dinner at home. Ms. Stark and I were finished chatting, anyway.” It wasn’t true. Everyone knew it wasn’t true. But her husband didn’t contradict her and Grace knew Lizzie wouldn’t. She watched as Thomas pulled out silverware and set it at the table. She wondered exactly how often he had dinner here. She wondered if he ate when he was here… with Liz. He rarely ate dinner when he was at home. She wondered what else he did here that he didn’t at home.

And just like that, the feeling of hope- the feeling of possibility she had felt moments ago, evaporated. Standing, Grace walked over to her husband. His eyes came to rest on her, but she let hers go to Lizzie. She pressed her lips to Thomas’. Her left hand slid up from his waist to his chest. Her right hand came to rest on his cheek. And her eyes stayed on Ms. Stark. 

Lizzie looked away.

Grace pulled back. She strode away from her husband without a second glance. She moved past Lizzie as if she were a piece of furniture.  Then she was out the door, walking across the perfectly manicured lawn towards her house. Her steps were even. Her shoulders relaxed. But her heart pounded in her chest. Tears stung her eyes. And all she could hear was his voice, her husband’s voice, calling that woman ‘Liz’.

[goldeneyedgirl]

Fic-Mas Day 2: In Another Life

Oh my gosh! Thank you so much for the lovely response :D I’ve got bad allergies tonight and I’m babysitting a puppy post-surgery, so no long message, just onwards with Day 2.

Day 2. In Another Life

(This was/is a part of an anthology fic called ‘The Only Girl in the World’, and was basically just a lot of different ways Jasper and Alice could have met, and how fate helped or hindered them. I also want to make it completely clear that Alice is a human child in this fic, and there are no romantic or sexual undertones, implications, or subtext.)

The new neighbours have finally arrived.

The Brandons live outside of town, and it has been forever since the Hawkins’ left. Not that anyone was surprised - there are enough ghost stories and rumours to keep that house empty forever.

There’s a line of pine trees that seperate the Brandon house from the old Hawkins’ place. Other than the orchard, the rest of the land belongs to the new neighbours now.

“Where are you going, Mary?” her mother is in the kitchen, consulting a cook-book. Caroline Brandon is the consummate housewife - consistent, resourceful, and bored out of her mind raising two daughters outside of a small town. Neither Caroline nor Michael Brandon have told the girls that they’ll be getting a brother very, very soon - even though nine-year-old Mary and seven-year-old Cynthia have already taken note of their mother’s bulging stomach.

“To see the neighbours!” the cry summons little Cynthia, and both girls start their charge towards the Hawkins’ place. They are almost mirror images of each other - sturdy Cynthia, and bird-boned Mary; Cynthia’s blonde curls fall effortlessly to her waist, and Mary’s stick-straight black hair hangs around her shoulders. Cynthia wears a pink-striped dress and matching shoes; Mary wears ancient fairy-wings over a rainbow leotard and a long skirt, her feet bare.

Through their mother’s flower garden, and around the vegetable patch; over the low stone fence and through the orchard to no man’s land. They climb up the old viewing platform - their father says that it used to belong to hunters, and they need to stay off the rotten old thing, but they have no other play structure, and the temptation is just too much.

“Are they there? Are there kids?” Cynthia asks, bouncing.

“They’re there. I think they’re all grown ups,” Mary squints through the plastic binoculars they have stashed up there, in an ancient lunchbox. “Come one!” They are both nimble little girls, and have climbed up and down the platform hundreds of times; each foot hits the bolts they use as steps with certainty and speed, and then they are off, through the long grass, to see the mysterious new neighbours.

Crossing over the border, it is like another world. Everyone knows the story of the Hawkins’ mansion: a man built it for his wife, and their children kept dying. They said the youngest child, Arabella Hawkins, was mad and roamed the house at night. All Mary knew was that Mrs Hawkins had been taken away in an ambulance, and that Mr Hawkins was found asleep in his car one morning, and the police had to be called.

But the house was exquisite, under years of neglect. The fountain and gardens, ready to be loved again. The Victorian mansion of at least three floors. Mary Alice couldn’t imagine how nice it was inside.

She could see the new people unloading the truck, and hurried across the gravel to see them closely.

“Hi,” she blurted out, standing barefoot on the gravel, at the adults suddenly staring at her. “I’m Mary, we live next door. She turned around to see Cynthia lingering shyly behind her. “That’s my sister Cynthia.”

They are staring at her, as if she is quite strange. There is a lady there, wearing a pretty sweater, who smiles so nicely at her.

“Hello Mary, hello Cynthia,” she says. “I’m Esme Hale. This is my family.”

Mrs Hale is sweet, and asks them a lot of questions as the rest of the family unpacks; Cynthia takes a shine to the lady, and jabbers away about the new baby, about Halloween and Thanksgiving, and that they want a puppy for Christmas.

Mrs Hale appears equally as enchanted by Cynthia - that’s not strange, most adults love her little blonde sister. She watches boxes and covered furniture been carried into the house, and the gravel bites harder into her cold, bare feet. It’s just an ordinary moment, ultimately forgettable. Except it isn’t. And she’s still too little to understand the intricacies of everything that has happened, has been seen and said and felt.

They leave soon after, with Mrs Hale promising them cookies next time they come over; Cynthia is delighted, but she has a terrible sweet tooth. With a wave and a smile, both girls dart back towards the tree line. Mary doesn’t know why she looks back, but she does, and see a man and woman staring at her from the garage, and frowns.

That night, she dreams of the blond man coming to their house - its nighttime, and Thanksgiving, because she’s wearing a stupid dress with fall leaves and turkeys on it. She knows the new baby is there, and everyone is in the dining room laughing and talking. He smiles down at her, and whispers something to her.

And she takes his hand. Then she’s in a car; her backpack is at her feet, and her plush rabbit is in her lap. She’s wearing her best winter coat, and she’s not at all afraid. She’s warm and sleepy. When they stop, he buys her waffles and hot chocolate, and he looks at her so sadly. She’s happy though. Well, until he takes her to a public bathroom and cuts her hair off. But it’s only hair, and she doesn’t blame him.

They find his family at another house; this house is wooden, like a ski lodge, and he seems surprised to see them there. They yell a lot, and she hides in a bedroom upstairs.

That’s when Mrs Hale comes to her side, and shows her the news. She sees her mother screaming and crying, she sees a lot of police. Her photograph on the news. Her ugly Thanksgiving dress fished out of a dumpster at the gas station.

The Hales talk about returning her, and how she’ll keep their secret. Mrs Hale puts her to bed, and kisses her cheek and promises her it will all be okay.

She doesn’t even stir when he lifts her from her bed and leaves with her again. She wakes up again, and they are in a truck, driving fast. He just keeps saying he’s sorry.

She doesn’t care. She likes him. He is so peaceful and safe to her eyes. And during their travels, he is kind. He buys her food and makes sure she is warm and clean. Few people give them a second look, but the few that do, she dismisses. “My name isn’t Mary. It’s Alice, and he’s my brother.” He buys her fake purple glasses, a sketchbook, and a new coat for Christmas. They sit on the front of the car, and she eats pizza out of a box and look out at the festive lights on Christmas Eve. He takes her to a church, and she says a prayer, and then they leave again.

He is taking her to Alaska, he tells her. She’ll be safe there. She doesn’t know what he’s protecting her from, but she trusts him. She doesn’t tell him she feels sick, that she’s hot and cold all the time, and it doesn’t matter. She shouldn’t be sick, she knows that. Some part of her knows this is how everything is going to be fixed; that someone has made a terrible mistake (not him), and this is how they try to put it right.

She dies in his arms on the side of the road on New Year’s Eve. Her mouth tastes like blood and everything is floating. It hurts to breathe. His red eyes stare down, desperately at hers, and she wants to reassure her that she understands everything. Not in a way that can be put into words, but she does. That she is nearly ten years old, but she feels much older and would never ever have told anyone. That this life is all wrong, and that’s why she has to go to heaven.

His family won’t be mad for long, they’ll welcome him back. They’ll never, ever ask him about what happened to her - even when they find out he has kept her stuffed rabbit.

She wants to tell him all of this, but she can’t, so she closes her eyes and snuggles closer to him, and fades away from the world.

When she wakes up the next morning, she knows her fate. She knows which clothes to pack into her backpack and to tie a ribbon from her bunny to her bag, so that when he climbs in her window, he won’t forget Bunny. She leaves her back right next to the window.

Binoculars. She needs her binoculars.

Her rubber boots pinch a little, and if her mother finds out that she’s running around in her pyjamas, she’ll catch it. But she treks across the snow to the old hunting structure, and climbs up.

It’s just happenstance, bad luck, and maybe a reprieve for a haunted man. The crack sounds like the branch from a tree going, and suddenly she can’t catch her balance and then there is falling and pain and stillness as the rotting wood finally gives out. The only metal pole that was holding the wood in place pierces her chest and makes her feel hot and cold at the same time. One of her boots has come off or torn or something. She’s all ice and wet from the snow. She can’t breathe or cry or scream or talk.

It will be hours before she is found, nestled in the wreckage, with a starburst of blood around her. There will be yelling and screaming, and emergency services everywhere, and her photograph will end up in the newspaper. There will be some speculation whether she died from her injuries, or froze to death. But it doesn’t matter - accidental death is accidental death, however you frame it. Her mother will never understand the clothing in the backpack, or the ribbon tied to her favourite toy. Her father will throw away her fairy wings and broken binoculars. And Jasper Hale will never kidnap the little girl that made him feel hope, and run away without a plan.

She lies in the snow, and she is frustrated and sad. This wasn’t supposed to happen. She wasn’t supposed to be a little girl when she met him; he wasn’t supposed to be so desperate.

She wasn’t supposed to die alone.

But she does anyway.

[dipulb3]

As spring thaws the Minnesota ice, a new pipeline battle fires up

New Post has been published on https://appradab.com/as-spring-thaws-the-minnesota-ice-a-new-pipeline-battle-fires-up/

As spring thaws the Minnesota ice, a new pipeline battle fires up

Originally built in the 1960s, the Enbridge Line 3 crude oil pipeline snakes 1,097 miles from the tar sands of Canada to Superior, Wisconsin. Of the roughly 340 miles through Minnesota, the replacement pipeline includes new sections and added capacity and is cutting through some of the most pristine woods and wetlands in North America. In little camps along the way, a small-but-growing group of protesters is out to stop them, driven by ancient prophesy and the promises of a new President.

In Ojibwe tribal lore, an environmental moment of reckoning was predicted in the time of the Seventh Fire, when “the light skinned race will be given a choice between two roads,” one green and lush, the other black and charred. A wrong choice, it was warned, would “cause much suffering and death to all the Earth’s people.” The Ojibwe are of the largest groups of Native Americans north of Mexico with tribal members stretching from present-day Ontario in eastern Canada all the way into Montana.

As a half-dozen female tribal elders sing and pray alongside the frozen Mississippi, it’s obvious that for some bands, the fight is sacred and eternal. The question is how many will join them in the face of tougher legal challenges, increased pressure from police and the limits of the pandemic.

“There have been over 130 people arrested so far in just the last few months,” tribal attorney and activist Tara Houska told Appradab. Some are physically arrested at construction sites, but police also watch social media feeds to identify trespassing protesters and send summons in the mail. Before we walked the frozen river, Houska attended her hearing with a judge over Zoom and was ordered to post $6,000 bail.

“They seem to think that it’s going to deter us from protecting the land. They are fundamentally missing the point of what water protectors are doing, which is willing to put ourselves our freedom, our bodies, our personal comfort on the line for something greater than ourselves,” Houska said.

After living in Washington and fighting Dakota Access and Keystone XL, she is now hoping this movement helps convince the Biden administration that the Army Corps of Engineers and Environmental Protection Agency during the Trump administration were shoddy in their environmental impact studies and too hasty in issuing permits.

But Canadian pipeline giant Enbridge insists that it passed every federal, state and tribal test. The company has been rushing to complete the pipeline before politics or the courts can stop it. Of those 340 miles cutting through The Land of 10,000 Lakes, more than 40% is already in the ground.

“Line 3 is not like the Keystone XL pipeline,” Enbridge Chief Communications Officer Mike Fernandez told Appradab. “It already exists. And it already is an energy lifeline for literally millions of people in the US and in Canada. And the reality is, even as we see great growth in renewables, we’re still going to need some fossil fuels 40 years to come.”

But since Biden has built the first White House with a climate agenda at every agency, the biggest argument against the pipeline may be over the kind of energy running through Line 3. Unlike liquid Texas crude hidden in pockets of rock, Alberta’s oil is part of the Canadian soil under the boreal forest. It can’t be pumped unless it is steamed. As a result, it is the dirtiest and most destructive fossil fuel after coal.

A trip to the tar sands boggles the mind with its scale. Massive, man-made pits crawl with massive dump trucks, filled with what feels like sticky cookie dough and smells like asphalt.

Tens of thousands of tons are moved into massive processing plants each day where the goop is boiled and blasted with Athabasca River water heated with natural gas. To separate the flammable bitumen from the dirt and clay, it takes six gallons of fresh water to produce one gallon of tar sands gasoline and the lakes needed to hold the resulting toxic waste are among the biggest man-made creations in history.

The sheer amount of energy required to turn sticky earth into liquid fuel not only makes Alberta tar sand more expensive, it produces 15% more planet-cooking carbon pollution, according to the Union of Concerned Scientists.

But to the workers building Line 3, pipelines are safer and cleaner than moving oil by truck or train. And if you stop Line 3, they argue, it does nothing to stop the world’s voracious demand for the kind of fuels that burn.

“I think, frankly, people have been drawn to pipelines because it’s easy to fight pipelines,” said Kevin Pranis with the Laborers International Union of North America as cranes lifted 25,000-pound pipes as long as city buses.

“The truth is that the carbon emissions aren’t coming from pipelines. They’re coming from cars. And so if you really wanted to go directly to the source, you can protest car dealerships, you can protest gas stations. But the problem is, people like car dealerships and they like gas stations and they would be pretty angry about that.”

While most of the 5,200 people building Line 3 are from oil states like Texas and Louisiana, “some 400 will be Native Americans,” Fernandez told me. “We met with all of the First Nations along that pipeline. We listened, and as a consequence there are 320 or so route modifications.”

Enbridge’s tribal relations suffered in February, when two men working on Line 3 were caught in a human trafficking sting set up to protect underage Indigenous girls.

“The two individuals that that were arrested have been fired.” Fernandez said. “We don’t tolerate that kind of activity or behavior and it’s prompted us to go to one of the contractors to say ‘This is our expectation, that they be trained to a certain level.'”

Follow the pipeline route, and feelings can change by the tribe or the mile.

“You think that people that are scrambling at home, running out of gas with no heat, are thinking about climate change?” said Jim Jones. “They’re thinking about how they’re going to heat their home and put food on the table.”

As a member of the Leech Lake Band of the Ojibwe and a former expert in cultural anthropology for the state, Enbridge hired Jones to walk the pipeline route and ensure no violation of Indigenous spaces or ruins.

“I’m at peace that I’ve done the best I can to protect what’s important to us,” he said. “And I can honestly tell you, as of today, nothing of historic context has been unearthed or disturbed.”

After the Fond du Lac Band of Lake Superior Chippewa struck a deal with Enbridge to run a part of Line 3 through their reservation, tribal leaders said they were put in an impossible position. Some tribes worked with Enbridge on the route, while others like Winona LaDuke of the White Earth Band of Ojibwe have nothing but scorn for Enbridge.

LaDuke laughed when told of Jones’s promise. “He’s looking for pot charts and arrowheads. We’re live people.”

LaDuke is a longtime environmental activist who twice ran for vice president on Ralph Nader’s Green Party ticket, but after fighting for Indigenous rights against extractive energy companies for years, she never imagined the fight would come to her.

“Enbridge wants to criminalize us,” she said. “I’m a grandmother, you know, graduated from Harvard, ran twice for vice president, at what point did I become a criminal? I’m just asking, ‘How much risk should we as Americans take so a Canadian multinational can get a little richer at the end of the tar sands era?'”

She helped convince a sympathetic local to sell them a little piece of land where the pipeline intersects the Mississippi and as the weather warms, the protesters hope their number of tents, yurts and fly-fishing shanties will grow faster than Enbridge can drill under the frozen Mississippi.

“Our people say ‘Don’t pick a fight with Mother Nature. You can’t win, and we’re getting we’re getting pounded. So why would you pipe the equivalent of 50 new coal fired power plants with this?” LaDuke said, pointing at Line 3.

“The tar sands is the gun. This is the trigger.”

[emmetohboy]

Favorites: The 2020 Conundrum

Illustration credit: Orkenoy

I’ve heard it from numerous colleagues, friends and family members. The sentiment along the lines of "...can't end soon enough." or " Worst year ever." I don't disagree. Along with virtually everyone I know, this year has meant personal loss, crippling angst and the missing of loved ones. But do I wish 2020 had not happened? Along with the uncertainty and hardship, would I wish away everything else that the years has brought? I don't know.

I'm not one to pontificate what the pandemic has taught us or accelerated or revealed. But I am interested in drawing it as a frame around the creative work that was generated in the context of it. At the close of 2016 I hoped that the lemon of the new political environment might bare the lemonade of generational creative output. That may or may not have been the case. We’ll have to wait longer to assess that from a more objective distance. But the last 10 months have been a concentrated, intensely focused, if not simply harrowing time. Has the pressure been so intense, in such a short period, that we graduated from lemonade to forging cultural carbon into diamonds at an unprecedented speed? Are these gems be so luminous, that they will one day be viewed as heirlooms? Was the pain of 2020 worth its blessings?

Listen

Released right at the onset of quarantine was my absolute favorite record of 2020. Waxahatchie's St.Cloud is a stunner first track to last. Some hook you instantly ("Can't Do Much"), and others slowly worm their way into your soul ("Witches"). Several year-end best lists included the latest from Lucinda Williams, Katie Crutchfield's musical hero. I disagree with its inclusion, finding the tracks a little flimsy and familiar.  Katie's St. Cloud, however, is as close to prime Lucinda as anyone has gotten in quite some time.

Termed "Hip-Hop's first pandemic masterpiece by Exclaim magazine, Oddisee's Odd Cure brought a lot of joy this year. A tidy mix of R&B tinged hip-hop intertwined with calls to friends and family, the record has broad appeal and a narrative that only 2020 could supply.

The Remote Tiny Desk concert Oddisee performed with his band, mostly present, is fantastic.

Every year I can count on being introduced to one or two new artist via the New Music Mix that Apple Music serves me every Friday. This year I was pulled in to the track "Safe in Sound" by Orlando Weeks. I dropped it into a growing playlist that I have for background music while working. Each time it came up on shuffle it begged to be replayed. Eventually I tapped the entire record and googled Mr. Weeks. He is not a new artist to me at all. The former frontman for the U.K. band the Maccabees had ventured into a solo career. And it is so strikingly different from the Maccabees record I love, 2007's Colour it In, that it is no surprise I didn't recognize him. Weeks’ A Quickening is transformative and almost spiritual at times. He contemplates fatherhood ("Milk Breath") and community ("St. Thomas") and an aging seafarer’s relation to the elements that surround him ("Moon Opera"), in such ways that the record works in prioritizing what is important during difficult, if not odd times. 

I came late to Natalie LaFourcade and I’m a little angry at ignorantly depriving myself of this joyful talent for so long. She is a prolific dynamo. 2020 brought Un Canto por Mexico Vol.1. And so as the tile suggest, there will be another volume on its heels. Natalia had similarly released the wonderful Musas as two volumes spread over 2017-18. These three records along with 2015's Hasta la Raiz have supplanted the Trio Los Panchos records I played for cooking  accompaniment.

One of the most creative and infectious records I heard all year was Buscabulla's Regresa. The husband and wife outfit returned from New York to their native Puerto Rico following the tragedy of hurricane Maria. The environment made for joyful and melancholic results musically.

Buscabulla’s remote performance for NPRs Tiny Desk, from the back of their car at the beach in Aguadilla, Puerto Rico makes me smile the entire 13 minutes. Here’s to the resourcefulness of creativity.

I've been a fan of White Denim for some time. They are also quite prolific, generating new records almost yearly since 2009. So who could have blamed them after releasing Side Effects in 2019 if they had taken 2020 lying down. Not James Petralli and Michael Hunter. When faced with Austin Texas' pending stay at home order, the band wrote and recorded the entire record in thirty days. World as a Waiting Room is among the band's best. 

2017 Juno award winner William Prince is a huge star in Canada and should be stateside as well. His voice is as unique and warm as any I can recall. And his songwriting is as earnest, if not as clever as fellow Canadian Ron Sexsmith. "Wasted" is an unintentional anthem for 2020.

I am hooked Frazey Ford's vocal delivery. There is a Van Morrison quality to it, so nonchalant to almost be conversational. It as if the lyrics might be different every time she sings the song. U kin B the Sun is laden with grooves and a casual coolness that  always set me down lakeside on a summer day.

Circles feels like it was released a lifetime ago. The loss of Mac Miller was devastating and his partnership with Jon Brion is was one the most visionary collaborations of all time. This record feels timeless.

Lianne LaHavas is one of the most talented musicians alive. This year’s self-titled release is as close to a Sade record as we've had in a while.

Its great to see local acts get such national acclaim. Even better when they demonstrate creative growth. DEHD's Flower of Devotion expands the bands previously bare bones approach to music making with lovely Cocteau Twins-esque shimmer.

Orkenoy in the daytime.

Speaking of things local, I have been rooting for Orkenoy since finding out the Humboldt Park brewery was in the works back in 2019. What a journey it has been for the folks behind it all. Brewing equipment, transported from a distance, tumbles off of the truck as it nears its new home. It was damaged but not irreparable. It was nothing compared to what was to come. We may have hit the tipping point on craft breweries, but can you imagine readying your passion project for the world and the world snaps back with a global pandemic. They admirably soldiered on.

Turns out they are not just another brewery. They bill themselves as a "creative enclave operating as a brewery, kitchen and synergetic haunt for local artists." Their offerings, from brews to food, are a delicious blend of the rare and traditional, Norwegian Smørrebrøds and French Farmhouse, to new and experimental. Their branding is charming and narrative. We've taken carry out of cocktails and beers. Both were fantastic. Very recently Orkenoy has added even more allure to their footprint in the Kimball Arts Center by stringing lights from their facade to the elevated Bloomingdale Trail. As the nights have grown to their longest, my morning runs begin in darkness. So when I came upon the illuminated Orkenoy early one morning last week my path became a bit merrier. I was also struck by how much the scene reminded me of Van Gogh's Cafe Terrace at Night. 

Orkenoy at pre-dawn run.

Lulu Miller has worked as a producer for Radiolab and is a co-creator of the NPR show Invisibilia. Her book Why Fish Don't Exist was my favorite read of 2020. Told in Miller's quirky voice, the pages navigate herculean scientific achievements, our country's racial history, murder and ultimately love. While this may all  sound a frantic lot, Miller weaves it together tersely and with self-deprecating humor.

One of my favorite books of years' past is Michael Pollen's lesser known, Second Nature. It was in my initial reading of this that I learned from Pollen about Aldo Leopold's Sand County Almanac. I purchased a copy and thumbed through it when I finished Second Nature. A recent interest had me recall the work, so I set about our house to find it. It's a short book and so it took me a couple of looks to locate it behind thicker, stacked volumes on our bedroom bookshelf. I've been immersed in it ever since. I'm intentionally taking small bites, savoring every page, even highlighted passages—something I haven't done probably since reading Pollen. Leopold was an American philosopher and naturalist long associated with the University of Wisconsin. His writing is keenly observational, almost poetic. As he winds through the seasons on his Wisconsin farm, he introduces us to the behaviors of migrating geese, defensive plover and elusive trout among other inhabitants. Leopold is almost always alone with these creatures and his thoughts, save occasionally his dog. And while I wish I had a printing that contained the forward by Barbara Kingsolver, Leopold's original forward from 1948 suits me just fine. 

Aldo Leopold

"...the opportunity to see geese is more important than television., and the chance to find a pasque-flower is a right as inalienable as free speech...But wherever the truth may lie, this much is crystal-clear: our bigger-and-better society is now like a hypochondriac, so obsessed with its own economic health as to have lost the capacity to stay healthy. The whole world is so greedy for more bathtubs that it has lost the stability necessary to build them, or even turn off the tap. Nothing could be more salutary at this stage than a little healthy contempt for a plethora of material blessings."

[achrafchachi]

Vacation Ideas For Couples: 39 Awesome Places To Visit With Your Partner

1Seoul, Korea

Seoul is not only a perfect destination for the couple that’s all about city life—within city limits there are green spaces and mountains, offering hiking, outdoor sports (the couple that sweats together, stays together), and perfect picnic spots.

But back to the more urban aspects. Seoul is known for its nightlife

. And what better way to bond than over late night karaoke or getting adventurous with some delicious street food?

Best of all, Seoul can be enjoyed on the cheap, though you might want to avoid the more upscale Cheongdam-dong and Gangnam if you’re trying to save your pennies.

2Prague, Czech Republic

Prague snags a spot on the list because of its dream-like surroundings. This is a city to walk hand-in-hand with someone you love and just soak it all in: the bridges, the old churches…it’s like being in a living, breathing fairy tale (for more storybook charm, see #29).

If classical music moves you, go take in some Mozart with your girl and cap off the evening with some local beer—Prague is thought to have some of the best brews in Europe.

3Portland, Oregon (USA)

For couples looking for something a little bit more laid back and offbeat, I want to throw Portland into the mix.

The city has some great food—both high-end dining and incredible food truck options—with an emphasis on local ingredients. (And if you’re anything like me, the way to my heart is through my stomach.)

In addition to a burgeoning culinary scene, I’d recommend taking advantage of the amazing people-watching opportunities here. It’s built-in conversation all around you. Grab a cup of coffee (Portland has some of the best in the country) and browse through books and records with your new lady friend (or fellow), while keeping your eyes on the quirky folks in their natural habitat.

4Paris, France

This is a more familiar entry for those of you feeling a little skeptical about the romantic potential of Portland or Prague.

I don’t think I really need to do much by way of explaining why Paris would make a great destination for romance, but in a nutshell: small, winding streets; sidewalk cafes; good wine; candlelight.

Paris sort of sells itself here.

5Buenos Aires, Argentina

Travel down South America way to Buenos Aires, home of the tango, the forbidden dance.

In appearance, the city is rather European, but the flavor is totally South American. Buenos Aires is a passionate place—it’s sexy, bright, and always going. This is a place to give in to pleasure. There is food from all over the world (in addition to the famous, juicy Argentinian grilled steaks) and the city never sleeps.

So, eat, dance, drink—really live it up—while you’re here.

6New England, USA

Rent a car and drive around the northeastern part of the United States with your sweetie.

Save this excursion for the fall months: for whatever reason, leaves are really romantic. As can be hiking, some light antiquing, eating real maple syrup drizzled all over some freshly-made pancakes, and staying in a quaint bed & breakfast.

This is also a really good opportunity to wear flannel (see #7 on the list).

7Venice, Italy

There is something so desperately romantic about a city fated to drown…

That, and the food, the masks, the fog; the grandeur. Venice is all about fantasy and opulence. Between the prosecco and the secret passageways dotting the Gothic palaces, this mysterious city is ripe with sex appeal.

8Kyoto, Japan

Kyoto is a perfect place for a spring getaway. At this time of year, the cherry blossoms frame the classic Japanese architecture and distant mountains. There is a beautiful serenity and sense of tradition in this former capital city.

If you and your SO need to hit the reset button from the stresses of work and cramped city living, peace is only a plane ride away.

Bonus: Kyoto has become a foodie destination. Both haute cuisine and classical Japanese faire shine here.

9San Sebastian, Spain

With the mountains of the Basque region in the background, this beach town in the Bay of Biscay sort of has everything. By day, you and bae can surf, play in the sand, or meander around the charming town.

When the sun goes down, things get sultry. The city has a very lively nightlife and also seems to be a magnet for Michelin stars. (Go to town on food here—from pinxtos (tapas) to fine dining, any extra pounds you two put on will be worth it.)

10Montreal, Quebec (Canada)

Set on an island in the St. Lawrence River in Québec, Canada, Montréal has become a go-to North American destination for culture—be it art, food, architecture, music, or cinema.

While you’re there, go to a museum or simply take in the street art, and be sure to go to a concert. There are about a billion music festivals that take place in the city—there’s always some type of live music to see, whatever your taste. There is something really special about experiencing new music or art with someone you’re into.

Tip: This is another great place to get your eat on: from rich French food, traditional Canadian faire (think: poutine), to pretty much every other international cuisine you can imagine, Montréal is doing it, and doing it well (extra points if you picked up on that L.L. Cool J. reference).

11Tulum, Mexico

Tulum is an eco-paradise on Mexico’s Caribbean coast, not far from its more famous sister city, Cancún. Unlike that perennial Spring Break party spot, Tulum is quieter, less crowded, less expensive, and is known for its commitment to holistic living and the environment.

Whether you choose to keep your feet planted in the white sand of the area’s beaches, enjoy a hammock nap together, dip into the water for some snorkeling, or venture into the jungle to check out ruins (or one of the late night jungle parties, complete with DJ), that’s up to you.

Whether the two of you prefer quiet and calm or something more active and social, or maybe a little bit of each, Tulum is flexible (just like the abundant yoga practitioners who flock to the area).

12Loire Valley, France

Bike rides, picnics, fresh fruit and cheese, castles, rolling hills and plush fields…that’s what we’re working with here. This region in Central France offers abundance and splendor in, well, abundance.

This is also wine country, so you can spend every day pleasantly tipsy while you get fresh air and take in the incredible scenery around you. You can even row a boat together along the river, although I’d recommend doing this before hitting the vineyards heavy—best not to drink and row.

13The Hebrides, Scotland

The general vibe of these islands off the west coast of Scotland is misty and romantic. Everything is rocky and green and full of history.

Cozy together in wool sweaters by night and, by day, pay a visit to some of the many distilleries all around these isles. The scotch, and of course the presence of your gal/beau, will help keep you warm.

14Hamilton Island, Australia

Does the fact Taylor Swift went here last winter turn you on or off?

If the latter, don’t let the pop princess sour you on this idyllic destination in the Whitsunday Islands in Queensland, Australia. If the two of you live for aquatic experiences (or trying new things), Hamilton is located at the edge of the Great Barrier Reef.

So, there’s plenty of diving, snorkeling, sailing, and making out in the water to be done.

15St. Lucia (Caribbean)

Decadence and geologic wonders collide in St. Lucia, located in the Eastern Caribbean.

Surrounding the luxurious resorts where you and your new girl/guy can get treated like royalty—room service, spa treatments, complimentary bathrobes—are some pretty delightful natural marvels.

St. Lucia boasts waterfalls, rainforests, volcanic spires, reefs, hot springs, and of course, pristine beaches and crystal-clear water.

If you’re like me and enjoy a little decadence punctuating your adventure, St. Lucia is a go. Nothing is better than a massage after tackling a mountain. Or volcano, for that matter.

16Stockholm, Sweden

You know how sometimes being around really attractive, stylish people can make you feel better looking yourself? Something about how “you are the company you keep”? That’s what happens here.

Being surrounded by cool people and design seems to raise your own cool factor. Especially in those early stages of dating, looking cool is all-important. If you’re feeling in a rut, eating on the couch while binging on Netflix, get back your edge with a week wandering the streets of Stockholm.

This is a city for couples interested in fashion, food, and art. Who love architecture. Couples who enjoy looking to the past, absorbing and learning about history, but also have an eye to the future; to the latest thing.

17Joshua Tree, CA (USA)

Switching gears from the historic cobblestone walkways of Stockholm to some more rugged terrain, #12 on this list is Joshua Tree, about 2.5-3 hours outside of Los Angeles.

So named for the Dr. Seuss-esque Joshua trees that line its landscape, this desert town is home to some funky shops, but most importantly a National Park that feels like visiting another planet. It’s a really cool place to explore with someone you like (or love), all the unusual flora and fauna and the views for miles.

I have to admit I’m slightly biased here: Joshua Tree was a stop on my honeymoon. I’d recommend renting one of the artsy offerings on AirBnB, hiking all day, and then cooking at night, eating by the fire, with all the stars above.

*Need extra reason to make your way to Joshua Tree with your honey? Visiting a desert took the #5 spot on our 28 Places Every Man Should Visit in His Lifetime list. Check and check.

18Berlin, Germany

Like Stockholm, Berlin has an abundance of “It” factor. The city has become a mecca for art and design and is undeniably, and achingly, cool. I think Lonely Planet captures Berlin best, describing its combination of “glamor and grit.”

While Berlin is perhaps a little intimidating in its spot on the cutting edge of basically everything, it’s also exceedingly laid back and unfussy. Though highly stylized, nothing is too precious—things are a little rough around the edges.

There is no judgment here. It’s equal parts welcoming and unpredictable, which is totally sexy.

If late nights invigorate you and your love, and being a part of the art-world inspires you, this is the place to visit.

19Fez, Morocco

One word best captures this Moroccan city: vibrant.

Being in Fez will have all of your senses mesmerized: from the smells of the teas, foods, and spices in the markets, to the mosaic tiles, textiles, and brightly colored everything, and all the different textures of the metalwork and rich leather.

There is something so sensual about it all—distant prayers sung out into the sky, the setting sun, dim lights, rich aromas, warm nights, ancient fortress walls…

20Croatia

While the Croatian coastline is populated by its fair share of yachts, this small European jewel is a mostly affordable option for couples looking for the bright blue waters and rocky coastlines typical of the Mediterranean.

Not only is it a natural wonder—waterfalls, peaks, and canyons abound—but so rich in history. Traveling through Croatia is like a history lesson on a vast variety of past empires, an intermingling of various architecture, art, and traditions.

There is an abundance to see here, and to talk about.

21Vienna, Austria

Featured in the quintessential ‘90s romance Before Sunrise, starring Julie Delpy and Ethan Hawke, it is hard not to equate this city with falling in love.

So make like these movies stars, and spend all day and all night exploring the city on foot, with some occasional stops to quiet cafes and maybe a boisterous bar or two. Get to really know each other as you pass along the cobblestone streets.

These beautiful surroundings, modern architecture juxtaposed against historic opera houses, make a perfect backdrop for intimate conversation.

22Istanbul, Turkey

While touring the markets and historic structures that line this city should make their way on to your Istanbul to-do list, make sure not to overlook the water.

Cruise on the Bosphorous at night (or walk along it by day), sip some Turkish coffee on the riverbank, and take in the incredible views of Hagia Sophia from the water.

There is something really special and mystical about this place, how it straddles two cultures and two continents. It is a very unique experience and definitely one to share with someone you love.

23Santa Fe, NM (USA)

Santa Fe is somewhere I’ve been visiting since I was little. So, it hasn’t always been a romantic destination for me, but it’s been a much-loved one for as long as I can remember.

The New Mexican landscape is so strange and beautiful. There are pine trees and cacti, red clay rock, snow, desert…it’s so diverse and unusual in that respect, which makes it an incredible place to be outdoors.

In addition to exploring the terrain together, it is the particular smells and particular lighting that make this a romantic city. After dark, particularly in the winter, luminarias (paper lanterns) cast a warm glow across town and the smell of piñon in the air is just completely enchanting.

24Portugal

Take in as much of this country as time permits. It’s affordable, scenic, and totally charming.

Fly into Lisbon first—the city is all quaint shops, cobblestone streets, vibrant neighborhoods, and gorgeous architecture. There are even vintage trams to help get you up the city’s sometimes-steep walkways. These afford incredible views and allow you take in many historic sites and other attractions.

Outside of Lisbon, check out Sintra, Évora, and Óbidos—all three are ancient and picturesque (and a little bit more off the beaten path when it comes to tourism). Everything is lush, green, and packed with interesting culture (and stories to tell).

Extra credit: Visit Madeira and/or the Azores (both islands) off the coast. Madeira is known for its great weather and sense of fun and the Azores, for its wildlife (whale watching!) and verdant grounds (pineapple plantations!). Both areas are remote and make for really enchanting, once-in-a-lifetime experiences.

25Florence, Italy

Maybe it was reading A Room With a View many years ago, but Florence is somewhere I always associate with love, adventure, and beauty.

Known as the birthplace of the Renaissance and renowned for its art and architecture, one of the most breathtaking and romantic aspects of the city is how sunlight dances across its rooftops. There is something so special and so gorgeous about the light here. (You’re going to look great in all your pictures together.)

26Bora Bora, French Polynesia

Situated near Tahiti in the South Pacific, Bora Bora is basically paradise (some have joked “it’s so nice, they named it twice”).

The water is perfect and clear, the beaches a pristine white. You can stay in deceptively luxurious thatched roof bungalows perched over that aforementioned crystal water. You can swim with turtles and exotic, brightly colored fish.

This tropical island is secluded and idyllic—it’s no coincidence it’s one of the most popular honeymoon destinations in the world. But don’t feel like you need to pop the question before booking accommodations—unwed pairs are equally welcome.

27Southern Spain

The vibe in this southern part of Spain is so relaxed and friendly and the weather is totally perfect—rent a car and cruise around for days.

I’d make sure to stop in Granada to see the spectacular Alhambra palace, in all its Moorish splendor. There is something really romantic about climbing up there to that fortress on high and walking around underneath the vaulted ceilings, patterned in stars, weaving in and out of the delicate columns, listening to the soothing sounds of the trickling of water from the fountains.

When in Andalucía, Seville should also be a top priority. Seville is warm and bright, both in terms of the sun’s rays shining down on you, and the vibrancy of its culture and people.

Drink lots of sangria, dine on tapas, and take in some flamenco. This spirited city will put you both in a great mood. And nothing is sexier than happiness.

28The Greek Isles

Ever since a good friend of mine selected the Cyclades for her honeymoon, visions of dining out on a whitewashed terrace on the Greek Isles with my own spouse have cycled through my head.

The setting of this island is postcard-perfect. The bright white, sun-soaked buildings contrast in such a wildly perfect way with the surrounding deep blue waters and rocky mountains.

Santorini is probably the most famous and sophisticated option. It’s also the most romantic. Don’t read too much into that descriptor of sophistication, however—Santorini is made for lazy days of soaking in the sun, slow strolls, and long meals. The vibe is 100 percent pleasure and relaxation.

29Bruges, Belgium

Switching gears completely from sun-drenched island life, we have Bruges, nestled in northwest Belgium.

With an old medieval city like this, you get all the canals, old churches, and small, winding streets out of your childhood storybooks. It’s like a fairy tale, Hans Christian Anderson-style, come to life (but fast-forwarded through the sad bits, straight to the happy ending).

It’s all so dreamy. This is a city that calls for a lot of hand-holding, kissing on old stone bridges, and long, conversation-filled dinners.

Tip: This is a really popular tourist spot in the summer. We’d recommend planning your visit for the spring (daffodil season) or the winter (when it is all chilly and cozy holiday charm) instead.

30Santa Barbara, CA (USA)

I’m going to be up front again about my bias with this one. Just like Joshua Tree (#17), Santa Barbara was a stop on my honeymoon trail (which was a road trip along America’s West Coast, with me, my husband, and our dog packed into a black Mustang).

But I’m not the only one who thinks Santa Barbara is one of the most romantic places on earth. JFK and Jackie handpicked this as their own honeymoon destination, a pair famous for their great taste (if not the best marriage).

Why Santa Barbara? In addition to the ocean, palm trees, mountains, and Spanish-style architecture, there is something really serene and special about this place. Hummingbirds flitter around and bright flowers bloom almost on cue.

It’s all really luxurious, but somehow in a really welcoming, low-key way. And can be done on whatever budget you need to adhere to—from celebrity-level spending to more modest accommodations, either will afford you a really lovely stay.

31Seychelles, East Africa

The Seychelles are just off East Africa, right in the Indian Ocean. For me, I would go just to see the rare giant tortoises, but maybe you might need more convincing? Or a sexier reason for your stay than some old reptiles?

So, let me start by describing how incredible the soft, powdery sand feels in between your toes and how the water is so clear and bright it almost looks like a swimming pool. The rocks and lushness of the flora and fauna are so incredible, they seem like something painted by a Surrealist.

Pretty much everything you eat has been grown on the island or caught in the water that surrounds it. It’s all fresh and delicious. Eating with your hands, with cool, fruit juices covering your fingers, all under the warm sun…it doesn’t get much more sensual than that.

32Cinque Terre, Italy

Ah, the Italian Riveria. Without me even writing anything else, your mind has probably already wandered to thoughts of glamorous people, delicious food, plentiful wine, bright colors, sunshine, and salty sea air.

This is romance, Italian-style, perched cliffside along the Mediterranean. Fill up on freshly caught seafood, local olives, cheese, and pesto, and toast your limoncello to love.

33Hunter Valley, NSW (Australia)

About two hours away from Sydney, is a gorgeous stretch of Australian wine country. Everything is lush and green, all rolling hills dappled in sunlight.

In addition to developing some of arguably the best red wines in the country, Hunter Valley has garnered a reputation for some high-quality eats. And you can be sure that all of those culinary delights will pair quite perfectly with all that delicious wine.

One of the best things about this area, though, besides its good food and vino, is how secluded it is. Everything feels really private and intimate, like you’re an escaping real life, which is an important thing for me if I’m looking for a romantic vacation.

Oh and did I mention you can take a champagne hot-air balloon ride? I mean, come on (insert mic drop here).

34Puerto Rico (Caribbean)

I love the bright colors and sunny disposition of this Caribbean island. And that it is equal parts tropical rain forest and sandy beaches as it is full of architecture and interesting history.

Walk around Old San Juan together, learning about the city (and island’s) past, visiting the old churches and stopping to enjoy a couple of beers with the locals, all to the beat of music from the streets and storefronts.

Take things up a notch by exploring caves and spotting rainforest wildlife. Try out surfing or investigating the coral reefs. Or just be beach bums together and catch up on reading (or sleep) on the sand. Choose your own adventure here, be it stirring or sleepy.

35The Cotswolds, England

I’m a lifelong Anglophile. My dream real estate purchase is a house on the English countryside and I am pretty much a sucker for everything the BBC exports our way. I could go on. But instead, let’s focus on you and your romance.

Take your love to the Cotswolds. This area sits northwest of London, and is an expanse of charming thatched roof cottages, rolling green hills, old stone manses and churches, small shops (shoppes?), and grazing animals.

It’s quiet, peaceful, and a perfect spot for time outside—hiking, horseback riding, rambling, and cycling—and evenings indoors in front of glowing fireplaces. Sip some tea and just take it easy.

36South African Winelands

Let’s talk a little bit more about wine. On this list, we’ve visited Australian wine country, and just about every other destination I’ve recommended drinking lots of it. I sure hope you like wine.

While there is nothing sexy about red wine mouth, this region in South Africa most definitely is. The cuisine and the area’s beverages are fantastic and the scenery is totally spectacular. Everywhere you look there are fields of green dotted by grand mountains. It’s just so vast and endless and amazing.

Rent a car and drive around from winery to winery, or you can choose to cycle. There are even some lovely old trams that take you through the vineyards. If you get wined out, so to speak, there is also mountain-biking, horseback riding, golf, fly-fishing, and chocolate-eating (South Africa is doing some great things with cocoa).

Get tipsy, get active. Though maybe not in that order.

37Cartagena, Colombia

Some of you might be throwing a surprised glance my way upon seeing this city of ill repute here. But isn’t a hint of danger titillating?

In all seriousness, the walled city is actually totally safe for travelers today. Long gone are the days of Escobar (though, please feel free to relive them on Netflix with Narcos).

This city is another on the list that straddles two cultures—the European influence is apparent (more of those cobbled streets I love), but the colors and sensuality of the Caribbean and South America are also there in full force. Even the humidity is sensual there.

This city is equal parts alive/boisterous/active and quiet. So enjoy some sleepy strolls and get your taste of Cartagena’s lively social life, too.

38Andaman Islands, India

Located in the Bay of Bengal, these islands—popular honeymoon picks in India—are covered in beaches and rainforests, and surrounded by reefs packed with marine life.

The Andamans are extremely remote: if privacy is what you two want, you got it. These islands are so secluded and so precious, only about a dozen of the total 300 are open to tourists. So, this is a really special destination.

While you’re there, traverse through the jungles, give diving a try, eat exotic things, look for rare wildlife, weave in and out of the mangroves…really make the most out of your time together in paradise.

39Chiang Mai, Thailand

Last, but not least (again, there’s neither order nor hierarchy on this list) is Chiang Mai, Thailand.

First off, let me mention we’re ending on a really affordable note. Bangkok can get crowded and pricey—Chiang Mai is a refreshing alternative.

The city is calm and unpolluted (speaking equally about the traffic and the air) and easily walkable. There is some incredible classic cuisine available from street vendors that sit alongside newer restaurants and art galleries. Old meets new here in a fantastically uncomplicated, easy way.

While you’re here, take some classes together, check out new and different foods in the markets, and then be sure to explore the countryside. Just a few beats away from city life, you’ll find pulsing green jungles, waterfalls cascading down mountains, hot springs, ancient villages, temples, shrines, monks, and elephant sanctuaries.

There is so much to see, do, and try, minus the overwhelming sounds and crowds of similarly active and exciting locales.

[blogwritetheworld]

The Write Place: Observing Like a Writer

Looking for the right advice on pursuing the writer’s life? You’ve come to the write place!

by Lisa Hiton

Whether you’re deep into your amateur sleuthing as a mystery writer, or tapping out your town’s top stories as a fledgling journalist, asking good questions and making keen observations are key skills for any writer. For me, amateur sleuthing is where I first began observing the world around me like a writer.

By sixth grade, after our first encounter with Alfred Hitchcock (Vertigo and North by Northwest to be precise), my best friend and I became consumed by the elements of mystery. I remember us taking the train into the city of Chicago, armed with hand-sized steno pads. As we sat in the quiet of the train, we began taking notes. The man across from us wore red sneakers. He kept looking sideways from his newspaper. He flipped the pages of the paper faster than it seemed someone could be reading. These notes were the beginning of a mystery for us.

While in the end, no great narrative came from observing this gentleman ride the train, the exercise was the beginning of a life’s commitment to observation and asking questions. To that end, I became a writer, while my friend became an analyst for the intelligence community. She may have more of a foray into the real mysteries than I do, but I’m happy to use these skills in other pastures.

Alfred Hitchcock was a master observer of the human condition, allowing him to make films that get to the core of our biggest fears.

WHAT IS IT GOOD FOR

Observation and questions are important in all fields of study and all genres of writing. A food writer may observe how a chef cooks, what different dough rolling techniques are like in different cultures, how different spices smell. They might also take those observations to generate questions for their larger story: Why do different cultures roll out dough using different techniques? How do these ingredients tell a story? Is it a family story? Or the story of a larger culture? The relationship between observations and the questions they lead to allows writers, journalists, and storytellers to keep with a subject deeply, and sometimes, for years.

And so, dear writers, as we go ahead into our life’s work, we must practice these observation skills. We must dedicate our time and power to giving readers the details—of characters, real people, landscapes, sporting events, far away places, the world. It is only through taking these notes down and braiding them together that we can share parts of the world and our imaginations with others.

I SPY, WITH MY EYE...

Many of us have memories of riding in the car or taking public transport with our family. While on a given drive to grandma’s house or  on a train ride to a different state, to occupy the time, we often play games. The simple act of playing “I Spy” while on a road trip is a great way to understand the role of observation for writers.

In a car, on a train, or even on foot, a journey presents us with an evolving landscape. The “I Spy” game is a way to mark how a landscape changes. You can go from an urban area full of buildings, pedestrians, trucks, and noises, to a pastoral full of cows, horses, sky, cornfields, and intermittent barns. On foot, you may go from the cut-grass of a lawn, to a sidewalk, to a park, to the woods. Noting these changes—whether it’s as small as noticing the sound of a cricket or as large as suddenly seeing a city’s skyline in the distance—fuels our understanding of the world in and out of books.

To take this childhood game into the realm of a writer’s practice begins by grabbing a notebook and a pen. Then seeing where the world of observation takes you—what questions do your observations raise, and how can you convey these answers and mysteries to readers in every genre?

THE TRAIN GAME

You might make your first assignment as an observer the same as mine: riding a train. This prompt could also be done out of any window—a house window, car window, window at the back of your math class (I’m a big believer in daydreaming during math class…).

The first part of the prompting is about strict observation out the window:

Look out the window. What do you see? Make a list. List everything. List what you find beautiful and interesting. List what is mysterious. List what is boring.

Annotate your observations. How might you rank your observations? How might you categorize them?

A window is a good place to begin because it keeps things simple. Only what enters the frame is allowed into your observations. As you annotate, note when your mind leaps elsewhere, and where it leaps to. Do you imagine where a bird went? Did you keep thinking about that orange house you passed at the beginning of your observation journey? Why? What else might you want to write about those things?

COVERTLY OBSERVING CONVERSATIONS

Once you’ve begun honing in your observation skills, you’ll be observing the world around you everywhere you go. A trip to the grocery store could turn into an entire character study of your local cheesemonger. The next phase of observation is working with people.

We all love people watching. It’s human nature. While it’s not good to gawk or stalk, the casual observations of others, connecting to people we encounter in everyday places, can be fodder for practicing your observing and listening skills, which in turn, will strengthen your writing. So grab your notebook and pencil and head to your local grocery store, library, or coffee shop and be ready to add character study, dialogue, and place description into your observing practice.

First, observe people conversing from a distance where you cannot hear the conversation. What do you notice? What gestures do they make? What is each person’s posture? What clues do these give you about what they may be talking about? Are they arguing? Gossiping? How would you describe their connection? Why?

Next, find a place where you can listen in on a public conversation/dialogue.. For example, get in line at your coffee shop and listen to how the hostess taking orders may respond to different people in line. Make notes about dialogue. But focus more of your attention on the details. The tone, the postures, the gestures.

Annotate your observations. What encounters are you most drawn to? Why? What themes can be made of your details? What follow-up questions would you want to ask if you had the opportunity to do so?

Sometimes, these observations can lead directly to a story by following the questions that are raised. Maybe you noticed a little girl by herself stealing an olive from the olive bar at your grocery store. How did she get there? Why is she alone? Do her parents know she’s tasting an olive? Is this her first olive? Does she love olives? Or did she grab the wrong thing? Inventing these answers can lead to a great character study, and possibly even a scene from a short story or even a novel.

In other cases, the observations and the questions they raise may lead to something else altogether. Let’s say you’re observing a librarian and her interactions with readers like yourself. Maybe you overhear her recommend your favorite book to someone. That connection might lead you to go talk to her. Perhaps, eventually, you ask if she’d be willing to do an interview so you can write a portrait piece on her and her work or a feature on the library as a whole. By simply seeing the world around you, you’ll become more connected to it—in a literal sense as well as an imaginative one.

About Lisa

Lisa Hiton is an editorial associate at Write the World. She writes two series on our blog: The Write Place where she comments on life as a writer, and Reading like a Writer where she recommends books about writing in different genres. She’s also the interviews editor of Cosmonauts Avenue and the poetry editor of the Adroit Journal.

[sentrava]

Spring Vacation in the Florida Panhandle: A Long Weekend Guide to PCB

For as long as I have memories, my family has gone down to Panama City Beach for vacation. We’d always pack up the station wagon—then later, the Cadillac—and make the seven-hour drive from Tennessee to the Florida Panhandle. While there, we’d run into dozens of people we know because, well, everyone from our area vacations in Bay County. But until the last few years, I’d never done a whole lot of long weekends in PCB—it was always a full week and change due to the drive time—yet now, we have a lovely little direct flight on Southwest that is just 45 minutes wheels up to wheels down, so it’s easier than ever to jet on down when I see a good deal.

Where to Stay in Panama City Beach

Panama City Beach stretches a lengthy 27 miles across the Gulf Coast, and there’s no shortage of beachfront properties from which to choose for a vacation. I’ve stayed all over the Panhandle, and many of the condo high-rises offer the same amenities and layouts, so it really depends on what end of the beach you want to use as your base.

ResortQuest by Wyndham dominates Northwest Florida’s rental market and offers every kind of rental house configuration imaginable; I stayed in a very large one-bedroom property of theirs with an additional bunk-bed nook down along Gulf Lagoon Beach while on this trip, and I’ve already booked one of their condo complexes at the complete opposite end of PCB for my long weekend there with SVV next month.

Personally, if you’re traveling with a girls’ group or significant other sans kids, I love Carillon Beach for its upscale homes and relative seclusion. If you’re traveling with children and/or a large group, you might prefer one of the Wyndham complexes near Laguna Beach, conveniently close to Pier Park and other family attractions like Gulf World Marine Park.

Thursday

If you’re like me, you take the first available flight out, meaning you’ll touch down in plenty of time for a full day on the beach. It also means you’ll require a major caffeine boost mid-morning—a 4am wake-up call is no joke, at least not for this sleepyhead—and that your first stop after leaving the airport is Finns Island Style Grub for a smoothie bowl, kombucha and the famed black salt pepper mocha made with cold brew. (Dairy-free or vegan? Ask for the “venocha,” and they’ll hook you up with house-made cashew milk instead.)

If you arrive closer to lunchtime, Finns is still a great bet as this food truck with a brick-and-mortar location (and a full build-out to come very soon) got its start cooking up the meanest fish tacos around. Note: Finns typically closes at 3pm on weekdays and 8pm on weekends, so check the hours before you make the pilgrimage.

If you’re traveling with a group, also take note that Finns has a catering arm and will come to your rental house to set up a full-on taco bar, which is often more convenient—and more economical—than going out to eat.

Once you’re nice and full, head to check into your accommodation. Even if you can’t get into your condo just yet, you can go ahead and park and stake your plot of sand on the beach. My condo happened to be right next to Schooners, so I nabbed a parking spot, slurped down a craft beer, chased it with a margarita, then headed for the beach.

Even traveling to PCB during mid-spring, the beaches weren’t crowded, probably because I was staying all the way at the eastern end of PCB toward St. Andrews, a little bit outside of the fray. And need I remind you there’s 27 miles of beachfront property?! It was a perfect 75 degrees every day we were there with very little humidity. Spring is absolutely my favorite time to visit the Panhandle for these balmy days and temperate nights with a bit of a nip in the air.

That night, I met the Travel Mindset crew at my favorite local spot for dinner: Craft Bar. Craft Bar has upward of 30 craft brews available in flights or full pints, and I never miss an opportunity to taste my way through some of Florida’s best beers. In typical fashion, Jade ordered a bunch of different plates—from hot chicken to fried green tomatoes—for all of us to snack on. Then, we hit the hay hard to rest up for a long weekend ahead in the sun.

Note: PCB now has both Lyft and Uber service, so you can leave your car at your rental and have fun out with your friends.

Friday

I love to hit the big hotspots on weekdays when crowds are slimmer, and there’s no more iconic spot than Shell Island, a 700-acre barrier island less than 30 minutes by boat from PCB. On this particular trip, our group chartered a boat with Lagoon Pontoons for a half-day, so we grabbed breakfast to go; packed coolers full of drinks, snacks and lunch; and set off for a morning on Shell Island’s white-sand beach.

If you don’t have a full day to set aside for this uninhabited paradise, alternatively, you can take the Shell Island Shuttle—which departs daily every half hour between 10am and 4pm—for a shorter stay.

We walked the perimeter of the island, we went swimming, we combed the shallow waters for starfish, and we pulled up our lounge chairs to where the ocean meets the sea and got properly sunburned (wear stronger SPF than we did!).

When we got back to land just after 2pm, we had a few hours to go back to our condos, grab food, change then meet back for a full night on the beach. New to the area since my last stay in Panama City Beach is Endless Beach Rentals, a company that sets up charming beach rigs so that you don’t have to worry about hauling your own gear through the sand. There are plenty of options from which to choose, but we opted for the ultimate night under the stars in PCB: a beach bonfire.

With a bit of a chill in the air after the sun sank, the bonfire felt like a dream. We lounged in hammocks and the cozy beach chairs Endless Beach Rentals provided us as we toasted s’mores and got our hands gooey, while several members of our group played cornhole and others grooved to 80’s tunes the DJ was spinning. (The DJ was me, guys. Give me a Bluetooth speaker, and I will blast some monster ballads from my favorite hair bands all night long.)

You can also bring your own cooler of beers now that the month of March has passed. (PCB bans alcohol consumption on the beach for the month of March during prime Spring Break season to keep things tame, but the rest of the year you’re welcome to BYOB and drink responsibly.)

After your bonfire has been quenched, head west to Saltwater Grill, one of the best fine-dining experiences in PCB, for a feast of scallops, lobster, crab and juicy cuts of steak.

Saturday

Breakfast in PCB, for me, is almost always Andy’s Flour Power, which recently located to an even bigger location just a half-mile from its original spot on Thomas Drive, and now can accommodate even more diners who flock there for the Belgian waffles, biscuits and gravy, omelets and French toast. I didn’t want to waste any beach time on lunch, so my breakfast at Andy’s doubled as two meals (that totally justifies my extra order of bacon, right?).

My favorite beach in PCB is nearby at St. Andrews State Park. Because there’s a small fee ($8 per car) to get in, it’s never overwhelmingly packed. But it’s got space galore including two great stretches of beach—one lining the Gulf, the other flanking the lagoon—from which to choose.

It’s also rife in wildlife, so keep your eyes peeled for herons, gators and other species that call the Florida Panhandle home. Those traveling with kayaks or SUPs should definitely consider St. Andrews; the protected lagoon makes it an easier spot to paddle than most.

Since I was already in the St. Andrews area, I lingered until mid-afternoon, stopping by the Grand Marlin for oysters and happy hour with friends before we boarded our dolphin cruise with Island Time Sailing.

This two-hour tour sunset dolphin cruise takes passengers out through the lagoon, around Shell Island and back near the shore of St. Andrews, where you can see the sun set over PCB as the dolphins frolic on the horizon.

As always, we saw SO many, it was hard to keep track of which direction they were coming from!

If you get seasick, take a little something before the trip out, as it can be a bit rocky on the sailboat. Once you’re back on land, you have a few dinner options nearby: Patches Pub for a more traditional PCB beach bar experience or Shore Shack Pizza, a two-year-old restaurant that serves up a nice mix of specialty pies on a pleasant outdoor patio.

Sunday

Be one of the first in line for Thomas’ Donuts after it opens. You won’t regret setting your alarm early for a stack of that sugary-sweet perfection. It opens at 6am, but if you’re there by 8 (or even 9) on a Sunday morning, you shouldn’t run into too long of lines.

Spend your final day beachfront, or if you’re all beached out, head to Panama City Beach’s Pier Park, a colorful wonderland, particularly well-suited for kids with its Ferris wheel, ice cream parlor, IMAX theater, laser tag and more. It also boasts 124 stores, so if you need a new bathing suit or are looking for a souvenir before you fly back home, this is your place.

Sticking around through sunset? Grab an early dinner beachside at Hook’d Pier Bar & Grille, then drive out to Camp Helen State Park to watch the colors in the sky light up on fire as only the Gulf knows how to do.

Looking for more PCB travel tips? Start here:

Secret Florida: Where the Dolphins Play

The Best Places for Your Killer PCB Instagram Shots

Chowing Down: Where to Eat in Panama City Beach

A Helicopter Ride Over PCB

Fitness in Panama City Beach: Learning Aerial Yoga

Carillon Beach: The Gulf Coast’s Best-Kept Secret

Wreck Diving in Panama City Beach

This post was in partnership with Travel Mindset and Visit Panama City Beach. All opinions are my own.

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Spring Vacation in the Florida Panhandle: A Long Weekend Guide to PCB published first on https://medium.com/@OCEANDREAMCHARTERS

[silverscreenclassics2016]

by Paul Batters

‘I don’t know, it seems to me that if they ain’t got you one way, they’ve got you another. So what’s the answer? That’s what I keep asking myself. What’s it all about?’ Alfie (Michael Caine) in Alfie

To declare that Michael Caine is a cinema icon is an understatement. For over six decades, he has graced our screens in a myriad of roles and has been unafraid to tackle characters that others would have not dared touch. And he has certainly not slowed down. Still seeking challenges and refusing to believe that age is a determinant for ambition, Michael Caine is very active and has stated that retirement is simply not an option.

It has been quite some years since Caine appeared in his breakout role in Alfie (1966) but it is easy to see why it made him a star. As the Cockney Lothario who charms his way through a bevy of women, Caine found himself a major star upon the film’s release. Caine himself stated that he never imagined Alfie would be anything other than a British film for British audiences that would do modest business. But this started to change during filming, with Caine pointing that despite initial doubts, mainly about himself, the feeling soon developed that ‘maybe we got something here’. For Caine, his realisation that they ‘might be on a winner’ was when he heard the laughter from those watching the rushes.

Quite a number of reviewers and critics have stated that Alfie is a timeless classic, and this reviewer certainly agrees. It is more than the story of a self-centred Cockney charmer who leads a hedonistic and selfish lifestyle. It is also more than a walk-through London in the Swinging Sixties. Alfie poses questions and challenges for audiences to ponder – today as much as it did in the 1960s.

Despite its’ reputation, Alfie is not a film which celebrates hedonism or sexual exploitation; nor does it set the main character up as a hero to be worshipped. On the surface, Alfie is a character who uses his charm, charisma and good looks to seduce women and use them in every way he can for his own pleasures. They cook his food, wash his clothes and of course provide him with plenty of sex. And certainly, there was something enticing about the character’s swinging lifestyle, humour and intriguing nature that made the film a hit. As biographer William Hall has noted’, ‘Women adored the hooded gaze, the slightly mocking approach, the deadpan throwaway lines. Men in their turn had a sneaking admiration for the self-made cavalier, raunchy, honest to a fault with himself, unashamed of his own rough edges and totally his own master’.

Yet despite this, Alfie’s character arc shows a man who does not have it all. A feminist critique could offer plenty in terms of the male gaze of back-slapping admiration of a man bedding many women, fitting the sexual fantasy of partners-a-plenty. But the film questions whether this is admirable. Indeed, Alfie is a condemnation of that very sentiment, with Michael Caine himself describing Alfie as a ‘no-good layabout’ and a despicable individual.

What makes Alfie work is its’ incredible authenticity, which gives the film its’ lasting strength. There’s no pretence to Alfie and the brutal honesty of the character removes any possibility of superficiality. This is achieved from the very opening scene of the film, when we are introduced to the main character by Alfie himself. Breaking the fourth wall, Alfie narrates in real time and tells his story as it happens, complete with his deepest insights, observations and philosophical interpretation. Alfie’s intimacy with the audience is a fundamental factor in the film’s magic – he speaks to us as individuals rather than a whole group or crowd. It’s highly personal, intensely intimate and thus honest (at least to a point). The audience becomes Alfie’s ‘confessor’ and at times it feels like we become his ‘best mate’. Yet Alfie could just as well be speaking to a mirror of himself, seeking to justify his thoughts, feelings and actions, and therefore bouncing his thoughts around to try and gain some perspective.

Alfie’s philosophy of life and his ideas on women become obvious immediately. The audience first discovers that Alfie is having an affair with a married woman named Siddie (Millicent Martin) whom he objectifies by calling her ‘it’, which is perhaps one of the most offensive aspects of his behaviour. Yet his objectification of women is also Alfie’s armour against intimacy and deeper emotion. After dropping Siddie off at a train station, he goes to see Gilda (Julia Foster) who is deeply in love with Alfie and very much in need of more than what he gives her. She pushes away a kind and gentle bus conductor named Humphrey (Graham Stark) who loves her as a result. Like all the other women he uses, Gilda is also objectified and treated miserably. But Alfie simply states that a woman can be quite happy ‘if she knows her place’.

Yet Alfie’s relationship with Gilda is about to change when he discovers that she is pregnant. It is an unwanted complication to his easy-going life, and he makes this clear as he gives the audience a run-down of the many women he is regularly seeing and having sex with whilst also seeing Gilda. He tries to break it off as well as convince Gilda to give the child away but to her credit she wants to keep the child. The eventual birth of a baby boy sees something happen in Alfie, which he admits has broken through his armour and will haunt him throughout the film. He becomes attached to the boy named Malcolm, even though he still objectifies Malcolm’s mother. Alfie explains that any ‘bird’ can be replaced but a child is special and individual. Yet he is not beyond disowning Malcolm as ‘my sister’s (child)’ when picking up a woman in the park.

His attachment to Malcolm will also not prevent him walking out on Gilda and his son, when the challenge to the status quo arises. Humphrey has been calling on Gilda and declares he loves both her and the boy. It becomes a line in the sand which Alfie refuses to cross and reveals Alfie’s despicable nature when he says to Gilda, ‘I don’t know what love is the way you birds go on about it’. Neither does he care about or want Gilda’s respect, to which Alfie declares ‘I don’t want no bird’s respect, I wouldn’t know what to do with it’. For Alfie a woman is present to serve his base needs and nothing else. It’s a terrible indictment of the emptiness and emotional void underneath Alfie’s charm and charisma. Alfie’s abandoning Gilda, however, will not ease his problems and his peace of mind will not be eased either.

A moment of vulnerability highlights the fragility of Alfie’s sense of self when he discovers he has tuberculosis and has a mental collapse. The scene in which he discovers he is sick is also underscored by his leaving Gilda and her refusal to take him back but more so by losing the relationship with his son, Malcolm. The lead-up to discovering he has ‘shadows on his lungs’ is brilliant and the interplay between the doctor (Eleanor Bron) and Alfie is an incredible and masterful display of dialogue from Caine. It is a combination of humour and tragedy in the best traditions of Greek drama and certainly highlights the absurd parallels of both running alongside each other.

While convalescing though, Alfie pulls himself back together and returns to form in his seducing of his nurse Carla (Shirley Anne Field) much to the horror of his fellow patient Harry (Alfie Bass) and his wife Lily (Vivien Merchant). Alfie tries to impart his cynical philosophy on Harry via a cruel hypothetical scenario of Harry dying and his wife and kids forgetting him. Naturally, Harry becomes deeply upset and his usual kind and humble demeanour breaks into a violent attack on Alfie, which is quickly subdued due to his illness. It is a poignant moment which highlights the damage that Alfie along the way:

Perhaps the most appalling act Alfie carries out is the seduction of Harry’s sheltered and loving wife, Lily. Taking advantage of her loneliness and vulnerability, Alfie exploits her and adds that ‘it will round off the tea nicely’. His unthinking cruelty is also revealed in his blunt assessment of Lily’s sexual experience (or lack thereof) after he seduces her. Lily woundedly replies that she has never been with anyone but Harry, her husband and the audience cannot help but feel dismal towards Alfie.

Alfie certainly is a predator, using his guile as well as his charm to entice women into his world. Whilst some of his partners are willing and seeking a good time, others are exploited in their vulnerability like Lily, as well as a young girl from up north named Annie (Jane Asher) whom he picks up at a truck stop. Assessing that she is running away from a failed relationship back home, Alfie uses his wiles to manipulate Annie and she ends up not only as a domestic servant but a sexual object for his satisfaction. Reading her diary and picking up her sadness from the songs she listens to, Alfie states that ‘it punishes itself’ by washing, cooking and cleaning’ (and giving her body for sex) which Alfie happily obliges to his advantage.

But again, Alfie’s vulnerability will be tested when he also begins a relationship with an older American woman named Ruby (Shelley Winters) whom he seems to respect because ‘she knows what she wants and she’s gonna get it’. Despite claiming he could easily settle down with Ruby, he still objectifies her, repeating ‘she’s in beautiful condition’, as if she’s a car with a great chassis and a good motor running.

Yet the most controversial moment of the film (in the context of the 1960s) is the abortion scene where Lily comes to Alfie’s flat, pregnant and ready to meet a pre-arranged abortionist (Denholm Elliott). Even at this point, he accepts no responsibility and calls her a ‘fallen woman’ and that he is just ‘trying to help a friend’. Alfie makes the honest assessment, though deflecting it as being male, that like ‘all men’ he only wants the pleasure and no part of the pain. Yet when Alfie sees the aborted foetus, the mask drops and he breaks down in tears, fleeing his flat. Distraught, he realises the enormity of what has happened to the one friend that the audience sees he has, admitting his selfishness: “I was crying for my bleeding self”. Again, it’s hard evidence that Alfie damages those he is involved with.

The trauma of the abortion, combined with Annie finally leaving him after he drives her away, finds Alfie driven to seeking deeper meaning in his life and he decides to ask Ruby to marry him. Yet for once, Alfie will be the one used and deeply wounded. The one woman Alfie claims to respect and love is also in bed with another man when he arrives to see her. Ruby tells Alfie that he’s too old – a cruel rejection which Alfie can do nothing about. It is the turning point of the film which leaves Alfie reaping what he has sown, in a twist of dramatic irony that is all too obvious to him as well as the audience.

The final scene sees him standing near when where the audience saw him at the start. Incidentally, he sees Siddie but she has no interest in him, seemingly after he has let her down. It is a strong revelation that change has occurred for all the characters and those that have crossed paths with Alfie end up the worse for it. Though scarred by him, they becomes emboldened to do something about their lives – while Alfie remains trapped in his limited world. Gilda discovers her self-respect and finds happiness with Humphrey. From her awful pain grows a demand for respect in their relationship and the realisation that he deserves more than what Alfie is offering. Annie eventually leaves with a quiet dignity well beyond her years. Harry is cuckolded and Lily forced to have an abortion. Even Siddie loses respect for him and decides to invest her time and emotions into her husband.

Indeed, there are many others that Alfie has let down and the audience witnesses their feelings towards him. The waitress at the truck stop seems to be pleased that he may get into trouble after being stood up. The driver he steals Annie from eventually physically attacks Alfie. Gilda certainly loses respect for him and its’ doubtful if Annie ever respected him. Two acquaintances are able to easily exploit his fragile ego, which do not suggest friendship of any sort. Even the crowd that cheer him at the truck stop, are cheering his sexual exploits but is this something that suggest an honourable man? Ultimately, Alfie is a man without honour, whose words and actions reflect a selfish, self-centred and irresponsible man without any concern for the impacts of his actions on others.

Worse still, Alfie is ultimately a lonely man trying to fill a void which has been consciously or inadvertently created by himself. He seems to have only one friend, who is also a Cockney con-artist. At the end of the film, the void is worse than ever and Alfie is left alone and despondent, a victim of his own personal philosophy on life. It is not a case of ‘karma’ finally getting him but that Alfie’s own choices have led him to this point. There is no fulfilment in his life and Alfie makes the point that one would think he’s had the best of it and come out in front because he has taken so much from others and given little or nothing in return. Yet, he does not have peace of mind. And his final question ‘what’s it all about?’, muttered by Alfie as he pets a lonely stray dog, may suggest that perhaps he has learned something and could transform himself, after all.

Alfie is a film which succeeds because it’s an incredibly well-crafted film and deceptively so. Director and producer Lewis Gilbert crafts a story where we alternate between liking a loveable rogue yet seeing a cad at the same time. The dialogue is tight and natural, driving the story along without pretension. The supporting cast is incredibly strong and even though the likes of Shelley Winters and Denholm Elliott play small roles, they are crucial ones and their impact is central to the story. Caine in his autobiography believes that Elliot acted him off the screen and gave high praise to the now deceased actor.

The outstanding score was provided by jazz legend Sonny Rollins and Caine would also state that he became a jazz fan as a result. Rollins’ depth and sensitivity underscores key moments in the film, which give the story a deeper impact. And of course, the title track written by Burt Bacharach, would be sung by Cilla Black to promote the film in England and by Cher for the U.S release. Personally, I am not a huge fan of Cher but she delivers a knock-out performance.

But ultimately, the film belongs to Michael Caine and his turn as Alfie is an incredible feat of acting. There is such impressive balance in his performance that the audience is torn between loving Alfie and wanting to knock his block off. The delivery of the dialogue is done with amazing precision, finesse and talent, and with such natural feeling. Caine has to work between the action on the screen and the personal asides to the camera, which he achieves with amazing fluidity, allowing the audience to slip in between effortlessly. It is an incredibly far more demanding role than what it may seem and Caine delivers such a natural performance that it is easy to forget this. As a result, it is the perfect evidence of a strong actor who can draw us into the journey.  Caine would be nominated for a Best Actor Oscar, which he would not win. Yet his turn as Alfie is an Oscar-winning performance and it should go down as ‘one that got away’.

Alfie is a far more layered film than it may initially appear, and whilst often humorous, it does challenge the nature of human selfishness and individual desire, hedonism and the concept of what happiness truly means. Ultimately, we are all challenged to contemplate our own roles in our personal relationships and life journey. Like Alfie, we find ourselves reflecting on our lives and asking ‘what it’s all about’?

  This review of Alfie (1966) has been submitted to the The Second Marvellous Michael Caine Blogathon kindly hosted by Realweegiemidget Reviews. Thank you so much for hosting and allowing me to be part of this great blogathon! Please click on the link to read the other great entries on the wonderful Michael Caine.

Paul Batters teaches secondary school History in the Illawarra region and also lectures at the University Of Wollongong. In a previous life, he was involved in community radio and independent publications. Looking to a career in writing, Paul also has a passion for film history. 

Alfie (1966): Michael Caine and the meaning of life by Paul Batters 'I don't know, it seems to me that if they ain't got you one way, they've got you another.

[kmalexander]

Trip Report – Santa Fe

The decision was made immediately after Kari-Lise and I got our first dose of the Pfizer Covid-19 vaccine back in May. TRAVEL. Travel was calling. Call it a spontaneous trip or revenge travel, we were hungry for the world. Like everyone else, we’d spent last year social distancing and sticking close to home, doing our part to stop the spread. Now, on our way to being fully inoculated and assured we wouldn’t unknowingly spread the virus to others, we craved a change of scenery—something opposite from the verdant mountains of Western Washington. We plotted our vaccine schedule, figured out the timeline, and booked a trip.

It’s been a decade since we visited Santa Fe, and it’s no surprise the city called to us once again. It’s an easy trip in non-pandemic times and was a place we both wanted to revisit. In May we weren’t sure how everything would play out, but we decided to roll the dice and plan for a trip of a few days exploring the town and the surrounding landscape. It was well worth it. Like any instance of travel, I came away feeling invigorated and creatively inspired. After a year at home, it was good to get away, breathe the thin desert air, and visit a place so unlike my daily experience. As the pandemic recedes in here America, everyone is still feeling out public behavior. But even with the mild awkwardness, the results were a trip comprised of fantastic food, incredible art, and surprising exploration.

The Food

It’s not going to be possible to share this trip without hitting on the copious amounts of delicious food we devoured. New Mexico is the land of the chile, and red and green varieties show up in every menu across the state, no matter what cuisine. When ordering, one is often asked if you want red or green chile—you can also opt for both by ordering your meal “Christmas.” (Yeah, it sounded corny the first time I said it as well. But the place is called Santa Fe. *rimshot*) Neither are particularly spicy despite the many warnings for tourists, but both are complex and flavorful. Trying different combos is worth the effort there’s no wrong choice here. Choose what works for you and enjoy.

Standout meals include the tacos from El Chile Toreado (arguably some of the best tacos I’ve ever had). The Short Rib Birria from Paloma, probably the fanciest dining we experienced on the trip. Solid enchiladas from The Shed (a return visit). And a strange little chile dog from the Taos Ale House; a mess to eat but incredibly delicious.

The Art

The third-largest art market in the United States is an artery running through the heart of Santa Fe along a street known as Canyon Road. (At this point it has spread well beyond Canyon Road, but posterity likes a metaphor.) The narrow lane is lined with over a hundred art galleries and studio spaces full of a variety of art. Everything from contemporary to traditional art, sculpture to jewelry, couture clothing to leather goods is offered somewhere along the route, and it’s easy to lose yourself for half a day or more.

These wind sculptures were quite relaxing.

Much had changed in the decade since our last visit, as one would suspect. Couple that with a receding pandemic and Canyon Road felt like a place awakening from a long slumber. In some spots, masks were optional for the fully vaccinated. Others were still being cautious and requiring masks and social distancing for all guests. We were happy to oblige and spent many hours wandering through the galleries discussing art and finding new favorites.

The standout for me was discovering the work of Grant Hayunga at his own recently opened gallery. His work varies but what stood out were his mixed media pieces that sat somewhere between paintings and relief sculpture. Made of various materials, calcium carbonate, crushed marble, beeswax, Hayunga creates fascinating pieces that explore humanity and our relationship with nature. My favorite from this series is fur trapper a recent piece from this year. He also creates these stunning neo-traditional landscapes, one of which—2016’s Asleep—enthralled both Kari-Lise and me. It’s all beautiful work, easily my favorite of the whole Canyon Road experience. You all need to buy more books from me so I can get one of his pieces.

“fur trapper” 2021, hanging in the Grant Hayunga Gallery

Meow Wolf

Canyon Road wasn’t the only artistic experience of the trip. When we last visited Santa Fe, the art collective known as Meow Wolf was still in its infancy. In the decade since our visit, they have experienced significant growth. Their permanent home in Santa Fe is a former-bowling alley funded by some local guy named George R. R. Martin. It sits near the southwestern edge of the city as is home to their first large-scale interactive art experience House of Eternal Return. It’s amazing. The whole thing plays out like an interactive X-Files episode.

I can write a thousand words on what is inside, but it’ll never do it justice. Even photos don’t really capture the magic. You begin outside a modest home oddly enclosed in a warehouse (the reason why is eventually explained). After you pass through the front door (it’s open), you’ll soon discover a rich story told through journals, newspaper articles, videos, and photo albums, pictures on the wall, toys in the bedroom, and much much more. It all ties the family that resided there and their experiences to the surreal worlds you’ll interact with as you move beyond the House itself. I don’t want to go into too much detail on the experience since the House gives back what you bring, and spoilers remove that sense of wonder. (I even consider not sharing pics.)

I came away feeling inspired by the whole thing and thought it’d be great to someday recreate a corner of Lovat for readers to explore in person. Will it ever happen? I don’t know. My “Old Haunts” project is a small attempt at capturing some of that, and while I love them, being able to do it in person would be so rich and satisfying. Imagine standing outside Russel & Sons with rain dropping down around you, muffled jazz blaring from somewhere above, and the smell of spicy noodles cooking from a push cart down the street. Rad idea, right?

House of Eternal Return isn’t Meow Wolf’s only project. They have another installation that went live this year, and more experiences are planned for the future (Denver and eventually Washington D.C.). We’re already looking at a trip to Las Vegas for one reason: visit Omega Mart. Think cosmic horror as a grocery store chain, and you’d be on track. (Check out some of their ads.) It all sounds as creepy and weird and wonderful as I’d hope. I am excited to explore its aisles in the future.

New Mexico Highlands

On a whim, we decided to leave Santa Fe behind and head out into the country. We did this a decade ago, heading northwest toward Abiquiú and the Ghost Ranch. This time we headed northeast toward Taos. Early-summer storms were sweeping across the land, and you could watch enormous dark clouds trailing tails of rain and shadow for miles. For some reason, I expected more of the high desert environment like what I saw ten years previous. But the land toward the northeast was very different to that of the west, it rose suddenly. As we left the desert behind, we found ourselves in the foothills of the Sangre de Cristo Range of the Southern Rocky Mountains. I’ve grown up among the Rocky’s most of my life. But driving north along highway 68 and looking across the vast Taos plateau and seeing the gorge carved by the Rio Grande was utterly breathtaking. I’ve seen deep valleys before, but never one carved in such flat and open land and from such a height. I still find myself reflecting on that view. Seeing the ground opened up that way was like staring into the vastness of time.

The Río Grande Gorge from the Taos Overlook, off State Road 68 near the “horseshoe.” Photo from the Taos News.

Instead of continuing East across the Rio Grande Gorge Bridge, we decided to loop up into the mountains. We found ourselves in Carson National Forest, taking the High Road to Taos scenic byway back to Santa Fe. This is proper mountain country, think tall trees, deep valleys, tiny communities tucked away into hollows, and vast untouched stretches of forest for miles and miles. It all felt closer to home. Beautiful, but not at all what I anticipated.

So Much More

Santa Fe and the surrounding land can be a bit surreal at times. Modern art and interactive art experiences exist alongside deep history. The Palace of the Governors, erected in 1610, is the oldest public building in continuous use in America. Just down the street is the San Miguel Mission, the oldest church in the United States. Outside of Taos is the Taos Pueblo, the oldest continuously inhabited community in the United States, originating sometime between 1000–1450 A.D. and not discovered by Europeans until the sixteenth century. And that only scratches the surface of what you can find in this small section of the state. This doesn’t even begin to cover other places in New Mexico we were unable to visit, locations like White Sands, Roswell, Carlsbad Caverns, Shiprock, Trinity, the burning of Zozobra, Los Alamos, and so much more. There is a density of wonder here and New Mexico doesn’t hold back and is very much worth your attention.

Advice & Tips

You’re going to want to rent a car, this is big country. That said when in town, be willing to walk. There’s so much to see in Santa Fe, and unexpected places are often found on foot.

Eat everything. Try new dishes. Explore New Mexican cuisine. Fear no chile. Don’t be put off by location. Sometimes the smallest trucks tucked into the quietest corners can have the best tacos.

Scenic byways are your friend in Western States and New Mexico is full of them (High Road to Taos, Turquoise Trail, Santa Fe Trail, among many many others). While slower than major freeways, these routes will give travelers glimpses into a New Mexico easily missed by tourists. The extra time is worth it.

This was my fourth trip into New Mexico, my second to Santa Fe, and easily my favorite of the bunch. Each time I visit, the trips get a little longer, and each time I return I wish I had stayed a few more days. The name “Land of Enchantment” is a fitting one. The terrain there is haunting, rich in history and legend, and it calls to the traveler to take time and explore its wonders.

I’m not going to lie, it’s weird to travel right now, even fully vaccinated. People are rightly nervous, business hours are funky, and what we thought of as “normal” has changed significantly. Traveling at the end of a pandemic requires a lot of patience and copious amounts of kindness and empathy. We’re in a transitional period, and those can be both interesting and weird to navigate. However, it’s still worth it to get away for a time, and allow oneself to experience the world again. It was good to return to New Mexico, and a shame to have waited so long to return. Here’s hoping our next visit comes sooner rather than later.

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[orbemnews]

As spring thaws the Minnesota ice, a new pipeline battle fires up Originally built in the 1960s, the Enbridge Line 3 crude oil pipeline snakes 1,097 miles from the tar sands of Canada to Superior, Wisconsin. Of the roughly 340 miles through Minnesota, the replacement pipeline includes new sections and added capacity and is cutting through some of the most pristine woods and wetlands in North America. In little camps along the way, a small-but-growing group of protesters is out to stop them, driven by ancient prophesy and the promises of a new President. In Ojibwe tribal lore, an environmental moment of reckoning was predicted in the time of the Seventh Fire, when “the light skinned race will be given a choice between two roads,” one green and lush, the other black and charred. A wrong choice, it was warned, would “cause much suffering and death to all the Earth’s people.” The Ojibwe are of the largest groups of Native Americans north of Mexico with tribal members stretching from present-day Ontario in eastern Canada all the way into Montana. As a half-dozen female tribal elders sing and pray alongside the frozen Mississippi, it’s obvious that for some bands, the fight is sacred and eternal. The question is how many will join them in the face of tougher legal challenges, increased pressure from police and the limits of the pandemic. “There have been over 130 people arrested so far in just the last few months,” tribal attorney and activist Tara Houska told CNN. Some are physically arrested at construction sites, but police also watch social media feeds to identify trespassing protesters and send summons in the mail. Before we walked the frozen river, Houska attended her hearing with a judge over Zoom and was ordered to post $6,000 bail. “They seem to think that it’s going to deter us from protecting the land. They are fundamentally missing the point of what water protectors are doing, which is willing to put ourselves our freedom, our bodies, our personal comfort on the line for something greater than ourselves,” Houska said. After living in Washington and fighting Dakota Access and Keystone XL, she is now hoping this movement helps convince the Biden administration that the Army Corps of Engineers and Environmental Protection Agency during the Trump administration were shoddy in their environmental impact studies and too hasty in issuing permits. But Canadian pipeline giant Enbridge insists that it passed every federal, state and tribal test. The company has been rushing to complete the pipeline before politics or the courts can stop it. Of those 340 miles cutting through The Land of 10,000 Lakes, more than 40% is already in the ground. “Line 3 is not like the Keystone XL pipeline,” Enbridge Chief Communications Officer Mike Fernandez told CNN. “It already exists. And it already is an energy lifeline for literally millions of people in the US and in Canada. And the reality is, even as we see great growth in renewables, we’re still going to need some fossil fuels 40 years to come.” But since Biden has built the first White House with a climate agenda at every agency, the biggest argument against the pipeline may be over the kind of energy running through Line 3. Unlike liquid Texas crude hidden in pockets of rock, Alberta’s oil is part of the Canadian soil under the boreal forest. It can’t be pumped unless it is steamed. As a result, it is the dirtiest and most destructive fossil fuel after coal. A trip to the tar sands boggles the mind with its scale. Massive, man-made pits crawl with massive dump trucks, filled with what feels like sticky cookie dough and smells like asphalt. Tens of thousands of tons are moved into massive processing plants each day where the goop is boiled and blasted with Athabasca River water heated with natural gas. To separate the flammable bitumen from the dirt and clay, it takes six gallons of fresh water to produce one gallon of tar sands gasoline and the lakes needed to hold the resulting toxic waste are among the biggest man-made creations in history. The sheer amount of energy required to turn sticky earth into liquid fuel not only makes Alberta tar sand more expensive, it produces 15% more planet-cooking carbon pollution, according to the Union of Concerned Scientists. But to the workers building Line 3, pipelines are safer and cleaner than moving oil by truck or train. And if you stop Line 3, they argue, it does nothing to stop the world’s voracious demand for the kind of fuels that burn. “I think, frankly, people have been drawn to pipelines because it’s easy to fight pipelines,” said Kevin Pranis with the Laborers International Union of North America as cranes lifted 25,000-pound pipes as long as city buses. “The truth is that the carbon emissions aren’t coming from pipelines. They’re coming from cars. And so if you really wanted to go directly to the source, you can protest car dealerships, you can protest gas stations. But the problem is, people like car dealerships and they like gas stations and they would be pretty angry about that.” While most of the 5,200 people building Line 3 are from oil states like Texas and Louisiana, “some 400 will be Native Americans,” Fernandez told me. “We met with all of the First Nations along that pipeline. We listened, and as a consequence there are 320 or so route modifications.” Enbridge’s tribal relations suffered in February, when two men working on Line 3 were caught in a human trafficking sting set up to protect underage Indigenous girls. “The two individuals that that were arrested have been fired.” Fernandez said. “We don’t tolerate that kind of activity or behavior and it’s prompted us to go to one of the contractors to say ‘This is our expectation, that they be trained to a certain level.'” Follow the pipeline route, and feelings can change by the tribe or the mile. “You think that people that are scrambling at home, running out of gas with no heat, are thinking about climate change?” said Jim Jones. “They’re thinking about how they’re going to heat their home and put food on the table.” As a member of the Leech Lake Band of the Ojibwe and a former expert in cultural anthropology for the state, Enbridge hired Jones to walk the pipeline route and ensure no violation of Indigenous spaces or ruins. “I’m at peace that I’ve done the best I can to protect what’s important to us,” he said. “And I can honestly tell you, as of today, nothing of historic context has been unearthed or disturbed.” After the Fond du Lac Band of Lake Superior Chippewa struck a deal with Enbridge to run a part of Line 3 through their reservation, tribal leaders said they were put in an impossible position. Some tribes worked with Enbridge on the route, while others like Winona LaDuke of the White Earth Band of Ojibwe have nothing but scorn for Enbridge. LaDuke laughed when told of Jones’s promise. “He’s looking for pot charts and arrowheads. We’re live people.” LaDuke is a longtime environmental activist who twice ran for vice president on Ralph Nader’s Green Party ticket, but after fighting for Indigenous rights against extractive energy companies for years, she never imagined the fight would come to her. “Enbridge wants to criminalize us,” she said. “I’m a grandmother, you know, graduated from Harvard, ran twice for vice president, at what point did I become a criminal? I’m just asking, ‘How much risk should we as Americans take so a Canadian multinational can get a little richer at the end of the tar sands era?'” She helped convince a sympathetic local to sell them a little piece of land where the pipeline intersects the Mississippi and as the weather warms, the protesters hope their number of tents, yurts and fly-fishing shanties will grow faster than Enbridge can drill under the frozen Mississippi. “Our people say ‘Don’t pick a fight with Mother Nature. You can’t win, and we’re getting we’re getting pounded. So why would you pipe the equivalent of 50 new coal fired power plants with this?” LaDuke said, pointing at Line 3. “The tar sands is the gun. This is the trigger.” Source link Orbem News #anewpipelinebattlefiresup-CNN #AsspringthawstheMinnesotaice #Battle #fires #ice #Minnesota #Pipeline #Spring #thaws #us

[personalrecoverykit]

An Analysis Of Effortless Entrepreneurship Methods

Rome2rio additionally presents on-line bookings for selected operators https://docs.google.com/document/d/1AgU_GnH78etmNdOxZ6dNUuZnhxTml0Kn/, making reservations straightforward and simple. Castlewood is a former census-designated place in southern Arapahoe County, Colorado, United States. It has been part Tyler T. Tysdal of town of Centennial because the city’s incorporation in 2001.

What is a high paying job?

Anesthesiologists are the top-paid workers in the U.S. and make a mean salary of $267,020 per year, according to data from the Bureau of Labor Statistics, compiled by U.S. News. Surgeons and oral surgeons round out the top three jobs with the highest earning power, and jobs in health care take the top 10 spots overall.

Colorado, the Centennial state, consists of the Western slopes, and the Eastern plains along with the Front Range foothills. The Continental Divide splits the state into the western and japanese elements, each with completely different sub-climatic zones. The Eastern Plains are semi-arid (Köppen local weather classification BSk) with clear skies and abundant sunshine. Day temperatures typically vary within the ninety°F (32.2°C) to 100°F (37.eight°C) vary through the summer. The hot and dry climate creates a vast distinction between the every day excessive and low temperatures, usually to the tune of 30°F (-1.1°C) or larger.

They break up time in Los Angeles and Colorado working on tasks, and ultimately caught the attention of Comedy Central for the pilot of somewhat show called South Park. The show was a success and has been working from 1997 till the current day. Born in Conifer, Colorado, in 1969, South Parkco-creator Trey Parker all the time had a factor for comedy.

The resort has delivered greater than 200,000 vacations for his or her four,000 plus Members and their households. Full-service relocation & talent mobility services; serving to organizations manage everything involved in worker relocation. This is a stable job with a company that might be round for the foreseeable future. Pilgrim ‘s is one of the largest poultry producers on the planet, producing healthy, high-high quality meals merchandise that go into a few of the world’s most interesting recipes. With the assistance of P2 business customers are now empowered to perform their own self-service analysis and create their own reports.

Dirt lot, damaged home windows , trash strewn everywhere, beat down cars, the park MANAGER is missing enamel/wears a grimy mumu, and three-legged dogs. Last week, the city came out with a fireplace truck to carry somebody up within the growth to take footage for code violations. I most likely wouldn’t walk around at night in Sheridan (Hampden/285 at Federal up to Sheridan) both. Contrary to what Denver locals imagine, Denver does NOT have ghetto neighborhoods. Sure there are run-down neighborhoods and there are low-income ones where you could really feel uncomfortable but there aren’t any ghetto neighborhoods in this metropolis.

The Private Equity Career Path: The Complete Guide

This commercial off the shelf answer has enabled many agencies to benefit from package implementations, providing extra value efficient and fully useful software methods to our clients. We have expanded past tax and now do implementations for Motor Vehicle, Drivers License, Unemployment Insurance and Unemployment Benefit companies. Much of the work at FAST occurs on our shopper sites as a part of the product implementation. Individuals who understand the technical features of techniques implementation in addition to the business needs of our purchasers fill these positions. Employees participate in the full project life cycle from necessities gathering via manufacturing help.

Save time and discover higher-high quality jobs than on different sites, guaranteed. Each yr, ColoradoBiz does in depth analysis, collects trade data and facilitates reader voting to supply varied enterprise rankings. Inside the partitions of the citadel-like magic store, visitors discover a arms-on play surroundings stuffed with games, puzzles, magic methods, and costumes. It’s a kitschy store excellent for presents, nevertheless it’s additionally a spot that a kid (or a grown-up) may go and play for hours on finish.

They begin with prenatal care and go all through management growth for qualified younger adults. They take a protracted-term strategy to what they do and transcend Colbat Sports simple involvement in the lives of the kids and households they serve. Cimarex Energy Co. is an organization engaged in hydrocarbon exploration.

Students receiving internship offers before November 9, 2020, because of on-campus recruiting shall be given until November 23, 2020, or two weeks from the date of the supply, whichever is later, to decide. Any student receiving an additional internship provide after finishing a prior internship together with your agency or company will be given till November 30, 2020, to make a decision.

Importance Of Entrepreneurship:

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If you’re that worried about getting assaulted, simply draw a line from Saks/Macy’s to the closest Whole foods, stay within a block of that line, after which hope that the boredom, pretension, and douchebaggery would not kill you. As somebody how is from Denver, and also lived in the bay space, There really are no neighborhoods that are ghetto.

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Is Kylie Jenner a entrepreneur?

Entrepreneur Kylie Jenner started Kylie Cosmetics two years ago with a $29 lip kit, and as Forbes reports, “has sold more than $630 million worth of makeup since.” Jenner owns 100 percent of a company that Forbes conservatively estimates is worth $800 million.

Glenwood Springs in the west averages between 39°F (three.9°C) to 70°F (21.1°C), while Boulder in the east is between 44°F (6.7°C) to seventy two°F (22.2°C). The average excessive temperatures are generally within the heat 50°F (10°C) to 60°F (15.6°C), while nights are on the colder side in the 25°F (-3.9°C) to 41°F (5°C) across the state. Day excessive temperatures average within the heat 42°F (5.6°C) to 60°F (15.6°C) range throughout completely different areas of the state but the nights are chilly with average low temperatures in the 4°F (-15.6°C) to 34°F (1.1°C).

Beef cattle are fattened in feedlots, mostly round Greeley, the place they are fed grains and other feed of excessive food value. Colorado’s agricultural production is domintated (75%) by livestock and livestock merchandise, pushed by the cattle business. Over 60% of the state’s agricultural revenues are provided by the growth of cattle and calves. The Colorado economy is split roughly by the state’s panorama. Between the eastern plains and the western mountains, Colorado’s city areas are house to most services, and manufacturing exercise.

and Colorado Springs within the east common between 25°F (-3.9°C) to fifty five°F (12.eight°C), whereas Alamosa, Aspen, and Gunnison in the west are between 12°F (-11.1°C) to 47°F (8.3°C). The average high temperatures are typically comfy in the day in the fifty five°F (12.8°C) to sixty five°F (18.three°C) range but the nights are chilly with the average low temperatures within the 25°F (-3.9°C) to forty°F (4.four°C) vary. Western Colorado is usually beneath freezing temperatures because the nights become frosty. Alamosa within the west averages in the 25°F (-3.9°C) to sixty two°F (16.7°C) vary, while Canon City in the east is between 37°F (2.8°C) to 68°F (20°C).

Leprino Foods is an American company with headquarters in Denver, Colorado that produces cheese, lactose, whey protein and sweet whey. Qurate Retail Group, previously generally known as Liberty Interactive, is an American media conglomerate managed by firm Chairman John C. Antero Resources is an impartial exploration and production firm. They are engaged in the exploitation, improvement and acquisition of natural fuel, NGLs and oil properties.

Vertiv convened a panel of world important infrastructure consultants to systematically quantify and rank the criticality of multiple industries based mostly on 15 standards. Mass transit-specifically rail and air transportation-ranked second on the record, adopted by telecommunications, upstream oil and gas exercise and cloud and colocation. He went to the Berklee College of Music for a semester earlier than transferring to the University of Colorado Boulder. This is the place he met Matt Stone, additionally a Colorado local, in a film class.

REI’s celebration of the outside additionally extends to its employees. Employee perks embrace paid time off to go outside and discount packages.

AreaVibes also gives the suburb an A+ score for its many amenities and conveniences. If you live in Utah and also you’re looking for a job, you’ve come to the best place. RK operates two facilities in Denver and Henderson, Colorado that span 24 acres and embody one hundred fifty five,000 sq. ft of modern fabrication and manufacturing space.

If you’re in search of an excellent profession alongside an excellent work/life balance and working environment, listed below are the best locations to work in Denver. This is a list of notable firms based or having main operations within the Denver-Aurora Metropolitan Area.

syndicated from An Analysis Of Effortless Entrepreneurship Methods via David Rawlins

syndicated from An Analysis Of Effortless Entrepreneurship Methods via Personal Recovery Kit

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From Africa to tea with the Queen

By Melissa Twigg, BBC, 19 July 2018

Eighty-year-old women are supposed to stay at home. The neatly dressed grandmother of our collective imagination derives her pleasure from indoor pursuits--cooking, reading, knitting. One thing octogenarian women aren’t supposed to do is embark on a solo five-month journey through Africa, driving from Cape Town to Cairo in a battered Toyota Conquest.

Julia Albu never set out to be exceptional. Her daily routine slotted neatly into what the world expects from an older woman living in a leafy village near Cape Town. Every morning she would listen to the radio, and one day the discussion turned to then-President Jacob Zuma and his extravagant taste in cars.

“I was incensed,” Albu said. “I phoned in immediately to say I was going to be 80, and my car, Tracy, was a 20-year-old Toyota and she ran beautifully. We could happily drive to London together, so why Zuma needed all these new cars was beyond me.”

Buoyed by the enthusiastic response she received, Albu pledged on air to drive to Buckingham Palace to have tea with the Queen--and before long, the seeds of what had begun as a joke started germinating.

“My partner had recently died, you see,” Albu said. “It was an exhausting process, and after all that I thought, ‘My goodness, there really isn’t much of life left’. I feel like I’m 36 from the shoulders up and 146 from the shoulders down, and I wanted the younger me to win for once.”

Six months later, on the dawn of her 80th birthday, Albu’s youthful half triumphed. With Tracy’s grey, squat exterior emblazoned with the rainbow-coloured stickers of her sponsors, Albu set off on a frosty morning from her house in Jakkalsfontein, hurtling up a gum tree-lined road pointing north.

“I was raring to go,” she said. “I had been inoculated against every known virus, although the doctor said he didn’t think I’d need any STD precautions, which was insulting. And Tracy was looking beautiful, upholstered from the seats to the sun visors in pink florals.”

A cavalcade of Harley Davidsons bid her farewell outside Johannesburg, but other than that, South Africa passed in a blur of Karoo pepper trees and cold winter nights. And so it was left to Botswana to give Albu her first taste of African adventure.

“We were pottering along the road when an elephant nearly came to blows with poor Tracy. And the potholes, oh they were too awful. But it all felt magical, from the heat drifting through my windows to the baobab trees. I knew I was going to be alright because everyone I met was so kind. They called me ‘Gogo’, which means grandmother.”

In those early weeks, Albu often slept in a tent on the side of the road. But while her spirit was indomitable, her body was not, and sleeping on the ground soon took its toll. Her family rallied around to help--one daughter eventually drove with her to Zimbabwe, while her son accompanied her through Malawi.

But interspersed with moments of hardship was Albu’s utter exhilaration at seeing the continent she was born in finally blossoming into focus. Her eyes lit up when she talked about the majesty of Lake Malawi or Zimbabwe’s Victoria Falls, but also when she described the details of life on the road. There was the man selling wicker furniture under a dusty Malawian tree, and the Zambian schoolgirls who read to her. She talked about vendors frying mice, truck drivers sharing food with her, and ripe tomatoes she plucked off the vine.

“I never felt lonely, even when I was alone,” she said. “I loved the times my children visited, and the intimate moments I spent with each of them. But you must remember Tracy is also an older lady just like me, and this was something we were doing together.”

Albu’s age was clearly a mixed blessing. African border posts can be notoriously difficult to negotiate, but she breezed through most of them. The truck drivers she had been sharing the road with began to recognise her and ushered her to the front of the queue.

“The belief in the wisdom of your elders is ingrained in a lot of African cultures--though often they just found me hilarious,” she said. “One Ugandan customs official asked why I was driving to London. ‘To have tea with the Queen’ I replied. His eyes were like marbles, and my passport was stamped in a jiffy.”

Nonetheless, I sensed Albu’s profound frustration at being physically unable explore the nooks and crannies of the continent unfolding around her. “Oh to be 40 years younger,” she said. “The mountains I would have climbed; the lakes I would have swum in.”

Instead, Albu quenched her boundless thirst for Africa through its people. Her travel diary is filled with page upon page of names, numbers and business cards, including the addresses of hundreds of teachers she sent schoolbooks to through a charity she is affiliated with.

In Tanzania, she stumbled upon a small village and began talking to one of the elders, named William. They spent hours together that day and the next, sitting on a bench while putting the world to rights. Months later, a letter from him plopped through her door in Cape Town. “Your radiant and full-of-life personality is amazing,” he wrote. “Your willingness to share the good moments of others taught me what life can mean. I, in my own way, promise to give you company.”

During the trip, Albu learned to shake off age with a flick of her hair. In Tanzania, at a honeymooner resort, she peeled off her dress for a midnight swim. In Ethiopia, she camped with eager 20-somethings in the Danakil Depression, a neon-hued moonscape of lava and salt plains that is often described as the ‘gateway to hell’.

Her enthusiasm for Ethiopia is particularly infectious--for the dramatic landscapes and for the profound spirituality that imbues the place. Sudan, too, she describes with a sense of awe that I suspect is reserved for an Africa with which she no longer feels familiar.

“I think I got my moment of purest joy when I was driving alone through the Sudanese desert on the long road to Khartoum,” she said. “My tape of hymns was playing at full blast and I was singing ‘Jerusalem’, thinking about England’s green and pleasant land while a shepherd shuffled through the sand in the distance.”

Albu’s African odyssey ended in Egypt, the country where her luck in namedropping the Queen finally ran out. Held at border control for several days while Tracy was fitted with Arabic number plates, her only option was to sleep in a cafe. “I’m not sure if you’ve ever spent the night alone in a room with seven Egyptian men, but it certainly was an experience,” she said. “They were kind though, and if they were surprised I was a woman on my own, they didn’t show it.”

Up through Egypt she went, stopping off in Aswan and The Valley of the Kings and finishing in the polluted streets of Cairo. On her last day, she parked on the banks of the Nile to collect some murky river water, which was destined to sit on her mantelpiece next to bottles filled up at the source of the White Nile in Tanzania and the Blue Nile in Ethiopia.

From Cairo, Albu flew back to Cape Town, watching the continent unfold below her and pitying her fellow passengers for their sky-high perspective. After recuperating in Jakkalsfontein for a few months, Albu boarded a plane to Europe and was reunited with Tracy--who had languished for weeks in a container in Greece after crossing the Mediterranean by ferry. From Greece, she drove through Albania, Montenegro, Croatia, Slovenia, Austria, Germany and Holland, and arrived in London for the summer season.

“Oh, I was dying to have tea with the Queen--particularly after telling the world and his wife that I was going to,” Albu says. “But it was the week of Royal Ascot and apparently she was otherwise engaged. The English are a strange breed--I’m not sure they appreciated quite how long my journey to Buckingham Palace was.”

Although astoundingly, London was not the final stop in Albu’s odyssey. Last week, she crossed the Channel again and is currently heading for the heel of Italy, from where she will sail for Tunisia and begin her drive to Cape Town--crossing Africa overland for the second time in as many years.

“Well, why not? What do you want me to do, sit on this sofa and wait to die?” she asks, with a laugh. “There is a freedom that comes with old age that so many people don’t realise. I didn’t know it before my adventure, but at my age you’re actually freer than you’ve ever been--you lose a husband and the children are grown, and you worry less about the consequences of everything.”

We have a tendency to treat older people with kid gloves, but excitement and adventure are not prerogatives of the young. And if the inhabitants of Buckingham Palace one day read about Albu’s story and send an embossed invitation down to South Africa, she and Queen will undoubtedly have a lot to say on the subject.

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Is Xinjiang province the best-kept travel secret in China?

Xinjiang, China (CNN)“Bosh bosh!” vendors yell as they yank sheep along by their tails, shoving them from trucks into the pens where they’ll be sold to their death.

We’re in the riotous Sunday livestock market on the outskirts of Kashgar, in China’s remote northwesternmost Xinjiang province.

Yaks, camels and Xinjiang’s famously fat-bottomed lambs have all been delivered to the market — the biggest of its kind in Central Asia — by bearded men from miles around, to be sold by the day’s end.

The air is thick with cries of “bosh bosh!” — meaning “coming through,” in the local Uyghur language.

At a nearby food shack, we order a couple of samsa — a crispy, stone oven-baked bread parcel filled with seasoned diced lamb, purchased and slaughtered in halal fashion that morning.

Here, the phrase “farm to table” is literal. Blood from the remaining flesh of the animal drips from its bones by the shack’s entrance.

Xinjiang might be one of China’s best-kept secrets.

Once a vital stretch of the ancient Silk Road network of trade routes, today the province is notorious for violent ethnic tensions between the indigenous Turkic Uyghurs and swelling Han population, which have choked tourism in recent years.

Many of its people’s faces bear the hallmark of Central Asia, its food has clear Turkish influences and the landscape is arid, fiery, and punctuated by Islamic, Turkic and Kyrgyz architecture.

Kashgar Old Town

Anyone who saw the 2007 film “The Kite Runner” might recognize Kashgar’s Old Town.

It doubled onscreen as Kabul, in Afghanistan — the only time Kashgar has appeared in a Western film.

Laghman noodles – allegedly what Marco Polo found in China and took back to Italy; aka pasta. #Laghmannoodles #chinatravel #turpan #oldsilkroad #uighurfood #marcopolo

A photo posted by jenni marsh (@jenn1marsh) on Sep 4, 2016 at 7:07am PDT

Perhaps the last time such a global spotlight fell on the oasis city was when Marco Polo passed through in 1273, and called it “the largest and most important” city in Xinjiang, before allegedly taking the local laghman noodles back to Italy, and rebranding them spaghetti.

We try a plate of these noodles served with cooked tomatoes, onions and shredded beef, and can’t deny it’s not unlike a certain Italian dish.

Those ancient streets captured on film are today mostly vanished.

The city’s Old Town, deemed unsafe to live in, has been demolished. All that remains is a small neighborhood located a 15-minute walk from the Kashgar Bazaar.

Nearby lies the new Old Town: an ambitious re-imagining of its predecessor which recaptures its elegant Islamic architecture but without the disorganized charm.

The old Silk Road

Leaving Kashgar, we head out further west on a trip along the Karakoram Highway (KKH), the road that connects China with Pakistan via winding mountain passes.

Overnight rain has left the road more treacherous than usual. Rocks have fallen which soldiers have been tasked with clearing.

The 9,000-mile (14,484 km) highway from Kashgar to Abbottabad, in Pakistan, is currently being resurfaced on both sides of the border by Beijing, in a bid to improve the China-Pakistan Economic Corridor.

The China stretch is mostly finished, but the fresh tarmac needs to set, so we make a bumpy journey on rubble tracks beside the empty, pristine road.

Every 10 minutes the landscape reinvents itself.

Flaming red mountains are replaced by huge gorges. Ethnic Kyrgyz children living in stone houses with solar panels atop appear on the left, Tajik yurts to the right.

They’re followed by grasslands populated by grazing yak and roaming herds of camels that peer into the car windows.

Karakul Lake is the jewel in this bonanza of Instagram-worthy scenes.

Stepping out of the car here, it’s hard to breathe.

At its peak, the KKH is 15,397 feet above sea level, making it the highest paved international highway in the world. My lungs briefly brace at the altitude.

Karakul means “black lake,” but the name is misleading. Its waters are a majestic jade green. They’re backdropped by eery, soft grey sand dunes.

As we drive higher, towards the snowcapped Tian Shan mountains, it gets colder. By the time we arrive in Tashkurgan, a town almost upon the border with Pakistan, it’s raining.

Police with sniffer dogs patrol the streets — China’s northwest frontier is a hotbed for heroin smuggling.

This is where we must stop.

The Khunjerab Pass that leads to Pakistan has been closed to foreigners, according to our driver, although no one will say why.

He delivers us to a Byzantine-looking BBQ restaurant decorated with disco balls and and soundtracked by techno music.

Customers wearing elaborate, bejeweled doppas (square skull caps) are served juicy lamb skewers and a Uyghur dish called manper soman — it resembles farfelle with vegetables and shredded meat — by Tajik owners.

Spectacular, rarely seen images of China’s railways

Swallowed by the sand

We only have nine days in Xinjiang. It’s a huge province, bordering eight countries — Mongolia, Russia, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan, Afghanistan, Pakistan and India — and is impossible to fully explore in such a short time.

Our next stop, via the provincial capital Urumqi, is Turpan — one of the world’s lowest depressions.

The fast train from Uruqmi takes 1.5 hours to reach Turpan. It whizzes past vast wind turbine farms in the red desert, but also oil and gas fields, a reminder of why Xinjiang is so vital to China.

In Turpan, we check into a boutique hotel, The Vines, which is part of a working vineyard.

Here, an amazing karez irrigation system of vertical wells and underground canals has channeled water from the mountains for hundreds of years, keeping this desert oasis almost impossibly fertile.

Tourism hasn’t exactly caught on yet.

When I ask to buy a bottle of the red wine produced here, our host directs us to the local supermarket.

Turpan minaret #turpan #farwestchina #china #oldsilkroad

A photo posted by jenni marsh (@jenn1marsh) on Sep 1, 2016 at 12:18am PDT

The scorching Taklamakan desert outside of Turpan is home to the remains of ancient towns long ago swallowed and preserved by the sand, unearthed in the past century.

As the temperature climbs to an arid 38 degrees Celsius, we find Tuyoq, one of the few inhabited ancient Uyghur villages, where mud-built homes appear camouflaged against the sandy landscape.

Only the green dome of the Mazar, an Islamic shrine, stands out.

Outside one of the mud homes stands a sign: “Former residence of Albert Von Le Coq.”

Beneath, a scathing description outlines how in the early 20th century the German explorer, along with a band of rival Europeans, raided Taklamakan sites of historical treasures belonging to China, and deposited them to museums in their home nations.

The Bezeklik caves, from the walls of which Von le Coq ripped scores of ancient paintings after he discovered the site in 1905, lie just outside the village.

Jam session

Back in Urumqi, we find a rarity in largely alcohol-free Xinjiang: a strip of bars.

Gong Yuan Bei Lu is lined with overpriced cocktail joints and coffee shops serving beer.

It’s a contrast to the rest of the province, where refreshment comes in the form of circular flat breads stamped with swirling patterns, shredded pumpkin and lamb steamed dumplings, salty Uyghur ice cream and lamb kebabs gently spitting on street grills.

Around midnight we roll into Fusion Bar.

Styled like a British pub, albeit one with two Christmas trees and a giant Super Mario model, it presents local jazz and rock acts.

We’re the only Westerners in sight and, as complimentary Jack Daniels keep arriving at our table, we’re told the night rounds off with a jam session.

And so, our time in Xinjiang is brought to a close with my traveling companion, a part-time musician, joining the electronic jazz band on stage to sing “Autumn Leaves.”

Xinjiang knows how to make an impression.

China opens Chongqing nuclear plant, a Cold War relic, to travelers

Beijing: Insider Travel Guide

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/is-xinjiang-province-the-best-kept-travel-secret-in-china/ from All of Beer https://allofbeercom.tumblr.com/post/172787262967