#it is presently a tourist town with a population about the same as my home town

[queerpyracy]

what is it with dads just giving you family lore drops after never telling you anything for your whole life. i've been lamenting not knowing more specific regions of where the various branches of the family came from in europe and he just casually dropped the other day that we know the exact town in switzerland great grandma's family came from

[umichenginabroad]

Madrid Week 3: Flashbacks

Hola a todxs! It’s Niko back with week 3 of studying abroad in Madrid. Time is STILL passing by really fast and slow at the same time, so I'll talk about it again — I’ve been here less than a month and it’s felt like half a year, but the days go by quickly. I don’t think that will stop anytime soon, but I’m here for it. More perceived time = more life lived, and I hope that my weeks don't start blending together anytime soon.

As promised in week 2, I wanted to spend this blog talking about my trip to Granada last weekend. Granada is a small Spanish town in the southern region of Spain called Andalucía. It’s got a population of around 230,000 people — nearly the exact same as my hometown of Arlington, VA, which is a suburb outside of Washington, DC. However, in place of tree lined residential neighborhoods and modern office buildings, Granada is filled with narrow cobblestone streets bordered by low, densely packed buildings and intensely intricate churches/palaces built hundreds of years ago.

That palace — La Alhambra — is the largest tourist attraction in Granada, and was one of the main reasons I wanted to visit it (also, a big shout out to Emma for hosting me, a friend of mine from high school doing her semester in Granada!!). It’s a massive Moorish palace on a hill that overlooks the entire city. The Moors, who were North African Muslims, conquered much of the Iberian Peninsula in the 8th century. La Alhambra was slowly built between the years 1238 and 1358, during the reigns of Ibn al-Aḥmar and his successors. 

With that said, my trip to Granada last weekend was not my first time seeing La Alhambra. As I mentioned briefly in week 0's blog, I took a trip to Spain with my 8th grade Spanish class for a week. That was 7 years ago. We hit most of the main touristic Spanish cities within that time, Granada included.

So, walking through the palace last weekend triggered a slow trickle of distant memories, fuzzy enough that I couldn’t remember details, but potent enough that I could remember how I felt. Some things had changed about the palace, many things stayed the same. I still felt the same sense of awe I did 7 years ago witnessing the incredible detail hand-carved into every surface, or seeing the palace perfectly reflected in a courtyard’s pool. The difference was that this time, I was exploring alone.

I think that during this trip, I really gained an appreciation — and curiosity — of solo travel. Although I was with my friend Emma much of the time, I felt a great deal of peace in exploring La Alhambra at my own pace. Without anyone else to turn to, I was forced to be present and attuned to my surroundings, and that enabled me to appreciate them that much more.

I think that part of that appreciation, however, was derived from the sense of independence and freedom I had existing alone in Granada. Going into college, being alone terrified me. I would step into the dining hall for lunch and wander through the common spaces, looking for a familiar face I could share a meal with. Now, I try my best to cherish the moments in which I can connect more to myself, whether that be during a meal, practicing a hobby, or exploring an ancient Moorish palace. That’s only something I've been able to move towards through consistent practice -- AKA, spending deliberate time alone. I hope to continue deepening that connection throughout this semester solo-exploring Spain and Europe, which I know is something I'll carry with me for the rest of my life.

Aside from La Alhambra, Emma and I explored the city and its various landmarks (El Albaicin, a predominantly Muslim neighborhood, the Granada Cathedral, the Monastery of San Jeronimo, the Mirador de San Miguel Alto [and an epic sunset], and even a jazz-esque show with Spanish flair from a band at a local music club). More pictures below.

On the way back home, we stopped at a rest stop for the bus, and I couldn’t help but notice how familiar it seemed. It conjured up a nostalgic feeling that could have only come from my first trip in Spain — I realized we had stopped at the same station.

For old time’s sake, I bought a Kinder Egg Sorpresa. These things were a huge deal to me in 8th grade, as they are banned in the USA for being a ‘choking hazard’.  Inside the chocolate exterior was a little plastic goat toy that will now serve as the centerpiece of our dining room table.

It’s funny to think how much of a different person I am from the 13 year old on vacation with his school friends and Spanish teachers. But it’s also comforting to know that all of these memories I carry with me explain the person I am today.

This week, I got a little more into school groove, took a rollerblading route, visited the Reina Sofia museum and went to see some amazing techno DJs over the weekend. Per usual, check out the photo captions for more info on the content this week :).

Hasta luego,

Niko Economos

Aerospace Engineering

Universidad Carlos III de Madrid

Madrid, Spain

[sunmarketing]

Dr. Mary Travelbest - Julian CA

This episode's FAQ is: I have no vacation time and want to travel. What would you suggest?

Today’s Destination is Julian, CA

Today’s Mistake- Not carrying a second payment option

Travel Advice:  Bring earplugs

  FAQ: I have no vacation time, and I want to travel. What would you suggest?

Answers: I have felt this way often. You should find a job with more flexibility and rewards results, not just for being present and punching the clock. If you want to do both, consider a job requiring you to travel, and then add a weekend day before your trip and one at the end. That way, you can do your work and get the job done. You can get travel in on your days before and after. You could always negotiate with the boss for more vacation time.

  Here are two alternative questions for the travel dreamers listening. What about taking shorter trips throughout the year instead of one long vacation? Have you considered volunteering abroad to gain travel experience while making a positive impact? 

  Comment: Some may say that travel is a luxury, not a necessity, and you should prioritize saving money. I spent the same or less on my around-the-world trip than I would have at home in 2023. If you budget well, you could do the same.

  Today’s destination: Julian, Ca

  As a solo female traveler, Julian, California, a quaint town of 2000 residents northeast of San Diego by 60 miles, offers a unique opportunity to step back in time and immerse yourself in history and culture. The population is small, but it grows when tourists arrive. Safety is a top priority, and plenty of accommodations include camping or glamping in the Cuyamaca Mountains, cozy bed and breakfasts, and inns. 

  Artists, photographers, writers, and musicians flock to Julian.

  If you're a fan of apple pie, you'll definitely want to try it here! But there's also much more to do, from hiking and exploring art galleries to shopping, stopping for tea, getting a massage, and even stargazing in this officially designated Dark Sky city. 

  For the adventurous traveler, you can explore the tunnels of a gold mine with a guided tour of secluded mines or try your hand at gold panning. And if you have a car, stop by Dudley's Bakery in Santa Ysabel on your way home for a delicious treat. 

  If you're traveling in the winter after the season's first snowfall, be aware of potential traffic and challenges. It may be best to wait until the end of the season when the crowds are fewer. But overall, Julian is a welcoming and charming destination for solo female travelers looking for a taste of history and adventure.

https://visitjulian.com/to-see-do/

https://visitjulian.com/plan-your-trip/road-conditions-map/

https://www.dudleysbakery.com/

Today’s Mistake- Not carrying a second payment option

  My credit card was not accepted, and I did not have money to pay the bill. I was embarrassed. I did not have a second card, so I had to get an IOU and pay as soon as possible. Always have a backup plan if one credit card is not accepted. Today, you have new options, including Apple Pay, Google Pay, and apps like Venmo, so it’s easier. Not all businesses accept digital payments, so cash may be the best backup in those instances.

  Today’s Travel Advice-Bring earplugs

  You never know when you will be surrounded by a loud noise or unable to concentrate. The earplugs will help at a concert, especially if your seat is by the speaker. They pack small and can save your ear from permanent damage. They may distort the sound quality of the concert, diminish your enjoyment of the experience, and defeat the purpose of a live performance, but the health of your hearing is important for long-term sound quality.

Connect with Dr. Travelbest

  5Stepstosolotravel.com

Drmarytravelbest.com

Dr. Mary Travelbest Twitter

Dr. Mary Travelbest Facebook Page

Dr. Mary Travelbest Facebook Group

Dr. Mary Travelbest Instagram

email: info@drmarytravelbest.com

Dr. Mary Travelbest Podcast

Dr. Travelbest on TikTok

Dr.Travelbest onYouTube

  Check out this Dr Travelbest episode!

[writing-prompts-for-friends]

Questions to Help World Build

I’ve realized I have a big problem with my writing. I am awful at world-building. Like, I just start writing without thinking about the world. And since I write fantasy. Well. That’s pretty no bueno and leads to all kinds of problems down the road. So I did some brainstorming with my friends and we created a list of over 100 questions to help think about our stories’ worlds and make them more concrete. Thanks to everyone who chimed in and gave me a hand! 

A traditional Japanese clock, wadokei, that counted hours from 9 to 4, starting from sunrise, and then starting once again from sunset. (1-3 were not used for religious purposes.) They’re super interesting and confusing. You should definitely check them out.

Temporal

Is your story set in the past, present, or future?

Specifically, what year(s), month(s), day(s)?

Are days 24 hours? Or does time pass differently in this world?

How many months are there in a year? Is it a seven day weekday? Does the concept of weekends exist?

Have most existing societies developed a timekeeping device?

Is there a way to communicate across long distances?

The concept of time zones is still relatively new to our world. Prior to the late nineteenth century, timekeeping was a purely local phenomenon. Each town would set their clocks to noon when the sun reached its zenith each day. Do standardized time zones exist across the world?

Geographical

From a planet perspective, is it Earth? If it is not Earth, or an alternative version of Earth, what is it like? Is gravity the same? Does it have a moon or multiple moons? Can you see other planets? Is it closer or further from the sun? If so, what impact does that have on the climate and passage of time?

What town, state, region, country, continent, planet does this story take place in? What are its bordering/nearest neighbors? Draw a world map if you want.

What kind of land is it? Landlocked? Mountainous? Along the sea? Desert? Tundra? Tropical forest? Plains? Agricultural? Industrial?

What kind of plants and animals are common to the area? Are there any that do not exist in the real world?

What are the most common crops and livestock in various regions? What geographic features influence certain regions ability to grow/raise their crops and livestock (positively and negatively)? Are the regions diets strongly influenced by what they are able to grow themselves, or do other circumstances (like strong international trade) allow them to have more varied selections? How does religion influence what is considered ‘normal’ to eat?

What, if any, natural disasters are common to the region? Earthquakes, floods, tornadoes, monsoons, blizzards?

How many seasons does it have? Are any longer than others?

What is the typical weather like for those seasons?

Does the region have any unusual geographical features that set it apart? Perhaps there is some weird thing like Devil’s Tower just chilling out. Or hot springs because of volcanic activity?

Is it easy to travel from place to place within the area? Is it difficult to travel because of terrain/technology issues, or because travel is strictly regulated?

Main Locations: Cities

Many stories take place within one city. In Neil Gaiman’s Sandman, a character remarks, “So, if a city has a personality, maybe it also has a soul. Maybe it dreams.” What personality does this city have? What soul does it have? What does it dream of when it slumbers? If your story takes place within a settlement, town, or city, give these questions some thought.

Exactly where is it located within the lands you conjured up in the above Geography questions? Does it have a bay? A river? Does it butt up against mountains? Draw a map of the city.

How big is the city? Is it compact, or sprawling?

How old is the city?

What is the history of the city? How did it come to be? What tumults and triumphs has it seen?

What is the population? Is it currently increasing, decreasing, or remaining the same?

Does the town have any claim to fame? Any tourist attractions? What are they? What’s the story behind them?

If it’s a big enough city, how many and what kind of districts does it have? Residential, Commercial, Industrial, etc. Where are they?

Are there any areas that are deemed unsafe? If so, where are they and why are they unsafe?

Is there public transportation? What kind, bus, tram, train, subway, monorail? Is it good?

How do people get around this city if not by public transportation?

Are the roads narrow or wide? Crisscrossing in a methodical grid or higgledy-piggledy?

What are the buildings like? What materials are they made of? If they’re wooden, are they new wood, old wood? If they’re painted, what colors? If they’re stone, what stone? If they’re brick, is it new red brick or blackened, crumbling brick? If they’re glass and metal, are they sparkling with new hope or dull and jaded?

Are there many skyscrapers? Or are most buildings 1-3 stories tall? What does the skyline look like?

Are there many parks?

How is the city powered? Coal? Hydroelectric? Wind? Nuclear? Has it always been so?

What is the city’s main source of revenue? Agriculture? Tourism? Manufacturing? Mining? Something else? A combination? Dive deeper into this. If it’s agriculture, what do they grow? Tourism–what is famous? etc. This will help to determine what a lot of people do for a living.

What are the demographics? Ethnicity, age distribution, distribution of upper, middle, and lower class, etc.

How many schools are there? Universities? Are any of them good? Do they specialize in anything? Do schools even exist? Perhaps there are clans that teach their children everything they need, for example, or education isn’t viewed as important.

Are there any particular landmarks within the city that standout?

How many and what kind of restaurants are there?

Are there supermarkets, open air markets, or both?

Where do young people go to spend time? What about adults?

Do people there bustle or do they amble?

What are the nights like? Does the city grow quiet, or does it grow rowdy?

What does the city smell like?

If you had to give your town a color, one that represented its personality, what color would it be?

Main Locations: Houses (or buildings, but mainly houses)

There are many stories that have a house or headquarters or hospital or some sort of building as their main setting. These questions will mostly be geared towards helping you figure out a house, but you can apply these to other buildings too probably.

Exactly where is the house located within the city or outside the city? How does your character usually get there? Draw a map. 

What year was the house built?

Was this house built by the current family or their ancestors? Who else lived in the house before the current dwellers? What were they like? Did they leave their mark on the house somehow?

What style is the house? Bungalow? Cabin? A shed? A cave? (makes the following questions mostly useless if so lol)

How many stories is it?

What is it made of? Wood? Brick? What color is it?

Does it have a lot of windows?

Are the curtains usually open or drawn? Are thee curtains at all?

What does the front door look like? 

Is there a porch?

You enter the front door. Or maybe you don’t. Maybe you use the side door because the front door is for show or something. Anyways. You enter the house. What room do you step foot into?

Draw out the floor plans for each floor. How many rooms are there? Where are they? How big are they? How are they connected? What color are they? What style of decor?

Is there a basement? Is it used or is it just a home for spiders and darkness and unwanted things? How about an attic? Crawlspace?

How many bathrooms? 

Are there any rooms that only certain people are allowed to enter? If so, why? 

What is the flooring? Carpet? Wood? Tile? Linoleum? 

What does the house smell like?

Government/Military/Economy

In other words, “the boring stuff,” if you ask me. But this is a very important aspect of any world. 

What sort of government is in place? Democracy, oligarchy, etc? Is it a just or corrupt government?

How are goods exchanged? Bartering? Money? Coins and bills? Credit cards? A specific kind of sea shell? Lol

What are the police like? Strict? Lax? Is there a curfew?

Do taxes exist? If so, do the people feel as though they are heavily or unduly taxed?

Where is the intersection between theology and law? Is it common to have religious leaders in positions of power? Are laws based around religious ideology, or is there an effort to keep them separate?

Is there an organised structure devoted to halting criminal acts? Are they corrupt? Who runs the organisation? How does their reputation change based on demographic? What is the history of the organisation, and how does that history influence how it operates today?

Regarding potentially criminal acts, what is the elgality of prostitution, sex work, ect.?

What about drugs and other illicit substances? Alcohol, illicit drugs, recreational use. Legality, festivity, age limits, etc.

Underbelly. How prevalent is crime, what sort of crime (scaled from pickpocketing to human trafficking) is there? Are there areas that have bad reputations because of it?

Regarding war, are there currently conflicts in the world? Are they international or civil wars? How common is it to have an active war? What is the history of war? What does current warfare look like (Is it dudes in metal suits swinging swords? Have longbows been invented? Gunpowder? Tanks? Missiles?) Is military service mandatory or voluntary? How is the military seen? Is there a sense of patriotism for the military, or does the common man fear it?

Is there stigma around certain genders entering the military? Are come genders regarded as better recruits than others? Is it illegal for some genders to enter the military? Does a person's sexuality affect their ability to serve?

How has religion influenced war? Have there been holy wars in the past? Do any religious institutions hold their own military forces?

Cultural/Historical

I’ve put these together because events in history lead to cultural change. You can apply these questions not only to the world/country, but also the city or even the neighborhood, workplace, or school that your story takes place in.

What is the history of the region? Who was it settled by? Was another group of people displaced? After that, did any new cultures come in? Did they get along?

Were there ever any wars or serious conflicts in the region? What was the cause and what was the outcome of the war if there was one?

In our world, the internet, social media, and film/tv are massive cultural drivers. They determine the latest fashions, jokes, topics, and expressions. What are the big cultural drivers in your world? Books? Plays? Radio? Oral tradition?

Is it a collectivistic or individualistic society?

What languages are spoken by your characters? Is multilingualism common?

What sorts of cultures can be seen? Do any clash? Do any mesh?

What sort of foods are most common?

What superstitions do people hold? Is there a version of “knock on wood” or throwing salt over your shoulder after a funeral? What are the roots of these superstitions?

Are there religions? If so, what are they? Do any conflict with each other? Are zealots or extremists an issue?

Does slavery or indentured servitude exist?

Are there any class or caste systems? If so, what are they, and what does an average day look like for a member of each class/caste?

How does a person's appearance change from country to country? Do certain countries have very distinct fashions? If so, are the fashions influenced by religion, surrounding countries, the cultural majority or international trade partners?

How does a person's clothing relate to their social standing? Is it very easy to assume someone's roll by appearance alone? Are there punishments for dressing above or below your social standing?

Does the society place a great deal of importance on a person's presentation, or is the society more lenient on such things?

Is there an emphasis on conformity to a dress code, or is individuality encouraged? How strictly is clothing regulated by gender binary? Is it commonplace to see a man and a woman walking down the street in the same cut of clothes? Is there a social stigma when a person does not conform to the most common form of dress for their gender?

How are sexual rights viewed? Does the LGBTQ community have the same rights as people outside the community? How are sex acts between people of the same sex viewed? Is it legal? Taboo? Are there cultures that encourage those relationships in some circumstances (like how the romans were down with guys with guys in the military)?

Are there any groups of people that are victims of prejudice? If so, who are they, who holds these views against them, and what views specifically are they?

In regards to gender, do certain societies hold differing beliefs? Is there a commonly accepted number of gender identities or does it change regionally? Is the most common gender spectrum a binary, or do certain racial and cultural differences allow for a wider range to be seen as the baseline?

Are children raised by their biological parents or are children considered to be in the care of the wider community? Is it common/acceptable for extended family to raise children, such as parents needing to study, work, or serve time in the military? Is adoption a common thing in society? Is there a stigma around adoption/being adopted? Do cultural or religious views impact how adoption is seen by the wider community? What is adoption like for a single perspective parent? When adopting, is interracial adoption accepted/common, or is it seen in a negative light? Are some societies more open to adopting children outside of their own race?

How is sex and virginity viewed? Does religion influence it? What is the age of consent? What is appropriate on a first, second, third date? Is sex something that is talked about openly, or something taboo? Are you supposed to wait until marriage? Do couples stay monogamous while dating? Do some regions place higher importance on virginity than others? Do some place higher importance on one gender’s virginity than others?

How is marriage viewed? Are arranged marriages a big thing, or are people free to choose? Is monogamy common? How is a marriage symbolized? A wedding ring, or something different?

How is divorce viewed? What is the divorce rate? Can people remarry?

Magic and the Supernatural

If magic or spooky stuff doesn’t exist in your story, disregard this section.

Does magic exist? If so, who can use it? What are the limitations to their magic? What things are they capable of using their magic to do? What things are they incapable of doing?

Are there laws against what kind of magic can/cannot be used? What sort of laws? Who enforces them? What are the punishments for breaking said laws if they exist?

How does the existence of magic affect religion? Are there religious institutions that infuse magic into their worship? Are there religious sects that see magic as immoral and in direct opposition to their faith? Have there been conflicts in recent or ancient history between religion and the supernatural? Do some sects employ people to hunt and/or enforce law over the supernatural?

Assuming that magic does exist, is it taught? Are there different schools of magic? Is there a system of ranking for magic users based on their skill level?

Do non-magic users look towards magic users with respect or fear?

What role does magic play in this world? Has technology not advanced because magic solves many problems? Or has technology advanced and the use of some magics has become unnecessary?

Are there any mythological creatures/monsters, such as vampires, demons, skinwalkers, dragons, or other creatures of your own creation? Are they common? Do people believe in their existence? Do people worship them? Where can they be found? Do they interact with humans? Do humans fear them or try to put up with them as they do nature?

Do the dead continue to exist in some form, such as ghosts or zombies or the like? Can the dead be summoned or brought back to life?

Are there human/supernatural hybrids? Perhaps a half-demon half-human, for example? How are these people viewed by their peoples, and by society as a whole?

How has the supernatural influenced war? Do armies tend to have a mix of regular and supernatural soldiers/weapons? Have there been wars between the supernatural/magical and those without? How does magic influence a person standing in a mixed army? Is it more likely for a magical being to be promoted than a non-magical being? Conversely, are supernatural being forced into service and seen as pawns?

The End!

Please feel free to reblog and share, and add on any questions you think should be added!

[nopefun]

Interview #492: Edra Galzeran

q: Give a short introduction of yourself: a: My name is Edra Galzeran, I am a photographer from Terrassa, a small town near Barcelona. In my teenage years this industrial city had little appeal for an awakened mind; it was just a place to run away from. So It was then that I started my escapades to Barcelona, a place where things happened. I left the calmness of my town, to plunge into the excitement, the madness of the city. At some point Barcelona also began to feel smaller and so began a long journey of ten years during which I had the opportunity to live in ever larger cities such as Berlin, Moscow and Kiev with the exception of Venice.

In the meantime, I studied Translation and Interpreting and began to take photographs and paint. All these cities fascinated me and still do, probably because they are places where the West meets the East. It’s funny how now, some years later, I have changed the excitement by the silence since I now live in a small town. In a way, I have returned to my origins. Now I love the closeness to nature, the Waldeisamkeit, being alone and wonderful in the forest.

q: How has the past year been for you? a: This terrible year was undoubtedly a turning point for me in many ways. On the one hand, the calm caused by the confinement, the slowing down of work, gave me the opportunity to become a de facto photographer, to show my work to the world. I have always photographed, but I could say that the germination of my capacity as a photographer is in Ukraine because there I started to really “see”. I bought my first SRL camera and started to walk and photograph what was around me, what caught my attention even If I did not think about becoming a photographer at that time. Things would start later, a few years after I returned to Barcelona in 2008. I had a lot of material that I had collected over the years, I did a workshop on analog photography and at that time I started to imagine the idea of becoming a photographer. I certainly already was, but it’s always difficult to say it out loud, when you are self-taught. Later it was difficult to find time to make a website, etc, because of my work, because of time constraints. However during the confinement I had to stay at home and had a lot of time to work on my new career.

On the other hand, this year has shown the fragility of human beings and our way of life has changed completely. The Covid has equaled us all more or less in disgrace. I personally was not affected by the disease, nor was anyone around me, although I had to face a family tragedy that kept me on my toes for almost three months.    

q: What is your series "Immram" about? a: The word “Immram” is an old Irish word that usually means "journey". At the same time it is the name of a kind of story from Irish literature. These stories are about the sea voyage of a hero to the Otherworld. They were mostly written in the Christian era (8th century), but still preserve elements of Irish mythology.

Immrams focus on the exploits of heroes in their search for the Otherworld, which in these cases is located on the westernmost islands of Ireland. The hero sets out on his journey to experience adventure or fulfill his destiny and usually stops at other fantastic islands before reaching his destination.

My project Immram is a journey into the Otherworld, to my own Otherworld, it is a journey between past and present, between truth and fiction, between paganism and Christianity. It is my winter journey to an old, hostile island in the west of Ireland, where all kinds of beliefs are permeable. It is the smallness of man in the face of a nature steeped in fatalism.

q: In your series “Flor de marge”, you revisited photos you took more than a decade ago in Ukraine. What was the process like for you and what did you rediscover? Do you feel you photograph differently now? a: It was all part of the same process of creating myself as a photographer. During this slow period of confinement, I began to look at the material I had produced over the years, but it also brought to mind all the forgotten photos that I had taken in Ukraine. It was a surprise to discover that I was already a photographer back then. I found some interesting pictures. When I looked at them, it was like seeing the person I was ten years ago. It was very revealing. I saw the gaze I had then; I saw a harsh reality that unfortunately is shaping our days more and more, at least in Spain.

As for photography, things are quite different today. Paradoxically at a time when everyone shamelessly exposes their private lives in the social media, no one wants to be photographed in the street. I do not think that is so terrible. I remember a time when I lived in the middle of Barcelona, in the Gothic quarter, near the Plaça Real, and dozens and dozens of tourists were loitering around. I often heard the click of the camera, and probably I will be seen in many pictures with my always loving red scarf.

Today I photograph differently; I have shifted the street photography of my beginnings in favour of introspective photography. People are becoming more and more inaccessible, at least in Western countries and it is difficult to capture these special moments. When you have to ask for permission, all the magic of the moment disappears. But there is one wonderful exception, I am thinking now of Katty Grannan, a photographer who does great portraits of people on the street who want to be photographed. My new projects are more oriented towards nature, maybe because I now live two minutes away from the forest. They are more introspective, the human presence has become more residual.

q: You mentioned that you are also a painter. Do you see a link between your photography and painting? a: Perhaps in the dominance of strong contrasts and in a certain tendency, especially in more recent works, towards pessimism, in line with the times, although I am a rather cheerful person in my everyday life. In any case, I believe that I am in a phase of experimentation in both photography and painting.

q: Upcoming projects or ideas? a: I have several projects in mind, but the most advanced is "Cal y silencio" (Lime and silence). This project deals with the phenomenon of depopulation of rural areas in Spain. The centre of Spain is a vast plateau that covers most of the national territory, a place with extreme temperatures both in winter and in summer, where only the 15% of the population live in the 53 % of the territory. In recent decades there has been a migration to the major cities of the periphery and to the capital, Madrid. The rural world in Spain is a forgotten world full of dying villages, solitude, isolation, lime and silence.

q: Any music to recommend? a: That is a pretty difficult question, because I listen to very different music from all times, from different styles and from many, many countries. Depending on my mood, I listen to music from Schubert's Winterrreise to Ravi Shankar, from The Doors to Bon Iver, from Chavela Vargas to Mina…I have long Spotify playlists that I like to play randomly. I also enjoy the discoveries of this platform, the last one yesterday, a Turkish version of the Russian song “Podmoskovnie Vechera” (Moscow nights) by Tülay German.

her website and Instagram.

Get more updates on our Facebook page and Instagram.

[naferty]

Also, I'm pretty sure I've read all your aus by now

You have? That won’t do. How ‘bout another? A centaur balto au with a slice of iron dad! 

~~~

The festivities are grand and the spirits are high on this beautiful day. The laughs and smiles are contagious and even Tony couldn’t resist joining in. While the town is small, the festival is impressive. Many tourists come from all over to take part in the fun. The many centaur-themed activities present and the town’s high centaur population is enough to warrant a weekend stay and then more, bringing in much-needed revenue to the town, but the main events, the races themselves, are really the whole reason the town is able to hold the festival in the first place. Twenty-five years running now.  

The yearly racing event of a little old town Tony calls home always got everyone ecstatic, including the town’s own centaur population that helped host a majority of all activities. Tony being included on that list. He had taken part in the jump race on the first day of the festival, winning with little problem and keeping his crown as champion. 

His biggest fan, little six-year-old Peter Parker, cheered for him the entire time. With a fan base like that, how could Tony ever lose? 

Now on the second day, the quarter race is on. Much like a regular horse race, the centaurs are running to a finish line. The difference? Centaurs don’t need riders and they certainly don’t need a track. No, instead the town has a pathway created years ago that cuts through the forest surrounding their town and down the main road of the town itself. It starts at the festival, goes through the main road, enters the forest, returns back down the same main road and finishes where they started. The biggest of the races, many would argue, but not one Tony is interested in.

Tony’s fifteen minutes of fame came and went. Now, he’s a tourist like everyone else, walking with his carer and his carer’s family. Ben is a good carer. Perhaps the best, but that could be Tony’s bias. He couldn’t be blamed for it, however. May is a beautiful woman, for having two legs, and kindhearted to a fault. Their ward, Peter, is downright the cutest little two-legged child Tony has ever seen, and no that isn’t his bias talking. It’s the truth. His boy is unchallenged and Tony is willing to die on that hill. 

At that moment, he walks alongside Ben, May and Peter through the sea of two legs and four. Peter sits comfortably on his back while Ben keeps a hand on him to make sure Peter doesn't fall off. Tony is careful to make sure he doesn't jerk the child, but the extra help is always welcomed. The last thing he wants is to hurt his boy. 

They’re heading towards the ‘smithy.’ The lovingly named building that crafted and sold everything related to racing from harnesses to carts to hats and boots. There’s a present waiting for Peter there. Something his boy has talked about non-stop for the past few weeks and something Ben and May had mentioned to Tony beforehand. With Tony’s blessing, they went ahead and ordered it weeks prior. Long before the festival officially opened. 

Ben quickly goes inside when they reach the building, leaving Tony and May to distract Peter and keep the secret a little longer. Peter has no idea and boy is the child going to be in for a big surprise. 

“Are you having fun, Pete?” May says to the child still sitting on his back. Tony’s height makes it easy for May and Peter to be at eye level and for them both to see the large smile on Peter’s face. 

“I am! Will we see the race today?” Peter starts to jump in place. 

“Of course we will, but behave. Don’t hurt Tony.” 

Tony smiles. He’d love nothing more than to say he doesn’t mind, but the language barrier and difference in vocal cords between them makes it impossible. So he’s left to simply listen and hope his face expresses what he means. 

Ultimately, it does. “Don’t say it’s okay. We both know this would hurt anyone’s back,” May shakes her head. “Behave,” she repeats to Peter and like the good little boy he is, Peter listens. 

“I’m sorry, Mister Tony.” The large eyes his boy gives him would make even the most hardened wild centaur crumble. 

Tony nods, making sure his face shows no signs of anger. He honestly doesn’t mind. Peter isn’t a heavy child. In fact, he’s lighter than most. 

Ben peeks his head out, giving them the signal. 

“Okay, Pete, time to get down,” May says and holds up her arms, meaning to help Peter down. 

Peter pouts. “Why?” 

“We got you something. You need to get down so we can give it to you. Come on.” 

Peter goes down grumbling. Tony knows the boy loves the height and usually fights tooth and nail to stay, but he figures the present will more than make up for it. 

Once on the ground, May asks him to close his eyes. The prospect of a present finally settles and excitement soon took over. Peter closes his eyes, going so far as to use his own hands to stop himself from peeking. 

When they’re sure he isn’t looking, Ben and the crafter wheel out the present. Said present is a carriage. A simple one with a child seat on the front. The special order Ben and May requested meant to cater to Peter. For you see, his boy has taken an interest in carriage driving after watching it on television. Something about the sport caught his boy’s little eyes. The child couldn’t stop talking about it. 

Ben and May had talked to Tony about it. The two own a plot of land but have no animals to call it home. Tony is really the only resident of the place. It fell down on him to make Peter’s little dream come true. He is the one who’s going to pull the carriage after all, but they’d never force Tony to do so. If Tony is going to do it, it will all by his own free will, and how could he ever say no? 

So here they are. The carriage is customized to allow Peter to reach the reins properly. Of course, the reins are really superficial since Tony will be in charge in all manner, but it gave Peter the official feeling he wants. 

Sitting on Peter’s little seat is the harness meant for Tony. The basic breast collar, the girth and the reins themselves. Colored in the most beautiful mahogany that is going to complement Tony’s black coat that Tony’s own champion money paid for handsomely. The best for his boy. 

“Okay, open your eyes,” May tells Peter. 

When Peter opens his eyes and sees the carriage he jumps in joy. He giggles and points at the craft. Excited beyond a doubt. “A carriage!” The child runs to it. The wheel of the thing is nearly his same height. 

“It’s all yours, Petey,” Ben informs him and earns himself a shriek of delight. 

“Thank you, thank you!” Peter hugs both Ben and May, thanks them seven more times, gives Tony’s front legs a tight hug and determinedly tries to climb the carriage to reach his seat. 

“I think he likes it,” May says with a smile. 

“I think so, too.” Ben laughs as Peter nearly makes it to his seat. “Hang on there, Sport. Let me help.” 

“Hurry! Hurry, Uncle Ben.” 

“I’m hurrying. Keep your hat on.” 

A hat plops on Peter’s head. A stylish, little brown cowboy hat. It makes Peter shriek even louder. 

“A real cowboy’s hat!”

An excited child is not one to be reckoned with, so Ben and May work quickly to set up the harness on Tony and get it connected to the carriage. Peter waits impatiently on his seat. His little legs kicking wildly as he watches his aunt and uncle. 

Peter grabs for the reins when it’s all set and ready. Like on the television, he begins to crack the reins, saying words ranging from ‘mush’ to ‘giddy-up’ to get Tony moving. Tony doesn’t budge until Ben and May give him the go-ahead

The two adults double-check everything. When they’re satisfied they eventually give Tony the green light. “Go on, but be careful, okay?” They opt to stay behind and let Peter go on his own for his first try. They’re showing a lot of trust in this decision. 

Tony nods and trots off when he hears a “he-yaw!” from Peter. From the angle Peter moves the reins he’s led back through the crowd and towards the area the finishing line for today’s races are located. He moves at a slow pace and is even surprised when Peter pulls the reins to slow him further or even stop him when families, humans or centaurs, come in their way. A responsible racer in the making. 

When the crowd grows bigger Tony knows they’re near the finishing line. Peter is a fan of all races, and now that he has his own little carriage the child couldn’t resist not going where the excitement currently is. That and perhaps showing off that he’s an unofficial racer. 

“Mister Tony, please slow down,” Peter says when they’re in the middle of the gathered bodies.

Tony does so and looks back to make sure Peter is still safe and okay sitting on his seat. As he does the barrier separating spectators from the running centaurs makes itself known. Tony sees his chance and rushes in to grab a good spot for both him and Peter. 

The crowd cheers loudly. A sign the racing centaurs will appear soon. Tony makes a grab for Peter and sets him on his back to get a better view of the race. They wait for the winner and Peter cheers excitedly for his favorite centaur runner. Peter removes his hat and waves it, trying to mimic the cowboys of the television and their dramatic antics. It’s at that moment a strong gust blew through and took the hat right out of Peter’s hand. Both centaur and child watch helplessly as the hat lands right in the middle of the track. 

“My hat!” Peter cries in panic. A gift from his aunt and uncle, who already struggle with money, about to be trampled by brute centaurs mere minutes after receiving it. Neither he nor Tony could do anything about it. They could only stare at it despairingly as the racing centaurs grew closer and closer, passing each marker as they got nearer. 

That is until a four-legged body jumps over the fence from the inside and joins in on the running. Tony is a little more than surprised when he recognizes the body as Steve. The wild (or feral as some bigots would often call them) centaur of their town. Tony has seen him a couple of times. He knows of Steve. Knows his name. Knows the wild centaur lives in the forest but will occasionally make a trip into town for one reason or another. Ultimately the town lets him be. Steve doesn’t cause trouble and the town sees no issue in his wandering, but that doesn’t necessarily mean the townfolks are welcoming either. 

Eyebrows are raised as the gathered townsmen notice the very same wild centaur running in the race now. A few cry out in outrage. Tony himself is left a little speechless when Steve catches up to the predicted winner with little trouble. Even at a distance, he could see Ty, the yearly champion, glare at the wild centaur and even go so far as to swipe at Steve. 

Steve avoids it expertly by leaping to the side then comes back, pushes further and jumps head of Ty to grab the hat that’s waiting innocently for its impending doom. Steve manages to grab the hat and move out of Ty’s way, skids over to the barriers, jumps over those and disappears into the crowd that scramble to move out of his way in a panic. 

Tony moves quickly to search for him. He doesn’t know why Steve would grab the hat and he certainly hopes it’s not because the wild centaur suddenly grew a desire to wear cotton shirts and denim. Peter holds on tight on his back. Tony is careful not to jostle him too much. Least he wants to catch a falling child. 

The disbanding crowd makes it hard for him to move. So hard that he’s forced to stay put for a solid minute or two as the bodies part way. Something that frustrates him. Peter’s hat is somewhere and Tony can’t do a thing to find it! 

“Mister Steve!” Peter calls behind him. 

Tony turns and sure enough, there is Steve making his way towards them. Hat in his hand. Undamaged and even clean. Tony watches him warily until Steve hands the hat over to his boy and smiles. 

“Thank you,” Peter puts the hat on, thankful to have it back. “What a crazy thing to do, Mister Steve. All to show off to a pretty boy.” 

Caught off guard, Tony looks to his boy and then back to Steve. Oh, he isn’t prepared for that comment. He certainly isn’t prepared when Steve doesn’t deny it either. Choosing to smile warmly at Tony. As if to express it true. 

Unable to keep eye contact, Tony looks down. He’s blushing. He knows he is. Did Steve truly do all that, putting himself front and center, to impress him? 

It’s at that moment that Ben and May catch up to them and Peter eagerly tells them what just happened. His boy talks their ear off as Ben brings him down and May grabs Tony’s harness. They lead him away. Tony nods to Steve in goodbye.

Steve is about to say something when he’s interrupted by Ty, the racing champion, barging in. He pushes Steve away and nearly makes Tony jump. Something he doesn’t want when May is still holding his harness.

“Yeah,” Tony elongates the note. He’s hoping his sarcasm is showing. “Almost as much as you did.” 

“Hey there, Tony,” Ty says in a voice that’s meant to be sultry yet is anything but. The winner follows him. “Did you enjoy the race?” 

“Thanks.” Clearly, Ty doesn’t catch it. “Let’s go celebrate. I know this lovely little spot by the lake. Ditch your carers and come with me.” 

Tony shivers in disgust. “Sorry, Ty. Suddenly I’ve lost my appetite.” 

Ty stops. Clearly he understood that one. He grins. “Ooh, well maybe your taste runs more toward,” Ty looks back, “feral.” 

Tony stiffens. He glares at Ty and he’s ready to give him a piece of his mind, but Peter calls out to him from Ben’s arms. “Mister Tony! Come on, we’re going back home!” 

“Sorry, Ty,” he’s really not, “my boy is calling me.” 

He turns his back and follows after his two-legged family. May is no longer holding his harness, leaving Tony to follow on his own. He keeps up no problem, but the crowd does pose a challenge. At one point he’s farther than what his boy is comfortable with. 

“Mister Tony!” 

Tony follows the voice. His family turns a corner.

“Mister Tony?” 

Tony turns to join them and stops in his tracks when Steve skids to a halt right in front of him. Their noses touching as Tony reels back a little. 

“Oh,” is all he can say when Steve pulls away. His ears are low and his eyes are wide. As if he’s just as surprised as Tony about their situation. 

“Tony - I, uh,” Steve stumbles. He smiles awkwardly. 

“Tony?” Ben calls out. 

“Mister Tony, hurry!” Peter waves at him. 

Tony looks away for just a second. That second is all it took for Steve to disappear. Tony searches, but Steve just outright vanished into thin air. He has no choice but to leave when his family calls for him again, but he does look back one last time to see if he’d catch sight of Steve. 

He doesn’t. 

[teacherintransition]

The Ugly American...who? Me?

My wife an I have become avid travelers and the closing of countries due to Covid-19 has hit us in the heart...

The time at home has given me chance to read about travel and given me pause to re-evaluate my behavior while abroad in the past and for the future...

The Ugly American, a novel written in the late 1950’s and which was a The New York Times Best Seller, was written by political scientist Eugene Burdick and writer and former U.S. Navy captain William Lederer. The book took a much needed look at the behavior of Americans traveling abroad; from the rugged backpacker hiking India to the field State Department personnel actually presenting the “official face” of our country in the international community. Prior to World War 1, most international travel by Americans was done by the wealthy elite among society. The “common” man through the tribulations of war, was given the opportunity to experience European culture and a yearning for seeing the world was fostered. If fact, there was a saying after WWI, “how you gonna keep Johnny on the farm after he’s seen Paree (Paris)?” The travel bug... wanderlust was born in the hearts of the middle class and gave rise to this phenomenon in film and in books written by Jack Kerouac, Cheryl Strayed, Ernest Hemingway up to contemporary writers like Anthony Bourdain, Andrew Sean Greer and Elizabeth Gilbert. Even Rick Steves who has become a knowledgeable source of traveling information with his travel guide series, has presented an informative open minded view of travel abroad.

All of these written treasures of traveling the world unveils to readers the magic that is to be found by stepping out your front door. The Ugly American presents a scathing look at how the “American” while overseas, displays an arrogant , intolerant, dismissive view of cultures far older and in many cases, more refined than ours. Burdick and Lederer’s book is set within the intrigues of international diplomacy and how that uniquely American view creates failure in the establishment of effective foreign policy. The authors listed and many more besides, instruct their readers to varying degrees to take more note of the intricate nuances a traveler should pay attention to and to show respect and admiration for the centuries of history and culture that exists all around us and that is not American. There is a common thread throughout all their works about what is missed when we stand outside and dismiss the uniqueness of every nation we might visit, instead of immersing oneself and appreciating it in a culture not our own. The “ugly American” has become a mythos of how Americans respond critically to anything that is not “MURICAN!”

Several other factors besides short sighted American foreign policy have contributed to the yoke placed on Americans traveling: cutthroat business practices while dealing with European, Asian and African countries; missionaries whose demonstrate a dismissive view of spiritual practices that have existed for millennia and, quite honestly, the behavior of tourists while abroad. Many experienced travelers draw a clear distinction between the tourist and the traveler. Kathryn Walsh differentiates the two in the following way:

Tourists

It's usually easy for locals to spot a tourist among them. A tourist may carry a camera, guidebook and map at all times and wear the same clothing he'd wear at home. Tourists tend to stay in their comfort zones a bit; they may speak only English instead of trying to learn phrases in the local language; stick to major cities instead of venturing to smaller towns or off-the-beaten-path locales; and stay in areas where the amenities are similar to what they have at home.

Travelers

Generally speaking, someone who considers himself a traveler will try to immerse himself in the local culture rather than standing out. If you're a traveler, you may try to explore the less-traveled areas and explore locations where tourism doesn't drive the economy. You'll interact with locals. Your goals for a trip will be to learn and experience new things, rather than to take a relaxing break from everyday life. A traveler may consider a trip a journey rather than a vacation.

The traveler presents a deferential, respectful and admiring view of the nations they are visiting and adopt the wise phrase from antiquity: “when in Rome do as the Romans.”

There is nothing wrong with being a tourist, often it is the less expensive approach to travel, unless you become the arrogant American tourist then perhaps you need to reassess. Travel is a big part of my retirement plans and goals, but you know what they say about the best laid plans. Two highly anticipated trips with two years involved in planning were rescheduled due to the Covid-19 pandemic, a disappointment we shared with thousands of tourists and travelers alike; and further postponements may continue to confront us. Perspective is needed in such a situation as being denied travel is far below other struggles this event has presented all of us. That being said, it has been a terrible disappointment down to my bones. We’ve missed much needed fellowship time with great friends, the excitement of seeing new places, the immersion in the culture and history of the locales, and, for me personally, our yearly travels have been my muse and inspiration for so much of my art. It’s akin to being very thirsty and having only a few drops to suffice. Introspection is the course of action when hopefully contemplating the possibility of the trips occurring.

To satiate the urge, we’ve read and watched travel programs in the interim and have evaluated our connection to the Ugly American concept? Are we ...them? In our past travels, have we appeared at all dismissive of the people and practices of the places we’ve visited? My wife and I have always been in awe of our travel destinations, so I feel fairly confident that we have not displayed the aforementioned arrogance of many American travelers. The thought that then arises is how much we have not allowed ourselves to be immersed in the culture; which, in the long run, is a detriment to us more than anyone. Our minds are open and willing to become part of the places we visit, but if we eliminate the brusque nature of so many Americans while overseas, what is the stumbling block that draws such distinctions when traveling? I fully concede that most Americans feel they have little to learn from many places on this planet, more is the pity, and there is much flawed thinking that goes into this mindset; but what fundamental differences exist between the cultures? I came across a very enlightening blog article written by Alain Veilell that was spot on in identifying the differences. Veilell simply observed that we run on different clocks. Not literal clocks but a “clock” obsessed with structure and deadline.... hello Americans! Veilell notes that Europeans start late and end late, while American and many Asian cultures start early and end early. Americans tend to view the un-regimented approach as being akin to laziness. I coached soccer and baseball for many years and many of my Latino players would not be as punctual as my other players. They were as talented and competitive, but their homes weren’t ruled by the seconds on a clock. Dinner started later, lasted longer, the dishes could wait... the priority was the quality of interaction with the people your with... ah, there it is ... sort of.

The average American meal last twenty minutes, while the average meal in Spain, for example, lasts two hours. They certainly don’t eat as much as Americans so why all the extra time? Why should time even be a factor so often? It’s the conversation and fellowship that is the priority not timing. While without question, the structured regimentation is a contributing factor to the American commitment to financial success, it also contributes to hypertension, stress, anxiety, depression and conflict that might be avoided with having an extra glass of wine and talking and not worrying if dinner is on schedule. Taking a little more time, enjoying the moment, letting serendipity reign may not be part and parcel of the Puritan work ethic; but it plays a helluva big part in realizing “La Dolce Vita.” This perception of time throws the rhythm off for many American tourists and makes us the ones to call the front desk complaining that the folks in room 210 are just too loud at 9:30 pm. The local population may just be getting ready to start dinner at that time. Remember, “when in Rome do as the Romans?”

While traveling, often American tourists view differences as a personal affront. “ I have to ask for ice?’ “What, no air conditioner?’ “They call the restroom the toilet?’ “Ugh how vulgar ... and a bidet? You must be kidding?” Truth to tell, Americans also suffer from mischaracterization from travelers from abroad as well. If I had a nickel for ever foreign exchange student who thought that all of Texas was a giant ranch with everyone riding horses and wearing cowboy hats. I think though that visitors to our country more often than not allow themselves to be pleasantly surprised than to have their feathers ruffled. It seems that we allow the “ours is better than yours” mentality to outweigh the magic of the unknown and the different. Every spiritual guiding ethos advocates living in the moment, treasure what is happening right now, greet the unknown with hope not hostility. The ugly American leaves no room for such an upbeat approach. Superiority mentality leave very little to treasure in this magnificent world other than what is yours and that limits learning, excitement, growth and just the pure joy that comes from trekking this world.

Is this assessment of mine a blanket judgement? No, not at all but there is some truth to it and there is something to be learned. As I self analyze, I found that I may harbor some of these traits and it’s good that I have time to stand back and look ...to learn. The worthy goal of being an affirming member of this global community is a purpose that I seek; and the rewards are far beyond just being intrinsic but rewards the cultures you visit with an admiration and respect they deserve. As these thoughts have been put down, it reignites the hopes that the planned journeys come to realization with the anticipation of more to follow. No more ugly Americans, British, Japanese or what have you, just eager travelers wanting to see and experience all that this world has to offer. Happy travels my friends.

Burdick, Eugene Lederer, William; The Ugly American ; Norton Publications; 1958

Veilel, Alain; “Why don’t Europeans Travel to Cancun?;” Quora; October 8, 2020

Walsh, Kathryn. "Differences Between a Tourist and a Traveller" traveltips.usatoday.com, https://traveltips.usatoday.com/differences-between-tourist-traveller-103756.html. 5 April 2021.

Photo from https://www.myheritage.com/

Photo from https://openlibrary.org/authors/OL13640A/Ernest_Hemingway

[thefolliesofmen]

History in the Making - Panel Discussion

Hi folks!  Today I was honored to be a part of Concordia’s History in the Making Conference and speak on the making of meaning through Death Tourism. As not everyone was able to attend, or just prefer learning in a different format that isn’t Zoom, I figured I could at least share my slides and speakers notes here for posterity.

As these are speaking notes, please excuse if I do not catch every grammar or spelling mistake, but I hope you enjoy them nonetheless. 

Today I am going to be going through how meaning is made at Death Tourism sites, and how that meaning changes over time. To do this, I am first going to explore some brief definitions of death tourism, the history of it, and how it is viewed by the general public. So please buckle up and join me as we go on a speed run through three prominent dark tourism sites – particularly what they are, how they qualify, and how meaning is made around them through the perspective of thanatourism. The site we will be using are Pompeii, Salem, and Chernobyl.

In my introduction alone, I used a mired of terms interchangeably. Death Tourism, Dark Tourism, Thanatourism, and just for funsies I am going to throw another one in there, Disaster Tourism. Some scholars will separate all these terms to represent specific aspects of the field, the site in particular, and the intentions behind the visitors themselves.   Foley and Lennon are often credited with coining the term “Dark Tourism” and have defined it as a “product of the circumstances of the late modern world.” Intent is something that will come up often during my talk, as it is hard to concretely define a field like tourism that has so much to do with the intentions of the people taking part in it as well as the people presenting the history. Today, I will be using these terms fairly interchangeably. A definition to start us off: Dark Tourism taps into the macabre, secret, and shunned interests of humans; the world we create; and the one we leave behind.

The Macabre The Secret The Shunned Creation and Destruction Are real and valid reasons for someone to visit a site I said before that the intention of the visitor is a hot topic when trying to figure out how to define this field. Most of us have probably been to Death Tourism sites and have never really thought about, because it fit into a different category in our mind. The image here is a graveyard, which makes sense on the surface to count as death tourism especially if you are visiting it for a reason outside of knowing someone who is buried there – this cemetery in particular is Old Burial Hill Cemetery in Salem Massachusetts and would be a hotspot for that, as it was a filming location for Hocus Pocus, Old Burial Hill Cemetery in Salem Massachusetts. Dark Tourism deals largely with the commercialization of sites associated with large amounts of human suffering and death. Commercialization can happen in a variety of ways, whether it be through charging admission to a specific site, merchandise and materials relating to the event, or economic benefits that are by-products of the sites being visited, such as surrounding towns gaining revenue from hotel rentals, meals, etc.

Since the enlightenment, European and North American cultures have taken a strict stance on separating the dead from the living. Death occurs in buildings, cities, countries removed from us and we only see the sanitized version – the more removed we are from something with our engagement with death the better it is. That isn’t a hard and fast rule however, because the distance from the death and disaster in question can be spatial or temporal in nature, as long as there is some kind of way in which you can convince yourself that all this death and destruction happened to an Other. Caitlyn Doughty, a mortician who found notoriety through her YouTube Channel Ask a Mortician has done some research on what she refers to as the “witch to kitsch factor”, that being how much time has to pass before it is socially acceptable to take tragedy and make it into a thing of entertainment? My argument here however is that, the meaning that a dark tourism site creates and is created unto it has both to do with the temporal separation between the entertainment and the tragedy, but also the spatial and cognitive space between the two. I know I am probably preaching to the choir when I say that history permeates pop culture, and the line between tragedy and entertainment can be seen here. Pompeii occurred close to 2,000 years ago and is now a 13 years old Doctor Who Episode wherein even an Alien that alters many historic events, even this could not be stopped. Salem Witch Trials took place over 300 years ago, and the Halloween edge of kitschy witches have taken over the narrative of Salem, as the town has gained even more infamy in recent years due to the popularity that Disney has continued to experienced in the 26 years since its release. Chernobyl occurred 35 years ago. It is most recently a 2019 somber but still drama packed mini-series on HBO exploring the disaster and aftermath. These are not the first nor are they the last instances of Pompeii, Salem, and Chernobyl influencing popular culture.

The temporal and spatial separation that I just spoke of is what Foucault would use in the argument that dark tourism sites are examples of Heterotopias. That, and the Othering.

These dark tourism sites are marginal spaces, that are infused with the juxtaposition of sameness and contradictions. Foucault breaks down what a Heterotopia is through examining its:

Precise and determined function within a society, but can still have multiple functions

The power to Juxtapose the incompatible

A break with traditional time

Presupposition of opening and closing the isolation and penetration

Illusions of real spaces that create and Other

Each of these criteria hit on the combined need for things relating to death and destruction to be both intimate to our experience of the world, but also separate from us in a way in which we can walk away from them afterwards and cease to think about it. Dark Tourism is assumed to be an escapist pastime in which we as humans can displace our fears of death, decay, destruction, and general apocalyptic fears onto this physical place – particularly because of its seemingly socially acceptable mode in which we can grapple with these kinds of topics. I said before that it was after the Enlightenment that death became removed from our day to day life. But before that? It was common and fashionable to interact with death on ones down time – morgue tours in Paris were all the rage, with some people even asking to be locked in the display room with the unknown corpses to scare their friends and other visitors.

Death has been removed from us, and so these romanticized ideas of escapism and morbid contemplations are the simplistic and incomplete theories as to why people are drawn to Thanatourism.

Now don’t get me wrong, while I say that these theories are simplistic and incomplete – I am not denying that they have some merit and nuggets of truth and wisdom to them. We come back to intent. Why people engage in Disaster Tourism does not interest me so much as what their interaction with the field tells us about our own society. We make meaning out of everything, that is who we are as academics but also who we are as a general species. But how do we make meaning out of sites and events through the lens of dark tourism? I believe that the reasons we are so fascinated with these sites, outside of just general morbid curiosity (pun intended) – for starters, our fascination with these places, I posture, has to do with our false yet engrained belief that we are no longer experiencing such death and suffering anymore. This all happened in another time, in another place, to another group of people. Our fascination shows our ignorance. We think, Pompeii happened so long ago, it is more of a story than anything. We think, Salem will never happen again, we are past the time of believing that witches walk among us. We think, Chernobyl was the fault of the Soviets, we are a democracy. We don’t think – that this could happen again and is still happening.

I have mentioned Pompeii, Salem, and Chernobyl quite a bit now – lets get into how they are case studies for us making meaning out of dark tourism sites. First up: Pompeii The eruption of Mount Vesuvius and subsequent destruction of Pompeii and Herculaneum was first recorded in the letters of Pliny the Younger to Tacitus. On October 24th  79 AD,pumice stones and ash started pouring down onto the city, killing part of the population before those who were unable to escape were buried by the hot volcanic ash and burned alive by pyroclastic flow. By the end of the day, the city was buried in six to seven meters of debris, and it remained as such until its re-discovery in the seventeenth century. During his tenure as the lead archaeologists working to recover Pompeii from 1863-1875, Giuseppe Fiorelli is credited with not only the Fiorelli process of pouring plaster of Paris into cavities in the ash to discover what created those cavities – but he was also a driving force behind excavations being done on the city from the top down, rather than the streets first to further pillage the homes that were uncovered.

Pompeii is a special case when it comes to tourism of Roman ruins. To Victorian and Edwardian tourists – Pompeii was a disappointment to finally see. Mary Beard discusses how to these visitors, the depictions of Pompeii in art and literature, outshone the real ruins. From the beginning of tourists coming to the site though, it was always known that what they were coming to see and what would shock them the most, were the casts of the bodies that had been excavated were front and center as soon as you entered the site along the aptly named Street of Tombs. For most of its history, Pompeii has existed on this marginal plane, being both a city of the living and of the dead. Rome as a whole has always been plagued by the stereotypes and ideals placed upon it by people outside of Italy’s borders – namely it being an eternal city that should be temporally static, anchored in its own heritage – and Pompeii has been subject to the same expectations in many respects. has been constructed many times since its unearthing. First, through its own use as a city, and then during the Romantic period as a theme park for tourists, and even in the modern era as a place of education and where “the processes of historical discovery are laid bare”. The overall shift in identity for Pompeii was its change from a city of the living, where people went about their daily lives, to a city of the dead populated by corpses and ruins, now being re-populated annually by millions of tourists. Because Pompeii is a ruin, empty of life, and so far removed from the present reality in terms of time, it is very easy to project meaning onto – both meaning for itself and meaning for the visitors.

One of the darkest moments in American history was the Salem Witch Trials of 1692. The “largest and most lethal witch hunt in American history” began in Salem Village (now Danvers, Massachusetts) when several young girls, including Elizabeth Parris, who was the daughter of the town minister Samuel Parris, began to experience “fits” that had no discernable cause other than what the town doctor declared to be bewitchment. While the accusers themselves and many of the “witches” they targeted lived in Salem Village, the Town of Salem was where the hangings took place, with the first ones occurring in the fall of 1692 when Sarah Good, Elizabeth Hose, Susannah Martin, Rebecca Nurse, and Sarah Wildes were executed. From the Fall of 1692 to the summer of 1693, there were 20 executions, 19 of which were hangings and one pressing.

Salem is a place of societal ruin. The entire community turned on itself, before coming to the confusing conclusion in 1702 of the magistrates declaring the trials that were held unlawful, and decreeing that the good names of the victims be restored. I mentioned that Salem Village is now know as Danvers Massachusetts and while Salem and Salem Village, share the terrible history, Salem Village works hard to separate itself from the narrative, as seen by it renaming itself to Danvers in 1752. It desperately wants to be removed from the story of the witch trials, when arguably it has more geographic claim to the narrative than Salem itself. Danvers has gone about making visiting any sites within its border nearly impossible. Homes and buildings related to the trials that remain in situ have continued housing families and businesses, memorials have little to no parking available, and heavy traffic on the roads makes it difficult to visit them as a pedestrian, meaning only a specialized tourist who was bound and determined to see the locations would make the Herculean effort to find them. For Salem, the buildings that it claims connections to the trials have either been moved or demolished in the time since the witch trials, and key places like the exact location of the gallows have ended up being lost to memory. The markers that denote the locations also denote their own inaccuracy and obscure the events that took place during the trials – thus disappointing tourists when they learn of the deception. Salem capitalizes on a false authenticity of place It is not through education that Salem profits off of its dark history, but through the kitsch-based fascination of pirates and witches existing in one of the oldest colonial ports. The Salem Police Department logo even contains a witch motif. With souvenirs, dungeon experiences, and large events such as a Witch’s Walk, Salem revises the tragedy in its history in a way that romanticizes and idealizes it, similar to the way that Disney movies present history. There was a monument erected to the victims of the witch trials in 2017. It stands apart from the rest of the city in aesthetic and in placement, silent and innocuous that it can be missed: it does not loudly advertise its existence like the rest of Salem. It works in the way that dark tourism sites overall do, in the fashion of “visitors deciding the meaning”. By being ambiguous in its specific design, it allows for the tourist to see what they think is fitting for a monument, whether that be the gallows, a jail, or a ruined building.

Chernobyl to this day still has the reputation for being the world’s worst nuclear accident. Through a surge of energy to Reactor #4, the unit caught fire on April 26th, 1986, leading to its rupture and explosion later that same day. As people fled and were evacuated from their homes, with instructions to leave everything behind as they were promised they would be able to return in a few days, Pripyat, the closet town to the reactor, was re-born as a ghost town. Across the Ukraine, Belarus, and Russia, an estimated 200,000 people have died due to radiation exposure, and an even greater number of people suffer from ongoing health conditions. As expected, the argument for the inclusion of Chernobyl in these case studies is that it represents a man-made ruin through the folly of trust in technology.

With Chernobyl, it is important to remember that it took place against the backdrop of the Cold War. The USSR and America both had agendas that they were trying to further in their coverage or lack there of, of the reactor blowing. Seeking any advantages they could claim in exposing or concealing the situation, inflating or deflating the numbers of people harmed. It wasn’t until 2011 when Ukraine finally allowed tours to take place through Pripyat, before this it was only illegal tours led by members of the surrounding communities or family members of those impacted by the exodus. The tourists have a wide range of reactions to the site – expressing indifference to the history, excitement about the danger that they perceive, and some individuals even schadenfreude, pleasure of witnessing the misfortunes of others. For dark tourism concerns, it’s authentic for being in situ, adding the aura of the place to the experiences and representing death in a more immediate way. Chernobyl is prime for the romanticization treatment of media due to being within the living memory and located in Eastern Europe, a place that is already seen and depicted as a foreign Other to many, adding to the forbidden allure of visiting. With the rise of social media, the number of tours to Chernobyl see spikes in the fall and winter, when the nature around the abandoned ruins is dying and decaying as well, lending itself to the desired aesthetic for people to show off that they visited. “Chernobyl is both real and imagined,” where one can go explore and tell others about later – but it is also staged. Knowing that people are drawn in by the heterotopic binaries of the real and the contrived, items within Chernobyl and Pripyat are posed to illicit the maximum emotional impact when photographed, the creations of juxtapositions within a juxtaposition itself.

Death Tourism deals with sites of ruin, that are explicit reminders of the circle of life and death being indiscriminate. Tragedy has happened here, and it will happen again. Someone was here before, and someone will be here after, until one day in which there will no longer be an after for humans to inhabit. The meanings of these sites and those who visit them is continually in flux, and relates largely to the society that is taking note at the time. But how we make meaning of these sites tells us about our current society, whether we like what we are hearing or not. It is romantic to think that we only travel to dark tourist sites because we are contemplating our own mortality, but it is ignorant to forget that history is a spiral – events will happen again if not in the same circumstances. Witches are replaced by minorities and religious groups that we don’t want to understand. Natural Disasters like Vesuvius are happening more and more as we continue to ignore climate change. Chernobyl will not stay the worst nuclear accident in mans history for very long, as every year we outpace ourselves in technological advancements. A hopeful part of me wants to think that we are participating in Dark Tourism because we want to learn from our mistakes, but the way history is presented to the visitors, both intentionally and unintentionally and interpreted, seems to always come back to schadenfreude. Death has been removed from us for so long that we seek it as a macabre pleasure, one that society doesn’t allow us to have – and that’s fine, but only when it is the death and suffering of someone else, somewhere else, sometime else. Our fascination stems from ignorance, but not from wanting to learn from our mistakes, but from a place of relief that it wasn’t us. ________________________________________________________________ I hope you enjoyed this! I know the writing isn’t as high quality as a paper traditionally would be, but if there seems to be interest I can do future posts breaking down each site further <3  Thanks! 

[tricktster]

Where am I? The uncanny valley, my friend.

There is a trope in horror that I particularly love, where the protagonist realizes they are Seeing Something That They Were Not Meant To See. Maybe they open the freezer in the basement that their spouse always keeps padlocked and find a collection of severed fingers, or maybe they gaze on the unspeakable tentacled geometries of an eldritch god. No matter what The Thing is, though, the bell can’t be unrung. They can’t go back to living their life the way it was before they saw The Thing, and even in the happiest of scenarios, the ones where they get out alive, their discoveries haunt them in every frozen dinner or plate of calamari. 

I am in The Villages, the largest gated over-55 community in the world, and as a non-retiree, I was Not Meant To See This Place. 

Figure 1: Honestly some of the better art here.

Here is what happened: My parents, whom I love dearly and respect to my core, announced essentially out of the blue a few years back that they would be purchasing a house in The Villages, Florida, a retirement community that essentially occupies an entire county in central Florida. This was something of a surprise, since my parents, heretofore, had always presented as rational actors. I frankly never imagined they’d live in any gated community, much less The Villages. 

I have now visited my parents in The Villages on three occasions, and each time, I have found myself somewhere mid-visit wondering if I actually know these people at all. My parents are both tremendously intelligent professionals who are highly regarded in their northeastern community, where I was born and raised. Growing up, my parents emphasized to me and my brother the importance of education and intellectual curiosity, but also hammered home that we were to be kind, generous, empathetic, environmentally conscious, and aware of the greater world. They (particularly my mom) are crunchy as hell. As kids, my mom used to take us for walks in the nature preserve and help us identify different plants, animals and mushrooms with field guides. When we went on vacations, we went to Yellowstone and hiked, or we camped in the rainforest at eco-tourism sites. My parents were early adopters of hybrid cars. They’re passionate about music and art, architecture and history. They bought a home in the tackiest place on earth.

When I think Central Florida, I think thick forests and swampland. There’s a certain romance associated with half-rotted trees covered in Spanish moss, and pools of still water only occasionally disturbed by primordial carnivores:

Figure 2: You know, this kind of thing.

The Villages, on the other hand, look like this:

Figure 3a: For fuck’s sake.

Figure 3b: Christ.

How bad is the aesthetic in The Villages? Let me put it this way: If Tim Burton decided to make a movie about gated Floridian retirement communities, and they shot it in The Villages, when I got around to watching it, I’d be like, jesus, Tim, going back to the well with this one, huh, we get it, it’s a parody of a soulless, conformist, suburbia. Oh, a “Declaration of Restrictions has been created for each individual neighborhood, which regulates design and operational aspects, such as landscaping, repairs and maintenance, placement of satellite dishes, hedges, etc. An Architectural Review Committee controls the composition and consistency of the exterior of the residential properties within The Villages.*” Fuck you, Tim, try something new, I’d say, very smugly because I am very smug.

Oh, but wait, Tim would say, what if I told you there were forty-eight golf courses within The Villages? What if I told you there were three “town centers,” and one is designed to look like it’s an old town from the American Southwest, and one’s designed to look like a coastal tourist town, and one of them is actually designed to look like the fucking Wild West, is that choice enough for you, huh? What if I told you that every place in The Villages is accessible by golf cart? What if I told you that ridiculous old men would trick out their golf carts to look like they’re sports cars?

Figure 4: WE GET IT, TIM.

In short, The Villages is a ridiculous place. It is a theme park without rides, a clear-cut swath of swampland transformed at great expense into a facsimile of a 1950s suburb where the citizens are permitted to live their lives free of  meaningful community responsibilities. It is, at its worst, a dull and soulless celebration of wastefulness and excess, centering around one of the most historically exclusionary, and least environmentally sound, “sports.” It is all camp, and all artifice. You can go to one of three town squares every night and hear one of the rotating live bands perform, generally in front of large crowds of seated people while one or two brave couples sway awkwardly on the dance floor. Sometimes, a handful of line dancers emerge for a song to do an uncomfortable, unsmiling routine that looks more like solemn ritual than joyful performance. You can do this all while housing a three dollar Long Island Iced Tea to the dome. 

Needless to say, it’s also super white here and the politics are off-the-charts awful.

Figure 5: A picture I took last night of a store selling honest-to-god oil paintings of a slimmed down Donald Trump enjoying various leisure activities with historical figures.

Oh, and let’s just address the elephant in the room: Rumor has it this place is horny as hell, with a population that’s just riddled with STDs. I can’t find anything to substantiate the popular story that this is a hotbed for swingers, it’s just a rumor everyone I talk to seems to know about. However, given that management in The Villages certainly knows about this rumor, since everyone else in the continental US does, it seems absolutely fucking bananas bonkers that they let the promotional magazine I found in my parents’ living room go out with the following headline: 

Figure 6: Are we still doing phrasing?

I just don’t get it, man. I straight up can’t figure out what my parents see in this place, much less why they’d want to own property here. It doesn’t comport with the intelligent and engaged people I know them to be? Sometimes, it just feels almost disappointing, like the way I’m sure they’d feel if I’d chosen to go to a party school for college. 

But look, kids, I’m here venting about this insane place to you guys because I’m NOT venting it to my parents, and I’m not telling my parents that this whole gated community can blow me, because this place isn’t for me. As a non-retiree with a decent amount of punk rock sentiment left in me, I Was Not Meant To See This Place, but while I’m horrified (and oh, lord, am I horrified) by a lot of The Villages, I’m choosing kindness towards my parents and leaning into it. For whatever reason, they love it here, and they want their family to love it too, so when they asked hopefully for the hundredth time if me and my brother and sister-in-law would come down to visit, we said yes. When they asked if we’d play golf with them, I swallowed my huge distaste for the Dumbest Game of All Time, and I agreed that the manicured lawns were beautiful in their own way, and the landscaping was impressive, and I spent several hours trying to hit a ball into a hole for some fucking reason.

Here’s a fun fact about The Villages: get up early enough, and you can find alligators ambling across the golf courses, locating the next water trap to spend their day in; the biggest are fifteen feet long. The American alligator has existed in and around Florida for around eight million years, but the family alligatoroidea has existed since the late Cretaceous - 70 million years ago. Alligators have seen the dinosaurs reign and die out, and gone on to survive the rise of birds, mammals, and relatively recently, humans.

When I’m in The Villages, sometime it keeps me sane to think that whenever this garbage place collapses, the gators will swim through the wreckage and hunt in the same place an oil portrait of a slimmed down Donald Trump once hung.

[aurorxbanks]

hello my friends !!! it is i, chelly, once again to throw my babie at you all :~) i hope y’all will love miss aurora just as much as i do, bc she holds a special place in my heart and i’m really excited to have her here! i think she’s gonna adore all of y’alls muses so :~) please don’t be shy, hit me up, i’ll be around in an inbox near you soon too to plot and chat! okay, before i ramble too too much, here is her way too long bio. love youuu

             * : ･ﾟ･✧･ meet aurora marlowe banks ･✧･ﾟ･ : *

tw: ptsd, trauma, construction accident, panic attacks, hospitals

TL:DR: oof, i struggle with coming up with a too long, don’t read for miss aurora BUT at her core, she’s just this sweet child who grew up in a really close family in maine. the banks got thrown for quite the loop after her father suffered from a massive accident, leading to many medical complications and hardship for her family. she suffers from pstd and panic attacks as a result, but she’s been blessed with a strong support system too and she manages well enough, all things considered. at the hotel, she’s a vet tech and is in her final year of becoming a veterinarian at the university of illinois - chicago. so naturally, a huge animal lover but food is also her love language and those of her two favorite ways to bond with new people. she’s timid and shy, a little naive and gullible, but a truly amazing friend and someone who loves and cares with her entire being. a good little egg and i hope y’all will love her as much as i do.

wanted connects: bc i don’t want them to get lost in the novel abys ... i’d love for her to have some vet pals, or rlly just pals who work in the pet daycare with her! if you’re a fellow cook, she’s going to ask you what your favorite recipes are with a pen and pad in hand so ... get ready for that one! she’d love a running buddy, or someone who’d spur of the moment sign up with her for marathons and such so like, bring them on, she’s an early riser so will motivate you to go train with her at 6 am - you have been warned! she’s only ever been with a few people in her life sexually and romantically, but she is very very bisexual so having an ex partner or a once upon a time crush/unrequited love could be hella !!! oof i cannot see aurora hating anyone, but something of a frenemies situation could be angsty and fun. they first met bc aurora almost ran them over while she was rollerblading and changing her song so the phrase ‘don’t text and skate’ came to exist askdf i’ve also got it in my head that her sister natalie’s fc is alycia debnam carey and her sister winifred’s fc is katherine/josephine langford so ... okay  i’m just going on and on here huh okay i’ll shut up

now, onto the WAY too long biography i wrote for her ... but here we go :~)

tw: ptsd, trauma, construction accident, panic attacks, hospitals

*:･ﾟ･✧･ who am i?: the coastal town of kennebunkport maine, tucked into the southern half of the state, was what aurora called home for most of her life. it’s a tiny little town with a population just under four thousand people, but it was during the summers that the area would come to life. her father, artie, was an architect per his degree but was a contractor by trade so he was constantly finding work to further develop what was becoming more and more of a tourist attraction each summer. so he had gotten to know the people in the town well, was often working construction jobs as he had a relatively small crew, and that meant aurora and her mother emilia were always out and about. whether they were bringing artie a bagged lunch on his break, or going down by the shore to collect sea shells even if it was the winter season, they’d become quickly and easily acquainted with everyone. and aurora wasn’t their first daughter, either, she has two older sisters: natalie and winifred aka natty and winnie. both of whom are named after their grandmothers, but winifred will tell you she got the short stick but thank god for hocus pocus because winnie is far cuter. anyways. so for the three little ducklings to be following their mama emilia, the town knew the banks family well and they were very well liked. they spent a lot of time on the beach as soon as the weather was warm enough, but they also liked driving the rv out onto the sand when it was too cold, too. they’d wear gloves and bundle up and the big fluffy german shepherd named scout would frolic along with the girls chasing after him, too. aurora spent just as much time chasing after her two older sisters, too, just wanting to keep up with them whether it be in school, or at home, or wherever. artie and emilia were high school sweethearts, moving to kennebunkport after they got married, and they were just exceptionally close and in love, maintaining their family wasn’t difficult. aurora was always a little quieter than her sisters, shier and slower to jump into conversation about whatever book she was reading or joining in on the chalk drawing all over the sidewalks with the neighbors, but she was every bit as present as her sisters were, too. it was truly a community, and one that aurora didn’t ever realize that she was going to be needing as desperately as she did after the accident.

*:･ﾟ･✧･ a new reality: when she was ten, her father was in a massive accident on one of his worksites as he was building a new beach house on a newly developed property. which was more of a mansion, truly, and the landscaping was still being mulled over. it left for some interesting scaffolding, even fault in some spots, and it was one wrong step that left her father falling a few floors down onto a bed of hard gravel below. as a result, he was in the hospital for the better part of a year as he suffered from a severe head injury as well as a broken back that took too long to heal as he was especially susceptible to complications given his type one diabetes rendering him immunocompromised. needless to say, aurora and her family spent a lot of time in the hospital during that beyond difficult year. emilia, the champion mama that she is, kept it together as best she could but the banks were truly a broken family. what they were going through, the way in which three young girls were being tested, and the medical bills that stacked up quickly … it was honestly a miracle that they had any sort of sanity at all. as a sort of escape, aurora spent a lot of time in the children’s unit of the hospital, because she tried making friends with some of the other kids her age ( since being around her sisters all of the time was also difficult for her ). she was there often enough, and they’d play tag when the nurses weren’t looking, and would eat in the caf together on the good days, and there were a lot of wholesome memories that aurora got to make when she wasn’t by her dad’s side. there was, however, the heartbreaking nights where a nurse would stop by and take aurora aside, tell her that one of her friends at the hospital had passed, and it was never news that she stomached well. of course, how could any kid? but aurora feels everything, all of her emotions, with her entire being. a lot of it just became too much all at once, and that’s when her panic attacks began. when it all became too heavy, in the stark white halls of the hospital wings, aurora would find herself curled up in herself barely able to breathe let alone think … the nurses, the doctors, they were incredible of course, but truly it was being surrounded by her family once more that allowed for little aurora to center herself again.

it was a little over a month before artie came out of his coma, and it was an even longer and slower recovery than was expected. seeing her father in the hospital bed, unresponsive, unsure if she would ever get to talk to him or sit in his lap as he read her a story, wondering if he was going to get to see her play soccer in the fall on the a team … for a young kid, it was a lot. it was a lot of trauma for a long time. but artie did wake up, which was a miracle in his own right truthfully, but so was his recovery. it was a long ten months of intensive rehabilitation, repeated fMRIs, and pitfalls but god was it a well-needed moral boost for the banks family. and even though there was still so much work to be done toward artie’s full recovery, if there was to be one, at least he was alive. at least aurora still had her daddy, and that made all the difference. as head injuries can be difficult, and unpredictable, it was uncertain what brain functioning and part of his brain would be affected fully. and as aurora had come to find, her father’s personality, the frontal lobe? he was still that very same person she had known her entire life, and emilia wholeheartedly agreed. the main differences came from his body, as he couldn’t move in the same ways anymore, he had to essentially re-learn how to sit up, stand, walk, but he did. in conversation, the recall on certain words, phrases, experiences .. it comes and goes, some things are there and others need a hefty amount of prompting, but the banks will live with that over the alternative every day of the week. it’s been nearly ten years since, and artie has come such a long way. no longer working on-sight anymore, he still works alongside his partner in their architecture consulting business. so to put it lightly, the recovery was better than even the doctors had come to expect. but the trauma, well that has always lingered with aurora. all that she had seen, had heard, the beeping of the monitors that her father was hooked up to, the sterile scent of the sheets that would replace the bed her friends in the pediatric ward occupied … it still haunts her. every night before bed, and every morning when she’d wake, she’d have to make sure her parents were still there, alive, breathing, able to respond to her when she’d reach for their hand. if mama was napping and aurora couldn’t hear that faint snore, she’d have to check on her. if dad fell asleep at his desk from exhaustion, she’d poke him awake with a few tears in her eyes. and even if it’s been ten years, it’s still something she’s likely to do with whoever she’s living with. luckily, when the time came, her college roommate understood.

*:･ﾟ･✧･ years to come: just to make it through the recovery year, and the rehabilitation years that followed, aurora leaned heavily on her sisters. they were three little peas in a pod and aurora’s never been closer with anyone else in her life and she never will be. they were, and for the most part still are, iseparable. they’ve got a groupchat that’s active at any hour of the day, has been for the past decade, hell even before unlimited texting they were on aim - and aurora wouldn’t have it any other way honestly. the only reason she did decently in school is because of her sisters’ influence, as they’re a few years her senior. they always kept aurora in the right spirits, along the right path, and a lot of that probably came from emilia’s request but aurora didn’t mind. she wasn’t ever looked at as the annoying little sister, but as an equal, and she truly appreciated that and them more than she could ever express. their bond is unbreakable, and it’s been tested time and time again, but it’s where aurora’s strong sense of loyalty comes from. it’s also a huge contributor to her endless ability to care for others. which, that particular trait has been responsible in getting her heart broken on more than one occasion, as aurora was the type to fall hard and fast especially when it came to any beautiful person glancing her way in the halls. but again, she had her sisters to protect her, to nurture any broken hearts or help mend any rocky friendships that teenage girls can have. if she ever accidentally hurt someone else, or if she was the one who got crushed, that ability to feel every little thing with her entire being would do a number on her, but natty and winnie were always right by her side. artie and emilia give the world’s best hugs, and always know when something’s up with their daughter. it allowed for aurora to grow, to express herself fully, to feel accepted despite her niuances. she’s found it difficult at times to connect with people her own age considering her mature experiences, but she’s done her best and the people who truly care for her have remained, and others have faded into the background, and that’s okay. aurora knows that not everyone is meant  to be in your life forever, but those who are, are held closely to her heart.

*:･ﾟ･✧･ onward: it was a difficult enough decision for aurora to venture out beyond her small town in maine for the big city .. truth be told, she likely wouldn’t have if it weren’t for winnie having made the move first. natty, the eldest, attended colby college in order to stay close to the family and for awhile there, aurora likely dreamt of doing the very same. but winnie was offered decent aid northwestern university, and she really wanted the opportunity to branch out and get out of the small corner of the work that the banks had been occupying for so many years. and while aurora and natty were a little heartbroken, that only lasted for a few weeks, before they got on the same page as their very supportive parents and knew that it was going to be one of he best things for winnie. and for the last two years of her high school experience, without her sisters being in the same building or the same house, aurora started to grow more on her own. she liked being able to make the roadtrip with natty to visit winnie on the weekends, to see what life was like outside of their hometown. illinois was exciting, and chicago was rich in diversity, and it greatly attracted all three of them. aurora especially, and she was constantly in her guidance office discussing the different colleges in the area and degrees she could be going after. she was a particularly good student, got a lot of tutelage from her support system, and the sciences were her favorite. she even made her parents buy her a special set of goggles for her chem lab and yes, she got made fun of for it, but aurora didn’t care. the concept of medicine was attractive to her, considering all she had been through and where her interests led her, but she couldn’t bring herself to envisioning MD at the end of her title … working alongside a human population, it just felt a little too overwhelming for her, perhaps even triggering, but she still felt that pull. and her guidance counselor knew that, also knew how often aurora volunteered at the local animal shelters and fostered as many as she could ( or rather, as many as her parents would allow ) so the topic of veterinary school came up, as did the university of chicago and their program offerings … and honestly, it was like overnight, aurora had made her decision.

*:･ﾟ･✧･ decision day: just shy of her eighteenth birthday and aurora was already enrolled and committed to attend the college of veterinary medicine and the school of public health at the university of illinois-chicago. it’s a five year program that she’s just about ready to finish, with only her clinical hours to go, before she can officially call herself a vet. and it was just last summer that she finished her vet technician credentials to be able to practice as a vet tech legally and outside of the scope of the college’s intern hour requirements, which is how she got herself a free place to live at the malnati. because while aurora loves her school, she’s always had a tough enough time fitting in with classmates who are her age, with kids who just wanted to goof off and fuck around. because aurora’s never been that girl. she’s quiet, timid even, and it takes her awhile to warm up to people - especially new people. she got to live in her little slice of the world in maine where her family were her biggest supporters and the rest of the two just knew her. aurora rarely had to introduce herself to anyone, ever. so it was a whirlwind of a new experience, and she was lucky to have winnie in reasonable driving distance, but it still made it difficult for aurora. the party scene was never hers, in fact being in large groups of people can occasionally overwhelm her, so she tested it out a few times before deciding that it wasn’t gonna be for her. she didn't like how her panic attacks seemed to get worse if she was around far too many intoxicated people, so she decided against them for herself personally. aurora much prefers the, let’s go get sushi and then roam around the art gallery, type of weekends. so needless to say,  she stuck to the few good friends in her program, some outside of it too, and just lived. she would run 5ks to support local causes, attend street markets and festivals on the weekends, run around hopping from one train to the next to get to work and then back onto campus so she could afford everything. but in her last year, it’ll be more than nice to have the malnati as it’s one less bill and one stable job to maintain on her resume while she completes her degree.

*:･ﾟ･✧･ love languages: which - that honorable sushi mention up there? well, food is one of aurora’s love languages. once her dad was able to come home, the girls became avid chefs. emilia was always a good cook, but more than that she taught the girls all kinds of recipes and techniques and it just created this type of burning, lasting memory in aurora’s mind and honestly being in the kitchen is just her second happy place. the first? well anywhere she can be surrounded by animals - that’s her first happy place. because she’s the biggest animal lover, but she’s also a huge foodie. she doesn’t cook as much as she used to being in chicago, as she did back home in maine, but with the suites having pretty incredible appliances considering the size, she’s excited to get back into it. handwritten recipe cards fill a few binders that she’s put together, and nothing makes aurora feel more at home than her dad’s handwriting, cause he’d scrawl down whatever emilia would tell him to as she was cooking, and it’s just a little shaky from the brain injury but it’s perfect. it’s him. it’s her dad’s. and she really loves the little hearts that’re on every card that her mom would add at the end, so she’s excited to start using them again. which means that she will feed you, she will share tupperware and accept new recipe cards with a lot of excitement. but also now, getting to live in a place where she is able to take care of all these beautiful pets in such a glamorous daycare? well, aurora’s somewhere between heaven and heaven - cause she’s got this big heart that’s filled with floof balls, and gorgeous birds, and reptiles with textured skin - and don’t get her started on the cutest ferret that one of the guests has lodged at the daycare for weeks and she cannot get enough of. so she’s fully ready to make just about any excuse to show up and hang out with you and your pets, because she vehemently loves quality time and as this also being one of her love languages, she can never get enough.

*:･ﾟ･✧･ four wheels, two legs, a paintbrush: but amongst other things that aurora enjoys? she’s a big rollerblader, like actually owns inline skates and will use them to get around chicago if she pleases and 100% takes those very aesthetic tiktoks wearing her bellbottom jeans and hair all blown out … it’s one of the very few instances of aurora being vain, but she just enjoys it too much. very much into running, it’s the only other form of exercise she willingly participates in ( unless it’s swimming because of course she loves to do that ) and she swears one of these days her knees are gonna be the end of her but she keeps up with it anyways. she signs up for 5k’s without question and half marathons take a few extra moments of consideration but she’ll do those too - she’s determined to do her first marathon soon and she’s really looking forward to it. she’s also not very good at it, but she loves to paint. she’s gotten a lot of those ‘paint by number’ watercolors that she saw ads for on instagram for way too long before finally placing an order but she really loves those. she’s got a vintage polaroid camera from her grandmother’s closet that she is very protective over but she’s highkey in love with it. that one stays in its case in the trunk at the end of her bed, but she’s gotten a less sentimental polaroid to use as more of a decor piece on her dresser. and literally no one is surprised at this point, but she’s got a record player and a bunch of vinyls from her dad’s collection and her sisters make fun of her for being 'that bitch’ but she doesn’t care - it’s just all a part of what makes aurora authentically herself.

*:･ﾟ･✧･ empath: of which, she’s exceptionally kind. to a fault, mostly. she’s gullible and naive, which caused her to be manipulated growing up but she had support to get her out of those situations when she needed it. because aurora is trusting, and trustworthy, but she mostly wants to see the good in other people. but she’s also learned from the moments in her life that burned her, and she tends to keep to herself a bit, and is very slow on the open up, but she liked to have friends. very much a social person, actually, she’s just gotta get used to the new and exciting and feel people out before she’s her most honest self. which is a bit of a goofy, smiley, supportive gal who very clearly grew up in a tight knit family because she’s quick to pull people into her circle who want to be there, and who care enough about her to be there in the first place. her favorite people are good people, and all she ever tries to do is her best. once she’s open to someone, she’s with them 100% of the way and holds the people in her life very close to her heart. she feels with her entire heart and soul, whole body, and sometimes that can be emotionally exhausting and even physically draining so she may need to step back from time to time, but she’s still always gonna be there. aurora will talk through emotions and isn’t afraid of having the deep talks either, which is probably one of the things that makes her such a good friend. being in chicago, she’s a wide eyed gal with a big heart, whose experiences have shaped her, and she is unapologetically herself.

[umichenginabroad]

Madrid Week 13: Chefchaouen and Reflections on My Role in Tourism (Morocco, part 2)

Hola a todxs! Niko back here with week 12/13/14 of studying abroad in Madrid, honing in on Chefchaouen in the second part of the Morocco blog. Last time I focused on cultural experiences and my thoughts on tour groups. This time I’ll talk about Chefchaouen itself, and discuss some research I was compelled to do on tourism. Let’s get into it.

It Really is Quite Blue

Chefchaouen (or Chaouen for short, if you’re a cool cat) is known as the “Blue Pearl” of Morocco, and one glance at any photos of the small town (42,000 population) explains why. The historic center, the Medina, of the city is painted almost entirely blue. In combination with the maze-like feeling of the streets and the intense palette of the greenery (from the numerous orange trees) and vibrant colors (rugs, scarves, spices, more), the city was breathtaking at every turn. The architecture has Andalusian (Southern Spanish) and Arabic influence. Combined with its location nestled at the foot of the Rif mountains and the low clouds hiding their peaks from view, it felt like we were on the set of a movie. Per usual, my pictures don’t do the place justice. Combined with the amazing natural beauty and hiking surrounding the town, I highly recommend working it into your itinerary if you’re going to Morocco anytime soon.

So, why is the city blue nowadays? There are a ton of legends surrounding the blueness (mosquito repellent, keeps the city cool, etc…), and none of them are true. Our tour guide Mohammad, a local who’s writing a thesis on the subject, conducted interviews with locals around the town to track its history, and shared what he found with us.

Blueness in the city architecture dates back to the 1500s, when Jews would paint their doorways and windows blue to signify that their home was a safe place for others in the Jewish community. However, the Jewish quarter was small, and the last Jews in Chefchaouen moved to Israel in the mid 1900s. At this point, Chefchaouen remained a largely white-painted city — until 2005. For some reason (unbeknownst to Mohammad), people started painting their houses blue again. The phenomena proliferated throughout the city, soon transforming into tradition that continues to the present day. Over time, tourism in Chefchaouen snowballed to new heights, and that’s exactly why the city continues the upkeep of their blue city today: its unique facade brings in the money that the city depends on to survive.

A Tourism Economy

Without its blue exterior, it wouldn’t have such an outstandingly unique draw compared to other Andalusian-Moroccan cities. Within the past few years, it has transformed into an internationally renowned tourist destination, which I think is rooted in its shareability on picture-based social media like Instagram. Chefchaouen is incredibly photographable; It looks great on a feed (as it did on mine, too). Now, Chefchaouen’s local economy depends heavily on tourism, which is both a blessing and a curse.

Tourism has brought a great deal of money to Chefchaouen that simply did not exist in years prior. The economy has grown: on average, people have more money, and the city’s infrastructure is more developed. More tourism = more money = better quality of life, right?

Not necessarily, and I think that much is obvious too. Economic growth that comes from an increase in tourism is accompanied by gentrification and inflation that outpaces the rise in wage of a city’s local inhabitants, leaving tourist hotspots unaffordable for the people that live there. Notably, many property owners convert apartments with reasonable rent into Airbnbs and hotels that significantly increase their profit (in turn increasing rent of actual apartments in the area, too), making it difficult for locals to live in the same neighborhoods they grew up in. Mohammad feels this especially — he’s getting married within the year and is having trouble finding a home in which he can start a new family.

In addition to gentrification, economic dependency on tourism can also impede the economic growth of a community in the long term, if it’s not managed sustainably. When tourism is disrupted significantly in these regions, this can have huge negative effects — something we saw precisely during COVID (including in Chefchaouen, seen in this article). Diversified economies are much more resilient to these kinds of sudden changes.

As an industry, tourism also provides fewer avenues for innovation and development when compared to sectors like healthcare, engineering, or even entertainment. There is a finite amount of attractions, services, and space that can be economically developed, especially when it comes to historic or natural attractions. Economic growth will plateau at a much quicker rate than, for example, an economy rooted in manufacturing, which can improve margins through many avenues — new products, more efficient processes, etc. This Youtube video gives an interesting overview of this concept, and goes into more depth with ample statistics and examples. I find his arguments a bit one sided, but they gave me a lot of new things to think about.

Over-tourism

Aside from inflation and gentrification, an unsustainable rise in tourism is also accompanied by increased pollution, overuse of local resources, and — what has been most apparent from my travels thus far — overcrowding. 

The most significant example of overcrowding I experienced was in Cinque Terre, which I wrote about briefly in week 10. Because my friend and I went during Easter weekend, tourism was at an all time high, and it kind of stripped the magic away from what was once a peaceful beach town. By midday, it was difficult to move on main streets due to the mass of people filling the area, making the experience somewhat unpleasant. Don’t get me wrong, it was still absolutely stunning — but the experience was slightly dimmed, especially carrying the understanding that I was part of the problem. If I felt like this as a tourist, I could only imagine how the people that grew up in these areas feel, observing their favorite restaurants, plazas, and viewpoints become oversaturated and changed by international influence. 

I felt similar in Florence. Any site near the center was crowded (insanely long lines at every attraction), and in certain areas, I barely heard any Italian being spoken. Chefchaouen was crowded, but not unbearable. However, we were at the beginning of the tourist season. Come July/August, the streets would be filled just the same.

In small destinations like Cinque Terre, Chefchaouen, and Florence, you feel directly the impact of tourism. The proportion of tourists to local residents is imbalanced, which gives rise to the yucky ‘touristy’ feeling that can sometimes feel impossible to avoid. However, the same issue arises in big cities, like Madrid. Although tourism in Madrid is concentrated in a few central neighborhoods, it also leaks into other parts of the city (especially due to tourists — like myself — who are constantly seeking a more ‘local’ feeling in their travels). 

When I asked one of the directors of my study abroad program (Miguel, a Spaniard born and raised in Madrid) how he felt about tourism in his home, he expressed a sentiment of sadness and frustration, rooted in an understanding of the problem. Sometimes, all he wants is to share a beer with his buddies without hearing a loud English voice from across the room. Tourism combined with social media (think TikTok: ‘The top 5 best local vermouth bars in Madrid off the beaten path’) makes this difficult. Miguel expressed similar sentiments to Mohammad on the affordability of his city as well — living near the city center is excessively expensive if you aren’t making an excess of money.

This article thoughtfully discusses the effects of tourism (economic & lifestyle impacts) in Sevilla from the perspective of a local, which is a Spanish city I visited a month or two ago. I would highly recommend giving it a read/skim, it captures the sentiments I’m discussing in a much more personal way than I could.

So, the most important thing to discuss: how can we solve these problems? A lot of it falls on the shoulders of the tourist destinations themselves. Cities can implement best practices for sustainable tourism, focusing on protecting the quality of life for locals, maximizing local economic impact, elevating the visitor experience to encourage more spending, and protecting key tourism assets. I got these four tenets from this Ted Talk from Doug Lansky on sustainable tourism, and he goes into the practicable details of each one. It's an interesting watch, worthwhile if you’re someone who likes to travel.

However, as interesting as these concepts are, they don’t tell us what we can do as tourists to reduce our impact. From my experience, the most important and accessible action I think I can take now is to educate myself. With an awareness of the effect overtourism has on locals, I can choose to visit destinations during the offseason and reduce time spent at major attractions. By being aware of the potential environmental impact I can have, I'll be more conscious of my water use and waste disposal. By being aware of my economic impact, I'll choose to spend my money locally instead of with international corporations. And perhaps most important to study abroad students like myself: By learning about the culture and language of my new temporary home, I can make an effort to adhere to traditions and avoid ‘taking up too much space’, disrupting the experience of locals. This ties in directly to the idea of cultural humility that I’ve mentioned a few times, which I’ll expand upon in a later blog. Eventually, I promise 🙏.

So, hopefully I've provided a good base of information with this short overview of the effects of tourism (and the resources I’ve included surrounding them). I learned a lot through this small amount of focused research, but I think it will enable to me to learn even more about the topic firsthand from my future travel experiences.

---------

After I finished this section I started on the next one about Chefchaouen, and realized that including it in this post would make this one a bit tough to read all at once. So, I split it into yet another post about Morocco — last one, I promise.

As always, thanks so much for reading! See you guys soon, have a wonderful rest of your day/night wherever you are in the world (and congrats on finishing the schoolyear to my UMich friends!!)

Salam,

Niko Economos

Aerospace Engineering

Universidad Carlos III de Madrid

Madrid, Spain

economos@umich.edu 

[switchbrainedholylime]

Like Petroleum & Water - Chapter 1

Based on the prompt/AU idea by @skygemspeaks: https://skygemspeaks.tumblr.com/post/189686838998/you-know-what-dr-stone-modern-au-where-all-the

Summary: Senkuu’s new stepmother Lillian comes a family...a large, Southern one. And while Senkuu may have dreamed of going to space to explore another planet, he didn’t think that alien planet would be West Virginia.

Sure he and Byakuya were still going to live in Japan full-time, he didn’t have to move there; they just had to visit for one month every year during the summer after they got married. Lillian wanted a low-key family wedding without all the fuss of the media, so she was secretive about any details in interviews. 

Of course, Lillian had told Byakuya who blabbed excitably about all the details to Senku, but luckily for the newly-engaged couple, the teen prodigy didn’t care about leaking any of the info to the media.  

“I just dan’t wanna get my loved ones involved in all that drama, y’know? I just wanna have a nice time with the folks that made me who I am. I might have a big celebration afterward, but really deep down I guess I’m still a hometown girl. Sure, I could hire a big city caterer, have big names come to it, have a big giant cake the size of the moon, have everything big-big-big. But...that’s just ain’t who I am. It just wouldn’t feel right. I made a promise before my first major concert at 14 in Morgantown, home to my home state’s biggest university music program, to my aunt that she’d be the one that’d make my wedding cake, and I wanna keep that. She was my first official voice coach once she heard about how much all the kids on the street loved my singing. I owe it to her.”    

When pop idol Lillian Weinberg posted her engagement photos with her and Byakuya in the ISS on her Instagram. The video of the engagement ring fluttering in zero-gravity until it moved towards Lillian, who slipped it on and embraced the Japanese astronaut got billions of views. 

By the time the ISS returned, Bakuya was an international sensation and people were flocked to his university office. The school security had to actually train to themselves to deal with pesky paparazzi. 

The world Senkuu inhabited was shattered like someone had taken their bare hands to a statue and crushed it like an egg. The other astronauts were clapping in the videos. Everyone in his class went ballistic. 

Literally ballistic, too; one of Yuzuriha’s friends named Nikki threw her eraser so fast across the classroom in utter shock that it matched the trajectory of an arrow at about 27.3 mph. “Oh my God! Senku, this is your dad, isn’t it?”

Senkuu shifted his head over. “Yeah, that’s him, alright.”  

“I can’t say that I blame Lillian, he’s a lot hotter than you, Senkuu.” Nikki smiled, “Of course, I’m always a sucker for a five-o-clock shadow.” 

“He’s also gotten pretty buff from all that astronaut training, too. Some of the gym photos show ‘em getting pretty jacked.” 

“He has a rustic spice about him, but he’s also smart. He raised Senkuu on his own, so you know he’s family-orientated and doesn’t have issues with commitment. He has a steady job, too.” Another schoolmate gushed.  

“Wait, weren’t you working on a bodysuit for him back in elementary school. You don’t happen to still have a model of that around, do you?” 

“I’d prefer it if you don’t talk about my dad in front of me like he’s some top 10 movie star. Sweet Issac Newton, my old man is in his mid-forties! None of you thought he was hot before he hooked up with Lillian!” Senkuu’s face was beet red and sweat as he grasped his piece of chalk for dear life. “Alright, can we please go back to the parabola formula. It’s going to be on the final exam.” 

After a frustrating pre-finals review, Senkuu left the school grounds on his own as he thought to himself. His arms were firmly planted in his lab coat. He pouted and scowled to himself, “Had I known that the main result of my old man getting into JAXA would be that he got to bang his favorite celebrity instead of getting some serious science work done, I wouldn’t have made that swimming suit-” 

His monologuing was interrupted by Taiju and Yuzuriha. “Senku! Hey, congrats to your old man. Yuzu said that she’d make a custom tuxedo, so I kinda gave her your measurements. Sorry I didn’t ask you first-”

“Great, now even my two best friends wanna bang my future step-mom and by next school year, I’ll have to submit paperwork to change my name to ‘Senku Weinberg’. What a joke,” Senku groaned. “I even heard people are starting to fantasize about me, comparing my eyes to rubies! No one even cared about us before this!” 

“Senku! You know I only love Yuzuriha. Also...you know I’ve always cared about you. Famous or not,” Taiju insisted.  

“Then why haven’t you told Yuzuriha yet that you love her?” 

“I...plan on it! I promise! After finals, and definitely by the time you get back from the wedding!”

“You better.” Senkuu gazed up at the sunset. He then high-fived his friend, “Don’t forget your summer homework assignment, big oaf.” 

“I won’t!” 

----

Getting to travel first-class was surreal, to say the least. Senkuu gazed out his window and calculated the seconds it’d take to get there or how high they were above ground by the centimeter. They transferred from Tokyo to New York to Huntington. From there it was an hour drive through the windy mountains that made Senkuu AND Baykuya nearly vomit from motion sickness until they finally arrived at Lillian’s hometown: Pickens, West Virginia. Population 40.  

“Alright, y’all! We’re here.” Lillian turned to her fiancee and soon-to-be stepson. 

“Here I thought the JAXA training was rough...,” Byakuya groaned.  

“I figured I was going straight to Hell, but I didn’t think it’d be this soon,” Senkuu muttered to himself. 

“GET UP!” Lillian kicked the car and shook them out of it. “Good grief, y’all need to build up some grit!”

“Darling!” A dark-brown haired middle-aged woman and embraced the pop singer. “Oh, I’ve missed you so much. I prayed for you constantly that you’d come back home.” 

“Thanks, Auntie Turquoise!” Lillian jumped towards her aunt. “How’re Cousins Kohaku and Ruri? The trio o’ Ruby, Sapphire ‘n Garnet ain’t causin’ the sheriff too much trouble, are they?”

“Thankfully they’re not. Though boy is that Magma a whole wreck to deal with; he broke his DUI parole again yet he still drives through the town on his truck like it’s a NASCAR ring. He’s a headache.”  

“Turquoise...? Lapis Lazuli?” Senkuu sat up. 

“There’s not a lot of people ‘round ‘ere so we don’t really bother with last names. We just go by our favorite stone. Lillian Weinberg’s actually my stage name. I actually officially changed it in order to enroll in the ISS program, though. I’m the only person in this ‘ol town with a first and last name or to have left in more than 50 years.” 

“The only person!?” Senkuu nearly choked. “And not only that, you made it to SPACE!? What even is this!?”   

“Why did you choose ‘Weinberg’?” Byakuya asked.  

“There’s a town just a few miles north ‘o ‘ere called Helvetia that’s a huge tourist trap since it’s all about Dutch and German heritage. Auntie Turquoise used to get me presents from there craftsmen there all the time. I’ll always treasure that wooden music box y’all got me when I started my first period.” 

“Well, I couldn’t help myself for my favorite niece.” Aunt Turquoise smiled.   

“We can swing by there sometime on our way back to the airport. I get the feelin’ y’all have had enough twirling for today.” 

“Yeah,"

“What happens if more than one person has the same favorite stone?” 

“Oh, Pastor Jasper keeps a record on that. If that happens, they pick the same name of the stone but in a different language. That’s why Kohaku and Ruri aren’t called ‘Amber’ and ‘Lapis Lazuli’."

“I-I guess.” Byakuya blinked. 

“Well, what’re waitin’ in the car for? C’mon in!” Lillian picked both grown men up and carried them into the house. 

[geminimoonbeamx]

Home, Again: Chapter One

A/N: Soooo, if you know me at all you know that thick Bucky is my religion and I love him with all of my heart. These new pictures of Sebastian on the set of ‘Devil All The Time’ have got me twisted. Literally I’ve been fawning over them for days. That man is too much for me and my libido and this is the product of that.

Word Count: 2k+

Rating: This particular chapter is pretty mild, lots of cursing mostly- the next chapter, and the ones to come after that will be extremely explicit though so get your bodies ready.

Summary: Moving back home was never in her itinerary, but after the loss of a family member and being fired from her job, she finds herself back in the town she grew up in and face to face with the man who’d haunted her teenage wet dreams. Now in her early twenties, maybe she can do something to make those dreams a reality.

A Plus Size Reader x Dad!Cop!Thick!Bucky Barnes story

It’s a surreal moment for you- waking up in your old room. The one that you’d grown up in, that you hadn't spent more than a couple nights at a time in- in the last six years.

Like some weird, out of body experience. Looking at the ceiling through blurry, sleep bogged eyes, with the sun shining clear and bright through the curtains fills your stomach with nostalgia that makes you feel like you might barf. 

You sit up, trudge to the bathroom, half feeling like you’re about to get ready for school or something- about to but on your Volleyball uniform or something.

While you're brushing your teeth you can't manage to drag your eyes away from your reflection. The bags under your eyes, that are ever present, seem to be deeper. Probably from all the moving you’d done in the past couple of days.

Picking up your entire life, and moving it from Brooklyn all the way back to Springs Port had not been easy.

Luckily your friends had been game for the three hour drive, and the little bit of heavy lifting(Pietro and Quill we’re life savers) when it came to your bed and room furniture. You’d sold your couches and tables. You didn't have your own place anymore, didn't know when you would again and since you we’re currently unemployed, you could use all of the extra cash that you could get.

That was you:

Living back at home. Job less. And broke- because you used that almost all of that furniture money to rent the U-Haul.

In that moment, with those harsh truths, you can't manage to look at your reflection anymore.

After taking a shower and getting ready- contouring and highlighting and concealing all of your self hate away, you do feel a bit better. It was a coping mechanism, yes. But You needed to be presentable anyways, you think.

You’re fine. You are fine, Y/N. Everything’s fine.

If you keep repeating it, and accept it as your reality, you’ll feel better, right?

You linger on that thought as you eat breakfast, which is a definite perk of being back home. Your grandmother stands near the stove- a pan hot and the kitchen full of the delectable smells of not only the omelets she was stirring up, but the crock pot that had who knows what already brewing.

Also, the ever present, and pungent herby smell of marijuana that followed her ever since her accident undercurrents that.

It sure beat the instant oatmeal you used to eat mornings back in the city.

“That smells so ridiculously good” You start as you slide onto one of the chairs at the kitchen bar “Also, good morning, Grams”

“Good morning, baby bird. You’re up early” She comments, as she gives you a knowing side eye “Or did you not sleep at all last night?”

There's honestly no use lying to her. She’d always had this sixth sense when it came to that- it had made your childhood a bitch.

“I slept. A little bit” you defend yourself, pouring yourself the cucumber orange juice she’d made. Sounds weird- is actually extremely refreshing. She likes to make weird concoctions with the fruits and vegetables she grows in her garden.

You get another one of those all knowing looks.

“Okay I didn't sleep as much as I could have, but I was just getting everything else unpacked. I’m finally done” you punctuate with an innocent shrug.

“You unpacked all those boxes? Y/N Y/M/N, there was about twenty of them. You’re not supposed to get unpacked in 24 hours, you need to give yourself time to process this change in your life. I really thought that indica was going to help. You should’a been knocked on your ass” She tells you as she plates up your food and sets it in front of you.

You thank her, and bite your tongue about the whole “processing” thing. She’d been all about that lately- since Grandma Vee died a few months ago and she’d started her group therapies; she’d become some kind of self made, self help guru.

You figure it’s better that then her falling apart.

You’re all kind of waiting for her to fall apart.

“I was thinking i’d go into town and job hunt today” You bring up the topic softly, both of you most of the way through your spinach, bacon, mushroom and goat cheese omelet.

She tutts at you, of course she does.

“I invited you to come back and live with me, I’m not expecting you to pay for anything, you know that” You love the way she words it. You wonder if she really thinks of it that way, that you’re here for her benefit and not the other way around.

“Grams, I get that I really do. But I have like fifteen bucks to my name right now. Even if it’s just something part time, I need to work” You tell her, in complete seriousness.

You’d had a job, steadily, since you were fourteen years old and the broke bitch life wasn’t for you.

She fussed, tells you that you that she is very capable of helping you with whatever you need. Promptly informs you that Grandma Vee’s life insurance will hold both of you down for a long while.

You don’t get how she can talk about her death so easily. Calm and level headed. It’s still that iron hot pain that comes from losing a loved one that burns for you. You’d felt it before and yet it didn’t dull one bit this time around.

“Yeah, that’s gonna be a fuck no from me. You have to use that money for you, grams. You know she’d want you to” is your blunt reply and she chuckles and throws her napkin at you as you stand.

“You watch your language in my fucking house, girl. You’ve always had such a bad potty mouth”

It’s inherited, you don’t tell her.

With a few more words of dissuasion from her and a kiss on the head and the reassurance that you’d still help her with her garden, even if you were working from you, you grab your keys and walk out into the already hot, New Jersey air.

--

It’s summer, mid June and Spring Port is and has always been a resort town. Sea side and picturesque- people flood in during the summer season.

It doesn’t surprise you that the towns square is currently a tourist trap and that parking is hard as shit to find. No matter, you find a space eventually.

Your turquoise Jeep Wrangler is the same one you’d driven before college, that you hadn't taken to the city with you. It has some  issues sometimes- the starters a little finicky and has to be worked on every six months or so, but it honestly still runs like a charm. Can get you from A to B just fine now, and you guess it is way better than subways and busses.

You end up walking around the entire towns square, and you’re glad you’d gone with slides instead of wedges. Everyone seems to be hiring, tourist season and all. And in the end you fill out four applications- handwritten at that which you think is a little funny.

It’s not that Springs Port is tiny really- with a population of 12, 000, there are definitely smaller places. Towns square is actually pretty decently sized- about twenty five or so tiny stores and restaurants scattered along main street. There’s a theater. Three gas stations. You guys don't have a Walmart in the towns perimeters technically- but there's one just a few miles away. And everything's waterfront, the docs a skip away. The Atlantic a continual backdrop.

Compared to New York though, it’s a blip on the map,. It feels smaller to you now that you’ve lived in the big wide world.

You’re walking down the cross of Harbor and Main- on your way to Goodies- which you hear Angie now owns, to meet Wanda and B for lunch when your feet get stuck where you are.

Frozen on the spot.

As you look at the flower shop, that’s overflowing with greenery across the street.

Infinity Flowers-

You can't help the draw to the store. Your feet seem to have a mind of their own- and you end up inside before you can really think of it.

Hell, it smells just like it used to. You haven't stepped foot in here since…

It’s pretty busy in the shop- it always was though. Best flower arrangements in the whole Garden state was it’s slogan, and it only exaggerated a little.

“I’ll be with you in one sec- Oh! Y/N” The bleach blond head that belongs to none other then Mantis bobs as she comes over and envelops you in a tight hug “I heard you we’re back in town! I was wondering when you we’re going to come in. I haven't seen you in so, so long”

She says all of this without letting you go and you chuckle and endure it because this was Mantis. Always such a hugger.

“Yeah, I was just job hunting in town and I thought I’d stop by”

“So you’re back for good then, yes?” She asks, after letting you go. Going to greet another customer warmly, while still managing to small talk to you. She’d always been good at making people feel at ease.

You tell her not really, just for the moment, as you fix the hydrangeas in the window display. They have them all wrong-

“Those we’re always her favorite” Mantis tells you what you already know and you nod and swallow the bit of sadness that bubbles up.

This. Is why you tend to stay away from this store. Thoughts of your late mother assault your psyche here, always- but also...you can't help but feel like you’re supposed to be here. Some of your happiest childhood memories we’re in this shop, surrounded by flowers. You can recall the sound of your mother’s laughter best here…

You leave the shop, after you’ve filled out an application.

You don't know why you did it but-

“I’m pretty sure I just got a job at Infinity Flowers” You inform Wanda and B, who are already sat at a booth in the little pub waiting for you when you get there. Sharon couldn't get a break from the station to come, but you couldn't hate her for it. She was just living her dream.

“Really?” Wanda asks, attempting to choose her words wisely “That's- I would never expect for that to be where you’d decide to work”

“What she means; is do you think that’s a good idea? There’s ghosts for you in there girly” B, Brunhilde(she’d kill anyone who used her full name though) has always been the bolder one in your group of friends. And that would never change.

“Mmm, I don't know what I think. Wanna day drink about it?” You suggest with a shrug as you go to wave down a waitress. One of their house made hard lemonades we’re sounding real good right now…

“Bitch, some of us have to go back to work” Wanda argues while B excitedly agrees, telling you that she’s already started.

Two and a half house lemonades later you are sufficiently buzzed and feeling better. Wanda has to get back to work at the antiques gift shop though, you you leave Angie a hefty tip(or rather your employed friends do) and head out.

It’s hot as hell, honestly and you think you might go sit on the beach for a while until you sober up enough to drive- you’re telling your friends that when you see a patrol car roll up to the bakery on the corner.

Out of the driver's seat exits one Bucky Barnes. AKA your teenage wet dream.

And holy god, does he look good. He’s flanked by a tall dark skinned man who you don't recognize, but who is also pretty damn fine.

You know you’re ogling, and your friends are laughing at you and taunting you, but in that moment you really don't care.

“Hot damn, he is still so fine, oh my god” You groan and Wanda chuckles as she lights up a cigarette.

“Yeah? The dad bod doing it for you?” She questions on an exhale of smoke.

“Totally. Is it possible that he got even more attractive? Like? How? And why did Sharon not tell me about this” You try to pull your eyes away from him, you really do.

But you’re a little drunk and the feelings you’d harbored for the older man come trickling back. Yeah, he’s gained some weight. Is broader- his shoulders big. His whole frame hulking. But he still has that swoon worthy dark hair, and that jawline you could see even from here. You wonder if his eyes we’re still that stormy blue color that you’d spent literal years dreaming about...You desperately wish you could go up and take a closer look.

“He’s really been hitting those doughnuts since the divorce, huh?” B snarks and you turn a cold glare at her.

“Don't body shame him. That’s disgusting” You snap and she holds up a hand.

“Jesus, you know I’m just kidding. I forgot how fucking touchy you are about him” She defends herself and you try not to go on a rant about how talking about anyone's body, male female or anyone in between.

You end up doing it anyway and the whole time Wanda grins and tells you how much she’s missed you, and B tells you how much of a sensitive cunt you are.

All in all, it’s good to be home. Even if you are a total failure of a human being at the moment, your brain can't help but tac on to the end. As you watch the police cruiser pull out of the parking lot, and think about the man that sits inside- you think about the fact that you aren't sixteen anymore. And he’s not married...

And in that moment- you realize just how good it is to be home. 

And there it is. If you'd like to be tagged in future chapters, please let me know! I’m thinking, and have this planned out to be about five chapters. Just a sexy, juicy, emotional quick read. Some Angst ridden smut coming your way!

Also- I appreciate reviews and reblogs more than you could imagine. They are literally fuel for me- so if you can spare some time to give me your opinion, I’d love you forever!

@gifsbysimplysonia @peacefulwriter88 @prettybubblesintheair @lostinthoughtsandfeelings @lostinspace33 @4theluvofall @plumfondler @tatathekissypotato @jaamesbbarnes @jalapenobarnes @siren-kitten-his @brieannakeogh @skishenanigans @paulxrudd

[elegiacmarquise]

The Legend of Zelda: Stone of Paths: Main Characters and Introduction

Here we are the designs of the Link and Zelda from the concept of a fangame I’m creating: Stone of Paths, which it could be considered as a prequel of BOTW. Before I start, however, I do want to thank my friend g0thi-cr0c, who patiently helped me with the translation of the first messy draft: thank thank you a lot!

I’m really really sorry, true Zelda fans, if this AU is kinda inconsistent with canon: despite I tried to inform myself as best I can do, I’m aware there are something I’ve might be missed; therefore if you notice some continuity or even logical errors, tell me! As you may notice in the next lines, the following are the basics of the games: so I didn’t deepened some parts of the story nor the character, and if I can get some help from some enthusiasts, I can be more than happy! So criticism is more than accepted! Short Version (also known as tl;dr): Setted 10.500 years before BOTW main events, the quest of this incarnation of Link is to defeat a Ganon which split itself into the three (plus two after an event) timelines which started from Ocarina of Time. Starting from the northern of the Akkala Region during the Child Timeline, the Hero of Paths (initially a simple forester) will be helped by Cice, a fairy sent by Zelda to call Link, Tiusha, the daughter of the Gerudo Matriarch and Nanas, a Sheikah who discovered and passed a part of his life to study and develop the Sheikah Slate and its correlations with the Guide Stones. He will give Link the fruit of his studies in order to travel to other timelines. Even the Princess herself will help the hero, albeit her distant relationship with him: initially emotionally afflicted by a tragedy happened in the game’s beginning, she will slowly be aware of herself and unlocking Hylia’s powers. In the final dungeons her presence will be fundamental! ———————————————— Link, the Hero of Paths: the main protagonist of this game; he lives with his horse Epona in the village of Redleaf, northern Akkala: a zone particularly liked by wayfarers for its peculiar position between mountains and seaside. His job is to be a forester but often he helps his fellow villagers in their everyday duties. Gifted by a very good sense of orientation and sword skills, Link is already celebrated in his homeland, mostly for bravely protecting it by the countless monsters who usually scare the wayfarers during their wander. His adventure starts in the beginning of Autumn: the entire village of Redleaf was preparing to host the yearly Fall Festival, and since it was the period of the year which traditionally attracted most tourists, Link overworked himself to make surd the festival was going as best it could be. In the day the festival begun, a mysterious, horrific, creature suddenly appeared in the town nearly destroying it, causing both the tourists and the locals to run away. As soon as he could, Link took his wooden sword and fought the monster but was unexpectedly hit hard by the beast, leaving him nearly dead. In his uncertain state, he heard a muffled voice which tried desperately to tell him something he couldn’t distinguish. That voice vanished just after. Soon after, he was woken up by Cice, a little Fairy who took care of him. After the fairy presented herself as to be sent by Princess Zelda, who desperately tried to send him help with her weak telepathic powers. The magic being begged Link’s help in order to save Hyrule from the return of Ganon and his fellow army, promising him the safety of the village as well: when the forester accepted, Cice hurried Link and Epona to go to the Kokiri Forest, where the Master Sword was protected  and to defeat Ganon as soon as possible. In the woods, despite the Deku Tree and the Sword’s spirit agreed for the Hero to extract it, they both weren’t as sure as they were with the other Links: despite their awareness of the heroic nature of the Akkalan forester, they still had the sensation he was too weak to defeat this force, but didn’t know what exactly led them to these thoughts. They felt this incarnation of Ganon was really different, almost as he came from another world but at the same time they couldn’t prove it, so they preferred remaining quiet. With a new sword in the sheath, the hero ran towards Hyrule Castle, where he met Zelda for the first time a little before trying to defeat Ganon. Despite the weakness of her powers,Zelda still cared about his arrive, to the point to give him some of the best weapons in the castle. She also made her mother bless him, despite the queen being deeply worried about the lack of her daughter’s actual powers. But when Link managed to defeat the beast and everything was about to be restored into their original form, a dark force revived Ganon, allowing him to be even more powerful than he used to be; it destroyed the already corrupted castle, killing almost everyone who lived there at the sole impact, including the Queen of Hyrule. In the tragedy, during the escape from a falling castle, the Hero accidentally lost the Master Sword, but at the same time found the barely surviving body of Princess Zelda. Cice ordered the swordman to escort her to Kakariko Village, the birthace of her old nurse Impa; she the only surviving person who could cure her. After a troubled travel, they arrived to the village: surprisingly, Impa was already aware and prepared of their visit, having been advised by the late spirit of Zelda’s mother in dream. Without anything else to do, and shocked by the dispersion of his beloved villagers and failure of his heroic duties, the swordsman was requested by Impa to met Nanas, a Sheikah scientist. A former ambulant shopkeeper, he’s known for leaving behind his former life to do researches about a miraculous Stone (which will be called the Sheikah Stone terminal in BOTW). This stone can memorize some new information which can also be manipulated into runes; they afflict the surrounding world with the connection of a smaller rudimentary tablet made with an extremely rare material (also known as a first version of the Sheikah Slate we’ll see in BOTW). As Link first stepped into Nanas’ home, the stone glowed in a light Nanas didn’t ever see before, and automatically installed an unusual  rune the scientist remembered not programming: when activated, Link could see passages otherwise invisible which could lead him directly to the monsters Ganon sent through all Hyrule. The first passage he found brought, in spite of himself, to the first beast he met in a deserted Redleaf village. After finally destroying it,Link could open another secret passage which led him… in the same place. But something at the same time seemed to have changed: some of the buildings, or new faces which couldn’t recognize Link at all. As the hero remembered, they were preparing themselves to host a festivity; however, when asked about the Fall Festival, the people looked at him strangely and replied they actually were excited about the upcoming visit of King Horatio Casimir Hyrule. Between the greeting crowd, the King recognised Link instantly, deeply surprising the hero: as the King would tell him in a second moment, the true reason he visited such a far village was a Prophecy that has been handed down for centuries. It told a green dressed Hero would come from another Hyrule’s Land of Autumn at the time in which a single Princess Zelda existed in all the three timelines and introduced the Fallen Timeline. Unlike the other two parallel Hyrules, the people living in this one were generally aware of not being the only one. Added to the fact the King didn’t have a distinctive legacy since the premature death of his wife, he became slowly worried about the right time for the prophecy to happen, so he decided to go against the court’s will, both relieved and even more worried to be right about his encounter. In fact, both Link and Ganon would have to come at the same time; in order to prevent a total destruction in his land, the King explicitly asked Link to bring him the Zelda from his dimension, defeat Ganon and finally reunite both the timelines he was in, along with the third one. Therefore, after hearing the King’s request, Link and Cice went back to the Kakariko village in his world and told Impa, Zelda and Nanas about the three Hyrule timelines; they started their main quest, in order to find the Master Sword again and rebuild Link’s native village. Princess Zelda Telene Hyrule: the Princess of Hyrule and first female born in the Royal Family of Hyrule after 100 years, therefore a descendant of Hylia. For this reason, added to the possibility of an incoming menace, her concerned parents took the drastic decision to rarely let the Princess go out of the castle; this norm had become harsher after the premature death of her father when she was still a child. The Queen of Hyrule, who wanted to show the daughter the variety of the reign’s population and tey to make feel Zelda less alone, decided to bring in her castle some exponents of every Hyrulean race; and the child became particularly close with the Fairy Cice. Aside of her isolation, she spent a rather peaceful childhood. While she was already prepared to act as a proper princess and was raised in a peaceful period, Zelda was still worried about her future both as a queen and as a descendant of Hylia, fearing to disappoint her loving yet severe mother. Even at the beginning of her eighteenth year of life she couldn’t do anything aside from a weak power of telepathic speech she gained when she was a toddler. In an apparently normal day of her life, an huge malevolent entity possessed her castle, imprisoning almost everyone in it: the Hyrule army tried to defend from the beast but were mortally defeated. While the Queen and her daughter tried to think about a solution, Zelda decided to send a telepathic help appeal to everyone in the kingdom which only a comatose Link received. With both hope in her heart and worry about his safety, she asked Cice , the smallest being in her castle, therefore the most likely to pass unnoticed to Ganon, to reach for the hero and to cure him with a mixture of a medicine she prepared herself and the fairy’s own healing powers. She couldn’t do anything but revolving her prayers to the Goddess Hylia and searching for the best weapons in the castle, in order to give Link the best aid she could offer. Usually described as calm, imaginative and compassionate, this Zelda often shows the tendency to be overly obsessed by negative thoughts and guilt feelings, especially after almost her entire court was killed by Ganon. Despite her first encounter with Link in the castle was hopeful, she will close herself after the accident and feel useless to have not helped enough to avoid that tragedy. Spending most of her day in her room, she often asked herself the reasons she was gifted by such a weak power and why she wasn’t as powerful as her ancestors, trying to give herself an answer she couldn’t completely satisfy. She saw Link’s presence as the concrete incarnation of her own failures  to her duties as both a Princess and a descendant of Hylia; therefore,when he came back to Kakariko Village from his interdimensional travel, she preferred avoided directly talking to him, preferring being mediated by Impa instead. However, she was aware about the vicious circle which her behaviour could to her and the few people she could trust, so she took the wise yet difficult choice to restart a temporary new life and get used to the simple village life. Despite she was still emotionally overwhelmed by her beloved mother’s grief, she was strong enough to become Nanas’ assistant; while she offered him to do some smaller works for him, she slowly became fascinated by his researches. She also befriended Tiusha, a cheerful Gerudo girl who kept staying in Kakariko village after finding her ideal voe in Nanas. Despite her firstly avoiding behaviour, Zelda became progressively closer to Link as well: she was deeply displeased about the lack of help she offered him, but eventually apologized to Link in tears and was happily forgiven, keeping evolving herself further. Positively influenced by both Nanas’ brilliant mind and constant effort in what he does, by Tiusha’s optimistic yet powerful behaviour and by Link’s selflessness and courage, she slowly became more free by her negative thoughts and influence of her mother visiting the lands around Kakariko village for some research requested by Nanas. In order to travel safely and to reassure a worried Impa about her wellbeing as both a surrogate child and as a Princess, Zelda also restarted practicing archery and learnt some sword basics. However, the moment Zelda will remember the most was when another emotional crisis came: the sudden miss of her mother’s love and role model rapidly interrupted her slowly healing process. This time, however, something changed; her heart was instilled with her first wish, a spark of hope in her previously pessimistic mind-set: to visit the Spring of Power, the Spring of Courage and, lastly, the Spring of Wisdom. She was insecure about her mastery with the weapons, so she asked Link, who already had to go there in order to find the Master Sword, if he could escort her. When the green dressed hero accepted, they prepared themselves and left the village despite Nanas, Cice and Impa’s doubts. Acting as the third and last guide in the game, after Cice and Tiusha, her bond with Link intensified to the point of revealing him her past and her feelings when the swordsman escorted her and protected her from the monsters. When they arrived to the Spring of Power and defeated Ganon together, Zelda started to slowly regain Hylia’s powers, fully obtaining them as she arrived to the Spring of Wisdom. As she would tell Link and Cice, when she prayed at each Spring, she internally reached up a state of ecstasy and felt surrounded by a comforting light Link would only catch a small grasp of; she also heard the reassuring words of her mother, who told her she was proud of her progress and that she would be a great Queen to Hyrule . Lastly she saw a beautiful and mysterious woman who kissed her right hand without saying anything. Back in her world, a Triforce jewel in her gown appeared. She felt for the first time in full peace with herself, as she felt her telepathy power improving and other abilities unlocking. As she progressively gained her powers, her help was crucial during in the resolution of the last few dungeons, and her intervention (as King Horatio hoped) was crucial to reunite each Hyrule into an united big reign. Along with Tiusha, Cice and Nanas’ technology,she participated in the final battle with a dimension-merged Ganon, the most dangerous Hyrule ever witnessed; her godly abilities,united with Link’s skills and Master Sword (merged from the three dimensions by Hyrule’s unification) managed to defeat and seal it.   This incarnation of the dimension-merged Ganon, however, lasted for 500 years until it became more intelligent and powerful: its freeing became the Calamity Ganon whose legend was narrated in Breath of the Wild. At the end of the adventure, despite facing up a first politically difficult period, Zelda was crowned as Hyrule’s Queen and her wisdom and diplomacy were loved by her subjects; it’s hinted in the game’s credits she visited the Redleaf village to speak again with a Link who implicitly accepted to marry her. Their children’s progenie after 10.500 years will give the birth to King Rhoam,and then to the Zelda of Breath of the Wild. Nanas’ discoveries and research, already known and developed by a small elite of Sheikah people Link would meet into his journey, were made famous by Zelda’s narration of the events: even more people were interested in his technology and his very first uses of the terminals and the Sheikah tablet, to the point they developed them for more uses, just as the future Sheikah Towers and Shrines. King Horatius from the Fallen Timeline abdicated the throne in favour of the owner of the Triforce and willingly dedicated himself to help the now Queen Zelda as her political adviser. Thanks to their resourceful knowledge about politics, as well as Hyrule’s cultures and timelines, their governing guidelines were useful to keep the Reign in peace for 500 years. Thank you a lot for reading! I hope you’ll like it:3

So… I happened to be more into Zelda.

After my initial skepticism due to its high praise from both critique and pubblic, I finally brought Breath of the wild, which it’s revealed to be the best decision I did in a while: I loved that post-apocalyptic setting, that ruins, the charm of villages and characters blended with a fun gameplay and the fitting music! *v*

I also loved the characters and the sparse storytelling, and even the Zelda herself, to which I never really was a fan due to her kinda aggressive behavior and unfitting character design, she has still a lot of interesting and relatable parts! I especially like how she struggles to do her duties and her difficult relationship with her father. I didn’t like however, how fastly and suddenly she got her powers.

I’m looking forward to buy even more game from this saga, despite I still like Mario and Pikmin better, maybe starting from Skyward Sword, which has such an intriguing plot.

[janchriseurope]

Ghent through the eyes of a local.

When I told Chris Kelly that we were off to Europe, he said his exchange student daughter, Amelie came from Belgium and that he would contact her to see if she would be interested in showing us around. After some too-ing and frowing , we finally touched base with Amelie, while in Bruges, and arranged to spend today with her. A major thing, I believed, because she started her holidays today.

What a wonderful day

Amelie arrived at our hotel at the designated time. We had been passing the time chatting to the very personable hotel manager. He was checking that we had managed to see the different sites he had recommended. Amelie immediately gained Chris’s heart as she presented him with a large bottle of Belgian beer!! Omer, the same name as her grandfather, so special to her family.

Off we headed into town for breakfast at Amelie’s favourite cafe. Another great coffee in a decent sized bowl and a twist pastry.

From there we made our way to the castle chatting all the way. She was telling us how she ended up living with Chris and Claudia and we were telling tales out of school. Lol Chris Kelly.... I think Amelie understands you a bit more since meeting my Chris ... poor girl!!

We had a ball. She pointed out different buildings and explained more about Ghent than you find in tourist pamphlets. We lined up for tickets for the castle, audio and earphones. Amelie told us the narrator was a well known comedian who lives in Ghent.

The castle was built by Phillip of Alsace. I have actually taught about him when I taught the Crusades. I used to use the Terry Jones version of the Crusades which uses humour and role playing. The commentary throughout the castle exploration was of a similar vein. I was impressed with the humour as it’s similar to British Monty Python style. It’s rather funny to be walking around with earphones on and hear Chris guffaw over the narration. You couldn’t hear normal conversation.. but Chris’s laugh.....

We saw the first fireplace in Ghent and heard about some really awful forms of punishment. The battlements were amazing. I struggled with the spiral staircases ( too much vertigo sensation to enjoy the journey). I wasn’t keen to lean out over the battlement to see how high we were. Hmm maybe developing a phobia..... but I went and saw, maybe not quite conquered.

From there we wandered along the different streets, looking at the shops and archecture. Amelie bought us some very interesting gels which are a specialty of Ghent. On the outside, they are firm like a wine gum, but the centre is almost runny in consistently. Yum!

It was Amelie’s birthday yesterday, so we went to Paul’s to celebrate with her. She was telling us that she is in her last year of study for Phsychology and has 126 days practicium to start in August. I can hear people now ... saying after meeting Chris and I, she could cut down the number of hours needed!!! After some of the stories Chris related to her... I’m sure she’d agree!!

We did some sitting people watching, then more meandering. There is a modern building behind St Nicholas Church. Chris and I had looked at it last night, wondering about its purpose. Amelie told us it’s called the Sheep’s Shed. It was very controversial, causing quite a major row. However people were coming to like it as it is the centre if lots of concerts and activities.

We went and looked at the University, which doesn’t charge exhorbitant fees, less than $1000 a year and the Govt give a book allowance/ grant. Oh to have a large population base.

We told Amelie about our lovely friend Bob Smith, who fills our lives with yellow ducks,.. low and behold we found a whole flock of ducks for sale. Heehee!!

We also visited a Belgian Chocolate shop and no, we didn’t buy the suculant, luscious chocolate or bottles of very cold water to put beside them to keep them from melting. ‘Scuse me while I wipe my chin....

Somehow it was 4 pm and so we headed back to our hotel and Amelie’s mum’s car. She had a half hour trip into the countryside to get home. Normally it takes her an hour and a half to get to uni from home

We are delighted in our newly found ‘great niece’. She will definitely be most welcome ‘down under’ to continue her research into the idiosyncrates of the Webster-Kelly family ... so she can make a fortune writing the book... on second thoughts maybe we shouldn’t let her near our mates... there are too many truths .. and we would ruin her perfect English with lots of “Bloodys”!!

After a rest and sorting emails, we headed back into town to have tea at the best rib restaurant. - locals know these things... thanks Amelie for your recommendation. Heaven! It came with a huge baked potato with its own curry sauce and a salad. What we didn’t know when we ordered, was that you could have more ribs and potato when you had finished your first serving!! Groan... no room ....

While sitting finishing up dinner a group of Americans rolled up. We told them that they would enjoy the ribs. We got talking... as we do... one couple’s daughter married a Kiwi, from Auckland. We told her we were from the Mainland....

We are now tucked up, hoping to have a better night’s sleep ... the train track is bloody close and the trains go like a bullet out of a gate.

Off to Dorset tomorrow thru the Chunnel to be spoilt by Pete and Gerry.

[180abroad]

Days 158-160: Salzburg & Berchtesgaden

On the border between Austria and Germany is a small corner of the Alps whose fame far exceeds its size. It is German and Austrian and also not quite either at the same time. It's been settled since the Stone Age and grew fabulously wealthy thanks to the local salt deposits, a commodity as valuable in historical times as oil is now. For hundreds of years it was ruled by an eccentric system of elected prince-bishops. It is the extremely proud birthplace of Mozart--though Mozart himself hated it and moved to Vienna as soon as he could afford to.

More recently, it has earned renewed fame as a place of extraordinary beauty--both natural and architectural. And in the 20th century, it was sadly tarred with infamy as the innermost sanctum of the Nazi regime.

The train ride from Vienna to Salzburg was so easy as to be entirely forgettable aside from the verdant alpine scenery. Salzburg is right between Vienna and Munich, so there's no shortage of high-speed commuter trains to choose from.

We were staying in an Airbnb on the outskirts of town, so we took a bus out from the central station. Got to see a glimpse of the city's spectacular Baroque architecture along the way.

Much like our place in Liverpool, our place in Salzburg was a minimally furnished room in a house we'd be sharing with other guests. One improvement was that this room had a proper bunk bed. I offered to take the top bunk, but after a nervous night with me tossing and turning above her--and the fact that one of the top bunk's four support posts came out of joint during the night--Jessica kindly requested that we swap places for the next two nights.

I had to hunt downstairs for the for the wifi router, which was unplugged. Other than that, though, the home was charming if austere. We spent a fair few hours during our stay here at the windowed dining nook, jotting out plans under the gaze of epic mountains.

We had originally planned to spend the afternoon wandering around Salzburg, but neither of us was much condition to follow through. Jessica hadn’t really slept at all the previous night, and I had only done a little better. In the end, it was all we could do to have me walk down the block for food at a local grocery store.

At least the backdrop was spectacular.

Berchtesgaden is a beautiful alpine resort town just across the border into Germany. It is home to some of the rich salt mines that made Salzburg so wealthy, and in the 19th century it became a popular throughout Europe as a destination for tourists and artists.

If an American knows about Berchtesgaden, however, it is probably in relation to Hitler and the Nazis. Hitler adored Berchtesgaden and the surrounding countryside. He finished writing Mein Kampf at a cabin he rented in the area, and later he bought a home in the nearby mountainside of Obersalzberg, which was later colonized by top-ranking Nazi officials wanting to be as close to Hitler as possible. Hitler spent most of his time in office during the 1930s ruling from his home in Obersalzberg.

And the most famous building in the Nazi complex in Obersalzberg is the one Hitler spent the least time at--the Eagle's Nest.

There are plenty of other sights around Berchtesgaden that don’t have to do with that dark chapter in its history. There are the salt mines, the famously beautiful Königssee lake, and innumerable hiking opportunities. But seeing even one of those as well as the Nazi sites would have require a very long day with a very early start. So instead, we slept in and contented ourselves with exploring the town itself.

We had booked spaces on the Rick Steves-recommended Eagle’s Nest Tours, which runs daily four-hour tours from Berchtesgaden starting at 1:00 pm. After a quick breakfast at the station, we caught the #840 bus from Salzburg to Berchtesgaden. We were supposed to arrive at 11:00, giving us an hour for lunch and an hour for wandering the town.

But due to traffic, we didn’t get into town until nearly 11:30. Rather than rush ourselves and risk stressing ourselves out, we decided to just have a nice slow lunch instead. We tried Bacchus wine for the first time, and it was delicious. It is a hybrid grape varietal that was invented by crossing a Sylvaner-Riesling hybrid with a Muller-Thurgau--itself a cross of Riesling and another varietal called Madeleine Royale. It was delicious, combining the richness of Chardonnay with the refreshing fruitiness of a Pinot Grigio.

(Jessica noted the irony of enjoying a hybrid wine in countryside where much of Hitler’s plans for racial purity were conceived and written down.)

Jessica was feeling a bit under the weather, so she only ordered a sausage and a roll. I was hungrier, so I ordered some roasted chicken with French fries. Somehow, though, it took far longer for her sausage to come out than my chicken. Our waiter seemed far more distraught at the delay than we did; he brought us an extra pot of wine on the house as an apology.

The delay did cost us the time we had wanted to spend exploring the town, but it's hard to complain whilst sipping delicious wine in a sunny garden surrounded by paradisaical Alps.

The tour was everything we had hoped for, but we wished it could have gone on even longer. Four hours is really all you can afford to spend on a tour and still have time to catch the last afternoon bus back to Salzburg. We could have easily spent twice as much time there.

After a quick but interesting tour around Obersalzberg--seeing the ruins of former Nazi mansions, as well as local institutions like the Hotel Zum Turken--we stopped at the Nazi Documentation Center. The center provides a brief but chilling account of Hitler’s reign, from its promising start to its horrific reality.

Even with everything we’ve learned about Hitler and the Nazi policies, we still found more things to learn. For example, we knew that people with birth defects would be sterilized or executed. But what we didn’t know was that their entire families could also be sterilized to prevent the risk of them spreading the same inferior genes.

If such a policy had existed in the States, neither Jessica nor I might have ever been born. One of Jessica's uncles on her dad's side was born with a chromosomal disorder, and his whole family would have certainly been sterilized. And Jessica's mom was born with hip dysplasia. Not nearly as serious, but still a defect--one that could have resulted in my grandparents being sterilized and my dad never being born at all.

Also, when the Nazis invaded Eastern Europe, they fully intended from the beginning to exterminate or drive out the existing Slavic population and replace them with Aryan settlements. The mass starvation that gripped the region almost immediately after occupation began wasn’t the result of logistical failures by the German army. Hitler intentionally sent the army in with insufficient food so that they would have no choice but to take the Slavic population’s food and starve them out.

Also, Hitler presented himself as a Bavarian because he wanted to hide his Austrian heritage and most Germans couldn’t tell the difference between a Bavarian accent and an Austrian accent.

Also, the Nazi government awarded women with medals according to how many pure Aryan children they could give birth to.

There were also plenty of examples of anti-Semitic propaganda and a wall of infamy highlighting the life and crimes of all the top-ranking Nazi officials. High among them was Reinhard Heydrich, whom we'd learned about in Prague.

The exhibits are all in German, but there are English pamphlets in each section that cover the highlights, and a massive construction project is underway to expand the center and provide more multilingual exhibits. For some reason, when the German government opened the center in the early 2000s, they didn’t expect it to be of any interest to foreign tourists.

Unfortunately, because of the construction, we weren’t able to enter the underground bunkers that honeycomb the hillsides around Obersalzberg. Still, our guide gave us an interesting overview of the bunker system, how it was developed, and how it was actually used.

The system was never completed, and new areas of it have been discovered as recently as the 2000s. It appears that Hitler had intended for the bunker system to be integrated into a larger system connecting his Obersalzberg compound to Berchtesgaden and even Salzburg, 12 miles away.

Himmler envisioned the bunkers as a last resort in the event that the Allies captured Berlin. Nazi troops could hide in the bunkers indefinitely, carrying on a guerilla war from their mountain redoubt. Hitler didn't like the thought of that, however, and the bunkers were only made to house Hitler and the other Nazi leaders who actually lived in Obersalzberg.

The system is huge and complex, and it was built in less than two years. The Nazis refused to consider the possibility of the compound being bombed until 1943 when nearby Munich was in flames.

Despite their fast construction, the bunkers were apparently well made. When Obersalzberg eventually did get bombed, not a single person who made it into the bunkers was killed. Hitler was even considering plans to retrofit the bunkers to withstand a nuclear bomb–something that at that point hadn't even been invented yet.

Our guide carried a binder of pictures showing what the area looked like during and after the war. She also pointed out a side entrance to the bunker system that's still visible--though not accessible to tourists.

Even halfway up the mountainside, the view was already spectacular.

Looking up, the Eagle's Nest was a tiny shadow up on the peak still high above us.

The only way up to the Eagle's Nest is a road too narrow, steep, and winding for ordinary buses and drivers to traverse. The only way to visit is by taking a special bus driven by specially trained local drivers. The buses run on an extremely precise schedule so that they always cross paths at specific points where the road is wide enough for them to pass each other. You have to buy timed tickets for both journeys before you go up, and if you miss your bus down, you have to wait until the next bus that happens to have an extra seat. And the Eagle's Nest is extremely popular, so you could be waiting a very long time.

On the only-slightly-scary ride up, we were treated to yet more fantastic views of the area, including the nearby Königssee lake and the craggy white mountainside.

And even once you reach the top of the road, you're not done. The last bit is so steep that there are only two options--a long, steep hike or a quick ride in a bronze elevator buried deep inside the mountain. We chose the elevator ride.

I think it's fairly common knowledge--at least among WWII aficionados--that the Eagle’s Nest was mostly just a display piece that Hitler rarely visited and never used his office at. It is even rumored that the Allies intentionally missed it during the bombing of Obersalzberg because they knew it wasn’t strategically important and wanted to be able to take it as a prize.

A common story is that Hitler didn’t like the Eagle’s Nest because he was scared of heights. But our guide dispelled this as a myth. Hitler apparently loved the Eagle’s Nest and visited it over a dozen times in the year following its completion. But it was time-consuming to get to the Eagle's Nest from Obersalzberg, and once the German forces invaded Poland later that year Hitler spent most of his time up in Berlin directing the war effort.

And for that handful of visits, an exorbitant price was paid in both money and blood. Filled with the most luxurious materials and modern conveniences, the house itself cost well over 100 million dollars in today’s money. And that doesn’t cover what it took to build the road.

The road took the better part of a year to build, with two 12-hour shifts working around the clock and through the winter. Several people died during the construction, and countless more suffered crippling injuries. Despite being very well paid, most workers only lasted a few weeks before resigning. And for the  Czechoslovakian laborers conscripted to do the grunt work, that usually meant reassignment to a concentration camp.

Today, the Eagle’s Nest is a fancy restaurant with hardly a mention of its original purpose. Our guide took us into a side room, where she showed us pictures of what the place looked like with its original furnishings.

It isn’t a large building–just a few sitting rooms, bathrooms, a kitchen, and a basement. It doesn’t have any bedrooms and wasn’t meant for living in. Before getting the nickname “Eagle’s Nest” by a visiting ambassador, it was simply referred to as Hitler’s tea house on the mountain.

Outside, we got to walk up onto the summit of the mountain, with spectacular views for miles and miles in every direction. Clouds were starting to come in from the south, creating a very dramatic atmosphere over Königssee.

Because of the crowds and rushed schedule, however, we only had about fifteen minutes to enjoy the summit before having to head back down to the bus for our ride down. On the way, we enjoyed a chat with a young Canadian woman doing her own two-month European journey.

As we left the elevator access tunnel to catch the bus down, we made sure to look for some carvings on the inner doors that our guide had told us about. They were made by 101st Airborne troopers who were occupying the Eagle’s Nest. They had hiked up to the summit and took the building from the top. When they then took the elevator down, they found the doors snowed shut. So they left their mark and headed back up.

Back in Berchtesgaden, we had just enough time to rush up the hill, walk around the old market square for photo ops, then rush back down to catch the last bus of the day back to Salzburg.

We’re glad we did this day trip, but if we visit here again, we’ll definitely try to stay in the town of Berchtesgaden itself. Unless you have a car and can stay as late as you want, there just isn’t enough time to get to the town, see the sights properly, and head back.

Plus, Berchtesgaden is absolutely stunning in its own right. It is an absolute abomination that the Nazis stained it with their touch, and I’m glad that people still flock here for the nature and not just the history. Hopefully, that part of the story will eventually become just an interesting piece of trivia that visitors learn from a plaque when they come here for a hiking trip.

On our last day in Salzburg, we finally visited Salzburg itself.

To be honest, I didn’t have the highest expectations for Salzburg. For American tourists, at least, it seems like it mainly draws two types of people: Mozart fans and Sound of Music fans. And while I don't have anything against them, I'm not especially passionate about them either. And after the imperial majesty of Vienna and the scenic grandeur of Berchtesgaden, I was preparing myself for Salzburg to be a mediocre hybrid of the two.

Perhaps I was just hoping I wouldn't like it so that I wouldn’t feel bad about only getting a single day to see it.

In any case, Salzburg was absolutely charming. A bit like Prague, Salzburg’s Old Town largely escaped damage during World War II, so it retains an authentic medieval feel. But whereas Prague was charmingly chaotic, Salzburg is elegantly organized.

There are winding, shop-lined streets like we’ve seen in any other medieval old town or Gothic quarter. But much of the old town is occupied by a dense network of courtyards between church and government buildings. Which were closely linked throughout much of Salzburg’s history.

From the Middle Ages up until the fall of the Holy Roman Empire to Napoleon, Salzburg was one of several German city-states run directly by Catholic archbishops. Whereas other monarchs of the time often had to balance their political strength against that of the church, these “prince-archbishops” had sweeping authority over the affairs of church and state alike.

We saw the Salzburg Cathedral, which was stunning. The outside is surprisingly plain apart from the western facade, but the inside is magnificently ornamented with beautiful paintings and intricate plaster decorations. At first, we thought that we were seeing painted decorations that only looked three-dimensional–like what we’ve seen in a lot of places across Europe. But no, this was all actual sculpted plaster.

The cathedral’s windows were intentionally designed to keep the nave dark but the main altar brilliantly lit up from large clear windows in the central dome. The effect is extremely impressive.

We also saw this very old baptismal font, which may be the very one that was used for Mozart’s baptism.

In a square on the west side of the cathedral, there is a statue of Mary that if you look at it from the right angle appears to be getting crowned by angels on the cathedral's façade.

From the south cathedral square, there is a fantastic view of the hulking Hohensalzburg Fortress. The foundations are almost a thousand years old, and it is one of the largest medieval castles in all of Europe.

We continued on through the church complex, seeing St. Peter’s Abbey and its cemetery. All of the graves were impressively well maintained, but we soon learned why. In Austria, graves aren’t sold, only rented in ten-year increments. At the end of each period, if no one can be found to pay for the next ten years, the grave is dug up so that it can be used for someone else whose kin can pay. The gravestones of the unfortunately ousted dead are then mounted on the wall of the abbey.

I'm not entirely sure if it was meant as a way to continue showing respect for the dead or more akin to a display of bad checks in a convenience store window.

Lining the cemetery are private gated mausoleums for the most wealthy and respected families.

The church of St. Peter’s Abbey is suitably impressive, with a grand Rococo design. There are some places on the walls and arches where the whitewashing has been removed to expose the colorful frescoes underneath.

Also in the abbey complex, next door to the church, is a fancy restaurant that claims to have served Charlemagne in 803 AD. That would make it the oldest still-operational restaurant in all of Europe, if not the world.

Leaving the abbey complex, we entered the street markets. We picked up some delicious spicy sausages in toasted kaiser rolls. For desert, Jessica got an apricot pastry from one street vendor, and I got a giant pretzel from another.

We saw one of the main medieval shopping roads, the Getreidegasse, which is still adorned with traditional-looking iron symbols over the doors--though most are clearly not medieval.

Getreidegasse is also home to Mozart's birthplace, around which buskers and tourists alike swarmed like flies. We took a few quick pictures and moved along.

And after a quick coffee break, we decided to finish our day with a hike up to the top of the steep hill that divides the city in half. It was a steep climb up stairs and pathways, but the view was worth it.

Even from here, though, the fortress was quite a ways up and a long walking tour once we'd gotten there. Not wanting to exhaust ourselves before a travel day–and knowing that we definitely wanted to return someday–we decided to save the fortress for our next visit and head home for a relaxing evening and plenty of time to pack up for the next day’s trip to Munich.

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