#next time I use the idiom “that's small potatoes” I will be thinking about the size of this man's potatoes

[daguerreotyping]

Carte de visite of a dashing young sailor posing bravely with the world's saddest, smallest potatoes, c. 1880s

[argo-city-exchange]

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For science!

“Wait, didn’t he say on the left after the outdoor games aisle?” Kara asked, looking alternatively between the store map and Lena, as if somehow the brunette would give her the right answer.

“I don’t know Kara. You’re the one who insisted on going to the biggest toyshop of the city while we could have ordered online and had it delivered to our doorstep” Lena answered coldly, clearly not pleased to start her first free weekend in a long time lost in a store. All because they need to find a present for Kara’s coworker's baby shower. Lena isn’t even sure she has told her hello even once for god sake!

Kara at least had the decency to look sheepish at the remark.

“I know it’s not really the ideal beginning for our ‘Netflix and Chill’ weekend but Alex said that I absolutely need to bring something for the baby. Although it’s a really strange tradition to shower a baby with presents. I mean, humans are fragile, especially the little ones” Kara explained.

“Wait, what?” Lena asked, seemingly alarmed by what her girlfriend had just said.

“And how do you proceed anyway? The baby isn’t even born yet!” Kara rambled on.

“Okay Kara, stop! No one is going to actually drop presents on the baby. Or it’s mother for that matter.” Lane explained while pinching the bridge of her nose, clearly in disbelief. “It’s simply a new tradition people have created to get free stuff for their babies. And to brag. You’ve never heard the expression ‘showering someone in presents’ or ‘showering someone with love’?”

Kara was looking at their cart with her brows drawn in confusion, clearly trying to remember an instance where she would have heard that.

“I thought.. I thought it simply was a tradition.” She finally explained, shuffling from one foot to another. “Earth’s traditions are so different from Krypton’s, and no one seemed worried about that, so I just assumed it was something everyone does here. But now that you put it that way, it does seems a bit stupid, even to me.”

Kara seemed deflated after her explanation. She had stopped their shopping cart in the middle of the stuffed animals aisle, and looked anywhere but at the brunette.

Sometimes, we forget she is from an entirely different world , Lena realized.

Of course no one at CatCo had seemed surprised, because everyone knew it was simply an expression. But, even with her knowledge of English and Earth customs, Kara could still get confused in situations such as this one: she had not dared to ask to not stick out of the crowd or seem stupid, but this meant she had agreed to something she had not fully grasped.

Lena stepped next to her girlfriend and gently took her hand in her own before giving it a light squeeze.

“Darling, it’s fine. We all get confused by those weird idioms. It was a really cute and funny way to picture it.” Lena wouldn’t let Kara imagine she thought any less of her because she got confused by a custom she had no way to guess.

“Why don’t you go look for a retailer so they can tell us where to find all the baby toys? I’ll wait for you here, so you can find me easily.”

It took a few seconds for Kara to relax and finally look at Lena. When she did, a small smile was etching on her lips and Lena could see gratitude in her eyes.

Lena would never judge her for being an alien. She loved her exactly as she is, like she always had.

“I’ll always find you” she said before pecking Lena’s cheek.

“Go be a hero and save us from this maze of toys” Lena teased her, “go be my Supergirl."

Kara left, almost skidding away like a little girl.

National City hero, fighting her way through a poorly designed toyshop. Could be a good front page for the next magazine, Lena mused to herself while waiting for the blonde to come back.

After about 5 minutes waiting for the blonde to come back, Lena got bored. Sure, she could have looked at her smartphone but she knew it would lead her to look at her emails, and this would mean the end of their ‘Netflix & chill’ weekend. Even if there was no Netflix on sight so far.

Lena took in her surroundings more closely.

They had stopped in the stuffed animals aisle, but what caught her attention more specifically was the variety of teddy bears. Lena had never thought there could be so many versions of a simple bear . Some looked classic, while others wore tiny clothes, one was even dressed up as Zoro.

But the one that really caught her eyes was the one shaped like a cushion. Or a potato, she couldn’t really say. It looked a bit ridiculous to be honest.

She reached out to test it’s softness, having nothing better to do while Kara was gone, but the plushy fell from the shelf. Lena leaned down to pick up, dusting it out of reflex, before looking closely at it.

It’s little mouth is shaped in a small smile , she noticed, amused. It’s also made of incredibly squishy foam!

Lena looked around her, checking she was still alone in the aisle. There couldn’t be any witness for what she was about to do. Satisfied to see that no one was around, Lena turned back to the bear and hugged it. She held it close against her chest, like she had held her teddy bear when she had discovered the Luthor mansion and family. She even pressed her face against the toy, enjoy the softness of the fake fur.

“To say people picture you as the big bad CEO. If only they could see you hugging this plushy!”

Lena whirled around, almost dropping the stuffed toy. Kara was back, leaning against a shelf and looking at her girlfriend with a mix of fondness and smugness plastered on her face.

“It- It’s not what you think!” Lena stammered out in embarrassment.

Kara quirked an eyebrow, clearly challenging Lena to come up with a different explanation than what she had just witnessed.

“It was for science Kara!”

[nukyster-blog]

Changing course Chapter 14) Revelations

.-.-.

Ivar’s shoulders were slumped and his eyes casted down into a mournful gaze. He’d hidden himself in the back of his box. After he’d fulfilled his duty, one of the peasants had dragged him inside and shackled him up. 

With mud-splattered hands, he braided small figures from hay and stored them underneath a loose part of the wooden panels. It gave his twitching hands something to do and his storming mind something to occupy his despondent thoughts. He’d hidden the nail safely in one of the figures, better safe than sorry. 

His mouth was set in a semi-pout, it was late and he hadn’t been fed all day. Instead of anger, his chest was dominated by a profound sadness as fatigue and pain plagued his body. 

Due to his efforts involving the pigs, his knees were bleeding again and his clothes wasted away. He looked and smelled no better than the animals he needed to tend for.  

Lonely, he huddled together and drifted off into the memory of his previous life; that of a prince, that of a son. But the remembrance of his profound status and mother’s love, gave him melancholy instead of a brief escape from reality. 

Piglet returned from her tasks and granted him a meal; a mush of vegetables and potatoes. Lard gave it some taste, but food remained overcooked and stale for the most part. 

Piglet was sewing potato bags as he ate in silence. After his meal, she refilled his trough which allowed him to rid himself of most of the mud. Scrubbing the filth from the wound on his knees, Ivar realised he was stuck in an endless cycle; scraping his knees open, fixing them up, only to scrape them raw and bloody the next day again. The wounds wouldn’t even have time to scar, if he continued this path, they might scrape all the way to the bones. 

If gangrene didn’t get to it first. 

His body would be rotting from the outside in, while his solemn thought would eat him whole. 

“Hamar?” 

Ivar was brought out of his thoughts when one of the potato bags dropped into his lap. It had four holes on each side; a smaller one on top, two at the sides and a large one at the bottom was torn completely. 

It was a tunic, the most basic piece of garment Ivar had ever seen. But it was fresh and clean, something to cherish. Piglet watched him from across his box as he changed his rags for the tunic. She got on her knees near the makeshift line and placed two more bags and a clean rag over it. 

She pointed at his knees and back to the materials, indicating their use. Ivar crawled close and used the rags to cover his wounds and then tied the potato bags around his knees. It didn’t come close to the protection of his braces, not as efficient and thick, but it would protect him during his everyday chores and crawls. 

Ivar’s fingers tightened around the robust fabric and entwined it around his legs, pulling them firmly together. It was easier for him to move around without either of his legs bumping into things. 

Piglet admired her efforts being used and approved.

“Hamar,” she’d rose to her feet with a brief bow of the head and yawned while waving, indicating she was heading off to her box for the night. 

“Piglet, wait,” Ivar slithered to the edge of his quarter to pause the maiden, “please call me Ivar.” His intonation visibly surprised her. Piglet turned on her heels and tilted her head to one side while listening to his foreign words. 

“It’s my name. I’m Ivar,” tapping on his chest he wished the slave to understand his words and the meaning behind them, “please call me Ivar.” 

“Ivar?” A lackluster smile spread across her face, causing her dimples in her cheeks, bearing her teeth she repeated his name: “Ivarrr,” with the snarling of a dog, “Ivarrr.” 

Sniggering to herself, she retreated to her side of the shed, still growling his name with the r rolling off her tongue. 

.-.-.

The revelation of his name constructed a pathway through their speech barrier and skepticism. It was still a balance on pins and needles, but in between their labour they exchanged brief small-talk. Comfort was a seldom gift, but Piglet’s voice brought some enlightenment as she pointed and gestured to animals and objects, naming them in her own deep-throated language. Ivar’s tongue tied itself into knots once he tried to repeat her idiom and she, more than once, ridiculed his flaws. She was a lot quicker at picking up the words of the Viking and she’d proudly pronounced all the animals in his language at their shed. However, her name remained a mystery. Every attempt, hit a deaf man’s ears. On various occasions, Ivar had tapped his fist to his own chest while speaking his own name, before pointing to Piglet. He knew she understood his action but refused to give a proper reaction, instead she played dumb and would repeat his name with a rolling r: Ivarrrr. 

Although they spent quite some time together, Piglet had something mystical. Behind that curtain of stench, was mystique; the pigment of her skin and darkness of her eyes and hair was otherworldly and Ivar caught himself staring at her body wrapped in layers of filth. Wondering if her anatomy matched the women from his village, still curious as to if she had a tail or not. 

Every evening, she’d dutifully refill his trough so he’d be able to wash, but chose to remain filthy and reeking herself. Caked in animal dung and mud, her feet would skitter off when Ivar would throw a handful of water in her direction, in a weak attempt to make her freshen up. She was absolute torture to be around due to it and Ivar would, many times, scrunch up his nose and make it very clear what he thought about her poor personal hygiene with gestures and gagging sounds. Her dark and patient eyes would take it all in and she’d smile at him like a simpleton until Ivar gave up and simply dealt with her body odor and untamed characteristics. 

They’d play the knucklebone game until nightfall, when they weren’t able to make out the shapes of the bones any more. Piglet was able to count up to sixty in Ivar’s language with ease, while Ivar stuttered his way from one to ten in Piglet’s. Both of them refused to speak anything in Dietsch and in all honesty, Ivar would rather bite off his own tongue than to familiarise himself with the language of the enemy.  

One afternoon found the both of them sat against the wooden fence of the pigsty, enjoying a moment of ease and sun. A cart pulled by a donkey passed and Ivar pointed at the animal.

“Donkey,” he explained, “that’s a donkey.” 

Piglet had been biting on a long straw of hay. Her lips formed themselves into a halfway smile, while chewing on the end. 

“Donkey,” she paused and threw him an sideway glance, pushing herself swiftly upon her feet, “hamar.” 

Ivar’s face fell and his mouth dropped: “have you been calling me donkey?” 

Piglet spat out the straw and took a few steps away from Ivar: “hamar, donkey,” and tapped against the side of her skull: “thick-head.” 

Baffled, Ivar stared at her back as she hurried off. “Dirty bitch,” he grunted underneath his breath. 

“Donkey,” Piglet addressed him back before continuing her work with the cattle. 

During the course of weeks, their dynamic gradually changed; their relationship no longer hunter and prey, both very aware that Ivar was fully depending on her in order to get through the day. Piglet would not in any way address it, but she had an upperhand in their relation. Every afternoon, Ivar would be chained up. Immobile and frustrated, he’d have to wait for her return in order to eat, drink and clean himself. The potato bags around his legs would tear with ease during the hard labour; being dragged and torn over cobblestones, wood and through mud. Piglet would silently knit and sew the fibers of Ivar’s only protection up while he sulked and brooded in his corner; eating the food she could spare and drinking the water she’d share. 

This evening was like all the others, both the slaves were locked inside their shed. Ivar’s chains rattled due to his inability to keep his frustration under control. He’d been changing the pigs’ bedding and in the process, grazed his hand on a piece of splintered wood. A fraction of the wood still remained embedded in the palm of his hand, causing him great discomfort and further lessened his mobility. 

He was quite proud of his hands; his strongest assets and perfect murder weapons. Yet they were incapable of finer motor skills. His broad and callus fingertips were inept to draw the splinter out. 

More proof of his inabilities and another form of self-loathing erupted from Ivar’s chest, coming out from his lips as bitter sounds. 

A chuckle forced its way out, for he was so laughable and incompetent. Shaking his head over his own misfortune, Ivar figured he might as well chew his arm off, but that would give the Giant too much satisfaction. 

Piglet, once again, showed herself to be of good use and silently placed her needle onto the wooden edge of Ivar’s trough before fleeing to her side of the shed. Her serene chants filled the small space, while Ivar pulled himself across and eagerly made use of her needle. 

It took him a while, but before the place turned too dim, Ivar managed to draw the splinter from his palm.

Retreating back to his side, Ivar hid the needle inside one of the straw figures he’d made. Now he had two nails for the Giant’s coffin.

.-.-.

A/N: Ok, so I think it’s safe to say Ivar sharing his name to Piglet was cute af. And I love that Piglet gave Ivar a proper nickname, ‘hamar’, shows she got some sass. For you guys who’ve been faithfully commenting/ reblogging and liking my fic, I’d like to thank you all a lot. The last few weeks have been rough and this story is my personal way of detaching myself from all the mess that’s going on. So kudos to you all<3

Xoxoxo Nukyster  The tagged ones: 

@youbloodymadgenius

@xbellaxcarolinax

@saldelys

@shannygoatgruff

@pieces-by-me

@apenas-mais-uma-pessoa

@readsalot73

@lauraan182 @conaionaru

If you’d liked to be tagged, please let me know:)

[musical-nerd18]

Shower Thoughts, to Love, and Back Again

!! gift exchange for @sanderssidesgiftxchange posting time! mines for @anxious-cherryblossom who requested “ A fluff oneshot of LAMP, Analogical or Royality! The tooth-rottier the better”

Summery: Logan and Virgil are awake at 1am. Virgil handles this by throwing out some random thoughts and being sappy, it's cute, I'm bad at summaries.

read on AO3 HERE

there is very very minor of talk about death and blood but its like one line of dialogue each ashjadbawkjaa theres also a smidge of angst whoops its cleared up real quick tho

or! its under the read more!

“Hey, Logan?” When there was no response, the emo gently poked the man lying next to him on the shoulder. “Logan.” Still nothing, Virgil poked a little harder. “Logan. Babe.”

Finally, Logan stirred, “Virgil?” He turned to look at the emo, squinting his eyes a bit. “What are you doing up?”

“Logan. Okay, have you ever thought about how at the end of the day, we’re just brains trapped inside a meat suit?”

“...Virgil, I love you, but what the fuck? Where on earth did that come from?”

“I’m tired, Logan, what are you expecting from me.”

“Okay, well, Virgil, could you please tell your meat suit to go to bed, because it’s one in the goddamn morning, and I would like to go back to sleep.”

Virgil looked a bit sheepish, “Ok, so, I get that, but also, like, anxiety says fuck that so…” Logan sighed, sitting up, knowing he’d be unable to sleep until his boyfriend managed to calm himself. “Ever think about how if you live on a farm and take care of chickens for a living, how that makes you a chicken tender?”

“You’ve been spending far too much time with Remus.”

“You’re probably right, but also, like, have you seen his face when you tell him no? He looks like a kicked puppy or some shit, how can you say no to that face looking right at you? How, Logan?”

Logan sighed, gently shaking his head. “It wasn’t intended to be an insult toward either of you, simply just an observation. I’m well aware that you and Remus see each other as brothers, of sorts, and who am I to take that away from either of you?”

“Cool cool cool, also, humans are frozen.”

There was silence. “I’m sorry, dear, what?”

“Well, you have a liquid, ok? So if you take that liquid and change it into a solid, you do that by freezing it, right? So if you have a solid, it’s safe to assume that it’s at or below the freezing point, right? So it’s frozen.”

“Darling, I’m still so confused right now.”

“Humans are solid, and solids are frozen liquids, so humans are frozen.”

“What on Earth is going through your brain right now, Virgil?”

“So many things, Logan. So many things. So many things and almost none of them are good.”

“Almost?”

“You’re doing the cute head tilt thing you always do when you’re confused, it looks kinda like a confused kitten and it’s absolutely adorable and it lives in my head rent-free at all times every day.”

Logan blinked. “Virgil, thoughts and ideas and the like aren’t living, they cannot live anywhere, much less pay re-”

“And another thing! It’s super adorable when you always take things so literally, like, you understand some idioms, but like, when you’re tired you just. You just don’t understand? And that’s super adorable? It’s also a great indicator of when you need to sleep, which is also a great indicator of when we can cuddle that won’t have you leaving after a little? Also, it makes you do the cute head tilt thing and I just, god I love you.”

“I love you too, darling.” The two of them laid together, appreciating the other’s company for a moment. “Wait, Virgil, you said you couldn’t sleep because of your anxiety, but what about?”

“Asking if someone has slept on something is the human equivalent of asking if they turned it on and off again.”

“Wonderfully cursed, darling, but you're avoiding the question. What’s got you so worried?” Virgil cuddled into Logan, burying his face in Logan’s neck, whining quietly. “You’re being very adorable, but you’re still avoiding the question, love.”

Virgil whined slightly louder, before running out of air. He sucked in a large breath and “ItotallymighthaveacrushonPattonandRomanbutlikeIstillloveyouobviouslylikeyou’reamazingIloveyousomu-” he was cut off when Logan gently placed a finger over Virgil’s lips, a small smile on his face.

“One more time, darling. Just a little slower, if you will.”

Virgil took a deep breath, calming himself slightly, still speaking quickly, though Logan could understand. “I totally might have a crush on Patton and Roman but like, I still love you obviously, like you’re amazing I love you so much.”

Virgil watched as Logan fumbled around for a minute, in fear that he had said too much, that this was the final straw, that Logan would– “Ah-ha!”

“Ah-ha?”

“I was wondering where it went! Right, so, back to your confession, Virgil, I believe that the term that I was looking for was,” he shuffled through his newly gathered flashcards before flipping one out towards Virgil, “is ‘same’. Or would it be ‘mood’? One of the two of them at least, from my understanding they would both mean roughly the same thing in this situation.” The two of them made eye contact for a moment before Logan glanced away. “Although, perhaps it would have been a better idea to have simply said that I… am in the same metaphorical boat. I too have a crush on Patton and Roman, as well as still loving you dearly. I am somewhat sure that I informed you of my being polyamorous when we started dating, didn’t I?” Virgil managed a small nod, somewhat confused and overwhelmed. “I thought so. Since I am polyamorous, it would be quite hypocritical of me to break up with you, or something of the sort, so of course I would be completely alright with you having crushes on others, even if I didn’t also share those feelings, and I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

“I… I mean, you are, but it’s still kinda cute? Also, I’m really confused? What’s happening?”

“What’s happening? Virgil, dear, I’m simply telling you that it is quite alright to have feelings for the others, as I am in the same metaphorical boat and share those feelings as well. In fact, there’s quite a high possibility that the others do, in fact, reciprocate those feelings. At least, they reciprocate them for you.”

“Wait, wait, wait, ok, ok, we have a couple things to address there, um. Let’s start with my gut reaction to hearing you mention that they may like me somehow, which is just: what the fuck? No. Wrong. No. No way. Uh, next thing: Logan, babe, why on earth wouldn’t they like you? You’re amazing, adorable, funny, witty, smart, wonderful, and more, I’m just tired and can’t english-” grabbing Logan’s shoulders and gently shaking him, Virgil continued, “-but you’re fucking amazing, and if they have any goddamn brain cells, they’d see that, and they’d love you, just like I do.”

Logan stood there, eyes wide, as he watched his boyfriend speak so passionately, being rocked back and forth as Virgil forgot he was still holding his shoulders. Virgil slowly stopped ranting, coming back to the present as he noticed his boyfriends eyes slowly begin to become teary.

“Babe? Oh, Logan, honey, why are you crying? Was it something I said? I didn’t mean to make you feel bad, or anything, oh god did I accidentally strike a nerve?”

Logan smiled, tears slowly falling from his eyes, “You didn’t do anything with an adverse effect, Virgil. In fact, you said what I needed to hear, even if I wasn’t aware that I needed to hear it. You know me, I don’t typically care for sentiments, but it is… nice. To hear those kinds of things, from someone that I ca-. No. Someone that I love. I tend to metaphorically fall into a rut, per say, where I can’t stop thinking about my shortcomings - Virgil, I love you, we don’t need to get into those right at this moment - but I get stuck thinking about them, and internalizing them to the point where they become so much of my personal identity, and hearing someone who I know logically will not lie about that sort of thing inform me that those perceived shortcomings are, in fact, falsehoods helps my brain, to logically understand that they are, and sometimes, that realization comes with a couple tears along the way. You didn’t do anything with any adverse effects, Virgil, I promise you.”

“You’re sure?”

Logan frowned, pulling Virgil into a close hug. “I’m absolutely positive, my dear. Just as I am certain about the existence of the stars above, I am certain that nothing that you have said to me today has had any negative effects, mentally or otherwise. I swear it.”

A little snicker, then, “You sound like Princey when you get sappy.”

“Falsehood. Though we all sound somewhat similar, due to us being parts of Thomas, we also do all sound different. I was not making an effort to impersonate Roman, so I still sounded like myself.”

“Babe, I meant, like, the grand gestures, flowery language, and shit, not your actual voice.”

“Oh. I see.”

“Yeah, anyway! Massive subject change! Nothing’s on fire, fire’s just on things.”

“Ah. Back to this, I see. You’re technically not wrong, I suppose.”

“A ton of people is just like… 10 people.”

“I believe it would be closer to anywhere between 12 and 15, based on average weights, yes.”

“Your stomach thinks all potatoes are mashed.”

“Horribly cursed, yet someone true. Stomachs don’t have brains, and therefore cannot think, but if they could, they likely would believe that.”

“When you brush your teeth, you’re cleaning your skeleton, and it’s the only time you ever do that.”

“A little fun fact for you, Virgil, your teeth? They aren’t actually bones.”

“I’m sorry, they’re not what?”

“Teeth contain collagen, when bones do not. Teeth are more similar, though not identical, to finger or toe nails, or even hair, due to the keratin contained in all of those, though it is in significantly lower levels within teeth.”

“Logan, I think that is, no contest, the worst thing I have ever heard anyone say. Ever. That’s worse then something Remus would say on a bad day. I hate the idea of teeth just… being hair. I hate that. I love you, but jesus Logan, what the actual flying fuck? You’ve sent me into a crisis, Logan, a crisis. About teeth.”

“As Roman would say, Virgil, you are usually experiencing some form of crisis, this is not a new phenomenon.”

“Roman would not say the word phenomenon, and would throw in a nickname, so that was not what he would say, that was the idea in your words.”

“I suppose that is true, yes. Would you like me to provide some more facts? I promise they won’t be teeth related.”

“I… sure? I’m still lowkey reeling, so go for it? I like hearing you talk. It’s nice. Soothing.”

“If you’re being this one, you must really be tired. Hm, let me think. Ah, yes, around 17 milliliters of human blood can function as an egg substitute when baking.”

“Why the absolute fuck is that a fact that humanity knows.”

“I honestly could not tell you. There’s a town in Norway where dying is illegal.”

“That’s a segway, what the fuck? How do you outlaw that?”

“I’d imagine that it is quite a difficult law to enforce. There are more bacteria living in a human's mouth than there are humans on Earth.”

“That’s… a lot of bacteria.”

“Approximately 50 billion would be considered a lot, yes.”

“What the fuck.”

“A quarter of your bones are located in your feet.”

“Okay! That’s enough of that for like… what time is it now?”

“I believe it’s 1:36.”

“Right! That’s enough horrible thoughts for 1:36 in the fucking morning, so it’s bedtime! Come cuddle me again and lets fucking go back to bed, holy shit.”

“Didn’t I mention that we should try that over half an hour ago, my dear?”

“Hey, Logan? Starshine? Love? Yeah, shut the fuck up. I love you, so fucking much, but shut the fuck up, and cuddle me. We’re sleeping, and you’re either turning off your alarm, or setting it for later, you’re cuddling me until I say we’re done, okay? Okay.”

“Alright, love.”

[grgop]

Welcome to Dugi otok

It's been my wish for quiet some time to visit Dugi otok (Long Island), the long and the most distant of the Croatian islands located in the center of Croatian part of the Adriatic sea. Actually, I visited one part of it – the Nature Park Telašćica, when I was a kid more than 15 years ago…but never other places and with the new purpose. However, my wish had been granted surpassing all the expectation I had about this trip. 

The main reason why I wanted to travel there was to find and record the locals who speak the local idioms. For those of you who've been following me for the last couple of years and especially my YouTube channel you know that this was a super exciting trip for me. These native speakers represent a national and cultural treasure in terms of lingusitic heritage and a history of the litoral and maritime people living here for centuries, with some of them being isolated or with little touch to the land (terraferma). Thus the excitement to hear the living past and a nice blend of the Croatian Slavic culture and the Mediterranean Latin influence.

Apart from finding the native speakers I was excited to find out more about being and living as an islander. So I had to chance to record, hear and take photos of stories and experiences of the local people from several villages including both youth and seniors.

How it all started

I was super lucky to be given the opportunity to stay for four days on the island and meet many people whose help I never expected. I got the accommodation for free at the local monastery of St Michael in Zaglav which was thrilling enough and especially valuable since they allowed me to stay during the festive days around Easter. As soon as I got the confirmation that it's not a hallutination but a reality I looked for help among friends and acquaintaes who could aide me in getting to know the island and the locals. Without them this trip would have looked totally different as I knew practically nobody there. In the end I made lots of friends and had plenty of fun while doing my mission. I spent literally days and hourse right before the trip to get the additional camera equipment, gather as much as valuable information about the locals as possible, creating my own map of the potential people for the intervju and preparing the daily routes.

But before we dive into the adventures here's a some info about the island.

About Dugi otok

What do you need to know about this paradise? Dugi otok is the largest of the North-Dalmatian islands situated in the central part of the Croatian Adriatic. Iti s also the last island before the open sea and Italy on the other side of the Adriatic bay. Just like the majoritiy of our islands it has many hills and small bays with its highest peak of Vela Straža at 338m. The island is around 45 km long (hence the name) but at some points its width ranges between 1 and 4 km. This contrast was especially visible when I was driving a car from the south and at one point I stopped and looked to my right – there you see the islands towards Zadar and Velebit mountain. Then you turn to the left and see the nothing except for the blue sky, horizon and the deep blue Adriatic sea. However, during the crystal day and with a good eye sight one can see the eastern Italian coast, more precisely – the Apenine mountains. After all, Italy is less than 200 km away across the sea.

Its western coastline bordering the open sea characterize the sharp contrasts: the southern part around the Nature Park Telašćica is surrounded with impressive cliffs that go up to 80m in height. Telašćica is one of the most beautiful place sin Zadar county and frequently visited by numerous tourists each year.

On contrary, on the other side of the island you can find more peaceful bays. The two most notable beaches are Sakarun and Veli Žal where Sakarun is the most famous one. However, last years due to growing number of visitors and greediness it no longer looks and is as it was 10 years ago. I also never went there but visited Veli Žal instead. All in all, the nature on this island is incredible and as the locals say – you hardly notice any seasonal change. It always looks as if the time had stopped between spring and early autumn. Always green and no leafs falling. In terms of nature this island will be a perfect place to escape the reality and the stress of the modern lifestyle spent in larger urban areas. Clean sea, peaceful nature and the welcoming locals.

People, customs and history

Speaking of locals the island has a population of roughly 1500 inhabitants spread in around 12 local villages. The largest of them is Sali in the southeastern part of Dugi otok with the population of around 800. On contrary, places such as Dragove or Veli Rat in the north have between 40-70 inhabitants statistically. However, accoridng to the stories, there's far less people who actually live for the whole year. The sad truth and reality is that these places will become ghost towns within 10-20 years as the majority of these locals are seniors over 80 years old. The thing is – apart from them most of the visitors are so called „weekenders“ – the islanders who live on the land (e.g. in Zadar) who come there over the weekend…or the other part that's present during the summer are the diaspora. These are the people whose parents, grandparents or further ancestors emmigrated to the United States, Southern America or Australia and New Zealand at the beginning of the 20th century or around the years of the WW2 in search for better opportunities and life across the sea. There are even some remains left of the WW2 bunkers and ship tunnels that I am going to describe you later (I couldn't resists visiting some of them). And even today one can find near the central part of the island a restricted zone which belongs to the military whose base is on top of the hill. It's said it used to watch over the potential threat that comes from the south or across the Adriatic sea.

The population of the island was thus much larger, actually surprisingly larger. However, the Great War in 1918 and the Second World War had taken the toll with great consequences. Many of the islanders died or were killed during those time, especially the young people, men, who were meant to start new families. Those who survived either stayed or moved to new places. Some places used to have a lot of children attending the schools. Now some say it's „a success“ when they managed to gather up to 10 children of the elementary school in total. And they come from different villages.

Being on the island many of the locals have traditionally been turned towards the sea and what it offers. It's not unusal to find people who have spent their lives sailing around the world. Some have been fishermen. Some are into agricultulre and what it offers. Unlike us who live on the mainland here you can't have super large fields but smaller ones where you take care of goods and cultures such as figs, oranges, lemomns, tomatoes, potatoes, salad and olives. In Sali there is a fish factory which provides employment for good amount of the locals. There is another important factor in the lives of the islanders and that is the Church and religion. It's not unusual to find many of them to be (kinda) devoted Catholics who go to the church every Sunday. After all, as some explained me, it's also a social thing or event, when you think about it. And living there for centuries, relatively isolated and surrounded by nature and vast sea surface, one shouldn't be surprised to see faith and religion rooted deeply in the locals. And being an islander does not mean living an easy life, as you are going to find out. Speaking of religion there is this Franciscan monastery of St Michael in Zaglav with a church that was built in mid-15th century. That's the place I stayed at.

The places on the island are connected with one main road from which you have amazing views over the surrounding islands and area. The island has also got quiet good connection with the mainland via trajects and speedboats (catamaran). There are four catamaran lines that go daily from Zadar to Dugi otok. If you are planning a trip on Dugi otok by car you will arrive by traject to Brbinj in the northern part of the island. The same goes if you want to leave the island by car. Speaking of cars the only gas station on the whole island is located in Zaglav in the south. That's also the place I arrived to and stayed at for four days.

What else to add? During the summer season many are some festivals related to religious events, local music and traditional kitchen. Those who prefer to spend their time actively they can go exploring the area, follow many hiking roads, visit the caves, Park Telašćica or National Park Kornati. If you are more into sports then I suggest finding some diving locations or courses, try running, trekking, biking, trail, sailing etc. At the northernmost point of the island at Veli Rat there is another landmark of Dugi otok - the lighthouse of Veli Rat.

I forgot to mention some of the older history of the island. Here are a few interesting things to know. The island was already inhabited with settlers in the early ages in paleolithic and mesolythic. Several years ago scients discovered the human skelleton that date back to 11 000 years BC. This discovered male Dalmatian known as „Šime“ died unnatural death at the peak of his retirement age of 40. 

One can find the remains of the settlements and stuff of the ancient Illryians. There are also several caves on the island and around Telašćica park one can find tomb hills dating back to Iron age 800-400 BC. The last thing I'd add here is the Grpašćak Fortress on the western coast above the cliffs of Telašćica. It was built in 1911 by the Austro Hungarian Monarchy which served as a military patrol base. I came close by my first evening on the island but more about it in the next post..

Time for a break

Alright! I hope you have some idea about Dugi otok. More in details on specific topis as we surf through the days. Grgo

[skammovistarplus]

Culture and Translation - S01 E04

Slowly getting through these, although they’re out of order. I’ll post an index when I’m done with season 1. 🤦‍♂️

CLIP 1: A wild mom appears

22:30 is a perfectly cromulent time to have dinner in Spain, but ngl, I’d have it a bit earlier on a school night. Eva’s supposed to be at school at 8:30.

Eva is eating the Hacendado store-brand “natillas de vainilla” from Mercadona (vanilla custard). Lol can you imagine that Skam España gets enormous, and people from abroad make trips to Mercadona because of Skam España?

Pesada (“annoying”): Okay, I love “pesada” because it literally translates as “heavy,” but it actually means that someone is being annoying/nagging to the point where it feels tiring to put up with them. There’s an idiom in Spanish: “eres más pesado que una vaca en brazos” (you’re heavier than carrying a cow bridal-style) and I find the visual hilarious.

CLIP 2: Carrying their bags for some reason

This clip dropped at 11:39, but the characters are all carrying their bags and backpacks. You don’t take your backpack out for recess. You leave it in the classroom and take the valuable stuff with you. We don’t have lockers.

Ni de reojo (“Not even a glance”):  Looking at someone “de reojo” is looking at them from the corner of your eyes, but that’d have been too long.

Bien, normal (“Good, fine”): In Spain we often use “normal” to respond to small talk (how are you doing, what’s the weather like, how was dinner with your family, stuff like that). I went with fine, as I haven’t really heard “normal” being used that way in English.

CLIP 3: Are these our biology buddies?

I do like the juxtaposition of Eva telling Nora everything is fine, only for Eva to UNLOAD on Lucas the very next clip.

I can’t watch this clip without remembering that I did the Social Sciences track of Baccalaureate, and yet, I had to translate a fucking optical microscope exercise for Skam. This fucking show.

Es que es muy heavy, Eva (“You crossed a line, Eva”): I also really like the Spanish slang “heavy.” It comes from heavy metal, and it’s meant to bring to mind the intensity of the harder heavy metal bands. And hey! It shows up on Urban Dictionary with the same meaning: Serious and intense, but also too much. I think this might be outdated slang in the US?

Y yo estaba rayada (“And I was going crazy”): I’m pretty sure that to be “rayado” comes from “discos rayados,” i.e. skipping records. When you’re “rayado,” you are stuck on a specific thought or emotion to the point of obsession or being unable to move past it. It’s NOT “sounding like a broken record,” as in English, because being “rayado” is internal. You’re stuck on a continuous loop within your own mind. It comes up several times throughout the show, and I’m pretty sure I used a different expression each time because nothing felt quite right.  

Tú qué vas a decir (“Like you’d say anything different”): The literal translation would be, “what are you going to say.” However, that sounded like it could be a question, even a rhetorical one, when Eva is throwing Lucas’ words back in his face.

CLIP 4: Carrot cake

Carrot cake is a relatively new import in Spain. I think it’s trendy for coffee shops to have it on their menus now. Since it’s so recent, it was adopted with its English name, rather than the Spanish translation. This also applies to brownies, pancakes (which were actually called “tortitas” for a while, but now it’s become trendier to call them pancakes), muffins and cupcakes.

Aquí os quedáis (“I’m out”): Lucas actually says, “you stay here,” but the connotation is that Lucas is leaving because he’s Done with Eva and Jorge. Eva and Jorge can choose to stay or leave or do whatever, but Lucas is leaving and not taking Eva and/or Jorge with him.

Que aproveche, chicos (“Enjoy, you two”): Enjoy, as in enjoy your meal, of course! “Chicos” could be translated as “kids,” and when the teachers use it, I do translate it as kids. But the waitress is calling Eva and Jorge “chicos” just because they’re younger than her, not because she’s calling them children. You are either young enough to be “chicos” or old enough to be “señores.”

I mean, if Lucas is going to parent trap them, he could’ve at least paid for the cake. This entrapment with an unpaid bill is kinda rude!

CLIP 5: Nailing Viri

Eva has a palmera in her hand! See Wikipedia for info on this supposedly palm leaf-shaped pastry. The picture captioned “Pig’s ears” is closer to the one Eva has in this clip,

Un clavo saca otro clavo (“there are other fish in the sea”): The literal translation is, “a nail takes out other nail,” as in, the construction kind of nail. The connotations of both sayings are a little different. “There are other fish in the sea” has the connotation that you’ve been dumped, but there are plenty of people in the world for you to explore. “A nail takes out another nail” can mean you’ve been dumped or that your love is unrequited, and that the only way to get over it is to find someone new asap. I also found a debate in a translation forum over whether the nail in the idiom means a dick, as in, only by hopping on another dick you can get over the previous dick, and I can honestly say I have no idea if the idiom is about dicks or not.

Viri con la mierda (“Viri with the junk”): Viri actually says “Viri with the shit.” Haha. This girl squad is so gentle and well-spoken.

Quick note on grades: Grades can be 0 to 10, where 10 is the highest grade. You pass with a 5. Anything under 5 is a “failing” grade. 5 through 5.99 is a “passing” grade. 6 through 6.99 is a “good” grade. 7 through 8.99 is a “notable” grade. 9 through 10 is an “excellent” grade. Once you’re in university, you can also get an “honor roll” grade. Only one or two students can get that grade on a specific course. As far as I know, “honor roll” does not exist as a grade in Spanish primary schools, middle schools or high schools.

Encima se pica (“She goes and gets ticked off”): “Picar” literally translates to “to itch” or “to sting” (such as a bee or a wasp sting). If something “te pica” in the slang sense, it means something has offended you, and the speaker thinks it shouldn’t have. There’s a saying, “si te pica, te rascas,” which translates to, “if it itches, then scratch yourself.” It means that if the tea has been too hot, you don’t get to lash out, you need to deal with it. Cris is indignant that she’s trying to help Viri out by telling her the truth straight up, and Viri is offended, instead of grateful.

Una chica de cuarto (“A fourth grader”): Fourth grader as in being in her fourth year of Mandatory Secondary Education! A grade below the girl squad.

CLIP 6: Underage drinking  

I don’t know where that tunnel is, and I desperately want to know. On that note, I was so fucking chuffed when the clip came out. I really didn’t think they’d even attempt a street drinking scene. They obviously had to have it a secluded place in order to keep the shooting a secret, but it works.

Okay, so my personal take on the call to prayer scene is this. The clip dropped at 20:07 on the 6th of October, and Isha (the fifth prayer) happened at 19:08 at the very latest. (There are several methods of calculation.) So Amira probably did pray before meeting up with the girls. However, once she took in their initial reactions, Amira might’ve wanted to see exactly how badly the girls would take it, so she pushed a bit harder. Committing to praying five times a day might also be new for Amira, and so she might’ve wanted to test those waters. Ngl, asking her to do it somewhere where nobody sees Amira is with them is pretty fucking bad.

A buenos días (“Good morning”): Jorge is doing one of his voices here. I guess he sounds a little like a rural old man. And yes, he says “good morning” even though it’s visibly dark outside the tunnel, lol.

There’s a conversation happening below the camera line and a bit aways from the mics. It’s hard to catch all of it, But Lucas drops the bag with the ice cubes and tells people to help themselves. Dilan grabs ice cubes with his bare hands, and Hugo calls him out for being gross. Dilan asks Hugo why he minds. Tbf to Dilan, a botellón is usually a gross affair with drinks being spilled, vomit, and sometimes piss, so touching the ice with your hands is small potatoes in comparison, lol.

Verdad o atrevimiento (“Truth or Dare”): For the record, the version I played was called Beso, Verdad o Atrevimiento (Kiss, Truth or Dare). I guess there’s a larger English language influence that’s made it more authentic to drop the Kiss option from the name, if not from the dares themselves.

Va lanzada (“going for it”): Lucas says Cris is “lanzada,” which literally translates to being launched, or going as fast as something being launched. Such as a rocket, for instance.

Pa mala yo (“I’m the badass”): Cris is quoting the Aitana and Ana Guerra song Lo Malo, which comes up again later in the season. The gist of the quote is that Cris has no need for bad boys, when she can be a bad girl herself.

Le dio un amarillo (“she had a whitey”): In case you’ve never heard of “a whitey” before, you can find a detailed explanation on Urban Dictionary, which corresponds 1:1 with the Spanish expression.  I had to do a lot of research to find the best translation, so pls appreciate!

Fue muy borde contigo (“He was an ass to you”): “Borde” is yet another classic Spanish slang words. To be “borde” is to be rude for no reason. While it’s slang. It’s not a swear word, and it’s not rude to use. I went with “ass” as I figured it comes across as softer than “asshole.”

CLIP 7: Safety considerations are ignored

Both this clip and the clip before (which dropped at 20:07) generated a discussion in Spanish fandom spaces, specifically about when Spanish teens go out and what their curfews are. Lots of people felt Eva and her friends are going out too early and going back home early, as well. Part of the discussion has to do with something the remakes have shied away from: dropping clips at ungodly hours. As some might remember, during Isak’s season, clips would drop at 3 am because Isak was insomniac. So far, the remakes have held back on dropping clips during hours the target audience may not be awake to react to them, generate discussion on social media, etc.

Spanish people have a (not unearned) reputation of starting the party after dinner time (so 22:00-23:00) until dawn. That said, every teen has their own set of parents with their own set of rules. Personally, I didn’t have a curfew, but we were generally partied out by 4 am.

That said, if I’d been as wasted as Eva is in this clip, I’d have headed home at midnight, sure. Mostly ‘cause I’d have wanted to nap it out.

It makes me smile that Eva and Jorge are jay-walking. There’s no penalty for doing so in Spain, by the way. And especially in small towns or villages, where traffic is light and sidewalks not wide enough for more than one person, it is far more common for people to walk down the middle of the road, rather than using the sidewalks.

I don’t understand how Eva’s house works, by the way. That door makes it look like Eva lives in a detached house with a front yard, a fence and a gate. But we know from other clips that you can show up at Eva’s front door without needing to be let in through a gate. Also, there’s no window by the gate. You can definitely see a window by the door in the final clip.

My friends were shocked and appalled that Jorge would leave without ensuring Eva got inside her house safely, since she was so drunk and it’s past midnight. Grudges have been held.

The gagging noises at the 18:54 mark are poetic cinema.

[naturecpw]

Food Idioms with Meaning and Examples in English 

(A) Baker’s Dozen

Meaning: Thirteen

Example: Your order of a dozen doughnuts is ready. We’ll throw in one more to make it a baker’s dozen.

(A) Hard/Tough Nut to Crack

Meaning: A difficult problem

Example: The problem of how to motivate employees can be a tough nut to crack sometimes.

(Have) Egg on One’s Face

Meaning: Be embarrassed, feel foolish

Example: Fred had egg on his face after claiming he could climb the tree but then having to give up.

(Put) All One’s Eggs In One Basket

Meaning: Rely on a specific course of events

Example: If we depend on a rise in the price of oil, we’re putting all our eggs in one basket. What if it falls?

Note: Generally used with “put,” as in the example.

(Take It with a) Grain of Salt

Meaning: Be skeptical of a statement

Example: James will tell you all about his adventures in Africa, but take it with a grain of salt.

(The) Icing on the Cake

Meaning: A bonus; something that makes a good situation even better

Example: My new girlfriend is very intelligent. That she’s beautiful is just icing on the cake!

(To Be on the) Gravy Train

Meaning: To make an easy living, to benefit easily from one’s association with something that brings profits

Example: Ever since her company’s stock split, Rita’s been on the gravy train – she was given stock as a benefit.

Note: This expression probably originates from the language of railroad hoboes.

(To Have) Bigger Fish To Fry

Meaning: To have more important things to do

Example: I can’t help you with your presentation right now. I have bigger fish to fry.

A Few Sandwiches Short Of A Picnic

Meaning: Abnormally stupid, not really sane

Example: Sometimes I think John’s a few sandwiches short of a picnic. He never seems to understand directions.

A lot on one’s plate

Meaning: A lot to do

Example: I just have a lot on my plate right now while I’m finishing up my degree and doing this huge project for work.

Acknowledge The Corn

Meaning: Admit to a mistake, especially a small one; point out one’s own shortcomings, or another’s

Example: OK, I’ll acknowledge the corn. I took the candy bars from the kitchen table.

Acquired Taste

Meaning: Something one learns to appreciate only after trying it repeatedly

Example: Asparagus is an acquired taste. I hated it as a child, but now I love it.

All Sizzle And No Steak

Meaning: Failing to live up to advance promotion or reputation

Example: Some people feel the Apple Watch is all sizzle and no steak.

All The Tea In China

Meaning: Great wealth, a large payment

Example: I wouldn’t go out with him for all the tea in China!

Apple of One’s Eye

Meaning: A favorite person or thing, a person especially valued by someone

Example: Edward has only one child, and she’s the apple of his eye.

Bad Egg

Meaning: Someone who is not to be trusted

Example: James is a bad egg. Don’t trust him.

Note: This is much less common than its affectionate opposite, “good egg.”

Bar Fly (or Barfly)

Meaning: Someone who spends much of his or her time in bars

Example: The place was filled with barflies and other assorted creatures of the night.

Best (Greatest) Thing Since Sliced Bread

Meaning: An innovative development

Example: Have you tried the new iPhone? It’s the greatest thing since sliced bread.

Big Cheese

Meaning: An important person in a company or organization

Example: Let’s all be on our best behavior today. The big cheese (the president) will be visiting the office.

Bite Off More Than You Can Chew

Meaning: Try to do more than one is capable of doig

Example: That’s a huge lawn. Are you sure you can finish mowing it today? Don’t bite off more than you can chew.

Bottom of the Barrel

Meaning: Low-quality choices

Example: Our top five candidates for the job have all turned us down. We’re really getting down to the bottom of the barrel here-maybe we should place a new ad.

Bring Home the Bacon

Meaning: Earn money for one’s family

Example: I can’t complain about my husband. He may not be the world’s most glamorous guy, but he brings home the bacon.

Carrot-and-Stick (Approach)

Meaning: A tactic in which rewards are offered, but there is also the threat of punishment

Example: The boss is using a carrot-and-stick approach-if we meet the sales target, we’ll get raises, but if we don’t, he’ll cut vacation time.

Cherry-Pick

Meaning: To present evidence selectively to one’s own advantage

Example: The president was accused of cherry-picking research to justify her programs.

Chew the Fat

Meaning: Chat for a considerable length of time

Example: We’re not doing much – just chewing the fat and having a few beers. Why don’t you come over?

Cook Someone’s Goose

Meaning: To insure someone’s defeat, to frustrate someone’s plans

Example: Let’s steal one of the spark plugs from Don’s car. That’ll cook his goose!

Couch Potato

Meaning: A lazy person who watches a great deal of television

Example: Mark is a couch potato. I can’t remember the last time he left his apartment except to go to work.

Cry over Spilt (USA: Spilled) Milk

Meaning: To waste energy moaning about something that has already happened

Example: The money is gone. Don’t cry over spilt milk – there will be new opportunities.

Cut the Mustard

Meaning: Do something adequately

Example: I don’t think I’m too old to cut the mustard. If you give me a chance, I’m sure I can do the job well.

Eat Humble Pie

Meaning: To admit defeat or error, to accept humiliation

Example: The coach was forced to eat humble pie after confidently projecting victory.

Note: This is also used in the USA but is less common.

Eat Someone’s Lunch

Meaning: Defeat someone thoroughly

Example: China is systematically teaching people to speak African languages, but very few Americans can speak them. When it comes to trade with Africa, they’re going to eat America’s lunch.

Food for thought

Meaning: Something that makes you think carefully

Example: The teacher’s advice certainly gave me food for thought.

From Scratch

Meaning: From individual ingredients, not using a prepared mix

Example: I’m looking forward to tonight – my girlfriend is baking me a cake from scratch for my birthday.

From Soup to Nuts

Meaning: Everything; from beginning to end

Example: Amazon started out as a bookseller, but now they offer everything from soup to nuts.

Hard nut to crack

Meaning: A difficult problem or a difficult person

Example: This problem is getting me down. It’s a hard nut to crack.

Have a Lot on One’s Plate

Meaning: Be busy, be in the middle of many ongoing tasks

Example: I’ve got a lot on my plate right now, but why don’t we meet next week?

Have bigger fish to fry

Meaning: Have more important things to do

Example: It’s really not worth my time; I’ve got bigger fish to fry!

Have egg on your face

Meaning: They are made to look foolish or embarrassed

Example: The CEO really had egg on his face after he went on stage to demonstrate the new product and couldn’t get it to work right.

Have One’s Cake and Eat It, Too

Meaning: To want two incompatible things (usually used in the negative)

Example: If you want lower taxes, you have to expect problems in school funding-you can’t have your cake and eat it too.

Be like chalk and cheese

Meaning: Things or people who are very different and have nothing in common

Example: The hotels here and in Russia are like chalk and cheese – you’ll find much better service here.

Hit the Spot

Meaning: Be very satisfying (said of something eaten)

Example: We went to Mark’s Midtown for lunch. I had a grilled chicken sandwich, and it really hit the spot.

Hot Potato

Meaning: A controversial subject or difficult project that is best avoided

Example: Tax increases will be a hot potato in this election, and most candidates will try to avoid taking a stand on them even if they think they’re necessary.

Note: This is often used in political contexts.

In a Nutshell

Meaning: Expressed in a few words

Example: You should apply to the university now. There are lots of reasons, but in a nutshell, it will end up costing you more if you wait.

In a Pickle

Meaning: In need of help, in a difficult spot

Example: I’m really in a pickle. I spent all the money I had saved, and I have no way to pay next semester’s tuition bill.

Like Two Peas in a Pod

Meaning: Bearing a strong resemblance

Example: Hallie and Maria aren’t related, but they’re so similar – like two peas in a pod.

Low-Hanging Fruit

Meaning: Easy parts of a task; solutions easy to obtain

Example: It’s easy to solve those puzzles – they’re low-hanging fruit. But the Sunday puzzle is much more difficult.

Not Mince Words

Meaning: Moderate or weaken a statement

Example: The boss didn’t mince words in my performance evaluation. She said if I didn’t improve, I’d be fired.

Nutty as a fruitcake

Meaning: Crazy; idiotic; wacky.

Example: The kids are always nutty as fruitcakes when they’ve had something sugary to eat.

Pie in the sky

Meaning: Something that is unrealistic or that cannot be achieved

Example: He keeps talking about how he’ll move to Los Angeles to be a famous actor, but it’s just pie in the sky if you ask me.

https://7esl.com/food-idioms/

[badforyourheartgoodforyourart]

Adooration

“I can’t say I’ve ever really noticed,” David said. “I guess we’re just colorful people.” I had at least six inches on him, allowing me to see the bare top of his head. He had curly reddish brown hair on the sides, and it came down to connect with his full beard. He was round, and wore jeans and a button down, with chest hair spilling out the top, and a dress jacket. “Maybe it’s like women with make up. You put it on your face because that’s what people see. You don’t put it on your liver.”

“Yeah, yeah!” his friend interjected. “You only paint your liver with alcohol.” He held his pint up and knocked it against David’s as they laughed.

We’d just seen the opening show of the Galway Film Fleadh, “Grabbers,” and were mingling at the reception. The food was gone, the wine was gone, and it was approaching half-twelve. The number of people had thinned considerably, and we were leaving.

David was an actor. He played the bartender in the film we just saw, and a few people from our group had talked to him on the steps outside the theatre immediately afterward. He’d gone to the reception and was stepping out to smoke a cigarette as I was leaving. I’d gotten the courage to ask him a question that I’d been infatuated with for the three weeks I’d been studying in Ireland: Why were the doors in Ireland brightly colored?

The two of them tossed ideas back and forth. Obviously it was something they’d never even considered.

“Yeah, not everyone sees the inside of your house, but everyone sees the outside.”

“Maybe they ran out of paint before they could finish the house.”

I offered the myths I’d read online when I’d began my search.

The first was that when Ireland was still under English rule and Queen Victoria died, the people were asked to paint their doors black in mourning.

“…And they rebelled and painted them bright colors,” David finished my story. He hadn’t heard it before, but he smiled and nodded at the cleverness.

There was apparently still some disdain toward her. I’d read that Queen Victoria was the monarch of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland for almost 64 years, longer than any other monarch in Great Britain’s history. She reigned during Ireland’s infamous potato famine, which dubbed her the name “The Famine Queen” in Ireland. When her husband, Albert died, she blamed her son, who had slept with an Irish actress, saying stress and heartbreak had killed him.

The second myth, I told David and company, was that the Irish women were tired of their husbands coming home drunk, going into the wrong house, up the wrong stairs, into the wrong bedroom and sleeping with the wrong woman. So they painted their doors different colors so the mistake wouldn’t be made.

They roared into laughter.

“That still happens! That was just the excuse we was using that day!”

I’d noticed the doors as soon as I’d gotten to Ireland. Red. Blue. Yellow. Green. All in a row. The post office had colored doors. The Garda did. The church. I’d seen a postcard boasting a variety of them at the tourist office. I wanted to know why. How long had they been like this? Was it just some sort of gimmick? ­So I googled it — just to get my foot in the door before I started asking locals.

In addition to the two myths I told earlier, I found a story that some tour guides like to tell:

The famous Irish writers George Moore and Oliver St. John Gogarty lived next door to each other. It is said that Gogarty was a drunk, and Moore got tired of him coming into the wrong house in a drunken stupor, so he painted his door green. Then Gogarty painted his door red in spite.

Probably the most factual story, however, is one that goes back to Dublin in the 18th century. In 1715, Catholic penal laws were becoming less harsh. The descendents of the Norman, Elizabethan and Cromwellian times, known as the Protestant Ascendancy, still ruled in Dublin, but they wanted better treatment and more rights for the Irish Catholics.

With the newfound leniency, Catholics became more established. The influx of wealth and prosperity temporarily made Dublin the best city economically in the British Empire besides London. They splurged on Georgian style townhouses south of the Liffey River. The exteriors were all uniform, strictly adhering to the trendy style. They eventually began painting their doors and adding decorative fanlights and knockers to distinguish their homes.

In my preliminary research, I also found the history of the “Doors of Dublin” piece that I’d seen on postcards.

Bob Fearon was the head of an advertisement agency in New York City in the ’60s. He spent time in Dublin, and while perusing the streets of Merrion Square and Fitzwilliam Square he noticed the Georgian architecture of the buildings, and he noticed the doors. He thought the symmetry was beautiful, and photographed over 40 of them. He created a collage, and showed it to Joe Malone, then the North American Manager of Bord Failte (the Irish Tourism Board). The collage made its debut on a poster in the window of the Irish Tourism building on St. Patrick’s Day in 1970.

In the mid-20th century, I read, the Irish Government tore down a lot of the old houses, replacing the buildings with utilitarian office blocks and government departments. The demolishing eventually stopped because architects and historians wanted to preserve the doors, and because the “Doors of Dublin” made them popular with the public.

What riveting background! But everyone knows the good stuff comes from the people. So I decided to throw myself out there and ask strangers about their doors. Although David was entertaining, he didn’t give me much of what I wanted. So I continued my quest when I wandered into the Claddagh shop in Galway.

It was one of many Claddagh shops in the area. But this one was the maker of the original Claddagh, which the little woman behind the counter promptly let us know. She had a head and chest over the counter, but not much more. Her short, blonde-gray hair curled up under her ears, and reading glasses hung around her neck on a simple, silver chain.

She asked where we were from, and what we were doing over here, how we liked it and what our favorite things were, who we were getting gifts for and why and what each of us wanted to do “forever and ever.” Then I asked my question.

She wasn’t sure why the doors were painted.

“I suppose we’re just colorful people.” That was becoming a familiar answer.

I complimented their Claddagh doorknocker, and asked if the door of their store had always been yellow.

“Ever since I’ve been here it has. Jonathan,” she turned to her coworker, who was sitting at the desk behind the counter, welding together the ends of a newly-sized ring, “What color was the door before I got here?”

He shrugged. Then he turned around and took off his magnifying glasses and told a different story.

“The doors out in the country, they don’t have numbers like.” That was an idiom I was still getting used to. Americans throw “like” into the middle of the sentence, not at the end. “The towns are so small, the postman just knows whose house is whose.

“One day somebody had to make a delivery out there. The people who lived in the house told him to come to house number 7. The deliveryman didn’t know what that meant, but when he got out there he saw a door that had a painted ‘7’ on it. And sure enough, it was the right house. Turns out, the family that lived there had gotten the door secondhand and never minded to take the ‘7’ off.” He laughed like he’d told the funniest story he’d ever heard. She laughed with him briefly, and then shifted her attention to me.

“I bet you don’t know why the doors are so short though,” she coaxed me, leaning in. I took her bait.

“Why?” I asked.

“I bet you think it’s because the people here are littler, that they just don’t need taller doors.” She leaned in even closer. She smiled her yellowing teeth and her eyes curled up and disappeared in her face.

“That’s not the reason?” I was still playing along, but I really did think that was why.

“Oh! I thought that too at first!” she laughed. “But I know better now. Someone finally told me. The doors are so short because the roads have been paved over so many times.” She laughed and laughed and laughed.

It seemed that I wasn’t going to get a substantive answer about the doors’ color. But when one door closes, another door opens. So I broadened my scope to Irish doors in general. And shortly after, I learned about another very Irish door: the half door.

I had decided to do something on my own. I bought a ticket for a bus tour to travel through County Galway to Connemara. The trip left at 10 a.m. I power-walked to the city centre and desperately asked for directions to my bus while holding up and pointing to the brochure I’d gotten from the tourist office. I made it onto the bus in a fluster, found a seat and exhaled. I was sitting next to a guy about my age. We had what we could of a conversation; he was from Spain and spoke broken English. Then our bus driver/tour guide came over the microphone introduced himself as Gary.

Gary drove us through the countryside. He rambled on about various things, one of which was the half door: a front door that is sawed in half so that the top and bottom can open independently.

It was invented around 1690. King William III was short of money, so imposed a Window Tax — a tax on the amount of light let into a home. The wealthy would boast their ability to pay the tax with grandiose windows. But the common people bricked up many of their windows, and cut their doors in half. The bottom half was to keep the children in and the animals out. The top half was to let in light. And so came the saying “daylight robbery.”

Gary made a joke about how that tax might return to Ireland by the year’s end. He’d just pointed out one of the country’s many “ghost towns” and explained that in 2007, when the economy was booming, they couldn’t build houses fast enough. Many builders would sell unfinished homes — no driveways or walks, some not even painted — with the promise that they would finish them. As if overnight, he said, the economy crashed. The builders went into liquidation and the homes of these people remain incomplete. In many of the developments, there are half-built houses, “just the shell” of the house.

He went on to tell a story about how the government finally intervened and finished some of the developments after a four-year-old girl fell in an uncovered manhole and drowned.

“The Irish are a tight-knit community though,” he said. “I think we’ll come out the other end of this recession for the better in a few years.” And we continued on.

It was about this time in my journey that I began to wonder, why on Earth have I this infatuation with doors? What is a door, anyways, but a block of wood — sometimes painted colorfully, sometimes cut in half — that allows you to come and go?

Go. That is indeed something the Irish have done plenty of. They’ve an extended history of leaving their country and emigrating to America, Canada and Australia, because their country struggles to have a stable economy.

And in addition to going, they have very much been of a country with people coming in. Today, tourists come, and Ireland invites them in for tea and scones. In the past, unwelcome visitors came, breaking down Ireland’s doors. They were raided and taken over by the Vikings, then the Normans, then the British combining over a span of 1,100 years.

Gary spoke of the country’s devastating history later on the tour, as we winded through the massive green mountains in Joyce Country.

“When a very bad man named Cromwell invaded our country,” the word our stuck out in my head — not the or their. Our he said with pride, “he made his way from the east, slaughtering man, woman and child. Cromwell said that, ‘There is not a tree to hang a man from, water to drown one in, not dirt to bury one in.’ ” Gary was bitter. “On a mission to do away with Catholicism, he burnt the churches.

“So, towns began holding Mass in the kitchens of homes. Someone would open the door to his or her home every week. The kitchen table was turned into an alter. Each family would bring food, and after Mass they’d eat and dance. It really brought the towns closer together and made them stronger.” Take that, Cromwell, he practically said.

Gary’s pride made me grin. But part of me saw it as silly. Ireland seemed a bit naïve. Even after years and years of being taken advantage of for its receptiveness, it continues to open its doors.

It is sad, really. The Irish people habitually leave their country and the economy relies heavily on letting in and entertaining people from other countries. There are more tourists per year in Ireland than residents! It is giving itself away.

But what is it, then, that continues to bring people here? What brought me here? Why is it that I’ll want to come back?

Everybody knows its history of struggle. Everybody deems the country weak, powerless. Everybody knows the people’s reputation of drinking too much. And the Irish know. And they know that everybody else knows! Their tour guides speak of their tragic history. The myths of their colored doors poke fun at the alcohol use. David and his buddies joke about it. There is little hidden behind closed doors in Ireland. But still, there is something we don’t know about the Irish, something we can’t quite name, can’t quite grasp; but it’s something we always aspire for.  

It is their charm, their magic. You don’t come to Galway to buy a Claddagh ring. You come to partake in an everyday occurrence — something as simple as making a purchase, in roles as impersonal as a buyer and a seller — and be genuinely engaged in conversation. It is refreshing, and it is enticing.

This is their essence. It is why they are so close. It is what keeps them going, after being molested for centuries. Furthermore, it is why they’ve been molested for centuries. The rest of the world is in pitiable attempt to seize the Irish’s intangible, then by force and now through tourism.

It won’t be learned from a history book, because they’ve frequently been defeated in battle and burdened by economic difficulty. But sitting at a dimly lit pub, or riding a tour bus, or buying a ring, you will learn that the Irish, with their open doors, have always really had the power.