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honeyhan-123 · 5 years

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Say Thank You VIII

Series Summary: Nearly five years have passed since Steve Rogers saves your life without so much as a thank you. When he sees you again by chance, he makes sure that he’ll never let you go and maybe teach you some manners in the process.

Series Warning: This will be a dark!Steve fic with stalking, kidnapping and manipulating as well as non-con and dub-con situations. Please don’t read it if you don’t like that sort of thing.

Chapter Warnings: non con/dub-con (If you don’t like that sort of thing or it triggers you please do not read this), spanking with a belt, getting into some serious gas lighting techniques.

Word Count: 2.8k

AN: Sexy times are here, get ready.

I. New York ~ II. Madrid ~ III. The Apartment ~ IV. The Trip ~ V. The Basement ~ VI. The First Lesson ~ VII. The Waiting Game

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VIII. The First Attempt

You sat on the bed, your hands forcibly shoved underneath you as you waited, waited for him to go. It was agony, torture in the highest degree, knowing you were so close to freedom but that he might still be upstairs. You couldn’t hear anything outside of what happened in your room and so you had no idea whether he had left or not, but you figured he had been pretty much ready to go after breakfast; he had looked it at least.

When you couldn’t take the waiting anymore, you jumped to your feet, heading over to the wall of windows, dragging the dining table with you as you went. If you stood on it, you would be able to reach them easily. You pressed your palm against the window, at this height you could see the grass on the other side, the way it gleamed in the sunlight, soaking up the sun for photosynthesis. You couldn’t wait until that would be you, lying in the grass, being able to feel the sun on your skin.

Your forehead rested against the cool glass for a moment, wishing you could just be outside already, your lips tugged into a firm line.

Jumping down from the table, you grabbed the small little tupperware container from the bench as you headed over to the bed, stripping the top sheet and lying it flat on the ground before heading to the dining room table. If you were going to make it out of here you would need provisions. You placed the lunch he had left in the center of the white satin before heading to the wardrobe. You tried to gather the most ‘normal’ looking clothes he had given you, not wanting to stick out too much when you were finally free. It would make it easier to hide from him.

Laying the clothes and some toiletries down on your small pile, you briefly reconsidered your escape plan. You knew he would come looking for you, no matter where you went, he would follow. You didn’t even know where you were, the sky outside certainly didn’t look like you were still in Madrid. How were you meant to run when you didn’t know where to start? You were basically committing yourself to a life on the run from America’s hero. Is that what you really wanted?

No, it wasn’t. But it was what you needed to do. Looking back at the dining table you knew you couldn’t continue to be his little doll, not for another minute. You gathered the corners of the sheet, tying them together to form a rucksack of sorts and hoisted it onto your shoulders, heading back over to the table and pressing your palm against the cool glass once again.

It was a welcome relief on your skin as you contemplated the next step of your plan: how to smash the window…

Steve had left nearly as soon as he had locked the basement door behind him. He knew that if he stayed, even for another five minutes, he would never leave. Opting instead to spend his day with you, maybe playing a little board game or sitting on the couch next to you, listening to you read your newest novel aloud. He loved the sound of your voice; the way your sweet, luscious lips curled around the words as they came out in your melodic trill.

It had been torture in the highest form pulling away from you that morning, the ache between his legs begging him for a release and the sight of you, barely clad in what was his new favourite nightgown of yours. Oh how he had wanted to ruin your body for everyone else, ravishing you over and over again until you couldn’t walk anymore. But he had to wait, he needed your first time to be when you were ready, it would set the tone for the future of your relationship. But god was it hard to walk away from you, the way your hair was splayed across the satin sheets he had splurged on, just for you; the way you had felt so right in his arms, your body pressed against his warming him from the inside out.

Suffice to say, his shower was a long one.

He couldn’t believe that he was really doing this, really leaving you at home, alone. You had been so well behaved the past few days, nearly always following his orders straight away. Sometimes, he could see the resistance in you, hidden behind duplicitous eyes. The sight always made him shudder, sadness creeping over his skin. You were his and he just had to wait until you realised that too, until you accepted that. Maybe that article he had read was right, maybe he had to break you before you could claim you but he hadn’t wanted to do that. He just wanted you to be his right away.

With one last glance at the basement stairs that led down to you, Steve forced his legs to carry him to his garage and drive away, all the while questioning whether or not you were really ready to be left alone.

His internal monologue had lasted all the way to the abandoned warehouse the team had been using as a headquarters, all the way through Sam’s debriefing of the mission he had missed out on and all through Nat’s threat assessment of a new up and coming cartel down in Ecuador. He knew he should be paying attention, he was the Captain of this team for crying out loud, yet every word spoken in the meeting had just flown in one ear and out the other. It was only when he heard the familiar chime of his cellphone, felt it vibrate against his thigh, that he was brought out of his internal spiral.

His blood turned cold in his veins, his gut sinking to the floor as his phone continued to vibrate in his pocket, drawing the attention of his fellow teammates, all looking at him in wonder, curious as to who could be calling. But Steve knew better. He knew he wasn’t getting a call, everyone who had his number was in the same room as him. It was an alert; an alert that his girl was up to no good.

He excused himself from the table, heading out from the room and pulling his phone from his pocket. He forced himself to wait until he was in his office, behind closed doors before he opened it to the feed from the basement. He watched as you pressed a palm against the cool glass of the window, staring intently outside, the pressure on the glass being what had alerted him.

A breath of relief escaped his lips. This he could deal with. He hadn’t specified that you weren’t allowed to touch the window and if that was all you were doing, that would be okay. It made sense that you wanted to look out the window, see the grass, the way it glittered in the sun.

Steve felt a surge of guilt, it had been a while since you had felt the sun on your skin. Maybe if you were good today that could be a reward when he got home. He would pack a picnic, some dessert maybe, and you could sit out in his backyard on his lawn chairs.

A smile crossed his face as he imagined the scene, it would be the next step to normalising your relationship and he couldn’t wait to take it with you.

He watched as you stepped down from the window, picking up the tupperware container with your lunch as you headed back to the bed. Steve felt a surge of disappointment, were you really about to eat your lunch now? He had barely been gone for an hour, surely you weren’t hungry yet and if you ate now, you would be starving by the time he got back home.

However, to his horror, he watched you strip the bed of its sheet, placing the packed lunch, some clothes and toiletries inside before heading back over to the window, his plans of a nice picnic in the yard ruined as he watched you pick up one of the dining room chairs, lugging it towards the bulletproof glass. Steve knew that it wouldn’t break, no matter what you threw at it but he couldn’t escape the hurt that flooded through his as he watched you try.

When he couldn’t take it anymore; when he felt as though his rage was about to overpower him, swallow him whole, he forced himself to tear his eyes from his screen, heading back out through the hallway towards the garage, a plan forming in his head.

Tears cascaded down your cheeks as you stared up at the sky through the taunting window. You should have known your captor would have reinforced, unshatterable glass windows. No matter what you had thrown at it, the glass remained perfectly intact, not a crack in its perfect facade.

You had given up shortly after breaking one of the dining room chairs from how many times you had smashed it against the window. It had seemed like the easiest thing to throw at it, something heavy and solid yet still light enough that you would be able to get some force behind it. Oh how wrong you were. All those movies where the hero easily smashes the glass by simply throwing a punch at it had lied to you.

You dreaded Steve’s return, you knew he wasn’t going to be happy with you. The broken chair lying by the base of the wall would serve as evidence to what you had done, had tried to do.

You didn’t hear him return, the click of the lock, the clack of his shoes against the hardwood floors. The shower had drowned out all those sounds, the water cascading around you as you scrubbed your body clean, getting it ready for him. In your desperate state you had thought that maybe if you dressed up, just like how he wanted you too, maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t be as angry.

You had searched through the wardrobe as you returned the dresses, searching for the opposite type of dress you had that morning, trying your best to look as though you had just stepped out of the forties.

As you washed the last strip of conditioner from your hair, you felt his steel grip around your arm, his other hand forcing the shower off as he tugged you from the warm water. You didn’t dare look at his eyes, too afraid of the rage and disappointment that you were sure you would find conveyed in his clear blue eyes.

He didn’t say a word as he forced you onto the bed, the room unnaturally dark as you glanced at the windows, seeing that a metallic covering had formed over all of them, blocking any light that might have entered the room.

You cowered, trying to cover your body with you hands as he stood at the foot of the bed, his eyes taking in your naked body.

‘S-St-Steve - Sweetheart, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.’ You tried to scramble up the bed, take his face into your hands, your thumbs running across his cheeks leaving a wet trail behind them.

‘Shut up slut. I don’t want to hear it.’ He grabbed your hands in his, easily flipping your body over, pushing you face first onto the mattress, binding each hand to opposite bed posts with metal handcuffs you had never seen before. You turned your face to him, cheek pressing against the dampening satin sheets, watching as he stared down at you, trepidation flooding through you.

Even on that first day when you had refused to get out of bed he hadn’t looked this mad, his eyes practically ablaze. ‘Steve, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry my love. I promise, I’ll be your girl, your good girl. I’m sorry.’ Your words mixed together, covered by the sobs that wrecked through your body as he circled you, the clack of his shoes against the floor the only sound emanating from him.

‘I’m sorry Doll but the time for promises has passed. Your actions today have proven that you can’t be trusted. I hadn’t wanted it to come to this, I thought that maybe we could just skip over this entire step but apparently not. You need to be broken, only then will you be able to become fully mine like I want you to be. It may take a while, but I’m a very patient man.’ His tone was mocking, poking fun at your attempted escape.

His hand trailed down your back, ever so gently as he spoke, raising goosebumps across your skin. He picked up your hips, forcing you onto your knees as you heard the clink of his belt buckle coming undone. Your eyes squeezed closed, waiting for the zip of his fly to sound through the silent room, yet it never came. Instead, you heard the faint hiss of the leather against the air before it smacked down onto the tender skin of your arse.

You had thought his palm had hurt, but that had nothing on the stiff leather in his hands as it reigned down onto you. Unlike last time, he didn’t make you count, something you were grateful for as there was no way you could have managed it between your shouts, pleas for him to stop. He also didn’t stop at ten like he had last time, continually hitting your skin for what felt like hours as you lay, helpless, at his mercy.

When at last he did stop, the leather ceasing its abuse against your raw skin, you couldn’t form words, not when you heard the zip of his fly you had been waiting for, not when you felt the bed shift as he kneeled behind you or when you felt his fingers against you, swirling in the slick that you had no memory of forming.

You heard his groan, felt his fingers circle against your sweet little bundle of nerves as he pushed his tip against you. His words from that morning apparently flying out the window as he eased in, inch by inch.

Despite the wetness - which you were still confused about - he hurt. It hurt when his thick cock stretched your walls beyond what you could manage, when his tip felt as though it were brushing directly against your womb, when his pelvis met the tender skin of your ass, no doubt smearing the blood from the cuts his belt had caused. Despite all that physical pain, it was the mental pain that hurt the most, the way pleasure wrecked through your broken body as his finger pressed against you, matching the speed at which he rutted into you.

‘I don’t know why I didn’t just start with this. Look at how your responding to me Sweetheart, look at the way your body craves me. Only I can give you this pleasure, only me.’ His breathing was heavy, pulling at your still wet hair, forcing your back to arch despite your hands still being cuffed to the bedpost as he spoke.

You could only moan in response, the feeling of him brushing up against that sweet spot inside you too much to bear. ‘C’mon Sweetheart. You said you were going to be my good girl, so do it. Cum for me. Cum for me now.’

Your body followed his commands, pulsing around his cock, milking it as he emptied into you, his cum spilling out across your lips, down your thighs as he pulled out, a gentle slap - nothing in comparison to his belt - to your ass as he got off the bed, pulling his clothes on.

‘I don’t know how long it’s going to take to make you compliant, but like I said earlier, I’m a very patient man.’ You heard the sound of his footsteps growing fainter as he neared the door, disappearing through it, the sound of the lock clicking as you realised he wasn’t coming back, not for a while at least. He was just going to leave you like this, face pressed against the wet sheets, cum spilling out of your aching hole and your hands tied above your head.

Although you had thought you had used up your entire supply of tears as he had hit you, fresh ones started cascading down your cheeks, the darkness your only company as you cried until sleep could claim you.

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IX. The Darkness

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dolcenco · 6 years

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Boyfriend for The Weekend

Christopher Velez x Reader

Warning: a mini semi-smut in the beginning

Prompt #73 - “Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?”

Prompt #74 - “You’re a dork, just like your father”

S/n: okay this wasn't as emotional as I expected but hi anon I'm sooooo sorry for the late delivery of request :( it hope you liked it tho, it’s a lengthy imagine!

04/15/2019 - Edited any grammatical errors.

“You’re so hot”

“I know.”

“Confident much?”

Christopher moaned a deep, throaty groan when you pressed yourself firmly onto him. He bit his lip, his eyes darting from yours to where your crotch is rocking against his growing hard-on.

“I need you.” Christopher rasped through the kiss and squeezed your ass with his desperate large hands.

“You always need me.” You giggled against his cheeks as you trailed kisses down his jawline to his neck.

It all started when Christopher had this fantastic idea and wondered if you wanted to be fuck buddies. After realizing that he was risking of infections from the many fucks and one night stands, why not have sex with one person? And that could be his hot best friend?

You, on the other hand, were tired of pleasuring yourself with just your fingers and toys so when Christopher asked you, you did not hesitate to say yes.

When you were just about to slide his shorts down, your phone suddenly rang, interrupting your seshie. Christopher grabbed your phone from the side table, his eyes widened when he read the caller ID, “It’s your mom.”

With a sigh, you took your phone, rolled off of Chris, and answered the phone, “Hey mom,”

“(Y/n)! Are you home?” Her voice boomed through the speaker, making you hold your phone at arm’s length before pressing it to your ear again to reply.

“Yup.” You responded absently. Christopher was distracting you by squeezing your breast. With a cheeky smirk, he leaned towards your nipple and gave it a small delicate lick.

OH GOD, HELL NO.

Before he could do anything else, you pushed Christophers’ head away from your boob, not wanting your mom to hear what you were doing on the other end.

“Did you pack for this weekend? Do you want any food for us to prepare?” She asked through the phone. Your family had this huge gathering this weekend, and your mom won’t stop calling you about it because they missed you and wanted to see you so badly.

You hopped off the bed, shrugged your bathrobe on, and walked out of your bedroom, but not without flipping Christopher off first.

“Yeah, I packed everything and you know I’ll eat anything.” You sighed and leaned against the wall outside of your room.

“Good and mija…”

“Hmm?”

“Do you have a boyfriend already?”

You groaned audibly and rubbed your face in annoyance.

“Mooom,” You whined.

“What? It’s just that you’ve been single for so long. I could set you up with my friends’ son…”

The question always came up every damn phone call. But that whole “do you have a boyfriend” card did not stop there, it overflowed during family gatherings. Every member of the family asked you this even your baby cousins! One even asked when you were getting married. It was outrageous. They can’t take “I am single and happy” for an answer. The pestering and the constant blind date your family set you up for grew annoying and you know it will happen again in the family gathering this weekend.

As your mom continued to ramble, you turned and leaned on the door frame of your bedroom to face Christopher, who was waited for you expectantly on your bed. You just wanted to have a peaceful family gathering so you said something you will definitely regret.

“-Ay, mija. He’s so gorgeous, so guapo, I think…”

“I have a boyfriend.”

The moment your words slipped, you knew there was no going back.

“What?”

You sighed heavily then pinched the bridge of your nose. You know you were going to regret it but you repeated yourself anyway, “I have a boyfriend.”

There was silence on the other line but before you could speak, a high-pitched squeal screeched through the phone followed by a chorus of voices booming through the speakers causing you to hold it at arm's’ length. Not long before you hear your mom shushing the noise before responding.

“Are you bringing him this weekend?” She beamed like a schoolgirl.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because..” You sighed, scrambling for an excuse. “-he’s busy.”

She scoffs, “Bring him or we’ll go over to your place and meet him.”

You groaned through the phone, defeated. After what took like forever negotiating with your mom, you finally surrendered and agreed to bring ‘boyfriend’ over the weekend. When the phone call ended, you slapped your forehead and slid it down your face.

Where the hell is you going to look for a boyfriend in a day ?!

You slid against the wall, your face in your hands. You were so frustrated with your own stupidity that you didn’t notice Christopher crouched next to you.

“Okay, Amor?” He asked, and you shook your head against your hands.

“I did the stupidest thing.” You mumbled. He grabbed your wrist and pulled your hands to see your face.

“You always do stupid things.” He chuckled, and you frowned at him. When he realize you were being serious, he coughed and scratched the back of his head.

“Okay sorry, what is this stupidest thing you’ve done?”

You sighed and told him about the whole conversation with your mom, and all Christopher did was laugh at your face.

You feel your face heat-up and smacked his arm, “Stop laughing!”

“I can’t! That is the stupidest thing you’ve done. How do you expect to find a boyfriend by tomorrow?” He cackled as he held his side from laughing too hard.

You stood up, entered your bedroom, and plopped on your bed to calm yourself. “I should probably post on Facebook ‘Wanted: Boyfriend For Hire. Paid with Unlimited Food.”

Christopher joined you and sat on the edge of the bed. “You know if anyone posted that for unlimited food, I’d be their boyfriend for a lifetime.”

You shot up with the most brilliant idea in mind and turned to face Christopher.

He looked at you back confused “What?”

“Chris, baby.” You cooed. With that tone, he immediately picked up what you were about to ask.

He shook his head almost immediately, “Don’t even..”

“Please, Chris?” You begged and hugged his arms, getting up all on his face with your best puppy eyes.

He looked down at you, shaking his head as you tightened your grip on his arm, “Nope.”

“Please.”

“No.”

“Free food?”

“How long?”

“A week.”

“A month.”

After negotiating, Christopher finally agreed to become your ‘fake’ boyfriend for the weekend.

You hugged him triumphantly, “Yay! Thank you!”

“Ugh, you’re lucky I think you’re hot.” He scoffed and shooked his head.

You crawled on his lap and straddled his hips once again. When you dove for a kiss, he suddenly stopped you mid-way.

“I’m still getting unlimited food, right?” He asked.

You rolled your eyes but nodded your head. He grins and grabs the back of your neck, pulling your lips against his to finish what you guys started.

The weekend finally rolled in. The sun was shining and the sky was blue, it looked like it will be a beautiful weekend. As soon as you and Christopher pulled up at your parents’ driveway, your family swarmed out of the house to greet you both. The day hasn’t even begun yet but things are starting to get crazy.

You held Chris’ hand the whole time, introducing him to the whole family.

When your mom finally met him she was head over heels for this boy. With his natural lovable charms? Who wouldn’t be?

Your dad, on the other hand, was iffy at first. When he first saw Christophers’ tattoos, he had a disapproving frown because he was quite traditional. But when Christopher started talking about cars, you knew Chris won him over because he gave you a thumbs up and an approving smirk. Oh god.

Everyone loved Christopher. The kids loved playing with him, your tias were swooning, your tios thought he was the best and surprisingly, your parents thought he was good for you. Oh, how it would break their hearts when they find out none of it was real.

As night set in, everyone is off to bed. Your parents suggested that you shared your old room with your ‘boyfriend’. On the same bed. Usually, they won’t allow it, but a few rules can bend if your parents loved him so much.

You just finished taking a bath and entered your room with nothing but your bathrobe on. When you went to dig your pajamas from the duffle bag, you noticed Christopher on your bed, messing with his phone.

Your eyes went wide, throwing him a t-shirt and it lands over his head, “hey!”

“Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?”

He grabbed the shirt off his head and shrugged.

“To tempt you.” He teased.

“We can’t have a sense here, babe. My parents are next door.” You chuckled and sat next to him on the bed.

“Put a shirt on. It’ll be the families’ scandal if they find you naked.”

“But they love me!” He protested and your eyes rolled at his confidence. But he’s right. Your family loved him.

“You’re such a dork, I don’t get why they love you.” He scowled at you and scoffed. “You’re a dork, just like your father.”

When you finished putting on your pajamas, you crawled to bed and joined Chris under the covers. After a moment of silence, Christopher spoke.

“Your family is nice. Reminds me of mine back in Ecuador.” He looked at you with a smile. His tone was nostalgic.

“Maybe we could visit them,” You suggested.

He chuckled, “Why not? Maybe I could introduce you as my girlfriend.”

A warm feeling fluttered in your stomach at the thought of Christopher introducing you to his family as his girlfriend. The idea of dating Chris made you warm and giddy but nope. You can’t fall for him. You entered this beneficial relationship and firmly vowed not to fall for Christopher. He doesn’t feel the same way, you knew it. If he found out that you started to get feelings, it will blow the whole thing off and ruin your relationship.

“I’ll miss your family when this is all over.” He sighs a hint of sadness to his tone.

You bit your lip. You wanted to tell him how much you’ll miss him. It will never be the same when you head back home.

You coughed awkwardly, “I think I’ll sleep now, hun.”

“Good night, (Y/n)”

As you both drifted to sleep, your fingers were intertwined with Chris’.

The fresh morning air was delightful. The cold air rustling through the trees as you were sitting in the yard with your tias as they fill in each other with the morning gossip.

“He’s so great with kids,” One swooned, and you knew they were talking about Christopher.

He was playing with your little cousins at the backyard, giving them piggyback rides and playing with their hot wheels.

You smiled softly at the sight. It was adorable and made him looked boyish and attractive.

Your tia snapped you out of your trance and asked you, “(y/n), how long have you guys been dating?”

You stiffened and lied, “Uhm, 6 months.”

“That’s pretty long” One beamed, your tia’s getting all excited.

You nodded, giggling with them as you continued to watch Chris and the kids.

“Okay, let’s get to the fun stuff, we won’t tell your mom and dad but tell us, is he good?”

Confused, your eyebrows stitched together “Yeah, he’s a good boyfriend” You replied, sipping your morning tea. She rolled her eyes.

“I mean, is he good in bed?”

You spat your tea and coughed out, pumping your chest. That was a hell of a forward question. How scandalous.

Of course, Chris was good in bed, you wouldn’t be fuck buddies if he wasn’t!

“Uh, yeah I guess?” You responded awkwardly and they giggled like school girls.

“He seems to like it.” They all watched Chris, who was playing hot wheels with your baby cousins, with a laugh so bright and contagious that you can't help but smile.

“I bet he’s hubby material too.” One commented.

“Oh, (Y/n), you’re so lucky to have him.”

You smiled at your tia before looking back at Chris. He looks up and gives you a bright grin before playing with your cousins again. As you watched with your baby cousins, it occurred to you that he did fit well with your family.

“Yes, I am,” you say softly, a fuzzy feeling in your stomach erupting again.

At that point, you finally realized you were falling for Chris.

It was time to head back home, and as much as you don’t want to admit it, you wished that the weekend didn’t have to end because it meant that this whole charade with Chris is off and your back to being fuck buddies.

“Keep him, baby. He’s good for you.” Your mom said and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. Oh, how I wish I could, Mom.

You smiled, gave her one last hug. “I’ll do my best.”

You heard your dad talked to Chris, telling the boy, “Take care of my daughter.”

After bidding goodbye to the whole family, you both pulled out of the driveway and drove back home. The car ride was silent. It wasn’t awkward but rather comfortable.

Christopher grabbed your hand, and a jolt of electricity crept on your arm when he intertwined your fingers together.

“I really enjoyed this weekend,” He whispered, biting his lip.

“I didn’t want it to end.” You admitted, feeling his thumb caressed your hand soothingly.

The dreaded feeling started to form when the building of your apartment came into view. You let out a sigh and faced Christopher. You pressed your hand against his cheek, caressing with your thumb. “Thank you, Chris. For everything” you learned in a gave him a swift peck on the cheeks before exiting the car and grabbing your luggage.

Christopher watched you enter your apartment. He lets out a sigh, wishing that you guys didn’t have to pretend because he already loved you ever since.

#cnco #cncowners #cnco fanfic #cnco imagine #cnco headcanon #christopher velez #christopher velez fanfic #christopher velez imagine #cnco fanfics #cnco imagines #cnco christopher velez #cnco christopher

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cnchoebaby · 5 years

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Risks - Christopher Vélez

Note: Hellooo this is for @cieloxcnco‘ s 1000 followers contest! First of all congratulations bby, second i hope this meets your standards lmao. I chose the song sleeping with a friend by neon trees (if you havent listened pls do so its a bop).

words: 1,306

warnings: mentions alcohol/ drinking

“Come on y/n, it’s been forever since you’ve gone to the club with us!” Alyssa whined.

“I know but it’s just not my scene anymore Lyssa, plus I’ve been super busy with work. I just haven’t had time.” I tried my best to come up with any excuse to not go out tonight.

Tonight was our friend Christophers birthday and as much as I love him I just was not in the mood to go clubbing. I wasn’t lying when I said I had been busy with work. The past few month had been crazy, the opportunity of a promotion was on the table and I needed it so bad.

“Oh no, don’t you dare try and get out of tonight. It’ll crush Chris if his best friend isn’t there to celebrate his birthday and you know it.” I sighed, she was right. I couldn’t not go, he’d never let me forget it.

“I hate when you’re right.”

“I’ll be waiting downstairs, now hurry up.”

I got up and walked over to my closet, it had been so long since I had been to a club I didn’t even know what to wear. I scanned over my clothes and decided on a short red dress. Walking into the bathroom I hung it on the back of the door and started getting ready. The whole time all I could think about was Chris. It had been a while since I’d seen him. The last time we had hung out was funny enough on my birthday.

Chris and I had know each other for 5 years, we had met when he’d moved to Jersey from Ecuador. It had been a wild ride these past years with Chris, watching him audition for La Banda, win it, and become a mega star. Through all of it we had managed to stay such close friends. He was always there for me through all my heartbreaks and vice versa. His warm, infectious laugh was always just what I needed to lift my spirits. I can’t remember how many nights I’d call him over to listen to my travesties and he would just sit there and hold me until the tears stopped. The memories came flooding back; Being wrapped in his arms, my face buried in his chest, the scent of pine trees filling my nose. Sometimes we would just stay like that for hours. No matter what he was always there for me. There’s no one else like Chris.

“Y/n let's go we’re gonna be late!” Alyssa yelled, snapping me out of my thoughts. I took one last look in the mirror, grabbed my purse and went downstairs to find Alyssa and Zabdiel cuddled up on my couch. “Hope you don’t mind, I let Zabdiel in while I was waiting for you.”

I laughed and shook my head, those two were always together. Their relationship was something I envied, they were such a cute couple. So in love, so vibrant. If there was ever a relationship to follow it was theirs. Even when the “fought” they always worked through it in such a healthy way. Definitely better than all of my past relationships.

“Okay I’m finally ready, let’s go.”

_______________________________________

During the walk from my apartment to the club, a small lump had formed in my throat. I was a little anxious to see Chris for the first time in a while. As we walked in i took in ambiance . The atmosphere was lively accompanied by blue and pink neon lights.

“Y/n! You made it!” Chris yelled over the music, immediately embracing you in the tightest hug you’ve ever felt. That familiar pine tree scent engulfed you again and immediately you felt relaxed. “I missed you so much I’m so happy you’re here!”

“I missed you too Chris.”

We pulled away from the hug and i took a step back to really look at Chris. Nothing had changed except that he’d added a few more tattoos to his collection on his arms. It was one of my favorite things about Chris. It was an attractive sight to see his arms covered in art.

“I’m gonna go get a drink, I need to catch up to you!” I giggled. Chris had obviously been a few shots ahead of everyone else. He threw his head back and a fit of laughter escaped his lips. “I’ll see you in a minute.”

I headed over to the bar and ordered a few shots. Each one slowly effecting me until I was finally gone. I sat on top of one of the bar stools and faced the crowd of people on the dance floor. Out of the corner of my eye i saw Alyssa and Zabdiel on the dance floor. They were going all out, their bodies working together to match the beat of the music. Suddenly I felt a hand go to my back, looking up I saw Christopher smiling back at me.

“Can we dance?” He ask, a hint of eagerness in his voice.

“Of course.”

I let him guide me to the floor, I turned around so that my back was pushed against his front. Our bodies moved together in sync, perfect harmony. His hand began to roam my body, from my hips to my arms to my stomach. The lights bounced off our skin. Maybe it was the atmosphere or the alcohol but I felt electric. I looked back at Chris, his brown eyes has turned dark. One of his hands moved to the back of your neck, pulling your head closer to his. My lips met his quickly.

The kiss was a bit sloppy due to us both being drunk, but nonetheless passionate. It was fiery, his lips tasting of corona and salt. In my head the kiss lasted hours. Even after we stopped I could still feel his lips on mine.

He leaned closer to my ear and whispered, “Let’s go back to your place.”

With the alcohol clouding my judgment, I nodded and grabbed his arm. We made our way out of the club quickly. Running down the street towards my apartment was like an adventure, we both stumbled a little causing us to burst out in giggles here and there. The sidewalk was lit up by store signs and street lights. We got there sooner than expected and made our way up to my door.

I fished for my keys in my purse. Chris was standing behind me, he pushed my hair to the side and began kissing my neck. I finally got the door open and we ran to my bedroom, laughing like two drunken idiots.

Chris grabbed my face and began kissing me again. His soft lips moved with mine perfect. We sat on the bed not breaking the heated makeout. My hands found their way to Chris’ hair, tangling my fingers in it, while his caressed either side of my face.

In the moment I began to realize what I was doing. I was drunkenly kissing my best friend, potentially about to do more.

I broke the kiss, “Wait wait wait, Chris que estamos haciendo? Is this okay?” I said pulling his hands from my face.

His brows knitted together in confusion, “What do you mean, don’t you want this?”

“Of course I do, more that I want to admit, but what if it ruins everything? What if we wake up tomorrow and regret everything?”

His hand rose back to my cheek, “It’s a risk I’m willing to take. I’ve wanted you for so long, no hay duda, no me arrepentiré.”

I trusted him, I always have. I placed my lips back on his, this time the kiss was softer, sweeter. Almost as if it was his way of assuring me. There was no turning back now, and honestly I wasn’t scared anymore.

#christopher velez #zabdiel de jesus #christopher velez imagine #christopher velez fic #cnco #cnco imagine #cnco fic #bella's 1000 follower contest

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redvelvetreel · 5 years

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Red Velvet Reel 11.1: Amorfino

Pairing: [Married] Spicyhoney (Underfell Papyrus x Underswap Papyrus)

Summary: Edge can't take it anymore, Stretch loses it, they kinda make up, and there's a cool new distraction that helps everyone move on.

Characters: Stretch (Underswap Papyrus) & Edge (Underfell Papyrus)

Contains: Mpreg/Skelepreg! Mood swings! Very eager to please Stretch and very confused Edge! Domestic Fluff! Arguments and misunderstandings and tears that are eventually resolved!

Rating: Teen and up! (I guess?)

Note: Direct continuation of Hiper-Billirubinado set a day or two after the last incident. An Amorfino is a form of popular song and short poem that blends romance with humor. Its an oral tradition based on improvisation of the Montubios, the mestizo people of the coastal countryside of Ecuador, particularly in the province of Manabí. Amorfinos are an important cultural tradition, and I’ve translated one into English below. :)

Allá arriba, en ese cerro, Upon that hill so high, tengo una cajita de oro Is a little golden bin, donde guardo mis suspiros Where my every tear and sigh, y las lágrimas que lloro. Is safely stored within.

This parentMOOD stuff was so weird. Stretch had watched Edge tidy up the kitchen after dinner hundreds of times, and it was usually a pretty boring, unremarkable chore. He never lingered before, because his husband was too fastidious to make it interesting.

So, watching Edge try to get a grape out from under the fridge shouldn’t have been that engrossing. But he was there for the full 20 minutes, clapping politely when his husband finally managed to grab it. Yay-

“Why are you still here?!” Edge demanded, holding the grape like a projectile. “Just to make fun of me?!”

“I wasn’t!” Stretch cringed preemptively, “Don’t grape me!”

“Cojudo!” Edge sighed in annoyance, but there was faint rustling from the trash can. Safe, for now. “What is your problem?!”

Maybe his husband wasn’t holding a grape anymore, but that sharp tone and obvious annoyance were gonna make Stretch break into a cold sweat. “There’s no problem!” He tapped at the doorway in a tuneless, stressed rhythm, “I was just wanted to see if you needed any help! Sorry if that bothered you-“

“Don’t act dumb with me!” Edge crossed his arms defiantly, giving him a positively withering glare, “You have been weird ever since you went to coffee with Blue and Red! Without me!”

“I have not! And I just didn’t want to bother you when you were resting!” Had he gone a little over the top with the comfort and reassurance thing? All he had been trying to do was prove to Edge how much he was loved and cherished! When was he going to get a break around here?! “You’re stressing over nothing, Babe!”

“Nothing?!” Scoffing in obvious disbelief, Edge threw his hands up to gesture towards their entire apartment, “Then what’s with all flowers and chocolates and cards and songs!? The hugs and kisses and massages!“

“Gifts!” Stretch was flabbergasted, “Is the fact you’re my dearly beloved husband not ‘motive’ enough for spoiling you a little? Pancake is obvious taking a toll on you, and I just want you to be happy!”

“I am happy!” Edge yelled angrily like someone who was not very happy at all. “But this is bribery! What did you do?! Or what didn’t you do?!”

“Nothing! And everything?!” Stretch thought back very hard, but there was nothing he could confess. He was terrible at keeping secrets, and the only thing that weighed heavily on his conscience was that whole will-death debacle. “I didn’t do anything bad! There’s nothing weird about me!”

“You’re not supposed to be keeping secrets from me!” Edge slammed his hands on the counter, looking more upset than before, “You promised me you were always going to be honest-”

"You’re the one who’s not being honest!” Stretch hated how his voice broke on that last syllable, feeling a familiar burn in the corner of his sockets, “You’re supposed to be honest and open with me! I’m supposed to help you with all your problems! I’m not-“

He rubbed at his sockets, “I don’t want to be a problem! I don’t want to make you sad!”

“I...” Edge looked so lost and worried and concerned it sent a pang through his heart. He sobbed into his hands miserably as his husband’s voice wavered in alarm, “I didn’t say any of that?!”

He stopped right in front of Stretch, looking very much like he wanted to touch him but unsure if it was a good idea, “I didn’t mean-” Stretch made the choice for him by gathering him up in his arms like a teddy bear.

“I’m sorry, Papí,” Edge said again, softly but with conviction, as he gently pet the back of his head. He kept the other around his husband’s shoulders in a protective hug. “You’re not a problem,” Punctuated by a gentle but firm little shake, “You’ve been very thoughtful and kind, and I have enjoyed the attention and presents. Thank you, they made me very happy.”

He ran his fingers along his neck, massaging every vertebrae, “I didn’t think I needed your help with the grape. It just made me nervous.” His words became a little less sure, “But if you could help me with, uh, dusting the, uh, top of the microwave- I mean, the refrigerator-“

“No,” Stretch kept his face burrowed against his husband’s chest, grip tight on the sweater. At least he managed to get all those tears out of his system. He felt kind of numb now. “It’s not that.”

“Then what?” Edge asked gently, a nervous undertone to his voice, “I didn’t lie about being very happy with your very nice gifts-”

“It’s not about the stuff!” Stretch was starting to get annoyed now, glaring up at his husband, “I don’t care about any of it! If you love it or hate it, that’s fine- I can give it back to the store or get more or whatever! It’s just stuff- I care about you!”

“I...” Edge patted his back in obvious appeasement, although he was still tense and unsure, “I care about you, too-“

“Stop telling me what you think I want to hear!” Stretch tore himself free from the suddenly suffocating hold, backing up until he was against the counter. “Tell me how you really feel!”

“It’s true!“ Edge started to protest, browbones furrowed in consternation as he took a step back, “I don’t understand-”

“Obviously!” Stretch cursed himself for not having a firmer grip on his temper, shaking his head hard enough something rattled. Okay. He started pacing to burn off the nervous, angry energy, pushing his frustration deep, deep down. Okay okay okay. He had to think rationally and calmly- Edge was starting to look at him like he was a hungry lion or something.

“I just!” He waited until he was sure he wasn’t going to start yelling again, “I just... I need you to answer this honestly for me, Edge!”

Stretch looked at his husband’s face with growing insecurity, mouth pulled into a nervous grimace, “Cause I have just been stressing and stressing about this and it’s driving me out of my mind!”

“...Ok.” Edge finally said at length, arms crossed over his stomach and a nervous tension to his posture, “What?”

“Do you hate living here in Underswap? Do you want to go home to Underfell? Do you regret coming here?”

Edge looked completely flabbergasted, opening and closing his mouth as though he had been asked to explain the finer details of the Core’s magical processes. “...Wha-”

Stretch scrubbed at his skull, trying to keep his tone from getting too agitated, “Are you happy... being with me? Having our kid? Just... satisfied with... you know, the way everything has been going? Is everything good?” He started pacing again, “Cause if it’s not good, if I’m no good, I need you to tell me so I can become good for you, and so Pancake will think I’m good, too. So, please tell me if you’re honestly happy and I’m doing good-”

“Yes.” That simple, firm answer threw him for a loop.

“But...” That was exactly what he wanted to hear and everything he had been hoping Edge would say- why wasn’t he satisfied with it?! “Don’t you miss Underfell? Don’t you want to go home? I heard you talking to Comic...”

“Yes.” Before he could react to that admission, Edge took his hand gently. Still gave Stretch enough space so he wouldn’t feel trapped, but close enough to be physically reassuring. “Of course I miss Underfell. And I won’t lie to you: some days I wish I could go back.”

Edge put his husband’s hand on his chest, right above his soul. “But.” He kept his own hand there, warm and reassuring, “If I did not want to be here, I would not have come. And I would not stay.”

Stretch’s hand was close enough to his husband’s soul that he could feel the intent- not emotionally or magically like he was used to, but physically. It was a strange, feather-light sensation on the tips of his fingers and his palm, kind of like what he assumed a heartbeat would feel like... but it penetrated deep into his own soul, like the emotions and intent were his own. It was more than a little dizzying.

“This is my home.” Certainty. “This is where I belong.” Happiness. “This is where I want to be.” Satisfaction. “This is where my future is, with my stupid but still charming husband that I love because he makes me happy more often than angry.“ Love. “And this is where our babybones is going to grow up-” Hope.

That broke him, and whatever composure Stretch had left snapped. “I’m so sorry,” He sobbed, embarrassingly loud and wet, burying his face right back into Edge’s chest. It was still faintly damp from earlier, but Edge held him close again as though he didn’t really mind it. His hubby was the absolute best. “I was just so scared-“

“It’s okay.” Edge nuzzled against the top of his skull with obvious affection, “But now you know.” There was a silent pause, but Stretch heard the ‘What you always should have always known, dumbass’ loud and clear. “I’m not going to leave you to go back to Underfell. So calm down. Stop... doing all this. Acting like this. Please.”

Stretch nodded, trying to regulate his breathing, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you or stress you out.”

He wiped at his eyes as he sniffled loudly, “I just feel like this parentMOOD is getting worse and worse, like I’m losing my mind to these stupid mood swings. I wish I didn’t feel this way, but I don’t know how to stop, Pap. Near you, away from you, alone or with friends- when is this going to stop?”

“Well. We’ll see the Doctor tomorrow. I’ll ask her to take a look at you too, see if she can help you calm down.” Edge pat Stretch’s head like he might a dog, gently pulling away to start rummaging in a nearby cupboard. “For now, let me make you some tea. That should help you relax.”

“I’m so sorry for all this. Pancake is really doing a number on me-“ Stretch rubbed at his cheeks guiltily, “Oh, did I ever explain that to you? Do you even know what’s going on? Aw man, I’m sorry, I’m the worst. Red didn’t know what it was so maybe-“

“I understand,” Edge shushed him quietly, guiding him into a chair, “Blue explained to me about it, and I looked it up on the Pregnancy HUD. Just concentrate on calming.”

“Uh?” Stretch pulled his legs against his chest, resting his chin on his knees. Edge would have to forgive his feet on the chair this once. “Ok. You looked it up on the what?”

“Um,” Edge went about filling the kettle with water before putting it on the stove, “The Pregnancy HUD. The Baby Monitor? Whatever, there’s a program that’s like a book on monster pregnancy. It’s the square with the little squares.”

“Chuta!” He sighed, bringing down a black mug with multicolor bones on it. That was a favorite, a gift from old Fluffers himself. “I don’t have any Manzanís tea, but I got some of this ‘Chamomile’ from your King. It’s a human plant, but it’s supposed to be soothing-”

“I’ll drink anything you give me, darlin’,” Stretch told him honestly, watching his husband squirt a really extra generous amount of honey into the mug. He must still be really worried. “But I have no idea what you’re talking about, Babe. It’s not the dating HUD?”

“No...” Edge looked like he had something more to say, but just then the kettle started whistling, “I’ll show it to you-“

Stretch barely managed to bite back a warning as Edge grabbed it without an oven mitt. It was.... it was too much to expect his husband to use an oven mitt for pouring tea, right?

“I will show you the pregnancy HUD-“ Edge was definitely getting annoyed again, a warning edge to his voice, “If you stop being so exaggerated.”

He put the steaming mug in front of Stretch, putting his hands on his hips, “Pancake is in charge of your emotions, but you are in charge of how you act on them. I’m not going to hold the Intent against you- only your ACTS.”

That was... fair. Okay. He could keep it together for the rest of the night, probably. “I’ll... do my best. Sorry-“

“And stop apologizing!” Edge huffed as he sat himself down directly in Stretch’s lap, leaning back against his husband’s chest. Well. If he was still mad, he wouldn’t sit on him, right?

Slowly, Stretch wrapped his arms around Edge’s waist to rest lightly on the ectostomach. A lot of conflicting emotions hit him at once, so he just rested his chin on his husband’s shoulder. And gave the Souling a little squeeze.

“We’ll plan better for our next child,” Edge told him kindly, patting his hands before putting a hand over his own soul and pressing down-

“Wooaaaah?!”

#spicyhoney #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #skelepreg #fanfic #redvelvetreel

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susannaprouse · 5 years

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Seven - Latacunga & Quilotoa Loop, Day One

We had an early start and early breakfast at our hostel in Latacunga before making our way to the bus station to go to the starting point for our 3-day Quilotoa Hike. The hike is something we'd both put a lot of thought and planning into as we were doing it on our own and weren't sure how it was going to go. It's safe to say we were both nervous, Mike about navigating and me as to whether I'd actually be able to do it or not.

The bus journey took us through the beautiful Ecuador mountains and all the types of weather. One minute it was beautifully sunny and the next grey and foggy. We were both hoping for the former on our first day's hike.

We arrived in Sigchos, a tiny town with not much in it. The sun was beating down, and it was very warm. We debated getting more snacks but thought better of it when we remembered we'd have to be carrying anything we bought. Instead the hike began.

The first hour was so lovely, it was all downhill through the most beautiful scenery, rolling hills, small farms, rushing rivers. I knew the worst was to come but I really didn't expect it to be so bad.

We soon arrived at our first hill and this hill was steep. It was also extremely hot with no shade. The ascent was 500m which normally wouldn't be too bad for me but I didn't realise quite how much the altitude would affect me. I was out of breath within 15 paces, my legs felt like lead and jelly at the same time and my head was spinning. I felt awful. People were overtaking us and what made things worse was the thought that this was the easiest day of the hike. I cried. Not sobbing, just a few tears. I felt pathetic and frustrated. I knew my body could do this but also felt like it was letting me down and I felt so bad for Mike as I know he'd have been up the hill very quickly. As always he was patient and encouraging and didn't mind that I had to get my breath back and head clear every 5 minutes.

Eventually we made it to the top. I was pleased but still really worried about the next 2 days of hiking which would be a longer climb and at a higher altitude.

We finally made it to Isinlivi, our first stop on the loop. We arrived at our hostel tired but happy, when the guy on reception found out we'd walked from Sigchos in 3 hours 15 he said we were really fast given how hot it had been! I was so relieved as I'd worked myself up thinking I was the slowest person ever. Apparently the day before it had rained all day so we counted our blessings and hoped the weather held for the next few days.

Our hostel was AMAZING, by far the nicest hostel we'd ever stayed at. We had a small private room (with bunk beds ha!), there was a lovely seating area inside and outside with the most amazing view, a resident St Bernard called Baloo who I fell in love with and, best of all, a sauna and hot tub!!! My aching legs were ready!

We spent the afternoon showering, eating cheese toasties (with cheese made in the village), reading, cuddling Baloo and enjoying the sauna and hot tub. There was no WiFi which made the experience even more enjoyable.

Dinner was included in the hostel price (excellent!) so at 6.45 we found a table and were joined by a middle-aged couple from Belgium, a girl our age from Italy and a family from Canada. We had such a nice evening chatting with everyone, it was so nice to speak to people from all over and of all sorts of ages. Dinner was also good - pea soup, a kind of upside down cottage pie and cake with handmade ice cream.

After dinner we were exhausted but put off bed with a quick game of bilingual Scrabble, on a Spanish board with letters such as ñ worth 10 points! We then went back to our room at the acceptable time of 9pm, read for a while and were asleep by 9.30!

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bigheartbigfart · 6 years

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Hermione Granger and the New School Ch. 2

Hey, guys!

I finally came out with Chapter 2! I’m trying to follow the HP chapters, so that I don’t miss anything, so it’s about to get real interesting! Stay tuned!!

(I’m leaving for Ecuador soon and would appreciate any donations! Thank you!)

⛤ ⛤ ⛤ ⛤ Commission ⛤ ⛤ ⛤Donate ⛤ ⛤ ⛤Masterlist ⛤ ⛤ ⛤ ⛤

⛤ ⛤ ⛤ ⛤ ⛤ ⛤ ⛤ ⛤ ⛤ ⛤ ⛤ Ch. 1 ⛤ Ch.2 ⛤ ⛤ ⛤ ⛤ ⛤ ⛤ ⛤ ⛤ ⛤ ⛤

Fandom: Harry Potter

Pairing: Hermione being the damn bad ass that she is.

Type: Alternate Perspective

Hermione's parents were well off, but they knew it would be better for their daughter to attend a public school; after all, a child's social-emotional growth is just as important as their intellectual growth. Mr. and Mrs. Granger really wanted Hermione to grow up in a more diverse population than where they lived, so that she could learn acceptance of others before learning anything that could be taught in a classroom. Fortunately, accepting others came easily to Hermione, she was always willing to help others in any way that she could. Unfortunately, the kids who Hermione went to school with did not treat Hermione as kindly.

Hermione knew she was smart, because she worked for it. She studied with her teachers or parents after school and she studied by herself long after bedtime. She wanted to make the adults in her life proud and she hoped to grow up to be as smart and caring as her parents. The constant praise that Hermione received, for her intelligence, from the adults around her, let her know that all her hard work was paying off. Her classmates, on the other hand, did not view her intellectual success in the same way. They taunted her for being a teacher's pet, for being a bookworm, and for being a know it all. The only reason that anyone would choose to be a partner with her, in class, was so that they did not have to do any of the work.

The bullying that Hermione received was pretty mild, until she got a little bit older and the tests became a little bit harder. The tests weren’t any harder for Hermione, who studied diligently, but the kids in her class began struggling. Therefore, everyone in class wanted to sit next to Hermione, be partners with Hermione, but they did not want to be friends with Hermione, they only wanted to cheat off of her. One day, during a math test, Hermione noticed the boy next to her was copying her answers. Hermione did not approve of cheating. It was dishonest and it made students feel like they did not have to put in any effort to study on their own. Especially since Hermione worked so hard to get to the intellectual level that she was at. Usually, she would just let the copying of answers slide, but she had stayed up so late last night, practicing her math facts and making sure that she memorized all of the equations and formulas. Therefore, seeing this kid, who had not studied or even paid attention in class, steal her answers made her blood boil. Hermione could feel her cheeks turning red, as she tried to cover up her answers, but it did not deter his cheating in the slightest. If only the teacher could look over here, right now. She would catch him red handed! Hermione thought. But the teacher was absorbed in her own work, and did not notice the cheating that was going on in the back of the classroom.

Hermione tried to calm herself down and ignore the boy, but the air was getting thicker and she could feel an unexpected energy starting from the base of her skull to her finger tips. It felt like static building up inside her. She began to fidget nervously, afraid that she might be dangerously ill. I need to go to the nurse. Hermione thought, she looked down at her test and back at the boy next to her. It's because of him. If he wasn't cheating off of me, I wouldn't be feeling so sick now. And if I leave… if I leave… he will keep cheating! Without thinking, Hermione moved all of her energy onto that boy. All of her static energy began to build up in her hands. Hermione was just about to get up and ask to go to the nurse, feeling as though her situation was now a medical emergency, when she heard a loud snap followed by a hard thud. She head spun to the boy beside her, his pencil had snapped in half, suddenly, causing him to fall backwards in surprise. From the floor, he flashed Hermione a fearful look, as if she caused his pencil to explode. That's impossible. Hermione thought, although a small seed of doubt had been planted in her mind, Did I do that?

After that day, the bullying became worse. Rumors had spread that Hermione was a witch, some even said she was a demon or the devil in disguise. It didn't help that Hermione had wild tendrils of curly hair that laid like a dark cloud around her head. Her eyes sometimes looked as though they could start a fire. She certainly looked like a witch, at least to her classmates.

Hermione had always been proud of who she was and what she look like; her mother was beautiful and people sad that she looked just like her mother. But she began to doubt herself, whenever kids bullied her at recess or snickered about her in class. She began to withdraw herself. Although she still studied hard and continued to excel in her classwork, she stopped raising her hand in class and she became anxious when the kids had to do group work. By the time that Hermione got on bus, to go home, everyday, she was miserable. She sat in an empty seat and stuck her backpack on the side of her. She would bury her nose in a book and hope that her torment for the day would finally come to an end.

Hermione, however never wanted to worry her parents, who she knew always worried. Luckily the teachers had not caught on to the bullying that was happening, so there had been no phone call home to explain what was going on at school. When she got home, she would go straight to her room, throw herself on her bed, and cry. Her parents had always respected her privacy and they must have assumed that she was going straight up to her room to study. After half an hour, she would be able to calm herself down. By the time her parents would come to tell her that dinner was ready, they would find her studying quietly at her desk. Hermione would go downstairs, eat with her parents and discuss all the new things that she had learned at school. Sometimes, her parents asked her about her friends. Hermione would mumble some random names and change the subject.

After dinner, the family would spend an hour or two together, before they would go off to do their nightly routines. This was Hermione’s favorite part of her day, because normally the Grangers would play a game or watch a movie together. Hermione could spend time with her parents without their questions and concerns. Best of all, she felt so warm when she could hear her parents laugh together. These small moments between her parents were not exactly rare, but Hermione thought each one was beautiful. A quick kiss, holding hands, a slight caress of the cheek. She always hoped for a love as true and strong as theirs. And at this point in her life, she just hoped for any companionship as true as theirs, even if it were simply a friendship.

When Hermione went up to bed, at the end of the night, she always found it hard to sleep. She would lie awake thinking of ways that she could redeem herself in the eyes of her peers. She feared that if she told a teacher, or her parents, the kids would only hate her more. She just wanted the bullying to stop. When Hermione did manage to finally fall asleep, she had nightmares about disembodied laughter following her down the hallways of school. She could never find the source of the laughter, but it was everywhere, and it was dark and dry. She eventually would become trapped by it and be forced to cover her ears and try to find an escape from the school. Each morning, she would wake up panting and sweating.

One day, when she was halfway through grade 4, Hermione decided that enough was enough. No one was going to stop bullying her, unless she stood up for herself. That day, she came to school with her head held high and her fists clenched. During recess, that same day, some kids started to circle around her and became to taunt her. Hermione stood her ground, she was not going to run and hide in the girls’ room like she had in the past. She could feel electricity welling up inside of her, running up and down her spine, she felt a terrifying sort of excitement that made her shudder with anticipation. She had been waiting to stand up for herself for a long time. There was no hiding now.

“Stop it, right now!” She yelled at the four kids who were circling her. The kids faltered for a second. This was the first time that Hermione had ever talked back to someone that was bullying her. Those kids might not have even known what her voice sounded like. It was high and nasally; it rang like a whistle in the ears of those kids. To some, it must have sounded like a threat. They looked at who must have been considered their leader, waiting for some sort of signal of what to do next.

“Yeah?” The leader said, with his hands on his hips, “what are you gonna do to stop us, witch?”

“I-I w-will -” Hermione stuttered. Her confidence that had been so strong only a few second before, but now that she truly had to defend herself, she felt that confidence failing. She would give anything to disappear, to go back inside and sit in the library with a book. Forget this whole thing. The kids picked up on her fear and started laughing and circling around her again. They shouted out insults and one of the kids even jumped out and gave her a shove. Hermione stumbled and fell onto her knees. Tears began to rim her eyes and her lips trembled. When she closed her eyes, however, she could see a swirl of electricity dancing just behind her eyelids and it made her heart flutter. She knew what it was that was happening, at least she thought she did. She stood and balled her fists. This was the last straw, she would never allow this bullying to ever happen again; she was filled with something strong and dangerous, a power that would help her conquer her bullies, she was sure of it. Later, the group of bullies would swear that this energy made Hermione’s hair float around her, as if she were filled with static. They said that it confirmed that she was a witch.

“I SAID STOP!” She shouted. Her voice carried an invisible force and the leader was pushed to the ground. The four kids looked at her in terror. For a minute there was a silence, everyone involved appear to be frozen in awe. Finally, the kids were able to get up shakily and stumble away. None of them screamed, it was as if it were frozen on their lips. By that time, a crowd of kids had formed and had seen the entire thing happen. She watched as kids began to whisper to each other wide-eyed, a few even ran away, scared that they would be next. Hermione’s confidence had drained once again, along with the static energy that had been feverishly dancing in her arms and legs. Her face flushed and her eyes filled with tears. Then Hermione did what she had promised herself she wasn’t going to do: she ran into the bathroom and locked herself in one of the stalls. She was beginning to realize that things would never change, because she would never change. She was always going to be different, and weird.

Unfortunately, Hermione wasn’t completely correct. Things did change, but they did not improve. Instead of getting bullied, she was left alone. Completely alone. Hermione was devastated, but she told herself that at least it would be easier to concentrate on her studies, because people were finally leaving her alone. And at least she didn’t have to hide in the girls’ bathroom anymore, because she wasn’t really getting bullied.

Luckily for Hermione, things would be changing again really soon....

#hp #harry potter #hermione #hermione granger #bullying #nightmares #creative #writing #fanfics #alternate perspective #witch #wizard #chapter 2 #donate #commission #new school #hogwarts #magic

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judeonthemove · 6 years

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One Hundred And Nine Beds

We loved Ecuador so much we stayed an extra day. Although that's not strictly true, it sounds much better than: despite having a bulletproof plan for getting to the airport, arriving there four hours ahead of our flight, and sitting for two hours at what was initially promoted as the correct gate, we somehow conspired to miss our flight. We still have no idea when they changed the gate, why we didn't notice, or what on earth happened to their customer service announcements. Tiredness, relaxation and misplaced trust lulled us into false sense of security and we were rewarded with a monumental fuck up and no hint of an apology. There are few things you want to experience less at a foreign airport than the icicle stab in your guts of realising you are stuck in a territorial no-man's land, on the wrong side of a continent, facing a temporal and financial haemorrhage that you have to resolve in another language. There are the immediate practical problems to deal with of course, but also the wave of humiliation and self-recrimination. How on earth did we manage to make their mess into our problem? Staff members trooped us off around the airport getting our exit stamps annulled, and down to the basement where our rucksacks lay unceremoniously dumped by a door next to the tarmac. Just to underline our misdemeanours the narcotics police then proceeded to dismantle our bags. It was surreal and strangely violating to see your sorry pile of belongings through a stranger's eyes; that the backbone of your life for ten months is nothing but crap. Given that we weren't drug smugglers, we were allowed to proceed with our walk of shame back through security and baggage reclaim before facing the inevitable at the airline ticket desk. Mercifully the woman on duty had fluent English and quickly reassured us that for the bargain price of a lost day and $198 we could still get to Rio de Janeiro. Painful, but nothing like as wounding as I'd feared. There was nothing but a web address to consult about our complaints, and we were sent off into the night.

Reluctant to bankrupt ourselves further and urgently feeling in need of some control we found a nearby town on the map, jumped on a local bus, and hustled down a dark, desolate road in search of accommodation. Our hunch that anywhere that close to an airport would feature hostals was correct and we holed up for the night, spending our last few dollars on pizza and beer, and hurriedly trying to make contact with our hotel in Rio. It was a prime case of sod's law that having decided to blow the accommodation budget on our final lodgings (a whole £30 a night, woooooooh!), we wantonly discarded a night of our booking. So here we are, back at Quito airport, paranoidly sat below the departures board at our supposed gate. Three hours should do it today.

...

Shortly after dawn we were hurtling through the streets of Rio on a transfer bus, astonished at seeing a huge high rise city again. Rio was covered in simple black graffiti tags at street level and at impossible heights all over tower blocks, bridges, and industrial buildings. The city had the appearance of having been infected with a rash of kanji. Delivered just a block from our hotel, we weaved around encampments of rough sleepers. At six in the morning it was already hot, and the bracing smell of human waste and desperation competed with the tropical plants of the park. While we might have been late, at least we had a bed to sleep in and a home to go back to. The kindly night receptionist was waiting for us and pointed out that the breakfast buffet had just opened. A quality breakfast was one of our pre-requisites when deciding where to stay so there was quite a weight of expectation upon it. Still wired from the events of the previous thirty-six hours, and suffering from no sleep and another two hour forward time jump, we were a bit over-excitable. There was a lift, carpeted hallways, key-cards, and a great room with a massive bed and powerful, hot shower. It could have been the Ritz and not felt like a better treat. We fell on the breakfast buffet like vultures then passed out until the late afternoon.

Other than for references to the quality night life, ‘sketchy' was the main adjective we’d seen used in relation our new neighbourhood of Lapa. We divested ourselves of valuables and ventured out on a quest for orientation, dinner and some good old Brazilian beer. Finding ourselves in a sports bar we utilised our best pointing and smiling technique in the acquisition of some tea. Portuguese might look like Spanish, but it sounds like Hungarian and we were utterly clueless once more. After fuelling up, some more beer was in order and it just so happens that Rio is full of actual bars, not cafes that might serve beer, but beer emporia that might serve snacks. Yes the area was a bit moody in places, but not to the extent that you'd hide in your hotel, and there was more than a hint of promise for the weekend. We soaked it up for a while then headed back, detouring by the hotel roof to survey the scene. We were surprised to find the view dominated by a terrifying Mayan temple-style ziggurat in brutalist concrete. Behind the local aqueduct-cum-tourist tramline it lurked, gigantic and awful. A swift search revealed it was a cathedral, possibly the most dystopian fantasy cathedral ever.

Rio being a big city, we had to be modest with our expectations of what was achievable in a few days. We stayed local on the first morning, visiting the bohemian hillside neighbourhood of Santa Theresa via the tram. At the top was a theatre in a ruined colonial villa and an art gallery with marmosets in the garden. The views towards Sugar Loaf Mountain and Christ the Redeemer helped shape our itinerary for the remainder of the week. We picked around the twisty cobbled streets and managed not to punch the army of selfie-takers on the Selarón Stairs. The artist burned himself to death at the foot of his meticulously tiled staircase but this grisly fact seemed to be lost on the crowd as they posed and obstructed on the same spot. Once in possession of the right kind of ticket, we zipped off on the metro to check out Ipanema beach. James is very much a mogwai when it comes to beaches and should never be made wet or sandy, but once installed on a rented chair even he admitted it was an excellent place and suggested we should do some more beachiness. In my imagination, the beaches of Rio are full of impossibly beautiful people so it was encouraging to find all sorts present and enjoying themselves. Beach life is serious business, involving lots of team sports, sexy casual style, and alcohol. Enterprising stalls set up each day supplying chairs, parasols and drinks, and disappear again at sunset spirited away in VW campervans. Despite the breaking waves I managed a bit of a swim in the Atlantic and we chilled out as the sun went down. It was time to get formally acquainted with the caipirinha, Brazil's national drink. I suspect that caipirinha is viewed as some sort of human right in Brazil. It is ubiquitous, and invariably both the cheapest drink available and blindingly strong. It's also delicious of course, which set the tone for the remainder of the week.

Thursday saw us on the cable car up to Sugarloaf Mountain, for a spectacular view of the city and the incoming weather. On the way there we'd walked past the very swanky yacht club and therefore had a second chance to be envious, admiring the miniature yachts from above as they flew across the bay. The irony is there is no ‘January River' as Rio de Janeiro translates, the first Europeans to discover the place were mistaken. Guanabara Bay certainly looked like a mighty fine sailing ground though. We followed the short nature walk at the top and soon became enveloped in increasingly thick cloud. With the wind picking up and Rio now largely invisible, we descended once more. We pursued our plan to visit Copacabana but remained beach adjacent, supping caipirinhas and attempting to understand the rules of the foot/volley-ball hybrid game everyone plays. The sea did not look too safe for swimming, and as the sun went down it started to rain with a vengeance. Lightning pounded the sky above the mountains and ocean. Eventually we had to acknowledge it wasn't going to stop and had to make a run for it. Drenched, but still warm and cheerful we grabbed some food and called it a night. Across the road from our hotel, a mysterious festival was being set up.

We have breakfasted incrementally later as the week has progressed, which may or may not relate to the exponential increase in our alcohol consumption. Getting mobilised eventually on Friday morning, we went to investigate the intimidating cathedral. Like a reverse tardis it somehow seemed smaller on the inside. Smaller but still a vast open space with stained glass streaming down the walls from a glass cross in the roof. It was calm, cool and bold. Arriving at the modern art gallery by a rather leisurely midday was not a problem, as it emerged they only opened at midday, thus giving our tardiness the appearance of planning. Fully arted up we went for a wander round the waterfront and ran into what might have been some sort of naval graduation ceremony. Military bands in full uniform greeted dignitaries while bodyguards watched over the proceedings. We admired the architecture of one of Rio's newest museums but chose Coke and churros outside over going in. Our diabetes-baiting was rewarded with more rain so we trotted back to base for a disco nap as Rio geared up for Friday night.

When we re-emerged, Lapa had transformed itself into party central with innumerable samba bars featuring live bands. Off-licences doubled as bars, with crowds ranged across the pavements or sitting on the city's shared bicycles. Bar stalls crowded in the central reservation, and people with modified bikes and hand carts sold booze on the move. This was not the place for sobriety. While our ruined clothes made us look a bit down at heel inside the hotel, we fitted right in on the street. Urine, drains and cigarette smoke competed with frying snack food and the ever present zing of lime wedges. Groups of friends sang and danced in and around the bars, dodging traffic as the crowds swelled into the road. The mystery festival turned out to be a Christian music weekender. One couldn't help but feel they were fighting a losing battle. We lined our stomachs and got into the spirit of things at a restaurant before going on to a bar. The early hours found us under the aqueduct arches, clutching mind-bendingly strong, half-litre, 90p caipirinhas, and swaying to Christian rock in the rain.

Saturday was a slow start, followed by a restorative breakfast and post-breakfast sleep. We eventually hauled ourselves back up to Santa Theresa for a longer look around and a nice walk in the sunshine. After my ordering error in Baños I finally got stroganoff for my tea, and hoped this wouldn't be an ill-advised choice ahead of another night on the beers. We'd noticed protesters gathering earlier in the day, and many of them were partying in Lapa. Clearly it was something to do with next week's general election. The reported front-runner, representing the hard right, is currently recovering from being stabbed. These cheerful revellers were altogether more peaceful in their opposition to him, choosing stickers, glitter and dancing in the street as their weapons of choice. We steered clear of the cocktails but still made a poor attempt at getting a slightly earlier night. We looked up the hashtag of the campaign stickers and chanting, and discovered that #elenão meant #nothim, a cry of protest against misogyny, homophobia and racism.

Sunday, appropriately enough, involved a visit to Giant Jesus, or Christ the Redeemer as the statue is known to all but me. The figure watches over the city from high above and, while prominent, had seemed smaller than expected from the vantage points we'd had up to then. A Swiss-style train took us from the base of the mountain, up the steep, forested slopes to the undeniably enormous statue. All around the main platform, people lay prostrate at the feet of Christ. They weren't praying, or indeed even looking at the statue, but rather were all busily taking photos of each other; lying on the ground to get the same crucial shot from below. Arms outstretched, their backs to the statue, superimposing themselves over one of the modern wonders of the world. While the sights on the viewing decks were plain annoying, the views from them were superb, taking in the bay, mountains, city and beaches in 360°. We could have happily stayed up there for hours, but we'd promised ourselves a second crack at Copacabana and daylight hours were running short. Arriving on the bus, it was immediately apparent that some huge party was in full swing. The dual carriageway next to the beach was closed to traffic and full of floats and thousands of people. It was a powerful cross between a Pride parade and political rally. The tide was up and the sea so rough that lifeguards were patrolling on jet-skis and preventing people from swimming. My swim kit stayed in my bag and rather than sit on the beach as planned, we grabbed a drink and joined in. While it might not have been our election, it was a great opportunity to show solidarity. We picked a sound system we liked and danced alongside the slow moving lorry down the full length of Copacabana. We arrived several hours later hammered, starving and covered in glitter. Ending as we began in Santiago, our final dinner in this continent involved meat on chips, a South American staple. Clearly we couldn't just leave it there, as Sunday night samba was in full swing back in Lapa. Street-stall caipirinhas in hand we stood on the pavement admiring other people's dance moves and looking back on our trip. Our livers are quietly glad we are not staying longer.

We believe we have slept in one hundred and nine beds over the past ten months. This includes a bamboo stretcher in the forests of Laos, a tent in Thailand, wild campsites in an Australian van, and a boat down the Amazon. It does not account for all the overnight planes, trains and buses that we have variously enjoyed and endured. Thinking of it like this it seems incredible, yet here we are; it's the first of October and we're about to go home. Many of my clothes are about to go in the bin, together with the owl-patterned bag that has been slung across my body almost every day and is a veteran of our Japan our India trips before that. It's like discarding faithful friends. I have no idea what's coming next and am merrily avoiding thinking about it until we're home and the dust settles. As I lie here in Rio thinking of what a wonder, challenge and privilege it has been to do this, our tiny, huge earth rotates beneath me. We will soon be racing back across the Atlantic to the lovely Peels who will await us at Heathrow. For those of you who have managed to read this far, you’ve got through eighteen of these missives and who knows how many tens of thousands of words. Thank you for your interest, it's been lovely to have someone else to talk to.

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rebekah-in-korea-blog · 6 years

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My First Two Weeks in Korea (8/17-8/30)

I have been in Korea for two weeks so far and it has been one of the most exciting two weeks of my life.

I landed around lunchtime on August 17 (10pm at home in Dallas!) and stayed in Seoul for the weekend with my “unnies” (older sister figures) Songhyeon and Minseo. We went to arcades, solved an escape room, and walked around just a few of the many distinct neighborhoods of Seoul. My favorite pace by far was a small coffee shop that shared a space with a flower shop, so the flower shop got to advertise by decorating the coffee shop. It was beautiful.

Korea has so many hills, but that did not stop them from using every bit of space they could to build more buildings and fit more apartments and shops. This made it so much different from the Dallas area, which I was used to.

After I had purchased the plane tickets to arrive a couple days before my exchange student orientation began, my favorite Kpop group Mamamoo announced that they were doing a full concert in Seoul on August 18. Full-length concerts by K-pop acts are rare, so it was a blessed coincidence, and I got to see them. (Mamamoo is a very famous group in Korea. Every Korean I speak to is pretty jealous that I got to see them in their sold-out concert, hehe.) The concert was 3.5 hours with no opening acts or intermission, with a live band and horn section. Their live vocals were phenomenal and they had the stamina to remain energetic the whole time. My favorite song live was Piano Man.

After my exciting weekend exploring just a couple of the many distinct neighborhoods of Seoul I needed to go to Handong Global University in Pohang on August 19. Pohang is across the country from Seoul, so on the high-speed KTX train, it is a 2.5 hour ride.

Pohang is a small town in Korea just a 2 minute bus ride from the ocean, but that does not stop it from having many people and many options for shopping and fun days out. Something that I observed in Seoul that is consistent in even the small town of Pohang is that storefront space is very valuable. Every small space can fit another shop. Shops have a small width but are long, and from there the buildings get taller with more and more shops. Every shop wants to grab your attention, so the nighttime streets are well-lit with the many bright signs of all the shops.

You can tell when you’re in the shopping area of any town or city when you are walking and hear 3 different hit K-pop songs in one minute. As a K-pop fan, I’m not complaining, even when I hear a song I do not like, because it’s just one reminder after another that I am on the other side of the world! (However, I have heard the chorus to Twice’s “Dance the Night Away” enough times for a lifetime...)

My orientation at Handong Global University lasted a full week. On Monday, I hated the idea of an orientation that long. By Tuesday, I adored my team so much that I wanted to spend every day with them. My friends are from 5 different continents! (From left to right: Lennart from the Netherlands; Daniel from Ecuador; Uyanga from Mongolia in the back with sunglasses; Britta from the Netherlands; David from California, US; Hyebin, a Korean missionary kid in Mongolia; me; Ritha from Rwanda; Kasey from Ohio, US; Temuulen from Mongolia... then a staff guy who came to pose with us.)

My dorm room is number 404 (I’m still having trouble finding it) so it is on the fourth floor. I share the room with 3 other girls. (I will never complain about having to share a room with one other person again in my life!) I’ve noticed that Koreans are reeeaaally good at taking advantage of every bit of space to make it as usable as possible. Everyone can easily store all their stuff in the small corner that they have, and there’s really no need to decorate. As long as it functions as a place to sleep and a place to study, they are happy.

The view from my room is part of campus. I get a good view of the sunset.

Handong Global University is on a hill, so I am always excited when I have a class on the second or third floor. If the classroom has a window, I can see all the way to downtown Pohang. Across the hall, the girls in 405 get a view of the nearby mountain and downtown Pohang. (I’m just a little bit jealous....)

The end of orientation and the first few days of my classes were rainy. Even though the sky was grey, there were many colorful umbrellas to give the views a splash of life.

The rain was nice. It made the days cool down. Koreans don’t use their ACs and heaters quite as much as Americans do. They also do not sweat as much as Westerners do. I will go to class in an uncomfortably warm room, sweltering and sweating, and I will look around to notice that no one else has broken a sweat. Awkward! I hear things will start cooling down in a couple weeks, so I am excited for the cold. (I am also excited to start wearing cute sweaters.)

Some stories:

Koreans are so kind in general, especially to foreigners. Every time I struggle with something on campus that involves an understanding of Korean beyond by abilities, students around me notice and come to help right away. The great thing about being a white person when visiting Korea is that it is clear that I am foreign, and when I speak Korean, it is clear that I am trying my best. When I go to a coffee shop and give my order in Korean, young Koreans smile pleasant, and older Koreans beam with a big, toothy smile. They are very encouraging.

The other day, I was in downtown, trying to get laundry detergent to wash my clothes. I stood in the detergent section, and I only knew the word for “laundry”, so all the words on the products were beyond me. I turned to the couple in their 20s next to me and asked in Korean “Excuse me,” (they jumped, not expecting me to speak to them.) “I am a college student. I don’t know these words. Which one should I buy?” They began looking over each one for me, discussing it with each other for a few minutes. Then they handed me one, saying “this one is good!” I thanked them, bowing and smiling, and walked away with it. Five minutes later, on another floor of the store, I saw them again, running up to me with a different. “This one is better! It is easier to use!” they said. They proceeded to use very simple Korean words and hand motions to explain the instructions on the back.

Also, to improve my Korean listening and understanding, I decided to take a class completely in Korean, one that would not transfer to my home university. There’s no pressure to pass. I just have to try my very best! I am taking German 1, or 독일어1. I took German in high school, so hopefully that will all come back. When I registered for the class, I emailed the professor in Korean and told him “I know the class is in Korean. I am taking this class to improve my Korean because I am an American. I will try my best to succeed in your class!” The professor was very encouraging. During the first lecture, he spoke clearly and simply to the whole class. After the lecture, he made sure to approach me and ask if everything was okay and if I was overwhelmed by his lecture.

I am so grateful for the gentle kindness that strangers show me here.

There are so many stories, but it would take so long to tell, because every day is rich with new experiences that help me learn. For now, I will go to my next classes. I am sitting in one of the four (FOUR!) coffee shops on campus. (Vanilla lattes are $3! My college student wallet is so grateful, but I will probably buy so many that I will end up more broke....) Have a wonderful day!

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katoktm4 · 6 years

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Chilly start

Day 1 Quito, Ecuador

After three flights and a 6:30 a.m arrival, I knew I had to keep moving or I would lose an entire day...Caroline arrived via Amsterdam to Iceland to Baltimore to Quito at midnight. We both arrived to this perfect Airbnb exhausted. The Airbnb is beautiful spacious and comfortable. It is almost two separate apartments. (See photos). We were both starving, so in my plane outfit off we went to find breakfast...too early at 8:00! Almost nothing open. But we did find a cute cafe on the main plaza and had empanadas, scrambled eggs, fresh strange fruit juice, and coffee. Then walked back just for me to change clothes and out the door we went. Who would ever believe that two blocks away on the Grand Plaza where the president lives, Mike Pence is visiting tomorrow! OMG! Today there were 100’s of police, army, security, helicopters and more doing “simulations” for tomorrow. The band was on the presidential balcony practicing, the soldiers were in dress uniforms with American and Ecuadorian flags, they even had a fake group of important looking white men acting as the Pence entourage. So, that was random!

Another random fact is that Ecuador’s main currency is the U.S. dollar! We get change back with Sacagawea coins! Remember those? Well they are all here in circulation.

After watching the Pence thing...actually thinking they were lying and Pence was here today, we wandered... wry slowly, the historic old town streets. Everyone was soooo nice! They are famous for the street foods, and we kept being given samples...the chicharones, or fried pig fat, was a bit gag worthy, but the rest really good. Then, peeking in windows at the fire department, two firefighters waved me inside! We went in and asked some questions, spoke in Spanish, and turned to leave when they asked if we wanted to put on the gear! You don’t need to ask me twice! I had the coat on and my future husband zipped me up, he put a helmet on me and Caroline was assisted in gearing up, photos and laughter and we were back on our way...Caroline said, “I can’t believe we have only been here three hours and we are already making friends inside the fire station” sounds about right to me.

Zigzagged through streets...cloudy and chilly with spurts of warm sun, a bit of rain, but not crippling. Stopped at a tiny herbal store...store meaning not much wider than a doorway. They were selling marijuana creams, turmeric stuff, and coca leaves for tea. Caroline bought the cannibus cream, Maca powder, and coca cream. I bought the coca leaves...which we are about to make into tea as a pick me up and I bought Andy his souvenir...haha see photo...cobra venom cream! Yep...

Talked to more vendors and found a free museum of old hospital from 1600’s. Inside was a room I don’t think I was supposed to go into...but I did...see photos...Friars would bless the patients for their final sacraments in here..no services...see me screwing around.

Maybe theme of this trip photos will be street food and me being goofy.

Everyone everywhere is watching World Cup...on tvs with little to no reception and sound blaring. today was Argentina vs Nigeria

Then to the big Mercado where we strolled around and then had potato and spinach soup, juice and two kinds of chicken dishes...no idea...for a total of $4. Walked more...everything is uphill! Found a cathedral where we paid $2 to walk up up up up to rooftop spire of cathedral and look around. It was so dangerous on rainy slippery wet narrow super steep steps, but that is why we have two hands! Look at the photos! We are literally on a boardwalk over the roof!

Just walked back to house and it is 3;00 wind down time. Going to shower and head back out in a bit. Don’t know what the weather or days ahead hold. Today was just a walk and be crazy kind of day.

Struggling as always to get photos posted!

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iancny · 4 years

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One week in the Amazon

The Amazon. My Holy Grail of travel plans for the last 5 or so years. Initially we had a grand tour planned to go by boat from Ecuador to Peru, to Colombia, to Brazil, but travel restrictions tightened more and more as the winter rolled on, the “Brazil variant” steamed ahead, the more remote boarder crossings became less feasible. So the international aspect of our Amazon expedition was not meant to be.

Ultimately, after providing another 72hr negative PCR test for the local authorities, we made it into the Amazon basin via the Napo river in eastern Ecuador’s Yasuni national park. There are a number of high end jungle lodges scattered about the Amazon, and I’d looked into them previously, but they were all prohibitively expensive. Then comes a global pandemic and turns out there are good deals to be had. So we stayed at Napo Wildlife Center for about half of what it would have cost pre-covid.

We left from Coca (which sadly is now largely described as an oil town), took a 2hr power boat down the Napo river, then another hour and a half rowboat down a narrower and shallower channel to arrive at the Napo Wildlife lodge on lake Anangu. The lodge is owned and run by the Kichwa Anangu community, one of the country’s ethnic minorities. Many of the tourist operations in the Ecuadorian Amazon are owned by outsiders, so Napo Wildlife is an exception in that all profits stay local for reinvestment in education and healthcare in the Kichwa community.

Our time there was incredible. The specifics of how we filled the 4 days/3 nights hardly convey the experience. We went on jungle walks at the crack of dawn (when the animals are most active), meandered about on canoe, climbed to canopy viewing platforms, sat at the clay licks watching the parrots and macaws up close, etc, etc. But most significantly, in all that we did, the jungle surrounded continually. The heavy air and film of sweat. The rare warm breeze. Our boots clapping in the thick mud. The sounds of the squawking; the buzzing; the clicks; the shrieks; the beeps; the flapping wings; the water glugging; the howls; the leaves rustling; the singing birds; the whining birds; the charging boars etc etc. All the jungle’s bristling life.

Explorers in the canopy

The Napo Wildlife lodge on lake Anangu at sunset

Parrots and Macaws at the clay lick

Highlights were: discovering the lake’s family of giant otters had welcomed a new baby otter among them, seeing hundreds of parrots frenzied over a mineral clay lick all at once, bracing for a sudden stop on discovering a stalking caiman 10ft in front of our canoe, watching the endemic golden tamarind monkey at play in the trees.

All that said, it’s not for everyone either. The bugs are a unavoidable fact. The lodge undoubtedly went to all ends to keep them at bay, and we used DEET 100 repellent ourselves, yet there they were. And the humidity is unreal. I was either within reach of a fan, or sweating... or both. Is what it is.

Leaving Napo Wildlife lodge we went further west along the Napo river to Tena, one of Ecuador’s larger towns in the Amazon. We stayed at a great lodge outside of town and the owner took us white water rafting on the Napo, which was a lot of fun. Also this lodge was using compost toilets, a first for both of us. Compost toilets are essentially doin the business in a deep bucket and throwing wood chips on top. The owner accredited his beautiful landscaping to his effective composting.

Pakay Lodge, Tena

Rafters on the Napo

Street dog, Tena

The Amazon remains a dream. We hope to return one day. In a way it’s intense like NYC rush hour congestion is, with less bravado. It’s a sensual feast. Urgent, tenacious life abounding in every corner, expanding in every direction.

Paddling at dawn

#amazon #the amazons #ecuador

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creativitytoexplore · 4 years

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Don Juan and the Runaway Knight by Phyllis Houseman https://ift.tt/338nvih Linda, feeling abandoned by her husband and children, flees for a holiday in Ecuador, where she has an unexpected encounter; by Phyllis Houseman.

Well, Linda, you've gone four thousand miles south, and sixteen years into the past - pretty good for a novice fugitive. The tall, slender woman smiled at the wry thought as she stepped off the plane's ramp onto tropically hot concrete. Breathing deeply in the thin air, Linda instantly identified pine, a mix of exotic flowers, and dust. Even if she had been blindfolded, her nose would have told her she had landed in Quito, the capital of Ecuador, the symbol of her carefree youth. As she looked toward the city, Linda felt a stab of dismay. Quito had changed. There were high-rise buildings everywhere, almost obliterating the umber-tiled roofs and white-capped volcanoes she had captured on slides so long ago. Dampening down her sense of disappointment, Linda walked into the terminal. When her turn came in the Aduana, the Customs officer inspected her papers. Amazingly, the Ecuadorian consulate in San Francisco had re-approved her visa in less than a day. She had explained that now she would be going alone on this long-awaited South American vacation - the trip John had backed out of last week. Linda was even able to get a low-priced, no-wait plane ticket - thanks to the current industry price war. Since the money had originally come from her teaching salary, she felt absolutely no guilt about raiding the account yesterday. She needed this vacation. She had weathered months of upheaval. There was only so much a person could take. Linda had tried to be understanding about John's position as a newly transferred employee, however, it hurt that instead of spending a wonderful week in Ecuador with her, he had taken off on yet another open-ended business trip. A little feminine sympathy from one of her friends might have helped, but everyone she knew lived on the East Coast, three-thousand miles away from her new home near San Francisco. It was a potentially beautiful house, but three weeks after moving into it, confusion still reigned. The dust raised by an overzealous landscaping bulldozer covered every surface. Linda's camp-bound twelve-year-old twins had pulled out most of the clothing and games they owned, trying to decide what to include in their duffel bags. Camp had seemed the perfect solution for the homesick boys. Linda hadn't been prepared for the numbing loneliness their departure brought. It was then that she had decided to fly to Ecuador. "Is this your first visit to our country, Señora Knight?" The Customs man's polite question cut into Linda's thoughts. "Uh - no, I worked here as a Peace Corps Volunteer for two years," she murmured. "Espero que su estancia en nuestro país sea tan buena que no quiera irse." "Ah - er - that is, gracias." She gave trying to translate the rapid flow of words. Something about enjoying her stay so much, she would never want to leave. Obviously, all the Spanish-language soap operas she had watched on television recently hadn't been enough to regain her old fluency. Linda gathered her belongings, then went in search of a taxi.

The small, third-floor room of the Pension Suiza was freezing when Linda awoke the next morning. She automatically reached for John's warm, solid body, finding only the cold, squishy comfort of a goose down pillow. Punching that inadequate substitute into submission, Linda leaned back, savoring the architecture of the gabled bedroom. The gingerbread on the window might be ersatz Swiss Chalet, but the magnificent view it framed was genuine Ecuadorian. The sun had just begun its run down the eastern flanks of patchworked Pichincha. Like a spotlight, it revealed the civilized earthen squares thrifty Ecuadorian farmers had tilled into the steep sides of the dormant volcano Yawning widely to get more of the thin air into her lungs, Linda pulled the plump feather bed quilt up to the tip of her cold nose. She watched the golden line that separated dawn and day inch down the mountainside, until the raucous cry of a morning bird jarred her from a semi-trance. Forty-five minutes later, she had showered, dressed, and was on her way to the reception desk to turn in her key. She also wanted to find out when a bus to the equatorial monument would be leaving. Manager Señor Velasquez was busy processing an early arrival. A huge potted weeping fig tree hid most of the newcomer from Linda's view. All she could see of him was a broad shoulder in a suede jacket as the bent over the registry book. Then hearing the man's soft, gravelly burr suddenly made her wish she had picked some other place to spend the night - some other country to visit. She must have made some sort of sound for the manager turned toward her. "Ah, good morning, Señora Knight. I'll be with you in just a moment." Linda was about to back away from the edge of the desk. Her intention, to slide around a nearby corner into the hallway leading outside. With nightmarish predictability, before she could take a step, the tall man leaned around the fig tree, fixing dark eyes upon her face. With all her senses shouting "DANGER," Linda wanted to run. Yet, she couldn't move; she couldn't take her eyes off his compelling face. Constructed of sharp angles, his features had a manly beauty that had nothing to do with handsomeness, everything to do with masculine strength. As Linda stood there, staring, his gaze intensified. In an encompassing sweep, dark eyes caressed the shoulder-length fall of her ash-blond hair, then traveled down her slender body. Linda shook off her paralysis, stalking toward him, ready to protest the embarrassing visual evaluation. Her rage was abruptly neutralized when a wide smile revealed strong, white teeth. Before she could recover from that powerful grin, its owner turned to the entranced clerk, demanding, "Señor Velasquez, I would be honored if you could present me to your lovely guest." The opened-mouthed employee stood for long seconds before he nodded, beamed a gold-accented smile, and made the introduction. "Señora Knight, it is my pleasure to present to you Don Juan Caballero del Rey, a valued executive with, ah -" He looked at the register. "- with International Computers." His bald head bobbed between Linda and Don Juan. "Señor, allow me to acquaint you with the Señora Linda Knight." Forgetting the angry words she had planned, Linda played back the introduction, her mind bemused. Mulling over the surname, she tried to translate it. Something like 'Gentleman of the King'? Playing along, she inclined her head, murmuring, "Encantada, Señor Caballero del Rey." "El placer es mío, Señora." The sudden rumbling of Don Juan's stomach completely ruined his aura of suave sophistication. "I've been flying all night. I guess my stomach just caught up with the rest of me. Come, Señora Knight, please join me for breakfast." He held out his hand to her. Linda stared at those beckoning fingers, torn between preserving her matronly dignity in front of the avid manager, and wanting to know just what was going on here. She found her eyes focusing on the wink of gold on Don Juan's left hand. "What would Mrs. Caballero del Rey say about you having breakfast with me?" "Well, after fifteen years of marriage, she must know how much I love her - too much to let anything ruin our relationship." He indicated the wide band on her own marriage finger. "Señora, you must feel the same way about your husband." Linda forced herself to look into that dark gaze. "Of course. Having breakfast with you can't possibly do any harm to my marriage - such as it is." "Such as it is?" Don Juan echoed softly. Before Linda could respond, Señor Velasquez appeared at her side. "Señora, Senor, the dining room is open. Let me have the honor of escorting you to our best table. It has a magnificent view of Vulcán Pichincha. You must see it up close, and El Panecillo -" He listed several tourist attractions as he shepherded the pair into the adjoining room. "We'll have Naranjilla juice with croissants and Café con leche," Don Juan informed the waiter who instantly appeared as they sat down. "Señor Caballero del Rey," Linda chided, almost choking on that surname. "You're supposed to let me order for myself, or at least ask me what I want." "Ah, Señora Knight, I'm so sorry. It's just that my wife used to live in South America. She's raved about Naranjilla juice and the Ecuadorian style of coffee. They boil the beans down into a thick essence, then add hot milk," he explained. "I'll call the waiter back." "Ah - now that you mention it, what you ordered is fine," Linda recanted. She had suddenly remembered the piquant, frothy green drink and the rich Ecuadorian brew. When the juice arrived, Linda took a tentative sip. A sigh of bliss escaped her lips. Her breakfast companion chuckled. "Well, it is wonderful," she challenged. "Of course, it is. I can always rely on my wife's taste in food, drink, music -" He looked around, focusing on the empty platform at the end of the dining room. "Shoot! That's just what we needed with our breakfast - romantic Latin music. Too bad it's so early; the band probably plays only at dinner." "That's right," the eavesdropping waiter agreed, as he turned from serving the next table. "A magnificent three-piece band plays the latest American hits from eight to eleven." "Never in the morning?" Don Juan asked. The waiter shook his head. "What about CDs - a radio?" The employee looked more and more downcast as he denied each suggestion. Don Juan shrugged his shoulders. "I'm sorry, it would have been -" "There is Miguel," the waiter interrupted. "Miguel?" "Yes, he's only a dishwasher, but he plays the guitar. He's been begging the manager to let him try out for the evening show. Maybe - no, I might get in trouble -" "Just tell them I insisted," Don Juan coaxed. A thousand sucre bill appeared on the table. The waiter looked at it longingly, weighing rewards and consequences. He abruptly took the money, making for the kitchen. Before the swinging doors stopped flapping, a short, slender teenager appeared. He clutched the neck of a battered guitar under his arm, wiping his hands on a damp apron. The grin of delight on his face was so endearing, Linda felt her eyes sting. Bowing to his unexpected audience, the dishwasher put one leg on the seat of a chair, tested the tuning of his instrument, then broke into a boastful song Linda remembered from her Peace Corps days. "Yo soy el chullito Quiteño. La vida lo paso encantado. Para mi ella es un sueño. ¡No hay mujeres en el mundo como las de mi canción!" "I am a proud man of Quito. Life passes enchantedly. For me, it's a dream. There are no women in the world, like those in my song!" Linda found herself murmuring the translation. Without waiting for applause the novice entertainer changed moods, beginning a sad, sensual melody that pledged passion and undying love. The music generated sympathetic vibrations in Linda's body. Although she tried not to look at Don Juan, she felt her eyes being pulled toward the man. He watched her, not the singer. His gaze was assessing, serious. Linda couldn't move, her sea-blue eyes were entrapped by his deep brown irises. Long, soul-searching seconds passed. Applause from the other diners broke the hypnotic power of those eyes. Don Juan seemed equally startled by the clapping. Shaking his head, he turned away from Linda, beckoning to the young troubadour. The dishwasher shyly accepted the verbal and financial praise they both gave him for his impromptu performance. The dining room settled back to the business of eating breakfast. Don Juan didn't touch the rest of his meal. He just sat there, looking at Linda. Several opening gambits ran through her head. She finally blurted, "That was a marvelous gesture, Señor Caballero del Rey, thank you for an unforgettable treat." "It was my pleasure - with an ulterior motive." His penetrating gaze speared Linda's complete attention. "In return for the musical interlude, I expect you to end this - this formality. Let me call you Linda," he demanded. He pronounced "Linda" with just a hint of Latin caress. A broad grin stretched his generous mouth. "You must call me -" "Don Juan?" Linda interposed. "- Well, OK, I'll accept Juan, for the time being, cara mia." "Now, don't push your luck," Linda warned, her body stiffening at the endearment. "I wouldn't want to do that." Then, as if striving to reestablish the genial atmosphere, he changed the subject. "So, Linda, what brings you to Ecuador?" It was a casual question. It would require such a complex answer. Linda looked at him, trying to decide if she wanted to open up to this man. If she did, what was most important? The move? The twins' reaction to it? The canceled trip? "I guess I came to Ecuador to get a breather," she said. "We just moved into a new state. John, my husband, was transferred. His promotion involves constant traveling, so I've been left alone to deal with two unhappy children, a house that's a mess, a thousand minor decisions -" Linda stopped, aghast at the bitterness of her tone. "Sounds like he dumped a lot on your head," Don Juan ventured. "Yes - no, oh, I don't know. He was supposed to be here on this trip - a second honeymoon. Then, he had to cope with some customer emergency," she admitted. "I can't blame him for that. But when the kids went off to camp, well, I just decided I needed to get away. You must think that was wrong of me, Don Juan." Linda's voice had a waver in it she tried to control. "No, Linda, I don't. I'm sure your husband understands how angry you must have felt." Long-fingered hands reached across the table, ready to provide comfort. Not able to accept it, Linda jerked her hands away. "Just why are you here, Don Juan?" "Business - very important business." "Of course, what else? Well, I won't keep you. I'm sure your clients are waiting. I've got a lot of sightseeing to do this morning." She rose, unconsciously extending her hand as a polite South American would. He took the offered hand. Instead of a pro forma squeeze, Juan brushed the tips of her fingers with his lips before letting it go. "Linda." Soft, husky seduction. "Linda, let me join you. My - my wife has told me so much about this beautiful country. Where are you going today?" A myriad of conflicting emotions battled in Linda's mind. Oh, she was very tempted to go sightseeing with this beguiling stranger, who reminded her so much of Johnny. Johnny, the carefree young man she had married. Johnny, who had climbed the corporate ladder, transforming into serious, preoccupied John. Distant, elusive John. This man was warm, funny, gorgeous - so tempting. Perhaps going on an innocuous sightseeing trip with Don Juan was just what she needed. "I'm taking a bus to the monument on the equator, and - you're welcome to come along." "Terrific! We don't have to take a bus, I've a rental. It comes with a complete set of maps, so you can be the navigator." Linda couldn't help laughing. "Don Juan, I have to warn you. My family and friends all know I get lost going to the supermarket." Linda wasn't trying to get out of the trip. She couldn't back out now, not when the devil sparked glints of humor out of those compelling eyes. Not when his lean face was so relaxed, so attractive.

It took a half hour for them to get out of the city. Once they got on the Pan American Highway, there was little navigating for Linda to do. It was the only road that followed the high basin dividing the two cordilleras of the Andes. After a while, guardrails disappeared. There were just buffering earthen banks that often fell away, leaving their little car clinging to bare mountainside, thousands of feet above meandering river ribbons. When Linda slid next to Juan's sturdy body, he asked through clenched teeth, "How much further to the monument?" For the first time, Linda could see he was as nervous as she was. His knuckles gleamed white on the steering wheel. "About six miles, according to the map," she said, trying not to look over the edge as they rounded a sharp curve. "My God, I don't understand how people can drive on this highway every day!" "I know how you feel," her companion admitted. "For the last half hour, I've been sending up prayers for every denomination I could think of." He laughed. The rich sound curved around the low ceiling of the car, wrapping Linda in a sudden cloak of security. "Juan." She laid a light hand on his arm. "I have a feeling Someone up there already heard you, you're doing just fine." Her faith in his driving appeared to relax him. Broad shoulders settled back against the seat. Smiling at Linda, Juan fiddled with the radio until the lyric chords of a pasillo filled the small car. They found the equatorial monument twenty minutes later. At the stone obelisk, Juan took Linda's camera, asking an obliging Japanese tourist to snap a picture of them straddling the line dividing the hemispheres. Juan slid his arm around Linda's shoulders at the last instant. She looked up at him, not knowing that what she was feeling escaped her eyes, being captured for posterity on the film. Linda was startled when she felt a shudder run through Juan's body. "So, cara, where do we go from here?" The hoarse question held multiple layers of meaning. Gazing up at him, Linda felt lightheaded, until she realized she had been holding her breath too long in the rarefied air. Taking a deep, ragged gulp, she said, "There's supposed to be a small village near here, known for its woodcarvers. We - my husband and I - tried to find a piece of art when we used to go on vacation." "That's a wonderful tradition. Let's see if we can locate the place." There were choices this time. Linda made some wrong ones. Paving, then cobblestones disappeared. The road turned into a rutted trail, which terminated at the top of a high plateau. They were lost amid such compelling beauty both left the car, drawn to the edge of a precipice that could have marked the end of the known world. In the distance, a pale blue sky melded with the jutting, indigo escarpment of the eastern cordillera. From old geography lessons, Linda knew that just on the other side of the seemingly impassable barrier rivulets merged, eventually forming the headwaters of the Amazon. In her mind's eye, Auca and Jivero Indians - headhunters only a generation ago - glided through steaming jungle just fifty miles east, and ten thousand feet below. The danger - the splendor - coalesced, tugging at the couple. They turned. Linda found herself taking a hesitant step toward the man who was more dangerous, more wonderful to her than anyone else she had ever known. Her step was all he needed. Closing the distance between them, he captured her in his arms, raining hot kisses over her face, not caring where they landed. Their kisses grew desperate, hands moved to mold, to caress. Their melding bodies sank onto minty ground cover. Linda couldn't get enough of his firm, tender mouth, or get close enough to the warmth of his body. Her head was spinning, tinkling bells began to play an exotic tune in her ears. Running counterpoint to the jingling melody, were the haunting scales of Andean pan pipes playing somewhere in the misty distance. The music grew louder and nearer until reality jolted Linda out of the fantasy she had been playing along with since early morning. "Juan. John! Stop kissing my neck. JOHN KNIGHT, I said let go of me this instant. We're going to have company," she yelled into her dazed husband's ear. John finally heard the panic in her voice. He stumbled to his feet, pulling Linda up with him. He was still clasping her, leaning against the support of a wind-bent eucalyptus tree, when a small boy of ten or so rounded a rocky outcrop. The child's eyes widened at the sight of two disheveled gringos clutching each other. With inbred good manners, he doffed his colorful knitted cap to them, grinning a white smile of hello and goodbye. The dignified string of llamas following him paid no attention to the bewildered couple. "I just don't believe this." John shook his head. He looked out at the seemingly empty vistas surrounding them. "I would have sworn nobody else has been here for the last million years." "John. Oh - Johnny," Linda managed to gasp through the laughter shaking her body. "It's my fault. I should have remembered that old Ecuadorian saying - 'No matter how high the mountain, an Indian will be there before you.'" John joined in on her compulsive laughter. When he sobered, he looked into his wife's eyes. "Linda, I was never so frightened as when I walked into that empty house yesterday," he said, dropping a soft kiss on her hair. "I'd forgotten about the twins going to camp. I imagined a kidnapping, or that you had left me." He put a restraining finger on Linda's mouth when she tried to protest. "Just let me finish, honey. I should have realized how unhappy you were. You never reproached me, but I heard the sadness in your voice the last time I called. So, I rushed through those Mexican contracts and got home a week early." He placed tender hands against each side of her face. "Linda, I swear that was my last business trip for a long time. I don't care if they fire me. I've refused any more travel for the next six months." John looked at his wife, his face whitening when he saw tears sliding down her cheeks. "Linda, you've got to let me have another chance!" he pleaded. "I know I've given you a rough time, but I won't let you leave me. When I found the notations you made about your travel arrangements, next to the phone, I even followed you to Ecuador!" That explained most of the questions Linda had about his arrival at the Pension Suiza. "Oh, John," she sighed, hugging his strong body. "I know it was dumb to bolt. And as anti-woman's liberation as it sounds, I needed you to lean on at times, and you just weren't there. In fact, you, the 'Johnny' I fell in love with, hasn't been there for a long, long time." "Sweetheart, I know. I got too involved with my new responsibilities. That won't ever happen again. My God, don't you understand how much I need you, too? Your strength, your laughter, your love?" Nodding, Linda wiped away the last of her tears and smiled up at her husband. "I think I realized it this morning when I saw you leering at me around that potted fig tree. 'Don Juan Caballero del Rey,' indeed!" She repeated his alias once more, a sweet hint of laughter lingering in the lilting Spanish flow of the name. "Well, what does 'Caballero del Rey' mean? A king's man - his knight," he translated. "Yes, I sort of figured that out. My reputation must be ruined with Señor Velasquez and everyone else at the Pension." "Don't worry, honey. Velasquez was in on the game. I had to show him my passport and explain my mission. That guy's a romantic at heart and put on a first-class act for your benefit." Grinning, John pulled Linda down to sit with him against the rough-barked wood of the storm-canted eucalyptus. Safe in each other's arms, they leaned on the wind-tested tree. They had mended their marriage; a marriage, like the tree, that would endure.

#FICTION on the WEB short stories

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twopedalpushers · 5 years

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Travel Update #4

Medellín to Ecuador

After a total of one month pedalling and one month sight seeing, we have finished the Colombian chapter of our trip and are now in Ecuador!

When I think about the second half of our journey through Colombia after leaving Medellín, it feels far less eventful than the first half of the trip. After 3 months in total on the bike by this point, we were now comfortable negotiating our way through Colombia and managed to avoid any silly mishaps.

After a few days in Medellín the overwhelming amount of pollution trapped in the valley started getting to me so I felt relieved to pedal onwards into the hilly, peaceful coffee region of Salento. Salento is near the Cocora Valley - home to the world’s largest palm trees! The whole region is kind of other-worldly and feels like it’s been ripped straight out of a Dr. Seuss novel.

We ended up having a peaceful Christmas here before cycling on to the loudest, brightest and most vibrant city in Colombia (in my opinion): Cali.

Cali is known as the ‘salsa capital of the world.’ I had a blasé attitude about this beforehand but I quickly changed my mind after a few days in the city. Salsa is life in Cali. It blasts out of every bar and restaurant. From 7pm onwards the streets come alive - everyone is out, even small children who stay up until the early hours of the morning, playing in the park while their parents sit down with a beer. Absolutely everyone knows how to salsa and clubs are bursting with dancing couples. We took a salsa class to feel like we fitted in but after an hour we realised that we were not naturally gifted at salsa. We salsa’d (clumsily) in the bars anyway and made up for our obvious lack of skill with passion.

We also happened to arrive when the ‘Feria de Cali’ was taking place - a 5 day festival from Boxing Day to New Year’s Eve where day after day, residents party and dance salsa on the streets to incredible live brass bands. It’s safe to say that Cali was a pretty entertaining place to spend New Year’s Eve.

Recently we have started using an app called ‘Warm Showers.’ It’s similar to couch surfing except that it’s only used by cycle-tourers looking to be hosted in the homes other bike enthusiasts. We arranged to stay with a lady called Laura in her house in Popayán - 140km south of Cali. In text messages beforehand she let us know that we would be ‘camping on her balcony’ as she didn’t have a spare room. Having done plenty of camping on the trip so far, we were happy with this offer and glad to have a night of free accommodation in the city. However, once we got there we discovered that her ‘balcony’ was her concrete attic space that’s main function was as a toilet for her two dogs. Being English and too polite to tell her that the space was unsuitable for human habitation, we set up our tent and tried to ignore the overpowering smell of years worth of dog urine. Almost a month later, the ground sheet of our tent still smells of the terrible aromas of that fateful night.

The one upside of staying with Laura was that she let us store our bikes in her house for a few days while we visited Max’s friends Dad, Fernando in San Agustin. The bad track and warnings of potential guerrilla activity in the region put us off cycling there so we took a bus. The track was so bad that it took 6 hours for the bus to travel 150km!

Staying with Fernando in the impressive wooden house that he built himself was incredibly peaceful and a good opportunity to rest and recuperate. We went on walks and ate fresh fruit and vegetables from his garden.

The road onwards from Popayán towards the border was where the real hard work started. We were now entering the Andes and cycled up to high altitudes proved to be quite difficult. Just as we would climb to 3000m altitude, the road would drop off and we would descend all the way back down to around 1000m. I understand that’s how mountains work but after half an hour of fun whizzing downhill it became demoralising to have to then climb all the way back up. The views of the valley below were spectacular which made all uphill climbing worthwhile. We took an alternate, quieter route through the mountains which had very little traffic, enabling us to stop and admire the green Colombian section of the Andes. Climbing a few thousand metres of elevation day upon day was exhausting but I could feel my body getting stronger. At the start of our trip in Costa Rica we would only travel 50km per day on a relatively flat road. Now we were managing 80-90km through mountain ranges, carrying more food and luggage than before. I was even starting to get used to getting out of bed when our alarm goes off at 5am.

When we reached the border I felt really proud. Crossing Colombia by bike had been the most challenging thing that I had ever done, both physically and mentally. Despite the weather, feeling tired or unwell we got up each day and got back on the bike.

After two months in Colombia, I was excited to see what Ecuador had to offer. During our last few weeks cycling we have seen lots of groups of Venezuelans on the walking with all of their belongings towards Ecuador to try and find work. It was the first time that I have encountered people in such a state of desperation and made me realise how lucky I am to have a home to go back to. Despite their situation, most had a positive outlook and asked us about our trip and where we were heading, before wishing us “buen viaje” - a pleasant journey on the road ahead.

Ecuador so far has been a whirlwind and we are now in Quito - the second highest capital city in the world! I will write about our journey through Ecuador all in one go in the next update.

Now that the Colombian chapter of our trip is over, I thought I would write a list of all the interesting things that I noticed about the country and its people during our two month journey. Its lifted straight from my journal so please excuse how colloquial it is. Here you go:

Mullets seem to be the most popular hairstyle for young men.

Colombia has an amazing variety of fruit I’ve never heard of before- Lulo, Guanabana, Maracuya (to name a few!)

A large amount of adults have braces. So many that it’s noticeable. Is dental care cheap?

Motorola smartphones are popular in Colombia. I didn’t know Motorola even made smartphones...

Lots of women work in construction. I say lots but I mean compared to the amount of women working in construction in the UK

The best fresh juices and free limonada with every meal! Limonada is a drink made of water and panela (refined sugar cane.) Colombians knock this back 24/7. I’m going to miss it.

Colombians have an overwhelming amount of passion for cycling. It’s admirable.

Little Colombian girls all have incredibly elaborate hairstyles consisting of braids, cornrows, coloured hairbands, glitter and the occasional bow.

Sweet things (dulces) are king in Colombia. There is a Panadería (bakery) roughly every couple of hundred metres. My favourite Colombian pastries are Chicharrons (puff pastry with guava jelly) or Pan de Bananos with apricot jam.

As usual, here is the link to track our progress http://share.garmin.com/DMB7R

Remember to hit “view all” and zoom out to see the whole journey. You will find us in Ecuador!

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thisdiscontentedwinter · 7 years

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Late Cora head canon.

Cora is 13 when she is woken by screams and smoke, her family and home on fire. Peter somehow manages to throw or drag the traumatised teen across the mountain ash line around the house. His last intelligible screams tell her to run and don’t look back. Then his voice joins the roar of the fire and the dying howls of her family

Her dad had taken her to visit his cousins in Ecuador a year previously; she decides that that is where she’ll be safe. But she is a kid, with no money and barely any idea of the distance she needs to cover. She’s alone, she is deathly afraid of the hunters who have killed everyone she knows. Her anchor, her family, is gone. She is a teenager, barely used to having a monthly cycle, let alone controlling her wolf. Any attempt to use her werewolf powers could lead to discovery. She doesn’t dare approach anyone in Beacon Hills for help, and starts to walk that night, sticking out her thumb when she passes the town limits.

It goes just about as well as you would expect a cross country road trip to go for a teenage runaway. The men who give her rides are not Good Samaritans. They expect payment. Especially those who get her across the US border and into Mexico. She cannot afford to leave a trail of dead or, worse, wounded truckers behind her, pointing exactly which direction the only survivor of the Hale fire went. So she gives them what they want and learns to hate humans. And herself.

But the time she turns up at her father’s cousin’s house outside Quito, she weighs less than she did at age 12, when they last saw her 18 months previously. They’d given her up for dead and at first they are thrilled and joyous to have her back. But the Cora who makes it to Quito is not the same sweet, innocent child they knew. She is feral, her survival instincts sharpened and hardened by what she has endured. She scares them a little.

The kids her age shy away from her: she’s volatile, aggressive and completely unable to relate to their games and childish interest in boy groups and the latest movies. She was a conscientious and enthusiastic student but now she barely sees the point in school. She’s always spoken passable Spanish, so it isn’t a language problem.

She won’t talk about how she managed to travel 1000’s of kilometres without money or a passport, and they don’t want to confront the ugly truth they sense lurking underneath her brittle exterior.

On the farm though, she’s calmer, learning a new anchor sitting in the paddocks with pregnant mares. She seems to have an instinctive understanding of horses and always has a soft spot for the broken, damaged horses she begs to buy at auctions: the ones who have been mistreated, abandoned by indifferent owners, or worked into ill health. She’ll spend hours earning their trust and grooming and training them. She’s picky about who she sells any of her rescues to.

Her cousins are just pleased to see her blossom again, even if it is with a cold beauty. They love her for her bravery, for her dedication to her horses and for her straightforward talk. It isn’t a warm love. There is nothing warm left in her.

This is heartbreaking, and also very beautiful.

I can see this in Cora though. The Cora who returns to Beacon Hills later is one who understands exactly how ugly the world can be, and gives her trust to nobody. Peter can barely break through the walls she’s built up, and Peter was her favourite uncle.

There’s an understanding now between the three remaining Hales that they also died the night of the fire. There is something broken in them that can never be repaired. Of all of them, maybe Derek has the best chance at recovery, because for everything the universe has ever thrown at him, somehow Derek still believes in people. Not many people, but one or two.

Cora doesn’t. Like Peter, the only trust she has in people is that they will eventually betray you.

And that’s fine. That keeps her safe, and keeps her strong.

She doesn’t sleep at night, but who does?

#headcanon #cora hale #submission

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maximus31 · 7 years

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The Dreamer Hostel turned out to be quite a party hostel, with daily games for travellers to play and get drunk. This resulted in me playing Beer Pong for the first time, killer pool and card games in order to just drink more. It was just like being at University again. Also it was a great way of meeting my fellow travellers. All of them shocked when they found out my age.. “I thought you would have been late twenties max” they say lol.

Sitting at the bar, drinking a Club Colombia and chatting to Scott the Canadian that had a story for everything. I clock the bar girls stop mid pour and stare over my shoulder, I slowly turn to see what has caught their attention. Four guys arrive, the front two ripped and in good shape, and all in their twenties.

James was the blond with perfectly styled hair, who looked like he had just walked off the set of ‘Made in Chelsea’. It’s turns out he went to Harrow School, need i say more .. The other Ed, had the most incredible blue eyes that dazzled you against his dark hair and tan.

It turns out they are from the UK, best of mates that have just graduated and are travelling for a year. They join in on the drinking games with everyone else and once enough is consumes and the bar closes, we all head to a salsa club La Puetra in Santa Marta.

Boys being boys, they lark about and poor old Max, one of the four ends up with a sprained finger from trying to punch Ed. I sense this will be the sort of antics that will carry on through their year of travels. If they make it that far alive… Hilarious to watch.

So Hostel life has treated me pretty well so far, but I soon realise that it is a hot bed for germs and god knows what else. All across Santa Marta there is a break out of pink eye, and several in my hostel have it. Apparently it had originated from the ‘Lost City’ four day trek, and from a couple of Gringos. Some travellers coming North from Medellin report of it having made it the 835 km South.

Luckily I have avoided it – maybe it’s because I never use the gross hand towels. Why would anyone!!!

One of the good things about being gay in Colombia, is there is little chance of meeting a hooker in a bar. For the straights its just damned hard to avoid it. Prostitution in Colombia is legal and they are everywhere.

Dancing on the rooftop at La Brisa Loca – the best venue I have been to in Colombia. An attractive woman comes up to me and starts to dance, we speak some Spanish. I find out she is from Medellín and then she grabs my crotch and says “You like Sex”…

I say “No Gracias¨and move away.

Now I warn a couple of my new found friends to be careful of the the ladies, that some are ‘ladies of the night’. The majority heed my advice and some do not.. #dontkissahooker.

Thankfully we all successfully make it back to the hostel together.

What I love about this travelling alone, is you can do what you want when you want, you have the freedom to choose and just go with the flow. I did exactly this and changed my plans and headed to Minca and stayed at Casas Viejas for two nights.

Minca lies 650m high in the Sierra Nevada and is a new find on the traveller route for Colombia, so still pretty unspoilt and only 15km from Santa Marta.

Casas Viejas is thirty minutes further up the mountain and only accessible by motorbike. I hop on the back with both my travel backpacks and make the steep climb sometimes off road. Ouch my thighs..

I hop off the bike at my destination. The beautiful Casas Viejas is in the middle of a finca – coffee farm. The view from the main dinning area is the best I have seen yet. Looking out across the jungle to the cloud covered mountains ahead with just the birds playing their tunes. Absolute paradise.

The mornings are even more spectacular and on a clear day you can see Santa Marta on the horizon. At night your can walk higher up the finca to ‘Sunset point’ with a beer and watch the sky turn red and see the twinkling lights of Santa Marta in the distance. The food is pretty good here too, all cooked by volunteers. It’s perfect for hiking, bird watching over 300 species and seeing a lot of bugs, spiders and butterflies.

The Coffee tour at La Victoria, was well worth the 20,000cop £5. This Coffee farm like so many others is completely self sustainable thanks to the nearby waterfall powering everything. The water powers a single generator that powers the farm, the local brewery , the surrounding houses and the hostel.

A 24 pipe system across 150 hectares delivers the freshly picked Coffee beans to the little processing plant, and then goes through several processes of washing to make a bean ready to sell. Who knew most coffee is sold and shipped to its destination as a white bean, and is then roasted in the final destination.

Nothing is wasted, the good coffee beans are sold to international buyers, the less quality coffee is sold locally and the skin layers that are removed from the coffee bean are all used to make fertiliser for the new plants. Too think that this area was a no go zone for travellers just over two years ago due to the fighting that has plagued Colombia for so much of its past.

Due to my two amazingly chilled nights in the mountains I only have one night in Cartagena. Which to be honest I was fine with, from what I had heard from other travellers and from what I could see when I arrived.

After the six hour bus journey, I took the 30 minute taxi to El Viarejo in the old town, and just saw a dirty, uninspiring tourist trap, full off ugly hotels. The old town was mildly better with some colourful colonial buildings, but little else. The stifling heat and humidity makes it hard to want to do much.

Due to Avianca changing my flight to a 10am from a 7pm I didn’t have time to see much more of the city. Cali was my next destination and where my Colombian journey will come to an end.

Cali is home to Salsa, so I was so excited to be experiencing the city and meeting up with my travel chum Laura. Taking the one hour flight, was far better than the 20 hour bus. I arrived at El Viarejo in the district of San Antonio. I took a taxi from the airport which took 30 minutes and was 45,000cop £11.

El Viarejo have a few hostels in Colombia and out of the two I stayed in, this was the better of the two. The staff were much friendlier and the layout much nicer than the long corridor of Cartagena. The pool was perfect for cooling down, and the free nightly Salsa lessons were a great addition. The only down side was the bar closed 22:30, but this just forced you to head out to the many Salsa clubs, like Tin Tin Deo a must on a Thursday Evening.

The area of San Antonio was really pretty, with a great selection of restaurants and cafes. Corrine a particular favourite for freshly baked bagels and coffee for breakfast, Cafe Mocando for some delicious ice cream feasts, La 4ta Pared Cafe for a cheap evening meal.

Like many Colombian cities, there are the usual museums and church’s to see. Cali had lots of street art and murals painted on the side buildings that gave it a more youthful influence. Also there was a great indoor market ‘Plaza de Mercado Alameda’, worth a visit to try out the many varieties of fresh fruit and many street sellers selling ceviche.

The time has come to make my final bus journey 12 hours South to Ipiales, the closest town to make the final journey across the border to Ecuador. We were advised to book through transipiales, as they were the best operator on this route.

So glad we did, the bus was a double decker, we had seats at the front of the top deck, and the seats were super comfy and was my cheapest long distance bus journey at 45,000cop £11.

We arrived at Ipiales at 9am and were shocked by the sudden drop in temperature, from the warm sun of Cali, here I had to search for my warm coat for the first time. Ten minutes from Ipiales is the ‘Santuario De Las Lajas’, a beautiful basilica church that looks like Rivendell from lord of the rings is worth visiting.

One thing you notice this far South is how close you are to the border of Ecuador, as the local people change. They have become shorter, rounder and more brightly dressed. Can I say that!!! Oh well I have…

Colombia you have been more than I could have imagined, and I am sad to be leaving. I look forward to my many more future visits to your fabulous country and I hope my experience will encourage more to visit.

¡Hasta luego! Colombia.. Santa Marta to Cali The Dreamer Hostel turned out to be quite a party hostel, with daily games for travellers to play and get drunk.

#Cali Colombia #Caribbean Coast #Cartagena Colombia #Casa Viejas #Colombia #Dreamers Hostel #El Viajero #Finca La Victoria #gay #La Brisa Loca #La Puetra #Minca #Santa Marta Colombia #Santuario de las lajas #Sierra Nevada #solo traveler #South America #travel

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