#((also followed suit in bolding the icelandic<3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[offreedom]

The demeanor of a nervous child in a strange new place is nothing short of recognizable. Abigail understood better than most ; to be a stranger with no one to call family or a place to properly call home. Naturally, she kept herself a safe distance ; an open invitation to allow Eirik to become comfortable with her before taking the leap of faith.

He's coughing - expected of someone who recently suffered a rather violent disruption of their lands ; she wants to offer some sort of comfort but stops the moment his hand rose to convey that he was indeed, okay. Or at least, what could have been defined as okay for them.

Relief comes when she finally heard him speak - English. Whilst she did appreciate his efforts in trying to communicate with her in a language more fluent to her ; he was meant to be the one comforted. He was a guest, after all. ❝ I've never been to Iceland, but I hear it's rather beautiful. Your people have said nothing but the nicest things about it while I've spent time with them, to help ease the language barriers. It seems only natural to want to make the ones coming here feel comfortable, isn't it? ❞

An irritating flaw of breaking down barriers ; easy to build but so hard to crack down. She's been blessed with the quick ability to learn - but even she isn't impervious to mistakes. It only felt right to make sure this first impression would make the tension & nerves ease.

Even though Abigail shows obvious concern for the persistent cough ; she does extend her hand to gently grip his hand in acceptance to the shake. He's cold, she's noticed. ❝ Please, don't be sorry. It's a pleasure to meet you, Erik. I'm Abigail but you can call me Abby if you'd like. I'm pleased to have you here in America. ❞

So that was, indeed, Abigail. Eirik's stomach flips, for some reason, when she waves back. He's nervous. It's probably apparent to absolutely everyone, given the sound of his breathing. But still, he smiles, rubbing a hand bashfully over one arm as she nears, and taking a step closer, himself.

But then, she speaks his language. The language dearest to his heart, which has so often felt like a second language to Danish... Eirik just appears to short circuit, and his cheeks positively flush.

Then, after a minute, he starts coughing. This is all so much. It's a loud, grating sound, and he turns his head away to muffle the worst of it in one hand, while the other is held up apologetically. When he regains himself, a little shaky but appearing not to be too concerned, that flush still lingers.

In English, he stutters, "You— f-from Iceland?"

His English is weak, to put it nicely, and after a second of fumbling he realises — she speaks Icelandic. Why is he trying (and failing) to conduct himself in English?

The switch is immediate, and his Icelandic comes much more eloquently, but in a torrent:

"You are not an Icelander, are you? May I ask why you speak— how you speak Icelandic? I— I didn't even know it was possible to learn it outside of Iceland, we are so small— unless you learned it from an Icelander who emigrated—?"

Eirik promptly cuts himself off. That was rude, impolite— he hadn't even introduced himself properly yet. The realisation has him promptly dissolving back into coughing. When he comes out of it, he bows his head apologetically, and leans the most of his weight into his suitcase.

"P-please, forgive my poor manners— I'm sorry. I got excited," the hand that had been bracing himself on his suitcase is held out, and he fixes her with a polite (too polite, almost rehearsed) smile. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss. My name is Eirik, the Kingdom of Iceland."

As they part, though, his smile widens into something much more genuine, with the corners of his eyes crinkling. Breathlessly, but with so much warmth in his tone, he adds: "It is wonderful to be here, and to meet you. Thank you for having me."

[thankstothe]

1. Denmark. Literal child? Voice doesn't have enough power to hit those notes. Like that pink to green change on stage

I SEE THE DADI FREYR IN THE BG OMG ICELAND BABY (btw did they bleach their flag?)

2. Armenia. Laying on the floor. Classic. Somewhat continued pink theme at start. The thing I love, no sarcasm, is that sometimes you can't tell if they actually sing in English. Oh it wasn't a floor, it was a wall. Revolutionary.

Ew, showing Beatles statues. Have to shove your famous boys against a poet and clowns? This is why no one likes you UK

3. Romania. Oh let's go, native language, cool voice, pink suit, playing with genres. This is why im here. Staging is a letdown, you could literally just follow with the camera on foot.

4. Estonia. Oh piano plays itself, no fire yet. Now she plays it. I hope it ends with piano retaliation and attack. Average ballad and in English, boring. Go off piano, love that it has a mic too.

5. Belgium. Pink is back, yas. Love asymmetrical hat. Okay back up vocals have more power that main man, like damn, turn them up! Kinda like that low beat. Fun.funfun

Graham yooo, the only uk host im excited to see in final. So weird to see him and hear him at the same time lmao.

6. Cyprus. wooo. Didn't get memo for the pink theme. woooOOOooo. English, but accent is thick so I'll take it. wooooOoOoO. Gets some shoes boy, barefoot look didn't add shit. I wonder how warm is the floor tho, lights and all the pyre prob heats it up good. Woooo

7. Iceland. Everyone shut up its iceland. Im biased. Laying on the floor, brilliant move. Oh red lining in the coat, great. Some pink light's so were in the clear there too. Asserting more dominance over the floor and laying on in some more. She jacked, wow. Good voice. Song? I felt nothing.

8. Greece. Laying on the floor. Waiting for the pink to cross it off my list. Oh no your voice isn't there to jump or even move and sing, sorry. Also no pink. ФEELINGS. Why are you doing that with that alphabet shuffle. Causing me pain, that's what. Do that with sung word and we'll talk.

9. Poland. Pink hell yah. This is makes me have flashbacks to the 00s radio. Everything, voice dance, costumes, underwhelming. Oh so her dress was shitty because it was hiding another dress and not 00s reference? Makes sense. Fuego attempt, sorry you're not HER

10. Slovenia. Not English + nasty bass, okay boys! Some pink clothing. Raided their parents closet from 80s. Can't pinpoint the high singer sadly.

11. Georgia. I was excited that she was yelling at me and then she stopped... Obsessed with the instrumentals. Pink appears on the screens briefly, if you care. Amazing voice, blew the dress away.

WELSH FLAG YES BITCH

What is that actor forgor here, he's not here to talk about anything substantial I bet. Alluding to Ukraine, not even head on mention, are you kidding me?

12. San Marino. Rocky. What's with the sound mixing this year, they let this one down. Oh eyes on the walls, ok. Laying on the floor gives you some kind of points, at least I can have list. No pink, but there was like only red.

13. Austria. Okay fun start, go queens! Very interesting vocal turns and melodies. Staging is immaculate! Costumes are great. UGH. Edgar lmao. A lot of red, we moving the spectrum it seems.

14. Albania. I swear Albania sent this before. Sorry, deja vu is insane for me here. Flashing aggressive red lights solidified spectrum change. Native language is an automatic W. Wait, I thought the limit was 5 people on stage, they had 6.

15. Lithuania. Pink and red, bold choice, bringing it all together. Okay more of a purple and orange, shut up. Back up is overpowering her when they sing chorus, at least it mixed better.

16. Australia. Oh I liked thier postcard bridge. Doing interesting thing with camera, lights. Some pink and red. Oh was that a brief breakdown, alrighty. Crisp guitars and synth. Ending with headbang, very energetic!

Pretty fun semifinals overall

[rememberthattime]

Chapter 22. Croatia

Chelsay and I have traveled all around the Seven Kingdoms: from Mereen to Dorne to the Wildling camps north of the Wall…

I swear this wasn’t on purpose though - we haven’t planned our trips around the Game of Thrones map (…We have). We didn’t go all the way to Morocco, Seville, or Iceland just for the fictional places I named above (…We did). So not to say that we’re keeping track (…We are), but at this point, we just happened to have now traveled through most of the show’s filming locations.

That said, there was still one set we’d yet to visit: King’s Landing, Westeros aka Croatia, Earth. Honestly, we went more for the sunshine than for the show (…We went for the Iron Throne).

Chelsay and I left for Dubrovnik only 10 days after Paris. Not much happened in the interim, except that Chelsay was in Berlin for the week after Paris, and I was in Geneva for the two days before Croatia. So, a couple average weeks…

On my third straight day of flights, we took off for Dubrovnik. We arrived late (around 11:00), so our conquest really began the next morning. From our hotel window, we took in our first glimpses of the undulating orange jungle that makes up the city’s signature rooftop skyline.

We started with breakfast (coffee, eggs, and bacon) on Dubrovnik’s main street. From this central spine, each of the old town’s tiny streets intersect, extending no farther than three blocks before reaching the fortress city’s massive stone walls. Although Dubrovnik is Croatia’s most popular city, it’s also a fort, so there isn’t much room to just roam around.

That said, we knew we’d eventually make this trip (again GoT), but it had to be carefully planned. Following the country’s freedom from Communist rule in the Homeland Wars, it’s become a MAJOR draw for tourists. From June through August, an unsupportable mass of visitors flood the small city. Like Jon Snow’s army in the Battle of the Bastards, the streets become a bottleneck of bodies stepping over one another. Instead of the Stark’s wolf insignia though, this tourist army fights under the banner of fanny packs and selfie sticks.

Anyway, that’s why we chose to visit in May: the cruise ships haven’t arrived yet, but the water is just warm enough to take a dip. The only drawback to going in May is that there is still a chance of rain… what are the odds of a rainy day on the Adriatic coast though, right?  Day 1 forecast: wet.

Dubrovnik is a city of sunshine, beaches, and nearby islands (and medieval fantasy dramas). It is not a city made for rainy days. … That said, Chelsay and I weren’t going to waste the day indoors. See, we’ve faced a few obstacles in our travels. This wasn’t our first rodeo. Every time we’re faced with a challenge, we always find a way to “just make something happen”. When Mary’s Bridge was closed for repair at Neushwanstein, we turned it into a hero view for just Chelsay and I. When winds atop Gyckognfuw (sp?) Glacier nearly canceled our snowmobiling tour in Iceland, we found a way to get snowmobiling AND added ATVing to boot. As we walked the wet and quiet town under our umbrellas, we brainstormed how we’d conquer this obstacle.

Before visiting Dubrovnik, we knew we wanted to kayak around Lokrum Island, which is just off the city’s coast. From researching, I knew there was a cave accessible only by kayak. …I figured that if we could battle the rain for a 20 minute paddle, we’d be able to dry off and wait out the weather under the cave’s cover.

Chels and I were clearly the only ones with this idea because every kayak rental shop we tried was closed. We were actually walking back to the hotel to regroup when we caught a guy carrying a kayak rental sign. The conversation went like this: Us: “Can we rent a kayak?” Him: “What? Really?” Us: “Yeah, give us a kayak.” Him: “Okay…. wait, really?” Us (Daenerys looking for her dragons voice): “GIVE. US. A. KAYAK.” Him: “Woof, suit yourselves.” (Takes picture of the crazy Americans as they leave the wet shore in jackets, ponchos, and a dry bag)

It was a battle getting out to the island: not only was it raining, but a brutal wind was blowing directly into our faces. We were also the only people on the water, so everyone in the town was looking at the two idiots out there in ponchos.

The 20 minute journey took twice as long because of the wind, but we eventually made it to the dry cave oasis. Chelsay and I laid out our stupid ponchos and pulled out the picnic we’d packed (which amazingly stayed dry). We explored the impossibly clear waters, played music, and likely delusional from exhaustion, danced around the cave like the arm-waving kid in the Katy Perry SNL performance.

So that was one more example of how Chelsay and I “just make something happen”. With positivity and ambition, we’d turned what could’ve been a wasted day indoors into a dance party in an island cave we had all to ourselves.

We successfully arm-waved until the weather passed, and when the rain subsided, we returned back to Dubrovnik for our dinner time reward of wines, meats, cheeses, and Croatian specialty pancakes.

Later that night, we took the city’s cable car up a nearby mountain for a view of the coastline at sunset. After a hunt for the perfect panoramic view of both Dubrovnik’s Old Town and the sinking sun, Chelsay and I looked on in awe as the sky turned from blue to pink to purple to red.

We woke up early the next morning to walk the fortress city’s surrounding walls, home to many GoT filming spots. Although we were visiting during “shoulder season”, we knew a cruise ship was arriving that day, so we wanted to tour King’s Landing before the crowds arrived. Pacing the nearly empty walls, we visited Cersi’s Walk of Shame, the Blackwater Bay battleground, and the many sites of Vaerys and Tyrion’s scheming.

Just as the Lannisters would have seen Stannis’ ships arrive, we looked across the orange rooftops as cruise ships pulled into the King’s Landing harbor. The town bells rang to warn of the incoming attackers (aka tourists), so Chelsay and I fled the city walls for its more peaceful nearby beaches.

For the next few hours, Chelsay and I sprawled out and relaxed under the newly returned sun. Similar to our trip to Santorini, we enjoyed rosé and iced coffees while trying to reverse our many months of sun deprivation in London.

With rosé, iced coffees, and a sun burn all in hand, Chelsay and I had conquered King’s Landing. Now, we were ready to set sail for our next destination: the Dalmatian island of Korcula.

Korcula is a relatively large island (about 90 minutes to drive around) known for two things: first, it claims to be the birthplace of explorer Marco Polo, and second, its unique white wine, Grk. Are those really two things to be proud of? Like, any notable social, political, or military contributions in your looong history? Nope, just the wine and a bold claim about a famous person’s birthplace, huh? Well, I guess that’s part of Korcula’s charm. 

While researching on the ferry from Dubrovnik, Chelsay and I decided we’d tour the island’s vineyards and beaches by bike. We envisioned a Wedding Crashers-style bike ride: beach cruisers and that song playing (“In the summertime, when the weather is fine…”). We picked up rental bikes in town, but about 10 minutes later, we started a gradual ascent. …You look up and see where the road leads, and it’s not flattening out anytime soon. We may have expected Wedding Crashers, but we quickly learned this would be more like our windy kayaking.

As hard as it was to reach the top of these hills, we thoroughly enjoyed the relaxing descent into the island’s wine country. Cruising past shallow, teal blue coastline and under a backdrop of the surrounding mountains, Chelsay and I eventually found ourselves in the endless grapevine fields of Bire Winery.

We took a brief reprieve from the sun for a taste of the winery’s Grk, rosé, and red selection. A robust, earthy flavor made by the angle of the vineyard against the ocea—aaand I don’t know what I’m talking about. Chelsay is the sommelier between us, and she liked it enough to walk away with a bottle of rosé.

It was soon impossible to tell whether my skin was red from the sun or the wine. I was in the middle of telling the bartender how the Cubbies came back from 3-1 when Chelsay recommended I drink some water. I was soon hydrated enough to continue to bike tour, and we took the winery’s recommendation in heading to a quiet nearby beach. If the extra water at the winery hadn’t sobered me up, it took about one toe in the chilly Mediterranean to do the job.

After resting on the beach for a few hours, Chelsay and I felt refreshed enough to reconquer the hills on the way back to Korcula’s old town. Later, and in need of heavy carbs after our ride, we found some homemade pasta before touring the small village as the sun set.

That night, we took a late ferry to Split before making a THREE HOUR drive to Plitvice National Park. This midnight drive might seem aggressive, but I’ve written about this many times: Chelsay and I won’t settle for less than the perfect trip. We’re like the Underwoods on Election Day… They’re taking the Ohio by any means necessary, and we’re experiencing everything Croatia has to offer no matter what, including Plitvice.

Even after our 1:00 AM arrival, we woke up at 7:00 to make sure we’d see the park before dozens of tour buses and crowds arrived. You see, Plitvice is such a bizarre treat left by nature, and one must enjoy it in peace.

Plitvice sits a few hours inland from the Adriatic Sea and is surrounded by arid, rocky flatlands (think West Texas), yet this lush oasis hides 16 lakes interconnected by waterfalls. It doesn’t hide from Google though, so based on our image searches, Chelsay and I had high expectations.

It was even more breathtaking in person though. Just 20 steps into the park, we stumbled into a dramatic panoramic view.

The place felt like Jurassic Park, and the six mile hike to follow this initial view only furthered the feeling. Countless waterfalls cascaded down dramatic 300 foot walls. The edges of the lakes were so shallow that they took a teal hue, before descending into deeper blue depths. An abundance of fish and other sea life bustled in the impossibly clear waters (Chelsay called it an ecosystem in a water bottle). A network of plankways weaved in and out of the jungle of green canopies, connecting the 16 lakes. I’m not sure there is a way to quantify nature, but it’s safe to say Plitvice has a lot of it.

After kayaking in Dubrovnik, biking around Korcula, and now hiking through Plitvice, Chelsay and I were exhausted. We returned to Split that evening for one last meal at Bokeria (truffle pasta, lamb croquettes in melted cheese, and bombolini) and then quickly toured the city’s main attraction: Diocletian’s Palace. Like, really quickly: we were back in bed before the sun went down.

As exhausted as we were though, we knew it was the good kind of tired… like the feeling after exercising or after finishing a big project at work.

It’s the sign of a good trip. I’ve written about this before, but our biggest gauge for vacation success is whether it delivers something unique and fun every day. Iceland, Greece, Scotland, and Seville are the first to come to mind as examples of sustained excitement, though there have been many others too. After four days of cave dancing, coastal sunsets, beach lounging, vineyard bike rides, and Jurassic hikes, it’s safe to say Croatia delivered as well. Plus, now we can check King’s Landing off our list.