#TRUJILLO

[manessha545]

La Mesa de Esnujaque, Venezuela: A town in the State of Trujillo located 52 km from Valera, known as the "Pearl of Tourism of the Andes". Part of its name comes from the first settlers who were the Esnujaques Indians....La Mesa is one of the six civil parishes in the municipality of Urdaneta in the state of Trujillo, Venezuela. Its capital is La Mesa de Esnujaque. Wikipédia

[7lunares]

Fan de los atardeceres 😍

[sigurism]

Pedro Pascal | Boyd Holbrook Narcos 2.01 -Free at Last

[wgm-beautiful-world]

Calle del Hospitalillo - Trujillo, Cáceres, Extremadura, ESPAÑA

[postcard-from-the-past]

Obelisk in Ciudad Trujillo, modern-day Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic

Dominican vintage postcard

[wandering-jana]

Plaza Mayor

Trujillo, Spain

Dec. 2021

Explore:

[ofbeautsandbeasts]

Greetings from Peru! 👋 These are some highlights from the fascinating city of Trujillo. There are two major archeological sites of pre-Columbian monuments here: Chan Chan, the largest adobe city in the ancient world, and the temples (huacas) of the Sun and Moon. Before the Inca conquest, the Moche and Chimu peoples lived here.

[sefaradweb]

Sosúa, la comunidad dominicana creada por judíos refugiados

🇩🇴 Sosúa, una pequeña localidad al norte de la República Dominicana, tiene una historia única de solidaridad durante la II Guerra Mundial. Entre 1939 y 1940, el dictador Rafael Leónidas Trujillo permitió que más de 5.000 judíos refugiados llegaran al país, huyendo de la persecución nazi en Europa. Aunque en la Conferencia de Evian de 1938 se había ofrecido la posibilidad de recibir hasta 100.000 judíos, solo llegaron 750 a la isla. Los refugiados fueron asentados en Sosúa, una plantación de bananas abandonada, donde el gobierno les otorgó tierras y recursos para cultivarlas. Estos inmigrantes, apoyados por el programa Dominican Republic Settlement Association de los EE.UU., crearon una próspera comunidad que fundó escuelas, hospitales y empresas. Hoy, la comunidad judía sigue viva en Sosúa, y su historia ha sido capturada en el documental "Sosúa: Refugio inesperado", que narra cómo estos sobrevivientes reconstruyeron sus vidas en la isla y contribuyeron al desarrollo de la región.

🇺🇸 Sosúa, a small town in the Dominican Republic, has a unique history of solidarity during World War II. Between 1939 and 1940, dictator Rafael Leónidas Trujillo allowed over 5,000 Jewish refugees to arrive in the country, fleeing Nazi persecution in Europe. Although 1938's Evian Conference had offered the possibility of accepting up to 100,000 Jews, only 750 actually arrived on the island. The refugees were settled in Sosúa, an abandoned banana plantation, where the government provided them with land and resources to farm. These immigrants, supported by the Dominican Republic Settlement Association program from the USA, built a thriving community, founding schools, hospitals, and businesses. Today, the Jewish community still exists in Sosúa, and its story has been captured in the documentary "Sosúa: Unexpected Refuge", which tells how these survivors rebuilt their lives on the island and contributed to the region's development.

[proceduralpassion]

It's Gonna Be A Scream

Day 29 of Narcoctober- Create a fanwork inspired by your favorite horror movie.

Character(s): Javier Peña x Reader; Steve Murphy, Connie Murphy, Horacio Carrillo, Trujillo, Hugo Martinez

CW: violence, blood, character death (both implied and real)

WC: 689

A/N: The way this needs to be an entire fic and/or series??

Your lungs were on fire. The muggy Texas air didn’t help matters. All you felt was hot, thick cotton stuffing its way down your trachea with each breath you took. Every ounce of energy was going into getting away from certain death. You were too tantalized with fear to turn around and see if you were still being chased. Instead, you looked in front of you. Working overtime to catch up to Javi.

One of your best friends ever since you got to college kept swiping glances back at you, not sprinting too far away from you. The two of you got separated from the rest of the group somewhere in all of the frenzy and now you were both alone as you ran for your lives.

Adrenaline was a hell of a drug. No one was given much chance to come to terms with finding Hugo’s bloodied remains in a heap outside the lone Victorian-style farmhouse they had stopped at for help with their overheated travel van. Connie’s screams had permeated through the air as she realized that she had discovered the newly deceased body of their college friend and travel buddy. Steve immediately pulled her away, yelling, “Holy shit, that’s Hugo!”

Everyone’s yelps of confusion and horror gets drowned out by the sound of a chainsaw and the large man wielding it who’s charging straight at them. 

Horacio and Trujillo take off towards the house while Steve is pulling Connie back towards another vehicle on the land, hoping and praying that it’ll work. 

You immediately flee for the opposite direction in which the violent slaughterer is coming from. Javi falls in step with you and he points out the woodsy area that would hopefully provide shelter. It’s farther away from the roads in which you all drove in to get to the house, but you’re left with no choice. 

Your feet pound into the ground, carrying you further and further away except you don’t hear the sound of the chainsaw growing less quiet with time. You know he’s following you. You can’t bear to turn around and confirm, but you know it. 

Javi looks back once more now that he’s several steps in front of you, “Come on!” 

You clear the tall grass of the southern fields. It’s reedy and thick for the first several feet. The sound of the deadly weapon dissipates some, like he’s stopped. You’re catching up to Javi finally, but the two of you don’t stop. The fescue grass starts getting thinner in some areas, patchier, but there’s trees up ahead and you’ve got a good chance of completely losing your friend’s murderer if you can get across where there’s possible civilization. 

The sound of the chainsaw grows quieter and quieter and there comes a point when the two of you don’t hear it at all. Javi puts a finger to his mouth, willing quietness. He grabs onto your hand and pulls you both closer to the ground. The grass is getting shorter and there’s about thirty feet between it and the expansive space of trees. There’s no cover in that small feat. If the killer’s attention was no longer on them, it wouldn’t matter anyway, but it was still a risk.

You glance into each other’s eyes and realize the same thing at the same time. It’s do or die. Now or never. 

The both of you stop at the border that stops at the reeds and begins the wide open field before hitting the woods. A few seconds feels like a few hours. Thousands of words are exchanged between the desperate gaze the two of you share. The confessions you want to make. The feelings that you’ve both held for years. The promises you make to yourselves and to each other of what happens when this is all over. 

There’s no silent countdown. The two of you just nod and dart out into the open, making the rough, muddy terrain your track field.

Your lungs burn. 

Your feet hurt. 

The chainsaw drums up again. DALLAS MORNING NEWS- 7 University of Texas Students Reported Missing, Last Seen Traveling Together on Spring Break

Click here if you wanna be added to the taglist! Taglist: @asirensrage @drabbles-mc @ashlingnarcos @narcosfandomdiscord

[pigs-in-art]

artisanal food shop sign in Trujillo by d0gwalker Via Flickr: This sign hangs outside La Almazara, a shop selling artisanal food products such as jamon iberico, just up from the Plaza Major in Trujillo, Extremadura, Spain. It shows a pig foraging under an oak tree, which is the source of Extremadura's famous 'bellota' (acorn) ham from acorn-fed Pata Negra pigs.

[7lunares]

La vista de hoy de Truji ☁️⛰️

[kenyiss]

[eventmania]

CONCIERTO DE TEMPORADA

"Toda buena música debe ser una innovación." - Les Baxter

La Orquesta de Barro volvió a ofrecer un excelente concierto sinfónico en el Teatro Municipal de Trujillo, bajo la batuta del director Paul Bazalar. Un conjunto de niños, adolescentes y jóvenes nos brindó una noche llena de emociones y buena música.

Dos solistas muy impresionantes, Jimena Arbulú y Angie Ybáñez, deleitaron al público con sus majestuosas voces.

La Orquesta de Barro, gracias al apoyo de Arpegio Suiza, presentó un repertorio variado que incluyó canciones de películas y temas de nuestras regiones como "Valicha", "Zaza", "Préndeme la vela", y, por último, la gran "Marinera Trujillana", que fue acompañada por las palmas del público.

Fue un excelente concierto para el disfrute de los trujillanos.

Redacción: Sánchez Chuquimango Margarita

[sigurism]

Boyd Holbrook (& Pedro Pascal) Narcos 2.01 -Free at Last

[ashlingnarcos]

two tests

771 word ficlet for @narcosfandomdiscord's #narcoctober challenge: write an og narcos and mx narcos crossover. tw for canon-typical events

Most men got tested three times; Carrillo only got tested twice. 

He was in another country, a de facto representative of Colombia, and as such, he was on his best behavior. When the first man offered him a bribe, he smashed the man’s head into his shitty little plywood desk, and although the desk broke and the head did not, he left it there. Zero broken bones, zero bullets: civilized. Gentlemanly, even.

“Going soft,” Trujillo teased him later, and Carrillo laughed as he told him to go fuck himself. 

Trujillo was the one good thing about being in Mexico, a true partner of the soft Carrillo hadn’t had since sometime in the early eighties after the last of his partners had finally been killed. In the interim, Carrillo had been forced to make due with Peña, who wasn’t as stupid as he looked and had the singular virtue of being unkillable as only American could be—but it wasn’t the same.

He had missed this, he let himself think as Trujillo grumblingly, happily, paid their tab for the night.

The next day, when the second man offered him a bribe, Carrillo was in a good mood. However, he felt he had neglected to make his point the day before, and so he decided to detain the man instead of arresting him outright. Trujillo knew the score, they found themselves a little hole in the wall, and the grim work began. 

Calderoni found them there during the cleanup, with Carillo marking new locations on a map in red marker, Trujillo sharpening his knife, and their assigned driver halfheartedly wielding a bloody mop.

“Carillo,” said Calderoni said in the voice of a reproving grandfather. “Thought this was supposed to be a fact-finding mission.”

“It is,” said Carillo, unbothered, not even looking up from the map as Calderoni’s men began to fill the space around him. “Good news: we’ve found some facts.” As the soldiers began to carry out the body, he started rattling off addresses one by one. 

Something was wrong, and he sensed it instinctively before he even knew why. Lifting his head, he saw that the soldiers around him were watching him with their hands resting on their weapons, and that Calderoni’s eyes were far too serious under his veneer of calm complacency.

Trujillo had stopped sharpening his knife. That was the wrongness he’d sensed.

On a hunch, Carrillo straightened up, put the marker down, and walked towards them, straying a little to the right to avoid the pool of blood. He discovered that he had been right. He hadn’t wanted to be right.

Calderoni had his gun jammed into the small of Trujillo’s back.

“What?” Carrillo said. 

It was a challenge, not a question. He was measuring the distance between himself and Calderoni with his eyes, but then, so was everyone else. 

He did not look at Trujillo.

“Repeat that last address,” Calderoni said.

“881 Lope de Vega.”

Something went over Calderoni’s face, brief as a twitch. 

“Wow,” he said, clapping slowly a few times, the loud sounds getting swallowed up in the dingy little room filled with men. As ugly as Calderoni made it, there was a hint of respect there, too; this was the sort of look Carrillo was used to receiving from all quarters, but never in this context. It made his whole body light up with pure animal instinct. To flee was not an option.

“They told me to watch out for you,” Calderoni said. 

Carrillo tilted his head a half-inch in acknowledgement; he was the sort of man that needed a warning, and he felt that was fair.

There was a moment of not-quite silence as Calderoni let out a long-suffering sigh. “I didn’t realize it would take you less than three days.”

“I don’t have time to waste,” said Carilllo.

“Neither do I.”

With that, Calderoni withdrew his gun from where it had been jammed against Trujillo’s back. To his pride, Carillo noticed that Trujillo didn’t so much as slump in relief, only letting out a barely perceptible breath. 

Then Calderoni handed the gun to Trujillo. 

“Well?” he said.

As Carrillo looked across the room through the sea of soldiers, Trujillo met his eyes without a hint of emotion, alive only as a question. For at the end of all things, they reverted to their oldest, truest selves: Carrillo as colonel who could bend for no one, and Trujillo as the one who would carry on when he could not.

Carrillo couldn't even nod, but he didn't need to.

Most men got tested three times; Trujillo only got tested once.

He passed with flying colors.