#White baroque napkin

[damon25]

Why Should We Use Baroque Beauty-Damask Napkins for Festival Occasions?

Festival occasions call for elegance, warmth, and a little luxury, and when it comes to creating memorable experiences, Baroque Beauty-Damask napkins do just that. These napkins come with intricate patterns designed to mirror the grandeur of Baroque artistry to elevate any ordinary meal to a formality even the most rudimentary of meals deserve. Damask napkins are made with high-quality fabric. They are visually stunning but also durable and reusable, making them green napkins for the festive season. These rich textures and shimmering weaves are versatile. They would pair well with just about any theme, whether a formal dinner or a chill hang and have many table settings. These luxury dining napkins also include an element of tradition and history, which is the perfect thing to have about it, as festivals are about nostalgia and celebration. The soft yet firm fabric adds comfort for guests and elegance and sophistication. No matter the tableware, fine china, or rustic wooden, Baroque Beauty-Damask napkins make every setting look thoughtfully curated. These durable table napkins are a decorative choice and a statement of style and sophistication. Serving them at your festival table seals the deal that your spread will impress family and friends alike.

[4-the-chaotic-one]

Misunderstandings

A little fic written with @sunshine-the-boi​ playing Aziraphale, me playing Crowley. It is the early 1600s:

Aziraphale had called him to meet up at a new restaurant in the south of England. They had boasted works that included the new introduction of pineapples and bananas, leading to quite a few breakthroughs in the dessert department. Aziraphale sat at a table, adjusting his clothes minutely, and settled in to wait for both his meal and his evening companion.

Unfortunately, the streets of London were packed, and it was pouring. Getting a last minute carriage ride was a hassle, and it would still be slow. Horses, obviously, were out of the question. Walking was, truly, the only option.

Crowley walked into the restaurant decidedly late, though miraculously dry. Peering around the dinning area through small dark glasses, his lip twitched at the corner. Immediately, he swaggered to the table for two, currently occupied by one.

Sliding into the seat, leaning forward to rest elbows on the table, he looked the angel over. “Nice place.”

Aziraphale was already halfway through his first treat when the demon arrived, something made entirely of cream, dough, and bananas. The angel's brows shot up and his face broke out into a full fledged smile, "Oh, Crowley, hello. So good to see you." He almost spoke like he hadn't expected him, but a moment later he frowned, "You're quite late."

“Eh, had to walk,” Crowley leans back, draping his arms over the back of the chair, flagging a waiter. Ordering wine—white—for the both of them, he pantomimes looking about the room leisurely. His head turns, but behind the dark lenses, his eyes never leave the angel.

“So, any....plans? In the next few days?” He raises a brow at the angel, making his words sound nonchalant to the point of dramatic.

Aziraphale gives him a smile that says ‘You know what I called you here for’ and digs into the rest of his dessert with his fork, a new, wonderful thing, "Well, I'm supposed to head up to Rome this weekend. A few blessings here, a miracle there." He takes a bite and chews through it slowly with a satisfied smile before continuing, "You?"

“Ah, well,” Crowley shrugs, receiving his drink and taking a sip before gently swirling the liquid in the glass, “I’m also meant to go to Rome. Tempt some royalty, nothing taxing.”

Taking another sip, he eyed the angel over his glasses, waiting. Crowley knew the rules. If he called the meeting, he was expected to convince and pester. When the Angel asked to meet, he was not to mention it. Not first.

Aziraphale gave him a hum and a nodded as he lifted his glass to take a drink as well, just a small sip before going back to his food, "Would you like a bite of this? I know you don't eat often but it is quite good. Lovely aroma as well."

“Why not?” Crowley snatched a fork, stabbing the smallest morsel from Aziraphale’s plate. Taking the bite, he looked thoughtful a moment before nodding.

The food doesn’t matter. He would agree anyway. It was part of the game. Of course, for all the unspoken rules Aziraphale had put forth—there were aspects the angel was entirely unaware of.

Such as this silly waiting game. Aziraphale thought himself to be teasing the demon, torturing him with dragging the meal out. Knowing they both knew the business, but not bringing it up until the end.

The joke was on him. Crowley could sit and talk with the angel, watching him eat, for eternity. Each and every time he found their time at an end, forced to say goodbye, he felt a slight panic. A part of him scrambling to find a reason—any reason—to prolong the encounter.

“Not bad.” The demon nods upon swallowing. Taking a sip of his wine he grinned. “Wine’s better.” Let Aziraphale procrastinate the night away.

Aziraphale smiled again, it bunches the chub in his cheeks and crinkles his eyes, waving down the waiter once more to order whatever other new things they had. The man knew the angel by name, as they always did, and was eager to comply.

"The wine is very good, isn't it? You know, it comes from a vineyard in Italy, this place's in particular. I think we've been actually. It’s familiar, isn't it?"

“Mmm,” Crowley took another sip. “Yess. 1632, we were way on our back from Galileo announcing his observation of the ‘fixed star’.”

This had, of course, entertained the demon to no end, as the ‘star’ was in fact the planet Neptune. Not that it had been named, as such, yet—but he was well aware of it. As he was every celestial body.

Given the level of awe and excitement Aziraphale had been in, he rather doubted the angel was as such aware. Crowley had found himself unable to spoil the angel’s fun, and had never mentioned the planet. “They had goats.”

The angel's eyes lit up and he nodded quickly, "You're right! Extraordinary, wasn't it?" He thanked the waiter for his new dish and happily began to examine it, "The humans are doing such marvelous things, now. Have you seen the art?"

Eyeing the new plate, Crowley vaguely wondered how many the angel had eaten before he arrived. The thought made him smile fondly.

“Oh yes,” He nodded, thoughts jerking back to the conversation. “Love the Baroque style. Very contrasting.”

The demon had actually become so infatuated with the style, he had considered asking the angel to model with him for one. Asking the painter, in fully artistic fashion of course, to portray them as angel and demon. He rather thought the dramatic contrast in the paintings would fit perfectly.

However, daydreaming about such a thing, and actually asking existed on two entirely different levels.

The angel took a bite of his new dish and gave a great sigh, eyes closing and body relaxing as he mulled over the flavors in his mouth, savoring each second of it.

Once the moment had passed, he finally spoke again, "The things they do with buildings these days. Have you seen the Luxembourg Palace? It’s divine, really."

Crowley was transfixed. The demon really could watch Aziraphale eat for eternity. He was quite certain he had never taken as much pleasure in anything as the angel did eating. Well, except perhaps watching the angel.

So involved in observation, was he, that when his companion spoke once more, he looked up blankly. It took a moment for his mind to readjust and comprehend what had been asked. Or even, that he had been asked a question.

“Luxembourg. Yes. Lovely cornices,” He nodded, finally able to pull up a memory of the place, “Lovely pond. Lots of ducks.”

A soft laugh passed the air between them and Aziraphale dabbed at his mouth with his napkin, "You love ducks. Why do you love ducks so much? Of course they're beautiful creatures you... seem drawn to them."

Pulling a somewhat confused and thoughtful face, Crowley cocked his head. “Dunno.” He looked at the angel with a shrug. “Didn’t know I had any particular inclination towards them.”

The demon was not lying. It was only at this point, upon Aziraphale asking such a pointed question, did he realize how often he did refer to ducks. There was nothing conscious involved in the act, it simply happened.

Now that he was thinking about it, Crowley honestly could not think of a single exceptional or interesting thing about ducks. They were simply, ducks.

Aziraphale smiled in a small and knowing way, he didn't honestly believe Crowley had any kind of affinity for the animals, they just always seemed to be what popped into his mind when the demon was nervous .

He finished off the last bit on his plate and folded his hands in his lap, "Oh that was lovely. We must come back again sometime." He sat for a second, fingers fidgeting as he debated with himself over whether he'd stalled long enough or not, "Though... I did have another reason for asking you here."

Thankful the angel let the whole ‘duck’ thing go, Crowley relaxed. Refilling his wine, he watched the angel finish off the plate. He was immediately disappointed by the finality of it. He smiled anyway, nodding, because Aziraphale was happy. And he wanted to come back. “Of course.”

Watching the angel fidget, he was torn between the mild panic of knowing the evening was quickly drawing to a close, and adoration at the nervous habit. “Oh?” He raised his brows in mock surprise, finishing off his second glass of wine.

The angel sucked his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment and was torn in his own way by the morality. It was one thing when Crowley would ask this of him, but it was supposed to be. He was a demon. He took shortcuts and did bad things. Aziraphale was supposed to be holy, pure. But here he was trying to shirk responsibilities in favor of his own wants.

Part of him briefly wondered if a bit of it wasn't just him wanting an excuse to see the demon, but he shut it down rather quickly.

"Would be a shame... if we both had to go all the way to Rome..."

“Mmm, indeed,” Crowley agreed immediately. Back to the script. Aziraphale had brought it up, the demon would gladly run with it.

“Such a hassle, what with the ferry, and the war going on. Nasty business, that. Far more sensical for just one of us to go, do both. The Arrangement.” He grinned at the angel as his glass was refilled.

Aziraphale avoided eye contact, gazing down at his empty plates before tilting his head to look at him again, knowing if he doesn't go through with this now, he probably won't at all, "I'll toss you for it."

Crowley opened his hand, revealing a coin. It was not sleight of hand, but proper magic. The effect is the same—or better, as it were. He held it up between two fingers, showing both sides of the coin.

“Call it.” He flipped the coin high in the air, aimed to land in the center of the table.

Aziraphale gave a slight roll of the eyes, knowing for sure at the display he's thinking he's done "proper magic" as opposed to what the angel indulged in.

Nevertheless, he eyed the coin as it travels through the air, calling out a quick "Heads" and waiting for the verdict.

A soft plink, as the coin landed on the clothed table. Leaning forward a hair, Crowley grinned, flopping back. “Tails, you’re going to Rome.”

While he was rather relieved at not having to travel, a small part of him also worried about the angel traveling through a war zone. An even smaller part of him felt the smallest bit guilty at cheating. Never let a demon flip a coin.

“Just play the royal consort—his wife really—tell him some negative things, question himself, and you’re all done. Nothing big, in and out in a pinch.” He grinned toothily at the angel.

The angel huffed but throws him a look as he thought it over, "That isn't so bad, I suppose. Rome has lovely food. Alright fine. I'll go to Rome." He adjusted the napkin in his lap and sat for a moment, thinking about asking for more to nibble on, "Now that you're free, whatever shall you do?"

Satisfied that the angel had agreed—though there was really no chance he would not , Crowley considered the question.

“Hmmm,” He mused, trying to find something appropriate to say. Sleeping, and perusing first-editions of a particular variety simply would not do.

“Perhaps I’ll take up art.” The demon immediately regretted this. This was the kind of thing that could be checked up on. Asked about later. Proof requested in a casual manner. Now he had to at least attempt art.

Aziraphale immediately interested, smiled widely and laid his cheek against his hand, "Oh wouldn't that be lovely. You really are the creative sort, Crowley. I'm sure you would do wonderful in the field. I would love to see what could do." He smirked a little, knowing the demon was already mentally backpedalling, "What will you do? Paintings? Sculpture?"

"Ah, yeah," Crowley forced a smile, trying to remain relaxed. "Uhm, painting, I think." That couldn't be too hard, could it? The demon shifted in his seat uncomfortably, looking anywhere but at the angel. “We'll, ah, see how it goes."

If he were to look at Aziraphale, a shit eating grin would be all that greets him. But the angel took pity in him and says, "Well, I'm sure not matter what you, it will be lovely." And left it at that.

He decided, perhaps, if he was to head over to Rome soonish, he should go, and sighed softly, scooting away from the table, "I suppose I'll be off then." He fixed Crowley with a stare and his bottom lip stuck out the slightest bit, "You wouldn't mind... getting this for me, would you, my dear?"

Crowley continued to avoid looking at the angel until he began to stand. At which point he suddenly became fixated on Aziraphale. "Of course," He stood quickly, forcing a smile, "Of course."

As was always the case, the demon suddenly found himself in the usual state of panic when the angel was going to leave. There had to be some way to extend the evening. But there was not. Aziraphale would need to leave the city rather soon. There was nothing Crowley could do.

He had wanted this, hadn't he?

"Right then," He straightened his jacket, "Have fun in Rome." Have a safe trip. Don't do anything stupid. Please, Angel, be careful.

Aziraphale stopped short a little, a sour taste in his mouth at the goodbye spoiling his meal somewhat. But he recovered with a more genuine smile and lays a hand on Crowley's shoulder, "I'll be sure to bring you back something nice. We can meet up again for lunch when I come back." I'll be fine and will see you again soon.

"Yes, of course," Crowley nodded, forcing himself not to simply stare at the hand on his shoulder. Instead he stared intensely at the angel. "Send me a message when you return." I'll be waiting. If you take too long, I'm coming for you. Please be safe.

With their stumbling attempts at subtext finished, Aziraphale nodded once to him and made his way out of the restaurant, leaving Crowley with the bill, in his own way of being passive aggressive with no real anger being had.

———————————————————————————————

Crowley received word from the angel almost too much time later, a message listing a time and place and urging him explicitly to be on time this occasion.

Time had passed agonizingly slowly. Unfortunately traveling took a great deal of time. No matter how simple the miracles and tempting were--how short a time--the simple travel back and forth were not things to be taken lightly. That being said, the demon had plenty to occupy him during this time.

It turned out, art was actually something the demon was good at. Though his preference, miracling a fully finished painting was the simplest thing. He certainly had the imagination for it--however, Aziraphale would know the difference. Of that he had no doubt. Instead, he put the time in, and the effort.

Unfortunately, a great many of his finished works were things he could never show to the angel. As such, he was scrambling to finish something angel appropriate when he received the message.

His angel was home. Grinning wildly, he finished the last few strokes of the painting and pulled it off the easel. It was suddenly perfectly dry and set when he threw a cloth over it, putting it under his arm as he headed out the door.

The note had said to meet at another restaurant, one of the angel's old favorites. Apparently, he was feeling a bit homesick. Crowley found himself not only arriving on time, but a bit early. Early enough, the angel was not there. Getting a table under the name Aziraphale, he ordered some wine, painting propped against the table, and waited.

In a bit if a shocking move, Aziraphale was actually the slightest bit late. When he finally did arrive, as much as he pretended everything was normal, Crowley could instantly spot something was off .

The angel found their table rather quickly and settled down into his seat, reaching a little too quickly for the wine already set out, "Hello, my dear boy. How have you been?"

"Fine." Crowley answered the question shortly, brows furrowed as he visually inspected the angel. Something was definitely off, but he could not quite put his finger on it. For a moment, he reached across the table, as if he were reaching out toward Aziraphale, but he stopped short.

"What happened?" He did not bother to beat around the bush. The demon was concerned, and did not bother to hide it. This entire time he had been on the edge of his seat, ready to run off to Rome at a moment's notice.

Aziraphale stopped and looked at the outstretched hand. A long, strange moment passed between the two of them as neither dared to move. Finally, the angel broke the silence, staring at the table, "Nothing. It’s nothing. I'-" he huffed a little to cut himself off and returned his gaze to Crowley, faced lined with worry, "Consort. You said "consort", correct?"

Frowning deeper, Crowley slowly, casually pulled his hand back, leaving it resting on the table. "Yes, consort, that's right. Was there trouble?" Do I need to hurt someone?

There was a wild look in the angel’s eyes and he took a shaky breath, leaning closer across the table to whisper in a bit of a hoarse voice, "Escort, Crowley. I was his escort."

Staring for a moment, the demon said nothing. He was frozen as one of the paintings he had spent so many hours on. Staring intently at the angel, unable to respond.

"Escort." It was not a question. It was a statement. Spoken with finality. Yet, there was still clearly some level of uncertainty discernible there. "An escort. You were. An escort."

The angel's face flushed so deeply, he could have been mistaken for a tomato. He immediately dropped his gaze, staring back at the table again, hands fidgeting nervously in his lap, "Yes. Escort. Not um.. not the same as a consort."

“Oh."

Crowley stared at the angel a long moment before looking away. "Right then." Clearing his throat he readjusted in his seat. "Well then. My bad, I guess. Very sorry." Panic babbling began to flow from his mouth, despite his best efforts. "Quite the shock, I imagine. Won't happen again, I assure you."

The arrival of the waiter was a wonderful point at which the demon could bite his tongue. Literally. Hard enough to bleed. So many conflicting emotions ran through him, Crowley had no idea what to say, or do. He was not even sure if Aziraphale was okay or not. Was he simply uncomfortable, or was there something more?

Crowley did not know, and it was rather quickly, driving him mad.

Aziraphale ordered quickly, already knowing what he was in the mood for before having sat down. At least the odd funk he was in hadn't upset his appetite any.

Once the waiter was gone he placed his hands on the table in front of him and took a deep steadying breath, “It's ok. Just..." He flushed anew and tried to look anywhere but at Crowley. It became evident he was more embarrassed than anything, "Perhaps... warn me next time."

Seeing the angel order food with confidence settled Crowley enough to regret having bitten his tongue. At least Aziraphale was still feeling well enough to have his order ready. Of course, the demon considered, it could be the end of the world and Aziraphale would still be thinking of what desert he wanted to try.

For perhaps the first time, Crowley actually saw the blush. Pieces began clicking together. There was a tugging at the corners of his mouth. He battled them down—mostly successful.

Taking a sip of wine, he held it in his mouth a moment, swirling the glass as he considered his response. “Well.  I’ll be sure to do that in the future.” The battle to keep a straight face continued. The demon was losing ground.

“In my defense, my orders were not particularly clear on this point, and as such I had no way of knowing.” Another sip of wine. The battle was going poorly.

“But come now, it wasn’t so bad, was it?” Crowley was in full retreat. The battle was lost.

At the last bit, Aziraphale rounded on him, eyes wide with what might be rage, but the full flush to his face put a bit of a damper on it. He hissed through his teeth, seeming more like demon than an angel in that particular moment, "Yes it was that bad, Crowley. Do you have any idea what I had to do?"

He broke eye contact again to stare at the table, fidgeting with his clothes as if he were suddenly naked.

At the look Aziraphale threw his way, the demon took a slow drink, hiding his grin in the wine. When he set the glass down it was empty, and his face passive. Dark lenses hd the amused glint in his eyes.

“Well, I have an idea,” Crowley argued calmly, “It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve done a temptation along those lines.” Waiting for his refill, fingers idly spinning the glass on the table, he studied the angel. Very interested in what his reaction to this would be.

The angel blustered for a moment, not able to really come up with anything to say immediately. When he finally got his mouth working again, he blinked slowly at him, ".... You tricked me then. Because you're a demon. You did this on purpose. To taint me."

Accepting his refilled glass, Crowley paused with it a few inches from his mouth to roll his eyes. A dramatic gesture that involved his entire head. “Oh, come off it, Angel. I did no such thing, and you know it.”

He took a drink, the set his glass down, leaning forward on the table. “If I were tricking you, or trying to taint you, I would do a much better job at it. Something subtler.”

"No of course not!" He shook his head feverishly and looked at his hands, not wanting to meet the demon's eyes, "You knew I wouldn't say no. You knew I would do this for you anyway, regardless of what I physically had to do."

When his food arrived, Aziraphale immediately shoved a bite in his mouth, as if trying to rid himself of a bad taste.

Frowning, Crowley leaned back, finding himself becoming mildly annoyed. Of course he understood that the angel had been outside of his comfort zone, but the demon truly had not realized what he was asking. As if he would ever want Aziraphale to go and do something like that with...

“Wouldn’t say no? Angel, you were the one that initiated the meeting. We flipped a coin. In what way is this me asking you to do something? Hmm?” He took another slow sip of wine, staring the angel down over the glass.

Of course, Crowley had cheated at the coin flip, but that was irrelevant to the argument. The argument was about intent, and that was all either non-existant, or the angel’s.

The look Aziraphale gave him could have burned the demon, "I didn't think I was going to have to have sex with somebody, Crowley." He went back to stuffing his mouth, body shivering at the apparent memory.

The reality of what had happened finally hit the demon. Aziraphale had had sex with someone. As if that were not bad enough, in some small way, it was Crowley’s fault. Setting the wine glass down, he was silent a moment, glaring at the table.

While he had been in London, struggling with oils, covering himself in paint, and thinking solely of Aziraphale—someone had been intimate with his angel. A sticky, dark ball began to grow in his gut.

“I’m sorry, Angel.”

Aziraphale continued to stare at the table for a long time, shooting him quick glances from the corner of his eye for a moment before heaving a great sigh. He knew Crowley wouldn't have done this on purpose. His companion was a demon, but even something like this was low for him. He took a long drink of his own wine and fully looked at the demon again, brows furrowed, "Its alright, Crowley. I know... I know it wasn't on purpose. I've just..." he cleared his throat, gaze returning to his food as he did something Crowley had never seen him do—he picks at it "Never done... that before..."

Crowley was idly turning the glass when Aziraphale spoke. Looking up, the sincerity in his voice only added to the beast growing inside the demon.

At the admission, there was a sharp sound, cracking through the restaurant. Like a punctuation to the statement. Crowley looked to the glass, the broken stem of a wine glass in his hand. The goblet clinked to the table and slowly rolled to the floor, as if in slow motion. Deep red wine seeping across the table, dribbling to the floor.

Before either could speak, or acknowledge the glass, attendants were rushing over with hurried apologies, scrambling to clean up the mess.

Aziraphale's mouth sealed shut at the sound, eyes wide and stunned as he stared at the demon. When the staff descend on them, he forced a smile, doing his best to calm them as they clean the glass. Due to the stain, the staff helps them move to a new table, something more secluded in the back, which does not go unnoticed by the angel. They're probably hoping to avoid a very open domestic.

When they finally got settled again, food and new drinks transferred to their table, Aziraphale fixed Crowley with a stare, "What was that?" His stomach churned. He had wanted the demon to know about what had happened, but never expected this.

When they moved to the new secluded table, Crowley did not sit down, instead hovering behind his chair. The cloth wrapped painting he had brought leaning once more against the table.

As the attendants had fussed, and the two had moved, he had seemed distracted. Even once they were left alone, the demon seemed far away.

“Hm?” Crowley looked at the angel. “Nothing. Sorry.” He apologized flippantly. Stepping up, he grabbed the edge of the canvas.

“This is for you.” He set it down closer to the angel. “My apologies, I’m afraid I have some things that I need to take care of. Can’t wait. Leave the bill on my tab.” The demon left without waiting for a response. Or even acknowledgement.

Something in the angel's chest cleaved in half, "No, Crowle-" but he was gone before Aziraphale could force his words out. He sat there, quietly, and stared at the food he, for the first time, was no longer hungry for, and blinked away the burning sensation in his eyes.

Finally, he lifted the painting from the floor, beyond stunned Crowley even bothered with the whole art thing. With the cover gone, he examinesdthe piece, eyeing the detail of it, and tears spilled hotly over his cheeks, "Oh, Crowley…"

The angel held a beautifully done piece showing a small pond filled with a variety of ducks. It was done in the Baroque style.

—————————————————————————————————————-

Just over a month passed with no sign of the demon anywhere in London. Or England, for that matter. It seemed that none of his affairs had been handled, and the only thing that kept the police from classifying him as a missing person was a hastily scrawled note.

A message arrived for Aziraphale, written in the demon’s hand:

Lunier’s. 7 o’clock. Table Reserved.

When the angel arrived at the restaurant, for possibly the first time in history of their dinners, there was actually a table reserved. It was in the back with a large Juliette Balcony beside the table. Windows open, curtains pulled back, looking over the Thames.

Crowley was seated there, impeccably dressed, lounging in his seat, staring out the window.

Aziraphale was beyond impressed by the invitation and dressed in his best for the occasion. Seeing the demon again for the first time in awhile caused the tension to leech from his shoulders. It was curious to him, before he could have gone decades without seeing him, but as of late, a month with no sign had him on edge.

He settled into the seat across from him and breathed in the air through the window, taking in the view, "You really had me worried, you know." He did not look at the demon, embarrassed by his own words, "I was a bit afraid I'd never see you again."

Looking up as the angel arrived, Crowley smiled softly, taking in the clearly well-thought-out attire. He was glad to see it, he had actually gone and put effort into this dinner.

Before he can answer, the waiter appears, setting a bottle on the table, and a large plate filled with samples of various decadent deserts before the angel.

When they were gone, Crowley leaned forward, filling both their glasses with an aromatic white wine. “Sorry ‘bout that. It was a bit urgent, had to go across the channel. How have you been?”

Aziraphale blinked in surprise at the spread, a smile slowly growing on his face as he closed his eyes and breathed in the aroma, "Oh Crowley you really shouldn't have." He transferred one treat to the plate in front of him and looked up to meet Crowley’s eyes, decidedly less scandalized than he was the last time they met, "Perfectly well. Book collection is really starting to come along. I dare say I might open a shop soon." He chuckled softly.

Leaning back, the demon allowed himself to smile appreciatively as Aziraphale lit up at the meal. He really had gone out of his way, but it was more than worth it.

“A book shop? That’s a brilliant idea,” he commended, gesturing with his wine glass. “Though, if I’m not mistaken, would that not involve you actually selling books?”

Aziraphale stopped and fixed him with a look, "Well, I can scarcely open a library. That would be so much worse. Can you imagine, me letting whoever cart off my books and bring them back when they're finished with them?" He shook his head quickly, "If it’s a book shop I can manage where they go."

The corners of his mouth pulling down, lower lip stiff the demon wobbled is head in thought. “I suppose.” he finally agreed, face relaxing into a small smile.

“Sounds like you’ll need a lot more…sellable books to fill your shop,” Crowley mused. “Still, I think it’s a fine idea. Any idea what you’d call it?”

"Not sure yet. I'm still having a think over it." Aziraphale hummed and dug into his food, eyes closing like normal while he enjoys it, feelings the textures and savoring the flavors.

He stopped once he finished the bite and began, "Oh! Are you still painting?"

Sipping his wine, Crowley relaxed into his seat, enjoying the way the dying light hit the angel as he ate. A great deal of thought had been put into this dinner. The light shown through the window in such a way as to light Aziraphale in profile, without in any way shinning into his eyes. The time of day had been precisely chosen.

Raising his brows at the question, Crowley took a deep breath, taking a stalling sip of wine. “Welll, guess I haven’t really had time lately.” He shifted in his seat. “Perhaps I will. I guess.”

The smile he casts the demon's way was beautiful, the reds from the sun bringing out the pink in his cheeks, "Your last one was very good, the one you gave me. I've had it framed and all." He took a sip of his drink and folded his hands in his lap, "What have you been doing thats kept you busy?"

As it so happened, at that moment Crowley was committing this image to memory with the very specific intention of painting it. Of course, he had zero intention of the angel ever actually seeing said painting.

Crowley could not stop the smile at knowing Aziraphale appreciated his painting. It had been a struggling, attempting to find a subject outside of the angel himself. He had to have something to show for the work, but all of his works had been—quite obviously—Aziraphale. It had actually been their conversation on ducks that gave him the idea. A bit of a joke.

“Oh, you know,” He waved his hand vaguely, “Demonic things.” It was not quite a lie.

"Demonic things." Aziraphale repeated back to him, eyeing Crowley over a forkful of dessert. He took his time through his next bite, watching the demon for any tells in what he's actually been doing, "You could just say you don't want to tell me."

Sipping his wine, Crowley raised his eyebrows at the angel, as if to say ‘is there a question?’. He allowed himself to remain relaxed, enjoying the view—not even thinking about his trip to Rome.

Setting the glass down gently, the demon smiles at the angel. “I could,” he responded, “But where’s the fun in that?”

Aziraphale continued to stare him down but gave him a soft chuckle and shook his head, "I suppose telling the truth is no fun for a demon. But I have to say, I thought I meant more to you than that, my dear." His bottom lip ripened in an exaggerated point as he continued to dine.

At the angel’s comment about truth, Crowley scoffed softly to himself, taking another drink of wine. For some reason, Aziraphale had it in his head that the demon lied to him on a regular basis. Of course, he never had. This was the closest he had come, but really it was not a lie. More a roundabout partial truth intended to mislead.

The last few words, however, did sting a bit. “Think of it as me trying to protect your delicate sensibilities,” Crowley parried, raising a brow at the angel. It was a sort of challenge. Both implying that he did care about the angel, enough to attempt to protect him. As well suggesting he would tell if pushed, but it would most certainly be something that Aziraphale would disapprove of.

Both of these things, were in fact, true.

The angel's brows furrowed slowly, coming down to rest against the top of his eyes in a look that was decidedly morbidly curious and worried. He set his drink down on the table and leaned closer, fixing the demon with a long stare, "Oh Crowley, what have you done?"

That wasn’t supposed to happen. Crowley took another long slow sip of his wine, stalling for time. Aziraphale never took the bait like this—the demon had been counting on that. He truly prided himself on never lying to the angel. Now, he had backed himself into a corner.

“Weelll,” Crowley swirled the wine in his glass, staring down into the clear liquid, “Hmmm, well, first off, just know things did not go quite as I planned.” The demon shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

Aziraphale's brows quirked a little at the demon's odd behavior, mulling over how nervous he suddenly seemed. He knew, normally, this little game of theirs would be drawn out, but due to recent events, he had a feeling he knew exactly who, when, where, and why Crowley's meddling had taken place.

All he had to do was pry out of him was the What.

"Didn't go as planned? So what was planned, then?" He drummed his fingers slightly on the table, anxious, "What did you do?"

There was no backing out, no weaseling his way around this. Likely the news would reach London soon enough, anyway. Crowley had hoped to enjoy the evening first. Have a perfect dinner before the angel put the pieces together and had a go at him.

“I just meant for a bit of a fright,” Crowley explained, shifting in his seat again, “Put him in his place. Put the fear of God into him, sort of speak.”

The royal had been frightened, of course. Very frightened. How was Crowley to know he had an undiagnosed heart condition? Honestly, how often were people actually frightened to death?

Aziraphale just stared at him, eyes wide as the pieces slowly fell into place in his mind. The fancy dinner, the cocky attitude, only meant to give him a fright, "You killed him. You killed that king, didn't you?"

Wincing, the demon bobbed his head from side to side, making a vague gesture with his hand. “Ehh, weeelll, technically his own body killed him,” he countered, “Lifestyle choices, if you will.”

Aziraphale stood from the table, hands down against the table as he stared at the demon, wide eyed with bewilderment, "Crowley, you didn't."

Eyebrows shooting up, Crowley leaned back, holding up his hands in surrender. “What?! I didn’t do anything , really.” The demon explained, attempting to sound reasonable. “Just showed him something frightening. Didn’t lay a hand on him! How was I supposed to know his heart would give out?”

"It was that king, wasn't it." It wasn't actually a question, because Aziraphale already knew. But something was off about the look that finally settled on his face. There was slight anger there, yes, but something else, something unreadable as a flurry of emotions mixed in his chest and knocked his heart and mind out of sync.

"Why were you even there?"

Wincing again, Crowley did not answer the first question—knowing full well that it was not, in fact a question. Instead, he waited, still leaned back and uncertain.

At Aziraphale’s next question, he lowered his hands, mouth working silently. This was a turn he had not been expecting either.

“Ah, well,” He stammered, mind scrambling, “You see, well, ehh, hmmm. Reasons?”

"Is it-" Aziraphale stopped himself short, eyes wide as he recalled everything that had happened during their previous get together. Crowley breaking his glass, the way he stormed off early. The puzzle was slowly completing itself in the angel's mind and his face flushed, "Was  it... because of what I had to do with him?"

Looking away, facing the window, Crowley shifted, making vaguely annoyed sounds as he gestured with his hand. This continued for a moment, with the demon not actually saying anything at all.

“Does it matter at this point? He’s dead, I’m a demon, what’s the problem?”

Aziraphale settled back into his seat, watching the demon with careful eyes as he processed the information before him.

"You don't kill without reason, Crowley. You're better than that."

Sighing, Crowley ran his fingers through is hair. As it happened, he did not kill at all. It was something he had managed to carefully dance around in his every order from Hell since the beginning of time. Of course, he would not tell the angel that. Aziraphale probably wouldn’t believe him if he did.

“As I said, I didn’t mean for him to die. “ Crowley argued once more. “I scare people for no real reason all the time.  “

“And none of them have ever dropped dead,” he muttered to himself.

"But why were you up there at all?" The angel’s expression morphing into something more curious, head tilted in the slightest, cutest way, "I went to Rome so you didn't have to. Why would you go behind me and visit the same man just after I had?"

Glancing at Aziraphale, then back out the window, he considered just throwing it out there. The angel was asking pointed questions—leading questions. He knew, or at least had an idea.

Crowley decided against this.

“I had some follow up business to take care of. Short notice.” It was not a lie.

Aziraphale stared at him, let the answer settle over him for a moment. If Crowley had admitted to jealousy over what had happened, things would change. The entire dynamic of their relationship with shift and honestly, Aziraphale's wasn't precisely sure he was ready to deal with the consequences.

Even though his chest ached at the thought that Crowley didn't really care about what had happened.

He returned to his meal, eating decidedly slower and letting the cover Crowley tossed settle over them, "Right. Of course. Well I do hope you managed whatever you were trying to accomplish."

Relief flavored with, just a hint, of disappointment flooded through the demon as Aziraphale let it go. Letting out a deep breath, he relaxes in his seat, returning to his wine.

Crowley spent so much time wishing the angel would see how he felt, and return those feelings. Yet, the idea of it being discovered, and Aziraphale being horrified was too much. This was a secret he would gladly take to the end of the world, if it meant keeping his angel by his side.

“Quite.” Crowley answered simply. “How’s the food?”

[thedarkivist]

you owe no one your forgiveness. + ship of choice

Marianne and Mary watched each other over the table, silent. Neither of them seemed in a hurry to start, though Mary would be the first one to speak up. As per usual. Mary’s lips parted slowly and Marianne could already feel the little good mood she brought with herself trickling away.

The door to Lupin’s Grotto opened and Lady Lazarus entered. Marianne’s jaw dropped. She did text her to come as if she were to bury Skald, but she didn’t expect…

… this.

Lady Lazarus paused in the door and although Marianne didn’t want to stare, she couldn’t help it. Anyway, she wasn’t the only one. 

The hero’s eyes were covered by her mask and she wore her hair up in a loose chignon. She was wearing a sinuous slip of wine-red velvet with a long slit on the side and black stilettos with the highest heels Marianne had ever seen. After a second she noticed the two heroes sitting at the table and made her way to them, the garnet chandelier earrings catching every stray ray of light as she walked.

Lady Lazarus slid into the third seat with a smile, and brushed a wayward strand of hair away from her mask. Marianne’s mouth ran dry. She averted her eyes and quickly took a sip of her drink.

“Am I late?” Lady L asked, leaning over the table. “My apologies - I ran into a villain and it always takes ages before the police show up.”

Mary cleared her throat. Marianne wasn’t sure if she wasn’t just projecting, but it seemed her cheeks were a little less flushed ten seconds earlier. “Lady Lazarus. Oh.”

“Were you expecting someone else?” the pain trade hero asked softly.

“No! No.” Mary took a deep breath and seemed to regain her composure. “I just wasn’t expecting Marianne would want to keep in touch with you.”

Marianne was about to say something, but then Lady L laughed. That would be the first time she heard her laugh like that. A low, delighted laugh, as if she were onto a joke nobody else would understand. She leaned forward, all her attention on Mary. Marianne wasn’t sure what game she was playing there, but she was winning it. “I’m so very glad to see you again, Skald.”

Mary hastily opened the menu and started reading through it as if she didn’t have it memorised already. “We should order,” she announced in a strangled voice.

A pause. “Fair enough,” Lady L responded, tilting her head towards Marianne. The healer caught a faint trace of jasmine perfume and began to deeply regret the dress code she suggested. “Marianne, sweetheart, what would you recommend? I haven’t been here before.”

At the moment, Mither was considering ordering a bowl of plain ice to bury her head in, but that might inspire some questions she’d rather leave unanswered.

“Everything here is delicious,” she replied in the end, opening her own menu. Lady Lazarus followed suit, but then peered over her shoulder. The scent of jasmine grew more intense.

“Oh look, they have shepherd’s pie. I love that.”

Mary looked up, pointedly ignoring the pain trade hero. “Speaking of shepherds, I visited Reginald a while ago.”

Marianne perked up at that. “True, I almost forgot. How did it go? I take it Amaryllis was there?”

“I don’t know about Sidero. Or Regi. Allard wouldn’t let me in.”

Lady Lazarus glanced up from the menu. “Sidero?”

Mary sneered. “Mallory Sidero, though he prefers to go by Amaryllis these days. Like it’s going to fool anyone. Like he’s going to fool anyone.”

When the words passed through Skald’s lips, Marianne realised with startling clarity that she had no idea what Lady L might do. Amaryllis was her friend, after all. Marianne learnt in the hospital that her raid partner had the strangest collection of friends, if the continuous stream of visits was anything to go by. The raid mission came to mind. The bodies convulsing in pain. The neutral line of Lady L’s lips amidst all that destruction.

The woman in red nodded to herself, but left Mary’s jab without a comment. Marianne let out a sigh of relief.

The waiter showed up and they could finally order - steak for Mither, shepherd’s pie for Lady Lazarus (please, do hold the garlic), and lobster for Skald. And, of course, wine. Marianne couldn’t shake off the nagging feeling she’d like something much stronger than that.

By the time their food arrived, Mary and Marianne slipped into the comfortable familiarity of idle chitchat between sips of wine, the third woman silent, taking in the atmosphere of the place. Then again, Skald was in no hurry to include her in the conversation.

“Do you have any news about Regi?” Mary asked, toying with the edge of her neckline. She wore a lovely navy A-line dress with some sort of a baroque pattern done in silver, and matching silver shoes. Marianne glanced at Lady L. Too bad Skald’s outfit was the fashion equivalent of bringing a knife to a gunfight.

“Regi? No,” she sighed. “We’re not really in touch ever since he started hanging out with Allard.”

“Ugh, I know, right? That guy is crazy. Regi has been weird ever since they met.” She paused. “I think that was around the time he cheated on me with Sidero. Who knows what ideas Allard has been feeding him.”

Lady Lazarus, quiet up until then, tilted her head to the side. “It’s Adaire. Lucien Adaire.”

Marianne shot the pain trade hero a worried glance. She came to understand Lady Lazarus was friends with Allard, Regi and Lucien. She surely wouldn’t  let Mary talk about them like that.

“Mallory Sidero,” Mary repeated. “You know, the guy my boyfriend is wasting his time with.”

“Your ex-boyfriend,” the brunette pointed out mildly.

Skald turned a shade of red that rivalled her hair.

She leaned forward, eyes narrowed. “I don’t care how Sidero manipulated him into thinking he wants him. I’m not mad at Reginald, I really am not. I forgave him already, but he will have to see the truth, if I have to-”

Lady L raised her hand. Her fingers were slightly curling into themselves. Human hands or talons? Marianne blinked. Human hands, of course. Human hands.

For a split second an emotion she had never seen on Mary before flashed across her face. Fear. Pure primal terror. That kind of horror that lingers on the wrong side of the mirror just before dawn.

“The truth is that… you don’t owe anyone your forgiveness.”

A sharp inhale. Mary saw her fear blurred and reflected in Lady Lazarus’ mask, saw the pain trade hero’s serene, polite smile.

“What do you know, anyway?” she barked, cringing at how squeaky her voice came out.

“The truth is that you are the one who should beg for forgiveness. The truth is that you don’t love Renegade, but you loved the fact that he’d do all you’d ask - demand, really - of him. The truth is that you’ve been apart for years and you’re the only one who hasn’t moved on. The truth is, dear, that you like taking things that aren’t yours but can’t stand it when someone takes something from you. The truth is, Regi and Lucien got together only well after you two split up.”

Skald forgot all about the food. She had asked around about the hero. The mask, too. Nobody knew what she was hiding, but the rumours said that there was only void underneath, dark and inconsolable like the emptiness between stars. Another rumour said that whoever would look into her eyes directly would die of fright. Mary shook her head. She wasn’t some kind of a foreseer. She was a human, like anyone else. She couldn’t know anything.

“I don’t know if you’ve been listening to Allard, but he probably has an agenda of his own. Isn’t it strange that he was there with Regi at the time of their accident and walked away unscathed while Regi was badly hurt?” Lady L froze on the spot and Mary couldn’t but grin. Not quite so scary anymore, huh. “He probably just wants to swipe some of his inventions and pass them off as his own before Regi quits support design.”

Marianne reached for her wineglass. The situation was getting out of the hand and yet… she wasn’t in a hurry to interfere.

“If it was up to you, he’d have quit years ago.”

Marianne spat out the wine.

Lady L handed her a napkin, Mary being too busy trying to stare the pain trade hero down. The fact that she could see her agitated face reflected in the opalescent surface of the mask made it… difficult. 

The dark-haired woman continued, unruffled. “Of course, the support items he made were convenient for you - including those you took without asking - but if only he didn’t spend so much time… you know… actually working on his craft. Regarding Étienne Allard, I wouldn’t worry about him. There’s a reason why he’s on the top of his field… and your ex.”

“Wait- what?!”

“You didn’t know? They’ve been lovers ever since you suggested an open relationship.”

“Allard slept with Regi?”

A shrug. “I mean, who didn’t.”

Skald stood up abruptly, knocking over her glass. Red wine splattered all over the pristine tablecloth. She couldn’t see Lady L’s eyes, but she would swear that that… that slut was rolling them at her. “You better shut your whore mouth right now-”

Marianne’s grip on the steak knife tightened, then loosened again when Lady Lazarus laughed, leaning back in her seat. “If you really insist on making a scene, you could at least try to make it an interesting one.”

“I don’t care what a freak with a cursed Quirk has to say,” she hissed.

Marianne rose up, her vision clouded with red. “You’d do well to remember my little sister has a Quirk like that too.”

That caught Mary off-guard. “I… I didn’t mean it like that. It’s different with Tanith.”

The healing heroine could almost choke on her anger. “Really? How so?”

Skald looked down at Lady Lazarus. “Tanith doesn’t delight in being a monster.”

“Nor do I. It’s just that I do it extremely well.” She stood up as well, her red dress glistening against her bone-white skin in the candlelight like freshly spilled blood. The talons - hands, Marianne reminded herself, normal hands with normal human fingers - reached up, running along the edges of her mask. 

Marianne’s breath got stuck in her throat. Mary turned pale. Lady Lazarus brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, revealing one of the clasps holding the mask in place.

“The truth is, you don’t want me to do this.”

Her hands dropped again. A single drop of icy cold sweat travelled down Mary’s spine. As if her body had a will of its own, she collapsed back on the chair, while Lady L flagged down a waiter to pay for her dinner. She sat down again and offered Skald a pleasant smile. “I just love Elspie cooking.”

Marianne took a deep breath. Mary shot her a curious glance, as if she just now remembered she had been there too.

“You know what? I think I’m done here.” Marianne turned to the pain trade hero, offering her a hand. “Let’s get some dessert. I know a place.”

[ezusthiid-a]

HISTORICAL ERAS AS PEOPLE

tagged  by :  @kaiseriiin​ ( thank you sunshine!! )  tagging :  me, chip, penny, and used napkin

MEDIEVAL ☆ tired eyes. coffee stains on the table. listening to the bustle of the city. unmade beds. loose ponytails. sunlight seeping through the curtains. chapped lips. walking barefoot across the floorboards. dusty dictionaries. black and white reruns. huge sweaters. the ticking of the clock. hearing birds in the morning. fireplaces. falling asleep during class.

RENAISSANCE ☆ freckles. the sun rising. watching the sea. taking shots of the city. historical museums. bright eyes. looking up at the clouds. walls covered in artworks. drawing in the middle of lessons. tracing your fingers on the sand. painting for hours. staying in uncrowded coffee-shops. worn paperbacks. messy braids. going to bed with your socks on.

BAROQUE ☆ dark hair. a little sophisticated. always observing the world around you.intricate designs. high ceilings. extravagant musical pieces. dim lights. colorless photographs. fancy furniture. pale skin. hearing soft footfalls coming from outside the room. mischievous looks. bitten nails. candlelight dinners. dark shades of lipstick.

CLASSICAL ☆ chandeliers. the clinking of a teacup. laced clothing. modern architecture. light hair. watching the view from the terrace. hidden birthmarks. drinking tea in the morning. wandering about in an empty building. botanical gardens. old films. ancient marble sculptures. expensive perfume. breakfasts in bed. reading about mythology.

ROMANTIC ☆ compassion. short writings on scraps of paper. blushed cheeks. a bouquet of roses. reading collections of poetry late at night. loose hair. carpeted floors. attending operas. faint music playing in the background. staying under the covers until midday. the night sky. streetlights. picking flowers. dancing around in silk dresses. scented candles.

[ohlayarfp]

PRODUCTION DESIGN REVIEW - PROMISING YOUNG WOMAN

Article Link:  https://www.setdecorators.org/?name=PROMISING-YOUNG-WOMAN&art=film_decor&SHOW=SetDecor_Film_PROMISING_YOUNG_WOMAN

Set Decorator: Rae Deslich SDSA

Production Designer: Michael T Perry

I felt the need to talk about this film because the production design, colours, costumes and props in the film appeals to me. When I fist watched the film, it felt very odd as the message of the film was talking about a serious topic however, the visuals had a bubblegum aesthetic where the dominant colours were Pink and Blue. I even had a discussion with a friend studying cinematography and he mentioned that the look of the film reminded him of the film Midsommar as the film director for that film intentionally use pastel and bright colours to create a creepy and uneasy vibe.

However for this film, based on the SetDecor article, Rae Deslich mentioned when she first encountered the script, she was as surprised at how vibrant and poppy the colour would look like. She said “Our approach to this movie would be different from the very beginning, and there are several reasons for this...like most things in PROMISING YOUNG WOMAN.”

First Reason:  “The essential bait-and-switch of the movie. The director, Emerald Fennel wanted to make a serious film without making it look like one.” Which is true in reality when you think about it. Not everything we see in the world is as it is. Even bad people can be disguising in poppy and attractive colours which people usually associate with good.

Second Reason: “When something traumatic happens to someone, their world does not all of a sudden switch to black and white.” Just because something bad happen to a person, doesn’t necessarily mean that everything he/she used to like changes as well. They still live in the same house, they go to the same work place and still lives life the same way.

Third Reason: “the idea that there’s nothing inherently unserious about feminine colours. Sometimes pink and blue are the most sincere colours of all.” For this we can see these two colour dominantly appears on screen multiple times, not only among props but as well as their outfits and settings.

Throughout the whole article, Rae also mentions about the colours used in each setting. What interests me most is Cassie’s nest; her workplace which is the cafe. 

“The coffee shop is one of the environments that highlights most of her character. It’s her safe space, where she can be fully herself, set the rules, and draw a baby-blue curtain over the outside world. Our coffee shop was a vacant commercial space in Boyle Heights that we fully dressed as the coffee shop of Cassie’s  dreams. Art department laid in baby-blue fixtures and baroque-style carvings, and we selected the furnishings and store fixtures for their modern yet whimsical style.”

“Retail counters from Lennie Marvin hold an explosion of rainbow-colored pastries, setting the “almost painfully sweet” color scheme for the movie. The counters are arranged to surround Cassie  like a nest, and the barista workspace towers up and around her. Small hints of red indicate that not everything is safe, as Cassie  is soon visited by a sweet but painful person from her past.“

We also see Cassie and her parents living in a house that has a Doll house feel. This was an odd choice to me but as Rae describes it; the house looks as if it’s frozen in time and existing in an inanimate state. The location was a beautiful 1960s suburban home in Altadena that we partly emptied, and re-dressed into a stilted, formal Baroque Revival style. There is wooden, artificial life in the house, such as formal portraits of dogs (no humans) and porcelain figural lamps. The colour scheme is similar to Cassie’s, but lacks the dynamic blue and yellow of her complete palette. 

Another scene that appeals to me when I was doing research was the scene where she meets an old friend at a restaurant. It is a restaurant that was fashionable in the ‘90s, it’s accentuated with modern art that expresses agitation. Cassie’s colours are subtly present in the plush dining chairs, the mauve table napkins, and just one red ceiling lamp above Cassie’s head.

Prop wise Rae mentioned an interesting fact that I didn’t notice while watching the film first time round which is the flower in the middle of the two girls. 

“I specifically selected pink anthurium for the subdued floral centerpieces (and had them flown in from Hawaii) because of their resemblance to genitalia. Madison is trying to have a classy conversation and avoid an uncomfortable subject, while the flesh-colored anthurium stick their reproductive organs in the air between them, mutely symbolizing the crude event that led them there.”

These facts below are also based on my observation which is later confirmed by other film review on youtube which I feel is such a cool hints from the production designer and art team. 

Two scenes that looks like she has wings at the back. ^

There were few scenes where we see Cassie laying like this where people mentioned looks similar to Jesus’s crucifixion. In a way, symbolising innocent being punished.  

[alishbakhanus]

A luxury wedding that the bride and groom should pay attention.

Anyone who is about to marry at least once dreams of a luxury wedding in a luxury hotel. With luxurious flower decoration, Virgin Road, meals that will satisfy all guests, and top-notch service, it is possible to provide the best experience for couples who are starting out for a lifetime. In particular, in order to meet the tastes of millennial customers who are much more diverse and demanding than before, luxury hotels in particular are focusing on decorating the wedding stage tailored to the needs of customers as much as possible, avoiding the same wedding style as before, and avoiding the same wedding style as before. We looked at the wedding trends and services proposed by four representative hotels in Lahore for prospective grooms and brides who are thinking of getting married this year.

Serene Event Wedding

Serene held a wedding show that applied a completely new wedding concept in partnership with world-renowned event artist Tony Markup on January 10th. The hotel has completely replaced the wedding event program in accordance with the concept unveiled at the prosperous wedding show, which attracted more than 150 hotel VIP customers and wedding industry officials. This work, which took place in 7 years, changed everything related to the wedding, from the most important flower decorations to lighting, dining tables, chairs, tablecloths, and cutlery. The wedding concept of the Chosen Hotel changed in this way is which expresses a feast of fantastic flowers and lights. It is characterized by the harmony of the romanticism and elegance of the European Baroque period, the beautiful color reminiscent of the spring waltz, and the rich flowers. Tony Markup, who is in charge of design, is from out of cities, and is working as a flower and event director in various fields, from Lahore Hotel The most striking thing about the wedding stage of the Chosen Hotel, which was changed under the direction of Macro, is that the large and small weddings were designed separately. As the latest wedding trend is divided into small weddings with 200 to 300 or more guests and 100 or less, each of them is decorated with a completely different concept. The grand ballroom on the 1st floor, where large weddings are held, is largely decorated in silver with an arch-shaped frame, a typical architectural style of the European Baroque period, decorated with silver, and a gold-colored center that combines the classic Baroque sensibility with the traditional Lahore square-shaped window style. 'Minimal baroque' design. Both the Crescent and the Minimal Baroque are designed in a 360-degree shape that can be transformed into a front or center stage, allowing different presentations depending on the wedding concept. The small wedding stage in the Lilac Hall on the 2nd floor is designed with Cloud Nine (Bronze Steel Tree Object) and Branching Out (Bronze Steel Partition Object) that create a feeling like a fairy village in a fairy tale by arranging various floral decorations with a tree motif. Presented as. If a customer who wants a wedding selects a banquet hall that fits the number of guests and the main concept proposed by Macro, it is possible to choose a style that suits their taste, from detailed floral decorations to the napkin design on the table. “These days, wedding customers don't want a standardized stage, so if they ask for

a concept they want, we're proposing a style that suits them,” said Markup. “Each person has different budgets and tastes. We propose a customized wedding design that can satisfy any situation. It is the key to do it,” he explained. In particular, Wedding', which can only be done by one couple a day, is thoroughly customized from one to ten. A dedicated service team for Tony's wedding is formed to receive delicate wedding special services. To this end, it showcases not only dedicated objects, show plates (display plates), napkins, but also special exclusive French dinners. Since the details are applied differently for each flower, it only takes 4 days to prepare. Desiring a special ‘my own little wedding' is a global trend. who is in charge of designing numerous wedding stages across Europe and Asia, said, "It varies from country to country, but recently, there is a lot of demand for small weddings that only invite close friends with their families." In Lahore, in recent years, it has been loved by many as a luxury style of small-scale weddings for millennial who generously invest in flower decorations and stage structures even when there are few guests. For meals, world-renowned star chef offers a special wedding menu that reinterprets traditional French recipes in a contemporary style, only at Wedding in Asia. His cuisine, full of luxury and personality, adds dignity to a wedding.

Imperial palace Wedding Hall

Imperial provides detailed customized wedding services to suit the size of guests. A variety of styling is possible, from a crystal ballroom with a size of 500 guests for grand and elegant weddings, a sapphire ballroom suitable for medium-sized weddings of 200 to 300 people, and a Bellevue suite for private house weddings. The Crystal Ballroom, the signature wedding hall of Imperial, unifies the table and Virgin Road in black, making the bride in a wedding dress stand out even more. Not only the black concept, but the white concept, like a scene in a fairy tale, is also popular. In particular, Bellevue Suites is the wedding space that best suits the recent small luxury trend. The Barki road Lahore, located on the 36th floor of the main tower of Imperial, can produce a small private house wedding of around 120 people with a beautiful panoramic view of Seoul through a wide window. Courtesy: best marriage halls in Lahore

[jbinbcn]

North Trip

06-09.12.2018

Pamplona - San Sebastian - Zumaya - Bilbao - Vitoria

Long weekend trip with ESN! I had never visited the North of Spain so when I saw the opportunity to go there with ESN, I bought the ticket :D And I needed to take a day off on Friday (6.12 is a holiday in Spain). SO GOOD SO GOOD!

4 days, 5 cities, more than 1300 km !

And I could see my lovely ocean after 2 years! <3 But for sure I’ll come back there! Still so many places to visit! Asturiuuunuuus are waiting XD So let’s start from the beginning.

06.12.2018 Valencia -> Pamplona

The meeting point was at 5 ! I slept 3h... and when I was walking to the bus I passed so many drunk people enjoying the night xD Why so early? Because it’s around 6h in the bus, we could leave Valencia even earlier to have more time for visiting. I slept like dead.. I got used to it, I just sit in the bus/train/car and I sleep. The bus stopped in the middle of nowhere for a break. There was a huge restaurant-shop to enjoy breakfast. I liked that place. Nice to have something like that, not only McDonalds and Orlen hot dogs.

At 8 I enjoyed from the bus the sunrise. It was really cool one, but yeah, photos through the window...

A few words about spanish landscapes. What I noticed, Spain is sooo empty. I mean, when you drive a car on the highway, there is nothing, no buildings, no forests, nothing. Just mountains in many parts, and windmills. I mean, for me is totally different from this what I see in Poland ;) Especially those mountains, but this in -> Chulilla.

We arrived around 12:00 to Pamplona. Our first city. ESN guys took us around the center doing their best city tour. 

---In the brackets I’ll write the name in BASQUE language!--- Probably you know about Cataluña, independence and catalán language. Spain is even more crazy. In the North of Spain there is a Basque Country (es: Pais Vasco, Euskadi) - yes, we are still in Spain. It’s an Autonomous Community (one of 17). But they have own language, spanish and basque are co-official languages there. You think, yeah sure language, probably it’s just dialect, he he, no xD Euskara It’s one of the languages which the etymologists can not find origins. For sure none of the European and is a language isolate to any other know ones. It’s like magic. My personal feelings (don’t take it serious): for me it’s a language of wildness, of woodsmen, of Vikings! Like big bearded guys xD sorry 🙈

Still don’t believe me?  So let’s have a look at the examples of the words, english - spanish - euskara

my favorite one: butterfly - mariposa - tximeleta  others: hello - hola - aupa  yes - si - bai no - no - ez kiss - beso - musua beach - playa - hondartza xDDD restaurant - restaurante - jatetxea father - padre - aita  I love you - te quiero - maite zaitut ❤

Sooo? Do you agree with me that is like viking? XD BASQUE MAN TRUE MAN!

If you still think that I chose only really different words, go to wikipedia, find some article (like famous one) and change the language to Euskara and enjoy ;)  BTW, The girl from Bilbao said that Eusakara is a difficult language to learn. There are 12 gramatical cases !!!! Ok hungarian still wins - 29...  For spanish speakers:

 For others, from 1:30:

----------

But let’s back to the trip. 

Pamplona (Iruña) 06.12.2018 In polish - Irunia - is a cute version of a name Irena ;)

It’s a capital city of Comunidad Foral de Navarra (Nafarroako Foru Komunitatea). So it’s not a “basque” city - I mean, autonomous community, but it’s in Basque Country as a region (Euskal Herria).

It’s really easy to notice when you passed the border of Spain and Basque region. Unfortunately we didn't stop to take some breathtaking photos, and from the window.. you know..

Mountains appearing in the fog...

For me it was amazing! But not on the photos. Sorry not sorry.

Do you know what Pamplona is famous for? ---Running of the bulls (encierro)--- During 9-day festival of Sanfermines (6-7 of July)  First run is on 7th, at 8 am. And then day by day till the end. It’s a good time to visit Pamplona second time ;) Then I can describe the whooooole tradition. Right now just some words. Origins: 14th century, men wanted to be faster and faster with transporting their bulls to the market square. They noticed that the best way is to make the bulls excited and frightened. After a while young boys and others started to making a competition between each other - who will be the fastest in the pens without being injured and overtaken. Because spanish people are crazy, the tradition expanded popularity and nowadays it’s preserved in many spanish cities. In Pamplona tradition is more touristic now, so maybe is better to go to another city to enjoy the old tradition. Enjoy - maybe it’s a wrong word, I don’t know if I would be strong enough to watch people running and getting injured and those poor bulls which will finish at the arena for a fight and dead at the end with a long way. In 1910 they began record-keeping and since then 15 people died. Last one in 2009. On wikipedia you can check exact data if you are interested. ----------

Step by step how we visited in few hours Pamplona (with many photos).

We started at the Plaza del Castillo, center of the city, social life, concerts, markets, events. The buildings around are really beautiful and reminded me Krakow ;)

The weather was like warm autumn.. ahh <3

El kiosko is a heart of the square.

Then we just followed ESN and enjoying the city. Of course we chose city tour in spanish, si si!

Around the cathedral there was a nice terrace to have a view of Pamplona from one side.

ESN guide tour we finished at Ayuntamiento. Baroque style, lions bearing coats of arms and a trumpet-blowing angel.

FREEEE TIME, means exactly food time.

---And now food story--- Vasco Pais is known as a land of pintxos. What’s that? Do you know tapas? Yes, the same “style”, just smaller. Pintxos - small “finger” foods. Like small sandwiches (takie kanapeczki koreczki). Slice of bread with a toothpick in the middle holding the rest together. They can be warm or cold. You enter the bar and in front of you there are all available pintxos, sometimes in the menu you can find more, which have to served warm. How to order? Depends, there are 2 ways. If the plate is on the counter and pintxos are easy to take, take the plate and put there whatever you want. If there are no plates or pintxos are behind the glass, just walk around, choose what you like and then ask a waiter to serve you them. In some bars they are all in the same price so you pay for how many toothpicks you have on the plate after all, or just you pay at the beginning when they are served. Funny fact: you enter the bar and you see it a little bit (or veeeery) dirty, like the floor is full of napkins. It means that the bar is good one, visited by many locals. Wtf?! It’s more hygienic to throw it than to keep it next to your food. In pintxos bars there are not places to sit. Pintxos are for standing socializing. You have a pintxo, you talk, you enjoy, you drink txacoli (sparkling, very dry white wine). You change the bar. It’s like pintxos crawling. Of course there are competitions which bars serve the best ones. ----------

So we knew what we want to eat - pintxos - claro que si. And the best for that is street called: Estafeta (on this street bulls run during the festival). But we found “the best ones” which won some prizes last year: Restaurante Baserriberri.

When we saw the prices there… 3e for a small pintxo xDDD

But then we saw that the waiters are serving something really interesting. In the menu we checked that this pintxo - bOOmveja -  won last year some prize. Look:

The form is not eatable. It’s printed in 3d printer. Inside I tasted some parkerhouse rolls (???? butter bread?) with (as we said) sheep cheese. It was amazing, so delicious, mmmm <3 

What I found about the ingredients? Read that xDDD But I can recommend. 3,5e, smaller than appetizer but was good XD

Then we went to the plaza de castillo to eat what we still had in our backpacks :D

Uncle Google recommended us to visit Ciudadela - 16-century fortress which from the top looks like an extraterrestrial star. In 18th century it was a prison, now it’s a park to chill. We took some stupid photos and it was time to come back to the bus. 

On our way we passed Baluarte Palacio de Congresos y Auditorio de Navarra - cultural center, modern art, art art art. And we stopped on Plaza de Toros next to Bullfighting Monument to take such an awesome video (I’m wondering how many people had the same idea).

So there was nobody! Finally some old people appeared so I asked them (I knew that it’s stupid idea) if some of them can take a short video of us (because I wanted to be in the video as well…). I prepared my phone, the old man, how to stand, what to click, we did our performance.

I checked what he had recorder... eh yes.. one more time please, again, preparing everything I even clicked the start… but he clicked the stop to early xD 

Well… at least he helped!

So bus time again. Pamplona - thank you and maybe see you in July. All day should be enough if you (like me) don’t visit all museums from inside. Next city!

San Sebastian (Donostia)

My favorite city in the northern Spain !! I’d live there just because of the view and location. The other aspects I don’t know ;)

We arrived to the “hostel”. Exactly we arrived to some place in the middle of something. And behind the hill we found our hostel. If you have a car or money for the taxi - is ok, they are able to reach the place. If not, like we, only big bus, we had to climb and then go down to find the hostel. It was already dark so even we didn’t know what we are doing, darkness. Of course, mess at the beginning who is with who in the room (sorryyyy Carlyne!). But finally we managed it to be together (5!) and 6th one scotch-italiano new friend ;)

Some free time and then all the group took a public bus to go to the center for a dinner, before party, party and after party depends on your strength.

So it was night sightseeing in San Sebastian.

Of course we went to eat pintxos. So much tourists. We entered to Senra Zaharrean.

Pintxos calientes ;)

It was a little bit crowded, but we waited like 5min to get a table. In this restaurant you take a plate, put what you want, pay. If you wanna beer, the waiter will bring you. Or if you’re going to the table you can pay later.

Next step we decided to buy some % and enjoy on the beach side. Of course hiding, drinking from the plastic bag.. 🙈

And then ESN and others came and we went to do BOTELLON ---------- I think I’ve never explained what is botellon. So it’s before party. Like we meet somewhere outside with a lot of alco etc, we enjoy, drink, have some social life before going to the clubs. Clubs in Spain are open mostly after midnight, people appear there more around 1-2 because during that time you don’t pay for the entrance, or you pay less. ----------

So our botellon was on the beach, under promenade. Good place, I recommend you to visit it during your stay in San Sebastian xD

And because I love the ocean so much I was in heaven. I haven’t seen it for 2,5 years! Ocean is the power, strength. It keeps me calm but gives me the energy at the same time. I’m in trance like I wrote once on fb ;)

I spend I think 1h looking at waves, were good/big enough. Satisfying ;) But because in Dec I didn’t have any winter clothes with me and north is quite cold during “winter” I started freezing so I came back to the Botellon. It was first and last time when I could see the ocean during the night. Hope to come back soon :D

To be honest I was so tired after this first day and night in the bus. Or I’m getting old too fast. :( But when ESN said that we have a free beer in the bar Bataplan, I went there to enjoy it xD #cebula

But it was one of the worst beers ever. Ble.. Carlyne took wine and it was even worse xD So it wasn’t worth but at least was warm. Erasmus had a karaoke party there and later they were supposed to go to the club to dance but no idea.

We decided to come back to the hostel. But because it was sooo f. away we had 2 options. Walk 3,5km oooor take a taxi. The problem was that we were 5 and nobody wanted to take us, and 2 taxis - too expensive come on xD So we walked xD 40min, up and down. I felt like in Porto od Gdynia, we go up, we go down, do it again again again, do it again again again. But it was ok, I did my steps. 

The hostel was ok, just the shower “perfect size”, like you enter and don’t move. And localization - terrible. For sure not for me, but for the big group works well.

Morning we started with of course breakfast but then city tour in San Sebastian. We had to move out, take our things to the bus, leave them there and enjoy San Sebastian during the day - the weather was perfect <3

So now it’s time for photos ;)

At the beginning we had a city tour with ESN. We started next to the beach to go up for the view.

Parte Vieja - old town, just walking and enjoying. 

Rumbo! XD Better version of it. (Rumbo is a club in Valencia which I don’t like and I don’t recommend). Una mierda.

Can you see a heart?

I read on the internet about this basque dessert so we tried. Like sweet rice pudding - good one!

Ayuntamiento - It’s kind of masterpiece, no? Before it was casino, you know, politicians, businessmen, etc. 

And around:

Urgull Mendia is a hill by the ocean. It’s a perfect chilling spot for enoying the view. AMAZING!

The flag of Basque Country.

Mamma mia !

ahhh my stupid pink-eye-make-up... Sad story behind :(

Heheszki

Yes, I’m happy :))

Museo de San Telmo - the oldest and the biggest in Basque Country. From prehistory to modernity. The original part of the museum it was a Dominican convent (XVI) so it’s like mix of the styles. Yes, I haven’t visited it inside.

Unfortunately we didn’t have time for many things!!! But I’m pretty sure they are worth a visit. :(

Monte Igueldo - The view has to be amazing. You can reach it by the antique funicular railway. On the top there is amusement park and tower - El Torreón.

La Catedral del Buen Pastor - 10 000 whistles in the organ - one of the biggest in Europe.

Isla de Santa Clara - to be honest - I’ve NOT seen it !!! Writing this I’m reading some stuffs and then I see on the photos the island, I’m like wtf, there was not any island! I checked my photos, yes, on mines the island “doesn’t exist”, because I was on the other side and for me it was just one land, one coast. Eh :(  Another reason to come back! 

There is a small cafe and a lighthouse. But you can access it only between 1th June and 30th September via ferry.

Paseo Nuevo - fuck my life. Another thing which I haven’t seen! It’s a new promenade around the Urgull hill, starts in Kursaal, and finishes in the port. It’s famous for the photos with huge waves. Come on, it’s my element (no byłabym w swoim żywiole!). Who wants to join me?

Peine del Viento - one of the best-known works by sculptor Eduardo Chillida. If you wanna a postcard from Donostia, probably it will be with those sculptures. We were supposed to go there, it’s on the opposite side of the beach (Playa de Ondarreta) but we didn’t have enough time so we came back to the old town. AND if we had gone there, we would have seen also the island… so bad so bad JB. Those sculptures are so heavy and there is story behind them, but I’m not gonna write about it, not yet! I’ll go, I’ll explore, I’ll learn, I’ll take pictures, then I can tell you more - my version :D

So when we noticed that there is no time for the sculptures,  we went to eat pintxos, how it could be different. And to be honest we found finally cheap <more or less> and good ones! Oh yeah! So I recommend this place in San Sebastian - Bar Gorriti.

On the floor there were a lot of napkins so it had to be good! In this one you say what you want and the waiter will put it on the plate, what has to be served warm, he will give you in 2-3min. Here I tried txicoli, yeah, sparkling and sour. But the way how they serve it, look!

I took some bowl, it was warm pintxo and really good one! It was my favorite one I think. Inside there was kind of mixed meat, maybe some smashed potatoes and it was fried - recommend!

Next step was - to chill xD I could see so many things but what I did? I went to sleep on the beach xD It was really good siesta, I just lied down on the wall and I was enjoying my dreams. And from there we had a view on the surfers - this is surfing, not like in Valencia, minimal waves, no adrenaline, etc (but they do it in Valencia! lol).

When I wake up (15-20min, true afternoon siesta), I went to say goodbye to the ocean. Calm me baby.

Then the bus and let’s go to another city!

Zumaya

We went there only for like 45min. Why? There is an amazing view spot. Some scenes of Game of Thrones were recorded there (I don’t know which ones, I don’t watch it, sorry not sorry). But maybe you can guess from photos:

But it was the only place where was raining and was soooo f*ck… windy! Omg xD 

But it was worth it. You know, act like nothing is happening, just for photos, and then run away before you fall off. But amazing, amazing! Basque landscapes - wow!

zmokła kura.

Next city!

Bilbao 07.12.2018

We arrived when was dark already, so like always, just run away from the bus (because it stopped where it shouldn’t), take the luggage and enter the hostel. This time the hostel was more or less in the center so walking time (probably we would have walked even if it had been located somewhere outside xD). We had some time to prepare, do shopping, before leaving for botellon.

So we did. A good shopping. Just look xD We wanted to be prepared, not like in San Sebastian, just one beer. HE HE XDD

That night ESN prepared for us a dinner, like tortillas de patatas, chips chips chips, chorizos, jamones, etc.

After that we had some drinking games and then let’s go! Botellon spot was next to Guggenheim Museum - artistic botellon! And here will be the story of Bilbao xD

I left my phone in the hostel, because I’m with big group, we have a lot of vodka, just to be sure that I won’t lose it. The hostel had 3 doors to pass, entrance - code, room area - code, room - code. Better because we were 12 (!!!) in the room so impossible to share one key (like in San Sebastian). I hadn’t known that, and when receptionist saw me fighting with the “room area” door, he gave me a card with all codes and with the address of the hostel. I put it to the pocket with thinking - it will be useful. We (5 of us) started drinking during the way to botellon (you know, like there is no time). And yes, for 2 of us it was a little bit bad idea XD And when ESN said that we have to go to the club to enter before 2 (because for free), I decided to take a friend home, another 2 stayed, one left with ESN. So it was like 15min walking, more or less 2 big streets. To remind - I didn’t have my phone with me, and the other person phone didn’t work - wtf! Like just stopped, all apps from Google just stopped. We were left without a map… I just knew one street at the beginning and that’s all. So ok, we will ask on the streets. I even didn’t remember the hostel name xDDD Buuut yes, a had an address!!! <3 First person to ask - young dustman. When he showed me the map, I was like, fuck, we are lost already, after 10min we were somewhere else than we were supposed to be. Ok, he said, go straight and at the end ask someone else. But I really needed to use the toilet, like really. And then I saw some cafe in the middle of some park, it looked like private party, but the door was a little bit open, I entered like without touching, like I’m matching perfect to this open door hole. I said - HOLA, my instinct just knew were to go to find a bathroom, I used, I came back to that door, I said - ADIOS. Easy xD We asked again some people in this park about the way. Then we again asked some young guys, they look at the map and like - oooookeeeey, maybe we will take you there. They knew about crazy Erasmus life. They understood those feelings. We were walking walking walking, then they said that it’s at the end of the street. You even can’t imagine how happy we were. But then we were lost again xD My friend because of hiccup was hiding behind - glass lift xD when I was asking some group of old people (+60) about the hostel. They were like, it’s here… And then I look around, I noticed Carrefour (where we did our lovely shopping). I can not explain those positive emotions which I had that time… That happiness! When I entered the room, the rest of the group was sleeping already.. how?!?! We were walking for 1,5h hour… Love you Bilbao ;*

In the morning, breakfast, shower (we had 1 shower for 12 people, good luck), and let’s explore what we explored during the night. No idea how was our path. I tried my best, but yeah.. We went first to Guggenheim Museum. Ok, I was fascinated (I think first time) because I read a book of Dan Brown - Origin (Początek) last Christmas and there were some of the actions.

Solomon Guggenheim was crazy about abstract art, his flat started being to small for all his collection, so he set a foundation up and established museum - Museum of Non-Objective Painting. But the place was also too small. Frank Lloyd Wright designed a new building. When you think about museum, probably you think about old building, you know artistic, wow, photogenic, wow, art, wow, majestic! This one was different, was destroying all the well-known rules. The collection was growing and growing and in 80s the contemporary director Thomas Krens decided to set branches up. That time Bilbao was a dying city. There was an economic crisis, the big industrial companies crashed. The Basque government asked Krens to build of the branch in Bilbao, he asked Frank Gehr to construct it. It cost a lot of money, but was built on time and budget. Has it helped Bilbao? A lot! Maybe that’s why you know that city. ~9000 workplaces, during first 2 years more than 2 600 000 people visited the museum!

The building is made of titanium and glass. You can see there fish, flower or a sailing boat, depends from which side you are looking at (or how “creative” you are ;) ). Around the museum you can find:

Puppy - West Highland terrier, 13m, 16 tonnes, tens thousands of flowers.

Maman - “mummy”, spider, almost 10m, includes a sac with 32 eggs, meaning: mother’s protection - soft for children, dangerous for others - many interpretations.

Fire fountain - from time to time 5 fountains blast flames into the sky - I haven’t seen :/

Tulips - bunch of 7 large tulips (5m) like a baloons.

Tall Tree & The Eye - 73 reflective spheres, too deep to write.

Fog - it appears from time to time.

The entrance: 16e, 9e (students <26). Better to check the hours and if that day is open. 

We had a headphones with the guide (in english). You clicked the interesting number and you could hear the story. Take the map with you. 

It’s really big but accidentally I went first to the room with sculpture of THE MATTER OF TIME. For me it’s sooooo fascinating! It was in the book of Dan Brown and it’s not art which you should go deep in, like think why it looks like that, what the author thought, no! Richard Serra is known as an artist whose sculptures you can’t feel, you can’t get them with your eyes only, you can’t look at them and understand them. It’s all about physical feeling. When he started, people didn’t like his art, it was ugly for them. It’s impossible to show his sculptures on the photos, because they mean nothing then. You have to walk through them, they will work for you physically (no w sensie, że nie fizycznie odczujesz co ziomek chciał przedstawiać, zacznie Ci się kręcić, w głowie, albo jakieś inne takie efekty specjalne). Maybe you know those blocks in front of the Museum of Holocaust in Berlin? He designed them. On the photos - hmm you don’t know wtf, but when you walk through you should start feeling lonely, uneasy, lost. This art I appreciate :D So what about The matter of time? 8 sculptures, the lightest piece weights 44 tons and the heaviest 276 tons - wow - together - 1034 tons - wow! In the room next to it you can find everything explained and small version of it to have a better look at the construction.

After the previous night I was a little bit dizzy, but when I passed all those sculptures I wanted to die. It seriously works! It makes you dizzy, you feel like it’s closing you inside, you lose the orientation, you are lost in time. Maybe it’s better to visit this room at the end, to feel better during walking on the 2nd and 3rd floor.

One more room was quite interesting on the 1st floor. In the middle there were kind of bowels (flaki, wnętrzności, takie jelitka czy ciul wie co). In one corner just phone recording you and showing it on a big screen - lol. Kind of strange tent - no idea. Some flying big balloons, salt xD

And 3 figures of dogs. Here I listened to the record carefully but when the guide said that it’s Maria and Jesus.. well.. I changed the channel.

Next floors (2nd & 3rd) - omg so boring (sorry art lovers). Paintings, paintings… no sense, no feelings, no. Aaaaa and it was forbidden to take photos :/ I noticed it too late xD

But this painting... wtf ! Or there was one, totally black, with one white corner. No.

And then we went to eat! Pintxos, claro que si! We just were walking with ESN, but because the group was too big, we entered to the next bar. Also recommended! I liked it.

Plaza Albia

I saw that they also have those balls so I took one. Hmm it was different, not that delicious buuuuuut

The sauce was so so so f. spicy! But good at the same time, like you keep eating mmm it’s perfect, but when you stop... better to not stop XD

mniam mniam mniam!

Napkins on the floor!

Then we walked a little bit and decided to come back to the museum (there was our meeting point) and chill there.

Bilbao’s architecture:

Then we had a city tour with guys from ESN Bilbao so we learnt more about the city from true basque people :)

Beautiful sunset!

We decided to eat for a dinner CAROLINA! It’s like another basque dessert. But on our way we found bubble wafer which I always wanted to try in Krakow so... (szału nie ma dupy nie urywa).

And we found carolinas! In Poland we have something similar for winters and we call it - warm ice creams - ciepłe lody. Mniam :D

On our way to the hostel... we passed the street to the right and we noticed 10min later when we were on the top of the hill... Bilbao <3

So this night was our! Like finally we wanted to end up in the basque club! Por favor xD But this time we needed to take metro and walk a little bit (~40min in total) and we had botellon just in front of the club. But what it was a club! xDDD When we were walking from the metro we were like in the worst part of the city, between some industrial buildings, garages etc. Like wtf. And then we stopped on the parking, and we were playing games and drinking (more careful than the day before). When I asked ESN where is the club they showed closed door to one of the garages XD And yes, it was this, around midnight the door opened and you could see that this can be a club. How it was? Typical spanish club, maybe not enough of reggaeton and music to dance, like to many songs of electro something, but at all - not bad. I was thinking to walk to the hostel but when I saw the area and everything, nope, metro. Even taxi doesn’t go there xD And when we were waiting for the club, spanish people started arriving and it was like “village need for speed shows” XDD You know chicos in the cars showing their best screech of tyres (no powiedziałabym sądeckie dresy popisujące się paleniem opon, no poczułam się jak w Nowym Sączu przez chwilę).

So party in the North - checked. At least once xD

In the morning, zombie packing and let’s go to the next city!

Vitoria (Gasteiz) 09.12.2018

It’s a capital city of Basque Country (nope, not Bilbao). It’s not big one but it’s cute. We started next to the new cathedral, again we had a city tour with a girl from ESN Vitoria. It was a good tour!

This place is like social life center. During the summer old people (like +60) meet here to dance. It has to be so cute :D When I pass my 60 I’ll go to Vitoria to dance the whole night :D

This is the new cathedral. Why? Where is the old one? The old one was damaging and the city needed a cathedral so they build new one. But as I heard they are not proud of it - it’s ugly.

We started a sightseeing from a new part. Look at the architecture.

Iglesia de San Miguel

Plaza Nueva It’s like Sunday spot for locals. In the past it was a market place and bull arena. Now it’s a place to meet, grab a drink, etc. Every Sunday children come here to exchange with some posters, stamps, coins etc (pamiętacie wymianę karteczkami? XD).  

Plaza de los fueros Before it was Plaza de Abastos - for selling fresh products. New one exist for >30 years. Fuero - forum, open spacec used as market.

In basque cities they have a cool way to put the names of the streets. I like it.

In the wall on the right (second photo on the left) there is a girl. She was walled up and people say that you can hear her sometimes, well.

El Portalon c. XV, traditional basque food, not cheap one.

In Vitoria you can find some nice graffiti.

We finished out tour. Free time for food and it’s time to go back to Valencia. This time I’ll surprise you, for the lunch we ate - kebab! XDDD Because it’s big enough for 6h in the bus and it costs like 2 pintxos so.. xD

Then we walked throught the city, enjoying it last time.

Locals call it - pussy.

In the Florida parkea - the park - there was a kind of Bethlehem. We were looking or a Jesus like 15min xD asking locals if they know, they didn’t, but we found it, it was so hidden!

Nice pig XD

Like in Barcelona.

Sooo that’s all from basque cities. We took a bus to Valencia.

Super trip! I’ll come back, for sure to San Sebastian! Thank you guys! :D

And you did it, you survived till the end XD CONGRATULATIONS!

//whatHappenedInTheNorthStaysInTheNorth

[topsolarpanels]

‘Norman said the president wants a pyramid’: how starchitects constructed Astana

Architects have a thing for strong humen, and the big global practices from Norman Foster to Zaha Hadid have piled in in a bid to help Kazakhstans dictator, Nursultan Nazarbayev, build himself a trophy city

If you could see through the forest of selfie-sticks, the position from the upper part of the central pavilion of the Astana Expo was a prospect like no other. It was strange enough to be standing on a glass footbridge at the summit of the tallest spherical building in the world- nicknamed the Death Star- with glass bubble elevators zooming up a central neon-lit atrium behind you and a precipitous void plunging beneath your feet. All that was missing was Luke Skywalker hanging from the bridge.

But then you looked out to the horizon to see an assorted collection of pyramids, golden cones and bulging mirrored towers, lined up like a row of awardings in a particularly gaudy trophy cabinet, stopping abruptly to give way to the rolling grasslands of the Eurasian steppe. Expo sites are always surreal affairs, as souped-up fairgrounds of nationalist hubris, where novelty pavilions compete for attention with multicultural buffets, marching bands and cavorting mascots. But the weirdness on show here wasn’t the Expo. The chief novelty was the city of Astana itself.

At one end of a monumental axis stands the biggest tent in the world, the Khan Shatyr shopping center designed by British architect Norman Foster in the form of an inflated plastic yurt that glows pink and green by night. Housing dodgems, a rollercoaster and an artificial beach( with sand imported from the Maldives ), it is a tacky pleasure dome that Kublai Khan could only dream of.

At the other end of the boulevard rises an enigmatic silver pyramid, also by Foster, the Palace of Peace and Reconciliation, conceived as a meeting place for world religions, crowned with a stained-glass lantern of plunges. It stands on a grassy knoll like a venerable tomb, on axis with a pond in the shape of a bird in flight.

Foster’s Palace of Peace and Reconciliation pyramid, with the city of Astana behind. Photo: JTB Photo/ UIG via Getty Images

Between these totems of the sacred and profane are the mechanisms of state. There is the presidential palace, modelled on the White House, but eight times larger and topped with a big blue dome; a gateway of conical gold mirror-glass towers for the nation bank and insurance money; a polished grey egg for “the member states national” archives. At the centre of it all rises an observation tower, a golden orb at the top of a splayed white steel tree, like a Ferrero Rocher chocolate nestling in an upturned shuttlecock.

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Secret Stans: where are the Stans?

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Guardian City is exploring in depth the oft-ignored- and exceedingly difficult to report from- the two cities of the five Central Asian ” Stans “: Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan, Turkmenistan and Uzbekistan, a quarter of a century when they are became independent from the former Soviet Union.

From the bizarre architecture of the” trophy cities” to the pleasure and fights of everyday urban life in some very unequal societies, our goal is to engage with the people who actually live in the Stans cities by publishing some of our reporting in the languages spoken there: not just Russian, often considered the language of the elite, but Turkmen, Kazakh, Uzbek, Kyrgyz and Tajik.

You can read the rest of the Secret Stans series here.

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This unbridled architectural fantasy is the singular vision of Nursultan Nazarbayev, the first and only president of Kazakhstan, lifelong leader of the nation since 1989 and chief designer of the capital, who has expended the past 20 years constructing a city-sized monument to himself in the middle of the Asian steppe.

” Like people, cities have fates ,” wrote Nazarbayev in the Heart of Eurasia, his treatise on architecture and city planning, which reads a little like the booklet of an architect out to secure future run.” Each has a name and an individual biography of its own, a character which cannot be confused with that of any other place on earth .”

Nazarbayev’s presidential palace- modelled on the White House but eight times larger. Photo: Jane Sweeney/ Getty Images/ AWL Images RM

Walking the street of Astana, “youre feeling” definite echoes of elsewhere. It has the petrodollar glitz of the Gulf and the monumental axial planning of Pyongyang, but each mirror-glass facade is drenched with a more explicit desire to hark back to an imagined past, searching for legitimacy in the forms of ancient civilisations and Kazakh folk motifs.

” No other modern-day leader has utilized the myth-making power of architecture to construct a sense of national identity like Nazarbayev ,” says Frank Albo, author of a new volume on the Kazakh capital, Astana: Architecture, Myth and Destiny.” What you see here is a blend of postmodernism, Central Asian art, Islamic decor, Russian baroque, neoclassicism, orientalism, all melded into something that looks like Las Vegas fulfills Disneyland on nationalist steroids .” In a bid to cast off the shackles of the Soviet era, the president has embraced practically everything else.

Architects tend to have a thing for strong humen, and following the arrival of a dictator with a gushing pump of oil fund and a keen interest in architecture, few big practices have managed to resist beating a path to Nazarbayev’s door. Japan’s proudest export, Kisho Kurokawa, was the first to be employed, conjuring a cosmic masterplan for the city that has mostly been dismissed. Italian designer Manfredi Nicoletti designed the city’s concert hall, a mess of turquoise glass wings that writhe like a crash-landed kingfisher near the presidential palace. Calatrava Grace, the company run by Santiago Calatrava’s son Micael, is in discussions with the president about constructing an elaborated canopy the full length of the main boulevard.

The competition for the Expo site was won by Adrian Smith and Gordon Gill- long-time darlings of authoritarian regimes, as writers of Dubai’s tallest tower- while runners-up included Zaha Hadid, Moshe Safdie, UN Studio, Snohetta, Mecanoo and others. Newspapers are shut down, critics locked up and protesters tortured, but cor merely look at that parametric blob.

The new Khan

Building work begins in 2006 on the Khan Shatyry entertainment centre in Astana, designed by Norman Foster. Photo: Antoine Gyori/ Corbis via Getty Images

Nazarbayev decided to move the capital in the early 1990 s, soon after taking office. His reasoning has been the subject of considerable supposition ever since, particularly among the civil servants forced to move here. Home to the town of Akmola (” the white graveyard “) since the 1830 s, this uncovered plain, which ranges from -4 0C in winter to +40 C in summer, was an unlikely option, hundreds of thousands of kilometres north of the balmy former capital of Almaty.

Some say it was to shift the centre of gravity away from the border with China, while others argue that it was to cement Kazakh presence in an area that was predominantly ethnically Russian. Either route, it was primarily an opportunity to start from scratch, a blank slate on which the new leader could engrave his new world, following in the footsteps of Darius the Great and Persepolis.

As if there was any doubts concerning his self-image, at the inauguration of Astana in 1997 Nazarbayev performed an “alastau”, the ancient Mongolian fire-purification ritual culminating in a processional stroll along a white carpet, of the same kind used to elevate the great Khans to their position of power.

Astana by night, with Foster’s Khan Shatyr- the biggest tent in the world- light up on the left. Photo: Oliver Wainwright

The origin story of the city is say at some length in the Nazarbayev Centre, a gigantic stone bowl topped with a bulbous glass lens, tilted towards the presidential palace like an all-seeing eye and surrounded by a high-security perimeter fence patrolled by soldiers. Another product of the Foster office, it homes an exhibition of the president’s personal effects, from the suit he wore on inauguration day to the gold fountain pen with which he co-authored “the member states national” anthem, each reverentially illuminated in its own glass case.

Gifts from adoring nations fill more vitrines on the cascading levels of the building- a silver model of an oil pipeline from China, a bejewelled develop carriage from Turkmenistan- along with a 3D holographic presentation of medals that Nazarbayev has received from world leaders. My young guide was particularly keen to point out the signed photo of Margaret Thatcher, who wrote the foreword to another of the president’s works, The Kazakhstan Way, and he was eager to show me the leader’s personal collecting of 4, 000 volumes, housed in a special glass shrine.” He has read them all ,” he added diligently.” He is a very learned man .”

The centrepiece of this eerie mausoleum is a showing of architectural models, worked in silver, gold and semiprecious stones, shown alongside some of the initial napkin sketches drawn by Nazarbayev himself. There is his scribble of the shuttlecock-shaped Bayterek Tower, designed to represent the magical tree of life where Samruk, the mythical Kazakh bird of happiness, laid its golden egg. There is also the original model of Kurokawa’s masterplan, designed according to his principles of” metabolism and symbiosis “. He proposed an organic model of developing that would integrate the existing Soviet-era town on the right bank of the river with the new city on the left, surrounding the capital with a dense belt of trees to protect it from the icy gales. They have never been planted.

Zaha Hadid’s rejected proposal for the Astana Expo site. Photo: Zaha Hadid Designers

Walking the gaping boulevards of new Astana today, it is clear that Kurokawa’s plan was abandoned from the very beginning. The new city is an alienating place of six-lane roads punctuated by vast object builds, conceived with a total absence of human scale, making the former Soviet centre across the river feel like a cosy village in comparison. It is a place obsessed with sizing: Nazarbayev even had the Ishim river widened, so it would have the majesty of other capitals’ rivers, like the Thames, Danube or Seine. If you look at the map, the watercourse shrinks back either side of Astana, only bulging out in the centre of the city, like a snake digesting its lunch.

Adil Nurmakov, a political scientist and co-founder of Urban Forum Almaty, who lately relocated to Astana for his wife’s work, with their young child, is still reeling from the move.” I am honestly so embarrassed by our capital ,” he says.” I don’t understand how it is possible to build a city from scratch and make it so unfriendly to people. It is too monumental and car-centric and has no sensitivity to the harsh climate. The builds are so far apart that there can be no life on the street. In winter, it’s just about getting from one underground car park to the next, while in summer there’s no shade in these barren open spaces .”

On a warm August evening, there is little sign of life in the city centre. Groups of teens are to be found straying the promenade along the old right bank of the river, while across the water, a handful of households stroll down the central Nurzhol boulevard, admiring the illuminated builds, which twinkle like the battery-operated toys being hawked by a few lonely street vendors. Nazarbayev’s face looms from a five-storey high video screen, intercut with lurid fly-through films of the city’s weird houses, merging the monuments and their manufacturer together in one candy-coloured montage.

Santiago Calatrava’s son Micael, co-CEO of developing company Calatrava Grace, in talks with President Nazarbayev. Photograph: ADG

” The whole place is a combination of Kafka and Orwell ,” says Yevgeniy Zhovtis, director of the Kazakhstan International Bureau for Human Rights and Rule of Law, an NGO based in Almaty.” It has cost dozens of billions of dollars to build this vanity project, yet there are towns and villages a few kilometres away which don’t have proper roads, energy or basic civic services. All the money that is spent on heating these huge houses in wintertime and cooling them in summer could be used to fund decent services and infrastructure for the rest of the country .”

It is a common sentiment for which the$ 3bn Expo has become a potent focus, as a painful emblem of profligacy when nearly half the population still lives on $70 a month. The project was mired in scandal from the beginning, accused of diverting money from “the member states national” pension fund and subject to claims of public sector employees being forced to buy tickets to bolster visitor numbers. Three top Expo officers were arrested for theft.

” The Kazakh people are now very angry ,” says one primary school teacher, visiting the Expo with her class of children from the cities of Esil, six hours’ drive away.” We are proud that the Expo is here, but the leaders of our country have expended far too much money on it, trying to show off to the world .”

The chosen theme of” future energy” also jarred with an event that is mostly sponsored by petrol companies, in a country where oil and gas accounts for 70% of exports. I was greeted into the Shell pavilion and invited to generate my own kinetic energy by running inside a Zorb. I was invited to ponder the effects of global warming in the French pavilion, with the Total oil logo looming above a glowing Earth.

Following the Expo’s announcement, heralding the country’s transition to green energy, chairman Nazarbayev was quoted saying:” I personally do not believe in alternative energy sources, such as wind and solar ,” adding that” oil and gas is our main horse, and we should not be afraid that such is fossil fuel “.

The flags and mascots have now been swept away, and the 174 -hectare site is being converted into the new International Financial Centre, intended to seduce foreign companies with the promise of English law, tax exemptions and an independent fiscal court. It is the usual free zone model favoured by dictatorships around the world, creating a thin bubble of republic that evaporates as soon as you leave the compound.

The PR pays off?

Nazarbayev on a big screen in Astana. Photograph: Oliver Wainwright

The western-friendly mirage is something Nazarbayev has been at great pains to cultivate over the years, cementing his position as the best use of a bad bunch of autocrats in charge of the former Soviet states of central Asia. Following in Thatcher’s footsteps, Jonathan Aitken wrote a fine hagiography of the president in 2009, while Tony Blair famously enjoyed a PS5m-a-year bargain advising Nazarbayev on such matters as how to deal with the massacre of striking workers in the oil town of Zhanaozen in 2011. (” These events, tragic though they were ,” Blair wrote in 2012, advising on a speech to be given at Cambridge University,” should not obscure the enormous progress that Kazakhstan has built .”)

Some of the PR is paying off. Between 2016 and 2017 Kazakhstan leapt from 51st to 35 th place on the World Bank’s ease of doing business rankings. Yet, on the world press freedom index, it languishes at 157 th out of 180 countries and stands at 131st on the corruption perceptions indicator. Now aged 77, Nazarbayev is cracking down more than ever before, stillness critics and crushing opponent, his advancing age accentuating his paranoia and passion for control.

Bjarke Ingels’ design for the Astana National Library. Photograph: BIG

Kazakhstan has not had an election that could be considered free and fair by independent monitors in 25 years of Nazaybayev’s rule, according to Human Right Watch. The chairman has exempted himself from laws limiting presidential terms and received 97.7% of the vote in the recent elections. The main opposition newspapers were all banned in 2013 and the internet is now closely controlled. Peaceful protests against the government’s proposed land reforms in 2016 conclude with the two organisers being given <a href="http://ift.tt/2zCFgVg

Read more: www.theguardian.com

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