#croatia 2k19
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Ahem. As discussed, a prompt my good lady...Lucy and Flynn + fake married in Dubrovnik + the inevitable shenanigans...
Okay SO. On the plane over, there was something in the magazine about a website where tourists can go to Amsterdam and fake-marry a local for a day, so their new âspouseâ can take them around the non-tourist parts of the city, and then they go their separate ways at dusk and itâs fun etc. I immediately decided that this needed a Garcy AU, for obvious reasons.
Lucy Preston wasnât really planning on going to Croatia. In fact, she wasnât exactly planning to go anywhere. But itâs been a rough few months to say the least â tenure meeting cancelled at Stanford, breaking up with Noah, Mom has to go back to the hospital for more tests and it isnât looking good â and in a fit of late-night frustration, she decided to just fly somewhere over Thanksgiving break and forget about the clusterfuck that was her life for a bit. Somewhere warm, she wasnât picky. She suggested that Amy go with her, but Amy had work and couldnât get away, and by then, Lucy had already booked a ticket. Sheâs heard that Dubrovnik is beautiful, there is a university and a state archive there so she can theoretically disguise it as a research trip, and when she was running through the apparently deeply cursed Frankfurt airport to catch her connecting flight, a text popped up from Amy. Something that she thinks Lucy should try, just for shits and giggles. Some kind of app called Untourist.
Lucy took a look at it and decided that it was basically Tinder for tourists, even if the premise tried to be more classy than that. In short, you can pick a European city from the list (More Locations Coming Soon!, promises the popup), fill in some brief preference Q&As, and be matched with a local, who will fake-marry you in a ceremony complete with photos and then take you on a âhoneymoonâ for a day in the city. The idea is that you get to have a personal guide, explore places off the main drag â and presumably, if you hook up at the end, thatâs a nice bonus, but not one that the app strictly advertises. It sees itself as promoting intercultural connections and lived experiences, rather than anything so ignominious as arranging casual sex with a hot foreigner. Apparently it got its start in Amsterdam, though, so this would not be surprising.
The split with Noah is still raw, and Lucy isnât planning to use the app for that purpose â or indeed, at all. But after she has landed at the surprisingly tiny airport and has boarded the bus for the drive along the coast road to the city, she downloads it on a whim that she shouldnât think through and decides it might be fun to have someone to travel with, even briefly. After sheâs signed up, created a profile, and filled in her details, she is given two options to match with, and ends up going for the latter: Garcia from Dubrovnik. She thought about Marko from Zagreb, but his profile says that heâs a Dinamo Ultra, and she decided that she didnât want to spend the day getting a crash course in the finer points of Croatian football hooliganism. Garcia it is, apparently.
Dubrovnik is insanely beautiful, with crystalline turquoise water lapping at towering medieval city walls (souvenir shops every few streets will proudly remind you that they filmed Game of Thrones here), palm trees, red-tiled roofs, old golden-stone buildings, winding side alleys, and sunlight that pours down as rich as olive oil. Since itâs November, itâs not quite as hot as in high summer, and the tourist rush is somewhat dimmed. Lucy sleeps late at her Airbnb high on a very steep side street, as the city is spread out over several hills on the side of the tall blue mountains that rise out of the water, and almost forgets that her fake wedding is today. She jumps out of bed, puts on some makeup (just because sheâs not actually marrying the guy doesnât mean she has to look completely trollish), grabs her bag, and heads down into town, following a winding alley of staircases that are probably going to be a pain to climb back up. She hopes this was a good idea. It was mostly to appease Amy, anyway. Can she cancel, or would that count as leaving Garcia at the (fake) altar?
What the hell, sheâs here now, and maybe if she shows that sheâs receptive to new experiences, the universe will give her a break. Lucy trots along the palm-treed square above the city walls, finds the door with the Untourist logo by the bell, and steps inside. âDobro jutro,â she says, which is about all the Croatian she speaks, and most people have been happy to use English anyway. âIâm Lucy Preston, I have an appointment today?â
The slick Unreceptionist greets her, gives her a waiver to sign (bad experiences and/or unsatisfactory spouses are not their fault, any meeting beyond the day is done on personal terms, etc) and they await the arrival of her dashing groom-to-be. It is twelve minutes past their scheduled start time, and the Unreceptionist is making apologetic noises, when the door opens with a bit of a crash and a man who must be Garcia ducks in. Heâs tall, dark, and craggy-handsome, probably in his forties, wearing aviator sunglasses, and clutching a takeaway coffee. He addresses the Unreceptionist in rapid Croatian, looks up, sees Lucy, and nods shortly. âAh,â he says, switching to English. âRight, youâre here. Letâs go.â
âSir,â the Unreceptionist says, looking as if heâs wondering if Garcia himself read the details and/or the release forms before signing up. âYouâre supposed toâŠ?â
âWhat?â
âYouâre supposed to have the wedding ceremony first?â
âIâm supposed to have the what?â
At that, Lucy winces. Feeling as if this might be an opportune moment to interrupt the conversation, and wondering if itâs too late to switch to Marko from Zagreb and risk dying at an Eternal Derby game, she stands up. âHi,â she says. âIâm Lucy Preston?â
âI know.â Garcia glances at her briefly, up and down, and then away. âWhatâs this about a wedding?â
âThatâs the whole point of the app,â Lucy says pointedly. âFake-married, take me to places that arenât touristy, then at the end of the day, go our separate ways?â
Garcia looks briefly pole-axed, then seems to decide that right, well, this is on him for failing to read the terms and conditions. âFine,â he says impatiently. âCome on, letâs get this over with.â
Lucyâs cheeks sting. Making a mental note to give him a zero of five stars on any feedback form that she might have to fill in to rate her experience today, she follows him into the back, where they are joined in a very non-legally-binding ceremony, have their photo taken (Garcia looks like this is a real funeral rather than a fake wedding) and finally are released into the wild, as Garcia (who is a good foot taller than her) strides ahead without waiting. When Lucy runs to catch up, he says, âNobody told me there was a wedding involved.â
âDid you even read what they wanted?â Lucyâs tone is slightly waspish, but then, he isnât exactly showering her in that supposedly famous Slavic hospitality. The sweet lady at the Airbnb was much nicer than this. âIt was right there in the entire premise. If you donât want to spend a day taking me around the city, fine, but maybe next time, try to actually â â
âNo,â Garcia says abruptly. âYouâre here now. Letâs go.â
With that, he strides off toward the gate in the towering walls, down into the Stari Grad. Lucy thinks the view from up there must be spectacular, but sheâs not actually going to get a chance to find out, because Garcia derides them as too touristy and refuses to pay 200 kuna to go up them. (This is something like $30, so it clearly is a lot, but the city sees no reason not to profit off all the Game of Thrones fans.) Nor does he think much of the main drag, the cathedral square, the rectorâs palace, or any of the other usual sights. He says that Lucy can call him Flynn, but doesnât explain why. She thinks itâs his last name, but honestly, she canât be sure. He has the social skills of a broken-down dump truck.
Finally, since there isnât much of Dubrovnik, at least the old town, that isnât touristy, Lucy persuades Flynn to let them go up the walls, though by the face he makes at the cashier as he pays for their tickets, the poor man might be found floating face-down in the ocean later. They climb up to the winding ramparts, gazing out over the Adriatic to one side and the crowded, tiled roofs on the other, and on one steep section, Lucy loses her footing and nearly falls. She wouldnât have gone over the edge, there are plenty of barriers, but Flynn flashes out a hand and steadies her. Itâs the first remotely human or non-dickish thing heâs done, and she raises an eyebrow. âThanks.â
Perhaps sensing by her acerbic tone that he has not been the worldâs most satisfactory fake husband to date, Flynn has the grace to blush, or at least look somewhat chagrined. âIâd definitely get in trouble if you died.â
âThanks,â Lucy says again, even more tartly. âGuess itâs a good thing for you that you have good reflexes?â
âI fought in the Homeland War.â Flynn glances away. Itâs the first personal thing heâs shared about himself, in a casual, offhand way that makes it sound no more remarkable than getting milk from the store. âCome on, letâs keep moving.â
Lucy glances at him. Heâs made it clear that heâs not here for the fake marriage, let alone small talk, but she paid a decent amount of money to be here with this tall idiot and he can just suffer it. âAre you from Dubrovnik?â
âI was born in Ć ibenik.â Flynn doesnât break stride, obliging Lucy to trot to keep up with him. âLived a few places around the country. It was Yugoslavia back then, though. War started in 1991.â
âI know,â Lucy says. âI mean, Iâm a historian, so I was recently doing some work on 1989 and the U.S. response to the dissolution of the Iron Curtain. Technically, Yugoslavia wasnât Soviet, right?â
âNo,â Flynn says, with a sort of grim pride. âTito and Stalin hated each other. It wasâŠ. sort of an in-between place, I suppose. We didnât need exit visas, there was a certain amount of social freedom, and Tito liked to market it as neutral, a third country between East and West, combining the best of both and the worst of neither. Of course, he was a dictator, but supposedly a benevolent one. Most people liked him. My childhood was â â He stops. âWell, my mother was American, anyway. Maybe that was what drew her here. Running away.â
Lucy glances up at him. She has a sense that Flynn doesnât often talk much about his past, and decides that since they are, after all, only fake-married, she doesnât need to pry. However, since the subject of his mother has arisen, she holds back as best she can, not wanting to dump the fraught subject of Carol Preston on a strange man who has only just met her and treated her one step above gum stuck to his shoe, but finally needs to talk about it with someone who isnât Amy. She still isnât sure Flynn gives a damn, but too bad for him. She mentions that itâs been hard, with the Stanford legacy and the cancer and the expectations that she would accept Noahâs proposal, and she just â well, she doesnât know. Maybe Lucy understands a bit of Flynnâs mother, whoever she was, whyever she came here. Maybe she too was, or is, running away. Even if she has to fly all the way back to San Francisco at the end of this week, some part of her would be more than happy to fling all her responsibilities to the wind, move into some picturesque old flat in one of those tiny streets, and stay.
They descend the walls after completing their circuit, and Flynn deigns to buy her lunch at a small cafe where the menu is only in Croatian and a sign informs customers that they donât take euros, only kuna. Lucy allows him to order something for her, and they sit there eating in semi-awkward silence. Then Flynn says, apropos of nothing, âMaria.â
âWhat?â
âMy motherâs name.â He shrugs. âIt was Maria Tompkins. She was from Houston. She moved to Yugoslavia in 1970, after the death of her first husband and son. She was traveling through Europe, I donât know that she intended to stay here, but she met my father, so she did.â
âOh.â Lucy wonders what it would have been like here in the seventies. Probably still beautiful, though much less developed. So Maria Tompkins fell in love, that was what made a young American woman go Red, a move that must have been regarded dimly by her friends and family back in Texas. With that sort of tragedy shadowing her past, maybe it was easier to cut all ties, to get a new passport, to learn a new language, and never look back. Lucy feels a sudden pang of sympathy with this other woman, this unknown fellow traveler, who too found herself in this corner of the world wanting to leave it all behind. Lucy has responsibilities at home, not least her job (even if they didnât give her tenure, or at least itâs very much in academic bureaucracy limbo), her sister, her sick mother, all the encumbrances and trappings of real life. She canât do what Maria did, no matter how much she wants to. And for some reason completely unknown to her â it certainly isnât the pleasure of Flynnâs company â she does.
They finish lunch and head out. Itâs warm enough for November that Flynn suggests they can go for a dip, though he gives her a no-clearly-not look when Lucy naively thinks this will be at Banje Beach, the main spot just south of the walls. He leads her up to the street, where they find his car and get in. Itâs an Audi, and she wonders what exactly he does for a living. He has a habit of scanning their surroudings, casually flicking his gaze at passersby, in a way that she doesnât think stems from his military service alone. In fact, sheâs starting to wonder if he joined the Untourist app to case the city and/or scope out people without it being too suspicious. Maybe itâs better for everyone if she doesnât ask about his job. He might have to suffocate her and bundle her up in a black plastic garbage bag in the boot.
Flynn, it transpires, drives like a bit of a maniac, a habit he shares with most of the other road users (especially the scooters and motorcycles). Lucy has already noticed that Croatians seem to have a rather laissez-faire attitude toward personal safety, as evidenced by their tendency to stand outside guardrails overlooking steep drops, walk the wrong way along busy highways, dart across roads in front of oncoming traffic, and jury-rig anything that isnât actively falling apart. When she mentions this to Flynn, he shrugs. âSlavs are like that,â he says matter-of-factly. âEspecially Croatians. Though if you think weâre bad, you should meet the Poles.â
Lucy laughs despite herself, since thatâs the first time Flynn has loosened up to flash any bit of actual humor. Well, thatâs not quite true; he is remarkably sassy, has a sarcastic comment for most occasions and especially anything involving a tourist making a fool of themselves, but this is the first time that his humor has seemed gentler, more like heâs actually enjoying himself and poking a bit of self-deprecating fun rather than lashing out at the world. They drive along the cliff road for several miles in silence, until Lucy asks, âWhen did you move to Dubrovnik?â
âAboutâŠâ Flynn hesitates, and she senses that thereâs more riding on the answer to that question than he wants to let on. âWell, I lived in Zagreb until 2014.â
âAnd you moved here after that?â
âMore or less.â Flynn adjusts the rearview mirror, which doesnât really need it. After a long pause he says, âMy wife and daughter died in 2014. I came here for â well, I didnât want to stay there anymore.â
âIâmâŠ.â Lucy feels taken aback, almost guilty that sheâs been so derisive of his inability to read app terms and conditions, his clear aversion to the whole fake-married part. Not that theyâve really been acting like it, anyway, but still. She can imagine it wouldnât be easy for her, if that ever happened, to stand up and play-act some stupid charade for an American tourist hiring you like a beast of burden, not when youâd had the real thing, not when it was gone. âGarcia,â she says, the first time sheâs used that since he told her to call him Flynn. She has a sense that he prefers that, that Garcia is some place too personal where he doesnât let people go, not any longer. âIâm sorry.â
He glances at her, and for a moment she thinks heâll snap at her, but he doesnât. He keeps his eyes on the road, navigating the tight turns with ease, until at last he says, âIâm sorry I havenât been very much fun.â
Lucy opens her mouth by polite reflex to say that he has, and settles for a noncommital hum. Flynn seems to sense that while he might have worked his way up from zero stars, heâs still a way off from five, and parks the Audi in a pullout. They descend a narrow cliff path to the sea, he reaches out to catch her arm when her feet skid again on the pebbles, and Lucy decides she should probably warn him that sheâs clumsy before she really does accidentally kill herself. But if she fell into the sea from here, she has an unaccountable sense that heâd dive in after her, no matter how odd and brusque and grumpy he is. Itâs less clear whether this is because heâs starting to like her a little, or because it would be an insult to his professional competence. Maybe heâs in the Mafia.
They reach a small quay where a catamaran is tied up, Flynn strides to it and produces two life jackets, and once Lucy has climbed aboard, he swings on, undoes the ropes, and angles the sails out into the wide blue water, endless as a reflected sky. It must be a busy harbor in summer, and thereâs still a decent boat traffic now: ferries, jet-skis, a few sailboats and pleasure yachts. Lucy holds on tight as Flynn carves an expert white wake. âIs this your boat, then?â
âNo,â Flynn says. âBut I borrow it from time to time.â
âDid you â â Lucy gives him a very narrow stare. âDid you steal this boat?â
âNo!â Flynn looks miffed that she would ask. âI know the owner, he lets me use it when I want to. What kind of man do you think I am?â
Lucy opens her mouth, starts to answer, and stops. Truth is, she isnât sure. An hour ago she would have said a raging, self-absorbed dick with no social skills and possibly black-market employment, and parts of that are still true, but the rest, well⊠she canât say exactly. He keeps letting slip these odd, vulnerable parts of him, almost in spite of himself. His past in the war, his mother running away from her old life, his dead wife and daughter, everything else. She isnât certain what she thinks of him, exactly, but she isnât wishing that she picked Marko from Zagreb anymore. If nothing else, Flynn is complicated, and challenging, and oddly easy to talk to, and he hasnât told her to shut up about the family/work/life drama that she occasionally returns to venting about. Lucy thinks sheâll take that, at least.Â
She looks at his hands, large and sun-brown and expertly pulling and tying the knots to trim the sail, as he pulls them to a bobbing halt in the sparkling water and asks if she wants to swim. Lucy didnât put on her bathing suit under her clothes, but she doesnât want to go to the bother of making him drive all the way back to the Airbnb. So she strips off her shirt and jeans, and, in just her bra and underpants (hey, theyâre married, even fakely), she dives in.
The water is chillier than she expected â this is the southern Mediterranean, itâs never cold no matter the season, but it is November, and she splutters and gasps as she bobs to the surface. Flynn, observing from the high-and-dry comfort of the catamaran, smirks at her, and Lucy gives him the finger. âYou dick,â she shouts. âYou could have warned me.â
Flynn shrugs, apparently utterly untroubled either by this accusation or by her attitude; indeed, he grins as if he appreciates this feistiness, her willingness to talk back at him and tell it like it is. Lucy spends so much time biting her tongue around absolutely everyone else that this reaction is both unexpected and deeply liberating, and once sheâs swum around the catamaran a few times and adjusted to the water temperature, she takes a deep breath and dives down under the pontoons. Then she surfaces on the far side, reaches up, and just as Flynn senses danger and whips around, she grabs him by the back of the shirt and jerks him backward.
Heâs wearing a life jacket, of course, so he doesnât go too far under, but the expression on his face is worth every penny that she paid to the stupid app. He shakes his wet hair like a dog as he surfaces, and she has to say, he looks really good while doing it. âExcuse me,â he says, in a tone of deep umbrage. âWho told you that it was a good idea to start a marriage off by throwing your husband in the drink?â
âMaybe if Iâm drowning you for the life insurance,â Lucy shoots back, before she can stop herself. She has no idea who this woman is, who has gone from being exasperated and shut off with Flynn to â well, she did in fact just throw him in the ocean, but thereâs definitely something different about their dynamic now. It wouldnât be a stretch to call it flirty, whether or not this is listed in Untouristâs terms and conditions (and as well established, Flynn did not read them anyway). âAfter all, I think we can say that you deserve it. Tragic boating accident?â
Too late, she wonders if this is a bad idea to joke about, since she doesnât actually know how his wife and daughter died (she hopes it wasnât that, anyway) but Flynn actually laughs, and it transforms his whole face. They spend a very enjoyable forty minutes swimming around, splashing each other, and hanging onto the side of the catamaran and letting their legs sway in the current. Theyâre close alongside each other as they do, Lucy is conscious of only being in her wet underwear (itâs not like he can see anything while sheâs submerged, but still), and something passes between them as their eyes meet. His throat moves as he swallows, and after a moment too long, he looks away.
They climb back on the boat, Flynn looses the sail and steers them back toward land, and they disembark, Lucy once more watching for investigative purposes as he ties up. They dry off and she pulls on her damp clothes, as Flynn decorously turns his back and waits until she is done. Then they tramp up the bluff to the car (Lucy was thinking about retiring here, since itâs warm and sunny and beautiful and all that, but if she is elderly, all the climbing might be too much) and drive back toward the town center. The sun is getting low, her paid-for day is almost done, and despite the total disaster that was it starting out, Lucy is oddly reluctant for it to do so. As Flynn pulls up in front of the Untourist office, she says convulsively, âMaybe we should⊠I donât know. I think theyâre closed, anyway. You donât have to drop me off here.â
Flynn glances at her, then considers it. He could offer to just take her back to her Airbnb (those streets really were not designed for sane drivers, and Lucy can see why tiny Smart cars are popular around here, but Flynn would absolutely not fit into one) and he still might. Then he says, âWell, technically, the day isnât over. Do you suppose I could take you out for dinner?â
âYouâŠ.â Lucy coughs. âI suppose you could.â
They find parking, and walk down into the old town, as the moon is rising over the walls, the towers are floodlit, the city gleams in the cooling dusk like its nickname, the âPearl of the Adriatic,â and they find another cafe where the clientele is mostly local. They linger late over dinner, and Flynn says that he will in fact drive her back when theyâre finally done, and as sheâs about to undo her seatbelt and get out, Lucy hesitates. Then she screws up her courage, leans over, and kisses him very fast on the cheek. âThank you,â she says. âI had â I really did have a great time.â
Flynn looks as surprised as her to hear it, but somehow and shyly gratifeid as well. A fugitive smile plays at the corner of his mouth, tentative, tender. For a moment, she thinks he might be about to kiss her back for real, but he clears his throat and holds out his hand instead. âEr,â he says. âThank you, Dr. Preston.â
Lucy hesitates, fighting her disappointment, and shakes it back. Then she steps out of the car and unlocks the door of the apartment, as he waits to see that she gets inside without random Ragusan fiends materializing from the shrubbery. Even when she does step in, the car idles a few more moments, and she glances back, wondering â or perhaps itâs only hoping â that heâs chastising himself for letting her walk away. Then the car starts again, she can see his dark figure sitting too stiff and straight at the wheel, and she watches until the taillights vanish around a steep turn, and fade into the night.
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I have left Croatia. This displeases me on a level that Iâm rather surprised about. I mean, I knew Iâd love the place, but wow. I really really need to get back as soon as possible...forever longer.
How to make this happen I do not know, but planning starts tomorrow.
#for once in my life I want to take a risk#make something happen#chase a dream#maybe this is it?#croatia 2k19
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đ summer
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roko sweetie why would you bring the wings back?
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đ·đ đžđđđ»đđđđ¶đ·đđ đđŸđđœ đđđđđđđđ» #selfconfidence#2k19#croatia#bodypositive (presso Valamar Beach) https://www.instagram.com/p/B1zKlXYAmGu/?igshid=h5o2z0n8hf99
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Europe Trip Day 4-5: Kalocsa, Hungary | Vukovar and Osijek, Croatia
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Every Eurovision 2019 Song Reviewed In 10 Words or Less
2018 2017
Albania: Generic song really looks like Kim KardashianÂ
Armenia: Those high notes though. Also where are their shirts?
Australia: Ghibli Disney Opera Broadway fever dream
Austria: Youuuuhoooohoooo  So much eye contact wow okay
Azerbaijan: A gay bar bop
Belarus: Early 2000s Disney Channel girl group but just one girl
Belgium: Twilight trailer music
Croatia: Strong vocals shame the song isnât that great
Cyprus: Dua Lipa vibes Iâm into it
Czech Republic: Digging the aesthetic, song is lackluster but charming
Denmark: A pure aesthetic very nice
Estonia: Song doesn't fit his voice. Both good separate, together nah
Finland: Thereâs a dancer on a box
France: Greatest Showman Never Enough but French
Georgia: If Vikings had karaoke theyâd sing this
Germany: So are they actually sisters or...
Greece: I like her dress. The dancers scare me
Hungary: Why is this child sad who is he
Iceland: BDSM Bondage gymnastics
Ireland: Generic breakup song is generic
Israel: That voice is powerful damn
Italy: Italian fuckboy 2k19
Latvia: Pretty voice, pretty aesthetic, lame lyrics
Lithuania: Some serious talent here damn I like this one
Malta: Also Dua Lipa esqu but with cooler aesthetics
Moldova: Blah blah love song blah blah in the rain
Montenegro: Old Navy CommercialÂ
North Macedonia: Feminism
Norway: The stage must be based on a laser tag arena
Poland: Black and white slow mo make it dramatic
Portugal: Iâm very confused but dudes got moves
Romania: Haunted Mansions ghosts made a mixtape
Russia: Really nice music video. Song is battle music.
San Marino: Pitbull without rapping and from San Marino
Serbia: Wonder Woman would sing this
Slovenia: Billie Eilish but both better and worse
Spain: Iâd join this flashmob
Sweden: Hey black people! Straight up RnB
Switzerland: 20s aesthetic video and lit music yes please
The Netherlands: Why is he underwater is this the shape of water
United Kingdom: Generic. But not bad heâs got pipes
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green is mine #loveislove #2k19 #2000 #mylife#ciaopoveri #richkidsofinstagram #nogainnopain (presso Zagreb, Croatia) https://www.instagram.com/p/By8KFUSIYc6/?igshid=oad3xem5278b
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"Look, Sauron!"
- my friend/roommate
I swear she's better than the british commentators
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Study Abroad 2K19
countries other than France
1. Switzerland
2. United Kingdom
3. Italy
4. Spain
5. Greece
6. Croatia
7. Montenegro
8. Vatican City
9. Morocco
10. MonacoÂ
11. Poland
12. Finland
13. Norway
14. Sweden
15. Portugal
16. AustriaÂ
17. Luxembourg
18. Netherlands
19. Belgium
20. Hungary
21. Czech Republic
22. GermanyÂ
23. Iceland
24. Denmark
25. Romania
26. Liechtenstein
27. Slovakia
28. Ireland
29. Slovenia
30. Bosnia and Herzegovina
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We discovered this (Street of St Lucy) in Goran's hometown (Ć ibenik) and obviously, for Reasons, approve.
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I just saw Gabriel DeClermont
...in an ad on a wall in the Chicago airport, naturally wearing a little clothing as possible and looking unfairly amazing - but still! I canât help but feel like this a sign that this Croatian vacation has been officially blessed by the fates lol.
#Croatia 2k19#Iâm only on my first layover#but seeing that Drama Dumpster Boi on the wall just took this trip up a notch lol#Hrvatska here I come!#Gabriel DeClermont
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The General: A highly scientific review
So myself, @extasiswings, and @prairiepirate went to see The General tonight, in Goranâs hometown, because reasons. Since the people were asking for some sort of review/commentary on it afterward, have my very scientific list of the most important things in this movie:
Goran? 12/10! Recommend!
Goran speaks four languages? 12/10! Recommend!
The vast majority of that is Croatian? 12/10! Recommend!
Goran wears a suit, army fatigues, an officerâs uniform, etc? 12/10! Recommend!
Forearms? Also Biceps? 12/10! Recommend!
Goran flirts with several ladies to.... varying degrees of success, and at one point is almost as bad at it as Flynn? 12/10! Recommend!
Goran is a badass who is very competent at things and also very tall? 12/10! Recommend!
Goran interacts lovingly with multiple small children, including holding his young daughter in a way that is very Flynn and Iris? 12/10! Recommend!
Goran drives around in army vehicles and something something frees Croatia? 12/10! Recommend!
Goran smiles and Everything is Great? 12/10! Recommend!
GORAN DOES NOT DIE? 12/10! RECOMMEND!
Goran wears an Albert Einstein mustache and a wig and pretends to be his own grandfather? Okay, that is like a.... 5/10. Love you babe but. Still.
Did I understand 3/4 of this movie? I did not. Did I care? I did not.
(Heâs just so pretty.)
Also, some other things happened. So there was that.
Overall: 12/10. Recommend.
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/Sidles over to your inbox Hey. The General staring Goran Visnjic opens tomorrow. Are you going to see it in Croatia? And write a review? For science?
WHY YES, NONNIE. SINCE YOU ASK. THAT IS VERY MUCH A THING WE ARE PLANNING TO DO.
Iâm not sure how much of the film will be in English, and/or if there will be subtitles, but I care approximately not at all. Since this involves two hours or whatever of Goran being badass, wearing a uniform, speaking Croatian, and presumably looking beautiful while he does it, we are absolutely going to see it and have many thoughts about the whole thing. We canât promise they will be SMART thoughts, but still. @prairiepirate has been paying attention to that whole thing and the premiere and so forth, and she made sure to inform us that it was releasing on 5 August, which we all thought was highly convenient.
Anyway, I know Goran was enormously proud of the project and itâs a big deal in Croatia and weâre just going to turn up at the cinema and presumably confuse everyone as to why three non-Croatian ladies are so keenly interested in it. But weâll just be like âwe just really love Goran Visnjicâ and really? Valid.
So. Yes. It will happen.
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love the volcano aesthetic
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roko: dreams of love
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