#gringos stop gringoing challenge

[r0entgen]

Hermano cómo puedes tener múltiples Venezolanos explicándote la situación en Venezuela simultáneamente y todavía decir "you can't convince me that the US cares about democracy" STOP MAKING EVERYTHING ABOUT THE US FOR FUCKS SAKE THIS IS NOT ABOUT YOU AND YOUR POLITICAL STANCE

[sheisbeautyweareworldass]

“jenny ortega is the first latina” none of these words are in the bible 😭

[saturnismo]

Necesito que los gringos dejen de tomar que "ficción traducida" sea un género literario FLACO CÓMO QUE ESO ES UN GÉNERO??? FICCIÓN Y PUNTO

[johnwickb1tsch]

andar conmigo ~ part 9

A Walk in the Clouds/Don John crossover outline/fic- Paul Sutton x fem!Reader x Don John triangle ~ You grow up at Las Nubes vineyard, and have to go home to your dying father. You take your fake new husband, Sgt Paul Sutton, with you...Your old flame don John does not like this at all. Warnings: don John still being himself an asshole, nsfw chapter map

You are so relieved, when at last you reach the end of the meal. 

But Juan calls Paul back, inviting him for a brandy and some manly conversation. You are wary to leave Paul alone with Juan, but you see that some unspoken challenge has been issued between them, some ridiculous testosterone-fueled thing you cannot fully understand the merit of.

Paul kisses your cheek, and says he’ll join you shortly. With a warning look at Juan, you acquiesce. Out of politeness doña Maria invites you to join a game of cards in the parlor, but you claim exhaustion, begging off. You see they are secretly relieved. At least you know your place, even if Juan seems strangely possessed by this uncharacteristic wave of generosity towards you.

If only they knew.

Paul follows Juan to his study, accepting the proffered libation in its crystal snifter. Only after the first sip does it occur to him he should hope it's not poisoned. He looks around the room, unsettled by the various dead animals stuffed into poses that are but a sad facsimile of what they once were. A huge brown bear looms in the corner, its dagger-like claws extended, its maw gaping wide in a snarl.

“My father shot him not far from here. He was the last we ever saw at Las Nubes, though once these mountains crawled with the beasts.”

“What a shame,” mused Paul.

“Is it? You wouldn’t think so, if you met one in the forest.”

“Maybe not,” Paul agrees begrudgingly.

“That is the difference, between those of us who live in the wilderness, relying upon ourselves. We do not hesitate to defend what is ours, when we have to. We look after our own.”

“I suppose I get that.”

“My family came here a long time ago, señor Sutton. With de Anza, in 1776. The same year your founding fathers signed your little declaración, far away from here.”

“Maybe. Like I said, I don’t know my people, or how long ago they came here,” Paul admits honestly.

Juan waves it off as inconsequential. 

“After the Mexican war and the treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo in 1848, the gringos came, thinking they would take our land because they could, 160 acres at a time. Many Californios lost their land, but we were lucky we were able to prove our title through Mexico city and lawyers in Washington. But laws and lawyers cannot settle everything. We also did what we had to, to protect what is ours from the squatters. We always will protect what is ours.”

Paul nods, understanding that don Juan was not just talking about land. They were talking about you again, and especially after reading your diary earlier that day, he didn’t like the entitlement in this man’s tone one bit. 

“I feel the same way,” Paul answered. “That’s why I was fighting in Europe and Asia for the past four years…while you were growing your grapes and riding your ponies.” 

Don Juan just snorts at this attempt to call him a coward. “Your little war had nothing to do with us here.” 

“You might have felt differently, if Hitler and his Blitzkrieg came tearing over the hill with his sights on you.” 

Juan makes a sound through his teeth, as though it was an idiotic suggestion. “They were never going to make it this far.” 

Paul looks at him over his snifter with a raised eyebrow, thinking Because men like me risked our lives to stop them from doing it, but his innate sense of politeness prevents him, even now. 

“You may be right, señor.” He downs the last of his brandy. Potent stuff, and almost a shame to drink it so quickly. “Please excuse me. I suddenly have the urge to make love to my wife. Good night.”

The shot hits home, though Paul does not bother to watch the aftermath, setting down his snifter and quitting the room. Had he bothered to look back, he would have found don Juan’s fine features pulled in an expression of pure murder. 

***

You are beginning to get worried. 

You are wearing nothing but your silk night shift, and you started out on the bed in some misguided attempt to appear alluring. But the minutes ticked by, and by the time Paul shuffles in you are pacing the floor like an anxious animal. You can tell by the careful way he’s moving he’s a little drunk–the brandy don Pedro makes here is some potent stuff. You remember from when Juan used to sneak it for the two of you.

“Are you alright?” you ask, rising to greet him at the door and look him over, somehow unbelieving that he and don Juan didn’t get into a fight.

“Fine,” he answers with a half smile, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you snugly against him. “So much better now.” There’s a possessiveness in the way he grasps you–it titilates you more than you would like to admit.

“Paul…” you admonish, without a lick of gravity behind it.

He looks down at you with that half smile, a lock of hair in his eyes. “That man really does think he owns you…” Paul marvels, ducking to catch your lips in a sweet kiss. “But you don’t belong to him. You–” He kisses you again, those full lips sending sparks straight to your empty, aching, cunt. “Belong to me.” 

For now. 

Despite what you’d discussed earlier…you don’t have it in you to split hairs, when he looks at you like that in the low light, after a glass of very good wine at dinner, and…and the simple fact that deep down, he might absolutely be right. 

He kisses you then, really kisses you, and you feel yourself melting beneath his soft lips and strong hands.When his fingers bunch up the skirts of your nightie you hold up your arms in invitation, so that he may strip you bare. A low sound escapes him, as he runs his hands down your back, over your curves and the swell of your buttocks. There is something incredibly arousing, about pressing your naked body to his, while he is fully clothed. Slowly he walks you backwards, touching you and squeezing you and by the time the backs of your knees hit the bed you are already soaking wet for him. 

You try to reach for his clothing, his jacket, his tie, his trousers, anything to render him a little more bare, but with a knowing smile he just manhandles you back onto the bed, sinking to his knees to kiss you between your thighs before you can get in a single word edgewise.

You think he’s discovered your weakness now, and is completely using it to his advantage. What better way to make your mind go still, than his tongue on your clit with your legs slung over his broad shoulders? You are putty in his hands, so close to cumming in his mouth when he draws back, wiping his face on your thigh and smiling gently up at you, taking in the disheveled mess he’s made before him. 

He doesn’t say a word, tugging off his tie and tossing his jacket, shrugging out of his suspenders and unbuttoning his shirt, all while looking down at you with a warmth that makes you feel like you just might combust. You watch the show with a loving hunger, wanting him so much it hurts. 

You open like a flower beneath him as he crawls over you, sighing as he settles down, your curves and hard angles meeting in a way as though the universe designed you to fit together. He kisses your lips, melting you to the bone, and you know you would give this man anything he asked for in that moment. 

“Can I make love to you, y/n?” he asks as his hips find their rightful place between your thighs, the thick tip of his manhood hovering maddeningly at your weeping entrance.

“Please?”

You never realized how empty you were without him, until he glides inside you with a moan that raises gooseflesh all across your skin, reveling in wondrous stretch and burn of his length buried in your needy flesh. You cannot stop yourself from thinking, this is the way you are meant to be. 

You find a rhythm together that is older than time, his claiming mouth upon you and his body inside yours, taking you higher with every thrust, filling you with an impossible pleasure and more love in your heart than you think you can stand. You don’t have the presence of mind to remind him or negotiate over the finish. All you can think is how perfectly you fit together, and that you need him. 

This is the magic mother nature weaves, the cycle of life that keeps the species ever marching forward. Desire. That grinding need, driven by lust and love and that straining, desperate yearning for fulfillment. But it feels like more than that, in Paul’s arms. This pleasure feels cosmically ordained–if he is your high priest, then you are the vessel to carry it to God. With your leg wrapped around his hip and his thumb upon your swollen bud, you become nothing but gasping breath and shining nerve endings.

You could have wept, when after ruining you with another handful of deep thrusts, Paul withdraws to finish on your belly, writing his love upon your skin in thick creamy ropes of his spend. Gasping for breath, he collapses to the side, pressing his forehead to yours with a satisfied smile. “You feel…like heaven, y/n.”

You kiss him sweetly, boneless after your torrid lovemaking. “So do you.” 

You don’t know how you’ll ever feel complete without him again…and maybe you’re drunk on good wine and lovemaking, but that doesn’t scare you half as much as it did when this day started.  

Only after resting for a minute does he look down at your belly with a sheepish smile. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. Thank you.”

As grateful as you are– you can't help  but think about how it almost felt incomplete, without him finishing inside you. What a cosmic torture. Somewhere...the gods are laughing at your hubris, that you thought you might escape the way they designed you, and this man it feels they made just for you. 

“Did I mention I’m kicking myself for not bringing any condoms?”

You chuckle with him. “Maybe…you could get me the towel?”

He lifts an eyebrow, looking at you marked with his seed for a moment longer with a primal heat in his eyes that curls your toes all over again. “Yeah.” He kisses you, before going to the washstand to clean himself, and brings you the damp rag. 

You fall asleep tangled together, your head on his shoulder and your legs entwined. You can’t help but feel that life can’t get any sweeter, than ending the day in Paul Sutton’s arms.

[icedsodapop]

People, esp White gringos, need to stop defining what makes a person Latino, in this case, people are making Spanish fluency a characteristic of Latino identity (which is false becos Spanish is the language enforced onto Indigenous South American peoples by their Spanish colonizers and many latinos speak their Indigenous languages), in order to uplift your White blonde hispanic fave 👀👀

I think what's really annoying about the discourse that surrounded Anya Taylor Joy's identity as a Latina is how the popular takes do not want to consider colorism and how Joy benefits from it. She gets to star in projects like The Witch and Emma, projects that non-Spanish-speaking Latinos like Rachel Zegler and Jenna Ortega are not privy to becos they do not pass as White. The popular discourse also erases the unique challenges that Afro-Latinos and Indigenous peoples face in regards to their identity as well.

For further reading:

[milfcutlawquane]

Gringos coming to live at Mexico stop calling yourselves expats while saying you're not the same as mexican immigrants CHALLENGE

[ausetkmt]

It’s true folks, it is SO MUCH worse down there than you may think. By signing his latest fascist legislation which criminalizes undocumented immigrants for...well... just being in Florida, De Santis has effectively chased out virtually the entire undocumented poplulation of the state, which means more than 80% of the construction workers, and nearly 100% of the agricultural workers. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg. It cascades from there. I just spent half an hour on tiktok, for an old timer like me that’s a bit of a challenge, but it was worth it. In that short amount of time, I saw latin truckers blocking entire highways with their boycotting and refusing to deliver loads in Florida, or to take loads out. They aren’t even undocumented, that’s just the solidarity folks.

I saw video after video of empty construction sites and of fruits and vegetables rotting in the fields, fields that should be bustling with tough hard working folk picking the vines and trees, yet completely abandoned. But that, like I said is just the tip of the iceberg.

It’s starting to cascade from there, I saw videos of Walmart and Home Depot completely empty, totally devoid of customers. I saw videos of farms that hired American workers to try to do the jobs of the undocumented. It was both hilarious and heart breaking. The farmers complain the gringos are too fat and out of shape to do the job, most go home after lunch and many quit after a single day.

I saw an interesting comparison video, it’s in spanish, if you are not a spanish speaker fast forward to about 0:48. The fun starts there. It starts showing how latino roofers do the job, and then shows how their American replacements try to do the same job. Also similar examples of agri-workers, and many others. 

x

Here we have an in depth (by Tiktok standards) look at a housing development under construction. It’s virtually abandoned. The narrator states that just in the room he is standing in there are normally at least 15 workers, it’s empty. He says that only 4 workers showed up to the whole site that day, and one was the foreman.

www.tiktok.com/…

Or how about a look at a convoy of Latinos leaving Florida:

www.tiktok.com/…

Ooh, and here’s one of my favorites. How about a tour of the local totally empty Walmart as given by an astonished patron, I mean really, have you EVER seen a Walmart that wasn’t packed with customers? Well now you can.

www.tiktok.com/…

Not to be outdone, Home Depot is also vying to be the winner of the retail wasteland sweepstakes, non-spanish speakers can fast forward to the one minute mark if you want to skip the spanish monologue.

www.tiktok.com/…

Yes, looks like good ol’ Meatball Ron has really stepped in it this time. It won’t be easy to recover from this, even if the legislature repeals this fascist law, what immigrant is going to risk returning when there are plenty of worker starved farms and construction sites welcoming them with open arms in somewhat more comfortable climates like Georgia and Alabama. Hell, we’re even getting some of the overflow here in Colorado where farmers and construction sites are practically rolling out the welcome mats. As they say, once bitten twice shy. Nobody’s going to go back to Florida after this, at least not as long as right wing lunatics and Nazi sympathizers are running the show. 

Oh, and here’s a bonus video, this African American Youtube star with over a million and a half subscribers is telling his mostly AA audience NOT to go to Florida and bail them out. Don’t miss the the guy who proposes sending Appalachian white welfare recipients to go pick fruit. Good luck getting them to put down their meth pipes to go roast in the Florida sun for minimum wage (or less). Yeah, that’s gonna happen.

x

So why am I laughing? Because I’m originally from Florida, a boni fide native of the Sunshine state, and I’m absolutely horrified to see what wannabe fascists have done to my once beautiful state. I’m retiring soon and will have to do so in a northern state as I will not set foot in the South as long as it remains under the current fascistic spell to which it has thus far succumbed. If I have to freeze my tuchas off up here in the North for the rest of my days, I can at least take comfort that the yahoos who took over Florida are getting their comeuppance. One might say it’s cold comfort with a capital ”C”, but somehow, it’s better than no comfort at all.

[jacks-tracks]

Day tripper

Having sat on my ass for 2 months, i suddenly realized that i needed to get out to the remote beaches. The Hot Springs was so good trip that it motivated me.

Agua Blanca, an empty beach stretches for miles south,broken only by a lagoon/inflow(sign: no swimming /crocodiles). That's where I usually stop for bird watching before returning to the palapa restaurant perhaps a mile each way. The beach, flat and hot , runs south towards Chila a t last 10 miles away. There are usually a few local fisherman hand casting off a set of rocks, using bleach bottle reels, and tiny fish for bait. Yes they often do catch fish, small silver surf feeders, occasionaly a bigger predator drawn to the bait. Seems like an inef ficient way to fish, but the cost is minimal. Gringoes surf casting with long poles and spinning reels, do no better, perhaps because they are using lures. The rock outcrops used to be loaded with oysters( a big deal here, half shell) but have been fished out, and now oysters are imported from further south and set in tide pools in gunny sacks till needed. Personally I see oysters as slugs in a shell ever since I was challenged to eat one by BC Hydros manager, but that's another story.

No crocodiles in sight, but lots of wading birds, which I take as a no crocodile sign. No haul out tracks in the mangroves either. There a re increasing numbers of crocs on the coast, with one flushed out of the Rio Stinko on to Marinero beach last year to the dismay of tourists. I,ve never seen one outside of the croc farm at Chacahua, and after having a 5 meter croc crash into the fence in pursuit of a dog that was following us(next to the gate tied with a bit of string!), I,ve not wanted to see any.

Did flush a small flock of blue ducks, possibly blue winged teal. They flew a tight formation up the lagoon, flashing sky blue shoulder patches. Didn,t mean to spook them, but they saw me first. The waders are herons, non descript, several varieties. The scummy weeded inshore water is loaded with tiny silver fish. Heron food.

Back to the palapa for a cold coconut and flop in the palm thatch shade. Travelling with 3 friends, and we try to organize a hot meal, with limited success. I believe the kitchen cooks only cook one meal at a time, setting aside the first ones so they can serve them all at once. Result, cold eggs, with hot tortillas. 100 pesos($7) but it' a nice view. We early birds get the view before the other tourists straggle in about 10 am. Given a dozen places to chose from, it's rarely crowded.

Right in front, 20 meters away are tidal pools that flood with each wave crashing onto the rocks that define the place, ideally flooding the inshore low beach and creating a little flow across the sands that floods back out to sea. Fun to hop in and ride along. only once did i find myself being swept back out to sea and had to stand knee deep in the flow, unable to wade out till the flow slacked. Alternative was an involuntary bit of body surfing among rocks!. The sea has been chilly (25 degrees ) and so it's dip and dash.

By 1 o,clock we pay, pack and catch the pre booked taxi back to Santa Elena for the chicken bus. Like everything else, the taxi has increased in price (from 50 to 60 pesos), but split 4 ways its nothing. Likewise the bus went from 30 to 40 pesos, but they are much improved, having windows, cushioned seats, and saner drivers. Full of coconut juice I really needed a piss, so using logic I wandered up the road past the taxi lot. Taxi drivers need to piss too, and sure enough there was a wet spot a bit further where cabbies had pissed liberally on a wall. Relief!

It's a 40 minute ride back, with the busses seeing more customers with the increased population. Seats fill up, but locals prefer being crammed into the mini van transporters, so we wait for the 40 passenger buses, more air, much better views, and more metal if some fool hits us. Hint from a Mexican: Don't travel the roads on a Sunday, as this is when people have a day off, and dad gets drunk! Safely back in Puerto we face the greatest danger of the day, crossing the 4 lane carretera highway, a mad dash to the divider, and a scramble across the next 2 lanes in ahead of trucks and motorcycles accelerating off the speed bump. Phew! Home to shower, change sopping shirts and sticky swim suits, then a cold juice and a plunge in the clean refreshing pool. A sucessful out of town day!

[doingthedirtydishes]

My move to the Yucatan, Mexico: Getting lost in Playa del Carmen – A life thrown into turmoil; Finding my heart in Nicte-Ha.

To travel the world is to experience and write you own book of history. Otherwise you are just reading history written at the hands of the victors. But to truly understand oneself and the world also one must depart the pseudo harbor of safety and explore the intrepid open seas. It is only through others that we truly learn about ourselves; it is only through travel that we sincerely learn of the untold people and cultures of other countries. Opening my mind to the possibilities of travel allowed me to find my heart.

This chapter of my life started in Amsterdam, Holland and ended up spitting me out in Yucatan, Mexico. In the interim, it brought me on a head spinning whistle-stop trek from New York City to Maine to Miami to Nicaragua, back to Miami again, then finally off to Colombia. After being unable to find a suitable apartment for my needs in two different cities in Colombia, with funds dwindling, on the verge of giving up, along with some close friends and business partners, it was determined I would relocate to Mexico.

All the while, my journey was eclipsed by the Covid-19 international pandemic and crisis. At every turn there was a new challenge or hurdle to overcome – they were incessant, always lurking in the shadows. Seventeen of the last twenty-four months have been spent living out of hotels. Whilst almost becoming broke and homeless in a wheelchair twice, having my whole life packed into three suitcases only added insult to injury, pre-pending undue stress and anxiety to an already precarious globetrotting expedition.

Do not be mistaken, this has been a wander of the heart since the start. The impetus behind the mad adventure, the magic of the trail, quest of the soul, always surrounded finding the proper foreign filming location for my TV pilot – an adventure travel show with a twist of spirituality, aptly named: Wheels Up! Once leaving Europe to move home temporarily to Philadelphia, whilst giving my car and all my home items away to the inner-city homeless, before being denied re-entry to Europe twice, it has been a slog.

Once I finally had made it to Cartagena, I thought that was my final destination. After attempting to move there twice before in life, my third attempt I planned to live there two to five years. But after six months of innumerable obstacles, breaking my wallet and almost leaving me no bed to sleep in, our team gave up on the possibility of filming in Colombia.  It was at this juncture that I went online in order to find a new city to relocate to in the Yucatan, Mexico. Through an ad on Craigslist I met Julio Cesar Chavez.

Cesar, as he liked to be addressed, was a very congenial person upon first introduction. Without wasting anyone’s time, immediately I informed him on my wheelchair and the necessary living requirements. Within a day he replied via text with a video, a video that showed a few areas of concern, that ended with him proposing where to build ramps for me. After umpteen apartment failures in Colombia, Cesar was an angel in disguise. And after losing all my money a week before my move, I knew it was a match.

At this point, it became evident that I was meant to be in Playa del Carmen – there are no mistakes in life. Since my time living in the Middle East I have always had a connection to the energy of the earth. It is much more fine-tuned in my current stage of life. Once I arrived in “Playa” the energy where I was living was immediately felt. As the same ethereally ‘at home’ comfortable feeling while living in Israel, Holland, Indonesia, Ireland and Colombia, Mexico was no different, genuinely l felt restfully at home.

Cesar owns an eight room apartment rental complex in an off-the-beaten-path quaint neighborhood, Nicte-Ha.  It is a working class neighborhood most representative of how average Mexicans live day-to-day. There is one thing for certain when living in such a regional locale, without the chaotic mess of the ‘el Centro’ zone, you do not see many “gringos” AKA foreigners in the streets. It certainly makes for an authentic experience, one most representational of the bona fide ways in which actual Mexicans live.

In my first week while staying in the warm and cozy barrio of Nicte-Ha, I could feel her warm embrace. The people here are incredibly polite and always willing to lend a hand. A local neighborhood replete with rooster crows all hours of the day, where residents often sit in front of their homes or in the street late into the night, where it is not uncommon to hear music played loud – no matter the hour – it is a district whose streets are alive with constant action all day and evening. The energy is alive, palpable.

Nicte-Ha is a neighborhood where the old-school trade traditions of yesteryear still exist. No matter if you need your shoe, electronic or car repaired, it is as safe a bet as finding a corner street food stand. The delectable choices of local recipes sold by individuals on foot or bicycle trying to support their families are boundless: tacos (14 + different types); tamales; pizza; cakes and pies; ice cream; ice treats; fresh coconut water and pulp; fruits and fresh squeezed juices, and a multitude of other delicious treats. 

On any given day you might see a pandemonium of tropical parrots or Chachalacas flying overhead, leaving yourself asking yourself Que Paso. There is a gorgeous beach, Esmeralda, within a ten minute walk. And, if you are up for the trek, ‘el Centro’ is a forty-five minute walk. When back home you can expect to be flooded with different shouts from the street by local sellers vending their wares, whether procured and resold, fresh mixed, prepared on cart, baked at home or random impulsive tasty foodstuff.

These hawkers depend on local sales to survive. Many live in homes nearby where the majority do not have doors, windows or flushing toilets. They each have their own distinct method to get your attention. The pizza-by-the-slice purveyor on a bike uses a car battery connected to a boom-box to blare out disco music, with voiceover as the menu. Another man goes through the streets, every other residence, in a very raspy hoarse voice, screaming of sweet bread for purchase. Each day over ten vendors would pass.

The complex was filled with affable guests from all over the world. Over time, I befriended one of my neighbors, Valentin, a burly hirsute Viking looking computer programmer from Montreal. He would later become the investor in my TV show. In two shakes of a lamb’s tail all eight units were booked. Many a night was spent outside sitting on the patio under the bright stars celebrating the wonder of life through profound conversation with new friends. One of the greatest benefits of travel is the people you meet.

Of the daily group there are always a few characters. George and Michele from Czech Republic were a daily source of meaningful conversation – as they travel the world trying to rid the oceans of endless plastic. Rocky, his preferred moniker, a seventy-two year old, extremely outgoing and energetic, filled with Midwest love and compassion, always at the ready for a witty remark or a good time, was a pisser. He was right out of a movie; as were many whose paths I crossed during my time in celebrated Nicte-Ha.

While living in close quarters with others over a long period of time it is without fail that some close relationships will result. Valentin was the first foreigner I met when I moved to Mexico. Eventually a friendship ensued. We would spend nights having local street-stand tacos and beers while talking about everything under the sun. At one point, my show became the topic of interest and, by the time the night had come to a close, Valentin decided he wanted to become the sole investor to produce my TV pilot.

As with any major life decision, I interjected that he should first take the proper amount of time in order find resolve with his decision. It was also recommended that he read a copy of my book, Unbreakable Mind, in order to better fully comprehend the totality of my story. Two weeks later he came to me one afternoon and told me he was 100% committed to the project. Unfortunately, without being forthright, he still had doubts deep in the back of his head. And though he tried to hide them, they were obvious.

Although his words said otherwise, and his questions were flashing red-flags of neon, he insisted he was ready to move forward. Within two weeks, in an infantile tantrum, he decided to pull the plug. The show was off. Not a few days passed before he realized his rash mistake and wanted back in on the deal. We reluctantly agreed to accept him a second time, with the fear that he would later find some other quack reason to kill the deal. We also worried that he might decide to have another shit fit once filming began.

Well, as anticipated, and as you might expect, in due time, Valentin withdrew from the project a second time. But by this time he had already made commitments to people for their time and service. Others ended up being affected, collateral damage so to speak, as a result of another unprocessed impulsive decision. After relentlessly chasing a dream all over the globe for almost two years, attempting to bring to fruition through all means, it was time to walk away. The universe’s message could not be clearer.

A wise elder friend and mentor once told me, “Steven, never tie a bow around it.” In life we have our agenda, but life has its own, as well. And guess whose wins? Never yours! We have no control over our lives; the power of fate conquers all. Life has a way of beating you down until you are on your raw knees begging for mercy from above. As part of your karmic balance, each has their own lessons to overcome in this life. If you do not yield and realize these lessons, the universe returns them with multiplied force.  

Obviously I had not learnt the intended lesson: giving up control – living in the now – learning to be patient, waiting for the ‘grand illusion’ to reveal itself. In the interim, we are to continue learning about love and forgiveness, increasing our vibration. Earth is a spiritual school where only the bravest of souls decide to live as a human. What is our purpose here? Why are we here? Every day we each have the opportunity to grow from our experience on earth – every day our reaction and attitude are our choice.  

Losing the deal was a gift in disguise. Truth be told, I have no real interest in being on TV, nor all that accompanies that lifestyle. Part of the lesson on giving up control was accepting that for one [unknown] reason or another, the universe had other plans for me than a TV show – at least at this period. What was the reason? That is part of the mystery of life: recognizing the infinite synchronicity and inextricable interconnectedness of the universe at play in every moment of our daily lives. It forever surrounds us.  

But I am fine with waiting for the universe to reveal its plan. If we continue on and do not acknowledge the lesson, continuing to carry on without being aware of our true purpose, in which the universe is trying to make us aware, life can be a real drag, not worth living. Life is about facing the unknown, head-on. Travel by its very nature has a never-ending plethora of unknowns. And no different than living, travel causes you to have to face and overcome your fears, befalling tremendous growth for future use.

Travel closely parallels life, as it is an experiential process: one that must be kicked off or fully lived, respectively. No different than trying to figure out how to get to a difficult location in a wheelchair, the universe does not provide a net until action is taken. It is only when venturing out into the void of the great mystery, questing through the fathomless far reaches of the heart, voyaging into the unrevealed dimensions of uncharted territory – the collective unconscious – that you find your conscious not-self.

This journey has revealed its purpose: to accept life as it comes by living ‘in the now’ – and to maintain immense gratitude for the limitless love and support surrounding us always, without fail neither of duty nor of time. Life is a big mirror, a mere self-reflection; what we see in others we are ourselves. Travel, forcing you to shed your superficial titles and security blankets, the story horse of vulnerability that we all  ride, opens the way to the road less traveled – the road to your heart, to your inner-being, to God.

Everything happens for a reason. I am where I am supposed to be at this moment of my life – Mexico.

Travel Blog: Click here.

Spiritual Blog: Click here.

Book: Unbreakable Mind. (Print, Kindle, Audio)

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[sudaca-swag]

Hey want to hear the most gringo shit I saw this year??

In the new Narcos season they called Operation Condor an operation to destroy drug cartels in Mexico :)))))))

[pink-lightsabre]

#you can't call someone you just started dating querido/carino THAT'S NOT HOW IT WORKS (Me, yelling at my screen any time I attempt to read fic)

like. there is one incredibly specific instance where i will accept something like that and it is this: character A is latino and dating character B who is not. A has had Feelings for a while and is attempting to communicate them in spanish bc B doesn’t speak spanish so they assume it’s safe. but it’s not like “i’ve had a mild crush on you for six months” type vibe. it’s an “i’ve been privately in love with you practically our whole lives” vibe. and .000000001% of fics that use endearments like querido/cariño fall into that category. it’s someone running “boyfriend” thru google translate and using the first result that sounds the most ~exotic~ or some shit. AND IT’S INFURIATING!!!!!!

also. if we’re talking about buddies specifically. you cannot convince me that evan “the extremely eager to please golden retriever of a person who spent almost a year bartending in some unspecified south american country and now lives in los angeles” buckley doesn't know some spanish. even if he just picked it up thru osmosis. god damn.

[emilysarmstrong]

Iguaçú/Iguazu*

Iguaza Falls, on the border of Argentina and Brazil, is one of the widest waterfalls on Earth.

[vsblackcat]

aahgk don’t rb

[artichuka2]

If you put sour cream, yogurt, or cheese into your guacamole you’re committing a crime.

[auspicious-manner]

Heyyy, can I have a Riff x Reader where she is a bookworm and she impresses Riff not only by how intelligent she is but also how she isn’t afraid of him? Preferably Latina reader if possible. Thanks!

i love this idea, thanks for requesting!

riff x latina reader

warnings: none

Larger Than Life

•

Y/N felt comfortable in valentina’s store. she always did. it seemed like the hectic streets of new york slowed down when she entered, and her busy mind was calmed when she saw valentina. someone who was much like herself.

she liked to take her books, papers, and pens to the store as well. not only did she love to expand her knowledge through the use of always keeping busy with a book, but she loved to get her own ideas out on paper as well. it was a way of grounding herself, and keeping her calm when the natives around her seemed to be targeting her people.

she valued a strong mind. she knew one of her best qualities was he ability to retain knowledge as well as have a drive for learning new knowledge. she loved being different from the rest of her people, and she loved showing the city that not all puerto ricans are the same.

walking into valentina’s, it was like any normal day for Y/N. she had her bag slung neatly over her shoulder, the bag brushing slightly against her long dress that hung over her legs.

“good morning, Y/N.” valentina said as she continued stocking the shelves of her store.

“buenos días, valentina.” Y/N answered in her thick accent, sitting down on one of the tables placed in the shop.

she wasted no time taking the books and her glasses out from the bag, and she immediately got to reading. Y/N loved to read books in english, despite spanish being her first language. she felt english books helped her to grow into the language and learn new things about the language that could help make every day life easier in new york city. the feeling of knowing what big words in english meant and being able to read them delighted her.

all throughout the day, she heard the gentle noises of tony in the basement. she knew of tony, she had seen him a few times while she was there. she knew he was one of the jets, and that he was one of the better gringos the city had to offer. he was a friend of valentina’s, and if valentina trusted him, then Y/N did too.

she was hours into her new book when tony finally emerged. “i’m heading out, riff’s probably out lookin’ for me right about now and i don’t have the energy to deal with him today,” tony started, his glance making his way to the girl with her face shoved into a book. “hi… Y/N, right? take care of valentina for me while i’m gone.” he finished with a smile, walking towards the door.

“yes, i will.” Y/N replied, gaining a small laugh from tony as he closed the shop door behind him.

she wanted to get back to reading, but what tony said took ahold of her mind. riff’s probably out lookin’ for me right about now. could he be stopping by the shop?

she’s heard rumors about the one they call riff, and she knew that he shouldn’t be messed with. but then again, she liked a challenge. people like that interest Y/N greatly.

not long later, the door to valentina’s shop swung open, and she heard the bell placed on top of the door rattle violently. she decided to keep her head buried in the book, deciding whoever walked through that door wasn’t worth it. she had better things to pay her attention to.

after the door swung open, heavy footsteps slowly sounded throughout the store, and the once slow world around Y/N felt even slower.

“riff, tony has gone out.” valentina says, an uneasiness about her voice.

“out where? not like he has many places to go.” riff replied coldly, inhaling from his cigarette.

valentina rolled her eyes and excused herself and walked to the back rooms of the shop, leaving Y/N and riff alone.

Y/N then made the mistake of turning her head to look at riff just as riff turned his head to look at her, and Y/N quickly flicked her head back to what she was reading. however, this didn’t go unnoticed by riff.

“what are you reading there?” riff said without real interest in his voice, sitting down next to Y/N and taking the book out from under her, spinning it around for him to read.

Y/N rolled her eyes. “give it back, riff. i don’t like making a habit of talking to rotten jets like you.”

riff looked taken aback, almost shocked by what Y/N said, and she took this as an opportunity to take her book back and rest her bookmark on the page she left off on. she closed the book quickly and slid it into her bag on the other side of her.

“you’ve got a mouth, i like that. not something you see often with girls in this city, let alone puerto ricans.” riff answered, a sly smile plastered on his face. “where’d you learn how to speak like that?”

“i spend my time educating myself. i hate to say it, but it’s something you’d never know about.” Y/N said, moving to get up when riff stood up with her and blocked her path.

the two had a stare off, anger behind Y/N’s eyes and playfulness behind riff’s. “education, you say? being able to talk back to someone who clearly has the upper hand in this situation isn’t being smart, darling. it’s being stupid.” riff replied, leaning forwards.

Y/N greatly valued her self-taught education and endless knowledge, and she wasn’t going to let some irrelevant boy like riff speak to her this way. “i get it, riff. you’ve got nothing going for you. no family, no home, no life outside the jets, i get it. you fear what you cannot have. and what i have is a self-made, expansive education. and guess what? i did it all by myself. what’s stopping you from making a name for yourself? besides the whole dreadful gang leader persona everyone seems to know you by, of course.”

Y/N stood proudly in front of riff as he softened his eyes. his look changed from one that was joking to one that felt defeated. he felt small under Y/N’s harsh glare.

just before Y/N decided she was going to push past riff and out the door, his smile appeared again. “for a puerto rican girl, you speak english just fine.” riff said, taking in the smoke from his cigarette again.

“and what’s that supposed to mean?” Y/N shot back, waiting anxiously for what riff had to say to that.

riff took a few steps closer to her, but Y/N stayed put. “it means that you’re a standout amongst your people.”

“and what are you? a standout, or inconspicuous?”

riff huffed. “you should be careful what you say next, darling. i don’t think you realize who you’re talking to.”

“oh no, i realize alright,” Y/N began. “you’re the leader of the jets. if any other girl were in my situation right now they’d be scared out of their minds. seeing you with my own two eyes, though, i suppose i’m not seeing much worth noting.” she paused, regaining her breath.

“i’m not afraid of you like the rest of the city is.” Y/N answered, knowing completely well that she wasn’t just bluffing. she knew it would take a lot more than the likes of riff to get under her skin.

“well that’s new,” riff started, flicking his dead cigarette onto valentina’s floor. “why aren’t you afraid of me? if you don’t mind my asking.”

Y/N shrugged, sitting down in her chair she was in previously. “i’m strong-minded, i guess. strong willed. one day that might turn out to be more of a curse than a blessing, though.”

she knew her ways of talking back would one day get her into a tricky situation. it was inevitable. yet, that day had yet to come. the fear of what could happen to her in the future because of her larger than life mind never distracted her from using her power like it should have.

“and why is that? what makes you think it might not work out for you one day?” riff said back, sitting down across from her again.

Y/N noticed riff’s demeanor had changed from when they first met. he accepted the fact that he didn’t have to be the intimidating gang leader he always was in front of her. he leaned into this relief; it was almost like a break for him. not only that, but Y/N also observed that riff looked nervous in front of her. that feeling was something riff wasn’t used to experiencing.

“i could get myself into some trouble. trouble that i can’t talk my way out of.”

riff tapped his finger against the table, as if he was thinking. after a short pause, he said, “well, amiga, if you ever find yourself in trouble that you can’t seem to get out of, you find me. got that?”

Y/N smiled. “if we’re going to be friends, you’ll need to work on your spanish dialect.”

riff laughed. “that might be a little too far for me. besides, i’m not going to take orders from girls i don’t know the names of anymore.”

Y/N gasped. “i never told you my name?”

riff shook his head, waiting patiently for a response.

“i’m Y/N. i come to valentina’s often to read. it’s normally pretty calm in here. today was the first day something exciting happened.”

“so i’m exciting?” riff questioned, a smile growing on his face.

“if that’s what you’d like to call it, yes.”

“Y/N is a nice name, by the way. i guess i know now where to find you if i ever need to.” riff replied.

the two smiled at each other, both having a mutual respect for the other.

valentina came out of the back rooms of the shop, carrying a few boxes. “riff, please stop causing trouble with Y/N over here, she doesn’t have much interest in you, i know her. shoo!” valentina said, taking a rolled up newspaper and swatting at riff to get him to leave.

“it’s okay, valentina. ahora somos amigos. we’re friends.”

valentina shot her an unsure look, and finally walked away from riff, realizing that Y/N was smart enough to be capable of holding riff off on her own.

“sorry riff. you can stay a bit longer if you would like.” valentina said, resting her newspaper on the counter.

“i’d better get going, anyway. i should probably be out lookin’ for tony.”

as riff walked out the door, he paused before the door fully closed. he turned back into the store and took a candy bar off one of the shelves. “see you around, miss Y/N.”

he walked out the door, stolen candy bar in hand, while valentina yelled out the door for riff to come back and pay. Y/N sat blushing in her chair. she couldn’t believe she had a face off with a gang leader, and actually won. she was grateful for the interaction between her and her new friend riff.

[quicksilverownsmysoul]

Hey I was wondering if you could do a fic or some headcannons of any character with a Hispanic reader teaching them more about their culture and meeting their parents? Idk it’s something special for Hispanic heritage month<3 (ofc you don’t have to do it if you don’t wanna)

Okay but I would love to do that!!! Love this !!! thank you anon for sending this in. Buckle up y’all cause this is gonna be headcannons for the Evans and they are gonna be hella long!!! (Also feel free to send in more x Hispanic reader requests for any character ) I also have a Peter x Hispanic reader in the works

The Evans with a Hispanic/ Latinx Reader (GN)

Tate

- literally in love with you

- gets really into the telenovelas but won’t ever admit it to you

- would be so nervous to meet your parents for multiple reasons (one being cause he was a literal ghost)

- when you met him you like did the sign of the cross and tried all those old tricks to free his spirit

- he was very amused

- I feel like your parents wouldn’t like him too much, they don’t like his energy

- it’s crushes him but he acts like he doesn’t care

- you still date him and tell him he doesn’t need their approval

- would love to hear about your culture especially all the ghost stories and superstitions

Kit

- fascinated with the low rider community

- literally wants to learn about all of them so you take him to meet up so he can talk to the mechanics behind it

- they make a lot of jokes about him calling him gringo and asking why this white man is here but he just laughs with them

- they actually all take a liking to him and how accepting he is

- he gets invited to all future meetups and helps work on some of the cars

- loves to learn cumbias and dances with you

- always twirling you around the kitchen

- your parents liked him well enough, thought he was polite but worried about how he would support you

- but after seeing how much he loved and respected you they were sold on him

- if you speak Spanish he’ll try to learn a couple phrases for you

Kyle

- wants to learn everything about you and your culture if you wanna share it with him

- always willing to listen your opinions when it comes to Hispanic/Latinx representation in media

- loves to watch telenovelas and will get huffy if you watch them without him

- he’ll gasp at the perfect times too and get really invested

- likes it when you sing Spanish lullabies to him, cradling him in your arms as you play with his hair

- he was so nervous to meet your parents, practiced what he was going to say about a million times

- probably had his friends pose as mock parents and have them reject him so he’d be prepared for the worst

- but your parents love him. Literally think he’s so ambitious and a perfect gentleman.

- They immediately asked when you two were getting married

Jimmy

- loves all the music, literally always humming a Juan Gabriel song or a Richie Valens song

- obsessed with Selena, has a poster of her in his cavern

- he bought it after you introduced him to her. When he hears dreaming of you tho all he can think about is you. Especially when you aren’t there and all he wants to do is hold you in his arms

- Was scared of meeting your parents, put it off for as long as possible.

- he knew you’re parents didn’t think anybody was good enough for you and he was sure they’d hate him too

- wore his gloves when y’all went, trying his best to seem respectable

- your parents were still wary of him tho, making it clear that they didn’t like that he was in a freak show. Didn’t think that life was for their kid

- you stand up for him and yourself and jimmy has never been more proud in his life

- tells you how much he loves you the entire ride home

- Loves when you rub vapor rub on his chest after a long day

- Loves all the candies from the mercados, like the peanut patties

James

- charmed by absolute everything about you

- was a little of ignorant when your first met him, his era imposing a very stereotypical view of you and your culture

- you help to teach him about your culture and break him out of that mindset

- he wants to learn and change for you and as time passes he does. Kills anyone who even says anything remotely racist to you 

- Like kit he is very into dancing your traditional dances with you

-probably rehearses it to perfection and puts on a recital for the whole hotel to watch

- fascinated with the concept of death in your culture

- Loves the fashion of it all 

- You introduce him to Raul Julia movies and he’s just starring at the screen like why am I in this movie???

Colin

- Will try and cook your favorite dishes for you but it’s a pain to get him to try it

- He’s a little put off by all the flavors but for you he will try it all

- He cannot handle the heat, anything that has even a hint of spice he will be dying. He tires to play it cool and be like that was good but the minute you excuse yourself he’s gulping milk down by the gallon

- Loves pan dulce, always has one with his coffee

- Loves to go to the markets with you and shop around for local ingredients

- You give him a little cross to wear and he never takes it off, always around his neck

- Will go to church with you every Sunday if you want, like you did as a kid

- If you get married he will be all for that traditional wedding, wanting you to embrace your culture as much as you want

- The family makes fun of him in Spanish and you have to stop youtrself from laughing with them

- Your parents like him but they think he’s a little goofy

- He was so flustered when he met them but in the end it all worked out. 

Warren

- Loves all of your traditions, he has so much fun learning them with you

- Adores abuileta hot chocolate, it won’t even be cold and he’s drinking it all day long

- Unlike Colin he can handle the spice, will do challenges with your family to see who can eat the spiciest tamales or just straight up eat a jalapeno

- If anyone tries to make fun of you he will fight them, yelling about how ignorant they are and how he will kick their ass back to Europe if they keep talking like that. 

- He someone is best friends with your grandparents, always offering to help and charming them 

- You are amazed and how he had them wrapped around his finger, watching as they pinch his cheeks and call him handsome in English and Spanish

- Your parents aren't too fond of him and don’t like that his parents are divorced but your grandparents just shush them and say that he’s perfect

- Always so smug now that he has their approval

Peter 

- Eats everything and anything you or your family makes

- Loves it all and is  wiling to try anything once, even menudo 

- Your grandma is always trying to feed him, saying that he’s too skinny and needs to eat more

- He has to like disappear after the fifth plate because she won't stop feeding him

- Your Spanish speaking family members call him Pedro

- loves the big happy family vibes never had that growing up 

- always playing with the little cousins at parties and jumping with them in the bounce house

- fights them over the piñata candy 

- He was nervous to meet your parents, nearly passing out when your dad starred him down at the door

- They all love him though and like how respectful he is around you 

- The aunts and older cousins are always gushing over his hair and asking if they can style it 

Charles

- big sweetheart

- Next to Kyle he is the most beloved by the family

- They always say how sweet he is and how pretty he is. Loves that he always brings something for parties, and usually makes it himself

- But since they found out he’s into photography he becomes the designated photographer for all events. Your cousins all hiring him for weddings and birthdays 

- You buy him a big fluffy blanket with one of those giant animals one it and it’s his favorite thing

- Loves to cook with you, always rolling out tortillas as you guys sing in the kitchen

Taglist: @coffeeandteaintheevening @kitwalkerangel  @livingmybestfictionallife @amourtentiaa @shlutnutt @rottenstyx @mossybank