#i’m mostly looking for a specific fruit and airport at this point

[nuclear-wiener420]

my acnh game after three years of not being thought about at all:

[palmett-hoes]

YES. Oh my God you explained perfectly the logic behind Neil getting tattoos. I get that people think tattoos fix Andrew's "aesthetic" more cause he wears all black and all but tattoos nowadays are popular and not really a thing that only alternative people get. Anyway -> if Neil got tattoos, do u have an hcs for what he might?

yea the more i think about it the more i really like the idea of neil getting tattoos. and who knows, maybe if his boyfriend starts to get covered andrew will take an interest too. i mean you're right, it does fit his aes. maybe he gets some matching tattoos with the love of his life

WHAT neil would get tho? oh there’s so many factors to consider

i see him having a similar ideology about it as i do, that his tattoos are to memorialize significant people and events in his life. most importantly though, they’re just,, to make him feel good about himself, so they’re all of happy memories, even if some might be bittersweet

it’s also not about full-coverage. he’s fine if his scars are still visible under the tattoo and probably isn’t going to try to religiously cover every single one. it’s about having something good on his body that he chose to put there to combat but not necessarily blot out the bad things done to him against his will

he tends to collect smaller individual pieces rather than large scale work and he’s not committed to a specific style, so his collection is a bit random and eclectic. but in terms of the style generally drawn to very kinesthetic art with a lot of movement and fluid lines, but also angular and hard-edged. i don’t think he’s color-averse and definitely not a strict black-and-gray guy, but at the same time i can’t see him doing like super super bright color work. he goes for darker, more saturated colors, like jewel and natural tones. also of course i see him as brown skinned so you need to approach color work differently anyway

in terms of what he actually GETS, i don’t really have a lot of opinions on placement or like,, what tattoos should cover which scar, but have some random ideas i think he might get

he has a large piece (like maybe a sleeve or thigh) that’s dedicated to his time on the run, but the good parts. it’s a mix of a lot of images and very chaotic, drawing from like,, the french cafe where his most first bought him a cup of coffee and cottage safehouses in the alps in summer and where they had room to stretch their legs and run and chase each other and hustling three card monty in dubai with his mom and diners in the pacific northwest that sold the best fruit pies

he of course gets a lot of tattoos for the foxes, definitely at least one straight-up fox. tiny pawprints are his go-to filler pattern

he has everyone’s signatures somewhere on him, maybe with a tattoo of the Championship trophy being hoisted up by a group of hands. he also has small individual pieces that memorialize each of them individually

definitely got several exy sticks and various other pieces of gear scattered in various places. dark stadium chairs leading down to a brightly lit exy court

andrew is probably his biggest inspiration. he has the photograph of them together in the airport turned into a silhouette like a victorian cameo. a ring of keys; this one might go on the back of his neck. a tire track skid mark. a skeleton sitting on a roof against a sunrise. andrew’s hand sparking a lighter. the only reason he doesn’t have a full portrait is bc andrew says he’ll leave him if he does it

a rabbit skull overgrown by moss and vines and flowers.

he gets a rook and knight chess pieces tat because kevin says that’s what he and andrew would be

he gets some small cheeky ones too. things like a line of script that says “you should see the other guy” with a gun running under a nasty scar or a skeletal arm broken in half

once he starts to really establish who he is and flesh himself out as a person he gets some that don’t necessarily have a lot of meaning but that he just likes the look of because he has the luxury of having opinions on art now

i don’t necessarily know if i want him to cover his facial scars, but i think that’s mostly because i don’t like facial tattoos very much, especially ones located where neil’s scars are. that’s just a personal preference though. however, i think the idea of a minimalist, abstract take of just like,, adding color to the scars might be nice. something like well-saturated brushstroke work

(addendum: an au or something where all neil’s scars are just covered in abstract brushwork would be so fucking beautiful. like this but full-body holy shit)

(i just don’t think it really fits him in canon to have a full-body tattoo scheme. also those would require so much long-term maintenance you’d have to get them redone like every 5 to 10 years)

he also doesn’t get them all at once, this is something he builds up over years. he also doesn’t want to rush it because he wants to stay open to memorialize things that will come in the future, because he has a future to wait for now

---

also i assume you probably want some reference photos too bc this can be a little hard to understand just as words, so here's some of my reference images under the cut

they’re more of a stylistic reference than a content reference. also - as in all things - this will of course also tell you a lot about my own personal taste in tattooing even though i try not to make it based ENTIRELY on what i like and try to factor in what i think neil would like

these were the tattoos that most inspired me about the tattoo idea for neil’s happiest memories with his mother. for some reason my gut really drew me towards architectural tattoos for it. i like the way the perspective on the left image is curved and confusing and it takes you a second to make sense of what you’re looking at. it reminds me a lot of an MC Escher drawing and that’s sort of the exact seeling of chaos and confusion that i think the tattoo needs. but then i was also really drawn to the soft colors of the right image (although they’d have to be adjusted somewhat for neil’s darker skin), because they’re so comforting, and i think that’s the sort of balance i’m looking for out of a tattoo for mary. so like,, compositionally like the left image but colored more like the right

literally every person who’s ever considered aftg and tattoos together HAS to offer up a fox tattoo it’s law. anyway these are mine. or well, the types i can see neil with. also, not aside from the foxes, these tattoos are really the best examples i can find of the angular, kinesthetic art style that i feel very strongly matches neil

inspo behind the tattoo of andrew’s hand with the lighter. also just a good simple style for smaller tattoos or filler tattoos

victorian cameos. inspiration behind both the silhouette tattoos of andrew and neil in the airport and the skeleton & the sunrise. both would be more than just the bust and the poses would be more fluid and they don’t need the brooch design outline. it’s really more of a starter reference or a jumping off point

neo-traditional tattoos. phenomenal style. strong lines and highly saturated color, super important both for a long-lasting tattoo and for tattooing on darker skin. they also just tend to have a certain composition i really like

this is the style i see the championship trophy tattoo, the chess pieces tattoo, the rabbit skull tattoo, and the ring of keys tattoo all in

---

okay i’m done now

thoughts?

[lethesomething]

Tips for traveling far and alone

Because it's been a while since i did one of these lifehack things.

I spend a lot of time traveling for work, which means  I've gathered a few XP points and I have a System and shit. So have some tips. They're pretty geared towards how I like to travel, but a few of these could prob work for many people.

  Surviving a flight

When people say they love to travel, they mean that they like being places. Very few people like the actual 'getting there' part. It's stressful, there's waiting lines, you're forced to sit still for long periods of time and usually you have to get up at stupid hours. Being treated like cattle just isn't very fun, and it's not good for your health, either. So:

Rest. Airplanes are just… brimming with germs. The reason that this affects you more than, say, the multitude of germs on the subway you take every day, is because farther trips, especially of the 'party' or 'work' variety are utterly exhausting, and that affects your immune system. So while it is tempting to stuff as much as possible in that trip, know that you're 100% gonna get sick two days later. Try not to push yourself too much, and know that you're already being pushed in ways you're probably not used to.

For the same reason: take care of yourself. Stay hydrated. Keep nourishment upon your person. Try to eat a filling, healthy meal with like vitamins and shit before you leave.

Hand sanitizer is a Gift. See above: brimming with germs. So wash your hands before eating or touching your face. In my experience, however, the sinks in those tiny bathrooms on plane or trains are about as gross as the rest of the stall. This is where hand sanitizer comes in.

Staying fed on a budget

Here's the thing about staying hydrated and healthily fed: airport food, ferry food and train station food is usually super expensive. The prices in the Starbucks at my local airport are at least 50 percent higher than the one in the centre of town, and that is Tourist Central. And this is fine. It makes sense from a business perspective. It's not like you can go anywhere. And if you're going on that one big holiday of your dreams (or if you're just, ya know, rich), go ahead and splurge on fancy sushi. But I've been in the Eurostar waiting room four times in the span of two weeks, and you kinda don't want to splurge every time, ya know.

Bring snacks. You are absolutely allowed to bring food through a security check. Airport security doesn't allow a specific amount of liquid but it says nothing about sandwiches, homemade cookies or fruit.

Bring filling food. While you're at it: don't just bring food, but make sure it'll last. My mom, when I was little and went on school trips, would always make me egg sandwiches, which is a thing I still occasionally do. Mostly, you don't want to bring white bread with nutella, because you'll get a sugar spike, right in the middle of 'expensive food town' or worse, somewhere above the Atlantic. So egg sandwiches work, rice balls work, heck, I've brought banana bread or pancakes with rye flower and a lot of nuts in them. Whatever works.

The caveat here is obviously country quarantines. You can't bring cultures and live plants and bugs and stuff. If you're like going to Australia or New Zealand, bring only pre-packaged snacks, or make sure you finish them on the plane.

Do the water bottle trick. You know those bins before security where you're supposed to deposit all your empty bottles? Those are bullshit. You're not allowed to bring *liquids*. An empty bottle is fine (of course this depends heavily on the airport and the mood of security agents that day, don't argue with them, just… don't). In my experience, I've been perfectly able to bring an empty water bottle with me through security, just to fill it at a water fountain later on. I'll admit that this is a Very Cheap trick, but I like having water with me at all times, ok?

  Packing for experts

I don't like overloading myself. Few things bother me more than those stupid trolley things that get in the way of everything and that you're basically stuck with, so I try to make two/three day trips on just a backpack and like a tote. This is a challenge, considering I treck around with a heavy laptop and like a Nintendo Switch and two smartphones.  And all the cables needed to keep those things running. Here are some tricks:

Don't bother with shampoo. Heavily dependent on the hotel you're staying, but business hotels will always have soap and shampoo for you. The good ones have conditioner as well. Is it shitty? Yes. Is it worth bringing your own bottle over that? Usually not.

Pack whatever the bare essentials are for you. By which I mean don’t just go by the checklist you got off the internet. No, not even this one. For me, the bare essentials are a toothbrush, toothpaste, make-up for being fancy, deodorant and way too much hand cream. Do try to stay somewhat comfortable, it's a trip, not a punishment.

Speaking of bare essentials: ear plugs will save, if not your life, then at least your sleep pattern. Most methods of transportation, and some hotels, are loud AF. You don't want to wear those headphones while trying to sleep.

Roll your clothes. I got this off of a very old Lifehacker article and that shit works ok? Put your outfit flat on the bed, one layer over the next. Fold in the sides and roll the whole thing into a tight cylinder. Once cylinder per outfit/day.  Shove said cylinders into your bag for remarkably wrinkle-free outfits at the end of the line.

Jeans are overrated (don’t @ me) Unless you're only wearing one pair of pants, why would you bring jeans? They're chunky and thick and heavy. Made for weathering hard labour, not for sitting in a plane seat for eight hours. Same goes for chunky knit sweaters. Pretty, comfy and warm, but they take up So Much Space.

You know what's great? Leggings. I say this as a rotund lady, whose travel uniform is leggings, sneakers and a tunic. That shit takes up almost no space, it's comfortable and if you get the right fabrics, it doesn't wrinkle. Also: counts as business casual.

Layers are your friend. Weather is notoriously unpredictable and climate change is a thing. I was in the UK in friggin october and it was 25 degrees and sunny. You can't really prepare for that, so layer. Bring a lightweight jacket, bring a thin shawl.

Wear comfy shoes. I shouldn't have to say this because life is too short to wear shitty shoes, but if you're going to travel, for the love of all that is holy don't do it in painful shoes. You will Always Walk More than you expected. Even if they drop you off at the airport. Airports are huge. The Underground or Metro has surprisingly long hallways to traverse, just finding your hotel may take a walk. And also: what's the point of going to some city abroad if you're not going to walk that city? You're flying all the way over there to see the inside of a convention hall? Fuck that.  Walk the city. Experience culture. Go friggin shopping.

Get a good bag. It's not very professional looking to travel for work with a backpacker bag, so I see a lot of those leather bags that double as a trolley. They're invariably hideous. Luckily there are better options. People who know me have heard me wax poetic about my backpack, which is pretty much a Tardis. You can fit ridiculous amounts of stuff in there considering that it counts as a laptop bag for cabin baggage. Extra tip: if you're going the overstuffed route, make sure the zippers are of the chunky type. I have broken zippers on several bags already, the thin ones really can't take too much strain.

  Safety and stuff

Staying safe and comfortable when traveling alond doesn't have to be too hard.

If you're the careful type you probably already do this but: use the chain on your hotel room door. Most hotels let you use a chain or bolt, as well as some kind of simple hand lock, on top of your keycard. This is important, because hotels are still a public place and those keycards are meant to be used by more than one person. I have a tendency to hang out in my hotel room in my underwear, (it is one of the joys of traveling alone, don't judge me), and I've had cleaning staff just show up in my room in the middle of the day. That is their job. I've also had people try to come into my room thinking it's their room, while I was in the tub. Shit happens. So if you're in your room, keep it locked. That little chain or bolt keeps pretty much everyone out.

Be aware. One of the issues of traveling alone, is that you don't have a buddy to have your back. This means you have to keep your own security. Now I'm not a very scared person; I will walk an unknown city by myself, even at night, but i'm also not stupid. Stick to main roads, don't flaunt expensive gadgets, don't get drunk. You know the drill. Basically be aware of your surroundings.

Do attempt to blend in. It will make you less of a target, though I do realize that some ethnicities will stand out in certain places, regardless of what they do. In general, most large cities are a mix of races and languages, and even then you can pick out an Obvious Tourist because their whole deal is their Otherness. The clothes they wear, the way they act and talk, it screams that they view this whole area as a zoo. People don't really like that. So adjust, a little, if you can, to the vibe of the place you're in. It could be about walking speed, level of politeness, Commuter Resting Bitch Face. It is definitely also about standing on the right side of the escalator, and not blocking traffic. Little things. Get ye a coffee and a window seat and just watch people for a while to pick up on it. Pretend like you're in a romantic coming of age film while doing it.

  The interbots abroad

There are essentially only three things I cannot live without when traveling: passport, credit card, internets. The first two are obvious (the credit card is for buying underwear in case everything else gets lost). The internets are for things like maps, companionship, and freaking out over private message when things somehow go wrong. It’s a great comfort.

Roaming sucks: the best thing the EU did in the past few years is get rid of roaming charges. So if you have a european phone subscription, any mobile data used in most EU countries will just go off your regular tab. But usually, roaming in other countries is Ridiculously Expensive, so you would  have to buy a burner phone or local card (which is getting harder), or you're stuck with wifi.

Funny thing about hotels: the fancier they are, the more they charge for wifi, on average. Your basic motel will have free wifi, the friggin Hilton will charge your per hour and have next to no plugs. It's getting a little better, because honestly, who charges for wifi, but if you're in this situation, consider the alternatives.

Get coffee. Starbucks is pretty much everywhere and it's a good place to get your internets on. Yes, the coffee is expensive, but still cheaper than hotel wifi, and as a bonus you get coffee. Furthermore, it has popularized the idea that coffee shops need free wifi, so you'll find plenty of local cafés that offer it as well. In the US you could also try like McDonalds or other places that offer it (tip: this usually does not work in Europe; McD's wifi in Europe is generally Awful).

VPN's, at least the free ones, are fairly useless. Most of them will not get through, for instance China's censorship wall, and several are also just a thin front for collecting your data. Honestly, if you're going to a country with strict internet rules and you won't be staying long, it's probably easier to just stay under the radar.

Speaking of radar: clear your devices of any incriminating things before hopping borders. Especially if you're going to the weird places. The US border police might confiscate your laptop and charge you for stolen mp3's, for instance. Some countries' border police may attempt to have you log into social accounts. Put on, at the very least, two-factor authentication to stop anyone swiping your credentials. Better yet, back up your devices and put them back on factory settings before crossing particularly challenging borders.

[beardyallen]

Day 3 - An extensive recap

First, I want to extend my apologies to those who have been patiently awaiting this post. I had every intention of writing this yesterday, which got away from me (as you’ll see if you keep reading), and then I had every intention of writing this in the morning, which disappeared (again, as you’ll see if you keep reading). It’s now 5:38pm on Wednesday, February 20th as I’m typing this sentence, and I’m once again exhausted from a long day.

[Edit 2: TL;DR for the following TL;DR -- A bunch of cool stuff happened, including books, dragons, lions, motorcycles, KFC, banks, SIM cards, a Starbucks, public transit, and traveling to two opposite ends of Beijing in a single day. Also my trip went from horribly lonely and daunting to pretty freaking cool and slightly less daunting in less than 24 hours. Done typing this at 8:55pm]

Edit: It’s legit 8:37pm when I’m making this edit, only a bit after posting the original. I wanted to add a tl;dr for those not interesting in reading all of this shit. Basically, I made 4 friends in Beijing, none of them from the same country, only one of them is white, only one is male, and only one is from the US. All three of these descriptions describe CB, my supervisor. His wife, RB, is Indian and works with children orphaned due to birth defects. There’s ML, a half-Brazilian, half-Japanese Communications instructor at ICB, and her friend R, who is herself a former Chinese physician turned public health professional/liaison/something-or-other that seems far more impressive and is exactly what she wants to be. All of them are really cool, interesting people that I’m very glad I had the opportunity to meet. In no particular order, I went to several bookstores, a Starbucks, a KFC early in the morning, the supermarket (twice) and got beer (both times) for ridiculously low prices, experienced the Lantern Festival (still not entirely sure what this is, but there were dragons and lions and motorcycles doing crazy synchronized stunts in a metal globe) at an amusement park, rode 5-6 different subway trains and a city bus, ate 10+ new foods, bought a book (because of course I did) which has both the original English and the translate Chinese characters on each page, tried to open a bank account, then got a SIM card, then actually opened a bank account, finally unpacked my luggage, and spent 3 hours typing this blog post. Also the long flight and trip from the airport to my new apartment were mostly uneventful. See? Even this was super long!]

The last you all heard from me here was as I was sitting in a bar in the Vancouver Airport, Sunday morning. Which was sort of 2 days ago, but sort of 3. Time zones are funky, especially when you cross the International Date Line. *shrug*

After I finished writing that post, I lumbered over to my gate and waited to board with the other couple hundred passengers. At one point, I noticed an older woman (probably in her 60′s or 70′s?) trucking along on one of those things that I can only manage to call a human-conveyor-belt that you see in airports. I mention this as she, had she been on carpeted flooring, she would have been making good time; as it so happens, she was on the conveyor belt that was going opposite of her destination. She was still making progress, but every so slowly, and seemed maddeningly oblivious to the fact that the floor was fighting her at every step. Fortunately, she made it to the other end without incident, although the same cannot be said for when she attempted to enter the next belt; a concerned employee using that particular belt in the intended fashion beckoned that she stop and try the other. So she stopped walking. And didn’t do anything, even when her feet made it back to where she had started. Naturally, she took a pretty solid tumble, lessened only by the shocked, and rightfully flustered, employee, who managed to help her to her feet as half of the onlookers gawked.

The actual flight, all 9 hours of it, went off rather uneventfully. Especially compared to the above story. It was nice having the longer flight second, as completing the first gave me an unearned sense of accomplishment; I’m nervous for my return as I’ll have actually achieved something when I get back to Vancouver, only to have to sit back down for three more hours. Seems less enticing, especially as I won’t be going back to an apartment that I’m renting. Oh well: that’s a problem for Future-Me, as are most things. I will say that the food on the flight was quite satisfying, and the complementary wine was much tastier than expected! And I managed to read a good chunk of Dan Brown’s Origin.

After landing in the Beijing airport, I managed to get through customs without too much trouble and had my first several experiences of what I’ll just refer to here as stranger-staring. #sarcasticwoo

I was met near baggage claim by an undergraduate at the University who chose to call himself Paul. I would later find out that, although it is common practice for Chinese residents to give themselves “American” or “Western” names, they don’t seem to share those names with their fellow residents.

Needless to say, I was exhausted and just wanted to eat something and lie down without dealing with anymore people. To his credit, Paul was an excellent host, his English was quite good, and he helped me to my apartment without incident. I think he was expecting to escort me to dinner at one of the nearby dining halls on campus (Princess Building), but I (hopefully graciously) conveyed that I would really rather just go to bed. After he left, I took a stroll on campus to the Princess Building to check it out for myself, and then stopped at a nearby convenience store to grab some snacks. GUYS! THEY HAVE CUCUMBER-FLAVORED LAYS POTATO CHIPS!!! And so many other flavors that are mind-boggling, and somehow simultaneously vague and specific.

Once I was back in my apartment, I chowed down on some fruit bread, drank some water, had a moment of near paralyzing fear/anxiety/regret/shame/etc., scolded myself for being (I think understandably) pathetic, and then went to sleep. By that point, I had been up for nearly 23 hours, and it was somehow already 7pm on Monday, Feb. 18. I slept until 6am the next morning.

That morning, I got in touch with CB, my supervisor, who was more than happy to meet with me around 11am. So I spent the morning figuring out how to be an adult person in Beijing. Several standard things took place that were daunting only because I’m in Beijing: showering, brushing my teeth, grabbing some toilet paper to carry with me, deciding how much cash to keep in my wallet, etc. I also came to the disturbing realization that there are precisely three outlets, each with one port. One of them was occupied by the television, one by the mini-fridge, and one was free to charge my tablet; it was then that I decided to try to go shopping and track down a power strip.

Day 2: Merry Mart

First, I want to say one quick thing: the exchange rate from RMB (also called yuan) to USD is approximately 0.15:1. So, as an example, I spotted a can of beer for 5.90 yuan, or roughly $0.90. For those of you who know me, you may understand why this was my first example.

Now, the supermarket that I was heading towards is located on the other side of the north gate of the CAU (China Agricultural University, which houses ICB, or the International College of Beijing, where I’m living and instructing), and my apartment is in the very southeast corner of campus, about a 10 minute walk away. And it’s not even 8am yet. I mention this as, when I approached the supermarket, or rather the building housing the supermarket and a dozen or so other shops, I noticed a KFC right next door. Now, I shouldn’t have been shocked to see the advertisements were for food that you would never find at a KFC in the States, but I was. What I feel completely justified in being shocked at was that the KFC was already quite busy. Naturally, I stepped inside and saw that a “Chicken Burger” with a glass of milk (and maybe a side?) was going for 12 yuan, or $1.80. So cheap!!

I stepped out without buying anything and continued into the supermarket. Oh, the wonders I beheld. I’ll try to keep it short, but I’ll point out that I’ve never paid so much attention in the produce and meat sections of a supermarket as I did yesterday. Once I made it past these sections, I experienced an onslaught of packing that looked both familiar and foreign (yes, I realized how stupid that sounds as I typed it). As I was on a bit of a mission (for hand soap and a couple power strips), I contained my curiosity as best I could. But I did take a peak at all of the flavors of Lays Chips in the snack section...

Fortunately, I managed to find a power strip! They had Philips power strips going for 70 yuan (~$10.50) and some from a company I’ve never heard of for 30/40 yuan. Naturally, I grabbed on of the cheaper variety. It seems I didn’t bring enough cash the first time. I moved on, failing to find anything that I could guarantee was hand soap, but let me tell you: after being around people who I could not understand, guessing at products based on the images along, and recognizing that I’m waaaaay in over my head, I have never been so happy to see a can of Budweiser in my life!

Now, I can’t be certain, but I’m pretty sure a 3-pack 16-oz or 500 mL or whatever-their-volume cans came out to 9 yuan, or $1.35. What a deal! (Fast forward to this morning, and I stumbled an even better find: 500 mL cans of Guiness with nitrous rockets for 15 yuan ($2.25) a pop! In the States, those usually run $16 for four!)

After spotting way more milk (a recent trend, apparently) than I’ve ever seen, ultra-pasteurized so it can sit on an uncooled shelf for months at a time, heaps and heaps of “sanitary tissue” and slew of snacks that boggled my poor, unworldly mind, I made my way to the checkout. Fortunately, I stick out so damn much that people just expect that I don’t speak Chinese; the look of mild irritation isn’t grating at all, it just lets me know that I’m not the only one who feels moderately uncomfortable at my residing in Beijing for these next 4 months. The interaction at the stand was pleasant enough, and we mimed our way through the bits that weren’t communicable. Then I headed back home to meet with CB.

Day 2: The Book

So, I’m already feeling wildly unprepared to teaching a senior-level mathematics course, but one of the few things that was keeping me grounded was that the book was to be selected by administrators at ICB/CAU, so that would save me having to make most of the decisions regarding content for my Probability class. Moreover, the university would provide the textbooks to the students. Little did I know, and little did CB know, and little did the person supposedly in charge of retrieving said textbooks from the library, no textbook was on file for this class. #sarcasticwoo

FORTUNATELY (can’t believe how many lucky breaks I’m catching!), there happened to be a textbook titled Probability and Statistics for Engineers and something-or-other. To be honest, my eyes glazed over at “Engineers,” not because they are lesser scientists, because they are most assuredly not, but because they just don’t appreciate the fine nuances of theoretical mathematics. That is to say, they’re lesser scientists. ;) #allinjest #imsuretheyvegotsickerburnsforme So, I guess I’m teaching from an Engineering textbook.

During this brief window of time with CB, I learned how various countries measure the breathability of the air, acquired a facemask, and snagged an air purifier. Things necessary to life in Beijing! I was then invited out to lunch with CB and his wife RB; I was unaware that their would be fourth, ML. Having never met RB, and being unaware that ML existed, I waited for the 20 minutes that CB needed to get a couple things ready before lunch in my room, then headed down to the entrance of the Guest House (where my apartment and office are located, in case I haven’t mentioned it by name yet). Waiting there was a 30-something Asian-descent woman who somehow didn’t look like she was a native Chinese resident. Best guess: RB. She smiles at me and asks if I’m here to have lunch with R, to which I say confirm and ask if that’s her. Turns out it’s ML, and a reference to a particular Disney movie popped into my head. (I bet you’re not thinking of the same one I was, though!) Anyway, it’s 12:30pm at that point, and I wouldn’t spend the next 11 hours with ML, a Communications instructor for ICB who has only been in Beijing since September, barely speaks any Chinese and gets by reading it as she knows Japanese. Turns out she was born in Brazil, though! That certainly explained why her features were not quite Chinese.

CB and RB showed up a few awkward, mostly silent, minutes later as, not anticipating a fourth left me just socially awkward enough to just keep my mouth shut and let my mind wander. RB led the way to a Chinese restaurant around the corner, and we had a ridiculously cheap meal. Everything was delicious, even the rice noodles and cabbage dish! CB asked how open I was to trying things I’ve never had before, and I responded that I’m hear to make the make the most of this opportunity. He followed up with, “So, you’ll try chicken feet?” I’ve never so quickly doubted my convictions before! Fortunately, the food we order was basic enough fare for a Chinese restaurant, so I didn’t have to prove my grit just yet.

Day 2: The Big Adventure

During the meal, ML mentioned that the “lantern festival” was that night, and that she’d be joining a friend of her’s somewhere in Beijing, TBD. CB mentioned off-handedly that there was a 4-story bookstore several kilometers away. My interest was piqued, but having no means of transportation, I kept my mouth shut. ML did not. She expressed serious interest in venturing out to the store, and I asked if it would be in imposition if I joined. After lunch, CB and RB gave us a rough pin location for the building, walked us over to a bus stop, explained to me how to use my transit card (Thanks, CG!!!), and saw us off on our adventure. At this point, it seems relevant to mention that, although I have two cell phones (my usual American one, and a Chinese phone bought secondhand from ES) (THANKS ES!!!), I don’t have internet access or any real means to contact CB or RB. I also don’t access to a map app (see: I don’t have internet access). As it turns out, ML’s access is hindered by the fact that her iPhone is apparently dated enough to not operate at full capacity with a Chinese SIM card. So she has spotty internet. SPOILERS: Her cell phone would die later that evening. #dundundun

The bus ride was uneventful, and we got off where we thought was should. Without the name of the bookstore or any solid evidence to suggest precisely where the bookstore was, ML then confides in me that she has frequently found herself incapable of finding her destination, wandered around for several hours, then given up and went home. My confidence was soaring. But, as they say, “When in Beijing...”

After finding a map of the surrounding area and comparing it to a screenshot of the rough-pin-location of the bookstore in question, I managed to match shapes cut out by walkways and roads and spot where we should be heading. The pin led us to a bookstore. But this bookstore had only one floor, although the building housing it had 20 floors and an elevator that looked out over the surrounding area. Needless to say, we rode the elevator for a moment before deciding to continue exploring. Stepping outside, we tried to reach CB...and we did! He gave us a more accurate pin and the name of the bookstore. Only one of those two things wound up being helpful.

On our way over to the new location (2 more blocks West), we stumbled on a developed “alley” that housed a wide plethora of shops, including....A BOOKSTORE!!! Dudes and Dudettes: let me tell you, this bookstore was amazing!! Check out the pictures below:

So cool! But this wasn’t where the pin was located, only had two floors, and when we scaled the spiral staircase, some 20-something employees started walking towards us and speaking in Mandarin. ML goes, “I’m sorry, we don’t speak any Mandarin, but we think we know what you’re trying to say. Have a nice day!” And we walked out of the store with our tails tucked loosely between our legs.

I was I could accurately convey all of the things I saw that struck me as fascinating while we explored this area of Beijing, but honestly there was just too much, and I can’t imagine you all are still reading this carefully, given that I’m not exactly giving the “Reader’s Digest” version of events. Or so you may think. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m doing my best to keep this short while still conveying how crazy this day was. And we’re only a couple hours into my afternoon/evening with ML. I applaud any and all who keep reading attentively. I’ll try to make it entertaining.

I will say that in this alley, I got stared down by a police officer. Mildly intimidating and recalled to mind the other intimidating visual to grace me. Just after checking out at the supermarket that morning, while I was packing the couple of items I had purchased into my backpack, I looked up and saw, for the first time in my life, 4 full sets of riot gear. Helmet, vest, nightstick (or whatever it’s called), and some sort of gun in a padded case. Sure, I know that I’ve been around those things before in my life, but never were they in plain view, seemingly on display.

After a few more minutes, a few more crossed streets, and pulling ML out of the way of a car that didn’t seem to care that she was there, we made our way to the pin’s location. And none of the stores around us bore the name of the 4-story bookstore. But we did find another bookstore.........and it turned out to be the right one! Crazy!! Of course, this was after trying out what we guessed was a calligraphy shop that seemed to primarily sell books? The words on the door were somewhat misleading. Anyway, let me tell you: in spite of being in a bookstore filled with words that I can’t understand, I still felt so calm and secure being surrounded by all of those books!

At this point, ML and I seemed to have figured out each other’s senses of humor and made frequent jokes and shared stores as we roamed the shelves, looking desperately for books written in English. After searching all four floors, some twice, we find a section with no markings nearby that happened to have some books in English. After looking over all of the classics (pretty much all they had), discussing the ones we’ve read, conversing about those we haven’t, we each picked one out to buy. I’ve seen Aldous Huxley’s A Brave New World referenced too many times in crossword puzzles and trivia questions to not have developed an absurd curiousity for this book I’ve never read. So naturally I bought it. It seems like a rather nice-looking copy, no artwork to speak of, but elegant in a somewhat formal-Chinese kind of way. It came to 26 yuan, or about $3.90. HOW AM I BUYING A BOOK FOR THAT CHEAP?! WHAT HAVE I BEEN DOING WITH MY LIFE?! *sigh* Well, I seem to be getting by without my Kindle fine enough for now...(THANKS AGAIN RS FOR SHIPPING IT TO ME!!! I’ll let you know as soon as it arrives!)

Day 2: The Lantern Festival

At this point, ML had heard from her friend who I will just call R (have yet to become privy to her family name), and we were given the name of the place we were headed towards: Happy Park. By now, it was around 4:15pm, and we needed to somehow figure out where Happy Park was, how to get there, and manage to not get lost in the process by 6:30pm. So we went for tea. The place we stopped in was what seemed to be a solid attempt at a German tea/coffee shop-slash-bakery. And I got a cup of English Breakfast Tea for 22 yuan ($3.30). Not the best deal, but I learned an invaluable lesson: just take a picture of what you want to order! So simple, so elegant, so effective!!! I was also by this time learning that most people make purchases using the main “social media” app, WeChat. In fact, many shops and restaurants don’t carry any cash as WeChat is just a more effective means of payment. You can link a debit card to your account and you’re good to go! (More on this in Day 3).

<I’ve been writing for almost 2 hours! Yikes!!!> <I wonder if I can get a book deal out of this...>

Without really knowing where to find a subway station, ML and I headed back to where the bus dropped us off, thinking at the very least we could head back to campus and the subway station there. (Also, for those of you who don’t know: I’ve never ridden a subway. Sure, I use RTD rails almost daily in Denver, but somehow this just seemed different. Especially given how many lines there are and that we didn’t actually know where we were going...) We found a bus heading back towards campus, hopped on, and almost immediately spotted a subway station. The bus didn’t drop us off for 2-3 more blocks...

After meandering back to the subway station, we found a map and lo-and-behold there was a stop dedicated to whatever Happy Park is. And it’s on the complete opposite side of town. #unethusedyay #adventuretime We plotted our course and hopped on the train without incident if you don’t count the pile of vomit that I would almost certainly have stepped in had ML not avoided it just before me! *phew* The subway itself was on par, if not nicer, than the trains in Denver, if only a bit louder. Confined spaces and all that. By the time we made our three transfers and got to the other side of Beijing, the sun had set, it was 6:20pm, and we had made it just in time! R met us at the station minutes after.

When we turned to see where we were headed, I was floored. Right in front of us with giant glowing words spelling out (in two languages) “Happy Park” was an amusement park that rivals some Disney parks in it’s show-y-ness. As it was dark, I can’t say precisely how big it was, but I was impressed. Tickets for entry were 145 yuan (roughly $20), which I fortunately had brought along that morning, not realizing precisely how crazy the day would get.

Once inside, R informed us that there’d be a show starting in a few minutes. We tried to find a spot, but the girls had trouble seeing over the heads of the people ahead of us. In fact, I had to stand on my tiptoes as most of the people in front of me were holding up their children, phones, and self-sticks. There was a small mound that almost certainly was not intended for foot-traffic, but nonetheless had a solid 75 people standing on 6-foot-tall trees. When we joined the crowd up there, hoping for a better vantage point, we were disappoint. That is, until ML decided to climb a tree. And I joined her. Naturally. I don’t have pictures of the entire show, sadly. I was too busy being floored and hoping that my one leg that was supporting my weight would hold up! I’m also not including them here as I have to format the videos. But stay tuned in the near future for videos!!

After the show, we wandered around the park for several more hours. I was quite impressed. And the food we got was quite delicious!! Small, fried potatos balls, and donut-hole sized balls loosely-based on a Japanese dish that I couldn’t possibly spell correctly, topped with dried fish. YUM! Check out the pictures of some of the attractions we saw:

This was the interior of an Aquariam-themed section of the park. It was a welcome respite near the end of the night, given that it felt like it was nearing 10F outside.

A Mayan temple, with a restaurant inside and, probably, a water-slide ride built into it? Hard to say. If only our phones hadn’t died and we weren’t so cold by the time we made it to the Athenian/Spartan-inspired section of the park! So many cool statues and buildings!

A still shot as 5 motorcyclists entered the arena after some drum-dancers! Stay tuned for videos of them riding inside the wire ball on the right! [Edit 3: the videos will likely get posted as gifs. Quality will probs be not great. One of them will involve the motorcyclists doing loop-stunts, and the other will involve a dragon-dance with dope fireworks. I didn’t get any video of the lion-dancers from earlier in the show, but take my word for it: it was dope as fuck. So much so that I don’t feel bad about dropping an f-bomb in this edit. I can’t possibly find the words after 3.5 hours of writing to convey just how cool this show was!]

Honestly, I’m not entirely sure what this is, but it looked cool!

This was a small bridge, reminiscent of the bridges in Europe where people write their initials on padlocks and toss the keys into the river below. From what we could tell (thanks to R’s understanding of her native tongue), the pieces all talk about the love between family, friends or significant others.

After the Aquarium-themed building got us toasty warm, and it was ticking closer and closer to 10pm, we bee-lined it out of the park and back to to the subway station. Another three transfers, some more conversation, and we were back on campus. While on the trains, either to or from Happy Park, I don’t remember which, ML commented on how quiet I had been earlier that day while waiting for CB and RB before lunch. Given how quiet I was at lunch, she was understandably worried that the pattern would continue. If you know me, you know it just takes a bit for me to get comfortable and figure out how to talk to you. Needless to say, I told too many stories with a surplus of details in each of the bookstores, on each of the trains, and all of the time in between. I’m thinking ML is going to be a pretty solid friend these next couple of months, if I she doesn’t get sick of my stories first!

As I alluded to above, it was around 11pm before we were back in the Guest House. I was ridiculously pooped but not entirely unimpressed at how not-jet-lagged I was! I passed out soon thereafter and woke up for the third and final time around 7am.

Day 3: Merry Mart II, the Second Part

Alas, morning came; and with it came a surplus of energy to spent getting my life together in Beijing. I still hadn’t unpacked my luggage, there were too many things my apartment was still missing, and I didn’t have a reliable means of feeding myself as I had been warned (and witnessed) that many places just simply don’t carry cash. And naturally don’t accept American credit cards.

So I packed a small bag and headed out again. I stopped by Starbucks, attempted to order a Black Tea Latte from the girl who said “Morning” to me, and made the false assumption that this particular colloquialism implied English-fluency. I wound up with a regular Latte. Still good, though! After that, I made my way to the KFC near the Merry Mart only to find that this establishment is one described above. My cash wouldn’t do me much good there. *shrug*

In the Merry Mart, I grabbed several more bread-based food items, a microwavable meal in a bowl, another power strip, some gum, and more chips. Pringles. American flavors. Two cans of Guiness, and two bottles of hand soap. This time, I kept track of the price of each individual item so I knew how much cash to have ready at the register. This time went far more smoothly, and I filled my entire backpack with items that ran up to 134 yuan (~$20). HOW?! HOW AM I GETTING SO MUCH FOR SO LITTLE I LOVE THIS!!!

Day 3: Getting my shit together

After that, my mind was set on opening a bank account to connect to my WeChat account. I reached out to CB, who graciously offered his assistance for a small amount of time. Ideally, this wouldn’t take too long. After all, he has plenty of work to be getting on with!

Well, the first bank we tried didn’t work because I’m not staying in town for more than 2 years. The second bank was more accepting. He translated exceptionally while I filled out documents written completely in Chinese. I was having an internal panic attack as I did something that felt incredibly wrong or anything. No, not at all. It’s totally okay to sign your name on documents that you can’t read. Yup, totally okay...

As it turns out, the bank would need to send me verification texts, so I gave them my phone number. But my American phone number wouldn’t work for them (they didn’t even try!), so after 30 minutes of waiting and 10 minutes of paperwork, CB and I headed down the street to get a SIM card and a cellular plan. Oh boy. All told, I think I waited for another hour there while CB got some work done; the paperwork and discussions took another 20-30 minutes. Once I had my phone situated, CB assured me that I could handle the rest of the bank stuff on my own as the staff would certainly recognize me and remember what I wanted. Plus, most of the paperwork was already filled out, right? Right? *sigh

The staff at the bank were less than enthused to find that CB hadn’t joined me. This was gonna be a blast, let me tell ya...

All told, I filled out twice as much paperwork as the staff scrambled to find a way to communicate with the moronic American who didn’t have the slightest idea what was going on around him. Of course, filling out this paperwork and determining exactly what they wanted and whether or not I wrote down the right things (i.e. understood exactly what information they were after) included 5-8 different sessions with several different employees, each with somewhere between 10-70 min wait-times. On the plus side, I’m almost done with Dan Brown’s Origin. Not his best work, but certainly entertaining enough to pass the time in a bank surrounded by people who probably would rather I not exist. To be clear, I don’t begrudge them at all; their service was impeccable, and their patience was never-ending, and the entire thing was significantly less annoying than it had any right to be, given the language barrier.

I left their establishment many hours later with a debit card, Chinese bank account, and the means to buy stuff wherever I wanted to go. And a significant amount of confidence that I can get through the next four months quite contentedly. Granted, I didn’t do nearly as much to earn this confidence as the staff at my new bank did!

After the fiasco at the bank, I went back to the Guest House, unpacked my suitcases, and laid down in bed to type this novella. That was several hours ago.

Convinced that I’ve had a crazy few days?

A coworker from Denver asked me how China has been so far, and I told him that it “[w]ent from shit to fantastic so damn fast.” Hopefully my long, rambling story has here has justified that claim for those of you reading this.

There was only one other day in my life that I can recall feeling as justifiably petrified as I did Monday night. I described the feeling as trying to wake up from a dream only to find that you’re wide awake. I was encouraged earlier today to remember that I don’t have to get through all 4 months of this experience at once; I just need to take it one day at a time. I usually don’t find these adages and idioms to be particularly helpful, but this one seems to be true.

In the future, blog posts probably won’t be nearly as long. Thanks for reading!

Now to finish this beer and book!

Sláinte,

BeardyAllen

[waspabi]

Ooh, this scene? “Wait, I do one more. I am genius husband.” He opened his suitcase and pulled out a spare set of sheets. “You see? I’m king husband. Tell me I’m good husband, Nicky.” Nicke started to strip the hotel sheets, grinning wide enough his cheeks hurt. “You are a very good husband, Alex.” “You see?” Alex spread his sheets over Nicke’s bed and did a silly little dance. “You tell everyone. Alex Ovechkin, best hockey, best husband.” “King husband,” said Nicke, snorting, and Alex preened.

This is mostly ur classic Alexander Ovechkin: Service Top, helping rookie Nicke cope with the relentless sensory overload of the NHL schedule. He’s also very explicitly asking for affirmation – tell me I’m good husband – which is a joke but as with many things with Alex is also, uh, straight up. He ain’t really joking. He’s pretty clear about what he wants here. He wants Nicke to be able to hack it in the NHL, and he wants Nicke to think he’s a good husband. He’s not hiding his motivations at all, although he does play it for laughs.

Classic move! Make it a joke so nobody will glimpse ur vulnerable underbelly! I endorse it, I do it, we all do it, Ovi does it fucking constantly. That Ovi So Big Ego joke is his calling card, it’s the lowest hanging fruit for him. Reliably gets a laugh, reliably protects him from being seen too deeply. Excellent technique.

My ~interpretation of werewolfiness is heavily, heavily inspired by the surprisingly excellent CBBC show Wolfblood (not a surprise to readers of my Taylor Swift YA werewolf romp, Wolves of Swift River, which is the same). A big factor of werewolfery in Wolfblood is fuckin, they are wild animals and not the kind that have adjusted to our industrialised world. 

In this context werewolfery functions essentially as an analogy for anxiety. The shit Alex suggests to Nicke are techniques I use to deal with overstimulation in regular ass life. A couple of Baby Nicke stories also informed this interpretation, specifically 

As for Backstrom, he’s been in town for only a few hours and he’s already made some rookie mistakes. Such as misplacing one of his bags. It could be in the back of a cab or maybe at the airport. He doesn’t really know. But he knows this much: his dress shoes were packed in that bag.

Don’t worry. The Caps’ first line center isn’t walking around Atlanta without shoes. One of Ovechkin’s associates bailed him out and loaned him a really nice (read: expensive) pair. They look great. Unfortunately for Backstrom, they are also about two sizes too small.

“My feet are really hurting,” Backstrom said with a grimace at the YoungStars press conference.

God, he’s just a baby! Just an idiot baby! 

Anyway werewolves, like regular wolves, are not wild about cities, crowds, fire, confinement, restrictive clothing. I’m interested in how this would interact with the necessities of hockey: travel, airplanes, new cities, new smells, new territories, team structure blah blah. So some things that in actual NHL are shitty (Ottawa’s inconvenient suburban arena) become luxuries, and some things that in actual NHL are dope (playing in NYC) become fucking horrible. 

Nicke sat as far back in the plane as he could, thinking of the tarmac and the roar of traffic, that horrible hotel right in the middle of the city. He had since learned that some teams did that almost on purpose, as an intimidation tactic. LA was infamous for it. Toronto’s tarmac was pretty bad but at least they had tunnels. In New York they didn’t give a shit.

The culture of how each team/city deals with the reality of werewolfery varies and I was disappointed that at this point in the NHL teams only played within their conference and as a result, we don’t get to see a bunch of the teams or have to undergo the indignity and sexy intimate struggle of a really long roadie. I did try and add a few lil details throughout to gesture at the wider world, and this was one of them.  

The sheets are another it’s about the body moment, something intimate, a little vulnerable as you’re vulnerable when you’re sleeping. The fact that they are washed but not brand new is very intentional on Alex’s part. He thinks that they’ll be more effective that way (correct) but also there’s something extremely satisfying to him about providing for Nicke in this very immediate personal way, because, u know, #servicetop. 

The sheets were Alex’s. They smelled of him, of his body — they were clean, but his scent was too deep in the cotton to get out. Of course Nicke would dream of him.

Now we get to go right into Nicke’s Sexy Dream, the content of which was imagined by Hockey Coven. I’m 90% sure it was Rave who came up with the ‘Alex Pressing Nicke Into The Boards’ scenario. I wanted something that wasn’t literally sex but was clearly explicitly sexy. Full Body Press. The Most Gentle Check.

In his dream, Alex pressed him into the boards. It was an outdoor game, the stars cold and bright above the rink, and Alex was a hot line of heat at his back. Alex pressed his nose right up against the scent gland beneath Nicke’s ear. Nicke knew Alex wouldn’t skate off until Nicke told him to, and Nicke wasn’t telling him to. He wanted Alex to stay where he was. He wanted Alex to touch his skin.

The body! Intimacy! Under the bright stars! Nicke wants the full focus of Alex’s direct attention on him, in front of god and fuckin Gary Bettman. He wants the bone-deep knowledge that Alex will not leave him unless asked. He wants to feel completely known by him, which I tried to imply with the whole scent gland thing. He also wants to bone him. We knew that one already. It’s fun! 

[mylinlondon]

The OG Red City

The Medina (old city) of Marrakech is a labyrinth - dusty, spindly old roads that look like they haven’t changed in hundreds of years.  There is so much to look at: souks (shops) overspilling into the uneven cobblestones filled with goods like ceramics, spices, silk, hammam (Arab spa) towels, pastries, rugs, beautiful riads (house/hotels) tucked behind crumbling walls, and, ah yes, sometimes your life also flashes before your eyes, as electric bikes zoom full-speed past you in the most neck-breaking turns.

Marrakech is unlike any other destination we’ve visited in the past year. There’s a constant feeling of opposites in this city - pristine riads just behind a crumbling wall and broken door, the dusty markets contrasted to hammams and the islamic duty to keep yourself clean, overwhelrming chaos in the Jemaa El Fna and the tranquility of rooftop restaurants sitting under the stars. 

A little history:

Marrakech is towards the south-west of Morocco - the primary language is Arabic, since the Arabs arrived approximately 800 years ago, and the second language is French, as the Moors traveled up through Gibraltar and cultural exchange took place.  The indigenous group of this area were the Berber people, who were famous for living in the Atlas Mountains.  This was a tremendously wealthy area at one point, and you can see the evidence of it still in the tombs.  Which leads me to...

The Sights:

The city is extremely walkable, and we never used any public transportation. That said, be savvy - walk away from the pandemonium, get some maps or download off-line ones, and prepare ahead. As much as I love doing it, this is not a wandering aimlessly city. Almost all my travel friends use some sort of “favorite-ing” mechanism on the maps; I icon-code mine by food, places of interest, and where I’m staying.  

The following sights are by no means comprehensive, just the ones I researched and, in bold, the ones i recommend. Pictures are followed by corresponding description.

Jemaa El Fna - they say if you haven’t been to the legendary square in the evening, you’ve never been to Marrakech.  It’s overwhelming, a massive market filled with fruit, food, and little trinkets. you’ll see “snake charmers” and little monkeys, and if you even vaguely point a camera/phone in their handler’s directions, they will follow you aggressively until you tip them. I found this square rather touristy, and many of the shops were quite similar, but I suppose it was compulsory

Ben Yousef Madrasa - beautiful architecture at Marrakech's most prolific school. About $2 to get in per person. It won’t take you long to do, as you’re really just taking in the architecture, but we did discover some cool stuff like the boys dormitories upstairs, and how there are still pegs in the corner of the walls to climb up in to the little wooden second floor.

Maison de Photographie - amazing photographs taken by some of the very first photographers in the 1800s. The quality and vividness will shock you, and the familiarity will make you pensive. Pause at the rooftop terrasse for a light snack. it's quite romantic up there too, and you can see a panoramic view of the Medina- smoke rising from the ceramic workshops, the Koutoubia mosque, all surrounded by dripping greenery. The famous Koutoubia mosque is not on this list because it is not open to non-muslims.

Yves Saint Laurent Museum - YSL’s summer home was restored from the lush villa of famed artist Jacques Majorelle, and in Marrakech is the only house in the city not painted in the signature red. Definitely worth a visit to visit his full collection, sketches, personal items; If there is a man who really internalized his travels, it’s @ysl-fashion. His collections over 40 years were inspired by artists, craftsmanship, and cultures from all over the world.

Bypass the huge queue at the entrance of the Majorelle gardens and buy your 3-entry ticket from the Yves Saint Laurent Museum just 100 ft further down the street. The 3 entry gets you into YSL museum (highly recommend), Majorelle Gardens (also lovely), and the Berber Museum (interesting but small)

Other sites we did not see: 

Marrakech Museum - we did not go, but apparently the best feature is the architecture, which you can clearly see from outside, so no reason to go in, right?

The Tombs - we really wanted to go, and we hear they are fabulous. The two specific tombs are from rulers from 300 years ago and 100 years ago, and its here you can really see the wealth of this old empire

Definitely do a Hammam, which I will cover in another post.  It is essentially a Middle Eastern Spa, but it has a whole experience to it. We also did a viator trip into the Berber mountains, and it was our most exciting day....

Quads and Camels

This excursion took up a full day. I loved it for a few reasons: the delight of befriending my camel, conversing with local children while dining at a remote Berber kazbah, and the thrill of riding quads through the desert and into the mountains.  If you (like me) don't have enough days to do a proper atlas mountain hike or go to another village, this is a nice way to get out of the Medina.

A car will be arranged to pick you up at 9am at your riad, just don’t do what we did and get into the wrong van.  Apparently our pick-up location is a tourist hotspot, and groups of four aren’t exactly uncommon. We booked this excursion last minute, as you can tell we didn’t exactly pack appropriately.  You definitely want to keep the headscarf they give you on, as it shields you from the heat.  Long sleeves and pants are recommended. 

The Souks

The souks are a labyrinth, especially at night when throughways become dead-ends. Stuffed full with local silks, cashmere, leather goods, dried fruit, Moroccan cookies and spices, ceramics and metalwork, it’s a constant assault on your eyes, nose, and with the frequent near-miss with a motorcycle, body.

You can and will get lost in here. I can not emphasize enough to be sure to download an offline map, and be careful after evening prayer around 6:30pm as random paths are closed and you'll have lots of locals trying to show you the way out for a hearty tip.  Your best bet is to take an outer path after 7pm than to try to navigate the maze. We did figure out our way, but we were based in the northern end of the souks.  

I was not in the market for a rug, but that is of course what Morocco is known for. Just know, whatever it is you intend to buy, they will offer you easily 3-4x what the cost is, and you cannot possibly not haggle. Do your research on what you should be paying, and don't be afraid to walk away.  You can see lots of sites online that will show you what people were able to buy and for what price, so have an idea of what you're looking for before you go. 

In addition to the Souks, I found a few shops I adored.  They’re a bit pricier, but they all feature local artists and craftsmanship.  

33 Rue de Majorelle - right across from the Majorelle Gardens, everything in there is BEAUTIFUL but expensive.  I bought a pair of tassle earrings that my colleague told me looked like, when I decided a rug was out of my shopping range, I cut off the tassle ends and put it on my ears. In any case, I love them

Max & Jan - cool scarfs, leathers, and interesting assortment of weird things. I didn’t get anything from here, but it was fun just walking through the store

Riad de Vinci

HIGHLY recommend our Riad, I mean look how beautiful it is! It was at an optimal location too, just north of the Souks.  Our host was gracious and informative, and we dined on the rooftop every morning and on our last night and it was delicious.  We even befriended the host cat, Vinci, who was fat and mostly blind but if I held a bit of chicken tagine under his whiskeys he would nibble the meat gently out of my hand.

Most Riads will have breakfast provided to you in the morning, and can provide transfer from the airport (we paid 15 euro for all of us). The ride from the airport is no more than 25 mins, the morning we left it took us around 12 mins to get from the Medina to airport (granted, it was 4am).

LAST BUT NOT LEAST: Where to eat

Tagine, tagine, tagine.  You can definitely get tagined out.  But it’s delicious, at least for a few days, and one of my best meals was a lamb tagine from our first lunch at Le Jardin.  Moroccan food is flavorful, rich, and has so many beautiful influences from French, Spanish, Arabic cultures. What is a tagine, you ask? It looks like a clay funnel casserole, and its essentially a tiny oven that you place IN the oven, usually filled with meats and spices. We had one nearly every meal.

My best meal: lamb tagine with almonds and apricots. 

We adored these little pastry stands scattered through the souks - our favorite is a tiny cart on Rue Amsafah, where the teenage girl gave us lots of samples and sold us entire boxes of cookies for $2. 

Terrase des Epices - beautiful rooftop, excellent food, good atmosphere. serves alcohol (many places don't). We came here twice, we liked it so much, and we bought most of our stuff from the souks in the courtyard downstairs

Le Jardin - our first meal, and as mentioned earlier makes an incredible lamb tagine. Lots of glamorous french people here

Nomad - also a beautiful rooftop, do this at night. portions are smaller compared to other restaurants but quite chic

Grand Cafe de la Poste - the only one I didn’t love, because 1) VERY expensive and 2) not at all Moroccan, you may as well have been in Paris. But still, if you’re in the new city area, a nice place to stop for a nibble

My best meal: lamb tagine with almonds and apricots. 

Dinner at Nomad with some London friends!

Tapped out - but coming later: 

What exactly do you do in a Hammam?

How to dress for Morocco 

[voidsettle]

Roman Holiday

                                                                                                     September 2018

I didn't plan Rome, it just happened. I was actually going to Venice in October, alone, to celebrate my birthday away from my crowd, cura te ipsum. And then I wanted a practice trip to get (morally) prepared for traveling on my own. I was anxious about everything, from my hotel and language to sightseeing and lack of support. I could never imagine I would fall madly in love.

Tempio dei Dioscuri, Roman Forum

Each, in its own way, was unforgettable. It would be difficult to— Rome! By all means, Rome. I will cherish my visit here in memory as long as I live (c) Roman Holiday

I bought tickets to Rome almost by accident. I (almost never an impulsive buyer) was preparing for my Venice trip, buying tickets, booking hotel, and then I saw - Rome. And decided to take a look at the tickets. And ended up buying one.

Ave Caesar, Morituri Te Salutant!

The predictions for the trip were not looking bright. First I got a rejection from the first hotel I booked because I was arriving pretty late at night (around midnight). I booked another one and, looking at some reviews, found out this hotel was not really a good choice. And so anxiety ensued.

I didn't know how to get from the airport to my hotel. Taxi'd cost me nearly 70 euros, ouch. The trains stopped running around the time I landed, but I still had to go through the customs. Internet research not only gave no answers but actually increased my nervousness: buses didn't route 24/7, crime (pickpockets mostly) was high, Wi-Fi in cafes was only accessible for locals with Italian cards (something-something anti-terrorism ad nauseam), and mobile companies would try to trick you into spending more. I felt devastated.

But as soon as I set foot in Rome, it all vanished in a cloud of smoke. The great city welcomed me with summer warmth, lively, happily oblivious crowds and small streets with equally small, smart cars. I was captivated instantly - the feeling that'd linger in me for months to come.

Felix culpa, truly.

Veni, Vidi, Vici

Colosseo, Rome. Asians are truly great photographers - I got the shot from a trio of Malaysian girls

I didn't have a plan. I've done my homework, surely - some books on Michelangelo, a couple of movies featuring Rome, bits of research here and there. Ex nihilo nihil fit, the lesson you learn after so many trips. I knew about Places, had a must-see list, a maybe-visit list, and even a in-case-I'm-bored-and-have-free-time list. But for my first morning in Rome, I decided to just stroll down the hill from Roma Termini, where my hotel was, to the foremost Roman attraction, the Colosseum.

That morning - and each one afterwards - I woke up at 7 (a rare feat for me, a devoted late-sleeper) to the chime of bells. An authentic experience, when surrounded by churches - not unlike Istanbul, where you wake up to a muezzin call. It's quite convenient: I never once needed an alarm clock. Although people with weaker psyche probably would be disgruntled.

But I wanted a cup of coffee first. The thing about coffee in Rome (and the rest of Italy, really) is that it's great. Unlike many of the European countries, Italians do know what coffee is: I never had bad - nay, even mediocre coffee in Italy. Here, coffee is not just a breakfast, a legal drug or a communication vehicle; it's a tradition.

Do not sit down for coffee - the price of the order will double the moment you pick a table. Drink it at the bar, standing up, with a piece of fresh pastry and chatting with the bartender and other clients.

This is the best way to adapt to mornings. By day two, I learned to order my coffee in Italian, as locals do; by day three, nearly passed as one.

Moses by Michelangelo, San Pietro in Vincoli

The thing about Rome is: you should not ignore the opportunities. If you see something curious, do not pass by. I discovered the first of Michelangelo's works by chance, ascending the stairs of the random vine-draped arched passage and finding myself facing the church of St Peter in Chains.

Fortunately, I have a sweet habit of walking inside the churches I see, no matter how famous they are - they always give comfort to the tired feet and eyes, allow to rest and might feature something curious.

Mood altered after recognizing the hand of the great master, I strolled down the street that opened the view of the Colosseo.

Get a ticket at the Roman Forum - you get to see Colosseo as well, but no need to wait in lines.

At the entrance, I got acquainted with a couple from Frankfurt, who met in Vilnius, but were originally from Ukraine. What a small world.

Roman Forum is a place of history so deep that it was dizzying. I don't remember much specifically for this reason: ancient places tend to have so much meaning one has troubles stacking it all up into their mind and worldview.

Palatine Hill. Sun, pines and cicadas

So the first vivid and distinct impression I caught was on top of Palatine Hill, and had nothing to do with history but everything with pure sensations.

High dark pines (that specific Roman kind with flat crowns), unbearably loud, suffocating cicadas, bitter fir-tree air, slightly moist and trembling with heat, tasting of stone and sand, scorching sun pouring over the crown of my head down the shoulders with viscous glutinous beads.

This simple, thick and fragrant flavor will always be the first thing that pops into my mind whenever I think of Rome. And thus I fell.

Palatine Hill is more of a park than a museum (like Roman Forum). Colosseo is neither; it's a site of tourism, of people, covered under the multilingual crowds to the point of being completely extinguished under the feet and voices.

The lines are formidable (you don't want to be caught in one of those, trust me). Even with a ticket, I spent nearly 20 minutes waiting for the security check. Inside, there is even more people: they are sitting on the fallen columns, ruined walls, on the sandy ground. They are taking photos, laughing, greedily drinking, fainting from heat, and chatting, talking, shouting! Most eerie feeling when you're alone.

Colosseo, Rome

Also, the place is ginormous. Who could've thought that Rome featured an even bigger arena, Circus Maximus that could fit more than double-sized crowd of the Colosseum. Unfortunately, not even ruins remained.

Whatever city I visit, I manage to get lost at least once, walking away from tourist routes and off into the jungles of the city. This result in all kinds of hilarious and wondrous discoveries; in Rome, it gifted me with Giardino degli Aranci and its smaller version Giardino di Sant'Alessio.

These cozy little pools of greenery in the midst of churches and ruins give off the vibe of a luxurious garden of a Roman Republic villa - emerald-green, piny, shadowy and tart. The specific feeling that mostly locals visit the area persists: Italians are sitting on the many benches, enjoying the cool patchwork shadows of the orange trees, books lazily sprawled in their laps, hats thrown back to the napes, spots of sun dancing over their calm, slumbered expressions. The far end of the garden opens into a spectacular vista of the left bank of Rome and Vatican's San Pietro in the distance framed by the hot, smooth and almost soft marble of the parapet.

Oranges underfoot are aplenty but, unfortunately, inedible: too bitter and acerbic. Not that the tourists don't try: some of the fruits are actually peeled and half-eaten.

There's yet another place worth visiting once near the gardens - the Hole of Rome, a keyhole that opens a view to the three countries of Italy, Vatican (the Dome of San Pietro is barely visible) and Malta (represented by the Maltese Embassy). For me, it's a tell-tale determinant of human nature: heat hammering down people's heads, at least 20-minute long line and a tiny keyhole to witness the symbolic combo. I ignored the keyhole but thoroughly enjoyed the human nature instead: the motivation (when I asked a boy standing almost at the front of the long line) was 'because there is a hole you can look through'. Isn't that just so hilariously wonderful?

Observing the vista from the panoramic gardens, I was seduced by the Tiber quay at the foot of the hill. Seeing a lot, tired and hungry, I was still enraptured by the image that came to denote older Italy for me. Fine squarish cobblestones, light-clad plane trees with mottled, scaly barks and round prickly fruits. Restless, tumultuous Tiber, covered in humpback bridges, chained in taut rangy walls, smooth and weathered. Wide rough-stone parapet of the quay built for resting your elbows (or, if you're capable, sitting) on, enjoying the unhurried serenity - something I will be chasing after in every other Italian town.

A short detour along the quay of Tiber and through Isola Tiberina on my way to seeking dinner at the foot of the Capitoline Hill

Rome is full of romantic experiences, whether one's wandering through the labyrinth of Roman streets or witnessing solis occasum at Castel Sant'Angelo. In September, sun strings itself directly on the spiel of Duomo San Pietro, and pours pinkish light over the crowns of the high planes, diffusing their somberly greens into soft oranges and flooding the city in mysterious glimmering haze of dusk.

Naturally, being this close to Vatican, I couldn't pass on the opportunity. San Pietro bathed in twilight is enthralling, when the warm orange spots of the slim street lights mix with the deepening blue sky and the vanishing yellow of the clouds.

I always had rather lethargic sense of self-preservation when it came to odd people. This got me in a number of situations that my friends afterwards deemed weird and/or dangerous while incredulously staring at me. Near one of the Vatican fountains, I chanced upon a small Italian man with a flaming passion for Roman history and a foot fetish.

So I found myself in the middle of Piazza San Pietro, barefoot, enjoying the lukewarm marble under my feet, very solid and incredibly smooth. Walking around downtown, I also got an unexpected tour from this local guide slipping in some trivia while enjoying the crowded spaces of piazza Navona and fountain Trevi.

I barely got to the hotel that day, feet searing in tired heat. By chance found a great cure: rubbing the soles and toes forcefully with a wet, preferably rough towel. Feels gorgeous.

Homo Sum Humani a Me Nihil Alienum Puto

The two greatest things about Roman streets are gelato and marble stairs - and they're this much better when combined, and made alive by people

People in Rome are great - despite their oddities. Probably one of the reasons I adored this crazy city so much was because of all the weird encounters I had. Within the first 24 hours, I've met people from all over the world. A girl from India, with whom we exchanged photos in Colosseum. A girl from Hungary that got lost in the circular passages of Castel Sant'Angelo with me. Two couples from Toronto who dined at the table nearby in a cafe on one of the pedestrian streets near piazza Venezia - they got all chatty, brightening up my solitary lunch. One of them just happened to be a writer and recommended me a British publishing agency (along with promising me a copy of his freshly published book).

Germany, Nepal, South Africa, the US, Peru - at some point, I stopped keeping track, instead basking in the multicultural melting pot of colors and languages.

And then there were mindless wanderings, ruins on every corner (literally; there are some well-known and others that are barely fenced from the omnipresent  tourists), churches literally everywhere, and streets wide and narrow, flavored by delicious cuisine. Traditionally Roman pasta on a checkered tablecloth, homemade wine and street performers combine into a experiences you see in the movies but never assume to be possible in reality.

Trajan Forum, piazza Venezia

When you think Rome, think water fountains, marble stairs and churches.

Walking down the streets of Rome, I promised to make a pledge of love to Roman fountains: they were what got me though the day. You rarely sit in Rome (and when you do, it's either marble stairs of whatever building you pass or inside a church; or on the marble stairs of the church). You don't feel your feet by the end of the day, and that's when fountains give you at least a tiny bit of relief to get to your destination (commonly the next fountain).

Don't leave your hat and sunscreen behind. Have an empty water bottle - the water fountains with drinkable water are scattered throughout Rome; a life-saving mechanism.

Piazza del Popolo full of men blowing rainbow-filled soap bubbles, street artists providing soundtrack on the background and laughing, frolicking children and parents

My second day in Rome was the day of piazzas. I started at piazza Venezia and the nearby Capitoline museums (wonderfully cool, coherent and immersive, not to mention the exciting hunt of the passage from Palazzo dei Conservatri to Palazzo Nuovo, which appeared to be under Palazzo Senatorio, offering an apropos panoramic view of the Roman Forum). Altare della Patria, towering over the piazza, built of cool marble and pure magnanimous giantism served as the observing deck to plan the route.

Next, after an hour of contemplative silence in Pantheon's dome, it was time for piazza Navona with its aquatically-themes fountains and the baroque art of chiesa di Sant'Agnese in Agone.

With a gelato from Grom (Italian gelateria chain) in hand and determination in heart, I walked under the planes' rustling leaves of the Tiber quay to piazza del Popolo, where I had another half an hour sitting and listening to classical pieces by Chopin, Shubert and Albinoni in chiesa di Santa Maria dei Miracoli.

Before the final stop at piazza di Spagna, I delighted in the view from the Balconata del Pincio at the western border of Borghese gardens. This part of Rome inside Aurelian Walls is where the locals spend their weekends, public park zones and family entertainments aplenty.

Sunset over Rome, view from the top of Spanish stairs

Vialle della Trinita dei Monti leads way along the gardens, opening to the vista of Rome on the right side. The street opens to the top of Spanish steps, where I camped for the next couple of hours under the double bell-towers of chiesa di Trinita dei Monti. Families, friends, dates appointed and met, street vendors selling paintings, roses and cheap toys, hats and umbrellas, sunglasses and various small merchandise - the place is a wonderful spot to savor the life of Rome.

Carpe Diem, Carpe Noctem

Colosseo and Via dei Fori Imperiali at night

Nightfall brings relief and freshness, and also lights. Suddenly, Rome wears different colors; blues and greens dissipate into the dark corners, but yellows pull a warm cover over the city. Rome at night is gorgeous.

Do see the lights of Colosseum, this one is gorgeous. Roman Forum, on the other hand, was quite disappointing.

I was knackered after the museum run and the circle stroll around half the Rome. Still - hic manebimus optime - I followed through with the plan, and was rewarded with a magnificent view and, more importantly, atmosphere.

Besides, it's not only the major sights you want to see; Rome at night breathes a different air. Couples of all ages stroll up and down the streets, yellow lights over their heads. Fountains are bathed in white lights, and you find random statues of gods and heroes scattered on city corners, hidden and on display. Downtown is busy, bustling and crowded; the rest of Rome falls asleep and offers a chance to get to know the streets that are not flooded with tourists. It's a different city - but definitely one you'd want to meet.

Imperium in Imperio

View of Rome and St Peter's Square from the top of the Dome of St Peter's Basilica, Vatican

While still at home, getting prepared for the trip, I wasn't very fond of the idea to see the Vatican museums. Travel connoisseurs were complaining at the stuffiness, extreme lines and crowds that don't really allow you to see anything. And, well, they were right.

If there is a possibility to dodge the visit to Vatican museums, it's a decision that'll save time, money and mood.

Of course, it's exciting to see Stanze di Raffaello (School of Athens is obviously my favorite) and Michelangelo's work on Sistine Chapel. Yet the crowds of Vatican are no brutum fulmen, a force to be reckoned with. Besides, I did spent nearly 2 hours in line - it was a good thing I caught a company of another unlucky tourist, who was able to chat my boredom away.

San Pietro, on the other hand, was captivating. The imposing luxury, the solid gilding, the voluminous ornaments of different styles (and complete lack of seats to rest your spent limbs). I massively enjoyed the Dome and the pontifical tombs, especially as I used the latter to finally lose my company from the museums, mea culpa.

Surely, I had to send a couple of postcards from the post office of Vatican, the smallest country in the world (with the best post office; they still came only a month later).

Semper Fidelis

View of panorama of Rome and Altare della Patria from Giardino degli Aranci

Rome is a cosmopolitan and extremely democratic city. You can see the most of it for free. Aside from piazzas (Venezia, Navona, di Spagna, del Popolo and San Pietro), churches (at the very least Pantheon, Basilica di San Pietro and San Pietro in Vincoli) and numerous fountains (Trevi obviously the most significant of them), there are Altare della Patria, Garden of Oranges, Isola Tiberina and Spanish Stairs. If satisfied with a view from above and further away, you can also have a thorough look at Roman Forum from Capitoline Hill and at Colosseo from Via dei Fori Imperiali.

But most importantly, the feel of Rome. Tiny cars and coffee. Churches and ruins at every turn. Somberly green pines with high flat crowns and planes shedding skin in white flakes. Enrapturing Tiber, muddy and relentless in its chains. Ancient, worn out marble stairs. Friendly and happy people from most different corners of the world. Rapidly melting gelato covering you hands in sweet drops. Fountains with refreshing cool water. What's there not to like?

I don't know how to say goodbye (c) Roman Holiday

I was leaving from Roma Termini to Fiumicino airport on this pompously advertised Leonardo express train but cannot say anything in its favor except for its speed. Unlike the bus that actually drives past Colosseum, it quickly flashes past the city and into half-rural landscapes. Cui bono? If you want the last glimpse of Rome, take the bus.

Amor Vincit Omnia

Palazzo si Giustizia at dusk

Soundtrack is important for any trip. In Ye Olde Europe I commonly find myself immersed in the unobtrusive warmth of Kaleo's Vor i Voglaskogi, best suited for the moist softness of Baltic countries and jovial sobriety of the Eastern regions.

For Rome, nothing is better than Puccini's Tosca. Standing outside palazzo Farnese (currently French embassy in Rome) I was listening on loop to Tosca's aria Vissi d'Arte performed by unparalleled Maria Kallas. In Castel Sant'Angelo, E Lucevan le Stelle - Placido Domingo's aria of Cavaradossi - and its life-reassuring, heart-breaking, breath-taking meaning is perfect to make the sense of sombre stone passages and elevated open-air decks.

In Vatican, I switched to Miserere, a piece specifically written by Gregorio Allegri to be performed in the Sistine Chapel. The polyphonic harmony of voices combines in sublime, somber and tranquil melody, repetitive, exalted and pure. It gives the feeling of a lofty Gothic Catholic cathedral with warm sun breaking through its high-and-tall lancet windows, stalling in the upper tiers and airily patching the gray granite floor with the spots of warm glow. The daylight gradually fades into tenebrae, until the candles are extinguished one by one until the single one is left to dispel the darkness.

Panem et Circenses

Finding real Italian trattorias is important - touristy cafes are too pricey and - much more importantly! - have poor food. For Italian places, look out for the signs:

traditional menus (not laminated two-sided paper ones)

menus mostly in Italian

no barkers trying to hoard you in

no sites and attractions nearby

acceptable prices

Italian clientele

In vino veritas (what to eat):

Carbonara (bacon and egg pasta)

Cacio e pepe (cheese and pepper pasta)

Amatriciana (bacon, onion and tomato sauce pasta)

saltimbocca alla romana (veal with ham and sage)

abbacchio alla scottadito (lamb cutlets)

coda alla vaccinara (oxtail stew)

puntarelle (chicory - contorni, side dish)

pizza capricciosa

pizza salame/salsiccia piccante

pizza prosciutto e fichi

porchetta (full-roasted pig)

guanciale (pork jowl)

tiramisu (traditional dessert)

gelato (local ice-cream)

Sicilian pastry

local wines (reds or whites; what matters is that you drink them)

E pluribus unum (what to see):

San Pietro in Vincoli (Michelangelo's Moses)

Colosseo

Arch of Constantine

Roman Forum

Palatine Hill

Castel Sant'Angelo

Trevi fountain

Pantheon

Piazza Navona

palazzo Farnese

Campo de' Fiori

Piazza di Spagna and Spanish steps

Borghese museum and gardens

Piazza del Popolo

Chiesa di Santa Maria dei Miracoli

Sacro Cuore del Suffragio

Piazza Venezia

Trajan's Forum and Column

Altare della Patria

Capitoline Hill and museums

Basilica di Santa Maria Maggiore

Isola Tiberina

Giardino degli Aranci

Circus Maximus

Bocca della Verita (Mouth of Truth)

Pyramid of Cestius

Church of Santa Maria Sopra Minerva

Baths of Caracalla

Archbasilica of St John Lateran

Porta San Sebastiano

Chiesa del Domine Quo Vadis

Catacombs of Saint Calixt

Catacombe di San Sebastiano

Circus of Maxentius

Mausoleum of Caecilia Metella

Basilica of Saint Paul Outside the Walls

Vatican:

St Peter's Square

St Peter's Basilica (including Pauline Chapel for Michelangelo's frescoes and Pieta, Dome and catacombs with the tombs of Popes)

Vatican museums

Sistine Chapel

Ipse Dixit

Roman Forum and Palatine Hill

I might be biased in favor of Rome - Tosca, Call Me By Your Name, Roman Holiday; Punic Wars, Michelangelo and Julius II, Alexander III and the Borgias. They say it's the Eternal City. Cannot argue with that. I don't care what is mainstream, argumentum ad populum (tu quoque, huh): I love Rome.

[bts-kinky-blog]

sunburn | pt. 1 | bts fluff.

pairing ; jeon jungkook & the reader.

words ; 1,355. 

summary ; you are taking a few days off, just to finally relax somewhere. somewhere where it’s warm and nice and cozy. on a smaller island. away from all of your work and responsibilities, far away from all of the chaos that is often found in the large city you are living in. you go alone. this is your first time going pretty much anywhere, all alone. but, luckily, you meet someone there. someone who is perhaps as lonely and lost as you are.

there you are. on a plane, for the first time ever. completely terrified to say the least, knees all wobbly and your heart that is beating so fast, you thought for a second that it might explode any minute now. thankfully, it didn’t. breath in, breathe out. you have been always slightly scared of flying ; there’s not a specific reason why, but you just did. perhaps you watched too many documentaries and movies about plane crashes, that’s probably why. also, being scared of heights doesn’t exactly help. you are experiencing quite a few firsts ; first flight, first time going anywhere alone, first time going on a vacation, spending time somewhere so far away from your home. all of this was incredibly scary, but so insanely exciting and thrilling too. 

just the thought of finally being able to relax, go tanning, just laying down on the beach, letting the sun kiss your delicate skin, leaving a little note by coloring it, eating exotic, local food, go swimming into the blue tinted ocean. you didn’t bother to pack too many things ; a medium sized bag was more than enough. at the end of the day, you are going somewhere tropical, to a small island. it will be hot there, so you mainly packed some cute bikinis and the most important utilities. you also brought three pairs of sunglasses, because you somehow always manage to loose them. the hotel you are staying in has a pool, and you can swim in it even at night time. which is one of the things that you are also pretty excited about. while you where thinking of all the things you could do on that cozy island ;  you were somehow already there. putting your sunglasses on, you took your bag and made your way off the plane. the airport was huge ; so much bigger than you are used to seeing in your hometown. still, there was one more step to take. going from the airport to the boat, that would take everybody to the final destination ; Euaki.

it took around an hour to finally get there. for some reason, you just couldn’t stop smiling. everyone around you seemed just as happy as you and you were so glad. just the whole atmosphere of it all, was so calming and content. the water looked magical, the blue shade of the ocean was so bright, it was so clear you could almost see everything, every single little fish. the boat stopped and you went down, taking your first step into the warm sand. there was a very sympathetic guy that helped all of you get to the main hotel, helped you check in and wished you a happy stay on this island. it seriously and genuinely all seemed like a dream. it was too wonderful, it felt so unreal. 

everyone was so nice, helping you with everything, even taking your only bag to your room. you refused at first, because, well, it’s just one bag, it’s not that heavy at all. but they still insisted and took it there for you, showing you around the hotel, directing you to your own, personal room. it was relatively small, but very comfortable and intimate. it was very clean and organized, they even left a note, that said ; “please enjoy your stay on our island, hopefully you will make many good memories here. thank you for choosing our hotel. have a nice day.” . there was also a little book on the wooden table, that showed and listed all of the entertaining programs and shows that you could go on. you just smiled widely, already making plans on what to do tonight, while literally throwing yourself on the bed, letting out a content, loud sigh. you stretched your body, making your way to the window, admiring the scenery and noticing the pool that was right under the hotel. you could see some kids already swimming, laughing, having the best time of their life. 

going to the bathroom to just quickly fix your hair, splashing your face with some cold water ; it was almost unbearably hot. securing your phone into the pocket of your shorts, you made your way to the pool. you were getting a little nervous, because you didn’t know anybody there, and with your personality in general, you can get quite shy. your stomach was starting to talk to you, telling you to hurry up and eat something. next to the pool, there was a big, sort of food trailer and there was almost everything ; from french fries to salads, different types of fruits, hot-dogs, pasta, even pizza. on a day like this, where it’s even hard to walk for a few minutes, because it’s that boiling hot, you choose a fresh salad and a bottle of cold water. that should fill you up, at least for now. “thank you very much.” you said before flashing a quick smile, turning around to find a little table to sit at. most of them were already occupied, but you luckily found one. sitting down, you started to eat. as you were eating, you noticed that there were small slices of mango here and there and it surprisingly tasted amazing with a salad. 

there were families eating together, couples. but you were alone. which kind of sucked, just a little bit, because it would be lovely to just share your excitement and thoughts with someone. it would be nice to go places, to go swimming with someone. but still, even if you were alone, it felt amazing. every just looked and felt and tasted so amazing. as it was becoming slowly darker and darker outside, you moved to the beach, where all of the shows were supposed to be happening. as you were walking, you realized once again, just how soft the sand is, you just wanted to play around with it and feel the softness of it. you grabbed a light drink quickly, taking a seat next to a lonely table. the ocean looked like it had stars in it at night time, it was all sparkly and enchanting. as you were looking around, examining peoples faces, everybody was smiling, everyone was dressed so nicely. but then. then your eyes landed on this guy. the first thing you noticed was that he was looking at you too. the second thing you noticed was that he was also sitting alone. was he waiting for someone? wait, no. he only has one drink on the table and that’s probably his. why is he looking at me? did he realize that i’m alone here too?.

you had so many questions going on in your head. but mostly, you noticed how gorgeous he looked. his eyes were so big and dark,  looking right through you, as if he was searching for something. you couldn’t precisely pin point what was it about him exactly, but he just looked so .. magical. he looked quite muscular and tall. you desperately wanted to look away, but you just simply couldn’t. and neither could he, because he was still just looking at you. he just smiled shyly after a few seconds and looked away. and you did the same. you could feel a slight blush creeping up your cheeks, staining them with a light pink color. you almost felt dizzy for a second there. and now you were just a giggly mess. because you could feel him looking at you, and you could also feel your cheeks burning up now. the show has already started around ten minutes ago, but you didn't even notice. you took a sip from your drink, trying to somehow calm yourself down. you looked at him quickly, when he was not looking, but he always managed, through the whole show, to catch you. but you also did the same. you always caught him. and by the end of the show, you were both smiling like idiots. it may have looked funny, ridiculous even. two strangers sitting at their own tables, looking at each other and smiling for one hour straight. were you two playing some sort of a game?. 

( A/N ; hello there!! this is a new series that i have started, and as you probably noticed, this is just part one. hopefully you did like it, feel free to let me know, feedback is always appreciated ~. please, reblog, only if you liked it of course, so more people can see it!! thank you ~. ) 

[gold-coral]

Dream: ✿ Octagon and jungle

Tatiana and i were close to each other we were right next door.

As if almost unattainable and imaginary, all our surroundings were so beautiful.

We had been gifted a palace that belonged to a woman who used to live there.

it was laundry mat pink the whole outside of the structure. you could tell it was missing a large piece of itself. and that wound was crumbled and scattered in the yard.

she said i can’t believe we don’t get to know how all the records came off this house. and they were real vinyls misplaced everywhere

As we’re wrapped up in the beauty of everything, we’re holding drinks and both felt confident in our outside appearances. The fridge had delicious food we kept helping ourselves to. we couldn’t stop snapping photos of what we were doing. Later on i laughed because every single one was on a setting that widened everything and changed the photo. The weirdest thing is we kept transforming into our material environment. We would walk back to this bamboo wall where lucas and i slept in separate beds and be square, shifting and changing. it was like our old place or something.. important but simple, with mostly air and no walls or doors except the bamboo wall.. Representing our love. Very open but it needed time to build itself.

Time went on and then her parents got home. Her dad spoke in a different language that was so foreign i didn’t understand a word. Her mom was now Kelley, Linden was our brother, and Daisy was also there.

He seemed so frustrated, but only him. Why is there a food shortage Tatiana? you can’t just eat whatever you help yourself to! The setting of the dream became very different after this scenario.

We had a strange neighbor who retrieved a key from us every day. i said hi to him in passing. He was formal and charming but seemed inexperienced. Just a nice acquaintance. (Nari?)

I lost this key somewhere in a small pocket i was unable to find it again. It upset Tatiana’s dad again and he woke up with fury. His words automatically interpreted in to english when he was mentioning me. Who even is this girl what is she doing here? i felt uncomfortable in the corner like my presence was not welcome and i was the wrong influence for them. Meanwhile when he spoke to her, his anger didn’t pinch a bit. he more or less drowned himself out by being mad. she couldn’t look away from her phone.

This is when he started to show us visually how hard it was to live without accessible resources.

We were in drier land, there was dust everywhere, some people gathered together. We were getting water and other items we needed to bring back to our house with the family. Imagine that we were just looking back at this moment so all of us pointed out different things we no longer have. Scooters was one we remembered playing on them and how fun they were.

We didn’t have wifi or distracting devices. I couldn’t even take pictures. i looked up and i was back in our home staring at the most beautiful flowers i had ever seen growing on a vine wrapping around the house. they were small light pink.

There was a break in my dream, like a reroute of plans. some type of travel that affected my future.

I’m in a train station looking for the airport. Funny me i thought looking at the signs and walking up a ramp, ‘i’m in a train station. I’m so far from the airport.’ i follow the herd of people, on my way to leave. I was bored and almost took the exit. Something about an old man from Nepal or somewhere even stranger was peaking my interest. I overheard a few of his words too and that helped me stay. I walked next to him as if i was traveling with him all along. I decided i’ll just go where he’s going. He’s doing something right. His energy was so wise and he was quirky with dark skin and glasses and some facial hair. He sat inside, i followed him. i went along with everything because secretly i was worried about the financial dealings. Oh i don’t have a ticket. Oh well i thought again, in my future if there is a consequence i’ll own up to paying.

The room we had boarded looked like the ferry with no windows and mint colored seats. We got to talking, he just accepted me instantly. Everything was about fruit! He kept saying these are the best fruits. i clearly recall inputting passion fruit he forgot to mention that. He made me become aware of all the fruit around us now. Hanging in multiple copper and hemp baskets, hundreds of ordinary and beautiful looking fruit. It’s very common in my dreams to say or mention an object or then visualize something and poof there it is. I wish it would lean in my favor and i would then lucid dream but no matter how odd the circumstance i always think the experience is so real. .And that was all. He was such a forgiving old man.

Most of the core lessons in my dream occurred in a specific hallway though. I was after sierra. I was plotting a point in my dream that i would hurt her with all my will power. When she was around, a group of friends was always with her. Unlike me I was alone. i wanted to call on Alohi to help me as back up. Sierra’s group of friends were immature and they laughed at every single thing. I hated her. I was below a stairwell looking up at them eating and hanging out. I was going to sneak up the first time but i turned around and a mirror was behind me exposing my hiding spot. She could see me. Although my identity was blown, i looked so good in my dream. for no reason i was wearing heels and a flattering dress. Probably a competitive ulterior motive because it’s nothing i would pick out. In fact she blurted out she spent two hundred on a dress but her friends weren’t impressed.

The second time i tried to be a little more prepared. I examined myself in the mirror first and then went to find her. I couldn’t wait to release my anger on her. I almost managed to ruin her on the staircase because something happened that made her fall or as soon as i jumped out a matter of seconds later i regretted it. Something saved me from doing it at all. My dream was like let go let go! it repeated it until i loosened my grip and like in reverse i erased her from my memory and no longer paid attention to her. I watched her leave and my heart felt so good. The tension began because of myself all along.

In accordance to this, and how events followed, i ran to the bathroom. Tatiana’s parents bathroom. Every part of my dream took place in this octagon. It was like i was landlocked in a safe zone and parts of it were manifested by everyone in my dream.

There was purple stuff that i ripped from my mouth changing the growth in my jaw and teeth. i eventually am puking it up because it bubbled and burned when it was on the tile of the bathroom. i feel like it was an act of shame. i wore a mask over who i really was to become and it made me look ‘better’ and more presentable in social affairs but hurt so bad. No one knew i had it in and i was also unaware it had dried up inside and could have stayed forever if i didn’t deal with it.

Finally i released it. I invited everyone in the household to come look and tell me how they feel. Just one of the weird things that attracted tatiana’s dad, he was so disturbed and fascinated.

This was one of my dreams that i was able to interpret right away. all the events felt very current and i learned a lot of lessons understanding and working through my subconscious.

[funemploymentin]

What I Love About San Mateo

S and I are approaching 9 months living in sunny San Mateo. We have contemplated moving somewhere more affordable, but we've decided to stay awhile. In rejoice of a decision made, I am taking the time to list what makes San Mateo great for us. 

Transportation in General: Not until I wrote this list did I realize how important transportation is to me.

Walkability: Sidewalks and clean air for when you walk outside are so underappreciated. However, I'm from a rural area where there are no sidewalks, and then I lived in India for a while where there is smog and where I once got "bumped" by a car while I on foot. For this I am grateful.

Bikeability: This is a little mixed because Hillsdale Boulevard doesn't have bike lanes. However, for the most part I feel safe biking around San Mateo. The city's partnership with Lime (an app based bike use program) makes cycling possible for me. For this I am grateful.

Caltrain: There are three Caltrain stations in San Mateo (Hillsdale, Hayward, San Mateo). This makes getting to the city really easy. For this I am grateful.

Rideshare: You expect this in a metropolitan area, but you appreciate it if you are from a rural area or somewhere without the service. For this I am grateful.

Enterprise: Prior to moving to San Mateo, I had no experience renting cars. Without any research or backing to my belief, I always considered renting cars to be tossing money in the trash. This still can be true, especially if you have the option to own. However, renting a car at weekend rates only when required has made day trips really affordable. For this I am grateful.

Proximity to the Airport: When I think about a dream living location, there is an international airport within two hours. San Francisco Airport is less than 10 miles from our flat. For this I am grateful.

Parks: S and I take morning and evening walks daily at Los Prados Park. We catch little league soccer and cheer on the Lady Bugs on Saturdays. There is also Central Park with the Japanese and rose gardens, which we make a point of relaxing in whenever we are downtown. Another great outdoor space is just outside WholeFoods; there's a water feature that you can sit by and totally tune out the world around you. For this I am grateful.

Restaurants: We have fallen into our same habit of going to the same places and ordering the same dishes. We like what we like, okay? This means Charm Thai Eatery for crab fried rice and pad kee mao. We've just scratched the surface in exploring restaurants and have so much work to do. For this I am grateful.

Farmer's Market: The farmer's market at San Mateo College isn't the cutesiest market. It takes place in a parking lot at the college, which isn't really central or easy to get to without a car. But, the products are great and it's still a fun experience. For this I am grateful.

Grocery Stores: I thought living next to Marina Market would be awesome, but it's repeatedly shut down by health inspectors and the cleanliness inside reflects why. This aside, San Mateo has Drager's and Whole Foods. These shops are high end but we've built this into our budget because we value quality organic food over owning a car or shopping for clothing and other material goods. For this I am grateful.

Barnes and Noble: It feels great to be surrounded by real books. This is a regular weekend spot for us wild things. We stay for a while, browse our different sections, and flip through magazines while enjoying coffee (S) and chai (me) from the cafe. The only negative here is that S is single-handedly trying to keep this brick and mortar shop in business. Yes, I realize there are way worse things a husband can be splurging on. The real win will be when we make it to the library. For this I am grateful.

Peet's: When I was an undergraduate at UW Madison, Peet's opened in the Memorial Union. Until I moved to San Mateo, I believed Peet's was just another bogus on-campus, university-run coffee shop. Now, I've grown to love and appreciate Peet's. While they're still a corporation, I prefer to support them over Starbucks. What about Phil's and all the other local places? For Phil's I can brew a pot of coffee at home, and I don't need someone to add milk and sugar for me. I'm just not hipster enough to enjoy the experience. For this I am grateful.

Hillsdale Mall: We don't do tons of shopping, but it was nice to have a Nordstrom and a shopping mall in walking distance leading up to our wedding and other events. For this I am grateful.  

Right-Size Houses: I love to the look at the houses when I'm out and about. San Mateo has neighborhoods, but it doesn't feel like urban sprawl with the tiny lots and right-size houses. The million dollar plus price tags for these adorable homes makes feel a mix of nausea and depression. Nevertheless, I like the idea of living on a smaller footprint and still having room for a small garden in a walkable city. For this I am grateful.

Landscape: Something is always in bloom here. It's November and my pepper plants have new fruit budding. My plants are happy on the balcony year round. I watch succulents grow more in one summer on my balcony compared to the same plant's growth over a decade in an Illinois sunroom. It's magical to see something grow so quickly. For this I am grateful.

Weather: The weather is exceedingly moderate here. This means that very little energy is required to keep your home at a comfortable temperature. Of course, when we moved in January, I thought it was going to eventually get hot hot hot come summertime. Not so my friends. It was a moderate summer. And just as I gave up on the feeling of fall, the leaves started changing to that pretty deep burgundy. The seasons are alive! For this I am grateful.

(On a more serious recommendation, do check the weather before you move somewhere. You really do not need tank tops and shorts in San Mateo, and you definitely need a winter coat in Delhi, India. Just putting this out there.)

Travel Potential: The road trip and weekend getaway options for the Bay Area are epic. We've had so many expenses and out-of-town events this year, but this is something I really hope to take more advantage of in the future as our budget and schedule allow. For this I am grateful.

NextDoor: NextDoor is an app for connecting with community. Our balcony table and chairs are compliments of a neighbor on this app. There are so many material goods being offered up for free or very little. People also use it to discuss public issues, gardening woes, lost pets, and more. For this I am grateful.

Nandi Yoga Studio: I saved this for last. There is a difference between practicing yoga at a gym and at a dedicated studio. Yoga in a space specifically for yoga offers a spiritual side that's difficult to recreate in a gymnasium or aerobics classroom. Mostly this is because of the people. Nandi Yoga offers a really special practice that is spiritual and physical. For this I am grateful.

Okay! That's my current round-up of gratitude for San Mateo. Of course, the grass is always greener on the other side of the street or the bay or the country or the world. San Mateo is not perfect. Cue in my major complaints: no form of rent-control, affordability, and distance from family. However, at this moment, I'm choosing to focus on the positive!

Photo: Flowers at Hillsdale Mall taken March 2018.

[psikes21-blog]

Ten Years Gone

Today marks the 10th anniversary of the day Clemson Football changed forever. It was Oct. 13, 2008, and it felt like a normal Monday workday to those of us in the Jervey Athletic Center. Yes, Clemson had suffered a terrible 12-7 defeat at the hands of Wake Forest the previous Thursday night, but a few days had passed since the disappointment. I think many of us could have seen a coaching change coming at the end of the season. But this?

Little did we know, just a few feet away next door in the McFadden building, the football program was about to be turned upside down. Tommy Bowden stepped down and after a short meeting with Athletic Director Terry Don Phillips, a 38-year-old assistant named Dabo Swinney was given the keys to the car as interim head coach.

Other than the man himself — literally the most optimistic thinker I’ve been around — who could’ve predicted the decade that followed?

Swinney, of course, went to work and ultimately won the job. In the years that have followed, he not only restored the program to relevancy, he elevated it to a rarefied air.

I was fortunate to be around Swinney’s program a lot over the past decade, particularly from 2014–16 as one of the team’s media relations contacts. I was blessed to work both National Championship Game appearances and witnessed coach and his players hoisting the College Football Playoff trophy in Tampa. I was in the locker room for many great celebrations -- yes, including the above image where I’m seen on the left filming Swinney whooping it up after winning the 100th game of his career, the 2015 ACC Championship Game over North Carolina.

And while I never formed a close relationship with Swinney, I was afforded several opportunities to be in close proximity to him — media functions at his house, IPTAY Prowl and Growl events, community service opportunities, even the 2016 Heisman Trophy presentation. But one opportunity I’ll never forget was when we went to Bristol, Connecticut in July 2015 as part of the ESPN “Car Wash.” I boarded a charter plane at Oconee County Airport along with Swinney, Athletic Director Dan Radakovich and staffers Nik Conklin and D.J. Gordon.

In recent years, Swinney hadn’t done as many 1-on-1 interviews. This was my chance, I thought. As editor-in-chief of Orange The Experience, I wanted to write an article encapsulating the program’s rise to prominence. We were coming off a fourth straight 10-win season and a dominating win over Oklahoma in the Russell Athletic Bowl. Plus, we knew we’d have a good team in 2015, so the timing was perfect.

It’s fun to look back in retrospect — now 3 1/2 years after that flight — at Swinney’s answers and see how he views those early years of growth in the program. Now, the Tigers have won three straight ACC titles and made three consecutive appearances in the College Football Playoff. Swinney and I talked for about 20 minutes on several topics, mostly about transforming the program into relevancy once again. I could’ve continued the interview for hours, but with the AD and head football coach sitting beside me, I wanted to respect their time. I thought I’d include the full transcript below of my Q&A from that flight.

As expected, and much like what we’ve seen from him in the decade following that fateful day on Oct. 13, 2008, Dabo didn’t disappoint.

Enjoy.

1. I was there at your opening press conference on Oct. 13, 2008 — in your mind what was the biggest thing missing from the program at the time you got the call to be interim head coach?

“To me, the biggest task was to bring everyone together. Clemson felt divided, and there was a ton of negativity all around our program. There was some pain involved. I needed to first get the team to buy in. The guys on the team didn’t come to Clemson for me to be their coach. We wanted to make it a new beginning. We couldn’t do anything about what had happened. We had an opportunity to unite our fan base. But we had to get everyone on the same page and create some positive energy. That was the biggest thing, right out of the gate. We had to do some things to bring the Clemson Family together. That’s where ‘All-In’ came from, that week. That’s when we started Tiger Walk.

“I had no idea what to expect, but I told the team we had six weeks to do things a certain way. I wanted all-in commitment from the players. We were going to do things differently, and we were going to have fun doing it. Some things we did really resonated with the fan base. I had no idea what to expect that first Tiger Walk. It was the only time we ever came the route we took that day. I changed that to go through campus the next week. We came over the hill by the McFadden Building (from Seneca) and it must have been 15,000 people there. The guys on the bus immediately came to life. It was a celebration of Clemson and our players, and embracing the journey that was ahead of us. There were no losers that day. I was proud of our players and fans, by the effort that was put forth. I have really fond memories of that first Tiger Walk.”

2. Looking back, how important was rallying the fan base that week leading up to the Georgia Tech game? Obviously a lot of ideas were set in motion right from the start, and a foundation was established.

“Fear is a motivating thing. I’d never run down The Hill. I’d never been on the bus and come around the stadium. Any time I hire a new coach to this day, I require him to come down The Hill that first home game. Even if it’s a former player. It’s important that everyone understand the magnitude of that moment so you can articulate the message on the recruiting trail. I had seen it done for five years and it always made the hair on my arms stand up, but I had no appreciation for the bus trip around the stadium. I hadn’t seen the stadium from that vantage point.

“That game, I didn’t want to be a blooper. I really don’t remember it. It was so intense, but you could feel the support and unity for the first time in a long time. I felt like people were behind the program again. It brought tears to my eyes walking up to the Rock. It was an emotional week. It was such a privilege and an honor. I don’t remember getting down. I just knew to pick ‘em up and put ‘em down. Don’t fall, don’t get trampled. I got down and was at the 50 and the team was still coming down. It took The Hill for me to experience running a 4.5 forty.”

3. The things you have done with the program — from Tiger Walk to postgame celebrations to all the signage and verbiage you use with the team on a daily basis — where does that come from?

“I coach the team the way I always coached my position. I just have a bigger group. The verbiage comes from my background and the things I believe in. I read and see things that I like. It’s mostly just who I am. I’ve tried to coach the same way I did for 16 years as an assistant.”

4. How instrumental have your hires been for the program in the long term, specifically Coach McCorvey, and some of the Clemson alums that you’ve been able to bring back?

“You truly are only as good as those you surround yourself with. If I have to be there to articulate the message, then I haven’t done a good job. I don’t want to be a bottleneck. I believe in empowering great people. I give them the tools they need to be successful, and hold them accountable. You challenge them and correct things along the way. But my job is more of a servant leader. I’m here to serve the staff. For a young person to be successful, you have to make the right decisions with who you allow in your circle. Who do you choose as a wife?

“I hire everyone in our organization. I don’t let assistant coaches hire their staff. We spend three and a half days each year installing the fundamentals of our program. I install the vision, the core values, and the philosophies — because we all have to be on the same page. The staff has to take that preparation and execute it. The message has to be the same. We’re very fortunate because we’ve built a great staff. Our administrative support and resources are maximized. We’re all on the same page. We hear that reinforced all the time, from coaches and parents. We can’t have gaps, everyone has to understand our purpose. We spend a lot of time reinforcing our culture. You really should focus on your employees. If you do a great job there, they take care of the customers. If the assistant coaches do a great job with the players, it will resonate. It’s a philosophy we have in place, and it’s served us well. We’re different in a lot of ways. At the end of the day, you are who you are and you stick to what you believe in.”

5. The 2010 season was admittedly difficult with so many close games, how did the team manage to turn it around that next season with so many young players?

“Some people see it as a disappointment, but it was one of the best things to happen to our program. You can’t always measure your development or growth by a scoreboard. You may have a great season, but how did you do it? With all my heart, I knew we were in great shape. We lost five games by less than six points. We lost in overtime to Auburn on the road, and they won the National Championship. I saw a team grow closer and care about each other, despite our struggles. We transitioned offensively and had help on the way, but we weren’t quite good enough. We were average in the kicking game. (Chandler) Catanzaro had a tough year, so a lot of things didn’t go our way. But I saw the fruits of our labor taking root through the process.

“I saw the recruiting class not flinch — Stephone Anthony, Sammy Watkins, Grady Jarrett, Charone Peake, Tony Steward. All those guys came to Clemson. We came back the next year and won the ACC, and the rest is history. It’s been a great run ever since.”

6. How critical was validating the ACC title with two 11-win seasons and bowl wins over powerhouses like LSU and Ohio State?

“In three years, we played for two ACC Championships and won it in 2011. Our guys had to learn how to win, though. We were in a BCS bowl for the first time, and our guys didn’t know how to win. We didn’t handle success. We learned how to handle adversity, I saw that. But learning how to win is a huge part of building a program. It (2012 Orange Bowl vs. West Virginia) was a disaster, but if you really study it, the game got away in a total of three minutes on some fluky stuff. It got out of hand. Sometimes you need your butt whipped to be able to grow. But we had 42 freshmen. After the game, everyone was embarrassed and down. I told the team, ‘At the end of the day, we accomplished a lot. We didn’t finish the way we wanted.’ I told the team it wouldn’t be 31 years before we were back at the Orange Bowl. And when we come back, we’d have a different result. We flushed it. We didn’t want to lose sight of the growth we had. We were beat up by the media. We developed some mental toughness from that. We come back, beat LSU in the bowl game, and finish 11-2. The next year, we go back to back 11 wins and face Ohio State. They’re 24-1 under Urban Meyer, and we win the game. We don’t win that game without the experience two years earlier. If you handle adversity the right way, you can build the right kind of culture.

“We’ve beaten Auburn, Georgia, LSU, Ohio State. Our guys suddenly expect to win. The consistency we’ve had is unbelievable. We’ve won 27 straight versus unranked opponents. We’ve established a level of consistency that only two or three teams can match at this point. We have to stay committed to what we believe in.”

7. As you look at this four-year stretch, the record 42 wins, what are you most proud of as coach?

“In six years we’ve had 120 seniors, and 115 of them have a degree. Brandon Thompson just graduated. That’s what I’m most proud of. We’ve developed outstanding men. We’re not perfect, but we have a great group of guys. Eighty-one percent of guys that have gotten a shot to play in the NFL (44 of 55) have made a roster. That speaks to the growth they’ve gotten as a man at Clemson. We’re in the love and serve business, we just happen to coach football. We’ve had great wins and moments, but how are we impacting players’ lives and educating them? People don’t like me saying that, but it means more to me than any win we could ever have.”

[hotcoffeeandbreakfast]

My limited library of words seems dismally insufficient when I think about describing the most love-filled week of my life, but the details below are my best attempt at painting the picture for you, and for me. And most importantly, him.

Two weeks ago, at this very time (5:46am) my husband and I were fast asleep yet somehow alive and well in a daydream state. In just a few short hours, I would wake up and leave Neil sleeping so I could chop off roughly 6-7 inches of hair, pack up all the small details of my jaw-dropping wedding wardrobe, and hug my dearest friends goodbye as Mrs. Patel.

I can’t believe it’s been two weeks! Have I been floating this entire time? Probably so.

When Neil and I first got engaged, we talked about eloping. We talked about planning a “half and half” ceremony, though we weren’t sure what that was supposed to look like or mean. We talked forever about where we would host whatever we were hosting. I knew he wasn’t down for the traditional five days, and he knew I wasn’t interested in the big white dress and long, dramatic walk down the aisle. Our options were endless but we both wanted just one thing out of the whole event: to spend forever with each other. With that in mind, we knew the details would eventually sort themselves out. Y’all, everything I thought would be clever and romantic enough to describe this momentous, magical day (week) seems to pale the lustrous paint due to limitation of words.

My interest — now obvious fascination — with the East and all of its ancient traditions is completely pouring out and over the rim of my cup. Of course, it started years ago with my yoga practice and being ever curious about proper thought during meditation, but now it is this whole other thing, a wave of deep devotion to exploring and satisfying this inquiring mind. When I met Neil, I never knew what would blossom in my brain as far as being drawn to culture and practice. During the year between our engagement and wedding, I absorbed as much as I could about the different ceremonies we’d chosen; the ones most important in Gujarat. I read and researched for months what I could online about “multicultural” weddings, searching endlessly for descriptions about what each small ceremony or ritual would entail, looking for answers for what is normally expected of the bride, and lastly, TRYING TO LEARN GUJARATI. Nothing I could Google or Bing or Yahoo or memorize would ever prepare me emotionally and mentally for being the semi-center of these gorgeous events. Everything, and I mean every tiny minutia is met with respect and holds meaning in the Hindu faith and Gujarati culture.

Our first event of the week — aside from Wednesday’s Monsoon themed nail party (that’s totally a joke, however bad the rain really was) — was Thursday morning’s pooja (puja) to bless the Patel house. All immediate family members and a few close friends showed up, and I was simply excited to be there to watch…I had no idea I would end up participating and leave feeling like I too had received all kinds of blessings. The priest and priestess arrived and began setting up the altar. My partner in crime, Ashley Treib, and I watched in white girl amazement as small details of a religion completely new to us unfolded. I took note of the items used during the pooja: fresh food and fruit, various types of rice, petals plucked from fresh flowers, water, and fire. As I was taking this mental inventory, Daksha, my mother-in-law, called me over and asked if I’d like to participate. I blushed and shook my head yes. “Krishna will have to sit between you and Neil since you aren’t married yet,” she said with a smirk, which pinked my cheeks even deeper.

We are getting married!!!  was my only thought as a smile spread across my whole body.

The priest started the ceremony and read and chanted and Neil, Krishna, and I became a unit: Krishna holding on to Neil’s right arm, me holding on to Krishna’s. OMG I AM CRYING AS I WRITE THIS! Daksha was sitting next to me, and every now and then, she would hold on to me, making our line even longer. I was feeling the beat of this ceremony, even though there really wasn’t a specific tempo. At any given time, I could hear the priest, overlapped by the interpretation from the priestess — a huge courtesy for me — mixed with the gentle clanking of pans in the kitchen and soft, Guju chatter. This ceremony was nothing new for most of the family so they were either eating or napping, aside from the handful that sat around the living room in a half circle. I noticed this briefly and it made me smile, but only on the inside; my nerves held my face. I was completely glued-in the entire two hours of rituals, fascinated by what I’d never seen before. I could feel Ashley sitting right behind me, drinking it all up too. I’d never seen ritual performed on a level like this, and I’ve experienced some religion in my days.

I can’t compare what I observed in those two hours to anything else. There was demonstration and explanation and time for honoring all; there was pranayama. It felt old and new, the way an worn wooden pew bench does when I come across one and take a seat. I shifted from side to side, like I did in church when I was young; full of questions and observation, but required to remain quiet and search for the answers in my head.

We read aloud and took small bites and prayed by offering bits of rice and petals; to my surprise I even recognized some Sanskrit words here and there. The pooja concluded and I felt another remarkable wave of peace wash over me. As a person who once loved religion for ritual and reverence, this kind of honoring of tradition stirred me up inside.

A delicious evening of live dosa making followed a few hours later, where we drifted in to a hot August night and woke up to a cool, wedding weekend.

      My adrenaline the week of the wedding was insane, I felt like I was on fire;  Thursday’s pooja fanned my flame, maybe blazed it. I wasn’t hungry, I was mostly decaffeinated, and I couldn’t really tell if I was sleeping or just floating through the nights between the hours of 11 p.m. and 6 a.m. But I was awake, so woke I couldn’t even buzz myself to sleep with wine. Friday morning, I woke up before the world and laid around until I couldn’t any longer. I pushed my floating body in the shower at 8am, waking Ashley and Alex with uncoordinated noise, and chatted up the shower-head about the hours that would follow. Picking up friends and family from the airport, steaming all my clothes for various events, receiving the first part of my mehndi….I was on the “bridal climb” and trying my best not to totally. freak. out!

  In preparation for a week of meeting family, prepping last minute things to pack in my teeny carry-on (an activity I eventually did so many times at 2am on Monday, I started timing myself) and being consumed with all kinds of emotions, I got in about five-ish hours of yoga. Teaching some, moving around at home, taking class; I made it my mission to be able to locate my zen on the spot if I needed to. I stuck to my Veg30 diet to keep my mind and body clean and I made myself as busy as possible. Again…as much preparation as my little Capricorn heart, body, and soul could muster was indeed not enough to properly assemble my brain for becoming Mrs. Patel. My thought for most of the weekend, aside from reminding myself not to lock out my knees, was, “in through the nose, out through the nose.” I literally had to remind myself to breathe. I am unimaginably empathetic, so I sponged up everyone else’s emotions too; absorbing that much love can make you feel a kind of high I wasn’t aware existed. Breathe, breathe, breathe.

My amazing henna artist/ family friend/ hair-growing-goddess, Felicia, arrived around noon on Friday to get a jump on the first part of my mehndi, so I could at very least walk around and greet everyone that had traveled for us from everywhere. It was then, upon Felicia’s arrival, that I — I’ll admit, forcefully — entered my official state of what everyone has since referred to as, “tempered.” I’m not kidding when I say that every person that saw me during the wedding for more than 4 minutes made it a point to tell me how relaxed I seemed…to which I endlessly laughed, internally. She started with my feet and worked her way up to my right forearm, not missing a beat even when I’d shift around or twitch. In through the nose, out through the nose. She finished up after about three hours and headed out to get herself ready for a second night of fun. My feet were mostly dry, but my arm still needed a solid twenty before I could move around and start primping too; all my other limbs would be finished at the ceremony so everyone could check out the process in real life. If I could hold them up. My nerves were…all present, lets just say.

    I felt anything but normal when I saw him. All weekend long he was the most regal thing I’ve ever laid eyes on; a glowing, gold aura beamed off of him constantly.

  I’d been hugging and meeting family when he walked in and I vaguely remember confetti falling around us as we met/ ran / floated somewhere in the middle (? maybe??) of the room, before I randomly sat down to be hand fed and henna-ed. I swear I’m not making this up, it happened! REALLY!!! 

  All night long, I sat lounging on this beautiful, golden chaise and watched my family meet Neil’s family. All of our friends from all over started finding each other and introducing themselves…and I got to see it. I looked up once and saw all of the aunties doing henna on my friends and on each other. I watched everyone laugh together and turn up!! and eventually hit the dance floor together. It was so beautiful and I was nearly in shock from it all, bright light beaming from my eyeballs, no doubt. At one point, my sweet little sister comes up to me, pops a spring roll in to my mouth and whispers in my ear, “are you on drugs or something? You look…euphoric. Your eyes are the size of the moon.” She was 100% right. I was totally, naturally in euphoria, which was currently oozing from every inch of the interior of the room.Well, wasn’t it?  To be completely honest, there was a split second where I was presented with two choices: freak out and be nervous the whole night or just relax and embrace and observe, so that’s what I did. I spent the entire night panning the room, glued to my chair from the wildness of the thought that this was all for us.

Did I, at one point, end up in the bathroom alone and holler out? Yes, of course I did. Only to get out some wild, happy, loud energy. I still feel the joyful, overwhelming happy vibes of that night; I’m living off the entire weekend, but I had never, until that night, ever felt so much magic in one place.

And then I heard the words “party bus,” from three moustached, unbuttoned, feisty firemen (or maybe some cousins?), and I knew the night was about to take an interesting turn. Neil, along with all the fire guys from NOLA, fam from Philly, Boston, Dallas, and who knows where else, piled on to a bus that would take them far in to the morning of our wedding. I slipped out of my mehndi dress and in to a blue silk dress from my little Blayre, and entertained my friends with a gin-induced Lil Wayne rap battle…with myself. I Ubered Ashley, Michael, and me (did that work like I wanted it to?) back to the hotel by midnight and forced myself to sleep, an attempt to be as fresh as possible for the best day of my life. I think my mind finally turned off around 2am, but who can really say?

I “woke up” at 7am on the nose, to a text from my sister-in-law saying she broke her foot on said party bus.

And to the forecast of rain.

And to a very hungry belly that was lightly lined with alcohol and crackers.

But that didn’t keep me in bed and certainly didn’t stop the ear-to-ear smile from practically ripping my face open, eyes and all, the morning of my wedding. I flung the curtains open (more like slowly unzipped them) and apologized for waking the room and informed them about Krishna and said that it was time to get it in gear and where the hell is the coffee??!!! I was awake and so ready to become Mrs. Patel.

Neil’s vidhi was first up on this gorgeous Saturday, perpetual inner sunshine totally dousing the dreariness of the cool August day. This ceremony is typically done at both homes of  the bride and groom, separately, where they are blessed by the priest, their parents, all of their uncles and aunts, and treated to haldi by female cousins, which are lovingly referred to as sisters. The haldi is a handmade paste that is rubbed on the face to make the skin glow. (It smelled amazing from where I ended up sitting) I couldn’t wait to watch this!  How can they possibly make Neil’s face glow any more than it already does?! It is mildly infuriating at times how beautiful my husband is, but his smile truly looks like a glowing, endless sunset, so I tolerate the his annoying wonderful charm and dashing, sassy good looks. (life is hard)

Many more family members and friends had arrived after the mehndi, so I was nervous, yet excited, to meet more people. The squad was impressively dressed and at the hall before most, so I had time to cool my head and find some excitement in the presence of the moment. I felt a tad over zealous by showing ups so early, but was more than anything ready to see my future husband for the first time on wedding day.

I sat quietly as my masi pinned a bhindi to my head just before the vidhi started. Looking down at the color of my henna, I couldn’t help but smile as I heard Baa’s words from mehndi night in my ear: “Beta, dark color means deep love.” She’d said this with a knowing smile I was beyond grateful to see; marrying in to a strong Gujarati family means honoring the strong family ties between the generations. I thank universe daily they everyone had such an open mind and heart when they were presented with the idea of adding a different culture to their family.

  I looked at my hands and studied their color further, deep red; remnants of the paste still clung to my skin. Choosing to focus on my patterned hands other than my nerves seemed to steady me, though I felt like I could see the red hue deepen with each step I took, almost psychedelic and moving. The color seemed to brighten with every hug and touch and there were moments when I thought the design would climb right up my arms and legs. My skin transformed before my own eyes.

I saw actual stars when I finally got to see Neil. We found each other in the open hall way, before anyone saw us, and exchanged a real hug. I was awash with comfort and my nerves steadied instantly though tears welled up in my eyes.

I thought for sure when Neil touched me the henna would magically remain unfading.

  The vidhi came and went quickly, and the afternoon before the wedding and reception went by just the same. I felt like a total maniac all afternoon, completely devoid of any and all chill.

While my moms and sister had their hair and makeup done, my body decided to respond to the sense of overwhelming love by mixing that up real good with the tiny bit of the caffeine I had, and all of the excitement I felt about the wedding. I have NEVER felt so out-of-body. I did everything I could possibly think of to calm my nerves, find my zen without addressing to the crowd that every atom in my body was floating apart. My years-long friend, hair guru, and mom to the dumplin’ I looked after for a while and still just adore to pieces, was finishing up with Mrs. Daksha when some sort of crazy, unbreathable vibe took me over. I sat down, then stood up and turned in a circle and just stopped and stared at all the makeup on the bed. I couldn’t really breathe and didn’t want to admit it.

At this point, I had: laid flat, stood on my head, peed about a dozen times, drank half a gallon of water, nibbled on some pouris, blasted chill, lo-fi beats, drank coffee….I tried it all to keep myself calm. And then, I felt the whole of my body turn in to jello. “Can I take a hot shower? Like RIGHT now?” I addressed this plea to Rhianna while attempting to remain cool. She gave me the most sincere “OH FCK” look and said, “Ummm sure yesokaylove, can we cover it?” responding to my paling skin and perfectly pre-curled hair. “Mmmmm,” was the only response I could muster. I vaguely remember Michael leaving the room, but moments later he rushes to the rescue by providing not two but four shower caps and I was in the shower locating Ujjayi in no time.

Another conversation with the shower head.

When I came out in my long whatever it was I was wearing, I felt collected, and it was my turn to sit in the chair.

It only felt like a few minutes, but I know it was longer. I let the air come in and out of my nose, and only spoke a few times; I can’t for the life of me recall what the last two hours before the wedding was like. All I  knew  in that moment was that my future was about to begin.

  I floated down that aisle, y’all. My mom was floating; I could feel her smiling and that made my heart visible from chest, I just know it did. I feel as though I hovered above the ground during the ceremony and never felt the smile leave my face. I wonder if anyone noticed my feet leave the floor? There are moments that friends have captured that just melt my heart, and there’s so much I could share, but not every detail is meant for the world. If I could put the entire night in a box and keep it forever, I would.

I listened so intently as the priest spoke, yet was busy panning the room with my eyes, in deep observation, memorizing the faces in front of me. I remember squeezing Neil’s hand with every we promise made, and my hand shaking to sign my name, for the first time, as “tj patel.” Always lowercase, with absolutely no explanation.

  Our wedding night whirled on, to the beat of bhangra, bollywood, and everything else under an indoor, evening sun.  A blend of family and friends shared their talents, their words, and most importantly their time with us this night. It all stands out so clearly in my mind, every last little jewel of it. I continuously scanned the room so many times that night just to drink in the amount of people that made the time to celebrate the happiest night of our lives. I could hardly speak at certain points, truly unable to find the gratitude I felt in every inch of my body. I still feel it all.

  It was a starry night indeed, a thick blanket of memories suspended in the sky, for always.

  Neil, I hope every day of our life is filled with memories and tales that take from sunrise to sunset to tell. Thank you for giving me your family, for giving me this day and everything that it represented. Thank you for the love I feel from you every day and the immense joy I have; you are solely responsible for helping me create that daily in my life. To the brightest light in my life, I will always treasure every single moment of this remarkable, sparkling, unforgettable moment. I love you.

  We have so many people to thank and we love you each so so much we are bursting.

            mrs. patel: part 1, the wedding My limited library of words seems dismally insufficient when I think about describing the most love-filled week of my life, but the details below are my best attempt at painting the picture for you, and for me.

[wayneooverton]

Everything you need to know about moving to New Zealand on a working holiday visa

Ahh, traveling the world. Who hasn’t dreamed of ditching their desk job and jet-setting off to a remote location with nothing but a backpack full of clothes?

For most people, this daydream quickly ends after realizing that travel requires money and money does not grow on trees. If only there was an easy way to travel and make money on the road. Fear not, hungry travelers! New Zealand has a way for you to live in a foreign country and supplement your budget during your travels.

How to move to New Zealand as an American

New Zealand’s Working Holiday Visa is a great option for young travelers looking to live and work abroad for a year. I get a lot of questions every year on how to visit on a working holiday visa and what to expect once you get here so let’s get into it. Here’s everything you need to know about coming to New Zealand on the Working Holiday Visa.

What are the requirements?

Requirements and application costs vary depending on your country of origin so it’s best to check the Immigration New Zealand website directly. The website will tell you everything you need to know and if you have more specific questions, call the immigration office. Immigration offices are notoriously hard to deal with but New Zealand has some of the most helpful and pleasant people I’ve encountered when it comes to visas.

In general, the Working Holiday Visa is available to people aged 18-30 (or 18-35 in select countries) and allows the recipient to work for up to 12 months (or 23 months if you’re from the UK or Canada).

You must have a return flight purchased or be able to show you have sufficient funds to buy a ticket out of the country. You will need a medical check (which could also require a chest x-ray and vaccination records depending on where you have lived and traveled over the past 10 years) to prove you’re in good health. Upon entry to the country, you may also need to show bank statements showing you have enough money to live on while you’re in New Zealand.

The Immigration New Zealand website is interactive and very helpful.

How to apply

Apply online at Immigration.govt.nz. The application is remarkably short and easy and it’s typical to get your visa within a few weeks or in some cases even a few days.

There are third-party organizations and licensed immigration advisors who will do the visa process for you and promise to help you get settled in New Zealand, but in my opinion, this is a waste of money. The process is so simple and New Zealand is fairly friendly and easy to navigate once you’re here so I recommend applying on your own directly through immigration.

Once approved, your visa will be sent electronically so no need to send off your passport. Congratulations! You’re ready to buy your ticket and pack your bag.

5 Things No One Tells You about Moving Abroad

How much money do I need to save?

This will vary from person to person. Immigration requires you to have $4,200 NZD saved up to get you by until you find a job (you maybe be asked to prove this at the airport. I wasn’t but many people I know were required to.) Some people opt to travel the country straight away before working while others seek employment immediately.

Obviously, if you’re planning on traveling a lot and working a little, you’ll need more money saved up. For the first few weeks while you’re getting settled, plan on spending $40 – $60 a day, depending on how frugal you are.

If you’re planning on buying a car, you should have $1,500 – $3,500 NZD saved up. Petrol runs around $2.00 per liter so if you’re planning on driving a lot, factor in fuel costs. Food is pricey in New Zealand but you can save money by cooking your own meals at hostels. Eating out costs around $15-$20 per meal.

I’m ready to go! What now?

First things first, print off all your documents: visa, bank statements, return plane tickets if applicable. It’s a good idea to have copies of your passport and drivers license since you’ll need them once you’re in the country. Check to see if you need an international driver’s license. 

There are a few things you can do before leaving that will make your transition much easier. One tip I wish I would have known before is that you can actually open a New Zealand bank account before you arrive in the country. Some banks require your IRD (tax) number to open a bank account while others only need your proof of identity and visas.

I recommend you open your bank account and transfer some money before you leave your home country. All of the following banks are reputable and plentiful throughout the country: BNZ, ANZ, Kiwibank, Westpac, ASB. For example, WestPac is part of an alliance with Bank of America which can mean reduced fees. 

Before you leave your home country, you will also need to purchase traveler’s insurance. This is mandatory for your visa and you’ll definitely want it if you need to visit the doctor for any reason during your stay. New Zealand’s universal healthcare does not apply to travelers.

If you’re planning on working, you’ll need to apply for an IRD number (similar to a SSN in the USA or National Insurance Number in the UK) which you can apply for at any of the post offices.

It’s a quick process but you do need a physical address and two forms of identification. If you don’t have a place to live yet, ask your hostel if they can receive your IRD mail.

How to get a job

Let me be clear if you looking to earn and save a lot of money while you’re traveling, New Zealand’s working holiday visa is not for you.

You can easily make enough money to get by and supplement your travels but this is not a visa for those wanting permanent, high-paying jobs. Be prepared for low-skilled, temporary jobs. Waiting tables, washing dishes, picking fruit and cleaning hotels are all common jobs for travelers. Minimum wage is $15.75 and you can expect to earn $15.75 – $17 an hour for backpacker jobs.

What I Love and Hate About New Zealand

While the pay can be low and the work monotonous, these jobs also come with extreme flexibility. It’s common for travelers to work for a month or two then take off to another part of the country.

Keep your work expectations low and remember why you are in New Zealand and you’ll get by just fine. It’s a very easy country to move to. 

Finding work in cities like Auckland and Wellington will be more difficult than smaller towns with less competition. Websites like TradeMe, seek.co.nz, and Backpackerboard will give you a good idea of what type of work is available. Most towns will also have their own community Facebook group or local news publications which are both common ways to find work. Many travelers also find work by walking around town and handing in physical CVs.

There’s really no point in trying to organize work before you arrive so be prepared to hit the job search once you land.

It’s important to know that for most towns in New Zealand, seasonal timing is everything. Hot tourist areas like Queenstown and Wanaka (where we live) boom in the summer and winter so arriving mid-season will make getting a job much harder. If you’re planning on living in a tourist-dense town, plan to arrive in the Spring or Fall, giving yourself plenty of time to find work.

Make sure you have enough money to live for a few weeks until you get a job. If you want to get a job for the summer, you should be in the town by November. If you want to get a job for the winter, ski fields start hiring in March. Most employment is taken by May in ski towns.

Where will I live?

Every traveler will have a different preference on this topic and it mostly depends on what you’re comfortable with. If you’re on an extreme budget, look for work in exchange for accommodation. WOOFing and HelpX are great resources for finding farms, families or small business looking for help in exchange for a room.

Some travelers prefer to spend their year living in and out of hostels. Hostels cost around $20-40 depending on time of year and location. If you’re staying in a location for an extended period of time, most hostels will have a “long-term” resident room offered at a discounted price.

HOT TIP: It’s essential to book your hostel well in advance before landing in Auckland. Auckland is where most backpackers begin their journey and if you think you can land in Auckland and walk into the first hostel you find and get a room, you’ll be unpleasantly surprised. Hostels in Auckland, Wellington and Queenstown book up fast so if you want a roof over your head, book in advance.

23 things I’ve learned my first month in New Zealand

Many travelers opt to buy a camper van, which ranges from $2,500- $5,000 NZD. Pick up a DOC campground brochure at the airport or at an iSite to find all of the available campgrounds throughout the country. Campgrounds cost $5-$10 per person.

Freedom camping is permitted in select areas but most require you to have a self-contained camper. Don’t be a dick. Follow basic camping etiquette. Don’t camp where you’re not supposed to, use designated toilets to do your business, and for the love of god take your rubbish with you.

For those who like to feel a bit more settled, renting a flat or a house is a great option, especially if you’re planning on being in one spot for a while. You can find rooms on TradeMe, Facebook groups, local bulletin boards, or rent your own place through a real estate company.  Depending on where you live, rent generally costs $100-$200 per week, but can go up to even $400 in shared houses in competitive places. Depending on your location, finding your own room can take time so make sure you have enough money saved up to last you until you find a home.

There you have it. If you follow these tips and guidelines you’ll be well on your way to a comfortable and easy transition to life in New Zealand. Congratulations and enjoy your year in one of the most beautiful countries in the world!

Have you ever moved abroad? Have you considered coming to live in New Zealand? Share!

Erica is an American mountain muse living an unconventional life in New Zealand. Part time barista, full-time type II fun seeker, follow more of her adventures on her blog The Adventure Venture and on Instagram. 

The post Everything you need to know about moving to New Zealand on a working holiday visa appeared first on Young Adventuress.

from Young Adventuress http://ift.tt/2x6Qyzt