#jully-park

[ponku-po]

Goth Mane6 - Jully-Park - @jully-park0208

[jully-catpark0208]

[wilgentak]

love hele gesprekken voeren met geesten uit je verleden in je dromen

[mariacallous]

The Srebrenica Memorial Centre told BIRN a fake location found on Google Maps by its staff while booking accommodation online has now been removed.

Almasa Salihovic, spokesperson for the Memorial Centre, said the fake location was in the middle of the cemetery where the bodies of the Srebrenica dead are buried.

She described it “another in a series of insults” to victims and survivors of the Jully 1995 genocide of Bosniaks by Bosnian Serb forces led by Mladic.

She said it could be another attempt to deny the genocide happened or a “practical joke”.

Mladic was convicted of genocide and other wartime crimes by the Hague Tribunal and sentenced to life imprisonment.

Bosnian law prohibits the denial of genocide and the glorification of war criminals. The person who put the non-existent ‘Ratko Mladic Park’ is criminally liable, said lawyer Edvin Agic.

Agic said that by doing it, “the perpetrator of this act is denying and minimising the circumstances under which people were killed on a massive scale, which deeply offends the victims and survivors”.

Lawyer Mirnes Ajanovic said that if the state prosecution receives a complaint, it is obliged to investigate and find out who was responsible. He added that it is easy to follow digital traces, such as IP addresses and user accounts, which can serve as key evidence to identify the perpetrator.

“The person responsible for adding this fake site must be criminally prosecuted under the law. This situation also raises an important question of the responsibility of digital platforms such as Google, which must take a more active role in prevention and more effective monitoring, so as to prevent such abuses in the future,” Ajanovic says.

The state prosecution said it has not yet received a complaint about the incident.

Salihovic said that after the Ratko Mladic Park tag was visible for one week, Google deleted it from the map.

Gabriela Chiorean, communications manager at Google, told BIRN that its automated systems and trained operators work constantly to monitor maps for suspicious behaviour, including incorrect changes to locations.

Chiorean added that Google has made it easier for users to report misleading locations and inappropriate content.

“Enabling users to suggest changes to the maps helps us have more complete and up-to-date information, but we are aware that sometimes incorrect or bad changes can be suggested,” she said.

“When this happens, we do everything we can to solve the problem as soon as possible. We use manual and automated systems to detect spam and fraud, but we do not share details about our processes, so as not to reveal information to those having bad intentions,” she added.

Emir Alibasic, a court expert in information and communications, said that anyone can request a change of data, from Google which will be accepted if it meets the criteria set by the algorithm.

“When it comes to placing certain locations on the map, in this case, the person who uploads that information must have a Google account, which anyone can register, unfortunately,” he said.

[wolfiemcwolferson]

hello logan i am sure you already got asked a bazillion times about your fics so i just want to say i am violently excited to read all of them (and i mean if you’d like to give me something about idk any piarles piece you haven’t talked about yet or is excited to share… 👀👀👀) 💕💕

Hi Jully baby,

I am answering asks out of my inbox basd on numbers that I have gotten and so if you'd like to send me one (or anyone else), I am digging through these things for all of you. SO HI BABE.

So, there's a couple of super secret Piarles fics in my backpocket, but I can give you a little snippet of a future chapter of Lucky Again. You're gonna have to take it up with @duquesademiel about it and I'm sorry.

Charles laughs again, but it’s kind of disbelieving and he too drops his things into the backseat of Pierre’s car before sitting in the front. He’s about to expose himself here, but when he presses the button to connect his car to his phone, Charles’ playlist starts to filter through his speakers.  “Yes,” he decides to confront it head on, “This is one of your playlists, it’s brilliant and you have excellent music taste - except we really need to talk about the Adele.” “I like Adele,” Charles says defensively as Pierre pulls out of the parking lot. “Adele has nothing but bangers.” “Mmmmmm,” Pierre squints over at him, “I don’t think I agree with that, but we’re all allowed to have three bad opinions in life. This is one of yours.”

[cosmicawg]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐆𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬

Chapter 1: "Shitty Motel & Shitty Guests"

word count —(.) 3,962

read time —(.) 14 mins : 17 secs

The rhythmic tick-tock of the black, grinning clock seemed louder with each passing second, almost mocking Julius as he slumped behind the front desk. The outdated TV mounted precariously on the wall above him crackled with faint static, its picture long faded into fuzzy, colorless blurs. His boss’s muffled voice droned on in the background, barely audible as he barked into the landline, too absorbed in his conversation to notice anything else.

Julius let out a yawn, feeling the weight of the night shift drag at his eyelids. His gaze lazily drifted to the entrance, his attention barely held by the empty parking lot just beyond the glass doors. The buzzing of a fly snapped him out of his daze, its tiny wings whirring obnoxiously past his ear. He swatted at it with little effort, already annoyed.

"You know what this place needs?" Julius muttered, his voice low as he glanced at his boss, who was pacing behind the counter. The man was a walking stereotype of middle-aged neglect, with a belly that stretched the seams of his ill-fitting work pants, bulging like a half-deflated beach ball. His thinning brown hair, desperately trying to cover a growing bald spot, barely stayed in place as he moved. More hair clung to his forearms and knuckles than to his head, and his face, lined with deep creases, held a permanent scowl.

Julius sighed, repulsed by the sight. He shifted in his chair, swatting at another fly that buzzed around him persistently. "A can of bug spray would be nice," he grumbled under his breath. "These flies should be paying rent at this point." His nose wrinkled in disgust as a sour, rotten smell hit him, wafting in from somewhere behind the desk.

“What the hell is that smell?” Julius groaned, turning toward Emery, who was leaning against the counter beside him. She hadn’t moved in nearly an hour, scrolling aimlessly through her phone. “Emery, didn’t you take out the trash like I asked?” His voice carried more teasing than frustration, though the stench was really starting to get to him.

Emery, her dark bangs falling lazily over her face, shot him a look through half-lidded eyes. "You’re not the manager," she replied, voice flat, as if stating a fact. "And I took it out last time. It’s your turn."

Julius crossed his arms, nudging her leg with his foot in mock annoyance. "Hell no. I’m older, so that makes me manager by default. And as the manager, I’m telling you—it’s your turn."

Emery groaned, throwing her head back in exaggerated frustration. "Rock, paper, scissors?"

Julius sighed heavily. He always lost.

“Fine,” he muttered, knowing where this was heading. “But regular rules. None of that fire, water, earth-bender crap you try to pull.”

Emery smirked, eyebrows raised as she straightened up, ready for the challenge.

“Rock, paper, scissors...”

They both froze, locking eyes like they were two kids on a playground instead of adults stuck in a dead-end job.

“Shoot!”

Emery’s hand remained clenched in a rock, while Julius’s two fingers formed scissors. He groaned.

“Dammit,” he grumbled, slumping further into his chair as she flashed a victorious grin.

“Ha! Get to trashin’, Jullies,” she teased, pulling a magazine over her face as she leaned back, making herself even more comfortable.

Julius was about to respond when their boss slammed the phone down with a grunt, finally done with his conversation. His heavy footsteps stomped over to them, and he barked out in his usual gravelly tone, "If you two focused half as much on work as you do playing stupid games, maybe this place wouldn’t be such a dump!" He pointed toward the overflowing trash can behind the desk. "Take that trash out already—it reeks!"

Julius glared at the back of his boss as the man waddled off. "Hopefully his cruise takes him to North Korea," he muttered under his breath, grabbing the garbage bag. The sour stench hit him full force as he tied it up, his nose wrinkling in disgust.

Emery was already fast asleep behind him, her light snores blending in with the constant static of the TV.

He shoved the back door open with his foot, stepping out into the chilly afternoon draft. A gag escaped his throat as the familiar stench hit him. “God, how long has it been since the truck came?” he grumbled, grimacing as he faced the green dumpster. Ugh, he should have worn gloves. Opening the lid, his skin turned pale at the sight within. “Ah, what the fuck!” Dropping the black bag, Julius stumbled backward, rushing inside to scrub his hands free of germs and erase the horrifying image of a dismembered raccoon from his mind.

He barged in, waking Emery from her doze.

She squinted at him, half-laughing, “Pfft, what happened? Saw a ghost? Big baby!” Her giggles danced in the air as he headed toward the staff bathroom, desperate to rid himself of the mental image.

“Try a dead fucking raccoon! Why the hell would someone dump it in the bin?!” Julius exclaimed, his arms flailing dramatically. He groaned again. “You should’ve seen it—its insides were out like some animal got to it or something.” He gagged, covering his mouth with his hand. “Fuck…” A shuddering breath escaped him as he found his way back behind the front desk.

Emery wasn’t nearly as fazed as he was. She shrugged with a casual grin, her attitude almost infuriating. “You’re in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by forests and bears. So…”

“Ugh, stop. I don’t want to think about it anymore. From now on, I’m off trash duty.” A small scowl settled on his face; he really wasn’t a fan of seeing dead animals on the job.

“You know what would cheer you up?” Emery sang playfully, nudging him with a mischievous grin, like a kid high on sweets. “That karaoke bar! Remember, the girls and I are going out tomorrow evening. You should come, Julies, please?” She hung onto his arm, batting her lashes in a dramatic pout. “Since we got to this town, all we’ve been doing is working.”

“Did you forget already? The boss is heading off on his all-inclusive tropical getaway, and he’s leaving us—well, mostly me—in charge. We can’t just ditch work.”

She huffed, whipping her head to the side, hair cascading over her shoulders. “We damn near live here! I’m sure by tomorrow you’ll change that big mind of yours.” She stretched her limbs, a graceful yawn escaping her lips. “Ah, I’m gonna use the bathroom—the upstairs one, because they’re fancier for some reason.”

Julius chuckled as he watched her ascend the stairs. She really shouldn’t be using those bathrooms. As the boss always said, “PAYING CLIENTS ONLY!” But what was he gonna do? Fire them? Please. He could hardly find anyone willing to step foot in this place as it was.

Just then, the doors slid open, and he held back a sigh. Great—more guests. He replaced his weary expression with a grudging smile as a bickering couple pushed through the entrance.

“Do you ever just shut up, Gloria?! I planned a nice goddamn vacation for us, and you’re still complaining!” the man yelled, clumsily dropping his ID onto the desk.

Julius rolled his eyes. Nice? This is what he called a nice vacation? He held back a grin.

The ginger-haired woman shot back, “Nice? This is NICE?! You spent more money on our honeymoon than this fucking shit vacation!”

He wanted to laugh; guests like these made it all worth it. “Here you go, room 12, upstairs. You won’t miss it,” he said, handing over the card.

The guy snatched it up, muttering, “Yeah, whatever,” before dragging his girlfriend behind him.

What an asshole.

And it was as if he’d rung a dinner bell, summoning a horde of unwelcome guests, each one spilling into the room like a bad joke that just wouldn't die.

The next arrival was an older man, his face etched with a stern frown that deepened into a scowl as he surveyed the place. It was as if he had stumbled into a dilapidated motel instead of the upscale resort he clearly expected. His gaze swept over the mismatched furniture, the peeling wallpaper, and the flickering neon sign outside. “That TV ain't steady,” he grumbled as he approached, his tone laced with disdain. “Wipe that damn smile off your face; you’re creeping me out.” He slammed his ID down on the counter, the noise echoing like a slap. “Tsk, back then this place had a little dignity, at least.”

Julius, barely fazed, hummed a noncommittal tune, his attention half on the man and half lost somewhere else. “Okay, Chester, room 2. Upstairs, you won’t miss it.” He handed over the key, a small token of indifference.

Chester scanned him like a hawk, lips pressed into a thin line. “I ain't the one who pissed in your pot, son. Watch your tone with me.” His heavy Texan drawl dripped with authority, and Julius felt its weight settle uncomfortably on his shoulders. The old man snatched the key from Julius’s hand, huffing as he stormed upstairs, footsteps heavy with indignation.

Once the man was gone, Julius glanced down, realizing Chester had left his suitcase behind. “What the hell does he think this is?” he muttered, rising from behind the desk. With a grunt, he dragged the suitcase across the floor and shoved it into the storage closet. “Old bastard,” he spat under his breath, irritation bubbling just below the surface.

A moment later, Emery emerged from the bathroom, shaking her head. “Sheesh, so far the guests suck. That old guy is so full of himself! He stopped me in the hallway, demanding to know why the sink in his room wasn’t working. I asked him if he tried turning the knob, and he flipped out!”

They erupted into laughter, the sound echoing in the otherwise dull lobby, two friends finding joy in the absurdity of their day. Emery slapped her forearm, still chuckling.

“So real! I tossed his suitcase in the storage closet, as if he expected me to carry it up for him. Hello, this is a motel! We aren’t even three stars!” Julius hissed, a mix of amusement and frustration coloring his words.

Just then, another guest strolled through the doors—a darkly dressed teenager, struggling to manage her oversized suitcase.

“Need a hand?” Emery offered, her voice bright and helpful, but the girl shook her head, determined to handle it herself. Whatever, Julius thought; it meant less work for them.

The teen approached, her voice soft and hesitant. “Hi... uh, I’m checking in with my dad, but he isn’t here... until tomorrow. Is that okay?”

Julius sighed, rolling his eyes as he pushed himself off the counter, his tone brusque and impatient. “Name?” The girl swallowed hard, clearly taken aback by his sharp demeanor. “Violet...” she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Last name,” he demanded, the words clenching through his teeth. Emery nudged him, a silent plea for kindness, but Julius sighed, his tone softening slightly. “Do you have an ID?”

With shaking hands, the dark-skinned girl fumbled through her hoodie pockets and pulled out a school ID. With a forced grin, Julius snatched it from her and punched her last name into the computer. “Emmie, get her a key, room 9.”

“On it, manager sir!” Emery giggled, her playful spirit lighting up the drab atmosphere. With a quick stretch of her arms, she grabbed a key and tossed it to Violet, who clumsily missed the catch. “Oops, sorry!”

Violet said nothing as she awkwardly retrieved the key and wrestled her suitcase toward the staircase, the weight of it seeming to reflect the burden of her uncertainty.

Watching from afar, Emery turned to Julius, trying to lighten the mood. “Were we that antisocial in high school?” she asked, a playful lilt in her voice.

Julius hummed in acknowledgment. “Sure, while you were out partying and being pursued by cute guys, I was at home finishing our science project.” He popped his neck in her direction, feigning nonchalance.

“You had cute guys too! Like... that goth guy! He used to make those skull carvings with your initials!” Emery squeaked, her eyes sparkling with nostalgia.

At the mention of the goth weirdo, Julius shuddered. One detail Emery conveniently forgot was that he was also the kind of guy who’d shove dead birds into his mailbox along with those so-called “cute” skull carvings. Yuck. Some memories were best left buried, and he’d rather not relive those awkward high school days.

The unmistakable sound of a car rolling up broke the stillness of the evening, tires screeching against the pavement like a banshee wailing in the night. Blasting music vibrated through the air, a thumping bass that seemed to shake the very ground beneath him. The vehicle screeched to a halt, and out stepped a blonde—his hair so bright it practically glowed in the darkening twilight. He had the kind of physique that suggested he was more than just a pretty face; the sort you’d imagine tossing geeks into lockers and bins with a smug grin.

With an exaggerated swagger, he sauntered in, a bright smile plastered across his face. “Hey, y’all,” he drawled, his voice dripping with bravado.

Julius blinked in pleasant surprise. This wasn’t the typical obnoxious jock he expected; there was something disarming about his good looks and surprisingly friendly demeanor. Despite the aggressive façade, he didn't seem like an asshole at all.

“Welcome, name?” Julius asked, his tone softening instinctively, a sweetness curving his lips into an eerie but inviting smile.

“Bowie Rock,” the blonde replied.

Emery stood off to the side, casting wary glances between the two, a grimace tugging at her lips. The last thing she wanted was to witness Julius making a fool of himself. “What was that?” she blurted out once Bowie had strutted off, her voice tinged with exasperation.

Unbothered, Julius shrugged, a casual air about him. “What was what? He was obviously flirting with me. I just played along, you know?”

Her eyes narrowed, skepticism dripping from her tone. “Right, pfft. Anyway, I’m gonna take off soon. You can handle yourself all alone, right?” Emery wiggled her brows mischievously as she stepped away from the desk, teasingly twirling a finger in the air. “Scary down here on your own.”

Julius rolled his eyes, rubbing his forearm absentmindedly, his gaze fixed on her with an unamused expression. “Right, let’s just hope that dead raccoon doesn’t haunt me.”

Emery, still playing along, trailed her fingertips over the cool, smooth wood of the desk, her demeanor shifting to one of mock-seriousness that only barely masked the tension in the air. “Who knows what’s lurking in those forests?” she murmured, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial hush that seemed to wrap around them like fog. “Maybe whatever did that to the raccoon is still... out there.”

She leaned in closer, her breath barely above a whisper, and for a fleeting moment, the room felt charged, as if the shadows themselves were listening. Her eyes glinted with a mix of mischief and something darker, something that sent an icy shiver down Julius’s spine.

“Waiting,” she finished, her voice trailing off, leaving an unsettling silence that hung in the air like an uninvited guest. The darkness beyond the windows deepened, as if the night itself was alive, crawling closer with every heartbeat. A gust of wind rattled the glass, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end.

With an exasperated swat, he pushed her away, unable to suppress a smile as she laughed, her joy infectious.

“Ugh! Can you just go and remember to record tonight’s show for me?”

“Yeah, yeah, you scaredy cat,” she teased, a playful glint in her eyes.

But deep down, Julius was anything but a scaredy cat. Sure, dead animals made him squeamish, and blood made him dizzy, but those were reasonable fears, weren’t they? Beyond that, he felt invincible. Nothing in this sleepy town ever came close to getting his blood pumping. This place, with its mundane routines and predictable people, felt like a prison of boredom. Why had he even left Memphis?

With a sigh that hung heavy in the air, he glanced out into the encroaching darkness, his thoughts swirling like autumn leaves caught in the wind.

Later that night...

The clock ticked ominously, striking midnight. Julius was half-asleep, his feet perched awkwardly on the desk, the dim glow of the screen casting long, distorted shadows across the room. Small snores punctured the suffocating silence, each one an unwelcome reminder of his own fatigue. He could feel the weight of his eyelids, heavy like lead, as he fought to stay awake. Just as he was teetering on the brink of oblivion, a sudden rustle outside yanked him back into stark reality. “Ugh, stupid raccoons…” he muttered, irritation flaring as his brows knitted together. With a frustrated huff, he closed his eyes again, crossing his forearms tightly over his chest, desperate to reclaim the fleeting comfort of sleep.

For a brief moment, a familiar quiet settled over him. But then, an earth-shattering BAAM! jolted him upright—the unmistakable sound of cans crashing outside, echoing like a gunshot in the still night air.

“Fuck’s sakes!” he groaned, his weariness morphing into a primal instinct. He felt the clawing dread rising in his chest as he grabbed a broom, the cold metal a meager reassurance. Sliding the doors aside, he stepped out into the biting cold, a shiver racing down his spine, prickling goosebumps along his neck. The darkness loomed around him, suffocating, and he tried to shake off the chill that gnawed at his bones, forcing himself to pierce through the suffocating shadows.

The bins still stood upright, so it hadn’t been an animal. Panic constricted around his heart like a vice as the chilling realization dawned. “Fucking homeless,” he spat, his frustration boiling over into a thin veneer of fear. All he wanted was sleep—was that too much to ask? At 24, he felt like he was aging into an 80-year-old man, his youthful vitality drained by the weight of the night.

With a heavy sigh, his breath misting in the frigid air, he turned to retreat back indoors when something darted past him—quick, shadowy, and furtive. His heart plunged into his stomach, instincts flaring as adrenaline coursed through his veins.

“WHO’S THERE? THIS ISN’T FUNNY!” he shouted, brandishing the broom like a weapon, desperation clawing at his throat. Every nerve in his body screamed for him to flee, yet he stood his ground, glaring into the oppressive darkness.

A gust of wind howled past him, carrying with it an unsettling silence that clung to the night. Then it happened again—a rush of movement behind him. Before he could process it, panic seized him, and he scrambled to the ground, his heart thundering like a war drum in his ears, a scream clawing its way up his throat, desperate to escape.

He lay there, breathless, his pulse racing like a wild animal. The cold ground pressed into his palms, the gravel biting at his skin. He could feel the weight of the darkness bearing down on him, a suffocating shroud that promised hidden horrors lurking just beyond his line of sight.

“get a grip man,” he whispered to himself, trying to ground his spiraling thoughts. He fought to steady his breath, feeling like prey in the depths of the night, exposed and vulnerable.

Was it just his mind playing tricks, or was something truly out there?

He dared not move, straining his ears for the slightest sound—a breath, a whisper, anything. The silence hung heavy, almost mocking. And then, in the pitch-black void, he heard it: the soft, deliberate crunch of footsteps advancing slowly toward him, each step a grim reminder of how alone he truly was in this desolate place.

“U-um, hello?” a voice broke through the chaos.

He let out a silent scream, his body suddenly feeling like a limp sack as he turned to face whatever—whoever—had startled him. And then, he saw them.

A man in his thirties stood there, flustered, with a girl beside him in a coat that looked ridiculously expensive. She popped a bubble of gum, removing her shades with a huff. “What the hell is this, Dad?! This is not an all-inclusive Sea Gardens Hotel!” she screeched, her heels clacking angrily against the pavement.

“Now, Alia, I did mention… I forgot to book rooms for us, and everywhere else is full,” her father replied, the hint of exasperation in his tone.

While they bickered, Julius remained frozen, wide-eyed on the cold ground, gravel digging painfully into his palms. He winced, a fresh cut stinging at the realization. Getting up, he sighed, feeling utterly ridiculous for letting himself get so worked up. He blamed Emery too—if she hadn’t filled his head with nonsense earlier, maybe he wouldn’t be in this mess.

“FINE! Whatever! You always find some way to screw up my life, Dad!” Alia’s voice echoed through the night.

Julius cringed but quickly shook off the awkwardness, ushering them inside with a reluctant urgency. He watched as Wallace struggled under the weight of his daughter’s multiple bags, only to sprint back out for his own measly one. A pang of envy twisted in Julius’s gut—if only his parents had been like that. Maybe he wouldn’t have ended up in this crummy town with this dead-end job.

“Ow, damn,” he muttered, recalling the cut on his palm. Exhaling, he bent down, rummaging around for a hidden pack of Band-Aids—

“Hello?” A voice interrupted his thoughts, making him snap upright, banging his head against the desk.

“Cocksucker!” he yelled, emerging from behind the counter, a mix of irritation and embarrassment flooding through him. “What the fuck do you want?!”

Clearly, customer service was out the window at this point. He shot daggers at the tall man standing before him, arms crossed defiantly. “Well?!”

The dark-skinned man towered over him, clad in a dark green jacket beneath a gray shirt and ragged black pants. His brown eyes narrowed slightly, a raised brow challenging Julius’s tone. “I’m sorry, isn’t this where we check in?” The words flowed from his lips, smooth and melodic, cutting through Julius’s irritation like a knife.

Despite the lingering annoyance, Julius felt his anger dissipate. “Sorry, I’ve had a rough night. Name?” he replied, his tone softening.

“Remi. It’s past the first,” the man said, reaching into his pocket for an ID.

“...Julius,” he replied, his irritation almost forgotten.

“Also from France, I assume?” Remi inquired, a hint of curiosity sparking in his eyes.

Pfft, I wish, Julius thought, rolling his eyes inwardly. Grabbing Remi's key, he faced him with puffed cheeks, “Nope, my mom just plopped the first name that popped up on Google onto my birth certificate.” A true story.

Remi chuckled, their fingers brushing as he took the key. “Well, it’s still a beautiful name.” His gaze lingering a fraction too long.

He felt warmth creep up his neck, forcing himself to suppress the blush threatening to bloom on his cheeks. “Whatever,” he muttered, trying to sound dismissive.

Julius watched him go, a strange sense of calm washing over him, mingling with the remnants of frustration and exhaustion, but the darkness outside loomed larger now, a smothering entity. Maybe the night wasn’t as bleak as it seemed, but something still felt off, like the calm before a storm, waiting to unleash its fury.

[myphotosandmore]

Distinguish Cat , Ribnjak park Zagreb Croatia, Jully 2024

[salernoah]

Woensdag | 15-05-2024 | 24°C | Vietri sul Mare | Dag 3

Ik ben in de zevende hemel en

weet precies waar ik thuis hoor. Of wellicht dat ik in een vorig leven een Italiaanse uit Vietri sul Mare was. In ieder geval is dit nu mijn nieuwe favoriete plek op aarde, denk ik dan (ik heb Sicilië immers nog niet gezien).

Ik kan niet omschrijven hoe mooi Vietri is, dus heb ik gelukkig een heleboel foto’s voor jullie zodat jullie het zelf kunnen aanschouwen. Nu moet ik alleen papa overhalen om een extra rugzak mee te nemen zodat ik daar al mijn aankopen in kwijt kan. Zoals ik al zei, staat Vietri bekend om haar keramiek. Prachtig gekleurde keramiek, waarbij de kleuren symbool staan voor de stad en de Amalfikust. Zo staat geel voor de citroenen, blauw voor de zee en de lucht, en groen voor de natuur en de bergen. Romantischer kan haast niet.

Momenteel zit ik op een prachtige bank, ook van keramiek, in de kleuren saffraangeel en turquoise. Ik wacht op de bus terug naar Salerno. De rest van de deelnemers zijn al teruggegaan.

21:20 | Vietri is zo'n tien tot vijftien minuten met de bus vanaf Salerno. Op de terugweg zat ik naast een oudere vrouw en heb ik kort met haar gesproken. Nog altijd ben ik zenuwachtig en neurotisch als ik met het openbaar vervoer reis, maar ik ben zonder problemen terug in Salerno beland, nu een paar prachtige souvenirs rijker. Zodra papa langskomt (in de laatste week van mijn taalcursus) kan hij alvast een aantal souvenirs mee naar huis nemen. Zo veel mooie spullen die ik absoluut niet achter kan laten in Vietri.

We waren met een klein groepje in Vietri. Een van de docenten begeleidde ons en vertelde veel over het stadje. Vietri kent een bijzondere geschiedenis, die wordt afgebeeld op de muren in de stad. Overal in de stad zie je de symboliek van Vietri terug. De ezel is de mascotte van de stad, omdat ezels vroeger in Vietri een transportmiddel waren. Elk nummerbordje is daarom ook het blauwgroene ezeltje. Zo schattig!

We aten schaafijs gemaakt met citroenen uit Vietri en liepen daarna naar een park dat veel weg had van het Parque Güell in Barcelona. Er was zelfs een klein amfitheater met donkerblauwen keramieken zitvlakken!

Vanochtend heb ik ook al souvenirs gekocht bij een keramiekwinkeltje op de route naar school. De eigenaar was ook de maker van de keramieken spulletjes en zei dat zijn werkplaats in Vietri ligt. Al die vrolijk gekleurde spulletjes wil toch iedereen hebben?!

Oké, dan nog even over het kennismaken met mensen van mijn leeftijd. Weet je nog dat ik zei dat het best lastig is om mensen uit de buurt te leren kennen? Ik had het mis. Het is vrij makkelijk: je hoeft alleen maar nietsvermoedend naar de plaatselijke groente- en fruitmarkt te gaan en je wordt zomaar aangesproken door een Italiaan die op de markt werkt en je vraagt of je een keertje koffie met hem wilt drinken. Op dat moment zeg je gewoon ja, omdat je spontaniteit leuk vindt en je zo overrompeld bent dat je denkt waarom ook niet? Dus geef je de Italiaan in kwestie, die Cristian blijkt te heten, je nummer en twijfelt bij thuiskomt of je wel de goede cijfers hebt ingevoerd. (Achteraf blijkt van wel). Oh, zó gaat dat dus.

Intussen ben ik enigszins afgeleid door de film die op tv wordt uitgezonden Il principe cerca moglie (Coming to America). Als je de film kent, weet je waarom ik afgeleid ben...

Oké, de film is heel bizar. Excuses. Ik vervolg mijn verslag...

Tijdens de pauze ben ik met Valeria koffie gaan drinken bij Bar Rosa. Ik was er nog niet heen gewest, maar veel studenten van de taalacademie drinken hier hun koffie. Ik snap inmiddels heel goed waarom: de koffie is spotgoedkoop. Ik was €1,50 kwijt voor een cappuccino met sojamelk. De bar is tevens een bakkerij waar je van alles kunt krijgen. Ik kocht ook een mini pizza en een mini baba (eveneens goedkoop en zeer smakelijk). Een baba is typisch Napolitaans cakeje doordrenkt in rum (zie foto rechts). Roni en ik aten dit voor het eerst tijdens onze vakantie in Napels een aantal jaar terug.

Het is heel verleidelijk om hier nu elke dag naartoe te gaan. Ik zal me een beetje moeten inhouden, maar genieten moet kunnen.

Vanavond ga ik op tijd naar bed. Ik was vannacht te laat gaan slapen en moest weer te vroeg wakker worden. Ik was gisteravond laat nog bezig met huiswerk. Ik had me voorgenomen om vandaag de werkwoorden te oefenen, maar een dag niet geschreven en je loopt gelijk achter de feiten aan. Een dagboek bijhouden doe ik nu daarom ook niet: er gebeurt veel te veel op een dag om dat allemaal te kunnen opschrijven. Ik zal het daarom nu maar afronden, want dan kunnen jullie van de foto's genieten en kan ik een poging wagen tot het leren van mijn Italiaanse werkwoorden. (Update om 22:16: het is niet gelukt).

[medewerkers]

Hallo Tumblr. Tumblr hier. We hebben een nieuwe livestreamingfunctie voor Tumblr ontwikkeld en noemen deze, nou… Tumblr Live. Met Tumblr Live kun je direct vanaf je dashboard streamen of streams bekijken. Dit betekent dat je je Tumblr-publiek en livestreampubliek kunt samenvoegen. Je kunt de synergie gewoon proeven! In eerste instantie hebben we Tumblr Live alleen naar de Android- en iOS-app en naar de Verenigde Staten uitgerold, maar de tijd is rijp voor de volgende stap. Daarom rollen we Tumblr Live deze week naar meer gebieden en voor alle platforms (Android, iOS en Web) uit. Als je in een van de onderstaande landen of gebieden woont, kun je streams bekijken of je eigen Minecraft-avontuur streamen, je breiclubje, je wandelingen, je Furby-verzameling of wat je dan ook met de wereld wilt delen. De lijst:

Brazilië

Canada

Europese Unie

Japan

Maleisië

Mexico

Turkije

Verenigd Koninkrijk

Zuid-Korea

Zo werkt het:

Via het camera-icoon onder in je dashboard in de mobiele app ga je naar een Tumblr Live-tabblad waar je streams kunt bekijken die op dat moment live zijn. Boven je dashboard worden ook een aantal live livestreams weergegeven.

Zo lang je het netjes houdt, kun je streamen wat je wilt door op "Live gaan" te tikken: de eendjes in het park, een maffe sneeuwpop, je vervloekte borduursels, enz.

Streamen werkt met de voorste en achterste camera's van je telefoon, dus als je verlegen bent, kun je ook streamen zonder je gezicht te laten zien.

Je kunt bekende en vertrouwde kijkers de status van uitsmijter geven. Op die manier kunnen deze kijkers helpen om je stream te modereren door ongewenste gasten te verwijderen terwijl je live bent.

Tik op een live avatar om je als kijker bij die stream aan te sluiten, of je het blog nou volgt of niet.

Je kunt streamers tijdens de livestream cadeautjes sturen als je van de stream geniet.

Er is een speciaal tabblad waar je je favoriete streamers kunt verzamelen.

En dat is het voorlopig weer even. Stel je voor! Gaming-livestreams! Leesclubs! Live paddenstoelen op je feed! DnD-campagnes! Kunstenaar die live tekenen! Feiten over haaien! 'Get Ready With Me'! Cosplay en beursstreams! Gezellig breien! Fotografielessen! Verhalen vertellen! Tips voor plantenverzorging! Live huiskamerconcerten! Furby-workshops! Museumtours! Krabben! (gewoon krabben!) De mogelijkheden zijn eindeloos. We kunnen niet wachten om te zien wat jullie met al deze vrijheid gaan doen. Dat was het. Ga en doe lekker gek! <3

[budgethome]

© Foto van @huisje.van.esmee ♡ Joehoe, daar ben ik weer! Wellicht hadden jullie me niet eens gemist, maar ik was er een weekje tussenuit. We waren op vakantie naar Center Parcs Terhills in België. Aanrader hoor, mooi park in een groene omgeving. Normaal gesproken is het park dan ook behoorlijk aan de prijs, maar in januari was het goed te doen. Wat ook goed te betalen is, zijn deze leuke badkameraccessoires van Blokker. De zeeppomp kost €8,99 en de tandenborstelhouder slechts €5,99. Alleen verkrijgbaar in de winkels, maar online kun je wel de voorraad checken. Fijne avond! https://tc.tradetracker.net/?c=18989&m=12&a=291591&r=&u=%2Fsearch%2Fblokker%3Fq%3DBelle%26pmin%3D0%252C00 https://www.instagram.com/p/CoVKs55oPh3/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[kan-niet]

Trans representatie in South Park.

We hebben allemaal wel al eens gehoord van South Park en hun vele conflicten, maar is de kritiek wel zo terecht als mensen zeggen? Ik bekeek de afleveringen en vroeg aan een aantal mensen wat zij ervan vonden. 

Wat is South park? 

S9 ep1: “Mr Garrison’s fancy new vagina” 

S12 ep5: “Eek, a penis!” 

S18 ep3: “The cissy” 

S23 ep7: “Board girls” 

Wat vinden mensen? 

Wat is South Park? 

South Park is een animatieserie over vier jongens in het kleine dorp met dezelfde naam. Het is gemaakt door Matt Stone en Trey Parker en eerst uitgekomen in 1997 op de zender Comedy Central. De show heeft ondertussen al 26 seizoenen en 326 afleveringen en dit is nog lang niet het einde van de serie. 

Seizoen 9, aflevering 1: “Mr Garrison’s fancy new vagina” 

In deze aflevering krijgt Mr Garrison een operatie om de vrouw te worden die hij nooit kon zijn. De operatie wordt accuraat beschreven en is dus goed onderzocht door de schrijvers maar het gedrag van de nu Mrs Garrison is heel stereotiep. Ze gaat direct naar de winkel voor tampons, is snel emotioneel en gedraagt zich overdreven vrouwelijk. Maar als ze beseft dat ze bijvoorbeeld geen maandstonden kan krijgen, voelt ze zich toch niet echt een vrouw. 

Wanneer Mrs Garrison de vier hoofdpersonages tegenkomt, wordt Kyle nieuwsgierig. Hij vraagt aan zijn moeder Sheela wat het betekent om transgender te zijn, ze legt uit dat de buitenkant van een persoon niet altijd toont wie die van binnen is en daarom kan je een operatie uitvoeren om meer te lijken op de persoon die je zelf ziet. Deze omschrijving is heel mooi verwoord maar Kyle neemt het anders op. Kyle besluit zijn uiterlijk aan te passen door zichzelf groter te maken en zijn huidskleur te veranderen, ook wel “transraciaal” genoemd.  

Deze aflevering geeft de boodschap dat ondanks de veranderingen aan hun buitenkant, ze nog steeds hun geboortegender zijn maar is dit de schrijvers hun mening of willen ze aantonen wat sommigen denken? 

Seizoen 12, aflevering 5: “Eek, a penis!” 

Mrs Garrison heeft spijt van haar transitie, hij vindt zichzelf nog steeds een man omdat hij geen kinderen kan krijgen. Volgens hem is dat wat je vrouw maakt ondanks niet elke vrouw de mogelijkheid heeft om zwanger te geraken. 

Seizoen 18, aflevering 3: “The cissy” 

Eric Cartman, een van de hoofdpersonages, doet zich voor als transgender omdat hij denkt dat vrouw zijn veel voordelen heeft zoals properdere schooltoiletten. Hij is al gekend als een ruziestoker en wordt dus naar de directie gestuurd. Ze maken een nieuw toilethokje voor transmensen maar wanneer anderen dit ook beginnen te gebruiken wordt hij kwaad. 

Seizoen 23, aflevering 7: “Board girls” 

“Strong Woman” doet mee met de jaarlijkse sterke vrouwen competitie maar neemt er een transvrouw deel die net aan haar transitie begonnen is. Nu blijkt die de ex-vriend van “Strong Woman” te zijn en zou die in transitie gegaan zijn om haar terug te pakken.

Wat vinden mensen? 

Na een bevraging bij enkelen blijkt de term “transraciaal” toch niet zo gekend te zijn. De meesten waren van mening dat het niet kan bestaan. Het is niet mogelijk omdat het voortkomt uit je familie en bloedlijn dit kan je niet zomaar veranderen. 

Wat vinden de respondenten ervan dat mensen beweren dat je ongesteld moet zijn om echt een vrouw te zijn? Ze hadden allemaal een uitgesproken mening over dit onderwerp. Er zijn oneindig veel eigenschappen die iemand vrouw kunnen maken. 

Ik stelde ook de vraag of transpersonen welkom zijn in het openbare toilet naar keuze, de antwoorden waren unaniem en zagen er geen problemen in. 

Het deelnemen aan sport door trans personen brengt vaak verschillende meningen op. Velen vinden dat het zeker moet kunnen als er rekening gehouden wordt met de hormonen. 

Hoe denken jullie hier over, kunnen jullie zich in de eerdere antwoorden vinden?  

[ponku-po]

Flutters - JullyPark

[ratsoh-writes]

Is just green and orange magic with a spell that makes them look like the cars are made of metal. I use this all the time

[she wanted to pick up Fisher with these at her date, aunty here prevented it]

The vans move on their own and to the parking lot. Since the cars are magic, they don't have to leave them parked.

Aunt Jully: Okey, just grab your things and we will meet up at the matches

Sea had already planned to meet with peaches at the pie stand that Yosemite was manning this year. He and Rosemary fight hard for a spot after missing out on the golden festival and are happy being in the food court.

[mollidays]

PUNTA ARENAS (03.02-06.02)

Nabij de straat van Magelaan vormt Punta Arenas de zuidelijkste stad van Chili. Door haar ligging is ze de ideale uitvalsbasis voor excursies naar zuidelijk Patagonië en Tierra del Fuego. Bij aankomst boeken we meteen één van elk: walvissen spotten vanop een catamaran en koningspinguïns bewonderen in Vuurland.

Wie graag beestjes wil zien, moet er wat voorover hebben en dat zullen we geweten hebben. We zijn om 4u ‘s ochtends op post om onze trip te starten. Een korte busreis brengt ons tot aan een strand ter hoogte van Fort Bulnes, waar we bij schemer aan boord gaan van onze catamaran. We hebben een lange dag en vele kilometers voor de boeg, maar het is het waard. Een groepje walvissen voedt zich in de buurt van onze boot waardoor we ze meermaals zien ondergaan met het gekende fotogenieke tafereel waarbij ze hun staart sierlijk in de lucht gooien. Hoe vaak dit spektakel zich ook herhaalt, we zijn telkens onder de indruk en voelen ons koning te rijk. Als kers op de taart vangen we zelfs eenmalig een glimp op van een walvishoofd dat plots boven het water uitspringt.

Tussen de verschillende walvisshows door entertainen de vele zeeleeuwen ons met hun kinderlijk gerol en vrolijke sprongetjes. Je weet niet waar eerst te kijken. Ook pinguïns, albatrossen en aalschovers passeren de revue. We sluiten onze excursie af met een glaasje pisco sour, gekoeld door gletsjerijs, met zicht op de Seno Helado. Een topdag waar we nog vaak op zullen terugblikken. Jullie zullen het helaas moeten stellen met wat matige foto’s die de sfeer en beleving amper benaderen. ‘s Avonds hangen we als echte locals aan de bar van Kiosco Roca voor een choripan (een broodje chorizo). Deze lekkernij werd verkozen tot beste snack van Chili.

Wat ons opvalt in Punta Arenas is de hevige wind. Petjes vliegen in het rond, alsook een gekoesterde brownie en koekjes. Jammer genoeg valt ook ons bezoek aan de zwart-witte vriendjes hierdoor in het water. De zee is zo ruig dat de ferry’s niet uitvaren, waardoor de broedplaats van de koningspinguïns onbereikbaar blijft. We zijn licht teleurgesteld vanwege de gemiste kans, maar voelen ons nog steeds verrijkt door de ervaringen van de vorige dag. We trekken richting Puerto Natales nabij het beroemde nationale park Torres Del Paine.

[thetophasntcalledyet]

Ik wil Galaxy park grapjes maken over Soy, maar ik heb het te lang niet gezien... dus die krijgen jullie nog van me te goed xx

[wolfiemcwolferson]

can i have a 14 for piarles, pleeeeease?? 💕💕💕

Hi Jully! I got two asks for this, and the other prompt asked for a cat, so I'm going to write a - well, you'll see.

Charles moves into this apartment complex specifically because it has a dog park in the middle and it's enough to ignore the way the ceiling in his bathroom looks a little questionable.

And Lady loves the dog park.

He's got her little silicone pop out water bowl filled up and she's standing on the picnic table, making a mess of it because she's certainly not a lady while she drinks, but...

"She's pretty."

Charles jumps and spins and dies because it's the really really painfully cute guy who lives in his building and has one of those fluffy dogs.

"Lady? That's her name?" And then his eyes go a bit wide, "That's not - sorry, I just know that because you sing that song to her going down the stairs in the morning, and this is not helping. I sound so creepy."

Lady abandons her water dish and hops down, going to sniff around the cute guys fluffy dog and Charles assumes he will pull him back if he's not friendly.

He doesn't. He unclips the leash and the two dogs take off across the fenced in park and Charles smiles after them.

"And do you?" He twists to look at Cute Guy. "Have a stupid song you sing to your dog with their name?"

Cute Guy dips his head a bit, laughing. "This is going to sound like a line, I think. So I will say that my niece named him and it's impossible to tell her no."

Charles is in trouble. A cute niece that he lets name his dog. A cute dog. A cute...all of him. "Well? Are you going to tell me his name? Or. your name for that matter?"

Cute Guy's smile is devastating. "My name is Pierre and I think we should get dinner sometime. There is that place down the street with a patio. We can take the pups."

"Pierre." Charles says it out loud. "I am Charles, and yes, that is Lady. And you are Pierre and he is?"

"Tramp." Pierre laughs. "My dog's name is Tramp."

Charles doesn't even care if it's a line.

"We can take Lady and Tramp and get dinner sometime." Charles smiles at him.