#last time I went in a gondola I fell off and nearly died

[iheartsunset]

Can I have some headcanons about deano

Papa Louie Deano HC

-Deano Abbadeli is a 34 year old gondolier and salesman who lives with his wife, Katherina; his son, Matteo; and his daughter, Bianca, in a small Portallini house. While he had wanted to become an opera singer in the past, he met Maximo Del Mare in his adolescence and was inspired to take on his gondoliering after high school.

-Deano is a charming gentleman who while extremely average, always attempts to make himself a larger character than he actually is. His voice and mannerisms are similar to broadway actors or someone in a kids’ show, which make people either laugh or silently cry. After a hard day’s work, he has the tendency to be much grumpier and quiet, though this immediately melts away when he finally gets to see his family again.

-He is also the one to boat Utah and Doan to and from their workplace and to the train stations, which puts extra pressure on them to make his orders amazing. This is also due to Edoardo telling them a scary story about people who wrong Deano suddenly ending up in a waterfront “accident”. In all actuality, Deano’s too nice of a guy to be that petty (and Utah reminds him too much of his own daughter to ever be rude to her). Besides, why would Deano commit homicide for undercooked pasta?

-Much like a radio, if you ask him to whistle you a song, he will. He can also whistle for extremely long amounts of time. He wants to actually sing, but his voice isn’t very good and it disturbs the guests, so he just whistles. When his voice gets too tired, he just talks about his family or let’s the guests tell stories.

-He doesn’t eat all his food at the Pastaria so that he could take some home and bring it to Bianca since she loves gnocchi.

-He met Maximo when he was still in high school. He took the gondola one day after being made fun of again in choir for his awful singing. To be honest, Maximo usually just smiles and nods when guests tell stories because he doesn’t care, but Deano wouldn’t stop crying, so he got too emotionally invested in the story. He decided to cheer Deano up by showing him how to work a gondola, which inspired the boy to become his apprentice. They had a very close relationship and Maximo was even the father in law for both Deano’s kids. Deano misses Maximo very much, but runs the gondola business in his honor.

-When he got bullied by the kids in choir after school, he’d scrape barnacles off the bottom of the gondola and throw them at them. A lot of them left him alone after that, which was also because Katherina (who was his classmate at the time) protected him.

-He can speak Italian, English, Spanish, Japanese, German, and French. This is so he can better connect with his clients when giving them tours or having conversations with them.

-His favorite thing to do is stroll on Portallini’s bridge at night and look up at the stars and street lights. He sometimes does this with Utah and Deano after they’ve all had a particularly exhausting day. They all find it very relaxing.

-His favorite movies are silent movies and black and white films. He likes to imaging how their voices sound and what the actual colors of the screen would be. He’s mostly forced to watch rom coms or animated movies with his family, but he likes those too.

-He and Akari have sort of a rivalry because of their chosen vehicles. It actually doesn’t make sense, the whole boats vs motorcycles thing, but they don’t really like each other. She’s also much too sassy and brazen for his liking while he’s too much of a coward in her eyes (not on Hacky Zak level though).

-Sienna brings him pumpkin and apple pies on Thanksgiving as thanks for always helping her travel. He likes to make her a turkey in return, but it’s almost always raw in the center or dressed up with absurd ingredients, so she always secretly throws it away.

-He is probably singlehandedly keeping the hat shops alive because he keeps having to buy hats after his blow away. He never learns to just take the hat off or to just not wear a hat altogether.

-If you rock the boat on purpose to be silly, he will hit you on the head with an oar or throw a barnacle at you. Utah and Bruna can definitely attest to that.

-Sorry, my headcanons here are kinda weak. Deano used to piss me off when I first started playing Papa’s Pastaria solely because of his shirt, I hate big blue vertical stripes. Also because his hat looked like it was about to fall off and I don’t like feeling anticipation when looking at someone. Despite this, Deano seems like a cool dude.

[acsmithwriting-blog]

“Anything New?” - A Short Story by A.C. Smith

Anything New?

Aquarius gave Pisces the news. With her hood up, she pounded on Pisces' door. "Hey!" She pounds harder. "Open up, little minnow!" Aquarius shouts up at her bedroom window, and Pisces, she finally wakes up and unlatches the door. "What?"

"Sagittarium is playing this Friday! At the Leo Plaza. You're going, right?" Pisces' eyes lit up and died the way an old light bulb blows when you throw the switch. She says to Aquarius, her voice low, she says, "You know I can't." "But it's Sagittarium!" "I know."

"Look," Aquarius says, pulling her hood up. "I've got a plan. You turned me on to listening to them, and I know how big a fan you are. We're sneaking you in." She smirks, hand on her hip.

"But how? There's no way I'll get in." Lifting her right arm, Pisces shows Aquarius her tattoo. The Pisces sign in black on the inside of her wrist. The stigma. "As I said, little minnow, I have a plan."

Pisces didn't like Aquarius' plans, but she meant well. And she was right. She had to see them live. Nine years back, before the updated restrictions were enforced, Pisces would wake up every morning, drink a glass of tap water, and make it to the record store five minutes before they opened. Pisces always wanted to be the first to listen to any new release. Any record. "Anything new" was her favorite type of music.

The manager with the keys every morning, A Leo, he was always excited to see Pisces there sitting at the front door. One morning when Pisces asked the manager, "Anything new?" What was new was Sagittarium's first album, "Circles." Pisces was the first person to buy it, back when they were allowed, and she instantly fell in love with their music. After the new enforcement codes went into effect, Pisces, she had to ask Aquarius to buy them for her.

The weekend comes up fast. Friday morning, Aquarius shows up with her boyfriend, Taurus. And his best friend, Leo. Aquarius was wearing a tight red dress with adjustable shoulder straps that pulled her cleavage up to her neck. Taurus and Leo, they had some hip new black pants adorned with chains and studs. Sagittarium T-shirts on. All of it underneath raggedy robes with large hoods. Aquarius bangs on Pisces' door again. "Open up, little minnow!" The door flies right open, Pisces shaking with her hands balled up in front of her chest. She asks, so what's the plan?

The boys, Leo and Taurus, they played chess in the front room while Aquarius painted Pisces' wrist. The brush, dipped in cream colored paint, sliding cold across her tattoo. It nearly matched her skin tone, but not enough. Blowing on it, Aquarius says not to worry. She brought her makeup bag, too. "We'll get in blended in right. And tonight, you'll be a Libra!"

Pisces half smiles. "Well, it looks great. But, um. What about my Sign Card?" Aquarius put Taurus to work two days back with some laminated cardstock. He's a graphic designer. Good with photoshop. At least enough to fool the security guards at the festival entrance. "Reach into my left pocket," says Aquarius, blowing on the painted skin.

Pisces digs for the card, and looking at it, she finally lets herself feel excited. She thinks maybe she'll get to see them after all. Aquarius, still blow drying the paint, breath after breath, she says, "I've already bought two tickets. So, it shouldn't be any trouble. Okay, I think it's dry." She blends it in with foundation to match Pisces' skin, and then draws the Libra sign tattoo in permanent marker. "Good enough! Just be mindful not to rub it." Aquarius smirks, proud of her ingenuity.

It's time to leave, and everyone throws their robes back on. Pisces leaves her legally assigned Sign Card under her pillow. "Libra." She says, holding it to her chest. The others exit first, and Pisces lifts up on her doorknob so it'll line up with the latch to lock.

After the four of them make it out of the Pisces district. After they get two whole blocks away, they check around them to make sure nobody will see, and they toss their robes aside. Pisces wears a two-piece outfit Aquarius brought for her. It's a bit too big, but Aquarius finds a few safety pins in her makeup bag, and they cinch it up to fit. It's a black tank top and skirt with a shimmering blue stripe running diagonally from shoulder to hip. Black stockings with the same royal blue hem run up to the middle of her ashen thighs.

"You. Look. Hot!" Aquarius squeals, and Pisces blushes.

Walking there, Pisces isn't used to being a Libra. So, Aquarius has to keep pulling her out of the shadows. Telling her, "Honey, you're fine. Libra, remember?" "Oh, right."

"And," Aquarius whispers into her hear. Her breath hot through Pisces' hair, she says, "Stop covering your wrist like that. People are going to think you're a Pisces. Act proud, girl!"

By the time they arrive at the Leo Plaza, Pisces feels confident about her "Libra walk." She tells herself, approaching the ticket gates that nobody will even know she's a Pisces.

Just act natural.

The guard checks her tattoo, then her card, and she hopes he didn't notice her hands trembling. Inside, the four of them scope out a spot to set up, but it's crowded. Leo, Aquarius' boyfriend, he says they'll go do some scouting. "Hold your chin up a little higher," Aquarius whispers, her teeth clenched together.  Pisces listens, and raises her chin. Telling herself, Tonight, I'm a Libra!

The right perimeter is the food side. Two-dozen food trucks selling the best from around the world. Overpriced, but you can't bring your own in. The left side has sideshows. Circus attractions. Games that scam you. Dartboards painted with big, fat minnows. The word Pisces painted into its sun-bleached pink scales with a million tiny holes from years of playing darts. Knock down the pins with the ball to win a purple moose. That kind of thing. Everywhere sat couples on blankets, some with flags proudly displaying the face of a lion. A scorpion of glowing stars. The Scorpios. Blankets with more space than people. The loners.

Flags with oversized crab claws pinching a lion and a fish in half. Mostly, these ones were Libra frat boys. The second best. Leos might be some high-hat cats, but Libras never get off their high horse. They check out a few of the games, and Aquarius gets a sniff of something and has to go find and eat whatever it is. "I'll catch back up with you!" She disappears into the crowd. At the first tent, the walls are lined with prizes. Stuffed animals ranging from small to large, bottom to top. Pisces noticed a small section to the left, one of the smallest prizes. A stuffed minnow. Cornflower blue with magenta fins. When she asks the staff how she can win a fish, he asks her, does she have a dog at home? "What" She asks. "Why?

"Nobody wants those, 'cept for as chew toys." He chuckles and fans his hand out. "All you gots to do is pop one of thems water balloons. Three darts. Five coins." The Carnie, Pisces sees his wrist when he drops the darts into the wood in front of her. An Aquarius.

"Okay," Pisces, who reminds herself that tonight, she's Libra, says, "here." And leaves five coins out. Half her money.

"One balloon! That's all for the fish." He steps out of the way.

On the dartboard, two balloons are painted to look like eyeballs. They're clipped up and hanging over the painted fish's face. Pisces throws the first dart. It's front heavy, making it nosedive early and land on the tip of the painting's fin. Before she can throw the second dart, a voice next to her, he says, "If you miss I'll pay for three more." On his wrist, the Capricorn symbol tattoo. Its sun-faded ink stretched and skewed from growing with age. He smiles at her.

"Thanks, but I'm not going to miss." Is that what a Libra would say? Pisces wonders. She looks forward and takes aim. The second dart lands just beneath one of the huge, bulging water balloon eyes. Capricorn gives the back and forth glance, and doesn't say anything.

The last dart lands, spilling water into the grass as the one eye deflates. The Aquarius Carnie hands Pisces the fish, and she shoves it into her purse to swoon over later. At Capricorn, she shrugs and explains that it's a chew toy. "Of course." He laughs. "Hey... You're a Libra, right?"

"Obviously!" Pisces scoffs, overtly looking at the paint on her wrist. "So, you think you could cut us in line for the Ferris wheel?"

Pisces had never been on one, and thought she would probably be afraid of heights. She didn't know for sure. "I can do that?" She asks, not thinking. "Please, you guys are basically Leos."

She tries again to play along. "Oh, stop it."

"A bashful Libra? Ha!" He grabs her hand and says he'll buy her a snow-cone first. They cut in line with the card Aquarius' boyfriend made up. The home-laminated Libra Sign card, printed with middle-class black ink got them to the front of the line, but the rules clearly stated: No snow cones allowed.

Pisces got a lemon brain freeze and tossed what was left into the waste bin. They stepped into their two-person gondola, and Capricorn said, "Don't worry. It only takes a couple of minutes to go around. We'll be out before the band's on." The door clicked shut behind them. They started moving. The sun had just set, but the Ferris wheel lifted them high enough to see it set again. They only just met, and Pisces thinks it might be the sugar high, but her heart flutters when he grabs onto her hand. His palm wet against hers after a hot day. The extra light from the sunset nobody but them can see, it isn't helping. Pisces is sweating through the paint on her wrist. She notices it starting to crack through, and keeps it tilted so Capricorn won't see.

When he asks her what kind of dog she has, Pisces thinks, What kind of dog would a Libra have? An Australian Shepard, she tells him. How many siblings does a Libra have? What is a Libra's favorite sport? He asks, were her parents Libras, too? What is a Libra's favorite flower? Food? Phone number? The wheel begins moving, or the sun goes down again. What did a Libra drive here? Pisces, she's trying to keep up. Act natural. What does a Libra listen to? She answers honestly, for once. "Anything new, I guess. I like Sagittarium." "Well, then you're in the right place."

That's the last thing he said to her before his double-take at her wrist. "Is that... Paint?" Pisces had gotten distracted by his questions. She wasn't mindful enough to hide it, but she tries lying. Lies are not a strong-suit for Pisces.

"Let me see that!" Capricorn grabs her by the elbow, jerking Pisces toward him. She pulls back, but it's too late. His grip is strong, and he's thumbing at it. Scraping it away, smudging his thumb with the fake skin. Latex, dyes, and makeup powder smeared into a ripple. Wiped clean off from the layer of building sweat beneath it. From the heat, and the worry. Her tattoo shows.

Pisces.

The gondola's door opens to the line of people they cut in front of. Capricorn's jaw buried in his shirt collar, he yells, "Pisces!" pointing at her. The crowd outside murmurs. They're not even allowed in. Capricorn steps out holding his hands halfway up. He disappears into the crowd saying he's got to wash them, and the people turn their heads back. Looking at Pisces.

She tries to bide her time and escape the corner she's in, lying like a Libra. "Oh please, that Aquarius." Flicking her wrist. A dismissal. "He's such a prankster." Tattoo hand on her purse, she shows everyone her fake Libra card with the other. Pisces puts on her best poker face, making her way outside just before someone finally shouts, "Show us your arm!"

Pisces turns to run, but a large Taurus man grabs onto her. He pulls her wrist out and lifts it up for all to see. "A Fish!" He shouts, tossing her forward. She catches herself, but already people are pulling little white cylinders from their bags. Their back pockets. Pisces turns to run, going face first into a few people. They pop the caps off their little bottles. The tops punched with various sizes of holes. They shake out fish food. The flake kind. Green and orange transparent because it's so thin. The air stinks like stale sea brine from a thousand tiny flakes snowing down over Pisces.

They chant, "Fish bitch! Fish bitch! Fish bitch!" Pumping one fist, shaking fish food down with the other. Pisces eyes wet up with tears, and the flakes pick it up, soaking onto her skin. Like flecks of glitter surround her eyes, but they're too large, and they don't shine. They just stink.

She gets up and starts to run. Her only sense of direction is away from the music, because that's the way to the door. The people, most of them have a second bottle. Inside, a reel of fishing line with a hook at the end. It's got lead weights attached for easier throwing. With tears and fish food swelling up, blurring her vision, Pisces makes the longest bounds her short legs allow her to. Behind her, spinning hands build momentum for the hooks. They let go and send them flying. Chasing after Pisces. Most of them miss. One, a triple-sided hook, snags onto her leg beneath the skirt. She pulls it forward, taking another step, and it rips backward, taking a chunk of skin with it. Behind her, someone yells "Ooooohhweee! I almost had her!"

Others, still chanting "Fish bitch!"

Others, throwing hooks on lines as Pisces runs away. Hooks shoot past her. They grab into her hair. Cut into her tank top. Dig into her shoulders. Her back. Both sides of her legs and arms bloodied and pouring red.

The next thing she sees is an arm fly up. The next thing she feels is like a wall in her face. And it's black.

When she wakes up, it's black out. Pisces tastes iron in her mouth. When she tongues at it, there's a raw spot where her canine tooth used to be. Her eyes feel swollen. From being hit, or maybe an allergy to the food flakes, she didn't know. Every inch of skin stung when she pushed herself up, away from the earth. Next to her, her purse. With both hands she dove into it. Her crimson stains from hook wounds forever tear-dropped into the thin polyester fish design.

Pisces knew she had better not get caught being outside after curfew. Especially without her Sign Card. Above her in the sky, the Leo constellation. The lion's tail pointed the way home. It was a long walk, but nothing is quite as bad when you've got a plush animal to hug onto.

End-

[iugesorbust]

The city of Christchurch is a patchwork of pedestrian shopping areas and public art and empty construction sites. The town is built around the Avon River, and the entire riverbank is a beautiful green park with lots of public sculptures. The historical cathedral was one of the buildings that was split in two by the earthquake, and so Cathedral Square, a central park in the city, has a feeling of incompleteness. But the city is clearly trying very hard to keep Christchurch attractive.

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Their main shopping area is made of metal shipping containers, which actually is a fun looking way to have lots of little pop-up stores. We ate lunch at one of the outdoor seating areas and walked around the brightly colored storefronts. After lunch, our group splintered again, with half of us going to find the Earthquake Museum, and half going to try to catch the mountain gondola outside the city in a town called Lyttleton.

Unfortunately, we found out that the museum was moved too late and it had closed by the time we had arrived at its new location. I’ll be going today, so it worked out. With a few more hours until we were planning to meet up with the rest of our group, we continued to walk around the city.

One of the things that struck me about Christchurch is how clean it is. There’s very little litter, the streets and sidewalks are nearly spotless, and the vast majority of graffiti was street art. I don’t have many pictures, but there are numerous giant murals all over the city. There was very little honking, though construction noises pervaded everywhere.  Additionally, there are no panhandlers or homeless people that we could see. I’m not sure of the politics behind this, but it made walking around pleasant.   In fact, I saw a public bench that had edible plants growing around it, with signs encouraging people to eat them. I don’t think such a thing would ever be built in NYC.

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Our next destination was the “Cardboard Church” a replacement cathedral while the old one is being repaired. It was designed by a Japanese “emergency architect,” and it is a very simple, large A structure with most of its main supports made of large cardboard tubes. It wasn’t very attractive. But there was a boy’s choir practicing hymns, and their voices gave the space an aura of serenity and reverence. Nearby there was a memorial to those that died in the 2011 earthquake, an area of empty chairs of various types, all painted white. The rest of the afternoon and evening was spent walking around the downtown, and then we met for dinner.

The following morning, we all met in the hotel lobby at 5:15 sharp with our bags all packed. We were ready to be sent off to Antarctica. Sometime overnight, the hotel’s internet network went down (allegedly caused by malware on a guest’s USB stick?). We had heard rumors that the weather down South was too rough and that we’d be delayed at least a day, but no news had gotten through to us. A shuttle pulled up, and we all started gathering our bags. The driver rushed out and told us there was a 24 hour delay, but that we’d have training at 7:30. We all shrugged and went back to our rooms.

We arrived back at the Antarctic Center at 7:30 for a series of powerpoint presentations and videos that taught us about fire safety, health, proper waste disposal, and the rules for driving light vehicles. The fire officer was entertaining, though he made it seem like fires in McMurdo occur daily. Antarctica is the driest, windiest place in the world, and there’s a lot of flammable material in a tight space in the research stations. Fire doesn’t really care if it’s 100F or -50F, and it always wants to get behind you. The medical officer sent in a video presentation of him talking at his desk in McMurdo. He seemed no-nonsense and glib, like Doctor McCoy from Star Trek. It’s probably not too dissimilar a job. Condoms cannot withstand extreme cold, so don’t keep them in the outer pockets of your parka! Waste disposal is complicated and rigorously eco-friendly, but it will take some getting use to all the very specific and enforced sorting rules. The motor vehicle presentation was a very snazzy government instructional video, with early 90s easy listening jazz and smooth male narrator. It was pretty funny.

Back near the hotel, me and a few of my group-mates had a very lackluster lunch of fish and chips from a hole in the wall across from the hotel, eaten while wandering around the suburbs of Christchurch looking for a spot to sit down (we eventually found a small park).

We journeyed downtown to go to Quake City, a museum devoted to showcasing information about the February 2011 earthquake, and the rescue and repair activities afterwards. We learned that in Maori mythology, Ruaumoko, the god of earthquakes, is still a fetus inside the womb of the mother Earth, Papatuanuku. When he kicks, earthquakes occur on the surface. There are records of large earthquakes from the start of European colonization of Canterbury region, NZ, two hundred years ago . Nearly every ten years, a large earthquake destroys parts of Canterbury. The most recent disasters, the Sept 2010 earthquake and the Feb 2011 earthquakes destroyed 80% of Christchurch’s downtown area. Historic cathedral spires, rose windows, and the historic City Council building all fell down. However, it seems like parts of these buildings fell down in previous earthquakes too. Without belittling the trauma and devastation, why did they keep building tall spires and stained glass windows that would then be destroyed? The museum had a number of testimonies of people who experienced the earthquake first hand. One father and daughter were at a public pool, and the water sloshed like a tsunami around the building. One office worker devised a way to repel down using ropes. A woman in an office building was trapped for five hours in the rubble and lost several fingers.

The efforts of numerous organizations and thousands of people have made the city of Christchurch a pleasant place to live. There has been a huge effort to fill the empty spaces with art. In many ways, it is inspiring to see the resilience and cooperation of the New Zealanders in the face of such a disaster. On the other hand, it should not be optional in these areas to build earthquake-resistant architecture, and I think the fact that some of these historic buildings have been rebuilt multiple times raises the question of whether it’s wise to rebuild things exactly as they were.

Our next stop was the Canterbury Museum, a natural history and history museum housed in a very stately stonework building on the edges of the Botanical Gardens and Christ’s College. Right across the street, there is a very beautiful building which I think is the art center, but there’s quite a lot of signage about Ernest Rutherford and his discovery of the electron. I hadn’t realized it, but he’s a New Zealander.

The Canterbury Museum is very similar to the older exhibits in the NY American Museum of Natural History. Musty stuffed animals, Maori artifacts, and historic Antarctic artifacts were the exhibits that we sought out and enjoyed. There was an exhibit devoted to the moa, a giant bird that looks like a mix between a kiwi and an ostrich that the Maori hunted to extinction. The next hall was split between Maori artifacts and early European colonial artifacts. There was a room that focused on Maori familial lineages, which was interesting just for having hundreds of pictures of Maori women over the years. There was a lot to learn just from the evolution of these women’s names and appearances over the last two centuries, from Maori to Western names and from Maori hairstyles and clothes, to Western dress in the early-mid 1900s and then back to Maori dress.

My favorite exhibit of course was the Antarctic history exhibit. There were old photographs and artifacts of the seal hunters of the late nineteenth century and of the heroic age of exploration. Apparently Scott did an aerial survey of the Ross Ice Shelf in 1904 from a hot air balloon, like our project but 100 years ago. I always have mixed feelings about Heroic-age explorers. They did incredible things and are testaments to human bravery, but their motivations were so nationalistic. The most glaring mistakes they made were because they didn’t listen to other people’s advice. Shackleton was told repeatedly that sailing to the Ross Sea so late in the season would get his ship trapped in ice, and that’s what happened. Scott felt sled-dogs were “unsportsmanlike” so he brought ponies and then when they died and had to be eaten, the sleighs were pulled by them by hand. I don’t know. Hindsight is twenty-twenty. Their old-fashioned cold weather gear is entertaining to look at.

That evening we had dinner at the hotel restaurant. We talked about our chances of finding Scott’s corpse in the Ross Ice Shelf’s radar images (none, so stop asking, a human body is way too small to be picked up by ice-penetrating radar). The day ended, and it was unclear if we would be traveling to Antarctica the following morning, or staying in Christchurch for an undetermined amount of time. I was ready either way.

Not Enough Time in Christchurch (but then we got more time, part 2). The city of Christchurch is a patchwork of pedestrian shopping areas and public art and empty construction sites.