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kun-summacumlaude · 2 years ago

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SUMMA CUM LAUDE? #17

Happy New Year!!!

I could have started this post with so many things considering I abandoned you all for close to a year. (8 months is closer to a year than you think). Honestly I’m sorry for the terrible inconsistency, once the strike got called off the rest of the semester happened so quickly, I had no time to do anything but school because I didn’t pick up a book for 6 months and all of a sudden, exams were knocking on the door. I was in soup.

Strike Recap

I took a data science course and built an improved version of an old web app I made for CS50. I did a lot of drumming and singing. That’s about it.

Back to School

So I just read my last post. I sounded so ungrateful when I was talking about getting a 4.88 just because it wasn’t the 4.93 I had hoped for. Plus I said everyone should study during the holiday, LOOOOOL. The current holiday I said I’m not reading anything o, even though the initial plan was to study. I’m enjoying Breaking Bad a little too much to study right now.

I don’t like how I can’t put things in detail due to my inconsistency. I PROMISE to do better this semester. First week back in school, we took our EEG213 test and before I submitted that day, I knew I was done for. I actually told my siblings I could get 5/20 and was hoping for a 10/20. After that I wrote a bunch of other tests and they were all better. Some were shaky but I didn’t feel hopeless after any other one. MEG211 was terrible though, it was Isometric to Orthographic projection and I used the wrong side as the Front. My lecturer barely came to class all semester and he never mentioned the rule for deciding your front elevation. A day before the test, he sent the slide for that particular topic to us and we followed the pattern in the slide, that was my undoing. There was a rule and not a “pattern”. My desire was to get all As but after concluding my tests, I wasn’t confident, only hopeful.

When tests were done, the only things left were exams. 300-500 Level started two weeks before 100-200 Level. The initial rumour was that we would write in January and I was happy but after concluding exams on the 23rd of December, I was so happy that didn't happen. Before exams, I saw the Unilag overnight culture in full flow. Also, the World Cup was happening at the same time. And the last issue, where to study. Last exam I was at a private hostel, I never thought about where to study but being on campus, it was a problem.

Studying in my hostel during the World Cup was challenging because as a football fan who stayed away from the screen at Jaja's Quadrangle, I couldn't block out the noise and of course I would want to know what was happening. That was one place to study, on my bed in the room. The second place was the office at Arts. During exams I just did not go there at all because it was packed, I'm not the only one that goes there and I'm down the pecking order if I'm being honest, it wasn't going to work. So I asked a friend in 400 Level Finance where he studied and he said AKT. AKT isn't bad, you just need a good spot but it wasn't going to work for me in the long run (I had to eat, toilet and all that. The distance was too much), I went there only two times. That's three place's now. A fourth place which never took off was my relative's office at Architecture, he was busy outside so he wasn't available. And finally, the last minute place I am really thankful for: The Faculty.

I don't know of it was deliberate but Room 115 was always free, it really mattered to me during the exams, plus they began to open classes for overnight which meant I could stay and study till 11pm which was how I liked to do if. Electrical and Civil classes but on weekends they were locked which gave me serious problems. Weekends were terrible and I had to manage my room. We Thank God in the end.

Overnight Culture

I am not a fan. Simple and short. I prefer to study through the day and sleep well at night so I can start my day in the morning, works much better for me. Lots of people study overnight and I just can't. Do what works for you, it's all self discipline. Overnight is also an avenue to deceive yourself. If you can't focus on your books around a particular person or people, don't try to study with them, you'll waste your time and regret it in the end. Important PS: Stop Littering! Overnight guys were so dirty gosh. And the classes had bins. Sad. I almost forgot. The scary thing about overnight was the consumption of Energy Drinks. The rate of consumption was crazy, I'm sure they sold thousands of bottles during exams. If you can't stay up at night to study even with prior sleep, help yourself by studying during the day. It was honestly scary to see because those drinks are sugar.

Examinations

I started my exams on the 17th of December, MEG211 being the first paper. It was 3 hours long, enough time in my opinion but I was under so much tension I made mistakes in three different drawings so I had to do all three of them twice. This affected my Isometric Drawing, I couldn't complete my Isometric Circle. It hurt but I had to move on because I had 9 other papers to prepare for. —Before I move on, it pays to study through the semester and not try to work magic through overnight. Put in the effort. — I enjoyed my sleep during exams, I didn't even use an alarm except for the last day because it was different from others. Two exams on Monday, one on Tuesday, two on Wednesday, one on Thursday and three on Friday (7am). EEG213, the bane of my semester was actually really great. The exam was one of my best papers. Hopefully the results match. Wednesday was crazy, we had Strength of Materials and Engineering Mechanics back to back. It was a lot of writing and drawing my goodness, but both exams went well. After Wednesday I relaxed a bit because I was done with the scary part of exams. Little did I know, EEG211 people were about to do me dirty shege.

So Friday the special day was special because we had EEG211 and EEG231 at 7am, you'd start one and do the other in one sitting. Being the serious student I am and wanting few minutes to prepare for my paper at 9am, I got to DLI very early that day. I logged in, did everything and started my paper. On the first page I saw questions on Sinusoidal Steady State Analysis (which we were not taught! It wasn't mentioned in class) so I skipped those questions and did the 9/15 on that page that I knew. On getting to the second page. I heard the Invigilator say "PART OF THE RULES IS THAT YOU CANNOT GO BACK". EXCUSE ME WHAT?!! Something actually left me the moment I heard that, it was like I saw the A flying away from me because I was so prepared for everything we were taught. I couldn't believe the Lecturers would take away the option to go back to questions you skipped in an EXAMINATION. We has 35 questions and 25 minutes, of course I wouldn't want to spend a second on questions I'm not sure of if there are questions I could answer in much quicker time. They gave us little time and took away our flexibility without informing us and I guess it was sweet to them, it made them happy because they all say they want us to do well but they act differently. What even made me more upset was the Invigilator saying "Part of examination is to read the instructions". Here me out, THERE WERE ZERO INSTRUCTIONS ON THE SCREEN. It was just login and start, nothing said about anything, we were set up real bad. And in the heat of it all, before I moved to page 3, it was 15-15-10. I checked all 15 questions to be sure I didn't skip anything, on getting to the third page, I saw that I actually skipped a 7th question. I couldn't believe I checked twice and still missed it. This whole thing flattened me. In the end I answered 28/35 questions, let's say it's over 60. That means I'm fighting for a 48/60. At this point I don't know how I'm going to get an A but I'll just continue to pray and trust in God. We had two tests, first was meh and second was good. I attended all classes and did all assignments so we'll see.

EEG231 was also a nonsense exam really. 40 questions and 20 minutes. Made no sense. I guessed a lot and I also have to just wait hopefully that this result also surprises me. Asides these two, the rest were okay.

Second semester starts in less than a week, I will be here preparing myself mentally while I complete Breaking Bad.

Turned 20 yesterday, Grateful to God.

I've attached a picture that shows my progress in how I felt about each course from time to time based on exam reading. The last ones were just before the exam. The ones with arrows shows a change after the exam. I've put two Bs there but I pray God surprises me.

Bye for now. I’m thinking one every two months. Don’t want to put up short posts every week you know.

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resurrectedclones · 3 years ago

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So I, like many other people in the DP fandom, have mixed feelings on the Fenton parents. In terms of if they are actually good parents. So I rewatched the first 10 episodes (technically 9 since they’re not in Shades of Gray), to try and come to a more objective conclusion. I watched all the scenes with Jack and Maddie in them and made a list of the good things I saw and the bad things.

Good

Maddie noticed a change in Jazz’s behavior

Maddie was worried about possibly hurting Jazz

Jack was willing to stop ghost hunting after seeing how upset Jazz was

Maddie wanted to make a good impression when chaperoning Danny’s first dance

Maddie was concerned about how tired Danny looked after coming home

Both were concerned about the loud noises coming from Danny's room

Both want Danny to learn the value of earning his own money

Both talk to Danny about his negative change in behavior

Jack listens to Jazz criticism about not talking about their past and attempts to fix it

Both came running when Jazz called them about something being wrong with Danny

Bad

Maddie uses a welding torch with sparks flying very close to Jazz and Danny who are not wearing any protective equipment (this happens twice, and Jazz was holding a flammable book the first time.)

Both attack Jazz with a device that could rip hair out

Both attack Jazz with a net they mention a ghost could escape but not a human

Jack mocked Jazz to her face

Jack left Danny alone in the lab with an invention meant to pull ghosts through the portal with no instructions or protection

Jack made Danny think he'll take his anger out on him if he tells him bad news

Both use untested devices around their kids

Jack handed Danny a clogged invention with it still turned on

Jack uses accusatory language towards Danny (a lot more than I remember)

Maddie uses ectoplasm to cook food

Neither got rid of the hostel ecto weenies and just left them in the fridge for their kids to find

Both make plans to hover over his personal locker without telling Danny

Jack carelessly uses an invention that can punch through metal piping

Both make last minute trip plans for their kids without any input from them

Both work on inventions outside the lab (at least three times)

Neither tell their kids what buttons in the GAV will set off weapons

Both redo an experiment that hospitalized their friend with no new safety precautions, that could be seen, in their own home

Jack talked over Danny when he tried to ask a question about homework

Both were too busy fighting to notice the specter speeder flying into the ghost zone with Danny in it (I ignored a few other instances where they didn’t notice things they probably should have because that’s a constant for every superhero show, but this one was really blatant.)

Maddie didn't tell the kids she was planning to leave on a trip or why

Jack leaves the kids alone at home with no warning

Maddie keeps ecto samples in the fridge with their food

Both drop all worry for Danny at the mention of a ghost

It does kind of paint a picture huh? I might continue through the rest of the episodes to see if there’s a change in their behavior, but so far it does seem that while they do love their kids and want to be good parents, it doesn’t make up for their carelessness and danger they put them in.

#Danny Phantom

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katoktm6 · 2 years ago

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June 19. The lost hours

Last night, Hostal clean, no AC and a small non oscillating fan that would only circulate for 60 minutes at a time…people out on the street talking, yelling all night. Elyse barely slept, and I woke up every hour to restart the fan…I woke at 4:30 with a new idea and waited until 5:00 alarm…sat on side of bed and told Elyse, “I have an idea”. What if we leave our bags at the hotel, hike our coastal hike with our small packs, just bring water, sunscreen, and food ( no water or towns until the end of hike) then we could get a taxi back to our hotel, get bags, and taxi back to our new Hostal..excitedly we prepared for the day…22 kilometer hike and lots of climbing…how expensive can the taxi be? It was only $15 dollars yesterday…while we were deciding, Elyse opened her Polarsteps blog and found a message from Andy, my brother…that said something like open your wallets, enjoy where you are, live life! So, we left the bags and lightened our load and headed out happy and healthy…tons of water, a big sandwich to split between breakfast and lunch, cherries, a peach, and survival food…still heavy, but not as…for what we figured would be a 5-6 hour hike…signs say 3-4 hours.

Up and out at 5:45.. to the marina and then up up up up we were following the green and white striped signs today rather than the red and white because the coastal walk, the local walk was supposed to be gorgeous…it was spectacular. BUT …we soon learned, but not soon enough that many trails are green and white…we hiked to cove…down down down…took a million photos, then hiked up up up…but maybe too up..unclear where we went wrong, but we were at the top of a cliff, then the top of a trail, the bottom of a canyon, back up, out, up, around and back and up and back and a runner flies by…but we were so disoriented on the green and white, that we gathered ourselves, grit, perseverance, resilience, everything we expect from our students we put into use today…all day…3 hours later we were back to where we should have been after 30 minutes. Some great photos though…see terrain photos…

Back on track, time to hike to another cove… but behind on the steep descent..yelling, music, etc…probably 50 high schoolers headed to the same tiny beach cove. Ugh..on we go, legs tired. Get to cove, but just kept going up and over that cliff cove to the next which was “28 minutes” away…it is now around 11:00…an hour later we opt to bypass the next cove I order to beat the sun…but our new path was only sun…stop in shade to eat the other half of our sandwich and sip water, as we are still conserving as we have PTSD from the other day…only 2:45 hours left til we are done for the day…I will stop describing the hike here…it got a bit sketchy…when we decided we could not go any further and called a taxi, we were still “1:50 “ from our final point on the trail..it was 4:00. 10 hours of hiking.

The rest of this story…which takes place in the blazing sun, cliff sides,and steep ascents and descents, Elyse and I agree, is best to tell in person.. we keep looking at each other amazed at what our bodies are capable of doing.

Called taxi from yesterday…to drive back to hotel and get bags, and back to new hostel was $88! Ugh! But it would have been physically impossible to do this hike with our packs. No possible way…taxi driver talked non stop entir time while Elyse and I switched off nodding and agreeing with him while the other closed eyes..Mr. Chirp Chirp.

Hostal clean and owners charming. Showered (had to use my sock as a washcloth to clean the dirt and sunscreen off my ankles) laundry, booked Hostel for me for the rest of the way..but this trail is soooo difficult, I don’t think it safe for solo travel. I may get to the towns and day hike…I don’t need to prove anything or be a hero…although…

Dinner at the local bar..tapas. We let our waiter order typical tapas from the region…because, as always, no meals served after 3:00. This town has an anchovies museum and is famous for them. So we have delicious anchovies in vinegar on bread, grilled calamari,prawns, cannelloni, and potatoes with garlic mayonnaise…waiters choice. Plus I am drinking local red wine delicious…dragonfly in Spanish

Day was sooooo long unplanned. Tomorrow we will hike a portion of the 20 MILE route and taxi to Roses, Spain…spend the afternoon exploring town and Citidal. What to do about bags, we cannot decide….but we do know the route is the only flat day!

If you followed me on the Camino de Santiago…I loved every second, villages, people, food, wine, lifelong friends…this is different…the most beautiful hikes I have ever taken…amazing. But so technically difficult we don’t have the time or strength for more at the end of the day…and no other thru hikers..we think people know to transfer bags and day hike each section..we are in our final few days together and opting for possible plan Bs.. proud of what our bodies cans do, but not the Vibe of the Camino…having an adventure for sure!

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horrorslashergirl · 4 years ago

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The Lurking One: A Shadow Horror Story

Authors Note: Decided to write a story for my newest Slasher OC, Shadow. People seem to really like him, despite him not having a face claim. lol

Warning: 18+ for horror, gore and torture, plus add in trauma

Words: 2.4k words

It was one of these late at night study sessions for the ones that slacked during the year and had to catch up with what they lost; Giula was one of them and she cursed herself for letting her time be filled with sorority activities and parties.

The Northeastern University campus was empty save for the security guard; Guila being the only student who was currently in the library catching up to a project that was due to tomorrow. She could have done it back at the sorority house, but she knew the girls would distract her and tempt her with other activities such as preparing for a college festival that was in two weeks.

Her grades were more important than social activities that would print into her status, not to mention her parents who had a talk with her about the fact that college wasn't a gateway for drinking and hooking up with guys.

Guila sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose, checking the old antique clock of the library.

10:35 PM

Her gaze moved back to the tons of files and books on the wood desk she was sat at. She just finished the project, but she needed to revise it to make sure everything was perfectly done. The grade for this project was important and she wasn't looking for another discussion with her parents and the headmaster.

She will look it over in the morning; she needed to be fresh tomorrow for the presentation and looking like a crackhead in front of the judges wasn't a pro in the book. Putting everything back into her bag neatly, she pulled her hair out of the tight ponytail, letting her auburn locks fall freely down her back, almost to the hips.

Walking out of the library and locking the door; thank God the old library lady was a sweetheart and left the keys for her to close. She walked down the hallways and taking the old victorian ascensor to the low floor. Before she could exit the building she stopped by the cubicle of the security guard, handing him the keys.

"All done for tonight, dear?" Arthur asked, taking the keys and setting them on his desk.

"Well, finally so. I will have to own Mrs. Hariot for leading me the keys to the library." Giula told the old man with a smile.

"Ahhh...She's an angel among here. Trust me, it was her pleasure." he old the girl, sitting back down at his desk, a copy of Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen was on the desk.

"Have a good night without incidents, Sir." Giula told the gentleman guard who nodded.

"Nothing ever happens around here. Kids nowadays don't read books anymore, so I don't think someone will try to break into the library." Arthur joked, making Giulia giggle and nod, although feeling a little by what he said.

"I suppose so. Good night." the girl waved off, stalking towards the exit.

"Likewise, dear!" Arthur called after her, going back to the classic novel.

As she opened the door, a chilly air hit Giulia in the face, making her wrap her arms around herself. It was definitely colder than when she got in the morning here. It was earlier spring, the days warm, but the nights reminding that the winter just recently moved away.

She was wearing a white button-down with dark blue jeans and some ballet flats that made her legs all shaky; her light brown cardigan not helping at all. She couldn't wait to get back to the sorority house and bask in the warmness of her bed and away from the coldness of the night.

It was just a 20 minutes long time walk to the house, but it seemed like much more to her now that she was all alone and shivering like a hairless cat.

Mentally, she cursed her parents for not letting her drive, always scolding her that she wasn't ready. Overly protective parents and their old school mentality always made Giulia feel like she was still a baby. She was 22 and in the second year of college for Christ's sake.

She couldn't wait to finish college and get a job; Oh the dream of having her own apartment and not having to deal with doll-like girls who owned Porches all because of their wealthy daddies. Now thinking more about it, she was the only one who didn't have an overly rich family; maybe the girls kept her because she was the only one who was first to clean a mess, make breakfast when the others were hungover.

The streets were all deserted, none was outside, most people here being locals since birth or college students who basked in cheap beer and gossips at this hour.

This neighbor that gave off hostel-like vibes made her skin be covered in goosebumps, smelling a faint scent of weed, beer and hearing the music blasting from the apartments above. The police wouldn't come to stop the noise, since there was none to be bothered by the hypnotic beat.

Guila could feel eyes on her, but every time she turned around to take a look there was none, just the slight wet streets and alleyways that adored this place. Each time she passed one, she would halt her walking, afraid two big clawed hands will brisk her away into darkness.

She rolled her eyes as a guy from above cat-called her, probably drunk off his ass, and his girlfriend a few feet away from him at the window making out with his best friend.

Boston really was filled up with these types of students, getting great opportunities and throwing said blessing out the window because of blinding hormones, and the idea of being young means I'm indestructible.

'Just 10 more minutes and you will be home.' Giulia thought to herself, but it quickly went off the window as pain shot through her scalp, before she knew it she was dragged into the darkness of an alleyway.

One strong arm wrapped around the middle section of her waist, but the other moved to her neck, feeling the prickle of something cold against her neck; a blade, a knife, something that was indeed sharp.

"Scream and you can say arrivederci to your precious vocal cords." the person that held her spoke, voice raspy and very eerie, definitely a male.

"P-Please...Don't kill me." Giulia whispered, afraid that if she raises her voice too much, he won't keep on his promises.

"Shush now. I heard that line all too many times and it gets very monotonous." the man spoke right by her ear, running what she assumed was a scalpel over her cut, not slitting her throat, but surely making a small cut to show that he wasn't playing games.

She was panicking, her breathing getting more on the hysterical edge, then she did the first thing she could think of. She kicked him in one of his shins, making him groan, but he didn't back off. He did throw her in the opposite direction of the alleyway against the brick wall. Giulia grunted and whimpered as she hit the ground right into a puddle.

Her hazel eyes looked up and she felt terror strick her as he stalked over to her wet and bruised form, like a panther ready to pounce on its prey. She could scream, but the music from the apartments above was so loud she wouldn't have a chance in someone hearing her.

One cold leather-gloved hand wrapped around her neck and he slammed her back into the wall, showing so much strength that got her the image of him snapping her tiny neck like a twig.

"That was some dirty move you put up there, little wench. Although I am a very patient man." he whispered, and now that he was in front of her, she could make out what he looked like.

He was wearing all black, probably a very expensive tailored suit with a scarlet red tie, not even a glimpse of skin was shown. What really caught her attention was his vintage-looking fedora and the creepy raven like a mask.

A doctor purge mask? She heard of them from her brother who was very into history.

"W-Who are you?" Giulia choked, his hand tightening around her throat at the question.

He hummed like he was deep in thought.

"I think the public eye has birthed me as the Shadow." he answered her question.

It took only a few seconds for Giulias eyes to widen and her body to tremble. She heard on the news about him; the unknown brutal killer, never seen, none to survive to tell the story and how they described his murderers on television.

The killer known now as Shadow chuckled at her horrified face.

"Ahhhh....So you heard of me. Good. I hate to explain information to someone who cannot even work their brain enough to avoid someone dangerous." he mused, making the young woman whimper and cry, then she began to swing her legs in an attempt to hurt him.

Only for her head to be slammed multiple times against the brick wall until her vision blacked and she fell on the dirty ground by the pristine black Oxfords he was sporting.

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The lightbulb above flickered to life and Giulia opened her eyes, looking around like a desperate animal caged, or more like chained by her neck, a metal collar digging into the skin of her neck and creating red and purple marks.

Her doe-like eyes looking around and stopped on the black-clad figure.

The Shadow.

"Ahh...I'm glad you're awake. I might think I hit your head too many times on the brick wall. I usually prefer drugging my victims, but you were acting like too much of a mindless animal." he began to spoke so fluently, calm, like everything that was going on was a normal occurrence for him; like discussing the weather over a few drinks.

The man was laying some tools neatly on a metal table; surgical tools, like scalpels, forceps, scissors, retractors, and clamps. Giulia felt a bile form in her throat, starting to tug on the heavy chain that was bounded against the concrete wall; no luck.

"Let m go, you fucker!" she screamed and in an instant, her back meet the cold wall, gloved hand grasping her jaw tightly as the leather beak of the mask brushed against her face.

"You smell putrid, although there is that faint strawberry scent of your perfume." he commented, fingertips digging more into her jaw and making her whimper and sob.

In his free hand, he held a pair of surgical retractors and her eyes widened when he forced her mouth open, one finger pulling her upper lip to expose her pearly white teeth and pink gums.

"You have a nice set of teeth there. I adore your canines especially." he whispered, then he grasped one of her canines with the retractor, tugging on it and forcing a pain-filled scream from Giulia; the next twin teeth following.

Her tears filled eyes looking as he held both canines between black covered fingers.

"Very impeccable indeed." he murmured, going back to the table.

The metallic taste of blood and sterisol filled her mouth, scarlet dripping down her chin.

She knew this was far from over as his thumb run over the shiny scalpel.

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Giulia didn't know how much time has flown; one month, maybe two? She hadn't seen the light of the day in so long and she wished dead would overcome her.

She was in so much pain; the things Shadow did to her. First the canines, then her fingernails went off and when she spat on his mask she thought she was going to die as he poured acidic fluid down her scalp; her beautiful long hair was just a burned memory.

Dead was supposed to come, but the sadist treated her wounds like an expert at the hospital, only to remind her that death was far away from her.

Then the begging, telling him what she will do anything, even getting on her knees and possibly giving him new ideas. His words were absolute humiliation.

"I know what you're implying, ignorant wench." he told her as his gloved hands were running down her naked hips, then he left her.

"I'm not a rapist, darling. Never found any fascination with taking someone against their own will in that way. I prefer my slave to be willing, but you're not. So I advise next time you keep these sick fantasies to yourself." he told her, mocking and making her feel even more stupid.

She caught glimpses of him doing awful things to the other girls; one of them skinned alive and every muscle on full display.

"You're just too perfect, aren't you?" he told Giulia, making her a confused mess.

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She did manage to trick him when he was busy piercing her earlobes multiple types, having to bite her tongue as she stole the keys to her chains.

Then when he found her moving down the hallways; she almost got her leg blown off when he used a shotgun after her. She had opened the door to the exit and was meet with the night. Running through the forest, looking behind her over and over.

Her luck was finally getting to the principal road and a car passed by, getting in, and again she was in danger. The old man tried to rape her, but she was brave enough to jump out of the car when they were in town.

After 30 minutes of limping around the streets, she finally spotted a police car that was patrolling.

Interrogations followed, but she always spoke the same words, too traumatized by the events.

'He is tall and in all black. He doesn't seem human. No human could do this. He pulled all her skin off like she was a rabbit. His voice, makes me wanna throw up, it's so raspy it makes me wanna be deaf so I cannot hear it anymore in my head. What he did to the other girls...I cannot describe. He said that I'm perfect. What was that supposed to mean?'

Her parents were devasted when they found out about everything that happened and her mother fell on her knees crying over and over when she finally saw Giulia face to face.

The worst was that she could no longer be let on her own; nightmares, voices, aggressive outbursts, and feeling like she was constantly followed. She was scared of her own shadow.

When the police found the whereabouts of where Giulia was held everything was gone, not even a spot of blood like there was none there in the first place.

Why clean it all up if Shadow wanted the bodies to be found in the first place?

Needless to say...Nights in Boston weren't safe anymore.

#The Shadow #Serial Killer #Salem #Boston #Horror story #creepy story #original characters #slasher oc

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audifotograf · 5 years ago

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How I travel as often as possible

By: Claudia Manganiello

Pictured: Philippine Pesos

1. I’m a waitress.

I think the biggest reasons I love being a waitress is that I make decent money and can virtually make my own schedule. I tell my manager what days I’m available which really means what days I want to work and for the most part that is my schedule. And anytime I want to go on a vacation I just put in a request a month before, but it’s really more of a formal notice. Granted I make sure I don’t travel during busy season, too close together or for too long because I don’t want to risk not having a job when I get back. But in the past I’ve been able to travel up to 6 times a year!

2. I save alot of my extra money towards travel.

This one takes self control. Even though friends constantly invite me out to restaurants and bars, etc. I have to be selective and make sure whenever I spend it’s on something I REALLY want to because I know I much rather spend it on travel.

3. I research.

I always do some general research ahead of time on what the prices of a flight to a place are and how much things cost there (currency exchange). I also check if the prices will have a chance of spiking for instance around a busy time or holiday. This is something I look out for when I go to Miami every year for Ultra Music Festival. Most other times of the year the prices are ~$150 roundtrip, but because the festival is during Spring Break the prices can go up to $350 if you wait too long. So I start checking the flights a month earlier than usual and if I see a normal price or better I buy it because I know the prices are only going to go up. Last year I was able to find a round trip from NY to MIA for $100!!

4. I look for flights on sites like Expedia.

Two months before domestic, three before international trips I start looking up flights on Tuesdays. I check Expedia, Kayak, Syscanner and Google flights to see all different results and prices. What's great about these sites is they have features where you can see side by side how the prices can differ before or after the dates you select. This way you can choose the cheapest possible days to arrive and leave while still maximizing the time you can go away for.

Photo taken from google.com/flights.

5. I try to be as flexible as possible.

I try to work around my schedule. For example, when I was in school I had class from Monday to Thursday so ideally I would go away on a Wednesday or Thursday right after class and come back right before class on Monday. I usually worked it out so I only missed exactly one of each of my classes. But sometimes I had to weigh out the importance of the prices versus time I could go without missing too much school. I ended up going away almost every 2 months while I was in college, but I always planned in advance.

I also try to be flexible about the airport I fly out of. One time I waited too long to buy a flight to Miami and the flights were $350 roundtrip, so I flew to Fort Lauderdale instead for $200! The 45 minute drive to Miami was well worth the $150 I saved. However the cheapest airport to fly out of the New York area is usually Newark but it's not as cheap to get a ride to and its not the easiest to take public transportation with luggage. So most times I just choose the airport easiest to get to.

Less often I'm flexible about the airline I choose. I try to avoid airlines that have poor customer service because if something goes wrong the money is not worth the headache. I missed my flight home from Rome while I was literally AT THE AIRPORT waiting at the wrong gate where a flight was leaving for the same place at the same time (please learn from me: ALWAYS CHECK YOUR FLIGHT NUMBER). American was basically like sorry not sorry. This was definitely mostly my fault but I went through security, checked in and everything, so they knew I was in the building. Yet no one called my name on a loud speaker like they do in the US when someone is missing. No one would help me in person (another lesson learned: look for flights on other websites but always try to buy directly from the airline). No standby was offered. I ended up sobbing to a random lady on the phone in the middle of the airport to get a somewhat affordable flight back home the same day because everyone was just trying to sell me $1000 flights 3 days later. So even though American is often one of the cheapest options, I can't say I wouldn't pay a little more to fly a different airline.

Also sometimes flights are cheaper from smaller airlines but they don’t include a carry-on in the price like most do so it ends up being the same price anyway. If you can fit all your stuff in a backpack (which is totally possible) it could be worth it, but again be weary of the quality of customer service.

6. I stay at Airbnb's/ hostels.

If I can split a room with someone I usually coordinate and book an airbnb atleast a month in advance to get the best options and deals. One time I stayed at a private apartment in NYC for just $25 a night before! But when I traveled alone I found the cheapest option was to share a room at a hostel. I enjoyed time by myself but when I wanted to share experiences I had a bunch of people around who wanted the same thing, it was great.

7. I sort out my money ahead of time.

I have credit and debit cards with zero foreign transaction fees and once I arrive to a place I take out however much I want to budget myself at a bank atm. When I can I use my credit card and if I need more cash I take out just enough to last the rest of the trip so I don't go home with a bunch of money I can't use.

8. I use my phone as little as possible.

I don't like to use my phone much while on vacation anyway, but usually you can't really get out of needing it for GPS. I used to have Sprint which includes 2G international service in alot of countries (a fee for faster speeds), but now I have AT&T which costs $10/day so now I really only use my phone for emergencies. I try to do everything on WiFi and when I can't I try to download any maps, tickets, movies etc offline.

9. I buy groceries when I travel.

I try to buy easy stuff to eat for breakfast and lunch from a grocery store and treat myself to dinner out. It saves time and money and seeing what they sell in grocery stores in different countries has become one of my favorite things to do. I still get to try new foods but at a good price!

10. I take public transportation when possible.

Usually I have to take an uber or local ride share from the airport because of my suitcase but when I pick my airbnb I usually make sure it's also accessible to where I want to go throughout the trip.

11. I avoid expensive tours and other tourist traps.

Before paying for something I try to find a way to enjoy it for less. Instead of taking a tour of a park I just look around myself and it's often much more peaceful and interesting. I saved $20-$30 by simply going to see the Colloseum in Rome instead of paying to see the inside. Not to mention I saved myself from waiting on the long line. Another example is when I went to the Venetian hotel in Vegas I didn't ride the gondolas for $20-$30 but I still got to see them and hear them serenade.

I don't skimp on everything though, I still love to enjoy experiences as much as possible. But I spend my money on things that are worth it instead. I've gotten full body professional massages in the Philippines for $20 before, you just have to decide what is worth it to you.

#Travel #miami #nyc #Ultra music festival #Expedia #kayak #skyscanner #google flights #travel tips #airbnb #Hostel #colloseum #venetian

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godlydolans · 5 years ago

Text

50 questions

Tagged by: @atlas-of-a-human-soul

1. What color is your hairbrush?

All black with little accents of pink on the handle and the bristles (yes, I ran to my hair brush and took a good look at it before answering this.)

2. Name a food you never eat?

A lot of things, but beef is one that I will never eat.

3. Are you typically too warm or too cold?

Too cold. My hands and feet are always freezing.

4. What were you doing 45 minutes ago?

Watching a video on youtube (Glossier's drugstore dupes).

5. What’s your favorite candy bar?

I love Kitkat!

6. Have you ever been to a professional sporting event?

No.

7. What was the last thing you said out loud?

"I love it!"

8. What’s your favorite ice cream

I love Blackcurrent and also Chocolate! And now I want both 😭

9. What was the last thing you drank?

Water. My skin has been really bad these days so I'm just chuggin it every chance I get (it's working!)

10. Do you like your wallet?

Eh, it's not as spacious as I would like but it does the job. It's got pink and black cheetah print all over it and it looks cute but I prefer something more elegant looking? I'm looking at this really cute blush pink one but it's a little out of my budget atm.

11. What was the last thing you ate?

Oranges.

12. Did you buy new clothes last week?

No 😔 I've been watching a lot of clothing hauls on youtube and it's making me crave some new clothes!

13. Last sporting event you watched?

Probably a cricket match a long time ago? I don't watch sporting events.

14. What’s your favorite flavor of popcorn?

Salted butter.

15. Who was the last person you sent a message to?

@atlas-of-a-human-soul

16. Ever go camping?

No. Imagine how fun it would be if the entire tumblr fandom could go camping 🤩

17. Do you take vitamins?

No.

18. Do you go to church every sunday?

I'm hindu so no. I've never been to church.

19. Do you have a tan?

Nah dude, I'm Casper the friendly ghost 🙄

20. Do you prefer chinese food or pizza?

CHINESE!!! I mean it depends on the mood, but its chinese food 95% of the time.

21. Do you drink soda with a straw?

The only time I drink soda is when I'm in a restaurant or something and they give you the straw so yes?

22. What color socks do you wear?

I'm not wearing any at the moment.

23. Do you ever drive above the speed limit??

I don't have my driving licence so I don't drive.

24. What terrifies you?

Literally? Everything! But I'll tell you the saddest of them all. Dogs 🥺

25. Look to your left, what do you see?

An almirah.

26. What chore do you hate?

Manually washing my clothes. We don't have a washing machine in my hostel (WTF) so I have to wash my clothes by hand and I don't enjoy it one bit.

27. What do you think of when you hear an australian accent?

"That's an Australian accent." Close second is, "that's so hot."

28. What’s your favorite soda?

Coca-cola and I also love orange soda when I do drink it.

29. Do you go into fast food places or drive thru?

Fast food places because again, I don't drive.

30. Who was the last person you talked to?

Brother.

31. Favorite cut of beef?

Never ate beef.

32. Last song you listened to?

Agar tum saath ho (Tamasha)

33. Last book you read?

Still ongoing, Pritty Girls by Karin Slaughter.

34. Can you say the alphabet backwards?

I've never tried but I reckon I could. It would just take a lot of tries.

35. How you do like your coffee?

I don't like coffee.

36. Favorite pair of shoes?

My black pumps!

37. The time you usually go to bed?

You don't wanna know 👀 3 am, mostly.

38. The time you usually wake up?

I can't sleep later than 9am or my family would kill me.

39. What do you prefer, sunrise or sunset?

Sunset. I'm usually not awake to see the sunrise.

40. How many blankets are on your bed?

One.

41. Describe your kitchen plates?

They are stainless steel.

42. Do you have a favorite alcoholic drink?

I've never tried any so I'll let you know when I do?

43. Do you play cards?

Yes! I love cards!

44. What color is your car?

I don't have one.

45. Can you change a tire?

I can't but I'll learn it when I learn to drive and actually own a car.

46. Your favorite province?

I don't understand this question I'm dumb sorry 😂

47. Favorite job you ever had?

Never had a job.

48. How did you get your biggest scar?

I was riding my bicycle and an old lady decided to run to the middle of the road(she was trying to cross the road). I swerved and face planted a wall, my glasses broke and a shard of glass cut open my brow bone.

49. Favourite day of the week?

Saturday.

50. What did you do today that made you happy?

Had a video chat with my baby cousins! Brightened up my day.

I tag whoever wants to do this, it's fun!

#questions #really really bored #😓

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sirfleurs · 5 years ago

Text

i was sixteen years old when my hand was blue.

The grayscale pitch

Preface

Life is not easy when you are high and alone watching television or pulling an all-nighter listening to Jimi Hendrix. The brain becomes dull. Overstimulated by genius. You stop thinking and overthink at the same time. I guess that’s what some people call daydreaming. All your bad thoughts get loose and all your inhibitions disappear. I figure this is right before the moment you are most likely to kill yourself. I’ll give it an hour before my Manic-Depression shows its ugly face. As I haven’t killed myself yet in an age of 23 I think I’ve done pretty well. I was sitting in my room in some Woodstock apartment writing on my first ever soon to be book. I had decided to call it ‘The Pitch’. It would be about some witty guy who had a great idea and he would be trying to sell his ‘pitch’ to everyone who’d listen. I had thought the rest of the story through. To be honest I didn’t know more than that. As I was about to sit down I had a beer, smoked a cig and 5 minutes beforehand I had masturbated to a busty forest nymph. Believe me was I tired.

A week ago I was checked-in at Fitzroy Hostel in New York City. It had been insane. My supposedly friends and I were drinking cheap wine in our room during this pandemic across the country. Geez after two bottles of wine I somehow managed to pay for- and eat two caps of MDMA and it blew my mind. I sat on the floor to cool my ass but everything began to spin and it hit me hard like a jolt. Andrew said “hey dude, maybe you should go to the bathroom and stick two fingers in your throat you don’t look too good”. But he was just too late. I burst like a water balloon, vomiting on the floor of Duncans room. Duncan was this nice guy that played XBOX and drank occasionally. Geez was I sorry. I locked myself in the bathroom to get the caps out. I was trying to vomit and I began to feel heated. The MDMA had already kicked in and it was too late to reverse it. I would have to wait this one out. Everything started to feel nice all around the body. My eyes became big as small plates and my teeth began to clench. I got an strange urge to stick my hand in the toilet to cool my body. Something I am not very proud of. On the small shelf I found a shampoo that I emptied in the toilet too just for the hell of it. Minutes later people would lock the door up with a coin and find me covered in shampoo. The helped me in the shower and I went to bed shortly after. Hours later I woke up. Two guys invited me for a joint. Something I couldn’t decline. It was only the second time I had ever tried drugs. While we smoked this cat, Alex told me “you know this only happened because you drank too much. You can never be too careful with mixing alcohol and MD. It doesn’t help that you hadn’t eaten anything either.” “Geez, I was not in control at all. I’d better stick to weed and drinking. That’s something I know”. Always do drugs with very good pals of yours.

So I went to the street and couldn’t make any money. I was to make something one way or the other. Which isn’t always easy when you don’t know what profession you want to be in. All I knew was that I didn’t need any tiresome busy work in my life. I like to feel needed but not so much that I can’t laugh and have breaks during the day. Life is life you know. But I would dance down the street like drums banging through the air. Long time ago I would have taken every job offered to me now I’m not so sure. I went to a fruit parlor in the New Habor Market in near Manhatten in princess St. I asked the first guy :” how much are these avocados.” “two fifty for three piece”. Fruit in the markets are much cheaper than everywhere else and the life is strong on the street which I thought couldn’t be bad. Everyone just running back and forth doing their bussinnes as usual. The markets was one of the places that hadn’t closed due to the pandemic. Nice, I thought to myself. I handed the guy three dollars and told him to keep the rest. “ hey man, how you get a job here standing here selling fruit, I’d really like to know”. “ah young man, I could take a look at your resume if you’d like”. Problem was I didn’t have much to offer him, so I stalled him trying to promote myself in person. I can be a very persuasive guy sometimes. When I’m in the right mood and I felt it crippling in my fingers my mood was good for this situation. “Hey man, I don’t exactly have a written resume. But I’ll tell you everything you’ll need to know. Im good at shouting and a quick learner give me a shot and ill prove to you, you didn’t waste your time”. I sounded like a sucker. But I couldn’t eat my words. The guy didn’t seem interested. I said “I promise give me a shot and I will not blow it.” He looked me in the eye and we stood for a few seconds staring at each other. “come down tomorrow at 6 sharp I’ll see what you can do. You won’t be paid for your three first shifts and from thereon you’ll be paid commission on how much you sell”. Sounded good to me so I nodded “you betcha” I said with a coy smile I sounded like a dork geez. Anyhow that’s how I got my first job. It went fairly well. I continued down the street. I still had something else to do before my first shift. Let me stand next to your fire I thought to myself. I was excited as hell. Down the road I saw a green balloon it was helium filled balloons. A clown was giving them out to kids. Everything was nice the weather was good and you could hear the wind sweep from central park. I needed to buy some weed for the next time coming. So I got up my phone and rang my friend Alex who had a connection. “O boyy I got a job fix me up with some of that green”. I met him outside the hostel and bought a quarter ounce for 50 dollars which is a fine price for nugs like these. Then I went home and lit a blunt. Just a small one while I sat at my outside porch. We had a giant tree and a lot of ungroomed weeds in our garden. We also had a cat I personally named Pysser in the name of my favourite old person who recently died. He was a sergent Knud Romer was his name. He once wrote an article about me when I was fifteen going to summer camp for young boys with no other places to go for their vacation. God was I sad to see him go. When I was done with the blunt I went up to my room and opened my book. It was called Pimp and the author went by the moniker Iceberg Slim. What kind of badass shit was that. It was kind of interesting the way he proclaimed the pimp life. And he was a real gangster. His bottom whore at the end of her mileage. Meaning the whore who kept every other whore in his house in line. When she goes everything always goes to hell for a pimp. He conend her. He made a whole setup with actors to con her into thinking she killed a rich motherfucker. She would be in the hotel room and this guy would collapse on her. Slim would come up to the room and call a doctor and get the guy collected. Slim conned her into thinking he bribed the police. That way his bottom whore was good to go for more tricks. That’s some cold shit. My thought whirled reading about the cocaine snorting and his nose hurting feelings of something scraping at the roof of his brain made me dizzy. I closed the book and stared at the ceiling. Dreaming. Aw man what do I do now. My head bounced like a bass line I felt slick. Breathing heavily but still relaxed. I went down for a cig to clear my thoughts. Sitting there I couldn’t stop looking at all the animals we had in this household. Cat and two dogs just lying freely whenever wherever.

The next morning I came back 6 sharp. A long 10 hours shift. My legs were aching and my head spiining. I wasn’t used to long as shifts. I was only used to lying around doing nothing chilling with friends. But it would come to me In time oso I ekpt coming there shouting like the others. Loud and confident keeping my back steady trying to pull in costumers in. At the end of each shift you would get paid a percentage of what you’ve sold. The first day I sold I couple of vegetables to this old lady who though I was cute and some couples wanting watermelon smoothies. It didn’t go so well. And I sure as hell didn’t want those pity purchases from old ladies. I made two fifty. It really wasn’t much. But at least I was paid the first day. Something I wasn’t expecting. I went to home sat on the couch with the other living there. We sat there chilling drinking beer and playing chess. And some girl that was visiting was playing skyrim.

Dreamers day

I remember when I was a small kid. I would look at the ocean and dream of being a bird. I would be on the moon. I was a gay kid, really. So much that my mother and sister thought I was actually gay. I remember the beach of Turkey. The warm ocean on my limbs under the moonlight. The salt burning in your eyes. Those were the days of happiness and good rest. Father would show us to surf the water on our stomachs whenever a wave came. Also the days of Levanto were nice. Father and I would hike the mountains at daybreak. We would struggle to find a parking spot and Father would cuss. Sister and I would get mojitos and look at the natives. The parties were everywhere. We would bathe in the clear water by the cliff. I remember many young adults would jump in. Everyone wearing speedos except one skinny langy kid. A couple kissing. The guy would get a boner and the girl would cover his little man with her belly. They kissed passionately. People would jump in from 5 meters and even more. Chances were one day they wouldn’t jump far enough into the water and they would hit the sharp rocks at the cliffs bottom. I picked small black clams from the rock and lurked it open. Levanto was a trip through forests cussing. We were in Italy. Driving a big bad car. I would lie across the extra three seats in the behind. I would push my bare feet against the cold glass of the window. I would see the damp print of my feet and the water drops on the other side of the window. I was glad I was inside the warmth of the car. My sisters friend was along. I liked her. She must have been sisters best friend. Not anymore.. I would lie in the bed reading. I was afraid of small gold fish. We would see the colosseum. I would ask “is it real”. Father would laugh for 10 years. I am now here in bed. On the other side of the world. Mother was different. We would be inside. I would care about her. She would be weaker. Depressed. I would be worried sick. I am still worried. But I am also smarter. She can care for herself. She stopped smoking now for the seventeenth time. She says one day she will make it. I hope it for her sake. I am not sure. The price of cigarettes went up. I would watch television. I would come out and talk to her she would listen and I would cry. This pretty much sums up our relationship. I still love her though. I was a dreamer. My English teacher told my sister I lived on the moon. That was fine with me. Not anymore. I want to be in this world now. I want to do good.

The days when we were friends we would go around your backyard make silly films. Scream like small girls. But we were small boys. Guess there is not that big of a difference. We would draw silly faces in class. We would play on the smartboard. We didn’t care about anything but fun. We would be older and try to learn music. Try to do good in school. People break apart and new people find each other. Right now I don’t find anyone. I am alone with the people I live with. The are polite and we drink together. But we are not friends. Not yet but we could be., I think things can happen. “Don’t think twice it’s alright”. You can get everything down the first time you try. You see poetry and stories are written in the haze in the bottom of your mind. You have to write it now not think too much. Know what you want to write and hurry up. Times against you. You have to run or it will be dull or you will be drowsy. Don’t let anything walk up behind your back. Keep your ears and eyes open for everything. This is not the time for storytelling. Open your eyes open your ears. You didn’t see the best minds of your generation starving hysterical naked.

Three small kittens

The day came after the weekend to go back to work at the fruit parlor., The guy seemed to be very contend with my abilities. I would make at least ten dollars for my self each shift. And I would have just enough for food for the day. Not that it was enough. I still had rent to cover. So I seeked my boss for help asking “how do you make a living out of this. Whats the catch.” He responded “the catch is catch 22 anyone who wants to get out of combat duty isn’t really crazy”. “would you have to be crazy to want to be in combat?” he nodded “and it works the other way around too”. I pondered it over “you would have to be rationel to want to come out of combat?” “exactly”. It didn’t make any sense to me. What did that have to do with anything. After the shift my chef handed my a fairly small red book with the title Catch-22. I had only made eight dollars this day. It felt lousy. At least I was able to take as much leftover I wanted. That would cover my hunger, but the money wouldn’t cover my rent. Soon I would run out of money and I had no idea as to what to do. I came home and fell down the stinking madras on the floor of my room. I opened the first page of the book he had handed to me. Whatever it was about I was kind of excited to dick in. Every two hours I would go down for a cig and occasionally a glass of water. Didn’t eat anything except avocados. They sustain you for a long time and are delicious with salt. Just be careful some of the avocados are bad inside and will give you diarrhea. It isn’t very comfortable to go to the bathroom every ten minutes during a shift with your boss around. Next I had collected 330 dollars earning eleven dollars for myself. Which is a personal record of mine. I knew I could do better. Catch 22 was a real witty book I didn’t know what I had to learn from it. Each day I would come back to work my boss wouldn’t mention the book. He would just keep yelling for ten 12 hours straight like a muezzin standing on the top of the tower calling to prayer. He was insane. During the day his temple would pulsate like an angry cat who had catched syphilis. Sometimes his lips would be blue and he would have to sit down. Whenever that occurred shortly after he would pull up a small orange container from his pocket and down some pills. He must have had a heart disease or something. I wouldn’t get involved though. He never brought it up himself. So I figured he must have had a good reason to keep low profile. It wasn’t my fight to fight. Four times a day I would go further away with some of the other youngsters trying to make it as a fruit parlor. I was doing the worst but who really cares. It was no competition. I was just trying to make a living.

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btgalaxy · 5 years ago

Text

Berlin (m)

masterlist

» a/n: there’s literally not a fluff thing even remotely about this fic, and from now on every friday we will be updating with new stuff! - admin lottie

» genre: angst

» word count: 6.9k

warnings (for this and upcoming parts): assault, drugs/alcohol use, violence/gore, profanity. this is purely fictional and not intended to reflect the members’ true personalities. otherwise enjoy!

Part 1:

The smell of cigarette butts danced in the air in wanton puffs of smoke, reaching the blue-pink of your lips grotesquely quick. You drained your glass of brandy with unrelenting haste, delving into a fantasy of old-time Berlin, with your feet on the table and liquor burning like ashes in your throat. You’d arrived but four days prior to your retreat to the sombre tavern in Lichtenberg, the feeling of youthful excitement still fresh on your fingertips, now tracing the outline of a German proverb carved with a knife into the table top: "Nur die Harten kommen in den Garten."

You were naïve. You didn’t believe in the atrocities that could take place over 96 hours and how mercilessly fast the pace of city life is. You came from a small, everyone-knows-everyone kinda village, and never experienced the bitter cold that bit at your skin when not hidden by your cushty fireplace and friendly farmer next-door. The realities of demise and decease and other such perturbation were concealed from you for years and years, under the segregation of country life. You didn’t know how a person could leave you feeling empty and worthless. You didn’t know the haze of marijuana could send you into a spiralling attack of anxiety and terror and pure hysteria. You didn’t know that the blood drained from a corpse to the lowest body part and pooled there till it stained the skin only a few hours after the death, and you didn’t know that the foul, rotting smell could linger on your clothes and your flesh and around the house for days afterwards, no matter how fervently you may wash yourself, skin raw and bleeding. You didn’t know it clung to you like moss on a damp wall. You didn’t know any of this.

It was drugs you were first exposed to, the pungent green smell invading you from the bench of a run down bus stop by Brandenburg Flughafen, foreign to you and so incredibly exciting. You’d never even seen any popular narcotic, bar on the tv shows you watched on your phone down in the local café in a corner booth away from any wandering eyes — your mother hired a technician when you were in your pre-teens to censor any ‘explicit’ or ‘inappropriate’ broadcastings, and the whole town of 267 knew of your credulity and innocence, thus seemed to have a silent agreement not to allow you to experience anything ‘harmful’. You had to hide to try and experience things; it’s no wonder you left for a scene of sex, partying and amphetamines.

“You smoke?” A voice rasped from beside you, sucking in a breath through his teeth after choking out another huff of the joint.

You barely flickered your eyes to look at him, so far out of your comfort zone you could barely form a coherent sentence. He looked brazen, with luminous mint hair and hooded eyes, drained of life beneath the tendrils of smoke scorching through his nostrils like handmade clouds. Between his fingers was the thing you were most scared of, there, right in front of you. It was finally real, finally happening. There was no friend of your parents to switch the channel or take away the book or suggest you research a different subject, he was there, in front of you, real, happening.

“Sure.” It tumbled from your mouth before you could consider any further, hand effortlessly lunging slowly forwards to pry the smoke from his hands, and you held it between your thumb and your forefinger, as if you’d done it a million times before.

You remembered the first time you discovered drugs exist — Pulp Fiction, you believed it was. Mia Wallace inhaling some white substance up her nose? You couldn’t fathom at the time that someone would react that way to a powder. It intrigued you, beyond belief. Then at school in year 10, that assembly where you were taught of all the gruesome effects drugs can impose on your organs, and all the side effects they could have. You know how when you’re forbidden from something, when you’re constantly instructed not to do something… you know how it makes you oh so more desperate to do that very thing? That feeling was stirring inside of you.

The blunt felt scary in your hands, scarier than you imagined. It was strange the way it rolled down to the crease of your knuckles so easily, the sound of the rolling paper ruffling slightly and resonating through you in a chorus of anticipation. It came even easier to your lips, closing them around the filter and gently sucking in for a few seconds.

You ripped it from your mouth and began coughing violently.

It was like it was burning down your throat, your voice deepening as you tried to cope with the feeling of it coating your oesophagus like hot wax being poured generously into your mouth, gliding down your tongue and plugging your windpipe. It didn’t ease up for at least a minute, gunk rising up into your jaw relentlessly, and you spat it out in desperation to rid yourself of the scorching it brought.

“So you don’t smoke then?” The man smirked, retrieving his joint back from your curled digits and holding it back between his own lips. He took a stainless-steel lighter out of his pocket, engraved with the acronym MYG on it, relighting the end and promptly puffing out again, the smoke tapering into the air to form other strange shapes.

“I wanted to try,” you choked, finally regaining the ability to speak with a still coarse throat.

He tilted his head slightly, “Why you in Berlin?”

His question unnerved you. You didn’t answer. You instead burrowed through your hand luggage for the scarce remains of a bottle of water, unscrewing the cap and letting the meagre sips trickle onto your tongue to offer some brief soothing to your dizzying head.

He laughed, “You run away from home or somethin’? You don’t look like the typical Berliner.”

“I didn’t run. I left,” you exhaled, wetting your lower lip with your tongue, eyes fluttering shut, breath heavy.

He laughed, again, “That’s what they all say.”

Looking back on your first meeting with Min Yoongi, you didn’t ever really like him. It wasn’t that you were scared of him — well, you were a bit scared, but even after everything you felt the same way. You didn’t like the way he spoke, and you didn’t like how he acted like some nonchalant, borderline careless druggie with no real feelings or emotions. He was an effortless liar, and you valued honesty. He could be condescending and cruel and manipulative. He wasn’t someone anyone should trust.

He sat next to you on the bus. You didn’t ask him to, but he did. He didn’t speak to you, just sat there smoking his joint till it burnt out and he rolled another. God, he made it look so easy. Like it didn’t singe the pink flesh in his cheeks, or like he couldn’t feel the way it thrusted down him into his lungs, just waiting there, or how it drove into his brain and made him high as hell. He would’ve certainly excelled in a career of acting, with that beautiful façade he employed. He pretended he felt nothing. Later, you would find that was not the case.

You were travelling to Kreuzberg. Apparently, there were lots of cheap hostels there to put you up during a measly financial situation, popular to other youths that went to Berlin with little to no money. It was the perfect way to blend, to be the typical traveller that was relatable and approachable. You wanted to make new friends, meet new people. You thought Min Yoongi might be your first, at the time, and perhaps he was, perhaps you did consider him your first friend. You glanced fleetingly over at his side profile, admiring the way he grit his jaw and the curved slope of his nose. He was handsome.

You never had a boyfriend back at home. You had friends that were boys, sure, but they were shy and most were strictly catholic and didn’t want to risk any undue temptations. You especially, because you hemmed your skirt a couple of inches higher than the rest of the girls at your school — a scandal at the time, you were labelled as a slut for at least a week which speaks a lot of the town’s standards. When the headmistress did her rounds at the end of the week, she made all the girls kneel to ensure their skirts reached the floor. Yours didn’t, and the subtle scarring left on your hand from the thin cane certified you were to carry on hemming all your skirts till the teachers gave up. You liked a thrill like that, you liked being able to defy those condemning rules that society set. It felt freeing.

Kreuzberg wasn’t what you expected, as you gazed out the tinged window onto the paved roads, onto the buildings painted with colossal street arts; a worthy canvas of such mighty works. You briefly wondered how they managed to paint a few stories high, slathering colour onto the otherwise miserable red bricks, but you supposed that could be a good conversation starter for later. Instead, you tried to digest everything you were seeing; the people sat in cafés smoking, photographers on the street, backpackers, young people, old people, tourists, natives. Some you couldn’t identify if they were actually native Berliners or not, and others you could.

You got off at a stop in the heart of the city, and Yoongi followed. Of course, you didn’t know his name at the time, you only knew that he smoked and knew that you didn’t. You strode over to a nearby map of the tramlines to find a decent hostel.

“They’ll all be booked, y’know?” He commented, sighing as he finally put out his cigarette without pulling out another, “It’s summer in Berlin. It’s packed with people like you.”

You ignored him, unwilling to accept that was the case. You couldn’t book anything prior to your trip; it was all a bit last minute. You’d just decided you couldn’t stay it that damned town any moment longer, so booked a flight, packed a bag and there you were at the heart of Berlin, the city of new starts. Of your new start.

“I know a place you could stay,” he remarked, piquing your interest, “I gotta friend down by the Spree. He’ll put you up if you’re nice to him.”

You grazed your teeth over your lower lip in contemplation, conflicted with feeling like that was cheating, like you weren’t really doing it for yourself. You didn’t want other people to still be controlling you, like at home.

“I don’t even know your name,” you quipped, making eye contact briefly before diverting them away, finding yourself struggling to look him in the eye for longer than a few seconds.

He pulled his lighter from his pocket, pointing to each letter as he spoke, “Min Yoon-Gi.” He sounded out each syllable with an amused glint in his eye, and you thought it was strange the way he became suddenly much seemingly friendlier.

“I’m Y/N,” you responded, glancing around awkwardly. You didn’t like that introduction. You felt uncomfortable.

“He lives by the bridge.”

You really were so naïve. You allowed a man who’d given you a joint at a dodgy bus stop to take you to his friend’s place to stay for a few nights, and you barely questioned it. God, you couldn’t have imagined what kind of a hell hole it really was. But at the same time it was exciting, it was new. It was everything you’d never experienced and craved like a captive desperately labouring for an escape. So you got on a tram to the river with Min Yoongi, and you followed him to a worn down terrace house on a street corner, both thrilled and terrified; you’d never felt more exhilarated.

The bricks were dark crimson, stained with mould and the rotting pieces crumbled away like ashes. It was lifeless and cold, and it felt as though it had been lived in over a thousand years and seen a hundred deaths. There was a bra hanging out one of the windows, and the other was smashed and covered with a strip of cardboard that had a picture of a blender on it. Yoongi ambled down the front path like it wasn’t the most harrowing place you’d ever seen, like it didn’t tell you to go back and find a hostel, or even as far as to travel back home and live your life the way it was. But that’s what made you follow him.

His knuckle rapped against the ivy oak as green paint chippings fell to the doormat that had an image of a cannabis leaf in the centre, with cigarette butts smothered into the bristles as well. He kept knocking, till a man with silvery hair pulled back the door.

“Fuckin’ stop, I was tryna roll, you prick,” he spat in Yoongi’s face as he spoke bitterly, immediately stalking off back down the corridor towards an archway.

Yoongi trudged inside with his shoes on, “I’ll find Jimin.”

You thought Jimin sounded like a nice name. Like someone happy and energetic; you thought you could make another friend.

The interior of the house was nothing less than expected; barren of any decoration or paintings or even some basic household items. It felt so vacant, like the people that lived there never really lived there — perhaps that’s because they were never really living. Everyone in that household was dead from the moment you got there, and maybe that’s why you don’t feel sick at the thought of what you did, rather just that it happened. And it was done and a part of history that couldn’t be changed.

You followed Min Yoongi to the kitchen, piled with dirty dishes and cutlery, empty packaging strewn across the cheap surfaces and abandoned beer bottles on the table. It smelt like weed, and the silver-haired man that opened the door to you sat on one of the counters with a filter amid his teeth, pinching the rolling paper between his thumb and index to bring it into a skilful turn.

“Where’s Jimin?” Yoongi asked, pulling back the off-white refrigerator door to take out a beer as you hovered uncomfortably in the doorway. It’s a horrid feeling, standing in a stranger’s house in a strange city with a strange person you’ve only just met. You felt like you were in a movie.

The man nodded his head in the direction of upstairs, focusing his gaze still on the tobacco in his hands.

“Stay here,” Yoongi ordered, making you grimace as his figure stalked back past you into the corridor.

You looked back at silver-hair, sliding the filter into the tip of the roll. Honestly, he didn’t look like a smoker. But then, what would you know of what smokers looked like? He muttered a curse when he patted his empty pockets, looking back at you.

“Got a lighter?” He inquired, and for a second you were taken aback.

You told him, “No. I don’t smoke.” He groaned at you, jumping down off the counter and began rummaging through all the drawers. You could see inside they were all filled with junk, spilling out onto the floor as the man whipped each one out and left it open as he went onto the next. Your parents would’ve hated someone like him in their house. They used to lock you in your room without food or water until it was immaculate, and only then were you permitted to eat. You remember you tried to defy them once, refuse to do it, but after six hours in the blazing heat of summer and no water you were beginning to feel dizzy from the dehydration and submitted to their order.

He found a lighter on the table under a newspaper. You didn’t expect anyone in that house to pay attention to the news, let alone buy a paper. He leant against the counter and lit the end of the fag, putting the lighter down with a sigh.

“How’d you know Suga?” Silver-hair asked, head lulling back to breathe up towards the ceiling.

“Suga?”

“Yoongi.”

You remained uneasy beneath the doorframe, “He told me he knew a place I could stay.”

“You wanna stay here?” He laughed all of a sudden, holding the lit cigarette unnervingly close to the wooden counter.

“I’m Y/N,” you announced, pursing your lips.

“V.”

“V?”

“Or Taehyung. Whichever.” It fell quiet between you both again, and you enjoyed the brief escape.

He trudged over to the table to shake the beer bottles, seeking one with a little liquid left inside, “You drink?”

You shrugged. You’d never drank before. The teachers at school told you drinking was a temptation that brought about sinful consequences that would never be suitable for young girls like you. Drinking was limited to a sip of wine during Mass and should not otherwise be pursued. You didn’t really like the taste anyway, but you were curious what drunk felt like, what such sinful intoxication felt like. It at least sounded dramatic.

Silver-haired Taehyung found a fuller bottle, bringing it up to his mouth to take a sip before smacking his lips together and passing it to you. You retrieved it cautiously, sloshing about the stuff inside before having a taste yourself. You discerned a yeasty and bitter flavour, but you continued to drink. It was better than smoking.

“You speak German?”

“Not really, no.”

“But you wanna live in Berlin?”

“You speak English.”

“You think you’re gonna be hangin’ around with me?” He laughed, making your face flush with embarrassment, and perhaps a little of the beer now stirring in your stomach. You took another long gulp.

“You look like a nun.”

You didn’t own any revealing or fancy clothes. Your parents wouldn’t even let you wear jeans for a few years, deeming them improper. It’s one of the things that had seem to stuck with you; your apathetic attitude towards your own attire. You’d just learned not to care, so a baggy, waffle-knit jumper and black trousers was just something you put on to leave the house, really. Something that covered you up and your parents weren’t going to question as you left them.

“How long you gonna be stayin’ here?” He quizzed, taking another long drag.

You shuffled awkwardly, “Only a few days I think. As soon as I can find someplace else, and some work.”

A voice resonated from behind you.

“You can stay here as long as you like, babygirl.”

The first thing you thought was: Park Jimin was short. Shorter than your average thug. But a thug nonetheless.

His hair flamed orange like a fox and his teeth were slightly stained. And the tattoos were everywhere; inscriptions across his bare chest; Aztecan patterns looping around his arms; playing cards littered across his shoulders; a tiny diamond inked just beneath his left eye. He wore black sweatpants that hung low on his hips to reveal a tiny trail of hair and small looped earrings in his lobes. He scared you from the second you met.

Although short, he still had a good few inches on you. And a hell of a lot more muscle. You immediately felt an anxiety begin to consume you.

He sauntered towards you with his crotch forwards as you looked at him, coming to place his hands on your waist. He seemed to look you up and down with an insatiable look, or maybe it was amusement, you couldn’t tell. It was a fierce gaze, that you naturally desired to squirm away from as he pressed himself closer to you, lips curling up into a smirk.

“Babygirl, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” His Cheshire grin reached his eyes, crinkling up at the corners, “You wanna stay here wi’ me, huh?” One hand crawled to your arm, tracing his fingertips up and down the skin making you shiver.

You swallowed, “I don’t have anywhere to stay.” Your voice wobbled uncontrollably, as did your entire being in his predatory arms.

“That’s no problem at all,” he pulled the hand from your arm and up to your chin to bring your face towards his, “No problem at all.” You screwed your eyes shut and held your head as close to your chest as possible as he pressed a kiss to your lips, uncomfortably softly to make you quake. You wanted to scream in his face for him to get away from you.

He pulled back, chuckling, “I think you’ll get along just fine here, babygirl.”

He and Taehyung left promptly after that without so much as a second word to neither you nor Yoongi, only leaving you with his musky scent in the air and phantom touch on your lips. You were glad he was gone.

The floor of your room was carpeted, but you didn’t want to take off your shoes due to the questionable stains that were sprinkled across it. You had a bunk bed, but Yoongi told you nobody would come in to share without warning, and there was a chest of drawers with a Yoda Bong on it, just sitting there, staring at you. You had an en-suite too; the bottom of the bath was stained yellow and the toilet had no seat, blackened with mould around the rim. The sink was clean enough in comparison.

You swallowed, lifting up the duvet of the bottom bunk to peer underneath, eternally grateful that it seemed rather untouched.

“Nobody really used this room,” Yoongi told you, arms folded across his chest, “Nobody wants a bunk bed.”

“I don’t mind,” you countered, plonking your backpack and hand luggage onto the floor beside the bed. “And he’s not going to make me pay?”

“He has parties most nights anyway, so it’ll be noisy. You won’t be able to get much sleep,” he admitted nonchalantly, turning to pick up the bong on the side.

You sat down on the edge of the mattress, the springs inside prominent and digging into your behind. You’d not expected much when you left, but you had hoped for something better than that. There was no cushioning, nor did it resemble in any way the duck feather mattress you slept on at home. It was entirely new.

You pushed your mouth to the side awkwardly as Yoongi lingered, “Do you stay here too?” Your meagre attempt at small talk seemed to be enough of an invitation for him to come and sit next to you on the bed.

“I crash with Tae most of the time,” he said, slumping down beside you and falling onto his elbows as he gazed onto your back.

You could feel the way he stared.

You turned to look at him, “How do you know Jimin?”

“Everyone knows Jimin,” he said, with his shooting eyes still unwavering, but now focused on your chest, “He and I- we have a mutual agreement.”

“Agreement?”

“You a virgin?” Your eyes widened at Yoongi’s curt interrogation, blunt and outright, making you feel embarrassed enough to squirm away, swallowing back the discomfort with crimson cheeks. He laughed, loudly, unbelievably amused with your mortification.

“I’ll take that as a yes then,” his chuckling faded out into a piercing look, and you felt it burn on the side of your face and in your peripheral, “Are you scared?”

“No.” Yes, you were, actually.

“You’re sure?” He leant forwards to sit upright, a smirk pinching the corners of his lips as his hand landed on the outside of your thigh, moving inwards.

You turned to look at him, now somewhat adamant with whatever the hell you thought your intentions were, “I’m not scared.”

He licked his lips, before he leaned in to kiss you. He tasted like the beer you’d just been drinking, and he was quickly laying you onto your back and pressing on top of you into the springs of the bed before you could protest.

There was a brief few seconds where you didn’t realise your eyes were open, watching Yoongi’s head rock back and forth as his tongue delved into your mouth, but then you squeezed them tightly shut, trying to follow with his pace. It was fast and intense, and you could barely keep up when your lips began to dry out.

Moments later and the reality of what could happen suddenly hit you, and you shoved him off of you with all the force you could muster. The back of his head hit the wall with an ominous thud. You wanted new, but you didn’t want whatever this was.

With one hand now holding the back of his head, his eyes immediately snapped up to look at you, blazing with fury, “The fuck?”

“I’m sorry,” you whimpered, breathing heavily, “I couldn’t.”

You could see his nostrils flaring slightly. For a moment you were really scared. Like really scared. Of what he might do.

Thankfully, he shuffled to the end of the bed, readjusting the crotch of his trousers slightly.

“Whatever,” he grunted, “Shit kisser anyway.”

It reminded you of your first kiss with a boy on holiday. You met him on a cruise ship. His name was Tom. You were both 14 and he said you were the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. You swooned instantly- rather charismatic for a spotty teenage boy. He kissed you on the last day, and he said he would keep in touch. But, of course, he didn’t. Maybe if he had things might’ve been different.

As Yoongi left the room, you heard him grumble, “Fuckin’ virgins.”

“Mornin’, babygirl,” Jimin sang as he strolled into the kitchen, entirely bare except for his skin-tight grey briefs, outlining his crotch. He came over and kissed you uncomfortably slowly on the cheek, then sauntered over to the fridge to take out a beer. It seemed all they did was drink and smoke. But that was what you’d left your home for. You wanted these experiences. Didn’t you?

“Good sleep?” He asked, perching against the counter with his Cheshire grin.

You swallowed a mouthful of Honey Cheerios you were surprised to find in a cupboard beneath the sink, “I slept well.” You didn’t try to continue the conversation, you didn’t want to.

He did anyway.

“You gonna go sightseeing today or some other shit you religious girls like to do? Go to a fuckin’ church or some shit?” He’d seen the crucifix necklace you wore and was a million times more intrigued by you; and by intrigued you mean humoured.

“I wanted to go to the town and eat Bratwurst.” It was the first to-do on your agenda. Your parents were vegetarians, so you only ate meat when alone with your friends or other relatives — quite frankly, not very often at all.

He nodded, “I assume you need a tourguide, babygirl?”

You froze for a moment, before slowly tracing your lower lip, “I don’t- I think I-“

“We already have plans,” Yoongi interrupted you, buttoning up his plaid shirt as he ambled carelessly into the kitchen. Jimin glanced at you, looking thoroughly entertained, before returning to watch Yoongi, taking another gulp of his beer.

“Suga, I gotta job for you later.”

“I left my wallet upstairs,” Yoongi ignored him, jogging off till you heard his footsteps on the stairs.

Jimin sniggered from the side, watching you with his slanted eyes taking another mouthful of cereal. He loved to look at you, watch you. It was like you were his own personal form of entertainment, and he couldn’t get enough. You weren’t like the usual travellers that came through him, usually aggressive or a druggie or an alcoholic or- or just anyone considered some kind of a delinquent. But, God, you were pure. You were naïve. You were untouched. You offered something different to his usual girls, something new.

Suddenly, he was behind you, hovering above your shoulders.

“I saw him go into your room last night, babygirl,” his hands slithered malevolently down your biceps, skin rising into goosebumps at his touch.

He began to whisper in your ear, “Did you like it when he fucked you?”

“He didn’t,” you insisted, frozen in place staring down at your bowl of cereal.

He hummed, amused, “Babygirl, don’t lie to me. I’m not a man you lie to.”

“I swear,” you gulped, the fear beginning to churn in your stomach.

He nudged closer, his hand slinking down further and onto your waist, but as he inched closer you snapped your hand down to stop his arm, even surprising yourself.

There was a second where he just scowled at your hand, attempting to cease his advances, but then he violently ripped his arm back, yanking you up by the chin to bring you close enough you could hear the way his teeth grit in his jaw, dirty breath wafting up your nostrils and you had to repress the gag biting at your throat.

“Babygirl, if I can’t have somethin’, nobody can,” he snarled out, shoving your face to the side and leaning in to clamp his lips over your throat where he sucked the skin red and raw, as you held your lips tightly shut and tried to repress any tears.

Crybaby. They’d called you crybaby. When you were about ten you suddenly lost the ability to hold back your tears. At films, books, being scolded, being praised — even over things that had nothing even remotely to do with you. You’d cry. And you were inconsolable for hours. So all the kids at school started to call you crybaby. Then, when you were about sixteen you suddenly found a new emotion inside you — a stronger one — anger. So whenever you wanted to cry, you’d get angry. Anger didn’t need tears, anger needed a scream into the pillow and a punch to the wall and it was enough. Everything was channelled into this unrelenting fury towards your parents, your school, your friends. Even the word crybaby was enough to set you off. When you wanted to cry, you’d become angry instead. So as Jimin sucked a deep magenta bruise into your flesh you clenched your fists and you squeezed your eyes shut; angry.

He retreated seconds later, still grimacing as he took his thumb starkly across the raging bruise, “Don’t fuck anyone in my house.”

It’s a shame your anger didn’t fuel your confidence. You nodded meekly in response, fists still quietly clenching as he stalked out of the room, leaving you emptily.

“I’m not paying for you,” Yoongi announced, waiting behind you in the street stall line as you held your hair next to your neck, attempting to conceal the large, unwarranted bite.

“I have money,” you countered, nervously tightening your lips as you took another step closer.

You didn’t know why he even offered to go out with you. He was miserable.

“You seriously wanted to come all the way here for a fuckin’ sausage?” He groaned, pulling a cigarette box from his pocket and fumbling to open it before resting one between his teeth.

You cowered slightly, “I wanted to try it.”

“Such a cliché,” he mumbled, fag still between his lips as he patted his jeans in search for something.

“Shit, I didn’t bring my lighter.” He wrenched the small pipe from his lips, “Get your damn sausage, I’ll be in Maysie’s.” You didn’t know what that was, but you still nodded as if you did.

You didn’t like the Bratwurst. You thought it tasted too… too meaty. And it was a bit spicy too.

Maysie’s was a bar that was open 24 hours and filled with mainly young people sat around circular tables drinking. There wasn’t a bouncer, and IDs weren’t checked. Yoongi was sat with a girl with a pixie cut and a bald man with sad eyebrows.

You approached them wearily.

“Yoongi…,” you murmured, in a futile attempt to pry his attention away from the bong that sat breezily on the table, as if it were the most normal thing.

He coughed a bit as he pulled his lips away from the tube, covering a hand over his chest with his chin lowered slightly as he fought the rising phlegm, “Sit.” You sat on a chair next to the girl, and it felt comfortable to be next to her. At least, more comfortable than you had been since you arrived.

“This is Y/N,” Yoongi remarked uninterestedly, immediately bringing his attention back to the pot on the table.

The girl offered her hand, “TK, and this is Sadly.” She gestured to the bald man with the slanted eyebrows.

Sadly. What an apt name for his features.

You shook back, “Do you live in Berlin?”

“Only as of recently. Sadly’s a native,” she smiled warmly, “You come here to get away from your parents?”

“To get away from my life.” You returned her smile, liking the way she spoke to you.

She shook her head understandingly, “I get it.”

You spent the day with your two new friends and it couldn’t have been more exciting. You went to Checkpoint Charlie and the art gallery then sat and ate pretzels by the Spree. You drank black coffee and they offered you a smoke, which you politely declined. You felt you could with them, they didn’t pressure, and you weren’t scared. Yoongi moped nearly the whole time, and you felt angry that he kept trying to ruin the day and cut short your time with them.

Sadly taught you some German, predominantly the phrases “Kann ich das kaufen?” and “Ich hasse Pferde”. You didn’t really know what the second one meant.

The two of them shared a house together, and they lived in Lichtenberg. They’d only come for the day to visit Checkpoint Charlie and buy some drugs off of Yoongi. It was at this point you understood why his nickname was ‘Suga’. You didn’t think he looked much like a drug dealer — he didn’t have any tattoos.

“I heard Jimin’s having a party later,” TK said, biting off a chunk of her bread.

“He always does,” Yoongi responded, curt and dismissive as you’d only ever seen him be.

“I imagine Y/N’s invited, with that big-ass hickey on her neck,” TK laughed, and your hands automatically split to your neck, covering the bruised side. You’d forgotten.

“At first I thought Suga had done it, but Jimin’s far more likely to have,” she carried on, and you couldn’t look anywhere except for your lap. You noticed that Yoongi stayed quiet, and you couldn’t decipher what it meant. What any of anything meant. If he liked you, if he didn’t, what happened yesterday. You just didn’t know.

The air was so clogged it was suffocating. You dizzily made your way through the people crowded in the kitchen towards the cupboard with the cereal, aka the only food you knew was safe to eat in that house, and tried to shove your way back through the sweaty bodies when Jimin spotted your retreating form.

“Babygirl!” He laughed, happily.

He trotted over to you with his Cheshire grin, “Babygirl, I haven’t seen you since this morning.” He smiled, pushing your hair off your shoulder to admire your bruising.

He leaned into you, “Won’t you join us for a drink?”

His breath smelt like whiskey this time, like an old man. He sneered at you, burying into the crook between your neck and shoulder.

“I’m quite tired,” you responded, subtly turning away from him.

Unexpectedly, he nodded his head, pursing his lips slightly, “Course’ you are. Had long day, huh?” He ran his tongue slyly over his lips, eyes unconcernedly wandering to your chest, peaking out a bit from your vest if you peered over at the right angle. Which, of course, he did.

“It was,” you exhaled, “I’ll go to bed.”

“I might see you later, then.” God, you hoped you wouldn’t. You nodded docilely.

In bed, you couldn’t shut your eyes for longer than ten seconds in fear that drunk Jimin would stalk in and pin you to the mattress when you weren’t looking. He’d already been drinking, and only God knew what he became when he was drunk.

You wriggled and switched positions infinitely, but sleep never came. Instead just the writhing urge to pee, which you attempted to suppress in fear of the bacteria on the loo, but your bladder was about to burst. You knew you’d never fall to sleep needing to go this bad, so you eventually succumbed and got up to your feet from the bunk.

As you approached the en-suite, the sound of soft moaning resonated. Soft moaning and quiet grunts from behind the door. You could only hear it muffled, so you pressed your ear gently to the wood. It was squelching and slapping and other vulgar noises that vibrated through your eardrums like a coffee mill. You let out an uncomfortable breath.

The scream that pierced through the air was all instinctive. The door had opened to reveal Taehyung holding a woman on the sink with her legs high and parted, and himself situated between them, pounding into her turbulently. Of course, they immediately stopped and began frantically covering themselves as you looked on, frozen.

“Fuckin’- fuckin’- Y/N get the fuck out!” Taehyung roared, but your feet remained planted on the ground, as if vines had wrapped around your legs and held you to the floor, immobile. The pair were fervently picking up the strewn articles of clothing as footsteps approached behind you.

“What- what is-“ Jimin’s voice ceased when he pulled the door back further to see into the bathroom, with Tae and the stranger now relatively covered.

His chuckle rang like poison, “Babygirl, you scared me.”

“She fuckin’ scared us!” Taehyung shrieked, eyes wide and nostrils flared. He looked livid.

Jimin simply laughed again, “She’s a baby, V. Don’t yell.” You wanted to be sick. You thought you might be.

As the two of them sprinted past you and out of the room, Jimin smiled, “I think you need that drink, huh? How ‘bout that?” His voice was mocking and you felt like a child, but you still agreed. You were too shaken to do anything else.

He guided you downstairs to the lounge, with battered blue sofas and a coffee table with a lamp and nothing else, except for the people sat on the floor passing round a joint. He made them move aside so you could sit near the door, and you didn’t want to look at the brunette beside you, guzzling down vodka like water.

“Babygirl, you ever smoked?” Yoongi chuckled from the other side of the room at that, looking darkly amused. Jimin squinted his eyes back, making the diamond tattoo on his cheek crinkle.

“How about a brandy first?” There was a plastic cup on the table which he passed to you, with burnt orange liquid sloshing about inside. He smirked a bit as he ushered it to your lips, and you instinctively held his wrist as he tilted it upwards, pouring a generous gulp into your mouth.

Why did everything burn?

You struggled to swallow it, and as soon as you did you were gagging embarrassingly. The small crowd laughed at your straining, face contorting with disgust. Your grandfather loved a glass of brandy at Christmas, and he always considered it a treat, so you’d expected it to be sweet and warm, as he’d described to you as a child. You thought it tasted like perfume you’d sprayed the wrong way.

“Good girl,” Jimin coaxed the cup back to your lips to make you finish the rest of it as you continued to gag and nearly spit it up. It came as a relief to see the liquid was finished when he pulled it away, entertained as if you were a showcase.

“Babygirl, you really are somethin’, eh?” He smirked, “Now, hows about a smoke?”

He taught you the way to do it. He said: inhale for three, hold for three, then exhale. You still weren’t very good at it, but you felt it this time. You felt the lethargy hit you hard enough that your head began lulling side to side, back and forth uncontrollably as the group fell into laughter at your disorientation.

“There we are,” Jimin cooed, before turning to look at Yoongi with a satisfied grin, “Suga, what do you mean she can’t smoke?”

Yoongi grunted, “It’s all an act. She isn’t a virgin anyway.”

You straightened up your head with significant struggle as Jimin responded, “She isn’t?” He looked you up and down with a frown, as if not being a virgin made you worth less.

“She fucked me yesterday.”

“No I didn’t,” you denied, shaking your head slowly, eyes squinted in your drunken haze.

“Don’t lie, Y/N. Jimin doesn’t like it.”

“I don’t lie.”

“You’re a fuckin’ slut, Y/N. Stop playing the virgin.”

You couldn’t find the anger in you to prevent it, the tears. The fucking endless tears that just streamed from your eyes relentlessly and unstoppably. They were all laughing. All the strangers laughing at you as Jimin frowned and you felt scared; so so scared, and you didn’t want to breathe or be seen, you wanted to hide and cry. You wanted to cry and be away from there.

You left, jaggedly and disturbed.

#bts #bts angst #yoongi angst #jimin angst #taehyung angst #jin angst #hoseok angst #jungkook angst #namjoon angst #berlin #admin lottie

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riding-alpacas · 5 years ago

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The definition of wind

Let's see what Google says when you search for a definition of wind:

Wind is the perceptible natural movement of the air, especially in the form of a current of air blowing from a particular direction.

My definition so far has been something like this:

Wind is when your clothes are flapping in the air and it's generally harder to move forward.

Now, after hiking the O circuit, this is my new definition:

Wind is when rain covers detach from high-quality backpacks, rain jackets rip apart, people blow over like sandwich boards and experienced hikers crawl on all fours in a desperate effort to move a little forward.

And whilst I've literally been blown away in the last 8 days, figuratively I'm not.

Let's start with a look at a map. The O circuit and the W trek are multi-day hikes through the Torres del Paine National Park. Most people do the popular W trek which usually takes 3 to 4 days and can be walked in both directions. The W trek is also part of the bigger O circuit which can only be walked in anti-clockwise direction due to the windy John Gardner Pass. The O circuit usually takes between 7 and 10 days and is considered to be a bit less crowded due to a limited number of permitted hikers in the Northern section.

How the O and the W are connected

When researching the O circuit (or "the O") I found lots of different descriptions, but most of them included words like "challenging", "demanding", "rewarding", "remote" and "breathtaking". Obviously this caught my attention and soon I was in the complicated process of trying to book campsites along the trail. This turned out to be quite difficult and the fact that the camps are managed by three different organisations that don't talk to each other didn't make it any easier. Then I stumbled upon an alluring offer: Pay someone to book all campsites for you, have the tents already set up and be fed in the mountain huts (or refugios) along the way. Given that I wanted to enjoy Mother Nature as much as possible, I like minimalistic travelling and I had some cash at hand, I decided to take up that offer. The only downside was that the first part of the hike would be guided and I expected that this would cause some issues due to different walking paces. At the same time it's always nice to have someone that you can ask questions about flora, fauna and the history of the park.

Fast forward I found myself in a great hostel in Puerto Natales - the closest town to Torres del Paine - packing my 24 litre daypack for the big trip. Some people found it hard to believe that I'd do the O with this little backpack, even though I didn't have to carry a tent and food. And everybody else from our group had at least a 50 litre pack. But I can already spoil that it worked perfectly fine. Seriously, you simply don't need so much stuff, you just need the right stuff. This is all I took:

Sleeping bag (5° and I should have taken a warmer one)

2 breathable shirts as a base layer (wearing one)

Fleece jacket

Insulated jacket

One pair of convertible, water-resistant hiking pants (wearing)

2 pairs of Merino wool socks, one thick, one thin (wearing one)

2 pairs of Merino wool undies (wearing one)

Rain jacket

Windbreaker

Beanie

Bush hat

Buff (one of my most valuable pieces of gear, it's so ridiculously versatile)

Waterproof gloves

Camera

A big, big power bank

Kindle

Sunnies

Toothbrush

Toothpaste

Deodorant

Small soap bar

Small towel

Insulin pens

Glucometer

Glucose tablets

A few protein bars

Headlamp

Inflatable solar lantern

Flip flops

Water bottle

Steripen

The key is to have clothes that are quick-drying, breathable and have as much Merino in it as possible. People might be grossed out by the thought of wearing the same underwear for multiple days but it really isn't a problem. Merino wool is antibacterial and it takes ages for it to smell, it is perfectly fine.

Let's move on to the actual hike: Our group consisted of five people and our infectiously cheerful guide Debbie. The other four were Gail & Alisha from England and Julie-Dodd & Marie-Laurie from the States. Walking pace was definitely an issue from day one. Gail and I were the fastest walkers, Alisha a little in between, Julie-Dodd and Marie-Laurie were the slowest. We never really got into the same rhythm as a group which turned things into a bit of a stop-and-go activity for me. But as I said before: I expected this and could live with it.

The first three days were generally a bit unspectacular. The trail was fairly flat and we mostly walked along some beautiful coloured rivers & lakes through picturesque valleys. Things got a little more interesting on day three when we started to see a few glaciers in the distance which gave us a first taste of the famous Southern Patagonian Ice Field. Wheatherwise it was fairly sunny on day one but it became gradually more cloudy and windy. We also had a few periods of rain and the mornings were quite cold, so all layers of our clothing were used all the time.

Paine River

Mountains that separate Chile and Argentina

Did I mention that I like a good waterfall?

Lago Dickson

The wind was particularly strong on the lookouts. To our amusement, one Canadian couple put it quite nicely when we got to a point where I didn't want to pull out my camera because I was concerned the wind would take it. The girl was yelling to the guy:

This is not a good place to make a sandwich.

This line became a running gag for the rest of the trip.

At the end of day three we got up close to a glacier for the first time and the wind picked up again noticeably. Debbie told us that the next day would be quite challenging: Fierce winds and lots of rain was forecasted and there was a high chance that the John Gardner Pass - which we were supposed to cross - could be closed. She suggested to start early. Not only did we have to hike 1,200 metres up, we also had to hike about 22 kilometres to our next camp.

Glacier Los Perros

The host of the refugio overslept, so after a very sparse breakfast we hit the trail at about 5am. It already started raining and we spent the first hour walking in the dark through a muddy forrest before getting to an exposed & rocky area above the tree line. The rain turned into a mix of hail and snow and the wind pushed us all to the limits. It was here that the first rain covers flew off and people started being blown over. Gail, Alisha and I had to take quite a few breaks to wait for the other two to catch up. As a result we became very cold very quickly and Debbie noticed that we simply can't continue as a group. Even though I had my full waterproof layer on, most of my clothes were soaked in water - the rain was simply too much. The only thing that was dry were my hands, so it looks like my gloves are my most reliable piece of gear (a rather unresearched purchase from Amazon about a year ago). My feet were soaking wet and due to the wind chill became so cold that I couldn't feel my toes anymore.

Debbie sent us three ahead and it definitely helped that we didn't have to stop anymore. I wouldn't go so far to say that we were warm, we were just less cold. When we reached the top plateau of the pass we battled a constant stream of 100 km/h wind. It. Was. Unreal. And surely not a good place to make a sandwich...

Every step became a hard push - this wasn't walking anymore, this was a full-on pulling rope exercise. Alisha fell on her knees, all of us were walking bending over trying to give the wind as less surface as possible. Reaching the main pillar I climbed it with a victorious feeling but this thing was far from over. Getting to the other side we had an astonishing view of the Southern Patagonian Ice Field but we had absolutely no time to enjoy it or even take a little photo. I didn't feel my feet anymore and had to start running downhill for about 10 to 15 minutes in an effort to get warm. I reached some shelter behind some bush, the bush turned back into forest, we were finally much more protected and it became a lot warmer now. My toes came back to life and for the first time we were able to properly speak to each other again. There was a sense of achievement in the air, we hugged each other, we felt like we went through something together. At this point Alisha noticed that my rain jacket wasn't in as good spirits as I was: The hood and parts of the upper back got totally ripped apart. The irony is that I thought about replacing it before the trip but I figured it would do it for one more year.

What's left of my rain jacket

For the remainder of the walk, the massive Glacier Grey stayed on our right and we finally had some time to stop and snap some pictures. We had a rest at a ranger station and waited for the others to catch up. When they arrived, they told us their story and apparently they had to tuck their arms into each other and crawl over the pass. Later we heard that the pass was indeed closed a few hours later and the wind gusts were around 120 km/h. Needless to say that this was the bloody highlight of the whole trip. Unfortunately we don't have any photos from this epic crossing, so I really hope these memories will stay in my head for quite some time and Alzheimer's won't get me too early.

Southern Patagonian Ice Field

Glacier Grey

To our luck the rain started easing up after the pass and the rest of the day was quite cruisy. We crossed a few nice suspension bridges before reaching our camp for the night. You could clearly feel that we now joined the W trek. It was quite busy and the refugio even had a little café with couches and stuff. I wanted to treat myself with a hot chocolate and realised that all my cash that I took with me was gone. I only used a little bit for a hot drink on day one, after that I didn't take my wallet out again. Which meant that someone must have gotten into my tent on one of the other campsites and stolen my cash. I have to say that it was also partly my own fault. Whenever I arrived at my tent, I completely unpacked my bag and spread everything out for easy access. If somebody opened the tent, it would have been a five second job to take out the money. It is a shame though - the back area of the park wasn't crazy busy and it felt a bit like we were all a big family moving from camp to camp. Debbie was also shocked and it turned out that some other people from other groups had some of their stuff stolen, too. I was way too trusting.

This crazy day was also our last day with a guide: The next morning Debbie would leave us and each of us would continue at our own pace.

Debbie drew a little comic for me as a farewell

For day 5 I didn't have any high expectations. On paper it did look like a rest day with only 11 kilometres to walk and not many highlights on the map. But it turned out to be quite interesting. Most of the trail led through exposed areas which I like a lot more than forest. There were wonderful views of Lake Grey and the surrounding mountains but it was still super windy and I couldn't stay long on any of the many many lookouts.

Glacier and Lago Grey

Bye bye Glacier Grey

Hello Lake Pehoe

Day 6 was another big day with more than 20 kilometres to hike. It was the middle part of the "W": French Valley. The first section was quite steep and rocky but the reward was worth it. Reaching the first lookout I had a wonderful view of the valley to the left and the French Glacier to the right. Moving on, the trail became less steep and I barely felt that I was still going up. The second lookout offered another stunning view of the mountains further back. What a lovely little side trip.

Beautiful mountains everywhere

Lake Pehoe

Los Cuernos

French Glacier

Close to Mirador Británico

French Valley

On my way back down I stumbled upon Alisha who started the day a bit earlier than I. The one word that comes to mind when having to describe her condition would be kaputt. She had very sore muscles (or a muscle hangover as Germans would say) and as it turned out later also had two gigantic blisters on her heels. I decided to walk with her until we would reach camp trying to support her mentally as much as possible. The five minutes strategy from Snatch didn't work very well by the way.

To our surprise the trail was leading down to one of these wonderful glacial lakes and we even walked along its pebbly beach for a few metres. We ended at my favourite campsite of the trek (Los Cuernos). It was very close to shore, the showers were fantastic and the buildings quite rustic with great food (the portions were way too small though). Ironically I did not sleep very well at all that night. The wind picked up again in the afternoon and strong gusts woke me up again and again. At times I thought the tent would take off and I'd fly to the Torres. When we walked past the lake earlier, the wind was actually whirling up water which almost looked like little tornadoes. Fascinating to see.

Nice pebbles

youtube

A bit of wind

I have to say a few more words about the water (again). I'm now at a point where I would say that the water here is the best water I ever drank in my entire life. Usually I like to add a little bit of flavour when I drink plain water but here I just couldn't get enough of it. If there is one thing that I will miss most about this place it is the ability to just go to one of these natural taps and drink this wonderful water. My Steripen was only used a couple of times when I knew that there were lots of horses in the area, other than that I never had to treat it at all.

One of the many natural taps

The seventh day was another rest day with only 11 kilometres to walk. Gail and I decided to walk it together and for the majority of the time the trail was just parallel to Lake Nordenskjöld. Towards the end we took a turn at another lake that was named after my second-last car (Inge) before getting back to where it all started about a week ago.

Lake Nordenskjöld

There were a few mountains around

More Lake Nordensköld

The last day was reserved for the hike up to the towers that the park is so famous for. I was hoping that we'd have a clear morning, in which case I would have started in the middle of the night to see the Torres at sunrise - unfortunately the forecast said it would be a cloudy morning, so I rejected that idea. It was supposed to clear up during the day though. A lot of people do this hike as a day hike due to its proximity to the main entrance of the park. I wanted to at least avoid these crowds, so I started two hours before they arrived, hoping for some solitude. It kind of worked. There were already quite a few people on the trail when I made my way up but it was a lot less compared to the masses of people I encountered on my way back. And the forecast was actually true: When I arrived at the base of the towers, it was still a bit cloudy but when I left, I managed to snap a photo of all three towers not being surrounded by clouds. The whole way down it was finally super sunny and I soaked up the much needed sunbeams like a sponge. The towers itself were absolutely breathtaking and I highly enjoyed just sitting there, starring at them for two hours. As you might sense there actually weren't that many jaw-dropping moments during the hike as I originally hoped for, but this was definitely one of them.

The famous towers

On the way back

I guess the first bus has arrived

Beautiful water

What a lovely last day it was

All in all I am a little torn about the O. My expectations were definitely a lot higher in terms of everything. I expected it to be a lot more challenging but most days were actually quite cruisy. I also expected it to be a lot more remote - in reality you would never have to wait longer than 5 to 10 minutes until you'd see another human being, even on the back side. Another expectation I had was more wow moments. Don't get me wrong, it is absolutely beautiful and this is complaining on a very high level but I was very rarely blown away by what I saw. Would I do it again? Probably not. Was it still worth it? I think so.

To wrap it up, I quickly wanted to list my top positive surprises and top disappointments.

Top 3 positive surprises:

I fell in love with glaciers

Walking along the beach of Lake Nordenskjöld on the way to Los Cuernos

The hot chocolate at Camp Serón was the bomb

Top 3 disappointments:

Apart from the John Gardner Pass it wasn't very challenging at all (and that part was only challenging due to the weather)

Overall there were too many people

My cash was stolen

Next I will go back to El Calafate in Argentina and hike on the Perito Moreno Glacier on my birthday. After that I will go up North and spend some time in San Carlos de Bariloche which apparently looks like Switzerland and also has amazing chocolate. I will surely put that statement to a test.

#chile #torres del paine #hiking #o circuit

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jessiewre · 5 years ago

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Day 22

Sun 26th Jan 💜

It’s been a year to the day since we lost Nanny. That’s mad isn’t it. Miss that legend.

Woke up at about 5am because we’d gone to bed too early, but managed to power through and stay in bed till 7am. Phil got up and continued researching his new obsession - a half marathon near Kilimanjaro - and I joined him at 8:30am for Spanish omelette breakfast included in our 25$ a night room. Good deal that init. People say that in London you’re never further than like 5 meters away from a rat. Well thats like me and good deals, there’s always one close by for me to sniff out. Maybe I’m more like one of those pigs and the deals are truffles.

I digress...

The hostel manager was now wearing a chefs coat and I realised he was now the chef. What a multi-talented chap he was. I threw him into a frenzy by asking for salt, pepper, ketchup and chilli sauce, and eventually went into the kitchen myself to assist.

The ketchup was in a huge bucket bottle in the fridge and he gracefully glugged it out into a plastic squeezey bottle that he couldn’t find the lid for. Yum.

Shout out to Stella and Helen who will surely boke at that description of keptchup.

We got bodas to the Woman’s Centre for the recommended walking tour starting at 10am - but there was a big bike race on believe it or not, and so road blocks meant we had to walk the last kilometre. Phil was loving the bike race, I could see his legs twitching like he was imagining himself on a bike that moment, but I soon snapped him back to reality by power-walking ahead to avoid us being super late to the walk.

The sky was rapidly turning a dark shade of grey but Phil assured me that the weather report he’d checked stated that there would be no rain until midday or later.

You may be able to sense where this is going.

We arrived at the Centre and sat in the sofa area for the introduction, and the exact moment the woman began to talk and tell us about the community, the rain began to thunder on the metal roof and no one could hear a word she said. After 10 minutes, the intro finished and the rain actually calmed down a little, but then it went totally crazy again and me and Phil looked at each other like...hmm should we just not do this walking tour.

Another English girl there was thinking the same thing and the 3 of us decided to ditch the tour and head back the next day, while the 3 older people and a young American woman went off in the torrential rain with umbrellas. Umbrella’s are all good and well but I couldn’t see another soul on the streets so I seriously doubted how good a community walking tour would be in this weather. We chatted to the English girl, Esther, and she was ending a weeks work doing research for the Princes Trust who she works for. In a nutshell, she creates programmes for local groups in different countries to integrate technology into their lives to improve their prospects and quality of life. Really interesting! Phil mentioned that she should hang at our hostel later if she wanted as we were planning on trying out the bowling alley on site, and she was really up for that, especially considering she was in Kigali on her own and it was her last night.

The rain eventually calmed down enough for us to jump on a boda and we decided that considering the rain, it would be appropriate to visit the Genocide Museum at this point. We knew we were going to visit it at some point so made sense to be inside during the rain.

We were really hungry though and didn’t want to rush through the museum, so thankfully there was a cafe on site where we had a vege burger and vege panini, both with chips. We decided we’d try and lay off the chips for a while after that meal, it was the chip that broke the camels back.

The Rwandan Genocide museum was a harrowing and necessary visit.

The below information is upsetting, I’ll warn you now.

genocide

noun

noun: genocide; plural noun: genocides

1. the deliberate killing of a large group of people, especially those of a particular nation or ethnic group.

To briefly summarise, the problems began when the country was ‘colonised’ - or should we say if we’re being honest, when the country was invaded against its will. The Germans were first in 1899 then the Belgians in 1916 and then the Belgian’s decided to split the country into three different groups. Ultimately this created a sort of competition between the groups of people that had never existed before and this was what they say sparked the issues in the country. Fast forward to 1994, and the genocide officially began, over a period of 100 days - neighbours were murdering neighbours, friends were murdering friends. Relatives even betrayed each other. By turning people against each other, the ringleaders were able to sit back and watch the killings happen for them.

Being in the country now, its very difficult to imagine it happening, as it feels vibrant, friendly and safe. But the images in the museum leave you under no illusions. People were mindlessly slaughtered, no one was spared - children, pregnant women and men. It was absolutely mind-blowingly horrendous.

The museum talks a lot about how the international community sat back and let it happen, like Rwanda was on another planet that no one cared about. There is obviously a lot of pain from that which was difficult to read about.

But there were also a number of people who put themselves on the line by hiding people in their houses and gardens, saving many lives. Unfortunately, there were not enough of those people and over a million people were killed. They are still uncovering mass graves today.

There were videos playing with interviews from survivors talking about the guilt they feel from being the only member of their family who survived. But incredibly, they spoke about forgiveness and said they would like to forgive the perpetrators if they were willing to ask for forgiveness. They spoke about moving forward with only peace in mind, as this was what would move Rwanda forward in a peaceful way. By seeking revenge, the violence and pain would continue, they said. It’s unbelievable to hear that from someone who watched their innocent young siblings and mother murdered by machete in front of their very eyes. You can’t even imagine what this person has gone through.

One of the most difficult parts of the museum was The Children’s Room. This section had beautiful photos of child victims printed in large portraits displayed around the room, with a small plaque underneath each one with bullet points of information about the child, like:

Name

Age

Favourite Snack

Best Friend

 Then the final point for every child was

Cause of death

The descriptions here were detailed and distressing.

Obviously there is a huge amount of detail missing from this account of the genocide and I urge you to have a read about it if you have time and are interested.

We left there after a few hours taking it all in and went to find the Inema Art gallery, as we’d read about it being a really cool artists space that has had a lot of international interest.

It was different to what I expected, as there wasn’t actually a lot of pieces in there - more like a few extremely large pieces, each priced around $5000. So obviously, we bought two and headed off.

Well anyway, some of the artists were there stood near their art in smart clothes and were hoping for a super rich muzungu coming in and buying everything. That was not going to be us, so we thanked them and headed to the cafe for a little coffee.

Not before I asked them if there were any female artists there.

One guy said No, the women in Rwanda seem to stick to the craft-making and THEN he said that even though many are good at art, he thinks they are lacking in passion.

I said Hmm perhaps you means Confidence, not passion.

He was like Oh yeah, maybe that.

Yeah MAYBE THAT mate.

We boda’d back to the hostel and Phil donned up in his gear for a run. Just before heading off, he finally booked himself a spot onto the Kilimanjaro half marathon in Moshi, Tanzania on 1st March. FFS. Better get practicing on my excited supportive girlfriend look then.

Meanwhile I sat in the hostel garden watching videos on how to use Procreate on the iPad. Suddenly realised Phil had been gone AGES and then he rocked up having run like 10 MILES and then said Oh also, I may have tripped over and potentially broken my toe.

He’d taken out his phone to check the map and ended up kicking a bit of metal sticking out of the group, and then he’d fallen over and made a few new cracks on his phone screen (to join the 5 that were already there).

Wicked.

Phil had a quick shower and change while hobbling around on his bad foot (I hear broken toes are brilliant for half marathons), and Esther arrived at the hostel, so we went searching for a restaurant open on a Sunday. After a few fails, we eventually stumbled across a place called Afrika Bite and negotiated the 10k per person meaty Rwandan platter down to 5k each for a vegetarian version for all of us. It was so good! Garlic potatoes, peanut sauce, rice, vegetables, fried banana, salad, plus some ‘fish fingers’ ordered as an extra. Such a welcome relief to eat something local and delicious. Shout out to those who are reading this blog mainly for the food descriptions.

We went back to the hostel to play in East Africa’s 2nd bowling alley (the only other one is in Nairobi!) and Esther made sure she mentioned she had a ‘bad neck’. That would explain her unbelievably bad scoring thats for sure. Ok now to be fair, Phil the physio also advised that she use the heaviest ball available which turned out to be truly awful advise and after a stagnant run of about 2 points in 6 goes, she tried a really light ball - and actually hit some pins! Go Esther.

Can I also mention that this bowling alley had a system where a bloke hidden at the end would organise the pins and reset them for us manually using a kind of lever system. He always managed to move his hands out of the way before the ball struck the pins of course.

Esther headed back to her hotel and we ended up playing basketball on the two hoops game with Desire the manager. Our quick game of ‘How many can you score in 1 minute’ managed to take over our lives for over an hour. My record was 23, Phil’s 24 (he’s taller init) and Desire managed 33 (well, he works there so ya know). Was addictive and super fun and I got the impression Desire will spend the next year working on his pb.

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purplesurveys · 5 years ago

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568

Have you ever had a really bad haircut? I haven’t had any truly awful ones. The only time I felt ‘meh’ about a haircut was when I went to the salon on my own and told the hairdresser what I wanted myself. I was never good at that kind of stuff, and always prefer being with someone so they can tell me if I’m headed somewhere good or otherwise. Did you ever order any clothes from the Alloy catalogue? I’ve never heard of that. What brand, color, and type is your favorite eyeliner? I’ve only ever used eyeliner at one point in my life and I’ve forgotten every detail about it. It was black, though. Do you wear eyeliner? I used to. I wanted to look nice post-breakup, so I learned how to do makeup to feel good about myself. Was there ever a time in your life when you couldn't cry? I guess when I have HAD to cry in the past, as in for a skit, I couldn’t. But I can be triggered and cry very easily otherwise.

What's your favorite type of yogurt? I hate yogurt, I hate everything that’s sour (except for sour tapes, but even those I can only handle at a certain level of sourness haha). What posters did you have on your wall as a teenager? Wrestling. My mom took them down for no reason eventually, even though I loved having them up on my wall. What are your favorite type of calendars? I mean I don’t obsess over calendars enough to have a favorite type? so a digital one on my phone and laptop is fine with me. I do sometimes wish I was rich enough just to be able to spend on those novelty calendars with Audrey Hepburn photos and Monet paintings in every month, though. Do you have a full-length mirror? I used to but it got transferred to my sister’s room. I don’t mind it though; I don’t use mirrors all that much. When was the last time you bought stamps? Elementary school, probably. Do you have any overdue library books right now? HAH, yes I do actually. It was a book I needed to do a Powerpoint on, and I completely forgot that its due date was on the 4th. The fee is like ₱2/day so I’ll have to pay around ₱8 to ₱10 by next week, depending on when I’ll feel like returning the book. How often do you do laundry? I don’t; my mom prefers to do it herself. Do you have a piggy bank? Maybe as a kid, but I never took it seriously because I didn’t sit well with the fact that I couldn’t see the money I’ve been saving. I’ve stuck with a good old wallet ever since, just so I can know my progress. Do you remember your locker combinations from high school? I don’t, actually. I wonder what numbers I used to secure my locks :o What's your favorite DIY crafts youtube channel? Aren’t a lot of those misleading and downright fake? Could you spend hours on pinterest? I’ve never spent more than five minutes at one time on that website/app. Do you own plaid pants? Nah, it’s not really my style. Have you ever had to wear a school uniform? I had to wear my school’s uniform for 14 straight years. All I ever wore Monday through Friday for that span of time. What was your high school's mascot? We don’t have a mascot; we just have school colors. What were your high school's team colors? Gold, white, blue. Who were your best friends in high school? Angela, Gabie, Athenna, and Sofie. Others I was close with were Chelsea, Kaira, and Fern. Who was your first boyfriend or girlfriend? Gab. Have you ever been to Chicago? Nope but it’s a dream. If yes, what do you like best about it? The FOOD, the culture, the museums. Have you ever stayed in a hostel? Nope, never been. Would you rather sleep on the top bunk or bottom bunk? Bottom. I wouldn’t like sleeping somewhere that felt unnatural, and lying down way high from the floor is definitely one of those things. Do you love camping? I’ve never tried, so I don’t know. Would you rather sleep in a tent or under the stars? Lie under the stars for as long as I can, then pass out in a tent. What insects are you afraid of? Cockroaches. Have you ever had a secret admirer that left you notes? I haven’t. Are you close with your cousins? I have a good relationship with most of my cousins, mom’s side; but I’m especially close with my eldest cousin, who I essentially view as my older brother. I’m so-so with cousins on my dad’s side - we were very close as kids, but they moved further to the south and I never really get to see them anymore, so we grew more shy as the years passed. Are you close to any aunts or uncles? I love my mom’s cousins; they’re all younger than her and they’re mostly late Gen X-ers so they’re more hip and cool hahaha. I wouldn’t say we’re close but they are definitely much easier to talk to than other older relatives. Are you close to your grandparents? I seldom get to see my paternal grandparents because they live with the ^ same cousins I’ve since grown quite distant from, so I wouldn’t say I’m close to them but of course I love them all the same. I was very close with my maternal grandfather when he was still alive as I always knew what to do to make him laugh; and I am also crazy for my maternal grandmother, although in the last few years she’s been all about Jesus so sometimes it gets a little draining hearing about how I should always pray and that “God can answer all [my] problems.” Still love her loads, though. Who betrayed your trust? A friend did, many years ago. Who was your first best friend (apart from a sibling)? Bold of you to assume a sibling was my first best friend, because you’re wrong lol. I’d consider this girl we calle Kaye the first one; we were class number buddies in Kinder 1 (I was 4, she was 5) so we got close quickly. She changed schools by Grade 1 and I haven’t talked to her since, but I still remember her fondly. What was your favorite thing to do at sleepovers when you were younger? I was never allowed at sleepovers when I was a kid. What kind of popcorn is your favorite? Sweet-flavored ones. I could never take dry-ass plain/salted popcorn. It has to be something like salted caramel or parmesan. Does your town have a big fountain in it? If we do have one, I’ve never seen it. But I’m pretty sure we don’t. What is your town known for? For being on a mountain and being ridiculously hard to get to because 1) of its winding, accident-prone roads, and 2) IT’S ON A MOUNTAIN. I live in the area of Antipolo just before you start to go up, so I don’t get offended much by the complaints of everyone else; but I’m in solidarity nonetheless with the ~mountain-dwellers~ just because I used to go to school in upper Antipolo. Do you currently live in the city you grew up in? I mostly grew up in Antipolo, so yes I still live here. I did live in Manila in my early childhood but that time was much shorter than the time I’ve spent in my current city. What's one way in which you're behind the times? I hate Minecraft and I hate Fortnite even more. What's one way in which you're still a child? I love coloring books :) What's one way in which you're old? I have a bad back. Do you feel old or young? Or do you feel both at different times? Definitely feel a bit of both, depending on my mood. The perfect example could be that I can be annoyed seeing younger kids make so much noise, but the next day I can be exactly like those kids making a bunch of noise with my friends. How old are you? I am 21. Do you know what you want to do for your next birthday? No, not yet. Quite early to think about at this point, really. If yes, what is it? A private dinner would already sound perfect. What is the last new thing you discovered that was really good? Vaping. I mean don’t try it if you haven’t already, but yeah. What would be the best surprise you could receive right now? Tbh if my mom came home carrying a box of Yellow Cab pizza. AKA something that would NEVER happen; she snobs Yellow Cab cos she thinks they’re too expensive for pizza. Do you usually forgive when someone hurts your or try to get revenge? I get my revenge, subtly. Were there any subjects in school that were really easy for you? Our subject Language, which was mandatory back in elementary school, was literally basic English grammar. Not everyone in my former school spoke fluent English so a lot of them weren’t all that good at the subject; but for people like me who had a solid grasp of English and read a lot to begin with, the class was basically a breather from the other more difficult classes. If so, what? ^ I already told ya all about it. Did you ever skip a grade or get held back a grade? Skipping grades isn’t a thing in my former school which is honestly a good thing for me cos it would have bred a lot of competition. But students would have to repeat a level if their grades showed that they had to; I wasn’t one of them. What time of day were you born? 9:11 in the evening. What is the best hairstyle you've ever had? I loved my layered hair like 10 years ago. It was probably the only time I did something to my hair that wasn’t just a trim, so I enjoyed that experience. I also liked cutting my hair way, way too short last year; it was a bold move but I liked how it look, as did everyone else. Do you think you look better with dyed hair or natural hair? I’ve never tried dyeing my hair so I wouldn’t know. Do you think your look better with curly hair or straight hair? Curly, I think. Do you have bangs? I have baby bangs but they’re just stubborn hair standing around my head lmao but no I don’t have actual bangs. Do you think you look better with bangs or without? I haven’t tried getting bangs as an adult. I did look cute with them as a toddler though :( Do you think you look better with long hair or short? Long. What's your favorite rock band? Paramore, if they still count. Who's your favorite country singer? None. Do you ever listen to Celtic music? No. Do you listen to Hillsong? No. Did you try the unicorn frappuccino, and if yes, were you a fan? No I never tried it. Have you ever won a contest? I won a school quiz bee and an essay writing contest before, but I wouldn’t call the latter legitimate. It was just a writing contest about wrestling held by a local TV station and the three best entries got to win WWE t-shirts haha. Have you ever wanted to be a model, actress, singer, or dancer? I wanted to be a model when I was like 12. No fucking clue what was going through my head at the time. When you look at your baby pictures, do you recognize yourself? Sure. Has your hair color changed since you were a toddler? Nope. Do you wear matching socks? Yes. How many drawers does your dresser have? Three. Do you own an American flag shirt? No thanks. Do you own a British flag shirt? I don’t. The Union Jack got overused by 2011 Tumblr, honestly. Do you have a seashell collection? I don’t. Aren’t we prohibited from getting those from beaches? That’s the case in the Philippines, anyway. Do you have a rock collection? I do not. Do you decorate for Halloween? We didn’t decorate the house but I celebrated it with friends this year. What is your favorite thing to do in the pool? Float around and relax. Flamingos or pineapples? ??? Flamingos, I guess? Cacti or seashells? Seashells. Maple tree or palm tree? Palm tree. Dreamcatcher or wind chimes? Dreamcatchers! Have you ever taken a picture at the perfect moment? I probably have at few points. Do you have a crush right now? Yes. What color was your first car? My first and current car is white. Was your first car used or new? I’m actually not sure. It was my dad who purchased it. Do you have a car now? Yep. What color(s) eyeshadow do you wear the most? I never wear any.

#surveys #survey

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curvesandcorners · 5 years ago

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SLOVENIA

Slovenia 5/12/19 – 5/19/19 Republika Slovenija. The country is about the size of New Jersey but ever since I first visited in 2006, it left a big impression on me and I have always wanted to return. And especially with a bicycle. After a trip to Norway didn’t pan out I had committed myself to the idea of another bicycle trip and after a short think, Slovenia was it. Quite a bit of flight itinerary option analysis later, I had a free flight via American Airlines miles to Venice. I had about a month to plan out the trip so wasn’t too stressed. Then work got crazy, then I ended up in LA for the week before the trip, and then all of a sudden I was leaving the next day and I still had a route to plan and accommodations to book. That all somehow comes together no matter how unprepared I am and it would this time as well. So a long flight to Madrid, a short flight to Venice, and a 2 hour train ride later I was at the border town of Gorizia, Italy where I had the day before booked a hotel for the start and end of the trip. The hotel room turned into a bike shop and I re-assembled the Rick Jones that night and would leave the travel case with the hotel for the week. The following morning I pedaled across the border to Nova Gorica in Slovenia and started on my clockwise loop around western Slovenia.

The first day was grey and a little wet, which would prove to be a theme for the trip, but the riding started out pretty good, riding over one Italian hill before unknowingly crossing the official border at some unmarked spot and onto a bunch of small Slovenian farm roads.

Just before the town of Plave I hit a ripper of a descent and satisfied myself with my brakes ability to stop me, and then the Soca River first came into view. I had been waiting to see this river for 13 years, and it did not disappoint with amazingly clear turquoise blue water.

My route for the day would follow small roads along the Soca River valley, hitting small towns, and transitioning between perfect pavement, gravel, and jeep track. The weather shifted from threatening to very threatening but luckily never rained more than a spitting. But what the weather lacked in rain it made up for in gusting wind, and blowing the wrong direction. I stopped for a picnic of leftover pizza from the night before, and though I was exhausted from the travels and jetlag, and despite the wind, made it to the town of Bovec to check in to the friendly hostel I booked. A good meal of trout, in the somewhat humorous and cartoonish Bovec style, and a couple glasses of local wine and I was out like a light.

The next morning my body still wanted to wake up on NY time so I got a late start but when I got intel on the route I had planned I found out my intended one-way foray up to the Mangart Saddle was not going to be possible as the road was closed because of snow. I thought about trying it out anyway, but it is a one way road 30 miles out and back, with 5000’ of climbing, and I’d have to return right back to where I started in order to continue on the overall route. So it was not hard to decide to skip that part and I now had a short 20 mile day. This worked out swimmingly as these 20 miles were stunning and provided reason to stop and take photos almost every 50 feet. The wind was back and working against me and I cursed not following the general advice of doing this route in counter-clockwise direction. I took a wrong turn somewhere and then coming back for a ½ mile with the wind sent me sailing along at 30 mph without a pedal stroke. The Soca cut through a limestone gorge and my path followed more small roads and easy mountain bike trails, with a few river crossings over these lovely bridges.

The mountains I had been pedaling towards started getting closer and closer and pretty soon I found myself at my destination of the Koča pri izviru Soče mountain hut.

The hut is part of the Planinska Zveza Slovenije aka the Alpine Association of Slovenia and I had become a card carrying member the day before my trip, which meant I could sleep in the hut dormitory for a friendly 10 euro fee. It was early so I went on a rainy hike for the afternoon and I was glad I had packed my non-cycling shoes as the hike had me scaling some vertical faces before finding the source of the Soca river, a fissure in the mountain with a bottomless blue hole. The host of the hut fixed me up nicely with a wild mushroom stew, a delicious cottage cheese struklji, and a glass of wine. I climbed up the ladder into the loft dormitory and tucked in with my kindle for a good night of rest.

On the morning of Day 3 I breakfasted with my host again and discussed my cycling plans. She did not like my plan to continue up and over the Vrsic pass. The same snow that had closed the Mangart Saddle had apparently unofficially closed the road over Vrsic, unless your vehicle was equipped with snow chains. My bike was not. She called a hut-friend up on the mountain who confirmed her fears and told me I should not make an attempt. The detour was just not an option I would consider and I had been daydreaming about this pass for weeks so I thanked them both for their worry, but I’d be going up, and walking the bike if I needed to. As I stepped outside in the morning it was cold and grey again but I started pedaling and immediately climbing. Not 30 minutes later I was blessed with bright blue sunny skies that came out of nowhere and I knew I had made the right decision. The Vrsic Pass road is a military road built by Russian prisoners of war during World War I and has 50 numbered hairpin switchbacks, 26 going up on Trenta side and 24 (cobblestoned!) descending on the Kranska Gora side. The road was also absolutely stunning and a pleasure cycling up. The feeling was incredible. I looked behind me to see the valley from where I had just came, the sharp bends of the road getting smaller and smaller as I climbed higher and higher, and the surrounding mountains getting closer and closer and just could not believe this was reality.

Somewhere around switchback 20 or so, I was nearly at the summit and the warnings came true. The temperature plummeted and the road surface was covered with a few inches of snow over a sheet of ice. I ran into an older Austrian couple I had spoken with the day before in their SUV as they were turning around because their vehicle couldn’t make it up the road. Despite the snow we shared this moment of excitement because of the beauty of the mountain peaks and the encouraging sunshine. They asked how it was cycling in the snow and I replied “it doesn’t matter. it’s beautiful” to which they replied in charming Austrian accents “IT IS SO BYOOTTEEEFULLLL”. I pedaled when I could and pushed the bike when I couldn’t and put on all my layers and both pairs of gloves and made my way across the 4 or 5 km of snow covered summit. A well placed hut provided a hot tea to warm myself back up before making the descent. The north side has cobblestones on each of the 24 hairpins which was not ideal for a bicycle moving way too fast, but maybe that extra caution kept me from flying off the road and off the mountain. In any case, the descent was over before I knew it and I paused at Lake Jasna to admire the morning’s accomplishment.

From here I would enjoy 25 miles of picture perfect solitary riding along a tiny perfectly paved road/path through the Triglavski National Park, all the way to Lake Bled.

And somehow this cycling utopia of a road provided me with my only puncture of the trip.

A quick lunch in Bled and a lap around the lake and I continued on my way. After a few km I turned off the paved road and onto a mountain bike trail and started on the 2nd big climb for the day. A much smaller one at 580 m, but a much harder one thanks to the dirt and varying 8 – 15% grade.

But the top would reward me well with this alpine meadow and a view the whole way down the other side of the mountain to Bohinjsko Jezero.

I was further rewarded with freshly paved and absolutely perfect tarmac which allowed me let the bike sing down the swoopy descent. There were a few shouts of excitement as I was having so much fun and my bike felt so good. A few minutes later I was down at the lake (Bohinjsko Jezero).

A quick pedal to look around town and then I had a 5 or 6 km ride back up into the woods to another Alpine Association hut where I planned to stay. I approached a closed looking hut but was happy to see there was a woman doing some work around the back. But unluckily she informed the hut was closed until the weekend. The day was too good to let this setback annoy me so I quickly turned around and another trip back down to town and I managed to find a lovely little hotel lodge to call home for the night with an excellent “Foksner” burger and great selection of Slovenian craft beers. I toasted to an unforgettable day on the bike and was drunk in one pint and asleep in two. The next morning I woke up high on the euphoria of such a good previous day. I didn’t have any epic alpine passes planned for the day but overall it was the biggest day of the trip I had planned. I looked out the window and saw a miserably grey sky and rain pouring down. I checked the forecast and it did not look good.

I reviewed my planned route and saw I had quite a bit of climbing and a lot of it was on mtb trails. This just did not sound fun in 40 degrees and rain all day so I decided to call an audible and re-routed myself to a more direct route on mostly pavement. This cut the day down to a more manageable 95 km. The rain never stopped aside from one hour of respite, and it was indeed cold, but I layered up, put some house music on my Bluetooth speaker on my handlebars, and got into a groove with my cadence and pedaled instinctively. It was great and miserable at the same time. The route would take me along some beautiful roads and some average ones, and eventually I reached my somewhat arbitrarily selected destination of Trojane.

From Trojane I had picked out another Alpine hut for my accommodation. This was about 10 km outside of town and seemed doable from my review of the maps. My confidence was shaken though, by the previous day’s surprise closed hut. I continued out of town towards the woods and the hut. I got to the last remnants of a village before entering the woods and saw a woman outside and asked if she had any idea if it would be open or not. She didn’t speak a lick of English but grabbed her son who did and he knew the hut and was fairly confident it was only open on weekends so would be closed. I knew that would be a pretty terrible thing to trudge up to this hut only to come right back down, all in the cold pouring rain, at the end of a long day, and I also really liked the idea of a hot shower at that point (no showers at the Alpine huts) so I accepted defeat and headed back to Trojane for a hot tea and to figure out accommodation for the night. I met Melita in the Trojane café and we made friends and she was thrilled that I chose Slovenia for my cycling trip. We took a photo on her ancient digital camera. I took advantage of the wifi and successfully booked another cheap room at the wonderfully Soviet-esque meets mid-century modern Hotel Trojane. The hot shower made it worth every single euro (not that many!) and I cranked the heat and used my bike as a drying rack to try to dry off my thoroughly soaked clothing.

After an excellent night’s rest, I had an easy route planned from Trojane to Ljubljana for two day’s in the city. But I wanted more bikes so I planned a big epic murderous ride up to the Austrian border, across three mountain passes, and then back down to Ljubljana. Then I checked on road closure conditions and two of the passes were closed because of snow so I settled for something in the middle with one mountain pass. But before that I had to go see Hut Dom dr. Franca Goloba na Čemšeniški planini, which was supposed to be my destination the night before. I headed back out of town, passed the woman and son whom I had spoken to the day before, and then started to climb up into the woods. I soon realized I had very much made the right choice as the roads up to the hut went from

And they got stupid steep. But eventually, after a couple miles that felt like an a couple hundred, I came to the hut.

What an amazing place. The host was there doing some sprucing up and though she spoke no English I was at least able to confirm she was there the night before. I didn’t regret my decision but I sure was glad I still came to see the hut. The view off the mountain and across the valley below was breathtaking and the grounds of the hut were charming as possible. Picnic tables covered in snow with the sun shining and an incredible view meant I had to enjoy a morning beer.

I enjoyed my beer and went back in the direction I had came but took another trail I thought might be more bike and less hike. It was not. But it eventually spit me out onto another dirt road which was a very fast way back down off the mountain.

I passed through Trojane one last time, grabbed a few snacks, and then quickly turned off the pavement and onto a forest road which was one of my favorite sections of the whole trip. I had the whole forest to myself and enjoyed beautiful and tranquil dirt roads in great shape as I climbed up and down the undulating hills. This heavenly dirt road brought me to another secondary paved road, a small mountain pass, and through a few small villages. I made a friend, enjoyed the rolling hills and perfect pavement, and soon found myself at the base of the Trobelkski Vrh climb. At 460 meters the climb was not insignificant but with grade hovering around 15% it was a worthy challenge, especially on my loaded bike. Luckily it rewarded my effort with another set of amazing views of my surroundings.

At the summit I turned onto a paved main road and had a thrilling 7 mile long descent back down to the Kamnik River. The asphalt was freshly laid and I raced a Subaru WRX down the hairpin turns. Towards the bottom there was a section of road work and the roadworkers were working on laying more of that sweet glass smooth asphalt. I yelled as I passed :chef kissing fingers: “IT’S BYOOTIFULLL” pointing the asphalt and they loved the appreciation and cheered me on with a round of ALLEZ ALLEZ ALLEZ. It was a great moment and made my already ear to ear smile stretch even bigger. I followed my route on into Ljubljana and easily found my hotel and settled in for two days of espresso, beer, and great food. Ljubljana is a lovely little European gem. The River Ljubljanica runs right through it with beautiful buildings and cafes running along it. The food is good, the beer is good and cheap and plentiful, the good espresso is really good, and everyone seems to be happy and friendly. It was a lovely little rest off the bike for two days.

After two days of relaxing, eating, and drinking, it was time to get back on the bike. I called ahead this time to make sure the Alpine hut was open and promised the host I would be there by late afternoon. Then I loaded all my belongings back onto the Rick Jones and headed west out of the city.

After 25 km of flat, boring riding I turned onto a dirt road and climbed a few hundred feet. Then another stretch of flat riding before I started up a really great 400 meter climb to the village of Podkraj. It started to rain along the way which put a bit of a damper on the long and fast descent, especially the -17% portion. I managed that ok but wished for disc brakes and cursed my luddite-ness. I entered into Slovenian wine country and cycled up and down and alongside numerous vineyards.

And then shortly after the village of Dolenje I was gingerly descending around a series of hairpin turns and all of a sudden I was on the pavement with a painful thud. I’m not sure what happened but my tire slipped out from under me as I was making my way around the curve, even though I was doing so really slowly. I crawled off the road and lay out in the grass moaning and groaning. I checked my bike and had to push the brake lever back into position and do my best to re-align the bent derailleur hanger. As I was laying there a car or two passed by, veeerryyyy very slowly and both checked to see that I was ok. A couple came cycling by on mountain bikes in the opposite direction as me and stopped to check on me and we chatted for a while. They were locals and told me everyone knows that road and especially that turn are dangerous and extremely slick.

Once I collected myself I had no choice but to continue on. From there I had 25 km to get to my hut. Luckily my bike worked well enough, even without perfect shifting. The rain started to come down hard with about 20 km to go so I gritted my teeth and pushed on, up into the woods again. The last 8 km or so were really gorgeous but there was no time for photos with the rain so I pressed ahead, anxious to make it to the hut and looking forward to a hot meal and a drink. Some time around 4 pm I got to the Hut Stjenkova koča na Trstelju and looked forward to drying off and going to sleep very early.

As I entered dripping wet I saw two men and a beautiful but terrifying German Shepherd. Then a third man bolted up from behind a table. He was the host, Bostjan, and I had just woken him up from his afternoon nap. “YOU! NEW YORK!?” he yelled out and I confirmed. He commanded I sit down and placed a beer in front of me straight away. From there it would turn into absolutely the most fun night of the trip. Bostjan, and his friends Dragan the casino craps dealer and Miha the former motocross champion of Yugoslavia and the beautiful blue-blooded lineage purebred German Shepherd called Siri welcomed me into their Saturday night party. The beer flowed non-stop, I fortified myself mid-way with a hearty stew, and then again with a late night pancetta party, Bostjan brought out home-made grappa from his fellow communist (“NO, SOCIALIST”) comrades, Dragan brought out his homegrown Slovenian mountain kishkish, we toasted to Tito’s portrait multiple times, and some time around 1 am we had drunken 20 L of Laško beer and the keg was kicked. I couldn’t have asked for a better last night in Slovenia. I will never forget those guys and the fun time we shared.

I woke up the next morning in a haze and hurting just as much from the crash the day before as from the drinking. Bostjan stumbled to the kitchen and prepared me a breakfast of scrambled eggs with beer, along with more pancetta and then I had a short last day to finish out the trip and return to Gorizia.

I was able to enjoy the mountain roads without so much rain this time and after a quick 50 km I was back in Italy and the whole town was closed since it was Sunday. I checked back into the hotel I had started the trip at, went through the tedious process of disassembling and packing my bike back into the s&s case, wandered aimlessly on foot until I eventually found something open ending up back at the same pizza place I had visited 7 days previous (very good pizza!), and got a night of rest before waking up early for the long travel journey of a train to Venezia, bus to the airport, 13 hour flight to Philadelphia, 6 hour layover which worked out perfectly for a happy hour reunion with friends, and then a one hour flight back to LaGuardia where I and thousands of other people would deal with the hell that is LaGuardia construction and transportation. At 2 am I walked back in the door of my Brooklyn apartment, dropped all my things at the front door, and collapsed into bed for a few quick hours of sleep before waking up for work and re-entrance into the real world.

Before I sign off, what sort of bike nerd would I be if I didn’t nerd out on my bike and gear selected for the trip. I wanted this to be a non-camping inn-to-inn or hut-to-hut in this case tour to keep the bike relatively lightweight and make the riding more fun. My Rick Jones has served me well for 7 years now and did not fail on this trip.

-Even with the front rando bag, frame bag, and saddle bag adding on about 15 or so lbs, the bike was spry and handles like a dream.

-Braking is, well…its as good as you can expect from cantilevers I suppose. Pretty decent when dry and alarmingly inadequate when wet, which happened to be most of the trip.

-I refreshed the drivetrain a couple months ago with new 11 speed Ultegra which proved as reliable as expected. I changed out the compact gearing for 46/30 sub-compact chainrings mounted onto my White Industries VBC cranks and really appreciated that choice at many times throughout the trip, both going up the alpine passes in the 30 tooth and cruising along on the flats and downhills in the 46.

-The way-too-complicated electrical system, yes electrical system, consists of the SonDelux dynamo hub powering an IQ-X front headlight, as well as a taillight, and a Sinewave Revolution usb charger. The setup got complicated when I had to make it demountable for packing into the S&S case with quick-disconnects all over the place. One ripped out as I was taking the bike apart, requiring a last minute solder and leaving me not all that confident in the system holding up to the travel and the trip. But it turned out to not be an issue and worked the entire time and survived the disassembly and trip home with no problems or re-soldering required.

-Tire selection was the do-it-all goldilocks of a tire Compass aka Rene Herse Bon Jon Pass 700c x 35 mm. Everything is tubeless compatible but I ran tubes due to the packing wheels tightly into a suitcase a little smaller than the wheels are round. Aside from that sudden crash which probably can’t be blamed on the tire, they were great and gave me the road and gravel performance I wanted, while still being able to handle some rough stuff when the route turned more towards mtb trail.

-Navigation was handled with my Hammerhead Karoo which is enormous but works very well and a great tool for touring and especially good when re-routing on the fly becomes necessary. Between my trip to Oaxaca in December and this trip to Slovenia, I have confidence in the Hammerhead to get me wherever I want to go.

-Bags consisted of a Swift Ozette rando bag out front, a Porcelain Rocket frame bag, and an Oveja Negra saddle bag. It looks like a generous amount of storage but it fills up pretty quickly and I needed all the space they provided for this trip. -Inside the bags I packed: (1) pair bibs + jersey + socks (rotated daily between the set I was wearing), an insulated Rapha gilet, a Search & State rain jacket, arm warmers, knee warmers, toe covers, a pair of full finger riding gloves, a pair of glove liners, and a merino wool neck gaiter. I was very glad to have every last piece of riding gear that I did as the temps and constant rain necessitated wearing everything on several occasions. I treated myself to the luxury of a pair of pants, a pair of shorts, a t-shirt, and a light wool sweater. Being able to change into dry normal clothes and the end of each long, wet day was a treat. And the most luxurious item packed was a pair of sneakers, which although they took up more than half the saddle bag they were also a god-send at the end of the day when I just wanted to take off the cycling shoes and for the couple of short hikes and the two days spent walking Ljubljana. Add in my Fuji XT1, a Kindle, a Bluetooth speaker, a headlamp, two water bottles, phone/wallet/passport, framepump, two tubes, tools, and a daily supply of snacks and that was the bike packed. I was happy with everything packed, and there was not a single item I regretted lugging around by bicycle for a few hundred km.

If anyone has actually read this far. Thank you for reading and now go visit Slovenia. Tell them I sent you and say hello. I am already scheming on a return trip next year with cycling and fly fishing combined.

Nasvidenje!

#bicycle touring #slovenia

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