#me being colombian has nothing to do with. anything. yet its being used as an insult against me in an arguement i didnt start nor want to

[paranormalglass]

guys can u seriously b normal im gonna make a post abt this cause like ermmm... not okay behaviour.

ppl are using my discord from my toyhouse to send me death threats over headcanons and fuck knows what else and it is disgusting i hope to fuck it's nobody here but if it is stop it and go outside

[read tags please.]

[justmemewriting]

The Sister (Javier Peña x reader) Part 15 - disappearance

After the kiss, you and Javi had decided to go over to his apartment. You still had a lot to talk about and a lot to figure out.

It was actually a very long but sweet conversation.

Javi told you that he should've told you sooner that he had feelings for you but that he was too scared that it wouldn't work out between the two of you. You agreed telling him that you were too unsure but that you now were more aware of you feelings and that you finally knew what you really wanted.

The rest of the evening was really sweet too. You and Javi talked about how desperate Steve and Connie had been to get you two together, but also how grateful you were. If it weren't for them, you two wouldn't be together now.

"You know I'm surprised to see that Steve is so cool with this," you told Javi as you were sitting on his couch.

"What do you mean?" Javi asked.

"Well, he's my brother. When we were growing up he scared off every single guy that ever showed an interest in me. It just surprises me that he doesn't seem to have a problem if you date me,"

"If I date you?"

"I wasn't sure if we could put a label on it yet," you told him sheepishly.

"I think we can," Javi told you and pulled you into a kiss. "I'm just hoping Steve doesn't change his mind and decides to beat me up or something."

You laughed. "He wouldn't. You're like a brother to him."

You and Javi continued to cuddle on the couch when a thought entered your mind.

"What are we going to do about work?" you asked Javi.

"What do you mean?" he asked you sitting up.

"Aren't there rules about dating your co-workers?" you asked Javi.

"I don't know. Right now we don't have a problem anyway since we're still suspended," Javi told you.

You had totally forgotten about that. Everything that happened between you and Javi overshadowed your work situation.

"Oh god, I totally forgot about that," you answered. "When do you think we can go back to work?" you asked Javi who just shrugged.

"Couple of days. A week. Maybe two weeks," you sighed. You loved your job. You couldn't just stand back and watch others do your job. You needed to catch Escobar and you needed to do it soon.

"Alright. What do we do then when we finally go back to work?"

"Hmm. I guess we'll just have to sneak around," Javi told you and pulled you into his lap.

"Sneak around, huh? That does make it kind of exciting," you told him.

"At work, we'll just have to pretend that there's nothing going on and that we have nothing to hide. Though, I don't know if I can keep my hands to myself," Javi said and pulled you closer to him.

The action made you giggle.

"Well, you better. Cause I'd like to keep my job,"

"You know, they'd never fire you. You're too good," he told you and placed a kiss on your lips.

"We'll there's a lot of things that I'm really good at," you hinted and winked at him.

"Oh really. Let's put your skills to the test then," Javi suggested.

——

You spent the night at Javi's place. You and Javi had talked through half of the night and you had just been too lazy to go over to your own apartment. Also, you still didn't feel safe there since somebody had broken into it and threatened you to leave. The thought of someone having been in your apartment still scared you. You lived in an apartment complex full of agents. You thought that you'd at least be safe there.

After the incident the DEA increased its security which did make you feel a little safer.

When you had woken up Javi was still laying next to you, but he was already awake.

You looked at the clock and realized that it was already 11AM.

"Why didn't you wake me?" you asked Javi as you turned over to look at him.

"I figured you needed some more sleep," he told you and placed a kiss on your forehead.

"So what are we going to do today now that we don't really have a job to go to?" you asked Javi.

"Let's just wait and see what the day holds for us," he told you.

You chuckled. "So poetic"

You and Javi got dressed and you decided to make some breakfast. As always, the options in Javi's fridge were very limited.

"Javi, you really should consider going grocery shopping more often. Your fridge is practically empty," you told him.

"Oh honey. I wish I could but I don't want to. It's always so full there and I never really know what to buy," he told you.

Luckily, Javi still had some eggs, so you decided to just make those.

As Javi and you were eating, there was a loud knock on his door.

Javi went to open the door and you saw that it was Connie with Olivia in her arm.

She looked panicked.

"Steve's gone," she told you and Javi as she entered the apartment with Olivia.

"What do you mean he's gone?" you quickly asked her as you stood up and walked over to her.

Seeing as she was panicking you quickly took Olivia out of her arms so that she could calm down a bit.

"The car was outside the garage, still idling, the keys still in the ignition," she informed you as she paced around Javi's apartment. "I've called his phone 20 times"

"Did you call embassy security?" Javi asked her.

"No, I wanted to talk to you first," Connie answered.

"Good. Don't," Javi told her which seemed to upset her.

"What? why not?" she asked irritated.

"It's nothing, Connie," you told her trying to calm her. "We just want to check some things out first before we ring any alarms"

"What are you guys up to?" Connie asked.

"Connie, just try to relax, OK? I'm sure everything's fine," Javi told her trying to comfort her.

Javi looked over at you and gave you a knowing look. that meant to ask you if you were fine. You nodded. You were worried too. It was you brother after all that had just gone missing. You couldn't let that show though. That would just worry Connie and you needed her to be calm right now.

"I'll make you a drink," you told Connie and went into Javi's kitchen. You placed your hands on the counter and sighed.

Please, god. Let Steve be okay, you hoped.

A few minutes later, Javi came to you in the kitchen.

He pulled you into a hug and said "I know you're worried. But we'll find him."

"Of course I'm worried. He's my brother," you answered.

"So what's the plan now? Are we going to inform the embassy?" you asked Javi hoping he knew what to do.

"No. We're going to have to do it differently" he told you. "You trust me on this, right?"

"Of course."

Shortly after, you and Javi drove to the embassy. Noonan had already tried to kick you out, but you managed to get yourself 5 minutes inside.

Javi quickly led you over to the office of his CIA contact. He knew that this was somebody you could trust as he had already helped you before.

Javi's contact led you into a more private spot of his office where he could talk to you without being overheard.

"What? You get a hooker pregnant?" his contact asked him to which you just raised your eyebrows.

"We think Agent Murphy, my brother, got snatched," you told the man showing him that this wasn't the right time for stupid jokes.

"We already checked all area hospitals, police station. We were pursuing leads on the Cali cartel. It could be related to that, or it could be Escobar," Javi told his contact.

"Did you report it to the Regional Security Office?" he asked you.

"If we tell the ROS, it becomes a five-alarm fire, and whoever has him might panic," Javi answered.

"If it is Escobar," the man answered eyeing you carefully "he'a dead already"

"We're aware of that, Sir," you answered.

"Well, can you check your sources? See what comes up?" Javi asked him hoping that he might be able to help you.

"Jesus Christ," the man muttered. "Let me see what I can do".  With that Javi's contact left and patted you on the shoulder as he did so.

You felt relieved knowing that he was helping you, but you still had this weird feeling in your chest. The not knowing whether your brother was even still alive at the moment was too much for you.

"Are you okay, (Y/N)?" Javi asked you once you left the embassy.

"Yeah. I'm just worried," you told Javi, but you couldn't help but let a tear slip from your eyes.

"Hey, hey. Don't worry." Javi told you as he gently wiped away the tear from your face. "We'll find him and he'll be alright."

"Alright," you sniffled.

Javi took your hand and led you over to his car. He opened the door to the passenger seat for you before getting into the car himself.

In the car he kissed you passionately as though he was trying to reassure that everything was going to be alright.

You could tell that he worried though. The uncertainty that everyone was feeling was just too huge.

After having waited in the car for quite some time, Javi's CIA contact came back.

He knocked on the car window and Javi quickly rolled it down.

"Checked my sources with the Colombian military. Nobody knows jack shit," he told you. You sighed.

"So, no indication that Escobar had anything to do with Murphy's disappearance?" Javi asked.

The man shook his head. "It's time to sound the alarm"

"Just hold off for a couple of hours, okay? If we call out the troops, we might put him in more danger than he actually is right now," Javi told him and started his engine. "Thanks."

And with that the two of you drove off.

Once you arrived back at the apartment complex, Javi told you that you should inform Connie now.

"Is it okay if I just stay in my apartment for a bit? It's just been a bit much today, and I just need a small break," you asked Javi.

"Of course, (Y/N). I'll talk to Connie. Don't worry about it,"

Javi accompanied to the front of your apartment door and gave you a kiss on your cheek before you finally parted ways.

You went into your apartment and sat down on your bed. The tears started flowing and it didn't seem like they were going to stop any time soon.

You were just too exhausted. Mentally and physically. Worrying about your brother for the whole day had just been to much.

You quickly wiped away your tears and decided that maybe a shower would help you relax and calm down for a bit. You weren't sure if it was going to work, but you decided that it was worth a try. At least it would get rid of some of the exhaustion.

The duration of your shower was unusual long for you, but it really helped you relax. You then got dressed again and decided to go into the kitchen to eat something. You hadn't eaten since this morning and were absolutely starving.

After having eaten, there was only one thing left for you to do which was to wait.

—

After about twenty minutes of just staring at the wall, there finally was a knock on your door. You quickly opened it as you knew that it must have been Javi.

"I think it's time to talk to the Ambassador now," Javi told you and nodded. This meant that Steve still hadn't shown up. If you hadn't been worried already you definitely would be now.

You and Javi quickly drove the embassy and rushed to the Ambassador's office.

"Apologies, Ambassador. But this is an emergency," you informed her as you and Javi stormed into her office.

"Damn right we do," she answered.

You quickly looked across the room and saw that Steve was standing there holding a glass of whiskey in his hands. You quickly turned to Javi to check if he was seeing the same thing or if you were just imagining things now.

"Hey, partners," Steve told you with a smirk on his face.

What the fuck was going on here?

Steve explained to you how it was Pacho Herrera who kidnapped him, but that it actually was pretty harmless. He talked to him and nothing else happened.

He said that he never really was in any danger, but you thought that it was still weird.

"That Herrera's a pretty good host. Makes a mean cocktail, gives you door-to-door service right to the embassy," Steve told you as you were waking down the halls.

"Do you think this is fucking funny, Steve? We've been worried about you all day and you think it's okay to make fucking jokes?" you told him and shook your head. "You are fucking unbelievable"

"(Y/N)-" Steve started, but you interrupted him.

"I don't want to hear it. Your wife's been completely worried. I've been worried," you told him and started walking away.

"Where are you going?" he asked you.

"To the damn car"

"What did Herrera say?" you could hear Javi ask him as you were walking away, but you weren't interested in finding that out right now. If Steve found out something important, he'd tell you sooner or later.

—— (3rd person PoV)

"What did Herrera say?" asked Javi as he watched (Y/N) walk away.

"What'd he say?" repeated Steve and pushed Javi forcefully against the wall.

"You fuckin' gave him that information. He's got pictures on me, he's got tape on me, Javi," Steve paused. "Answer me"

"What," whispered Javi.

"Did you give that shit to Herrera?"

"Do you think I would do that to you?," Javi asked.

"Are you playing with Cali, Javi? That's your version of "all in"?"

"I got one goal: get Escobar"

"That's not an answer," said Steve who was clearly pissed off. "Who gave him the fucking photos?"

Steve looked at Javi and waited for him to answer, but he didn't. He just stared at him.

"See you around, Jav," said Steve as he walked away from him. "I'm gonna go call my wife."

——

When Javi came back home that night, he told you about what happened between him and Steve.

He thought that you were going to be mad at him, but you weren't.

If you were being honest, you could understand why he'd done it.

You'd do anything to catch Escobar and you've only been on the case for a few months. Javi must want to catch him even more since he's been on the case even longer.

"I'm not sure Steve will forgive me for doing this, (Y/N)," Javi told you as you were laying in bed together.

"He'll come around, Javi. He always does," you told Javi and cuddled into him.

"Things will work themselves out. Steve will come around and we'll work on catching Escobar. And we will catch him. Trust me,"

Javi intertwined his fingers with yours and placed a kiss on your knuckles.

You knew that you'd have to talk to Steve tomorrow, but you were sure that things would go back to normal again. After all, Javi only did it with the best intentions. Surely, Steve wouldn't blame him for that.

"We'll figure this out, Javi. I promise"

[thetravelerwrites]

Vincente (Werebear)

Rating: Teen Relationship: Female Human/Male Werebear Additional Tags: Exophilia, Werebear, Salsa Dancing Content Warnings: Bad Breakups, Past Cheating, Jealousy Words: 2354

A fun commission for @isabert91! A woman returns to California for work and meets a charismatic Salsa dancer, but jealousy from past betrayals threatens to derail the budding relationship. Please reblog and leave feedback!

The Traveler's Masterlist

God, you had missed the beach.

You’d grown up in California, but had been living in the midwest for a long time for work. Recently, a new position in California opened up and you had decided to transfer back, and you couldn’t have been happier with the decision. The first day, before you’d even unpacked, you bought a pretty floral bikini with a sheer tie-up skirt and went to the beach for the first time in years.

It was a beautiful day; completely cloudless sky but it wasn’t too hot, there was a nice breeze, and the beach wasn’t too crowded. The first thing that caught your attention was a Salsa exhibition in progress on a stage close to the boardwalk. There were half a dozen couples dancing to a lively song and a crowd of people watching and cheering for them. A smile crossed your face and you went to join the audience.

After a few songs, a lone man and woman took the stage. The man definitely took your eye. He was tall and well-built, a grizzly of a man, with a well-trimmed beard and short dark hair. He appeared to be in his mid-thirties, wearing black pants and a sparkling shirt that looked like it was painted on him. You bit your lip in appreciation.

The song started, and he was like a tornado, moving with incredible speed, flipping and tossing the young woman he was dancing with as if she were nothing but a paper doll. You wished you were being manhandled like that by him, though you were a bit curvier than you’d have liked and you doubted you’d fly through the air like that woman was. Even still, the thought got stuck in your mind. You also couldn’t stop your hips from swaying and your feet from moving. You remembered this song from when you were a kid and it always got you dancing.

He and the young woman finished with a sexy flare, and bowed to raucous applause.

“Thank you for attending the Bailar es Vida Dance Studio’s spring exhibition!” He called over the crowd with a thick Colombian accent. “We are accepting new students! Please check out the fliers for how to apply for classes! ¡Muchas gracias! ¡No puedo esperar para verte allí!”

He jumped down off of the stage in one fluid movement and waded through the crowd, shaking hands and kissing the cheeks of women as he passed.

As he reached you, he held out a hand, and you instinctively took it.

“I couldn’t help but notice you dancing to the music in the audience, hermosa,” He said to you, his warm green eyes crinkling with his smile. “You have rhythm. Are you a dancer?”

“Not since I was younger,” You said. “My aunt used to have gatherings every few months, but I think it was just an excuse to dance.”

“Anything is an excuse to dance, if you try hard enough,” He said, laughing. “Have you had an excuse to dance lately?”

“Not really,” You admitted. “Bad breakup.”

“Ah, mi simpatía. Perhaps you could use a new reason to dance, maybe… a date?”

You smiled, but said, “I’m sure you say that to all the ladies. You’re just trying to get new clients.”

He laughed again. “I admit, the flirting helps. What kind of dance studio has no dancers, after all? I hold you to no commitments, señorita. It was merely an offer.” He kissed your hand. “I hope to see you again.”

He released you and moved on, and you cursed yourself for saying no. You looked down and saw a business card with a number and his name, Vincente Ortiz, on it. Ooh, he was smooth.

Before heading back out to enjoy the beach, you took a flier and tucked it into your purse.

It took you a week to get unpacked and settled in both your new home and new job, but once you felt comfortable, you spent your first day off hunting for the dance studio.

Not that it was hard to find. Salsa music could be heard three blocks away from the studio, and all you had to do was follow it. The front of the studio was all glass windows, wherein you could see several couples practicing in sync. Vincente was there, watching each of them closely and correcting forms occasionally. His dress wasn’t as flamboyant as it was in the exhibition, but it was still extremely form fitting. You could see some chest hair peeking out over the v-neck collar.

He looked up and saw you, and gave you a wink and a wave before returning to his class. You watched him for a few minutes, moving fluidly throughout the large room, and when the class ended, you went inside.

“Ah, hermosa, it is lovely to see you again,” He said, taking your hand and kissing the back of it. “I was hoping you would stop by. Are you considering taking a class?”

“Uh, no,” You said, holding up the card. “I was thinking of taking you up on your offer.”

His eyes got brighter. “How wonderful! Are you free tomorrow evening?”

“I am, actually,” You told him. “Is this your cell number?”

“It is,” He said with a smile, pulling it out. “May I have yours?”

You gave it to him along with your name.

“Tomorrow at seven, then?” He asked, and you nodded. “Lovely. I look forward to it, hermosa. I have another class in ten minutes, if you’d like to stay?”

“Thank you, but I actually have some errands to run,” You said. “But I’m excited for tomorrow.”

“As am I,” He said, nodding his head in a small bow.

The next evening, you’d dressed in a very close fitting red number that you hadn’t worn since two boyfriends ago. You were wearing your killer heels, your hair was done up, the works. For the first time since your ex, you felt gorgeous.

Vincente picked you up for the date looking just as gorgeous, if not more so. He was dressed in a sharp, deep blue suit, understated but still flattering. He definitely had taste.

“You look radiant, hermosa,” He said, taking your hand and helping you down the steps. You hadn’t worn heels this high in quite a while and you were grateful for the assistance.

“You look very handsome, as well,” You told him.

“You’re the one that shines tonight, mi estrella,” He said, hooking your arm around his. “We’re going dancing!”

“But you dance all day long!” You said with a laugh. “Aren’t you tired of dancing?”

“Who could grow tired of dancing?” He asked as he opened the passenger door for you. “That’s like growing tired of air or water. Besides, it won’t be salsa. There is a club I go to often with good music and a nice atmosphere, very low-key kind of place. Not too many people and the music isn’t too loud, so we can sit and talk when we get tired.”

“That sounds nice,” You said. “They have food?”

“Not at the club, but there is an excellent restaurant next door,” He replied. “Do you like sushi?”

“I love sushi,” You said. “There wasn’t much of it where I was living before, and I didn’t trust what was there.”

“Well, tonight will be a treat, then.”

Dancing was a lot of fun, and after several hours of being on your feet, the two of you decided to go for dinner. You were seated at the best table, and were given fresh, lightly salted edamame and water with lemon as soon as you sat down. Vincente was apparently friends with the owners, which reaped its own benefits.

As you were sitting and talking, happily munching on yellowtail nigiri, a group of people from the studio came in. Vincente didn’t stand, but he greeted them, kissing the hands of the women. You bristled but didn’t say anything.

Don’t get annoyed, You thought to yourself. It’s the first date and he’s a friendly guy. It’s way too soon to turn into the crazy jealous girlfriend and start scrutinizing his every move. He’ll think you’re nuts and dump you.

Though, you had to wonder if being dumped early would be better than the pain of being cheated on later.

The group moved on, and Vincente turned his attention back to you. You determined to put it out of your mind and have a good time. You’d earned it, even if it might not last.

It was nearing midnight by the time he dropped you back off at home. He walked you to the door of your apartment and went in for a kiss. You allowed it, thinking to only give him a peck and go in for the night, but something pulled you toward him, some kind of magnetism that wanted more. For a while, you gave into it, wrapping your body around him and holding his face in your hands. His large, warm body molded to yours and his arms were tight around you.

Eventually, you broke apart. “I think I should go in before I cross a line I may not be ready to cross.”

“I understand,” He said a little breathlessly. “A second date, then?”

“Sounds good to me,” You replied, biting his lower lip a little to make him groan. “Next weekend?”

“Perfect,” He growled, nuzzling at your neck. “Until then.”

A few weeks passed in a blur. Work was amazing, and you met up with Vincente two or three times a week, each date unique and fun. You did end up salsa dancing with him at least once, and though you were a bit rusty, he was a brilliant dance partner and got you back into the swing of it pretty quickly. Before you knew it, you were flying across the floor with complete confidence, mirroring Vincente’s own self-assurance, and you danced until you were both breathless.

It was amazing, but there were still things that bothered you. He was still a bit flirty and openly affectionate with people, not just other women. He seemed to know everyone, and vice versa. He doted on you when you were together, too, of course, but it still nagged you in the back of your mind and you thought it was still too early in the relationship to bring it up. The two of you hadn’t even discussed being exclusive yet. As far as you knew, Vincente still saw your relationship together as a casual one.

It wasn’t until a month after you started dating and he referred to you as his girlfriend while introducing you to someone that you decided to bring it up.

“I couldn’t help but notice you called me your girlfriend,” You told him as the two of you walked home.

“Does that bother you?” He asked, his hand tightening around yours. “I had assumed that we were growing close enough to use the word, but if I was mistaken, I understand.”

“No, it’s not that,” You said. “It’s just…” You let out a breath forcefully. “I don’t know how to phrase this without sounding crazy or jealous.”

“You can tell me, hermosa,” He said, looking down at you, his attention on you and you alone.

“Well… I’ve told you about my ex, right? Well, several exes. The ones that cheated on me?”

“Of course, and they were fools to have done it,” He replied.

“It’s just… after being treated like that… you start getting apprehensive about certain behaviors. Like, don’t get me wrong, I love how outgoing and friendly you are, and I’d never suggest you change yourself just because I wanted you to, or act like a crazy person and forbid you from seeing friends or coworkers, but… when you kiss other women’s hands or rub your fingers down someone’s back…”

“You feel suspicious?” He asked.

“Not suspicious, necessarily… but it does make me raise my guard,” You said. “I just don’t want to get hurt. If we’re moving into a new stage of our relationship, it’s something I thought we should talk about.”

“I see,” He said, and then was silent for a little while.

His silence made you nervous. After a few tense moments, you said, “I’m sorry. I get if that’s a lot to lay on you right now.”

“No, no, I’m glad you said something if you were unhappy,” He replied, pulling your hand through the crook of his arm and patting it. “I’ve been evaluating how I act around other people just now, and since you’ve mentioned it, you’re right: I am a little bit… inappropriately touchy, maybe. Usually, it’s not something I think about, since when I’m single I have no one to fuss about it, and most of my relationships have been completely casual. Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever had a serious girlfriend before now.”

“Now?” You asked, looking up at him.

He stopped and turned to face you, his face soft with fondness. “Yes. I enjoy your company very much, hermosa. How you feel is very important to me. I will be more mindful from now on. I wouldn’t want to push you away.”

You laughed a little self-consciously. “That’s sweet of you, Vincente. It’s a lot to ask, I know--”

“No, it isn’t,” He said. “I wonder to myself how I would feel if another man were to kiss any part of your body, hand or otherwise, and I know it would make me feel uneasy, if not upset. I understand how you feel and I’m glad you talked to me. You can always talk to me about anything at all, no matter what it is. Secrets are not meant for keeping.”

There was a brief shadow across his face as he said this, but it passed in an instant and you wondered if it wasn’t just a shadow across the moon that hung half full in the sky.

“Now, come on. It’s getting chilly. We should get you home.”

He wrapped his own scarf around your neck and took your hand, walking you back to your apartment under the moonlight.

Since my work is no longer searchable, please do me a favor and reblog this story if you enjoyed it. Help me reach a wider audience! To help me continue creating, please consider buying me a Kofi, becoming a Patron, or donating directly to my PayPal!

Thanks for reading!

My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

[blackssuunn-mandoandyodito]

Tabaco y Brea

A Javier Peña fanfic

Pairing: Javier Peña x reader

Warnings: slight angst, slight fluff, sweating?, swearing, running?, somebody needs to explain this to me please.

Word count: 2.5 k

A/N: alright friends, this is the first chapter of a series I’m working on. As you can see, it’s called Tabaco y Brea. If you have any questions, hit me up. I hope you like this, enjoy!

Chapter 1: Stuffy basement

Bogotá was a sight that you had yet to stop being amazed at. Walking through its streets for the first time all those months ago almost brought tears to your eyes. Growing up in the United States and thinking that you may never get out of there gave you little to no reference in this country's culture, although your father being Mexican helped you master Spanish and he showed your way to dance. Early 1981 was not a great year to be in Colombia, but you were here as a DEA agent after all, not as a tourist. You could feel things getting bigger, and you weren't sure how you'll be able to handle it.

As you kept walking, you asked yourself the same question of your everyday life. Why the fuck did you choose to live so far away from the Embassy? 

(You knew the answer, but it didn’t make mornings easier)

The heat made your clothes cling to you with sweat, your hair even in a ponytail was soaked and the headache was just getting stronger the more you walked through the avenue. 

And you were late, dammit!

Your heels could be heard as you started to run to catch the bus, gripping your purse as if life depended on it. With the amount of money they paid you, you could easily afford a car, but attracting that much attention wasn't a great idea. You still couldn't understand how the narcos hadn't managed to get your information. 

The bus was already at the bus stop when you turned the corner, and you didn't know if you could make it. 

"Ey! Ey! Esperen!" (Hey! Hey! Wait!) You started waving your hand towards it, seeing that the last person in line was hopping on. The driver, thankfully, saw you and waited. You started running faster and finally climbed the stairs. It was packed.

 Well, it seemed that you'd go standing. 

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

You seriously didn't think you could get more soaked from the heat, sweat even more than you already were.

You were wrong. 

When you got to the Embassy, the entire back of your shirt was plastered to your body. Your thighs were starting to get grazed because of your skirt and your hair was all frizzy and probably resembled a nest of birds. 

You took a deep breath, tried to fix your hair a little bit, and pushed the door. Nobody even glanced at you, and you were glad. If anybody dared to even look at you funny, you were going to lose it.

"Ey compañera. Mala mañana?" (Hey partner. Bad morning?)

Oh, just what you needed.

"¿Qué quieres Peña?" (What do you want Peña?) you rolled your eyes at him. He didn't look much better than you anyway. His pink shirt was sticking to his chest, even though he had several buttons open, letting you see his wet neck. His face was sweaty too, with rosy cheeks and his hair sticking to his forehead. 

You arched your eyebrow. "No tienes mucho mejor aspecto que yo Javier" (You don’t look much better than I do Javier)

He gave a soft laugh, the idiot. You weren't in the best of moods to handle him, so you turned around and walked to your desk, then sat down with a grump.

"Vamos nena, alégrate un poco" (Come on baby, lighten up a little) you glared at him and started reading through the papers you had to check today. It was usually yours and Javier's, that asshole didn't do any of his own paperwork and you were stuck doing both almost all the time. Carina had given you a weird stare the first time you were ranting about it to her, but you were sure you didn't want to know what she was thinking. It was nothing that you didn't know anyways.

Once he realized you were definitely not in the mood for your usual banter, he stopped and sat down in his desk,at the right from yours. Silence (or as much silence as an office can have) settled and the sounds of sheets of paper turning and Javi working with his typewriter slowly calmed you and helped you concentrate with what you were reading. The fan that barely provided you of fresh air at least served as background noise for the amount of stuff that your mind was processing, and it even cooled you down a little bit. The headache was gone and so was the bad mood. After some time had passed and you weren't sweating as much as before, you asked yourself what on Earth was Javi doing if you had his paperwork at your desk.

"Hey Javi, what are you doing? At least have the decency to offer help!" you said as he turned to look at you. He smiled, noticing your mood improvement. Pulling his chair with him, he crossed the little space between your desks and opened the folder that he had been looking at.

"There's the Bera I know" You tried to hide a smile at the nickname. "I got some intel that could help us with this bullshit"

His voice, all business know, gave you a sense of peace. Even if he was a little shit most of the time, he was the only one who had been with you since you arrived back in 1979. He didn't have much more experience than you back then, had only been in Colombia for a couple of months himself, but he knew his way around better than you. He taught you the things you didn't know, and if neither of you did then you figured them out together. 

"And what is that intel, agent Peña?" you teased him. You weren't oblivious to his ways of fishing out info, of course. He smacked you lightly in the arm and showed you the papers.

"A cottage on the outside of Cali seems to be a type of safehouse for Escobar's merca," he says while pointing at the pictures that were inside the folder "if this is true, we need to do a raid soon, but we have to make sure the intel is right before we take that risk"

The cottage was small, nobody would pay attention to it if they were walking past. It looked like an abandoned house, and you knew that was exactly what Escobar's men were hoping for. Although you were surprised they were stupid enough to have something even remotely close to a city, that didn't sound right.

You nod, "so that means...?"

He looks at you with a glint of mischief in his eyes.

"That means we need to stay for a few days in Cali, nena"

You have to grip your chair to physically restrain yourself from jumping of happiness. You loved Cali, the very few occasions you had free time you took a bus there (9 hours and all) and spent the nights in the dancing clubs. Cali gave you a sense of love and alleviated the homesick feeling that had been nagging you for years. It reminded you of your father even if this wasn't his country. 

"Are you serious? Don't play with me Javi" he nodded.

"You know I don't play with this shit", his voice sounded serious, almost offended.

He knew how much you enjoyed being there, but you also knew he took his work very seriously. In both cases, you doubted he would joke about something like that, but it was almost too good to be true to believe it that easily.

You started to plan things in your head. Where would you stay? Close to the cottage? Close to downtown Cali? Would you have any free time to enjoy the pleasures of Cali nights? You hoped so because if not you were going to explode.

"So when do we leave then?" you look him in the eyes, a grin spread big on your face. 

"It depends", your smile fell. "We have to welcome the new gringo, remember?"

Ugh, yes. You forgot about that. 

"So when does he arrive?" 

Javi shrugged. "I'm not sure, but it will be this or the next week."

You weren't sure if bringing someone else to this shitshow was a good idea. Enough lives have been lost to this war, and you didn't see the point of putting at risk another one.

"Will we take him with us?"

 “He's not very good with Spanish"

Your smile returned, this time for entirely different reasons. "So we're gonna have some fun with him?"

Javi looked at you, amusement in his eyes. He shook his head.

"I don't think that's a good idea muñeca, he's coming with his wife" (doll)

You got the message, even if he didn't say it out loud. He has a family, something to lose. You don't, not really. Besides your own lives, that is. If you want to play Russian roulette with them, it's your problem. But the new guy had someone to come back to.

So, helping the gringo it was.

"What's his name again?" you ask. You had read about him a few weeks back when they told you he was coming. But you didn't even remember he was coming, much less were you going to remember his name.

"Steve Murphy" Oh yeah, it sounded familiar now. "He did his training directly at Quantico, so he must be good"

That you remembered. He was one of those guys who spent the 18 weeks (although you knew they were only 13 if you did it there) of DEA training in Quantico, inside the U.S. Marine Corps Base and next to the FBI academy. They weren't common here, you and Javi had done it elsewhere. 

"So after we pick him up, we plan this shit out, right?"

Javi nodded. "I hope so"

He went back to his desk and you kept going through the paperwork. It was not an easy task, but that one time you made Javier do his own, he had taken so much time to do it that you passed the deadline and the boss ripped you both a new one. After that, you did a silent agreement where you did it all, Javier providing all info necessary and taking the blame if anything was wrong, even if it didn't happen frequently. He'd bring you Colombian coffee when the weather wasn't as hot as now, he knew you didn't like the one at the office and thought it "tasted like dirt", he would listen to you rant about certain reports and say whatever he thought you needed to hear in those moments.

You enjoyed spending your time with him, even if most of it you were arguing about something. 

The day passed rather quickly, with so much to do you didn't even have time to glance at your watch or even the clock hanging in the opposite wall.

Soon, it was time to leave again, but you hadn't finished your work and it was due to a couple of days. You hated doing things just before delivery time, so you decided you were going to stay and work some more. It wasn't like someone was waiting for you anyways.

Half of the work was done, so you weren't going to stay much. Just enough so you could go back and finish tomorrow.

"Ey compañera, hora de irnos" (Hey partner, time to go) Javier sounded tired, and you figured trying to find leads and speaking all day with your superiors was exhausting too. You hated doing the calls, so he took that one for both of you. 

"No me iré Javi, debo avanzar un poco con esto"  (I won’t leave Javi, I need to get ahead with this) He frowned at you, with his beige jacket already in his hands. You figured you looked tired too, all day reading was doing an impact in your eyes.

"What do you mean you're not leaving? You just spent 12 hours doing paperwork, you need to rest"

You sighed. He was right, you knew that, but you wouldn't be able to finish if you didn't stay. 

Seeing he wasn't going to get an answer because you were stubborn and ignored him if you had already made a decision, he hung up his jacket again and pulled his chair close to your desk. Then, glaring at you, he sat down and propped his elbows in the table, letting his face fall between his hands.

A few minutes passed, and you were starting to get uneasy under the power of his stare.

"Javi? What are you doing?"

He didn't answer.

"What?" you asked, defensively. "Do I have something on my face?" 

He shook his head, still not saying anything. 

"Javier!"

He started laughing at your bothered yell, finally releasing you from the pinned look he was giving you. You let out a frustrated sigh, understanding what were his intentions.

"You're gonna glare me into leaving, aren't you?"

His nod was your only answer, accompanied by a grin spread across his face.

The thing about your relationship was that even if you fought almost every day for the stupidest things, he took care of you. He made sure you got rest, ate decent food, got home safe. He protected you in the raids, even if you weren't his main focus. And you did your best to take care of him too, but he wouldn't let you.

At least not like you wanted. 

He would go almost every weekend to search for the love you were so willing to provide for him in other women, in his so-called informants. And it hurt you, more than anything else. 

You smiled at him.

"Let's go"

He smiled too, standing up. You saved your files in one of the drawers, took your coat, and rounded your desk.

Out of the office, everything was silent. The sun had already set, leaving you at the darkness of the night. You checked your watch. It was...11 PM already, damn. You didn't know it was that late.

"I'll drop you off at your home", his voice was soft.

You nodded, not trusting your voice. Everything with Javi was difficult at night. You were looser because of the tiredness, fed up with everything. You wished to be between his arms, it was the only thing you asked for. But you knew you couldn't.

Both of you climbed into his Jeep, and he drove off to your apartment. 

"Why did you choose to live far from the Embassy anyways?"

He had asked the same question a thousand times before, and it was always the same answer. He never looked at you when he said it, his attention straight out the windshield. You couldn't figure out why he kept doing it, no matter how much you tried, no matter how much time you spent thinking about it.

"I wanted to get to know Colombia, not just the stuffy low-rise bunker in the basement of the U.S. embassy."

Once you got to the apartment complex, he parked his car and stretched to open your door. 

"Good night compañera" (partner)

You smiled in response, took your purse and jumped out of the car. Feeling his stare boring into your back as you walked to the door, you got out your keys and turned around. 

Once you waved him goodbye, he bowed his head and turned on the engine leaving with a creak of tires.

"Good night Javi"

-

Tag list: @dynphomaniac

[aurelacs]

“and you asked me: how do you feel when you’re away?”

PAIRING: javier pena x reader

RATING: 18+

WORD COUNT: 2.7k

CONTENT: swearing, death mentions, secret relationship vibes, some soft!javi, oral (f receiving), smut, spit kink if you squint, ur general angst and fluff.  

A/N: for my dear @immundusspiritu, who gave me a shit ton of prompts for this. read my other javi fic here

read on ao3

(gif by pedropascalsource)

You were tired. 

The clock on the far side of the restaurant continued to tick on without relief. Javier being late was guaranteed, decided in code between the two of you as you searched for a file and he pretended to not look directly at your ass the whole time. 

“This is a serious matter, Agent Peña,” you whispered harshly, trying to keep up with the charade.

Javi reached down and cupped your ass before squeezing it roughly. “So’s this.” You heard the door to the filing room click open and Javier sprung three rows down to keep his distance, eyes still on you, smiling.

You were supposed to leave the DEA office on time, Javi ten minutes later. The same was said for arriving at the restaurant, but as the clock made its way past 7:20, you started to worry. Keeping your relationship under wraps wasn’t just to avoid one of you getting transferred (no inter-agent fraternization, but it was also to keep each other safe. If Escobar or one of his sicarios got a hold of either of you, they wouldn’t be able to use the other as ammo. 

At least that was the plan. 

7:30 passed by and your worry grew to full on anxiety as you tried to resist getting up and pacing about the restaurant. It’s not like you could call anyone. Why were you so concerned about Javi? Why are you meeting him outside the office? You imagined yourself saying because he’s my fucking partner, but every time it came out you found yourself choking on the double entendre. A waiter walked by to offer you another glass of wine and you brushed him off. Your eyes darted to the door every other minute, disappointing yourself each time you did. Other patrons had begun to notice. Their looks of pity angered you. This wasn’t your date standing you up. This was your date potentially being killed by Pablo Escobar and you didn’t know. You wouldn’t be able to help Javier. To stitch him up if a bullet pierced him. To cradle his head in your lap as he bled out and took his final breaths with you screaming for help. 

“Honey?”

You bolted up from your seat, and enveloped yourself in him. You took him in like this time would be the last. His smell: a mixture of tobacco and the leather of his jacket. The salt of his sweat. The overwhelming, furnace-like heat of his touch, made worse by the Colombian heat. He gripped onto you as hard as you gripped him without knowing why. 

You sobbed as you wiped away tears you hadn’t realized had fallen. “I thought you were hurt or someone got you or-“

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he cooed. “Messina wouldn’t shut up.” Javier cupped his face in his hands and kissed your forehead. “I’m here now. I’m fine.” The eyes of the other patrons bore into your back as the scene progressed but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. He didn’t let you go until you had settled and your fears had dried. It felt foolish to make such a fuss over him. You had to monitor how much eye contact you made at your desks, watch how you spoke, take different routes back to the same apartment. What would you have done had he not shown? You worked to push the thought out of your mind. You didn’t want to have dinner anymore; the allure of going home and existing quietly with Javi felt far more appealing, but he insisted on staying. Something about how this is the first time he’s had “real food” in a month. 

It continued to creep throughout the night. It would trail along other thoughts you had like a shadow, refusing to let go even in the light. His fingers absentmindedly playing with yours. You could’ve lost him today. The way his eyes crinkled at a joke you told. Who knows how many more times you’ll be able to make him laugh. The perfect stillness of the hour you’ve been together tonight, how you were both letting everything fall to the wayside. How there was no Pablo, no DEA, no cocaine empires to topple. You can’t keep this up. They all bubbled, one after the other, fighting for importance, to be the one that cracked you open on the table in front of everyone.

You could barely choke out an excuse as you bolted to the bathroom. The cool tile dug into your hands as you use the sink to steady yourself. Tears streamed your face. Images forced their way into your head of Javi sprawled on the ground, blood pooling beneath him. Of Javi, cradling you in his arms, limp as a rag doll. It was all too much, too overwhelming and raw and real, like you could feel the blood running down your fingers, the beating of your heart coming to its end. A surge of anger raced up your chest. You’re a fucking DEA agent. A grown-ass adult that has had guns pointed at you, American and Colombian government officials scream at you, been stressed to the point that you would wake up with small clumps of your hair on your pillow. Yet the thought of losing Javier is what made you break. The numbness in your chest grew further when you finally grounded yourself and remembered where you were. At a restaurant. With Javi. On the first night off the two of you had had in months. This took so long to plan. You were so meticulous; making sure the requests were sent to Messina at different intervals that you felt wouldn’t tip her off. Javi even decided to be so bold as to request the day after off as well. You hoped to God she hadn’t noticed. 

You rubbed the heels of your palms into your eyes until flashing lights filled your vision. Javier was waiting as you left the bathroom.

“We’re leaving,” he said firmly, face clouded with worry. 

“No, Javi, please. I’m alright.”

“You’re not.” 

“I fucking said I’m fine.” You pushed past him back to your table.

“I already paid.” Javier took you by the arm, not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough to know that he wasn’t in the mood to play around. He walked you to your car. “Promise me you’ll meet me back at my place?” He reached out and brushed away a tear that still clung to your cheekbone. You sighed heavily and nodded. He didn’t give you the chance to apologize for snapping at him as he turned on his heel to make his way to his truck. It all weighed heavy, the frustration and anger stewing within you. You almost contemplated going home, wanting to let him feel what you went through. In that moment, for the faintest of seconds, you entertained the thought that you didn’t care. That maybe you could go home, let your phone ring off the hook as you drunk yourself into a stupor before wobbling into work two days later with the worst hangover. You almost let it happen, had you not already turned down the road that led to Javi’s apartment. At this point it was instinct, a natural reaction to seeing the street sign with a ribbon tied around it, mourning the one of thousands already lost. 

You made your way into his apartment. Javi was already settled on his couch, smoking a cigarette.

“Do you wanna talk about what happened back there,” he said.

“Not really.” You took off your shoes and walked over to his kitchen to grab yourself a beer. 

“I want to help but I can’t if you don’t talk to me.”

You leaned against the threshold, downing as much of the beer as you could in one go. “I don’t need help.” 

You wanted, desperately, for the statement to be true. You didn’t need help as much as you did. You didn’t care as deeply as you did. For all intents and purposes, Javi was your boyfriend, but admitting anything further felt like a kind of betrayal to the person you were. It was like actually saying the word out loud was conceding defeat. There wasn’t even a guarantee that this would last outside of Colombia, so why try to make this more than it needs to be? Why acknowledge the fact that your relationship had grown past the definition of what the two of you had chosen?

“I’d love to believe you but I think we both know that’s not true.” 

“It is the truth.” You took another swig of beer, keeping the mouth close to your lips.

“We’ve been partners for how long? I’ve never seen you act like that.” The concern muddled his face. It aged him, making the wrinkles in his forehead deeper, his eyebrows furrowing at your nonchalance. Your silence only pushed him further.

“You’re giving me nothing, baby. I just want to know what’s wrong.” 

“I fucking love you, okay? That’s what’s wrong. I love you so fucking much and I hate having to hide this. And I was so, so worried when you were late. I couldn’t call anyone. I couldn’t tell anyone what was wrong. I thought I lost you and I couldn’t stop thinking about losing you. I don’t- I can’t lose you.” You crumbled next to him. The heat of embarrassment spread up your chest and onto your face. “And I fucking hate crying.” Javi sat up next to you and cradled you in his arms. He buried his face in your hair and kissed the top of your head. 

“Alright,” he said after you had settled once more.

“Alright what?”

“Fuck the DEA. We can disclose next time we’re in and then I can bend you over my-“

“You’re fucking incredible.” Javi grabbed your hand as you tried to get up to leave.

“I’m sorry,” he laughed. He apologized again when he saw that you weren’t keen on the joke. He pressed his forehead against yours and closed his eyes. The two of you sat quietly, taking each other in.

He leaned in and kissed you slowly. “I love you, too,” he whispered against your lips. Static blossomed up your chest. Javi held you even closer into him until it felt like he was trying to pull you into him. Your worries and fears rushed out of you, cascading against his lips. He hushed you and rubbed circles into your back.

“I’m not going anywhere.” 

It was a promise you knew neither of you could make, but the reassurance it gave you sent a thrill up your spine. He tasted sweeter with the words hanging on his tongue, a hand threading up your hair to cup the back of your head. It all felt different. It was a knot, hard wound and almost breaking from the pressure, finally coming undone. Javi pulled away, running his hands down your arms and ushering you up off the couch. He found your mouth again, the kiss possessing an underlying feeling of urgency and want. You moaned as his tongue brushed against yours. 

Javi led you gently to his room and backed you up slowly until your legs came into contact with his bed. He kissed you, inching himself forward to push you back further until you were flush against it. You hummed as he dragged a hand down your body, gripping one of your hips. He pulled away from your kiss and you whined lightly from the loss. 

“Patience, angel.”

Javi kissed your cheek, your jaw, down your throat until he reached your collarbone. Wordlessly, he trailed the straps of your dress off your shoulder to expose your breasts. He teased, kissing on your breast and around your nipple before taking it in his mouth, his tongue slowly tracing circles around your peak. The sensation struck you down into your core and your nails dug into his arm as you writhed beneath him. He continued to kiss slowly down your body, taking your dress along with him. By the time he reached your mound, you were begging for release, your black, lace panties soaked from his taunting. 

“Are these for me?” He smiled devilishly. You could only nod. Javi gently pulled them off of you and stuffed them in his back pocket. He kissed the insides of your thighs, teasing you even further until you were practically shoving your hips into his face. You watched as he took his hands and pinned your hips to the bed, his fingers reaching so far across your burning skin. Javi kissed down your cunt, careful not to spread your lips or brush your clit. Every time you tried to thrust your hips, he pushed down further, refusing to budge. 

Your cries echoed through the apartment when he finally took his tongue and ran in up your center. He took his time, running his tongue up you and flicking it slightly as he reached your clit. 

“You taste so fucking good, baby,” he moaned against you. “I hate every second my mouth isn’t on your pussy.” Javi continued working your cunt with his mouth and tongue, eventually adding two thick fingers to hook against your g-spot. You ran your fingers through his hair, gripping as hard as you could and pushing his face deeper into you. The feeling overtook you, emptying your mind until it was nothing but Javi, Javi, Javi-

“Not yet.” Javi pulled away right as you were about to climax. You cried out desperately, your body aflame and trembling.

“I hate you,” you said.

“No, you don’t,” he smirked. He stood up and began to unbutton his shirt. You hungrily watched. He chose to keep the windows open in a vain attempt to cool the apartment down in the heat. His skin shone with sweat as he threw it to the wayside. You licked your lips as he took off his pants, his cock straining from how hard he was. Javi crawled back on top of you, drawing you up into another kiss. You sighed into it as you tasted yourself and felt the slight moisture on his mustache. He pulled away, one hand holding your chin, forcing you to look him in the eye. The other held his cock steady between the two of you.

“Spit.” His voice was hoarse with lust as he said it. You did as he said, a trail of saliva leaving your lips and making its way onto his cock. He took his thumb and wiped away what remained on your bottom lip before rubbing it over himself, not breaking eye contact. You instinctively laid back once more and Javi hooked your knees over his shoulders, pushing your thighs against your chest. He kissed your ankle before sinking into you slowly. He waited, letting you take the time to adjust to the feeling of him filling you up. You nodded when you were ready and he began to push into you slowly. Javi reached down and began to rub your clit in time with him. Slowly at first and gradually picking up the pace, letting your moans speak for the both of you. You could barely breathe as his thrusts knocked the wind out of your lungs. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed in your ear. He nipped at your earlobe, his tongue following his teeth to soothe the small bite. You grabbed onto his hair to rear his head back and expose his neck. You sucked a small mark by his Adam’s apple and his hips stuttered from the distraction. Javi changed his tempo. He removed your legs from your shoulders, letting you wrap them around his waist. He snapped his hips into you and you cried out. Tears began to pool in your eyes as your orgasm began to build in the pit of your stomach. 

“Please,” you begged. “Don’t stop.”

Javi pulled you up so you were sitting on his lap. You gripped his back, your nails dragging down his skin. You ground your hips against him and brought one of your hands between you to continue working your clit. All you could manage as you came was a breathless moan. You fell back, breaking your rhythm with Javi as he kept fucking you through your climax, the overstimulation making you breathless. 

Javi buried his face in the crook of your neck, spilling himself on your stomach and chest. He collapsed on top of you. He wrapped his arms around you, turning you on your side so you were face to face. He kissed you softly, sweetly, filling your head once more with just thoughts of him. 

 “I’ll never leave you.” 

[sarakuper]

San Rafael; Work Away

Stop #3, December 21-January 7

Our time in San Rafael was very relaxing, thrilling, and interesting. Some days we spent doing little to nothing, which was nice for a few days but too boring for me at some points. Other days Sean and I did some awesome activities pushing us both way out of our comfort zones. Lastly, we experienced authentic Colombian culture first hand. Being there for holidays and festivals meant we were there for some of the most quiet and exciting days of the year.

When we arrived on Saturday we had no idea what to expect. This stop being our first WorkAway, we wondered…what work would we be doing? How many hours were expected of us? Are any meals included? For that first day we hung out and enjoyed the beautiful location at the hostel, which is located on a steep hill, completely open and overlooking the city. It’s totally lush and absolutely beautiful. The view alone is a reason to spend all day in the hostel relaxing. 

There are 3 people who own the hostel, all Colombian, and all in their 20’s. Lili was there when we arrived, Manuel arrived the next day (Sunday), and Laura arrived after spending Christmas with her family in Medellin. Immediately after arriving Sean and I fell in love with their cat Canela, which is “cinnamon” in Spanish. We thought she was a kitten because she isn’t full sized, but it turns out she is an old lady! She lived on the property with the previous owner, who was thought to be not very kind to her. When Lili, Laura, and Manuel bought the place about a year ago, Canela was pregnant with a dead litter. They paid to have them surgically removed, and since then Canela has been their beloved pet. She is so cuddly and sweet. She jumps on your lap for pets or a nap, and she answer to your calls. She’s the kind of cat that acts like a dog. We immediately fell in love with her. It’s not like we are trying to fill a void or anything... :)

When Manuel arrived on Sunday we discussed the work we would be doing; we would redo the kitchen (and it really needed it) and lunch would be provided. We started making plans for this work Monday morning. I was going to repaint the kitchen and organize it differently while Sean would build some cabinet doors and shelves. Our work load was different each day. Sometimes we felt good with the work we were doing that we spent hours doing it. Other days we did little to nothing. Either way, Leidy and Karen came every morning to clean the hostel, and during our first week Leidy cooked us lunch too. And wow did she cook us the most delicious healthy food!!!

Leidy and Karen live in the same building as the hostel/language school in a separate apartment. Leidy is probably in her late 30’s or early 40’s, and Karen is her 10 year old daughter. Neither of them spoke a word of english, but they quickly became a big part of our trip in San Rafael. Since Karen was off from school she came to help her mom cook and clean every morning. One morning I was doing some henna on hands and legs when Karen told me “linda!” which means “cute” or “pretty” in Spanish. I asked her if she wanted one, and when she said yes I told her to ask her mom first. Next thing you know, I was giving henna tattoos to both Karen and Leidy; mandala type flowers on their legs and their names written on their wrists. I wish I took a photo of this, but I didn’t :(. I did however take a picture of my henna, and finally took a picture with Leidy and Karen on our last day.

From then on, Karen and I would hang out together almost every morning. She would help me study Spanish while also helping her mom work. I would pull up a new vocabulary word I wanted to learn from an app on my phone, and she and I would practice using that word in a sentence. She would then correct my awful grammar before moving on to the next new word. Some evenings after that I saw Karen and Leidy hanging out outside or walking into town. We always talked and all made efforts to communicate as much as possible. My broken Spanish was enough to connect with both of them, but what it really highlighted was that you don’t need to speak the same language to express love and kindness.

Over Christmas Eve we joined Lili’s boyfriend, Brandon, at his house where he was hosting a BBQ. And that’s exactly how Colombians celebrate Christmas; they BBQ on the street with beers and loud music. And they were kind enough to grill lots of veggies for me :)

During our time in San Rafael we experienced some epic thunder storms. It rained almost every night, and being in a hostel where the common area is wide open made the storms so fun. Normally when we went into town we did so in the evening and nights, only because the days were so hot, and so walking up and down the hills to the city center was a bit warm… but, every time we went out at night it was like a guessing game if we would get poured on. Every night was cloudy, so there was really no telling. It made it a little more fun :) I love rain in warm weather! 

Another day, after working and panting in the morning, we went to the nearest watering hole for a quick swim. Lili’s mom was in town, so we went together plus Bendzhi, a Chinese girl staying at our hostel long term. The watering hole was amazing for people watching. So many locals go there to cool off and swim. Kids ands dogs run around everywhere while vendors sell snacks from fresh fruit to churros. I wish I had photos, but it was better to bring little to nothing since we were ditching our stuff to go swimming.

Steve was another guy at our hostel, probably in his mid 40’s, and from Canada. We spent a good amount of time with him, especially after hiking to a waterfall with him, and Manuel. The hike was pretty short but beautiful. We walked right by horses and cows/bulls before approaching the waterfall.

Just before NYE Lili left to spend time in San Carlos, another town about an hour west, for the next month or so. Laura and Manuel both went to meet Manuel’s family, and so Sean and I had the hostel to ourselves. We went out in town and hung out at a bar until midnight, when everyone got up to hug and kiss each other. Soon after Sean and I went home to hit the hay. Neither of us were feeling great (my throat was sore and he had an allergy attack), plus we don’t particularly care much for this holiday.  

Something I loved about staying at this hostel was that on most days a group of small monkeys would come looking for food. Of course we bought bananas in preparation of this, and fed them quite often. They are so small and so cute!!! They would call at us until we fed them their beloved bananas.

The most exciting thing we did during our time in San Rafael was a canyoneering trip with Manuel, his sister Julianna, and her husband Freddy. We hiked to a spot along a river, got into wet suits and harnesses, and began our decent in the river. We slid down the rocks, jumped off cliffs, and repelled our way through the river. Sean’s fear of heights kicked in during the last part of the activity. But, there we were.. and there was no turning back! This trip was short, but seriously one of the coolest things we’ve done. We were so high on life from the awesome adventure it was!

Another day Manuel and Laura invited us on a fishing trip again with his sister and brother in law. We fished along a river, and although Sean and I both didn’t catch anything we still enjoyed the experience very much. Colorful birds where flying all around us, calling out to each other, and it was really beautiful to watch. Eventually we made our way to a waterfall where we “parked” our boats to go explore. We climbed to the top of the waterfall where we found a beautiful swimming hole to enjoy all to ourselves. We explored deeper, climbing up the next small waterfall. It was absolutely stunning, and easily the highlight of the fishing trip. We swam and jumped off the rocks (don’t worry- Manuel, a certified guide, checked to see that they were safe first) while enjoying all the beauty around us.

The next day we had the opportunity to visit a Panela farm, watching its production from start to finish. Panela is the natural sweetener widely used here in Colombia, and I think a lot of Latin America. It comes in thick blocks that are chipped at and use as sweeter for many of their drinks, specifically chocolate (the drink) and natural juice. We started by crushing the sugarcane using a machine, followed by a long cleaning process to purify the juice before it crystalizes into a sugar. The colombian family that owns the farm has been making Panela all their lives. The whole operation is run between 4 siblings; 3 brothers and 1 sister, all in their 70’s. The abuela welcomed us into her beautiful home and made us breakfast, and then lunch once it got late enough in the afternoon. I am so grateful to have been welcomed to this family’s farm and home with arms open wide. The love they put into this work, and the history behind it all makes it so special. For so many reasons this day was one I will never forget.

One of the last events that went on while we were gone (and yes, wow, a lot has really happened) was Festivo del Rio, festival of the river. We are not sure how the name is related to the celebrations, but what we do know is that this small town fills up with tons of Colombians from all over the country to come celebrate this festival at San Rafael. Restaurants were packed, the hostel we stayed at was fully booked, and the streets were crowded with happy people. On Friday night we watched part of the parade, where structures of mythical creatures ran the streets breathing fire and pure fun.

At the beginning of this post I wrote that times during this leg of the trip I was bored, yet I didn’t get to writing any of this post until the bus ride out of town. I didn’t realize how many special experiences we had until it was time to write about it. But thats exactly why I do this :)

And now that I am writing this while on the bus leaving San Rafael, it feels bitter sweet to leave. This town is so authentically Colombian. The only other English speakers we met were 3 others from our hostel, one Canadian, one American, and one Chinese who spoke English fluently. Saying goodbye was so sweet, as Laura told me that seeing my face is like getting a dose a diabetes. There’s a bit of a language barrier there.. but what she was saying is that I’m so sweet and she feels that every time she sees my face 😂. As for Leidy and Karen... well Leidy starting to cry. I told her “I miss you” in Spanish because I have no idea how to speak in future tense to say “I will miss you”. Karen, her 10 year old daughter who was my best friend on this leg of the trip, gave me hugs goodbye. I will miss practicing Spanish with her very much. She actually knows how to explain things to me better than the adults!

Anyway, I am so looking forward to Josh’s arrival! This is just the start of what I think will be a very fun month with friends (Sam and Victoria next week) and then my mom and cousin Maria in Cartagena! 

Thanks for reading fam, love you all.

[fortunatelylori]

Rage-kitten Jon time

*this meta includes graphic depictions of violence. Redear discretion is advised

A while back, during a conversation with @kitten1618x, she asked me to talk about the rage-kitten Jon scenes. I’ve been pretty busy the past few weeks so I didn’t manage to get to it earlier but … a tumblr always pays her debts.

Here is the original message:

I would love to hear your take on the rage-kitten jon scenes: especially the one in the crypts, as it really did nothing to further the narrative if Jon is just a “protective big bro” (the audience already knows this) and the beach scene with Theon.

I’ve already discussed the Theon scene in my “Why the romance between Jon/D*ny doesn’t work” series so this time around we will be talking about the crypt scene between Jon and Littlefinger.

However, in addition to that, we will also be taking a trip down memory lane to that most satisfying and heartwarming of moments in season 6 when Jon beat the living crap out of Ramsay Beelzebub Bolton.

That is because these two scenes are inextricably linked in my mind and together set up and support the romantic undertone that permeates all of the Jon/Sansa scenes.

Bear with me … I have receipts.

After the season finale, when I re-watched both season 6 and 7, I came back to these two scenes time and time again. The way Jon walks over to Ramsay, stone faced, murderous anger bubbling beneath the surface, the way his face twitches when LF says he loves Sansa as he loved Catelyn ... I was struck every time by just how certain I was that I had seen this before somewhere and how romantic motivation popped into my head every single time I watched them.

And then, one fine day, it finally dawned on me. I HAD seen this before, hundreds of times. Twice a year, in fact, from the time I was about 12.

Ladies and gentlemen, I give to you the one … the only … possibly my favorite film of all times …

Now, if you have not seen Goodfellas, what the hell have you been doing with your life? I mean it! Got watch it right now!

For those of you who have seen it … it’s brilliant, right? Now that I’ve mentioned it, don’t you want to go back and watch it again? I know I do. I just looooove watching Joe Pesci violently murder people. What can I say? I’m a romantic, like that …

That being said, I see you all scratching your heads thinking what the hell Goodfellas has to do with rage-kitten Jon. So please indulge me in an experiment and look at the scene where Henry finds out that his girlfriend, Karen, was sexually assaulted by one of her neighbors:

I think you can see the basic gist of what I am talking about but let’s analyze the similarities more in detail. I’ll probably only ever going to get one chance to talk about Goodfellas and Game of thrones in the same meta. You can bet your last dollar I’m going to milk it for what it’s worth!  

The “Jon makes all of our dreams come true” scene:

The first beat that is eerily similar is the slow walk both Henry and Jon do towards their opponent. Even their expression is about the same which is … they have no expression. Their entire focus is on what’s in front of them:

The stone face in cinema is always a telltale of someone going in for the kill. Both Bruce and Ramsay are goners. They just don’t know it yet.

Then there’s the actual fight … I mean, it’s not really a fight … it’s quite frankly a down and dirty whooping that both Jon and Henry dish out, complete with the both of them throwing their opponent to the ground:

This has nothing to do with the meta, but every time I watch this beat I laugh thinking of people saying how shockingly revolutionary violence in GOT is. Scorsese was doing long before them and, quite frankly, doing it better. There’s not one cut in that whole beat. You’re essentially a prisoner of the camera.

The other thing these two scenes have in common is a bit more subtle and requires a larger view of both these characters. Because leaving aside the different time periods, dragons and wardrobes, what both these scenes show us is the violence that these men are capable of.

In Goodfellas, up until this point, the audience has seen Henry as the hero, the good guy. We’ve been lulled into liking him because of his charm, good looks and intelligence and also because he’s always surrounded by psychopaths that kill and hurt people on a whim while he’s stuck being the voice of reason.

So just when we’ve become comfortable with this interpretation of the character, Scorsese gives us 10 veeery loooong and veeery painful seconds of Henry’s unhinged brutality. We can’t hide away from the truth anymore: he’s a thug just like the rest of his “associates”.

The GOT scene is less elegant in its message and perhaps a bit less effective but it essentially tells us the same thing. Jon has been dabbling with violence ever since he left home but we have never seen him be so brutal or so out of control with anyone. Now we know that if you push him hard enough, you’ll find the monster hidden beneath. The fact that it’s Sansa that sparks this revelation, just as Karen does for Henry, is just icing on the cake, really.

The other intriguing thing is that both these scenes end with a relationship set-up between Henry and Karen, as well as Jon and Sansa.

In Goodfellas, this is a patently negative and foreboding event. Henry and Karen have been established as the young, attractive and in love couple, strolling around town and going to the Copacabana for drinks, wearing the latest fashions. But in this scene Henry hands her the gun he’s just used to bash a man’s face in and asks her to hide it. When she accepts, she becomes his accomplice. And that dynamic pays off throughout the rest of the film, as we see Karen smuggle illegal drugs for Henry in prison, accompany him to meet Colombian cartels and flush drugs down toilets as the police descends on their house.

In GOT, the implications of this scene are far more positive. Because Jon does the exact opposite to what Henry does. Far from making Sansa an accomplice to his violent tendencies, he stops himself when she shows up because he doesn’t want her to see him as a monster.

As other Jonsa fans have already mentioned, the creators here employ the “calm to his storm” trope and that’s a very potent storytelling device. Because love is a powerful emotion that can make us behave in extreme ways, both good and bad. But at its best, love compels us to be better, not worse. And that’s what Sansa does for Jon in this scene. She reminds him of his inherent humanity. And that’s pretty damn beautiful.

However, I don’t think we’ve really gotten a proper pay off of this trope and the dynamic that it establishes between these two characters. I suppose you could argue that the battlement scene does that by having Sansa apologize for keeping Jon in the dark about the Knights of the Vale and they end up resolving their trust issues.

Except that season 7 shows us a Jon and Sansa that are still struggling with their relationship, the two of them still sending each other mixed signals and we never get a proper explanation as to what makes them clash as they do.

Add to that the Theon scene where once again the “calm to his storm” trope is brought to the fore and this whole confusing dynamic between them feels like a dangling plot thread that needs to be addressed in season 8.

The “Non-platonic thoughts about Sansa are not allowed in Jon’s presence” scene:

The obvious thing that this scene and the Goodfellas scene have in common is the dialogue. So let’s talk about that. You all know how attached I am to my dialogue:

Henry: I swear on my fucking mother, if you touch her again, you’re dead!

Jon: Touch my sister and I’ll kill you myself.

Now, Henry is a little more verbose and he does take his own mother’s name in vain but you know … he’s half Irish and half Italian. It sort of comes with the territory. But the message is clear: Touch Karen/Sansa and Henry/Jon will kill you.

This phrase of: touch … and I’ll kill you is used a great deal in dialogue for both visual and written storytelling but the important common thread here is the sexual context in which they are both used.

Bruce, Karen’s neighbor, is beaten up by Henry because he tried to rape Karen. So “touch” in that context is unquestioningly sexual in nature.

The Jon/LF is even more loaded because Littlefinger hasn’t actually done anything as terrible to Sansa. Sure, his longing stares, double-entendres and creepy kisses are more than a little problematic, but they’re not in the same league as what Bruce did to Karen. And yet, just the thought that Littlefinger might approach Sansa in that way and that he might touch her in a sexual manner, drives Jon mad.

Also, as others have mentioned, Littlefinger prods and twists Jon for quite some time until he snaps. He talks about his father’s bones, his love for his father’s wife and even brings up Catelyn’s dislike for him, something that probably bothers Jon even more than being called a bastard. And yet, even though it’s clear that Jon doesn’t like LF, he still manages to keep his emotions in check.

The moment he starts losing it this:

Littlefinger: If it weren’t for me, you would have been slaughtered on that battlefield.

Now, people simply take it for granted that Jon dislikes Littlefinger because of what LF has done to his family. But Jon doesn’t know most of what LF has done. He actually doesn’t know much of anything about him. Except this:

Jon: You told me he sold you to the Boltons.

Sansa: He did.

Jon: Do you trust him?

Sansa: Only a fool would trust Littlefinger.

So his sole reason for disliking this man is because of what he did to Sansa. I would suggest that LF bringing up the Battle of the Bastards is yet another reminder for Jon that she had to bring this man there in order to save him.

But then LF, in his desire to find what moves his enemy, ups the ante and boy, does he find out what moves Jon Snow:

And this where that feeling of familiarity strikes me again. I don’t know if Kit Harrington went to the Liotta school of seething rage, but these two facial expressions look very similar to me:

Kit should totally take, at least, the expression class at the Liotta school by the way. No one does crazy, out of my mind psychopathy quite like good ol’ Ray.

The last thing we need to address is the reason why this scene is even included. Unlike the mirror scene in season 1 where Ned chocked LF, where the resolution was LF’s betrayal, there is no direct pay-off to this scene and there never will be. LF is dead and his downfall has nothing to do with Jon.

As @kitten1618x pointed out in her message, it can’t be to show us that Jon is protective of Sansa. That was already established in season 6. We’ve seen him beat Ramsay to a pulp and we’ve also been given this gem:

Jon: I will never let him touch you again. I’ll protect you. I promise!

We’re also going to be given a fresh dose of that in his scene with Tyrion.

There’s just so much of the “Jon is an overprotective older brother who protects his totally platonic but in need of protection sister” shtick we can watch before we start questioning exactly why Jon is so invested in who “touches” Sansa.

I would argue that, considering basic scriptwriting structure as well as the pattern that is established between Jon and the men in Sansa’s life, the pay-off to the Jon/LF scene will come in season 8 and it will have nothing to do with LF and everything to do with the Jon/Sansa dynamic.

PS: I call dibs on red for the wedding. It’s my favorite color, you guys! You have to give me that!

 * none of the GOT gifs belong to me.

[maryofone]

The Dress

Intuition is an interesting concept. The idea that we have some level of consciousness underneath our conscious level of consciousness is fascinating to me. It’s like we go through every day thinking endless amounts of thoughts and musings and wonderings and worryings, and our intuition doesn’t pipe up for much of it. Anytime we try to call on our intuition in the moment or make a point of listening to our gut, we can’t be sure we can hear it. It’s like our intuition is working behind the scenes most of the time, watching our lives closely, never stepping in until it really has to. We can’t always detect our intuition in the moment but we can often spot its handy work in hindsight. I had one such reflection not long ago and it all has to do with a dress I bought 4,000 km from home.

A little while ago I went on vacation with my four closest friends to Colombia. One of said friends is from Colombia and wanted to take us on a tour of his home country. I was the fifth wheel of the group and felt more than fine with that because a) I’m always the fifth wheel in our group; and b) I had a fella back in Toronto with whom things were getting pretty serious, so even though I was without him on the trip, daydreaming about him while overlooking the Andes had me feeling pretty fucking tickled.

About a week into the trip we made it to Medellin, and settled into our fancy loft BnB with a rooftop terrace overlooking the city. The neighbourhood was young and stylish and friendly and there were art galleries and romantic outdoor bars everywhere, and a little hood of boutiques full of handmade Colombian dresses that my girlfriend and I dove into almost immediately upon arrival. I’m not usually a huge shopper but these dresses were worth anyone’s attention. We ended up in this one shop where I found this particularly gorgeous, white-lace, fitted bohemian number with flared sleeves. I tried it on and it felt like it was made for me. The woman who owned the shop made every dress in the store and even though she was probably just trying to make a sale, she gave a pretty convincing reaction to what I looked like in it. Evidently I was doing the dress quite a bit of justice so she was really happy when I bought it.

When I saw the dress, when I tried on the dress, when I bought the dress, all I could think about was how much that fella back in Toronto was going to like it. It was definitely a bonerific garment, and I couldn’t wait to get back to the city and find an excuse to wear it in his presence. Luckily Valentine’s Day was right around the corner.

I’ve learned to expect nothing from Valentine’s Day so imagine my surprise when this guy and I actually made bona fide date plans for the day. To be clear, I brought it up. We were drunk at a bar one night and our conversation was feeling pretty cozy, so I casually/not casually brought up how I would love to actually do something for Valentine’s Day; nothing crazy, just have dinner or something. Before he even got a word in I started to overexplain how I’ve always wanted to have a proper Valentine’s date and I’ve never had one and I know it’s stupid and blah blah blah… then in uncharacteristically sweet fashion, he said, “You’re allowed to care about Valentine’s Day. Of course we can go on a date.” It was literally one of the sweetest things he’d said to me in the six months I’d known him (if that tells you anything). But then the chivalry came to quick stop.

“But you know I have no money, so you’d have to pay.”

There it is. And fine! We had totally different salaries, and I’d already made a habit of covering the cheque on most occasions. So what’s another one? And then of course he wasn’t that interested in picking the restaurant so he left that to me too. Okay, fine. At least I was getting a date on Valentine’s Day.

A couple of weeks later, things were still going well between us (a bit of a surprise given the myriad issues we’d sporadically suffered throughout our courtship), so I’d made the reservation at that cute little French restaurant on Queen. And of course I’d tried the dress on a few more times than necessary, and was really just counting down the days to wear this beautiful piece of clothing with my beautiful new boyfriend whom I’d just made things official with. And then something weird happened.

I canceled the reservation. Everything had been going great, Valentine’s Day was just two or three days away, and I called up the restaurant and canceled. I texted him and said that money was actually tighter than I thought at the moment, and I really couldn’t swing a fancy dinner for two, so we should just hang at my place instead. He seemed characteristically indifferent and so we didn’t discuss it again.

Meanwhile, in my mind, I was trying to figure out why the fuck I just canceled my chance to have a romantic Valentine’s date in this unspeakably beautiful dress. I consulted my intuition and the only thing it would tell me was that it wasn’t the right time for the dress. What the fuck? How could it not be the right time? Valentine’s Day? French restaurant? Hot date? How was this not the time for the dress? I couldn’t understand why my gut was telling me not to waste the dress on that date. But I still listened to it. Because it sounded fuckin serious: Don’t. Wear. It. Yet.

Fast-forward a long-ass time and now that impossibly stunning dress has been hanging in my closet for almost two years, without ever being worn a single time. A one-of-a-kind dress, made by one woman, bought by one woman, just sitting in the back of my closet, waiting. And I have to give it to my gut here. Looking back on how horribly that relationship ended, it’s pretty obvious that he did not deserve to see me in that dress. He didn’t deserve to see me in any capacity, and I find it so interesting that it was the dress that my intuition couldn’t ignore. There was just no way my gut was going to let me waste that dress on him.

What’s even cooler about this little moment of intuition is that it was two-fold. One part of my gut was telling me not to waste the dress on someone who didn’t deserve it, and the other part was telling me that there’s someone else out there who does.

[deadcactuswalking]

REVIEWING THE CHARTS: 06/03/2021 ("BED”, Digga D, Kali Uchis)

It’s finally a really short filler week on the UK Singles Chart but not one without its importance as we’ve got some real interesting stuff to talk about this week, even if there are only six new arrivals. Olivia Rodrigo’s “drivers license” is at #1, and whilst I may not be able to post this on Twitter because I’ve been locked out – don’t ask why – this is still REVIEWING THE CHARTS.

Rundown

So, a lot of our debuts are gone, including “test drive” by Ariana Grande as well as other bigger hits dropping out of the UK Top 75 – which is what I cover – including “Burner on Deck” by Fredo featuring the late Pop Smoke and Young Adz, “i miss u” by Jax Jones and Au/Ra, Taylor Swift’s re-recorded “Love Story”, “Before You Go” by Lewis Capaldi, “Shallow” by Lady Gaga and Bradley Cooper and “Perfect” by Ed Sheeran. There are also a handful of fallers across the chart like Fredo’s continued drops as “Money Talks” with Dave is at #28, “Let’s Go Home Together” by Ella Henderson and Tom Grennan off of the debut to #34, “Love Not War (The Tampa Beat)” by Jason Derulo and Nuka at #36, “34+35” by Ariana Grande at #40, “Good Days” by SZA dropping hard with the streaming cut down to #46, “Mixed Emotions” by Abra Cadabra at #54, “Watermelon Sugar” by Harry Styles at #60, “Didn’t Know” by Tom Zanetti off of the debut to #68, “Siberia” by Headie One featuring Burna Boy at #71 and “willow” by Taylor Swift at #72. What’s probably more interesting are our gains and returning entries, as for returns, we’ve got “ROCKSTAR” by DaBaby featuring Roddy RIcch back at #75, Wilkinson’s 2013 drum and bass track “Afterglow” featuring uncredited vocals from Becky Hill back at #74 for whatever reason, “Higher” by Clean Bandit featuring iann dior at #70 and “Goodbye” by Imanbek and Goodboys coming back strong at #59. Our gains are also pretty unique, as we have some second winds for “Looking for Me” by Paul Woolford, Diplo and Kareen Lomax at #67, “Loading” by Central Cee at #61 and “Roses” by SAINt JHN and remixed by Imanbek at #55. We also have a handful of climbers within the top 40, like “All You Ever Wanted” by Rag’n’Bone Man surging up to #33 off of the debut, which I’m pretty happy about as it’s a really good song. I’m less over the moon about “Little Bit of Love” by Tom Grennan at #27, “Believe Me” by Navos at #25 and finally, “My Head & My Heart” by Ava Max up to #19. There’s not much movement above that however, so let’s get into our new arrivals, starting with something I didn’t think I see here this soon.

NEW ARRIVALS

#65 – “SugarCrash!” – ElyOtto

Produced by ElyOtto

I love doing this show because I find out more about genres I’d usually tend to avoid. I’m not the most knowledgeable person about Afroswing or really, a lot of the house that ends up charting on the UK Singles Chart. I think I know my fair bit about at least the mainstream of a lot of the UK drill stuff, but what I really would consider myself somewhat specialised in is hyperpop. I’m probably too old to enjoy any of it as much as I do but that may just be why I have a connection to this overly online, digital scene of SoundCloud producers and rappers making pretty obnoxiously mid-2000s-influenced electropop, as it really does feel like a retreat to a simpler time with all of the angst of the emo-pop being made around the same time. The hyperpop scene and bubblegum bass as a whole has always felt inclusive, which I think is one of the main reasons why it’s big with teenagers nowadays, because there really isn’t much of a limit in the genre or at least the scope that we’ve found as of yet, whether it be integrating elements of ‘hexd’ or brostep or trance or what have you. Whilst companies may want us to be nostalgic for the 1990s, I think most people are taking a couple steps forward here, and it’s creating some genuinely great music – some of the time, at least. Hyperpop has birthed many SoundCloud-based sub-genres, or I guess micro-genres, including one of which being glitchcore, a glitchier, more off-the-wall brand of cloud rap with a lot of high-energy trap production and nightcore-esque pitch-shifting. I see some brands of infighting amongst people who listen to hyperpop and glitchcore seeing as glitchcore has arguably taken off a bit faster than other more electronic or pop-focused scenes, but I see that as evolution of a scene more than anything. 100 gecs sounds nothing like A.G. Cook, anyway, it’s pointless gate-keeping at this point, especially when TikTok gets their hands on this random kid from Canada. In a genre full of pioneers, this young Canadian guy’s debut single is what gains traction and for what it’s worth I’m happy for the guy but I’m not a fan of the song at all. This does feel like a parody if anything, with its fast-paced gecs impression and admittedly pretty ethereal synth patterns pretty drowned out by lightweight trap percussion and this ElyOtto guy who really isn’t a presence at all, especially if he’s going to pitch himself down and further into the instrumental on the outro... of a song that’s already only one minute and 20 seconds yet runs through two choruses and a verse, of which nothing really is said of substance. People like blackwinterwells and osquinn make similar music especially in terms of lyrical content but there is something to be said about their honesty and somewhat paranoid tones that creep in, whilst there’s nothing really emotionally convincing about this guy’s delivery or content, as while he may make the same semi-ironic references to self-harm, pain medication and Gen Z culture as they do, he doesn’t really have any tact and it feels overly self-aware to the point where I refuse to believe anyone outside of ElyOtto can really enjoy it fully. It makes perfect sense that this started off as a “short soundfont test” and really, it probably should have stayed that way. There’s a lot to be enjoyed in hyperpop but if this isn’t a satire and is a genuine attempt at approaching the scene, I’d be genuinely surprised. That said, his song “TEETH!” is legitimately good with the exact same length, so maybe I’m just full of it. Either way, I’m not a fan. Sorry.

#56 – “AP” – Pop Smoke

Produced by 808Melo and Rico Beats

Another posthumous Pop Smoke single, except this was actually recorded well before his death and probably finished before to boot, as it’s attached to a film, Boogie, that he will actually star in. With 808Melo on production, it’s guaranteed to have at least some hard-hitting drill production and, yeah, I mean, it’s fine. It’s got a pretty eerie vocal sample behind all the murderous lyrics and pretty busy drill percussion with some great 808s, even if it and the sample feels a bit too loud in the mix when Pop Smoke’s rich voice feels buried. It’s just gunplay, really, and a bit of flexing and references to his older songs, as he makes a call and it’s war and he’s off that Adderall. It’s sad that from now on, any material we get from Pop Smoke will be his leftovers and throwaways. That said, this is fine, perhaps a bit too long, and it could be worse – I mean, it originally leaked with a Rich the Kid verse, it REALLY could have been worse. Once again, RIP Pop Smoke and I hope 808Melo gets his YouTube channel back if he hasn’t already.

#50 – “Pierre” – Ryn Weaver

Produced by benny blanco, Ryan Tedder and Michael Angelakos

The UK Singles Chart is changing, and I think that’s what makes this such an interesting week as there is genuinely some stuff here we’ve never seen debut on the chart before – or anything like it – and that’s exciting to me. You probably know Ryn Weaver from “OctaHate”, a brief 2014 viral pop song written by Charli XCX and produced by Cashmere Cat that led to a debut album the next year and thanks to presumably TikTok, a deep cut from said album has now debuted in the top 50. Now I hadn’t heard of her before looking at the chart about an hour ago, so I can’t tell you much of anything at all about the California singer. I’m not really a fan of “OctaHate” but I do have a fondness for that janky electropop production from the mid-2010s – “Gold” by Kiiara is a hill I’d die on – so with production from Michael Angelakos of Passion Pit, I’d hoped “Pierre” would be pretty cool and, yeah, it’s pretty odd, actually. It seems like a pretty ballad but with a very fast-paced, raspy delivery from Weaver and some choppy production that soon tenses in the chorus and I’ve got to say, while I’m not 100% on the mixing, I can get behind the concept here, especially with some multi-tracked vocals from Weaver. The song itself is about trying to run away from her feelings for a lover that never really went away, particularly as she hooks up later with a man called Pierre who speaks in broken English, which gives a lot of reason for the tense pace of the song, even if that is undercut by the production being muddy and awfully willing to kill its momentum in the outro as there’s never really a proper climax. That said, it’s fitting for that final line, “I’ll come around”, which can be interpreted as about moving on or complacency – just coming back to that guy after years of searching for someone else. I do like this – or at least what it’s trying to do – but I feel like it’d enjoy it more with less clutter, particularly in that chorus, which could really elevate this but as it is, it’s fine.

#45 – “telepatía” – Kali Uchis

Produced by Albert Hype, Manuel Lara and Tainy

Okay, so alt-pop all the way from Latin America, that’s also a first... except not really, as ROSALÍA has charted before, if only off of the back of Billie Eilish. Regardless, this is a really high debut for a global hit from Colombian-American critical darling Kali Uchis, someone I’m always glad to hear from. Admittedly I did not check out that last project that was a return to a lot of the Latin American music, including reggaeton, she took early influence from. That debut studio album is mostly an English-language neo-soul record so I appreciate the risks taken, even if I personally didn’t check it out. I probably should though, because this bilingual streaming success “telepatía”, is pretty damn smooth with some of the signature fuzzy keys you’d hear from any Kali Uchis song, somewhat reminiscent of Tyler, The Creator in all of the elegant piano ambiance and soul drums that cut the line thin between live and programmed, but sound quite either way. I especially love the flushes of Latin guitar in the chorus but really, Uchis’ silky voice is what shines here, especially in the subtle, seductive double-tracking and how smoothly it switches from Spanish to English. It’s not perfect, I mean, the transition from chorus to second verse and back again is somewhat awkward, and it does feel like it runs a little short. I was honestly expecting a guitar solo or something but we get very little of anything after that final chorus. Given that I know Tainy mostly from his work with J Balvin – and I’ll admit, also mostly from his work on the Sponge on the Run soundtrack – I’m pretty pleasantly surprised with how this has meshed together and I do really hope this sticks around.

#23 – “Bluuwuu” – Digga D

Produced by Glvck

We didn’t get an album bomb from Digga D, bless the Lord, but we did get this one single and... do American rappers make genuine death threats on their top 40 singles? Just wondering, because this has several references to rival gang members and how he’s going to hurt them in one way or another. That would be fine if it were convincing, but this guy really isn’t, especially if he’s going to do the silly “bluuwuu” ad-lib in the chorus over one of the least interesting drill beats I’ve ever heard. The 808s don’t slide notably, the percussion is like a template and there isn’t any energy to this... which is fine, because it’s very much just about gang violence, half of it censored. That said, it crosses the line from intriguing detail to possibly too detailed in a way that’s just unwarranted over a boring beat and with the tendency to go off-topic with his flexing ever so often. I’d probably rather listen to the posthumous Pop Smoke single over this if I had to choose, at least that beat is, you know, good.

#20 – “BED” – Joel Corry, RAYE and David Guetta

Produced by Giorgio Tiunfort, New Levels, David Guetta and Joel Corry

I thought these guys were literally famous for just being producers, why does a song by two producers need two extra producers and if it really needs them, why aren’t they given a lead artist credit as well? Oh, right: name recognition, even though neither Corry or Guetta have ever made anything worth recognising. This song with RAYE, personality-void guest singer, relies on the line, “I got a bed, but I’d rather be in yours tonight”, because it’s a sex jam in one way or another, even though there are no stakes to that chorus line at all. Yes, I know RAYE has a bed; she probably sleeps very comfortably on it. She probably bought it from Premier Inn. Maybe they were having a sale. There’s no point in clarifying that you have a bed – in fact, a more interesting lyrical turn would to maybe bring some stakes into it by saying that RAYE does not in fact have a home, and the intimacy with unnamed man keeps her afloat in times of hardship. This is really just me stalling because this may be our highest debut but that does not mean it’s worth talking about. “BED” doesn’t really do much more than it’s supposed to. It’s got some vaguely 90s keys, fake hand-claps, a checked-out performance from RAYE and an anti-climactic deep house drop. Do you care? Does that description make you want to hear it? It’s not a negative critique, it’s an unbiased description of what happens. Are you intrigued with that? Do you want to check this out? This’ll go top 10 next week because of the music video, but God, this is just soulless, and that’s coming from someone who talks almost purely about the pop charts. I do like the post-chorus vocal melody for what it’s worth, but, yeah, no, I don’t care.

Conclusion

I don’t even care enough to give it Worst of the Week, as that’s going to “SugarCrash!” by ElyOtto with a Dishonourable Mention for Digga D’s “Bluuwuu”. Best of the Week should be obvious as Kali Uchis’ “telepatía” is the only good song here, but the Honourable Mention I guess goes to the late Pop Smoke for “AP”, even if that’s mostly because of 808Melo on the production. Here’s this week’s top 10:

I predict a lot will change next week, as we’ve got new songs from Justin Bieber, James Arthur, Bruno Mars (with Anderson .Paak!) and an EP from Drake... follow me on Twitter @cactusinthebank if you want in the event that I can use that again, and I’ll see you next week for that snoozefest.

[junker-town]

A taxonomy of all the fans you see at the Tour de France

Ryan Siu

The Tour de France has the most colorful cast of fans in the world. Here is one man’s attempt to categorize them all.

The Tour de France claims to be the most-attended sporting event in the world. It’s certainly the world’s largest arena. Anyone can walk up and claim a spot along 2,000-plus miles of roadside and see it live, for free, no ticket necessary. As a result, there may not be a more colorful cast of fans anywhere.

Here is a taxonomy of the people you might see next to the road of the Tour de France. It is as exhaustive as I could make it, but by no means complete. Please let me know if I missed a key subgroup in the comments. Or just @ me.

Locals

“Local” here is loosely defined as anyone who easily blends into the scenery. I reckon most of the people you see by the side of the road don’t come from far, but it’s a specific set who are so comfortable with the environment they can seem like a natural part of it.

Locals with furniture

Locals without furniture

Ryan Siu

Some people don’t think through their day at the Tour de France as much more than showing up, standing around for hours, snagging a free hat, yelling their asses off for the three seconds that riders are going by, and going home.

On the far end, some locals won’t watch the Tour go by except in utmost comfort, hauling out full living room sets by the side of the road so they can eat a four-course lunch, smoke cigarettes, snag a free hat, yell their asses off for the three seconds that riders are going by, and go home.

Man in a ditch sleeping at a 90-degree angle on a mountain

A surprising number of people like to sleep next to the Tour de France. While others are picnic-ing, drinking, chatting, or doing any of the things people usually do to pass the time before a sporting event, others are curled up on some nearby grass using a jacket as a pillow.

Something about the brutal climb up to La Planche des Belles Filles made one man supremely comfortable. He stuck his butt in the ditch next to the road, bent his body into a perfect ‘L’, and slumbered peacefully before the riders came by.

Keepers of the regional flag

Ryan Siu

Usually young men, these people have taken upon themselves the duty of reminding people where they are. It’s a noble task, given how quickly the Tour passes in and out of regions. A notable subset of these people are Bretons, who will show up anywhere and everywhere to wave Brittany’s flag.

Note: France’s regional flags are beautiful.

French local industry protestors

Either in favor of industry or against industry, and usually equipped with a spray-painted burlap sign. In the Vosges mountains it was against industry, namely loggers who had been clearing out the area. On rural roads everywhere, it was local farmers standing up against corporate mega-farming. A good reminder that the gorgeous scenery is made up of real places and doesn’t simply exist over the course of the 23 days we get to stare at it through our TVs.

Window creepers

I see you, peeking down at the road around a half-closed shutter.

Window flaunters

We see you, standing with a glass of wine and a cigarette with a perfect view down onto the finish line that everyone who’s mushed up against the barrier would kill to have.

Un-boozed

Banging on the plastic panels lining the final meters into the finish in an enthusiastic yet still-hinged manner.

Boozed

Ryan Siu

Just murdering that shit.

Cheeky old people

La Planche des Belles Filles was the first Category 1 climb of the 2019 Tour, at seven kilometers and gradients that tipped into 20 percent near the top. Its name translates to “The Plank of the Beautiful Girls,” and references the legend of a group of local girls who fled into the Vosges mountains to escape capture by Swedish mercenaries during the Thirty Years’ War. They committed suicide by throwing themselves off the mountain into the lake below rather than be taken captive.

Ryan Siu

This terrible story that gets repeated every time La Planche is featured in the Tour also set up this terrible exchange between a group of old friends sitting in folding chairs and me as I was mid-climb to the top, and very tired.

Them: “Keep going! The Belles Filles are at the top!”

Me: “Look for the plank, right?”

Them: “Oui!”

Fin.

Old guys just hanging out by themselves

Ryan Siu

LOTS of them. Just there to see what the hubbub’s about. Often reading a newspaper.

Seekers

What’s the point being at the Tour de France if you can’t get proof? And else are you gonna do when Julian Alaphilippe is suddenly two feet away from you? Leave him be? Don’t be stupid.

Autograph kids

At the start of every stage, every rider has to ride up to a big dais on a stage where an emcee is jabbering away in French to a crowd. On the way, they often have to ride along fencing where adorable children beg for autographs and look very sad when a rider goes by without stopping.

Which, in actuality, is surprisingly rare. Most riders stopped, especially if they were among the bigger names. I saw Geraint Thomas, Julian Alaphilippe, Thibaut Pinot, and Peter Sagan — perhaps THE four most popular riders in the 2019 edition of the Tour — all give their time to the kids who wanted their attention, despite being in the throes of one of the most competitive Tours in memory.

Autograph adults

Only got anything signed when they essentially shoved a pen in a rider’s hand and moved it for them.

People who will do anything for the Gram

Ryan Siu

Surprisingly few during the nine stages I saw in 2019, so I’d like to think the world is becoming a better place where people feel less and less compelled to document their every move, even to the potential physical detriment of themselves and others, in hopes of capturing fleeting joy of accruing internet points.

But I also wasn’t in the high mountains like I was in 2014, where Gram-happy fans were a pox.

People who will do anything for a polka-dot hat

Ryan Siu

Of all the iconic pieces of swag at the Tour de France — the hats, the kits, the flags, the signs — nothing is more sought after than any item with polka-dots on it. The dots represent the jersey given to the rider leading the King of the Mountains classification. More importantly, as far as swag goes, they aren’t flat yellow — which feels sacrilegious to wear — or green or white — which are far too boring.

When the caravane comes by tossing out polka-dot hats (brought to you by the fine people at Leclerc superstores), the barriers are crushed with fans. Better to politely ask someone who got two if you can have their spare.

People who will do anything for a glimpse of AlaPinot

As much as fans interfere with the riders of the Tour de France, and as taxing as it must be to deal with knuckleheads on a daily basis while also trying to stay focused on the unfathomably difficult race at hand, it is refreshing to see world-class athletes commune with the people who adore them.

Before each stage, team buses are typically situated near stomach-high metal fencing where fans might be able to stand within 15 feet of riders as they come off the team bus and mill around. For the biggest heros — the Alaphilippes, or Pinots — even just catching a glimpse of their kits through the photographers and journalists surrounding them is a thrill. After all, could you imagine ever getting so close to Tom Brady or Lionel Messi as they stretched?

For lesser riders, you can even have a conversation. And by “lesser” I don’t mean bottom of the peloton riders. I saw Rigoberto Uran, a pre-Tour yellow jersey contender and second-place finisher in 2017, walk off the Education First bus to a group of Colombian fans who had been chanting his name. EF isn’t having the strongest Tour, granted, but the scene was quiet around the bus compared to the French squads, and Uran stood with his arm up on the fence for a good three or four minutes, chatting and smiling with the people who came just to see him.

Then he popped his helmet on and prepared to put his body through hell.

Creatures

Unlike locals, creatures exist solely to stand out amongst the scenery. They’re there to be seen — photographers love them, and they love photographers. Whether anybody else gets a kick out of them is another matter, but also entirely besides the point.

Ryan Siu

Lapinou

Lapinou is a man dressed in a pink bunny costume. Lapinou holds a sign telling you he is Lapinou. Lapinou is the creepiest anthropomorphic bunny since Frank from Donnie Darko.

Zaza and Sasha

Zaza wears a gymnast uniform. Sasha is her brother. You know it’s them because above their camper is an enormous sign that says “ZAZA AND SACHA.” Vehicles in the caravane stop and talk to them on a daily basis.

The Devil

Getty Images

Tales of this man’s demise have been greatly exaggerated. Didi Senft has been a fixture on the Tour since 1993. He’s stuck around long enough to become a mostly welcome sight for fans and riders. He was reportedly going to retire in 2014, but he has continued to attend the Tour, appearing on every stage thus far in 2019.

Bro in far too little clothing

Did you know that people are still busting out Borat mankinis for laughs? In 2019!

Color

Not necessarily a local, but not necessarily looking to be noticed, either, those who add to the color of the Tour de France are perhaps the best, most earnest subset of fans. They’re not trying to stand out, but they shine all the same by making the atmosphere undeniably better.

Belgians

Ryan Siu

The Grand Départ in Brussels showed me what cycling fanaticism truly means.

In many ways, Belgium embodies the Tour better than its eponymous nation. France likes to wield the Tour with a subdued sense of duty. Belgium, a country lopped onto France’s head like a brain slug, wields it like the sack of firecrackers that it is. Belgium regularly gets Tour stages, but not regularly enough to get used to the novelty. Saturday in Brussels will be the first Belgian start for the Tour de France since 2012, and the city is filled to the cracks with decorative yellow and green and polka dot nods to the race.

The people came in many varieties — there were the locals at a Flemish bar, a dad who knew Tiesj Benoot, two old ladies drinking beer in lawn chairs just off their curb — but they all wanted to tell you their best Eddy Merckx story, and they were all supremely friendly.

The people who cheer at everyone who rides a bicycle like they’re in the Tour de France

Before every stage, fans can ride the course on their own. And every one gets cheered like they’re Bernard Hinault. I probably heard “Allez Pinot!” directed 10,000 times to people who definitely weren’t Pinot, and it never got old.

The fans who brought every nation’s flag to the Tour

Louis Bien

An evolution of cheering everyone who rides a bicycle in the Tour de France is bringing a flag of every country represented in the Tour so that, when you find out where someone is from, you can bust out their flag and shout a former national hero at them, like the German man who got “Jan Ullrich! Jan Ullrich!”

The four fans claimed to be from Belgium, Luxembourg, Uzbekistan, and Romania.

Old woman in a bright green vest who blew kisses at every vehicle that passed by

She was miniscule, appeared to be in her 80s, and walking briskly up a mountain at the time.

Guy who spent 15 minutes blowing up an inflatable lobster

No notes.

Amateur cyclists, especially geriatrics with calves of coiled steel

Ryan Siu

A lot of people like to ride their bikes before the Tour de France: some in full kit, some in cargo shorts; some with a tow rope attached around their kid’s bike, some who look and ride like they once hoped to taste Tour glory.

They’re all heroes, especially those who brave the major climbs that the professionals will be taking on later in the day. But none are quite as awe-inspiring as the older set who have faces like your grandma and legs like Pawel Poljanski. They have never gone anywhere except via bicycle, and they are both inspiring and frightening.

Mega cycling legend stuffed in a suit

They will be hauled up on stage to shake hands and be gawked at. They will either appear extremely happy to be there, or extremely uncomfortable. And they will have a look that seems to wonder if perhaps the crowd could love them more.

Bros

Bros dominate the Tour landscape, from big groups of bros to intimate groups of bros, across all ages and levels of verve. Sitting around and drinking in a weird place has been a staple of brohood since the beginning of man, making the Tour perhaps the ultimate bro out event.

Bachelor party bros

Ryan Siu

Soccer is their favorite sport, actually, but the Tour was coming right by and how could you not? Heading to a music festival later.

Old man bros

Sittin’ ‘round a cooler that they hauled up in the trunk. Not into dressing up.

Young bros

Sittin’ ‘round a cooler that they hauled up in the trunk. Shirtless or wearing a team kit and cycling casquette, most likely.

Bros who fiercely stan one rider

Ryan Siu

Usually in groups while wearing matching T-shirts and exhibiting personality traits befitting the riders.

A sampling:

Dumoulin Fan Club: Respectful, demur, cool like the rider himself. Also thoroughly lost, given Dumoulin is rehabbing in another country.

King Küng Freunde, AKA the KKF: Loyal, pensive, and happy to be here.

Sagan Team: Won’t stop jumping up and down for one goddamn second.

Bros in a cycling caravan dragging mini kegs of Heineken down the road

Ryan Siu

Tempting to call them creatures, but their friendship is real and they charm the pants off everyone who stops and talks with them. Plus they make it all the way up a mountain on that contraption.

Campers

The hardest of the hardcore drive themselves to every stage and live out of an RV for three weeks. The people residing in them are a combination of the Locals, Color, and Creatures above. But there are some delineations worth discussing.

River bathers

Showerers

Ryan Siu

Perhaps the biggest distinction among the campers is how they take care of their personal stank. If you can afford it, you get a camper with a fully-equipped shower in it, in which you case you’re probably also the type who will be rolling out an incredible spread of red wine, paté, and fine cheeses on a card table before every stage.

If you can’t afford it, you’re showering at campsites when you can find them, or, in a pinch, rinsing off in a nearby body of water. Your spread will look more like a standard sporting-event fare of salty snacks eaten on top of a cooler, but you will still have a bottle of red wine because you’re in France, for God’s sake.

Caravaners

Ryan Siu

RVs traveling in packs of three or more are particularly impressive because that means sometimes spending hours the night before a stage hunting for the perfect spot big enough to accommodate everyone. Doing that every night for three weeks represents a level of dedication to friendship that is both touching and ill-advised.

DOGS

Lots of people bring their dogs to the Tour de France. They are usually better behaved than their humans, and they are all good.

Officials

People need to run and document this massive three-week enterprise. They walk around with badges and are only semi-sure how anything is supposed to work.

Cops

Ryan Siu

Lots of them! Enough to be their own subspecies. Briefly, we have:

Good cops (Will help you cross the course)

Bad cops (Is upset you asked to cross the course)

Clueless cops (Possibly from out of town, not sure where the course is)

Cops who are taking their jobs way too seriously (Will point you to the 30-minute drive you’re supposed to take to cross the course)

Cops who don’t have nearly enough to do (Will help you cross the course, but first wants to hear about your life for 30 minutes)

Cops who probably aren’t taking their jobs seriously enough (Too busy trying to get a polka-dot hat to help you cross the course)

People with badges and green polos

Tour pro tip: Show up to the course with a yellow lanyard and a plain green polo, and you’ll have free reign over the Tour de France. On race day, no one is more respected than the person who you think looks official.

Over-eager emcee

Simultaneously calling the race for fans at the finish line, while also keeping the atmosphere FUN and ENERGETIC and just, real quick, double checking that everyone is having FUN even though the riders are two hours away still. Incomprehensible except when he’s pronouncing every rider’s name like there’s a period between each syllable, so that Thibaut Pinot is actually TEE. BO. PEE. NO.

Journalists

Also get yellow lanyards. Allowed to wander in the fence sometimes. Have it pretty good, actually.

[thetravellingvagrant]

Day 4: Lima-Iquitos - In Which I Am Accidentally Quite Racist

We were due to fly from Lima to Iquitos today. Under normal circumstances an 11am flight may just be dancing on the peripheries of being a bit of a faff, what with transportation times to the airport and Sam's absolutely rigid insistence on arriving no later than exactly two hours before flight time under any circumstances, meaning that alarms would generally need to be set for around 8am. This wasn't an issue today, however, as due to the magic of time-zones and the whimsy of sporadic insomnia, we were both wide awake, fully ready to go and honestly, even a little bored by quarter to five.

When the approximate time to leave did finally roll around, we made the short, ten minute walk to the vague location of where the airport express bus was supposed to depart from and then, as is apparently customary in lima, spent a genuinely silly amount of time looking desperately for its exact stopping point - because honestly, even after having now actually caught the bus, I'm still not exactly 100% sure of where that is. According to the website, the pick-up point was outside 'Hostal Torreblanca', a place which, for the life of us, we could not find. Google maps told us that we were standing at it, but there was absolutely no sign that we could make out that we actually were. It wasn't until the bus had arrived to drop passengers from the airport off, before making the circuit around Miraflores to eventually come back and pick us up that we noticed that Hostal Torreblanca was actually right next to us, though had apparently long since either shut down or just stopped maintaining its signage, and allowed all of its letters to erode away, leaving only the faintest outline of the name on its banner. Still though, basically found it first try, even if entirely by accident, so I guess in a way, I win twice?

Passing through airport security was...not a difficult experience. We breezed straight through the security metal detectors, despite me still having a fistful of coins, which I had forgotten to remove, still jangling around my exceptionally cool security-bum-bag, which was thoroughly reassuring and Sam even received a lovely compliment on her bottom from a charming Peruvian security guard, who made a kissy face at her and called her a pretty lady as she bent over to re-tie her shoe. They really do go all out to make you feel special at Jorge Chavez international. Take note, Gatwick.

We boarded yet another fucking flight and were soon whizzing off to the tropical paradise of Iquitos, which to be honest, I was shitting myself over. I decided to spend the lion's share of the flight time working on a blog entry, as, even then, I had fallen quite badly behind schedule – a habit which has clearly only worsened in the following days. I didn't manage to get very much vitriol down on paper, in the end, however, as I was distracted by the genuinely quite impressive view from the window as we cruised over, what I assume was the Pacaya Samiria national reserve.

...It does make writing about being served a plate of squid that you didn’t really want seem a bit silly, I suppose...

After around an hour and a half in the air, staring moon-eyed at the scenery like some giant man-sized bush baby we landed in Iquitos and walked directly into the airport and also a torrential tropical downpour. I've got to say, I enjoy the rain at the best of times - to an almost freakish degree, it has been said - but this jungle deluge really was absolutely choice rain. Premium drizzle, it was. Premiere sprinklage. I walked as slowly as I could without looking properly fucking mental into the airport, with Sam shooting me a look back at me the entire time, as if to say that I'd have to walk a little faster than that to convince her. Once inside, we looked for a stall for the company Taxi Green, which we had been informed by the never-ever-wrong-about-anything Tripadvisor forums were the safest bet in order to not get ripped off or killed and have your still twitching corpse dumped in a storm-drain. We could not, however, actually find any trace of Taxi Green in the airport and so Sam, being the patient and measured person she is, immediately asked the first vaguely trustworthy looking person (i.e. one with a badge) to take us to the city, proper, after – of course – pre-agreeing a price (Which was, as it turned out, double what we should have paid, anyway, so fuck even trying, I guess.). We were whisked away through the storm to his taxi immediately and, crucially, before I could connect to the airport's WiFi to regain my google maps signal, so we really were at his mercy, which was nice. Sometimes it's good to relinquish any control in a scary and unfamiliar place. Keeps you on your toes. Or perhaps dead in a storm drain. It can really go either way

Driving through Iquitos in the rain was pretty cool, though. It's very unlike anywhere I've ever been (because it is) and travelling during a torrential downpour really did make the place seem immediately very tropical (because... it is).

I'm sure you've figured out by now, that the taxi driver did not murder us and leave our still twitching corpses in a storm-drain; instead he delivered us right to the front door of our hostel an even unloaded our bags for us and everything. If he hadn't ripped us off, I might even have called him a gentleman. But he did, so he isn't. Prick.

We buzzed the door of The Amazon Within; the hostel in which we were due to stay a single night before venturing into the actual, for real jungle which would definitely be great and not at all scary. Around a full minute later, a shirtless, gruff man, who looked a bit like a brown Jerry Stiller answered. He said nothing. Unsure if I had buzzed the right place, I told him I had a reservation. After a brief moment- although still far too long a pause for it to have been comfortable, given that I didn't know if I was talking to the right person – he answered back

“Ah, si, reservation, come inside!”

Phew.

He unlocked the door and ushered us in to the building. As it turned out, brown, shirtless, gruff Jerry Stiller was named Julio and he was actually a treasure of a man. He was affable, helpful and welcoming beyond any expectation I would normally have had while checking into a hostel and we spoke for around thirty minutes about the twenty five years he had spent living in both London and Bournemouth (which he pronouncd Baown Mut). Not once did the conversation feel particularly forced, or awkward, or like he was putting on heirs for his guests, it was just very nice and very genuine (A bit of a rarity out here, I feel, as it does seem a little bit like everyone is either trying to get you to give them money for something, or hamming up basic Peruvian culture to a ridiculous degree in order to impress the gringo, usually.)

However lovely Julio was, though, the room he had given us more than ...whatever the opposite of made up (made down? Surely not) for it. It wasn't by a very long way the worst place I have ever stayed (that crown still goes to the Bosnian fire ant palace), but it was certainly not among the top either. It was sparse; four plain white walls and a single, half-broken fan plugged into a crackling socket was all that we had to play with in the bedroom. The bathroom sported a little more colour in the form of brown tiling and with a shower that seemingly was only ever designed to pipe out cold water. Given how absolutely maddeningly hot and humid it is in Iquitos, I suppose a cold shower wasn't the worst thing in the world but still, a little heat, purely so I didn't have to acclimatise each part of my body individually to being under the shower head, would have been nice.

Seeing no great reason for us to hang around in what was definitely starting to remind me of a Colombian prison cell, we ventured out to the hostel's patio, to soak up a little sun, before heading out to a supermarket for some toiletries and a restaurant to eat some food.

We hadn't been sat for more than a few minutes before we were approached by an American lady, whose name I instantly forgot. She spoke at us for a while about her experiences in Peru and how long she'd been travelling and how life-changing doing Ayahuasca, the hallucinogenic peruvian drug tea, had been and so on. All very friendly, yet still somehow utterly intolerable. Eventually though, she got bored of us after realising that we didn't really want to talk about drinking a mind-breaking soup with her and toddled off to sing Tom Petty songs to herself, whilst occasionally loudly affirming just how good Tom Petty is. Again, to herself.

With her out of the way, the coast was clear for us to be bothered by some of the other guests. A chap from Edinburgh and his Irish girlfriend struck up a conversation; him having overheard that we were from Glasgow. He asked what part of it I was from and I told him. He didn't know it. We briefly discussed how it was hotter in London a few days ago than it was in Iquitos and then he told us all about all the travels he had been on, continuously for the last year and a half; only ever venturing back to Scotland once every few months to get his mum to do his laundry for him or something. It was all incredibly boring and nearly exclusively an excuse for him to talk about himself; a subject about which I categorically did not care. Soon, again, the conversation fizzled out. I turned to Sam and asked if she wanted to head out, she replied in the affirmative. As I did, Edinburgh man turned to his own girlfriend and loudly exclaimed “fucking people, man...”. Now, I have no idea why he might have said such a thing, nor to be honest, if that was directed at us or not at all, but if it was, I would very much like to use this blog as a tool to reach out to that man to apologise for not single handedly, artificially keeping the deeply tedious conversation you were having at me, about all the places you've been and drugs you've done afloat. That was wrong of me. If you're reading this, please email me a list of both of those things and I will make sure I read every single entry. Namaste, brother.

Now slightly perplexed, but with a quiet confidence growing that we had accidentally booked ourselves into a proper wank-hostel, we left to go to the supermarket. Neither the heat, nor humidity of Iquitos was sitting well with me. I immediately began to feel quite woozy, though, now I think about it, inhaling the exhaust fumes of about a million tuktuks, all driving around on any bit of the road (and sometimes off it) they damn well pleased and honking their horn non-stop as if trying to appease a giant, angry goose god, probably wasn't helping me feel any better, either. Either way, I was sweaty and unhappy (which you'd imagine I'd be used to by this point in my life, but somehow it still came as a surprise)

After a quick traipse to the supermarket, via the main square (which, while lovely, I did not take any pictures of for fear of having my phone snatched off me by a crime man), we doubled back and walked along Malecon Maldonado; the very, very very touristy little riverfront boulevard, wherein we found the restaurant Dawn On The Amazon, which Sam had heard was highly recommended and was- and this is just a little flavour here-founded by an English man, who had since died in a flood. The food was delicious, though, as was the banana, coffee and chocolate smoothie I accidentally ordered and the view across the Naney river (not quite the Amazon river, but probably close enough to count)

...Acceptable...

Was a genuine delight to eat across from, even if I did end up losing eleven of my twelve pints of blood to mosquitos in the process of sitting outside to look at it.

During our meal, we were approached by (and I swear this is pertinent to the story) a brown man. He asked us if we were going into the Amazon jungle. It being Peru and both Sam and I being on edge about everyone trying to sell us something or steal our money, we told him politely, yet firmly that we had already booked our excursion, thank you very much. He looked baffled and asked

“...So you're going, right?”

We again told him we were so we didn't need to book anything with him. It was only then that I noticed that his accent was very clearly quite Indian. Sam had apparently noticed as well.

“Oh, no, I'm not trying to sell you anything. I just wondered if you had any advice about what we should take into the jungle?” he gestured to his wife, sitting at the table directly behind us.

Fuuuuck. Is that racist? Pretty sure that was at least a little racist. I'm not totally sure what a micro-aggression is, but I was pretty sure I just committed one.. regardless, he took it in good stride, laughing it off and telling us he was proud that he could pass for a local, which, if anything, only made me feel worse. Sam, as helpfully and politely as she could explained to them what they might need in the jungle and then we quietly finished our meal as quickly as humanly possible and left, to pull our own skin off in embarrassment. The only solace that either of us could find in the entire situation was that we would definitely, definitely never see either one of them ever again in all our lives. This is foreshadowing. Did you get it? It was terribly clever.

After a warm, sticky walk back to the apartment, during which my low ebb of health somehow ebbed even lower, we took a couple of lovely ice cold showers and, excited for the adventure the following day (Sam) and/or positively shitting ourselves at the thought of sleeping in the spider capital of the world (me), headed straight to bed.

...For about two hours.

I woke up, coughing. My head was spinning, my body aching, I was drenched in sweat (like, an unusual amount of sweat, even for being in the amazon) my throat glands were inflamed, swallowing was painful and my sinuses were jammed up to all buggery. There was no denying it any more; what I thought was some innocent run-downedness (Which, unlike anality is definitely not a word) was actually something far more sinister. I had the flu. The jungle flu... (Note: not malaria; just a regular flu that I happened to catch in the jungle; calm down, mum.).

The rest of my night consisted of getting around two hours of sleep at a time, followed by my getting up to refill and then completely consume the entire contents of my water bottle from the communal supply, take another freezing cold shower and empty the frankly unusual amount of effluvia that had collected in both my sinuses and bladder, over and over again, before finally my alarm went off and it was now basically fine for me to stop pretending that I was able to sleep. Good thing I had nothing strenuous planned for the next day...

[tismydeath-blog]

"Being strong"

(I’ve been waiting a while for this one…)

So, about 11 months ago I decided to walk out of the life of a person I call “Virgo♍” or “My Virgo♍” its also around the time I decided to let everything out, I told my mother about everything I’d ever thought about her. Now before that, I’d like to add that my mother had never been a good mother, not even a respectable one, she gave me up to my grandmother when I was 1, all because the man I’m supposed to call my “father” walked out on her after telling her to either abort me or have me as a single mother. After I was given up to my grandmother, my “father” came back and hooked up with my mother, they created my 2 beautiful sisters, 3 and 4 years younger than me. As a kid, I’d always begged my mother to be with her, I’d always wanted to know her, but she would always answer with “I’ve got no room for garbage.” As the years passed, the insults on her part became worse, she’d never allow me a chance to know her, never seemed at all interested in me, I grew hatred for her, respect was never something present in my life towards her, she was nothing but a stain in my messed up life.

When I turned 8, she allowed me the chance to live with her, only catch was, it had to be in the US, away from my grandmother, I, like the idiot I was, accepted. 4 years I spent with this devil of a woman, 4 miserable years, it was hell, I wasn’t allowed anything, no friends, no help with school work, no fun whatsoever, I was to be quiet at all times and never question her “authority”, this started backfiring real soon. I developed an even deeper hatred for her, everyday I’d pray to God to take her in the most distasteful ways, that never came to be. At the age of 12 we moved back to my old island, I immediately went to my grandmother, whom I hadn’t heard anything from in 4 years, I did everything to stay with her, but in the end, I ended up living with mom, so my hell continued. I started getting into fights at school, long before I’d moved back to my island, I developed a habit of having partners I really didn’t feel much for.

(did that till I was 17, but that’s for another day.)

I started getting physical with mom on most occasions, whenever I received ANY type of criticism, I’d respond with “you want something done your way, you do it yourself”, it went from that to pushing her against the wall when she tried to put her hands on me, putting my hands around her neck, I got so fed up, I really didn’t care whether I was hitting a woman or not. By the age of 15, I had put hands on my mother a good 15 times, maybe more, it goes without saying that I was thrown out every one of those times, grandma was always there though. 17 was when I met my father, horrible man with nothing but bad wishes for all, I still don’t see him as my “dad” I like to think my “dad” died the moment he gave my mother an ultimatum about my life.

(I don’t fell like writing about that experience again, just scroll down and you’ll eventually find a post with the story.)

So when I return to my old island, I break things off with “little miss Colombian” (also mentioned in the same experience) and meet someone new, Virgo♍. I grew attached to her quickly, because she came at a point of my life where I was looking at suicide as the only possible way and she changed that without even knowing it. Now me and Virgo♍ were as close as close can be, I still think we are, we were together for about a year and 9 months, happiest time of my life, sadly, things ended, my heart was broken, but again, in the past, don’t care for writing about that now. Instead of leaving things as they were, I decided to try and get her back, it was cruel and unsuccessful and in the end, on October of last year, I decided to walk away from her, leaving her with her problems to herself, the problem with this move was that I only did it because I had began realizing I was toxic for her and that she needed to grow, for that, I needed to be out of the picture. The same day I did that, I went home, angry at what I’d done, but even more angrier at the fact that I had given up so easily. Little things set me off, anything set me off that day actually and it was all made worse when mom came back from work. That day, I hadn’t eaten, I went to her school, told her I was leaving completely, both from her life and from my island and upon arriving home I locked myself in my room and waited to fall asleep, mom got home and started interrogating me;

“did you eat?” “why were you at Virgo’s school today?” “Why haven’t you been out of here since you got back.”

(I suffer from hypoglycemia and often forget to eat, so the first question, as stupid as it seems, is always necessary.)

When she walked in, I was crying and as soon a I heard her nagging voice, I snapped. I got up from my bed and held her by the collar of her work shirt. I bit my lips, as an avalanche of words began trying to escape me, words I knew would hurt her and they did. I still remember what I said, word for word…

“I hate you… I’ve always hated you, from the moment I realized what a bitch you are, you have no idea how many times I wanted to snap your neck with my own hands, how many times I wanted to stab you in the heart, how many times I wanted to see you bleed out and laugh at you as you slowly left this world. You call yourself a mother, YOU! You ain’t a mother, you’re a slut that got pregnant at 16, was left by her spouse and threw her child away as a result, I could care less about what kind of “trauma” you went through, whether it was his leaving that forced you to become the bitch you are today or something totally different, you gave me away, like if I was a lifeless object, I’M NOT DAMN OBJECT, I’M A FUCKING HUMAN BEING, I FUCKING FEEL EVERYTHING YOU THROW AT ME, MY HEART AIN’T MADE OF STONE… I just want to be loved, I want someone to hold me, to tell me everything’s gonna be OK, I want someone to really mean it when they say they’ll never leave me, that they’ll never stop loving me, I DESERVE THAT MUCH, AFTER ALL THE SHIT I’VE BEEN PUT THROUGH, THAT MUCH I DESERVE! Why is that so hard to ask for… Why is it that when I find someone who actually makes me feel loved, they leave, why is it that my own mother could care less whether I live or die, why is it that my life has been an endless cycle of hatred, an endless cycle of loneliness… Would the world just be better if I disappeared? If I’d stopped existing… WHY WONT ANYONE LOVE ME DAMMIT!!!“

… I broke down then and there, on my mother’s shoulder and as I slowly fell to my knees and cried like I’d never cried before, for the first time ever, I felt her embrace… I felt the warm, loving hug of my mother… That broke me even more, I curled myself up, pathetically, a 19 year old, curled up at his mother’s side, crying like he’d never cried before, just letting out ALL THOSE PENT UP FEELING I’ve held throughout my life. From that day on, I made a mends with my mom, I forgave her, for everything, I broke my grudge for her and accepted that living with hatred, was never gonna get me anywhere. While at it, I forgave everyone, my father, the people who called themselves my friends, those people who cheated me, Virgo♍, but the most satisfying of all… My mom… After all that, I decided a change was in order, I decided I no longer gave a fuck, I don’t care about what people say/think of me, don’t care if I’m cheated, don’t care if I’m liked or not. I started forming a new relationship with my mom, I can’t really say I love her yet, but I totally tolerate and respect her now, living without hate, without jealousy, without that constant fear of not being loved… It feels good.

( I forgot to fit the title in with the context😅. It’s good to be strong, but people make it seem like being strong is holding all their feelings in and living with whatever it causes them, whether its pain or despair, this is wrong, being strong is knowing its time to stop bottling up your feelings and talking about them to someone, whether you have bad feelings for someone of something, its important to let your feelings be known, don’t live with the pain inside, let it out, be strong in a way that doesn’t cause you suffering.)

[tedcatchpole-blog]

Narcos season 3 review

Narcos. Season 3 episodes 1-3

I went into watching this, knowing that there have been parts of the previous seasons I have not enjoyed but that the overall entertainment I received certainly made it worth my while sticking with it. It is quite often the case with recent TV series, I think of Hannibal and Boardwalk Empire , particularly the latter with killing off, to my mind, the strongest character at the end of season 2 (Michael Pitt as Jimmy Darmody), that you get episodes that do not live up to previous standards. Sometimes this can be more than just one or two episodes, sometimes half a series. This is particularly risky when (as in the aforementioned Hannibal, it is the first episodes in a new season. That is how you lose a viewer. Hannibal nearly lost me in the first tedious half of season 2 but I was very glad I stuck with it as I found the latter portion of said series to be impeccable entertainment.

So in series 3 of Narcos, I have found both aspects. They have killed off a major character, pretty much the main character, especially considering the blandness of the narrator and hero of the first two series, Steve. He is rather an empty vessel, and more so up against the colourful and grandiose Pablo Escobar, who was (more or less) in sync with history, killed at the end of the last series.

So we have gone into the new series with the charismatic villain dead and some businessmen and a playboy taking over.

When the new series starts we are left to deduce for ourselves that the main protagonist from seasons 1 and 2, Boyd Holdbrooks DEA agent Stephen Murphy, is not in in with us for season 3. Our new narrator is the womanising previously decamped agent Pena. A man with a Derek Zoolander approach to facial expressions, except he has two looks, apologetic and sorry.

He is back in the fray due to his knowledge of the current antagonists, the Cali Cartel. The rivals to Escobar who have taken over in his absence and increased cocaine production and distribution to the USA, particularly New York as we find out. I did like Javier Pena. I wish they had eased up on the reluctant womaniser cliche, it's very tired, but if the first episode is anything to go by. They are not.

He is back on the case. After a really arbitrary group of scenes at his home town, one of many really clumpy and lazy season 3 exposition scenes, where he meets an old flame who he apparently treated badly but has forgiven him because after he left her she found true love, then with his sage-like father warning him, just as he did years before, to not be naive in the big bad world, we see him back in Colombia. He has been asked back but told it has to be by the book. He has a well meaning but geeky team under him, and he is told that it is not a gunfight. It will not be like Pablo. It will be intelligence led. A welcome return is made by the convincing Bill Stechner as the contentious CIA station chief who previously ousted Havi Pena only to be the one who called him back. They get off to a predictably unfriendly start as they meet in a bar (halfway through agent Pena picking up on a woman in a bar when he is feeling down about things ...yawn…) but I think he is a better foil for Pena than the beige-misted Steve Murphy.

As far as the baddies go, as the end of season 2 showed us, its the Cali Cartel. They are very different to Pablo and his Medellin outfit, they are known as the “Gentlemen of Cali”, where Pablo welcomed publicity,fame, and public adoration, they eschew it. In the last series, they were shown to be very tough but not as ruthless as Pablo. In the last series we were shown that they were like bankers. They were cutthroat but only in a business sense, at least at the top.

However, at the beginning of series 3 we have been shown, rather clumsily I think, that they can be as violent and brutal as El Padrone was. For example, the non-related member of the Cali bosses, Pacho Herrera, was shown to be as sadisticly violent as anyone else when he had a rival narco with whom he had an undisclosed beef, ripped limb from limb by motorcycles. Unfortunately this incident was so clearly nothing more than a force-fed way to show the audience that the Cali guys were also tough and nasty that it felt obtuse and clunky. Remember in the Godfather II when they have the prostitute murdered by Al Neri just to blackmail the Senator? Apparently that was included to remind the audience how vile the Mafia was, after the seemingly quite forgivable actions in the first made them come across as sort of rough diamond bad guys killing worse guys. So imagine if that subtle and excellent subtext had been done at the end of the first movie in a post credits scene, if Al Neri after he had expertly gunned down Don Barzini went to his hideout apartment and after a hallway encounter over nothing more than a loudly slammed door had been shown gutting an innocent mother in front of her children and giving a wink as the camera closes in on his eye, then that is what we have here.  Anyway, they are all reintroduced, the leader, Gilberto Rodriguez, is cold blooded, yet maybe a bit distanced from the day to day cocaine business and therefore not maybe as aggressively ruthless as the more involved bosses of past and present, but it seems in no way unclear, he is numero uno. Then his brother Miguel, a rather enigmatic type, who seems to have a motive in playing saviour to a rival's wife (the aforementioned chap ripped apart by suzukis) but it appears sex is not the reason. It leaves a question open but I am not sure if it is interesting enough to take up much screen time.

The main issue, revealed at the close of the first episode is that the Cali cartel is disbanding, withdrawing from Cocaine and will hand themselves in. This is to happen in six months. The plan is for deals made through bribery and legal manipulation, the top guys will serve no time and will have plenty to retire on, and for the mid levels who will serve some time, they have six months during which they are to go all out to make as much money as possible, to go totally balls-out so they can serve a few months and have plenty saved to make it a worthwhile sacrifice to be able to live free of legal scrutiny. This decision was made purely by the top bosses. Obviously there were voices of dissent. The way they are discovered is classy television. Great editing and gripping action. The goal will now be for the authorities to get them before the six months expires.

We have the snidey accountant. The immensely well played (by Javier Camara) Guillermo Pallomari.  A man who seems to be what the Nazi propaganda tried to make Jewish people look like to German children in the mid 1930s. Slimy, unethical, selfish, and happy to see others suffer. He is certainly likely to be a pivotal role in this seasons shenanigans. Also there is the equally enjoyable yet far more likeable Jorge Salcedo. He is the Cali’s head of security. A tortured man, he was planning on leaving to start his own security firm but after being told of the six-month plot he is asked (“asked”) to stay on. Alongside a burgeoning resentment from the obviously spoiled and incapable David Rodriguez, son of the Cartel's boss,Gilberto We see soon how he is not a man of cartel ethics. At the party where the Rodriguez brothers announce their grand plan he discovers a waiter who is wearing a wire. We also see what a fully competent security operative he is. HE shows the waiter he knows who has sent him and why and gives him a final and clear chance to leave Cali, he then disorientates the DEA agents who set the trap with consummate ease. Also we see him expertly foil a DEA raid to the aforementioned icky accountants office. The accountants arrogance nearly cost the Cali boys everything but Jorge using his strength, guile, and wit prevents it. I really do look forward to seeing how he arcs through the series  

Agent Pena is for some reason being cited as a hero at the agency. He has gone from a regular agent to some sort of supercop, which given the sacrifices made by the Colombian forces and the other domestic and foreign agencies coupled with the fact he was not present at Escobar's death seems a little unlikely. Anyway, with this status he is in some sort of role (referred to as a “promotion” but at no point yet given a title or description) that leaves a vacancy for the roles filled by him and the strangely unmentioned Stephen Murphy. So step forward agents Feistl and Van Ness. Introduced as such a blatantly low grade version of Pena and Murphy I thought I had tuned into a franchised remake on a public access channel. They even look the same, but come across as….remember the movie The Beach, the two air head surfer stoners Sammy and Zeph that end up ruining it all with their stupidity? They reminded me of exactly those guys (not the book characters, for those who remember the book will know why).

They are made out to be bumbling and incompetent. One (Feistl) is played to be over zealous and naive and the other one (the other one) is played as phoning his job in and completely disinterested.

However, they appear by episode three to actually be very able, determined and, were it not for the sharp response of the Jack Bauer-esque Cali security chief, the guys who could have bought the Cartel down.

So If you want to know is it any good? Yes it is. If you had asked me that after episode 2 I might have replied differently, but episode three just like in Hannibal and Boardwalk, has made me glad I persisted and reminded me why I liked this series so much.

There are many careless scenes. Some really clunky exposition, and there are gaps left where there needs to be a bridge of some sort.

If I am asked can this series survive without Escobar, I would have said after two hours, no. Yet I am starting to think that the threads cast by the accountant, security chief, new agents, and the political tension wickedly stirred up by CIA spook Stechner are all going to weave into a really gripping re-telling of  real life events

[hundredbillionbottles]

100 Days Away

Send them home! Send them home! Send them home!

Truth be told, I have found the last few weeks rather tough. I am fast approaching my one hundredth day in Colombia, and I still have just under another hundred to go before I touch down back at Bristol airport. Most of the time, I am in a conflict between the person I want to be and the person my brain permits me to be. For long while the focus and productivity of my days has kept the latter at bay, but recently this daunting hundred-day statistic, and the homesickness that it has amplified, has distracted me while negative and anxious thoughts have snuck in. And so suddenly everything feels muddied and uncomfortable, like a long rickety train ride with limited leg-room, though the logical side of myself is perfectly aware that nothing has changed at all. Aware of my irrationality, I have tried to return myself to the positive, happy person I was under a month ago, but in doing so have felt more like an actor playing myself, and at that trying either too hard or not nearly hard enough.

I am disappointed with myself for allowing this gloomy infiltration to linger through our two weeks on Colombia’s northern Caribbean coast, which in every other way was truly incredible in the most unforgettable way. Touching down in the historic coastal city of Cartagena at 2am, 12 hours before we could check in at our hostel, I could have happily stood by the sea until dawn. Only upon hearing the waves against the rocks and the trickle and wobble of the water did I realise how long it had been since I’d seen the ocean, and for a while I just stood and looked out into the blackened sludge in the glow of the streetlight and let the wind whistle through the humid air. When morning broke I fell in love with what the town had to offer. For two days I carelessly ambled over the quaint cobbled streets, veiled with great bushes of flowers that spilled over from the rooftops. I drank amazing coffee in infinite establishments ranging from cutesy, neat library cafes to bars covered head to toe in soviet propaganda. With sleeves up to my shoulders, we strolled around the walls of the old city while the vultures danced in the sun. I knew that it was blissful, but I also knew that it wasn’t the gristly, pigeon-riddled precinct of Nailsea.

Costeño Beach, a surf hostel located a few minutes’ bus ride past Tayrona, was also almost too much like a dream to be real. We spent almost all our time there surfing off this small beach, which was effectively a strip of sand separating the riotous sea from the still Amazon-like river on the other side. One morning we hired stand-up boards and paddled down the river, shallow enough to walk down, taking in the beauty of the surrounding trees and wildlife as we drifted along lazily and I desecrated the ambience with my impeccable Louis Armstrong impression. As the sun began to set behind the silhouetted palm trees, the surfers congregated in the same spot in the water where catchable waves were the least sparse, and everyone sat about on their boards in a completely comfortable silence before all going for the same wave at once. After the delicious dinner the hostel provided each night we sat out on the beach and talked nonsense about Garfield 2 allegedly being set in Carlisle, the stars slowly peaking out above us like light through keyholes and the sea still raging against the shore. It was majestic, but it wasn’t Layde Bay in Clevedon with a burnt-out disposable barbecue on a rock.

Santa Marta was great for entirely different reasons. After three days of getting beaten up by Poseidon, I welcomed some time to vegetate by the hostel’s pool with a book, paddling in waters I could control. I also warmly greeted the opportunity to do some haggling in the markets and buy some exceedingly wavey shirts. Other than that there wasn’t really much to do in the city, but its ridiculously straightforward bus system made it a great base for making day trips to surrounding places, including Tayrona, the colossal national park which, neglecting the extortionate 25,000 peso bus ride across the park, we attempted to walk across. We didn’t get very far, in fact I’m not sure we actually made it into the park at any point, but we had the whole jungled road to ourselves, which led us to a stunning, deserted beach and also the unexpected sighting of a monkey. Another day, venturing in the other direction, we took a jeep to Minca, a small mountainous coffee town which we spent the day hiking around, seeing all kinds of bizarre insects and birds of outrageous colours before arriving at ‘poso azul’, a waterfall in which to cool our sweaty selves and frolic about in for so long that we had to pay some men to take us back to town on their motorbikes in order to make it back in time for the final batch of jeeps back to Santa Marta.

The best aspect of Santa Marta, though, was the night life. For Stephen’s 20th birthday, we ventured out on a pub/bar crawl around the happening district, and it was popping off. The streets were live with people; every bar was full and every alley buzzing with street performers. As the night went on, our cocktail-induced merriment faded to sleepiness in the corner of a highly-recommended bar entitled ‘La Puerta’ (The Door). Just as we were about to call the night quits, I caught a glimpse of the dancefloor and suggested “just a quick 3 or 4 minute dance”. We danced for about an hour and a half, such was the energy of the music and the people dancing to it. The DJ was slinging out the better side of Colombian music, shying away from the repetitive regaetton and indulging in rampant Latin percussion-based music which occasionally, out of nowhere, mixed into Grease or Usher. We then returned to the hostel rooftop for Stephen’s traditional birthday cigar. It was a night I definitely won’t forget any time soon, and I loved it, but it wasn’t the sticky floors, the filth of the Fleece or Thekla.

I suppose this all makes me sound ungrateful, but that’s not what I feel at all. I am thankful every day for the opportunities I have had here, the people I’ve met. What I feel is an inexplicable, simultaneous feeling of belonging and isolation, of knowing that I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be but feeling cut off from the places and people that got me here. However, I do know that this muddled feeling is only part of a phase. There is rationality in me yet. I know that I will stick this patch out and quickly rediscover the enthusiasm and excitement that enriched my first 80 or so days in this breath-taking country. Besides, I would not feel I had achieved anything if I came home in a hundred days and realised I didn’t leave my comfort zone once; one can only do really great things when out of their comfort zone. Staying above water is only an achievement if thrown in the deep end. So I’m just gonna keep swimming, carry on trying new things, build on the relationships I’ve formed, make more of an effort at work, better myself in any way I can.

Now, spread out on my bed, coming up to two-and-a-half-hours writing time, I reflect on the final lines of Swans’ ‘Song For A Warrior’, and how I can shift the power back towards my positive self and crush my negative self in the process.

Use your sword. Use your voice. And destroy. And destroy. Then begin again.

[amusement-equipment]

High reputation Battery Powered Amusement Ride Bumper Cars For Kids

No one wants to feel like a tourist these days. Savvy travellers want to live like locals, and that means looking beyond the sights and finding the coolest neighbourhoods to stay, eat, drink and hang out in. But what gives an area that indefinable cool factor? That’s what we asked ourselves when we started to rank the areas that should be on everyone’s travel bucket list right now. And since Time Out is 50 this year, we decided to go big and find the 50 coolest neighbourhoods in the world.High reputation Battery Powered Amusement Ride Bumper Cars For Kids. To help us out, we went to the experts: local Time Out editors and writers across the world, who know the city like nobody else. We also asked more than 15,000 people around the world about the best (and most overrated) neighbourhoods in their city as part of our City Life Index survey. We wanted to know: is there a buzz about the area, with cool new venues opening? Can most people actually afford to live there? Is it a great place to stay for someone visiting the city? Most importantly, does it feel like a place that’s on the up? Then we crunched the numbers, argued the toss and came up with what we reckon is the definitive list of the planet’s cultural and culinary hotspots – the places to be in 2018. Get ready for some serious wanderlust. Visited one of our top spots? Share the love on Instagram by tagging @TimeOutEverywhere and using the hashtag #50nabes. Madrid might be the world’s most exciting capital right now, and Embajadores is its most colourful neighbourhood. This is a place where people from near and far live side by side, cooking up a bustling cultural life. To the north, Plaza Tirso de Molina is the territory of florists by day, and at night fills with young revellers queuing to get into Medias Puri, the city’s club of the moment. To the south are Tabacalera and La Casa Encendida, two huge cultural centres standing like transatlantic vessels run ashore in the middle of the city. You can dine on Indian specialities served atop a flowery oilcloth, or get a divine Moroccan lamb tagine for an absurdly low price. Nightlife and street life, street art and high culture, food and people from across the world: in Embajadores, you’ll find it all. EAT On Sundays when the Rastro market is on, you’ll find Santurce packed in with punters clambering for their share of the bar’s famous sardines. DRINK Relax with a gin and tonic in the legendary Sala Equis, a former adult cinema that’s now a drinking hole. DO Go see a play at the Art Deco theatre El Pavón-Kamikaze, leaving time to have a couple of cold beers in the theatre bar: a buzzing local hangout in its own right. STAY A couple of minutes to the north, Hotel ME Madrid Reina Victoria dominates the local skyline with its illuminated 1920s tower. The view from the rooftop bar is spectacular. —Josep Lambies The Euljiro neighbourhood of Seoul still smells like fresh ink when you walk through its industrial streets. Made up mostly of printing presses, warehouses and old-school fried chicken eateries, Euljiro has become the latest hotbed of hidden bars and cool cafés. The contrast is most noticeable at night as printers pore over tomorrow’s paper and trendy kids crawl into seemingly abandoned warehouses. Dine with ajeosshis (middle-aged Korean men) at one of Euljiro’s acclaimed eateries and head towards the neon lights for a drink afterwards to experience the best of both worlds. EAT One of the most famous fried chicken eateries in Korea, Manseon Hof specializes in garlic fried chicken and dried pollack paired with cheap beer. DRINK Bedazzled with neon signs and indie-music posters, local favourite Seendosi is located on the fifth floor of an apparently derelict warehouse. The prelude to getting here includes walking up four flights of pitch-dark stairs. DO The grittiness of the neighbourhood makes it an excellent place for photographers to capture a different side of Seoul. Take your camera and get artsy with those shadowy alleyways and neon lights. STAY Located a 15-minute walk from Euljiro, Amass Hotel is a spotless boutique hotel near Changdeokgung Palace with a stunning rooftop. —Hahna Yoon Far west of Medellín’s best known hotspots, the city’s rockers, punks and metalheads thrive in Nueva Villa de Aburrá. It’s home to La Villa, a horseshoe-shaped plaza that transforms daily from a stately promenade to a throng of music-loving youth. With a history of peaceful political protest, Nueva Villa de Aburrá has established itself as a neighbourhood of free love and sociopolitical engagement as well as a place that celebrates new traditions, like its now annual hot sauce and electronic music festivals, challenging outsider expectations of Colombian life. EAT Wander out from La Villa, across a hilly green full of picnic-perfect trees, statues and sword-training youth, to enjoy Vegarden’s vegan and vegetarian spins on local fare. DRINK If you’re not queuing at La Villa’s Seven and Eleven tiendas for on-the-spot consumption of German craft beers, guaro and rum, pop into Bar Valhalla to enjoy thunderously intimate live music with oversized steins of local brew. DO Escape the rain in Los Molinos shopping centre, where monthly staged spectacles (dinosaur amusement parks; superhero-themed gladiatorial contests; fairy-tale swan rides) add a touch of whimsy to community living. STAY Hotel Belén Plaza, along the MetroPlus line, puts you minutes from the action without cutting you off from the rest of the city’s delights. —Maggie Clark The once-grand neighbourhood of Metaxourgeio in Athens was almost abandoned for years, but now a patchwork of artists, activists and NGO volunteers are breathing fresh life into it. Its crumbling neoclassical buildings are emblazoned with emotionally-charged murals by local graffiti writers. Shabby-looking brothels and squatter spots – tragic reminders of the decade-long economic downturn – have slowly given way to bars and tavernas that hum with activity until the early hours. The Communitism Project, a huge mansion being restored by local and refugee artists, houses exhibitions, film screenings, workshops and parties; it encapsulates young Athenians’ creative energy and ability to make something from nothing. Metaxourgeio is a neighbourhood in that magical, transitional phase where it truly feels as if anything could happen next. EAT Grab an outside table at Seychelles and enjoy tasty Greek food in a gorgeous nineteenth-century building. DRINK Sip a cocktail while sitting under one of the huge trees outside the vintage-themed Blue Parrot bar. DO Head to LaTraac, an adults-only skate bowl that transforms into one of the city’s coolest hangouts come nightfall thanks to an outdoor bar and regular DJs. STAY The neighbourhood isn’t developed enough yet to house any hip hotels – try the pretty Quinta guest house in nearby Exarchia. —Jessica Bateman The name of this Lisbon neighbourhood literally means ‘Royal Prince’, and with restaurants, bars, stores, and art galleries everywhere,
 Princípe Real is clearly attempting a rise to the throne. Hang in the coolest bars, shop at the dopest stores (one of them, Vintage Department, has a stuffed polar bear to greet you), hit up its colourful club nights (Príncipe Real is Lisbon’s gayest neighbourhood) and refuel at the hottest restaurants, from tapas to ceviche. There’s even a slice of country life every Saturday, when the organic fair fills one side of the garden with little stalls and sellers serve loyal regulars. EAT It’s hard to plan a meal in the area without thinking about ZeroZero pizzeria and its smoking wood oven. DRINK A loyal clientele comes to Cinco Lounge to relax on low sofas and savour some of the 100 drinks on offer. Ask for a Madagascar bourbon with vanilla vodka and fresh pineapple. DO Go shopping at Embaixada, a department store that sells designer items and Portuguese artwork. It’s located in a nineeteenth-century palace – no biggie. STAY The Memmo Principe Real hotel sits perched on a hill, and it offers jaw-dropping views of the orange-speckled cityscape from the terrace bar and room balconies. —Ágata Xavier LOCALS SAY ‘It’s a traditional Portuguese neighbourhood which reflects Lisbon’s cosmopolitan feel, with green spaces, markets, shops and new restaurants as well as daycare centres and schools.’ The historic cradle of Paris’s Kurdish and Indian communities, Strasbourg-Saint-Denis has a unique style: a brilliantly surreal mess. Greasy spoons cafés rub shoulders with the trendiest gourmet restaurants and some of the city’s oldest establishments, like Brasserie Julien, classified as a historical monument. At La Mano club, DJs and live artists swing sounds from salsa to nu-disco, and the crowd is just as eclectic: a melting pot of guys in Supreme, girls in Céline and dressed-down thirty-somethings. Only in SSD can you tour the bars for €4 and rub shoulders with either hip hop royalty or old-school bohemians. EAT Pizza lovers, Da Graziella is your Holy of Holies: a wood-fired oven, art nouveau walls, and that great speciality of Naples: the pizza fritta! DRINK Behind a decrepit facade and an inch-thick layer of posters hides one of the best and trendiest cocktail bars in Paris: Le Syndicat. Their creative cocktails are made with 100 percent French alcohol! DO Browse the ready-to-wear accessories, books and fashion labels (Homecore, Laurence Airline, Stussy and local brand Saint-Denis) at Saint-Denis Store. STAY Hôtel Grand Amour is a trendy anti-palace designed by French graffiti artist André, with unique touches of the Parisian counterculture and Hermès products in the bathroom… plus reasonable prices! —Houssine Bouchama LOCALS SAY ‘There are bars and restaurants for everyone and every budget. The mood changes depending on whether it’s a week or weekend, and by the time of day. Popular, relaxed and trendy – it’s the ideal place to meet up with friends.’ Neukölln is the constantly-evolving anti-establishment melting pot at the heart of Berlin cool. Look past the graffiti and grime and you’ll find a neighbourhood constantly reinventing itself. What was once abandoned is made new, turned from wasteland into the latest smoke-filled bar, vegan café or unmarked gallery – all independently run. On Wesserstrasse, bars like TiER and Ä serve art, performance and booze to a cross-section of Berlin society. On Maybachufer, locals laze by the canals and wander the Turkish market. It’s a neighbourhood that revels in its originality. EAT Under-the-radar Paulinski Palme is cooking up great things in villagey enclave Rixdorf, with simple but sublime traditional Thüringen dishes and a sophisticated but fuss-free wine list. DRINK Do as the locals do and spend Sunday drinking and dancing to underground electronic beats at Griessmuehle, a former grain mill boasting dancefloors, makeshift furniture and an amazing garden overlooking the canal. DO When the urban landscape wears you down, head to Tempelhofer Feld, a vast airport reclaimed by Berlin’s citizens as a free-for-all park. STAY Step through the doors of an old factory on Hobrechtstrasse and enter Hüttenpalast, 600 square meters of open urban insanity dotted with lovingly restored vintage caravans to sleep in from just €70 a night. —Duncan Madden Tokyo's Yanaka is cool, but in an unassuming way. Visitors are often captivated by its antique atmosphere, but in recent years, a new creative energy has been breathing new life into its streets and buildings without altering its old-world architectural make-up. Artisan workshops and modern art galleries co-exist with elegant temples and shrines, and you’ll also find some of the best food in town here. Even though it’s right next to the frenetic tourist hub of Ueno, Yanaka remains tranquil. It’s an area comfortable with its introspective nature, reserving its charms only to those in the know. EAT Himitsudo is a shaved ice institution and a must-visit on your Tokyo kakigori crawl. The menu changes daily, with seasonal toppings. DRINK Sip on local craft beers in the atmospheric wooden Yanaka Beer Hall. It’s part of a larger complex which is also home to a bakery-café, bistro and event space. DO Modern art gallery Scai The Bathhouse shows cutting-edge exhibitions by local and international artists in a well-kept former bathhouse that’s over 200 years old. STAY The unique Hanare hotel encourages you to embrace the local way of life, starting with its traditional-style bedrooms fitted with tatami mat floors and cushy futons. —Time Out Tokyo Editors North-east LA’s leafy, low-key neighbourhood has shed its former dive-bar vibe. Now it’s a hub of handsome cocktail spots that have tipped Highland Park toward the distinction of being LA’s most exciting, rapidly evolving nightlife scene. While York Boulevard has been buzzing with gastropubs for a while now, the recent arrival of vegan cafés, limited-batch dumplings and a pedigreed order-by-the-ounce pizza shop have turned Figueroa Boulevard into a budding dining destination. EAT Otoño ranks among LA’s essentials thanks to chef Teresa Montaño’s fresh take on Spanish tapas, with dishes like tuna and anchovy goat butter and farmers’ market vegetable paella. DRINK Highland Park Bowl, a cultivated saloon inside LA’s oldest bowling alley, has character to spare with its sweet classic cocktails and its steampunk-esque lanes. DO Eastside buzz bands, cult-favourite singer-songwriters and surprise stand-up sets from Dave Chappelle mix at the Lodge Room, an intimate concert hall housed inside a former Masonic lodge. STAY Though Highland Park lacks traditional hotels (for now), you’ll find Airbnbs to rent in handsome Craftsman homes and cosy cottages in the hills. —Michael Juliano LOCALS SAY ‘The amazing restaurants and things to do are accessible on foot and it’s more mixed and not as stuck up as other parts of LA.’ Formerly a working-class suburb north of Melbourne’s Central Business District, Fitzroy has become the city’s artistic haven. Hip Melburnians shop for designer brands, athletic wear, vintage clothes, records and weird and quirky finds; new and interesting street art magically appears on walls throughout the suburb; and Australia’s top chefs and bartenders (plus newbies with a dream to share) open up new restaurants, cafés and bars seemingly every week, from vegan destinations Smith & Daughters and Red Sparrow Pizza to the George Costanza-themed George’s Bar. EAT Fitzroy is home to the world-famous Lune Croissanterie, which makes some of the best croissants outside France. DRINK This is the neighbourhood to hit up some of the best bars in Melbourne, including Bar Liberty: Melbourne’s Bar of the Year in the Time Out Bar Awards 2018. DO At the weekend Rose Street Artists’ Market you can browse clothing, jewellery, paintings, sculpture and designs, and meet the people who made them. STAY The achingly hip Brooklyn Arts Hotel is a rambling bohemian mansion with the kind of eclectic charm you’d expect from a share-house of local vintage enthusiasts. —Cass Knowlton LOCALS SAY ‘I love the bohemian feel of the place, the eclectic architecture, the street art and the cafés and restaurants, plus the mix of old and new. It’s great for a cheeky beer, a glass of wine, cocktails or a night of dancing.’ Over the last few years, Peckham has cemented itself as London’s preeminent cultural hotspot. Streets once associated with the sitcom ‘Only Fools and Horses’ are now lined with video arcade bars, cult nightclubs and street food pop-ups. With some of the British capital’s most reputable arts colleges just a 436 bus ride away, the area has become a breeding ground for south-east London’s burgeoning creative scene while staying true to its multicultural roots. At the cavernous Khan’s Bargains, art kids and African families shop for homewares and nick-nacks shoulder to shoulder. EAT There’s no need for pho-mo at Banh Banh, a hip-but-authentic, family-run Vietnamese street food joint located just over the road from Peckham Rye Park. DRINK Surely Peckham’s worst-kept secret, Frank’s Cafe is a concrete-tastic rooftop art bar popped above a multi-storey car park that lends itself perfectly to cocktails at sunset. DO Peckhamplex is stuck in the ’90s in a good way: as well as the retro decor, tickets at this much-loved multi-screen cinema are a ludicrously cheap £4.99 all day long. STAY Nowhere does pubs like London, and The Victoria Inn – a country-style gastropub near Peckham Rye – has a set of boutique guest rooms upstairs. —Grace Goslin LOCALS SAY ‘It’s vibrant, creative, alternative, bohemian, original, independent and fiercely proud of its roots. It’s amazing to see the way the culture brings the community together – you can meet a variety of people whenever you walk down the street and the cinema is still only a fiver!’ With a grittier landscape, industrial roots and room to move, Noord is decidedly removed from the Amsterdam 17.8 million tourists visit each year. Locals are drawn to the area because the rent is cheaper and there’s no overcrowding; instead, there’s a sense of experimentalism that draws adventurous visitors as well. Take the free ferry service across the River IJ and be greeted by head-turning landmarks like the futuristic EYE Filmmuseum and A’DAM Tower (where, on the rooftop deck, Europe’s highest swing offers the city’s best views). EAT Hangar restaurant serves up Mediterranean-influenced dishes in a stylish, tropically-tinged warehouse space. Amsterdam isn’t known for its weather, but when the sun is out, you’ll want a spot on this waterfront terrace. DRINK Grab a table at the colourfully kitted out Oedipus Brewing Taproom and get acquainted with some local favourites – and the locals themselves. DO It’s a short cycle to NDSM Wharf, a former shipyard turned art and culture hub which is home to culinary hotspot PLLEK and hosts Europe’s biggest monthly flea market, IJ-Hallen. STAY For a boutique stay with serious cool cred, it’s Sir Adam all the way. Otherwise, there’s the rather unique, deconstructed Sweets Hotel, where individual bridge houses are transformed into one-of-a-kind hotel rooms. —Laura Collins Formerly infamous for gang violence and seedy street scenes, Ancoats has emerged from the ashes of its industrial past to become the hangout of choice for Manchester’s many, many cool kids. Abandoned cotton mills are being transformed into affordable co-working spaces and river-facing apartments, while craft beers, artisanal bakeries and gin joints crop up in less time than it takes to say ‘beetroot latte’. Colourful street murals add an extra shot of hipster hotness to the cultural brew. EAT Head to Ancoats Coffee Co, housed in a massive former cotton warehouse, for painstakingly prepared caffeine fixes made from freshly roasted beans and served alongside just-baked cakes and sandwiches. DRINK Sit at the long bar of reclaimed mill-turned-watering hole, Elnecot, to sip an aptly named ‘Industrial Revolution’ cocktail and eat an old-school Manchester egg with homemade piccalilli (picked veggie relish). DO Check out Hope Mill Theatre, where local performers and writers come under the spotlight at this funky, low-key theatre housed in – you guessed it – a former mill. STAY Ancoats still has limited lodgings options, but there are some stylish canalside Airbnbs available – or check out the slick, serviced apartment-hotel offerings at the City Warehouse. —Lucy Bryson The friendly suburb of Enmore has the same laidback vibes as its incredibly popular bohemian neighbours Newtown and Stanmore, but a little more room to spread out. It’s packed with excellent places to eat, and because it’s outside Sydney’s restrictive lockout zone, the party goes on all night after crowds fall out of gigs at Enmore Theatre and into the bars next door. During the day, there are crystal shops and record stores to wander through and new street art to gawp at. It’s where the city’s hospo workers come to live, work and play, so you’ll find the best natural wines in the bottle shops and everyone’s creative and weird – just the way we like it. EAT Head behind the pink façade of the Marie-Louise Salon to find Stanbuli, with Turkish mezze cooked by the lauded Ibrahim Kasif. DRINK Jacoby’s is an Inner West Tiki bar run by diehard ‘Twin Peaks’ fans. Once you’re inside this tropical cabana, you won’t want to leave. DO See live music at the Enmore Theatre, a 1,600-seat art deco landmark that hosts sweaty live music, talks and stand-up comedy. STAY The laidback Urban Newtown hotel has graffiti-inspired art and a mini-bar stocked with beer from local craft brewery Young Henrys. —Emma Joyce LOCALS SAY ‘Enmore has a proper range of excellent food from cheap to fancy, the transport is solid, the people are like-minded and down-to-earth and it’s safe.’ Bandra West, technically a suburb of mega-metropolis Mumbai, is quickly becoming the city’s vibrant, liberal centre. Between the studios of Bollywood to the north, the financial capital of India to the south and the Arabian Sea to the west, Bandra West – with its small, leafy lanes, sea-facing vistas and crumbling bungalows jostling for space with high rises and rooftop pools – is currently the place to be. Everyone’s moving here: Bollywood’s biggest stars, struggling actors, travellers, writers, musicians, street artists and, okay, also the occasional banker (what can you do?). Join the throng and get yourself to beautiful Bandra West immediately. EAT Built into an old bungalow on a bustling corner, Pali Bhavan serves unusual cocktails and delicious Indian food. DRINK Head to Monkey Bar to see young creatives letting loose and chugging Kingfisher beer and martinis after work. DO Walk around Chimbai Village, a narrow strip by the water where coffins are made. Duck into local designer Payal Khandwala’s showroom if you have some cash to spare and want to buy yourself a fantastic new outfit. STAY The seafront Taj Lands End is the perfect place to recuperate after a hectic day in the city. —Diksha Basu Set off of Tel Aviv’s grid to the south, its ancient sister city Jaffa has been on the up for years. Its rowdy bars and alleyways filled to capacity at night, Jaffa is a gobsmacking juxtaposition of old and new. An influx of new luxury hotels has ushered in various renovations and the sky’s-the-limit residential projects, yet Jaffa’s diverse, authentic, and hospitable locals are what keep the area level-headed – from ageing sabras (born-and-bred Israelis) to Arab merchants hawking wares in the vibrant chaos of the flea market. EAT Bursting at the seams with an effervescent and energetic crowd, Onza is the place to be for a hip evening with its new, creative twists on local comfort food favourites. DRINK By day, Shafa Bar is a chic hangout; by night, it transforms with creative cocktails and live music. DO Shop Jaffa’s flea market – Shuk HaPishpeshim in Hebrew. The maze of traditional stalls is punctuated by burgeoning indie Israeli designers and eclectic design shops. STAY The freshly-minted, astoundingly beautiful Jaffa Hotel is the latest incarnation of a nineteenth-century building that once housed Jaffa’s French hospital. —Elianna Bar-El Brooklyn gets all the attention these days, but if you’re looking for the real spirit of New York, it’s alive and well and living in the West Village. Whether you’re sifting through the area’s record and vintage shops, grabbing cocktails at a Japanese-style drinking den, listening to fresh jazz at nightclubs like Village Vanguard (where legends like John Coltrane, Miles Davis and Bill Evans used to jam) or attending a showstopping drag performance, the Village is jam-packed with gems both historic and brand new. EAT Brunch like you’re in Paris at Buvette, a brick-walled spot serving French classics like croque monsieur and mouthwatering pastries. DRINK Izakayas are trending in New York right now, and Katana Kitten is one of the best, blending Japanese and American flavours together in signature cocktails like the Hinoki Martini. DO New York’s oldest cabaret club, The Duplex, still hosts an indispensable roster of drag performers, comedians, singers and pianists. STAY Penny pinchers who don’t mind resting in confined quarters should book one of the train-style bunks at luxe, 14-storey landmark The Jane, where the entrance lobby hosts late-night dance parties. —Jennifer Picht LOCALS SAY ‘The West Village, to me, is everything wonderful about New York. It’s the heart of the city, it’s LGBTQ-friendly and has some of the best restaurants and a youthful and diverse nightlife scene. It is the ideal neighborhood.’ Over the last 50 years, the West Loop has transformed from Chicago’s Skid Row to a glimmering beacon for the food-obsessed, offering a range of impeccable restaurants and bars from the city’s top chefs. The neighbourhood shows no signs of slowing down as it continues to collect shiny new apartment complexes, upscale boutiques and big names like Google (which opened an HQ here in 2015). By day, young families and their dogs stroll the sidewalks, and by night, revellers crowd the area’s many excellent cocktail bars in search of a stiff drink. EAT Roister is one of Chicago’s top-tier fine-dining establishments, but there are no white tablecloths, the music is loud and you can totally get away with wearing jeans. DRINK Sip sidecars, cosmopolitans, mojitos and martinis at Moneygun, where old-school hip-hop bumps through the speakers until 2 or 3am. DO Every month, Randolph Street Market attracts more than 100 vendors who hawk antique housewares and furniture, vintage clothing and one-of-a-kind jewellery. STAY Achieve peak cosiness at the Publishing House Bed & Breakfast, where 11 unique rooms are fitted out with cow-hide rugs, claw-foot tubs and funky furniture. —Morgan Olsen LOCALS SAY ‘West Loop has the best restaurants in the city, by a long shot. There are tons of amazing, creative options and it’s constantly changing and expanding.’ Five years ago, Tangba Jie was a quiet residential street. But as the neighbouring Taikoo Li area exploded with popularity, its fringes developed to accommodate the hungry and curious looking for a less commercial vibe. Straddling old neighbourhoods and new development, Tangba Jie and it surrounding side-streets are a perfect representation of Chengdu’s modern/traditional juxtaposition and the food-focused culture of leisure that has recently propelled the city into the spotlight. EAT Nothing says Chengdu like the bustle and buzz of a spicy Chuan Chuan joint, with meat cooked on long skewers in a broth. Mao Jiao Huo La on nearby Dongsheng Jie captures both the classic flavours of this dish and the frenetic, celebratory atmosphere in which to eat it. DRINK Tucked in a quiet corner on Qing Lian Shang Jie, Lotus is a small whisky bar serving great cocktails in a refined setting – and a popular spot in Chengdu’s vibrant creative scene. DO The best activities in Chengdu are always eating and drinking. Wander into Tangba Jie’s older small alleys for classic street eats and late-night, post-booze snacks. STAY The twelve-room Old Congde Hotel, hidden in a preserved stone alleyway from the ’50s, is one of the city’s few tasteful boutique hotels. —Jordan Porter Accra has a vibrancy and energy that never sleeps, and in Osu the pulse of the city is visceral. It’s a little seedy, but very fun – especially at night, with its renowned bars, clubs and chop houses. The main thoroughfare, colloquially known as ‘Oxford Street’, backs itself onto the coastline, where bars line Labadi beach, horses and quad bikes make for ultimate selfie backdrops and the ocean gleams (even if plastic pollution renders it less than charming to swim in). EAT Ivorian eatery Chez Clarisse is noisy, hot and the best place to pack as many friends into a table as possible. Share the marinated chicken and tilapia and mop up the sauces with spicy fried plantains and shredded cassava. DRINK Watch the colourful wooden fishing boats of the Ga people roll in to shore at Osekan, where you can down Club beers while looking out onto the Gulf of Guinea. DO The best place to start (and end) the night is Front/Back. Find the hidden entrance and discover the best that Africa has to offer in terms of contemporary art, locally-made furnishings and the freshest cocktails in the city. You may have to make friends with a local to get in, as the club is technically members-only. STAY Check out the stylish Villa Boutique or its newer sister guest houses, Olma Colonial Suites. —Anna Robertson Blessed with natural wonders such as Table Mountain, Lion’s Head and Signal Hill, Cape Town’s City Bowl District is also home to some of the country’s finest restaurants. But before you sate your appetite, you’ll want to check out a couple of the many new bars that line Bree, Loop and Long Streets. Everything in the CBD is within a twenty-minute walking distance, so you’ll barely need to taxi, and it’s the perfect base to visit Cape Town’s better known attractions or hit up beaches, farmers’ markets or the V&A Waterfront. EAT The Dog’s Bollocks at YARD used to be an actual auto garage, and now serves some of the best burgers in town. DRINK Outrage of Modesty is a true hidden gem, so don’t let the unassuming facade of the building that houses this upmarket cocktail bar fool you; step inside and enter a neon wonderland that will overload your senses. DO Housed inside an old grain silo, the recently launched Zeitz Museum of Contemporary African Art is the largest such museum in the world. STAY The Cape Heritage Hotel is within walking distance of a treasure trove of the cities finest bars, bistros, restaurants and nightclubs. —Willem Grobler and Jenny Pack Sant Antoni is a rarity worth cherishing: a fragile balance between old and new. Here you’ll find a Barcelona that’s unfortunately disappearing: one cultivated by past generations, where so much of life was lived in the city’s streets and squares and all the neighbours knew each other. But this is also the place to find the very latest trends in fashion and gastronomy. Sitting beneath Barcelona’s symbolic Montjüic hill, this gem of a barrio is full of life in all its many glorious forms. EAT Bar Calders is a spot where people meet up with their nearest and dearest and talk for hours over scrummy dishes – all of which are made for sharing. DRINK For cocktails that will have your eyes rolling back in delight, head to Bitter Cocktail Bar and give yourself over to their delicate and sensual concoctions mixed with expertise and respect. DO Wander to the recently reopened, wrought-iron Mercat de Sant Antoni on a Sunday morning, when the neighbourhood organises its used-book market. It’s an oasis of yellowed pages. STAY SOHO delivers on its promise to give you ‘design, comfort, art and modernity’, plus even its exterior rooms are quiet, despite being smack on the central Gran Vía. —Jan Fleischer Despite sitting just a short walk from the Colosseum, the former red-light district of ancient Rome is spared the heavy foot traffic of the centro storico and retains a refreshing, small-town charm with its artsy, bohemian crowd. Quaint cafés, wine bars and trendy eateries satisfy every palate; from an avocado bar and raw chocolate shop to gourmet panini and classic Roman fare, you’ll find a little bit of everything here, and it’s also a great place to shop. Each evening, the neighbourhood comes alive when locals gather at the steps of the fountain in the piazzetta to catch up with friends over a beer before heading off to an arthouse cinema or vegan eatery. EAT Grab a bite to eat at Ai Tre Scalini, a mainstay since 1895 and one of the buzziest bistros and wine bars in the Eternal City. DRINK Enjoy a craft cocktail and live music at Black Market Hall, a shabby-chic enclave with an underground vibe and a seriously cool crowd. DO Find one-of-a-kind clothes, accessories and gadgets at Mercato Monti, an urban market held each weekend. STAY The Fifteen Keys is a boutique hotel with cosy, contemporary guest rooms and a leafy courtyard where guests dig into organic breakfasts. —Livia Hengel Propelled into a dubious spotlight as the setting of Irvine Welsh’s ‘Trainspotting’, Leith has undergone a big transformation in the intervening 25 years. It’s still a little rough around the edges – certain pubs can present an intimidating prospect – but that’s balanced against a cultural scene that boasts two Michelin-starred restaurants, loads of incredible bars and a fierce sense of local identity. EAT Sure, there are two renowned, award-winning fine dining establishments just around the corner – but Harmonium, Leith’s semi-new vegan joint, gets a shout-out for serving amazing non-meat chorizo and springing from the uber-cool Mono/Stereo family in Glasgow. DRINK Named after the spot where highland visitors (pejoratively, ‘teuchters’) would get the ferry back to Aberdeen, Teuchter’s Landing offers great beer, Scottish stovies (a traditional meat-and-potatoes dish) served by the mug and an extensive garden. DO Refurbished in 2018 after a long, dormant stretch, the Leith Theatre is one of the area’s great success stories; it’s already been home to two pop-up festivals, a ‘Trainspotting’ anniversary celebration and gigs from Scotland’s hippest bands. STAY Located right on the Shore, Leith’s night-time hub, Malmaison Edinburgh offers harbour views, luxurious rooms and a theatrical cocktail bar. —Niki Boyle LOCALS SAY ‘Leith has a wide array of great restaurants (from the chippy to the Michelin-starred) and is far enough off the beaten track to be free of gimmicky tourist places. Its pub scene is rightfully legendary, featuring old Scottish classics, trendier establishments and a continuing tradition of working-class pubs with real warmth.’ This once-shabby western corner of Södermalm island is now abuzz with a growing gathering of hip cafés, LGBT+ bars and indie clubs. The south side is lined by Tantolunden beach, where young, tattooed Stockholmers barbeque and blast music, decorate one of the city centre’s few designated graffiti walls and dive into the lake’s cooling waters. In winter, locals find warmth with coffee and locally-printed literature in some of the Swedish capital’s most laid-back fika spots: the word is Swedish for a coffee break, but the tradition is more about socializing than sipping. EAT Grab a cardamom bun and people-watch at beloved Stockholm establishment ilcaffe, which opened its fourth location near Hornstull station just last year. DRINK On Hornstull’s promenade is Debaser Strand, a venue for live indie acts and DJ nights like Friday’s Klub Common People: a nostalgic mix of Britpop and ‘80s music. DO Check the schedule at Bio Rio, Hornstull’s 1940s-era arthouse theatre, which showcases Swedish indie films (often with English subtitles), live international theatre and Stockholm’s feminist and Pride film festivals. STAY Just across the bridge from Hornstull on Långholmen island, you can spend the night in the Långholmen Hotel, a former prison now boasting a museum, restaurant and theatre. —Madeleine Hyde Though Sololaki is home to many famous landmarks and tourist attractions, its cobblestone streets maintain an air of mystery. Bars, restaurants and even clubs pop up in the neighbourhood’s countless courtyards, letting the locals (often artists and musicians) add their personal touch. Locals and travellers alike frequent the many whimsical apartments-turned-cafés, which often double as live music venues. Experience Georgian polyphonic singing (it’s unlike anything else in the world) or a performance on Sololaki’s vibrant jazz scene. EAT Ezo (meaning ‘courtyard’ in Georgian) serves delicious, traditional Georgian dishes in one of Sololaki’s characteristic Italian yards. DRINK Owned by a French musician who has lived in Georgia for over a decade, Zoestan is a comfortable, no-nonsense bar famous for live music, reasonable prices and quirky decor. DO Slip into the famous sulphur baths on Meidani Square, some of which are open almost 24 hours for late-night soaking. STAY Located on top of a hill in next to the ancient Betlemi church, Envoy Hostel boasts a lively decor, very friendly staff and a variety of clean shared and private rooms that are sure to fit almost any budget. Bonus: free breakfast, which you can enjoy on the terrace overlooking the city. —Marina Kaganova Since a new tram line arrived last December, the outlying village of Phibsboro (also spelled Phibsborough) has become more bustling than ever. Dilapidated Victorian buildings are suddenly filling with modern cafés and charming shops. Like nearby hipster hub Stoneybatter before it, the additional infrastructure signals that a revival is on the horizon, with former residents like the writer James Joyce adding to the neighbourhood’s allure, and arts and community organisation Phizzfest hosting regular theatre, literature, comedy, music and film events and discussions throughout the year. EAT No trip to Phibsboro would be complete without brunch at Two Boys Brew, a minimalist Australian outpost that draws big crowds. Don’t miss the mushrooms on sourdough toast. DRINK With delicious pizza, Friday quizzes and a range of bar games, Back Page is the ideal watering hole for locals and visitors alike. DO Stroll along the Royal Canal and wander to Blessington Basin park for some peace, quiet and neighbourly bonding. STAY The cosy Charleville Lodge Hotel has simple rooms and an elegant lounge, all set in a row of restored Victorian townhouses. —Liz Smith With an innovative nightlife scene and a hip, young vibe, no region in Rio de Janeiro is setting trends at the same pace as Botafogo. Drawn to the neighbourhood’s affordable rent and prime location, young entrepreneurs are setting up new bars and restaurants centred around international cuisine, flawless cocktails, local craft beers and collaborative spaces for community and cultural events. EAT The Void/House of Food is a multifunctional venue that invites guest chefs to cook experimental street food and food-truck specials on a daily basis. DRINK The rustic decor at Cru Natural sets an intimate environment to try Rio’s latest craze: organic Brazilian wine accompanied by locally-made cheese. DO Enjoy live music, DJ sets, art exhibitions and theatre productions – all while sipping a potent caipirinha – at collaborative space Olho da Rua. STAY Yoo2 Rio’s compact rooftop, used as an outdoor lounge and bar area, affords the popular hotel a dazzling view of Botafogo beach and the iconic Sugarloaf mountain. —Sarah Brown The Former French Concession has been Shanghai’s hottest neighbourhood for as long as most people can remember, and it shows no sign of being displaced any time soon. This place has it all: charming cafés, forward-thinking restaurants, hidden cocktails dens making world-class drinks, boutiques carrying local designers and underground clubs where you can dance into the early hours. A distinctive blend of foreign and local influences creates a vibe that’s uniquely Shanghai. EAT Tucked behind a small takeaway coffee window, the intimate Oha Eatery serves up creative, modern regional Chinese cuisine and a strong roster of natural wines. DRINK Consistently ranked among Shanghai’s best cocktail bars, multi-level speakeasy Speak Low is a world unto itself. Each floor offers a different bar, vibe and menu, but the drinks are all next-level. DO Wind your way to the basement level of a nondescript apartment block and you’ll find the Shanghai Propaganda Poster Art Centre, an impressive collection of Cultural Revolution-era artworks. STAY Capella Shanghai sits in 55 renovated traditional Shanghai shikumen villas right in the heart of the FFC. It’s not cheap, but luxury with a sense of place is rare. —Cat Nelson LOCALS SAY ‘It’s smaller, cosier and greener than the more built-up areas. It has a European feel and there are endless food choices too.’ La Roma is a neighbourhood stuck between eras: its elegant art nouveau and art deco mansions are an authentic slice of vintage Mexico City, but its restaurants dabble with innovative cuisine and there’s an extraordinary concentration of galleries showing future art stars. By day you’ll find more renowned chefs and baristas than any other part of the city, and when the night comes, mixologists take their place to prepare the cocktails that have made the Distrito Federal famous around the world. EAT Chef Eduardo García is in charge of a bistro menu at Maximo Bistrot Local, a tiny restaurant that’s one of the best tables in town. DRINK Licorería Limantour has been named among the best bars in the world, and you’ll find perfection here in a drink as simple as a margarita or as complex as a Florero Atlántico served in a ceramic vase. DO Browse the used, new and rare vinyl records at La Roma Records, which also runs an electronic music label and supports Mexican visual artists. STAY La Valise Mexico City oozes classic townhouse style. Even the room service is classy: it’s overseen by Elena Reygadas, head chef at nearby gem Rosetta. —Bernardo Robredo LOCALS SAY ‘You can always find good places and people are very friendly. It’s very safe and calm enough to ride a bike in peace. The architecture of the place makes you fall in love with it.’ It may be one of the busiest neighbourhoods in Porto, but Cedofeita is the place to find the best of Portugal’s vibrant second city. Its restaurants evoke cuisines from all over of the world, its museums have unmissable collections and there’s a whole block dedicated to contemporary art galleries and murals. Meanwhile shoppers trawl boutiques stocking vintage clothing and accessories, homewares, antiques and jewellery, and enough gourmet Portuguese products to fill your pantry for a year. EAT The Zenith Brunch & Cocktails Bar is one of Porto’s most Instagrammed places, and there’s always a line at the door. Brave the queue for toasts, pancakes, smoothie bowls and signature cocktails. DRINK The Catraio Craft Beer Shop was the first craft beer bar to appear in the city, and there’s still no better warm-up to start a night out with friends. DO The Soares dos Reis National Museum is one of the most important museums in the country, with a vast collection of paintings from the sixteenth to the twentieth centuries. STAY The Mercador Guesthouse has seven rooms inspired by former Portuguese seaports from the colonial times plus a small garden, ideal for relaxing in the late afternoon. —Patrícia Santos LOCALS SAY ‘This central neighbourhood champions the arts and is modern, but maintains its roots, with everything in comfortable walking distance.’ There are many areas worth visiting in Indonesia’s cultural capital, but it’s Prawirotaman that’s Yogyakarta’s trendsetting neighbourhood. Originally famous for batik, the traditional textile of Indonesia, Prawirotaman is now nicknamed kampung bule or ‘foreigners’ village.’ With an ever-growing list of boutique hotels, restaurants and coffee shops, plus the street art and murals that line the streets and its popular handicraft and batik shops, Prawirotaman’s buzz attracts both tourists and locals. EAT Small, low-key Dapur El offers traditional Indonesian cuisine at an affordable price, specializing in grilled fish and chicken dishes – don’t miss out on the Taliwang-style grilled chicken. DRINK The relaxing outdoor space at Play On, equipped with swings and hammocks, is the best atmosphere to enjoy a cold Bintang beer. DO Shop for traditional, hand-waxed dyed goods at Batik Winotosastro, a fifth-generation batik maker’s store which also offers workshops for those who are interested in learning the craft. STAY Eco-friendly Greenhost Hotel offers a verdant oasis in a busy city, with an interior balcony covered in vines overlooking the swimming pool at the centre of the hotel. The rooftop garden supplies herbs and produce to the on-site restaurant and the Genetika Concept Store in the lobby carries hip goods from local artisans. —Fiona Chandra Wynwood’s evolution from a shabby warehouse district to a vibrant artists’ community spans a decade, but you wouldn’t know it by seeing its spate of colourful murals that seemingly came up overnight. It’s an electric few blocks marked by sidewalk poetry, street performers and endless graffiti. And what goes on behind those painted walls is nothing short of magic either, with the city’s brightest chefs, designers, mixologists and the like all showcasing their talents in the flourishing ’hood. EAT The Salty Donut ushered in the era of artisanal doughnuts, and Miami’s appetite for speciality desserts has only intensified. Queue up early, as their of-the-moment creations always run out. DRINK Gramps was one of the first nightlife venues in Wynwood and six years later it’s still among the neighbourhood’s top bars, with a lazy tropical vibe and a packed events schedule. DO See art! The Wynwood Walls are packed with tourists for a reason: this outdoor museum boasts dozens of murals painted by artists from around the world, which change each year during Art Basel. STAY Without any hotels of its own, the best option for lodging is the nearby ME Miami, which is well-situated and upscale. —Virginia Gil LOCALS SAY ‘There’s nowhere else like it! It’s filled with art and culture and there are lots of casual places to meet, talk and listen to music.’ Hayes Valley has undergone an epic glow-up in the last few years. On any given day, you’ll find tech workers, creatives and families (with cute dogs!) eating lunch and enjoying the sun at Patricia’s Green, the unofficial town square. Hayes Street is dotted with clothing and jewellery stores where you can shop hip global brands and local artists alike, and the ’hood is home to the city’s hottest dining scene: at night, patrons spill from dozens of chic new eateries and outdoor beer gardens before ending the night with a scoop of Smitten’s ice cream. EAT Dining at A Mano feels like joining a high-energy indoor-outdoor party. Nosh on handmade pasta as you people watch from the floor-to-ceiling windows. DRINK Sip tropical cocktails at Anina, a colourful and airy bar with an inviting, light-strung patio and chic palm decor. DO Get tickets to SF Jazz, the first standalone venue in America created specifically for jazz. All the best contemporary artists pass through here, and no one is ever more than 45 feet from the performers. STAY A buzzy, 131-room new hotel on Market Street, Proper Hotel is stylish but laidback. Don’t miss the rooftop bar, Charmaine’s, with its ’Gram-worthy views and city-inspired cocktail menu. —Sarah Medina LOCALS SAY ‘There is always lots to do and eat, it’s dog-friendly, walkable and right in the middle of the city.’ Once the seedy heart of Hong Kong, Wan Chai has shed much of its red-light baggage in recent years, reimagining itself as a buzzing and grittier alternative to neighbourhoods like Tsim Sha Tsui or Sheung Wan. Michelin-starred restaurants stand opposite cheap noodle shops and immaculate Japanese cocktail bars sit hidden above a street of rowdy British pubs. If the noise and excitement of Lockhart Road doesn’t appeal, you can escape to the relaxed surrounds of the Star Street precinct, a cluster of pedestrian streets rapidly filling up with boutique shops, chic cafés and some of Hong Kong’s most exciting new eateries. EAT Bo Innovation has won three Michelin stars with its masterful marriage of traditional and new-world Chinese cuisine. DRINK Hidden Japanese cocktail and whisky bar Mizunara serves the exquisite creations of award-winning bartender-in-chief Masahiko Endo. DO Escape the hustle and bustle of the city and hike the Wan Chai Green Trail up to Bowen Road, a favourite spot for joggers and dog walkers. STAY Hong Kong’s newest boutique hotel, The Fleming, was inspired in its design by the city’s iconic and much loved cross-harbour ferries. —Douglas Parkes LOCALS SAY ‘It’s the perfect blend of local charm and gentrification, with amazing transportation options and plenty of great restaurants, bars and cafés. From skanky to upscale, it has something to match any mood.’ Ari became Bangkok’s most happening hood a few years back. What was once a peaceful, upmarket residential area turned neighbourhood du jour nearly overnight, with the sudden appearance of all types of hip businesses: restaurants and cafés, co-working spaces, bars, galleries and shops. Soon the focus moved to other areas, leaving Ari in peace once again. But now things seem to have come full circle: the entrepreneurs have returned and new cafés, restaurants, bars and shops have, once again, turned the area into the place to be. EAT One of Bangkok’s best Thai restaurants, Baan Puengchom has long been favoured by Ari residents. Try pad sam men, a salad which mixes in smelly yet weirdly irresistible vegetables. DRINK Probably the coolest beer bar in the ’hood, Taproom serves a vast selection of beers on tap and in bottles. DO Down in the basement of the Siamese Asset building you’ll find Future Factory, a creative space and art gallery hosting unique music events and exhibitions by Thai and international artists. It’s tricky to find but well worth the hunt. STAY Josh Hotel has it all: an Insta-worthy outdoor swimming pool, two restaurants serving Samui and Japanese cuisine, a multi-label fashion store and even a 16-seat cinema. —Suthima Thongmark Vibes (and Napoletana pizzas) are consistently warm in Petite Italie, Montreal’s most laidback neighbourhood. The hum of Vespas fills the air; sidewalk patios affectionately known as ‘terrasses’ are full of life from morning espresso to late-night gelato; and generations of families, young couples and creative types enjoy la dolce vita. Parc Dante features classic Italian cinema all summer and Marché Jean Talon (one of the city’s two historical farmers markets) sits at the heart of the neighbourhood, alongside watering holes boasting bowling alleys, secret pizza kitchens and locally crafted brews. EAT Fancy a picnic? Dinette Triple Crown is a classic soul food joint where dinner can be ordered to go and eat in the park – picnic basket, red-chequered blanket and all. DRINK Wine bar hotspot Vin Mon Lapin features a 100 percent natural wine list with rustic dishes reminiscent of farm-life fantasies. DO Le Cagibi is an LGBT+ institution; the community meet-up space/event venue/vegan and vegetarian eatery features Montreal’s only storytelling event dedicated to erotica. STAY Your best bet is to find something on Airbnb and fully live the local spirit of the neighbourhood. —Sarah Di Domenico Karlín is different from the fairytale settings and tourist crowds of Prague’s centre or the gritty, industrial scene of many surrounding neighbourhoods. Revitalization efforts from flooding in 2002 have lined its streets with restaurants, wine bars and young families. And the current wave of experimental spaces – from Manifesto Market’s open-air food stalls in shipping containers to Kasarna Karlin’s summer cinemas and artsy events – are taking the area from residential paradise to destination-worthy neighbourhood. EAT Grab an open-faced sandwich (chlebíček) downstairs or a modern, multi-course meal of Czech cuisine upstairs at Eska. DRINK Veltin wine bar pours a rotating nightly selection of independent winemakers from the across the former Austro-Hungarian Empire. DO Join the local crowd sprawled across the lawn at Karlínské Náměstí in front of the Church of Saints Cyril and Methodius. Or, if the weather is poor, enjoy some speciality coffee in the company of kitties at cat café Kavárna Kočičí. STAY Neon lights and a well-dressed crowd in the lobby bar set a modern vibe at Pentahotel. —Auburn Scallon Dufferin Grove is one of Toronto’s last affordable and centrally located neighbourhoods, hence the eclectic new restaurants and cafés regularly cropping up. Both locals and visitors appreciate the area’s unique, small-town charm while enjoying the proximity to the city’s downtown core. With inhabitants spanning avant-garde artists to young professional families, Dufferin Grove is a neighbourhood that embraces its chill, tight-knit community – and is reminiscent of Toronto before the city’s condo-crazed expansion. EAT SoSo Food Club, a culinary newcomer to Dufferin Grove, has perfectly captured the essence of why this area is so cool. The bold-coloured, Chinese-inspired restaurant is trendy without being intimidating and exciting without being too extra. DRINK Burdock Brewery is the ideal place to hang after a busy work week or a long day exploring the city. Chat with locals, enjoy live music and try the seasonal brews on tap. DO Dufferin Grove has plenty of green spaces, making it a unique destination within the concrete jungle of Toronto. Picnic and people-watch in Dufferin Grove Park or hip hangout Trinity Bellwoods Park. STAY A short walk from Dufferin Grove’s boundaries, the boutique Gladstone Hotel combines artsy vibes with first-rate hospitality, making it the perfect place to crash after a day exploring. —Sandra Osojnik Despite new restaurants opening up weekly, the Central District (childhood home of Jimi Hendrix) has retained its original Seattle charm. The high levels of development (and cost) of Capitol Hill have caused many artistically inclined natives to relocate to the Central District, where diversity, activism and community are still present. Here there are more houses than high-rises, and plenty of walkable establishments that are still family-run. It’s a much-loved oasis from some of the more dense and tech-centric corridors of the city. EAT Ezell’s, a nationally famous fried chicken restaurant that opened in 1984, is one of the oldest and most necessary stops during a visit to Seattle. DRINK If beer is your preference, Chuck’s Hop Shop is your place, with seemingly infinite options on tap as well as bottles for purchase. DO A community favourite, Central Cinemas is known for showing older flicks and hosting trivia nights, all washed down with quality cocktails. STAY Airbnb is the easiest way to stay in this neighbourhood, but the nearby boutique Hotel Sorrento in First Hill will make you feel like royalty. —Bianca Yvonne At the centre of Palermo, probably the most extensive and well-known area in Buenos Aires, is Palermo Soho: a vibrant, bohemian enclave that’s a favourite haunt of young people and local artists and designers. Palermo Soho oozes innovation and international vibes, with new businesses and fashion boutiques continuing to spring up in the old Spanish-style houses and converted warehouses along the tree-lined cobblestone streets. Post up at a café or bar – most have pavement tables – to catch some rays and watch the constant flow of colourful locals and in-the-know visitors walking along Palermo’s streets. EAT For classic steaks, traditional empanadas and an extensive wine list in an intimate ambience, try Parrilla Don Julio. DRINK Blest is the oldest beer house in the country and is famous for importing its own unique brew from Bariloche, Patagonia. DO On weekends, Porteños (locals) and visitors alike don their coolest attire and head to the open-air market on Plaza Serrano, where the bars surrounding the square open their doors for independent vendors to showcase their goods. STAY Book a room at stylish boutique hotel Own Grand Palermo Soho for good restaurants and great transport links right in the heart of the neighbourhood. —Mariel Volpe Located right between Kuala Lumpur and its neighbour city Petaling Jaya is the hip neighbourhood of Damansara Heights. Recent years have seen new hotels and shopping areas plus plenty of interesting restaurants and bars (from cheap local Chinese hawker fare to gorgeously Instagrammable brunch spots) popping up. Friendly neighbourhood watering holes and swanky bars, hosting live music and poetry-slam nights, draw students and creatives from the nearby university campus and coworking space. EAT Jalan Batai is the street to head to if you’re in the mood for food. While most of the eateries located here are worth checking out, Sitka stands out with its modern Asian menu that insists on using as many local ingredients as possible. DRINK Head to the hidden bar Skullduggery – and don’t let the decor (row upon row of skulls) spook you from trying their creative cocktail concoctions. DO If open mic sessions with musicians, poets and writers are up your alley, make your way to Gaslight Café to find creative gems every night of the week. STAY Sofitel Kuala Lumpur Damansara, which opened in mid-2017, offers spacious rooms, a great gym and pool and a luxury hammam spa. —Michele C Located on the Marmara Sea coast on the Asian side of Istanbul, the Kadıköy district has soared in popularity over the past few years. Hundreds of new bars, cafés, restaurants, design studios and shops have opened here, making the area a must-see for those really wanting to get a feel of how the city hangs out these days, with a more relaxed vibe than the bustling European side. EAT Nestled inside Haydarpaşa Railway Station, one of Istanbul’s most treasured historical landmarks, Mythos serves up delicious meze, expertly grilled fish and free-flowing rakı in a nostalgic setting. DRINK Our favourite watering hole on Kadife Sokak, Kadıköy’s main bar street, Arkaoda has a calendar peppered with a diverse selection of underground DJs and musicians from Istanbul and abroad, with live shows on the upper floor. DO With a view of the Marmara Sea and the historical peninsula, the sweeping Moda coastal park is an unbeatable hangout spot for a picnic on the grass. STAY Occupying a renovated Greek-style house dating back to Ottoman times, Sarnıç Boutique Hotel is a charmingly quaint spot that’s both affordable and located in the very heart of the neighbourhood. —Yusuf Huysal LOCALS SAY ‘It has its own style, spirit and people. The nightlife, from concerts to nightclubs, is ace too.’ The district of Tanjong Pagar prides itself in mixing the old with the new – think traditional nineteenth-century shophouses against a backdrop of skyscrapers (including the city’s tallest building), walls decked in street art, and hawker centres thriving alongside swish bars and restaurants like Michelin-starred Nouri and luxe supper-club Ottomani. Take your nightlife alternatives further with underground clubs such as the urban Kilo Lounge, which regularly welcomes international guest DJs and musicians. EAT Amoy Street Food Centre and Maxwell Food Centre bustle every lunchtime, with hawkers selling a whole world of dishes from spicy Thai specialities and hearty congee to delicious pasta and traditional nasi padang. DRINK The neighbourhood boasts a myriad of speakeasies like the experimental Operation Dagger and NYC import Employees Only. DO For an unconventional take on your usual agenda, visit the Seng Wong Beo Temple, which sometimes hosts traditional ‘ghost weddings’ between two departed souls. STAY Call it a day at the new Sofitel Singapore City Centre hotel which features high-end amenities and a rooftop pool with a stunning view of Tanjong Pagar. —Nicole-Marie Ng LOCALS SAY ‘Tanjong Pagar has a good mix of Korean, Japanese and modern European restaurants and some great cocktail bars. There’s a buzz during a week, but the weekends are peaceful.’ Kitay-Gorod is Moscow’s most mashed-up neighbourhood: a place to enjoy all the contrasts of Russian life. Here Cold War bunkers are situated side-by-side with hip coffee shops and performance art sits next to fancy restaurants. It’s the historical and spiritual centre of the city but also the place to find club culture and craft beer. Where else can you revel in 500-year-old objets d’art and then go to a techno party? EAT Feeling the chill of the Russian winter? Hit up the Surf coffee shop on Myasnitskaya Ulitsa, which summons thoughts of blue waves and sandy beaches with its tropical interior and vegan menu. DRINK Ukuleleshnaya is the perfect place for those looking for a new experience alongside a stiff drink: as well as serving experimental cocktails, they will teach you how to play the Hawaiian guitar. DO Art lovers should make a beeline for Solyanka VPA, a gallery showing films, video art, animation, performance and even kinetic sculpture and alternative multimedia – essentially, any art that moves. STAY Pokrovka 6 is one of the neighbourhood’s main thoroughfares and attracts hip travellers with its stylish, slightly Wes Anderson-esque interior design. —Marina Likhacheva LOCALS SAY ‘It’s interesting to walk around and take in the beautiful streets and architecture. As for the bars and restaurants, they’re inexpensive and friendly.’ No other area exemplifies Zurich’s latest wining, dining and cultural trends like Langstrasse. Despite affluence creeping in, much of the area still maintains its original gritty edge, legacy of its infamous past as Zurich’s red-light district. But it’s also a mecca for local designers, with ateliers, art galleries and independent boutiques appearing on an almost weekly basis, and there’s simply nowhere else in the city when it comes to nightlife. EAT Josef is one of Zurich’s more avant-garde restaurants. Don’t come here looking for würst, cordon bleu and rosti: you’re more likely to find ceviche or grilled octopus on the menu of small plates. DRINK Highball cocktails are the feature at Cinchona Bar, overseen by creative head Jörg Meyer (of Le Lion and Boilerman Hamburg fame). DO As the name implies, Langstrasse is centred on one long street – so take a walk, enjoy the vast array of quirky shops, buzzing bars and underground club culture, and discover a rather more weird and wonderful side to Zurich. STAY Although it’s part of an international chain, 25 Hours Hotel has become a lively meeting point for visitors and locals alike thanks to its regular after-work bar events and Middle Eastern-influenced restaurant. —Celeste Neill Surrounded by leafy green Deer Park on one side and a warren of atmospheric shops and eateries on the other, it’s no wonder that Safdarjung Enclave is Delhi’s most happening – but still under-the-radar – neighbourhood. Think of it as the grown-up version of Hauz Khas Village, its rowdier neighbour across the park, with one extra bonus: it’s also home to the Indian capital’s most finger-licking north-eastern cuisine. EAT For tasty treats from Nagaland state, head to Hornbill, a laidback restaurant known for its hip clientele. Try the smoked pork and bamboo shoot. DRINK Grab a house-made craft cocktail and a perch at the mezzanine bar at Piano Man Jazz Club, where you can catch an intimate music set in an old-school setting. DO Safdarjung Enclave is one of the most walkable districts in car-crazy Delhi, so ditch the itinerary and explore the back streets on foot. STAY Oyo Townhouse, a boutique hotel catered to millennials, has spotless rooms and an on-site gym (plus a basement co-working space if deadlines are calling). —Ariel Sophia Bardi Years ago a neglected neighbourhood that locals avoided, today Boston’s South End has become the city’s artistic hub, with dozens of galleries and design shops that wouldn’t be out of place in any of the world’s culture capitals. Tap into the inclusive vibe just by strolling the idyllic streets, which are lined with historic brownstones, unique small businesses, and inviting cafés. EAT It’s worth the wait for a table at Toro, Ken Oringer’s always-packed destination for upscale tapas and eclectic wines. DRINK Subterranean pseudo-speakeasy Wink + Nod specializes in classic cocktails prepped with house-made cordials, juices and infusions. DO As the city’s premier artistic hub, SoWa Artists Guild is a veritable hive of creative activity. Many artists open their doors a few times a month – most notably on First Fridays – for open-studio events where they greet locals and visitors. STAY The modern AC by Marriott in the back of the buzzy Ink Block complex is pretty much the best option in the accommodations-starved South End. —Eric Grossman LOCALS SAY ‘South End is beautiful, historic and filled with great shops and restaurants – although it isn’t overrun with tourists. It still has a true neighbourhood feel while being close to Downtown and Back Bay.’ In a city renowned for its ancient monuments, Sanlitun is perhaps a fitting monument to the new, modern China. In the four decades since the nation’s opening up to the world, a quiet residential area has grown to become the vibrant centre of Beijing’s shopping, nightlife and dining scenes and a playground for its young, rich and stylish. It’s bustling enough by day, but it really begins to buzz when the sun goes down. EAT Queues are usually a mark of quality in the Chinese capital, and hip noodle joint Bei 27 Hao consistently draws a crowd with its modern takes on classic hand-pulled noodles. DRINK High ceilings, palm trees and marble floors give well-hidden speakeasy Scandal a tropical sort of elegance, matched by some of the city’s most innovative cocktails. DO Hit the clubs. Sanlitun is China’s hottest hub for after-hours revelry, and megaclubs One Third and Sir Teen are a study in EDM opulence worth witnessing, while the grimier Lantern is a mainstay on the alternative electronic scene. STAY Design-driven hotel The Opposite House has been at the heart of the Sanlitun buzz for the past decade, and still stands proud as the sleek elder of Beijing boutique. —Patrick Moore LOCALS SAY ‘The sheer array of both Western and Chinese restaurants and bars is overwhelming – it’s also where the party never ends!’ With a buzzing nightlife scene, a massive stretch of sandy beach and a stunning marina with cute cafés as well as a four-mile jogging track, there’s no better place in the UAE to have it all. JBR is home to casual seaside breakfast joints, cool bars, street murals and a beachside market. Then there’s the beach itself, where you can try flyboarding or just admire the view of Ain Dubai: the world’s largest ferris wheel. EAT The Dubai outpost of Michelin-starred chef Jason Atherton, Marina Social is popular with foodies and brunching partygoers alike. Enjoy the Marina views and classic British grub. DRINK Think fun, think Lock, Stock & Barrel. This cavernous, casual bar is the party hotspot of JBR and is packed any given night of the week with visitors looking for live music, affordable drinks and an all-round good time. DO Who wouldn’t want to soar above the megayachts on XLine Dubai Marina: the world’s longest urban zipline? STAY The colonial-style Ritz-Carlton Dubai is one of few low-rise rise buildings in the area and has access to a private beach and a bijou beach bar that’s ideal for sundowners. —Amy Mathieson LOCALS SAY ‘There’s always something going on at JBR, and there are so many places to eat and drink out in the Marina.’ © 2019 Time Out England Limited and affiliated companies owned by Time Out Group Plc. All rights reserved. Time Out is a registered trademark of Time Out Digital Limited. Read the full article

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Jane the Virgin’s Jaime Camil on Plot Twists, Representation, and Saying Goodbye to Rogelio

Jane the Virgin has had more than its fair share of plot twists, improbable yet somehow plausible storylines, and dramatic cliffhangers over the last four years, but nothing can compare with the big reveal on season 4’s finale when Jane’s late husband Michael turns out to be NOT DEAD. (Straight out of a telenovela, right?!)

So there’s a lot to look forward to with this next season of Jane the Virgin, which premieres today. There’s also the bittersweet reality of knowing we’re entering the final season of this beloved series. For a show that thrives on big, meandering, unpredictable narratives and mile-a-minute drama, its core is a cozy little nugget of love, sincerity, decency and good intentions. Its characters—even when they’re being awful (hey Petra!)—are full of humanity and complexity, and you can’t help but root for each of them.

Jane’s father, Rogelio, may have started off as the vain and selfish one on the show but he, too, by the power of the Villanueva women and his own growth as a human, has blossomed into a generous, kind and loving father, grandfather and husband. (Crazy, right?!) Ahead of the show’s season premiere, we caught up with Jaime Camil, who plays the legendary Rogelio de la Vega—actor, producer and lover of lavender—to talk about the final season, the crazy journey of the past five years, and what this show has meant to him.

Let’s start with the big, shocking reveal from Season 4’s finale. As actors on the show, we are equally as surprised as you guys are when you watch the episode on air. We have never been allowed to be in Jennie Urman’s circle of trust, because she doesn’t like to share what’s going to happen. I remember how we found out that Michael was alive. We were reading the script for the last episode of season 4 [at the table read] and there was a page that says, “The narrator goes: ‘And friends, this is the moment when Jane saw…’” And we’re like, ‘Are we missing a page here?’ And then Jennie Urman takes out a page and continues to read: “This is the moment when Jane saw Michael for the second time” and we were just like WHAT the…!

And then Brett Dier walks into the room. So we get as surprised as you guys do. I swear to God. I’m not making this up. Now Jennie cannot get away with that because we are just three episodes away from finishing shooting the series so now we know what’s going to happen.

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Is there anything you can tell us about Season 5 and what’s in store for us? I don’t know if you know already, but it has been established that it is Michael, he’s not an evil twin or anything crazy like that. And as you know, Rogelio thinks that the true love story of the show is not Jane and Michael, it’s Michael and Rogelio.

Yes this is a special storyline for you, given Michael and Rogelio’s bromance! Exactly. That bromance is going to give the audience a lot of comedic moments when Rogelio finds out that Michael is alive.

Let’s go back to the start of Jane. On paper, the show is a big risk. It’s a primarily Latino cast, with a Latina lead, and a script that’s a mix of Spanish and English. What was the energy of the show going in, knowing that it wasn’t really the typical formula for a successful TV show at that time? You know, I don’t think that’s a risk, and I think that’s a problem we have in Hollywood: looking at having a Latino cast, or a cast that speaks English and Spanish, as a risk.

But that’s how the entertainment industry works, it takes them forever to take the smallest of risks, and once they know that it pays off, they want to jump all in. I agree with you 100%. My only point is that the day we stop seeing that as a risk, I think that will be a very happy day for all of us. But the risk, yes—can you imagine this pitch? “Oh you know, the show’s about a virgin girl who gets artificially inseminated by accident…” It’s a risky pitch, a risky premise.

I think it’s a risk until you actually do it, and realize there’s such a market for it. It’s just taking that first step. Exactly, there’s a market for well-written shows, no matter what story you’re telling, no matter what the demographics or ethnicity of the leads, I think if you have a well-written story and a human story to tell, based on the humanity of the characters, not on their ethnicity, I think you’ll have an audience. And kudos to Jennie Urman and her amazing team of writers. You know we don’t change a comma, we don’t change anything. It’s powerful material, everything is there. You don’t have to ad lib, or change anything of the book.

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Only God knows how much I love these guys and how much I’m going to miss them. Good thing is that we have developed a true and sincere friendship and a profound love for each other so our connection will last for a lifetime 😍🥰🤝💫❤️ / Sólo Dios sabe cuánto quiero y cómo voy a extrañar a estas personas. Lo bueno es que siempre nos unirá un amor profundo y una amistad sincera que durará toda la vida @brettdier @andreanavedo #jennieurman @hereisgina @yaelgrobglas @justinbaldoni @ivonnecollofficial @cwjanethevirgin #janethevirgin #lastseason #goodbyejane #paleyfest @dolbytheatre #season5

A post shared by Jaime Camil (@jaimecamil) on Mar 20, 2019 at 11:01pm PDT

I want to talk a bit of the timing of the show. Obviously it came out in 2014, long before there was an American president talking about a wall and saying things like ‘Mexicans are rapists.’ When the culture of America sort of started to shift, in terms of the rhetoric, what was it like for you at the time knowing that you were working on a show filled with so much positivity, when such negative things were being said about your culture and your community? Well, listen, we are the other side of the story, right? We have to keep on fighting to show love, and giving love and tolerance and acceptance, because there’s so much hate on the other side. We have to keep the balance. We don’t shy away from those subjects. Jane the Virgin touches on those subjects but not like, ‘okay, we’re going to educate you on what’s right and what’s wrong.’ No. We just talk about issues the way you might talk about them over coffee with friends, we don’t mean to lecture anyone. But Jennie Urman does touch those subjects on the show.

With viewers from all over the world, do you feel more of a pressure when it comes to how your community is represented, like ‘we have to get this right!’? We are very privileged to be working with a network and producers and a showrunner that understand that a minority doesn’t need to be portrayed as a caricature. They should be portrayed as normal human beings. And I think that’s a win itself. Now we are Latinos on Jane, but our walls don’t need to be painted shocking pink, and we don’t need to have piñatas hanging from the ceiling. And we don’t need to say ‘siesta Paco ratatatata!” We are normal people. Again, we go back to the same ideology, that we have to do shows for humans, embrace humanity, and embrace that we are all equals, that there are no differences between ethnicities or demographics, and I think that’s the key.

Looking back, now that your journey on Jane is wrapping up, what did you love the most about playing Rogelio? Absolutely everything. I love that Rogelio is a well-balanced character. He can be perceived as comic relief, but he will also connect with you via the heart. And I think that’s an amazing achievement from the writers because Rogelio could have gone horribly wrong. But it just works. And not just Rogelio, but Petra. Petra’s sort of an evil character but she’s a fan favourite! The key of Jane is that every actor approaches their character with sincerity and honesty. So whatever stupid thing comes out of our mouth, like the incredible one-liners Rogelio has, he really believes them. Petra believes them and Rafael believes them and Jane believes them. So we connect with the audience via the heart, we don’t connect via a slapstick joke or stupid one-liner. Those are just to embellish or decorate our characters, but there’s a deeper connection with the audience and I think that’s the key.

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It's all about family. The final season premieres Wednesday at 9/8c on The CW! #JaneTheVirgin #GoodbyeJane

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From Jane you’re moving on to a new show. Tell us a bit about Broke. I think it was going to be called Riches to Rags, and now we are Broke, which I love. It’s a property owned by RCN which is a Colombian network, and it’s a property that I did in Mexico actually, I was the lead of that show in Mexico. And one day I was talking to Jennie about it, she loved the idea and because she’s a brilliant woman, she decided to adapt the story for a 30-minute multi-cam and she did it brilliantly with Alex Hershlock, who will also be the executive producer. As you know, he executive produces Will & Grace, so I’m very lucky. The team behind this project is just a dream. I’m very happy and extremely grateful to be embarking into this.

You mentioned that you played this character in Mexico, and I know you’ve also previously done telenovelas. So what’s it been like for you now working on a show that’s both an homage and sort of a parody of that genre? To be honest I did work on two classic novelas at the beginning of my career but I didn’t get them. I was like ‘What is this? I don’t get it.’ Like, you know, (dramatic voice): “Don’t ever call me AGAIN” and then the camera stays on you, for like TWO MINUTES! And I’m like dude, breathe, blink, do something! I never got the genre of how to do telenovelas. I mean I got it, I did it, but it never felt natural to me. So the other projects I did after the two very classic novellas, they were like sitcoms. I mean, they were labelled as novellas because they were every single day, Monday to Friday, one-hour format, so as a format they were identified as novellas but the content, the backbone, was a sitcom. I did Ugly Betty Mexico, I did [one] which was a Tootsie/Mrs Doubtfire kind of project. You can imagine me as a woman! I did a lot of comedy, I never stayed in that box of the super dramatic telenovela style. But of course I know it, I grew up in a country that lives for those projects so of course I know very well the genre, and I know very well how it works. So it was super fun to pay an homage with a lot of respect to that genre of television.

You won’t like me saying this, because I know you’re Team Michael, but I’m Team Rafael all the way. Guess what! I think Rogelio has evolved and now he’s Team Jane! He only wants what’s going to make his daughter happy. Personally, I would have loved to see more of the rivalry between Rafael and Rogelio. Of course Rogelio loves Rafael because they’re equally handsome (laughs) but Rogelio does realize that Rafael has changed, has evolved from this empty playboy to a good father and he loves Jane so much, so of course he’s going to be Team Rafael eventually. He kind of is already, right? I mean, Michael died! He didn’t have a choice.

By default, you’re on that team now.

Exactly, by default he had to be on Team Rafael! (laughs)

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