#said spanish tour guide ended up falling for him anyways

[obsessive-jan]

The spanish zoo tour guide having to deal with the obnoxiously loud and easily excitable british tourist:

[coffee-obsessed-writer]

When You Least Expect It: Part Two

Part One

Jensen x Reader

A/N: This is a slow burn fic that I have been working on for a while. Its a story I wrote for myself and just wanted to share with everyone. Yes, the “Dee” in the story is who you think, but there is no intended hate on her or their actual marriage. It is a work of fiction, that is all.

Part two is from Jensen’s POV. There is also a playlist to go along with the series. 

Series Playlist: “When You Least Expect It” (Spotify) **Songs & lyrics used in this part are by April Smith & The Great Picture Show ** Some are just songs I imagined playing or being played as the story took shape in my imagination, or they are songs actually being used in the series. I will link them when that’s the case. Hope you enjoy it! xo

Series Summary: After a hard breakup, Jensen decides to throw himself into organizing a Music Festival in Austin that is meant to raise money for a few of his most cherished charities and organizations. As he throws himself into planning it, he stumbles upon a spirited, undiscovered performer, who he convinces to come aboard to help plan and coordinate the event with him. What transpires after that takes both Jensen and his new friend, by surprise. But when their respective pasts come back just before the event kicks off in Austin, they will both have to decide if the unexpected feelings are worth perusing, or if they should just walk away and go on with their lives.

Series Warnings: Language, Break-Ups, Angst, Fluff, Smut (that’s it for now)

WC: 7.1K (with song lyrics)

*Banner created by me; pics & gifs found online

Over the course of the next few hours, Y/N took Jensen through nearly every arcade, sweet shop and gift store that lived along the ocean’s edge. The rides weren’t currently running, but she was able to point out the ones that could come along with the traveling carnival Leo had promised to send to Austin the following Autumn.

Jensen launched question after question at her; he wanted to know everything from the history of the area to what its biggest attractions were. Y/N was an articulate and captivating storyteller, even though he sensed she wasn’t trying to be. The more she talked, the more he could hear the songbird he’d encountered the night before. He tried to get her to laugh a few times, throwing out a lame dad joke as a response to something or other, but nothing seemed to stick. Either she was the most professional tour guide to ever wear an Ozzy T-shirt, or she was just that unimpressed with his wit.

It was later in the afternoon when Jensen’s stomach really started to rumble loud enough that even Y/N heard it.

“Maybe we should grab a bite. The food stands were the last stop anyway,” she said and motioned for him to follow her.

“Sounds good. What do you have in mind?”

“Pizza is always great here,” she paused and pointed towards the Saw Mill. “They serve the biggest slices on the boards and their tomato sauce is like no other. Can’t get pizza like this anywhere else. But, I think you should try the lemon stand.”

“The what?”

“The lemon stand… they make these sausage and pepper sandwiches served with a side of potato wedges and fresh lemonade you don’t want to miss. It’s a staple around here every summer, and lucky for you, you are here on their last day of the season.”

Jensen’s mouth began to salivate at the idea and he nodded emphatically. “Yeah, let’s go there, that sounds amazing.”

What the locals referred to as the lemon stand, was really called Midway Steakhouse. A medium sized building right smack in the middle of the boardwalk. There was no line at the lemon stand, allowing them to walk right up to the counter. Jensen looked up at the menu and saw a handful of choices, but Y/N was lightly tapping his arm and shaking her head.

“No. Let me order for you, there’s only one thing you want to try. Trust me.”

Without waiting for him to answer, she turned to the man at the register.

“Heeyyy, Miss, Y/N! To what do we owe the pleasure!”

“How’s it shakin’ Miguel? I brought an associate up here to try the place. He’s getting a festival going in Austin next year and Leo is renting out a few vendors. Thought yours should be one of the few.”

Miguel waved her off. “Oh please, like my hermano would ever say yes to that. You know how he feels about Leo’s dealings.” He whispered the last word as if it would trigger a catastrophe.

“Well, we have time to talk. For now, though, can I get two sausage sandwiches, with peppers, onions and sauce, one side of wedges, and two medium lemonades, please and thank you.”

“For you, anything,” Miguel winked and turned to the two guys behind him. He barked out the order in Spanish getting the guys in motion. She turned back to Jensen and leaned back against the counter. “You won’t regret this, trust me.”

“God… the way it smells… I want this to be my heaven,” Jensen mused, finally getting her to smile a genuine smile. It didn’t go unnoticed but he also didn’t want to call her out on it. The longer they hung out, the more she was loosening up and he didn’t want that to stop. “So, what’s after this?”

“Nothing really,  you’ve seen everything. I’ll head back to the office and get the printers going for another set of contracts. The messenger can drop them at the hotel. I suppose your people can contact Leo’s people--”

“My people?” Jensen snorted, amused by her word choice. “What makes you think I have people?”

“You’re a celebrity. All you Hollywood people have people.”

The side-eyed glance he gave her was enough to make her stand up a little straighter. He was slightly offended by the remark but also tried to understand that she didn’t know him at all. Y/N was most likely lumping him into an assumption she had about anyone that could be considered a celebrity.

“I don’t actually,” he mumbled but knew fully well she heard what he said.

“My apologies. I just assumed--”

“Well, you know what people say about people… who… assume--” he trailed off when he saw she was trying not to laugh at him. He found this sort of refreshing.

“Mhm,” she said. “Sorry I assumed you had people. What I meant was, all that’s really left is for the new contracts to be printed and sent to whomever you like.”

“You’re forgiven,” he replied, his feigned smugness causing her to roll her eyes.

“You’re… something,” she groaned and moved closer to the counter and called out over the noise of the kitchen. “How’s it coming, Miguel?”

“It’s going! You can’t rush perfection, Y/N!”

And Miguel was right. It took fifteen minutes, but when Jensen sunk his teeth into the sandwich, he realized then he would have waited an hour or more for one.

“Good GOD this is good,” he said, wiping a dollop of the sauce from the corner of his mouth. “This is like, sinfully, ridiculously good.”

“Right? Told you. Now, if Miguel’s brother can be convinced to go, you want the Midway Steak House at your carnival.”

“And how do we make that happen?”

“We? No. You and Leo, maybe. But not we.”

“You wouldn’t be willing to help me out with that?”

She took a bite of her sandwich, and let her eyes wander out over the ocean. Jensen was aware he was staring, but he couldn’t take his eyes from her. He brushed the crumbs from his hands and sat back in the plastic chair that Midway Steak House offered just beyond their building.

“I guess I’ll take that as a no…”

“That’s just not my place. I’m Leo’s assistant, that’s it. The more involved I get, the less time I have for the other things I have going on.”

“Like playing in bars?”

“For one thing, yes,” she finally met his gaze. “Music is the goal, being an assistant pays the rent.”

“Well.. it is a music festival we’re planning here.”

Y/N chuckled a little at that and her expression told him she was considering it. “I guess you have a point. But, you have to understand these people trust me. I don’t want to steer them into a situation where they end up getting screwed.”

“I completely respect that. But, didn’t you read the contracts? This isn’t some bullshit scam. They will be compensated.”

“How could I? You spilled tea all over them,” she replied with the rise of one, challenging brow.

“Touché,” he relented. “All I’m saying is that this,” he paused and pointed to his sandwich, “needs to be in Austin next fall for the festival. I have the perfect brew in mind to pair it with.”

“Brew? Is this a beer fest, too?” she asked and leaned forward on the table. Had he finally caught her attention?

“It is. Sort of. My buddy and I own a bar and brewery. The plan is to hold a three-day music festival, bring in a bunch of different hometown vibes along with their food specialties and pair them with a brew from our catalog. The music part draws them in, and it’s not just loud, live shit all day long. I want all kinds of bands and performers. We plan on having stages in different parts of the city, different , arks and venues.”

“Sounds ambitious,” Y/N said, then began to wrap up her sandwich. “I love these, but I swear I could make at least two meals from it.” She finished up her lemonade and wiped her mouth with the napkin.

“So, just change the subject then?” he asked, still hoping she would help bring on the Midway.

“Look, Leo has the juice to get Miguel and Javier to say yes. I’m not the person to help you with this one.”

“But I think there is a way you could help,” Jensen offered, sitting up and also wrapping up his sandwich. “You gonna eat those?” he asked, pointing at the few remaining potato wedges.

“No, go for it, champ,” she snarked and rested her elbows on the table. “How do you think I could be helpful? Because I’ve already taken you on the tour. That’s the about the extent of my helping hands.”

“I don’t know, exactly...” he started, then paused and considered for a moment what should next come out of his mouth. Should he straight up confess that he dreamt about her and felt pulled towards her? Does he tell her that since the moment they met, he felt like she was destined to come into his life?

No, you idiot, you say nothing of the sort, he chastised himself, then thought of the most ambiguous thing to follow up what he had started.

“...just a feeling, I guess.”

To this, she audibly scoffed. “Ok, Mr. Ackles--”

“Oh God, please no… Jensen, or Jay. Never Mr. Ackles.”

“Whatever you want. Point is, that’s a load of crap and you know it. You want my help because you feel like maybe we bonded today. That I can get you extras, or things you were afraid to broach with Leo. Use me to get--”

Jensen sat up tall in his seat and waved her off, concerned about the impression she was getting. “Absolutely not, Y/N. That never even crossed my mind. I’m thrilled with the deal that was struck with Leo. I’m being serious when I say that just from what you have showed me and told me about today, I’ve got a million more ideas of things that could work for this festival. Your ideas and your way of storytelling, it’s not so easy to find.”

She started to speak, but he didn’t want to give her the chance.

“Let’s not forget, I saw you sing last night. I don’t care that it was some Kansas and Petty covers, you sang your ass off and played even harder. You have something special, and I want to bring that to this event.”

There was a moment where he thought she may have a real emotional reaction, but instead, she just smiled, pursed her lips together and nodded. “Thanks. Sorry, it was a short set, but I was late for rehearsals.”

“Rehearsals? Do tell.” He leaned forward and smirked. “I’m intrigued.”

“Not in this life, buddy,” she mused and stood from the table. “Come on, I’ll walk you back to the hotel. My car is there anyway.”

“Come on,” he whined as he gathered up his leftovers then stood from the table. “What rehearsals? I’m just curious about you. If that puts you off or makes you uncomfortable, I’m sorry. I just enjoy getting to know people, especially you.”

She had started to walk away, but then froze in place and sighed. Slowly, she turned back to face Jensen and he could see that she was fighting off something… a sarcastic comment… the urge to run… who knows. But when she did finally speak, he couldn’t have been more surprised.

“Burlesque,” she said, slightly defeated.

“Say what now?” he asked quickly, making it sound like all one word as he desperately tried not to break out in a giant grin.

Y/N sighed with a little chuckle. She fully faced him and committed to answering his question. “I work with a local burlesque group.”

Jensen felt his breath catch in his chest. He couldn’t help but immediately picture her in a costume and dancing some New Orlean’s style burlesque dance and making him regret the decision to swear off women for a while. “W--Wow! I’m genuinely surprised. You dance burlesque?”

“No. Noooo,” she laughed, and not sarcastically either. It was the laugh he wanted to hear earlier that day, the one that had made him so curious about her.

“I don’t dance. Not even a little. You ever see Seinfeld?”

“Yeah,” he replied hesitantly.

“I am Elaine.”

Jensen laughed heartily and the image of Y/N dancing like a spaz in a burlesque costume made him feel a range of emotions, from pure hilarity to being a little more than aroused.

“The group needed a fill in music director,” she continued with a shrug, ignoring his elation, “so I promised to help out until they found someone new. That was two years ago.”

“I think that’s pretty damn cool,” he mused. “When’s the show? I’d love to check it out.”

“Not until Tuesday night. It's nothing big, really. We do it at one of the clubs in town. Business is slow, it draws a larger than average crowd for this time of year, so…” she shrugged, as if what they were pulling off was no big deal.

“Sounds like a big deal to me. I wish I wasn’t leaving tomorrow night. I’d love to get in and see it happen. Maybe…” he stopped and waved her off. “Nevermind. I’ve taken up enough of your time today.”

He started walking in the direction of the hotel and stopped when he realized Y/N was still in the same place. “Coming?”

“You want to come to the rehearsal tonight, don’t you?” she mumbled more to herself than to him.

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t turn down the invitation. But I know you went out of your way for me today. As much as I would love to come--”

“Oh, Jeeeesus…” she moaned and rolled her head back then let it hang for a moment before picking it up and staring at him. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a pain in the ass?”

“Yes. Often.”

Y/N reached into her back pocket and went over to the backside of the Midway Steakhouse. “Miguel, you got a pen?”

He did, and tossed it just right allowing her to catch it perfectly. She quickly wrote something on the back of a card and then tossed it back. “Gracias!”

She held the card out to Jensen. “Seven o’clock. Address is on the back. Come around to the rear of the building and be warned, we lock the doors at 7:05. Oh, and I guess I should warn you, most of them will know who you are and probably bum rush you for the usual autographs and shit.”

“That’s not a problem,” he replied, still sort of shocked that she was not only giving him permission to go, but her personal cell number, too.

“Ok, good. Look, I do have a few things I have to do first and I don’t need you tagging along. So, show up there at seven if you really want to watch the dress rehearsal. If you don’t no hard feelings. Despite how this day started, it didn’t end half bad and maybe you’re not as quite annoying as I assumed you would be.”

Y/N smiled, a slight lilt of surprise tugging at the corners of her mouth. Her expression wasn’t so hard and steely when she let her eyes connect with his. He liked her like this—softer and more of who she probably wanted to be, instead of who she had to be.

“Well, holy shit. Did I actually get you to crack a genuine smile?”

“I’m starting to regret this,” she warned, but he saw the teasing glint in her eye.

“Alright, alright. Run your errands. I’m going to go tuck this amazing sandwich in the hotel room fridge for later. I will be at the back door, no later than seven. Scouts honor.”

They both started to meander down the boardwalk in the same direction.

“It doesn’t count if you weren’t a Scout. So, were you a boy scout?” she asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

“No. But I played one on TV,” he joked, his jaw slacked open and his hands splayed wide animating his joke.

“Oh for fucks sake,” she laughed. “How long have you been wanting to use that joke, dad?”

Jensen’s face went deadpan serious. “Years.”

Y/N didn’t buy his expression for a moment and threw her head back in laughter. “You’re a shitty actor, you know that?”

When she winked at him it was more than a simple gesture to show him she was joking; it was when he knew he was more than a little smitten.

Seven on the dot, Jensen parked his rental car in the nearly empty parking lot of the address Y/N gave him. He could hear music booming from somewhere inside, and got a rush of adrenaline that made him nearly jog to the rear entrance of the Bamboo Bar. As he rounded the corner, there was a small group of people talking and smoking which ceased the moment they saw him.

“Well, hello there sugar. You lost?” a very tall, broad-shouldered woman with heavy makeup and too-tight corset asked as she breathed smoke into the atmosphere.

“I hope not,” Jensen chuckled. “I’m supposed to meet a friend here by seven.”

“Are ya now? And just what friend is this?” she scoffed and continued to smoke her cigarette.

“Y/N... “ he pulled out her business card from his back pocket and handed it to her. “Y/N L/N. She invited me to watch the dress rehearsal since I wouldn’t be around for the live show.”

“Ohhh, you mean Trixie Luna,” she chuckled and handed him back the card. “One sec, sugar.”

“Trixie Luna?” he repeated to himself and tried not to snicker. The more he learned about Y/N the more he liked her.

While the woman who made Jared look short, leaned into the entry and bellowed for Trixie Luna, Jensen looked back to the small circle of friends and offered a smile. They were all staring at him curiously, until finally, it happened--as it usually did--and one of them recognized him.

“Ooohh shit! I know you!! Dude, you’re from that show! The one about the brothers and the badass car, right?” the guy exclaimed, his face a swirl of excitement and disbelief.

Jensen chuckled and nodded. He held out his hand towards the guy in greeting, who took it and shook heartily. “That’s me. Jensen Ackles… nice to meet you.”

“Jensen, yeah, that’s it! I’m Ricky, this is Gwin and Sara, and that tall drink of water there is Mama Mia. What the hell brings you to our shit town?”

“Oh man, seriously?! This town is fantastic!” Jensen replied. “I’ve been here two days and I don’t wanna leave.”

“Dude, you travel the world and you like it… HERE? You sure you didn’t drink the sea water and get all loopy?”

“I’m sure, brother. I just think its an awesome town--”

“Yeah, so awesome that he’s dragging half of it back to Texas with him,” Y/N said, hints of playful sarcasm coating her tone as she leaned against the entryway. “So, you made it? I’m sort of surprised.”

“Not as surprised as I am, Trixie,” Jensen replied, and this time it was his turn to raise a questioning brow at her. He could see the slight embarrassment in her expression, but she wouldn’t let him have that satisfaction in front of her people.

“You found out my secret. Trixie Luna is my alias for all the shenanigans I like to do in the cover of night. Come on, Hollywood, let’s get you settled in as rehearsal really should be starting.”

The rest of the group snuffed out their cigarettes and quickly hustled inside as Jensen watched on, completely amused and downright ecstatic he was going to witness whatever was about to go down. He followed in line behind them and once inside looked around the large venue before being lead to a seat by Y/N.

“You stay put. I have to go put on the wardrobe while they warm up.”

“Yes ma’am,” he replied, giving her a mock salute. She rolled her eyes, as she normally did at him, and disappeared behind the stage.

It was only another minute or two before the house lights went dark and the stage was lit with a variety of colorful lights, and one simple spotlight shining on the tropical print curtain. As it pulled open, there was an elaborate, but clearly homemade set, that flowed from floor to ceiling. It was done up in bright colors and had a small spiral staircase on either side of the center backdrop which was painted to look like an old balcony reminiscent of the ones you’d find on the streets of Amsterdam.

The music kicked in and Ricky came out, dressed like a ringmaster to a circus, but now donning a sleek handlebar mustache. His song kicked off the show, soon turning into an ensemble number that left Jensen laughing and completely enthralled in the performance happening before him.

A couple of songs in, Mama Mia sauntered over to the table and sat precariously close to him. She leaned forward so her chin rested on her hand, as her elbow butted up against his at the table.

“So sugar,” she said just loud enough for himt to hear, “whatcha think of the show so far?”

“Its fucking great!” his genuinely big grin satisfied her and she relaxed before sitting back in her chair.

“Isn’t it? I swear, since Trixie took over, every new performance has been nothing short of amazing.”

“She directs the whole thing?”

Mama Mia nodded. “She does. Gathers the music, helps to put the little acts together, has total creative direction over the sets, scenery and costumes. The only thing she doesn’t do is choreograph the dances.”

“She mentioned not being a great dancer,” he chuckled.

“Oh, sugar, that’s the understatement of the year,” she laughed a throaty laugh and raised her one hand to the sky. “I love that girl somethin’ fierce, but I swear, she should never be allowed to dance. Ever.”

They had a good laugh over it and then turned their eyes back to the stage. Knowing how much input Y/N had on the show, left Jensen even more impressed than he already was. This woman was a gold mine of creativity and direction; someone he could absolutely use in his life. Just as the song ended, Jensen stood and gave a boisterous round of applause.

“Oh, it ain’t over. Trixie Luna herself still has two numbers to do,” she winked and wiggled her painted on eyebrows. “You must be someone special, she rarely gets up on that stage unless she’s standing over there in front of the band. And getting her in one of these damn corsets? Nearly impossible.”

“She’s gonna sing… in a corset?” Jensen’s breath caught in his chest. A flutter of excitement grew in his gut and rose, finally forcing the air out in a nervous chuckle. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he mumbled to himself.

The curtains closed and Jensen could hear the flurry of activity happening to change the set behind the curtain. When it opened up again a minute or two later, the main set was the same, but a lot of the extra stage dressing had changed. It was transformed into a cafe/shop. A handful of the cast were already on stage, acting like patrons enjoying coffee or browsing through the wares. The music kicked in and when the first few lyrics blared through the speakers, he instantly recognized Y/N’s voice. It brought ripples of goosebumps to his arms and his legs making him happy that they were covered and no one would notice.

“If you dig under my feet You will find things that you don’t want to see Things that I hide way down inside A menagerie of the tragedy that I’ve caused and all of my flaws And my demons oh if you’d seen What would you do… if you only knew…”

She slowly glided down the small spiral case to the left of the stage dressed in a 20’s style flapper dress that came to rest on her upper thigh. It was crimson red, and had a plunging neckline that left little to the imagination. The thousands of beads that were sown into the fabric caught the lights of the stage, making her glitter in grand fashion.

Once she reached the main floor and kicked into the chorus, Y/N moved across the stage, pretending to do terrible things to the people as she went along the way. She pulled up one girl’s skirt, on another she went up and grabbed her chest, all done in a playful, fun routine that Jensen was getting lost in. As Y/N sang on, he was less hearing the words, more watching her expressions as she sang each line, performed each terrible act.

The fact that she was the only one who wasn’t in full makeup, wasn’t lost on him either. The heavy makeup look of the burlesque troupe added to the show, but on her, the natural beauty and talent that radiated from her was all she needed.

When the number drew to a close, the entire troupe, was dancing around her, as she both sang and acted out the rest of her song. On the last note, he was on his feet, clapping and whistling, and grinning like an idiot.

“Still ain’t over, sugar,” Mama Mia chastised in a raspy whisper, and tugged on the hem of his shirt. “There’s one more for her with this bit, THEN you can ooze yourself all over her.”

Ignoring her, Jensen sat back down and watched as the act continued. A quick improvd bit between Y/N and Ricky went down, as his alter ego, Burt Trombone, stalked and gawked at Trixie Luna. The lighting switched and piano wheeled out from the side of the stage. A new piece of stage slowly dropped from the rafters above, dividing the set making it appear as if Trixie was in her own room now.

The piano kicked in and as she began to sing this new song... 

Do you ever wonder if I'm dreaming of you In the night at my window by the light of the moon? If you ever wonder if I'm dreaming of you Well, I'm not, so you can stop wondering...

She slowly stripped out of her flapper dress, to reveal a very tight, black corset with lace leg garters that attached to thigh high sheer black pantyhose.

I've got better things to do Than sit around thinking all about you And hanging on to every little word that you said I've got plenty to keep me busy Without you running round in my head

The way she swung her hips swung and the way her arms dramatically flipped up her hair and ran down the length of her sides, was leaving him uncomfortably aroused in the middle of the nearly deserted club. By the time it was over, she’d left him speechless and so bewitched, wishing somehow he could go back and see it all again immediately.

Rehearsal ended about an hour later at which time the rest of the burlesque group flocked to Jensen, throwing questions at him, taking pictures and getting autographs. Y/N had changed back into her Ozzy shirt and jeans, and sat on the edge of the stage, slowly kicking her dangling legs back and forth. She looked on as her friends swarmed Jensen and when he looked up, noticed her watching, he thought she looked amused.

The bar finally cleared out leaving just Y/N, Mama Mia and Jensen behind. Y/N and Mama Mia started to clean up, and Jensen jumped right in to help.

“You don’t have to do that,” Y/N said as she swept the stage.

“I don’t mind, happy to help,” he said enthusiastically, before lifting the two bags of garbage and hauling them out towards the dumpster. He didn’t miss the little nudge and wink Mama Mia gave Y/N as he did so, making himself stifle the grin that wanted to emerge.

When Jensen came back in, Mama Mia had her coat on and was picking up her keys off the table. She hugged Y/N, whispered something to her, then sauntered over to Jensen and gingerly pinched his cheek.

“Sugar, you best come back here sometime and see me. Your laugh and applause is music to my ears,” she winked and seemed delighted that she made him blush. With that, she was out the door leaving him alone with Y/N.

“That was quite a show,” he said approaching her timidly.

She looked tired, but still radiant, and when she smiled up at him, his knees went a little weak. “It was a good rehearsal. I think you being here really lit a fire under them.”

“Your songs were the best part.”

Y/N rolled her eyes subtly and shook her head, gestures that seemed to be her go-to where he was concerned. “Stop sucking up to me, Hollywood. You’ll get your damn Midway Steak house at the carnival, okay?”

Jensen’s laughed echoed through the empty club. “I’d already forgotten all about that!” he exclaimed throwing his arms up in the air. “I swear!”

“Yup. Sure you did,” she teased and swept up the last of the remaining confetti. She looked at her watched and closed her eyes. “I can’t believe how late it is. Would you mind terribly giving me a ride home? It was nice earlier when I walked here, but I’m too tired to walk home now.”

“Of course. I’d be happy too.”

The flutter of exhilaration filled him, but again, he did his best to keep it under control. However, by the time they were actually in his car heading through the deserted streets of Seaside and up to the bungalows just outside of town, he could feel himself becoming more affected by her just sitting next to him in the front seat.

Y/N directed him to make a right on a dirt side road, and go until he couldn’t drive anymore. When he reached the end of the road, he parked the car and killed the ignition. They were at the place where the dirt ended and the sand dunes began. She got out of the car and didn’t seem at all surprised when Jensen followed suit. Not that he expected her to invite him in, but solely so he could take in the scenery before him.

It was well past midnight, and the moon had risen high enough over the ocean, that the breaking waves not more than a hundred feet away caught the reflection of its light on their crests. Seagulls could be heard cawing from down the beach, probably stalking the poor bar-backs taking out garbage from the few restaurants closing up for the night. Under their cries was the soft rumble of waves lapping at the jetties further up the beach. Above them, the sky was clear and dark, allowing the stars to twinkle in white brilliance. Jensen was transfixed and didn’t notice Y/N standing at his side until she spoke.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Huh? Yeah… its breathtaking,” he mused, his lips somewhat agape in awe, the little crinkles forming around the corners of his eyes.

She smiled softly and cast her eyes to the ground. “Feel like a little walk before you head back?”

He looked at her, taken back by her offer. All day he’d been the one to ask questions and try to get to know her, and now she was finally taking small steps towards him in return.

“Absolutely! But, are you sure though? I mean… I don’t--”

“Jesus Christ, Jensen. Shut the fuck up and talk a walk with me,” she chastised and looped her elbow through his, forcing him to start up the ramp through the dunes.

When they got to the beach proper, she kicked off her shoes and encouraged him to do the same before rolling up the cuffs of her jeans. She didn’t link with his elbow again, but she stayed close as they navigated their way down the beach closer to the water’s edge. It wasn’t as cold as he thought it could be, but a slight shiver ran up Jensen’s spine regardless as the suds ran over his toes.

After they were walking for a while, the breeze kicked up and Jensen could swear he caught the hint of music.

“Do you hear that?” he asked, pausing to look around.

Y/N chuckled, “I do. Up there--” she pointed to the houses that lined the beachfront. There was one, lone house lit up. The sliding glass doors were open, and yet there was no one moving around in the house. “That’s the Sinatra house. The people that live there leave their windows open on nice evenings and play Frank. There used to be a boardwalk that ran the length of the dunes, and people would walk down here just to sit on the benches, hear the music and watch the ocean. Superstorm Sandy ripped it apart a few years back, along with the house. But over the last few years, the community has helped to rebuild it. So now, every Friday and Saturday night, even in the off season, they will open the doors and play us some Frankie.”

Jensen listened to the story in awe, and found how tender her features had gone at the recollection to be endearing. He thought he understood how special this place was before, but after spending the day with her, and having this experience, it went much deeper than he could have dreamed. There was something about that kind of love and passion that he desperately needed in his life, and with that, his need to have Y/N around more was growing in leaps and bounds.

“You know,” he started, “that show you put on there tonight, was pretty spectacular.”

“That’s all them. They’re a seriously talented group.”

He debated on what came next. Jensen knew that if he pushed her too far, she’d probably retreat back to the more hardened woman he’d met earlier in the day. Yet, he wanted to be real with her, not give her some strangely compliant version of himself. That felt fake, and a girl like this could smell the stench of lies a mile away.

“Sorry, sweetheart, I gotta call bullshit there,” he said with a unapologetic shrug. “I know that was all you. Well, except for the choreography.”

She threw him some daggers along with her glance from the corner of her eye, but couldn’t resist a smirk, either.

“Mama Mia sold you out, by the way,” he continued. “She told me it was all you. Acting, music, sets, costumes… which by the way, you looked HOT in that dress, and what, uh, was underneath it.”

She ignored his last comment. “First off, Mama Mia exaggerates. I suggested set designs and they went with it. The music, yes, I am technically the music person. Costumes…” she gave a shrug and trailed off, leaving him to think that was also very much her choices as well but taking credit for it would move to prove him right. “Second of all, what does it matter what input I have? They’re the ones killing it on stage. Did you see those fucking heels the girls were wearing? That’s dedication.”

“Do you do that a lot?” he asked.

“What?”

“Deny how good you are... At singing, at… everything?”

She rolled her eyes again and he felt himself growing irritated now.

“I’m serious, Y/N.”

“Ok, you’re serious,” she said, sort of mocking his voice. “No, I don’t always do that. I know I can sing and play music. But that’s when it’s just me up there. I wasn’t solely responsible for that show, so I won’t take it.”

“I get that. I do… probably more than you know. That being said, you should take some credit, because you directed the hell out of it.”

“I’m not a director, Jensen.”

Now it was his turn to roll his eyes. “Director is in your fucking title for the show... Music DIRECTOR! You know, I admire you, a lot. I have since seeing you sing last night. Spending the day with you just reaffirmed everything my gut told me the second you stepped on that stage. You’re so damn talented. Your creative vision is amazing and your ability to execute it… God damn, it’s incredible. But you have to be the most insufferable, stubborn woman I’ve ever met!”

Y/N found his exasperation slightly amusing, leaving him feeling further annoyed by her. Yet, it wasn’t enough to dampen his feelings for her. In fact, he wasn’t exactly thrilled at the affection he had for guitar girl growing. Feelings were messy and he’d had enough of that lately.

“That’s funny?”

“Very,” she replied.

The way she looked at him sometimes, so challenging—almost like she was issuing him a dare—was driving him crazy. He calmed the flustered arousal she caused and considered his next move. Deciding to throw caution to the wind, Jensen finally asked her what he’d been wanting too almost all day.

“Here’s something that isn’t funny…. I want you to come to work with me. I know I mentioned it earlier, and while I wasn’t a hundred percent serious, I am now. I want--no--NEED your vision. Not just for this area’s part of the festival, but the whole fucking shebang. Move to Austin and help me plan this thing.”

She stopped walking and just stared at him. Her face read genuine shock. “Do you know how crazy that sounds? I’ve known you for a total of twelve hours.”

“So? What does that matter?”

“It just seems sudden. You don’t know me. How do you know I’m trustworthy or qualified? I could be a crazy psycho--”

“Are you?” he laughed, as the crinkles around his eyes took shape.

“No… but…” she shrugged, trailing off unsure of what else to say. “I’m not an event planner. You know that right? It’s important to me that you know that.”

“Yeah, I know.” Jensen turned and kept walking further down the beach, kicking sand with his bare feet as he went, and still able to hear Frankie singing in the breeze.

After a few steps, he turned back to face her, still slowly moving backward and had shoved his hands down into his pockets. “Look. I get that it's sudden, and yeah, a little strange that I am asking you to uproot your life for a year to help me, a stranger, plan an event in a city more than a thousand miles away from your home. It's not lost on me how off the wall that is. But…”

He trailed off and shrugged his shoulders. He watched her expression change half a dozen times in the few moments he stayed silent. Jensen tried to find the best approach to convince her to say yes, but it wasn’t easy. Y/N was a tough sell, she wasn’t like the typical women he met, either on set or off. She was stubborn and unwavering in her resistance to his charms. Not that he was trying to capture her attention romantically despite the feelings that were growing, but he did want her to come work with him.

“Name your price,” he challenged..

“Desperate much?” she scoffed. “What makes you think money will do the trick? I may work three jobs, hustle pool on the side and play any gig that comes my way, but, buddy… money is not my kryptonite. You keep your cash.”

“Fair enough. What if I told you that you would be helping kids in and around Austin get a Creative Arts program kicked off in the city?”

She froze again. Jensen took a moment to notice how the nearly full moon caressed the lines of her face as she stood motionless, her mind racing in thought. “Wait… that wasn’t in the paperwork. What program are you talking about?”

“It was, actually. Not sure exactly where, but with so many area businesses pitching in, and people coming in from all over the country, we thought the residual funding could be used to purchase a building and renovate it. Then giving it to a Board of Trustees that will be entrusted to run the Austin City Creative Arts Council.”

“Wow,” she mused, clearly impressed. “That sounds amazing. As a high school theater geek, I thank you for that. But, that doesn’t mean I need to move halfway across the country for a year to help you plan it.”

“Maybe, but it would be a hell of a lot of fun,” he smiled and nodded in a way that made him look like a kid himself.

“You don’t take no for an answer, do you?”

“Not usually. Especially when I think it's important.”

“Me working for you on this, that’s important?” she paused in consideration. “Ok, I’ll bite. Make me an offer. What does this job entail?”

Jensen had a moment of hope and couldn’t hide the smile that flashed across his face. “Alright…” he began to contemplate everything he would happily do to get her to say yes. “I’ll get you a place to live with a year lease. Plus a car to get around. Salary is negotiable. I’ll pay for your move and whatever else you need to come out to Austin. Flights back home once a month if you want. What else?”

“What would be my role, exactly?”

“Creative Director? I mean, whatever you want your title to be, you got it. I want you to help me with making it fun, and unique. Definitely help me with music—help me find it, plan it, convince other artists to come out and play. We do these conventions, all over the country and I can’t tell you how many people come up after the Saturday Night Specials and tell us about their own band, or music. I want those artists to come out and play, too.”

“They’re already coming to you, how would my presence help at all?”

Jensen just starred, half flabbergasted half amused, at the resistance she was giving him. “You know, most people would jump at this chance.”

“I’m not most people, Jensen.”

“Clearly. I guess that’s why I am asking you and not anyone else.”

That seemed to grab her attention and as they continued to walk further down the beach, she grew quiet and all he could hope was that she was honestly contemplating his offer.

“Alright,” she said, but stopped walking. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll consider it on one condition... “

“Name it. Anything.”

“You may be sorry you said that.”

“Trust me, I can see the value you of having you around as this thing gets worked out. I am willing to do anything--short of murder and armed robbery--to make this happen.”

“Ok…” she said and grinned in a way that made him, only for a moment, regret the anything part of his statement. “I want you to strip to your underwear, jump into the surf and sing the first verse to Joy to the World.”

Jensen’s face stuttered through a range of emotions as the lines of his forehead pinched together in confusion. “I’m--wait, what?”

“You heard me,” she said and crossed her arms over her chest. “Strip, plunge, sing. Do that, and I’ll come work for you.”

“Jeremiah the bullfrog song?!” he asked again, curious as to why she would pick that song. But then he saw the challenging gleam in her eyes again, and it was all he needed. Holding her stare intensely, he discarded his shirt and jeans, leaving him only in a pair of dark blue boxers. She raised one brow as he silently questioned her directions with his own expression.

“Chicken?”

“Not even a little,” he said and turned to face the ocean.

Before she could say anything else, Jensen tore across the sand and dove head first into the chilly, October surf. The moment he popped up from the water, he threw his hands up in the air and began to dramatically sing the song she requested. The chill of the water gave him a much needed adrenaline rush and as he continued singing, he got more and more animated about it. He could hear her laughing and the sound of it was all he needed to keep going.

Rounding to the last repeat of the chorus, Jensen finally started making his way out and the closer he got, he realized she had recorded him on her phone.

“Did you video that?” he asked, half freaked, half pissed.

“I did,” she chuckled and played it back, showing him the screen.

Jensen gathered up his clothes and started putting them back on. “What the fuck for?”

“It’s about trust, Jensen. I’ve been burned by a lot of people. Family, friends, lovers, business associates… I’ve learned that trust isn’t just something to hand out like business cards. I want to trust you, because I think you’re a good person. But I need to really believe it. So… if you want me to trust you enough to give up my steady work and life here, to move halfway across the country for a job that will be done in a year. You need to trust me that I won’t post that video online.”

“Sounds more like blackmail to me,” he teased and pulled his shirt back over his head, beginning to shiver from the water.

“Maybe it is a little, but part of trust is believing that I am a good person, too. I wouldn’t just release that to the public if you screw me over. That’s the difference between it being blackmail or not.”

Jensen snorted a laugh and realized that Y/N wasn’t like other girls at all. He knew she was different, definitely special, but she was also very self protective and self reliant. She had a way of thinking around things that he found fascinating. If she were to give up her life in Seaside, and move to Austin for him, it was a huge deal and not just something she would do on a whim.

“I actually get that,” he mused. “So, does that mean you’re taking the job?”

“Looks that way,” she said and stuck out her hand to his to shake. “You set me up there, pay for the move and promise a one-year contract and we got a deal.”

“Deal,” he said and took her head in agreement.

The moment his fingers wrapped around her petite hand, he realized that this woman—this incredible force of nature that blew into his life like the infamous Superstorm Sandy—would leave him in a wake of wreckage. The question was, would it turn up unexpected treasure or just a mess he would eventually have to clean up. Either way, he didn’t care. Y/N said yes and that’s all that mattered to him.

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[robertjacobsugdens]

30, robron

tourist/knowledgeable local au

thank you, Anon! I hope you enjoy it!

Aaron’s lived in Rome his whole life. A life lived at the edges of thebar his family owns, tucked away in a corner of Garbatella, in the vicoli of Testaccio and Trastevere,between the sunny ruins of the Colosseoand the Fori Imperiali. Between theancient and the destitute.

A city almost three thousand years old and sometimes even just breathingin it feels like sinking in a quicksand of limestone and smog.

He should leave.

-

Aaron’s in Piazza di Spagnawhen it happens. Between wearing all black despite the fact that it’s aboutseven thousand degrees, the fact that he’s very late meeting his friends, andthe throng of tourists everywhere, he’s not in the best of moods.

That’s why when a man stops him, he’s very tempted to ignore him andkeep walking.

Then he looks at him. The man’s British, with an accent Aaron can’tquite place, with blond hair and green eyes. He’s not Aaron’s type, not really,but there’s something about him that makes Aaron stop in his tracks.

“What?” Aaron asks, maybe a little bit more forcefully than strictlynecessary. The man doesn’t even blink.

“I said, do you know how to get to PiazzaVenezia?” He asks, apparently again, his accent mangling the Italian wordsbeyond almost all recognition.

Aaron nods. “Just get back to the main road there and go right. Can’tmiss it.”

“Are you sure?” The man asks again, a tinge of annoyance in his voice.He’s wearing jeans, a shirt with rolled up sleeves, and he’s carrying a suitjacket on his arm, none of the stuff tourists usually wear, which is probablyalso why he’s sweaty and irritated.

“No, I’ve lived here my whole life and don’t know where Piazza Veneziais.” Aaron deadpans, deliberately pronouncing Piazza Venezia in the correct way even though it throws off hisEnglish pronunciation.

“You’re the third person I asked and they’ve all given me differentdirections.” The man huffs out.

“You’ve either asked other tourists or idiots.” Aaron replies, takinghis phone out of his jeans. He fires off a quick text and brings his attentionback to the guy. “Come on, I’ll take you.”

“Really?” The man asks, a note of skepticism in his voice.

“Really.” Aaron replies. “Now it’s a matter of principle.”

“Okay, thanks -”

“Aaron.”

“I’m Robert.”

-

They walk towards Piazza Venezia, careful to stay on the side of theroad where there’s shade. Once back on Viadel Corso Aaron could have just pointed out at the Vittoriano in the distance, guiding every lost tourist back to Piazza Venezia, but well, as he said,it’s a matter of principle now.

“So, you live ‘round here?” Robert asks.

“Do I look like I rob banks for a living?”

Robert’s eyes dart to Aaron, quick at first, then slowly dragging overhis body. It shouldn’t send a little thrill down Aaron’s spine but it doesanyway.

“Honest opinion?” Robert asks, fake sincerity dripping from his voice.

Aaron rolls his eyes. “You know, I could just strand you in one of theselittle side-streets, you’d never find your way out.”

-

“There you go. The Vittoriano. Have fun.” Aaron says, assoon as they’re just outside the gates.

“I’m not going in.” Robert replies, bringing a hand to shield his eyesfrom the sun and he looks up at the marble monument.

“Then why are we here?” Aaron asks.

Robert shrugs. “I was here on a business trip, but I ended up finishingearly. I’m leaving tomorrow morning and I’ve already seen the Colosseum and theSpanish steps, this seemed like the next logical step.”

“No, it’s not.” Aaron says.

“Okay then, what now, Italian Yoda?” Robert asks.

Aaron snorts. “Offer me lunch and find out.”

Robert laughs. “There’s a restaurant on the other side of the road, wecould go there.”

“Nah, we’re not eating over-priced garbage, follow me.” Aaron replies, turningback and walking in the opposite direction.

-

“Really?” Robert asks, eyeing the little pizzeria al taglio in LargoArgentina like it’s personally offending him. For all Aaron knows maybe itis. It’s still definitely over-priced by Aaron’s standards, but at least it’sgood food.

“Really.” He replies, walking in.

He orders a little bit of everything, the woman behind the counterputting all the pizza slices on a paper tray while he grabs two sodas from thefridge. He lets Robert pay for it.

They sit down on one of the marble benches right there on Largo Argentina, their lunch betweenthem. They’re facing the ruins and Robert looks enthralled by them.

“Roman history buff?” Aaron asks before sinking his teeth into a sliceof pizza margherita.

“Something like that.” Robert replies. “Why are there so many catshere?”

“Cat colony.” Aaron replies, nodding towards the ruins and looking at acat stretching lazily to the tourists’ many ‘oooh’s and ‘awww’s.

“Not a cat fan?” Robert asks.

“They’re alright. More of a dog lover, me.” Aaron replies, shrugging.

-

“I just hid him in my room for a week.” Aaron says, between bouts oflaughter.

“And your family didn’t notice?” Robert asks.

“They just thought I was sneaking my boyfriend in.” Aaron replies.

“Please tell me you have pictures.” Robert says.

“Of the dog or of the boyfriends?”

“Both.” Robert replied.

“And you? Any pictures of dogs or girlfriends?” Aaron asks.

“No pictures of dogs, girlfriends, or boyfriends, sorry.” Robert says,flirts, really.

“Don’t be.” Aaron flirts back.

-

“What now?” Robert asks, getting up to dispose of their paper tray andempty soda cans.

“You’ll see.” Aaron replies, getting up and stalking towards Via Arenula.

-

“What?” Aaron asks, looking at Robert who’s looking at Aaron’s car butnot moving to climb in.

“Just considering whether I should get into a car in a foreign countrywith a near stranger.” Robert replies.

“Bit too late for that, mate.” Aaron says, getting in.

-

“So, what do you do here? Besides playing tour guide to British tourists.”Robert asks.

“Only some British tourists.”Aaron replies.

“Yes, I’m sure your services are very exclusive.” Robert says, withenough of a straight face that Aaron flips him off. “Tourist board material,you.”

“I’m a mechanic.” Aaron replies, making a very sharp left turn. Robertdoesn’t say anything, but he’s been gripping the car’s dashboard the entiretime.

“I work sales.”

“Boring.”

“Yes, because being a mechanic is right there in the ranking ofthrilling professions with international spy and professional footballer, Iforgot.” Robert snarks.

Aaron laughs.

-

“Here we are.” Aaron says, his hands in his jeans pockets for a lack ofa better placement.

They’re on top of the Gianicolonow, where there’s fewer tourists and more locals just enjoying the weather.

“What’s this?” Robert asks, getting closer to the railing. It’s a clearday, which means from there they can see most of the old Roman city center.Robert is looking out, eyes wide, taking it all in.

If Aaron were a more sentimental man, he’d sneak a picture, but he’snot, so he settles from committing Robert’s profile to memory.

“I figured with just a few hours in Rome left this would be the best wayto see as much as possible.” Aaron shrugs, feeling suddenly self-conscious in theslight breeze.

“Thank you. This is beautiful.” Robert replies.

They stand there for a while, looking out, arms brushing against eachother’s.

-

“So, what now?” Robert asks, climbing back inside the car.

They’ve spent the better part of two hours talking and eating ice cream.By this point Aaron would be ready to get rid of anyone, he could do it easilytoo. He could just remind Robert that he’s leaving tomorrow morning and heshould probably go pack or something.

He doesn’t.

“I’m telling you, I could probably stretch for dinner too.” Robertcontinues.

“I’ve got a better idea.”

-

“This isn’t what I had in mind.” Robert says, examining a tomato withway more wariness than it warrants.

“Not those ones.” Aaron says, grabbing a handful of cherry tomatoesinstead. “And trust me, this is better.”

They’re inside the supermarket and it’s weird.

Domestic.

Nice.

It’s freaking Aaron out a little bit, so he’s refusing to think aboutit.

“Didn’t take you for the cooking type.” Robert says, bumping into Aaron’sshoulder.

“I’m not.”

“Not keen on food poisoning, mate.” Robert replies, making a face.

Aaron still finds him attractive, fluorescent lights and all. It’s… notideal.

“I can cook pasta, Robert.”

-

Turns out, Aaron can’t cook pasta that well.

-

“It wasn’t that bad.” Robert says.

It’s weird, Robert being in his kitchen. It almost feels like a movie spilledinto his real life. There’s the wall where his and all his cousins’ heightshave been measured for years. And here’s this British man Aaron met a few hoursago. Over there, on the fridge, are the magnets he brought back from hisholiday in Greece, and over here are a pair of green eyes.

“You’re only saying that because you’ve never had proper Italian pastabefore.” Aaron replies.

“I’ll have you know I have been to Italy before. I went to Milan for abusiness trip a while ago.” Robert says.

“If you say Milan is better than Rome you can leave.”

“It’s a nice city!” Robert protests.

“Out.”

-

They migrate into Aaron’s room because it’s inevitable and because they’veboth been waiting for it.

It’s quiet now, the air shifting around them, Aaron’s life story leakingfrom the walls and shelves in the room.

The A.S. Roma poster still upfrom when they won the last championship, DVDs, CDs and magazines stackedhaphazardly on every available surface, pictures stuck to the walls with tapeand pins, friends, family, and exes frozen in time.

They all seem to be watching Robert, waiting with baited breath for himto judge them, but Robert isn’t looking at all.

His eyes are on Aaron.

Robert cradles Aaron’s face as they kiss, as they crash into each other,a flurry of hands and clothes and want.

They fall on the bed, half naked already, speaking two languages betweenthem, and then a new one altogether.

Aaron falls asleep tangled into Robert, lulled by the whirring of thefan and Robert’s hand into his hair.

-

It’s still dark out when Robert kisses him awake.

“I have to go.” Robert says, quietly.

“I’ll take you.” Aaron replies, happy Robert can’t see his face in thedark.

“You don’t have to, I’ll take a taxi.” Robert says.

“I’ll take you.” Aaron says again, getting up.

-

They’re outside the airport and it’s too early for it to be hot already,but Rome is giving it her best effort.

Aaron is wearing the shirt Robert had been wearing the day before, whileRobert is leaving with Aaron’s black t-shirt on. It was an accident due to themgetting dressed in the dark, but neither one of them has mentioned it yet.Aaron isn’t going to.

“You should visit.” Robert says, he’s still sitting into Aaron’s car,one of his hands is on Aaron’s.

“I don’t even know where you live.” Aaron replies.

“I saved my number in your phone earlier.” Robert says. He turns to lookat Aaron, and gently, quietly, leans in and kisses him. “Text me, I mean it.”

“I will.” Aaron replies.

“Promise.”

“I promise.”

-

Aaron watches Robert walk away.

[chrysaliseuro2018]

Lisbon by Day and Night

So day 1 really in Lisbon and George had organised a free walking tour. Alex had arrived very late the night before so we all said a hearty hello in the morning. Alex is a a Canadian Aussie living in London and you don't get much more cosmopolitan than that. It was so lovely to catch up again. Some breakfast in house and then a quick sorty to the start of the tour which was not far away. Our tour guide was Joao (hard J ie Jow though he said he responded to anything including Joe) who advised he was 24 and a student of linguistics. Fantastic English, curly hair with the beard. He looked like a gentle version of one of those old Portuguese seafarers. There were 19 in the tour group and Joao was pretty engaging. The first half of the tour was reasonably devoted to various hints eg the practicaIities of negotiating the public transport system and insights into good bars and cafes and indeed where to buy the best pastel de natas. We also saw the funicular and various other sights including the view across the city from the Santa Justa viewing platform which was pretty speccy. The "hero" of the tour was an American cousin aged around early 50s who proffered opinions , suggestions, comments, questions and general observations at every opportunity. This was much to Penny's amusement and I have to say added to the quirkiness of the tour (there's nothing better than an eccentric). Joao stoically responded blandly to a regular and obvious stream of comments eg. when Joao was discussing one of the early (and most cool) nightclubs in Lisbon that his parents had attended which actually turned people away if they didn't like the look of you (unheard of in the 70s in Lisbon) our mate said you mean just like studio 54 in New York. A bemused Joao indicated that a lot of places do that now but it didn't matter old chum pressed on with his point till he felt it was made ( ie Joao thanked him for his contribution probably secretly thinking could the earth open up and swallow this guy) much to our amusement. Anyway the tour progressed. Mixed reviews. Joao I felt was probably catering for a youngish audience though split his tour in two with the second half devoted to a bit more history of Lisbon and Portugal. We did hear about King John (Joao - apparently every 2nd bloke is called Joao here) the 1st of Portugal (the illegitimate son of the previous King) who in the 14th century had basically saved the country's independence from Spain in a battle. Apparently he got rid of a number of his half- relatives to ensure his early access to the throne including his half sister. This was met with some voluble anguish by our American friend who was hoping for a happier ending. Also we heard of poet Luiz Vaz de Camoes, Portugal’s national poet, who died in 1580 and wrote Os Luciadas - Portugal's national epic poem about that country's achievements in the 16th century. Their national day is in his honour. This cove also had some legendary stories about being shipwrecked and swimming with one arm to the shore while the other held the draft manuscript of the poem above the waves. This was embellished by Joao (and via legend) with the possibility that Camoes also had his sweetheart on the boat but chose to save his manuscript instead. Also that he was reciting a new poem in his head and thought it was so good that he let the manuscript go as he preferred the new version he was reciting as he swam. Whatever the truth it was a good yarn and he was obviously quite a character in real life. Perhaps the most intriguing story was around the fall of fascism and the dictatorship in Portugal which finally happened in 1974. It also signalled the end of their colonial status. Joao had obviously heard a lot from his parents about life at that time and clearly read a lot which he relayed. Portugal had chosen to go its own way. It was neutral during the second world war and subsequently aligned itself with neither super power having no time for communists and no time for democracy. The dictatorship was still waging war in places like Angola to retain its colonies but more importantly the various mineral revenues originating there that supported it. Being not a particularly rich country its army was ill equipped to fight these wars and so the airforce was relied on to bolster it. This all changed when the Russians provide the Angolans with missiles which quickly accounted for the Portuguese airforce - end of the war. We probably got the simplistic version but it was pretty riveting. Just as riveting was how the dictatorship lost power domestically in 1974, basically overthrown by a small number of army dissidents who were quickly supported by elements of the navy and particularly civilians who quickly took to the streets as things changed. We were taken to the square where much of the action happened and it was virtually a bloodless coup. So these stories lifted the tour and we saw some interesting sights along the way though Lisbon ain't Prague. We generally liked the tour though voted our guide in Barcelona ahead of Joao simply because he gave us better insights over 2000 years+ of the history of the city. Joao was a bit narrower in focus timewise though entertaining enough. Amusingly at the end who should be providing him with a critique of his performance but American chum. I reckon Joao would have liked to reverse the critique but he took it in good spirit. At the end of the tour we quickly found ourselves in the neighbourhood of Alfama where lunch of sardines or octopus salad (the latter for Liz and Penny - gritty apparently) + beers ensued. Amusingly the table was at an angle of 20 degrees so Penny's head on the lower side was much lower than George's on the other side of the table. Vertigo inducing though the beers helped. It was the usual jolly lunch with everyone in good form and plenty of debriefing about our American tour mate. Waiter was a bit grumpy (wrong job) but all this stuff adds to the colour. All good and then Liz and I headed off to explore Alfama further and everyone else to wherever they chose. We basically walked around Alfama and other areas on the way home taking it all in. We had booked dinner for 7.00 (only time available otherwise we would have stuck to our preferred Spanish eating time of 8.00pm+) at the place we could not get into the previous night - the Cantinho do Avillez so that was the next commitment for that day. We all rolled up at home in the late afternoon Liz and I snoozed, the team had a few beers but by 7.00 we were at the Cantinho. Food was superb and we knew why it was so highly rated. Funky joint, friendly staff even had a stout beer. We ate amongst other things - exploding olives (soft and an immediate explosion of flavour in your mouth), octopus, tuna, pigs trotters, various tapas offerings together with great red wine. No wonder it got booked out. Despite the insistence on an early start by the restaurant there was no pressure to leave and so we trundled out around 9.00ish (can't remember). More drinks were required and we were recommended a venue by the waitress but opted for a wine bar suggested by our friend Caitlyn Box who lives in London "Jose Maria da Fonseca". Tables were scarce to come by though we secured a big barrel for us all to lean on and place drinks on just outside in the lane way which did the trick. We hoed into the red wine kindly donated by Alex and a jolly fun time was had by all. When we were finally offered an inside table we declined as we were so happy with our external spot on a mild evening. After an hour or so ( can't remember) Liz and I headed off and left the " kids" to play. They went to the place suggested by the waitress at the restaurant which turned out to be a bit dodgy and in a dodgy part of town strip clubs etc) so they ended up at the the local bar suggested for us by Joao on the tour. Turned out it was really laid back a bit like a house party rather than a bar. He said it was alternative. That tour is starting to look more valuable. George was home first around 1.00 as I had to let her in since we only had two keys and the others trailed in later (Liz and I were out to it). Great food, great wine even a good beer, great fun, everyone in fine form - a brilliant night.

[salytierra]

Hello there! :D I'm a huge fan of mythologies from various different cultures, so I was wondering if you could tell a bit about Spanish mythology? Anything from mythical creatures to popular legends. Thank you in advance! ^^

SPANISH LEGENDS AND MYTHOLOGY 

Hello! Sorry for taking so long to answer. Unfortunately, this theme is not my specialty at all, but I’ll try my best to give you a decent answer :’D 

PRE-ROMAN IBERIANS

Little is known about Iberian customs and beliefs. They had a very rich and flourishing culture and social life, but all the written testimony had been lost due to the fact that their writing has not bee de-codified yet. Apparently they were polytheists and, according to the late chronicles of roman historians during the invasion, had received a lot of religious influence from Phoenicians and Greeks, their permanent trade partners for centuries. There had been some discoveries like The Lady of Baza and the Lady of Elche that suggest a strong leadership by Priestesses in the religious life. 

As for mythology, it had been heavily inspired by the Helenic beliefs about this part of the world. According to Carthaginian chronicles there used to be a temple where the “Columns of Heracles” were supposed to be, at the edge of the Strait of Gibraltar. Hannibal Barca is said to have sworn eternal hate to Rome in that temple. One of the theories also say that he gave name to the city of Barcelona and the Columns of Heracles are still present in the Spanish Crest of Arms. 

Still, most of the known Iberian mythology is like: “here supposedly be a rock where something happened according to other people.” 

A myth/legend/weird history thing worth mentioning though is Tartessos:

TARTESSOS

Tartessos is, crudely said, the Iberian Atlantis. Although to be fair Atlantis was probably made up by Plato but Tartessos has been definitively proven to have been real in the recent research. The problem is that nobody knows where the heck it was. 

Supposedly it was a great coastline civilization miles ahead of its surrounding regions and of their time, with a rich culture and technology, that just disappeared without leaving any trace. It’s fall is mostly consistent with the fall of Phoenicia, around the Vth century BC. 

Some theories say that Tartessos had been wiped out by a Tsunami, since its a region of heavy seismic activity, others that it just died out with the end of the Phoenician commerce or that the surrounding cultures caught up and they stopped being special, thus just mixing around and disappearing. 

In any case, it’s a mystery! 

THE CELTIC NORTH-WEST

Their legends and mythology are far clearer, more documented, and survive to this day. However, I don’t think I can surprise you with any of them because (according to my tour guide in Santiago) most of them can be found in other regions of Celtic descend, specially in Ireland. 

Of the most “recent” (middle ages) The Holy Procession (the procession of the dead dressed in white that you can find walking around at midnight) comes to mind, also the meigas, sort of witches, and bruixas, their nice, cool equivalent that people liked. 

St. JAMES THE MOOR-SLAYER

This is an individual legend but it’s very important. So, in Galicia they say rest the bones of the Apostle St. James (Santiago), which turned it into the hotspot for pilgrimage, specially after the Muslims in the east cut the christian pilgrimage routes to Jerusalem and started killing the pilgrims. So like, the next best option, and way safer, was the restplace of St. James, crossing the territories of the Catholic Kingdoms of Hispania. 

PS: Leaving aside the fascinating legend of how his rests got there (it involves a stone boat, a couple of bulls and a truckload of scallops), the first touristic-guide in the world is believed to be a guide to the way of St. James, the Codex Calixtinus, written around the year 1135.

According to the Legend, the Asturian King Ramiro I was visited by the Apostle Santiago clad in battle wear the night before a big battle with the moors, and the next day, at the battlecry of “Santiago!” the troops of Ramiro won a seemingly impossible battle. From then on and through the centuries variations of “For Spain and for Santiago!” (Santiago and charge, Spain!, For Santiago and the Spains!, etc…) became the official cry of the Spanish Army and the apostle Santiago is the patron Saint of Spain. 

PS: Around the same period we also find a lot of legends and lore related to the Templars and the military orders of the Peninsula (Santiago, Calatrava, Alcántara, Montesa in Spain and Avis in Portugal) 

THE LOVERS OF TERUEL

Sometimes called “the Spanish Romeo & Juliet” it’s in my opinion a way better story, not only it has been proven to have elements of truth in it, but because nobody is fucking 13! 

Funnily enough for a short while this legend had been accused of being a copy of one included in the Decameron of Boccaccio until it had been discovered that the first instances of it date back to a whole century before the Decameron was written, so it may have been actually the other way ‘round. 

Anyway, the events were supposed to have happened in the city of Teruel in the year 1217. A young boy Diego (sometimes called Juan) of the Marcilla family and the girl Isabel of the Segura family, grew up playing together and when their teenage hormones hit hard, fell in love. 

However, even though the Marcilla family was important, it was not as important as the Segura family and Diego was the second son, meant to inherit nothing. There was no way he could marry the only daughter and heiress of the Segura family. So he struck a deal with her father: he’d go to war (meaning la Reconquista) fight hard, rise in rank and earn a world of wealth in five years. If in that time he returned rich, he’d marry Isabel. 

So he left. Passed some years, Isabel’s father started insisting in her to get married but, and here comes my favorite part, she refused on the premise that she had to remain a maiden until 20, because no woman should get married before she learned how to manage a household. And her father, as any good middle-ages dad, that loved and respected his daughter, agreed with her. 

However, when the five years passed and Diego didn’t return, Isabel believed him dead and agreed to marry Don Pedro of Azagra. However, right after the ceremony, Diego returned with great riches! Too late tho. His beloved was already married. 

So he sneaked up into her and her husband’s bedroom at night and asked her for a kiss: “kiss me, for I’m dying!”. She refused on the terms that she would not be unfaithful to her husband, he asked her again and she refused again. 

So Diego just dropped dead of heartache. 

Isabel woke up her husband and told him what happened. He was like “but why didn’t you kiss him?!” so she told him she hadn’t wanted to betray her husband, so he was “you truly are a woman worth of praise.” 

They sneaked him out of their home in the middle of the night and left him in a local church, so the husband wouldn’t get blamed for his death. 

The next day the funeral ceremony took place and Isabel came, dressed in her wedding gown, and leaning over Diego’s body gave him the kiss that she had refused him in life. 

And then she also fell dead. 

The husband then told everyone in the church their story and the town agreed to bury them together, so at least in death they would be side by side. 

Their inexplicably mummified bodies were discovered in 1555 during repair works at the San Pedro church, in Teruel, next to a document dating to the formerly stated year, corroborating the popular legend. 

Since with time the fame of this story spread around Spain. The mummies now lay in a chapel and in marble tombs with exquisitely sculpted lids by the artist Juan de Ávalos y Taborda.

Written as a part of the @aphaskevent

Country embassy: Spain (in case it wasn’t clear… xD) 

Sorry for not being able to tell any better stories, and this probably doesn’t answer your question, but I just thought it better not to talk too much on stuff I didn’t know about and focus on what I did. 

[humanistauno]

A Day To Remember

by: Michelle Villareal

​Manila, also known as the Pearl of the Orient, is located in Southern Luzon, the largest with more than 7,000 islands that make up the nation known as the Philippines. Manila serves not only as the country's capitol, but also as its financial, publishing, and business center. The citizens of the city speak Tagalog, but most are also fluent in English which is the language used in public schools. Manila is also known in its scenic landmarks and famous structure like the Intramuros, Fort Santiago and St. Augustine Church still are good examples of Spanish colonial architecture. It still has many to offer, and showcase the country's diverse tourist attractions and its culture.

​This happened 4 years ago when I was in 8th Grade. Mom availed a promo where the tickets are cheaper than its original price, so she immediately grabbed the opportunity for our 3 days vacay in Manila. I know it’s not too long because we still have classes and mom still on duty but at least we experienced something that we want to long ago and it finally came. We went at the General Santos International Airport six hours before the flight, that’s how early mom woke us up to prepare everything but it didn’t bother me though because I can’t contain my excitement. Mom used to be late in every gathering she attended but this time, she woke up early than the rooster whose about to crow. She complained at everything asking why we prepare so slow like mom calm your tits, we still have plenty of hours. Anyways, it was my first time at the airport and nothing can compare the excitement I felt when I saw an actual airplane outside like my mind was about to explode, still can’t believe that I’ll be riding one of those. Mom prepared everything, both the tickets and some stuff. We waited at the departure waiting area for our plane. Later on, the bad news came that lose all my vibe. Our flight got cancelled due to I don’t know maybe that’s how airport works? It’s 11 am in the morning and we have to stay there until 6 pm, what will I supposed to do the whole duration then? So, fast forward, the time has finally begun. I took a picture a lot while heading on our designated airplane, I was a young childish kid back then where I wanted to make others envy on me posting photos on media captioned “manila here I come” with bunch of emoticons, how embarrassing it was. I seated beside the window and also my mom, while my brother Noli was at the back of our seat, don’t mind him, it’s okay with him. When we arrived, it was dark outside, I think it’s about 8 pm. I lose all my excitement because I was so tired that my body badly needs sleep. Tall buildings, restaurants, landmarks, I don’t care about them all, I can’t even open my eyes wide when I saw a handsome man. We arrived in my uncle’s place in Cavite at 1 am in the morning due to traffic, I can’t imagine myself living here. I immediately dived in bed and fell asleep really quick without bothering to change clothes. Day 1, our first stop was Intramuros where we visited my uncle Joseph in San Agustin Church, he’s a priest in there as you all see but now, he’s in heaven serving God, not worrying about anything, and I’m happy for it. My uncle dodo and uncle Joseph was our tour guide, uncle Joseph hired a Kalesa to roam us around in Intramuros. We took a lot of pictures in every destination. The Kalesa driver shared a history to some houses and landmarks that colonized by the Spaniards which is a mind blown information. We had our lunch in a fancy restaurant but I only ate fried chicken because I can’t even pronounce a name on the menu. Uncle Joseph gave us budget for the Star City experienced, mom hesitate but you know uncle, he’s willing to give everything he has for the sake of our happiness. While waiting for the taxi, I can’t stop hugging my uncle thinking that was my last hug with him. Those last words he said that I should study really hard in class, I promise that I will make him proud of my achievements, I just missed him so much. When we took a taxi, I waved good bye at him for the last time slowly as he disappeared out of my sight. We went to Star City, mom bought a ticket and when we get in there, I’m out of words. We wanted to try all the rides since mom bought a ticket said that we can avail all but it’s crowded and my feet hurts so bad. We decided to have some dinner at MOA since it’s walking distance and went home because it’s late and it’s hard to commute due to traffic.

​Day 2, we went to Makati where my cousins and uncle lived, we bring some of our clothes because they insisted to sleep there before we go back here in Koronadal. I was so tired during the trip because we took maybe three or four public vehicles plus the waiting time just to get in their place. For the first time, I met my cousins, Cherie and Christine, I don’t know how to interact with them because my skills in socializing and my self-esteem suddenly falls back to zero, they look so pretty while I look shit. We arrived there maybe 5 pm, we had our little dinner and a small talk but I didn’t bother to talk because I don’t know, I’m too shy, or I just don’t know how to speak Tagalog.

​ Day 3, we woke up early in the morning to pack our things up, we ate breakfast and we took a ride at my uncle's work place. We don't have much time to roam around in Makati with my cousins because our flight will be at 3 am in the morning so we have to be at the airport hours before the flight. We say good bye to each other awkwardly because we barely talk like she asked questions, I answered, and that's it, end of conversation. When we arrived at my uncle's work place, we looked for a food to eat since its lunch time. I don't blame the city for being the busiest, if you have to come early at your work, you have to wake up early considering the time you travel and the traffic. Mom decided to eat somewhere else whatever we passed by. We took a ride at the train station which was super cool. We took our lunch near at the station, it’s just a small restaurant, not that fancy but cheap. We had soup, a dessert and some drinks. After we ate, I decided to roam at the station since mom and uncle was still talking. So, I was roaming and guess what my just saw, a Korean Pop store. I was lowkey freaking out and I can't handle my excitement when i saw bunch of albums, photocards, and some Korean Pop merchandise. I ran to my mom and asked for money, she hesitated at first but I just can’t, I have to buy at least one, she gave me I think one hundred. I bought a photocard of my favorite girl group and I can’t stop smiling all the time as we go. We arrived at the Airport, still have plenty of time since our flight will be 3 am. We took a rest where the passengers wait, I sleep a little because I was so tired after the long duration walking. Mom woke me up when we have to be in the departure area, I bought a snack first and we go in our flight.

​We arrived at the Gensan International Airport early in the morning, I don’t know what time is it because I didn’t bother to check my watch. We headed home, took a sleep and I remember I told myself to wake up before lunch time because I had to attend class in the afternoon but ended up late so I had no choice but to continue sleeping. This was my first-time experiencing Manila and I was beyond happy and didn’t regret being absent in class for three days in a row. I hope it will not be our last.

[missamerichale]

“you and i can be alone together later”

- literally what our 75-year-old tour guide whispered to me on the catamaran for our day trip to Saona Island excursion on day 2. Buckle in, my peeps. It’s about to be one wild ride.

The day began with a lovely alarm jarring us awake at 5:30AM. Luckily we were pretty tired the night before from traveling to Punta so we got a decent amount of sleep, overall. We had to prerequest “Fast breakfast” the night before because we needed to be ready at 6AM for our shuttle to the boat and the breakfast buffet didn’t open until 7AM. We got changed, lathered on sunscreen and wandered to the front desk to pick up our individually wrapped styrofoam takeout boxes that were equipped with 1 banana, 1 yogurt, 1 piece of banana bread, and 1 roll (kind of like the roll you’d get with a chicken dinner), with jelly. It was interesting, but we were starving, so we went in.

We board our bus (fits about 12 people) to begin our way to the boat tour. We knew it was going to be about an hour an a half  ride to get there. But, we didn’t even arrive to the boat until 10:30AM. What could we have possibly done for 4 and a half hours you ask? Let. me. tell. you:

We stopped at a gas station, in which some people switched tour busses (still not sure why?), then we stopped at a shady gift store where we got a free shot of “MamaJuana”, which is their national drink or something, and it actually was pretty good. They also had a bathroom #blessed. The one thing I couldn’t figure out was the crap shack had a bathroom attendant?? When I stepped out of the stall to wash my hands she pointed to the soap dispenser (literally the most basic one - like yes, I know what soap is), so I put soap on my hands, and then she gave me a piece of throwaway towel to use from a roll in her hand. It was nice but totally unnecessary? And I kind of felt like I needed to tip her but I didn’t want to? So weird. But anyway, I did end up buying 2 things from the crap shack: a necklace for my grandma and a pair of earrings for myself, in which the dude was trying to sell to me for $60. I said heck naw cuz, and gave him $40 instead. Correy paid $20 for an ankle bracelet that ended up falling off her ankle the day later because of it’s poor quality but we won’t talk about that. Let’s just pray my ears don’t fall off from infection whenever I decide to wear the earrings. MOVING ON.

We get back on the bus and head to the coast where we’d get on our boat. We finally get there and depart the bus, and I’m so jazzed about getting to the boat. I’m thirsty and ready to get my drink on. The tour guide, who had briefly introduced himself as Fransisco (still unsure if that’s even his real name), tells us to follow him. Well we follow him down a dirt trail, past a school (?), to a little boardwalk that overlooks the water, which was cool - but where was our boat? We just spent 15 minutes walking here and there’s nothing here and now I’m mad.

Whatever yo, we take pics and follow Fransisco back down the trail where he FINALLY walks us to the beach to get ready to hop on the catamaran. The tour worked like this: you would ride to the island in either a catamaran (the party boat) or a speedboat, and then when you left the island, you would take whatever boat you didn’t take in the morning to get there. We got to ride the catamaran first #BLESSED. This means BOOZE CRUISE YA’LL.

We piled on to the boat in which the captain introduced himself, his crew, his “dancers” (who were like 13 year old girls which made me sort of uncomfortable and I felt bad for them kind of?), and Fransisco. We layed out in our bathing suits while the “dancers” (I have to keep using quotes because I literally can’t bring myself to call them that), served us up FREE Rum and Cokes. My literal DREAM!! I was so happy, I made friends with one of the “dancers”, Eliza. She was bomb. I kept going to her for more refills MY GIRL.  So content with the morning so far. They started blasting music, which was like 90% spanish, 8% bruno mars, and 2% macarena. Liv , Correy and I sat and chatted for a while until Liv and Core had to run to the bathroom in which I opted to stay by our bags. That’s when it happened.

I was sitting there, minding my own business, sipping on my rum and coke and embracing the sun, when Fransisco walks up behind me (like a CREEP) and whispers in my ear, “don’t worry, you and I can get alone together later and talk about everything.” UM EW. WHAT. I gave him the nastiest look of all time and replied, “UM NO.” and he walked away. I was so shook. Also it was unsettling because one of the workers at the crap shack literally just asked if I was over the age of 16 so I was really looking like I was 12 that day. GOODBYE. 

Tipsy Hales had already set in but now I was tipsy AND shook, and if you know me, you know I don’t let this kind of stuff fly when I’ve had a few drinks in me. Core and Liv came back so I gave them the story of the old man and we all vowed to keep our eyes out for him (AKA avoid him at all costs). Time passes, and my drink, naturally, gets empty. I turn around to walk over to ma girl Eliza, when old man is standing there with his arm out acting like he’s going to refill my drink for me.

This is NOT my first rodeo, you old, crusty freak.

I’ve seen you fumbling around in your fanny pack all morning for who knows what. and you know I don’t like you already. So no. Leave me alone.

I shook my head and said no again, cause apparently he didn’t get it the first time (per usual). 

I took the longest way around the catamaran to get my drink refilled just so I didn’t have to walk by him. When I came back to the girls, we wanted to get a pic taken. We made friends with a couple of girls from Spain, one which spoke fluent English, and asked her to take our pic. She happily agreed and set her drink down to take our photo. Her friend stepped away to go to the bathroom. Then, OLD CRUSTY picks up our friend’s drink from the floor and holds it so she’s forced to talk to him after she’s done taking our pic. I literally cannot stand this dude.

So after she gets our pic I openly walk over to her and tell her to not drink it because he was being super weird earlier and also trying to grab my drink, and he saw me talking trash so he sheepishly handed her the drink and ran away. She freaked out, naturally, and dumped it overboard to get a new one. I was feeling like a #hero. We celebrated by dancing to the macarena and (somewhat) salsa dancing with Eliza and her friends on the front of the catamaran until we got to the island.

The. island. was. AMAZE. Bluest water I have literally ever seen in my entire life. We got lunch and hungout there for an hour and half. And by hangout, I mean walk the beach, take pics and spend a good 80% of our time floating in the ocean water with the sun on our faces. The day ended with a trip on the speedboat to the “natural swimming pool” which was an area near an island with 3 feet water wayyy off the coast of the island that people could swim in if they wish. We decided to stay on the boat because we were #tired from the events happening in the morning.

The boat makes it back to the port and we get off to walk back up to our vans. All is well, but I’m feeling uncomfortable with old crusty being on our bus, so Liv sat next to me to ensure he didn’t try to come creep by me or something. Thank God the bus ride back was shorter than the ride there. But it still took way too long, in my opinion. We didn’t actually get back to the all-inclusive until 7:30PM. But don’t worry you guys, an hour out from our home destination old crusty had to go out with a bang. 

First of all, he literally caressed liv’s calf without saying a single. word. and then just walked away??? We literally just stared at each other in disbelief because of how gd weird he was. Then, we have to switch busses for some reason, so I sit next to correy toward the front. This bus gets so crowded with peeps that old crusty has to sit in the back area with us so a tourist could sit in the passenger seat, and this, unfortunately, put him directly next to me.

He puts his hand on my arm and holds it there. I’m cringing so hard on the inside you guys I kind of wanted to throw up. He’s all, “so what hotel are you staying at?” and I said “Vista Sol”, and he’s alike “ahhhhhh, Vista Sol”, STILL holding my arm, ALTHOUGH I literally had to tell him we were staying at Vista Sol .5 seconds earlier because THAT WAS THE WHOLE REASON WE GOT ON A NEW BUS!!! GOODBYE!!

A wave of relief hits me when he takes his hand off my arm, but then about 15 minutes later he starts getting the shakes of some sort. I don’t know how to explain it you guys. He was literally twitching. We stop at a hotel to drop off a family who promptly exit the vehicle, then homeboy disappears and we are like dude can we go now? He literally disappears for like 15 minutes. We made friends with 4 ladies from Vermont on our bus and the one was like “he’s having withdrawals from something” and I’m like jesus H christ this is actually my worst fear. What a TIME to be ALIVE.

He returns, much more chipper, and sits behind Liv in the spot that the famliy was sitting before they left. He then picks up a leftover bag of trail mix that the mom who left the bag was eating and starts eating it?? Liv is looking at him like omg. She asks him where he lives, to which he replies “next to your hotel”, so for reals I was like we are DYING. TODAY. my friends.

By the grace of the good lord above, he finally leaves the van in which I almost kicked him out and for sure did NOT give him a tip. I felt 100% more safe in the van without him there, and we were quickly dropped off at our resort so we could get ready for dinner at the italian restaurant and chill until we had 2 full days of FREEDOM!! It was a long first full day in Punta, but TOTALLY worth the boat ride and island views. Downfall = Old Crusty. I would recommend you do NOT book the Saona Island Day Trip from Punta Cana off of TripAdvisor because you might get stuck with him and it might just put a whole damper on your day. Also watch yo drinks my friends.

But for sure try to go to Saona Island - just not through TripAdvisor’s tour. :)

As I sign off, I’m daydreaming of more rum and coke’s,

Hales

[bisoroblog]

What’s So Different About High Tech High Anyway?

Walking onto a High Tech High campus is like entering a workshop. Our tour guide, sophomore Caroline Egler, pointed out classrooms that supposedly housed physics or humanities or biology, but most students weren’t in those rooms. They were in the hallways working on projects, huddled around computers together, or even working at desks elevated 8 feet above the ground so they towered over the floor. Students seem to be working with purpose, even if it’s not immediately obvious what they’re doing. The scene is chaotic, but not out of control.

It’s not always like this, Egler assured us, a group of education journalists visiting as part of the Education Writers Association’s Rethinking the American High School seminar. Students at this campus of the San Diego-based charter network seemed more frantic than usual because they were rushing to finish projects they’d been working on all semester, she said. They’d be exhibiting their work to real-world audiences at the end of the week.

‘All of this is stuff students are researching and learning about, but it’s all integrated into this project, rather than being this cold, removed, isolated content that we study for a while and then we move on to the next thing.’Russell Walker, Humanities teacher at High Tech High

Each student had to develop a physical product to represent their learning over the semester; they planned to exhibit their work at the Mexican border in coordination with Mexican students they had been working with over Skype since the class began.

Egler explained that she was making a podcast — complete with original music composed by a classmate — about differing views on President Trump’s proposed border wall with Mexico. Other students in her class were exploring topics like drug trafficking and sexual harassment; the only requirement was that the project relate to the border. It was a shared project between Spanish and humanities classes.

These kinds of community-grounded events are part of what High Tech High calls real-world work. The learning and its products are displayed not just to teachers, students or even parents, but to a larger community of experts. That gives school assignments more relevance — the work actually matters to the world.

The other thing visitors immediately notice about the school is the incredible work hanging from ceilings, lining the walls, and built into the hallways. Photographs, a bridge to nowhere, self-portraits, full-size boats, weather balloons, robots — beautiful work is celebrated at the school and its constant presence reminds students of the high expectations their teachers set for them.

The High Tech High network mostly operates on the California per-pupil funding formula, but it chooses to allocate its money very differently from many other school systems. High Tech High School doesn’t have a football team, a library or textbooks, all pricey areas where the school saves some money. It also offers few class choices to students; for the most part, students take classes that satisfy the University of California’s A-G requirements. And many teachers have dual credentials, allowing them to teach multiple subjects or combine subjects.

Boat-making is a favorite High Tech High project. (Katrina Schwartz)

But what seems like a lack of choice in classes isn’t as limiting as one might think. The charter network’s schools are built around four essential design principles: equity, personalization, authentic work and collaborative design. While those guiding principles are at the heart of every class, there’s a lot of variety in every other way. And students are encouraged to pursue ideas they’re passionate about, which allows for some of the choice they might otherwise lack.

For example, Aaron Price is in the same humanities-Spanish class as Caroline Egler. He built a data logger that he attached to a weather balloon and used it to measure CO2 levels at the border. He was part of a team investigating shared environmental concerns in the U.S.-Mexico border region. Price’s physical work product was more technical, but he also wrote and published a research paper, as well as a website with his findings. It’s almost like Egler with her political podcast and Price with his weather balloon are in two different classes. That’s what personalization looks like at High Tech High schools, and it’s why students don’t mind that the course catalog is limited.

The charter network accepts students through a lottery that randomly takes a certain number of students from every ZIP code in San Diego. Since the city, like many others, has many neighborhoods that are racially and ethnically isolated, this ensures the student body reflects San Diego’s population.

SS learn about blood types, heredity and codominance of traits by typing themselves- one of the most engaging labs of the year! @hightechhigh #labscience #shareyourlearning #deeperlearning #biology pic.twitter.com/bVGGuHCC2F

— KalleApplegatePalmer (@palmer_kalle) January 25, 2018

Personalization is achieved in part by keeping class sizes small; teachers have the opportunity to get to know students and their passions well. They can adapt projects to students’ interests, and push individuals to do their best work.

“It is not students all sitting in front of computers doing a self-paced math program,” said Larry Rosenstock, founding principal and CEO of High Tech High. “It is not finding the right pace or right technique to get this inert content to each student.”

Instead, personalization at High Tech High is a partnership between the teacher and student to find an authentic project that genuinely motivates students to produce meaningful work. And, because teachers’ schedules are arranged so they see fewer students at a time, they can push the young people they work with to reach individual goals.

“It means you and the student are going to work together to design something that’s going to be academically relevant to what you’re trying to teach them, but also personally meaningful to the student,” said Russell Walker, an 11th-grade history teacher. He designs the broad strokes of the project, but students take it in many different directions.

“I would say it is criminal negligence if you’re not doing that in project-based learning,” Walker said. “Because if you’re saying, ‘Here’s this project and you’re all going to make the same thing,’ that’s not really very interesting. They’ll just copy what you did.”

Involving S voice into the development of a project provides expert insight, valuable information, and creative solutions! We invite Ss into our work to give them voice and standing…How do you engage Ss in the process of planning and learning? pic.twitter.com/WmnPaE5eg7

— Edrick Macalaguim (@EdrickMac) January 3, 2018

During the fall semester, Walker collaborated with a biology teacher on a semester-long project about space colonization. Students were tasked with thinking through what they’d need to sustain life off earth, and along the way they learned about DNA, cell replication, physiological systems in the body, ecosystems and more.

“It’s all the stuff you would normally do in a biology class,” Walker said, “but it’s applied in a way that students are interested in learning and applying it.”

For the history side of things, students had to decide what kind of society they would build on their space colony. To do that, they read political theory and philosophers from the Enlightenment. Students discussed the mistakes of colonialism, and covered a broad swath of history as they worked to create something better on their new planet.

“All of this is stuff students are researching and learning about, but it’s all integrated into this project, rather than being this cold, removed, isolated content that we study for a while and then we move on to the next thing,” Walker said.

Walker used to teach Advanced Placement environmental science at a high school in Los Angeles, where he taught 150 students each day and was expected to help as many as possible pass the AP test. He said the experience left him feeling uninspired as a professional and drained of his creativity because he spent hours handling the minutiae of lesson planning and grading.

Now, Walker says he works with 48 students (although some High Tech High teachers see between 50-100 students in core classes). His time as an educator is spent researching to prepare a great project, experimenting with the tasks for students, meeting one-on-one with students, providing critique and feedback on their work, and generally engaging with students around ideas.

@hightechhigh beautiful school, ethos and people! John, thanks again for the tour! pic.twitter.com/xLbGCwDIdd

— Nicholas Pattison (@CubedSTEM) January 12, 2018

“As a teacher, it’s way more fun and interesting to work here,” Walker said. “And I think a lot of teachers who are burned out or losing hope on the way things are running could benefit from shifting to [project-based learning].”

Another High Tech High teacher, Mike Strong, agreed that one of his favorite things about the school is the autonomy it offers him. Teachers are treated as professionals and are allowed to be creative, he said. That’s a tall order, and can be exhausting, but it’s much more exciting. And when teachers are given autonomy, they tend to transfer it to students as well.

Egler said her teachers trust her — something she’s come to expect.

“Teachers trust that if they put [students] outside of the class and let them go, that the students are going to be diligent and get to work,” she said.

If a particular student fails to live up to her end of the bargain, or is flagrantly disrespectful, the teacher can take away privileges. The school doesn’t give detentions and only rarely suspends or expels students, according to Egler. Instead, students will have a conversation with the teacher about their behavior and will be asked to think of a way to make amends.

Mark Aguirre, a ninth-grade humanities teacher, sees a lot of students who don’t think they like school, but when they’re 14, there’s still a chance to convince them that they’re wrong. He admits it doesn’t work for every kid, and some do leave, but he’s been teaching at High Tech High since 2001 and says he firmly believes it works for most students.

“You have to convince them that what we’re doing has value by coming up with something interesting for them to do,” he said.

Aside from the small class sizes, autonomy, project-based curriculum, freedom to design classes based on loose themes, and expectation that students will create work that experts will want to evaluate, High Tech High is different from the conventional high school in other ways. Students aren’t tracked, and there are no AP classes. All students can opt into honors-level work, which comes with a few different requirements but doesn’t separate them into a different section. Crucially, students decide whether they want to be on the honors track two to three weeks into the semester, which gives tentative students the opportunity to try out honors-level work before committing.

“My first instinct was that honors students should read more or different books than the non-honors students,” said Randy Scherer, who used to teach English at the school, but now directs the High Tech High Graduate School’s professional development program to support other project-based-learning teachers.

He soon realized that only kids who already loved reading were signing up for honors. That didn’t seem fair; he realized he was just padding the GPAs of kids who would read anyway. Instead he defined honors as “adding knowledge to the world that did not exist,” such as by building Wikipedia pages and writing books, for example.

“We’re trying to be creatively compliant,” Scherer said. “We have to do something so people will recognize it. But we really want everyone to be in honors.”

The charter network has skillfully pushed boundaries while making sure its students aren’t disadvantaged when they apply to college, according to Scherer. After nearly 20 years, they’ve got a good reputation, which gives them more wiggle room with the state.

“Some of the practices we push on students, like reflection, teachers do that as well,” said teacher Mike Strong about working at a charter network like High Tech High. “There’s constant critique and revision for even things like how we have meetings.”

That can become exhausting, but it’s also what keeps the school from regressing to the mean, one of Larry Rosenstock’s biggest fears.

What’s So Different About High Tech High Anyway? published first on https://dlbusinessnow.tumblr.com/

[perfectzablog]

What’s So Different About High Tech High Anyway?

Walking onto a High Tech High campus is like entering a workshop. Our tour guide, sophomore Caroline Egler, pointed out classrooms that supposedly housed physics or humanities or biology, but most students weren’t in those rooms. They were in the hallways working on projects, huddled around computers together, or even working at desks elevated 8 feet above the ground so they towered over the floor. Students seem to be working with purpose, even if it’s not immediately obvious what they’re doing. The scene is chaotic, but not out of control.

It’s not always like this, Egler assured us, a group of education journalists visiting as part of the Education Writers Association’s Rethinking the American High School seminar. Students at this campus of the San Diego-based charter network seemed more frantic than usual because they were rushing to finish projects they’d been working on all semester, she said. They’d be exhibiting their work to real-world audiences at the end of the week.

‘All of this is stuff students are researching and learning about, but it’s all integrated into this project, rather than being this cold, removed, isolated content that we study for a while and then we move on to the next thing.’Russell Walker, Humanities teacher at High Tech High

Each student had to develop a physical product to represent their learning over the semester; they planned to exhibit their work at the Mexican border in coordination with Mexican students they had been working with over Skype since the class began.

Egler explained that she was making a podcast — complete with original music composed by a classmate — about differing views on President Trump’s proposed border wall with Mexico. Other students in her class were exploring topics like drug trafficking and sexual harassment; the only requirement was that the project relate to the border. It was a shared project between Spanish and humanities classes.

These kinds of community-grounded events are part of what High Tech High calls real-world work. The learning and its products are displayed not just to teachers, students or even parents, but to a larger community of experts. That gives school assignments more relevance — the work actually matters to the world.

The other thing visitors immediately notice about the school is the incredible work hanging from ceilings, lining the walls, and built into the hallways. Photographs, a bridge to nowhere, self-portraits, full-size boats, weather balloons, robots — beautiful work is celebrated at the school and its constant presence reminds students of the high expectations their teachers set for them.

The High Tech High network mostly operates on the California per-pupil funding formula, but it chooses to allocate its money very differently from many other school systems. High Tech High School doesn’t have a football team, a library or textbooks, all pricey areas where the school saves some money. It also offers few class choices to students; for the most part, students take classes that satisfy the University of California’s A-G requirements. And many teachers have dual credentials, allowing them to teach multiple subjects or combine subjects.

Boat-making is a favorite High Tech High project. (Katrina Schwartz)

But what seems like a lack of choice in classes isn’t as limiting as one might think. The charter network’s schools are built around four essential design principles: equity, personalization, authentic work and collaborative design. While those guiding principles are at the heart of every class, there’s a lot of variety in every other way. And students are encouraged to pursue ideas they’re passionate about, which allows for some of the choice they might otherwise lack.

For example, Aaron Price is in the same humanities-Spanish class as Caroline Egler. He built a data logger that he attached to a weather balloon and used it to measure CO2 levels at the border. He was part of a team investigating shared environmental concerns in the U.S.-Mexico border region. Price’s physical work product was more technical, but he also wrote and published a research paper, as well as a website with his findings. It’s almost like Egler with her political podcast and Price with his weather balloon are in two different classes. That’s what personalization looks like at High Tech High schools, and it’s why students don’t mind that the course catalog is limited.

The charter network accepts students through a lottery that randomly takes a certain number of students from every ZIP code in San Diego. Since the city, like many others, has many neighborhoods that are racially and ethnically isolated, this ensures the student body reflects San Diego’s population.

SS learn about blood types, heredity and codominance of traits by typing themselves- one of the most engaging labs of the year! @hightechhigh #labscience #shareyourlearning #deeperlearning #biology pic.twitter.com/bVGGuHCC2F

— KalleApplegatePalmer (@palmer_kalle) January 25, 2018

Personalization is achieved in part by keeping class sizes small; teachers have the opportunity to get to know students and their passions well. They can adapt projects to students’ interests, and push individuals to do their best work.

“It is not students all sitting in front of computers doing a self-paced math program,” said Larry Rosenstock, founding principal and CEO of High Tech High. “It is not finding the right pace or right technique to get this inert content to each student.”

Instead, personalization at High Tech High is a partnership between the teacher and student to find an authentic project that genuinely motivates students to produce meaningful work. And, because teachers’ schedules are arranged so they see fewer students at a time, they can push the young people they work with to reach individual goals.

“It means you and the student are going to work together to design something that’s going to be academically relevant to what you’re trying to teach them, but also personally meaningful to the student,” said Russell Walker, an 11th-grade history teacher. He designs the broad strokes of the project, but students take it in many different directions.

“I would say it is criminal negligence if you’re not doing that in project-based learning,” Walker said. “Because if you’re saying, ‘Here’s this project and you’re all going to make the same thing,’ that’s not really very interesting. They’ll just copy what you did.”

Involving S voice into the development of a project provides expert insight, valuable information, and creative solutions! We invite Ss into our work to give them voice and standing…How do you engage Ss in the process of planning and learning? pic.twitter.com/WmnPaE5eg7

— Edrick Macalaguim (@EdrickMac) January 3, 2018

During the fall semester, Walker collaborated with a biology teacher on a semester-long project about space colonization. Students were tasked with thinking through what they’d need to sustain life off earth, and along the way they learned about DNA, cell replication, physiological systems in the body, ecosystems and more.

“It’s all the stuff you would normally do in a biology class,” Walker said, “but it’s applied in a way that students are interested in learning and applying it.”

For the history side of things, students had to decide what kind of society they would build on their space colony. To do that, they read political theory and philosophers from the Enlightenment. Students discussed the mistakes of colonialism, and covered a broad swath of history as they worked to create something better on their new planet.

“All of this is stuff students are researching and learning about, but it’s all integrated into this project, rather than being this cold, removed, isolated content that we study for a while and then we move on to the next thing,” Walker said.

Walker used to teach Advanced Placement environmental science at a high school in Los Angeles, where he taught 150 students each day and was expected to help as many as possible pass the AP test. He said the experience left him feeling uninspired as a professional and drained of his creativity because he spent hours handling the minutiae of lesson planning and grading.

Now, Walker says he works with 48 students (although some High Tech High teachers see between 50-100 students in core classes). His time as an educator is spent researching to prepare a great project, experimenting with the tasks for students, meeting one-on-one with students, providing critique and feedback on their work, and generally engaging with students around ideas.

@hightechhigh beautiful school, ethos and people! John, thanks again for the tour! pic.twitter.com/xLbGCwDIdd

— Nicholas Pattison (@CubedSTEM) January 12, 2018

“As a teacher, it’s way more fun and interesting to work here,” Walker said. “And I think a lot of teachers who are burned out or losing hope on the way things are running could benefit from shifting to [project-based learning].”

Another High Tech High teacher, Mike Strong, agreed that one of his favorite things about the school is the autonomy it offers him. Teachers are treated as professionals and are allowed to be creative, he said. That’s a tall order, and can be exhausting, but it’s much more exciting. And when teachers are given autonomy, they tend to transfer it to students as well.

Egler said her teachers trust her — something she’s come to expect.

“Teachers trust that if they put [students] outside of the class and let them go, that the students are going to be diligent and get to work,” she said.

If a particular student fails to live up to her end of the bargain, or is flagrantly disrespectful, the teacher can take away privileges. The school doesn’t give detentions and only rarely suspends or expels students, according to Egler. Instead, students will have a conversation with the teacher about their behavior and will be asked to think of a way to make amends.

Mark Aguirre, a ninth-grade humanities teacher, sees a lot of students who don’t think they like school, but when they’re 14, there’s still a chance to convince them that they’re wrong. He admits it doesn’t work for every kid, and some do leave, but he’s been teaching at High Tech High since 2001 and says he firmly believes it works for most students.

“You have to convince them that what we’re doing has value by coming up with something interesting for them to do,” he said.

Aside from the small class sizes, autonomy, project-based curriculum, freedom to design classes based on loose themes, and expectation that students will create work that experts will want to evaluate, High Tech High is different from the conventional high school in other ways. Students aren’t tracked, and there are no AP classes. All students can opt into honors-level work, which comes with a few different requirements but doesn’t separate them into a different section. Crucially, students decide whether they want to be on the honors track two to three weeks into the semester, which gives tentative students the opportunity to try out honors-level work before committing.

“My first instinct was that honors students should read more or different books than the non-honors students,” said Randy Scherer, who used to teach English at the school, but now directs the High Tech High Graduate School’s professional development program to support other project-based-learning teachers.

He soon realized that only kids who already loved reading were signing up for honors. That didn’t seem fair; he realized he was just padding the GPAs of kids who would read anyway. Instead he defined honors as “adding knowledge to the world that did not exist,” such as by building Wikipedia pages and writing books, for example.

“We’re trying to be creatively compliant,” Scherer said. “We have to do something so people will recognize it. But we really want everyone to be in honors.”

The charter network has skillfully pushed boundaries while making sure its students aren’t disadvantaged when they apply to college, according to Scherer. After nearly 20 years, they’ve got a good reputation, which gives them more wiggle room with the state.

“Some of the practices we push on students, like reflection, teachers do that as well,” said teacher Mike Strong about working at a charter network like High Tech High. “There’s constant critique and revision for even things like how we have meetings.”

That can become exhausting, but it’s also what keeps the school from regressing to the mean, one of Larry Rosenstock’s biggest fears.

What’s So Different About High Tech High Anyway? published first on https://greatpricecourse.tumblr.com/

[wolfy19982-blog]

Review #4 Oct. 14, 2017 “Write Your Own Stories”

 So as I started this I'm sure some have asked, why the quotes? Well each quote I have well I have either put on as a summary for this movie or for others my favorite quote from the movie. And the quote for this time is actually the very last thing the audience hears before the credits role. This movie? The Book of Life.

Knowing that this movie is one of the very first animated films produced IN THE US with a majority hispanic/latino background, minus Channing Tatum and Ron Perlman, it's pretty good. And before someone messages me saying they feel triggered because I didn't use "latinx"....

Traditional Spanish has the masculine form say latino, for a group of people as well and as for a male. The reason why is still unknown to me. I grew up using latino, because yes I am Hispanic of Latin and Caribbean descent. Meaning, I understand how some feel on that topic but I feel comfortable using the masculine terms when speaking of a group with or without women.

Now let’s talk about the director, Jorge Gutierrez, a Mexican animator, painter, writer and director. Personally I know him the most for his television show that was on Nickelodeon called El Tigre: The Adventures of Manny Rivera, where the main character was a sort of luchador that was also a crime fighter. Already after doing research and finding out he did a show that at time (to my knowledge) the only other cartoon with an almost all Latin American based characters was ¡Mucha Lucha!. In all honesty I praise his work, yes it is on the Mexican roots because that is his nationality, but yet he opens the doors to people who may have little to no knowledge of the Mexican culture of Dia De Los Muertos.

Anyways, also knowing that Guillermo Del Toro was involved with this made it even more awesome for me, and I paid no attention to this movie at all when it was released. It's Guillermo Del Toro, the guy that came up with the Dark Knight Joker smile before the Dark Knight Joker did it! (I am referring to Pan's Labyrinth, kind of funny how Dark Knight came out in 2008 and Pan’s Labyrinth came out in 2006).

To any reader that is in love with the 50 Shades film series, he's the director Charlie Hunnam stopped filming 50 Shades of Grey for, yes Crimson Peak is on my list to do. And yes Jax from Sons of Anarchy was originally supposed to be Christian Grey.

So onto the film review really! Let's take a look at The Book of Life!

The film starts off with a group of kids going to a museum, there they meet a woman tour guide who shows them to the Mexico section. Explaining everything to them she brings out a set of dolls, and where the story really begins. A trio of little kids on Dia De Los Muertos(Day of the Dead). The trio being our, I don't want to say heroes, love triangle.

We start with Joaquin, the son of the town hero, orphaned mind you since his mother is no where to be seen. Manolo his friend, the son of a family of matadors(bull fighters) going back many generations. Finally Maria, the girl and third to the triad, she is a girl ahead of her time. There we meet our other characters La Muerta who is literally a walking and talking sugar skeleton. And Xibalba, to me at least I am reminded of Hades mixed with Thanatos from Greek Mythology (god of underworld and god of death). 

Because of this as years go by the love triangle grows stronger causing Manolo to go to the world of the dead (I forgot what it was called), now because of his death caused by Xibalba he goes through the realm of the forgotten, a place where all souls go if they are forgotten to find La Muerta. There Xibalba is caught cheating and Manolo wages a bet, him winning. Once he’s up there he wins the girl and it’s a happily ever after.

To start it off we’ll go to the cons because I don’t have that many, and I’ll do it in bullets with why.

Cons:

The fanbase: they are a large group of people and in fact without them there wouldn’t be a Book of Life 2 coming out, but some were accusing Pixar for stealing with Coco.

Channing Tatum: I know without him the movie may not have even gone to theaters, his voice as Joaquin just kinda felt off at the beginning, only at the end did it work

Joaquin: I understand, girls love the musician, and I know that he was in in love with Maria too. He was the town hero, he would’ve been more likable if he had a more in depth tale instead of being the son of the original town hero. For me, there’s a scene where he shows Maria something he held from her, it may have been better if he tried as much as Manolo for her to be difficult to choose. To me though the role of Joaquin felt as if instead of someone in love, he felt more like the friend that didn’t want to be left out seeing his best friends falling in love with each other, giving him more depth would’ve helped and hopefully the sequel will give him a character arc.

The relationship between La Muerta and Xibalba: I get that they are lovers, but I don’t know anyone who can get over an argument that quickly. They are gods so I understand.

The narration: I understand that the narrator was put as well as the children to get the audience interested, for me though whenever the film would go back to the students though it took me away from the movie, it would have been better to me at least, if instead of starting the film with the film, having the narrator (SPOILERS is revealed to be La Muerta) to be shown at the end, so the story wouldn’t be cut when there was a interruption from a child.

Pros:

The characters: The chemistry between them all was so great, it feels so natural! Besides Manolo, my favorite character goes to two people the pig, and La Muerta. Yes Chuy is a comedic relief and how he oinks but who can say no this this?

Anyways, La Muerta is literally death emboddied. I honestly love how they show her enjoying the wager, even being interested in the song Manolo sings at Maria’s song. Not only does it add mystery to what kind of guy she wants, it shows that even though she is a goddess she does have emotions, she is usually calm, but she can get mad or even curious and that makes her a more interesting character.

The songs: Yes they have a mix of original and known songs, yet they mix them well. And they sound good both in English and in Spanish which makes it even cooler

The design: The aesthetic for the characters within the tale in a tale reminds me of the director’s previous work being El Tigre: The Adventures of Manny Rivera. The way the characters are presented as dolls makes it even more spectacular; not because it’s easier, no because it makes the viewer believe it is a fantasy like world sending said viewer to a place they may have never been to before. And because they are doll, well they can do things that normal humans can, like be torn apart and be fine with it.

The cast: The cast is awesome! Minus Channing Tatum before the end. Diego Luna, Zoe Saldana, Dany Trejo, Hector Elizondo, Grabriel Iglesias, Cheech Marin, and so many more people with the Latin background. Not to mention Channing Tatum, Ron Perlman (who I’m starting to think has a cameo or a role in ALMOST every recent Guillermo Del Toro production), Christina Applegate, and Ice Cube, by the way those are the only non Hispanic/Latino cast that I know. 

Chuy: I don’t know why I have a separate section for him but I just love him so much! He’s like that pet I never had. Not only was he not you know a pet from the pets of the Disney princesses (Yes Moana has a pet pig but that movie was released after this one), he doesn’t really have that much screen time. And when he did, he was so cute. Even as a grown pig he was cute!

The dialog: What can I say I loved it. The way they spoke, minus Joaquin and Maria’s father, it felt real like you could have an actual conversation with them. 

The Sanchez family: Yes Manolo’s father was a stereotypical father, and well he’s kind of accurate in some Hispanic/Latin families. The father is the stern one trying to raise his children right hoping they would surpass them. Families that I know well most want them to become the successful careers (current times a doctor or lawyer) also while being able to give them grandchildren.His mother though well, she knows her child the most, usually the grandparents but having his grandmother on the side with his father made more interesting. Not to mention the extended family, there well there are some that have dreams in common with us, and some that we have no idea where they came from (the clown cousin). 

My final thoughts? I haven’t been able to find it anywhere in Spanish since I saw it on my phone, but it’s a beautiful story. It’s not a damsel in distress story, its a coming of age story where one must choose between their passion or the traditions their family have. 

Quick research on Xibalba, his name in Mayan means fear, and Xibalba is actually the name of the K’iche/Quiche (Guatemalan) Mayan underworld which actually makes his character even cooler.

Do I recomend it? Yes! Everyone will enjoy it whether you are Hispanic/Latino or not. 

Personally for me I give it a 7/10, it’s great but there is something missing and I’m not sure exactly what.

[angrybrowngirlabroad-blog]

The Fountain of the King

I was going to take this next blog post talk about the Cascadas Magicas (literally “magical waterfalls”) that we explored in southern Oaxaca.  I realized, however, that I can’t go forward without first going back a bit and talking about another magical, watery place that had a profound effect on me, but has not made it into a blog post.  It is one of the most magical places I have ever been, and I dare say that I’ve been to quite a few magical places at this point in my journeys I tell you whut.

My journey through Central America began in July of 2016.  The first leg was through Baja California, then across the Sea of Cortez to Mazatlan, then, eventually Sayulita.  Sayulita, a beautiful surf town near Puerto Vallarta, was my home for two delightful, raucous, challenging months. There is so much to tell about my time there, that I’m sure to hark back to it several times as my journey and blog progress, but the spot I am specifically referencing in this post can actually be found about 40 minutes outside of Sayulita at a site called Alta Vista.

The location of the magical site was near a beach town called Chacala.  I was told about it by other residents of Sayulita that I had met working in the hostel.  “There’s this place, about 45 minutes from here, where there are waterfalls and rock carvings.  You have a car, and we have another one, we should get a group together!”  I was down, bodies of water and ancient art being two of my favorite things.  Our first excursion, though, was a bit of a disaster.  Between trying to wrangle 14 different individuals in different locations, with no cell phones, no one knowing the exact location, getting lost, getting there late in the day eventually with the help of a guide we paid, and variety of other small inconveniences I have forgotten about at this point, I did not get to spend as much time at Alta Vista as I would have liked.  Still, the place took my breath away, and I would end up going back two more times with much smaller groups.

To get to Alta Vista you have to depart Sayulita and head north on the 200.  You drive through and past several beach towns on the way, and there is one particularly lovely roadside destination where you can buy all sort of fruit, candy and excellent banana bread (though where it is I honestly can’t say, I only recognize it from sight).  About 25 minutes outside of Guayabitos (the biggest town you pass through) there is a road on the right called Alta Vista that soon gives way from paved road to dirt, that will take you to the archaeological site of Pila del Rey, “The King’s Fountain.”

Finding the actual entrance to the land that the site is on is difficult, and we never would have done it the first time without a guide.  I memorized the look of it (basically just a dirt road with a barbed wire gate) and was able to find it the second and third times from memory.  Driving onto the land, there is a small space to pull over and park a car.  After that, there is a road descending down into a valley, past rows and rows of Guayaba trees.  On your way down, you’ll often pass trucks heading up the other way, laden with fruit and the farmers who collect them.  It felt strange to be wandering farmland in search of petroglyphs, but everyone we passed on our way down waved and said hello, which assuaged my concerns.

The actual path to the creekbed is a bit confusing to find, and I got lost every single time I tried.  “Follow me!  I’m not sure what I’m doing!” I called out to my friends, like the worst tour guide ever.  We found it eventually, each time, mostly by stomping through tall grass and listening for the sound of water over rocks.  The creek itself is called Las Piletas, and it is surrounded by dark grey stones, beautiful trees, and a variety of bugs including many species of vibrant butterflies that almost seem to divebomb intruders in their realms.

A walk along the creekbed will lead you to the entrance of the petroglyph trail.  It is marked by barbed wire fence, and a sign.  Sometimes the caretaker sits outside, an old man who asks money for the trail's upkeep.  I saw him two out of the three times we went, and his prices varied on the day and number of people present, but never more than 20 pesos a person (around $2.50/$3 US at the time).  From the start of the trail there are metal signs posted here and there, painted with white letters in English and Spanish, detailing the history of the site.  The Spanish descriptions contained more information than the English ones, and while my Spanish was pretty limited at the time, I had the fortune of having Spanish speakers with me every time I went.

The story of the petroglyphs is that the area of La Pila del Rey was occupied by Texcoquines, and Aztec tribe that settled the valley between 2,000-2,300BCE and disappeared from the world in the 16th century after being ravaged by disease brought by the Spanish.  The Texcoquines, a name which means “throat-cutters” occupied much of the coast of Nayarit and Jalisco and were mostly farmers and fishermen.  The Texcoquines were shamans that took psychotropic plants to communicate with the gods.  The symbols carved into the rocks at Pila del Rey reflect these communications, showing sacred trees, water cycles, a man with a head of corn (the maize god, possibly), and several spirals and crosses.  They also engaged in tribal warfare, not for the sake of land acquisition, but to obtain sacrificial prisoners whose heads would be offered to the gods as tribute.  Despite living in relative peace with the land for centuries, after the Spanish laid claim to the area surrounding Alta Vista, it took less than 75 years before the last Texcoquin took their last breath.  Years after their demise, the locals still speak of “white indians” who appear in the hills to honor the old gods.

Starting down the trail, there are petroglyphs to be found everywhere.  The site boasts over 2,000 engravings on 200 acres of land, with the largest concentration being along the creekbed.  Pila del Rey is one of the largest collections of petroglyphs in the known world, and each time I went I noticed more that I had not seen the first time.  The trail that crisscrosses the riverbed contains carvings all over the stones on either side of it, at head height, knee height, on top of and on the underside of rocks.  There are a plethora of spirals, crosses, crosses with spirals, stylized trees, some man and animal shaped figures, and other collections of lines and dots that I could not make any sense of.  

After about 20-30 minutes of walking, the trail opens up to a larger clearing.  Here (during the rainy season at least) there are several pools, surrounded by the smooth grey rocks, and gripped by the roots of tall trees that drape vines from overhead.  I felt like I was in a Tomb Raider game, as I entered the clearing, my eyes fastening on the crystal blue water of the pools and small falls.  There were two pools deep enough to swim in, and in the rocks around them, some of the largest and most intricate carvings that I had seen.  Without hesitation, I stripped off my shoes and outer garments and headed toward the pools (did I mention it was during the rainy season and incredibly hot and humid?) the water in the pools was cold, almost too cold, and shockingly refreshing.

Swimming in the pools, and looking around at the rocks that surrounded them, felt incredibly surreal.  It’s easy to see why a place like this would be considered magical.  Even now, over 400 years since the last Texcoquin performed a ritual at the site, the feeling of magic still hangs in the air.  The locals agree as well, on a high point near the pools there is a small shrine with offerings and candles that always show signs of being recently lit.  The place has a pull to it, and a peace, and a feeling like you’ve gone back in time.

The third time I went I decided to venture up the creek with a friend to see if perhaps there were any more petroglyphs to be found.  Further up the creek we jumped from exposed stone to exposed stone, at times wading, and sometimes all out swimming through the water.  All of the carvings seem to stop at the place where the water pooled, though I can’t say for certain since we only went about half an hour past where the pools were.  I also didn’t bother to explore more of the farmland around the creek since some of the vegetation around there apparently gave me a horrible rash on my legs.  My documentation of the site is limited because I broke the phone that I used to take many of the photos there, but honestly, the photos barely do it justice anyways.

When it came time for me to continue my adventures on from Sayulita, I decided that I wanted to get a tattoo to commemorate my two months there.  I was thinking about all the places I’d been, and the profound experiences I had, and one of the ones that stuck out the most was Alta Vista.  On one large rock, overlooking the pools, there was a large, two armed spiral, about nine inches in diameter.  I had traced that spiral with my finger, meditatively, every time I had visited the site, taken in by the simplicity but also the perfection of its carving.  The day before I left Sayulita I got a two armed spiral tattooed on my forearm, beneath the Spanish phrase already emblazoned there, “Somos las nietas de las brujas que no pudiste quemar.”

We are the granddaughters of the witches you could not burn.

Photos: 1. The walk down to the creek bed 2. The perils of hiking during the rain season 3. One of my only photos of a petroglyph 4,5. The pools 6. Me, after swimming in the pools 7. My tribute to Sayulita/La Pila del Rey and my family

[jrad-was-here-blog]

End of Tour

Hi Everyone! 

I know it’s been a while since I’ve updated you on my Central American journey but I’ve finally finished  the tour and really wanted to keep my promise. Just to preface, since its been a while, there’s a lot written. Thank you to anyone that reads all the way through:

So I’ve been home for almost 2 months now, and… its strange. Its almost as if my inspiration has disappeared. Actually, It’s a little scary. 

I’ve talked to my family and friends about it and a pattern keeps coming up in conversation. “Do you enjoy performing?” is one, or “why do you enjoy it?” is another. 

I absolutely enjoy it. Being able to connect with the audience is the best part. But the in between, the time of practice and honing craft, feels like the hardest part to keep up. It’s hard to stay motivated consistently, so then I procrastinate and put myself in a cycle of self sabotage. 

Maybe I’m not as motivated because I need to redefine what I love? When things are not as exciting, why does one keep going? A good example/comparison would be the start of a serious relationship. You fall in love and everything’s amazing. Things are going really well and you get in a good groove. But then suddenly... your bored. The light isn’t as bright as it used to be and you ask yourself “Am I really in love?” Does this relationship mean enough to me? I am now face to face with what I love and I’m asking myself... should I run or go deeper? 

That being said, let me catch you all up on the rest of the Tour and then we’ll circle back to that question:

Where I last left, I was leaving the town of Panajachel in Guatemala to head back to Antigua. 

There I performed for a deaf school called LAVOSI (Las Voces Del Silencio).

It’s great to get a chance to perform for deaf students having to rely solely on my physicality and actions rather than sound to tell a story.  

When I arrived at the school, there was a beautiful shift in sound. I could hear a light ruffling of the kids clothes. Their shoes were tapping the floor as they signed and grunted. They’re was a high amount of focus and quiet across the room. A yapping dog runs into the room, breaking the silence. No one reacted except for me, so they moved to hush the dog. As things settled, one of the teachers directed me to the stage. Just around the corner, she points to a back patio of sorts. It was a small space, but a space nonetheless. I nervously got into my costume in the middle of the patio, while the kids around the corner were still in class.

The performance began. They were a very well behaved crowd, and very attentive to my actions. When they laughed, their bodies jolted forward with a grunt. I felt good about the performance. There was a deep connection with each one of the students. As I left the building, a warm satisfaction swept over me. That happens from time to time performing. It’s a nice reminder of my love for performance. That little electric chill that goes through your body is addictive. I just wanna catch it and bottle it up, so I can ask it questions.

From there I moved on to Leon, Nicaragua. 

A high amount of tourists were aroound, and lots of beautiful architecture to see. White and gold trim were on some of the buildings, and then others were painted with red, pink, and blue. While in Leon, I connected with a group called Quetzal Trekkers. They ran multiple tours, and all the money they earned would be donated to NGO’s and charity projects. One of their projects, called Asociación Las Tías, is in a village right outside Leon. I took a taxi with Kim, one of the owners, to perform for the children there.  As we pulled up to the village the setting shifted dramatically into a Mad Max world. A long, hardly drivable, road was lined with large piles of trash and small shack homes. Emaciated dogs stumbled along, while groups of vultures were ripping away at undefined carcasses. In the center of the village, I could hear a group of children screaming. It’s that type of scream where you can’t tell if kids are playing or in danger, so I was a little on edge at that point. However, once we arrived 3 kids ran out laughing, and their faces were covered in shiny star stickers. One girl had them covering her lips and she was so proud of her stars.

Without even knowing who I was the kids embraced me, grabbed my hand, and lead me into their fantastical world. Walking up, there were fence posts painted in bright colors, hoola-hoops lying throughout the yard, and kids racing about loving life. The teachers directed me into a little shack to change my costume. I was pretty disoriented. I would smile and nod while everyone spoke Spanish, trying my damnedest to understand what was going on. Yet with all the confusion, I fucking loved it.

A teacher with a megaphone yelled something in Spanish, and all the kids got into a line. Kim, from Quetzal Trekkers, tells me there about to have a parade through the village and its probably best to wait behind for them to finish. Before I knew what was going on, I had joined the kids in their parade. It was a very hot day, so by the time I finished parading around the village with the children, I was drenched in sweat. Kim was right, I should have stayed behind.

The performance was wild. The kids wanted so badly to come up to the “stage”. Screaming and jumping, they tugged on my pants in anticipation. I always love for kids to come up on the stage, but if you don’t set any ground rules you can lose control of them. That being said, I decided to shape the performance around the kids energy. It started with one kid running up to smack my butt, while another was stealing my props. Another kid throws himself onto the stage, growling at me. I realized the control was fading, so at that point I just stood still and let him rip.  He jumps in front of me, staring me down, and growls louder. This kid sure is confident. I stood still and stared giving him all the attention. Then, slowly I turn him to the audience. As he growls and shakes, I look to the kids and point. Without even skipping a beat they erupt into a roar! It was a sea of howling kids. With my magic conductor wand (a feather duster) I direct the chorus into a beautiful roaring orchestra. Lowering my wand, I bring them into pianissimo and with a flick of my wrist, they explode into fortissimo! It was a magnificent piece.

A couple of moments, the kids would speak Spanish to me and I was little lost. This one girl chanted something to me and I thought, what a beautiful sound coming out of her mouth. It would make a wonderful song! So again, I conduct the orchestra of kids to chant this “sound”. The best part is later on, after the performance, Kim from Quetzel Trekkers in between laughing says “You know that phrase they were chanting? Yeah, they were saying ‘Shut up clown!’ over and over again!” 

That my friends, made my entire day :) 

After the performance, they wanted me to come back to teach the kids some juggling. We ended up making juggling balls out of balloons, rice, and plastic bags. Cheap and easy. I left that day completely fulfilled. They were all so excited to learn! 

Later that week, I met a tour guide named Anri. He thought it would be great if I could perform for the village he donates school supplies to. So, I traveled with him and a small group the very next day. We  gave school supplies to teachers in the village and In return they served us a meal of Sopa de Gilla, a traditional Nicaraguan chicken based soup with squash and yucca. It was delicious! Then, we traveled to the center of the village, and got all the children together for the performance. They were shy and quite, but I could see the delight in their eyes.  

*NOTE* When I finish performing, loads of thoughts seep into my brain.

This is always the best time for me to write. I can learn and create more, while moving and shaping things. Most of the time my ego will look at what I just did, and say it was all shit and that I should just give up. If I give my ego a little bit of attention, that could be the point where I somehow “forget” to write my thoughts down. If all else fails, write it down. Even if my ego shows up on the paper, at least it makes it outside my mind. It even helps me immensely writing this all for you. My mind races, yet when I write at least its on a track. *END NOTE*

Moving forward, I packed my bags and headed to Granada.

Moving constantly is an interesting thing. You don’t have much time to get super attached to a place. It can be a bit disorienting. After a while though, I started getting used to it. Used to the unpacking, and packing. Meeting new people and exchanging stories. Dealing with the constant questions when I tell people  “I’m a traveling clown”. I like those questions though. The more I talked about it, the more clear my ideas got of what I was doing.

Anyway back to Granada. It’s a beautiful city, and the architecture is incredible. Bright colors, and grandiose carvings all over the buildings. While there, I again had moments of fear of where to go and what to do, but I pushed on sticking to my mission. Some days I would feel disconnected with it, and then others the mission was crystal clear. While in Granada, I performed for a group called Empowerment International. It was a very large group of kids of about 85 in total. I felt a bit intimidated by that number. My common thought arose “This is going to go horribly!”

And if it does? So what! Hah! I laugh in the face of fear!

The performance did go horribly and great at the same time. There were some hilarious moments… and then other moments, crickets.  A teacher at the beginning handed me a microphone and that became another magic wand. I began to beatbox, and the kids would cheer for more. It may have been too big too fast in the beginning, but so what. I made a note of it later. I was having too much fun to really care.

Later that week I performed again for the same organization, but a smaller group of kids. The energy of a place can be SO different. Sometimes it can be very intimate, and other times its just in your face, LOUD NOISES! Performing outside for the kids was oddly intimate.  It was a very quite afternoon. A dry hot day, light breeze, and you could hear the squawks of chickens in the distance. The kids sat under a big tree, and the branches shaded them from the sun. 

I performed, and stuck to most of my act, but improvised a bit. They giggled here and there.

*NOTE* I’ve found it difficult to end performances because most of the time there’s no going behind a curtain to end. The best I found is pulling down my red nose and saying thank you. It gives the kids a chance to see the other side. I used to think it spoiled the magic, but In a strange way it seems to enhance it. *END NOTE*

After Granada, I headed to the island of Ometepe. 

The island was in the middle of a huge lake. Wild horses, bulls, and dogs were scattered everywhere.  I rented a moped and cruised the island to my destination. Riding along, large bulls slowly made their way across the road. Sometimes I’d see a family of 4 riding on a small moped: father, mother, son, and baby. Pretty ballsy I’d say, but quite resourceful. 

2 hours away from where the boat landed, I arrived at my hostel: Hacienda Merida. I liked this hostel for multiple reasons. There was a school connected to it, and all money made would help support the school. Also, the owner Alvaro kept the community clean by using his patented eco-bricks. The eco bricks were used water bottles stuffed with non-biodegradable materials. When using cement, you could stack eco bricks wrapped in chicken wire, and it would cut about 50% of the cement normally used. Also, Alvaro allowed the people of the community to make their own eco bricks to make a couple of bucks. 

The next morning, I performed for the hostel’s school.

Rather than a semi-circle of kids, it was a full “circus circle”. My favorite part of the performance was when I turned this one kid into a “karate master”. I picked him up and had him flying through the air like ‘Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon’. I had him fake kicking kids in the audience, and at that point I almost broke laughing. It was all in the moment, and probably the best part of the show.

Within that week, after reaching out to other people in Nicaragua to perform, and getting no response

I decided to move on to Costa Rica.

At that point, I could feel the trip reaching an end.

Once in Costa Rica I followed some Swedish guys to Monteverde (nicknamed “Cloud Forest”). Instead of rain there, it was a constant mist throughout the day. Monteverde’s based in the middle of mountains, so it gets pretty chilly at night. 

I made my way through the town of Santa Elena and was able to set up performances for a public and a private Quaker school.  

When I performed for the quaker school, all the kids were sitting down on wood benches inside this amazing open wooden chapel. There were big windows and wide open space for me to perform. The benches were set up in a semi-circle, and all the kids sat wide-eyed, waiting. At the beginning, the co-director Rick introduced me with a small bit between the two of us. At the end of the performance, they wanted more. They chanted again and again, “More, more!” I’d never gotten that before.

 I’d say this was the best performance of the whole trip. I was having so much fun with them. I didn’t have much expectation of what was going to happen, and before performing I had a nice 30 min walk to help clear my head.  

The next performance was for the public school. The principal wanted me to perform for each classroom (thats 18 in total). I performed for about 8 minutes in each class, which turned out to be a great exercise in refining moments. I took one bit and did that over and over again, and each time I did it I found more and more nuances. The more I did the bit, the more laughs I got. 

I was surprised that even some of the teachers payed less attention to the performance than the kids did. One teacher was on his phone, and… he was texting! Mid performance I stopped and stared. The teacher was caught, and sheepishly put his phone away. 

My last performance was at a small village near the coast of Costa Rica called Amubri. The day of the performance I brought a friend Katia with me to watch. We made our way to the village on a bus, crossed a river by boat, and then back on a bus the rest of the way. We met up with the village leader Danilo and his translator Kim. Once there, it felt a bit unorganized. Nobody really knew where to go or sit.

I wanted to create something, but I didn’t know where to start. It was kinda like street performance, where you have to attract people to the performance. The highlight of the performance was when a kid came out driving this toy jeep. He had to of been only 2 years old, but yet he was able to chase me full speed around the yard. 

I discovered later his father was driving the car with a remote control. I was pretty much the village idiot for the day. 

So fast forward to me coming home to NC, I’m driving home from the airport, and my Dad’s partner Mike asks me “What’s the take away from your trip?

I think the biggest thing for me was noticing how I talk to myself as an artist. I realized that the main reason my productivity suffers is because of how I talk to myself. Even when I read through my journals of the trip it was a constant cycle of me trying to discourage myself. I don’t know where it comes from, but I’m glad I’m at least aware of it. So circling back to the question “Should I run or go deeper?” Of course I want to go deeper, and to do that I need to listen. Simple as that. I’m sure the answers will reveal themselves if I just get still enough...

And thats that.

Thank you so much to everyone that followed me on this journey.  I appreciate you taking the time to read through my struggles and successes. Hopefully I will be able to fill you in on new adventures with clowning soon. 

But for now...

I bid you A’dieu. Until next time!

With all the love we can muster;

Sincerely, Jared & Roadie