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ficdirectory · 7 years ago

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Blink (An AU Fosters family fic) Chapter 23

CHAPTER 23

Pearl mulls over the idea of looking Jesus up. She could Google him. Or ask her mom, Char or Pav if they had ever heard the name Jesus Foster before, and see what they said. It takes all of her self control not to.

It’s because of the conversation she’s already had with Jesus: because he told her how much he likes being in charge of who he tells, and how much he says. If she looked him up now, and found out more information than he disclosed to her, he would probably feel really betrayed.

She knows if the news had somehow picked up what happened to her and everyone knew about it everywhere she went, it would be awful. It’s bad enough living in a small town and having everyone here know about what happened to her. It’s a small miracle that Stef and her family don’t know. Pearl isn’t willing to compromise Jesus’s privacy to satisfy her own curiosity. If Jesus wants to tell her, he will. (She’s not gonna mention his name to her mom or her friends either, because they might connect the dots and figure out the kid she’s been talking to is Jesus.)

“Friends don’t Google friends,” Pearl tells Gracie. “Right?”

Gracie nuzzles Pearl’s hand.

Pearl makes a decision. Finds a bright orange Frisbee. Holds it out to Gracie. “Wanna get out of here? Go play?” she asks.

Gracie’s tongue lolls out. She smiles.

They walk for a while. The whole point is to get away from her cabin and the WiFi and the temptation to poke into the life of the kid who just called her his role model. So Pearl walks until she arrives at a local spot where she and Gracie love to play because it’s usually so deserted.

Pearl lets Gracie off-leash and tosses the Frisbee. “Go get it, girl!” Pearl calls, and Gracie bounds after it. She leaps and catches it while it’s still in the air. In so many ways, Gracie’s still like a puppy.

Jesus loves this. If he could just spend his whole day on the couch with Mama talking about food, he’s pretty sure that would solve everything that’s wrong. He keeps thinking about hot chocolate, and how much he wants to make it, but he knows it would be pushing it. He needs to take it slow today and not borrow trouble.

Even though it’s only been a little bit since he had waffles, Mama starts making lunch, so it’ll be ready at noon. Soup and sandwiches. It smells good. He gathers his bag and other stuff from under the table, so she can take care of the blankets.

This time, he can eat, no problem. But he can’t put anything in his bag because it’s just Mama right now, and she’s paying attention.

After lunch, it’s back to the couch, where they put The Food Network on mute and just talk. Mama lets him lead the conversation and for a while he obsesses about food some more, but eventually, he does feel safe enough to bring up another huge thing that’s been on his mind.

“You remember Monday night?” he asks carefully.

“I do,” Mama responds softly.

“You and Mom were really mad,” Jesus observes. “That I didn’t tell you where I was going.”

“I remember.”

“But I couldn’t,” he tries to explain.

“You couldn’t?” Mama asks.

“It was like today. This morning? I got stuck out there and I couldn’t move. Once Mom and Brandon and Callie left, and I was by myself I just froze. I didn’t have anything that made me safe. I was just out there, alone. I thought maybe if I just waited, they’d come back, but then it was a long time, and I got cold, and that made everything worse.”

Mama just listens.

“So it’s not like I was trying to make you guys upset, I actually couldn’t move to come back and tell you. Gracie came and got me and brought me to Pearl’s. It’s the only reason I got there.”

Mama thinks for a bit and then starts talking: “So, when Mom and I keep telling you to make sure you tell us when you go over there, that probably doesn’t feel very fair.”

Jesus shakes his head.

“Maybe instead you need something to be different? So that that doesn’t happen again?” Mama tries.

“Right,” Jesus nods.

“How do you get home each night?” Mama wonders.

“Pearl walks me back and knocks on the door to be sure you guys can hear,” Jesus volunteers.

“Okay, so when you want to walk over to Pearl’s and you tell one of us in the family, we’ll make sure that person walks you over, too. So you get there safely. Does that sound workable?”

Jesus nods. “Jude did it last night,” he offers. “It really helped.”

“Thank you for telling me that.”

“You’re welcome. Can we make hot chocolate together? Or does it have to just be you?” Jesus asks.

“How safe do you feel in the kitchen?” she asks.

Jesus shrugs.

“So, I think, this time, it would be best if I made it. But you’re welcome to give me suggestions.”

“Candy canes?” he offers.

“Well, let’s see what Grandpa has on hand…” Mama says, getting up to look around. Jesus gets up, too, but just so he can turn and see what she’s up to.

Pearl keeps throwing the Frisbee. Now, though, she’s squinting at the sledders in the distance on the hill. One in particular, looks familiar. Bright pink jacket. Pink fleece hat. And her walk...so unique...Pearl would know it anywhere.

Slowly, Pearl makes her way over to the group, feeling drawn to them. (If Frankie’s there, Jesus is there. And she can’t shake the desire to check in.) She and Gracie climb the hill off to the side, so Brandon and Mariana don’t take her out, careening down the hill together. Next come Callie and Jude, whooping and cheering.

By the time she gets to the top, Pearl realizes that she didn’t just miscount. There are only six people here. Jesus and Lena are missing. She tries to hide her disappointment. Frankie notices them first.

“Gracie! Hi!” she says from the sled. “Mom, let me out, okay?”

Stef laughs and lifts her out, holding onto her as she trudges through the snow.

“These boots are way too heavy,” Frankie says. “But hey, Pearl? Is Gracie on a break right now?”

“She is, actually. We just came here to play.”

“So, I can pet her?” Frankie asks, incredulous.

“Yeah, of course.”

“Be gentle,” Stef reminds, as Frankie embraces Gracie hard.

“Gracie, I missed you so much, and I wanted to pet you for my whole life,” Frankie exclaims dramatically.

Gracie accepts the hug, and licks Frankie, making her giggle.

“Oh! She loves me, too!” she squeals.

“Where’s Jesus?” Pearl asks, counting again. Definitely only four teenagers on the hill.

“Jesus isn’t here,” Frankie interjects stopping the love-fest with Gracie to inform Pearl. “He’s at the cabin with Mama. He--”

“He’s having a bit of a tough morning,” Stef interjects. “Sometimes, it’s better for him to have less going on during those times.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Pearl nods. She waits until Frankie’s thoroughly distracted, trying to throw the Frisbee for Gracie and says, “You’re leaving Sunday? That’s coming up.”

“A bit too quickly for my liking,” Stef admits. “It feels like we just got here.”

“Hey, Pearl,” Brandon greets, coming to the top of the hill. Mariana, Jude and Callie all follow him in sending her a greeting before sledding down the hill again.

“Hey, can Gracie go sledding with me?” Frankie wonders.

“No, love. Gracie has to stay with Pearl,” Stef encourages.

“But she’s on a break!”

“Honey, dogs can’t sled,” Stef explains.

“I’ll take you, Frankie,” Jude offers, back at the bottom of the hill.

“Okay!”

Pearl listens to Stef’s instructions that Jude sit behind her and hold onto her, and not go too fast.

“I’m not really in control of the sled, Mom…” Jude protests.

“Oh, you are more than you think.”

Waiting until all the kids are careening down the hill, Stef offers softly: “If it’s something you’re comfortable with...I feel like it would mean a lot to Jesus...and to us...if he could stay in touch with you after we leave…” She’s looking at the sledders, tracking all five of the kids down the hill. But she’s waiting for Pearl’s response.

“Yeah. It would mean a lot to me, as well. Assuming it’s okay with you and Lena,” Pearl amends.

“Very much so… Jude Jacob! Don’t you dare start a snowball fight! We’re here to sled!”

“Sorry!” he calls back, unable to resist pelting Brandon with a handful of snow.

“Listen, do you think it’d be too much if I stopped by Frank’s myself on the way home? I could see how Jesus is doing? Ask if he wants to hang out next door for a while?”

“See what he’s comfortable with. And what Lena says. If they’re okay with it, I’m fine with it. He might just need a really low-key day. I’d just want to make sure he eats before he goes over.”

“Right.”

Jesus is trying to convince Mama that he’d be an even better co-chef if he can actually touch the food. It’s his trauma talking, and they both know it. It’s getting hard to just sit by and watch. Making him anxious.

A knock sounds at the door.

“Jesus, can you answer that, please?” Mama calls.

It makes him breathe a sigh of relief. That she trusts him to do something while she’s busy. He loves to be in charge of knowing who’s coming and going, but he checks the window first.

Pearl and Gracie!

“Hey. What’s up, guys?” Jesus asks, almost reaching out to hug Pearl but stopping himself. (He can’t do that unless he asks, and unless she says yes. Jesus hates sneak-attack hugs - the kind that are all about the giver and show no regard for the getter.)

“We ran into Stef and the rest sledding. I thought you might be with them, but they said you stayed back.” She and Gracie wipe their feet and Jesus leads them into the kitchen.

“Mama’s making hot chocolate.”

“Oh gosh. You know that’s my weakness. Hey, Lena,” she calls.

“Hey guys. Pearl, I hear you make superior hot chocolate...on the stove…” Lena smiles.

“Jesus is kind,” Pearl insists.

“In my experience, he’s honest…” Lena says.

“That’s also true,” Pearl admits.

“Gracie, can you believe these guys?” Jesus asks.

“I wanted to stop by and make sure you were okay.”

“Doing better, yeah. Thanks,” he nods.

“So… Do you want to come back next door with Gracie and me?”

“Oh, totally. Mama, is that cool?” Jesus asks.

“It’s cool with me, if it’s cool with you, my love.”

“Okay, let me get my stuff.”

In seconds, he’s ready, jacket and backpack on. They start walking.

“It’s cool you stopped by,” Jesus offers.

“Well, I was so bummed when I saw your family, and you weren’t there. Like, they weren’t complete without you. It looked wrong with only five there.”

There’s something about her tone that makes him stop. “You’re thinking about it, right? About what I said last night? About being kidnapped.”

“I am…” she admits, but at least she looks embarrassed. “It’s hard not to think about it now that I know. And I am curious. But I remember what you said about not wanting people to know more than you tell them yourself, and I respect you.”

She opens her door and lets him inside. This is the least trauma he’s ever felt being over here. He’s been so freaked out before, it’s never occurred to him that Pearl doesn’t lock her door.

Jesus fights the urge to do it for her.

But he’s also sure she has a reason. And him doing that for her might have just as disastrous an effect as somebody insisting he couldn’t check his house at night, to be sure all the doors and windows were locked.

He has to respect her, like she’s respecting him.

#fic: blink #fosters fic

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spnmcrphangirl · 5 years ago

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Free Write Friday - Cancun #27 3/3/2020

The First Night

The walk to the shuttle was quite far and we were hurried along by the hotel workers. My mom walked with her manager, who walks with a cane, so that they wouldn’t be left behind. We loaded our luggage and waited for our mother to catch up before boarding the bus.

One of my mom’s coworkers and his wife had seemingly been left behind- they weren’t in the line following us despite being at the baggage claim at the same time as the rest of us. The hotel workers assured us that the shuttle would be back around and they would be picked up just like us when they found their way out of the airport.

So we buckled our seat belts and the shuttle began to move. We turned on our phones and realized that we did not have service. As all young people who desperately needed to contact the people on their phones (and Snapchat cute boys) we furiously checked the setting to see if the bus had WiFi. It did. We turned it on and the notifications flooded in.

There was no time change; Mexico doesn’t observe the daylight savings time change in the fall that America does, so our eastern-time friends were texting me in real time. It was the afternoon and one of my friends who was helping take care of my dog had some questions for me (which I promptly answered upon receiving the means to do so) and my other friends were readily updating me on the things that were happening at school.

We arrived at the hotel an hour later; my phone was at low battery so I elected to look at the scenery rather than looking at my phone. Trees lined the highways, going on for seemingly forever- I remembered the way the highways barely cut through the trees when looking at them from above. I didn’t sleep on the way there- the hotel workers talked for quite a while about the activities available at the hotel. A video played on a screen on the ceiling of the bus but I preferred to listen to the hotel worker.

She tried to get the shuttle to respond; asking if we’d ever been to Mexico, or if we spoke any Spanish. My mother was eager to say that my younger sister, who’d only taken Spanish I and Spanish II at our middle and high schools, knew some Spanish. What they don’t tell you in class is that they’re teaching you white-people, Spaniard Spanish. Not Mexican dialect Spanish. So much for being more useful than taking French.

We passed the entrances of a few parks on the way to the hotel and were desperately looking for a glimpse of the hyped-up activities we had researched on the website and heard from the hotel workers. (If you stay for the updates, you’ll be pleased to hear that this trip did NOT disappoint).

Pulling into the hotel, I had the ungodly urge to use the restroom, which happens to people whose mothers tell them to be adequately hydrated since the temperature is going to be increased more than 30 degrees from Maryland to Mexico.

But I took the time to look around. The entrance didn’t seem grand, but there were so many plants hanging from the high, thatch ceiling. We had to walk up the stairs to get into the lobby, and then I was able to see the whole view. The other side of the lobby was completely open and I could see the other buildings, or “casas.” It was breathtaking and that was when it sunk in that I was really not at home anymore.

Summer is my favorite season and the warmth felt like a much needed hug in the middle of a particularly frosty and wet winter. I was eager to get to the room, which we were shown to and our bags were brought up to us. The room had two queen beds and a pull out couch, as well as a hammock (which I wanted to sleep in but never ended up doing so after being too tired to organize a night where I could possibly have had a fitful sleep).

We set down our stuff, began unpacking a bit, and changed into lighter clothes to meet my mom’s coworkers for happy hour and dinner. I wore jean shorts and a soft t-shirt. I threw on flip flops and we walked down to the beach.

We passed by the lobby and tried to look for other people that had been on our way. We walked down the stairs, towards the ocean, and down another spiral, past some lagoons and onto one of the larger beaches connected to a lagoon.

The sun was setting but the air was warm. My mom ordered a drink but neither I nor my sister is old enough to drink so we settled for water. The water was sparkling water and it burned my tongue when I drank it. I did not like it, and took miniscul sips to minimize the burning.

My mom's coworkers were concerned about the small sips- it was winter in my state and was cold, but the warmth in Mexico would quickly dehydrate me if I didn't drink something. My mom suggested adding lime or lemon but I decided not to.

We took pictures before my mom asked the coordinator when dinner was. She informed us that the group who arrived on the earlier flight had already eaten, but she told us the name of the restaurant and we walked back towards the lobby.

"Wait," I said. "You aren't going to tell anyone else that we're going to dinner?" My mom considered and walked back to the group. Habitually, I pulled my phone out of my pocket, but the WiFi didn't reach the beach from the lobby. I sighed, making small talk with my sister.

My mom came back, with one of her coworkers and his son. We all headed to dinner. The restaurant was underneath the lobby, beautifully decorated, and buffet-style. We ate there for each meal when we were at the hotel.

We probably arrived at dinner around 8 pm and didn't leave until 11. We ate multiple courses, going back for more each time my mother seemed like she wasn't going to stop talking.

We had heard from the other coworkers that they were meeting in the lobby at 8 the next morning, which we told the men we were having dinner with. We all agreed we would also be there at 8.

We headed back to the room, each of us taking a quick shower before flopping into bed. We were all dead tired (but luckily not jet-lagged because our home and Cancun had the same time) and as we laid down to sleep, I heard something.

My head pressed against the pillow and I looked up to see what my sister was doing. She was trying to sleep as well. "Do you hear that?" I asked. My mom and my sister nodded. I laid back down. As I tried to sleep, it sounded like the room next to us was playing music (it wasn't good music, either.) I sighed and tried to sleep. Eventually it stopped and I blacked out from exhaustion.

A/N: Hey guys sorry I missed the past two weeks I had tryouts and luckily I managed to gain a spot Varsity (woo! The team is super good and I wasn’t sure I’d make it) I will probably not be posting this Friday. It takes me a while to write these since I want them to be a really good recount. I'd like to be able to look back at these and remember one day.

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aliceinguatemala · 7 years ago

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San Juan La Laguna

It’s late Thursday night and I’m just getting to Monday. The women of Casa Flor Ixcaco, with whom we talked and had dinner on Sunday night, stayed over at our hotel and Monday morning we all took a boat across the lake to their town, San Juan la Laguna. Sunday night Delfina, Miriam, Johana and Ana Maria told us how the history of their cooperative, how it was founded and how it works. They have 22 (or 25) women who sell their products at the co-op. They receive 80% of the selling price and the other 20% goes to the expenses of the co-op (rent, electricity, etc.). The weavers receive payment up front, rather than having to wait until one or more of their pieces sells. This helps the women and their families afford food and other essentials. If they had to wait to be paid, they might wait a month or more and that of course makes life much more difficult.

I”m inspired by the efforts of the Casa Flor Ixcaco women. They’ve created a viable business for themselves to sustain them and their families allowing them to improve their lives. By trial and error they’ve arrived at a system that works. Delfina and Miriam have taught themselves English by listening to the customers who visit the co-op and learning from the guides who accompany customers. Johana has learned English from Delfina and Miriam and also by interacting with customers. By the way, most of their customers are Americans. Apparently we spend more than anyone else who visits them.

The women have also started an organic chocolate business, run by young people from San Juan La Laguna. The intent is to provide another option - besides weaving - as a means for young people to learn a skill and to earn a living. As some of you know - and as all of my fellow volunteers now know - I love dark chocolate. Not surprisingly, I bought a LOT of chocolate products. The chocolate for drinking comes in a round disk about an inch and a half thick. You make the hot chocolate by mixing the chocolate and hot water. It’s delightful. Delfina’s husband raises bees and makes honey, which they also sell at the chocolate co-op.Naturally I had to buy some of that as well. Between my purchases there and at the weaving co-op, I probably single-handedly raised the GDP of the village.

We did more than shop on Monday, lest you think otherwise. Once we arrived at San Juan La Laguna and trekked up the steep hill directly in front of the dock, we made our way to the chocolate co-op. A charming young fellow told us - in good English - all about the process by which they make the chocolate. They buy the cacao beans from growers on the coast. Then they break open the beans, remove the seeds and roast them. After roasting, they crush the beans into a fine powder using a stone roller and a mealing stone. For their dark chocolate they use 70% cacao, 20% organic sugar cane and 10% lemon juice. The chocolate has a slightly grainy texture, which I really like. It’s delicious!

After our visit, we piled into a van and rode up into the hills. Then we piled out of the van and left the road to walk through corn fields, which gave way to coffee plants shaded by avocado trees. The ground was littered with overripe avocados. Such a shame to see so many avocados going to waste. The avocado trees are planted to give shade to the coffee plants, which grow best under some shade. I’m not sure what other sorts of vegetation we passed by and through, but we made our way through fairly dense flora, now and then catching a glimpse above the tall corn and other plants of the green hills and volcanos rising up against the blue sky. After trekking through some dense foliage, we arrived in an area populated by the trees from which we harvested bark. The women use machetes to first skin the bark off the trees and then gather up the bark pieces from the ground. They don’t own the land where the trees grow; they rent it - which is where part of the 20% or each sale goes.

Once we collected enough bark, we made our way back to the van and rode back down to the weaving co-op. There Juana explained the cotton’s journey from raw material to finished product. The co-op buys the cotton, which still contains its seeds. They have to remove the seeds without pulling the cotton into tiny pieces. We all tried our hand at this and it’s a painstaking process. It’s quite hard to remove the cotton seeds without pulling apart the cotton. Once that’s done, the cotton is spun onto a spindle. Juana made drawing the cotton out into a thin thread and spinning it around a spindle look easy, but it’s not. A few of us tried, unsuccessfully, to replicate Juana’s efforts. Next the cotton thread is gathered into skeins and dyed using natural dyes made from plants. There is an amazing variety of beautiful colors the women make from things like basil and mint and tree bark and all sorts of plants.

An enormous amount of work goes into producing the cotton thread used for the women’s weaving. Once the thread is made, they use a back strap loom to weave their textiles. The back strap loom is so called because the loom is attached to a strap that goes around the weaver’s back. The other end of the loom is fastened to a post or some other inanimate object. In the past, weavers kneeled on the ground for hours to support the loom and keep tension on the threads. Now the weavers sit on a low stool, alleviating much of the stress on the body. Even so, it’s still a laborious effort.

Each piece sold at the co-op has a tag with the weaver’s name and the amount of time it took the make the piece. As I mentioned earlier, I’m astounded at how relatively inexpensive the textiles are given the amount of time and labor necessary to create them. The women produce all sorts of things incorporating their textiles. There are scarves, blankets, pillow covers, notebooks covered with textiles, shawls, placemats, table runners, hair clips and barrettes, pieces of whole fabric, purses, little zippered pouches, larger zippered pouches, wallets and a few more things I can’t recall. My group spent a good deal of time browsing, choosing and buying. Just as we were getting ready to leave, there was a heavy rainstorm.

We stayed a while longer in the co-op hoping to wait out the rain. When it let up some, we ventured out. The streets weren’t easy to navigate, as the water ran in small rivers down the streets and there were places where it was impossible to cross without submerging your feet in a mini river or tiny pond. Ultimately we made it to our next stop, an art gallery cooperative consisting of nine men and one woman, Gloria, the sole female member, welcomed us in and explained a bit about how the co-op works. Most of the paintings done in oil. One common style of painting here shows a view from above of everyday Guatemalan scenes, like people harvesting fruit or coffee or a healer working on a patient, The colors are bright and the painting technique involves leaving the paint raised up a little bit. I’m sure an art aficionado could explain the technique better than I, but I’m what you’ve got right now. I can tell you that I asked Gloria if this style of painting originated with one artist which then became popular, ]] and that is indeed the case. You see these paintings everywhere - in the markets, on the streets, in galleries. Once again, I did my part to support the local artisans and bought a painting.

I then met up with my fellow volunteers at a coffee shop near the dock, where I enjoyed a tasty mocha and Jackie B. bought me a piece of dark chocolate, which was quite yummy. Speaking of Jackie B., she wanted me to make sure to mention that she was kind enough to lend me a pair of capris for the duration of our stay. I arrived in Guatemala prepared for colder temperatures than I’ve experienced. I have only long pants and long-sleeved shirts. I’d understood that the days were springlike and the nights were cool enough to need a fleece. Sadly that’s not been the case. The days have been quite warm - warm enough that I’ve been pretty hot walking around in my unsuitable clothes - and the nights are definitely cooler, but still not cool enough for a fleece. Some of my fellows would disagree, but to each her own. I think part of my problem is that while it may be a bit cooler, it’s still awfully humid, for me at least. So what’s all this have to do with the capris? Well, given my long pants were making me super uncomfortable, Jackie was kind enough to lend me a pair of her capris, so that I could be a little more comfortable. And that is the story of the capris.

I’ll be you’re all wondering, “When is Alice actually going to build anything?” Building begins “tomorrow,” Tuesday, but it’s actually Friday night and we’ve built all 12 of our stoves; I’ll begin to tell you about it tomorrow, though I’ll likely be posting this tomorrow, as the internet connection here is non-existent this evening. My computer says I have wifi, but I don’t. Technology!

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andy-abroad · 7 years ago

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Travel_01

June.11-12.2017 Hello hello-- Today has been one of the longest days of my life, and not just because I am crossing a time zone! The morning started at 3am. I still hadn't booked a hostel for Mumbai yet, as I was asking around for suggestions, so I woke up early to do some research. I actually also downloaded air bnb, but couldn't verify my old account as my 703 number is currently inactive, so I had to make a new account. There weren't many listings on air bnb, or the ones that were listed were quite expensive. I decided to just look at hostel world and search there. I think I found a good hostel, and really just wanted somewhere to land. If I don't like it, I can always leave, I guess. I got ready, which involved brushing teeth, packing, and leaving my key. When I got downstairs there was a cab waiting for me. I got into the cab, got to the airport, and checked in. It was about 4:15a by the time I got to the gate, with the plane taking off at 5:30a. I bought a muffin and a water for breakfast. The muffin wasn't great, but I wasn't really in a place to be picky. At the gate, I actually sat next to a man I saw yesterday at the valley of the kings. He is a teacher from St. Louis and was doing a tour around Egypt for two weeks. We chatted a bit, which was nice, and swapped stories about our time in Egypt. In the middle of our conversation, it was announced our flight was delayed an hour. No big deal, since my flight to Kuwait didn't leave until 1:30p. 6:30 came and we were all boarded and ready to go. Behind me sat two children, one who wouldn't stop screaming and one who was shouting to talk. There was also a French woman who kept talking the entire flight. I don't know where all these people got their energy from. I kind of fell asleep, but was awake enough to get a mango juice for later. After an hour of screaming and kind of sleeping, we landed in Cairo. This is where I thought it would be easy, as connecting flights within airports are usually seamless, even if they're from domestic to international, however, this was not my case. A man directed me upstairs to go through customs. Normal. I go through customs but don't have a customs report. I leave and do it. I go back through customs. I am told I'm in the wrong terminal. The email says terminal 1. I am at terminal 3. Luckily, there's a shuttle bus. I would rather walk three miles at this point than get into another Egyptian cab. I wait for 20 minutes, constantly telling cabbies that I'm not in need of a ride and that I'm not Chinese, and then finally get into a crammed shuttle bus. It has many stops and I get off at the wrong one. Luckily I can squeeze back in. I get off at terminal one. Go through entrance security and then try to get into the ticketing area. I send all of my belongings through, only to be told that I am supposed to be in terminal 2. I get my things and I head outside. I ask the tourist police where the shuttle is. A taxi man tries to grab my arm and I rip it away from him. There's s tram that I can take, which I do. I take it to terminal 2. I go through entry security. I send all my things through again to get to ticketing, and I am told that I need to wait 20 minutes because I'm too early for my flight. I almost lose it. They also say I need a paper ticket, which I cannot get without visiting a counter, or printing out an email. I finally get let in, grab my things, and search for the ticket counter. It's no where to be seen. I try to use a kiosks, they are all not working. At this point I'm told that the Kuwait airlines counter isn't open because it's too early. It's only 3 hours before the flight. An international flight. There's nothing to do but wait, so I wait. I finally get in line to get my boarding passes. It's surprisingly complicated. I have to show my visa, and prove that I'm flying out of India before the 60 days of my visa are up. I am so thankful I got data because the wifi is just not reliable in airports and I would have been in big trouble without this information. I pick up my passes and head up to my gate. To complete tradition, I have a beer, to say I've had a beer in every country I've visited. It was really early... before 11 am, so I was super tired after it. I had a croissant and took my malaria pill. Let's hope I don't forget to take these everyday! I found my way to the gate and took a nap. I woke up to my alarm that I had set for boarding, got onto the plane, and fell back asleep. I was/am so tired! The flight was only 3 hours I think, but they gave me lunch. It was a sandwich, a really good cookie kind of thing, and some potatoes. Overall really good. It also came with milk which I was kind of exited about until I realized that it was butter milk, so a bit sour! I ate my lunch and fell back asleep until a member of the flight crew woke me up to put my tray up. Unlike my flight from Cairo, no one sat next to me (middle seat was open) and I was in the aisle, so I got some good sleep. I got to Kuwait, found some food (raising canes! Really good chicken tenders), ate, found the transition waiting area, and waited for my layover to be... well, over! The wifi wasn't working, and the shows I had downloaded onto my phone for travel through Netflix aren't available to be watched in Kuwait, so I read, napped, and played games on my phone. Not really soon, but soon enough it was time for me to try to get into the gate. The way they have their airport set up is very interesting - the gate has its own security, which only opens when it's time for a flight. It's not like Dulles where you go through security and then all the gates are just open for you. I've never gone through so much security in my life before. By the time we actually boarded, it was almost time to go. I was very far back, in the window seat, but as luck would have it, I was sitting alone! A whole three seats to sleep on. I fell asleep before we took off, like always, and was woke up about an hour later to eat dinner. I wasn't hungry, but I didn't know when I would eat next, so I made myself eat. The food was butter chicken and rice, with a pudding. It was delicious! I had a really yummy pineapple juice to go with it all. After I put my tray up, and the food was taken, I promptly fell back asleep. I didn't realize how stressful and tiring it was to be traveling so much. When I woke up, it was time to get off the plane. Since I knew I was so far back, I took my time getting ready, as there was no real point not rushing up and trying to leave. I made sure I didn't leave anything behind, gathered my things, and got off the plane. Immediately I was struck with how humid it was. It was cold in the plane and in the airports, so I was wearing my raincoat. There was no need. It trapped all my heat and made me so sticky! Once inside, I walked for what seemed like a mile until I got to the visa stop. I had my e-visa so it was pretty simple. I got a stamp, a signature, and went on my way. The worst part was finding an ATM. It seemed like all the ATMs didn't have cash. I went to five different ones until I was told to go to departures, as they would have the money. I did just that, and called an Uber. I figured it would be easier than trying to get a taxi. Even at 5am, there were a ton of taxis out. I was sweaty, tired, and exhausted. In Mumbai, the Uber's are all at one central parking deck. I called one and was expecting it to come to me, but the help desk explained I needed to go to it. I got there and my driver found me, and we were on our way. When we left the garage, he handed me a slip of paper. It was the parking fee of 100 rupees. I was confused as to whether or not I was supposed to pay it. The smallest bill I had was 500 so I panicked a bit. I googled what was going on, and read an article from Uber saying that the price reflected the 100 rupee parking price, and that I didn't need to pay anything. It didn't make it any less awkward, but gave me some peace of mind. When the Uber driver pulled up to the hostel sign, I was so unsure. It was literally like an alley, with mud and tents. I couldn't even see the hostel. I made up my mind that if the hostel was bad I would find another or air bnb or something. I was so unsure. I walked into the hostel and the hostel workers were sleeping on the porches. One of them woke up and helped me. I wasn't very polite and asked to see the room/cube. The way it's set up is one long room with bunk bed type things, that are each their own private little cubbies. It was actually like the photos and I decided to stay. I had to pay an extra 300 rupees for an early check, which I gladly did. I paid, did the paperwork, got wifi, used the bathroom, put my things away, and laid in my bed chatting. I actually fell asleep before I could finish this, so I'll fill in the gap as to what I did after I woke up later. Until tomorrow (a few hours)--

#travel day

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