#take this as a brilliant opportunity to learn Italian :D

[bocje-ce-ustu]

Hey, ho letto la tua xaverine (fantastica!) e mi chiedevo se ti va di scrivere una piccola fic con il prompt “Tabacco”. 😽😽

Sono contenta che la mia fic ti sia piaciuta!!💖 E grazie del prompt! Ero indecisa se fillarlo in italiano o in inglese, ma visto che il prompt era in italiano alla fine ho propeso per quello :D (anche se non escludo di tradurre il tutto prima o poi).

Alla fine mi è saltato fuori un police!AU che è più pre-slash che slash, ma spero che non ti deluda 💛💛

Buona lettura!

Percepì lafamiliare combinazione di rabbia, whiskey e sudore stantio che aveva imparatoad associare a lui molto prima di vedersi piombare di fronte un plico di foglistampati corredato da un ringhio esasperato.

“Più sterile diuna sala operatoria.”

Logan passò inrassegna i risultati delle analisi di laboratorio. La lingua di McCoy non eramai di facile interpretazione, ma ciò che ne sapeva gli bastava per capire cheavevano fatto un altro buco nell’acqua.

“Prima o dopol’operazione?” Era un dubbio lecito. Nel referto della scientifica non c’eraalcun indizio che implicasse il loro sospetto, e tuttavia pochi erano gliassassini che non avevano bisogno di sporcarsi le mani (né un paio di guanti)per lasciare un messaggio col sangue delle proprie vittime. Ancor meno quelliche avrebbero pensato di lasciare HOMO SAPIENS come messaggio.

Levò lo sguardo,ma i due occhi azzurri che lo fissavano non accennarono a un sorriso dirimando.

Logan sapeva chenon era lì per quello. Il motivo per cui si trovava lì era chiuso nella bustadi plastica che Charles stringeva nel pugno.

“Qualcosa peròla scientifica l’ha trovata. Cenere di tabacco, proprio sulla soglia delsalotto.” Un fremito nella voce, che si fece più bassa e scura mentre laplastica scricchiolava sotto le dita. “Hai inquinato la scena del crimine. Ache gioco stai giocando, Howlett?”

“Perché non melo dici tu, Chuck?” Logan tirò fuori dalla tasca della giacca un proiettile elo posò sulla scrivania. La sua superficie metallica era liscia e senzaimperfezioni, eccezion fatta per una scanalatura a forma di X sul lato rivoltoa Charles. Non era una delle munizioni d’ordinanza, certamente non per un casocome quello, e lo sapevano entrambi.

Charles serrò lelabbra e gettò la busta di plastica sulla scrivania. Con un ultimo sguardo colpevoleal proiettile, rovesciato dall’urto, zoppicò furiosamente verso la porta chedava sulla scala antincendio.

Il proiettilerotolò descrivendo un piccolo cerchio sul ripiano sintetico, arrivò fino albordo e poi ci ripensò. Logan lo riprese e se lo rigirò fra le dita, come avevafatto quando l’aveva trovato, durante la sua seconda visita alla scena delcrimine. La porta in fondo al corridoio sbatté con violenza.

Logan pensò chesarebbe stato meglio lasciarlo cuocere nel suo brodo per un po’, ma le ceneridi tabacco che lo fissavano da dentro la busta gli ricordarono che gli erarimasto ancora un Partagás D6 in tasca. Le sue dita avevano sfiorato il tubosemivuoto per raggiungere il proiettile.

Una mano corseal secondo cassetto e si chiuse intorno alla forma familiare del cutter. Lamemoria muscolare fece il resto e, prima che Logan potesse convincersi alasciar perdere, la sedia era stata calciata all’indietro e lui si era fattostrada lungo il corridoio, il D6 fra i denti e l’accendisigari fra le dita,sotto lo sguardo torvo di due Summers e le perfette sopracciglia che Frostriusciva ad inarcare in modo significativo anche quando era visibilmenteimpegnata ad ignorarti.

Charles nonbatté ciglio quando la porta si aprì. Continuò a fissare con sguardo vacuo ipalazzi di fronte – le guance affondate nei palmi, i gomiti puntati sullaringhiera dello stretto pianerottolo metallico, il peso del corpo spostatosulla gamba sinistra. Era uno di quei giorni.

Logan fecescattare l’accendisigari e cominciò a scaldare il piede del Partagás. Quando fusoddisfatto del risultato, lo accese e rinfilò l’accendisigari in tasca.

Appoggiò igomiti sulla ringhiera, esalando una nuvola di fumo. C’erano molte possibilimotivazioni per la comparsa di quel proiettile sulla scena del crimine a giornidi distanza da quando era stato commesso, e Logan non sapeva dire quale avrebbefatto più male.

Charles avevapreso a fissare con la coda dell’occhio le volute di fumo, e non distolse losguardo nemmeno quando Logan lo fissò di rimando.

Avrebbe dovutochiederglielo, ma ormai gli sembrava superfluo. Charles avrebbe potuto tirarefuori una spiegazione qualsiasi e convincerlo della sua innegabile innocenza, eaveva deciso di non farlo.

Con un tremitoimprovviso e violento, Charles indietreggiò e si appoggiò pesantemente allaparete. Per un momento, la lotta che si consumava dentro di lui fu evidente neipugni chiusi e nei denti stretti. A fatica, le mani si riaprirono per frugarenelle tasche ed estrarre una bottiglietta di vetro scuro. Charles la stappò eversò sul palmo della mano libera alcune pastiglie, che ingoiò in un colpo.

Il suo respiroaffannoso riempiva il silenzio, facendo sentire più intensamente a Logan ilbisogno di un altro tiro.

“Mi farairimuovere dall’indagine,” disse infine Charles. Non era una domanda.

“Dovrei fartiradiare per favoreggiamento e ostruzione alla giustizia.” Aspirò a fondo,lasciando che l’aroma del sigaro gli riempisse la bocca, ma né la nicotina néle note di cedro e pepe riuscirono ad attenuare il rimprovero nella sua voce.“Cosa ti è saltato in mente?”

“Pensavo che conme avrebbe parlato.”

Charles scivolòlentamente a terra con una risata rauca. A un occhio esterno sarebbe parso chela gravità della sua azione l’avesse finalmente raggiunto. Quello però eraCharles, che soppesava ogni suo gesto, che si sobbarcava più responsabilità diquante fosse lecito. Nel momento in cui toccava terra, probabilmente aveva giàbarrato il piano A e avviato il piano B.

“E poi?” Logansi sedette al suo fianco. Non voleva veramente una risposta a quella domanda.“Chuck, quello non è più il tuo partner.”

“Me ne sonoaccorto.” Una mano si poggiò quasi di riflesso sulla gamba che Charles teneva distesadi fronte a sé, nel punto in cui muscoli e pelle non si erano mai rimarginati adovere, per quanti mesi fossero passati.

“Lo voglio prendere,Logan.”

“Lo vogliamotutti.” Un’altra boccata. Riversò la testa all’indietro, socchiudendo lepalpebre. Oltre il fumo riusciva ancora a sentire l’odore metallico di sangue epolvere da sparo mescolati insieme. Non era stato il primo a giungere sulposto, e ricordava l’unica informe pozza scura che lentamente si rapprendevasull’asfalto, e come si era detto che avrebbero avuto due vittime per la finedella giornata, non una sola.

“Aiuta?” Ilrespiro di Charles si era fatto più regolare. Gli antidolorifici dovevano avercominciato a far effetto. Logan aprì gli occhi.

“A non pensare,”chiarì Charles, accennando al sigaro.

“No.” Tiròun’altra boccata, fissando dritto davanti a sé. Un ragno abbandonòprecipitosamente il suo giro di ronda sulla ringhiera per tornare allaragnatela, dove un moscerino aveva avuto la malaugurata idea di posarsi. La suamente tornò alla mascella serrata di Lehnsherr, a quel lampo freddo negli occhichiari. L’aveva presa per cupa rassegnazione, e non per la determinazione cheera. Una determinazione che aveva mietuto altre tre vittime negli ultimi ottomesi. No, il fumo non lo aiutava a non pensare.

“Posso?”

Logan guardò lamano tesa verso di lui, gli occhi troppo grandi per quel volto pallido edemaciato, le labbra rosse poco avvezze al rifiuto.

Abbassò ilsigaro e soffiò, disperdendo l’azzurro in una nuvola di fumo. Le labbra rossesi contrassero, spalancandosi poi in un accesso di tosse.

“Coglione.”

Logan si alzò esi spolverò brevemente il retro dei jeans. Lo sguardo di Charles lo seguì finoalla porta.

“Dovresticominciare a seguire i tuoi stessi consigli, Xavier.” Si fermò con le ditaintorno alla maniglia. “Non sei solo. Vedi di ricordartelo.”

[the-bibrarian]

Book Tag

Thank you for tagging me @bubustoys​ ! <3

1. First things first, what is your MBTI type? I can’t remember and I’m too lazy to retake the test T-T (I just know I’m I for Introverted)

2. When did you learn to read? At 6, in school

3. What languages can you read in? French, English, Spanish, a bit of Japanese, Italian somewhat.

4. What book are you currently reading or most recently read? Abandons (『溺レる』), by Hiromi Kawakami (the french translation), and I’m trying to read 『魔女の宅急便』(Kiki’s Delivery service) in Japanese, but I’m not making a lot of progress.

5. Name 3 books you never finished: Ulysses, by James Joyce; Lady Chatterley's Lover, by D. H. Lawrence; Wuthering Heights, by Emily Brontë

6. What are your favorite books from childhood? Treasure Island, by R.L. Stevenson; His dark Materials, Philip Pullman; the Fantômette books :) ; a bunch of books by Agatha Christie; The Famous Five books, by Enid Blyton, etc.

7. What are your current favorite books? How can you ask me to choose, you monster!?  Seriously, I don’t know… Pride and Prejudice and Persuasion are up there, several of Virginia Woolf’s novels as well (they’re always ‘current’ because I re-read them regularly). I don’t read a lot these days, and I haven’t read anything new I found really brilliant in a while.

Multiple Choice (bold as many as apply to you & add your own choice if you must)

8. Your favorite genres:

Mystery/Sci-fi/Fantasy/Chick Lit/Young Adult/Horror/Nonfiction/Memoir/Dystopia/Poetry/Self-Help/Historical Fiction/Fanfiction/Realistic Fiction/Biography (I can appreciate just about anything as long as it’s well-written)

9. Your opinion on rereading books:

I do it all the time / has to be a really good book/I can’t stand it/I  haven’t done it since I was a child/I only reread my favorite sections/should be done with caution/ I hardly do it

10. How long does it take you to read one book on average?

1 to 3 days/a week/a few weeks/about a month/several months/one day up to several months, completely depending on how busy I am

11. How do you typically read?

Every opportunity I get, in transit, while waiting, etc./Before bed/On the go by audiobook/When I can truly relax/When I remember to.

12. How many books do you typically read in a year?

None or 1/About 1 to 3/Maybe 4 to 10/At least more than 10/ At least 50/ Too much. I can’t keep track./varies between 5 and 50, generally

13. For school assigned books, what type of student are/were you?

I read all the books in detail/I read all but sometimes skimmed/I nearly read all, I may have skipped a few because they were too boring/I only read the interesting ones/There’s a reason why Sparknotes was made!

I tag: @uni-venture @studyblrlt @positivemotivation @alteplase @parisbian @ccstudys

[limejuicer1862]

F WORD WARNING

Wombwell Rainbow Interviews

I am honoured and privileged that the following writers local, national and international have agreed to be interviewed by me. I gave the writers two options: an emailed list of questions or a more fluid interview via messenger.

The usual ground is covered about motivation, daily routines and work ethic, but some surprises too. Some of these poets you may know, others may be new to you. I hope you enjoy the experience as much as I do.

Amanda Earl

is a Canadian poet, publisher, prose-writer, visual poet and editor who lives in Ottawa, Ontario. Her first and only poetry book so far is Kiki (Chaudiere Books, 2014). Amanda is the managing editor of Bywords.ca and the fallen angel of AngelHousePress. Connect with Amanda on Twitter @KikiFolle or visit AmandaEarl.com for more information.

The Interview

1. What inspired you to write poetry?

I didn’t even realize I was writing poetry until my mid thirties. I scrawled on pads of paper from my parents’ workplaces, all kinds of confessional stuff and complaints and lists. I made notes on index cards about everyone I knew and filed them in a metal box. I just wrote. I didn’t label it. I heard nothing but poetry by men from early childhood and up, whether it was in school or recitations by my father: Shakespeare, Victorian morality poetry, Edward Leer. I liked the rhyming and the sound play, and the images, but I rarely related to it. I dismissed the thought of poetry from my head.

In my mid-thirties, I was going through a period of depression and searched the Internet for solace. I came across the poet Mary Oliver’s poem, Wild Geese, Lorna Crozier’s Carrots (https://jeveraspoetryanthology.weebly.com/carrots.html) poem and also Gwendolyn MacEwen’s fascinating and dark mythological poems. These excited me and made me realize that perhaps I was also writing what could be called poetry. I still wasn’t sure.

2. Who introduced you to poetry?

My father, I suppose, but it didn’t feel like an introduction. He was always reciting poetry to me as a child.

3. How aware were you of the dominating presence of older poets?

More like the domineering presence. Since school curricula for literature were dominated by dead white men, I knew nothing about women poets until I found them in my Internet search in the 90s.  I wish I’d known about Plath and Sexton in my teenage years; although what darkness I would have dredged up back then under their influences… When I first started to realize I was writing poetry, it took me some time to find out about poets like Anne Carson who is willing to step out of traditional form to make poetry out of the long lost fragments of Sappho, accordion books about grief, little chapbooks placed in a box so readers can rearrange at will. Or Caroline Bergvall and her mesmerizing engagements with Old Norse. There’s just so much possibility out there for poetry and yet quite often the same white men, dead or alive, have their work published again and again and win prizes and are taught as the poetry that matters.

4. What is your daily writing routine?

According to Mason Currey in his book, Daily Rituals: Women at Work, the photographer Diana Arbus ritual was sex. (https://www.artsy.net/article/artsy-editorial-daily-routines-10-women-artists-joan-mitchell-diane-arbus?fbclid=IwAR2fXdj7OUukk2c_-RUU8mxIhor8FRPaSWU3yJ0_f_W0t_DzUR8LQ3y3ej0) I usually start my day off with a good wank and at least an hour of pervy chat with a few random strangers. I shivered this morning after a particularly good orgasm. After that I drink Irish Breakfast tea, burn some incense and write or go outside, if it’s not too hot or cold, and wander about until I have no choice but to write. I carry a red journal with me for snippets of overheard conversation, some weird sound play that comes to me, or a doodle. My red journals are smeared in paint and tea stains.

5. What motivates you to write?

1. Lorca’s concept of the duende (https://www.poetryintranslation.com/PITBR/Spanish/LorcaDuende.php) Death is near. I don’t want to be immortal, I just want to continue the conversation. I’m influenced by ghosts, such as Oscar Wilde and Djuna Barnes, Leonora Carrington, Jean Cocteau and Beatrice Wood.

2. Alienation. In some ways I live the standard North American life, but in others I don’t. I write and publish others full-time. I don’t have a nine to five job. I don’t drive. I don’t own property. I live downtown. My husband and I are in a passionate and open marriage. I write to reach out to that one kindred misfit in hope that they feel less alone. The Tragically Hip song “It’s a good life if you don’t weaken,” (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gwNVxvczgCs&feature=youtu.be) comes to mind. “Let’s get friendship right.”

6. What is your work ethic?

I follow three principles: whimsy, exploration and connection. I want to play; I want to learn new stuff and I want to write things that connect with those alienated by convention and the lonely. I punched a timecard as a late teen and I saw my parents punching those same damn cards. I loathe systems and routines and any attempts by external authorities to dictate my time, so I rebel against any system. I write because I breathe. It’s just part of me. Writing isn’t as tough as plumbing or surgery.

I serve the work rather than dictating what the work will be. I once spent three months learning about the sonnet because the manuscript I was working on had to be made up of sonnets, not because I wanted to but because the content required it somehow.  I wrote three of the damn things and gave up. They were awful. That manuscript remains unpublished.

I try to remain grateful and humble to have the opportunity to write. Sometimes my work gets published, which is a huge honour. I try to be careful not to let my ego tell me how great I am, because I’m not. I’m just in the right place at the right time and have found the right publisher somehow. This happens rarely.

I try not to take up too much space and leave space for writers who do not have the benefits granted by white colonialist publishing policies and attitudes that continue to prevail. I try to promote and publish 2SLGBTQIA, BIPOC, and D/deaf and disabled writers and look for ways I can support them when I can. I don’t do this enough.

7. How do the writers you read when you were young influence you today?

I read the Exorcist, Mad Magazine, Archie Comics and Harlequin romance novels as a youngster. These works gave me a sense of irreverence that is important for my writing. In high school and university I studied French, German and Italian and finally got excited by literature. Dante made me fascinated with Heaven and Hell; Kafka made me fear insects; Baudelaire made me want to drink red wine. Rimbaud showed me that synaesthesisa, which I have, was not just something I experienced. Later I read Milton’s Paradise Lost. Early influencers of the long poem, I suppose, and the epic. I am writing an anti-epic these days. Red wine isn’t something I can stomach easily anymore. Now and then I’ll have a little Lagavulin in the tub.

8. Who of today’s writers do you admire the most and why?

Nathanaël for Je Nathanaël, for working in the spaces between genres and writing so beautifully of the body. Sandra Ridley for her ability to write long, mesmerizing poems and read them as if they are incantations. Christine McNair for syntactic daggers, sounds that are bitten off, and charm. Anne Carson for her sense of play and versatility. Canisa Lubrin for Voodoo Hypothesis, which is the only book she’s written so far, and it’s brilliant. I am awed by the skill in these poems, not just on a poetic level (diction, imagery, lineation, structure, balance) but also by the power of one writer’s willingness and ability to so effectively dismantle and bring to light the ongoing effects of racism while offering in-depth and tangible illustrations of the othered. Alice Notley for the Descent of Alette, a most extraordinary long poem. rob mclennan for his prolific writing and quiet poetry and bizarre wee stories. Amber Dawn for brave femme truths and incorporating subjects that are traditionally taboo in mainstream CanLit, such as sex work. Joshua Whitehead for the sheer invention and brilliance of Full Metal Indigiqueer which takes down the literary canon so skillfully. The writers in the anthology Stairs and Whispers: D/deaf and Disabled Poets Write Back Edited by Sandra Alland, Khairani Barokka & Daniel Sluman (http://ninearchespress.com/publications/poetry-collections/stairs%20and%20whispers.html) for the versatility and beauty of their writing. It’s good writing and more people should be aware of it. Ian Martin for self-deprecating comedy. Erín Moure for Elisa Sampedrin. Lisa Robertson for the gift of the sentence. Gary Barwin for his whimsy and willingness to play in numerous genres and media.

I wish Djuna Barnes was here. I’m always looking for a modern-day equivalent. Nightwood was an exquisite and poetic novel.

9. Why do you write, as opposed to doing anything else?

I don’t just write. I also play with paint, make visual poetry, which some might say is a form of writing, run two small presses, which do a bunch of things. I spend too much time on social media. I make countless lists. I watch a lot of films and tv. I listen to music. I wank. I fuck my husband. We cook glorious meals together. I go on long rambles and spend a lot of time in cafés. I cry and worry every day for the persecuted in this topsy turvy era where the Ogre in the House of White is making us all fear that the end of the world is close.

All these activities and emotions enter into my writing in some way.

10. What would you say to someone who asked you “How do you become a writer?”

I don’t know. I focus less on being a writer and more on writing. Writer sounds like a title and titles have a bunch of preconceived expectations I can’t satisfy. Same with poet. I just write.

But I guess, I’d tell them to be gentle on themselves, surround themselves with books, art, film and whatever inspires them. Ignore prescriptive rules, such as write what you know. Heather O’Neill, a fiction writer I admire, once said that for her to write, she has to be angry about something. At least that’s what I remember her saying at an Ottawa International Writers Festival event.

For me, I have to feel emotion of some sort, whether it is anger, sadness, love… I guess I would say to the person who wants to write that they are going to have to make sure that they don’t numb themselves. It’s easy in this era to want to numb ourselves against all the pain and suffering and power games going on, but when we numb ourselves, we don’t feel and if we don’t feel, it’s hard to respond. Writing, whether it’s directly political or not, is a response to what’s around us. I think it takes a great deal of empathy to write. It takes close listening and close watching.

Find a mentor. I’ve been fortunate in that rob mclennan has been extremely supportive of my work. He’s been honest when the stuff is shite. I still remember taking my first of his poetry workshops in 2006 and him telling me I was writing zombie poems.

He’s published many of my chapbooks through above/ground press and my book, Kiki through Chaudiere Books. He always encourages me to write and he has introduced me to many of the poets I mention in my list of influences and more. He does this not only for me, but for numerous others. It’s amazing!

11. Tell me about the writing projects you have on at the moment.

I was fortunate to have received a grant from the City of Ottawa for Beast Body Epic, a long poem that I began a few years after a major health crisis in 2009 and have been tinkering with ever since. So I’m going to finish tinkering and submit the manuscript for the fourth time toward the end of the year.

I have a smaller manuscript called The Milk Creature and Mother Poetry, inspired by Diana di Prima, one of the women active in the Beat poetry scene.

I’m working on The Vispo Bible, a life’s work to translate every chapter, every book, every verse of the Bible into visual poetry. I began in 2015 and have completed about 300 pages so far.

In 2018, I began work on a novel. Its working title is The Nightmare Dolls’ Imperfect Reunion. It’s about women, health, ageing, friendship, gender, and it has a helluva soundtrack. (https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5B1GAgN046EdtrBLXiNoni?si=NIbexI5mQqKnr54qfmJ7ZQ)

Amanda Earl is a Canadian poet, publisher, prose-writer, visual poet and editor who lives in Ottawa, Ontario. Her first and only poetry book so far is Kiki (Chaudiere Books, 2014). Amanda is the managing editor of Bywords.ca and the fallen angel of AngelHousePress. Connect with Amanda on Twitter @KikiFolle or visit AmandaEarl.com for more information.

Wombwell Rainbow Interviews: Amanda Earl F WORD WARNING Wombwell Rainbow Interviews I am honoured and privileged that the following writers local, national and international have agreed to be interviewed by me.

[omgelectroniccollectionsuit-blog]

Titan Auto Soda Machine Provides Scorching New Wheels.

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[radawz]

Castle Bellver & EVS on-arrival training in Navarra

Palma EVS, Week 3 & 4

July 18th - August 3rd

Welcome back! It's crazy, but I already had my third week of EVS. Time is flying by quickly, so I'm not going to waste more time with the introduction and I will just get into it. :)

On Monday we had our 2nd weekly meeting in the office and amongst other thing we discussed the upcoming on-arrival-training that will take place in Pamplona and – travelling included - it will last for 6 days . Trainings are part of EVS (SVE) and other than this one, there also will be a mid-term training too in a couple of months.

After the meeting ended Maria Antonia explained us what she is doing on the behalf of Acción Balear. She is organizing international volunteering (IV) opportunities and work camps (the good kind) in Morocco that take place during summers. If you want to know more about these projects than take a look at the website. Me and Pier also learned about the future plans for IV and ways to help Maria Antonia with the promotion of these opportunities.

Next day in the afternoon we visited Banys Arabs (Arab Baths). It's a tiny place close to the Catedral with a lovely little garden. It costs 2.5€ and it doesn't take longer than 15-20 minutes to explore it. In my opinion it's worth to check it out, but it probably shouldn't be your first or even second destination when you visit Palma.

Later that day we went to watch a movie in Parc de la Mar (in front of the Catedral). From the middle of July until September 10th there are plenty of nights when you can do the same. It's called Cinema a la Fresca and it's completely free. But you need there like an hour before the movie starts to get the best seats. And don't forget to bring some some snack & drinks. Here you can find a list of the movies.

The day after we went to a nearby bakery, because on Wednesdays it is Ruta del Llonguet– from July 20th until October 26th – in 49 bakeries/ pastry shops you can get a drink and a sandwich for 2.5€. Expect something like this.

On that day we visited SPAP Mallorca, an animal rescue centre, daycare and shelter for dogs & cats. And although in an ideal world animal shelters wouldn't even exist it was nice to see all these animals and meet the people – volunteers too – who take care of them really well.

On Thursday we went to check out Espais Joves, a youth organization who offers all types of activities for the local youngsters. They can play board games, video games, browse the internet, record song tracks, dance, practice yoga, cook, bake, etc. I'm looking forward to participate in one of their future activity. The yoga lesson on a surfboard seems quite interesting for example.

We also had a meeting with another organization called Amadip. They are working to get a quality life and equal opportunities for people with intellectual disabilities and their families. For example they cooperate with restaurants to be able to offer job opportunities for the people they are working with.

In the afternoon we went to Can Pere Antoni, the closest beach for the second time. It's an okay playa, but it's definitely not in the great category (like Playa Illetas for example).

On Friday we went to SPAP and went to a walk with 6 dogs. 3 separate walks, 1 dog for each of us every time. It was good fun and a pretty good exercise at the same time, because some of the dogs were not only big, but they were excited as well.

We started Saturday with a tour to Bellver Castle (Castell del Bellver). Climbing up to the castle is obviously not as difficult as getting to the top of the Everest, but the heat made it quite challenging. The castle is one of the most iconic sights of Palma, it's a must-see. A little history and amazing view from the top of the castle.

After getting back from our tour we spent the rest of the day in the apartment until around noon we went out to check out the nightlife of the city. We found a good little bar and after a beer we got some mojitos and thanks to Pier we ended up playing “Never have I ever...” (“Yo nunca...”) with four girls from Mallorca.

I guess it's hardly surprising that Sunday was all about relaxing. The only noteworthy event of the day was at the evening, when we ended the week watching another movie of Cinema a la Fresca. I can confirm that Guardians of the Galaxy is still entertaining if you watch it in Spanish with English subtitles.

Next week's post will be mostly about the training in Pamplona and the transformation of the apartment we live in. Should be an eventful one, that's for sure. But for now, thanks for reading!

...or maybe keep reading, because the post up until now was written last week, but now I have another few days to write about. And all I can say is that a lot happened during those days. So, let's get into it.

July 25th – August 3rd

In the last days before traveling to Alsasua for the training we had 2 meeting about EVS in Inca with Probens and Joan XXIII. By now I'm very used to sitting in a room with others who speak about the voluntary service in Spanish and I know it does not sound like hard work, but trust me, it is very tiring to try and understand bits and pieces of a language you don't speak. I really have to pay attention, or otherwise I just end up daydreaming. :D

Wednesday was an important day for me and Pier, because it was the day when our temporary flat mates, Susana and her 2 daughters were moving out. As the apartment was getting more and more empty we started to paint the walls with Xavi & Pier. After we finished and the movers left with all the stuff we said goodbye to Xavi and we were almost immediately joined by Pier's Italian friends, who came to Palma for a week or so.

We went to the beautiful Illetas beach for the second time and later they invited us for dinner where they cooked spaghetti carbonara. But the evening was not over with that, because after all that we headed to the city and had some beers on the square. I was quickly in the company of 11 Italians and I had a great time with them. We got back to the apartment around 2 am, which normally wouldn't have been been a problem.

BUT, what I didn't mention before is that we had to leave Palma very early that day. The taxi were waiting for us at 4:45 and I slept like 30 minutes before starting our journey to Barcelona/Pamplona. We took a flight to get to Barcelona.

We spent about 3 or 4 hours in the city, we checked out La Sagrada Familia and La Rambla during our short stay. I know that some people like the story of the slow building process of the Sagrada Familia, but to be perfectly honest it kinda spoiled the experience for me. It will be a beautiful thing when it's done, but the presence of the cranes and safety nets is not a great look. The first thing I was thinking about was that I would not stay in the world's best, most beautiful hotel even for free, if it's still under construction. But as I said, when it's finished, it will look brilliant as a whole.

We left Barcelona by train and after 4 hours - that felt like forever - we arrived to Pamplona.  We met the group and I could barely believe that there were other 3 Hungarians.

Later I found out from one of the trainers, Ruth that usually only big nations – like Germany or France - , where EVS is more popular are represented by 4 people on a training. So it was an unexpected surprise. In the group we were mostly speaking English to not to exclude anybody, but when we were alone we spoke in Hungarian and it was refreshing, because since I'm here I only use my language when I call or message my family and Hungarian friends.

But to mention the rest of the group as well: it didn't took long to realize that the whole group was awesome and great to hang out with. It's such a shame we only had 6 days to spend together. (So far.)

After arriving to the youth hostel in Alsasua - where we were living during the training - we had the rest of the day full of activities and towards the end of it I was barely able to stay awake due to my short sleep the night before. After we finally could go back to our rooms, me and my new roommate, Danni from Denmark were not exactly optimistic about the week ahead of us. It was probably because some of the activities seemed a little childish and pointless. And we were also very tired. Thankfully things got a lot better by the second day and after that it was a great rest of the week.

We had activities in and around the hostel including games, discussions about the duties and rights of EVS volunteers, group exercises to get to know each other and daily Spanish lessons. We learned about insurance, conflict solving, Youthpass, personal projects, etc.

A memorable day was our third day in Navarra, when we went for a trip in Pamplona. Sightseeing in a beautiful city, a great dinner with tons of food, funny Germans, a former Hungarian EVS volunteer and a great night in one of the bars of Alsasua, where we were regulars during the nights of our training. It was a small place, but it was alright to have some fun after all the daylight activities.

My favorite group activity was easily the intercultural evening, where every volunteer had around 3 minutes to show something interesting about her/his country. Volunteers from the same nations worked in a group.

After some brainstorming we (Hungary) decided that we would make a presentation of an Eastern Monday tradition called Water Throwing / Water Pouring. On this day men go to visit female family members and friends to pour water on them with buckets, water sprays, or cologne in exchange of painted eggs and some alcoholic drink like pálinka. It would take a while to explain the reason behind this tradition, so google it, if you want to know more about it. Also, here is a picture of what it looks like when you do it properly, the old-school way.

Shortly after we decided to go with this idea, we learned from Lucia, a fellow EVS volunteer from Slovakia that a very similar tradition takes place on Eastern Mondays. The main differences seemed to be the type of the drink (tatratea) and the “whipping” of women during water pouring. Don't worry it's not as bad as it sounds, although some women (in both countries) don't like this tradition, that's for sure.

But let me get back to the story: After realizing how similar these traditions were in Slovakia and Hungary, we teamed up with Lucia and the 5 of us presented how the lighter versions of these folk customs look like in reality.

This day also ended with some celebration within the hostel and later in the bar. Obviously.

Our last full day in Alsasua was on Monday and it ended with big fiesta, a long and really good one. :) But this time the bar was only for us and unlike on previous days almost everybody was there from the group. And it was fun, a lot of it.

The night made it completely worth it to almost miss the bus that I had to get on to leave Alsasua in the morning. But Tuesday as a whole just sucked. It was only 6 days since I met the people in the group, but it was awful to say goodbye to them. Even though I appreciate every minute we spent together and I will remember this week forever, but the thought of not seeing these new friends regularly is just awful. Thankfully we are already planning to meet up. I can only hope it will happen soon.

The travel back to Palma was similarly long to the one we had a few days ago to get to Pamplona and our flight was delayed which meant that we only arrived back to our apartment around 1am, but that was just the second worst thing of that day behind saying goodbye. I think what makes it difficult for me to handle this situation is the uncertainty. When you leave your family and old friends behind you know they will be there, when you go back months later, but when you make new friendships with people and you have to leave them after only one week then there is no guarantee at all. And as much as I want to be optimistic, the little “what if...?” still stays in the back of my head.

The first day back in Palma was very different to the previous 6, when we had the company of more than 20 people all day long. Luckily we had some distraction on Wednesday, because we went with Maria Antonia & Xavi to look for a couple of new stuff for the apartment, which is fairly empty at the moment. We managed to get 2 sofas, a little table and a few smaller stuff, so the piso is improving. :)