#the slight hills of the north-south streets

[wibblytimey]

Eldritch gods help me, I am beginning to love the horrendous sounds that come with the open window in my city centre hotel

[ceescedasticity]

This is a very interesting question.

So like, on a larger scale — if we're talking city-to-city, then I think latitude takes priority.

If the thing being traversed is a hill or mountain, then elevation is most important.

But on the level of streets and parks — none of those things. Up the street and down the street might be the same direction in two different utterances. In my neighborhood I think I have a slight tendency to refer to south as 'up', which might be related to elevation or might have to do with how the street on which we most commonly left the neighborhood when I was a child was to the north, so you go down towards that…? maybe?

Latitude: up is north, down is south

Elevation: up is higher elevation, down is lower elevation

Importance: up is a higher-status location, down is a less significant location

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[zinmangaonline]

The Continuum

The Continuum: One condo, two freehold plots in District 15

SINGAPORE (EDGEPROP) - When Hoi Hup and Sunway Property paid $815 million for two strips of land on either side of Thiam Siew Avenue in November 2021, many wondered what the future development would look like. Formerly, 22 pre-war bungalows and semi-detached houses sat along the quiet street. Would the future high-rise blocks be linked across Thiam Siew Avenue by a Marina Bay Sands-like SkyPark, or would the developers buy the road and amalgamate the plots to create an extensive development on a single combined plot?

None of the above. Instead, architect Kingsley Ng, director of P&T Architects, designed three blocks with 408 units on each parallel plot. The North and South plots are designed as two standalone condos with their respective entrances, basement parking and amenities such as the clubhouse, swimming pool and gym. The entrance to the North plot will be from Tanjong Katong Road and to the South, Haig Road.

An overhead bridge resembling the Henderson Waves pedestrian bridge will link the two plots. “It is going to be an iconic bridge in the Katong area that will link the two sites,” says Koon Wai Leong, director of Hoi Hup.

After all, the two sides are part of a single development, the 816-unit The Continuum, a name inspired by the word’s dictionary definition. “Continuum describes something gradually and continually changing or evolving through time,” says Koon.

The name reflects the key features of the development: The connection between the old and the new, the ground-floor landscaped gardens and the sky garden, and the North and South plots, he adds. It hints at the freehold tenure of the land too. “It can be a legacy for the home buyers’ next generation,” Koon says. The units come with flexible layouts. “This allows for slight modifications to transform the spaces for the next phase of life,” he adds. “It’s ideal for those who want to age in place.”

A piece of history

The sale of the properties at Thiam Siew Avenue for $815 million marked “the largest residential development site sold since July 2018,” comments Galven Tan, deputy managing director of investment sales and capital markets at Savills Singapore, who brokered the deal. “I had thought the developer would launch the project in two phases,” he says. “But it turned out better than what I had envisaged: It is effectively two developments, but residents benefit from the amenities of one mega-development.”

On top of the purchase price for the site, Hoi Hup and Sunway paid an estimated $284 million in development charges and $39.3 million for a 7% bonus balcony space. The final price tag was over $1.138 billion, translating to a land rate of $1,440 psf per plot ratio.

Ken Low, managing partner of SRI, regards The Continuum as “the first private condo in Singapore developed on two separate plots”. While Thiam Siew Avenue will remain a public road, the developer has made it part of The Continuum, he notes. “Imagine driving through the street with trees and landscaping on either side and the sky bridge in the backdrop. The feeling will be very different from the rest of District 15. While intangible, such feelings help hold up a project’s resale value.”

The joint developers have kept the road's name and selected one of the pre-war bungalows for conservation. “The name Thiam Siew will not be lost in history,” says Koon.

The conserved bungalow-turned-clubhouse on the North plot will be named Thiam Siew House. The function room will be a grand dining hall with an Oriental-style round table. In contrast, the clubhouse on the South plot is a double-storey glass structure. The function room on the second floor will have a long table for Western-style dining with gourmet kitchen facilities.

Evolution of space

“Over the years, we have seen how Hoi Hup has evolved from a developer of executive condos (ECs) with practical and functional units, to a developer of luxury projects, with Terra Hill and The Continuum,” says SRI’s Low. He sees the Signature and Prestige units, first introduced at Terra Hill and now at The Continuum, as “hallmarks of Hoi Hup” in its luxury projects.

Hoi Hup’s Koon agrees. “We don’t do cookie-cutter units and projects but believe in innovating,” he says. The developer invested nearly $6 million in a double-storey sales gallery to showcase The Continuum. There is a main hall with a double-volume ceiling to showcase the scale model, two showflats on the first level showcasing the Signature units, and two showflats depicting the Prestige units on the second floor. There is also a generous lounge area with ample seating for prospective home buyers and agents. “The aesthetics and feel of the sales gallery will be reflected in the new development,” according to Koon.

The Continuum has a wide range of units. The Signature units are the typical one-bedroom-plus-study of 560 sq ft to four-bedroom units of up to 1,518 sq ft. The Prestige units are the three-bedroom-plus-study, four-bedroom-plus-utility and five-bedroom units, ranging from 1,227 to 2,282 sq ft. The Prestige units are larger than the typical units and have private lift access.

One-bedroom-plus-study accounts for just 68 units (8.3%) out of the 816 units, says PropNex’s Gafoor. Two-bedroom and two-bedroom-plus-study range from 647 to 722 sq ft and make up 306 units (37.5%).

Meanwhile, three-bedroom to five-bedroom units make up 442 units at The Continuum. “That is 54% of the units,” says PropNex’s Gafoor. “The developer has right-sized the units for owner-occupiers.”

Prices start from $2,583 psf

Prices of the Signature units at The Continuum start from $1.448 million ($2,586 psf) for a 560 sq ft one-bedroom-plus-study; $1.671 million ($2,583 psf) for a 647 sq ft two-bedroom; $1.82 million ($2,600 psf) for a 700 sq ft two-bedroom-plus-study; $2.3 million ($2,638 psf) for an 872 sq ft three-bedroom; $2.759 million ($2,588 psf) for a three-bedroom-plus-utility; and $3.207 million ($2,614 psf) for a 1,227 sq ft four-bedder.

The Prestige Collection has prices starting from $3.32 million for the three-bedroom-plus-study; $4.57 million ($2,688 psf) for a 1,700 sq ft, four-bedroom-plus-utility; and $5.35 million ($2,808 psf) for a 1,905 sq ft, five-bedroom unit.

Therefore, the starting prices for units at The Continuum are in the $2,500 to $2,600 psf range. “Generally, freehold projects command a 15% premium over leasehold projects in the same location,” says PropNex’s Gafoor. “A 15% discount from $2,500 to $2,600 psf is about $2,200 psf, below the average selling price achieved by recent launches of 99-year leasehold projects.”

For instance, the 638-unit Tembusu Grand achieved a 53% take-up rate on launch weekend (April 8–9) at an average transacted price of $2,465 psf. The 298-unit Liv @ MB, located just off Mountbatten Road and launched in May 2022, is already 86% sold at an average price of $2,413 psf. Both are 99-year leasehold condos in District 15.

“The starting prices of the three- and four-bedroom units at The Continuum present a value proposition for home buyers as there is less than a $100,000 price difference compared with new 99-year leasehold condos in District 15,” says Gafoor.

Price of prestige

Prestige units will have private lift access, timber flooring in the bedrooms and marble flooring in the living and dining area. Master bathrooms will also be fully tiled with marble. All the units at The Continuum come with high-end specifications: Kitchen appliances from V-Zug, Samsung refrigerators and washer-dryers and bathroom fittings and accessories from Laufen, Gessi and Tece.

All units will come with a built-in storeroom and a ceiling fan. The development targets a BCA Green Mark Platinum rating, the highest accolade in sustainability. “Even the two-bedroom units will have a storeroom, good-sized kitchen and living space,” says Koon. “While the traditional buyers of two-bedroom units are investors, we don’t want to forget the actual residents of the units.”

Gafoor expects the average selling price to be above $2,700 psf, especially for the smaller units and those on the high floors. “If the developer can achieve a 35% take-up rate — above 285 units — it would be a credible performance because the development has more than 800 units,” he says. “We expect this development to have positive traction.”

Hoi Hup’s Koon agrees. “The sign of a good launch in 2023 will be sales in the 30% to 50% range on the opening weekend, with a steady take-up in 2024 and 2025,” he says.

Prices of future projects are likely to be higher, given that land and construction costs have increased over the last three years. Efficiency has also been reduced by about 7%, notes SRI’s Low, with the harmonisation of strata area and gross floor area. He points to the tender for the government land sale (GLS) of the second site at Jalan Tembusu, which will close in July. The site is located opposite the upcoming Tembusu Grand, City Developments’ (CDL) 638-unit condo that was 53% sold at an average price of $2,465 psf at launch on the weekend of April 8-9. CDL had purchased the 99-year leasehold GLS site in January 2022 for $768 million, or $1,302 psf per plot ratio. Low estimates that the future selling price of the new development at the second site on Jalan Tembusu will likely be above $2,600 psf. (See potential condos with en bloc calculator)

Koon notes that the Continuum is “unlikely” to set benchmark prices in District 15. The 200-unit, freehold Meyer Mansion has already seen units surpass $3,000 psf, with a 484 sq ft one-bedroom sold for a high of $3,293 psf in September 2021. MeyerHouse hit a high of $2,800 psf for a 2,110 sq ft, fifth-floor three-bedroom unit. 

Meanwhile, Amber Park’s 4,392 sq ft penthouse achieved a top price of $13 million ($2,960 psf) in August 2021.

District 15 allure

“The Continuum is the only new freehold project launched with a land area above 200,000 sq ft in District 15 in 2023,” says Lee Sze Teck, senior director of research, Huttons Asia. “The robust sales numbers for Tembusu Grand indicate pent-up demand for a large project.”

Marcus Chu, CEO of ERA Realty Network, observes that many home buyers see large freehold sites as “prized investments as they hold value over time”.

The condo blocks at The Continuum are a mix of 17 and 18 storeys. The roof terrace offers unblocked views of the surroundings — from the Singapore Sports Hub and the CBD to the west, says Hoi Hup’s Koon.

Within a 1km range are schools such as Haig Girls’ School, Kong Hwa School and Tanjong Katong Primary School. Nearby are also Chung Cheng High School, Dunman High School and Tao Nan School. “This is an area for families to settle down and stay for the long term,” notes Koon. “In District 15, many families have lived there for many years and do not want to move,” he continues. “So we have this catchment of home buyers looking to buy for the next generation.”

The Continuum sits near future growth areas, such as Paya Lebar Airbase, which is relocating in 2030. SRI's Low says the entire neighbourhood could see an uplift in plot ratios. Nearby, Geylang Lorong 4 to 22 will see the old residential blocks rezoned for commercial use and could benefit from enhanced plot ratios, too, reckons Low. The government could also release more sites around Paya Lebar Central. “These events will take place in the coming years and are likely to impact projects in District 15, like The Continuum, positively,” he adds.

Besides the neighbourhood's future growth, District 15 has an “aspirational element”, notes Hoi Hup’s Koon, seen primarily in prime Districts 9 and 10.

Indeed, “after the Core Central Region, which includes Districts 9 and 10, District 15 is the most sought-after residential address,” ERA’s Chu adds. “The main appeal is the East Coast lifestyle – heritage, food, the sun and the sea. And best of all, District 15 is near the city and Changi Airport.”Website: https://the-continuum-at-thiam-siew-avenue.com/

[asweetprologue]

me lámh le do lámh - Part III

First | Previous | Next | Masterpost 

The journey to Oxenfurt flew past even as it crawled. The closer he got to his destination, the more he found he was able to shrug off his worries and focus on his reunion with Jaskier. He hadn’t seen the bard in months, and he found his heart quickening in his chest as he finally crested the final hill and looked down upon the city of Oxenfurt.

He’d arrived in the small hours of the morning, just as the sun was starting to peak over the horizon. The water beneath Western Bridge was white gold in the dawn light, small fishing boats making their way down the channel and back to the harbor, ready to sell the first catch of the day. The red shingles of the cramped houses stood out sharply against the grey-green backdrop of the surrounding countryside, layered like some wild confection. To the south, the university sprawled on its own island, its tall towers piercing the early morning mist. Geralt had to push his way through the western gate, fighting for space amongst merchants and traders making their way to the markets that would be opening up in the main square. After so long on the road the smells and sounds of the city bombarded him, but Oxenfurt was nearly as familiar to him now as Kaer Morhen, and he let it all wash over him as he made his way towards one of the cheaper inns.

His intention had been to make his way directly across the southern bridge and into the academy grounds, but he’d arrived earlier than expected and Jaskier tended to be a bit of a late riser when he could be. So instead he got a room and set Roach up in the stables, giving her a good brush down, and packed away his gear. The rest of the morning, he spent restocking his supplies in the market, picking up the herbs he couldn’t easily find on his own and trading some of the goods he’d brought from the north for things he would need over the summer; a new linen shirt, salt for preserving meat, vodka.

Finished with his shopping, he set his mind to breakfast. There was a woman with a stall off of the main market selling baked goods, and Geralt remembered her from when he’d last been to Oxenfurt. He picked up a roll stuffed with warm cabbage and beef, and then doubled back a minute later to buy another, this time swirled through with cinnamon and coated in a sweet honey glaze.

Finally judging the sun high enough in the sky, he headed for the nearest fountain to refill his waterskin, only to be greeted by a familiar voice ringing out through the open courtyard.

Oxenfurt prided itself on its beauty, its history and monuments. The city was a tapestry of rich timber and clean brickwork, of statuary large and small which lined the streets and stately buildings with stunning relief work. The fountains were no exceptions; this one was set against the north side of the square, its semicircular base filling with water from half a dozen spouts set into the mouths of bronze fish. Geralt had no doubt that the entire effect—the square, the fountain, the white stone of the surrounding buildings—was stunning. But his eyes were drawn inexorably towards the sound of lute strings, and the beauty of the masterwork around him couldn’t help but pale in comparison to the man sitting on the raised lip of the fountain.

Jaskier’s hair was shorter than he’d last seen it, not windswept and overlong from months on the Path, and his clothes were cleaner and more lavish than he typically dressed on the road. Though his doublet was scandalously open to his midriff, Geralt had no doubt that it was of the latest fashion. As he approached, he saw Jaskier’s slim fingers fly deftly over the frets of his lute, his voice raised to overlay a bright melody over the simple notes. There was no hat or blanket laid out to catch coins; Jaskier was playing only for himself, it seemed.

Geralt didn’t want to interrupt, but in the end he didn’t have to. Jaskier looked up when he was still halfway across the courtyard, as if he could sense Geralt’s presence. Their eyes met, and Geralt felt relief swim through him as he realized that the bard seemed unchanged from the last time he’d seen him. Jaskier’s face lit up as his shocked expression turned into a grin, and Geralt could see the now ever present crow’s feet deepen around his eyes.

“Geralt!” Jaskier called, not bothering to stand. Geralt made his way through the rest of the square, the bundle of rolls held close to his chest as he pushed through the river of people. He stopped when he was no more than a foot away, finding himself smiling down at the bard. “Fancy meeting you here,” Jaskier said with a wink, brilliant in the morning sun. Fuck, but Geralt had missed him.

“Was gonna look for you at the university. Glad I found you here,” he said by way of greeting. “So short on coin you’re back to busking?”

Jaskier waved a hand, dismissing Geralt’s teasing. “I just wanted some sun, now that winter has finally deigned to withdraw her icy grasp. I was thinking of perhaps going to find something to eat at the market—”

Geralt held out the sweet roll. Jaskier raised his eyebrows, surprised and clearly pleased. Geralt felt warmth spread through his chest at the look. “Figured I’d find you only just out of bed,” he explained, offering Jaskier a thin smile. “You do need your beauty sleep.”

Jaskier gasped in faux injury even as he accepted the roll from Geralt’s hands, still wrapped in wax paper. Geralt sat down beside him, letting his pack fall to the ground as he unwrapped his own roll. It was still warm, soft from the juices of the meat inside. “As if I have ever been anything less than absolutely resplendent,” Jaskier said through a mouthful of roll. Geralt privately had to agree. Out loud he only hummed, noncommittal.

They spent the morning in unhurried company, Geralt giving Jaskier news of their friends still in the north—“Ciri missed you,” he said, and didn’t say I missed you, too—and Jaskier recounting his winter adventures. Apparently he had been privately tutoring a young lady in a court a few days south of Oxenfurt, the child of an old friend. Geralt bit his cheek to avoid asking if it was just a friend, or if Jaskier had spent the winter in the bed of an old flame. It wasn’t his place to ask those sorts of things.

They didn’t head towards the university immediately—Geralt had already stowed his things at the inn, which Jaskier admonished him for. “You could have stayed with me of course,” he said with a roll of his eyes, and Geralt was breathless with it. Even after all this time, he could never truly wrap his mind around the fact that Jaskier wanted him around, would willingingly open his home to Geralt whenever he settled in one place. But the inn was already paid for and Geralt’s things packed away, so they were neither burdened by supplies as they wandered around the city. Geralt carried Jaskier’s lute on his shoulder, the weight of it settling almost as comfortably familiar as his swords.

He’d been to Oxenfurt dozens of times, but he always enjoyed seeing it through Jaskier’s eyes. The bard noticed things, like the new tailor on the corner of the main square, or that someone new had taken over an old market stall, or the new flowers sitting on someone’s stoop. All things that Geralt would have let wash past him. Everything felt new when Jaskier was with him, more vibrant when painted in his words.

Eventually Jaskier suggested that they head back, so that he could get appropriately dressed for the afternoon. He had planned, apparently, to play at a tavern close to the inn Geralt was staying in, though Geralt suspected that he’d had no such arrangements. It wouldn’t matter; Jaskier was popular enough that all he had to do was show up somewhere and people were begging him to play. Assuming he hadn’t slighted the owners of the establishment somehow. It was only early afternoon, but Jaskier gave him a sheepish grin when Geralt asked about the early retreat.

“I’m not quite packed,” he laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t think you’d be back on the Path until at least three weeks from now. You always seem so reluctant to leave Ciri.”

Geralt could feel his face tingling with the ghost of a blush, and he scrambled for some kind of explanation that wouldn’t feel incriminating. “I, uh. I’m looking into something. Needed to see Triss.”

Jaskier’s eyebrows rose with interest as he pushed open a side gate in the Oxenfurt walls, leading them onto the campus. Geralt liked it here; it always smelled of rich plant life because of the well kept gardens, and the population was regulated enough that it was generally quieter than the rest of Oxenfurt. All the people smelled of ink and vellum and soft scented oils, and it never failed to remind him of Jaskier. “Is it about Ciri?” Jaskier asked.

“Hmm,” Geralt allowed, thoughts racing. “In… a way.”

Jaskier stopped short, trapping Geralt behind him in the narrow alley they found themselves in. His face was a mask of concern. “Is she alright?” he asked, brow furrowed.

Geralt nodded, waving a hand as if to wipe Jaskier’s worries from the air. “She’s fine, it’s not like that.”

Jaskier huffed out a breath and gave him a stern look before turning to continue down the cobbled path, leading them into the main courtyard of the university. “Don’t do that to me, witcher,” he admonished. “I have a delicate constitution, I can’t handle a scare like I used to.”

“Ah,” Geralt said, pleased with the easy segue. “That’s… sort of the problem.”

Jaskier stopped again, halfway through the doorway that led to the apartments reserved for professors. He blinked at Geralt, once, and said, “Well what in the devil is that supposed to mean?”

Geralt sighed, pushing Jaskier the rest of the way into the building. It was old, as with all of Oxenfurt, wood musty with age and heavy with the scent of the polish that they used on the brass fixtures. The interior was dark and musty, but Geralt’s eyes easily adjusted to the gloom. He forced himself not to chuckle at the way Jaskier’s eyes immediately squinted at him, slower to adapt to the shade after being out in the daylight. “Ciri is… She missed you. She’s—we’re all worried about, well, your.” He stopped, trying to find a word that wouldn’t come off as immediately insulting. “Mortality.”

“Geralt of Rivia,” Jaskier said, in a tone that suggested Geralt had missed the mark, “are you suggesting that I am old?”

Geralt winced. “Uh. Maybe we should talk about this upstairs.”

“Oh no, I think we should talk about it right here,” Jaskier said, crossing his arms over his chest and sticking out his chin. The posture was so familiar it made Geralt’s chest ache even as he knew he was about to get taken to task. “Has Yennefer been on about my crow’s feet again? She’s delusional. My skin is flawless.”

It wasn’t, though. Geralt could see the fine lines spreading from around his eyes and mouth even in the dark, the way his hair was less lustrous than it used to be, thinning at the temples. How slowly he moved, how loudly his knees popped when he stood up after sitting for too long. “You look fine,” was all he said out loud. “But Ciri’s lost enough people already. I’m worried about what it would do to her, to lose someone else.”

Jaskier visibly deflated, sticking his lower lip out to blow his fringe out of the way. After a moment, he said, “I’m not planning on dying anytime soon, Geralt.”

And he knew that, he did, Jaskier probably had decades left to live, but— “She’s probably going to live as long as any witcher. I don’t want her to be alone.” As he said it, Geralt realized the truth of the statement. His desire to slow Jaskier’s aging process was a selfish one, but he wasn’t lying about Ciri. Losing Jaskier would be an intense blow to the girl, after already losing one family. She had so few people left in the world who truly cared for her.

Jaskier smoothed a hand down over his face, shifting so that he was leaning one arm against the railing of the staircase. “She has you, and Yennefer, and all of your brothers,” Jaskier said. His lips were pressed tightly together, and even though his eyes had eased from their squint as they adjusted to the dim light, he was looking away from Geralt. “I imagine I’ll fade away easily enough, after a few years.” He said it softly, almost to himself, and Geralt felt all the breath leave him at once at the statement.

“No,” he said, too quickly, one hand coming up automatically to grip Jaskier’s shoulder. Blue eyes turned back on him, wide with surprise. “You won’t.” He didn’t know what else to say, how to make Jaskier understand his own magnitude in their lives—Ciri’s life—his life, without giving away too much. Words were woefully insignificant.

Jaskier brought one hand up to rest over Geralt’s, his lips relaxing into a smile. “Flattering,” he said, lightly teasing. “But anyways, you know Ciri will always have you and Yen.”

“We lead dangerous lives,” Geralt argued, his hand prickling under Jaskier’s palm. “I can’t stop walking the Path, and neither can my brothers. Any year we might not come back. And Yennefer is… she’s made a lot of enemies over the years. Nothing is set in stone.”

“I know you’re worried about this,” Jaskier said slowly, “but there’s nothing to be done about it. Any of you could die at any time, sure, but that’s life.”

“I need to know you’ll be around,” Geralt insisted. “I need to know that you won’t just… die on us.”

Jaskier huffed, removing his hand from Geralt’s and placing it on his hip. “Well, I don’t know what to say. It’s a reality we’ll all simply have to adjust to, unless you’ve suddenly found the secret to immortality.”

Geralt shifted awkwardly in place. Jaskier stared.

“You are not serious—” Jaskier started as Geralt said, “Listen, just hear me out.” Jaskier continued to talk over him, and Geralt sighed up at the ceiling as the tirade began.

“Hear you out?” Jaskier spluttered, incredulous. “Oh, I’m listening, Geralt, because this had better be a damn good one. You can’t show up after being away all winter and call me old and then tell me you want to make me immortal! I will not be subjected to witcher poisons or mages’ spells just because you’ve suddenly had a realization about the inherent dangers of your occupation.”

“It’s not—I’m not going to poison you, Jaskier,” Geralt said, aghast.

If anything that made Jaskier look even more suspicious. “If this is some curse Yennefer wants to put on me I will not allow it. I have heard plenty of horror stories about the transformation process for mages, and I will not be risking the loss of my critical bits.”

“It’s a ritual—”

“That’s worse!” Jaskier exclaimed. “Geralt, we’ve worked half a dozen different contracts that were botched immortality rituals. It went badly, so very, very badly, every time, and now you want to try it because you’re worried about my wrinkles? I’m not even fifty!” He flung his arms out to the side and dropped them sharply, breathing a little heavily.

“You said you don’t have any wrinkles.”

Jaskier glared at him. Geralt sighed.

“It’s not like that,” he explained, sliding his hand down to take Jaskier’s elbow so he could lead them up the stairs. This conversation would be so much easier over a glass of wine. Or better yet, a few shots of vodka. “It should be safe. The elves used to use it all the time to prolong the lifespans of humans.”

Jaskier allowed himself to be moved, shuffling in an awkward half walk up the stairs as he tried to continue the conversation. Geralt let his hand fall away, and his palm was warm where they’d touched. “If it’s so safe and easy, why doesn’t everyone do it?” Jaskier asked.

“It’s… not common knowledge,” Geralt hedged. “And you have to have someone with a long lifespan willing to take part in the ritual.”

“So how did you find out about it?” Jaskier said, tone accusative. “What’s the ritual, exactly?”

“I went to Triss. It’s—” He stopped, casting about for the right words. How to explain, without giving away too much? “It’s an elven ritual, used to… prolong human life spans. It involves tethering the human to an elf, originally. And then the… connection extends the human’s life to closer to that of an elf.” He opened his mouth again, hesitating on the edge of telling Jaskier exactly what the elves used the ritual for. And then he thought about how Jaskier would smile as he dismissed the issue, unconcerned, and Geralt bit back the words. His stomach rolled at the omission, but he couldn’t work up the courage to place this tender thing in Jaskier’s hands only to be crushed.

They reached the top of the stairs, and Jaskier pushed quickly ahead, towards his own rooms. The hall was dimly lit, the occasional window offering slivers of muddled daylight into the passage. Geralt followed after, his footsteps echoing against the stone.

Jaskier pulled a heavy bronze key out of his pocket, frowning as he fit it into the lock. “I don’t know, Geralt. I’m not saying your heart isn’t in the right place,” he said, not looking up. “I’m honestly flattered you would want me around enough to go through all this trouble. But we both know I’m not worth the risk, and this kind of spell, you know they can be—”

Geralt reached out as Jaskier went to push the door open, catching his wrist. The bones there were so delicate, fragile enough that Geralt knew he could snap them without a thought. His hold was as gentle as he could make it. “Jaskier,” he said softly, imploring.

Finally Jaskier looked at him, lips drawn tight. “I don’t want you to regret something like this,” Jaskier said tightly.

“I wouldn’t,” Geralt said, still holding Jaskier’s wrist like a bird in his hand. “I won’t. Can you just… trust me on this?

Jaskier stopped, giving him an unreadable look for a long moment. Finally he sighed. “If you’re sure,” he said, searching Geralt’s face for something. Geralt couldn’t have said what. His fingers burned. Eventually Jaskier must have found what he was looking for, because he suddenly smiled. “I suppose it would be remiss of me to turn down the opportunity for semi-immortality, as you say it. Imagine the heights of artistic mastery I could reach with another fifty years under my belt!”

Geralt rolled his eyes even as relief swept through him. “Of course you would think of that,” he grumbled.

He released Jaskier’s hand, and the bard pushed open the door to his suite. It looked much the same as Geralt remembered it from previous visits. Two rooms, the door to the bedroom ajar just enough to see the end of the bedpost, which had a doublet hanging from it. The main room functioned as a study and parlor, with a low couch and a desk off to one side. Jaskier tended to be fastidious on the road, both with his things and his own personal hygiene, but when he returned to roost at Oxenfurt Geralt found that he let his tidy habits slip. Books and scrolls covered the desk, the couch, and several low shelves, as well as a few spots on the central rug. A few of them were dangerously close to the fireplace. Empty and half full cups of tea and glasses of wine were scattered about. When Jaskier fell into research or writing he didn’t tend to remember basic things like cleaning or fire hazards.

“Sorry for the mess,” Jaskier said breezily, with the assuredness of someone who knew their companion had seen worse. And it was true; this wasn’t even half as bad as Geralt had found it at times, pushing his way into the suite to retrieve Jaskier from a month-long academic fixation.

Jaskier walked over to a waist high cabinet against the western wall of the room and opened it to reveal a honeycomb structure threaded with wine bottles. He produced what looked to be a bottle of Est Est and turned to Geralt, pulling the cork out with his teeth. As the witcher watched, he poured a sizable amount into a mostly clean glass and threw himself down on an unoccupied space on the couch. “Alright,” he said, after swallowing a mouthful of the wine. “Tell me how this is going to work.”

~

The wonderful painting above is by @silvertonguelover​! Such an amazing piece that really conveys the feeling I wanted for this chapter. Find the post of the work here!

[clairdelunelove]

Ocean Blues

armin arlert x f!reader, young!armin x reader, timeskip!armin x reader

genre: fluff, romance, mutual pining, angst

warnings: slight spoilers? 

synopsis: some cozy comfort with armin as the two of you venture to the beach and admire the sea. The day is filled with shy glances, damp clothes, and sweet treats- as he tries to make you forget that he has to leave. It’s days like these that he adores. Unbeknownst to him, these memories would later come to haunt him in the future.

a.n: in honor of armin’s appearance in season 4, have some angst with our favorite blond boy! 

“This is beautiful.” 

The confession leaves your glossy lips in a lingering breath that dances out and mingles with the salty air. Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, a smile crosses your face as the cerulean waves crash against the golden sand. It’s quite reassuring how empty the spot underneath the concavity of a beachside hill was and occupying the area seemed too fortuitous. 

Hauling the beach bag over your shoulder, your feet stay rooted to the spot that overlooks the entirety of the ocean. The sun setting within the horizon casted a glow that rested upon the fluffy, rare clouds that were scattered across the sky. 

“It really is.” 

Nestling your toes between the layers of soft sand, your gaze flicks to the sudden exhale that’s emitted beside you. Cerulean eyes, combating the water’s hue, meet yours as he slowly exhales. His jaw slackens instantly upon noticing the tinted blush on your cheeks, causing his lips to curl into a joyous grin. The indirect compliment goes straight to your heart as you sputter out a halfhearted rebuttal before veering closer to the water. Immediately, the blond calls out to you while lugging the rest of your personal belongings and his gentle chuckle rings true to your ears.

With a quick pivot, you note the haphazard way he’s heaving around the obnoxiously colored beach umbrella, picnic basket, and blanket while trying to closely follow behind you. A laugh bubbles in your throat as he suddenly yelps when the blanket rolls out of his grasp. Placing the belongings beside you, the male hurriedly arranges the set up when he notices your watchful gaze. He works quickly to gather the pastel cloth and shifts to lay it in a specific way. 

“So if the wind direction is north and wind blows north to south,” Armin’s caught muttering his thought process as his slender fingers tug the blanket over the sand, “it should be shifted this way.” 

Outstretching his hands, he gestures for you to sit on the covering so you’re comfortable and you do so with a grateful grin. The sand provides cushion when you plop down, fingers itching to scoop a handful up. Grains of glimmering white and beige slipped through the crevices of your hands. 

Armin cautiously settles next to you, eyes trained on the soft features of your face, “is this alright?” 

“It’s perfect.” 

Shrugging off his navy cardigan, he folds the article of clothing and tucks it neatly in your beach bag while casting a relieved smile to you. It’s the type of expression that causes his furrowed brows to relax, the crease on his forehead disappearing with the action. He moves to fold his white linen sleeves and cuffs the worn fabric with calculated mobility. 

You tuck your legs inward, resting your chin upon your knees to languidly stare at the ocean. The crashing waves chase after each ripple while concocting a foaming aftermath that sizzles on the sand. Faintly, seagulls squawked in the distance as their habitual flying pattern took up the evening sky. 

“So,” he suddenly speaks up while fixated on the same breathtaking view, “this is the ocean.” 

Small puffs of warm air leave his lips, intermingling with the chilly weather. The comment comes out in measured breaths. You can’t help but note that his tone is oddly bittersweet in the romantic moment and an unfamiliar tug pulls at you. Doubts, anxiousness, and heartache recurrently clawed at you in the previous weeks. 

“I couldn’t imagine being able to see this before I left.” 

At the remark, he thumbs at a broken seashell that’s barely visible within the sand by him. The creme colored shell is partially jagged yet smooth when overturned in his grip and he runs a finger over the sleek surface. Moving to settle closer to the male, you carefully rest your head against his shoulder while listening to his soft breaths. 

You’d perceived that as a result of his sensitivity to nervousness, Armin’s breathing evolved into gasping whenever the situation was too overwhelming. Interlacing his fingers with yours, you gifted him a reassuring hum before gazing at your interlocked hands. 

“Do you,” it was your turn to abruptly speak, “have to go?” 

The blond’s head whips in your direction and stares at the top of your head while he’s unable to utter an answer. His lips move as silence is the only known form of language to him at the moment. Internally, his heart drops at how broken your voice sounds at the inquiry and he desires to push away the logic that clouds his judgement. 

“Enrollment for the Training Corps starts tomorrow,” Armin mutters while his thumb lovingly caresses the back of your hand. 

It’s the same explanation you’ve received for the past three months and he evidently aspired to keep it that way. Nestling into the crook of his arm, the hollow of flesh there indicated the limited muscle mass that the blond’s readily going to exercise once he’s a member. A small smile flashes on your face, inwardly overjoyed that perhaps the male would finally get some type of proper nourishment if he’s enrolled in training. 

Rolling up your frayed sleeves, a crooked grin dances on your lips, “I know you’ll make it.” 

“As a member?” 

He seems bewildered at how resolute and strong your voice sounds at the statement. If he’d have known better, the blond greatly doubted his ability to physically outperform most of the recruits that were willing to try out for the member position. Scrawny physique, due to malnutrition, was one of his traits that he’d been self conscious about before he met you. Usually, others were bound to protect him from the onslaught of swinging fists and raucous cursing. 

“Yes,” you quell his racing mind, “and as a commander.” 

Armin commits a double take, almost getting whiplash in the process, and his mouth drops to indicate how flabbergasted he is by the comment. Smiling brightly, you reach out to dramatically close his opened mouth with a tap of your index finger. His brows amiably furrow while he sheepishly smiles at your compliment. 

“You must be kidding,” the male responds in a higher pitched voice. 

“I’m definitely not.” 

Resolutely closing his eyes while shaking his head, he actively dismisses his capabilities of being a leader. The blond could barely even defend himself on the streets so becoming commander was pushing it. Yet, your jaw was set as earnestness consumed your entire being. 

“That’s so absurd,” he runs a hand through his hair and presses his lips together, “that I’m willing to bet anything that I wouldn’t become a Survey Corps commander.” 

Eyes tracking the movement, you can’t help but let your own fingers reach out to swipe a blond piece of hair away from his face. He sputters at the intimacy, reeling back with an arm drawn over his face, but quickly regains his composure with an awkward chuckle. At the dramatic scene, you both can’t help but freely laugh. His hair seemed to catch the darkened hues of light, illuminating it to appear golden. You always adored his bob hairstyle, one that he grew up with, and decided to cast a wager on a consistent ideal to prove how confident you were in his abilities. 

Tousling the hair framing his face, the bet is uttered by you, “and if you do become one, you’ll have to cut your hair.”

At the mention, Armin draws a hand up to brush away his bangs. Tilting his chin, he seems to ponder the gamble with an intrigued raise of a brow. The blond didn’t mind the length of his hair, quite honestly, and just kept the bob because it was all he’d ever known. He relied on consistency. If the options were weighed then he wouldn’t lose anything too drastic in the situation. 

“I can take you on that offer, since,” his lip quirks up in an amused half smile, “the possibility of a Titan attacking is higher than me actually becoming a commander.” 

“You have to cut it though,” you reiterate as your gaze broke away from his, “even if I’m not there to see it happen. I’ll know one day.”

It would be a long while before the male would actually become in a position of power since climbing the ranks was it’s own adventure. Plus, you were both extremely young to genuinely make a difference. If anyone had an ounce of striving for change, it would be Armin starting his life in the Training Corps. 

He nods, exuding endless loyalty that men would envy, and continues brushing a thumb against your hand. There’s a particular type of happiness that veils his eyes when he stares at you once more. Perhaps it’s the bubbling joy of looking forward to reaching for the commander position or just the notion that you hinted that the two of you would continually stay together despite his absence. 

-

“We’re going to get in so much trouble! Where’d you get that from?”

Stabbing the confectionary through a wooden stick, your lips curl into a mischievous grin that invokes the male to shake his head at your sly ways. You’d taken a trip to the town’s open roofed bakery and paid a visit to the place by giving their products a try. In your parents’ words, borrowing was always an option if the reward was great. Armin’s wide smile was acknowledgement that there was no risk without a reward. 

“This is basically why I wanted to meet up with you today,” you mentioned while your fingers continued sliding down the marshmallows to properly align on the stick. 

The blond blew out a breath onto the kindling, settling back on his heels when the fire roared to life.  He runs his arm over his forehead to gather the beads of sweat underneath his bangs. His white linen shirt laid wrinkled upon him, a rare sight, as the sleeves were bunched up at the ends. The brown trousers were folded up his calves to display the sand that stuck onto his wet skin. Your own skirt was tied at the end to hitch up the fabric to avoid the waves of water. There had been obvious evidence from both sides that the two of you finished a session of splashing in the ocean water. 

“Is that,” he scoots closer to your seated position by the fire, “chocolate?” 

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise, not expecting two sweets to be implemented in the highlight of his day. The town’s rations were highly strict recently and confectionaries were not even uttered to be given to the lower division families. Ironically, the two of you were treating the dark chocolate like it was an unlimited treasure. 

“Yeah,” you breathed out while handing Armin a stick of marshmallows, “I wanted to try something new so just put them near the fire.” 

The makeshift fire that the male set up laid blazing in intermingled colors of crimson and orange. He constructed the fire directly on the sandy beach, placing it near the water’s waves during high tide. Heat radiated off the bonfire in strong flickers, casting a dewy glow to Armin’s skin as he heeded to your instructions and held out the stick close to the fire. 

Once the marshmallows were roasted to a golden shade, your hands quickly reached to your beach bag to pull out the rest of the necessary ingredients. Stacking the remains of some muffin crumbs, chocolate, and Armin’s roasted marshmallows, you squish the dessert between your fingertips. The white confectionary oozes out, leading the blond to curiously glance in your direction. 

“Try it.” 

Prodding the treat towards his lips, Armin’s gaze flashes toward it and then at your giddy smile. He adores every fraction and angle of the way your soft features gleam. Each wave in your hair, every freckle on your nose, and the tint of your lips didn’t go unnoticed by the vigilant male. Accompanied with the sunset casting a halo above your head, there wasn’t a sight in the world that he’d rather fixate on.

Nibbling at the corner of the makeshift s’mores, he hums in approval as wide eyes connect with yours. Your knowing laugh aids him in properly chewing with a full mouth of the sweet treat. You share the same dessert, taking a bite out of the opposing corner, and crunching in delight. The savory chocolate is a delicacy that you haven’t tasted in months, causing nostalgia to rush through you. 

“I wish we could always stay here.” 

Muffled by his mouthful of the dessert, Armin’s melancholy utterance is barely registered in a serious tone. Yet, you could tell in the sharp glint in his blue eyes that the notion clouded his thoughts. His fingers find purchase in yours, a gesture that you’d greatly reminiscence when he left to the Training Corps and the blush that bloomed on your cheeks was a clear indicator. Perching on your knees, your arms reach over to envelop the blond in a gentle hug. It’s clearly awkward, by the clunking of your knees hitting his and how your hands are still interlaced with his, but he doesn’t seem bothered by it all. 

“Come back to visit the ocean,” you whispered as your muffled voice drifted to his ears, “I’ll always be at the ocean waiting for you.” 

“Waiting for me?” 

“Always.”

Hot tears pricked at the corner of his eyes, threatening to slip as your fingers desperately dug onto his linen shirt. It stung that your only school classmate, childhood best friend, and innocent crush would depart while focusing on his own success. You were stuck in Wall Maria. The repetitive cycle of your district life was just beginning and a hint of jealousy clawed at you. 

“I promise I’ll come back to the ocean,” Armin murmured as his fingers soothingly played with your hair, “and cut my hair if I become commander.” 

“Promise?” 

Lifting yourself off his chest, you peered up at Armin’s tear stained cheeks and let out a broken chuckle. Your own eyes were tinged red as your lower lip trembled at each remembrance of the memories you made with the male. Drawing a thumb over his cheek, you allowed the blond to reserve the rest of the night to memorizing each determinant of your beauty. The sad smile, scars, and flaws were the winsomeness that he would take in every battle. 

“Promise.”

-

He never did see you again. 

The onslaught of destruction that the Titans brought to demolish Wall Maria was too massive to the districts below. Havoc, chaos, and terror were the only images that you were able to witness before your final breath. Yet, your mind was full with the fleeting touch of Armin’s hand in yours and his joyous smile that stretched across his composed features. You didn’t regret ebbing away from the constraints of life since he was the last vision you saw. 

The male, grown and stronger in his years now, was a prisoner in the endless phase of guilt. Each day was a struggle to regain the confidence he once possessed and lead a new army into the depths of uncertainty. Nevertheless, Armin did visit the ocean in hopes of seeing a glimpse of you. He hadn’t. Still, years after the first incident, the blond ventured to the ocean again. 

Curling his toes against the soft sand, he ran a hand through his newly cropped hair. The commander badge, clipped on his Survey Corps uniform, glinted in the dusk hours. Alike to when you were both young, he decided on picking a time that was eerily close to that fateful day. You would’ve had no doubt that one day Armin would make a fine commander. He tugged his leather boots along with him, trailing the edge of the ocean as a bitter half smile curled on his lips. The waves crashing against the sand were almost loud enough to muffle his strangled sobs.

Yet, a promise was a promise. 

[circlique]

32 "you were crying, are you OK?" America X Korea.

Warm, humid air hit Alfred’s face as he opened the door out onto the roof.

It was a beautiful night. The monsoon had graciously lifted earlier in the day, leaving the air warm, but not hot, and smelling sweetly of rain. The city glittered across the valley, nestled like a puddle of light between the hills. In the faint light on the rooftop, Alfred recognized Yong Soo leaning against the railing that surrounded the roof, gazing out over his country.

Previously, Yong Soo had mentioned stepping out to go to the bathroom, but it had been quite a while since then. A few floors below, the party and its guests continued on without them, all the guests drinking and laughing and enjoying the evening, but Alfred had grown antsy. After all, it was Yong Soo’s own party he was missing. So, he had gone to look for him, and had come to the roof after it became clear that Yong Soo hadn’t actually gone to the bathroom.

“Hey—” he started, about to ask Yong Soo what he was doing on the roof, but Yong Soo jumped, startled by the sudden voice, and though he was turned away, Alfred noticed him quickly wipe the back of his sleeve across his face.

Alfred approached the railing, leaning forward to rest his forearms against it. The view of the city truly was amazing. Thanks to the rain earlier in the day, the air was clean and clear. Bukhansan, or North Han Mountain, was visible in the distance, keeping silent watch over Seoul below.

“Nice night, isn’t it?” Alfred said casually, glancing over at Yong Soo, who seemed to be very careful about not making eye contact with him tonight.

“Yeah,” Yong Soo nodded in agreement, pretending the cough into his elbow, but Alfred had already noticed his puffy eyes and caught the slight stuffiness to his voice.

Frowning, Alfred cut to the chase. “You were crying. Are you okay?”

Yong Soo was silent for a moment, then let out a shaky sigh before raising his eyes to meet Alfred’s. “Am I that bad at hiding it?”

“Yes,” Alfred answered with a chuckle, sliding closer so that they were shoulder to shoulder. “Maybe it would fool someone else. But I know you too well.”

Yong Soo let out a little snort, then averted his eyes again.

“So...what’s wrong?” Alfred ventured, when it became clear Yong Soo wasn’t going to tell him unprompted.

“Oh, you know...the usual,” Yong Soo replied with a somber smile.

They both understood what “the usual” meant. It was, of course, no coincidence that Yong Soo had been looking out from the north side of the building’s roof.

“Did you leave him something again?” Alfred asked.

“Just some snacks and some soju,” Yong Soo said, referring to his yearly tradition of leaving a gift for his estranged brother on one of the conference tables in Panmunjom on their birthday, because rarely would the other actually come to meet him. “You know I can’t leave anything too personal—or ‘illicit.’ His soldiers will probably end up taking it anyway.”

His eyes fell to watch the cars and people bustling down the street below. He wiped his eyes again.

“I’m sorry. It’s supposed to be a happy day...” Yong Soo continued, his voice cracking despite his attempts to pull himself together. “You came all the way out here and now I’m just hiding from everyone on the roof.”

“Nah,” Alfred said, wrapping his arm around Yong Soo and pulling him close. “It just means I get to have you to myself for a while.”

“Yeah...” Yong Soo said, smiling weakly.

The silence hung uncomfortably between them for a moment.

“You know, I bet he’s out there on some rooftop looking south,” Alfred said, breaking the silence. “And next time there’s a UN conference, I’m gonna corner him so you can give him something more personal without his boss watching. I’ll guard the door. He’ll be mad at me but when is he not? At least you’ll get to talk and he can blame me for kidnapping him or whatever makes him feel better.”

The idea did coax a small chuckle out of Yong Soo. Alfred knew it wouldn’t make everything better, but it was the least he could offer. And making Yong Soo smile was a reward in itself.

“Thanks, Alfred,” Yong Soo said, wiping away a few more tears. “I would like that.”

[actionpowermarcandre]

What You Need to Know about Real Estate in Orleans

The Action Power Team is here to answer all your questions about buying and selling real estate in Orleans.

What’s the difference between a condo townhouse and freehold townhouse in the Orleans area?

A freehold townhouse gives you exclusive ownership of both the interior and exterior of the land and the home, much like a single-family home. A condo township means that you own everything inside of the unit, but the exterior is maintained by a condo corporation. Each type of ownership has benefits and disadvantages. Discuss your goals with your real estate agent in Orleans to decide what is right for you.

Are there easements when buying a townhouse in Orleans?

An easement gives another person or entity permission to access your property for a limited or specific purpose. A common type of easement is for utility companies. Easements are common for townhouses. When a property in Orleans is changing hands, the title company will search for easements on the property, but you could also have a real estate lawyer conduct a search and explain any easements for you.

What are the types of townhouses in Orleans?

A townhouse is a housing unit with two or three homes that share walls. In the Orleans area, you can find:

Condo w/o garage – a traditional townhouse without a garage. The homeowner owns the interior, while the exterior is managed by a condo corporation.

Condo w/garage—similar to a traditional townhouse but with a garage.

Freehold w/garage – a traditional townhouse with a garage. The homeowner owns the interior and exterior and is responsible for all property maintenance.

Two-storey – a two story townhouse that maximizes the space in a home.

Three-storey – three-storey townhouses are built with three levels, but typically won’t have a basement.

Bungalow townhouse – a bungalow townhouse is a one-storey home, but it may utilize loft space to increase square footage.

What is a terrace home? What’s the difference between the lower and upper units?

A terrace home is similar to a townhouse, but the levels may be divided into individual apartments. The lower units are usually easier to access than upper units, but the upper units have better views, less noise and traffic, and are more secure. Realtors in Orleans can help you find a terrace home that suits your needs.

What are the main neighbourhoods in Orleans, Ontario?

Orleans South includes Chapel Hill, Mer Bleue, Convent Glen South, and Queenswood Heights. The oldest house in this area was built in 1914, but most of the houses were built in the 1960s.

Orleans North includes Convent Glen, Hiawatha Park, and Chatelaine Village. The oldest home in these parts was built in 1950, but most homes were built from 1965 to 1985.

Orleans East includes Avalon, Gardenway, Ridgemont, and Fallingbrook. Although the oldest homes were built in the mid-1940s, most of the homes in this area are much newer as building construction boomed in the 1980s.

Which neighbourhoods in Orleans are older/newer?

Avalon, south of Innes Road, is one of the newer neighbourhoods, as it began in the 1990s. Orleans Village, located along St-Joseph Blvd between Orléans Blvd and Duford Dr., is the oldest neighbourhood in Orleans. Hiawatha Park, located on the river north of Convent Glen, is another older neighbourhood. Fallingbrook, know for Princess Louise Falls, began in the late 1980s, so it’s not too old. Let your real estate agent in Orleans help you find the perfect house in the right community for you.

Why buy in an older neighbourhood in Orleans?

Buying an older home has its advantages and disadvantages. Older neighbourhoods often have larger yards with mature trees that provide canopies. Preservation of the neighbourhood is often a priority. Older residential communities tend to be more centrally located around city centres, because residents needed to walk to stores and businesses. Although homes may not be modern and will need repairs, they’re typically built well and have stood the test of time.

Why should we buy a house in Orleans?

Orleans has a lot of character as a suburb of Ottawa. It’s a slower paced atmosphere, without a lot of street noise or nightlife, but there are plenty of amenities close enough for people who want entertainment, sports, and education opportunities. An important fact is that Orleans is a safe community. Almost 90% of the population owns their home, which speaks to the stability of Orleans. It’s more affordable than some other parts of Ottawa, and it’s very family-friendly. Orleans is also known for its French-speaking population. Many people in Orleans are bilingual.

How is the traffic from Orleans to downtown?

Orleans is just 16 km from Ottawa’s downtown core. When traffic is good, it can take only 10 minutes to get downtown. It does take longer during morning and afternoon rush hours. While there is an extensive bus service to get around the rest of the city, most Orleans residents own a car to get around Orleans. Orleans does have a good infrastructure for biking. It is possible to commute on your cycle.

What amenities are in Orleans?

The Orleans community features many opportunities for shopping, recreation, and healthcare. You’ll find museums, gardens, theatres, live performances and more in Orleans. Place d’Orleans is the local mall with more than 175 stores. There’s no shortage of restaurants, from fine dining to fast food, both local specialties and nationwide chains. You are also close to downtown Ottawa, which lets you take advantage of those amenities.

What religion centres, schools, parks are in Orleans?

Orleans is a diverse centre, with many Christian churches and Jewish synagogues in the community. In Ottawa, you’ll find even more religious centres, for Sikhs, Buddhists, Muslims, and more. Orleans features public, Catholic, and private schools in both French and English for school-age children. The city has several nature trails and parks in the community, as well as multiple recreational and sports complexes. The greater Ottawa area has even more opportunities, if you’re willing to drive.

Is Orleans a safe neighbourhood?

Information from Rentals.ca lists Orleans as being one of the top 10 safest neighbourhoods in Ottawa. Crimes against the person were listed as 32.1/10,000 in 2018. Areavibes reports crime rates in Orleans are 9% lower than the national average, with Orleans being safer than 26% of the other cities in Ontario. Most residents are homeowners, which translates into safe communities, because they want to invest in the area.

Is there public transit readily accessible in Orleans?

Driving is the preferred method to get around in Orleans, although many people do commute by bicycle, too. Ottawa has a fairly extensive public transit system, OC Transpo, to get around the city. There are around 30 bus lines that pass through Orleans, and you’re never very far from a bus stop, but it’s difficult to use public transportation to get around Orleans itself. Over the next few years, the Stage 2 expansion of the city’s light-rail transit system will see LRT stations going as far east as Trim Road, making a commute to downtown even faster and easier. The cycling infrastructure in Orleans is well-built. If you can’t drive, a bicycle is a good option.

Will my home increase in value if I buy in Orleans?

Housing prices in Canada have been on the rise over the past year. Ottawa recorded a house price increase of almost 20% in 2020. Traditionally, homes increase in value over time, even if the market has a slight dip occasionally. Home values tend to fluctuate based on supply and demand, the economy, and location. Orleans is a prime location in the greater Ottawa area, so you should expect your home value to appreciate.

Original Source: https://marcandre-perrier.c21.ca/2021/08/12/what-you-need-to-know-about-real-estate-in-orleans

[knightdale-secret]

Today I learned a haunting truth about a secret hidden right in my very neighborhood. An ugly truth that has been hidden, covered up and mostly forgotten, until now.

In Knightdale, North Carolina the prominent plantation owner, Charles Lewis Hinton, purchased and built a plantation home for his son David Hinton and his new wife Mary Boddie Carr as a wedding present on a stretch of land that would come to be known as the Midway Plantation because it was halfway between two other Hinton family properties. The beautiful, two-story Greek Revival plantation home was built in 1848 as a forced-labor farm. A slave plantation.

I’m not certain how many people were enslaved there over the years, but I do know that at least 130 of those slaves were buried on a site that would later be knowingly built on top of to create Widewaters subdivision. MY neighborhood.

Right behind the community pool and club house there is a strange white gravel path that leads up a slight hill to a black wrought iron fence gate that is always latched. There is a rickety wooden fencing surrounding a wooded area on a hill. This is in the middle of the neighborhood. There was never any explanation for it - for why, in a development, this overgrown patch of trees is fenced in and gated off, untouched, where normally there would be another few houses perhaps. I pass this area almost daily in my car or on leisurely walks. I had noticed the fence but thought maybe it was part of someone’s property. I didn’t think too much of it.

But that changed today. Today I was bored and looking up about local plantation owners in the area because history has always interested me. I learned a little about the Shoppes of Midway being built where the plantation house once stood and that the original house and its outbuildings were moved 2 miles up the road so a Target could be built and the ever expanding road wouldn’t keep encroaching on their lawn. This made way for growth in Knightdale. And grow it has. What was once a small town on the outskirts of Raleigh has become busier and more built up as available housing in the city has decreased and people leave it in search of quieter suburbs to live and raise their families. So as I was researching for no reason in particular other than personal interest, I stumbled upon an article about Midway Plantation and it stated that there was a slave cemetery that was surveyed and a neighborhood was built on top of it. It said it was across the street to the east from where the Midway Plantation house originally stood and that all that was left of the cemetery was maybe 50 graves on a hill in some trees surrounded by a black wrought iron fence. The article states that after the building of the subdivision was started, it was clear that houses were more important than the graves of the many slaves that worked the plantations. And yes, the builders did know about the cemetery. It was surveyed and it was signed off on to be built over. I think this is when the downplaying, lying and covering up started. A letter was reportedly written according to the below article when the preparations for the subdivision were being made that said that such a large slave cemetery couldn’t have existed in this area based on the shaky reference that the present owners didn’t have enough slaves to have this type of burial ground and no church could be identified on the grounds (cause cemeteries only are constructed on church grounds?) this mysterious letter writer conveniently failed to recognize that the land was originally Hinton land and they had slaves numbering in the hundreds here and could most certainly have amassed a deceased slave population of that size over the years it was in operation.

There is a saying about guilt : “A given excuse that was not asked for implies guilt.” If this letter writer submitted this without prompting from any public outcry than he was already defending a guilty mind. He was trying to persuade people away from the truth and to avoid any public outrage over the very wrong they knew they were committing by building here.

That article link is here: http://www.knightdalehistoric.com/pdf/plantations3.pdf

This was the only article or snippet of information I could find about this cemetery that very clearly under my neighborhood and whose remaining grave sites lie just mere feet away from our community swimming pool. This disturbed me greatly because to date, this site is unmarked and unrecognized. So i first decided to submit a request for a historical marker to be made for the site. I was met with an emailed response by a very helpful administrator for the NC Marker Historical Society who said that they no longer do markers for cemeteries but she would contact the National Register for Historic Places and see if the cemetery could be added to the Midway plantation that is already registered as a historical place. She has been talking with archaeologists who are working on this and she’ll be in touch. I also emailed someone in archives to see how I could find the site survey that was done but haven’t received a response yet.

Next I decided to post this information on Facebook to the local community groups and see how they felt about it, and to inform them as well as pose that a marker be made and that I would try to get that facilitated. An outpouring of support and offerings to donate to help fund its creation were given. I knew I was onto something that was important not just to me as a person living in a neighborhood with a secret of this magnitude, but to a community of people who would also want this recognized.

Now, I myself am not African American. I am pretty much as white as they come, I have the genealogy report to prove it. I struggled with the idea that I would be lambasted as trying to be some sort of “white savior” or something by trying to make this happen. I felt guilty that I was the one that found this information and had to be the one to put it out there. I felt like this belongs to the descendants of slaves. this is something that would affect their community,feelings and hearts maybe more than the white community’s in its ramifications and would of course be more important to them on a more personal level. Who am I to come in and make a big stink about something that isn’t even my history someone might say,but it is America’s history. It is the history of the land I now inhabit. And it is an issue that I hold dear to my heart because these men and women and children that lived, worked and died here were not just property or possessions, they were people and their graves should be respected just like anyone else’s. More so I think. Their graves can serve as a reminder of the great bloody sins that occurred in the building of this country. In the building of the south. The only monuments I’d like to see in the south would be to commemorate the slaves, not the enslavers and the people that tried to tear the country apart. The hero slaves that helped build this nation against their will and with great laboring and suffering due to an abhorrent institution that stains our history. They are the ones that should be remembered. Their stories told.

I have always been a sympathizing person. My first hero in elementary school was Martin Luther King, Jr. I gave an oral report on him and did papers later in junior high. I have always been the type of person that hates seeing injustice done to people and the hatred that divides communities and people over nothing more than color or ignorant biases. It never made sense to me and I never understood why people can’t be kind to one another and celebrate differences rather than fear them.

Some people made the point that many cemeteries have been likely built on over the years including white cemeteries, which I also think is awful, but in this situation PART OF THIS CEMETERY IS STILL HERE! Part of our history, this city’s history is still here in OUR NEIGHBORHOOD. We pass it every day! It is here with us and it should be recognized. It should be visited and reflected on. It should be acknowledged.

I visited the cemetery site today and saw the indentations in the ground and the old stone markers left on some of the sites where the slaves were buried. I couldn’t believe that this was just here, between houses and a pool, not in a historical site that you had to pay to see. No fanfare or brochure handouts. Just dusty old bones in the ground marked by grey stones in a patch of trees in the middle of a subdivision, silently waiting to be seen. I whispered to them before I left that I would do all I could to make sure they were not forgotten. That a marker in their honor would be made so they could be remembered. I sincerely hope I can make that happen.

Thru my posts on Facebook, I met a man named Keith Gibbs who has apparently already done a lot of work to try to have this cemetery recognized with a small group of others but they hit many roadblocks. He told me that there are cover ups and corruption surrounding the area from higher ups and people that don’t want this information out there. He was unsuccessful in his journey to get the site recognized, but he has agreed to hand over his research and findings to me in hopes I will be the one to get something done. ME, a curious girl with no real clout, lol. Yeah, ME, I’m the one. I’m the one that will make this happen where others failed. RIGHT?? Right.

Now, it should be said that I have never really been the figure head for anything in my life. I have never been the spokesperson, the leader the public person, the socialite. I am a shy person that works best from the shadows, behind the scenes. The one that does the work but doesn’t get the credit. And I have largely been okay with that role. It’s less stressful. But now people are looking to me to lead them on this issue. To call the shots and take the donations and create the marker. And that was all fine and dandy…. until CBS 17 messaged me asking if I’d like to do a story for them to help get attention and funding for the marker. I got excited and also nervous. I let her know that would likely be a good Avenue to take to get it done but I am still in the information gathering stage. I let her know of my meeting with Keith and told her I’d get back with her when I knew more. She was okay with that.

Honestly, I was relieved I had a reason to stall. I’ve never been on TV before! Cameras DO NOT love me unless its a selfie photo with a Snapchat filter that i’m taking of myself lol. I’m no public speaker. And also I still feel like it shouldn’t be me. I mean, it should since I discovered it and put it out there for the masses, but how can I be the face of this? Me, a white girl from small town Pennsylvania, be the face of a covered up slave cemetery? I feel guilty but also I do feel like there is something to white privilege and power and I hope to only use it as a force for good in this world and to help those with less privilege than I where I can. We only live once and I think a whole lot about how I want to be remembered when I am gone. When someone is building houses over my grave. I’d like to know somewhere out there I might be remembered fondly for doing something that was right in this world of wrongs.

I’m terrified to do the story, but I feel like it is my duty now and my responsibility. I am just so scared of fucking it up. What if I say something stupid or that can be taken out of context? This is such a touchy issue after all. I just want to do them justice. God help me. I just want them to be remembered.

[architectnews]

Singapore Houses: Residential Properties

Singapore House Images, Residential Architecture South East Asia, Architects, Property Designs

Singapore Houses : Properties

Key Residential Buildings in Singapore, Contemporary South East Asia Homes

post updated 20 Feb 2021

New Houses in Singapore

e-architect cover interesting and high quality completed Singapore Houses and proposed new residential properties across Singapore. Our focus is on contemporary South East Asian residences.

Singapore Residences

South East Asia Residential Architecture News

28 Sep 2020 Fluidity on the Hill Design: Aamer Architects photograph : Skewedeye Pte Ltd Fluidity on the Hill Fluidity on the Hill sits on a steep odd-shaped hill with existing large trees, this seven bedrooms multi-generational house meanders fluidly upwards over five floors diverting around the very mature trees. Broken down into parts, the massing reduces as it goes higher. The house is intended to stand out whilst not overpowering the context.

13 Mar 2020 Canvas House, Blair Road Design: Ministry of Design Architects (MOD) image courtesy of architects studio Canvas House Blair Road: Heritage Shophouse MOD has newly completed an all-white Canvas House for co-living, set in a heritage shophouse in Singapore along Blair Road.

4 Mar 2020 Raw & Refine House Design: Aamer Architects photo : Sanjay Kewlani The Forever House in Serangoon This new property is a reconstruction of a small bungalow house. The design is attracting attention from the community for its dynamic form and interesting use of materials.

1 Mar 2020 Seductive Simplicity House Design: Aamer Architects photograph : Skewedeye Pte Ltd Seductive Simplicity House Designed to fit snugly into a tight bungalow plot in the East of Singapore, this residential project stands out for its austere simplicity and unpretentious timelessness.

28 Feb 2020 Ninety 7 House, Siglap Hill Design: Aamer Architects photograph : Patrick Bingham-Hall Ninety 7 House One of those stimulating occasions where owner and architect are effectively collaborating, in sync, resulting in a pleasant process & cool project. The Ninety 7 House sits on Siglap Hill, the highest point in a residential suburb in Singapore, the site is breezy and enjoys spectacular views of the city skyline and the surrounding low-rise neighbourhood.

More contemporary Singapore Houses online soon

Singapore Houses 2019

30 May 2019 The Forever House, Serangoon Architects: Wallflower Architecture + Design photo : Marc Tey Photography The Forever House in Serangoon For the client, their dream residence would also be their definiteive family home. It had to have an urban presence, while having an open yet secure exterior space with sufficient privacy from the street.

29 May 2019 Lambda Residential Villa Architect: Mercurio Design Lab, Italy image courtesy of architecture studio Lambda Residential Villa The inspiration behind the radical shape of Lambda originated from a scale model of a Lamborghini Gallardo.

29 May 2019 59B House, Bukit Timah Architect: ONG&ONG Pte Ltd photo : Photographer: Derek Swalwell F59B House This was an additions and alterations property project on an existing house in Bukit Timah. The owner’s father built the original house and the building was in an awkward position on the plot.

18 May 2019 Fish House Design: Guz Architects photo : Patrick Bingham Hall Fish House A modern tropical bungalow encapsulating the essence of living in the hot and humid climate of Singapore by creating open spaces which encourage natural ventilation and offer residents views to the ocean.

More new Singapore Houses welcome for consideration on e-architect

Singapore Houses 2018

13 Feb 2018 Pearl Bank Apartments, Pearl’s Hill, Chinatown photo courtesy of CapitaLand Pearl Bank Apartments, Chinatown Prime site atop Pearl’s Hill to be rejuvenated with an iconic high-rise residential development, by CapitaLand Limited.

15 Jul 2017 House 24 Design: Park + Associates photo : Edward Hendricks © Park + Associates Pte Ltd House 24

1 Nov 2016 Secret Garden House, Bukit Timah Design: Wallflower Architecture + Design photo : Marc Tey Photos Secret Garden House Singapore The Secret Garden House, designed by Singapore based Wallflower Architecture + Design, is situated in the good class bungalow area of Bukit Timah. The owner’s brief was to have a luxurious, tropical, contemporary family home. Being the owners of a construction company and by building it themselves, it would also showcase their professional capabilities.

13 Oct 2016 65BTP Residence Design: ONG&ONG photo : Derek Swalwell 65BTP House This is a home surrounded by a vast garden that converges at a colossal pre-war rain tree with such magnificence that its presence is ingrained within the very architecture of the house itself.

Recent Singapore House Designs

19 May 2014 Bukit Timah House in Singapore Design: Wallflower Architecture + Design photograph : Marc Tey Ge Wai Bukit Timah House in Singapore This house sits on high ground, and the rear of the site has wonderful views overlooking the greener and more affluent residential addresses in Singapore. Our client’s brief was to design a home of two stories, with an attic, and importantly a roof terrace facing the rear and overlooking the valley.

11 Dec 2013 One Tree Hill House Design: ONG&ONG Architects photograph : See Chee Keong One Tree Hill House This house at One Tree Hill is designed to cater to the homeowner’s unique needs. The architectural layout includes a double volume space in the living area that opens out into a beautiful garden and water feature.

20 Aug 2013 Wind Vault House Design: Wallflower Architecture + Design photo : Jeremy San Wind Vault House As the brief was substantial, the overall form of the house needed to be pushed to the envelope limits. Naturally, there are also other considerations; the context and proximity of neighbouring homes, the daily sun path and the prevailing winds. Conceptually, the house is a raised reinforced concrete tube whose open ends are oriented in a general north-south direction.

20 Aug 2013 The Wall House Design: FARM, Architects photo : Bryan van der Beek and Edward Hendricks The Wall House This is a tale of two houses – similar looking, yet independent and coming together to form a coherent whole. The two blocks sit on a sprawling piece of land, belonging respectively to the retired parents and one of their children.

25 Jul 2013 Nest House Design: WOHA photo : Patrick Bingham-Hall Nest House Singapore Another delightfully sensitive and articulate design from this world-famous Singapore architects studio. This house is part of a family compound, and expresses the owner’s close relationship with her grandfather who has his own house within the compound. The design reflects the close bond between the grandfather and granddaughter by orientating the main spaces towards his house and gardens.

10 Oct 2012 The Winged House Architect: K2LD Architects Pte photo : Patrick Bingham Hall Winged House A private family residence situated on a uniquely shaped triangular plot, the Winged House frames the site with two prominent forms – the trapeziums. These forms open towards the main view at the back of the site where 3 existing majestic palms are, and of lush greenery.

9 Oct 2012 JKC1 Singapore Architect: ONG&ONG Pte Ltd photo from architects JKC1 Singapore This is one of three ‘good class bungalow’ plots carved from a larger plot developed by the Keck Seng Group. The house sits on a slight incline and overlooks a pool in the front yard, following the feng shui belief of balancing the “mountain” and “water” elements.

Nassim Villas Design: Zaha Hadid Architects picture from architects Nassim Villas Flanked by huge luscious tropical hardwood trees on either sides and diagonally facing the Singapore Botanical gardens sits one of the most breathtaking and desirable sites in Singapore. The intention of this design is to mimic the landscape, allow the architecture to be part of it, thereby accentuating the locale and its prominence.

Botannia Design: MKPL Architects picture from FD Botannia Singapore Singapore—an island of just 710 square kilometres with a growing 4.9 million population— projects herself as city in a garden, no mean feat, since most Singaporeans live in high-rise public housing while others live in low-rise enclaves or condominiums where ratios of total floor area to site area range from 1.4 to 2.8.

Singapore Properties

Major Singapore Residential Architecture, alphabetical:

Beach Road – New mixed-use district Foster + Partners Beach Road Singapore : Design Contest

Farrer Court – residential development Zaha Hadid Architects Farrer Court Singapore

The Interlace Singapore Development Ole Scheeren of OMA The Interlace Singapore Complex

Moulmein residential tower WOHA Architects Singapore tower building

Newton Suites WOHA Architects Newton Suites

Pinnacle @ Duxton Design: ARC Studio Architecture + Urbanism image © C)ARCStudio Pinnacle @ Duxton

Residential Complex, Alexandra Road OMA Singapore development

Scotts Tower – Residential tower building Rem Koolhaas Architects / OMA Singapore Tower : iconic architecture

Tangga House Design: Guz Architects picture : Patrick Bingham Hall Tangga House

More Singapore Houses online soon

New Architecture in this South East Asian City

Singapore Architecture Designs – chronological list

Singapore Architecture News

Singapore Architecture

Singapore Architecture Tours

Singapore Building Photos : images of recent buildings

Singapore Buildings – no images

New Houses

Capella Singapore – luxury hotel, Sentosa Island Foster + Partners Capella Singapore

Buildings in East Asian Countries

Hong Kong Architecture

Malaysian Architecture

Chinese Architecture

Thailand Buildings

Houses / photos for the Singapore Residential Architecture page welcome

Website: Visit Singapore

The post Singapore Houses: Residential Properties appeared first on e-architect.

[d-other-i]

10.30 pm – 12/08/17 – Day 01

The bus set out from Bangalore, a slight delay, thanks to which I was able to grab some food! In about 14 hours, the bus would take me far away from the original intended destination.

A coffee never hurt, especially when stuck without a plan!!!

7am – 13/08/17 – Day 02

The morning found me staring into the countryside, its overcast gray skies, and the semi barren fields in against the rust red of the iron ore on the road! Hampi was still 2 hours away. What started as a trip to Gandikota in AP, was inching towards Hampi in North Karnataka!

The previous two days had gone by in a blur! With no plan, and no tickets to Kurnool, last minute changes had to be done to ensure that there atleast was a trip! The only other place that I could think of then was Hampi! Good thing I already had tickets to Bangalore! All that was left was to find a ticket to Hampi from Bangalore and from Hampi to Chennai! A colleague (now, wife) helped with the bus planning and booking a stop-over stay at Bangalore!

After almost an entire day of roaming, a café in Bangalore gave enough time to Google up Hampi and possible places of stay there! A few phone calls later, one place asked me to call them again on reaching! Wondering if the plans would materialize, strolled around Bangalore a little bit more, met some friends, and finally when it was time, boarded the bus to Hampi! The one persistent thought however, was what If there was no accommodation?! It was after-all a long weekend!

A gust of wind ensured I was back, staring at the overcast skies, the broken down trucks along the highway and the oodles of rust on the road. After a lengthy detour post Ballari, the bus ambled into the dusty little town of Hospet! Hampi is 16 km from here! Found a couple who were also headed the same way, grabbed an auto to share charges and off we went!

Dropping them off at their shack, I went about looking for the contact I had spoken to! Funny thing, with the mountains and boulders all around, there was very little network. Finding the place was a task, but thankfully, the temple town isn’t too large and finally, reached the homestay.

A small but a neat place, it was located very close to the Virupaksha temple.

** To those who plan to visit Hampi, there are basically 3 options for accommodation. Those that plan to do the trip by their own vehicles can stay at Hospet, or at Kamalapur (close to Hampi). The other two options are to stay at the temple town itself in its few homestays, or stay at Virupapur Gaddi, across the river! Those that stay at Hampi should be aware that the food available would be completely vegetarian fare since it is a temple town! The hippie town on the other bank however is for those with a palate for a wider spectrum of food, although the last coracle/boat is at 6 pm, after which the only other way is a 30 odd km detour! **

The family that ran the place were warm, and although the room they had planned to accommodate me in wasn’t empty till later that day, they found a temporary room for me on the first floor! The terrace had an amazing view, of the Virupaksha temple on one side, the Mathanga hill on the other side with the distant Tugabhadra river gurgling away in the distance! It was indeed blissful to spend time under the overcast skies on the terrace, with the multiple temples and halls on the Hemkuta hills for company!

View of the Hemakuta hills

The main road into Hampi

Mathanga hill from the guesthouse!

Freshened up, and having some nice toast with butter and jam for breakfast! I set out into the temple town! The first spot was the famous Virupaksha temple. Unlike many other temples in Hampi, the Virupaksha temple is still active, and the pujas are conducted here. One interesting aspect of the temple is the “pin-hole” camera effect, where a small hole on the wall inside a small room within the temple makes it act as a pin hole camera, forming a perfect inverted image of the main gopuram on the opposite wall.

Virupaksha Temple

Origin of Hampi: 

The name Hampi is evolved from Pampa, the ancient name of the river Tungabhadra. Also Pampa is the daughter of Brahma, the Creator God. She was a devoted worshiper of Shiva, the God of Destruction. Impressed by her dedication Shiva offered her a boon and she opted to marry him! The place thus came to be known as Pampakshetra (land of Pampa) and Shiva as Pampapathi (consort of Pampa).

The Hemakuta Hill in Hampi is the place, according to the myth, Shiva did his penance before marrying Pampa. Kama , the God of Love, felt sympathy for Pampa for her love towards Shiva. He disturbed Shiva from his deep meditation. That attracted Shiva’s wrath. Known for his anger, Shiva burned Kama with his third (fiery) eye. Rathi, Goddess of Passion and also Kama’s consort pleaded for mercy with Shiva. Shiva grants Kama’s life back, but only as a character and not as a physical being.

On Shiva’s marriage with Pampa Gods from the heaven showered gold on the place. This hill in Hampi is called Heamakuta, literally means heap of gold.

All these places have immense religious significance for the Hindus in south India, especially the devotees of Lord Shiva. In the beginning Pampa was a local folk deity. Through the concept of a marriage with Shiva, goddess Pampa is associated into the pantheon of the Hindu gods.

The places mentioned here has a continuous religious history ever since known timeframe. It just happened that the Vijayanagara Empire came in-between and gone as an episode in Hampi’s long history. Even today the annual ceremonial marriage festival & the betrothal are important festivals in Hampi. With time, Shiva became more popular here as Virupaksha. Virupaksha, an incarnation of Shiva, literally means the one with oblique eye. This refers to the fact that Shiva has three eyes. The third fire eye on his forehead opens when he do the destruction.

As a tourist you can visit Virupaksha Temple (the main functioning temple in Hampi), Hemakuta hill (with about 40 temples concentrated on it), Pampa Sarovar (where Pampa did penance) and of course the river Tungabadhra.

Kishkinda Episode: A popular folklore associates the landscape in Hampi with the Hindu epic Ramayana. The monkey kingdom, Kishkinda, is portrayed as the region around Hampi. Anjayaneya Hill, located across the river Tungabhadra, is believed to be the birth place of Hanuman.

For the Prahlada episode see the Story of Narasimha. You’ll find this man-lion incarnation of Lord Vishnu icon at many sites in Hampi including the Vittala Temple and Lakshmi Narasimha Temple .

The curiously named, Bhima’s Gateway located on the way to Vittala Temple from Kamalapura has a beautiful panel of Keechaka episode that happened during the exile of Pandava’s. On the left is the image of Draupathi tying up her hair after Bhima slayed Duhsasana. Right image portrays Bhima killing Keechaka.

Below is the panel of Bhima with a flower bud describing the Saugandhika flower episode

In Hampi you’ll find this theme of adolescent Krishna stealing cloths of cowherd girls (Krishna on the tree with Gopis pleading with their hands folded in reverence). There is one pillar with this theme carved on one of the the slender pillars of  the Kadalekalu Ganesha and another beautiful one at the Pattabhirama Temple, though a damaged due to vandalism.

Those finally end up in Hampi invariably wonder how on earth such a landscape got created! Well, you have two choices to find a solace: one in geology and the other in mythology. (Source: Hampi.in)

 Ambling through the ancient temple, one cannot help but wonder how many generations of men and women this place must have borne, the amount of prayers heard, right from the greedy selfish ones to the most selfless of prayers when the Vijayanagar Empire was attacked by the Sultanate rulers. But, despite all odds, the temple still stands, a mute testimony to the will power of the humans that ensured that at least some of the grandeur was not lost to the elements of time. The vast temple, led to an equally majestic tank on the side of the river.

Manmatha Tank

The temple is the center of activity in Hampi. While the road spread out on the South towards Kamalapur and onward to the highway linking it to Bangalore, the North side towards the Tungabhadra river is full of an assortment of homestays, restaurants and shops for various trinkets! Whether they are authentic, is anybody’s guess! A little walk from the temple leads to the ghats along the River, boats, both powered and hand paddled take one across for a small fare!

Tungabhadra river

To the South and the east of the Virupaksha temple are some of the more important ruins (did not have enough time to try explore the western side!). On the south, are the famous Hemakuta hills, and the large mandapams on the hills. Two major spots on these hills are the Kadalekalu Ganesa and a little further, the Sasivekalu Ganesa!

Kadalekalu Ganesha

Entrance to Kadalekalu Ganesha Temple

Other structures on the Hemakuta Hill

    View to the temple town from the Hemakuta Hill

The town is completely dotted with the ruins of the ancient Vijayanagar empire, so much so that it is hard not to see the remnants of the past! One cannot help but wonder how magnificent the city would have been in its heyday, if it can evoke such an awe when most of the city is in ruins!

Bang opposite the Virupaksha temple, is a large open space now used as makeshift stalls and car parking! There, are a series of a colonnaded ruins extending almost a kilometer to the east! These are called the bazaar street, and housed the markets related to the temple activities in the past! They were also said to have housed the residences of the nobles of the era!

                View of the Virupaksha temple from the end of the bazaar street

                  View of the Virupaksha temple from the end of the bazaar street

    A portion of the ruins of the bazaar!

  View of the Virupaksha temple from the end of the bazaar street

  Way to Nandi Mandapa

The far end of the bazaar street has a grand staircase with a large mandapa! The mandapa houses a massive Nandi which overlooks the entire bazaar and onward to the Lord Shiva!

Nandi Mandapa

Beyond the Nandi Mandapa lies a small trail that leads to the little less frequented, but very imposing ruins of the Achyutaraya Temple!!

Way to Achyutaraya Temple

Achyutadevaraya, who came to power succeeding his elder brother Krishnadevaraya built this temple in 1529. The presiding deity was Lord Thiruvengalanatha, a form of Vishnu! (Source: Karnataka State Website!)

    First glimpse of the Achyutaraya temple

  The temple, located at the Southern end of the grand Courtesan Street is a sight to behold from up the Matanga Hill from where one gets to appreciate the massive scale of the street and the beauty of the temple from an unconventional viewing angle! The temple, although in ruins does make one wonder about the glorious past!

  Inner Courtyard

 Carved colonnades around the temple court!

Sculptures in the mandapas!

Almost 300 years on, the glory still remains!

View of the Matanga Hill temple from Achyutaraya temple!

View of the gopuram!

  What remains of a glorious past!

Walking out of the main gopuram of the Achyutaraya temple, one encounters a rather massive open area with large pillared platforms on either side. This is the Courtesan Street. (The temple is accessed via this large pathway, with the trail through the Nandi mandapa being the alternate route!)

In the peak of its time, the place was a thriving market of gems, pearls, ivory etc. For some reason, this place was called the Sule Bazaar (The Prostitute’s Market). About 500m long and 50m wide, the market was once thronged by merchants far and wide. (Source: http://www.Hampi.in )

Courtesan’s Street

The Courtesan’s Street, at its Northern end meets the Kampa Bhupa’s path (the riverside path. Source: hampi.in), along the Tungabhadra river. There are the Varahaswami temple and the Ranganatha swamy temple nearby.

A small trail from near the Achyutharaya temple leads up the Matanga hill on the Eastern side. There is another path on the Western side as well. The western route seems to be used more often. While the easter side is doable, there are a lot of overgrowth due to minimal movement!

Walking along the outer couryard of the Achyutaraya temple, I met up with a fellow backpacker who was also doing a solo trip to Hampi. We decided to explore the places together from there on! Next up, was Mathanga Hill!

A view of the Achyutaraya temple from above!

Way to Matanga Hill!

A view of Achyutara temple and the Courtesan’s Street from Matanga Hill

Hampi from above!

View of the Virupaksha Temple from Matanga Hill!

Matanga Hill is one of the holy places described in the Ramayana! It is said to be the place where Sage Matanga was, and had given protection to Sugreeva, the King of Kishkinta! There is a Veeerabhadra temple atop the hill!

Although it was close to dusk, we dint quite wait for the sunset, although we were at the right spot, since it was quite hazy, and we had to visit the Vithala temple next! Getting down from the Mathanga Hill from the western side, we made our way back up along the Nandi mandapa, and then on to the Courtesan’s Street to get to the river path towards the Vithala Temple!

View from the Mathanga hill showing the Courtesan Street, the Pushkarni (right side) and the path leading to the Vithala temple from the Varahaswami temple!

  Way to Vithala Temple

Along the rocky path that leads to the Vithala temple, are a series of boulders that form a natural cave!

It is said that one of these caves were used by Sugreeva, the King of Kishkinta. It is also said that he used this place to hide the jewels which Sita dropped when she was abducted by Ravana and that Surgeeva met with Lord Rama and Lakshmana near these caves! A number of footprints seen on the floor of these caves are said to be that of Lord Rama and Lakshmana!

Sugreeva s Caves

A short walk from here is the Vithala temple. The King’s balance and the Purandaradasa mandapam are enroute!

Vithala Temple

The Vittala Temple, is one of the most iconic structures of Hampe, made even more famous by the induction of the Stone Chariot in the Rs 50 currency note! The presiding deity of the temple is Vittala, a form of Lord Vishnu. This form of the Lord was worshipped here as the main deity of the cattle herds!

Built in the 15th Century, the templs has grand hallways and a large pavilions and temples, besides the afore mentioned stone chariot! Outside the temple, are a series of colonnaded structure, the Vittala market place and the ruins of an ancient Shiva temple. The temple itself opens out into a kilometer long passageway, probably large enough for Chariots. There are remnants of a large tank along this passageway!

Entering the temple from the Eastern gateway, one is greeted by the Stone Chariot. This chariot is rumoured to have had the stone wheels rotating about its axis! The Chariot houses the shrine for Garuda, the vaahana for Lord Vishnu!

Stone chariot! Note the rear wheel, where the gap between the axle and the hub is more on the bottom than on the top, indicating that the wheel was indeed free to rotate about the axle! It is also believed that the structure was painted with natural/mineral dyes!

Unfortunately for us, the temple was very crowded, thanks to the Independence day weekend, and the day being a Sunday! Unlike the Achyutaraya temple, we could not have the Vittala temple for ourselves! Greedy, indeed!

A smaller mandapa within the Vittala Temple complex!

A little beyond the Chariot is the main building, the Maha mandapa! Ornately carved, the building is famous for its Musical Pillars! These are small series of stone pillars carved out of a monolithic block! Each of these smaller pillars when tapped emit a specific musical note! This stands testimony to the fine Architectural skills of the craftsmen and at the same time, the level of understand and the cohesion of arts that was possibly prevalant at the time!

  Ornately carved columns, depicting the mythical creature, YAAZHI. The sculptures of this creature is found across south India, with similarfeatures,  making one wonder if they actually existed!

Intricate stone carving stands testimony to the craftsmanship of the time!

The details along the roof, deft and intricate!

  View of the gopuram from within the complex!

Rear side of the temple complex

  With the crowd being on the higher side, we decided to leave earlier that planned. We also decided, we would try and make it to the Vittala temple again the next morning!

We headed back out to Hampi along the same river bank route!

The view of the Sugreeva cave from the Narasimha Temple complex

  A short detour later, we were at the Virupaksha temple, parting ways deciding to rent bicyles for the next day’s trip! A sumptuous meal at Mango Tree (highly recommended!) done, I settled down at the home stay!

  The Tungabhadra river bank along the way…

  Parting shot for the day.. Virupaksha temple, in the lights!

  A tiring day done, I wound up at the new room! Not the view the earlier one had, but I wasn’t complaining! Having walked miles upon miles, sleep took over in no time……

            A view of the Achyutaraya temple from above!

  Where Gods Walked…….. (2) 10.30 pm – 12/08/17 – Day 01 The bus set out from Bangalore, a slight delay, thanks to which I was able to grab some food!

[roswellroamer]

Day 20. February 18, 2020. Havelock day rides. 100km.

Woke up to a light drizzle. Eye swelling down to near normal. 👍 This is supposed to be the last of our recent series of wet days. The cider didn't have any ill effects and we strolled across the street to the Sneaky beach cafe. I had a steak & mushroom pie but was significantly out ordered by the eggs Benedict with salmon that were delivered across from me. 👀 No chance to ride in more comfortable gear due to rain and also projected gravel/dirt encounters today. We geared up and headed south. Somehow we missed the Queen Charlotte Road turnoff right in town and instead went nearly to Blenheim before we realized we had missed it. Oh well. We were in the very heart of the Marlborough wineries north of Blenheim. Perfectly manicured rows of grapevines spread out far and wide from both sides of the roads. The countless vineyard rows were broken up by picturesque wineries and inns. Looks like a great place to have a wine tour! 🍷 We detoured a few miles south to Blenheim outskirts and rejiggered our plan. We opted to take the twisty and notable coastal roads Port Underwood ( dirt/gravel and steep with hundreds of sharp turns) and the aforementioned Queen Charlotte which was paved with similar elevation changes and twistiness. The rain ensured that Port Underwood was taken mostly in first gear. The possibly more than a dozen bays of various sizes were reluctant to yield their full beauty due to the rain, some fog, dense foliage and some being entirely private. A few had only one to three people living there and any egress was gated. However there were a few spots that rewarded with tumbling bay views, nearby islands and even a pretty good look at the North Island (first pic above) in the distance. That's about 27 miles away!

We saw one of the inter island ferries steaming towards Picton. Picton is the place on the S. Island where the ferries from Wellington (N. Island) dock. Every hour or so it seems a ferry is coming or going. Large ships loaded with trucks, buses, cars and people. Picton has a busy downtown and we parked our bikes right in front of some of the waterfront cafes. Decided to grab a table outside at the Seabreeze cafe on the corner of High St. & London Quay. We rode past four old British bikes (at least one Matchless) for the second time on our way to the water. I ordered lunch which was tiger prawns with garlic, coconut milk, chili and ginger along with toasted ciabatta. That was followed by a warmed orange and chocolate muffin. 😋 As I sat there before leaving the vintage British bikes rolled up toward the ferry. One, two, came on through the intersection. Number four had his engine die right in front of me! In fact he rolled it back to a spot right next to my bike as it was a slight uphill to the traffic circle and started checking all his wires. After a few minutes he rolled it back down the hill and onto a sidewalk with number 3 and they proceeded to try to figure out what was the problem. Love old bikes but this is why I don't ride them! Felt bad for him but he could've pushed it to the ferry if he had to from that position. We shopped a little and I bought an oilclioth supposedly crushable hat. Good for the rain as none of my baseball hats were very rain proof. From Picton we took the continuation of the dramatic road and views via Queen Charlotte counter clockwise up the coast then angled inland a bit to catch up with Havelock. Only a 100km day but the most death grips on the handlebars of the whole trip due to grade and slickness on Port Underwood. A little lie down was in order but turns out it was usurped by Boggle catch up and this very blog. That's OK, have been getting good sleep here. Still stumped by the lack of people here. We made a similar loop of the loca establishments to last night. I ordered the seafood pasta which was excellent at the Slip Inn. The Captain's Daughter was out of food due to a Lions Club meeting upstairs. The drizzle seemed to be ending by around 8. Hoping for some better light for views and pics tomorrow. Great day though! 😴

https://www.google.com/search?q=port%20underwood%20road

[kneewall49]

A Sad Month :(

Dec. 6, 2019

Well the last few weeks have seen some sad news.

Firstly my uncle (Dad’s brother) Alan Carlyle passed away, and we attended his funeral in Wingham (near Taree), with his family.   A sad lose, a fine man and a gentlemen.

We did take the opportunity to keep travelling south, despite the fires and Beijing like air quality, to catch up with family and friends.  I must say we both didn't miss Sydney and the traffic, confirming our move north was the right one.

The second sadness was just this week when our new neighbour, 85 yr old Frank (the Austrian) passed away also, after a fall in his house which he didn’t recover from. Frank was a great asset to our new life here, full of knowledge and experience in all facets of living and readily volunteering to help, even when not asked :).  It’s a shock to us all, and his funeral next week will be a sad occasion.  This will also mean some time down the track we’ll be getting new neighbours; let’s hope our Qld luck holds and we have nice new ones.

Ok, so much for the sad news, 

Biggest positive news: we received the Engineer’s plans for the foundations and roof structure.  These were passed to the architect for marrying to his plans, preparation of a plumbing plan and then we can settle on a Certifier for BA lodgement.

I must say I was a bit surprised with the complexity of the foundation design which will add cost, time and effort.  As the solution has piers and beams under the slab we’ll now require boring of theses piers, adding a lot more concrete and reo, and building forms for the beams which will pass across the pier tops.

With so many piers, and all the concrete to fill them will add to the build cost.

Other things we’ve done:

- Moved the front gate, and changed the swing direction.  This now gives more usable access.  Also I have started to create a path from the gate down to where the front door will be, so folks parking on the street have a visual guide to the best way down to where we are.

- Not sure if I mentioned this last time, but as we haven't started digging final footings we did take the opportunity to move the building footprint back 5 metres towards the street.  This relatively slight change will allow a wider field-of-view to the north over the creek and hill opposite.  As we had the building footprint marked out, the position of the house did appear to be more into the middle of the block than what feels ideal.

However consequences were:

- more digging and stockpiling of dirt;

- a relocation of the underground power cable as it was exposed as a result of the new setback. I’ve now stopped any further excavation as I feel I’m pushing the envelope regarding what you can do before BA approval.  Don’t want to start the process with a hand slap or fine from council.

With the trip away, Motoko not well for a week, the unseasonable hot weather and getting close to BA submission I have been a bit constrained on what to do.

BTW I did get a ride on mower, as the grass does need mowing almost weekly, and a cement mixer which will be put to use firstly on the path.

Regards.

[the-record-newspaper]

The murder of Rhonda Hinson

Left is Rhonda Hinson in elementary school and right is a photo taken during her senior year at East Burke High  School. Photos courtesy of the Hinson family.

(Editor’s Note:  The 1980’s was a violent decade for women in Wilkes and surrounding counties.  At least four young women were murdered between 1981and 1987—their cases remain unresolved:  Rhonda Hinson of Burke County — who has relatives in Wilkes County, Angela Hamby of Wilkes, who disappeared in 1982,  Sherry Hart of Ashe County, and Candy Roberson of Wilkes. This series, “The Killing of Rhonda Hinson” is the second in a trilogy of murder cases that will be detailed in The Record over the ensuing weeks and months — cold cases of crimes perpetrated against women over 30-years ago, whose families await justice and closure.)

    By LARRY J. GRIFFIN

  Special Investigative Reporter for The Record

 I closed my eyes for one second, and you were gone.  Now, my heart aches, my eyes leak, my soul mourns, and my family is broken. Only a moment that changed forever….You can be sure you will live in my heart forever…I miss the me I was when you were here… –A Facebook meme posted by Judy Hinson

 Bobby Hinson remembers his daughter’s prediction.

“Rhonda told me that it was going to snow on Christmas Day,” he said. “We were always betting on when it was going to snow, and she told me that it would be on Christmas that year.”

Already there had been some moderate, late December snowfall in the Burke County Foothills; so, there was more than just a slight chance that Christmas, 1981, would be white.

“…And sure enough—as we were walking out of the house to go to church that morning, large white snowflakes started falling,” Bobby recalled, as he gazed into the middle distance.

It was Friday, December 25th.  As dads and moms and children gathered around Christmas trees bedecked with garland and twinkling lights to open treasure troves of colorful gifts, one family of three—undergirded by relatives and friends—quietly buried Rhonda Hinson.

Rhonda Annette Hinson was born 12 days before Christmas in 1962—Thursday, December 13th—the first child and only daughter of Judy and Bobby Hinson. “It was 2 p.m.,” Mother Judy remembered.  Their baby girl was healthy; however, the final days of pregnancy, leading up to the birth, were not without issues.  

“We were living in Great Falls, S.C., at the time—in Chester County.  But before Rhonda was born, my doctor discovered that she was going to be a breech birth with her legs tucked against her little chest.  So, he sent me to the hospital in Rock Hill, in York County, because they had more experience with breech births.”  

Fortuitously, the attending physician succeeded in turning her infant daughter, and Judy was able to give birth, without resorting to a “C-Section” delivery.

“Rhonda did undergo therapy for the first year to make sure her legs would grow in the correct position—the sessions were successful,” recounted Ms. Hinson.  “I once told my daughter about the problem with her legs being tucked against her chest. I don’t think that she ever forgot that story, which could account for her excelling in sports so she could use those legs. I mean, she played tennis, basketball, ran track, danced, twirled baton, and always marched in Charlotte’s Thanksgiving Carousel Parade.”

Judy freely admitted that she was a typical, doting first-time mother who held her newborn all the time.  “I didn’t realize that it was OK to lay her down and to let her cry a little.  So, I kept her wrapped you and held her all day long.”

Once while cuddling her neonate, the young mother drifted off to sleep.  “I was worn out and fell asleep.  And when I woke up, I was in a panic—Rhonda was not in my arms.  I looked down at my feet; there she lay--sleeping away on the floor.  She must have rolled off my lap onto the floor, but was so wrapped up that the tumble didn’t hurt her.”

When their daughter was 3-months old, the Hinsons decided to move northward to North Carolina where Judy’s brother was living.  Bobby took a job at Waldensian Bakeries in the hamlet of Valdese—one that he would hold for the duration of his working-life.  The young family of three moved into a gray block house located on a backstreet, adjacent to both the elementary and high schools, in the tiny town of Drexel, about three miles away from the bakery at which Mr. Hinson was employed.  

Eventually, they moved into Valdese proper and welcomed an addition to the family.  Robert Hinson Jr., “Robbie,” was born on Saturday, Jan. 27, 1968 at Valdese General Hospital—the Hinsons’ last child and only son.  Across time, a close bond developed between a baby brother and his older sister.

When Rhonda was 6 years old, she was enrolled in Valdese Elementary School; the Hinsons lived nearby.  Initially, the school experience did not seem to agree with the budding academician.

“About everyday at lunchtime, I would see Rhonda walking from the school toward the house.  And every time, she came in complaining of a ‘terrible headache,’” Judy laughingly recalled.  “The school day was much too long for her, I guess; she could only tolerate about a half-day.”

Circa 1972, the Hinson Family moved a few miles east of Valdese toward the village of Rutherford College.  “We lived in a trailer park there for a while—but not for very long.” Judy recounted. An incident occurred that left an indelible impact upon their 13-year-old daughter and could conceivably account for her lifelong obsession with safety.

“Bobby had to be at work at 2 o’clock in the morning. Not long after he left, we were in bed when I heard someone yelling and beating on the door.  I got Rhonda and Robbie out of their beds and brought them into my bedroom just before someone knocked the door open and walked inside. We went out the back door to a neighbor’s house and called the police.”

When law enforcement arrived, they discovered a drunken intruder who was visiting from out-of-town and thought that he was breaking into the trailer at which he was staying.  Though no harm came to the mother and her children, neither Rhonda nor Robbie wanted to return to the trailer.  

“They were frightened and didn’t feel at all safe anymore,” Ms. Hinson averred.  “So, we had to locate another place to live—and fast….We took about the first place that we could find available at the time—a house on Hillcrest  Street. which we live in now.”  

Even before she started school, Rhonda Hinson demonstrated a penchant for being in the limelight.  When she was 5 years of age, she was among the cast of the 1968 inaugural production of the Burke County outdoor drama, From This Day Forward—a history play, written by Fred Cranford, chronicling the story of the arrival of the Waldensians who settled in the Valdese area.

(Ironically, this writer was among the original cast of that production staged in August, 1968.  I recall that a number of children of sundry ages were involved in the play and rehearsed dance sequences regularly in the Valdese High School gymnasium, adjacent to the outdoor stage.  Little did I realize at the time that among the children, with whom I frequently interacted, was 5-year-old Rhonda Hinson.)

“She was in the outdoor play for three-years. Her daddy went with her to every rehearsal and every performance.  And throughout elementary school she also danced and twirled baton—she was always doing something.  Rhonda loved being in the limelight,” her mother recollected.

While attending Valdese Junior High School, Rhonda was a solid, consistent student who continued to excel in extra-curricular activities, among which were basketball and the junior varsity band.  She played the clarinet and continued to do so when she matriculated at East Burke High  School in 1978.  

Ask anyone who knew her and the story is the same—everyone liked Rhonda Hinson.

“Rhonda was well-liked by everyone,” remembered Sarah McBrayer, who lived across the street from the Hinsons and attended East Burke High  School with their daughter.  “She made friends easily; she didn’t carry grudges; she smiled and laughed and was always in an upbeat mood.”  

“There was absolutely no way that she had any enemies--anywhere,” said her closest lifelong friend, Jill Turner-Mull.  “We moved here from South Carolina in 1973—I was in the fourth grade and Rhonda Hinson was my best friend even back then—in fact we became instant best friends, and she loved for me to brush her hair…The two of us might as well been sisters.”

Jill’s mother, Revonda Turner agreed, “They were together all the time.  Rhonda spent a lot of time at our house just as Jill spent time at the Hinsons’.”  

Jackie Griffin Berry, who shared homeroom and several classes with Rhonda, remarked, “…she was quiet…had lots of friends, and liked to play sports.”

In fact, she excelled in sports, earning accolades in basketball, track, tennis—even varsity band.  Jill Turner-Mull recalled her best friend’s sports prowess.  “While I cheered all three years in Junior High School—grades seven through nine—Rhonda played basketball.  However, during our sophomore year in High School, we did run track together. Though Rhonda was noted for her [general] athletic ability, tennis was her passion.”

Like most teenage girls, Rhonda dated during her formative high school years.  “She dated a couple guys, one of whom was Don Gilbert,” Mother Judy recalled.  He was such a nice young man; I liked him a lot. I remember being angry with Rhonda when she stopped dating him.”

Jill Turner-Mull recalled Gilbert as well. “Yes, Don was a very nice guy, and he really liked Rhonda.  But I don’t remember her dating anyone steady.”

But that was about to change.  

During her junior year, a quiet, rather studious young athlete named Greg McDowell caught Rhonda’s eye, and a romantic relationship began to develop between them.

Rhonda Hinson had slightly longer than 24-months to live.

[bulgariastreets]

GUIDE-BOOK FOR CONSTANTINOPLE AND DISTRICT

Situation.—Constantinople, the capital of the Ottoman Empire, is situated at the junction of the Bosporus and the Sea of Marmora, in lat. 41° O’ 16″ hT. and long. 28° 59′ 14″ E., and may be said to be composed of three different towns, viz. Stam- bul, Galata-Pera, and Skutari. The two first named are on the European shore, and are divided by the Golden Horn; while Skutari lies on the Asiatic shore, and is separated from them by the Bosporus. Stambul, or Constantinople proper, occupies the site of ancient Byzantium, and, like ancient Borne, is built on seven hills. On the first of these, on which stood the original city of Byzantium, are the Old Seraglio, the Mosque of St. Sophia, and the Hippodrome; on the second the Porphyry Column, on the site of the ancient Forum of Constantine;

on the third the War Office and the Suleimanieh Mosque; on the fourth the Mehmedieh Mosque; on the fifth the Selimieh Mosque; on the sixth the ruins of the Hebdomon Palace; and on the seventh the Column of Arcadius. With the seven hills, however, all similarity to Eome of old ends. Stambul with its seven hills, lying on a triangular promontory, is washed by the waters of the Golden Horn on the north, by the limpid Sea of Marmora on the south, and by the swift current of the Bosporus on its eastern side.

Constantinople cannot, by any means, claim to be the most beautiful city in existence. Never theless, nature has been so generous in her favours, that travellers and historians assign to the capital of the Sultans no mean rank among the most picturesque cities of the world. Constantinople may justly boast of what no other city can claim: it is situated on two different continents, Europe and Asia, and constitutes the dividing line between West and East.

The bard, the author and the artist have each, severally and oft, tried to depict in song, in prose, and in colours, the beauty of the city; but each and all have failed daily tours istanbul, for Constantinople baflles all attempt at description; and no verse, no pen, no brush, could adequately convey to the mind any idea of the vision that greets the eye of the foreigner who approaches the city from the west on a fine summer’s morning. It is more like some enchanted city out of the ’Thousand and One Nights than like any real town built of bricks, stones, and mortar; and so the traveller is sure to think as, coming on deck early in the morning, he catches sight of seven low-lying hills covered with buildings of all descriptions down to the water’s edge; painted all the colours of the rainbow, with a white kiosk, and a few cypresses, or the slim, sharp spire of some ‘minaret,’ or the imposing cupolas of the numerous mosques showing above the gaily-painted houses; the whole enveloped in the slight morning mist, which the sun’s powerful rays will soon dissolve, and which serves but to enhance the beauty of the picture, with its background of soft blue Oriental sky and its foreground of the Sea of Marmora, in the limpid waters of which the town is reflected as in a mirror. This is Constantinople from a distance!

Scene is quite different

But the scene is quite different when the traveller lands and proceeds to stumble along the narrow, dirty, wretchedly-paved alleys which do duty for streets. He has to pick his way as care-fully as he can among the countless mangy, half- starved pariah dogs which infest the town; the noisy, vociferating hamals or porters, going ‘ light,’ or staggering along under heavy loads; past donkey drivers and muleteers giving vent to most unearthly yells at their horses or donkeys, conveying long balks of timber or other building material. The numerous hawkers of all sorts of articles further contribute their share to the din and confusion by yelling out, at the top of their voices, the nature, excellence, and cheapness of their wares. The traveller’s ears, however, are not the only sufferers; for his olfactory nerves are offended on every side by the stench arising from the oft- recurring heaps of garbage, which emit odours the very opposite to the ‘ perfumes of Araby,’ with which he would naturally expect his nose would be assailed in the East.

[bulgariabalkan]

GUIDE-BOOK FOR CONSTANTINOPLE AND DISTRICT

Situation.—Constantinople, the capital of the Ottoman Empire, is situated at the junction of the Bosporus and the Sea of Marmora, in lat. 41° O’ 16″ hT. and long. 28° 59′ 14″ E., and may be said to be composed of three different towns, viz. Stam- bul, Galata-Pera, and Skutari. The two first named are on the European shore, and are divided by the Golden Horn; while Skutari lies on the Asiatic shore, and is separated from them by the Bosporus. Stambul, or Constantinople proper, occupies the site of ancient Byzantium, and, like ancient Borne, is built on seven hills. On the first of these, on which stood the original city of Byzantium, are the Old Seraglio, the Mosque of St. Sophia, and the Hippodrome; on the second the Porphyry Column, on the site of the ancient Forum of Constantine;

on the third the War Office and the Suleimanieh Mosque; on the fourth the Mehmedieh Mosque; on the fifth the Selimieh Mosque; on the sixth the ruins of the Hebdomon Palace; and on the seventh the Column of Arcadius. With the seven hills, however, all similarity to Eome of old ends. Stambul with its seven hills, lying on a triangular promontory, is washed by the waters of the Golden Horn on the north, by the limpid Sea of Marmora on the south, and by the swift current of the Bosporus on its eastern side.

Constantinople cannot, by any means, claim to be the most beautiful city in existence. Never theless, nature has been so generous in her favours, that travellers and historians assign to the capital of the Sultans no mean rank among the most picturesque cities of the world. Constantinople may justly boast of what no other city can claim: it is situated on two different continents, Europe and Asia, and constitutes the dividing line between West and East.

The bard, the author and the artist have each, severally and oft, tried to depict in song, in prose, and in colours, the beauty of the city; but each and all have failed daily tours istanbul, for Constantinople baflles all attempt at description; and no verse, no pen, no brush, could adequately convey to the mind any idea of the vision that greets the eye of the foreigner who approaches the city from the west on a fine summer’s morning. It is more like some enchanted city out of the ’Thousand and One Nights than like any real town built of bricks, stones, and mortar; and so the traveller is sure to think as, coming on deck early in the morning, he catches sight of seven low-lying hills covered with buildings of all descriptions down to the water’s edge; painted all the colours of the rainbow, with a white kiosk, and a few cypresses, or the slim, sharp spire of some ‘minaret,’ or the imposing cupolas of the numerous mosques showing above the gaily-painted houses; the whole enveloped in the slight morning mist, which the sun’s powerful rays will soon dissolve, and which serves but to enhance the beauty of the picture, with its background of soft blue Oriental sky and its foreground of the Sea of Marmora, in the limpid waters of which the town is reflected as in a mirror. This is Constantinople from a distance!

Scene is quite different

But the scene is quite different when the traveller lands and proceeds to stumble along the narrow, dirty, wretchedly-paved alleys which do duty for streets. He has to pick his way as care-fully as he can among the countless mangy, half- starved pariah dogs which infest the town; the noisy, vociferating hamals or porters, going ‘ light,’ or staggering along under heavy loads; past donkey drivers and muleteers giving vent to most unearthly yells at their horses or donkeys, conveying long balks of timber or other building material. The numerous hawkers of all sorts of articles further contribute their share to the din and confusion by yelling out, at the top of their voices, the nature, excellence, and cheapness of their wares. The traveller’s ears, however, are not the only sufferers; for his olfactory nerves are offended on every side by the stench arising from the oft- recurring heaps of garbage, which emit odours the very opposite to the ‘ perfumes of Araby,’ with which he would naturally expect his nose would be assailed in the East.

[hotbulgaria]

GUIDE-BOOK FOR CONSTANTINOPLE AND DISTRICT

Situation.—Constantinople, the capital of the Ottoman Empire, is situated at the junction of the Bosporus and the Sea of Marmora, in lat. 41° O’ 16″ hT. and long. 28° 59′ 14″ E., and may be said to be composed of three different towns, viz. Stam- bul, Galata-Pera, and Skutari. The two first named are on the European shore, and are divided by the Golden Horn; while Skutari lies on the Asiatic shore, and is separated from them by the Bosporus. Stambul, or Constantinople proper, occupies the site of ancient Byzantium, and, like ancient Borne, is built on seven hills. On the first of these, on which stood the original city of Byzantium, are the Old Seraglio, the Mosque of St. Sophia, and the Hippodrome; on the second the Porphyry Column, on the site of the ancient Forum of Constantine;

on the third the War Office and the Suleimanieh Mosque; on the fourth the Mehmedieh Mosque; on the fifth the Selimieh Mosque; on the sixth the ruins of the Hebdomon Palace; and on the seventh the Column of Arcadius. With the seven hills, however, all similarity to Eome of old ends. Stambul with its seven hills, lying on a triangular promontory, is washed by the waters of the Golden Horn on the north, by the limpid Sea of Marmora on the south, and by the swift current of the Bosporus on its eastern side.

Constantinople cannot, by any means, claim to be the most beautiful city in existence. Never theless, nature has been so generous in her favours, that travellers and historians assign to the capital of the Sultans no mean rank among the most picturesque cities of the world. Constantinople may justly boast of what no other city can claim: it is situated on two different continents, Europe and Asia, and constitutes the dividing line between West and East.

The bard, the author and the artist have each, severally and oft, tried to depict in song, in prose, and in colours, the beauty of the city; but each and all have failed daily tours istanbul, for Constantinople baflles all attempt at description; and no verse, no pen, no brush, could adequately convey to the mind any idea of the vision that greets the eye of the foreigner who approaches the city from the west on a fine summer’s morning. It is more like some enchanted city out of the ’Thousand and One Nights than like any real town built of bricks, stones, and mortar; and so the traveller is sure to think as, coming on deck early in the morning, he catches sight of seven low-lying hills covered with buildings of all descriptions down to the water’s edge; painted all the colours of the rainbow, with a white kiosk, and a few cypresses, or the slim, sharp spire of some ‘minaret,’ or the imposing cupolas of the numerous mosques showing above the gaily-painted houses; the whole enveloped in the slight morning mist, which the sun’s powerful rays will soon dissolve, and which serves but to enhance the beauty of the picture, with its background of soft blue Oriental sky and its foreground of the Sea of Marmora, in the limpid waters of which the town is reflected as in a mirror. This is Constantinople from a distance!

Scene is quite different

But the scene is quite different when the traveller lands and proceeds to stumble along the narrow, dirty, wretchedly-paved alleys which do duty for streets. He has to pick his way as care-fully as he can among the countless mangy, half- starved pariah dogs which infest the town; the noisy, vociferating hamals or porters, going ‘ light,’ or staggering along under heavy loads; past donkey drivers and muleteers giving vent to most unearthly yells at their horses or donkeys, conveying long balks of timber or other building material. The numerous hawkers of all sorts of articles further contribute their share to the din and confusion by yelling out, at the top of their voices, the nature, excellence, and cheapness of their wares. The traveller’s ears, however, are not the only sufferers; for his olfactory nerves are offended on every side by the stench arising from the oft- recurring heaps of garbage, which emit odours the very opposite to the ‘ perfumes of Araby,’ with which he would naturally expect his nose would be assailed in the East.