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taetaesource · 4 years ago

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Acting with Kim Seon Ho

I might come up with a full fic of the drama.

You started out as a idol trainee but never debuted but became an actress instead. Although you are not very young, korean age 29 and Seon Ho is 35. You didn’t star in many dramas and was not as popular as names like suzy and park shin hye. In this sense, you are alot like Kim Seon Ho before he hit it big with Start Up.

You did not grow up in korea and speak better in english than korean. You’re friends with the korean-american celeb community like BM, Jessi, Eric. Your best friend is Blackpink’s Rose because you guys met during trainee days as a music school and later reconnected at a private Tiffany&Co event.

You are under Starship ent which is a fairly big company with actors like Lee dongwook so your skills isn’t too far off and in general you land in scripts and channels that are not too bad.

You got an offer from the writer who wrote Crash Landing On You and upon reading script and much discussion with the company, you decided to take this up.

You learn that the production team is trying their best to get Kim Seon Ho to be the male lead and you felt honoured and at the same time pressured. You really wished to have him as your partner in this drama because you knew that he was talented, but you also wanted to keep your hopes low because you knew that he was booked left right centre and he has many scripts and projects flooding in.

The storyline of the drama was also one reason why you kept your hopes low.

The drama centers around the female (which is your role) whose husband requested for a divorce as he fell in love with a co-worker who is a headstrong career woman. The female lead tries to salvage her marriage by entering into the company that her husband and his mistress works in and struggles her way into the workforce after being a housewife for 10 years.

The truth is, you were deliberating very hard as to whether this role was suitable for you as it is quite a leap from the usual roles and it might change the image that you have in the public eyes. For the male lead, this change is an even bigger risk and now that Seon ho is getting more popular, you were pretty sure there’s 60% chance he would reject the offer so as to keep his image.

But the script was interesting as it portrayed third party and affairs in a different light and the characters were complex so this would take your acting skills to a new level. With that, you decided to take on the challenge despite the risk that you might not be offered dramas in future that were of younger romantic comedy genre since you will be remembered as an actress that played mum and divorcee.

To your surprise, Seon ho took on the role as well. And the reason you heard of is that he felt that the script is compelling and he wanted to challenge himself in a new role.

The other female actress who will play the role of the third party is Son Na eun of Apink and you thought that she was a good fit for the role too.

The day of drama reading, Seon ho was the last to arrive and he was so apologetic about it. He was polite and greeted everybody with his big dimple smile. It was his first time meeting you and Naeun so the 3 of you were quite awkward and unfamiliar.

When filming officially started, you were so busy preparing and translating your lines and practicing them that you felt very pressured. As the drama was produced by the team behind the hit success Crash Landing and also featuring the current hot actor Kim seon ho, it was also highly anticipated and everyone was looking forward to the drama to air.

The filming process was also tiring as the tone of the drama is quite serious and sad compared to a light-hearted love drama or comedy. But to your surprise the filming was quite enjoyable mainly because seon ho is very easy to work with and also very professional.

Even though he must have been very tired as the shoot is often in between his other projects like 2 Days 1 Night and his other pictorials and advertisement shoots, he rarely screws up his part and came prepared with his lines so there won’t many retakes. He is also very bubbly and cheerful, making the filming atmosphere livelier and friendlier.

The chemistry between you and him hit off better than expected as well. You enjoyed his sometimes awkward jokes, you could follow up with this ad-libs and both of you saw eye-to-eye when it comes to how the both of you should act certain scenes to bring out certain message or emotions.

You usually speak to your staff and manager in english which would leave the total korean boy seon ho in awe. And you always joke that the hardest part about this drama is that you have to pretend that you dont understand english as you are supposed to play the role of a clueless housewife who became an intern in a top company. And Naeun who doesn’t understand english has to play the role of your manager who is capable and good at presentations and reports in english.

When the drama air, the public had good response and the chemistry between you and seon ho became recognised just as how people were speculating that Hyun Bin and Son Ye jin are definitely dating.

The both of you were not at the dating stage yet because seon ho is so busy. And his personality is so friendly that he usually maintain a very amicable relationship with everybody so you established that the both of you are just very good colleagues that managed to become friends outside of work.

To your surprise, seon ho called you one day - “chae young ahhh” he repeated and emphasized “chae young” a few times which was not your real name but the name of your character in the drama so you kind of had the sense to reply “oh yeobo”, which absolutely pleased him. Turns out it was a call from seon ho while filming 2 days 1 night. He was on a mission and he had to prove that he wasn’t lying when he said on the show that the both of you had good chemistry so choosing you to call to help him in the mission is the best person. You had to make a guess of the option his group chose in order for them to pass and be given lunch. The way you answered the call has already made a great impression to the team and the 2d1n members were all impressed by the chemistry you had with seon ho. You also passed the game round and they were saying that you should drop by the show as a guest as the next week, they will have to bring a female guest who are also their good friend to help them in the episode.

Your company is rather particular about their artistes appearing on variety shows and it’s only after they screened the other female guests and realised that the rest are mostly comedians, that they allowed you to be on the show and the instruction was that you have to maintain your image.

It was easy as the members and everyone in the team treated you like a princess in comparison to the 2 female comedians so as to make the show funnier. And seon ho especially took care of you as well even outside of the filming.

He introduced you to the actor yeon jung hoon who was on the show and in between breaks you were able to consult him about some concerns that you have, especially since you are juggling 2 dramas.

Towards the halfway mark of the drama filming with seon ho, you were offered another drama, a love story drama with a younger actor this time Seo Kang Joon. As the new drama is a typical courtship and love story drama, you were afraid that the way you act might not be able to draw a difference that well that the audience will be able to see the shadow of the divorced wife character that you are playing in the other drama.

Jung hoon adviced that every role will have some kind of resemblance because it all came from you. It’s impossible to always present a totally original and fresh character without some resemblance here and there. But maybe if we see the resemblance as the actor’s style and essence, then you wouldnt feel so pressured to draw the distinction between all the roles that you act in.

This scene was aired on 2d1n and it helped the public to see your professionalism and seriousness that you have towards acting.

You also helped the team by giving a call to Blackpink’s Rose. Rose answered the call with “heyyy what’s up” which excited the members even more as they didn’t expect the both of you to use english as main form of communication.

You were also good friends with Park Yuna who got famous from her role in Sky Castle and she also played the role of Bo young who is your sister in the drama with seon ho. Yuna was also an idol trainee previously which is why the both of you clicked so fast.

The drama with Seo Kang Joon was a success too but of course both dramas did not do as well as Start-Up and Crash Landing but in your terms it was successful as people were talking about it and it was the more popular dramas among the rest that were airing as well.

The chemistry between you and seon ho stood out even more as nobody really talked about seo kang joon and you having chemistry in that way.

Very quickly, you were offered a movie role and the male lead they were offering it to kim seon ho again. This time, the storyline was less sad as it was about a man and woman who took a break from their current life and went to Jeju island as an escape, met and fell in love there. Seon ho’s character broke up with his long-term girlfriend while your character left her job after being there for 8 years. And the both of you met in Jeju.

Many people were speculating if the both of you were dating, especially since dispatch released pictures of the both of you coming out of a convenience store together on your off days. And when your agency checked with you, you said no because technically seon ho has never officially asked you out. But somehow you felt a little bitter when you heard from your management that seon ho’s side has also denied the dating rumours.

But netizens were quite supportive especially because the pictures taken were candid shots of how the both of you played with each other. Seon ho offered to hold your plastic bag but you lifted it like how you would lift dumbbells to joke with him that you didnt need his help and he was laughing so hard. Most comments that people have after seeing the pictures is that the both of you are so cute and pure.

But because the pictures were exposed by dispatch, it made you and seon ho a little uncomfortable in front of public setting. Like the both of you had to attend the movie premiere and it was awkward to be standing together in front of the reporters and cameras as the both of you know that everyone in the room has seen the pictures and may or may not ask about your relationship status. You are not sure if it’s even more uncomfortable if they dont talk about the white elephant in the room. But the both of you were obviously less chummy that day, keeping a distance and avoiding eye contact as much as possible. Which led to people speculating that the rumours has caused you guys to break up.

But you were still in contact with each other in private, just that you two did not meet in person since then. It was after few months that the both of you met again and it was at drama awards. It felt less uncomfortable and awkward maybe because the both of you were more overwhelmed by the excitement of seeing each other again after so long that you two didn’t really care whether people will ask if you guys are dating again.

Another heart fluttering moment was when the mc asked if any of you felt something for the other person that you were acting alongside with, and the both of you raised your hands shyly and blushed when you both realised that both of you raised your hands.

When seon ho went on stage to claim the best actor award, you stood up and clap proudly. And the mc jokingly asked since the both of you raised your hands just now, are you guys dating for real already? Seon ho laughed this time and said “don’t worry i will let you guys know if there’s good news” making everyone excited with his ambiguous answer and you could only laugh and facepalm in embarassment.

Eventually, dispatch released articles of insider saying that 2 actors who have acted together recently in drama and movie are dating and it pointed to you and seon ho again.

You talked to your agency, wondering if the best way is to deny it again because you know that couples that admit their relationship usually end up breaking up. And couples who stay together usually become less active or don’t have many projects up ahead. Plus seon ho’s career is at his peak now, he wouldn’t want to risk anything and he might not even have the time to keep this relationship going.

But your management got the news that seon ho’s side is okay to admit to it if you are okay with it and that shocked you. You didn’t expect him to want to keep this relationship more than his career. But to seon ho, he doesn’t see how his career will go down just because of this. And his fame was a sudden one, he was never famous before that and he was okay with it.

Your management was also quite relaxed about this. It seems that you are the only one thinking too much into this. Eventually you realised that it was all in your head.

The next day all the news outlet were reporting - “BREAKING: Actor Kim Seon Ho and Y/N is in a relationship”.

#kim seon ho #kim seon ho imagines #kim seon ho fanfic #han ji pyeong #kim seonho

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tomtenadia · 4 years ago

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Island Dreams - Epilogue

So, this is it. We officially reached the end. I must admit I am very sad. Writing this story has been such a great journey but Aelin and Rowan have their happy ending. This chapter is set 5 years after the events of the previous chapter. it's divided in two parts. The first one we have Aelin telling in first person what happened in five years. Part two has a snippet of our beloved Whitethorn-Galathynius family. we get to meet Freyja and Morrigan and a surprise too. I hope you love the girls.

I want to say a massive thank to every single person who read the story, reblogged it or left a comment. Thank you. I am so grateful for all the support you gave me.

I am coming back.. A Little Braver is going well and I hope to be brave enough to post chapter one soon.

And now i'll leave you to the story. Enjoy <3

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5 years later

My name is Aelin and my story began five years ago. I was once heartbroken and one day I left my old life behind and took a flight to Scotland, and then a ferry and I ended up on this island called Lewis. I am a bookworm and one of the first thing I did once on the island was to go and hunt for a bookstore. And well, you know the story after that. It’s been five years since the day Rowan and I officially tied our lives together at Callanish. As promised we went back there after a year and a day and renewed our vows.

Married life had its ups and downs but Rowan and I fought through every single challenge that came our way. We made it work, we fought for each other as we promised and we love each other just as we did when we began. And some. Every year Rowan has been celebrating the anniversary of the day I arrived on the island and officially entered his life. Sometimes I think he prefers that day to our wedding anniversary. Anyway, as you remember we finished the story with the four of us, Rowan, me and our two girls Morrigan and Freyja. Those two cute bundles of flesh are now two very active five years old driving mum and dad crazy but also being the most precious thing in our life. They will start primary school next month and I am trying not to cry if I think how much they have grown. Physically they are their father’s clone. They both have deep pine green eyes and his same silver hair. Freyja likes it long and loves when either I or Rowan braid it. He has become quite a wizard at braiding our daughter’s hair. Morrigan, on the other hand, prefers it short. But the similarities end with that. Personality wise they cannot be any more different. Freyja is like me. Rowan calls her his wee Fireheart. She is fierce and stubborn. She has a very strong personality and for a five year old she has her ideas clear on what she wants. She is like quicksilver and always active. She is the first one to wake up and the last one to go to bed. She is curious and fearless and loves nature just as much as her father. She is out little hurricane. Morrigan, on the other hand, is the calm one and reserved and she reminds me so much of Rowan. She observes a lot and when you think she is not paying attention, she comes up with question that makes you realise she was listening after all. She has an inquisitive mind and her non stop questions can be exhausting after a long day. She is shy. Where her sister had been since tender age happy to be with anyone, Morrigan has always been very selective. Growing up she has her favourite selection of adults. She is very close to her father, probably because they are very similar, but Uncle Malcolm and Aedion come second. Aedion got her hooked on planes. Once we were at his and Lys’ house and Morrigan grabbed one of his models planes and started playing with it. Aedion had started talking about the plane and now when they are together she always ask him about planes. We think she’ll be a pilot. Both girls are obsessed with books just like her parents and Rowan has taken upon him the job of teaching them to read. Morrigan can read very simple words and write her own name. Freyja would too if she could sit down for more than five minutes. Good luck with the teachers. She is very bright, she just can’t stay still for very long. She was probably the one doing all the kicking while in the womb. The amazing thing is that they get along. It took us a while to teach them to sleep in their individual rooms. For a while in the morning we would find one in the other’s bed. Always curled up together as they used to do when they were little. Freyja at the park always play the protective one and looks after her sister and chases away the kids who try to take advantage of her sister’s calmer nature. If we were in a fantasy I would imagine Freyja being the woman learning to wield a sword and who would train with the guys and dreamed of becoming a knight. Morrigan, I imagine her as the one with her nose in books and who dreams of becoming a healer. I think Rowan is writing a story about them. Oh yes, I will tell you about his book in a moment. There is a further family member that I need to introduce: our son Dalamar. Yes, Rowan and I have scandalised parents at kindergarten with our weird names. Freyja did not cause much problems but a couple of mothers had a go at me for calling my daughter with such as negative name as Morrigan. I usually explain that I do not expect my daughter to become the goddess of war but that simply Rowan and I liked the name. And do not get me started with Dalamar. No-one apparently has read the Dragonlace chronicles so when we say Dalamar is a dark elf in the books, well, the glares we get are incredible. But again, Rowan and I wanted an original name. We started searching in books to find something we liked and then Rowan found his old copy of the Dragonlance chronicles and he suggested Dalamar. I joked that if we truly wanted to scandalise Stornoway, we should have called him Raistlin. So in the end we went for something less alien and settled on Dalamar. Anyway, Dalamar is two. He was planned though. Rowan and I had decided we wanted a big family so once the girls were around three we started to try and add another member. When we had the conversation we had talked about having four kids, but alas, Dalamar’s birth has been so full of complication that my chances of another pregnancy are now non existent. But Rowan and I are happy. We have our big family. So, Dalamar has blond hair, much fairer than mine and very light blue eyes. He is a gorgeous wee boy. In terms of personality he is halfway between his sisters. He can be adorable one moment and stubborn like a mule the next. But at least they get along and again, Freyja has taken him under her wing. She really is our knight in shining armour. Both girls are fluent Gaelic speakers. After they were born I asked Rowan if he wanted to teach Gaelic to the girls and he had been very happy about it. So we decided that he would speak only Gaelic to the girls and I was the boring parents with English, although sometimes I am brave and I practice with them, then I embarrass myself and revert to English. We have started the same process with Dalamar and he is like a sponge. Morrigan sometimes helps me with my exercises and Gaelic homework. I am taking classes as well when I can. It’s quite embarrassing when you are almost forty and your five years old daughter tells you “Don’t worry mum, you are doing great.” And then adds something in Gaelic and you need to wait for your husband for a translation. Kids, aside… our lives haven’t changed very much. Rowan still works at the bookstore and Malcolm’s sister is still his assistant. She had been wonderful and he could easily count on her when he needed to stay at home with me and the kids. The shop is becoming very popular, my Facebook page has now reached many followers and a year after our daughters were born he finally managed to set up a website for online ordering. My dearest husband also managed to write a book, find an editor and have it printed and distributed in some smaller bookstores. Of course I told him to have in his shop. We did a book signing hoopla and I don’t think I ever seen Rowan so embarrassed. Anyway, he wrote a fantasy and as promised I was in it and I was Queen as requested. He was my warrior. Loads of angst and epic battles but we end up together. I am very proud of him. Now he is working on one were our children are the main characters. I have only read the fist few chapters and I love it already. But I am his wife so I am biased. I still work at the hospital and still love my job. I started helping as well as paramedic and specifically in the air squad. The team that gets to be airlifted at the site of accidents and the whole thing required a special type of training and it had been amazing. On occasions, I get to work with Aedion. He flies, I save lives. I wish I could tell the London guys that they were wrong. Working in a small hospital is not throwing away my career. I feel more satisfied than I ever felt when I was down south. Malcolm is still my second and I still adore him. Three years ago he finally got married. After my wedding Aiden went for his last deployment and made it back alive and then retired from the navy. He and Malcolm started dating seriously. A year later they moved in together and a year after that Malcolm finally proposed. Aiden has found a civilian job and well, they got their happily ever after. Another couple who got their happily ever after is Lysandra and Aedion. He proposed about five months after mine and Rowan’s wedding and three months later they were married. They had gone for a very small and private ceremony. One year later they had their fist child a boy named Marcus and now Lysandra is pregnant with their second, a girl. She climbed up again the ladder at the hospital and now she is just one level below the head of the department. Then we have Elias. How can I forget him? He is still in Shetland and we keep in touch and we meet when he is back on the islands. His job is going wonderfully and recently got promoted. Two years ago he got married to Ciara and he is happy and a few months ago she gave birth to an adorable little girl named Martha. She is cute. I have seen her when they came down last month. We remained good friends and both had the happy ending we wanted. We still joke and we love to compliment each other on making marriage number two stick. His book addiction got worse and I think I created a monster. He also bought Rowan’s book and raved about it for months. Then we have Elide and Lorcan. We see each other quite regularly. Every year in July they come to Heb Celt and now they can stay at our place. We have been down to Glasgow a few times and Lorcan yearly provides Rowan with tickets for the Six Nations and we religiously go and see the matches. I am officially a Scotland’s fan and I even learnt Flower of Scotland. The boys are proud of me. Elide is still a teacher and Lorcan still the coach of the Warriors. Their family has gotten bigger as well and they have a boy and a girl and Elide is expecting a third one. Apparently they want a big family too. Oh and Lorcan can smile for more than a second. I must admit I have changed my mind about the man and once he gets comfortable with someone he is actually quite a decent human being. He as a dark sense of humour and us two are usually the ones scandalising the group with dark jokes. Aunt Maeve is still running her cafe and she had been a great help as well while the kids were growing up. She would come up with crazy excuses to offer to babysit them and gave us plenty of chances for me and Rowan to have some time alone. Especially after the two births. She also spoils the girls and love to bake for them. Freyja loves to bake with Maeve and, like me is obsessed with cakes. Also, baking is the only activity when our energetic daughter can stay still for more than ten minutes. Morrigan, on the other hand is fussy as her father and not a fan of sweet stuff. We really got one clone each. Dalamar is still too small but he eats anything. My mum has joined the group as well. She has bought a flat up here and sold the house in London. She decided that she wanted to be a part of her grandchildren lives so she moved up here and she is in good terms with Maeve and sometimes she helps her at the cafe. The two of them cooking are becoming very popular in town.

***

“Come on, let’s go and see dad in the shop.” Aelin took Dalamar’s hand and made sure the twins were walking in front of her. Morrigan started blabbing something in Gaelic but Aelin didn’t understand. “Beurla, mo chridhe,” said Aelin to her daughter. “Tha mi duilich, mum.” Morrigan gave her a toothy smile, showing off her missing tooth. They walked to the shop and once they got in the two girls ran to their father who crouched down and they crashed into him. “I bring chaos.” Joked Aelin while Dalamar was still holding her hand. Rowan had started hosting afternoon for kids in his shop when he would reads books or just have storytelling sessions. He had started during the school holidays to have a way to keep the younger children busy but then it became very popular and he kept going, so once a week the shop is invaded by parents and their kids. The twins loved to listen to their dad tell stories. Dalamar loved it as well but he was far too young to understand what was happening so most of the times he would end up playing with Lys and Aedion’s son Marcus. Aelin reached Rowan and gave him a kiss and the twins made disgusted noises and Aelin laughed “one day you will find a boy or a girl and you’ll want to kiss him or her as well and it won’t be as disgusting,” she said tickling Freyja who was the one who was the most disgusted. “I am going to be a knight. I don’t need a boy.” Added Freyja proudly. “I am going to be a doctor like mum.” Was Morrigan’s turn. “So, a knight and a doctor, I guess we got very lucky.” Rowan pulled Aelin in his arms “looks like the goddess of love wants to fight and is not interested in love and the goddess of war wants to heal people.” “Well, you can’t say that we don’t have an interesting family.” Joked Aelin. Then Rowan bend over and lifted Dalamar in his arms “and you?” He kissed his cheek “what do you want to do?” “Tuathanach.” Replied the boy hugging his father. Aelin laughed and brushed his blond hair “that is lovely, my love.” With time and once they were properly settled down they had decided to dedicate a part of the land they owned to have a small farm. They had a couple of cows, a few chickens and loads of sheep. Dalamar loved to run after the sheep and help his dad look after the animals. That’s why Aelin and Rowan were not surprised when he said he wanted to be a farmer. The twins went behind the counter and grabbed the colouring books that Rowan kept stashed for when he had them in the shop and the pencils and ran to the kids’ table at the bottom of the shop. Rowan placed Dalamar on the floor “Go and colour with your sisters.” “Tha.” And the boy joined the two girls. Aelin leaned exhausted against Rowan. “You look tired.” “They have far too much energy. We went to the park. Freyja ran and jumped the whole time. Morrigan wanted to pat the ducks and almost ended up in the pond and Dalamar chased every single dog or cat.” She explained, looking at their kids with affection “then we had ice cream, we went to say hi to Aunt Maeve and grandma Evalin and Freyja and Dalamar stuffed themselves with carrot cake. Morrigan just had a carrot. She is annoyingly healthy like you.” “My girl.” Said Rowan proudly. “Don’t get me wrong, I love them madly, but I just wished they had just a smidge less energy.” Rowan kissed her forehead “I’ll entertain them tonight and make sure they go to bed early. Hopefully they will run out of energy soon.” “Morrigan and Dalamar perhaps. Not Freyja, that girl has limitless power.” “Just like her mother.” Rowan’s arms squeezed her tight “The girls are going to school next month so hopefully they will calm down a bit.” “I am terrified at the idea of Freyja sitting on a chair all day. I feel sorry for the poor teacher.” Rowan laughed “she might find it interesting and actually sit.” “Ro, she can’t even stay still when you read stories.” He scratched his head “I was thinking we can sign her up for some sport.” “You can take her swimming.” Suggested Aelin. Rowan had kept his job as swimming instructor with Dorian and they had made it work. When the kids were at home she would take them to the swimming complex and once Rowan was done they would all swim together. He had begun teaching the twins to float and some very basics techniques. Freyja had loved it, but she preferred jumping from the smallest platform. Morrigan on the other hand had been a good student and had followed her dad’s instructions and could do a nice basic breaststroke. Dalamar would soak with Aelin with his water wings. He loved being in the water. “She could become one of those athletes who jump from platforms into water. A professional diver. She is surely fearless for a five years old.” “I can see her as a rugby player.” And Aelin laughed. “We’ll let her decide.” “Of course,”Aelin kissed him “Look, some mum and kids are arriving.” Rowan was due to start his storytelling session very soon and mothers, fathers and kids had started to arrive in the shop. Five minutes later Rowan took his position at the bottom of the shop on his chair. All the kids sat on the floor on the colourful mats Rowan had bought. Morrigan and Dalamar would sit at his feet, but Rowan would alway keep Freyja in his arms so he could hold her still for a while. “Thank you everyone for coming this afternoon. Kids, are you all comfortable?” Aelin stood in a corner and stared at him as per her usual. Rowan was such a natural around kids. It had been so easy for him to settle into his role as a dad. He had been amazing with their kids and he’d do literally anything to make them happy. But at the same time he had managed to keep the wonderful balance to prevent them to become spoiled brats whose parents would give them anything. “Today’s story is about a princess. Her name is Aelin.” “Like mum.” shouted Freyja in her father’s arms. “Tha, mo chridhe.” And Rowan kissed her head and a smug smile appeared on the girl’s face. “She is fierce and brave and very, very beautiful. So beautiful that all the princes in the realm wanted to marry her.” Aelin laughed and blushed a bit. “Is there a dragon?” Asked Freyja who seemed had already passed her attention span limit. “Shhh, my love.” But he knew it was a desperate hope. “The princess had been put under a spell by her horrible stepmother who was very jealous of her. She could not enjoy true love with the man she loved until the dragon that held the necklace with the spell was killed. Aelin was in love with the captain of the guard, a man called Rowan. The wicked stepmother had found out and so punished her. She had planned to marry her off to a wealthy old man.” When Aelin noticed Freyja was getting fidgety, she took a chair and sat beside her husband and grabbed their daughter so that he could continue his tale. “Rowan offered to go on a quest and kill the dragon but Aelin refused to be left behind. She was not a damsel in distress. So during the night she gathered some of her stuff, donned her armour and together they set off on an adventure. During their trip he would train her with the sword so she could defend herself. It took them a few months but they did manage to reach the dragon’s lair.” “Dragon.” Freyja was ecstatic and Aelin held her tight. “But while they took the path through the magic forest to reach the dragon lair, Rowan and Aelin got separated. The forest was very dangerous but they were both very brave and fought all the perils and when Aelin finally reached the lair she saw that Rowan was already there but he was injured. She drew her sword and decided to face the dragon alone. In the forest she had discovered that she had fire magic and she wanted to punish the dragon. So she started fighting him, but the dragon was huge and she was getting tired. In that instant Rowan woke up again and walked to her. Together they fought the dragon and eventually killed it and destroyed the necklace, setting Aelin free. She finally kissed him and slowly they returned back home. Once back at the castle, they discovered the wicked mother was gone and Aelin and Rowan decided to get married. They invited all the villagers and they lived happily ever after.” Rowan had to simplify the story to make it acceptable to young kids but they seemed to have liked it. He told a few more stories and two hours later the shop was empty and he was alone again with his family. Dalamar had fallen asleep in Aelin’s arms. Morrigan had gone back to her colouring book and Freyja was pretending to be a knight, swinging around the toy sword Rowan had given her. “I am princess Aelin and I kill dragons.” She shouted while Rowan chased her around the shop. Rowan finally grabbed her and lifted her like a sack of potatoes “dad, the dragon,” she protested while trying to wriggle out of her father’s grip. “Freyja!” Aelin noticed Rowan’s command voice. The one that could actually slow down the little terror. The girl stopped moving and Rowan sat her down beside her sister and she grabbed a colouring book and joined Morrigan in silence. “You really have super powers.” Rowan leaned over to kiss his wife’s head “Give me ten minutes and we’ll go home.”

Half an hour later they were finally at home. Rowan carried a sleepy Morrigan and Aelin carried Dalamar who had been sleeping for an hour now. Freyja had followed in silence, with her sword tucked in the belt loop of her trousers. “I’ll make dinner, you change the kids.” Aelin nodded “Let’s go Freyja it’s jammies time.” The little girl gave her a huge smile and followed her mother with Morrigan at her side. Aelin placed Dalamar on the bed, and helped the two girls change into their night clothes. “Did you have fun at dad’s tonight?” “Yes.” They both squealed. Once they were ready, Aelin tied Freyja’s hair “now go back downstairs to dad but let him cook, okay?” The two girls nodded and left the room. Aelin grabbed her little boy and took him to his room, changed him into his pyjama and tucked him in bed “I love you,” she told him while kissing him on the cheek. Then grabbed the baby monitor and joined the rest of her family downstairs. The twins were on the carpet playing quietly with Morrigan’s planes. Aelin joined Rowan and hugged him from behind “Dalamar is in bed and the girls are playing.” She kissed his back “and your food smells amazing.” “Freyja finally calmed down.” “My mum says that she reminds her of me when I was little.” Aelin squeezed him. He switched off the hob and turned engulfing her in his arms “It does not surprise me.” And he kissed her deeply and Aelin replied in the same manner. He pushed her to the table and she grabbed his butt pulling him to her and she moaned against his mouth. He kissed her neck and Aelin’s hands found their way under his t-shirt. Then she pulled away “Ro, the kids are in the other room and awake.” Rowan leaned his forehead against hers cupping her face in his hands. The kiss he gave her was full of need and love “I know.” He sighed pulling away. Their intimate life had taken a bit of a hit and most nights they were too tired to even try and do something. The last time they had managed to get some action was when Aelin’s mother had kidnapped their kids for an entire weekend four months before. And the mornings were not good either because the twins had the habit of waking up and joining their parents in bed for some family cuddling. Aelin crashed her forehead on his chest “I miss our wall…” she laughed “but I know that I would fall asleep as soon as my back hits it.” Rowan kissed her again “I miss you too.” Then pulled away “Come one, let’s go and feed our hurricanes.” In that instant she heard Dalamar calling her through the baby monitor and five minutes later Aelin was downstairs with a weepy boy in her arms “Someone else is joining us for dinner.” The five of them had dinner and once they were done the kids moved to the sofa and Aelin gave them her old laptop so they could watch their hour of tv. She and Rowan had never bought a tv and the kids never asked for it but allowed them to watch an hour of cartoons on Netflix in the evening after dinner while they cleaned up. Most of times they got bored after half an hour and went back playing until bed time but when they were tired they did manage their hour. “They are watching Totoro again.” Said Aelin, joining Rowan in the kitchen with a pile of dishes then she grabbed a towel and started drying all the ones he had already washed. “They do love Totoro.” He added smiling. “Morrigan the other day said she wants to study Japanese so she could talk to Totoro and Freyja wants to go in the woods to look for him.” Rowan roared with laughter “I love the idea of studying Japanese, though.” “Our two wonderful weirdos.”Aelin stored away all the dishes. Once they were done they got back in the living room and silence reigned. The laptop was on the carpet and the three kids were are all hugged together on the sofa. Dalamar sleeping on Freyja’s chest like in the scene where Mei sleeps on Totoro’s belly, her arms protectively around her brother’s back. Morrigan was snuggled against her sister, her hand holding one of Freyja’s. Aelin gasped at the scene and Rowan pulled her to him and kissed her head “they are finally fell asleep.” He turned Aelin and held her from behind, his chin on her head and his arms tight around her. “This is it, Buzzard. This is my island dream.” Rowan kissed her temple. “This is my dream too.”

TAG:

@rowaelinismyotp

#rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin galythinius #rowan x aelin #rowaelinkids #fanfic #Throne of Glass series

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fedtothenight · 3 years ago

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this competition asked to write a short story in the dystopian genre and my entry's below - don't rb!

the sweetest fruit

The boy gasped, straining against the padded frame of the jeep just as the vehicle slowly came to a halt. ‘Look!’ he shouted, pointing at a spot about a hundred feet from the group. ‘Look, Mum! That’s so cool!’

Half-instinctively, his mother had already grabbed a fistful of his tank-top, ready to yank him back. She had spent the entirety of the trip sitting as still as possible, facing forward, eyes stubbornly fixed on the self-cooling top of the car in a pointless effort to fight her motion sickness: her patience was already wearing very thin without her eight-year-old personal safety hazard trying to get himself killed.

‘Ethan, for the love of God,’ she snapped. ‘I already told you to stop leaning over the frame! Do you realise how dangerous that is?’

‘No, Mum, you’ve got to look!’

‘Emma, darling,’ her husband whispered, a gentle hand on her shoulder. ‘You should really look at this. It’s magnificent.’

Whatever it was, even her fifteen-year-old daughter - who had spent the last thirty minutes texting her friends back home without so much as a glance at the scenery - was jaw-slacked, so she slowly got up on her wobbly knees and peered over her shoulders.

In the shadow of a tree, protected from the sweltering heat, two lions were feasting on a zebra. Perhaps belatedly, as it’d taken her a second to drink the sight in, she realised that the poor thing was still alive: writhing as blood, red and hot and pulsing, gushed out from where the bigger lion - the male - had bitten into its back.

The smaller one, the female, soundlessly sank its teeth into the dying animal’s neck, and the latter gave one last weak kick, finally falling limp. When the lioness stood again, it was almost impossible, from this distance, to see her eyes amidst the bloodied mess on her face.

‘Oh, my God, Matt,’ Emma said. ‘This is beautiful. Nature truly is beautiful.’

‘You don’t really get to see this kind of show anywhere else today,’ their guide said from the driver’s seat. He sounded proud, as if he’d hunted and fed the zebra to the lions himself.

Alberto wasn’t wrong, Emma reasoned. Given that they were parked in the middle of the privately-owned biggest North American savanna, he - or rather, his employer - was the one effectively feeding the lions. Like feeding mice to cats. She glanced at her children, glad they could have a window on a reality that was long gone. To think it would have taken a trip around the world to watch this spectacle - imagine the motion sickness then! If only, she considered wistfully, there could be a way of replicating glaciers just as accurately.

‘Honestly, it seems a bit unfair that they get to eat real meat,’ Ethan said at the dinner table a few hours later. He was picking at his plate, moving the fried grasshoppers they’d been served for dinner around, but not really eating any. ‘While we are stuck with insects and microprotein or whatever.’

Emma pinched the bridge of her nose. She was tired and sunburnt, her sensitive pale skin suffering under the blistering sun of the region, so different from the temperate weather back home North. She had a splitting headache, too. She was, yet again, at the so-called end of her tether. ‘Ethan…’

‘You should be glad you get to eat at all,’ her daughter said at the same time. ‘There’s a reason it’s illegal to eat meat. These animals are here for show, anyway. They were originally from Africa.’

‘Shut up, Becca,’ Ethan mumbled. ‘Everybody knows there are no animals in Africa. There’s nothing there.’

Becca’s cheeks were tinted pink, eyebrows furrowed. ‘Of course there were animals. There were animals everywhere before the Climate Crunch.’

‘Both of you, stop it,’ Matt interjected. ‘Ethan, your sister is right. You should be grateful that we are here in the first place. That said…’ He leant forward, voice down to a whisper: ‘I have a surprise for you. Or, well, Richard has a surprise for us. When he arrives tomorrow, he’ll bring us real meat. Bovine meat.’

‘But it’s illegal,’ said Becca.

‘It’s technically illegal,’ Matt acknowledged. ‘It’s not if you know how to get some and no one from Animal Conservation finds out. Do you think our president only eats insects? Please, Becca. Use that big brain of yours.’

‘Yes,’ Ethan snickered. ‘Use your brain, Becca.’

‘That is too generous,’ Emma said. ‘Inviting us here in the first place was, when even he hasn’t gotten here yet. Now this. I wouldn’t know how to repay him.’

Truly, all she felt was jealousy. Her guts twisted with the sheer force of it. Yes, she had known that Richard was comfortable. The gated, heavily guarded estate spanned for thousands of acres, comprised the 5000sqt villa they were staying at (five bedrooms, seven bathrooms, a cinema, marble floors and solar panels on the rooftop), an indoor swimming pool inspired by vintage photos of Amalfi, two indoor tennis courts, and the savanna they’d explored earlier in the day. ‘The biggest conservation area in North America since they repurposed the Midwest,’ he’d bragged in a video call, two weeks before. ‘You will love it. The holiday you deserve. Make yourselves at home.’

But meat? He could get meat?

Matt’s family had designed DeNuketify, which was basically the only effective way of purifying ocean water from whatever nuclear waste Japan kept spewing so that it could be used and, most importantly, drunk. They had managed to flee the continent with the last handful of greencards about the time her family did, too, taking their precious Queen’s accent with them to found Nova London. She was the governor of Nova London now, for God’s sake. The bloody queen herself was long dead but she was alive, and yet, yet - they had never had meat.

‘We don’t have to, Emma,’ Matt said. ‘We just need to remember how lucky we are to enjoy this meal, this house, this holiday. Look at that,’ and he nodded towards the TV screen again. ‘Actually, Alexa!, volume up!, I think the Italians have finally surrendered.’

The war correspondent’s voice grew louder. She - they, Emma reminded herself: Becca always told her not to assume anyone’s gender - was wearing a dust mask and reading from a bundle of documents. ‘The last military hospital in the island of Palermo was destroyed four days ago by a Canadian airstrike,’ they were saying. ‘The rebels surrendered soon after, followed by the group of extremists in the Nebrodi island. Etna had already surrendered last year.’

‘It’s important to remember that these actions were necessary to finally put a rest on the instability of the region,’ they added. ‘Canada will fund a complete restoration of the Southern archipelago. The remaining civilians will be provided with a shelter and then, when the time comes, a suitable job. Nova Italia will be the sixteenth Canadian state, the fourth offshore. There are also hopes to extract petroleum from the seabed of the sunken city of Gela.’

‘Watch them make it into a holiday hotspot,’ Matt commented. ‘The weather is still nice there.’

‘Ooh, I heard about this.’ Becca picked her phone back up and started furiously typing away. ‘There’s this journal entry soldiers found over there, under the rubble, that’s gone viral. It was translated into English. Wait, I’ll pull it up. Alexa, volume down.’

‘I’m not sure I want to hear it,’ Emma said, uneasy. ‘We’re on holiday. Should we not watch a movie? Something funny?’

Becca waved her away, as if she was an annoying fly. ‘It’ll be good practice for my drama class.’

Matt didn’t help—he simply shrugged, half-apologetic, as if to say: Let her do her thing.

Becca made a show of clearing her throat, too, before she started reading from her phone—her high voice now grave, studied, as if she were speaking to a larger audience: ‘I wonder what peas taste like.’

Right then, the scene on screen changed to footage of what looked like a destroyed village, something out of an apocalyptic movie. Emma found herself unable to look away.

‘Nonna used to say that her own great-grandmother grew them in her garden. Figs, too,’ Becca read. ‘They say they were the sweetest fruit.’

Emma wondered if this journal was actually written by a child or a teenager. It didn’t sound like an adult at all. She couldn’t help but picture a girl, a brunette, not much older than Becca, perhaps a rebel, or a trainee nurse on the sweet cusp of adulthood, holding this journal of hers, or perhaps a gun. It violently reminded her that her own daughter, too, would have to serve her time in the Forces in three years.

On screen, the Canadian soldiers walked among the ruins, zigzagging between torn up clothes and discarded weapons, surely looking for surviving rebels under the rubbles.

‘Isn’t it silly that we can hear the fighters overhead and that all I can do is think about food?’ said Becca. ‘I wish we could also eat figs and be happy.’

On screen, the camera zoomed in on a long-forgotten man's shoe, some crumpled photographs, on a pile of bodies in black bin bags.

‘Grandma - I miss her - left me a poetry book, too, from T.S. Eliot. I hope the book is with me when I die, so I can give it back to her when we meet again, afterwards. So I can tell her that T.S. Eliot was wrong.’

On screen, one of the soldiers approached and showed a little trinket to the camera: a bloody, heart-shaped locket that must’ve once been golden, hiding the miniature pictures of two brunette children that would never have a name.

‘That’s enough,’ Emma said. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. ‘Stop reading.’

‘The world may have not ended with a bang, but it didn’t end with a whimper, either: the world didn’t end at all. Sometimes,’ Becca finished reading, ‘I wish it had.’

‘What a load of rubbish,’ Matt scoffed. ‘Everyone should feel lucky to be alive. I bet this journal is a fake. Alexa, turn the TV off.’

As the screen faded to black, Ethan finally popped a grasshopper in his mouth. ‘I can’t wait to have meat tomorrow.’

#my writing #honestly dystopia is not a genre i'm interested in #lol #this was lazy and i wrote it in one morning while i was hungover on negroni

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fallenfurther · 5 years ago

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Virgil’s second topiary lesson

Another Post Buried Treasure Fic. I just couldn’t have Virgil not meet up with the groundskeeper again, who I’ve named Mr Greene, mainly for his green fingers though I realised halfway through the significance in relation to Virgil. I blame the early shift at work for that one not registering. Enjoy!

****

Virgil landed Tracy Two on the private runway and taxied her into the reserved area. He stepped off the plane into the cool morning air and sighed. He'd been looking forward to this day for a while. It was almost three months since the rescue had cause a sinkhole in the reclaimed land and he was looking forward to seeing it at its best again. He'd made sure they paid for the restoration of the area. The tunnel had been shored up to stop future cave-ins and the ground that had caved in had been covered over and a fresh topsoil added. It should look as it did before.

Virgil was currently driving to the park to meet up with Mr Greene, the Groundskeeper. They'd kept in contact since his impromptu topiary lesson and Virgil had apologised profusely for what had happened to his shrubs. Thankfully the swift work to put the damage right, had put Virgil, and to some extent International Rescue, back in Mr Greene’s good books. Yesterday the new bushes had arrived, and Mr Greene had agreed to let Virgil join him in shaping them. Virgil parked up and headed over to where the groundskeeper was waiting for him.

"I'm glad to see you didn't bring those machines with you." Mr Greene joked as he shook Virgil's hands.

"Me too. Hopefully they'll stay safely in their hangers for the rest of the day. Now, let's see what we have to work with. What's the theme we have to stick to?" Virgil rubbed his hands together. He was ready for a busy creative day and couldn’t wait to get started.

“It’s the same as before, seeing as no one got to see it last time, but thanks to your generous donation there’s more to do. They want three centrepieces for the area that got destroyed and an animal parade leading up to it. There are four trees and seven bushes that need to be shaped.”

“We’d better get to it then.”

Virgil followed Mr Greene along the sculpted paths that ran through the manicured lawns. There were birds in the trees and butterflies flying around the flowers, and with the wind and birdsong being the dominant sounds, it was peaceful. It was hard to believe that beneath their feet was centuries old rubbish and active mining! They stopped at a path that they would be focusing on. Looking down it, Virgil could see the lawn that had caved in last time he was there and the three large bushes that were to become the new centrepieces. Mr Greene stood and pointed to the trees as he spoke.

“The animals along the path will be in pairs, one on each side. First will be the wolves and then the next will be meerkats. After that will be a bear with penguins at the front. The animals weren’t my choice, they were voted on by the local children.” Mr Greene clearly didn’t like the idea of penguins; he’d screwed his face up as he said the word. “The three centrepieces will be a giraffe, an elephant and a gorilla. We’ll start with the path. We’ll do one of each of the pairs, at the same time, so I can give you pointers and advice as we go along. Sound reasonable?”

“Yes.” Virgil smiled. There was a lot to do and he was nervously excited that his work was going to be displayed alongside that of a professional. He hoped the kids approved.

Mr Greene had laid out the tools of the trade by the first bush, and Virgil climbed into the protective overall that had been provided. Picking up the shears he stood by the bush, ready to receive the instructions on how to best shape a wolf. Mr Greene gave him clear instructions, which Virgil followed, though he did give Virgil a little leeway, here and there, to put his own spin on things. Soon the wolves had taken shape, and they swapped to the secateurs to do the finer trimming and neatening. Once Mr Greene had given his wolf the once over, they swapped sides and started on meerkats. A simpler shape than the wolves, and with less leaves to trim away to reveal the animal, they were finished much quicker. Again, they swapped sides, and started on the bears. These were much bigger, and ladders were required to reach the tops. Mr Greene finished first and gave him encouragement from below. Virgil carefully snipped away at the top, shaping the ears and the snout. He wiped his brow on his sleeve as the sun’s glare warmed his brow. Once satisfied, he climbed down the ladder and let Mr Greene up to inspect his work. A few small cuttings, and his mentor was satisfied.

“How about we break for lunch?” Mr Greene said as he reached the bottom of the ladder. “I’ve packed us a few bits which we can eat in the shade of the trees.”

Virgil’s stomach growled in response, his focus on his work having distracted him from his hunger. He hadn’t eaten anything since he’d left the island.

“That sounds fantastic.”

Virgil followed Mr Greene down the path and further into the gardens. They headed into a hedged off area and he found himself in a secret garden with a large apple tree at its centre. Beneath the tree was a couple of cool boxes. Mr Greene sat down, opened one up and handed him a bottle of chilled water. Virgil took it gladly and gulped down the water. It’s cool touch on his parched lips was heavenly. Virgil plonked himself down by Mr Greene as the man passed him a box. Inside were ham and cheese sandwiches.

“I’ve got some sandwich pickle in the cool box if you want some. Not everyone’s a fan, but I love a good bit of pickle in my sandwiches.”

“I’m good. My brother, Gordon, the blond one, is the big pickle fan in our family.” Virgil smiled as he bit into a sandwich, thinking of all the times he’d watched Gordon make one of his sandwiches. His brother always tried fit as much as possible between the slides of bread. As he ate, Mr Greene laid out mini-sausages, tomatoes, radishes, celery sticks and a sharing bag of crisps. Virgil tipped a few crisps into the box with his last sandwich and grabbed a few tomatoes, popping one in his mouth. He avoided the celery. Years of sitting next to Gordon crunching Celery Bars meant he’d gone off it.

“How are you finding the topiary today? You’re doing very well for a beginner. You’ve a real eye for detail, and how you want the shape to be.”

Virgil took the compliment with a smile, “It’s great. I love creating things. I paint, when I get the chance, and I find this is just another way of expressing and revealing the images that can form in your head. At least, that’s how it works for me. I see the image of the bear, you tell me how it should be standing, where its arms need to be, and I picture it in my head. Then it’s just working out how to translate that image into the bush. I’m loving the 3D aspect of it.”

Mr Greene chuckled, and it was strange but good to see the lightness in his face normally stern face. “You have a way with words young man! I wish others saw this like you do. When the area is open to the public, people waltz in with their phones in their hands, gaze and gape, take a few photos then move on. They barely stop to truly see what’s before them, and they certainly don’t think about all the effort that’s gone into it. It’s why you don’t get so many people doing it nowadays. It’s considered old-fashioned and a relic from the days of nobility.” Mr Greene sighed.

Virgil sat back and thought about it. There were parts of it that made sense. As an artist he could appreciate the effort that goes into the production of a sketch or painting, and some of his brothers understood that. Yet when he dragged Alan to an art gallery, he’d whizz around it before getting bored, and Virgil was never quite sure how much the boy had taken in.

“I can see where you’re coming from. But at least they are taking an interest and getting out of the city. This place is amazing, and even if they take just a little bit of that home with them, then we’ve done our job right.” Virgil ate another tomato before continuing, “and just look at this little garden. I’ll remember this moment forever. It’s secluded and peaceful, the flowers have been carefully chosen to highlight the area and bring your attention to exactly where it needs to be to highlight its beauty.”

Mr Greene sat a little straighter, “Well, I did try my best. It wasn’t easy, mind you, to convince the higher-ups to see my vision. But once people come here, they’ll trust me.”

They finished their meal, which was completed with homemade banana bread, while discussing artists and beautiful places. When all was eaten, they packed up and headed back to their bushes. Mr Greene passed Virgil a straw hat, to keep the sun off his neck and out his eyes, for which Virgil was grateful. They made light work of the penguins, and then they started on the centrepieces. Mr Greene asked him to get the basic outline for the elephant done, while he started on the gorilla, which was to stand in the middle. Virgil worked away, losing track of time. He finished his rough outline and got Mr Greene’s approval to continue. Trimming closer, he got out the secateurs and started clipping the detail into the ears and face. He smoothed out the body and trunk, making sure it curved in just the right way. Standing back, he gazed up at his handiwork.

“Not bad. Not bad at all.” Mr Greene’s voice came from behind him. Virgil turned around, a contented grin on his face, and looked at Mr Greene. Except Virgil’s gaze fell on the bush behind the man. His jaw dropped. It was a male silverback gorilla, made entirely from one bush. Mr Greene had managed to sculpt most of it, and it was breath-taking in its detail. The hands were still a work in progress, but it was the face that caught his attention. The gorilla was gazing straight down the path and had such a dignified look on it’s face.

“That good, huh? I have a soft spot for gorillas. Used to draw them all the time as a boy, and although I don’t do it much anymore, I still have that soft spot or the apes.”

“It’s incredible.” Virgil slowly walked around it, taking in the way it had been cut, trying to work out how it had appeared from the ordinary bush which has been there just hours previously.

“Thank you. How about you try the giraffe? Be careful with the neck, that’s the tricky part. I’ll come join you once I’ve finished the hands, and we might get it all done before sundown.”

Virgil nodded, not quite ready to take his eyes of the gorilla. With a renewed determination to master the art to that kind of level, Virgil walked towards the last untouched bush as made the first snip with the shears. Mr Greene soon joined him, and they made light work of it, and soon the giraffe appeared. True to his word, the sun was low in the sky when they had finished. Virgil slipped out of the overall and placed the shears, hat and secateurs into Mr Greene’s wheelbarrow.

“I’ll clear up the cuttings tomorrow.” Mr Greene said as he picked up the cooler boxes and Virgil pushed the wheelbarrow towards the exit. When they reached the carpark, Virgil placed in down and shook Mr Greene’s hand.

“Thank you so much for today. It was fantastic.”

“You’re welcome, young man, and if I need a hand or inspiration, I know who to call.” Mr Greene gave Virgil a smile before heading off towards the groundskeeper’s shed. Virgil sat in the car; his body was exhausted. It definitely wasn’t safe to fly, and he was thankful he had planned to stay the night in a hotel. A quick call to John to confirm everyone was okay, and he drove off. A shower and some clean clothes and Virgil lay in the bed with his sketchpad. Despite the exhaustion, he sketched a few different views of the secret garden, though his favourite was the view from under the tree. He added a few extra details to it before yawning. Another yawn and Virgil knew he was done for the night. He placed the pad on the bedside table, pulled the covers over himself and turned off the light. His mind was full of flowers, gardens and shaped bushes which he knew would fill his dreams. He closed his eyes and hoped there were no callouts tomorrow. He wanted to start on his painting of the secret garden, hoping to permanently capture its beauty in paint.

#thunderbirds are go #virgil tracy #groundskeeper #buried treasure #topiary

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leoninapelliolovesconchitawurst · 5 years ago

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ENGLISH TRANSLATION ( Jeannette Nobbe)

VOLSKRANT.NL 31/01/20

by Mennon Pot

https://www.volkskrant.nl/cultuur-media/conchita-wurst-sorry-dat-ik-zo-n-wandelend-cliche-ben~b0477817/

(Conchita) Wurst: 'I'm sorry I'm a walking cliché'.

Above all we know Conchita Wurst as the bearded 'female 'singer who won the ESC in 2014. But we've moved on and are a bit wiser. It´s just Wurst now, but the beard is still there.

With light feathered steps, Thomas Neuwirth (31) enters the conference room of the hotel in Groningen where he is staying: black combat boots, black leather pants, tight black T-shirt, the black beard and the perfect short trimmed jet black hair..

He introduces himself as Tom. It's not difficult to recognise the bearded drag queen Conchita in him. (Kopenhagen, 2014, remember?) but the dress and wig are stowed away for a while. Conchita has a sort of sabbatical, so to speak.

Neuwirth is on tour as a man. Stage name: Wurst. Yesterday evening he performed in Groningen; the next concert will be 7 february at the Melkweg in Amsterdam. His new album 'Truth over Magnitude' also carries the artist´s name Wurst.

Let's get this straight: when the subject is Conchita Wurst, the word 'transgender' sometimes comes a long. Wrongly. Neuwirth is a man, ('but incredibly gay, of course'), who has a choice from now on: being on tour as a drag queen (Conchita) or as a man (Wurst) .

´a lot of fun, being a masculine stage persona', he says. Conchita will turn up again somewhere else.

Holland appreciated Conchita's 'Rise like a Phoenix' with the highest score, almost 6 years ago.

Neuwirth didn't forget: twelve points, douze points from Holland for the bearded diva from Austria.

Then hectic years followed. 'After the Song Contest I thought, I have to make the most of it now, build my fame and cash it in. So I surrounded myself with all kinds of experts, managers, stylists, make/up artists, the whole circus. After 3 years I was exhausted. I couldn´t do it anymore. I told my audience every nigh, be yourself, believe in yourself. But along the way, I forgot myself.´

He got rid of the experts’ circus and is having a relaxed tour now, with a small entourage. He feels good again, although in 2018 he had to announce he is infected with the HIV virus. His manager politely asks, almost in an humble manner, not to talk about that.

Tom doesn´t appear to be very worried about that. There has seldom been a star who starts an interview so cheerfully. ´A great photo shoot and after that talk about things I find beautiful and fun.

Terrific, I was already looking forward to it when I came out of bed.´

´Curriculum Vitae'

1988 – Born as Thomas Neuwirth in Gmunden, Austria

2007 – Candidate at the talentshow Starmania, and boyband Jetzt anders!

2011 – Debut as female persona Conchita Wurst, the debut single `I´ll be there´

2012 - Second place at the Austrian Songfestival

2014 – ESC winner with ´Rise like a Phoenix

2015 – First album ´Conchita´, co-presenter ESC

2018 – Second album ´From Vienna with Love´

2019 – Debut as male stage persona ´Wurst´, third album ´Truth over Magnitude´

2020 – Wurst ´Trust over Magnitude´ Sony Music

Wurst will be performing in the Melkweg in Amsterdam on February 7

SOUNDTRACK

Music from the Motion Picture Titanic ...1997

´My first CD. I was 9 years old when I bought it. `My heart will go on´’changed my life´. As it were, Céline Dion gave me permission to be utterly dramatic and to be over the top. When I came out of the closet, I heard that song in my head.

It was also a liberation for me as a singer. My mom always sang with a thin, high falsetto voice. I thought that was how it should be. Dion taught me, you may yell as hard as you can, with all the power you have in you. When you sing so loud, you can’t fake it. The sound you push out of your body, is the sound of your body, unique and by definition authentic. Céline Dion taught me that singing is something really physical.´

SERIES

The Crown ..Netflix..., 2016 until 2019

´For me it´s getting difficult to watch a movie to the end. I guess that´s because of all the series on Netflix and HBO. My favorite is `The Crown´.. ´the intro alone is so beautiful, that liquid gold that forms a crown, such art. I used to watch it twice. Ít says something about the fact that I can´t choose between the two women who play Elizabeth and the two men who play prince Philip. All the actors are great. The costumes, the stories, the palaces, it´s so delightful. The history also intrigues me, after every episode I checked on Wikipedia if it was really what had happened.

PARTIES

´At Christmas I always come back to Vienna. I love the lights, glitters and decorations, my inner Mariah Carey is looking forward to it every year. Christmas 2019 was extra special because it had been a long time since the whole family came together at my grandmother´s house.´

I would love it to be like that every year... A couple of days being together in one home. Talking, getting to really know my family. Maybe now you think, days on and on with uncles and aunts, such horror! It is easy to say that I don´t really have much in common with these people. But I do, Really. They all have a story and similarities with your stories. Ask them about your life and tell them about yours.´

That´s what Christmas is all about to me. To me, the birth of Jesus has not that much to do with it.´

ISLAND..

I have an agreement with my best friends to go on vacation at least once every two years. We have been to Mykonos a couple of times, THE especially gay island. I´m sorry I sound like a walking cliché.´

The sun, the sea, the beaches, the small streets, so cosy. We rent a house with a pool and for a week or two we live in our own little paradise, actually being a bit tipsy the whole time. Go shopping and cook.´

`What´s also very important, on Mykomos, the wind is always blowing the right way. I love to watch the women, because their dresses and their hair flutter so beautifully.´

STYLE ICON

Victoria Beckham

I was and still am a big Spice Girls fan and I especially admire Victoria Beckham, because she lives her life the way she wants. She appears in tabloids every day, but has survived a crisis in her relationship and has stayed happy with the love of her life and her family. I think that it´s really strong.´

In regard to her style, she can go from very classy to very trashy, I like that. One day she´s wearing a designer dress, the next she and David Beckham are walking in identical jogging suits. She couldn’t care less. I think that it´s inspiring.´

´I think she is utterly authentic, raging through the glamour. Although I have never met her, I´m sure that I could have a lot of fun with her. I´d love to drink some tequila with her for an afternoon or so.´

AGE

´I thought becoming 30 was really special, I lost my wild behaviour, came to be more restful. Some way or another I think a lot about some things my mother said: in my twenties, I ignored those lessons, but now I´m 30, I suddenly realised she was right for example how important family and friends are.

I´m 31 now, I have inner peace and my life in order, but I still feel young. I´m convinced that this the best period of my life´. My advise to everybody... be 30.´

ALBUM

Recomposed by Max Richter / The Four Seasons ..2012

I don´t play any instruments and until not too long ago, I didn´t really know much about music. I really found that a pity sometimes. Fortunately, my good friend Martin studies at the School of Musical Arts... !! He´s studying the history of music intensely and tells me about a lot of great composers. I learn a lot from that.´´I never understood classical music and didn´t really know anything about it, but thanks to the listening sessions with Martin I fell in love with Vivaldi..

The pop artist of the classical artists.

´Max Richter interpreted Vivaldi´s Four Seasons and composed it in a modern fashion. It´s a modern, post minimalistic piece, completely different from the original one, but you still recognise it. Greatly done, at the moment it´s my favorite album.´

BOOK

Friedrich Schiller « Ueber die aesthetische Erziehung des Menschen ». About the aesthetic upbringing of the people..´

´A good friend advised me to read the philosophical letters from Friedrich Schiller ..Letters, 1794-1795)

That´s a hard job to do. Because of the old fashioned German I had to read some sentences 5 times. You always have to wrestle yourself through a thick layer of 18th century sexism.

´But further on you´ll find something beautiful. Schiller writes a lot about finding your inner beauty and your own truth. Dare to be yourself. Embrace your darker sides. Those are important as well.´

´At the same time he preaches self-perspective.. don´t take yourself too seriously, you´re not the center of the universe. That is very worthy to me. Namely because I DO think I´m the center of the universe, haha.

`Still it´s very wise of him, to send a message from 1795 to a 21st century queen with a Mariah Carey complex.´

CLUB

Circus in Vienna

´The Arena is a huge complex in Vienna, a concert building with a mega discotheque. A couple of times a year they organize Circus, my favorite gay club night. I always go there with my group of closest friends, but it´s actually a bit of a rule that we lose each other and disappear into the crowd.´

´I roam around all night- Every room, every floor has its own musical theme and decoration. I love the types of people I meet there, their clothes, their fetishisms, everything.´

….Arena Vienna, Baumgasse 80, Vienna

CITY

Amsterdam

´I live in Vienna, I love Vienna and I will always come back there, but the greatest city I´ve been to is Amsterdam – since then I traveled all over the world so I know what I´m talking about.

´Of all the cities I visited, Amsterdam is the only one where I would want to live a period of time. So that´s what I´m gonna do, this summer, for a few months to begin with.´

´I can see that Amsterdam also has the flagship stores from all known store chains. And a lot of tourists, like every special city. But I see all these small jewelry shops where they sell their self-made jewelry. Little bakeries. Cosy streets. And a lot of water. I love water. I love cities with lots of water.´

#conchitawurst #wurst #tomneuwirth #artist #singer #esc2014 #escwinner #music #performer #lgbt #celebrity #interview #translation

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rallamajoop · 5 years ago

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On the history of the airline stewardess (and why she deserves so much more credit than you probably realise)

So, to recap: in the name of producing one short fanfic, I have now spent far too many months researching the history of the airline stewardess. It's safe to say I came to the subject primed to get sucked in hard (in brief: I hail from an RAF family on my dad's side, and there is a definite vein of aviation nerdery running throuth us all to this day). But as not more than a fraction of that material was ever going to make it into the fic, it seemed the least I could do to give a quick summary of some of the cool things I got to read while getting horribly sidetracked er, writing this thing, and why others might find them interesting too.

If it wasn't obvious from all those quotes in the opening paragraphs (most only-slightly-paraphrased from real news items), I have borrowed heavily from my sources in writing this fic. The bit about Heather's former roommate who kept her uniform pressed every day for months after her marriage, for example, comes direct from the life of stewardess Connie Bosza, whereas most of the rest of the anecdotes about Heather's housemates and homelife actually happened to Sherry Waterman. Usually I'd have worked harder to remix and reinvent, but here I found myself getting so attached to the subject that not sharing as much of these real women's stories as possible felt like the greater betrayal. But I'll skip citing every article I saved in the process (ask if you're really that curious) and skip to the meatier sources.

My own gateway to the subject came from Victoria Vantoch's book The Jet Sex: Airline Stewardesses and the Making of an American Icon, where, in an introductory spiel about the life of her own mother, she lays out the profession as a mass of contradictions. Not only does she cover the subject from the very first stewardess of the 1930's to the equal rights challenges of the 1970's which transformed the industry, the work serves as a fascinating insight (and sometimes horrifically so) into the realities of Cold War gender politics. Vantoch deliberately underlines the case that, just because this is a story about a lot of pretty women doesn't mean it doesn't deserve to be treated as serious history. Though there are places I wish she'd gone into more depth, it's an excellent introduction to the topic (and available as an ebook if you want a copy).

For real inspiration, however, I got far more out of From Another Island: Adventures and Misadventures of an Airline Stewardess—the personal account of Sherry Waterman, one of few real stewardesses ever to get around to publishing a memoir (Flying Mary O'Connor is another, but it's out of print, not available at my mainstay of BookDepository.com, and cost somewhat more than I felt justified in spending on ebay). Beginning around 1950, she worked for American Airlines for 6 years, and when she had exhausted the possibilities of domestic air travel, she transferred to Transocean Air Lines and spent another 3 years flying the Pacific. The result is remarkably readable and captures the scope, the joy and the absurdities of the profession with gusto. (Waterman really did, for example, recognise a surprised-but-flattered Dr. Edward Teller on one of her flights, and has stories to share about passengers getting stuck in aircraft toilets—though in reality, the size of the passenger was apparently the primary issue).

By contrast, though equally well-written, Sex objects in the sky: A personal account of the stewardess rebellion, by Paula Kane, was a much harder read. Like Waterman, Kane spent 5 years with American Airlines, beginning in the late 60's, but she describes an experience of growing disillusionment punctuated by incidents of sexual harassment so unpleasant that my rec for this book probably warrants a content warning. The rebellion Kane chronicles would not have been possible without the prior civil rights victories of the 60's, but the sexual revolution and changing nature of the industry had plainly produced an attitude of entitlement to women's bodies that would become infinitely worse before it got better (and this is one of few subjects I only wish The Jet Sex had covered in more detail). In the process, she captures a moment in her profession's battle not only for their own rights, but to make air travel safer for everyone on board.

I owe a particular debt to Kane's book for underlining something which had gone understated in my last two sources—namely the vital importance flight attendants may play in managing an evacuation from the plane in the event of a crash. And thus it is, of course, that my story obtained its set piece. (For the record, Sex objects in the sky is available to borrow from OpenLibraries online, and thus one of the most accessible sources on this list.)

For more on key role flight attendants can genuinely play in saving lives, I'd also recommend the Angels of the Sky series as the Confessions of a Trolley Dolly website, and the Air Crash Investigations episode Getting Out Alive. For one last great online source I discovered in the middle of writing the story, we have Winged Women: Stewardesses, Sexism, and American Society—a Master's thesis by Michele Martin, which is freely available online, and built around interviews with several retired stewardesses. Don't let the fact it's a thesis put you off this one—it's written in very accessible fashion, and works as a much-abbreviated version of The Jet Sex for a good overview of the history of the subject. It even includes an account of a plane crash where two quick-thinking stewardesses really were instrumental in getting every last person of the plane in the nick of time (most other real-life examples I'd managed to uncover to this point, the heroism of the stewardess was underlined by the fact that a great many people did not make it out).

I would love to say more on the subject, but I don't think I could better explain how this subject grabbed me the way it did than to quote from the sources themselves. So if, by some miracle, you still want to hear more, below you will find quotes from the introduction of each of those three key sources. I'd like to thienk they all, in their different ways, really speak for themselves.

Jet Sex: Airline Stewardesses and the Making of an American Icon Victoria Vantoch

In 1956, when my mother was in eighth grade, she dreamed of becoming the first female astronaut. She went on to become the salutatorian of her high-school class and won first prize in a model UN speech contest that awarded her a month-long, all-expense-paid trip to historical sites around the country. She subsequently earned a B.A. in Slavic languages from UCLA. The Library of Congress Aerospace Technology Division recruited her for her Russian language skills and she moved to Washington, D.C., where she translated Russian aerospace articles on everything from Alexey Leonov, the first person to walk in space, to metallurgy—all of which bored her to the core. She considered graduate school for international studies but did not have much savings and could not stomach the prospect of living on peanut-butter sandwiches for four years, so, in 1968, she brushed up on her Russian and interviewed for a stewardess position with Pan Am, which had just started flying to Moscow. She was devastated when the airline rejected her, but she managed to win a position with Eastern Airlines and her hometown newspaper chronicled her success. As a stewardess, she moved into a boarding house with Alice Paul, one of the twentieth century’s most famous women’s rights activists. While living with Paul, her life was a collage of contradictions. She lobbied on Capitol Hill for the Equal Rights Amendment at the same time that she went to work as a stewardess wearing pale blue hot pants. In 1969, she gave a speech to Congress in honor of the early women’s rights activist Lucretia Mott. The topic: gender equality in the workforce. That same year she also competed in two beauty pageants. She got married, had my sister and me, continued to fly, and spent much of her adult life feeling guilty about being an absent parent. Flying was never really about the money for my mother. It meant freedom from suburban life and office monotony, and participation in a public realm that was usually reserved for men. I rode on flights with her and felt proud—my mother was the stewardess. And since airlines allowed employees to bring their families on flights for free, by the time I was twelve I had traveled to twenty-five countries. Some of my mother’s early stewardess friends went on to get doctorates in chemistry, to work at the Department of Defense, to manage large households of their own, and to become successful attorneys. My mother, however, continued to fly until Eastern went out of business. Without a job at the age of forty-eight, she desperately campaigned for a stewardess position with other airlines. She created a colorful posterboard presentation that read, “I will die if I don’t fly” (along with—I’m serious—a song she wrote about her love of flying) and sent it to the American Airlines personnel department, which, after a series of interviews, hired her.

But this was the early 1990s and, by now, being a stewardess had lost its cachet. Around that time, in my early teens, I was interviewing for admission to exclusive New England boarding schools. During one interview that wasn’t going particularly well, the pompous interviewer in a tweed jacket suggested that I become a stewardess like my mother—“ because of my smile.” I knew then I would be rejected. My face burned. I stopped mentioning my mother’s profession. It was no longer something to be proud of. It had become an insult. My fascination with airline stewardesses began with my mother. It began with curiosity about how a talented public speaker who was nearly fluent in Russian and committed to women’s rights chose a career that ultimately allowed her to be written off as a vapid sex object and, ultimately, as a low-status service worker.

From Another Island Sherry Waterman

I was aware even then of so many little things commonplace to us, and yet so significant. These things were most evident in San Francisco, one of the crossroads of the airline world. A lei of wilted pikake blossoms tossed across a copy of the New York Times – both had been fresh that morning; two roommates had returned from Honolulu and New York. A pair of Alaskan mukluks and an aloha shirt crammed together in a suitcase; another roommate was leaving for Tokyo and returning via the Aleutians. Two stewardesses, chattering on the phone about their forthcoming vacations; each was going around the world in a different direction, and one was saying, impatiently, "Well, okay then. I’ll meet you in Egypt." Six roommates gathered around the table for a spaghetti dinner, pleased by the rarity of their all being at home together, and no one bothering to comment that at dinner the night before, all had been thousands of miles away, in different directions.

This was our way of life and it was natural to us. It was the way most of our friends lived and we often lost sight of the fact that it was not the way everybody lived. We were impatient with people who expected us to make dentist appointments three weeks in advance— who could know where she would be three weeks hence?—and we regarded a six months' lease on an apartment as signing up for eternity. We lived from city to city and felt at home in all of them, but we also lived from day to day, and never felt truly at home anywhere. During the first week in June, Dallas was our home and we loved it. Our roommates were among the best we'd ever had. Then the Texas summer hit with fierce intensity, and we raced to the airport with transfer requests clutched in our perspiring hands. Two weeks later we were settled by the sea in Los Angeles, and we spent the summer on the beaches. But the summer waned and the chilly fogs became more frequent, and it was time to move back to Dallas. So the transfer requests were filled out again. It was October, and one of us was playing Autumn in New York on the record player, and another one of us said, "Did you notice that tree on the corner has some leaves that are turning brown —just like the leaves back East?" So we changed the course of our lives with the eraser on a pencil.

We could follow the sun or the seasons with less planning than most girls give to a two-week vacation. We packed ice skates and swim suits in the same suitcase and used them both within 48 hours.

All of this was in the days before jets, but we still got around pretty fast, and we always measured distance in terms of time rather than miles. "How far is it to Dallas from here?" "Oh, four hours in a DC-7. Or were you speaking about a Six?" Short distances were figured that way too. A girl who lived in the beach area of Los Angeles would have her hair done and her shoes repaired in Washington, D.C., because it was "closer" —a ten-minute walk from her layover hotel. We were familiar with so many cities that sometimes we got them confused. I dropped a token in the fare box of a San Francisco bus and the driver stopped me as I started toward the back. "What's the matter," I inquired, "isn't that token for this bus line?' "Lady," he said, squinting at it, "that token isn't even for this country."

Sex Objects in the Sky Paula Kane

Almost lost in all the sexual innuendo of the Madison Avenue imagery is the primary reason why stewardesses are on board a plane, which is to enforce safety regulations and supervise the immediate evacuation of the plane in the event of a crash. And in crash after crash, the efficiency and courage of the stewardesses have meant the difference between passengers' lives and deaths.

Forty passengers and three crew members were killed in the December 8, 1972, crash of a United Airlines jet at Chicago's Midway Airport. But fifteen passengers survived, many of them because of the heroic efforts of the two stewardesses, Kathleen S. Duret and D. Jeanne Griffin.

The plane crashed into a block of houses one and a half miles southeast of the runway while attempting an instrument landing in scattered fog. Almost the entire front end of the plane was demolished on impact. The two stewardesses, who had been seated in jump seats at the back of the plane, rushed to open an emergency exit, but were driven back by raging flames. They worked their way along the right side of the burning cabin, clearing away the debris of galley equipment blocking the aisle. Then, one by one, they assisted nine surviving passengers to the exit and out of the plane, pausing each time to take gasps of fresh air before returning to the dark, burning, smoke-filled cabin. Six passengers found their own way out through breaks in the plane's fuselage.

The National Transportation Safety Board found in its investigation of the accident that most of the passengers in the cabin section died after impact as a result of inhaling carbon monoxide and other poisonous fumes from the fire. Those nine passengers lived because of the experience, the expertise, and the courage of Ms. Griffin, a stewardess for ten years prior to the accident, and Ms. Duret, a stewardess for seven years.

Yet their actions earned just one sentence in the sixty-one-page NTSB report: '"Nine passengers who exited through the rear service door were assisted by the two flight attendants; these attendants were the last to leave the aircraft."

Their exceptional bravery in carrying out their legal role on the plane, as stated in Federal Aviation Regulation 121391, "to provide the most effective egress of passengers in the event of an emergency evacuation," earned them no citations or awards from the airline.

Stewardesses who please customers, who receive complimentary letters, and provide exceptional "service," receive awards of merit from the airline. But apparently not stewardesses who save human lives. You have entered the weird, upside down, Alice-in-Wonderland world of the airlines. Presumably the companies are very concerned about safety, since the public's concern for safety on planes has been a major problem in attracting more customers. Yet in several areas the airlines display an incredible disregard for elemental safety. Hazardous materials are illegally shipped in cargo bins below the passengers' seats. Cabins are constructed with materials that in accidents emit a deadly, cyanide-filled smoke.

The stewardesses, in charge of safety in the cabin, are dolled up in miniskirts and coonskin caps, "hot pants," and other bizarre costumes. They are seated in unsafe jump seats, in unsafe corners of the plane, are always called "girls," and are treated like children by the company. And when they "grow up," they are encouraged to leave, even forced out after flying a few years, because they are no longer considered girlish enough. The tightly written script they are ordered to act out in the air, including the constant smiles, the constant engaging of each customer's eyes, the constant subserviance, makes it difficult and sometimes impossible for them to enforce even rudimentary discipline during the flight.

The sexual stewardess fantasy has a direct effect on the safety of flying. It also takes its toll on the psyches of the women who play the role. Stewardesses tend to have serious identity problems as a result of being treated like pieces of fluffy assembline line equipment by the airlines. We tend to move in regular stages from romantic idealism to disillusionment to frustration and anger and self-doubt.

[...] But in the past few years stewardesses have finally started to fight back. They have won a series of rulings by the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission that have stopped the airlines from forcing women to retire from flying at an early age and from banning married flight attendants.

#aviation #flight attendants #history #feminism #stewardesses #research

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cozcat · 6 years ago

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a rant about mamma mia 2, because @starlene asked...

the farther i get away from having seem mm2, the less i like it. like yes, yay, it's a fun happy movie musical with beautiful scenery and abba bops, but i don't love it nearly as much as i feel like i should, and with the general relentless love for it i feel like i need to justify it. i enjoyed watching it the first time, i saw it twice, but i'm not sure i'll be rushing to get it on dvd or to watch it again. it feels like one or two of these on their own wouldn't have even been something to note, but they obviously have added up. and i'd hope this much was obvious, but this is all a bunch of my opinions.

first off, the plot on the whole. apparently the decision to kill off donna was because meryl was busy (on the post, i think) - but they could have done anything else. donna trusts sophie to look after the villa while she reconciles with her mother, maybe, so she doesn't appear for 90% of the movie. instead we get a plot that really sours the first movie in hindsight. i'm glad that the stage show is so so different from the movie - it meant that i could sit and enjoy the brilliant australian dynamos jumping on a bed during dancing queen without it being shadowed by that grief. whereas it's harder to watch the first movie now, knowing what's to come.

they didn't even handle the decision to kill her off well. she's the heart and soul of the first movie, and we don't even know how she died. sure, they didn't want to dwell on that, but it's not something that can be ignored. was it sudden, an aneurysm or a heart attack? was it an accident, a car crash or a boat sinking? was it an illness, was it short or long? we don't even know that much, and it feels like them brushing her off. and losing someone to a sudden cause is going to be different to watching them die slowly. make this movie about her life, yes, but don't gloss over her death.

the way they shoehorned in ruby wasn't great, either. she didn't show for donna's graduation, it sounds like she didn't show at any point during sophie's childhood. it doesn't even sound like she turned up for her only daughter's funeral. but she shows up for a party. this could have been handled so much better. you've only got cher for three days? have it be ruby turning up to see donna, before or after sophie is born, as a final goodbye, a final disowning. she's supposed to be dead anyway. instead she's just really shitty. she could have had her grand dame entrance be amazing and lowkey villainous but bleh. plus, that deals with the weirdness of cher and meryl being three years apart - which isn't even an issue i'd otherwise bring up here, but it could have been avoided. not like we got a scene with them onscreen together anyway, a wasted opportunity.

i hate that they changed ruby from being a probably uptight catholic woman who disowned her daughter for getting pregnant out of wedlock to a claire zachanassian-looking vegas performer who did the exact same thing. and then they imply fernando is donna's father. which is just. weird.

it brushed off tanya and rosie too. like, a lot. there's no moment when they really get to shine, which is a shame. i wish the actors playing their younger versions had more to work with - they were brilliantly cast and brilliantly performed, but really, the parallels between their younger and older selves were reduced to cake, wine, and their libidos. they could have come to the island after sam left, had a lovely chiquitita-esque moment - as good as new, as a trio song about friendship, i don't know what. just let them be caring loving friends a bit more please.

they did kind of reduce tanya and rosie to a few personality traits, but at least you could see the connection. meanwhile young donna never gelled as donna for me. she did fine, i wasn't sold on her voice, but god, she was never donna. nothing about the way young donna was written translated to donna.

(and on her voice - she's the one singing lead, when you've got an actual broadway performer literally right there, who can definitely outsing her. at least meryl has guts to her voice, rather than sounding airy and really unenergetic. when i kissed the teacher sounds so flat.)

rosie's crush on bill was just weird and uncomfortable. again with the discontinuity, she and tanya didn't even know about harry and bill in the first movie. and now i'm supposed to believe she's harboured a crush on this guy for twenty years.

bill's twin being bill-in-a-fat-suit was also really uncomfortable. if they wanted a hilarious contrast to fake us out, give him a mullet and a really ugly suit. instead, it's 2018, let's keep making fat people are funny jokes, that's not old and offensive at all!

and another uncomfortable thing. the locals at the villa went from being a fairly mixed group in terms of age and appearance to skewing so young and generic. and we went from them sassing donna, opening a trapdoor in the ceiling and throwing her in, laughing at her - to the staff of the villa fawning over sophie. it was really weird. like, sophie grew up there, she probably knew some of them from a young age, and they look like a kalokairi version of a period drama that uses interchangable extras for the uptight and extremely well behaved staff.

on the fawning locals, going from donna inheriting money and buying the building to donna getting handed it also sucks. like, bill realises he could be sophie's father because donna inherited money from a sophia - this pretty solidly negates that. a sophia on the mainland, at that. but it also kind of cheapens donna's strength - she gets pregnant in her early twenties, but she makes it, through sheer grit, and part of that is caring for an elderly woman, and apparently doing a good enough job of that to be left money in this woman's will, and then using that to start a business. instead, she's just handed a free (admittedly crappy) building? and let's be real, no way you could start up a hotel from a rundown building when you're a broke single mother with a newborn.

wasn't sold on the design either. you can tell that it's a new location, a new director, a new costume designer. i'm sure there was a reason for the new location but it still looked odd. i don't know what it was about the costumes that didn't gel either - but they just didn't. which is weird, because michele clapton is brilliant. i think it just moved too far from the aesthetic of the movie and the stage show. too clean-cut.

they made the young dads too bland, too. sure, we probably won't going to get the full version of donna's flashbacks, but long hair on sam, make harry a bit rockier. (at least bill's hair was kind of long.) her memory would have exaggerated them, but there has to have been something to exaggerate.

and now that i think about it, i think they might have forgotten bill's knee tattoos. despite multiple instances in the first movie where the entire frame is bill's knees.

on being an abba fan - i've been a fan of abba since i was about six, so i came into this knowing the songs. i jolted in my seat at i let the music speak as an instrumental, and i wish they'd done more of that. like, that was a good move. it has brought out some gorgeous songs that a lot of people didn't know - i love i've been waiting for you, and despite the mammoth lyric rewrites, i'm glad people know it.

but they did kisses of fire dirty. it's a great song, they could have even had the supposed-to-be-awful version turn into the relatively good version on the soundtrack, rather than having donna get up and sing andante andante. it's a pretty song, it's also an incredibly slow song, so somehow it doesn't strike me as that band's genre. if they wanted to maul a bizarre song, it's not like abba is short of extremely niche specific songs they could have used. they could have used king kong song, and really they should have.

i did have the thought of dance (while the music still goes on) as a duet between donna and either harry or bill. this gets lumped into the i-could-have-done-it-better category of ideas alongside and the entire previous paragraph. alongside why did it have to be me getting some lyrics from happy hawaii thrown in the mix. they'd have fit so so well and it would be such a niche joke.

i'm also annoyed that one of the best vocal performances in the entire movie is helen sjöholm in the background singing hasta mañana. you don't see her, you have to be looking specifically to see her in the credits - like i was, having gone "oh holy shit i know this voice but it isn't agnetha or anni-frid who the fuck is it" and then losing my everloving mind. we don't have that as a recording. but we have a full length version of kisses of fire. which, to be fair, gives young rosie and tanya a bit more singing time because they got screwed in the movie. but i'm still annoyed.

also, they never told us whether or not sophie and sky got married despite it being the plot of the first one (though this may have been intentional).

also, donnie is not a great name and not a great tribute to donna, and it just makes me think of the adopted brother in the wild thornberrys, which isn't a good connection.

to conclude, it's 3am and i need to sleep and i've undoubtedly forgotten something else that massively annoyed me. there were things in it that i liked, but they aren't relevant, so they're not mentioned. but i'm going to leave it at that. apologies for any weird phrasings or repetitiveness, i'm not proofreading this, i barely even structured it.

#mamma mia 2 #personal #this got a lot longer than i thought it would and i'm not sure i'm done

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randrvstheworld · 7 years ago

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Lost luggage, stolen bikes & sightseeing: the Rio therapy sessions

It’s been a tough couple of days. Ultimately things can only go up from the point of feeling like utter crap & a lot of good things have happened in the last 48 hours so I’m starting to feel a lot more positive.

The bottom line is - Rio is awesome; beautiful, fun, sunny, heaps of fun stuff to do, loads of awesome street art, incredibly friendly helpful people everywhere & cool vibes which is exactly what I hoped for from a place I have wanted to visit for so long. However, it was off to quit a rocky start. As I mentioned in my last post I have been struggling quite a bit recently for a number of reasons, some of which I omitted from this blog for personal reasons, but have been massively looking forward to the arrival of Hannah from London for the festive period (not that I’m feeling too festive in 30+ degrees of sweltering heat, but that’s beside the point & also not necessarily a bad thing because I will never, EVER complain that the sun is shining, especially when I know my friends back home are cold & miserable). However, Hannah’s arrival was blighted by her airline leaving all her luggage in Germany, from whence she connected to Brazil from London, & she arrived stressed, tearful, sleep-deprived & anxious with no clean clothes or vape equipment in desperate need of a shower & nicotine. It was not quite the movie-level reunion either of us had planned or hoped for but did involve a lot of hugging & crying as expected. However, the people at our hostel here are impossibly lovely & were very sympathetic towards Hannah’s plight & so in a flurry of activity between them & myself within ten minutes Hannah had cigarettes, a towel, fresh clothes borrowed/donated from me, all the toiletries & makeup she could possibly need, coffee & a freshly made bed in the bunk directly above mine. After her sanity had been restored we set out to truly begin exploring the wonders of Rio.

This involved taking a cable car up to the top of Sugarloaf Mountain - world’s most adorably named mountain imo - which again marked big achievements from me in my ongoing quest to eliminate vertigo from my life. The mountain is remarkably smooth & very tall, like a giant turtle shell rising out of the ocean, & wrapped in jungly-ness. From the top we could see all of Rio; it’s surrounding islands, the harbour & it’s scattered boats, numerous more pre-historic looking mountains in the distance, Jesus with his arms spread, & many circling condors. It was a blissfully sunny day & it was truly incredible to see for so far all the beauty of this incredible city. During our ogling of the delicious views we were visited by heaps of tiny adorable marmosets that scurried along the viewing platform eating candies & numerous other decidedly un-marmoset-y treats donated sneakily by wayward tourists choosing to pointedly ignore the PLEASE DO NOT FEED THE MARMOSETS signs. I was very happy about this because a) marmosets are the cutest things ever & b) Hannah had specifically requested the sightings of monkeys during her stay & as a regular human & not God I was somewhat concerned about my ability to be able to deliver on this & yet here we found ourselves, on day one, looking at the cutest monkey-type creatures ever, right up close & in their natural habitat.

When we descended the mountain, the sun was beginning to set & we went for a swim on Batafogo beach where we saw green parrots & drank coconuts & ate THE BEST CHURROS OF OUR ENTIRE TRIP SO FAR. It seems they love dulce de leche even more in Brazil than any of the other places we’ve already visited in South America & this is in no way a bad thing.

The next day - yesterday - we sunbathed on the world-famous Copacabana beach, then rented bikes & cycled to Rio’s lagoon, which is vast & beautiful & surrounded by mountains. Rio is pretty progressive in its cycling policies with lots of proper cycle paths round the whole city so cycling about seemed like a no-brainer. After making it halfway round the lagoon we decided to follow the signs to the botanical gardens & spent a blissful 90 minutes there before it closed. Not only does Rio have the best churros but is also home to the best botanical garden I have ever seen; it’s more like a huge, vast park than your typical greenhouse-like BG & we oohed & aahed over the most ginormous palm trees, beautiful orchids, & some fruit that look like giant lychees before inadvertently stumbling into monkey land: big patches of bamboo where we must have witnessed literally 20 monkeys eating their lunch. Another great score for Monkey Watch. Again, a real treat to see these sweet creatures right up close in such a beautiful environment. We also found giant fish & a turtle & a capybara in a lilypad-filled pond. I just love seeing exotic creatures in their natural homes. It really fills my heart with such joy & Hannah too was so excited by this it made me even happier.

After the park closed we returned to our bicycles & cycled back round to our lagoon starting point & took a swan pedalo out across the water as the sun went down & the city lit up all of it’s twinkling night lights; very beautiful reflected in the water. Roxy had had to go home before this to sort out some stuff for a doctors appointment so Hannah & I, post-pedalo adventure, walked all the way back catching up on 6 months worth of gossip & ranting & counselling each other over our respective woes. It felt great to have a bit of time for just the two of us to talk & reminisce about anything & everything; I have missed Hannah so much & I didn’t quite even realise how much until she got here. I still can’t quite believe that she is actually here in Brazil. This is literally the longest we haven’t seen eachother in the entirety of our friendship & I have really struggled without her.

However, all good things must (temporarily at least) come to an end & on our way home, whilst stopping to buy Hannah some new clothes & stuff while she awaited the arrival of her luggage (thank you Lufthansa for the free sh*t, you incompetent cretins!) one of our renal bikes got nicked from outside the mall. FACK. Not cool, whoever you are! I feel like this is how the bike rental clowns run a racket on innocent tourists because they had provided one shitty lock for all three bikes which quite frankly I could probably have knawed through. A clean cut & we were one bike down & somewhat panic-stricken. There went another £100 which was significantly less than these cowboys tried to squeeze out of us but thanks to our lovely hostel hosts once more coming to our aid managed to whittle it down. However, paying for someone else’s crime truly stings. Plus it was another example of how alienating it can be to not know a language & having to rely on the kindness of hostel people etc to translate everything & help get you out of a jam.

That said, the rest of today was marvellous. Roxy was tied up with her doctors appointment all day so Hannah & I declared it an ART DAY & visited Boulevard Olympico to look at all the giant murals, painted in the run up to the Rio Olympics in celebration of Brazilian culture. They were incredible. I have never seen such huge paintings; rendered in exquisite detail, portraits in the most vibrant colours with fantastically expressive faces. We also ate our first ever Cuban sandwiches & cinnamon lemonade - get to know - & went to the beach again to cool off in the sea. Cue more churros & coconuts.

I am now beginning to realise some things; Hannah’s arrival proved the catalyst for a pretty extreme late-night breakdown where the presence of the very person to whom I always turn in a crisis prompted an outpouring of emotion that has led in turn to some pretty heavy realisations. It is with renewed vigour that I am beginning to plan my return to the UK, to stability, to the loving arms of my friends & family & potentially to some help that I feel its finally time to admit I need. Having now eliminated the possibility that it was my job and/or London responsible for my sporadic waves of depression, given the fact that I have intermittently experienced the exact same feelings whilst away, I am now one step closer to deciphering what exactly is going on in my brain. Although it is with crushing disappointment that I must admit that travelling did not sure me of this ailment, at least now I can check the possibility of that off the list & try & move forwards. Hannah’s presence is so immensely welcome at this time; she is as always the most incredible, loving & supportive friend. I have been looking at flights home & being a gal that likes to have a plan having an end point in sight is in itself helping me feel more positive. I said all along that I would travel for as long as my money and/or enjoyment lasted & for now at least, it seems 8-9 months is my max on both counts. It’s cool. Only good things will come of this, I am certain.

I can now focus on spending as much quality time as possible with my oldest & dearest friend before she flies home again in 3 weeks. We have lots of fun stuff planned, including going to see some famous mosaic’d steps, visiting Jesus (just in time for his birthday!), going on a tour of a favela, Christmas at the beach, seeing in the New Year with some samba in Sao Paolo & rounding it all off nicely at the world’s biggest waterfalls. Things are looking up.

#brazil #best friends #travel diary #rio #riodejaneiro

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insecttribe-blog · 7 years ago

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Suzy Storck (Gate Theatre)

Suzy Storck is the second show in Ellen McDougall’s first season as AD of the Gate, but I think it’s the first that the critics have properly reviewed. So many of the reviews for The Unknown Island were, at least beneath the surface, statements of approval for Ellen having got the job there. She is versatile enough to please the old bastards and experimental enough to please the younger, cooler ones, and everyone is so completely rooting for her, there was a lot of generosity in evidence.

Somewhat typically, I had been disappointed by how... pretty that show was. Not pretty to look at (lord knows there were ugly wrinkles in that blue plastic), but pretty in sensibility. It had been created in order to give everyone a warm glow inside, to go home and have a cuddle and tell their partners how much they love them. Perhaps surprisingly, it had been adapted from a kids’ book but not overtly marketed at a kids/families audience. I wonder now if that would have felt like too much of a leap as an incoming AD. I mean, there’s a real statement of intent: open your first season in a historic West London pub theatre renowned for serious contemporary international plays with a show for ten year olds about going on a boat.

Ha, or a panto.

Really though, even as we all pretended otherwise, it kinda was what Ellen did. Open her season with a show for kids I mean. Which the critics and Gate audiences then laughed and scratched their chins through, and which probably no kids saw. And which arseholes like me now look back on, wishing the whole thing hadn’t been quite so pretty.

I fucking hate the theatre industry sometimes. I am so institutionalised, even as I try to sit outside those institutions.

Anyway, I’m not here to talk about marketing or audience development or even The Unknown Island; I’m here to tell you about Suzy Storck, which is altogether more raw and brutal and great, and is a welcome relief to those of us who like our theatre full of violence and despair.

So, Suzy Storck is a French text (by Magali Mougel) and this production has a French director too (Jean-Pierre Baro) although I can’t tell you if anything I saw was typically French or not as I know fuck all about that (I did see a mega-version of Notre Dame de Paris once, and that looked a lot like a budget Jesus Christ Superstar from row double-Z of the cavernous fucking stadium we were in). This translation (Chris Campbell) is kinda choral in its structure. And I mean choral in the way it’s narrated but also in a more musical way, by how scenes become more like movements, kinda blending into one another, unless it’s one of the bits that is punctuated by one of the very serious, very declarative poetic announcements: MY! BODY! IS! A! CLOCK! etc etc, or something like that.

The story is like the opposite of Yerma. Oppoyerma. A woman is made miserable by the fact she has three children she never wanted. But this isn’t the story of one of those cut-out 80s-style Thatcherite power-feminists that seem to be the only way many playwrights can deal with a woman who doesn’t want kids. Early scenes show Suzy working, and looking for work, but she’s by no means ‘ambitious’. First she was ‘in chicken’ and then she interviewed for a position in a place that seemed to be a bit like Mothercare. I loved the way - in that baby shop interview - she resists the idea that work needs to be a passion; it can just be a thing you do, and do well, without it necessarily becoming the way that we forge an identity and impose value judgements upon ourselves according to outputs or productivity or even levels of enthusiasm. That was great that bit. It showed me a woman I haven’t seen much on stage, in any art actually - and perhaps least of all in life.

Then there was her fucking arsehole husband. He was called something weird that sounded like Hands Vaseline, and in today’s climate of redressing decades of sexual abuse, the pressure he exerts on Suzy - to get a job, to turn the light out, to let him fuck her, to bear his child, and another, and another - is proper fucking galling. His slightly weird-funny chat up line about the taste of saliva very easily transforms into a sinister precursor to marital rape (his fucking NAME is Hands Vaseline ffs - as if the signs weren’t there).

So it’s kinda no wonder that Suzy eventually just says fuck it, gets hammered and leaves the kids to do whatever. Her breakdown (if we can call it that - maybe her initial acquiescence was the real breakdown) is glorious. Caoilfhionn Dunne is spectacular. She drawls and smirks and spits and screams, but if there’s one word which encapsulates her attitude throughout all this, it is surely ‘whatevs’. She is a woman giving literally zero fucks; the woman she always wanted to be, quietly, but life and wankers and social expectations bound her wrists and now she is forced to give her zero fucks fairly noisily.

Since I saw the show a couple of nights ago, I’ve been thinking about those recurring punchy lines a lot. MY! BODY! IS! A! CLOCK! I’ve been wondering if perhaps they are delivered in that way because this is something that women are trained to expect of their bodies - that there is a timer in their womb, calmly and consistently counting down to infertility, and that this is something to be feared - so Suzy is repeating them as if learned by rote, or as if she has become one of those robotic announcer voices that you hear at train stations: The. Train. At. Platform. Ten. Is. Ready. To. Depart. My. Children. Are. My. Greatest. Achievement. It’s not how she feels; it’s a thing she’s learned to say.

Or maybe the clock thing is about her value in the workplace, and within the structures and hierarchies of capitalist economics. Her time is being stolen from her, minute by minute. And when I say workplace, I certainly mean the home, as Suzy ends the play as a domestic labourer, working for her husband and children. Why the fuck shouldn’t she adopt the same attitude to the labour of motherhood as she would have done to shop work? Why must we demonstrate our commitment to that shit as if we’re competing for some kind of employee of the month prize? Who says we have to care?

Honestly, I hadn’t really felt like I was loving Suzy Storck this much while I was watching it. But on reflection, I have come to realise it has possibly the most inspiring politics of anything I’ve seen for months. We are so relentlessly schooled to give a shit about everything we do - job interviews, motherhood, cleaning the fucking shower like that actually fucking matters - not giving a shit ends up becoming kinda radical. Could we all be happier if we just shrugged and ignored everything for a bit...? Just opened the wine at lunchtime and sacked it all off?

There are, of course, alternative readings of this play which frame Suzy’s actions as madness, or neglect, or as a cautionary tale of apathy and its horrors, and it would certainly be a very, very different play if a production included a child cast, but here the kids were largely unseen, a bundle of clothes here, an adult playing with a toy gun there, hundreds of toys strewn across the floor. As a result, it became a play about politics rather than morals.

#theatre #suzy storck #gate theatre #feminism

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randrvstheworld · 7 years ago

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36 hours in Puno, the longest day & life aboard the emotional rollercoaster

Since my last post, I have spent a glorious day & a half in Puno, home of the Peruvian side of Lake Titicaca; survived 24 straight hours of travelling to Brazil, encompassing the world’s most long & boring layover in Lima airport, & now find myself, suffering acute loneliness & sadness in Rio, of all places.

Let’s start with Puno. The town itself is a bit of a shithole, riddled as it is with trash & mangy stray dogs & half finished buildings & piles of rubble in the street. It is, however, lively, truly a town that never sleeps. We arrived after a long bus journey, late afternoon 3 (? 4? I don’t know anymore) days ago, shattered, & managed a plate of noodles before promptly conking out. The next day was one of my favourites so far. We took an outrigger canoe - a kind of frankenboat hybrid of a catamaran, viking long boat & gondola - out across Lake Titicaca to the floating islands of Uros. It was a beautiful day, & the fantastic views & sunlight glittering off the water more than made up for the somewhat stagnant smell of the lake at the point of embarkation (it improved the further into the lake we rowed). The lake is surrounded on all sides by undulating mountains, & is smattered with thickets of reeds & other small islands, populated by llamas. The sky was a perfect blue & peppered with fluffy looking clouds. The lake itself is home to many different types of birds, including some blue-beaked breed of duck that constantly dives underwater for fish - if only I had David Attenborough on constant hand to help me identify all these exotic kinds of wildlife. They were not mallards. And that is officially as far as my knowledge of different types of duck extends.

So we rowed, across the vast lake, as I half hoped, half dreaded seeing a human hand bobbing about below the surface. A fascination with mafia movies has left me with the assumption that all lakes are secretly riddled with dead bodies rolled up in Persian rugs. But alas - or perhaps, gratefully - my day was free of macabre underwater discoveries. We rowed for about 45 minutes out into the lake to the floating community of Islas de los Uros - a collection of man-made islands that host many indigenous people, who have lived in communities such as these, completely self-sufficiently, for hundreds of years. We visited one small island where we met a delightful native woman named Melina who explained, with the help of a translator as on the islands the people still speak indigenous languages & not Spanish, how the islands are made. Basically they harvest the big blocks of roots from the water reeds, poke sticks through the middle of each one & then lash them together. Then begins the constant process of laying dry reeds over the top & tamping them down. People are invited for sports days when new islands are built as the constant running around of people playing football - what else - helps flatten & compress the reeds. All the houses on the islands are built of reeds also. If you argue with your neighbours you simply saw their bit of the island off & watch them float away. We thought she was joking til she whopped out her island-cutting saw, a ginormous serrated sword specifically for the purpose of separating unsavoury characters from your island. LOL. That’ll teach you to steal my tupperware, Barbara! If only such tactics could be employed back home. I’ve definitely lived with a few people who could do with having their rooms sawn away from the rest of the flat.

People get around from island to island on these amazing boats, shaped like giant bananas, also made out of reeds. Reeds are top currency in Uros basically. The whole island network is run on solar power as obviously you can’t start fires when your house & garden is made of dry grass. They rely solely on tourism for income & make fabulous textiles by hand, from which I bought a cute piece of home decor as Melina was very hospitable, inviting us into her home & letting us try on her traditional clothes, & I felt it my duty as a traveller to give something back to her community by purchasing some handicrafts. Trying on her clothes was one of my favourite bits - I got a beautifully embroidered felt jacket with puffy sleeves, an incredibly heavy layered felt skirt, a straw hat, & a string of pom-poms that were strewn around my neck but would traditionally worn at the end of long braids. I got decked out in extremely bright colours because I am single - when a woman gets married she is relegated to dark, sombre shades of brown & black & grey which I found quite sad but also interesting as it clearly a reflection of the natural world where animals display colourful patterns etc in order to attract a mate.

In the evening, happily, we were able to reunite with Nick & Merc again who were also in Lake Titicaca as part of their ongoing quest to seemingly stalk me around South America - not that I’m complaining. I know I have waxed lyrical about this before but I enjoy their company so much; every time we meet we have a fantastic time, sharing stories & playing cards & laughing our asses off & I always leave in a great mood, nattering on to Roxy and/or Lucy about how cool they are & how happy I am that we have met. We traded some movies off our respective hard-drives & made plans for film nights back in London when we are all eventually back there. I honestly can’t wait to see them again.

The next day it was up at the frankly gruesome hour of 4am for the first of our two flights of the day, from Juliaca (the closest airport to Puno) to Lima, whereby we suffered through a soul-destroying 12 hour layover before boarding our night flight to Rio. At first it was quite fun because I like airports & enjoy the challenge of seeing how long I can eke out the consumption of a single overpriced muffin at an airport cafe in order to exploit their free wifi. I have also never been in an airport so close to Christmas & it was utterly teeming with people, going to & from their homes for the holidays. The novelty of the airport having worn off quite quickly I decided to kill some time watching a movie, & to make the most of a new film obtained from Nick & Merc, & in an attempt to imbue myself with some festive spirit I decided to watch Love Actually, & that’s when my mood took a sudden & unexpected nosedive & I fell head-first into a deep well of sadness that I am struggling to extricate myself from. It was all the footage of people greeting their loved ones at the airport, followed by live-action viewing of actual real life people greeting their loved ones at the actual real life airport with balloons & banners & bouquets that set me off. I felt so lonely I cried for about half an hour. I couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that all of my family are having a lovely time in Devon, with a beautifully decorated tree & an excitable dog & I suddenly needed a mum-hug so badly that I couldn’t stand it. We boarded our flight that thanks to time-difference saw us land at what was the equivalent of 3am & I was jet-lagged & sweaty & depressed. We eventually arrived at our hostel this morning & I have spent the day intermittently napping, fretting about money, crying & feeling generally miserable.

Here’s the thing about travelling - everyone you talk to constantly bangs on about how awesome it is that if you feel sad whilst travelling it is almost like you can’t admit t to anyone. It has been my dream for so long to see the world & I planned & I saved & I quit my job but the truth of the matter is it is exhausting, physically & emotionally, & lonely as fuck. The upsides are epic & the things I have seen & experienced fantastic but, it is also the most depressed I have felt in many years; my mental well-being does not do well with a lack of stability & although not especially exciting, my life in London was pretty fulfilling - my job wasn’t the best but I have a wonderful, supportive network of friends there & had finally achieved a balance of finding plenty of time in-between work for all the things that make me happy, like dancing & art. This trip has really made me question myself & things that I thought I knew & perhaps it was naive of me to think that travelling would automatically make me a happy person. It’s crushing to realise that even when I am seeing & experiencing wonderful things that it’s a constant effort to keep the negative thoughts at bay. And I feel guilty for even thinking these things because I don’t want to waste the opportunity that so many people would kill for, or that I have dreamed of for so long, & I certainly don’t want to look back on it & think, ‘oh yeah that was that mountain I went up when I felt fucking miserable’. But no one talks about it, which along with the separation from your friends & family, only contributes to your feelings of intense loneliness. Lucy has been a source of great comfort during these periods of sadness; I have been talking to her a lot as I really feel she truly understands what I’m going through, she said she experienced similar feelings when she was in Asia. I don’t regret coming & would still describe it as the time of my life but the truth is that travelling is an emotional rollercoaster & I am really not finding it easy. I feel like maybe to travel for this long on my first trip was perhaps a slightly overly-ambitious plan. I may have found it easier starting off with a small chunk of say, 3 months & working up from there. For this reason, I am not sad about the prospect of coming home sooner than anticipated. I can always plan & go on more trips but I want these feelings to go away, I need a break from them more than I need to continue travelling for as long as possible in this moment. I have achieved so much of what I set out to do & this makes me happy, but I truly feel like I need a break in which to restore myself. I need love & nurturing & familiarity, at least for a while before I can set off again.

As always during trying times, my mum is truly there for me & I am more grateful for her constant support than I will ever be able to truly express. Hannah also arrives tomorrow & I know it will be so great for my soul to see my best friend. Ultimately, this too shall pass & I do know that; but whenever things aren’t great it always makes being away from home so much harder. It is a real test of my mettle to get through these periods & I know in the long run it will make me a stronger & more capable person so that’s what I’m trying to focus on.

#travelling #travel diary #peru #brazil

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