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americanowrites · 6 years

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PINK SKIES // First Christmas

“I have to say I’m disappointed Harry, honestly this might be the worst thing you’ve ever said to me. And I still remember the time you called to say you’d vomited in my Gucci loafers.” Georgina stood in Harry’s kitchen, a roll of wrapping paper shoved under her arm and a box of bows clutched in her hand. Harry sat at the table, stony faced and unmoving.

“You’re so dramatic. And I replaced those shoes.”

“The trauma still lives on though.” Sometimes she swore she could smell vomit when she put her shoes on.

“I said I’m sorry,” he sighed, feeling a stab of guilt even though it happened months ago.

“But you’re not sorry for hating Christmas?”

Georgina sighed and Harry sniggered at the frown on her face. “I do not hate Christmas.”

“You don’t love it,” she countered, the woolly jumper she’d pulled on this morning clashing with the sour look on her face. She felt like he’d slapped her. She’d been planning gifts since the day after Halloween.

“It’s annoying, shops have their stuff out in like August and everyone goes mad. Liberty had their Christmas shop open in September, it’s was crazy.” He shuddered remembering the afternoon he took his mum shopping and stumbled across the Christmas floor; hearing All I Want for Christmas in August terrified him.

Georgina countered, “People are happy.”

“It just never makes me happy. I’m used to having like two days off and using it to catch up on sleep.”

Her heart faltered. “That breaks my heart, Harry.”

Harry shrugged. “That’s just how it is. Christmas is a time for sleep in my eyes.”

“This year is gonna be different. I’ll show you what Christmas is all about.” Harry was slightly fearful of the determined look in her eye.

“We’re too busy,” he sighed. He wanted nothing more than to hang out and do all things Christmassy, but he had an album to finish and she was going to Mexico next week.

“I will make time. Are you too busy to spend time with your girlfriend?” Hands on her hips, she levelled him with a look he was more used to seeing over Skype when he questioned if she was too tired to talk.

“Now you’re being silly,” he laughed; they both knew how far from the truth that was.

“Are you?”

“Of course not.”

Georgina grinned, “Good, so I expect you to tell your musician pals that you’re done for Christmas on the twenty second. I’m flying into London on the twenty first and I want you home in a Rudolph jumper that night ready to experience the best Christmas of your life.”

“I don’t own a Rudolph jumper,” he pointed out, knowing it was fruitless to argue with her.

“Not yet, you don’t.”

When Georgina said she was going to make Harry love Christmas, he should have known she wouldn’t do things by halves. So far they’d been ice skating at a deserted rink in Clapham, decorated a Christmas tree that Georgina had made Harry carry home, and drunk more hot chocolate than Harry had had in his entire life. She’d also forced him into a Christmas jumper, much to his dismay.

He still wasn’t in the Christmas spirit, but seeing how happy Georgina was made him feel merry and it wasn’t hard to fake a smile when she looked so happy. He’d let her boss him around, listening to all her instructions and plans, knowing not to interfere. Georgina was like a storm when determined to do something, he’d never realised how terrifying she was.

“So I’m thinking that we head home and watch loads of Christmas films.”

“Sounds good.” Harry’s feet were aching, ice skating wasn’t his sport.

“Shall we get a takeaway?”

“Is that Christmassy?” he teased; everything had to be Christmas related according to her.

She thought about it for a moment. “It can be our Christmas tradition.” He knew she was tired too, her feet weren’t as energetic and she’d stopped blabbering on.

“I think that’s a great idea.” He grabbed her hand, pulling her up from her place on the bench. She leant on him, showing signs of defeat for the first time in two days. “We’ve had a busy week and I think you’re still jet lagged.” Harry had been in London for a week before Georgina arrived on an overnight flight from Mexico City, she’d battled with the tiredness but he could see it was about to win.

“No I’m fine.”

“No, you’re tired. I’m gonna run you a bath when we get home.” She didn’t miss the sly way he referred to his house as home; he’d been making comments like that for weeks now, ever since he’d broached the subject for her moving in with him. It was far too soon for Georgina = two months of official dating was too soon to make that commitment, but she didn’t want to get into that now.

“We need to watch films,.” she argued. She had a stack of them waiting in his bedroom; Elf was top of her list.

“We’ll have plenty more Christmases, if we do everything this year we won’t have anything left to do.” He loved the idea of starting Christmas traditions with her, to have this time every year to be together.

She stayed quiet and he almost thought she’d fallen asleep. “Okay.” For the first time since he’d known her, she admitted defeat but he couldn’t find it in his heart to take any glee from it.

Georgina was unusually quiet and it was unsettling Harry. He was staring ahead as they drove through the country roads, winding and weaving through Dorset. He thought it should be him who was worried, he was about to stay with her parents for Christmas, in her childhood home. He’d met her parents once for a quiet dinner in London and briefly one morning when he’d stayed over at Georgina’s and they’d surprised her in LA. He was positive they hated him.

And Atlas, her brother, would be there too - a giant ball of energy who asked a million questions about Harry every time she spoke to him. Harry hadn’t met Atlas yet, but with the way Georgina spoke about him, he knew she must be nervous.

He slid his hand over the console, the pro of having an automatic car, and rested his palm on Georgina’s thigh. She was in her own little world, one he wished he could enter; the mere idea of it intrigued him, he’d love to know what kind of things she thought about. He knew she kept a lot to herself, he just hoped that one day she’d find it natural to share as much as he did.

He didn’t expect her to react, but she gently placed her own hand over his. No words left their lips but they both still felt comforted.

Georgina hated going home, it was a place filled with terrible memories, somewhere she was never happy. But she wondered if being with Harry would make it less painful. She hoped it would.

There was a dog. Georgina hadn’t been told about a dog. She’d never been allowed a dog when she was younger and now there was a chocolate Labrador wagging its tail at her and sniffing her shoes.

“Magnolia!” she heard her mum cry from the doorstep. “Welcome home darling.” Georgina didn’t argue with her mum, but she wanted to tell her that she wasn’t home; home was a million miles away.

“What’s this?” Georgina asked, ignoring her mum’s attempt at a hug and pointing at the dog.

Her mum’s face lit up in a way she’d never seen before, not even when her carrots grew correctly for the first time or when Georgina graduated university. “Oh this is Billy! Someone in the village found him and we took him in.”

“You rescued a dog?”

“Yes Magnolia, is that so outrageous?” her mother sighed, her natural reaction to anything Georgina said. “Oh Harry! Hello sweetie, we’re so glad you could make it.”

“Hi Mrs E, thanks so much for having us.” He kissed her cheek, dropping Georgina’s weekend bag on the floor as he gave her mother a hug. She felt a pang of jealousy, she could never grab hold of him like that without worrying who could be watching, Georgina had to wait until they were safely in the car when he’d picked her up at the airport yesterday.

“My pleasure. Now come on, we’ve got some mulled wine.” She danced away, Billy the dog following her happily.

“You okay?” Harry’s fingers danced along her arm. “Babe?”

“They have a dog.”

“They do,” he confirmed, grabbing her hand. She wondered if she looked as nauseous as she felt.

“I was never allowed a dog.”

“Do you want a dog? We can get a dog.” Georgina sighed, sounding a lot like her mother, much to Harry’s amusement. She knew if she said she wanted a dog, Harry would run to the nearest RSPCA and find her a dog.

Instead of asking for a puppy, she squeezed his hand. “Come on, let the torture begin.”

“Hey.” He pulled her to a stop before she made it through the door. “We can leave anytime you want, ok? I’m here for you and I want you to be happy, the second you aren’t, we’re leaving.”

“My mum will lock the doors.”

“I mean it Georgie.” He stared at her with such intensity she couldn’t look away and she couldn’t ignore her fear anymore.

“Just please don’t change your mind about me, please don’t let them make you hate me.” Her voice wobbled and he hated it. He didn’t want her to ever be fearful of him leaving. He couldn’t ever imagine walking away from her unless she forced him, and even then he’d fight and fight.

“Is that what you think will happen?” She shrugged and he dropped her bag again, wrapping his arms around her. “That will never ever happen, I promise.”

“You don’t know that,” she told him, clinging to his shirt.

“I know that I don’t care about what anyone can say to me and I know that if I was going to change my mind about you, I would’ve done it back when you used to tell me to fuck off every time you saw me.”

“I still tell you to fuck off,” she pointed out, remembering this morning when she kicked him out of the shower so she could shave her legs. He offered to do them for her but there was no way she’d ever agree to that.

“Yeah but you do so with a bit of affection now.” She giggled despite her nerves. “I’m here until you don’t want me here.”

“I think you might be stuck with me forever then.”

“Then we’re both going to be very happy.” She felt him smile as he kissed her forehead; it was the kind of kiss that reassured her, settled her into her skin and reminded her he was there.

Her parents were, of course, a nightmare, she’d expected nothing less. They insisted on calling her Magnolia at any given opportunity, they called her out on never calling them, and they doted on Harry like he was their long lost son. Which didn’t bode well when their real life son strolled through the door, hungover and carrying an oversized suitcase.

Georgina wanted a quiet Christmas, a chance to relax with Harry before the hectic New Year. She wished they’d tagged along with his mum on holiday or just stayed at his house in London. She held him a little tighter when Atlas appeared in the room, his eyes glued to Harry like he was in a zoo exhibit. Harry, to his credit, pretended not to notice the way he was being stared at. Georgina was less kind.

“Will you stop it Atlas,” she huffed as he turned in his seat to get a better look.

“What?” he gasped, annoyed at being caught. She wanted to shove a pair of devil horns on his head to match the angel halo her Dad had gifted her earlier.

“Staring at Harry, it’s weird.” Glowering at him, she felt fourteen again.

“Oh I’m sorry, am I supposed to pretend that my geeky sister dating a popstar is normal?”

“It is, he’s just Harry.”

Atlas cackled, sounding like the witch he was. “Fuck off, he’s Harry Styles.”

“And I’m right here,” Harry pointed out, feeling slightly uncomfortable. Atlas had been staring at him rather intensely.

“Just pull yourself together Atlas or we’re leaving.”

She knew she’d pressed a button when she saw the glint in his eye. “You need to relax Magnolia. Maybe Harry should take you upstairs to relieve some of your tension.”

“Hey mate, come on,” Harry interjected before Georgina could tear Atlas apart.

Atlas held his hands up and stalked out of the room, leaving Harry and Georgina alone with the TV and Christmas tree. “He’s such an idiot,” she moaned, shoving her face into Harry’s chest. She almost poked his eye out with her halo but he still warped her in his arms, the human shield he didn’t know she’d need on this trip. He thought she’d always exaggerated about her family.

“I’m used to people staring; you should just let it go.” Running his fingers through her hair, his fingers caught at the bobble and he tugged gently until it fell away.

“It’s Christmas Harry, I don’t want you feeling self conscious about who you are.” He’d told her that Christmas was his time to relax and she felt like she was ruining it for him.

“I don’t.”

“Yes you do, don’t lie.”

“Maybe a little but it’s okay, I expected it.” She knew he wasn’t going to let her win anytime soon. Harry was too polite to complain.

“You’ll tell me if you ever feel uncomfortable?”

“I mean, I think the worst is going to be having to be behave around your parents because that angels halo you’re wearing is making me want to do very bad things to you.,” he whispered against her ear, teeth nibbling at her ear lobe.

“Shut up,” she giggled as his fingers found her bare stomach.

“You look amazing and I’m struggling a little.” Her stomach did a slow roll.

“You’re terrible Harry Styles.”

“And I’m so gone for you.”

Harry watched as Georgina pulled her hair up into a big ponytail, tendrils instantly falling down. She leant against the windowsill, her bare legs half covered by his old Kiss t-shirt, the one he’d given up any claim to, and a pair of bright pink woolly socks. The t-shirt hugged her bum and rode up a little as she strained to see something in the garden below. He watched her while she watched her childhood garden as it filled with the voices of her parents. A space she’d known all her life, a space where she’d broken her wrist as she fell out of the tree house, where she’d played hide and seek, where she’d had her sixth birthday party. He admired her, amazed at the woman she’d turned into. He’d seen all the school photos hung on the walls, her awkward teen era, her lonely years, and felt a strange guilt that he wasn’t there for it. He wondered what she was thinking about as she watched her family; he wondered if she felt disconnected from them. Was it them against her? He hoped she’d realised that she had him, despite whatever anyone had ever said about her not deserving anything or anyone. He hoped he’d be enough for her.

“G?”

“Yeah?” she mumbled, too tired and too warm to do much else. Her mum had the central heating blaring out, turning her cheeks pink and her fingers toasty. Georgina was used to the warm California sun but this was stifling. Her chest was tight having just watched her parents and Atlas laughing at a joke together.

She turned her head to see Harry staring at her with a soft smile. Her chest loosened. “My t-shirt looks good on you.” He didn’t smirk like he often did after a cheeky comment. She didn’t know if he knew of her sadness. Harry was very good at reading people, especially her, despite how hard she fought to keep things hidden. But she was trying to be better for him, to be the person he deserved her to be.

“And you look good in my bed.”

“Wow,” he laughed, the sound golden on her ears. The ice in her chest had melted. “There’s my cheeky girl. Come here and ravish me.” He threw his arms across the bed, eager to have her near him.

“You might regret that Styles.”

“I’ll never regret anything with you.” His voice was firm, solemn and she knew it was more than a flirty line.

“Magnolia will you get me that mixing bowl?” her mother demanded as she stood at the kitchen unit, hand on hip. Georgina forced herself from the chair at the table and her magazine. Harry was in her room calling his mum while she had a burst of signal and Georgina felt lonely. Her mother had barely said two words to her.

She mused quietly to herself how different it felt from when she was with Harry’s family. She’d only been up to Holmes Chapel twice, but she felt more comfortable there than in her own family home. They didn’t make snarky comments or try to belittle her, they respected her and maybe it was because she was new in their lives, but Georgina still knew she shouldn’t feel so uncomfortable around her family.

Handing her mother the cream ceramic bowl, she weighed her options. Harry told her they could leave if things turned bad and she knew he meant it; they’d be on the motorway within seconds if she asked.

So she bit, “Can you please not call me Magnolia?”

Her mother stopped her stirring for a moment and then shook her head. “I gave birth to you I can call you anything I like.”

“It’s quite disrespectful though, Mum.”

Her mum didn’t turn to look at her but she knew she’d rolled her eyes. “It’s also disrespectful to go and change your name as soon as you’re legally allowed, Magnolia.”

Georgina’s heavy groan didn’t go unheard. But her mum brushed it off, used to Georgina’s displeasure. “Harry’s here, can’t you at least be normal?”

“I’m perfectly normal love.” Georgina stared at her mum and knew she was fighting a losing battle, just like every other visit home.

“Everyone else manages to call me Georgina.”

“That’s because no one knows the truth, you’re living a lie Magnolia.”

“No, I’m living my life.”

“Will you be quiet, I’m trying to cook.” With that, Georgina was silenced and she stomped off to find Harry.

Christmas morning was filled with torn up paper, her dad’s vinyl collection softly playing and enough eggnog to fill an army. Georgina’s stomach was warm, her head fuzzy and her lips aching with the smile on her face.

The last couple of days had been awful but seeing how Harry fit in with her family, how he had them all at ease, made her practically glow. She knew she wouldn’t feel like this if he wasn’t here but she wasn’t dwelling on that.

She’d managed to get Harry into a Christmas jumper - after many promises of returned favours and inappropriate touching - and he was sat next to her in a bright red knitted jumper with a flashing Rudolph nose. He looked cuter than she’d ever seen him, especially with his pout. They held hands while her parents opened Harry’s gift to them, a weekend away in the Cotswolds which put Georgina’s Harrods’ hamper to shame. Atlas nearly wept when Harry gifted him a year’s membership to Soho House. She vowed to yell at him later for being so generous.

Harry had beamed like a little kid when he opened his vintage Pentax camera which Georgina had wrapped in tacky wrapping paper complete with a bow; she’d slid a little card inside promising ten hours of photography lessons. She’d been worried about her gift to him but his face calmed all her worries.

“You realise you’ve gotta be my subject now?” He winked, her father chuckling from the corner. She couldn’t help but feel a burst of happiness that her parents seemed to like Harry.

Her gift haul was full of knickers and socks and toiletries from her parents and a book about film from Atlas; she was surprised he’d bought her something so personal. Harry squeezed her hand as he passed her his gift, a large red box.

“I didn’t have a clue what to get you,” he told her honestly.

“You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“You never say that to us,” Atlas interjected, a glare fired his way from Georgina. She really didn’t want anyone to feel like they had to buy her gifts and she definitely didn’t want Harry spending loads on her. Her fingers shook as she lifted the lid on the sparsely decorated box, she knew he wasn’t full of festive cheer so she appreciated his effort. She could see him twisting his rings, nervous energy flowing through him as they all watched her. Atlas looked as though he was expecting a Kardashian to jump out of the box. Nestled inside the box was a shiny white number plate, the large black letters immediately catching her eye. “NRVOUS” was branded across it below the Illinois state marker. Georgina gasped as she realised what it was. One of her favourite films was Ferris Bueller’s Day Off and this was a replica of the license plate on Cameron’s dad’s Ferrari that Ferris drove around in.

“Harry, this is great,” she beamed at him.

“It’s the real deal. I found out some guy was selling it and I bought it. It’s got the certificates of authorisation and everything.”

“You’re joking?” she gasped again, clinging to the box a little harder.

“No.” He looked puzzled, slightly fearful.

“Harry...oh my gosh this is too much.”

“Do you like it?”

“I love it.”

“Then it’s exactly enough.” He smiled and she was sure her heart burst with happiness and appreciation for the boy sat in front of her. “I wanted to get you something you’d never dream of buying rather than something you need.”

“You’re amazing.” She leant over and kissed him, grabbing his jumper and holding him close. She wanted to kiss and kiss him until her lips turned blue, but her Dad coughed and she was forced to remember that her family were in the room. “Thank you,” she whispered against his lips.

“Come on Mag, show us what you got.” Her dad bustled over, pushing into the space between her and Harry, ending their kissing show.

They’d retired to her room, their bellies full of Christmas dinner and two servings of pudding. They’d played charades and watched Shrek, which played every Christmas Day. Harry had sat in the dining room with her Dad for an hour listening to his old records and sharing a Brandy, much to her delight, while Atlas regaled her and her mum with tales of his London life. For the first time in a long while, Georgina had felt comfortable at home and she wondered if the curse had been lifted, if her Prince Charming had come along and helped her save herself from the desolate future.

“I…I got you another gift…I didn’t wanna give it in front of everyone.”

“Oh god it’s not a strip tease is it?” she joked, but then she saw how sick he looked.

“No,” he smiled tightly, “It’s…well here.” He handed her a small purple box. She had to smile at how worried he looked; it was always a strange pleasure to see the confident, cocky Harry Styles look nervous.

“You didn’t have to get me anything else, you’ve given me enough.”

“I didn’t spend any money,” he assured her and bit his lip.

Georgina’s hands shook while Harry stared at her, waiting. Opening the box, she saw a sleek grey iPod nestled inside. Glancing at Harry, he smiled tightly again. She gripped the iPod and it came to life, the screen lighting up a playlist featuring just one song.

“Harry…”

“Just put the earphones in and listen.”

She did as he said and for the next three and a half minutes she was completely silent. She could feel Harry watching her, reading her reaction but she kept her eyes down, focused on her childhood carpet.

She listened to every word as Harry’s soft soulful voice gently caressed her ears. Her heart was pounding, almost painfully. Harry was mummering such beautiful things, words that she hoped to forever remember, Feelings she hoped would never die. He told her how he felt about her, how she made him feel, and how he loved them being together in the best way he knew how. He made her feel nostalgic for the times they’d had in their short relationship and for the times long ago, when they’d both floated around each other, not realising how important they’d become to each other. He made her body fizz with excitement about their future and all the times they had still to come. He made her feel loved. And even if those words were too soon in the making or not what he wanted, he made her feel like he loved every bone in her body and every fibre of her DNA.

Georgina had never felt it before, the ache in her chest to hold someone, to see someone smile, and to be with someone as much as possible. She never felt it and could barely understand it, but Harry had managed to put all her thoughts and feelings into a beautiful song.

“Wow, Harry,” she sighed when the song came to an end, slowly drifting out into silence. Even the sound of the whistling kettle downstairs couldn’t shatter her spell. “That’ll be a number one for sure.”

“No one else is ever going to hear it.”

“But-”

“I started writing it and it became about you and I just can’t let other people hear it. It’s too personal and it’s so obviously about you,” he shrugged. “I won’t do that, not after last time.” He was referring to Jamie; a person they pretended didn’t exist. Georgina felt ready to burst into tears. “This is for you, I know it’s cheesy but you’re very inspiring.” He grinned, looking every inch like a schoolboy. She felt a swelling in her heart.

“You’re gonna make me cry.”

“Please don’t, your dad will gut me.”

“You’re amazing. Thank you so much.” She leapt on him but he was ready, waiting to catch her like he always promised to do.

#MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE #Here is a gift for you all #enjoy #ps

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thetravellingvagrant · 5 years

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Day 4: Lima-Iquitos - In Which I Am Accidentally Quite Racist

We were due to fly from Lima to Iquitos today. Under normal circumstances an 11am flight may just be dancing on the peripheries of being a bit of a faff, what with transportation times to the airport and Sam's absolutely rigid insistence on arriving no later than exactly two hours before flight time under any circumstances, meaning that alarms would generally need to be set for around 8am. This wasn't an issue today, however, as due to the magic of time-zones and the whimsy of sporadic insomnia, we were both wide awake, fully ready to go and honestly, even a little bored by quarter to five.

When the approximate time to leave did finally roll around, we made the short, ten minute walk to the vague location of where the airport express bus was supposed to depart from and then, as is apparently customary in lima, spent a genuinely silly amount of time looking desperately for its exact stopping point - because honestly, even after having now actually caught the bus, I'm still not exactly 100% sure of where that is. According to the website, the pick-up point was outside 'Hostal Torreblanca', a place which, for the life of us, we could not find. Google maps told us that we were standing at it, but there was absolutely no sign that we could make out that we actually were. It wasn't until the bus had arrived to drop passengers from the airport off, before making the circuit around Miraflores to eventually come back and pick us up that we noticed that Hostal Torreblanca was actually right next to us, though had apparently long since either shut down or just stopped maintaining its signage, and allowed all of its letters to erode away, leaving only the faintest outline of the name on its banner. Still though, basically found it first try, even if entirely by accident, so I guess in a way, I win twice?

Passing through airport security was...not a difficult experience. We breezed straight through the security metal detectors, despite me still having a fistful of coins, which I had forgotten to remove, still jangling around my exceptionally cool security-bum-bag, which was thoroughly reassuring and Sam even received a lovely compliment on her bottom from a charming Peruvian security guard, who made a kissy face at her and called her a pretty lady as she bent over to re-tie her shoe. They really do go all out to make you feel special at Jorge Chavez international. Take note, Gatwick.

We boarded yet another fucking flight and were soon whizzing off to the tropical paradise of Iquitos, which to be honest, I was shitting myself over. I decided to spend the lion's share of the flight time working on a blog entry, as, even then, I had fallen quite badly behind schedule – a habit which has clearly only worsened in the following days. I didn't manage to get very much vitriol down on paper, in the end, however, as I was distracted by the genuinely quite impressive view from the window as we cruised over, what I assume was the Pacaya Samiria national reserve.

...It does make writing about being served a plate of squid that you didn’t really want seem a bit silly, I suppose...

After around an hour and a half in the air, staring moon-eyed at the scenery like some giant man-sized bush baby we landed in Iquitos and walked directly into the airport and also a torrential tropical downpour. I've got to say, I enjoy the rain at the best of times - to an almost freakish degree, it has been said - but this jungle deluge really was absolutely choice rain. Premium drizzle, it was. Premiere sprinklage. I walked as slowly as I could without looking properly fucking mental into the airport, with Sam shooting me a look back at me the entire time, as if to say that I'd have to walk a little faster than that to convince her. Once inside, we looked for a stall for the company Taxi Green, which we had been informed by the never-ever-wrong-about-anything Tripadvisor forums were the safest bet in order to not get ripped off or killed and have your still twitching corpse dumped in a storm-drain. We could not, however, actually find any trace of Taxi Green in the airport and so Sam, being the patient and measured person she is, immediately asked the first vaguely trustworthy looking person (i.e. one with a badge) to take us to the city, proper, after – of course – pre-agreeing a price (Which was, as it turned out, double what we should have paid, anyway, so fuck even trying, I guess.). We were whisked away through the storm to his taxi immediately and, crucially, before I could connect to the airport's WiFi to regain my google maps signal, so we really were at his mercy, which was nice. Sometimes it's good to relinquish any control in a scary and unfamiliar place. Keeps you on your toes. Or perhaps dead in a storm drain. It can really go either way

Driving through Iquitos in the rain was pretty cool, though. It's very unlike anywhere I've ever been (because it is) and travelling during a torrential downpour really did make the place seem immediately very tropical (because... it is).

I'm sure you've figured out by now, that the taxi driver did not murder us and leave our still twitching corpses in a storm-drain; instead he delivered us right to the front door of our hostel an even unloaded our bags for us and everything. If he hadn't ripped us off, I might even have called him a gentleman. But he did, so he isn't. Prick.

We buzzed the door of The Amazon Within; the hostel in which we were due to stay a single night before venturing into the actual, for real jungle which would definitely be great and not at all scary. Around a full minute later, a shirtless, gruff man, who looked a bit like a brown Jerry Stiller answered. He said nothing. Unsure if I had buzzed the right place, I told him I had a reservation. After a brief moment- although still far too long a pause for it to have been comfortable, given that I didn't know if I was talking to the right person – he answered back

“Ah, si, reservation, come inside!”

Phew.

He unlocked the door and ushered us in to the building. As it turned out, brown, shirtless, gruff Jerry Stiller was named Julio and he was actually a treasure of a man. He was affable, helpful and welcoming beyond any expectation I would normally have had while checking into a hostel and we spoke for around thirty minutes about the twenty five years he had spent living in both London and Bournemouth (which he pronouncd Baown Mut). Not once did the conversation feel particularly forced, or awkward, or like he was putting on heirs for his guests, it was just very nice and very genuine (A bit of a rarity out here, I feel, as it does seem a little bit like everyone is either trying to get you to give them money for something, or hamming up basic Peruvian culture to a ridiculous degree in order to impress the gringo, usually.)

However lovely Julio was, though, the room he had given us more than ...whatever the opposite of made up (made down? Surely not) for it. It wasn't by a very long way the worst place I have ever stayed (that crown still goes to the Bosnian fire ant palace), but it was certainly not among the top either. It was sparse; four plain white walls and a single, half-broken fan plugged into a crackling socket was all that we had to play with in the bedroom. The bathroom sported a little more colour in the form of brown tiling and with a shower that seemingly was only ever designed to pipe out cold water. Given how absolutely maddeningly hot and humid it is in Iquitos, I suppose a cold shower wasn't the worst thing in the world but still, a little heat, purely so I didn't have to acclimatise each part of my body individually to being under the shower head, would have been nice.

Seeing no great reason for us to hang around in what was definitely starting to remind me of a Colombian prison cell, we ventured out to the hostel's patio, to soak up a little sun, before heading out to a supermarket for some toiletries and a restaurant to eat some food.

We hadn't been sat for more than a few minutes before we were approached by an American lady, whose name I instantly forgot. She spoke at us for a while about her experiences in Peru and how long she'd been travelling and how life-changing doing Ayahuasca, the hallucinogenic peruvian drug tea, had been and so on. All very friendly, yet still somehow utterly intolerable. Eventually though, she got bored of us after realising that we didn't really want to talk about drinking a mind-breaking soup with her and toddled off to sing Tom Petty songs to herself, whilst occasionally loudly affirming just how good Tom Petty is. Again, to herself.

With her out of the way, the coast was clear for us to be bothered by some of the other guests. A chap from Edinburgh and his Irish girlfriend struck up a conversation; him having overheard that we were from Glasgow. He asked what part of it I was from and I told him. He didn't know it. We briefly discussed how it was hotter in London a few days ago than it was in Iquitos and then he told us all about all the travels he had been on, continuously for the last year and a half; only ever venturing back to Scotland once every few months to get his mum to do his laundry for him or something. It was all incredibly boring and nearly exclusively an excuse for him to talk about himself; a subject about which I categorically did not care. Soon, again, the conversation fizzled out. I turned to Sam and asked if she wanted to head out, she replied in the affirmative. As I did, Edinburgh man turned to his own girlfriend and loudly exclaimed “fucking people, man...”. Now, I have no idea why he might have said such a thing, nor to be honest, if that was directed at us or not at all, but if it was, I would very much like to use this blog as a tool to reach out to that man to apologise for not single handedly, artificially keeping the deeply tedious conversation you were having at me, about all the places you've been and drugs you've done afloat. That was wrong of me. If you're reading this, please email me a list of both of those things and I will make sure I read every single entry. Namaste, brother.

Now slightly perplexed, but with a quiet confidence growing that we had accidentally booked ourselves into a proper wank-hostel, we left to go to the supermarket. Neither the heat, nor humidity of Iquitos was sitting well with me. I immediately began to feel quite woozy, though, now I think about it, inhaling the exhaust fumes of about a million tuktuks, all driving around on any bit of the road (and sometimes off it) they damn well pleased and honking their horn non-stop as if trying to appease a giant, angry goose god, probably wasn't helping me feel any better, either. Either way, I was sweaty and unhappy (which you'd imagine I'd be used to by this point in my life, but somehow it still came as a surprise)

After a quick traipse to the supermarket, via the main square (which, while lovely, I did not take any pictures of for fear of having my phone snatched off me by a crime man), we doubled back and walked along Malecon Maldonado; the very, very very touristy little riverfront boulevard, wherein we found the restaurant Dawn On The Amazon, which Sam had heard was highly recommended and was- and this is just a little flavour here-founded by an English man, who had since died in a flood. The food was delicious, though, as was the banana, coffee and chocolate smoothie I accidentally ordered and the view across the Naney river (not quite the Amazon river, but probably close enough to count)

...Acceptable...

Was a genuine delight to eat across from, even if I did end up losing eleven of my twelve pints of blood to mosquitos in the process of sitting outside to look at it.

During our meal, we were approached by (and I swear this is pertinent to the story) a brown man. He asked us if we were going into the Amazon jungle. It being Peru and both Sam and I being on edge about everyone trying to sell us something or steal our money, we told him politely, yet firmly that we had already booked our excursion, thank you very much. He looked baffled and asked

“...So you're going, right?”

We again told him we were so we didn't need to book anything with him. It was only then that I noticed that his accent was very clearly quite Indian. Sam had apparently noticed as well.

“Oh, no, I'm not trying to sell you anything. I just wondered if you had any advice about what we should take into the jungle?” he gestured to his wife, sitting at the table directly behind us.

Fuuuuck. Is that racist? Pretty sure that was at least a little racist. I'm not totally sure what a micro-aggression is, but I was pretty sure I just committed one.. regardless, he took it in good stride, laughing it off and telling us he was proud that he could pass for a local, which, if anything, only made me feel worse. Sam, as helpfully and politely as she could explained to them what they might need in the jungle and then we quietly finished our meal as quickly as humanly possible and left, to pull our own skin off in embarrassment. The only solace that either of us could find in the entire situation was that we would definitely, definitely never see either one of them ever again in all our lives. This is foreshadowing. Did you get it? It was terribly clever.

After a warm, sticky walk back to the apartment, during which my low ebb of health somehow ebbed even lower, we took a couple of lovely ice cold showers and, excited for the adventure the following day (Sam) and/or positively shitting ourselves at the thought of sleeping in the spider capital of the world (me), headed straight to bed.

...For about two hours.

I woke up, coughing. My head was spinning, my body aching, I was drenched in sweat (like, an unusual amount of sweat, even for being in the amazon) my throat glands were inflamed, swallowing was painful and my sinuses were jammed up to all buggery. There was no denying it any more; what I thought was some innocent run-downedness (Which, unlike anality is definitely not a word) was actually something far more sinister. I had the flu. The jungle flu... (Note: not malaria; just a regular flu that I happened to catch in the jungle; calm down, mum.).

The rest of my night consisted of getting around two hours of sleep at a time, followed by my getting up to refill and then completely consume the entire contents of my water bottle from the communal supply, take another freezing cold shower and empty the frankly unusual amount of effluvia that had collected in both my sinuses and bladder, over and over again, before finally my alarm went off and it was now basically fine for me to stop pretending that I was able to sleep. Good thing I had nothing strenuous planned for the next day...

#travelling #vagrant #lima #iquitos #peru #jungle #amazon #travel #photography #flight #mountain #view #bus #amazon within #julio

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fadingfartconnoisseur · 7 years

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AK Monthly Recap: March 2017

You know what nobody talks about? That first gust of air when you come back from a tropical vacation in the middle of winter. I stepped off the plane and nearly wept. I knew it would be cold, how could it not be cold, but I didn’t expect it would be that bad.

Shivering like mad as I waited for my Lyft to arrive, I mentally prepared myself to leave the Caribbean behind and get ready for several more weeks of winter: all the gray, all the rain, and one final major blizzard in the middle of the month.

This is March. It goes in like a lion and stays relatively lion-esque well into April.

Destinations Visited

St. Kitts (sights around island)

Philipsburg and Maho, St. Maarten

Miami, Florida

New York, New York

Favorite Destination

St. Maarten was a really cool island! I’d love to go back.

Highlights

The second half of my cruise with Jeremy took place in March. Some of the highlights were finally discovering the sushi bar (and some amazing cruise staff from the Philippines and Thailand), smoking cigars in our Captain Awesome and First Mate shirts, having some odd conversations with shipmates (WHO NAMES THEIR KID NIXON?!), and getting a facial so good that I’ve been inspired to completely overhaul my skincare regimen. More on that in a future post.

Getting through a cruise sober — and loving it. Jeremy is off alcohol at the moment and I would have felt bad drinking when he couldn’t, so I gave up booze for the cruise as well. I had a great time, felt awesome, and I’m very grateful not to have experienced a hangover on a swaying ship.

Watching planes land over Maho Beach in St. Maarten. This beach is famous for being just meters from the airport runway, and it’s crazy watching the giant planes land right above you! But even better was getting blasted by the engine as the planes took off!

St. Kitts was my 68th country. We only had a few hours to explore the island, but we got to see some cool things. Brimstone Hill Fortress was my newest UNESCO World Heritage Site, while Timothy Hill was an incredible spot for sunset photography.

Hanging out in Wynwood, Miami. Wynwood is such a cool neighborhood! Amazing street art, cool markets, great music, and painfully attractive, ridiculously cool people in every direction. I’m really getting to love Miami, and Wynwood was a nice change from South Beach last month with Cailin. I insisted we return to CVI.CHE 105 in downtown Miami, and we weren’t disappointed in our velvety ceviche!

Getting to experience One World Observatory. This month’s New York Travel Massive meetup took place on top of the Freedom Tower, which I’ve wanted to visit for quite some time! It wasn’t an ideal event for photography, but I did get a few quickie sunset shots. It’s amazing up there; you should make an effort to go if you visit New York.

Lots of good times with friends in New York. I love having so many friends in this city!

I’m in this month’s issue of Psychology Today talking about the benefits of traveling alone. Pick up a copy! You can get it at Barnes & Noble or Whole Foods.

Challenges

We had an incident with our Airbnb in Miami. It was an adorable little apartment — the owner actually had Beyoncé and Frank Ocean on vinyl! — but something wasn’t right. The building didn’t smell great. I zonked out the moment I got inside (and I never nap) and found it hard to wake up. And the air seemed strange — I kept feeling the need to go over to the window and breathe in fresh air.

Jeremy has been dealing with lyme disease for awhile now. The good news is that he’s doing much better than he was a few months ago. But the lyme still brings up a lot of issues, including environmental sensitivity. He didn’t feel like he could stay there. Considering that I have no environmental sensitivity and felt weird too, we decided something was up. Possibly carbon monoxide or toxic mold.

Well, we got out and found another Airbnb available closer to Wynwood at the last minute. And as soon as we left the house, both of us felt totally normal and we had our energy back. We even went on a long midnight walk!

Jeremy called the building to report a possible gas leak; they didn’t find anything. He also talked to Airbnb. After researching and talking to friends, I think it was either mold (which is common in humid Miami) or possibly outdoor insecticides used inside.

Jeremy and I cut it close when getting back in time on St. Maarten. I’m the kind of person who always budgets a lot of extra time “just in case,” yet I frequently travel with people who say, “Don’t be silly, we’ve got plenty of time.” Jeremy is the latter type. Long story short, I decided to loosen up and not worry as much, and OF COURSE we ended up trapped in so much traffic in St. Maarten that we missed our call time back to the boat.

I tried to keep my freakout in check. I was about 80% successful.

The good news is that we did make it back. And from the sound of the announcements, it seemed like tons of people didn’t get back in time, either. Also, I got a message from a reader saying, “Hey, just so you know the Heineken regatta is happening today so there will be a lot of traffic!” Aha…

Just a word to the wise: if you’re doing St. Maarten independently while on a cruise, allow yourself a TON of extra time. There is essentially one major road around the island, so if any part of it gets traffic, it affects the whole island.

Our cab driver in St. Kitts was a bit of a jerk. And he harassed a woman from the car before we had even left the parking lot. (Smoke was practically coming out of my ears. Jeremy gripped my arm with a grin.)

Also…I did the Landmark Forum this month. And it did not work for me. It’s a personal development course that many of my friends have done and swear changed their lives for the better, and that’s why I went. I’m not going to go into detail now because I’m exhausted talking about it. In the interest of full disclosure, though, I think it’s important to me to clarify four things:

1) Many of the people who attended my Landmark Forum got SO much out of it, including some friends I made.

2) Many of the people who attended my Landmark Forum got NOTHING out of it, including myself and some friends I made.

3) On the third day, the instructor raised an issue that deeply disturbed me and I got up to the microphone and voiced my concerns. For the rest of the forum, attendees were coming up to me and thanking me for speaking up.

4) The next day, I got a call from Landmark telling me they refunded me due to the issue I spoke up about. I didn’t ask for a refund; they initiated it on their own and then called me to tell me.

It’s all very mysterious, I know. Maybe I’ll write more at a later date.

Most Popular Instagram Photo

Easy — this shot of a giant KLM plane landing over Maho Beach in St. Maarten!

This is definitely a bucket list item. If you’re a fan of planes, photography, or just AWESOMENESS, get yourself to Maho Beach at one point in your life!

For more live updates, follow me at @adventurouskate on Instagram or Snapchat.

Fitness Update

This month, I had a few fitness breakthroughs. I OBLITERATED my calories burned record at spin class (translation: I’m now strong enough to have the resistance much higher and thus work harder). I also took a Zumba class that used to always leave me out of breath and dripping but this time I thought, “Hmmm, not much of a workout today.” Now I throw myself into Zumba much harder. I’ve been working hard on perfecting my deadlift form with my trainer and now I’m actually starting to deadlift some real weight.

And my body looks a bit different — my face is thinner, my boobs have shrunk significantly (pour one out for my homies) and my upper arms are looking much more muscular lately!

The only thing is that I’m losing weight much more slowly. I need to let go of my goal of losing 25 pounds by Memorial Day. But that’s FINE — a lot of people totally transform their bodies while staying roughly the same weight (here are nine women who did exactly that). Weight is not everything, changing your body composition is!

I also tried a few new classes: antigravity yoga at Studio Anya in Chelsea, pictured above (super fun, not much of a workout, and hanging upside down is neat but it hurts to swallow), as well as two new classes at Equinox: The Cut (a kickboxing class that I really enjoy) and Hatha Yoga (nice but very basic — I’ll try Vinyasa next time). I’ve decided to add yoga into my workout rotation; there are so many mental and physical benefits.

I’ve been reading a lot about intermittent fasting, which seems like the most efficient way to lose fat and add muscle simultaneously. I’m considering trying it next month.

What I Read This Month

I read seven books this month — wow! I’m continuing to chip away at the PopSugar 2017 Book Challenge (17/52 completed). I also got into Book of the Month, which I absolutely ADORE and highly recommend to my fellow American bookworms. I love choosing my new book each month and picking out two extras for just $10 each!

If you’re interested in joining Book of the Month, I have a 30% off code for new members. If you join, I’ll earn a free book.

Here’s what I read in March:

Tiny Beautiful Things: Advice on Love and Life from Dear Sugar by Cheryl Strayed (2012) — I want everyone I love to read this book. This is a collection of Dear Sugar columns from The Rumpus, which were written anonymously for a long time before Strayed’s identity was revealed. I can’t remember how I discovered those columns (maybe through Dan Savage?) but soon I became obsessed with them. In fact, I read this column over and over, day after day, while trying to get up the nerve to leave my abusive ex. It’s still saved on my phone today.

What makes this advice column phenomenal is that Strayed tells stories from her own life as allegories that illustrate her advice for the letter writers. Her life has been hard in many ways — she grew up in poverty, survived molestation, lost her beloved mother at a young age, married very young, lived through drugs and more poverty, worked with severely at-risk teens, eventually met the love of her life and went on to have two children and publish a bestseller you may have heard of called Wild. She also collected so many seemingly insignificant stories along the way that are actually profound.

This book is the very definition of grace. It makes me cry just thinking about it. Please read it. You won’t regret it. Category: a book of letters.

The Possessions by Sara Flannery Murphy (2017) — I chose this for my Book of the Month pick for February. I love the premise — in an unnamed American city, a business called the Elysian Society hires men and women to be “bodies” to channel the spirits of the deceased so their loved ones can talk to them. They swallow a pill while wearing the possessions of the dead and black out as the spirit takes over, leaving them unsure of what happened. Some of the customers come back every week.

This book is about Edie, a body who left a troubled past for a fresh start. After an unusually long five-year tenure with the Elysian Society, she becomes fascinated with Patrick, a customer who comes to channel his dead wife, Sylvia, who died under suspicious circumstances. As the book ramps up, Edie becomes more deeply entwined in Patrick and Sylvia’s lives until she’s not sure whose life she’s living.

As much as I loved the idea of this book (and it could so be a series) — I feel like it ran out of steam near the end and the characters weren’t developed enough. At times, I thought Edie’s blank-slate personality was a lazy choice, not unlike the main character in Twilight. That said, I did enjoy it, loved the idea of the Elysian Society, and I would read more of the author’s work. Category: a book with an unreliable narrator.

You Are A Badass: How to Stop Doubting Your Greatness and Start Living an Awesome Life by Jen Sincero (2013) — I picked this up in the Miami airport while waiting to board my flight home and I finished the last paragraph as my Lyft arrived at my apartment — talk about perfect timing! I check out self-help books every now and then, and there’s nothing in this book you haven’t read before. What makes it different is the voice and the delivery.

It’s motivational, yes. The tips are great and I learned some new things. I enjoyed reading it, too. But there’s one part that I didn’t like — Sincero implies that people with depression should just get over it and go do brilliant things. Yo, depression doesn’t work that way. I’m actually surprised her publisher allowed the book to go out like that. Category: a book you bought on a trip.

Postcards From the Edge by Carrie Fisher (1987) — This was my book club’s pick this month, in memory of an inspirational lady. Postcards from the Edge is the book that catapulted Carrie Fisher to literary success. A story told in diary entries, solid dialogue, and first- and third-person narratives, the book follows actress Suzanne Vale from rehab back into the Hollywood scene, the dating scene, parties and the gym and everything else.

It’s an entertaining book, a bit sloppy in its execution (why so many different formats?), but full of humor and humanity from a woman who does not care whatsoever what people think of her. Category: a book written by someone you admire.

The Stranger in the Woods: The Extraordinary Story of the Last True Hermit by Michael Finkel (2017) — I chose this as my Book of the Month pick for March. For decades, a vacation community in Maine was constantly burglarized — but strangely, never expensive things, only food, books, and clothing. And nobody was ever found. Was there a hermit living in the woods?

There was.

Christopher Knight went into the woods to live alone in 1986. He didn’t have so much as a conversation with another human until he was caught in 2013, 27 years later. Author Finkel spent a long time trying to earn Knight’s trust following his capture. This book was created from his interviews with Knight. It’s fascinating.

While this book is about nature and relationships and solitude, it raises a lot of questions about mental health and how neuro-atypical people can function in our modern world. Knight has some characteristics that many people with autism also have, but in some ways he’s completely the opposite. There’s no easy way to characterize him.

In Maine, people are given lots of space, and walking on someone else’s property is no big deal. Someone in the book mentioned briefly that this never could have happened in Texas. I agree! In Texas people are very territorial — and have lots of guns. Either way, this reminded me that I still need to plan a digital detox trip sometime this year. Category: A book that takes place in the wilderness.

How to Win Friends and Influence People by Dale Carnegie (1937) — I had this legendary book on my reading list for quite some time, and I’m glad I finally got around to it. It’s all about how to get people to like you — in life, in relationships, in business. The advice is basic — people like to hear their names! Be positive with people, not negative! Give people compliments and don’t criticize! — but basic advice is often the best advice of all. It’s a cheap book, and I recommend everyone get a copy for their shelf or Kindle.

I will say, though, that the latest edition is a bit odd. It’s obviously been updated since 1937, but the editing isn’t consistent. It’s strange to see phrases like “even if you’re only a housewife” followed by letters from 1936 followed by a reference to Stevie Wonder, who didn’t become famous until the 1960s. Bizarre what they kept in and what they added. Category: a book with career advice.

Born a Crime: Stories From a South African Childhood by Trevor Noah — I had to listen to an audiobook for the challenge, and I’ve seen so many people recommend the audiobook version. After listening to it, I concur — it’s fantastic as an audiobook. Noah is a polyglot and he speaks different languages, uses different accents, and imitates a wide cast of characters throughout the book.

The best memoirs are from people with extraordinary stories or who tell ordinary stories in an extraordinary way. Occasionally you’ll get someone who does both. And Noah’s life story is CRAZY. He was born to a black mother and a white father during Apartheid, so his existence was literally a crime. He had to hide in the shadows for much of his childhood. He didn’t fit in with the blacks, whites, or coloreds in South Africa (in South Africa, colored is a non-insulting term meaning mixed race), but he survived, thrived, created a million entrepreneurial ventures and eventually broke out as an entertainer.

This book is devastating at times. The police laughed off the beatings Noah’s mother received at the hands of her husband. At times they were so poor they had to eat caterpillars. But there’s so much love and humor in this book as well — I nearly cried laughing when Noah secretly pooped in the house as a kid and his family thought it was a demon! It’s a remarkable feat to write a book this serious and yet have it be filled with so much laughter. Category: an audiobook.

What I Listened To This Month

Missing Richard Simmons! Have you listened to this podcast yet? You must!

A few years ago, Richard Simmons abruptly withdrew to his home and became a recluse. He said goodbye to no one — he just disappeared. This podcast, created by one of his friends, tries to figure out why. Was he being held under duress by his maid? Was he transitioning to female? Or did he just want to be left in peace?

The strangest thing about Simmons’s disappearance is that he gave SO much of himself to his fans. He would call fans on a weekly basis and counsel them through their weight and depression issues. He would always be outside when the Hollywood tour buses went by his house so he could greet fans. He cried with them, he opened up with them, he was ON 24/7, and as a result, the line between his professional and personal life was deeply blurred.

I consider this podcast required listening for bloggers or any other kind of internet personalities. It made me realize I haven’t always set the right boundaries. Yes, I’ve gained some great friends who I met because they were my readers, but I need to stop thinking it’s my job to personally solve everyone’s problems. This piece on NPR goes into that more.

What I Watched This Month

THIS IS US!!! After seeing tons of my female friends cry over it weekly on Facebook, I decided to give the series a try. I got through all 18 episodes in five days, no joke.

Yes. This show is worth the hype. It’s filling the hole I’ve had in my heart since Friday Night Lights went off the air. And the Chris Darden-shaped hole I’ve had in my heart since The People vs. OJ Simpson went off the air.

It’s just so nice to have a show about interesting characters who are all good at heart, and thus you genuinely root for them. Yes, the tears will come. There was one episode where I more or less bawled from start to finish. I’m so glad it’s been renewed for two more seasons!

What I Cooked This Month

A few days ago I made an awesome paleo Mexican chocolate mousse where avocados are the main ingredient! And this was SO GOOD. I got the recipe from Cook Eat Paleo.

I do encourage making a few tweaks to the recipe: I used a bit less honey, and I recommend using only half the amount of cinnamon. I couldn’t find ancho chile powder so I used regular chili powder and a few red pepper flakes. If you like it spicy (and I do), add a ton more red pepper flakes. This is a basic recipe; you can tweak it to your personal taste!

The only thing is that I’m starting to be highly sensitive to sugar, and even though it’s only raw honey (technically paleo!), I could feel it sitting in my stomach for hours.

Coming Up in April 2017

No major travel plans this month — at least not yet, you never know! — but I will likely go home to Massachusetts for the first time since Christmas. I also think I should spend some time in Boston proper, since most of my trips have been only to the suburbs lately.

April is when the flowers start to bloom in New York, and I wish I had taken more photos last year when everything was in bloom. It’s such a fleeting time — I hope I’m able to get a few neighborhoods!

What are your plans for April? Share away!

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