#running a shop finding odd bits and bobs to sell where he can

[3xm-draconic]

Jojo's Bizarre Little Adventure, Chapter 24: Life of the Little Things.

IAM NOT DEAD!, just tired.

Chapter 24: Life of the Little Things.

This next chapter isn’t a chapter per say but rather 3 short stories pertaining to a day in the life of a Faheei, some new faces and some old, I hope you enjoy it!

STORY 1: Soup for the Soul. 

What a beautiful night. The full moon barely crests the tall trees, leaving the world in a state of eire nocturnal twilight, dew forms on the grass making the green field before me glitter like a sea of emeralds and if I’am lucky the butcher will have something fresh for me.

My name is Spezia, I hail from the Parklands but I had lived in the Inner City for six months a while back, I moved out to a little frontier town on the border between the outskirts of the western city, aka the BadLands and the Graveyard clan territory, most think I am crazy for doing this but jokes on them. I happen to run a…reasonably successful business out here, a tavern called: The Bent Spoon, the name comes from the sign above the door being a literal old bent spoon.

I run the place under the floorboards of a little building beside the graveyard with my business partners, my older brother: Miele who runs the business side of things while I cook and my old buddy from the Inner City, Cornichon, we call her Pickles for short, who makes really good booze and..well…pickles, hence the nickname.

The town where I live and run The Bent Spoon is called Fortonceashack, it’s a small place mostly consisting of residential homes for the mineral miners and a cattle market for the local insect and rodent ranchers to auction off their animals. There is however a rather large market in this tiny town, having a variety of stalls and vendors selling interesting ingredients. 

Insect and rodent ranchers sell their meat and other byproducts, the local hunters and trappers sell game meat and hides, scavengers trade odd bits and bobs and the farms show off their ripe produce, speaking of which…I am hoping my favorite butcher shop has some fresh squirrel today.

I slipped on my green floral poncho and headed down to Metzger’s butcher shop, It is a quaint little place built inside a large discarded coffee tin. Metzger is from the Graveyard clan, he is a rather big and buff fellow covered in tattoos with dark brown hair and pale skin, his silver eyes have the characteristic red ring in them that all Graveyard Faheei have and while most find them terrifying to look into, I happen to find them quite charming.

“Good morning Metzger” I wave to him as I pull aside the curtain covering the doorway, His imposingly large frame half-turns away from the huge hunk of meat he was cutting to look at me and gives me a short nod and a low grunt in response, “I’am wondering if you have any squirrel in today?” I said with a warm smile.

Metzger nodded and walked into his larder and came back out with a whole squirrel leg, “oh wow!” I grinned “oh that will be perfect for today's special!, I’am making squirrel stew”. Metzger began chopping the squirrel leg into various cuts for me when I spotted a chunk of sparrow breast “Metzger I wonder if I can trade a few salt crystals for some of that sparrow breast?”, he turned to me, nodded and held up three fingers, “oh thank you” I replied as I took three of the eight small rocks of salt from my bag and placed them on his counter.

Before I left, Metzger whistled for me to come over, he held out a large soup bone for me to take, I was about to give him some shells when he held his hand up and shook his head no “gif” was all he said, I smiled and thanked him again.

I stopped by a few more shops to get the ingredients I needed before heading back home to The Bent Spoon, once home I saw that my jars of black pepper, garlic and chili powder where empty, so put on my climbing gear, knapsack and took a few small jars with me, I was going to “BORROW” some spices from the tallfolk above me again.

STORY 2: Peace Feast.

Ikura stood at the head of the feasting table nervously looking out at all the guests, the southern fishing clan, The Ahuizotls, had arrived.

The Ahuizotls where a noble and fearsome clan of warriors and fishermen, they were different from other Fahie, having smooth oily skin, three rows of sharp teeth and large eyes, instead of hair they had webbing, fins, and frill of gills that framed their heads. They looked like Axolotls, strange and beautiful salamanders from another realm. 

The Ahuizotl’s Elders had brought with them several warriors half expecting the feast to be a trap but they were pleased to see it was indeed a sincere act of peace. 

Ika had cooked the oyster herself, not only as leading Elder for the time being but also as a show of trust to the Ahuizotls.

Other Elders of the clan had prepared dishes for the feast too, there were crabs, clamps, shrimp, barnacles and of course fish. The Northern clan’s specialty was saltwater fishing, afterall the whole clan was near the coast, under the Morhio fish market.

The Southern clan’s specialty was freshwater, they had brought with them a few dishes like crayfish, frogs, water beetles and freshwater fish.

The feast was going well, the food was delicious, beer and other beverages (some non alcoholic as well) were drunk and soon almost everyone broke out into song. But then the graveyard clan showed up.

Lord Marrowbone and his son Crookedtooth had come with at least seventy warriors behind them, Ikura and the other clan warriors (north and south) leopard up and took a fighting stance.

“Easy, we mean no harm, we heard about a peace feast going on in the area and if you don’t mind we would like to join” Marrowbone said, Ika smiled and offered him a plate.

Of course a peace feast involves all parties chipping in and bringing food to the feast, the graveyard clan was no exception, they brought with them meat, the food they mostly ate. They had squirrel, titmouse bird, wrens, mice, rat, vole and a strange snail of some kind, “this is a new meat we have found” Crookedtooth said as he handed one that had been roasted on a stick to Ikura “it tastes amazing!” he grinned.

Ikura took the snail kabob from him and sniffed it, it did smell good, no doubt they had used some potent spices in its cooking, she took a bite and indeed it tasted amazing.

“So any news from way up north?” Ika asked Marrowbone, “there was a fire not too long ago near the inner city, I was there visiting old friends when I saw several strange tallfolk start it after one of them ate a tallfolk with green hair”, Ikura turned to him “a man with green hair?”, “yep, strangest thing I ever saw”, “and he was eaten by another tallfolk?”, “yep, one with long purple hair”.

STORY 3: Hail to the King.

Carramella was terrified, his parents were killed and he was kidnaped by raiders, he thought they were going to sell him at some kind of black market but instead they took him into the badlands, “what are they going to do to us?” he squeaked in fear, “I don’t know but it aint gonna be good” another kidnaped child replied, his name was Frasise.

The desert was hot and cruel in the morning and bitterly cold at night, they dragged them for days until they came to a huge dead tree, Carramella and Frasise were taken into the dead tree where they saw hundreds of slaves all constructing some kind of castle, they also saw thousands of giant hornets all garding the place with the raiders. The slavers took them into the castle and to a grand throne room where they were brought before a scary man in black armor which made him look like an evil hornet.   

“The desolate badlands are hot, dry and unforgiving. The only thing out here are vicious beasts and murderous raiders…but soon there will be a glorious kingdom, with me as its king” the man said, his voice like an angry wasp hive, buzzing and humming sinisterly.

“I, Sting Rex, will bring water and fertility to the badlands and rule over this new kingdom, you are going to help me” he said to them.

His armor became wreathed in magical flames, huge hornet wings sprouted from his back and he withdrew a long serrated whip made from the flames around him, “NOW BOW BEFORE YOUR KING!”

#jojo bizarre adventure #jojos bizarre little adventure #new character #iam not dead #g/t #jjba #jjba fanfic

[rboooks]

Based on the wonderful fic C’est La Vie   by the ever talented @cywscross. I just love the fic so much and I am very late to the fandom but whatever.  

AU: Had Hadrian had arrived a little earlier and Fate had given him a different back story. 

Orion Black had not noticed the new store until it’s opening day. 

He had been passing by with his Father who was ever so excited about buying Orion his Hogwarts supplies, insisting they needed to beat the crowds and go the moment the owl dropped it off at their home. (He knows the real reason, of course, being werewolves made it difficult to shop and “beating the crowds” was another way of saying “Avoid large amounts of discrimination”. He let his father think he wasn’t aware though) 

Orion couldn’t work up the energy to match Father’s enthusiasm. His first year of Hogwarts was everything and nothing like he expected it to be. He knew he would meet students who would not like him for his condiction but he had hope that he could make some kind of friends. Naive as it was, he went there with the desire to find the kind of best mates his Father had found among the magical castle walls.  

That hope had been shoot down the moment the headmaster announced what he was. Harry, always eager to put Orion in his place, jumped at the chance to turn everyone against him until it felt like he was sitting behind enemy lines no matter where he was.

 Add to the fact, he was sharing a room with Harry and his new idiot best friends not to mention the open hostility Weasley and Longbottom showed when drawing that line. Orion could honestly say he hated every second of his schooling.

Throughout the year, the eleven-year-old encountered some kids who seem friendly at first, but it all had ended up as a prank, often with Harry as the mastermind behind them. It was eye-opening, in a twisted so of way, to realize just how the world saw him. 

A part of him wanted nothing more than to burn the second year Hogwarts letter and never return. But he was no coward. He would not run away from reality. He was a Gryffindor after all, and he would endure these next six years like he did his first. (Maybe, just maybe this year will be different? First years wouldn’t be told of his status...maybe one of them would like him) 

“’ Rion? Would you like to go get your books first or some new robes?” Father called, smile soft but the corners of his eyes strain with distress when his son did nothing more than stare at him for a few seconds before shrugging.

All summer long, the young werewolf had spoken as minimum as he could, shut away in his room. He’s always been a bit reserved and socially awkward but never to these levels.

Orion knew his parents were worried, had known each time they came over during the full moons. They tried their best to cheer him up, to get him to talk but even that took the levels of energy he just wasn’t feeling anymore. Each passing day at Hogwarts caused him to shrink further in on himself in order to protect what little Orion could of his heart and now, well into the summer he seem unable to unshrink. Not even for his parents’ sake. 

“Well, how about-”  

Whatever Father was going to say was lost on Orion, because his attention had been taken by a new store. The one that had just open with no pre-warning. (Magic buildings tended to do that but they were at least advertise days beforehand in order to generate some kind of clientele).  

Or to be more precise Orion’s attention had been taken by the young boy standing in front of it, who was staring right back at him with wide eye astonishment. The boy was small, almost delicate face but painfully average and the only thing that really stood out were his green eyes. He was wearing Muggle brown trousers and a plain white shirt, a white apron was thrown over his outfit and a tray of little cups in his hands.

He must have been handing out samples. 

Orion sent him a sneer, suddenly angry that even here, even away from his classmates, other kids still stare at him like he shouldn't be real. 

The boy didn’t so much as blink. He returns the sneer with an intrigued look, unoffended in any kind of way before his eyes shift up to look at Father who had to realize Orion was no longer listening. It was only because he was watching that Orion caught the ripple of emotions that went over the boy’s face before it settles into a calm friendly glance.

“Is that one of your school friends?” Father asks a tad bit too eagerly. To Orion’s horror, he was already moving in the direction of the child even before finishing his question.

This seems to be all the approval the stranger needs, seeing as he straightens up, turning in their direction fully. Before he could state he had no friends, the boy left his post and was walking quickly in their direction.

It was almost a run, but the boy didn’t seem to waste a single step, graceful in a way that didn’t make sense. There might be a mistake, maybe the sounds of the always busy alley masking it, but he swore he couldn’t hear his footsteps either.  In only a matter of seconds, he was standing before Orion, holding out his little try.

“Free sample?”  The werewolf didn’t miss the way he seems to stare at him like he was drinking up his features. 

Orion said nothing staring back at him before his father cleared his throat an obvious sign he was disapproving of his manners.  “Um, what is it?”

“Dragon’s Breath. You stick the puffball in any of these flavors and blow smoke out while you eat” The boy said easily, and for a startling moment, he realizes he may not be all that young. In fact, they may even be near the same age despite how tiny this kid was.  “It’s really popular in the States.”

“Are you from the States?” Father asked taking the toothpick the boy offers and stabbing one of the puffs. He quickly dunks it in the white melted chocolate like Orion knew he would.  

“I’m from all over.” The kid answers staring up at him with an odd emotion in his eyes.  “My parents were curse breakers so the family traveled a lot.”

His eyes flicker to Orion.  “Would you like one?”

He doesn’t answer, and the air thickens with awkward stillness for a few seconds before Orion careful takes one of the puffs going for the caramel flavor. Luckily the other doesn’t seem all that offended, patiently giving him time to decide what he wanted. 

Once it’s in his mouth the flavor of caramel dances over his tongue, and he makes a small O with his lips as smoke rushes out. It’s not a little puff like he expected by a long white smoky breath of air that curls and flickers in the air. 

It’s kinda wicked.

His Father blows out his own smoke smiling. It’s as interesting watching as it is being the one to perform it. “Your dad would love this.”

The boy beams.  “We sell some take-home boxes with various flavors if you like to take him some? I’m Hadrian by the way. Hadrian Evans”

“Remus Lupin,” Father answers charmed by Evans. “This is my son Orion Black.”

If he’s curious about the different last names then Evans doesn’t show it. Instead, he bobs his head at him respectfully. “Nice to meet you”

Maybe this year was worst on him then he thought because Orion finds words falling out of his mouth before he can stop himself. “I’m a werewolf.”

He waits for the fear, or the hatred aware his father has stiffened next to him but unwilling to look away from the green eyes. Evans doesn’t faze in the slightest instead, he raises a brow looking far too amused. “That’s nice. I’m a wizard myself”

He wonders if the bewilderment he feels is showing on his face. It was...such a lack of reaction even Father did a double take. What does one even say to that? 

Evans suddenly smiles, warm and friendly in equal parts, and Orion doesn’t know what to do in the glory of it.  “I like you.”

Is this what it feels like to be kicked in the chest?  

“Hadrian Evans!” A man’s voice suddenly cuts through the air, sharp with chiding. Evans winces, for the first time looking like a child. 

Walking towards them is an older looking Evans. He’s got long dark uncontrol hair, poorly pulled into a ponytail, like it was shoved there despite it not wanting to be. Loose stands swung rebelliously out, his green eyes aren’t nearly as bright at Evans, more moss then brilliant jewel but they are the same shapes.  

He’s older but far too young to be Evans father. A brother perhaps? 

His face is pulled into a nasty scowl. “Young man, what did I say about wandering off by yourself? You could have been kidnapped!”

“Sorry Will,” Evans tells...older Evans.  He gestures to the werewolves, his eyes seemed to convey another strange emotion.  “I just wanted to meet someone my age.”

Orion feels his face heat up as the older man cuts his gaze at him and Father, looking like he suddenly understands why Evans disobeyed him. For some reason, he is embarrassed by that. (From the corner of his eye he peaks up at his parent and is meet with gleeful amusement, beaming in parental pride. His face grows hotter)

“It’s fine, just don’t do it again.” He huffs rubbing Evans’ hair roughly. He grins over at the werewolves open and friendly as Evans. “Sorry about him. He tends to ignore social rules. I’m Will Evans, this brat’s older brother.”

The pair of brothers invite them back to their shop, called Dimension Hoppers, which turns out to be a general store of various imported objects from all over the world. There are so many new things that Orion could barely choose where to look, Hadrien dragging him along pointing and explaining what each item was, with obvious enthusiasm. 

Especially when they came across the Ancient Runes section. Orion thinks that’s his new...friend?...favorite topic.

Obviously, he had some experience as a salesman, because he doesn’t flatter whenever Orion asks questions nor tries to push a sale. He just gives a general tour of all the allies as the grown-up talk up front.

Turns out Will was also a curse breaker, following his parents' footsteps. After their deaths, he gained guardship over Hadrian and had chosen to start a business using the family connects to supply rare objects from around the world, so he could be close by when Hadrien started Hogwarts. 

“He was going to homeschool me,” Hadrian says a few hours later walking with him as the pair finish shopping for their school supplies that weren’t sold in his brother's shop. 

Which were only like five things. Orion himself had most of his list finished there too. The prices were much fairer and his Father had been overjoyed that they could save some for new robes. 

“But I kinda always wanted to go to an actual school instead of being taught everything on the road, you know?”

He didn’t. But he also didn’t know how in the world he left Dimension Hoppers with an invitation to come back and hang out sometime before Hogwarts. Nor why in world, Will had passed him some Dragon Breath’s boxes on the house for his brother’s first friend on their way out.

His father wouldn’t stop smiling and...neither could he. Orion hadn’t had this much fun in a long time. He already couldn’t wait to see Hadrian again. 

Maybe his second year at Hogwarts won’t be all that bad after all.

#harry potter #C'est La Vie #Orion Black #Hadrian Evans #Au: Dimension Hoppers Store #Will is actaully Bill Weasley from the previous world #He woke as himself but the two preform a Blood Adoption to make him a Evans #He is upset his hair won't listen anymore but unwilling to give up long hair #Hadrian is out there making friends #Cover store as store owners #Orion may be Occ but that's due to him only facing one year of bullying instead of four #Remus misunderstood and now thinks Hadrian has a crush on his son #OrionXHadrian

[juniorformulamotorsport]

Sunday 15th September 2019 – Boppard, Schloss Rheinfels, Illkirch

After an excellent, and beautifully presented, breakfast at the Landgasthof Eiserner Ritter, which made us regret what we’d had for dinner the night before even more, we packed up ready to move on.

It was a glorious day, and we had a plan to start by visiting the centre of Boppard and then, if we had time, moving on to the nearby Schloss Rheinfels before we headed to our first destination in Alsace, and AirBnB in Illkirch-Graffenstaden, just outside Strasbourg.

We parked up at the railway station, which is close to the middle of town, and where we couldn’t argue with the graffitti, which translated to “Wine in principle” – seemed like a fair statement to us. The station also offered free parking under cover, at least on a Sunday anyway, which meant we’d come back to a cool car rather than an oven. Having found our way in, we then picked our way into town past the old city walls.

As in Oberwesel, the railway line runs right next to them, and from there a number of underpasses lead you into the town centre, past some rather odd sights…

It was around 10am and very quiet on the side streets. We walked past interesting – but closed – shops and businesses, including one selling the most odd fish (I think that’s what they were).

We also met a friendly, though not very helpful, local.

We could hear music in the distance, and so we headed towards it, finding ourselves on the riverside, where a local brass band was putting on a concert. Apparently this is a regular thing on September Sunday mornings, and quite a few people were already sitting around in the sun, enjoying the music.

We had also located the municipal museum, which is housed in the former Electoral castle, which was altered numerous times over the centuries, and which was fascinating both in terms of the actual building, and in terms of the history it related. First, something about the town itself. Just as with Oberwesel, there’s been a settlement on the site for a very long time (the earliest traces of occupation go back around 13,000 years) but the first real remnants that the visitor can see are Roman, probably replacing the Celts again. In the mid 3rd century the Romans had to evacuate their territory on the right bank of the Rhine and secure the river as their border. During the rule of Valentinian I a Roman castrum, the Römerkastell Boppard, was built and the Roman troops finally left the area in 405, when they were withdrawn to defend their home base. In 643 Boppard was recorded as a Frankish royal estate and a Merovingian state administrative centre.

It was thus a free imperial city (until 1309), which meant kings turned up to stay at the Royal Estate on a frequent basis. Then in 1309 Heinrich VII pledged Boppard to his brother, Archbishop Baldwin of Trier. The locals however, were having none of that, and they set up their own council, triggering a siege, after which Boppard finally became part of the Electorate of Trier, and Baldwin extended the castle, giving work to the locals both in the administration and the construction “sectors”. Despite this, the locals still weren’t happy, and so they turned to the Holy Roman Emperor, Maximilian I, who took their side against the Elector. Maximilian freed Boppard from Electoral jurisdiction and tolls, but then had to reverse the decision, which kicked off the Boppard War in 1497. The Elector of Trier sent an army of 12,000 to sort it out, and the resistance of the townsfolk promptly crumbled.

After that Boppard seemed to get in the way of a number of armies, losing a fair whack of its population during the Thirty Years’ War, when the town was occupied by Swedish troops (1632). During the Nine Years’ War the French attacked but were beaten off, but they came back during the War of the Polish Succession. Just to add to the fun, in 1794 French Revolutionary troops occupied the town and stayed for 20 years. As if that wasn’t enough, after Napoleon was defeated in 1814, Boppard was governed by the Imperial and Royal Austrian and Royal Bavarian joint Landesadministrationskommission for a very short period, before it was handed to Prussia as a result of the Congress of Vienna. It’s a miracle that anyone in the place had any idea where they belonged. That can, however, also be said for many places along the Rhine, as we would find out in the coming days.

As the museum was still closed (it was due to open at 11) we stopped off for a coffee at the first open café we could find, the Café Zeitgeist, which was rather lovely and provided an excellent cappuccino.

The owners reckon they are occupying the oldest surviving half-timbered house in the town, and as it dates from 1519 I’m not going to argue with them. It’s been modernised and given a lot of love since then.

After we’d finished, the museum was open, so we popped in and nosed around, surprising ourselves by stumbling across a bit of history we should have known about given our interests, but that had somehow passed us by. That being the story of Richard of Cornwall, the second son of King John, nominal Count of Poitou, Earl of Conrwall and – and this is the significant bit with regards to Boppard – King of Germany from 1257. He seems to have made a great deal of money and managed to become one of the wealthiest men in Europe at the time, and was clearly much more politically astute than his father. He presumably became even richer after he joined the Barons’ Crusade, where “he achieved success as a negotiator for the release of prisoners” and presumably was amply rewarded for it. The whole “King of Germany” thing was less than straightforward too, which shouldn’t surprise anyone I suppose. Only 4 of the 7 Electors originally supported Richard, though the fact that he had powerful relatives finally swung things in his favour, that along with bribes amounting to 28,000 marks anyway! He was crowned “King of the Romans” in Aachen on 27th May 1257 by Konrad von Hochstaden, Archbishop of Cologne. He made only four brief visits to Germany between 1257 and 1269 but one of those seems o have been to Boppard. I think it unlikely he stopped off here though.

Also of interest in the museum was a section all about the inventor of bentwood furniture, Michael Thonet, who was born and worked locally before going off to Vienna and becoming massively successful. The collection is substantial, and well displayed, and made me think about how such items are made for the first time. They’re also lovely, elegant, with beautiful curving shapes that make you want to touch them. It was also a pleasure being allowed to take photographs (without flash), something we found was common pretty much everywhere we went over the time we were away.

Just to add to tour enjoyment, there were also some entertaining portraits of composers from a variety of eras, by Michael Aptiz, another local. His exhibition, CHROMOFONIE, was fabulous. I especially liked Beethoven, though he also went modern with Bob Dylan, that work appearing on one of the staircases. He also creates stunning landscapes, some of which are also in the museum.

We also discovered you could get up into the tower of the castle from inside the museum, and although it wasn’t especially high, it did offer some excellent views up and down the river, and across the rooftops of the town.  The tower also contained the remains of a small chapel, which had obviously been gloriously frescoed in its day.

Afterwards we figured we’d stop for another drink, this time at the eccentrically decorated Café and Bistro 60s, where we drank coffee and spotted – and then had to identify – a weirdly wonderful hummingbird hawk moth (macroglossum stellatarum), something I’d certainly never seen before, and that was moving too fast for me to get a photo of. They seem to be rather fond of geraniums. They weren’t at all interested in my coffee.

After coffee we decided we’d like to visit another of the town’s main attractions, Saint Severus’ Church, described as “one of the finest examples of late Romanesque church architecture in the Rhineland”. It stands on the site of the Roman military bath houses, and is visible from all over town with its white washed paired towers pointing up to the heavens. We were also told that “the webbed vaulting in the nave is unique in Romanesque architecture” and “the richness of the colours and decorative patterns is unmatched in the Middle Rhine region”. It had a lot to live up to; it didn’t disappoint. We’re really not used to richly decorated churches in England, given that most decoration was stripped away in the English Civil War, if it had survived the Reformation in the first place. Some of the churches we saw on this trip were mind-bendingly glorious in their vivid designs and colours.

As a throwback to its earliest history, there are Roman gravestones on display, but you could probably miss them if you let the interior overwhelm you, something it is determined to do at every turn.

We swung back through the town centre, stopped and bought a box of wine, and then reunited ourselves with the car, and headed one stop further along the riverside, and stopped at Sankt Goar, another ludicrously pretty town in the UNESCO World Heritage site. As with everywhere else along the Rhine Valley, Sankt Goar was already settled in Roman times, but takes its name from Goar of Aquitaine, a monk, who arrived in the reign of King Childebert I (511-538). He started out as a hermit, but then became a missionary, well known for his great hospitality, particularly towards the Rhine boatmen. He built a chapel and a hospice, and after his death it became a pilgrimage site, and the town developed from there, especially after King Pepin the Younger transferred the hospice and chapel to the Abbot of Prüm Abbey as a personal benefice. There is a claim that Charlemagne built a church over the site of the original hermitage, but then most places in the region make that sort of claim. It later came under the protection of the Counts of Katzenelnbogen, with Count Diether V building the structure we’d come to see, the massively monumental Burg Rheinfels.

Later the castle would be fought over by Hesse-Kassel and Hesse-Darmstadt. which saw Burg Rheinfels and Sankt Goar besieged for several weeks in the summer of 1626 with help of Imperial troops. It was an argument that would continue for some decades, and probably only really stopped in the early 1700s. In 1711, after an inheritance dispute, Landgrave William of Hesse-Wanfried was awarded the Landgraviate of Hesse-Rheinfels and the Emperor transferred the castle to him in 1718. In 1731, Christian of Hessen-Wanfried (known since 1711 as Hessen-Eschwege) inherited the Landgraviate of Hesse-Rheinfels along with the castle and the castle was ceded to Hesse-Kassel in 1735. In 1755, after Christian’s death, the Landgraviate passed to the Landgraviate of Hesse-Rotenburg, in 1794, the castle was given up to French Revolutionary troops without a fight, and in 1796 and 1797, great parts of it were blown up.

And that’s how it remains to this day, despite a tentative plan by Wilhelm II to recreate it in an effort to promote German civilization. It didn’t happen and Wilhelm turned his attention to another castle in the region, but now in France, Haut Koenigsbourg, of which more another time. I think it’s fair to say that none of this stops you getting a good idea of just how intimidating it must have been in its heyday. It also commands the landscape for some distance, looming over the river and vineyards far below.

There is a small museum in the former chapel which detailed the history of the complex, and a downstairs room that seemed to be “we found all this lot lying around the castle and have to put it somewhere” which was diverting if not terribly informative!

With time running out – we needed to get on our way to Illkirch-Graffenstaden by 3pm at the latest and anyway our car parking stay was going to run out slightly before that – we figured we’d better get something to eat or we’d be very hungry by the time we could sort dinner out. We scooted into the restaurant on the other side of the entrance way and completely failed to get a table outside on the terrace. We settled slightly grumpily at an indoor table and looked enviously out of the nearest glass door where two people and a dog could be seen dining. We figured they were also on the main terrace, but then they got up and left, so I stuck my head outside and realised that there was what was in effect a tiny balcony all on its own overlooking the valley. We didn’t need a second invitation and threw ourselves out there, figuring that in this case possession was definitely 9/10ths of the law!

We ordered a flammkuchen each (in effect a very thin based local version of pizza topped with creme fraiche and whatever else the chef fancies if they’re being avant garde or with bacon and onions if they’re being traditionalist), one with feta cheese and peppers and one with wild mushrooms and bacon.

They were big but we were quite prepared to wrap any leftovers up and take them with us – it would save having to go and look for a restaurant open on a Sunday evening in France later on.

Enjoyed with a glass of local wine each, we settled in to enjoy our view, while remaining shaded from the frankly ferocious sun. Neither of us could manage more than half of the flammkuchen so we duly packed the spare up and stashed it in my bag.

We left the Rhine with plans to come back starting to percolate in my brain, especially now we knew about the Schloss Rheinfels Hotel! There followed a rather longer drive than I’d have hoped for as we found the main route from where we were towards Strasbourg was a single lane each way and was full of all sorts of annoyingly slow traffic. We arrived at one minute past the appointed hour and then had to faff around trying to contact our AirBnB landlady, but we eventually got in and got settled, unpacking for our three night stay on the edge of Strasbourg.

Travel 2019 – Alsace and Baden, Day 3, Boppard, Schloss Rheinfels, Illkirch Sunday 15th September 2019 - Boppard, Schloss Rheinfels, Illkirch After an excellent, and beautifully presented, breakfast at the…

#2019 #Arts #Boppard #Boppard Schloss #Café and Bistro 60s #Café Zeitgeist #Cafés #Castles #Churches #Cooking #Europe #Food #Food and Drink #Germany #Graffenstaden #Hospitality #Hotels #Illkirch #Illkirch-Graffenstaden #Landgasthof Eiserner Ritter #Michael Aptiz #Michael Thonet #Museums #Restaurants #Saint Goar #Saint Severus #Sankt Goar #Sankt Severus #Travel #Wine

[roundtheworldrambles]

Koh Phi Phi and Ao Nang, Thailand

Day 154 – Koh Phi Phi

After a final breakfast at Bloom – with (yet another!) Acai bowl, I headed down to Pattaya Beach to catch my ferry north to Koh Phi Phi. The beach was in chaos as passengers attempted to locate the right longtail boats to shuttle us to the highspeed ferries, moored just offshore. The ferries definitely ran on “island time”, and though my speedboat was scheduled to leave at 9am, it was closer to 9:40am by the time we set off. I was a bit anxious about the late start, as I already had a tight window of time to arrive in Koh Phi Phi and check into my overnight boat trip. In hindsight, I needn’t have been worried, as all of the other boats and ferries in Thailand also seemed to run behind!

After 4 bumpy hours on the water, and a chaotic transfer to a new ferry on the island of Koh Lanta, we finally arrived at Koh Phi Phi Don. I could immediately see why it was one of the most famous – and touristy! – islands in Thailand. As we approached Tonsai Pier through the turquoise blue waters, hundreds of colourful longtail boats dotted the shoreline.  

Koh Phi Phi Don

The main area of the island is packed to the brim with Thai massage parlours, shops, excursion companies, and restaurants and bars, selling everything from $300 baht Thai buckets, diving trips, longtail boat tours and unmistakable Thai elephant pants.  I was aware that the island had a reputation for being an overdeveloped, overpriced, party island – and my expectations were fairly accurate. Since this wasn’t really my scene, I had decided to only spend only a day on the archipelago, mostly to see the natural beauty of the nearby Koh Phi Phi Leh – where towering green limestone cliffs jut up from the crystal clear ocean, framing picturesque bays and white sandy beaches.

As I disembarked from the ferry, I manoeuvred my way through crowds of tourists and fishermen to find Maya Bay Tours, which runs an overnight boat trip to Koh Phi Phi Leh. I had booked this trip in order to avoid the crowds of day trippers to the area, as Maya Beach, made famous in Leonardo Dicaprio’s “The Beach” was one of the most popular tourist destinations in Thailand. Interestingly enough, shortly after my trip to Thailand, the government shut down Maya Beach for a few years in order for the ecosystem to recuperate.

Entrance to the Viking Cave on Koh Phi Phi Leh

The powerful tropical heat continued into the late afternoon as our group of about 20 boarded our small boat, setting off to Koh Phi Phi Leh, 1.5 km to the South of the main island. Phi Phi Leh is an uninhabited island, and looks like a green crown from a distance, rising up from the ocean. As we drew near, our boat passed alongside spectacular vertical cliffs, completely covered with dense foliage.

I quickly befriended the other passengers on the boat, including two girls from New York.  We first stopped at “Viking Cave”, a cavern at the base of one of the limestone cliffs where swifts make their nests. I was surprised to learn that harvesting of these birdnests was actually a profitable local business, as the nests are edible and believed to promote good health and skin, particularly in Chinese culture. It is a precarious job, as hunters build bamboo scaffolding into pitch-black caves, ascending into the dark to collect the nests. Shockingly, our guide told us that the market value of these nests was over $2000/kg! He suggested that we keep our eyes open for “birds nest soup” in local grocery stores elsewhere in Thailand, as the nests are most commonly eaten in soup form.

Continuing along the shoreline, our boat moored at Loh Sama Bay for swimming, snorkelling and kayaking. Jumping off the third deck of the boat into the ocean, we swam through the turquoise blue waters, diving below the surface to check out the tropical coral and fish. Drying off, I also took one of the kayaks out to the end of the bay, basking in the sun as I paddled next to the green cliffs.

Koh Phi Phi Leh

As the sun began to wane, we boarded our boat again, and circled the island to moor in the famous Maya Bay - just on time for the local day trippers and longtail boats to head back to the main island! The bay became quieter as the sun began to set, casting spectacular shadows over the tall green cliffs that framed the bay. We sat above deck to take in the impressive scenery, all while tucking into a Thai feast that had been prepared for us (complete with a complimentary Thai bucket, naturally!).

Sunset from our Overnight Boat

After dinner, our group went night-time swimming in the bay to see the bioluminescent plankton. As we swam along, the movement of the water made the plankton glow around us. In retrospect – I realize that this wasn’t the safest idea after a Thai bucket, but it was super cool! Drying off, we paddled small rowboats a short distance to a small private beach, surrounded by massive cliffs. This is where the party really kicked off – our hosts had lit several bonfires on the beach, and we spent the rest of the evening playing games, listening to music, having a beach barbeque and chatting with our fellow travellers – over a few more Thai buckets and Singha beers! It was such a fun night – and was capped off in the perfect way: sleeping on a cot above deck, underneath a spectacular canopy of stars.  

Day 155 – Koh Phi Phi and Ao Nang

Maya Beach

We woke up before dawn, and enjoyed a light breakfast before being boated over to Maya Beach, the iconic white sand beach at the far end of the bay. Given the popularity of this location, I was thrilled that we had the beach to ourselves before the day-trippers began to arrive. Anchored long-tail boats bobbed offshore as we waded through the crystal clear water, taking in the limestone cliffs, jungle and ocean framing the idyllic beach. I spent some time wandering the jungle trails behind the beach, admiring the dense, lush forest of the island. As Maya Bay began to buzz with day trips arriving, we returned to our boat, and set off back to the main island. As we approached Koh Phi Phi Don, we briefly stopped at Monkey Beach, a short beach with powder-white sand, a brilliant green coral reef just beneath the water. I was disappointed to see a few people on the beach feeding the Macaque monkeys, who clearly were used to being fed by tourists. Because of this expectation, our host told us that it is not unusual for the monkeys to get quite aggressive with visitors, where biting and scratching can be quite common.  

Maya Beach

Returning to Tonsai Pier on Koh Phi Phi Don, I bid farewell to our group, and the New York girls and I explored the laneways and beaches of the island for a few hours, before our various ferries to the mainland departed in the afternoon. We grabbed lunch and a beach beer at a patio just off Tonsai Beach, watching boats come and go from the harbour.

I caught my hour and a half ferry to Ao Nang in the late afternoon, arriving just as the sun was beginning to set. Ao Nang is a town of small resorts, rowdy beach bars, lady boy cabaret shows and tourist traps, and although the town itself wasn’t beautiful, it was a perfect base camp location for me to explore the spectacular limestone headlands around Krabi the following day. As my tuk-tuk from the ferry dropped me off at my hostel in town, I had a chance to catch the sunset offshore – with the biggest orange sun I have ever seen in my life. It was a truly spectacular, memorable sight. After grabbing a green curry dinner from a nearby food stall, I headed back to my hostel for the night, crashing immediately after my long day.

Sunset in Ao Nang

Day 156 – Ao Nang to Chiang Mai

Phran nang Beach

I headed down to Ao Nang beach in the early morning and picked up a ticket for a round-trip long-tail boat ride to Phra nang Beach, a 20 minutes trip south around several limestone headlands, and only accessible by water. I spent my morning swimming in the turquoise water, relaxing and reading on the beach, all while enjoying the stunning backdrop of cliffs covered in green foliage, golden sand beaches, and tall karst islands just offshore. Phra nang and nearby Railay Beach are popular locations for rock climbers, and every now and then I caught a glimpse of an adventurous climber doing a deep water free solo climb. Phra nang Beach also had an interesting, yet somewhat odd shrine at one end of the beach. Called the Tham Phra Nang Nok, or the “Princess Cave” this shrine is dedicated to the Goddess of fertility. Throughout the cave, large and small phallus statues had been erected (no pun intended!), where locals give offerings of flowers and incense.

After a lovely, relaxing morning, it was time for me to return to Ao Nang by long-tail boat, where I headed off to Krabi Airport, enroute North to my next stop – Chiang Mai! The two-hour flight brought me into the capital of the Northern Lanna province, just as the sun was setting. I quickly grabbed a 150 baht taxi to my hostel for the next 4 nights, located on the East side of the old city, which is surround by an ancient moat. I had the good fortune to overlap my time in Chiang Mai with two of my good friends from OT school – Doug and Andea, who were on their honeymoon! Since I had missed their wedding in Canada the previous month, I met them at a patio in the old city, and we shared a few celebratory beers before their flight out the following morning. It was so wonderful to see old friends from Canada after so many months on the road – we couldn’t believe our serendipitous timing! 

Queens Reunion in Chiang Mai!

#thailand

[littlemissnack]

Part 3 Chapter 5

The story of Albus Potter, Rose Weasley and Scorpius Malfoy, and the countless adventure’s they get into in there years at Hogwarts.

To start reading from the beginning click here: http://littlemissnack.tumblr.com/tagged/fanfiction

Here is the fanfiction link if you would prefer to read it on there: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/9303697/1/The-Next-Generation

And Liveluvcreate:  http://www.liveluvcreate.com/fanfiction/book/the_next_generation-732.html

And AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/807773

And Wordpress: www.littlemissnack.wordpress.com

Or if you prefer to read it on here, here you go:

Scorpius learnt that Christmas at the Potters, Christmas at the Malfoys and Christmas at the Weasley’s were three very different experiences. When Scorpius and Albus arrived at kings cross station Scorpius expected to be taken straight to the Weasley’s burrows home, where Albus had often spent his Christmases but Scorpius was corrected on this as he sat in the Potters car between Albus and Lily.

“Oh no Scorp we don’t go to the Burrows until the 23rd! There’s 27 people spending Christmas together 28 this year with you! We don’t leave until last minute and we only stay a week and a bit, we always leave January 2nd to go home and pack. We don’t like to overcrowd Grandma Molly and Grandpa Arthur for too long.” Albus explained

“Yeah so we spend the week between arriving and going to The Burrows at our home.” James’ continued leaning back from the front seat to look at Scorpius

“And the week between leaving The Burrows and going back to school!” Lily added.

“So we’re heading to your house?” Scorpius asked Albus who nodded in response. “Are you sure that’s okay Mr Potter?” Scorpius tentatively asked.

“Please Scorpius I’ve told you, It’s Harry. And of course it is. Gin and I are happy to help any of Al’s friends. I would have hated spending Christmas alone when I was in Hogwarts. But my friends stuck by me and never let me spend it alone again. I’m just glad Al has become that friend.” Harry smiled looking back at Scorpius in the rear-view mirror.

It was at that moment that Scorpius realised he really couldn’t understand what his grandparents had been telling him all his life. His grandparents had never been silent about their opposition to Harry Potter. They’d made him out to be a evil man intent on spreading mudblood loving filth. Yet here he was offering a total stranger his home for Christmas so he wouldn’t have to suffer as he had. Nothing about that seemed evil to Scorpius.

  The week leading up to The Burrows trip was so pleasant, Scorpius had almost forgotten how awful and lonely his Christmases had been in the past. Ginny had given him their guest room and Scorpius found it odd that she made sure to fill the silences with pleasant conversation. She even seemed interested in him and his life. She’d asked him about school and quidditch and his interests and listened to him. Harry had made sure to give him the largest portions of food and he even let Scorpius decide what they were going to eat, He even smuggled him some cookies as a midnight snack once. James had spent the week training with him and Albus on their brooms whenever they could in the Potters garden, as annoying as James Potter could be with his constant pranking and mischief, Scorpius had to admit he was an amazing quidditch player. But a lot of the time Lily got irritated because her parents weren’t letting her fly with her brothers until next year. Scorpius found Lily just as interesting as her brothers though. The first morning he’d been at the Potters he’d accidently walked past Lily’s room as she was talking to a shoebox. Lily then let Scorpius into her butterfly covered bedroom to show him her most prized procession, her shoebox filled with magical creatures she’d found and taken care off. For the rest of the week then whenever the boys to a break from quidditch Lily would bring Scorpius to play with her creatures which Scorpius found fascinating. But he undoubtable spent most of his time with Albus though as they spent the evenings together in either Scorpius guest room or Albus’ bedroom chilling out as Albus showed Scorpius his muggle comic book collection that Scorpius fell in love with.

By December 23rd Scorpius realised he never wanted to leave the Potter’s home. He found it to be fun, caring and homely the exact opposite of his own home. But he couldn’t pretend he wasn’t curious about the famous Burrows Christmases. He wasn’t exactly sure how Christmas with 28 people was even going to work. But as soon as they arrived at 9am he found out exactly how it would work. Messily. He’d barely stepped out of the fireplace they’d flooed into when he ran into one of the few Weasley’s he’d recognised. His Quidditch captain Dominique.

“Watch it! … Oh it’s you. Dad said you were coming.” Dominique studied Scorpius as if trying to read his intentions of being here. Eventually she remembered her original task and ran off to find Roxanne. The next few hours were so loud and confusing Scorpius barely remembered all the names and face he’d been introduced to. He remembered Grandma Molly and Grandpa Arthur who were stood just by the fireplace giving everyone a hug and when they were introduced to Scorpius he was no exception. Grandma Molly held his in her arms and gave him a squeeze as Grandpa Arthur patted his back.

“You must be Albus’ friend Scorpius. It’s so nice to meet you and have you here for Christmas! You’ll have to excuse how loud and crazy it can get I’m afraid.” Molly smiled. Her smile was entirely infection and Scorpius found himself beaming too. For as loud and as crazy as it was he knew that at least it wasn’t as silent as Malfoy Manor.

When Scorpius had turned around after talking to Grandma Molly and Grandpa Arthur about his previous Christmases he found the entire Potter clan except Albus had disappeared.

“Come on let me introduce you to everyone!” Albus chuckled, though Scorpius already knew this would take most of the day.

Albus and him first made there way into the living room where the James, Fred and Louis were gathered around the coffee table with blueprints on the table.

“I believe you’ve already met the Junior Marauders as they like to call themselves.” Albus nodded towards James, Fred and Louis.

“Why do they call themselves that?” Scorpius asked.

“My mum once told us about our grandfather and his friends who used to pull epic pranks, messing about and get into trouble and they called themselves the marauders. James’ was names after two of them and pulling pranks and getting into trouble are like his, Fred and Lou’s favourite things so they called themselves the junior Marauders to uphold there legacy.” Albus explained. “Basically. Stay away from them or you WILL be on the receiving end of a prank!” Scorpius made a mental note of that. Albus nodded to the sofa where a stunningly beautiful woman with long flowing blonde hair and icy blue eyes  wearing a flowing blue dress and warm winter leggings sat next to a woman who looked to be her total opposite. The other woman was smaller and had a brown bob of hair and grey eyes she was wearing a stained lilac button down shirt with a pair of worn out jeans and scuffed heals. Both women were sat laughing over a cup of coffee.

“That blonde lady is my aunt Fleur and the brown haired one’s my aunt Audrey. Aunt Fleur is Victoire, Louis and Dom’s mum and Uncle Bill’s wife. Aunt Audrey is Molly and Lucy’s mum and Uncle Percy’s wife.” Scorpius tried to take this information in but given he hadn’t met half the people Albus had just described he figured he’d probably forget it in two minutes.

“Aunt Fleur and Aunt Audrey are pretty harmless just stay out of there way when there helping Grandma make Christmas dinner!”

“Hey Al!”

“Merry Christmas!” Came two identical voices from just behind Albus and Scorpius. They turned around to see two girls who looked eerily identical, the only way Scorpius could see to tell them apart was one girl had orange hair and one had brown. Other than that they both had the same crystal blue eyes, the same cardigan which the orange haired girl had in yellow and the brown haired girl had in blue, the same black skirts and the same grey tights with black buckled shoes. Even their hair was styled in the same half up, half down fashion tied up with ribbon.

“Merry Christmas girls! Girls this is my friend Scorpius, he’s staying with us this Christmas. Scorp this is Molly,” Albus pointed to the brown haired girl “And Lucy. You may have seen Lucy around she’s in our year but she’s in Hufflepuff. Molly’s a year older though.” Scorpius extended his hand and both girls shook it.

“Hi Scorpius.” The replied in unison.

“There Aunt Audrey and Uncle Percy’s kids.” Albus explained. Scorpius remembered Audrey though he had yet to meet Percy.

“Nice to meet you both!” Scorpius remembered his manners as the girls waved and Albus ushered him into the kitchen where Scorpius could see a lot of adults.

“Right you already know mum and dad obviously, and there talking to Aunt Angie” Albus pointed out. Scorpius noticed Ginny having an intense discussion with a dark lady whose braided hair was tied up in a bun and who was wearing a thick jumper with her jeans and trainers.

“Aunt Angelina and mum have both played professional quidditch, they get pretty intense about it so stay off that topic with them. Aunt Angie is Fred and Roxy’s mum and Uncle George’s wife.” Albus said turning his head to another orange haired, freckle faced man with a button down shirt sticking out from underneath a cream and orange striped jumper.

“That’s Uncle George there. He runs the joke shop in Diagon Ally. You must have seen it!” Scorpius’ eyes widened.

“You mean Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes?” Albus nodded “I’ve always wanted to go in there but my father would never let me!” Scorpius sighed. Albus gave a half-hearted reassuring smile as he patted Scorpius’ shoulder.

“Hey maybe Uncle George will sell us some stuff from here and your father will never have to know!” Albus suggested. Scorpius’ eyes light up.

“MUM! Where’s my broom?” Scorpius and Albus were interrupted and pushed out of the doorway by the Weasley Scorpius recognised from quidditch as Roxanne with Dominique trailing behind.

“In your room where you left it!” Angelina replied barely taking her mind of her conversation with Ginny. Roxanne whose light brown curly hair was loose in it’s ringlets today promptly turned out of the room and pounded up the stairs with Dominique urging her to hurry so they could practice.

“You remember Roxy from quidditch right?” Al sarcastically asked. Scorpius rolled his eyes in response. Albus and Scorpius had barely turned out of the kitchen when they saw another relative Scorpius didn’t know talking to Albus’ grandparents. This man had curly orange hair that had been gelled back and bright blue eyes under silver crescent glasses.

“Uncle Percy.” Albus explained. “Married to Aunt Audrey. Father to Molly and Lucy. He’s harmless but he’ll talk your ear off about the ministry. Worked there since he left school. Bit boring really.” Albus summarised.

“HUGO COME ON!” Scorpius and Albus got pushed against the wall before they knew it by Lily running to the front door to go the garden with a worried looking Hugo by the hand.

“Lily I don’t know if we should…” was the last thing Scorpius heard before Lily slammed the door.

“Lily and Hugo obviously you know them.” Albus guided Scorpius into the dinning room Scorpius barely had any time to take the room in when a flying Santa ornament flew over his head.

“Sorry! Scorpius right? Nice to meet you!” a long orange haired man with a deep scar down one side of his face smiled as he picked up his Santa ornament and headed back to another long orange haired man but this one’s hair was in a ponytail that reached down his back and instead of one deep scar several scars were showing on his arms thanks to his short sleeved t-shirt.

“That’s Uncle​ Bill he’s married to Aunt Fleur and his kids are Victoire, Dom and Lou” Albus quickly covered. Suddenly the longer haired man seemed to notice Albus and his face lit up as he crossed the dinning room to them.

“AL! Hey buddy! God you’ve got so big!” He grabbed Albus into a bear hug.

“Uncle Charlie!” Albus grinned resting his head on his uncle’s chest. When they parted his uncle’s eyes landed on Scorpius.

“Uncle Charlie, this is my friend Scorpius, Scorp this is Uncle Charlie! He works with dragons and lives in Romania, I didn’t know you were coming home this Christmas Uncle Charlie!” Albus exclaimed giving his uncle another hug.

“Thought I’d come and surprise everyone, it has been 5 years after all!” Charlie ruffled his nephews hair. Scorpius smiled at the exchange.

“Charlie, come help us get this Santa on the tree!” Bill had the flying Santa on the table trying to get it to stay still long enough to get it onto the Christmas tree in the corner. Charlie rushed over to his brother which left Albus free to resume the tour.

“Let’s go find Rose you know her!” Albus joked at Scorpius’ overwhelmed expression he patted him on the back and directed him back to the corridor where three more people had appeared. One of them Scorpius recognised immediately as Rose and he assumed the two adults just behind her must have been her parents. Her father had orange hair, blue eyes and freckles. It was easy for Scorpius to see where she’s got most of her looks but her mother’s posture and pencil skirt made it clear to Scorpius where Rose had got her mind from.

“There’s Rose and her parents Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron.” Albus made his way through his Grandma Molly, Grandpa Arthur and Uncle Percy to meet them in the living room doorframe.

“Rose!” Rose turned to see Scorpius and her smile widened.

“There you are!” Albus gave his cousin a quick hug and moved into the living room to great his aunt and uncle. Scorpius stayed in the doorframe with Rose.

“So how’s your first Weasley Christmas treating you?” Rose asked.

“Honestly it’s a bit overwhelming but really lovely!” Scorpius admitted.

“That sums it up really!” Rose laughed. Suddenly Scorpius heard a screech behind him.

“Ooooh Rose is under the mistletoe!” A heart-stoppingly beautiful girl bounced on the spot making her white tights slip slightly. The first thing Scorpius noticed about this beautiful girl was that she was smiling so wide yet she had no smile lines, it was like her skin was made of pure perfection. Her silky blonde shimmering hair was curled loosely around her chest and her pink jumper dress was hugging tightly to every curve. Scorpius was so enthralled at staring at the beautiful girl he hadn’t noticed the mistletoe hanging above him and Rose that this girl was so excited about until suddenly he felt Rose’s soft lips against his cheeks. His attention snapped off the pretty girl as quickly as it had began and his cheeks burned red as he heard Albus wolf whistling.

“Happy now Victoire?” Rose rolled her eyes but couldn’t resist smiling a bit as Victoire Awwed them. Rose and Scorpius’ eyes finally met and they smiled slightly behind there red faces.

“So you’re the Malfoy kid invading my home.” A harsh voice broke the two apart as Scorpius looked up at Ron’s face.

“Hello Sir, I’m Scorpius. Thank you for letting me stay here this Christmas.” Scorpius nervously smiled and held out his hand. Ron stared at the hand and then at Scorpius face making no attempt to return the gesture.

“Don’t thank me. If it were up to me we wouldn’t have any Malfoy’s in my house. You may have fooled them but I still remember what you family did.” Ron scowled. Scorpius stared at him gobsmacked, unable to even close his mouth is violent shock.

“Daddy!” Rose snapped.

“Woah!” Albus protested

“Ronald!” Hermione growled all at the same time.

“Sir I’m not like my family….” Scorpius began to explain still in shock.

“No. Scorp you don’t have to explain yourself. Look Uncle Ron, Grandma said he could stay so he’s staying. So be nice or don’t say anything at all.” Albus stood next to his friend in solidarity. Ron rolled his eyes in frustration.

“Stay away from my little girl. You may be a Malfoy but you don’t have to bring her down with you.” Ron snapped as he walked away.

“Dad! Don’t say that…” Rose began arguing as she followed him.

“I’m sorry for him honey, he has some backwards beliefs sometimes!” Hermione shook her head in disagreement before following her husband. Albus took Scorpius by the shoulders and took him up to his and Hugo’s room where he would be sleeping.

  Despite hearing loud conversations underneath them all day, Albus and Scorpius decided to remain in the most peaceful place in The Burrows for the majority of the day, Albus and Hugo’s bedroom. Albus & Hugo’s bedroom was barely big enough for another camp bed but Molly Weasley had fit one in there opposite the bunk beds somehow. Hugo hadn’t been given a break from adventuring with Lily so Albus and Scorpius had the room to themselves for the day. Which is why it came as such a shock to Scorpius’ system when he heard the loudest bellow he thought he’d ever heard come from Molly Weasley ascending​ up to the 3rd floor that Albus and Scorpius’ room was on and Scorpius was forced to leave the comfort of the bedroom for the madness of the dinner table. Albus, who was very used to the madness of teatime directed Scorpius to a chair next to him. Before Scorpius knew it everyone had settled quicker than he thought possible for a family of 27, but then again Scorpius remembered they must be used to this by now.

“Wait. Who are you?” The voice made Scorpius’ head snap up just as he was about to take a bite of his mashed potatoes. He quickly registered the young man sitting next to him in a plaid shirt with a weird-sister T-shirt underneath and skinny jeans on. But by far what most caught Scorpius’ eye was the young mans bright turquoise blue hair with orange tips, The colour was so bright and shocking that it stood out on the young man almost as much as his eyes which Scorpius could swear were violet.

“Oh…uh… I’m Scorpius. I’m Albus’ friend. Mrs Weasley said it was okay for me to stay here this Christmas.” Scorpius extended his hand which the young man happily shook. Scorpius couldn’t resist from staring at his hair. “I love your hair!” Scorpius complimented.

“Thank you! I’m Teddy. What colour even is it now?” Teddy chuckled running his hand through his short quiffed hair.

“You don’t know what colour your hair is?” Scorpius stared at it confused and before his eyes it turned the exact same shade of blonde as Scorpius’

“Wow! You’re a metamorphmagus!” Scorpius’ mouth hung open as Teddy’s changed his hair back to turquoise and orange.

“Yeah I forget sometimes that I’ve ever changed the colour!” Teddy laughed at Scorpius’ gormless expression.

“That’s so cool!” Scorpius admired

“Yeah, I never look out of place at the weird sisters concerts!” Teddy shrugged.

“I love the weird sisters!” Scorpius exclaimed.

“Awesome! Nice to meet a fellow fan! Not a lot of these Weasley-Potter’s are…. Except Ginny of course!” Scorpius’ eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

“Wait… aren’t you a Weasley-Potter?”

“Oh no! Not by blood I mean. I’m a Lupin. Teddy Lupin. Me and Gran get invited here cause Harry’s my godfather.” Teddy explained nodding towards an elderly woman with grey hair and pursed lips who was glaring at him from across the table. Scorpius smiled at her and extended his hand over the table.

“Hello, I’m Scorpi….”

“I know who you are.” The woman cut off. Her sharp bitter tone had silenced the entire dinner table to staring at them both.

“Oh Drom. I’m so sorry! I forgot to tell you he was coming… I was going to explain…” Grandma Molly’s cheeks had gone red as she frantically tried to explain herself. The woman was paying no attention to her though and her eyes remained fixed on Scorpius.

“You’re her grandson aren’t you. Scorpius Malfoy.” Teddy was looking back and forth between his gran and Scorpius in confusion.

“Excuse me, have we met?” Scorpius’ cheeks were starting to burn red as he noticed all 27 eyes on him.

“No we haven’t. Figures she wouldn’t even tell you I exist. I bet your father has no idea about me either.”

“Aunt Andromeda! He’s not like his father, or his grandmother. He’s like you. He’s here because his father’s been ignoring him and he doesn’t feel comfortable at Malfoy Manor. He’s just like you Aunt Drom. He doesn’t fit in there either.” Albus desperately tried to explain.

“He’s right Aunt Drom. You’d like him. He was cast out by them too!” Rose defended Scorpius despite her father’s harsh gaze.

“Is that true? Do you not fit in at their home either?” the old woman’s expression softened. Scorpius nodded.

“My father doesn’t like that I’m a Gryffindor or that I’m friends with muggleborns. It never felt right being in that house.” Scorpius shyly muttered.

“It never felt right there to me either.” The woman looked pleasant and nice now with her softened expression. She reached her hand out and clasped Scorpius’ in her own.

“Excuse me, I don’t mean to be rude but… Who are you?” Scorpius asked the strange woman who seemed to know so much about his family.

“Andromeda Tonks. But before I was married I was known as Andromeda Black. You grandmother Narcissa was my sister. I’m your great aunt.” The woman explained. Scorpius’ mouth fell open.

“But…I didn’t even know my grandmother had a sister other than…” Scorpius knew better than to speak the name of his mother’s wicked sister. A death eater to the end she had been.

“There were three of us. But she was most ashamed of me. I married a muggle-born and was disowned. I doubt she even remembers me.” Andromeda remembered. Teddy’s eyes widened slightly.

“Wait, so Scorpius is my second cousin?” Teddy asked. Andromeda nodded in response Teddy smiled happily.

“They disowned you just like that?” Scorpius’ eyes flashed with fear.

“Our family have always been blood purists, I was deemed a traitor to there beliefs, Beliefs that they hold higher than family…. Why haven’t you been disowned then if you don’t share there beliefs?” Andromeda asked.

“My grandparents don’t know yet. My father makes me dress in a slytherin tie and act good for them.” Scorpius admitted feeling very embarrassed to admit it to a brave woman who had stood up to her family for love.

“Never let them do that. Never let them hide who you truly are and what you truly belief to fit there mold for you.” Andromeda advised. Scorpius was thankful everyone’s conversations had resumed now so no one else had to hear him admit to his great aunt who had been disowned for standing up for what was right that he couldn’t do the same thing.

  Christmas eve was a blur of loud conversations and trying desperately to remember names and faces for Scorpius. Thankfully whenever Scorpius seemed to look lost either Albus, Rose, Harry, Ginny or his new cousin Teddy would come to talk to him to make him feel more welcome. Scorpius didn’t think it could get more mad at this house, but come Christmas morning he found he was sorely mistaken. With everyone rushing to either put the food in or open presents and 27 people around him trying to show off their presents to one another and thank each other, Scorpius found the noise level had risen several decibels. Scorpius was content however to sit and watch everyone else open there presents while he drank his hot cocoa Grandma Molly had given him. That was until Harry and Ginny had handed him a purple and gold wrapped present.

“You got me a present?” Scorpius looked up in confusion, placing his hot cocoa on the side for later.

“It’s nothing, we weren’t sure if you’d get anything and we wanted to make sure you had something to open on Christmas!” Ginny explained. Scorpius’ eyes welled up at there kindness. “Go on open it.”

Scorpius all but shredded the wrapping paper to find a leather bound book entitled ‘Peter Pan and Wendy’ Scorpius studied the boo in confusion.

“You mentioned how you loved to read and how interested in muggle culture you were… and that you weren’t allowed to look into it. It’s a muggle story book.” Harry explained. Tears started to fall from Scorpius’ eyes and he couldn’t even voice his appreciation so he simply pulled them both into a big hug and hoped they knew what he was struggling to say.  Scorpius then excused himself to the bathroom to clean himself up. When he emerged he found Albus in the corridor with a thin rectangular present.

“There you are! I’ve been looking for you! Merry Christmas!” He handed Scorpius the present. Scorpius tore open the paper to find a shiny covered comic book with the words ‘Superman’ written in bold red letters on the front. Scorpius thanked Albus and laughed as he handed him his present for him…. A Batman comic he’d got from the store near the Potters home. After breaking apart from there hug Scorpius looked Albus in the eyes and said

“Thank you for giving me a home from Christmas.” Albus smiled at this.

“Don’t mention it. Happy to help my best friend.” Scorpius resisted the urge he felt to well up again. Albus then returned to the Christmas tree in the living room to open the rest of his presents and Scorpius returned to his armchair to finish his hot cocoa, when he was interrupted again this time by Rose who sat down on the sofa next to him.

“Here” Rose simply stated handing over a perfectly neatly wrapped present with a bow wrapped around it. Scorpius was a little taken aback he and Rose had never exchanged presents before and he couldn’t help but feel her father glare from over her shoulder.

“um… thank you.” He said unravelling the bow and trying his best not to tear the paper. Inside he found a picture place in a frame of him, Albus, Sienna, Rose & Thalia they had taken last year. Sienna was rolling her eyes at Thalia who was standing on tiptoes to fit into the frame and Albus was giggling at Rose’s attempts to look smart and regal as Scorpius took the picture of the 5 of them with Rose’s camera. He remembered taking this photo but he had no idea Rose had kept it.

“I figured you might need something to remind you who your family are…. Us.” She smiled. Scorpius felt so overcome with emotion that despite her entire family being fully able to watch and her father looking like he wanted to behead Scorpius just for talking to his daughter he leant over and hugged her.

“Thank you. This means a lot to me thank you! Scorpius reiterated his gratitude. Scorpius felt so overcome with happiness he didn’t think anything else could make him feel more emotional but he found himself mistaken when after the most mouth-wateringly beautiful Christmas dinner he’d ever experienced Grandma Molly announced it was time for everyone to open there presents off her and line up for the family pictures. Scorpius settled himself onto the sofa as he watched everyone open up jumpers with their initials on in various colours. He was so enthralled with watching this he didn’t even noticed grandma Molly come to sit next to him.

“Here you go sweetheart.” She said handing him a present. He looked up at her warm, loving, smiling face to make sure she knew she was talking to him. He unwrapped his present trying not to let his mind jump to conclusions but he found it was exactly what he’d expected, a dark green hand knitted jumper with a lime green “S” in the middle.

“You made this for me?” Scorpius reiterated suddenly becoming very afraid to hold it.

“Of course my dear, when I heard you were coming for Christmas I needed to make sure I had something for you!” For the second time today Scorpius’ eyes filled with tears.

“Come on try it on then!” Grandma Molly urged. Scorpius pulled the perfectly fitting jumper over his grey t-shirt and found it to be comfortingly cozy.

“Thank you Mrs Weasley!” He chocked out.

“Oh my dear!” Mrs Weasley noticed his tears and pulled him into a comforting hug. “Come on now dear, you’ll have red eyes for the family photos!” She joked.

“Oh no I couldn’t possibly, it’s just for family!” Scorpius insisted. Molly fiercely shook her head.

“And you my dear are Albus’ family, you take care of him and Rose at school, so you belong in this photo as much as any of us do.” Scorpius pushed a lump out of his throat as grandma Molly got up and started arranging him and the rest of the 27 Weasley-Potter-Lupin-Tonks’ to fit into her photo. As Scorpius knelt between Albus and Rose smiling he couldn’t help but look around at the room filled with 27 strangers that barely knew him but had almost all adopted him into their family because he had nowhere else to go and think of their kindness and generosity and how proud he would feel if he were a member of their family and wondering if maybe one day he really could be.

#The Next Generation #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter 3rd generation #fanfiction #Albus Severus Potter #albus potter #James Sirius Potter #lily luna potter #rose weasley #hugo weasley #roxanne weasley #Fred Weasley II #lucy weasley #molly weasley II #victoire weasley #dominique weasley #louis weasley #teddy lupin #scorpius malfoy

[talldarknsexy]

Trials of India

India was kinda crazy. Certain things happen, are always happening, which cannot be easily understood with a western mindset. But what I need to convey first is that it’s another world that operates on seemingly unspoken and foreign logic.

Traffic is a prime example. It’s almost maddening to watch. I did witness a few accidents there. But, for the billion plus people walking, all the Tuk-tuks, motorcycles, push carts, “cycles”, and cows moving independently, all within centimeters of one another, one typically remains unscathed.

The streets themselves are another thing of pure fascination to me. One typically orients based on specific landmarks, signs, shops/stalls. The markets there for whatever reason are in constant flux. “India time” is variable and dependent on unknown factors. Only trains can be expected to run somewhat on schedule. Space is also inherently amorphous. The people and stalls in markets are constantly moving depending on the day or hour. I’ve gotten so ridiculously lost getting back to a hostel for no other reason than the street appears completely different than it did when I left.

I spent a few days in Delhi walking around the markets, metro, and cowshit. For the first time on the trip I paid to store my bike. There just wasn’t space in the hostel in Delhi even if they wanted to. Anyways, it cost less than $10 for a month.

There was never a dull moment in Delhi. I’d walk by a naked man eating out of a bowl in the building next door. Alley kids would throw firecrackers through the door into the lobby. There was plenty of wildlife in Delhi too. There were plenty of cockroaches, pidgins, cows, surprisingly chipmunks, and hundreds of hawks overhead, presumably fed by an endless supply of rats. There were also men on the street trying to sell me anything from wristwatches to women.

I arrived to Udaipur in the early morning and I went down to the lake while the sun was coming up. In Hinduism, certain animals are sacred and in these early hours there were many people passing through the plaza and tossing food to various animals. There were flocks of pidgins, some lazy cows that wandered down, and the occasional rat that would pop out of a crack to grab a corn kernel and jump back. Sunrise was always my favorite time of day in Africa, and felt similarly here too. It was a vibrant, odd, but peaceful scene to witness in the orange light along with the scent of burning incense ironically stuck into some cow-pies nearby.

I traveled by train and bus to Goa and spent most of my time with a fella named Aaron and a gal from Mumbai, Poonam. We did a lot of eating out and some beach time and some party time. It was somewhere around this time I’d decided I was going to go home.

There was no dramatic shift, but a combination of geography, loneliness, and finances had me come to the conclusion that I was feeling ready to finish. Rajasthan had been a bit lonely and while I’d heard good things about Northeast India and Myanmar, I’d already spend plenty of time in Southeast Asia.

Loneliness is a slippery thing. People often ask whether I get lonely. There’s a notable distinction between being alone and being lonely. For example, in vast desert, I can be completely on my own with only the sand and sun and camping with stars at night. And with myself as company I can be completely content. Loneliness on the other hand is much more insidious. It can sneak up on you and suffocate slowly. If I’ve ever felt lonely it’s in cities and ironically, or accordingly, I felt it in India which has 1.4 Billion people. It’s a place where you’re never truly alone.

In Goa I got dinner with Aaron and a nearby cafe. I got some kinda fish curry. The waiter had limited English but I told him I would like to know (for curiosities’ sake) What was in the “traditional hamburger.” “It’s not cow, right?” I asked. He met me with a sharp head shake. “Is it meat?...” I gently inquired. He, this time, replied with a quintessential Indian head bob of unclarity. “Nevermind... I don’t wanna know.” I murmured.

I met with two other fellas I had met earlier in Udaipur that said for lunch a man had offered them the “secret menu” which they had ordered steaks from. Now, you can get everything under the sun in Goa, legal or illegal. But still, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was buffalo 🐃.

Aaron and I booked an overnight train from Goa back to Delhi. It was close to Diwali and we were surprised that sleeper class if any was still available online. (It wasn’t as we would soon figure out.) We had electronic tickets with seat number listed as WL 85 and 86. Not finding the WL section, we came to find out we were actually number 85 and 86 on the waitlist... The train conductor didn’t have the will to kick two foreigners off the train, but we had to spend the ride with the other freeloaders in between the cars.

Sleeper class is basic enough. But this was sitting upright against the side door of the end of the car. It was cold, cramped, noisy, dusty, and they needed to open the door plenty in the morning. Another conductor came by and we were forced to pay the ticket price along with a small “fee.” It was a maddening, mostly sleepless, 30 something hour affair. One that would get me sick.

I spent a week in Rishikesh after getting back. It was an amazing place. To summarize though: I explained to a couple later how it was considered a holy place meat and alcohol are not allowed to be sold there. “Josh... What were you doing there then??” They wanted to know “Yoga?...” I replied hesitantly to my own confusion and surprise.

It had been a bit hazy in Rishikesh, but Delhi was now enveloped in cloud. Not clouds though per se, but smog. It was a combination of burnt crop smoke, emissions, and fireworks from Diwali. I wanted to leave Delhi, but the smog made even being outside hazardous. One day it reached a point of being the most polluted recorded day in history. Equivalent I read to smoking more that 50 cigarettes in a day. India nowadays makes China look good. It’s easy for me to ridicule, but it is a reminder how privileged I am to be able to pass through, whereas this is reality for millions who have no recourse.

When I finally did escape, I did so with Chris, a German cyclist, headed to Asia. There were another two cyclist couples headed out of Delhi straight for Nepal, but I’d coaxed Chris into checking out the Taj Mahal and biking through northern India and floating a bit of the Ganges to Varanasi.

Leaving the city we hit quite a bit of traffic and were still pretty aggravated with the level of pollution. I told him that if he was leaning more towards Nepal we could flip a coin. Tails. And just like that, we switched directions for the next 2 weeks, but not without a slight detour to visit the Taj.

I’m order to do so, we had to stop in a city called Aligarh the next night. I sincerely hope that for the rest of my life I don’t ever, ever, have to step foot in a city as loud and shitty as Aligarh ever again. Entering the city was an onslaught. It was a “small” city by Indian standards with only a few million people, but withno main roads. At least not in the conventional sense... We got trapped in a network of alleyways that were just chock-full of people and motorcycles and raging with a +100db cacophony. We couldn’t stop, turn, or speed up. Just trapped, moving slower than waking pace. I started to notice as our week’s yoga retreat was wearing off, how a vein in Chris’ forehead would bulge at times like this.

We finally arrived to the center and got denied by some 6 different hotels. They claimed they weren’t allowed to accept foreigners. They all pointed us to the one that did which was about $35. After a good hour or two Chris had the good idea to book one on Booking.com and persuade them to accept us. It turned out to be a non-issue and they hurriedly over-accommodated what were probably the first white dudes to stay there.

We bussed to the Taj and back. An almost equally long and stressful experience. With large, popular tourist sites like the Taj, sometimes I feel like I’m just checking a box, and others I’m genuinely stunned. For me, the Taj was somewhere in between.

After all the selfies with Indians and the intensity of the day, Chris’s vein was bulging a bit. It was time for a beer. It’d been a few days, and after all, he’s German. Alcohol can be somewhat faux pas in India. So, after some searching we found Aligarh’s small unmarked shop. It was a dark, smelly enclosed box with chicken wiring separating the shopkeeper/bartender. They sold beer- two kinds. Standing behind us were probably about a dozen Indian men. They cannot drink on the street and certainly not in front of their wives. Here they were after work drinking as fast as possible before going home. Chug, burp, chug, gasp for air, burp... repeat. All the while, staring at two white dudes.

We stayed in our hotel room for those two nights. In India, whole families will share a single bed, so for us there was obviously just one. Chris was European and very confused as to why I wasn’t keen to share the bed with him. But, as I left him with the bed for himself, he didn’t protest. We had a good stay there, but when we left, the manager insisted we leave a 5 star review. He explained a few times in broken English that the checkout process IS a 5 star review. I probably would have if they’d asked casually, but instead played dumb and politely let it be know that we were leaving anyways. Kind of the opposite of the Hotel California... I suppose we’re still checked in there.

Leaving Aligarh was also a trying experience. I’d accidentally navigated us down a market street. It was a war zone of vehicles and stalls. As it eased up towards the end I shouted to Chris: “I only got hit twice, how about you??” “Me too!” He responded with a forced smile. His vein looked like it was throbbing.

We set off once more into the craziness that is India. That afternoon I watched a monkey jump it’s way up to the top of some buildings armed with a crowbar. We rode through a village where they were widening the road. They had simply bulldozed through the fronts of homes and businesses almost seemingly without announcement. There were mounds of rubble and debris. There were bedrooms and backs of shops exposed. “Was there a war here??” Chris asked.

In India the horns are unbelievably loud. I had armed myself with a 140db horn from a bike shop in Delhi. Aside from notifying a close by tuk-tuk or to alert a nonchalant cow that I was overtaking, it was pretty futile endeavor. 140db just blends into the background noise of vehicles, motorcycles, and truck horns.

One day I decided to try a humorous sign in order to dissuade all of the honking. It said “horn if you masturbate.” My thinking was that people would honk less to avoid admitting such a thing. In reality, very few in this region could read or understand English. The only person that commented all day was the affiliate from the hotel chain that morning as he was from an English speaking state. “Wow!” “That’s a very strong message!” He’d said thinking I was gallivanting around the globe promoting the cause of masturbation.

In the end, the only satisfying way to keep my hearing was to wear earplugs all day. Things were still loud, but at least I didn’t feel my ear drums piercing every time a truck or bus overtook.

Chris and I had other challenges to contend with also. Second to noise was definitely staring. I’m sure you’ve rumors of the attention one receives as a foreigner in India. Actually, a staring contest with an Indian isn’t too difficult. But when it’s a crowd that’s something else. I’d have to recruit Chris’s assistance quite often, and him mine. We’d have code words and on que we’d pivot into a power stance and start an intense staring war of attrition. Sometimes they’d laugh and cease. Usually not. Usually they just kept at it without so much as a blink.

We camped a total of three times in India. India was probably not the best region for solitary camping because of the billion plus people or so. But not impossible. The second night we’d scoped a spot, but wanted to wait on the road until it was dark enough to go camp in that spot unseen.

Some folks approached us that didn’t know any English. The road we were on had probably never been cycled by any westerners. Now add to that the fact that most people here had never even seen a white person in their lives. They were understandably confused as to why we were here on funny bicycles with funny bags, wearing funny plastic hats standing on the side of the road in the middle of fuck-all-nowhere as the sun goes down. We could only communicate a little bit. So I google translated “What year is it?” For them to see. I was shocked when they responded. I then translated John Connor’s dramatic speech in the Terminator movie about how he is from the future and how only those who join me will survive. They were even more confused. We rode off a few moments later and camped.

The third time we camped was less intentional. Chris had gotten a bit of the “Delhi belly” and hadn’t been feeling too hot. We reserved a hotel room online that afternoon so he could have a sanctuary to recoup. Unfortunately, when we arrived there was a wedding there. We hardly needed to go to the reception to know it was overbooked. They were no help, so Chris got on the phone with Booking.com while I scouted out the other 6 hotels in town. It was wedding season and they were all full.

Normally it wouldn’t be a huge issue, but there were no other cities nearby, Chris was sick, and it was now dark. I went back to the reception and explained how we were stuck, they had overbooked us, and I pleaded for their help finding in a place to stay. Now I understand cultural barriers, but this should be a no brainer to at least make an effort. But they wouldn’t budge to contact anyone. The manager told me in front of some 20 people that had gathered that it was my problem, not his. I lost my cool and spewed some obscenities on him and left not without an inappropriate hand gesture. It was the second time I’d unloaded on someone on the trip... The first had hit me with a motorcycle. It was time to get out of India I realized as we rode off to go camp.

I don’t much like finding spots to camp in the dark. You don’t have a great idea of what’s around you or how exposed you’ll be in the morning. After probably 2 hours searching in the dark we finally settled on a sugar cane field, one of the few not flooded. Chris staked out his sanctuary a ways away. He woke up many times that night to go pray.

In the morning, it didn’t take long before we were spotted. There were about half a dozen teens outside our tents. I was midway into changing into riding shorts. “Can you distract them??” I asked Chris. “I’m a bit naked at the moment...”

By the time we had fully packed up, half the village had gathered to watch the show. Maybe 30-50 people. One or two spoke English. Videos were taken, questions were answered. I signed my autograph into a school notebook. They were quite funny and excitable. Before we left,I decided to indulge them.... “Alright...” “One selfie!” I shouted. The crowd erupted and we took some group photos before finally breaking free and riding off.

That last day riding in India went fairly smoothly. Or maybe we’d already been baptized in fire. Or better yet, smoke. A man that day came up to compliment my bike and “strong lungs.” Hardly, I thought giving the equivalent hundreds of smog cigarettes I’d inhaled in the past few days.

We got a drink and snack by a stall before crossing the river border to Nepal. With a wrapper and empty bottle in hand, the shopkeep and patrons pointed to the field of rubbish off to the side. They couldn’t understand why I wasn’t willing to add to the years of accumulation and I wasn’t prepared to explain my own convictions. Again, the world of India and it’s culture are tough for me to understand, and given all the staring, I would say the inverse is probably true as well. Backpacking India had been a great experience, but cycling it was undoubtably trying. I could sense this with Chris as well... His vein had been pulsating all the way to the border. It was time to go.

[cryptswahili]

Living on Bitcoin Day 5: An In-Store Buy At Last (Spoiler: It’s Pot-Related)

This is the fifth instalment of reporter Colin Harper's "Living on Bitcoin" experience in San Francisco. Find out what happened to him earlier on Day 1 , on Day 2 , on Day 3 and on Day 4.

I woke up in a millionaire’s bed today, something I never thought I’d say because I ain’t gonna make a million bucks, and I always doubted I could’ve finagled my way into the bed of someone who had.

Jeremy’s room is your prototypical festival bro living space: Bob Marley poster in one corner, jam band festival posters for Camp Bisco and Gathering of the Vibes (among other music festivals) tacked above a 50-inch, Toshiba plasma screen, which was leaning against the wall and propped up on the box it came in. A tangled cluster of conference passes (many speaker or VIP) hung from a back wall above the felt loveseat.

Below one of the room’s three windows, there’s a bookcase sectioned off into six cubbies, which include Hunter S. Thompson, Michael Lewis, Truman Capote, and some self-help and econ/business books. Almost poetically, a book called Ego is the Enemy appropriately placed in a cubbie diagonally opposite to the one housing Tucker Max’s Assholes Finish First.

On the third floor, I made the coffee I bought at Whole Foods, warmed one of the croissants and did some work.

Over Slack, my colleague Aaron van Wirdum suggested I try a map called Bitcoin Map on the Google Play store to see if it had any bitcoin-accepting places listed that I could be missing. I pulled it up, browsed some places I had previously tried but knew no longer did. Then, I glanced at Haight-Ashbury on the map one last time and noticed a smoke shop and one-time hookah lounge that accepted bitcoin.

On the off chance, I called them up.

“Do you guys still accept bitcoin?”

“Yes, we do.”

“Seriously?!”

“Yes.”

Exuberant, I let a triumphant expletive slip and thanked the woman, assuring her that I would be by later that day.

It would be a smoke shop that becomes the first place where I can spend some bitcoin, I thought to myself.

With that victory, my spirits were lifted and I began to make preparations for my day. Needing to get more credit for Uber, I tried out Gyft, a gift card purchasing platform that made Hill’s second run at this in 2014 so much easier. Vinny Lingham started it, and the platform accepts other forms of payment than just bitcoin.

I couldn’t use it though. I tried to buy an Uber gift card, but my Samourai wallet wouldn’t accept the BitPay QR as valid (which, given Samourai’s general crypto maximalism, made sense and also seemed to sum up the difficulties of the experiment to that point). I opted for Bitrefill again.

Then I started doing some research on Kraken and Coinbase’s locations in San Francisco. According to Google, they have the same office address, which I found odd.

Putting the address into my Uber app, I decided to make my way to the heart of San Francisco’s Financial District to see if I could pester my way into either or both offices. “Just show up and ask to talk to people,” Hill’s advice echoed in my head.

The addresses I got on Google led me to a mailing address, but then a bit of sleuthing got me addresses (supposedly) of the actual offices for both Kraken and Coinbase. Kraken’s, though, turned out to be a FedEx, which led me to think that my informant was screwing with me or that Kraken had registered that address intentionally so as to not be bothered.

Coinbase’s office was right, so I cut the informant some slack. I secured a receptionist’s number from the security desk in the lobby but didn’t really have time to make an appointment for later. This wasn’t 2013 anymore: I couldn’t just drop in on their three employees in an apartment office anymore. This was 2019 and Coinbase had become a unicorn with more than 500 employees and six offices in three countries.

The rain was light but steady when I was searching for Kraken and Coinbase’s offices, but it would come down progressively harder the longer I walked. I passed a Target on my route in which I could have bought an umbrella (Paxful and Gyft have Target cards), and it highlighted a problem with banking on bitcoin through gift cards. You have to preplan your purchases, or else you have to stop, connect to wifi, and use an exchange that takes bitcoin to buy new cards before you can redeem them.

It seems obvious, but it’s not as seamless as cash, debit or credit. Even so, there aren’t so many hoops to jump through — just enough to make doing so outside in the rain an inconvenience.

My denim jacket was thoroughly soaked, so I stopped inside a Starbucks and ordered a coffee with a Starbucks gift card I bought on Paxful. I ordered a seasonal latte, basic white boy that I am, but I had the barista only pump about a third of the usual flavor shots into it because I don’t like drinking syrup.

While downtown, I visited Quantstamp’s offices, as Christian had set me up with a buddy of his who worked there, Jared let me in and we talked crypto. He mentioned a bubble tea cafe nearby that used to accept crypto, but it proved to be yet another red herring, making me worry that maybe the smoke shop on Haight might not either.

Ubering back to the castle, I sent some additional funds to my Samourai wallet ahead of my trip to the shop. Rachel wanted to come along, partly I think for the fun of it but also because she was fiending for some Juul pods and was banking on my generosity to secure her some.

We reached the smoke shop shortly before close as one employee was busy allocating merch to a back closet. It was what you expected from a smoke shop: pieces, bongs and actual tobacco pipes in various sizes and in a motley of translucent, glass-infused colors. They sell smokes and vaping supplies too, but no Juuls or Juul pods (to Rachel’s great dismay).

Approaching the counter, I try to confirm what I’d been told over the phone.

“Y’all take bitcoin, right?”

“Bitcoin? Yes, I think,” said the middle-aged, Asian woman, hesitantly. “We used to at least. Ask him,” she says, pointing to the man stacking the backroom with inventory.

Her husband, a middle-aged, white guy with glasses, a mariner’s cap and close-shaven beard, who looks like he might read communist theory and know his way around a VPN, dashed my bitcoin-spending hopes with his answer.

“I don’t think so. Honey, do we still have the payment processor?” he asked.

They didn’t. Snapcard, which may have very well been the same defunct-processor that Woot Bear used, was no longer in service, so they stopped taking it some time ago. They had originally decided to start accepting bitcoin in 2013-2014 when it was “cool” to do so, and the husband was kicking himself for not doing it sooner.

“People would want to come in and buy rolling papers and we didn’t want to take it, which was stupid,” he chuckled.

I asked if they still had a Coinbase account to which I could send bitcoin, but the wife said that her son held the account and they didn’t know how to use it. After a few more failed attempts at trying to find a solution, I gave up, thanked them and left the shop.

As I left, I was convinced there was some grand conspiracy to keep me from spending bitcoin, until the woman peeked her head out of the shop to beckon us back.

“I think we figured it out,” she said.

Eager and a bit antsy, I leaned over the counter to observe her Coinbase app while I tried for the items I had picked out (a glass piece that’s totally not for me and white sage for the castle). As it turned out, they weren’t verified with Coinbase, so they could only buy/sell on Coinbase and not send/receive. This annoyed me: Why do one when you can’t do the other?

“It’s ok,” I said, resigned at this point.

But the woman insisted. She was nice enough to let me just scan the QR code for her son’s wallet, and she even gave me a five buck discount on the piece.

Effusive, I thanked them and asked for their names, which they prefered I not publish here. Apparently, San Francisco is not too friendly to tobacco shops.

“The city is trying to annex the smoke shops,” the husband told me. That coupled with the stigma of bitcoin and the illicit drug market’s symbiotic dependence on the dark web (and the fact that the business is basically a head shop) made them wary enough of potentially damaging publicity.

The fact that the transaction almost happened then didn’t, only to almost not happen and then succeed was representative of how the experiment has been panning out so far. The bitcoin PoS was makeshift, but it finally happened, and I was happy enough to finally get the first IRL transaction out of the way, even if it came on day five. It was also directly peer-to-peer — no middleman payment processor involved, which I liked.

Finally, something to write home about.

Returning to the castle, I would spend the rest of the night fraternizing with the residents who were quickly becoming acquaintances and friends. They all had their own goals and projects, and the interactions in my short time with them will be worth a story one day.

There’s Rachel, who’s known Jeremy since 2015; Liz, the Queen of the Castle (obviously); Michael, a laid back relations or community manager who “kinda does crypto but not really;” Orest and Aymard, who work at Ausum Ventures with Jeremy; Teddy and Hans, who are building a blockchain query database for legal documents; Vivian, the VP of the same self-driving car startup, comma.ai, that used to reside in the castle’s basement; and a prodigious, 18-year-old developer-entrepreneur who runs his own AI financial consultation startup and whom Jeremy referred to once as his “protégé.”

“So, are you like the wunderkind developer prodigy of the house?” I asked him.

“Pretty much. But it’s not just that.”

“What, like you’re also the wunderkind entrepreneurial prodigy?”

“Something like that,” he responded with a smile and honest innocence.

He told me he would rather not be identified in the article because the banks and other businesses he works with don’t know that he’s still a kid, he confessed. That he had operated so long without them finding out was astounding to me.

The Prodigy began his company when he was a freshman in high school. No, not college (he never took that road), high school. In the company’s early stages, he decided to go all in on his vision.

“So I pretty much left high school.”

No diploma or degree to speak of, he moved to San Francisco when he was 15. In what would have been his sophomore year, he was focused on driving business growth while his peers were testing for learner’s permits.

An early investor in Ethereum and a sometimes crypto-head, he met Jeremy at a crypto castle party in 2017, and Jeremy would take him under his wing and offer him a home.

Now he works out of the community surrounded by the advice and the tutelage of the castle’s residents, who, while still young entrepreneurs themselves, have plenty of experience and tips to impart to the kid.

I highlighted The Prodigy here because or his age and precociousness but also because the whiz-tech kid who eschews education in favor of just doing makes for a pretty good story. Realistically, I could have profiled some of the other residents and their endeavors as well (for instance, I plan on doing an article on some of the innovative, impactful startups Ausum Ventures has invested in).

But The Prodigy particularly personified the house’s ethos: driven, focused, entrepreneurial and hardworking.

“Do you do drugs or drink?” I asked him.

“No. Never.”

“Good. Don’t,” I advised him.

Truth is, considering the portrait of the millionaire party boy that has been painted of Jeremy in the past, the castle was nothing like that. It wasn’t like the mainstream coverage would imply: no end-to-end daily benders or booze-infused ragers. I don’t think anyone even touched a drink while I was there. Everyone was busy working. As Rachel would tell me, “No one drinks here. They all have shit to do.”

As Kashmir Hill did in her original journey, Colin is accepting BTC tips to help him along the way.

Tip jar: 3CnLhqitCjUN4HPYf6Qa2MmvCpSoBiFfBN

This article originally appeared on Bitcoin Magazine.

[Telegram Channel | Original Article ]

#cryptocurrency

[ellahmacdermott]

Living on Bitcoin Day 5: An In-Store Buy At Last (Spoiler: It’s Pot-Related)

This is the fifth instalment of reporter Colin Harper's "Living on Bitcoin" experience in San Francisco. Find out what happened to him earlier on Day 1 , on Day 2 , on Day 3 and on Day 4.

I woke up in a millionaire’s bed today, something I never thought I’d say because I ain’t gonna make a million bucks, and I always doubted I could’ve finagled my way into the bed of someone who had.

Jeremy’s room is your prototypical festival bro living space: Bob Marley poster in one corner, jam band festival posters for Camp Bisco and Gathering of the Vibes (among other music festivals) tacked above a 50-inch, Toshiba plasma screen, which was leaning against the wall and propped up on the box it came in. A tangled cluster of conference passes (many speaker or VIP) hung from a back wall above the felt loveseat.

Below one of the room’s three windows, there’s a bookcase sectioned off into six cubbies, which include Hunter S. Thompson, Michael Lewis, Truman Capote, and some self-help and econ/business books. Almost poetically, a book called Ego is the Enemy appropriately placed in a cubbie diagonally opposite to the one housing Tucker Max’s Assholes Finish First.

On the third floor, I made the coffee I bought at Whole Foods, warmed one of the croissants and did some work.

Over Slack, my colleague Aaron van Wirdum suggested I try a map called Bitcoin Map on the Google Play store to see if it had any bitcoin-accepting places listed that I could be missing. I pulled it up, browsed some places I had previously tried but knew no longer did. Then, I glanced at Haight-Ashbury on the map one last time and noticed a smoke shop and one-time hookah lounge that accepted bitcoin.

On the off chance, I called them up.

“Do you guys still accept bitcoin?”

“Yes, we do.”

“Seriously?!”

“Yes.”

Exuberant, I let a triumphant expletive slip and thanked the woman, assuring her that I would be by later that day.

It would be a smoke shop that becomes the first place where I can spend some bitcoin, I thought to myself.

With that victory, my spirits were lifted and I began to make preparations for my day. Needing to get more credit for Uber, I tried out Gyft, a gift card purchasing platform that made Hill’s second run at this in 2014 so much easier. Vinny Lingham started it, and the platform accepts other forms of payment than just bitcoin.

I couldn’t use it though. I tried to buy an Uber gift card, but my Samourai wallet wouldn’t accept the BitPay QR as valid (which, given Samourai’s general crypto maximalism, made sense and also seemed to sum up the difficulties of the experiment to that point). I opted for Bitrefill again.

Then I started doing some research on Kraken and Coinbase’s locations in San Francisco. According to Google, they have the same office address, which I found odd.

Putting the address into my Uber app, I decided to make my way to the heart of San Francisco’s Financial District to see if I could pester my way into either or both offices. “Just show up and ask to talk to people,” Hill’s advice echoed in my head.

The addresses I got on Google led me to a mailing address, but then a bit of sleuthing got me addresses (supposedly) of the actual offices for both Kraken and Coinbase. Kraken’s, though, turned out to be a FedEx, which led me to think that my informant was screwing with me or that Kraken had registered that address intentionally so as to not be bothered.

Coinbase’s office was right, so I cut the informant some slack. I secured a receptionist’s number from the security desk in the lobby but didn’t really have time to make an appointment for later. This wasn’t 2013 anymore: I couldn’t just drop in on their three employees in an apartment office anymore. This was 2019 and Coinbase had become a unicorn with more than 500 employees and six offices in three countries.

The rain was light but steady when I was searching for Kraken and Coinbase’s offices, but it would come down progressively harder the longer I walked. I passed a Target on my route in which I could have bought an umbrella (Paxful and Gyft have Target cards), and it highlighted a problem with banking on bitcoin through gift cards. You have to preplan your purchases, or else you have to stop, connect to wifi, and use an exchange that takes bitcoin to buy new cards before you can redeem them.

It seems obvious, but it’s not as seamless as cash, debit or credit. Even so, there aren’t so many hoops to jump through — just enough to make doing so outside in the rain an inconvenience.

My denim jacket was thoroughly soaked, so I stopped inside a Starbucks and ordered a coffee with a Starbucks gift card I bought on Paxful. I ordered a seasonal latte, basic white boy that I am, but I had the barista only pump about a third of the usual flavor shots into it because I don’t like drinking syrup.

While downtown, I visited Quantstamp’s offices, as Christian had set me up with a buddy of his who worked there, Jared let me in and we talked crypto. He mentioned a bubble tea cafe nearby that used to accept crypto, but it proved to be yet another red herring, making me worry that maybe the smoke shop on Haight might not either.

Ubering back to the castle, I sent some additional funds to my Samourai wallet ahead of my trip to the shop. Rachel wanted to come along, partly I think for the fun of it but also because she was fiending for some Juul pods and was banking on my generosity to secure her some.

We reached the smoke shop shortly before close as one employee was busy allocating merch to a back closet. It was what you expected from a smoke shop: pieces, bongs and actual tobacco pipes in various sizes and in a motley of translucent, glass-infused colors. They sell smokes and vaping supplies too, but no Juuls or Juul pods (to Rachel’s great dismay).

Approaching the counter, I try to confirm what I’d been told over the phone.

“Y’all take bitcoin, right?”

“Bitcoin? Yes, I think,” said the middle-aged, Asian woman, hesitantly. “We used to at least. Ask him,” she says, pointing to the man stacking the backroom with inventory.

Her husband, a middle-aged, white guy with glasses, a mariner’s cap and close-shaven beard, who looks like he might read communist theory and know his way around a VPN, dashed my bitcoin-spending hopes with his answer.

“I don’t think so. Honey, do we still have the payment processor?” he asked.

They didn’t. Snapcard, which may have very well been the same defunct-processor that Woot Bear used, was no longer in service, so they stopped taking it some time ago. They had originally decided to start accepting bitcoin in 2013-2014 when it was “cool” to do so, and the husband was kicking himself for not doing it sooner.

“People would want to come in and buy rolling papers and we didn’t want to take it, which was stupid,” he chuckled.

I asked if they still had a Coinbase account to which I could send bitcoin, but the wife said that her son held the account and they didn’t know how to use it. After a few more failed attempts at trying to find a solution, I gave up, thanked them and left the shop.

As I left, I was convinced there was some grand conspiracy to keep me from spending bitcoin, until the woman peeked her head out of the shop to beckon us back.

“I think we figured it out,” she said.

Eager and a bit antsy, I leaned over the counter to observe her Coinbase app while I tried for the items I had picked out (a glass piece that’s totally not for me and white sage for the castle). As it turned out, they weren’t verified with Coinbase, so they could only buy/sell on Coinbase and not send/receive. This annoyed me: Why do one when you can’t do the other?

“It’s ok,” I said, resigned at this point.

But the woman insisted. She was nice enough to let me just scan the QR code for her son’s wallet, and she even gave me a five buck discount on the piece.

Effusive, I thanked them and asked for their names, which they prefered I not publish here. Apparently, San Francisco is not too friendly to tobacco shops.

“The city is trying to annex the smoke shops,” the husband told me. That coupled with the stigma of bitcoin and the illicit drug market’s symbiotic dependence on the dark web (and the fact that the business is basically a head shop) made them wary enough of potentially damaging publicity.

The fact that the transaction almost happened then didn’t, only to almost not happen and then succeed was representative of how the experiment has been panning out so far. The bitcoin PoS was makeshift, but it finally happened, and I was happy enough to finally get the first IRL transaction out of the way, even if it came on day five. It was also directly peer-to-peer — no middleman payment processor involved, which I liked.

Finally, something to write home about.

Returning to the castle, I would spend the rest of the night fraternizing with the residents who were quickly becoming acquaintances and friends. They all had their own goals and projects, and the interactions in my short time with them will be worth a story one day.

There’s Rachel, who’s known Jeremy since 2015; Liz, the Queen of the Castle (obviously); Michael, a laid back relations or community manager who “kinda does crypto but not really;” Orest and Aymard, who work at Ausum Ventures with Jeremy; Teddy and Hans, who are building a blockchain query database for legal documents; Vivian, the VP of the same self-driving car startup, comma.ai, that used to reside in the castle’s basement; and a prodigious, 18-year-old developer-entrepreneur who runs his own AI financial consultation startup and whom Jeremy referred to once as his “protégé.”

“So, are you like the wunderkind developer prodigy of the house?” I asked him.

“Pretty much. But it’s not just that.”

“What, like you’re also the wunderkind entrepreneurial prodigy?”

“Something like that,” he responded with a smile and honest innocence.

He told me he would rather not be identified in the article because the banks and other businesses he works with don’t know that he’s still a kid, he confessed. That he had operated so long without them finding out was astounding to me.

The Prodigy began his company when he was a freshman in high school. No, not college (he never took that road), high school. In the company’s early stages, he decided to go all in on his vision.

“So I pretty much left high school.”

No diploma or degree to speak of, he moved to San Francisco when he was 15. In what would have been his sophomore year, he was focused on driving business growth while his peers were testing for learner’s permits.

An early investor in Ethereum and a sometimes crypto-head, he met Jeremy at a crypto castle party in 2017, and Jeremy would take him under his wing and offer him a home.

Now he works out of the community surrounded by the advice and the tutelage of the castle’s residents, who, while still young entrepreneurs themselves, have plenty of experience and tips to impart to the kid.

I highlighted The Prodigy here because or his age and precociousness but also because the whiz-tech kid who eschews education in favor of just doing makes for a pretty good story. Realistically, I could have profiled some of the other residents and their endeavors as well (for instance, I plan on doing an article on some of the innovative, impactful startups Ausum Ventures has invested in).

But The Prodigy particularly personified the house’s ethos: driven, focused, entrepreneurial and hardworking.

“Do you do drugs or drink?” I asked him.

“No. Never.”

“Good. Don’t,” I advised him.

Truth is, considering the portrait of the millionaire party boy that has been painted of Jeremy in the past, the castle was nothing like that. It wasn’t like the mainstream coverage would imply: no end-to-end daily benders or booze-infused ragers. I don’t think anyone even touched a drink while I was there. Everyone was busy working. As Rachel would tell me, “No one drinks here. They all have shit to do.”

As Kashmir Hill did in her original journey, Colin is accepting BTC tips to help him along the way.

Tip jar: 3CnLhqitCjUN4HPYf6Qa2MmvCpSoBiFfBN

This article originally appeared on Bitcoin Magazine.

from InvestmentOpportunityInCryptocurrencies via Ella Macdermott on Inoreader https://bitcoinmagazine.com/articles/living-on-bitcoin-day-5-an-in-store-buy-at-last-spoiler-its-pot-related/

[jotawakening-blog]

29 Fentuary, 5A 169: A Swathe Through Asgarnia

I begin the day with a breakfast of freshly caught cod, then get going on the business that brought me here to Port Sarim: catching the ferry to Entrana to learn all I can about the whereabouts of the Holy Grail.  Of course, Entrana has strict policies on weapons, so before I board the boat, I use the deposit box conveniently located nearby to stow away my combat gear.

Once the ferry lands, I head straight for the basilica, and ask the High Priest there whether he knows anything of the Grail.  He does, it would seem: it did pass through the island some time ago.  However, it’s not here any more, and he doesn’t care enough to tell me where it went.  Just as I’m about to get on my way, to look around the island myself, an old crone who overheard my conversation with the High Priest pulls me aside, and tells me that if I’m in search of the grail, I’d best hurry: ‘A fisher king is in pain’.  Perplexed, I bid her explain, and she does, as best she can.  Apparently, the Grail has found its final resting place in the realm of someone called the Fisher King.  This realm is a pocket plane adjacent to ours, which can be entered at a point where the boundary between the planes is weakest, by blowing a magic whistle there.  This spot is marked by six great stone heads, whose gaze converges on the correct location.  Ah!  I think I know what heads she means!  But, I ask, who is the Fisher King?  She has little to say on this, only that he is ‘the owner and slave of the grail’.  I guess I shall have to find out myself.  As for the whistle: I can find it in a haunted manor in Misthalin (almost certainly Draynor Manor), but only if I’m carrying something from the Fisher King’s realm.  Hm, I guess the tablecloth Brother Galahad gave me might work?  Anyway, I doubt I’ll be able to find out any more here, so it’s probably time I left Entrana and got on with my adventures in the Eastern Kingdoms.

So I get not he boat and take it back to the mainland.  My plan now is to go down to Mudskipper Point and see what my old friend Thurgo can do to fix King Alvis’ ancient axe.  For this, I obviously need the axe, so I head up to Falador to retrieve it from the bank and get geared up again.  Also, I take out my catspeak amulet: assuming that Bob’s still wandering the world instead of staying at home, I may be able to track him down around here.  For the same reasons, I withdraw the enchanted key.  It’s noticeably warmer here than in Kandarin or on Karamja, but not warm enough to indicate treasure anywhere nearby.

In any event, I take the axe to Thurgo and explain that I need it restored.  Thurgo, naturally, takes an interest in the weapon, and asks me where, exactly, I might have gotten it.  I tell him it’s from Keldagrim, but spare him the embarrassing details of how I came by it.  Thurgo nods.  ‘We have not been to Keldagrim for a long time’, he says.  I ask him what he means by ‘we’— could there be more Imcando dwarves in hiding someplace?— but he claims it was a slip of the tongue and moves on to the details of the repair.  All he will need, he tells me, is an iron bar.  Okay, that’s very easy to procure.  I tell Thurgo I’ll be right back and go back up to Falador to fetch one from the bank.  Once I’ve got it, I return south using Remora’s pendant to save me a bit of time and hand the axe back to Thurgo, who fixes the corroded parts in very good time.  Like he said, the damage wasn’t as extensive as it appeared.  Thank you, Thurgo!

Okay, that’s one step closer toward the restoration of the statue… but getting the axe fixed was just one small item on the long list of tasks demanding my attention out here in the east.  My next moves shall be to the north of Falador, where I’ll be hunting for Bob, catching a scorpion, and deliver the compromise meal to Mudknuckles at the goblin village so that maybe, just maybe, I can free the Goblin Generals from the culinaromancer’s time snarl.

I find Bob by the moat of Falador Castle, thanks to the enchantment on the amulet, but he’s not too communicative.  He tells me he’d like to speak with another cat, and asks why I keep Minou in the care of the Bank of Gielinor.  This leads to a rather odd discussion in which Bb tries to convince me that cats are easily as hardy as sheep, and, indeed, were the second species brought over to Gielinor by Guthix.  That’s not what we were taught in school (what about the dwarves and gnomes?), but who knows?  Maybe cats really do have some insight there.

Anyway, I go to the bank once more and get Minou to come meet Bob with me.  This time, I let Minou explain the problem: while Bob has been wandering the world, Unferth has been missing him!  It turns out he hasn’t been home because he’s madly in love with a cat named Neite, all the way in Sophanem.  The problem is that Neite, while she has feelings for him, refuses to get into a relationship with a cat of no status.  Minou, ever practical, asks whether he knows who his parents were, but he doesn’t: he was abandoned at a young age and left on Gertrude’s doorstep, over by Varrock. In his earliest memories, it’s Gertrude who’s caring for him.  Minou comes up with the idea of visiting Gertrude and asking her what she knows about Bob’s origins.  As much as I’m not happy about playing matchmaker between two cats living almost a continent’s length away from each other, I guess I am kind of committed at this point, and might as well, seeing as Gertrude doesn’t live that far out of the way from the Grand Exchange, after all.

First things first, though: I need to deliver the rather unpalatable melange of ingredients I’ve collected to the Goblin Village kitchen.  The place, it turns out, is still in as bad a shape as it was when the cauldron exploded, but it seems that Mudknuckles likes it that way: he keeps collecting new ‘data’ and ‘results’ from the walls and ceiling, and fantasising about new culinary experiments.  I hand him the ingredients, which he beats into a sort of grey pulpy mush and hands to me, with the disclaimer that he can’t vouch for the idea working because the instructions from the generals made no sense.  (Even my choice of ingredients doesn’t reassure him.)  Well, I guess it’s better than nothing, right?  I’ll give it a go when next I’m in Lumbridge, and if it doesn’t work, I’ll see if I can’t think of something else.

Okay, next up: catching scorpions.  The seer back at Seers’ Village claims to have seen them both nearby, one at the monastery and one in a shop in Gunnarsgrunn.  I have my scorpion cage with me, and grab a holy symbol so I’ll be let into the monastery, which I make my first stop.  Once there, I first look around for the scorpion in the public areas, then, not finding it there, try to head up into the monks’ quarters.  As I try to climb the stairs, a monks stops me and tells me the obvious: that this area of the monastery is for monks only.  So I ask him if I can join the order, and to my surprise, he inducts me on the spot!  All I had to do was ask!  It seems that word of my exploits (the re-purification of the Salve, perhaps?) has spread further than I was expecting!

With the monk’s blessing, I head up to the private quarters, where I find a robe laid out for me.  More excitingly, I hear the scorpion skittering around!  Deftly, I track it down and trap it in my cage without having the other one run off, as well.  That leaves just one more, which I think I can get presently!  Before I leave, I pull over a monk to bless for some holy symbols that I brought for this purpose.  He does so, infusing the energies of Saradomin into them and thereby transforming them from moulded silver stars into talismans with the power to ward off evil!  Now, of course, I can sell them for a bit of profit.

There’s still plenty of daylight left, so: on to the next scorpion, this one in Gunnarsgrunn.  Or so the seer said: unfortunately, the delay between my talking to him and my arrival at the barbarians’ village proves, this time, to be telling.  Peksa, the owner of the helmet shop, admits to having had the scorpion in his possession when I ask him about it.  Unfortunately, he no longer does: he gave it away to his brother Iwor, who lives all the way out in the outpost by Baxtorian Falls.  (And by ‘gave it away’, he means ‘left it in his room so it would sting him’.)  Well, that’s disappointing, but I’ll keep an eye out for it the next time I’m there, assuming Iwor doesn’t squish it first!

But that’s a task for the future.  For now, given how close I am to Varrock, I’ve got other things on my mind: first of all, trading at the Grand Exchange, and then seeing what Gertrude knows about Bob.  And so, after consigning my pile of accumulated loot to a broker, I visit Gertrude for a spot of late-afternoon tea and a chat about cats.  Gertrude is pleased to see me— and Minou— looking happy and healthy.  Gertrude is happy to talk, as long as it’s not about death runes— she’s been hearing terrible rumours, and…

I assure her that it’s not about that, and that I came to her because of a cat she adopted some time ago.  Gertrude remembers Bob, but tells me she doesn’t know anything about his parentage: he was left on her doorstep by some locals, and she took care of him until he could take care of himself.  At some point, Minou loses patience with Gertrude’s anecdotes about Bob and yowls at me to demand Gertrude tell me what she knows.  (It’s quite a scene: I threaten Minou with amputation, Minou threatens me with a clawing, and I’m basically forced to get to the point.)  Gertrude’s memory still isn’t jogged, but Minou has an idea: is there a chance that Bob has some connection to the legend of Robert the Strong?  I must confess I’ve never heard that legend, so I ask Gertrude if she can tell it.  Much to Minou’s disdain, though, she doesn’t know it either, and suggests that I go speak to Reldo: if there’s anyone who knows it, it’ll be him.  Good idea!

Before I go, Gertrude tells me there’s something else I should know— some people I should meet are in town.  They’re rat catchers, she says, and they live in the sewers: she knows this because she had to drag her two eldest sons out of there recently.  (Yuck!)  Well, it’s another not-half-bad idea, since I’m already here.  But first, I return to the Exchange and begin to go down my long shopping list, purchasing a new talisman for runecrafting, this one imbued with cosmic energy, an adamantite hatchet to help me chop down trees more efficiently, and, perhaps most excitingly, a mithril, crossbow-fired grappling hook. with which I might just be able to create paths for myself in areas where there are none, like over walls and stuff!  Should be fun to try it out.

The last thing I do before nightfall is visit Reldo at the Varrock Palace library and ask him about Robert the Strong.  This is a figure Reldo is familiar with from some old histories of the Fourth Age, but he has to look it up: he doesn’t know the details off-hand.  In the books, it seems that Robert is known as a hero of Misthalin, taller than the tallest man and stronger than the strongest warrior.  He is said to carry a six-foot longbow and have as his pet a panther named Odysseus, and to be involved in a crusade against the dragonkin.  The book explains what these are: a race of tall, avian, immortal humanoids, who do not use their wings and cannot reproduce.  Because of their lack of breeding capacity, they shunned other races, and created debased versions of themselves to protect them: the creatures we now know as dragons.  Now, the information on this subject is old and unreliable, but Reldo believes there is a grain of truth in such folk-tales, waiting to be discovered.

Okay, that’s nice and all, I tell Minou, but how does that help us?  Minou seems to think, on the basis of the flimsiest of evidence (no one seems to know where Bob came from, based on the grand total of one person we’ve asked), that Bob may actually be Robert the Strong.  Um, what?  That’s so illogical as to beggar belief, but… Minou’s been right about things before, and when next I cross paths with Bob, I suppose I’ll ask him about it.  Most likely, he’ll agree that it’s a ridiculous theory and we’ll be back to square one.

Anyway, it will be nice to see Dororan and Gudrun again and sleep in a proper bed, and I can worry about this and everything else tomorrow.

#runescape #journal #roleplay #holygrail #robertthestrong