When we were in Bruges we found “the place that does the best hot chocolate”. It literally is the best hot chocolate i have ever had. You get a big bowl like mug with hot milk accompanied with chocolate drops of the chocolate of your choice, plus a couple of biscuits and chocolates. The also did a range of deserts, cakes and waffles. Belgium is famous for their chocolate and if you want to experience the best while youre there, deffinatly go there for the hot chocolate.
So thewind-upbirdsings‘ friend and his girlfriend opened up a new cafe in Itaewon called Good Afternoon that is absolutely lovely and wonderful and omg. It’s a “British Tea Room” so they have real afternoon tea sets! They also serve coffees, teas, juices, ades, etc. They have an assortment of biscuits, cookies, and merengue. The decor is adorable and the place feels clean, modern, and comfortable. They make everything in the cafe. You can get some biscuits to eat with your tea/coffee or you can fill little boxes with them and take it home!
We were really hungry for some food so we decided to just grab some drinks and come back for the tea set another day, but they have sample tea set displays on set and they look so yummy! The sets are not just sweets but actually include proper mini sandwiches~ I got a kiwi natural juice (which was amazing). thewind-upbirdsings got a cinnamon apple ade that tasted like liquid magic. & lavamos got an iced milk tea blend that came with syrup! She also said it actually tasted like real tea (unlike other places that serve milk tea). We also got their coconut merengue and it was wonderful. So sweet and fluffy and yummy.
Not because the owners are our friends but they are super nice and kind and speak English if you need some guidance in trying their menu. Also, they let you smell the teas before you order them. I thought that was pretty cool~ If you’re looking for a cute cafe to spend the day in, go visit~ or if anyone wants to go together after pay day haha, let’s go!
I just had a bit of a revelation about how phenomenally scary it would be to be a pureblood witch or wizard in the wizard world when Voldemort was taking over. Because you know he’s evil and killing and torturing but you’re not a fighter and you want to stand up for people but you don’t want to die. That’s really what it comes back to over and over, you don’t want to die. But you can’t support evil. But you don’t wan to die. But you can’t support evil.
And then one day you’re trying to get a bit of shopping done in Diagon Alley and there’s an attack up the street and you stumble through the Leaky Cauldron but there’s lots of people already cowering in there and more shoving in after you and who knows, there could be some Death Eaters or their supporters mixed in just waiting to hear dissent to strike, and you just keep backing away and trying to avoid people’s eyes and you find a door and you slip through and
there’s nothing wrong here
no terrified crowds, no mothers frantically clutching their children
there’s a little girl holding her mother’s hand but she doesn’t look scared or alarmed at all, she’s staring at you curiously and she points and her mother hushes her, not out of fear, just a smidge of embarrassment and she shoots you a smile
kids, what can you do
These are muggles, they’re not scared, they don’t know there’s anything to be scared of.
If you were a great hero you would go back through that door and march down the Alley street and fire every spell you ever learned at the attackers because these are innocent people mother and child so close to the front lines who don’t even know there’s a war, how dare they HOW DARE THEY
Righteous bile would make a terrible last meal
You are no great hero
You are just you
You wander down the streets of muggle London and silently revel in the peace and calm and rhythm of normal life until you need to sit on a bench and cry
A stranger offers you a disposable hanky
You cry and cry over the tiny act of unworried kindness until they pat you awkwardly on the shoulder and leave the rest of the little packet of hankies behind and go back to their life
Their normal ordinary peaceful life
You miss it so much
You are so tired of war
and desperation in every day, the wireless and the paper and the propaganda that’s so obviously lies but you just want to stop fighting to keep the truth alive in your heart
You miss picking up the paper for the Quidditch scores
You miss tea and biscuits at the cafe
You find a cafe an order some tea and biscuits and pick up a paper from the counter while you’re waiting
FRANCE TRIUMPHS IN WORLD CUP
The Cup isn’t this year
Muggles have a Cup?
Your tea is ready
You don’t have pounds or euros
You do have a teary face and a look of exhausted shell-shock, but you don’t find this out until you step out and see yourself in the window’s reflection, steaming cup and biscuits in a bag clutched in your shaking hands, “on the house”
You left them some knuts in the tip jar, the server cheerfully said her nephew collects foreign coins and he’ll be pleased
They think you’re foreign
You look foreign
You are foreign
The paper is still tucked under your arm. You find a seat in the park and read the sport page, making careful note of goals scored. You’re vaguely pleased with a European victory over the Americas, even if it had to be France. You read the arts section, films and albums blurring together with stage plays and books. Nothing you’ve heard of but the tone is familiar, if you squint this piece could be a review of the new Eskarina Frost novel Wands of Warriors, too soppy for the critics but you have it guiltily stacked with the others of the series on your bedside table
The novel is titled Warrior’s Wench
The cover looks soppy
You make a note to buy it
You make a note to buy that dress the woman on the other end of the bench is wearing
she’s pretending she doesn’t see you but you can make out the edge of a sneer
That’s right, you’re foreign
Look at my native country’s robes
and matching green hat
and bag with bats embroidered on it
Gosh, you do stand out a bit don’t you?
You apparate home after a few more hours of window shopping
You want that dress and these boots and those drapes and that house and this kitten to live in it with you
You go home
And then the next day, very carefully, you empty your bank account and broker a deal on your house with the goblins and discuss exchange rates and make a few notes and then, with a purse charmed against theft (your last gift to yourself in this world) you cross over into muggle London, find the cafe again and buy a cup of tea and bag of biscuits (your first gift to yourself in the new world.)
The last bit of magic is spent at the airport
“Somewhere with English-speakers” is your only criteria to the charmed ticket seller who glazes right over your identification
You see a copy of Warrior’s Wench in the gift shop and read it on the flight
You find an apartment, the owner’s policy says no pets but the landlord winks when he has you initial the form. It’s easier to grasp a plastic pen than a fragile quill, you are pleasantly surprised, though vaguely embarrassed when you can’t find the inkwell.
Your new kitten looks happy playing on the robes you pile in the back of the closet. You have new dresses too, shorter than any robes you’ve worn since you were sixteen and flirting with chasers. You don’t understand fashion here and you say as much in the shop. They look at you with mirth but pat your hand and let it slide because you’re foreign.
It’s easier when you’re foreign
strange and different and pitiable
lost and alone and needing help
tea and biscuits
a wink and a kitten
muggles are so kind.
You don’t know why you never wanted to be one before.
Yo yo, I am stepping away from the Tumblr for a couple of days. It’s been a very destructive place for me today and I’m not currently in a place where I’m mentally equipped to deal with that.
I don’t post on here with the expectation that people will necessarily enjoy or agree with everything I post, but I do post with the expectation that people will be polite and respectful when they do disagree; one facet of my personality is that I do genuinely try and accommodate people’s problems, and am generally very willing to engage and debate with people who don’t share my viewpoint, or who have different experiences to me on a topic and subsequently have a different perspective. I really do enjoy seeing various opinions, and I’m not ashamed to admit when I’m wrong or I’ve been biased / inaccurate. It’s not that I necessarily have a list of rules of engagement, per se - it’s more that I would like this blog to be a sort of meeting point for various ideas, and that can’t happen if people are going to be combative because it discourages people - myself included - from engaging.
It does dishearten me when this respectful disagreement doesn’t happen. It upsets me when I am attacked or mocked for things I post. It upsets me when I am used as a scapegoat or a point of contention. I am not a blog. I am a person. I read people’s responses to what I post, and if that response treats me with blasé rudeness when the original post was intended to entertain or inform, then it affects me.
There’s some stuff in my queue which should entertain you for the foreseeable future. I just think it’s best that I distance myself for a few short spins of the Earth around its axis. I’ll probably just fill the time by eating biscuits, to be honest.