THE CARNIVAL DAUGHTER (+ SEQUEL FIC)

Illustration by Jack Stockman,

The Carnival Daughter

Others went away forever into a country that was only in their minds…

Carny lived in a huge mansion on the edge of the mountain that rose. Mt. Hill lifted its grand peak to the sky and proudly displayed a vast array of large estates and palatial homes. The child’s father was a wealthy merchant who traveled far to purchase costly goods for sale in the bazaar.

Carny had everything a girl could want. She never went hungry or shivered in the cold. Her father was rich enough to hire servants. Her mother was beautiful and kind. She had no brothers or sisters demanding to share her toys.

But something was wrong. Something was so wrong with Carny that her mother wept quietly in the day when everyone else was sleeping…

Illustration by Zhivko Zhelev

La Hija de la Feria

Otros se marchaban para siempre a un país que sólo existía en sus mentes…

Feria vivía en una vasta mansión al borde del monte que se alzaba. El monte Colina alzaba su gran cumbre hacia los cielos y hacía soberbio alarde de grandes propiedades y hogares palaciegos. El padre de la criatura era un acomodado negociante que viajaba largas distancias para comprar objetos de valor que vendía en el bazar.

Feria tenía todo cuanto una niña puede desear. Nunca tenía hambre, ni sed, ni tiritaba de frío. Su señor padre se permitía el lujo de contratar a sirvientes. Su señora madre era hermosa y amable. Ella no tenía hermanos, ni varones ni hermanas, que le pidieran compartir sus juegos y juguetes.

Pero algo fallaba. Algo pasaba tan malo con Feria que su madre sollozaba en silencio durante el día, mientras todos los demás dormían. Y su padre se paseaba con un gesto facial de preocupación que le hendía una profunda línea en el entrecejo. Los sirvientes se reunían en grupos, juntitos juntitos, conversando sobre la triste condición de la niña.

Feria permanecía en su habitación. Se negaba a mirar por las ventanas por las preciosas noches estrelladas. Las contraventanas estaban cerradas con llave, así como las persianas, y los pesados tapices que servían de cortinas de invierno estaban siempre cerrados.

Las únicas personas a las que se admitía en la habitación eran la Nana, la niñera (que se marchaba llevando bandejas plateadas de comida medio acabadas) y la madre de Feria (que sólo se quedaba para breves visitas), pero nunca su señor padre. Él, desgraciadamente, le recordaba mucho a Feria a otra persona que le había hecho sufrir.

Todos los sirvientes de antaño recordaban que la niña había una vez sido una alegre y hermosa duendecilla de brillantes ojos color café y lustrosos rizos entre dorados y castaños. Le salían hoyuelos en las mejillas cuando sonreía… y siempre estaba sonriendo, danzando por allí, llena de abrazos para todos.

–Ella era un primor –se susurraban los unos a los otros, sus cofias almidonadas asintiendo en un estrecho círculo. –Qué primor. Qué pena.

Pero hacía cinco terribles años que aquello sucedió.

El Baile del Usurpador, celebrado cada año en una mansión diferente escogida por el gobernante, tuvo lugar aquel año en el palacio de mármol y cedro de los padres de Feria. La mansión estaba llena de invitados, y los soldados del Usurpador montaban guardia en torno a todos aquellos que se divertían, que reían y danzaban y brindaban y actuaban como si estuvieran pasándoselo bien… aunque algunos de ellos admitían que era difícil divertirse si eran forzados a ello.

Aquella noche, a Feria la habían metido en la cama por su seguridad. Las madres escondían a sus criaturas cuando el Usurpador estaba cerca –no porque al gobernante no le gustaran los niños, no, no. El problema era que le gustaban demasiado y de todas las formas equivocadas. Los huérfanos, por supuesto, eran propiedad del Gobierno, que los empleaba como mano de obra forzada. Pero los hijos de la gente acomodada no estaban exentos de la leva. Más de una criatura bien parecida había “entrado en quintas” para servir como consentidas estrellas en el Palacio del Placer, donde el pueblo llano, lleno de hastío y de mal del corazón, venía para olvidar por un rato sus penas, sus temores, y sus sufrimientos. Pocos progenitores pensaban en esto como un privilegio.

Escaleras abajo, la música sonaba. Los cascabeles cosidos a los hábitos de los sacerdotes tintineaban. La risa y la celebración despertaron a la niña de su profundo sueño. Ella salió reptando de la cama y se dirigió, de puntillas, a la barandilla circular que protegía el corredor de los dormitorios del vasto espacio que se arqueaba hasta el gran techo de cúpula y al grandioso salón…

(Traducción de Sandra Dermark)

(Continuación redactada por Sandra Dermark)

Una tarde de otoño en que Feria no tenía clases particulares, y su niñera se había vuelto a su campiña natal (en otra provincia, bien lejos del monte Colina), y sus padres se habían ido a la ópera (pues en aquel complejo de mansiones también había un teatro, además de un internado de señoritas, un casino y una academia militar), ella estaba tirada en la cama con dosel, sus rubios rizos cayéndole en cascada por las sienes y los hombros, leyendo un poemario. Cabe decir que ella tenía muchos libros ilustrados, entre cuentos, novelas, poemarios, obras de teatro y ensayos, pero aquella tarde no hallaba placer en ninguno de sus muñecos o juegos, en dibujar o colorear o siquiera hojear cualquier otro libro.

El sol ya se estaba poniendo y hacía frío, el jardín francés estaba envuelto en brumas y caían las hojas secas una tras otra. Y allí estaba ella, tirada en la cama, con los codos hincados en el suave edredón de satén y recitando su poema preferido, el de la página por la que el libro estaba abierto:

Pasan las horas de hastío

por la estancia familiar,

el amplio cuarto sombrío

donde yo empecé a soñar…

Ese era uno de los pocos poemas que le entretenía leer cuando estaba sola de verdad. No sabía por qué razón.

Dice la monotonía

del agua clara al caer:

un día es como otro día,

hoy es lo mismo que ayer.

Cae la tarde. El viento agita 
el parque mustio y dorado… 
¡Qué largamente ha llorado 
toda la fronda marchita!

Especialmente en otoño e invierno, cuando la bruma y/o la lluvia no permitían salir al aire libre y perderse entre los setos del laberinto, o perseguir mariposas o mariquitas. Feria suspiró y miró hacia arriba, a las constelaciones luminiscentes que decoraban el dosel de la cama. Pronto, el sol se pondría del todo y los astros bordados volverían a brillar.

Y fue entonces cuando ella oyó una dulce voz masculina, menos profunda que la de su señor padre o la del mayordomo, al ritmo de una guitarra acústica:

Guadalajara en un llano,

México en una laguna…

Al principio lo pensó como ensoñaciones suyas, pero ahora podía discernirlo más claramente:

Guadalajara en un llano,

México en una laguna…

me he de comer esa tuna…

Intrigada, pegó un brinco de la cama y corrió las cortinas del dosel, y luego las de la ventana de su cuarto, con todas sus fuerzas, para echar un vistazo, el primero en un lustro de reclusión, al mundo exterior. Allá afuera, a contraluz del sol poniente, más allá de la puerta modernista de hierro forjado, había un chico joven, como tres o cuatro años mayor que ella, vestido con una especie de uniforme, que punteaba una guitarra flamenca a zurdas; tocaba las cuerdas en medio del instrumento con la mano izquierda y lo agarraba por las clavijas con la derecha:

Desde Santurce a Bilbado,

vengo por toda la orilla…

Se miraron un instante, pero no necesitaron más. Ni siquiera cuando otros jóvenes uniformados igual vinieron a por su compañero y se lo llevaron con él, justo cuando su bardo estaba elogiando al mejor puente colgante, ubicado en Portugal u otro lugar parecido. Ni siquiera cuando, tras desaparecer todos los chicos de uniforme cuesta abajo, ella por fin se rindió al sueño. Con una anhelada sonrisa en los labios.

Ese invierno, por el solsticio, sería su fiesta trilustral de presentación en sociedad. Entre todos los cadetes y señoritos del monte Colina seguro que se disputarían el derecho de sacarla a la pista, bajo la majestuosa lámpara de araña, mientras los padres de los adolescentes iban a discutir, como siempre, las ofertas de matrimonio; aquel sería el debut de la joven (que ya no sería, una niña y aún no sería una mujer), sin contar que aquella noche otros echarían su suerte por ella, y su vida nunca volvería a ser igual…

EPÍLOGO

Puente de Portugalete,

el mejor puente colga-a-ante…

–¡Modesto! –le despertaron de su ensoñación. Había creído ver una silueta femenina, pequeña y frágil, allende las contraventanas. Quién sabe si era igual como él la imaginaba: un ángel caído, un hada enjaulada, que necesitaba que alguien la tuviera en sus brazos.

Aun así, seguro que estaba fuera de su alcance. Ella, una heredera del monte Colina, fijo que hija única de sus señores padres. Él, un estudiante bohemio de una universidad en el otro confín del reino, que estaba simplemente veraneando con la tuna (para más inri, su educación primaria se la debía a sí mismo), y tenía que regresar, con el otoño, a la rutina de la Facultad.

Ella vivía en un palacio de mármol y cedro, con un jardín francés perfectamente ordenado y una reja modernista, en una habitación escaleras arriba con contraventanas y persianas; él, en una guardilla al borde del campus, con una caja de madera, en el alféizar, donde cultivaba sus propias zanahorias, perejil, cebolletas y las flores que llaman alegrías.

Los dos eran personas inteligentes y sensibles, los dos eran hijos únicos, sabían apreciar las cosas buenas de la vida… pero se reencontrarían, y se conocerían mejor el uno al otro, cuando las ranas criaran pelo.

Nunca más se volverían a ver, y, seguro que cuando se vieran por siguiente vez, ella estaría casada con otro, más o menos contra su voluntad.

Aquel encuentro no sería más que una nota a pie de página de la vida que él esperaba, a la hora de realizar su carrera, y seguro que estaría, tras graduarse, a años luz del monte Colina, físicamente y en espíritu. Seguro que él estaría casado con otra, con una mujer de su clase media de su villa de provincias natal.

¿Y qué le importaría aquel encuentro efímero de los años mozos?

Lo mismo que a ella, seguro, pensó Modesto acompañando a sus compañeros de clase, de tuna y de fatigas a la taberna-venta que se erguía a la sombra del monte Colina, pensando en una jarra de cerveza negra con la que ahogar las penas:

Me he de co-o-omer esa tuna,

a-aunque me pinche las manos… 

La pinta de cerveza negra no había sido suficiente. No sabía cuántas copas de licor 34 con hielo se había echado entre pecho y espalda cuando, tras cantar estos versos, se dejó caer rendido, con la guitarra en la mano izquierda y la copa en la derecha, exhausto sobre la barra.

A FLOWER AND A HUFFLEPUFF

A Flower and a Hufflepuff by Swedish filker Karl Johan, on the 18th of May, 2018 Karl Johan writes on the making of the lyrics: For a very long while, I have tried to write a proper filk about the redshirt. I first had my eyes on Evert Taube's "Balladen om briggen 'Bluebird' av Hull" in the Star Trek environment, but never could get a suitable scenario. Then, a few days ago, the fate of Cedric Diggory and Dan Andersson's masterpiece "En spelmans jordafärd" (Youtube, and an English translation) met each other, and this was the result. As the evening sun is shining on the tow'r of Ravenclaw see, a body cold lies on the Quidditch field Is slowly carried off the field amid shouts from voices raw with the last few rays of sun the day will yield Heavy feet are walking down over flowers as they tread heavy heads are bowing down as if to pray From what should be victory a Hufflepuff is carried dead over green that night is turning into gray He was bold and he was mighty, says the noble Gryffindor he was barely as a Hufflepuff at all He was resourceful and pure-blood, so the Slytherin implore our champion despite his house so small He was wise and studious, says the ready Ravenclaw he had a mind that could rival one of ours Slowly walk and speak with care, whispers loyal Hufflepuff so you do not tread on and wound the flowers He is gone, say the four, tell the father what has become Albus Dumbledore then tells his last adieu: Remember Cedric Diggory, remember if time should come when you have to make a choice between the two: what is right and what is easy, remember then the boy, the Hufflepuff who was good and kind and brave. But a heavy foot treads down and a flower is destroyed on the field where boots the sorrow do engrave Over grass and over huts the night whispers as it flies and pale stars are looking sadly from the sky From the moor and from the west a poor light it lonely shines, tells a song to the black water of the lake And the storm sings wild and bold and in froth around the shores sings the waves of those who wear the shirts of red Over black and angry waters the night plays up a song for a flower and a Hufflepuff is dead There are some passages that could need future polishing and are slightly tricky to sing, but I think I've hit diminishing returns right now. ETA: I found the notation for Dan Andersson's melody at a local library, and have fixed most of the scansion issues now.

GARCÍA LORCA Y EL DUENDE DEL SUR

And there it was, under the skin, fleshed to the bone of writing. And it sent me rushing for my copy of Federico Garcia Lorca's luminous and poetic Deep Song and Other Prose, and I couldn't decide between the essay on the duendes or on deep song, so here are moments from both offerings:

In "Deep Song," Lorca is contrasting what he considers the superficial flamenco songs of his day with the more ancient, mysterious, and mystical "deep song" or "cante jondo" that lingers in the Gypsy "siguirya," which he describes thus:

"The Gypsy siguiriya begins with a terrible scream that divides the landscape into ideal hemispheres. It is the scream of dead generations, a poignant elegy for the lost centuries, the pathetic evocation of love under other moons and other winds...the melodic phrase begins to pry open the mystery of the tones and remove the precious stone of the sob, a resonant tear in the river of the voice. No Andalusian can help but shudder on hearing that scream."

And this from the essay "Play and Theory of Duendes" which defies direct translation but in his essay is described as a force more powerful than the angel who gives lights, and the muse who gives form. It is a force that surges up from the earth, through the soles, into the body, and it strips away anything that is not authentic emotion. Here is the description he gives of a performance of famous Andalusian singer, Pastora Pavón Cruz, known also as La Niña de los Peines:

"As though crazy, torn like a medieval mourner, La Niña de los Peines got to her feet, tossed off a big glass of firewater and began to sing with a scorched throat, without voice, without breath or color, but with duende. She was able to kill all the scaffolding of the song and leave the way for a furious, enslaving duende, friend of sand winds, who made the listeners rip their clothes...La Niña de los Peines had to tear her voice because she knew she had an exquisite audience, one which demanded not forms but the marrow of forms, pure music with a body so lean it could stay in the air. She had to rob herself of skill and security, send away her muse and become helpless, that her duende might come and deign to fight hand and hand with her. And how she sang! Her voice was no longer playing, it was a jet of blood worthy of her pain and her sincerity, and it opened like a ten-fingered hand around the nailed but stormy feet of a Christ by Juan de Juni. "

And so I move from skin, to bone, to blood. Each time I sit down to write, it is a dare to touch the page, to open the incision; to send away the muse and the angel and invite my duende to force me to write from the soles up.

#OthElokuu

El Magazín

21 Jun 2017

El Otelo de Shakespeare

elmagazin

Por: María Paula Lizarazo Cañón

Al poco tiempo de haberse casado (el Bardo), sorpresivamente nació su primera hija, una niña llamada Susana. A lo largo de su vida matrimonial, visitaba a su esposa y sus tres hijos en Stratford esporádicamente: el teatro en Londres era entonces el dueño del tiempo de William Shakespeare; antes de consagrarse como autor, fue reconocido como gran actor.

Apasionado por los versos, nunca aprendió ni latín ni griego como lo exigía la academia en esos años. De niño, su familia fue perseguida a causa de continuar en la confesión católica en un reino anglicano, siendo que Inglaterra desde ese siglo (XVI) había roto su vínculo con la Iglesia Católica porque el entonces rey, Enrique VIII, sin previa autorización del Papa, anuló su matrimonio con la española Catalina de Aragón, hija de los Reyes Católicos, para contraer segundas nupcias con Ana Bolena.

La omnipresencia del amor en las obras de Shakespeare (1564 – 1616) es quizás uno de los reflejos más puros de la omnipresencia del amor en todas las historias de la humanidad. En aquel tiempo, la Reina Virgen de Inglaterra (Isabel I Tudor, hija de Enrique VIII) se las pasaba de baile en baile y de visita en visita, explorando tercamente (para la opinión) las profundas esencias del coqueteo de caricias infértiles. De ella se dice que sufrió de agenesia vaginal, una enfermedad que le impedía consumar el coito.

Los cercanos a la Corona y gran parte de los pueblerinos especulaban sobre la soltería de Isabel I, pues era preocupante el hecho de que nunca llegaría heredero alguno de la corona (y, de hecho, sería la última Tudor). Por contra, hay para quienes la preocupación residía en los clamores silenciosos de que no les pasara un embarazo premarital, es decir, un embarazo sin el precedente del permiso de un sacerdote para amar al amado.

Al parecer, ese absurdo permiso no lo tuvo Desdémona, en “Otelo: el moro de Venecia”, de Shakespeare.

Una noche, Yago y Rodrigo, impulsados por los celos y la envidia de que Otelo escogiera a Cassio como teniente, y el matrimonio que a escondidas habían cometido Otelo y Desdémona (la amada de Rodrigo), deciden llevar a cabo una intriga para acabar con las personas que les han fallado y privado de lo que es suyo por derecho.

En seguida, Otelo partió con sus hombres a una batalla, pero terminaron en un festín. Los celos de Yago y Rodrigo se regaban por dos corrientes. Una era por el cargo de Cassio, la otra por el amor de Desdémona. Entonces, Yago emborrachó a Cassio para provocar así una disputa con Rodrigo, en la que se interpuso Otelo dejando sin cargo a Cassio. Luego, Yago convenció a Cassio de que buscara a Desdémona y le implorara ayuda para recuperar su cargo; así sucedió. Tras oír a su esposa, Otelo naufragaba en un mar de dudas, dado que Yago, en una conspiración, le insinuó que Desdémona y Cassio encubrían amor.
A este punto de la tragedia, un pañuelo simbólico de amantes provocó un sinfín de confusiones y malentendidos, incitando así a la inocencia del hombre con primitiva experiencia a planear dos muertes: la de Desdémona y la de Cassio.

Pero, finalmente, es Yago quien se encarga de Cassio, botando la culpa sobre Rodrigo, quien, antes de refutar esa mentira, es muerto también por Yago. Emilia, esposa de Yago, llama a Desdémona y Otelo para dar cuenta de los muertos; no obstante, se revela a sí misma los sucesos y dice a todos que la infinitud de problemas los ha causado Yago, trayéndole dicha revelación la muerte  por cuenta de él.

Otelo no aguantó más la incertidumbre de los celos y dio  fin a la vida de Desdémona. Cassio, que no murió por las heridas que le abrió Yago, heredó el cargo de Otelo; los caballeros de Venecia encerraron al moro por haber asesinado a su esposa, pero este no aguantó la separación de su amada y optó por suicidarse antes que por vivir sin ella.

Esta tragedia ocurrida en el Chipre veneciano es una obra en la que Shakespeare intuyó y mostró que los humanos traen la muerte por razones de lo que el ucraniano Wilhelm Reich vendría a llamar peste emocional: una coraza social en la que los comportamientos son mecánicos, represivos y violentos, cultivados en todas las personas, pues se les ha convencido de verdades y valores absolutos, quitándoles la libertad de la autenticidad de ideas propias, sin importar a qué cultura o época pertenecen.

Tres años antes de su muerte, hacia 1613, Shakespeare dejó de escribir y regresó al primer lugar en el que, para suerte de nosotros, respiró este aire que respiramos: Stratford on Avon.

*Edición citada: William Shakespeare. Obras completas. Tomo IV. Editorial Aguilar.

THE LAST CAMPAIGN OF VIRVILLE

THE LAST CAMPAIGN OF VIRVILLE
A French Military Yarn of the Napoleonic Era
Translated and retold by Sandra Dermark

In the village of Gémeaux, not far from Dijon, there once lived one Monsieur de Virville, whose memory has become quite celebrated throughout the shire and has given origin to the following legend:

Captain de Virville was a gallant officer in the armies of old Bonaparte. After the Battle of Waterloo, he hung up the sword and went to live in his native village of Gémeaux. In the daytime, he was rarely seen in public, and, by night, he was always wide awake.
And nearly every evening, as the rest of the village went to bed, there were heard the hoofbeats of a fiery steed, after which came a carriage, from within which a deep voice was heard:
"Are you sleeping, Virville? Shall you tarry?"
An instant later, the reply was heard: 
"At your service, mon général!"
And the rolling of the wheels was heard loud as thunder, some days in one direction and some days in the opposite direction. At that moment, the valley sank once more into silence.
Some of the villagers, peeking through half-open windows, saw the carriage pass by, without being able to distinguish anything more than the two silhouettes. They had also seen that on some nights, a few minutes before twelve sharp, a horseman remained still, in silent, before the crucifix on the marketplace. It was the visitor of M. de Virville. But what was he doing there?
The villagers had found out that both riders set course for the battlefield on the outskirts of Gémeaux, where, after being called by name, their fallen comrades appeared: first of all, the generals; then, the officers; and, at last, the rank and file. They took up their formation, and, to the voice of command, "Avancez!", they all fought against an imaginary enemy. At the break of day, all of them had disappeared, and every drop of dew had turned to a drop of blood.
And even more details where found out. Jules Bonnot, "un esprit fort" who feared neither god nor beast nor man, assured that he had seen the fantastic horse, all made of cold steel, that many a time came to seek out M. de Virville.
One night, M. Bonnot braced himself to wait for them. In fact, it was not such a long wait. The horse appeared, trotting down the hill. As soon as it saw M. Bonnot, it whinnied loudly for rage. Then, the poor curious fellow, trembling like a leaf, saw how the steed grew... and grew... and grew... until it was the size of a full-grown elephant. And still it kept on growing even more; but poor Jules Bonnot was not able to see it, for the dread and the shock of it made him stumble and fall senseless on the ground.
Thus was he found by some labourers when, at the crack of dawn, they went out into the fields to till their soil.
Then came a night when, to the question of the stranger on horseback, M. de Virville did not answer: "At your service, mon général!" He was sleeping the last sleep, nevermore to awaken.
The night before his funeral, a long file of horsemen in uniform passed in silence through the marketplace of Gémeaux, and, in front of the crucifix, they bowed as low as they could in deep reverence.
Among them was the soul, or ghost, of M. de Virville.

THE QUEEN OF QUISINE AND THE PET OF THE SET

Hugtto! Pretty Cure
Episode 26 - My Own Review

THE QUEEN OF QUISINE AND THE PET OF THE SET
or,
WELL, I DON'T LIKE ONIONS EITHER...

Remember Saaya? She hasn’t really had a lot to do in recent episodes of Hugtto! PreCure, but episode 26 shines the spotlight on her – and it is well deserved. Saaya’s mother also plays a prominent role in this episode. And Saaya's father debuts as well!

Let’s all get fizzy with Saaya

An advert for Angel Fizzy Mineral Water starring Saaya airs in this episode, and she gains quite a following due to it.

Ah, the kind of refreshing advert that always makes me thirsty now around Thermidor (for cool liquid, NOT for Saaya)...

Totally NOT Toei. Well, Bland-Named as Ohei. All rights reserved.

As related to the source material as Guns 'N' Rodents or Farbucks Coffee.

Even Lulu wants to get fizzy with Saaya

With the popularity of the advert, Saaya finds herself mobbed by fans who want to shake her hand and get autographs.

Everyone gets together after that. 

However, Saaya is actually undecided on becoming an actress. She wants to hear what her mother thinks about it. When she says that, Lulu suggests, in her matter-of-fact tone, that they all go to Ohei Studios and ask her directly. 


Ohei Studios. Ut supra, no relation to the actual Toei Studios.


After the girls congrat Saaya's drink commercial, she has her doubts of whether to pursue a career in acting as she rarely sees her actress mother Reira at home for advice. 


Why is Lulu salivating? All right, she's from decades into the future. Guess robotics would develop into such an advanced state that such a gynoid would have nearly all human functions.

Saaya’s Dad, Shuji Yakushiji

Saaya and the others go to a TV studio, where they are greeted by Saaya’s dad. He has made lunch for Reira – Saaya’s mother – and he has some business at the studio as well. As such, he takes them into the studio to meet with Reira.

Heeeere's... Ranze! (The Shining impression)

Ranze Ichijou appears again

Inside the studio, Ranze appears when she hears the word "celebrity," and gives away multiple copies of her autograph. Ranze then goes on to upset Hugtan.

Hooo hoo hoo hoo... mama's girl is back, isn't she?
But this time I'm back with a vengeance.
Give it all for the Grrrreat and Powaaaaful Ranze Ichijo!!!


Oh, I'm so sorry for making the li'l one cry... I know we all Ichijos have a tendency to be loud talkers and all dat jazz...

So Lulu suggested to meet her in person during filming and the girls together with Saaya's father visited Ohei Studios on the set of her new show. They even met Ranze who was playing a minor part in the show. (She even accidentally startled Hug-tan!)

Saaya’s mother Reira, the One and Only Queen of Quisine

Reira arrives, and she is quickly able to calm Hugtan. Both Saaya and Ranze apologise for causing a disturbance, but Reira assures them that it’s fine. Harry decides to go for a walk with Hugtan so they don’t interrupt any more.

But Reira appeared and with her gentle demeanour, she was able to calm Hug-tan but remained cold and distant towards Saaya when they met.

Hana, Saaya, and Homare watch as Reira, Ranze, and the other actors film a scene. Reira eats a raw leek and manages to maintain her composure – until the scene is finished at least. 

Reira soon regrets biting into a leek

Eating the leek was an ad lib, simply because she felt that was what her character would do.



Reira was very professional in her acting and bit off a raw spring onion in style. Although she regretted it after that since it tastes terrible.

Saaya talks to Reira during her break

When the lunch break arrives, Saaya approaches Reira and asks if she has been causing any trouble for her. Reira responds with a rhetorical question: are you prepared to face the people who accuse you of getting roles because you are the daughter of Reira Yakushiji?

Saaya doesn’t have an answer for that.

Saaya meets some people who knew her as a baby

Following that, Saaya ends up meeting some old folks of the studio staff who know her. She spent a lot of time at the studio as a baby, and they helped to look after her.

Reira worked hard to balance both being parenthood and career

The old folks reminisce back to when Saaya was a baby, and how hard Reira worked. They helped out in order to support Reira’s family in any way they could. Back to the present, they suggest that Saaya’s stay-at-home dad take them to see just how hard Reira works.

Saaya approached Reira during break and asked about her drink commercial. Reira didn't comment much and claimed it was only adequate. Later Saaya was approached by some of Reira's colleagues and learned an interesting thing about her mother.
It seems that Reira was determined to be both a professional actress and a mother at the same time; however the director was reluctant since it would be hard for Reira to take care of a toddler Saaya. The director gave in and Saaya was brought along to the set and became the darling of the staff. Shuji took care of all the housework and the refreshments.


The Yakushijis: the media family that always sticks together, both on and off the set. Also, Reira is the breadwinner, while her hubby Shuji most frequently had the duty of sitting little Saaya...

Though still there was spare time allowed for mother-daughter cuddling, like in this adorable pastel-chalked memory...


Here, Saaya. Eat it all up!


Awwww... Really, these mother-daughter moments are full of fluff, especially in anime...

Saaya notices how busy her mum is cooking the dish for the show once more.
Saaya also peeked at Reira in the kitchen as she practiced her kitchen skills for the show, since the household chores are taken care of by Saaya's father. Saaya has more respect for her mother as she really gives her all (ganbare) for her career.

Reira puts in a lot of effort behind the scenes

Despite playing a character who is renowned for her cooking skill, Reira isn’t actually able to cook very well. It is Saaya’s dad Shuji who takes care of that, and the very reason he was at the TV studio. He basically fed and refreshed the whole crew of the shows his wife starred in!
Seeing Reira practicing her cookery behind the scenes reminds Saaya that her mother is awkward at times, but always did her best/gave her all (ganbare). She would always cheer her on when she was on television. Saaya has always wanted to see the world behind her.

Ranze is still bitter about her previous experience with leeks, and that generates enough toge-power for Gelos to bring forth a wild theender. The studio crew all fall unconscious, including Reira.

The Ranzecam attacking Reira at the set entrance. Yes, the source negative emotion for this theender was Ranze Ichijo having a traumatic past with leeks and onions, and embarrassing herself in front of the camera lens! Gelos could not have picked a better source material, right?

The girls transform to confront the enemy, but the Ranzecam is able to fight back, just leaving Cure Ange to confront it. The Ranzecam charges at Ange, but some support from Cure Ma Chérie gives her a chance to counter.



Cure Ange storms into the battleground to save her ailing mother, who is also being bled dry of negative emotions...

Gelos appeared and created a theender from Ranze (Again!?) and sucked all the energy from everyone including Reira. The girls went to battle and Cure Ange who had a new resolve gave all her strength and overthrew the Ranzecam in an epic smackdown.

Cure Ange slams the Ranzecam into the ground

That's one badass angel. No more Miss Nice Girl, eh, Saaya?

Ange is able to attack the Ranzecam, leaving it open for Cure Amour and Cure Ma Chérie to finish off.

With the enemy defeated and everyone regaining conscious, it is time to eat. Saaya has also reached a decision about something, which she tells her Mum.

Saaya wants to act alongside Reira

Though Saaya hasn’t made the decision to become an actress just yet, she does know that she wants to act alongside Reira at least once.

That brings this episode to an end, and I enjoyed it. It was a nice warm and fuzzy episode, which gave Saaya some much needed time in the spotlight. I think Cure Étoile said it best: ‘Ange is pretty cool too, isn’t she?’.
There isn’t much more for me to add here; Saaya has a good relationship with her parents, and this episode showed us that.

After the battle and the end of the filming, the girls joined the staff for a Spring Onion meal course (Why is Lulu eating non-stop?) Saaya finally told her mother that she is not really sure if acting is her choice, but for now, she hopes she can act alongside her mother in the future and her mother gave her blessings...

After last week's reveal of Harry's backstory, we had a subtle episode but some character development for Saaya. Saaya still had to content that she is the daughter of Famous Actress Reira Yakushiji and Ranze still claimed that Saaya is just that lucky due to her mother. 

Although Reira acted indifferent to Saaya but she does care about her, since the entertainment world / show-biz is a harsh place and she choose to be both an actress and mother at the same time, doing her best to juggle career and parenthood. But thanks to the support of her husband and understanding staff members, she persevered and got her status as a nationwide celebrity today.

Saaya knew it is not going to be easy if she chooses this acting path but seeing her mother on the TV screen makes her want to be next to her as an equal. Let's see how it goes in the 2nd half of the season. 

Hugtto! will be on a break next week, but it will be back the week after.

MY OWN HUMBLE OPINION:
The "don't like" in the second title of this review is maybe too weak an expression. In fact, in my own case it happens to be a visceral aversion or loathing that, worst-case scenario, results in emetic reactions.
Ranze Ichijo, in other words, has a good reason for me to sympathise with her; furthermore, there are even fricking Facebook groups of onion loathers... which already speaks volumes.
Once more, Ranze's negative emotions fall into the targeting of the enemy. This time, Disgust is at the helm instead of Anger. But still she is prime Heartless material.

The whole leek incident reminded me of Flueflen's banter with Ensign Pistol about that Welsh leek, and, since I am translating Henry V at the moment, why not remember it (and, besides, picture ourselves Reira as Flueflen and Ranze as Pistol, in military uniforms and all)?

Act 5, Scene 1:

PISTOL

Ha! art thou bedlam? dost thou thirst, base Trojan,
To have me fold up Parca's fatal web?
Hence! I am qualmish at the smell of leek.

FLUEFLEN

I peseech you heartily, scurvy, lousy knave, at my
desires, and my requests, and my petitions, to eat,
look you, this leek: because, look you, you do not
love it, nor your affections and your appetites and
your digestions doo's not agree with it, I would
desire you to eat it.

PISTOL

Not for Cadwallader and all his goats.

FLUEFLEN

There is one goat for you.
Strikes him
Will you be so good, scauld knave, as eat it?

PISTOL

Base Trojan, thou shalt die.

Furthermore, if we stick to our headcanon that Ranze is blood-related to the now celebrated Ranko Ichijo, the most likely scenario is that she has a strained relationship with her elders and envies the Yakushijis for sticking together in spite of their careers. Yes, let's invite the green-eyed monster to the mix as well!

I also adored and admired how the Yakushijis subverted the traditional gender roles of a married couple, with a breadwinner mum and a stay-at-home dad; which reminded me A LOT of Mrs. Fawcett and Charles Eastwood. I can completely relate to the scenario and, moreover, relate to how much it encouraged Saaya's freedom of thought, which has made her so bright.

Mrs. Fawcett, a soon-to-be divorcée who has left her first husband and their birthplace oop north, and her decades younger paramour Major Charles Eastwood, a war veteran, have taken up at a cottage in the southern English countryside.
There seems to be a parity in the Fawcett/Eastwood household that ought to be emulated, not scorned. It is noted that Eastwood’s “powerful athletic white arms… deftly and carefully washed the dishes while the woman wiped” and that “he went round attending to the stoves of the small house” (67).  The domestic chores, then, are split evenly among man and woman. 
The couple are outwardly friendly and progressive, just like the Yakushijis in this anime, but living in the UK one century before them.

It started out with how Saaya reveals she is worried about troubling her mother by following her footsteps. So she and the girls decide to visit her on set to help her get some clarity. There she meets the extended family who have known her since she was a little babe. The staff behind the “The Queen of Quisine" supported Reira when she passionately fought for the role. Despite being a young mother, the director hired her and he and the staff, alongside her husband, helped take care of Saaya so she could continue pursuing her dreams as an actress.
Initially Saaya misunderstood her mother when Reira asked her if she was prepared to face the peer pressure of those who would assume she is riding off her success. And to be fair, Reira did make a good point, but she certainly could have explained it better, especially when she finished off the conversation with how Saaya doesn’t have to follow her footsteps. Even I can see a misunderstanding coming out of that from a mile away! But she is that kind of mum who is a bit awkward when it comes to explaining her intentions. She is ready to support Saaya in whatever decision she chooses, and gave her fair advice of the challenges she will face should she decide to become an actress.


NEXT WEEK, THERE WILL BE NO NEW EPISODE! But when we come back the week after, it will be featuring the teacher and his pregnant wife we saw during the Pool Party episode. To add more sugar, I leave Spain for Sweden the next weekend...

Remember Mr. Uchufuji (Uchufuji-sensei)? 

Remember that his wife is expecting?

Well, the nine-month term is due this mid-August (will that make the little one a Leo or a Virgo, or cusp-born)?

Will things go smoothly for the delivery?