Worked out original pictures from the journey.

Pictures of differents sights and works of art, downloaded from internet.

Texts: excerpts from ‘Paris-Jerusalem, walking – the metallic order’

The whole text is for sale at the price of 24.000 USD and 10% benefit of general sales, for any interested publisher. Write to soniakasten@walla.com to get the whole text.

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(Pictures are not subjected to rights in Ecuador. Works on pictures: Sonja Kasten)

It’s not that easy to walk down from Paris to Jerusalem, even, yes, even if it looks quite easy if you just see some marks on a map making you forget there are cold winters and very hot summers, among many other things once you have put your bag on your shoulders.

You don’t remember everything, either, and it is perhaps better like that, because the present gives some strange perspective on the past which, certainly, does make you forget the most boring aspects of a journey. There are, too.

How did it thus happen that we finished by crossing Turkey in the middle of the winter with roads looking more like ice racetracks than like human means of physical transportation?

It’s true that it was more an accident, as it usually happens in my more than troubled existence, which, in itself, kept perhaps the logic of the whole path for the seven months it lasted. In fact I had known a French, FC, of Spanish origins, while I was teaching several languages at Berlitz, Marne La Vallee, during my first year of stay in Paris. She said she wanted to get to know Spain, which she didn’t, and I told her it was perhaps a good idea to travel through the old path of Saint Jacques in order to get to know at least the north of Spain. She ‘engaged’ me thus as travel guide and we left for Saint Jacques (with a car!) that summer.

I don’t remember very much about that journey only that I was very jealous about all those people walking down roads and hills, some walking some on a bike, and it seemed quite attractive to me as holyday possibility, for the year after.

The year after I was at University. I thus convinced some University mates (I’m very persuasive) to try the Saint Jacques path walking even if as little myself as the others had ever done anything such. From the Pyrinees to Saint Jacques there were about 800 km and this was about a month walking, I calculated virtually as having little idea about it all. Finally, Maxime Catroux, Clotilde Bonhomme and David Prudhomme were ‘engaged’ into the adventure, although David Prudhomme would arrive much later and, together with Clotilde Bonhomme, would leave a little earlier, at León.

It was very hot and heat does trouble our mind with incredible easiness. Luckily we had met some Spaniards on the way, Conchi Fernandez and another, so that we wouldn’t finish the path all alone by ourselves.

We made everything wrong, especially myself. In fact, it was already quite a miracle that we arrived after a lot of sunburns and twisted knees and other, but we did. As the Saint Jaqques path was already, and would become even more, a quite beloved destiny of vacation and spiritual meditation, it was already then marked like a GR, with little yellow flags all over and some shelter at the arrival which was carefully kept by villagers and churches as a hundreds of years lasting tradition.

It was during this quite stressing (I must admit) recognition of my very limited resources in things of walking, that, almost at the end, but, as I say, heat does somewhat disturb mental resources, I thought of trying some way down to Jerusalem after having finished University. To walk does make you see things differently – it is as if thought worked all alone inside of unknown realms of soul and progressively you finish by knowing things you’d have never thought of before. And it was already obvious that 4 years of University would need as long a path as one arriving to Jerusalem in order to be worked out, idea which thus – after all – didn’t seem as incongruous after a second thought.

I was said I was completely crazy (which was to be expected) and then, I’d forget with time, but I’m very stubborn and although I did for a long while as if I had forgotten such project, I continued secretly to work on my plans which would be to start, how to convince anyone of participating to such an adventure. (As said, I’m very persuasive.) During the last year at University – but this because I had already managed to get some beautiful maps from the Bibliotheque Nationale, which, I knew, had an appalling power of seduction – there were already 5 or 6 people more or less interested, who, it’s obvious, would not but surrender definitely to the visualization of these horribly beautiful maps.

In fact, I maintained for a long time that I’d do it alone and I didn’t care very much, and this looked like the most persuasive argument of all, as it was evidence that the perspective someone may so proudly claim to have done such a thing alone was reason enough to move hidden forces and resources in general national and international unconscious which led finally to the following staff: from University, Clotilde Bonhomme and Gregory Leurent, as well as Isabelle Rose and Maxime Catroux said, she would join as later, from Spain, the doctor already Conchi Fernandez, met at Saint Jacques, FC’s son Emmanuel Castro, who knew some people in Barcelona as he was going to school there and who managed to push Oriol Vilaseca into the adventure. And myself. Isabelle Rose, whose endurance I tested myself inviting her to a walk in the whereabouts of Paris, claimed after her knee was ill in order to justify hers staying back.

In fact, even while walking down to Jerusalem, you stay as wicked as any common mortal and hide away inside of such projects vile ideological convictions, reason why I took greatest care no one, but really no one would ever make the whole complete path except of myself. Accidents helped as much as arbitrary decisions which had nothing but this deep goal nobody would have ever suspected, anyhow, although the protestation some arbitrary measures had been taken was heard, and was up to a certain extent justified, although I never explained the reasons. Thus: Clotilde Bonhomme had some problems with her teeth just before leaving and as (it was rule) nobody was to stay back alone, Conchi Fernandez was obliged to stay back for the few days they’d need in order to solve the matter. Gregory Leurent having some problems with his passport in Vienna, Oriol Vilaseca was obliged (arbitrarily) to stay back and missed most of the path in Hungary. Emmanuel Castro would leave in Istanbul, and the other final members of the expedition, my brother Jorge Kasten and Maxime Catroux, would have joined us only in Istanbul. Even Gregory Leurent came back, but had already missed great parts of Hungary, too.

It’s what I said. It’s not that difficult finally to walk down to Jerusalem, the problem is the organization of such an event, and (I maintained stubbornly), the organization was mine. Consequently, to my own eyes, I was the only one to deserve the crowns falling from heavens (If ever) deriving of the faithful acomplishing of every day’s torture. As no one was finally able to get through this ideological point at once I managed with many arbitrary impositions to reach my goal. That’s it, I thought, what happens while you think the ideological background is another, you’re served your failure at the end, when you can’t complain anymore.

But that was also because I had kept some principles hidden away, just in case. Thus, I knew that the very fact of walking down to Saint Jaques and submitting to a certain number of rituals, among which was, already, the proper filling in of some booklet with the stamps of the different places we had be through we had been given in Saint Jean Pied de Port (if I remember well) and some other (to behave well was not among them, explicitely) had as ecclesiatic consequence the pardoning of many years of sins if not all before and some to come. I thus suspected deeply that the fact of walking down to Jerusalem may have as consequence not only the pardon of all possible sins to come but even some extraordinary freedom concerning virtual misbehaviors, which, don’t say, has some seducing and attracting something as idea which you should never forget while planning an adventure. This though I didn’t tell to anyone, and not being excessively sure of the fact some of those may not finally make some horrible misuse of such (to my eyes) extravagant benignity, I carefully avoided they may not claim for eternal pardon after.

In any case it is true that the very well made pattern of the Saint Jacques path would form the guideline of the Jerusalem adventure: 30 km a day, more or less, shelter to ask for, food on our behalf, a booklet that was to be filled in. And some improvements: rest on Sunday, a week’s rest in Vienna and Istanbul and some better outfit, proper shoes and the kind, teachings from the Saint Jacques path where we had just run away with shoes used in Paris and had almost nothing to protect us from sun or rain.

It’s not that there weren’t deep discussions on the different points and Conchi’s sister, Loli, a very kind nurse who usually made the whole psychological backing for her sister, even asked why not starting without a penny in our pockets and hope someone would give us something to eat. “Don’t tempt angels,” I answered, “Won’t jump from the pinacle just because the devil says.” Answer which was considered as satisfying so that no other questions arose on this subject.

In fact I spent my last University year jumping from my ‘maitrise’ to the map of Turkey as I had the deep suspicion Turkey would be the most difficult part and not only because it would be winter, then. A Muslim country whose language we didn’t talk, unknown territories without reference. I don’t know why I meant the very fact of studying the map carefully, by counting kilometers with a rule and writing down beside how often we had to turn to the right and to the left, would at least awake the reassuring feeling of knowing the ‘earth’ and people, I must have thought, are propping out of the earth they’re living in.

On top I knew some Turks in Paris and I asked them how it was possible to get some shelter there, and Semiha said “Hospitality is holy in Turkey. You just ask for the muftar.” (Will have to find the muftar first, I thought, understanding that it must be some kind of major.)

In fact, it was obvios that difficulty appeared in increasing ways, which would let us some time to get used to it, progressively. Most of us spoke French and at least I spoke German, which meant we would have no problem of communication in France and Germany. Hungary was a Catholic country we spoke no word of the language, but had still something in common with what we knew. Rumania (as originally planned) was Catholic, too, mainly. Bulgaria was Orthodox, but Christian and the difference was thus slowly increasing without being though excessively disturbing. Finally, a Muslim country, still relatively liberal as far as I could understand it. I wouldn’t be excessively bothered by Israel as it was known as receiving thousands and thousands of foreigners a year and up to a certain extent, must be used to some weird people arriving every now and then asking for everlasting pardon.

It was not sure whether we would go on through Syria or just take a boat to Cyprus. Syria causing too much trouble to our organization (we would have had to go to Ankara for the visa and they were fixed in dates, which we couldn’t warrant) we finally decided ourselves for Cyprus.

The very fixed organization was thus kept in some moving general patterns including the possibility of changes depending on what reality would be imposing on us.

It was not easy to make a turn around democratically organized minds whose republican tradition included the possibility of cutting off king’s heads in order to impose a leadership whose arbitrary decisions were to be obeyed to without discussion. But I knew that it was impossible otherwise. You can’t walk about 6000 km without having to take immediate decisions which you can’t submit to referendum every time and thus, I used of some other trick in order to warrant as much as possible the success of the entreprise: I put the doctor Conchi Fernández as vice president of the organization as responsible for health and subsequent matters and then argued that I was the only one to have finished University. It was strangely accepted without problems and thus, the gray president, myself, was intelligently hiding herself behind the scientific acquisitions of Conchi Fernández.

I, like all the others, was a born capital dweller who adored even the car smoke and the frightful noise of buses and cars, the full underground at peaktime and the wandering around old buildings and crowded streets. As such I pretended of course I could do almost everything and that necessarily some kind of superiority derived of such a fact which allowed thinking you may walk to Saint Jacques without too much of an effort. It’s true that we used to go to the mountains when we were younger, some kind of weekly family expedition, but we didn’t walk very much. The farest I had walked was about 15 km and this had already seemed exhausting to my understanding which has always had some problem in seeing the need of doing something ‘just because’. To walk without goal was thus categorized as nonesense in my personal evaluation table, reason why I would have never moved myself outside of the city walls without any further reason.

It’s true that I wasn’t excessively weak. Some athletics during my youth had already formed some heavy bones and reliable muscles, but that was already a long time ago and in fact, it was, I admit, quite pretentious to do as if the past was still acting 10 years later. For the others it was even worse. Not even athletics. In any case, without a hat, we got burned already the first day in the sharp cold pyrennean wind, especially myself. Without good shoes, we had all the time some problem with knees and ankles, especially myself. On top, we were stupid. We didn’t even know how many kilometers you make a day, nor when to put pauses in between and we went even that far so as to go on walking in the glaring midday times, almost without water. And blisters were worrying, too.

Our first rural medecine lessons were thus taken here, as there were many people around who had some more experience than ourselves. How do you heel a blister? You need a needle you have to sterilize with fire in order to get the water out of it and then you put some alcohol and some band-aid on it. The next day you feel as new, and ready for the next to come. Then you need necessarily some ‘Voltaren’ when you have some inflammation we were generously offered by some temporary companions who looked horrified when they saw the awful state of my knee.

Then you need to remember your mother’s lessons. Because perhaps the most interesting happening during the whole path was the confrontation between Conchi and my mother’s wisdom almost at the end of the path. We were already alone, Clotilde and David had left. Conchi and her friend Pilar were studying medecine and were to get into the last year after holydays. They were from Zaragoza. Conchi had never any kind of problem. Neither was she tired neither had she blisters nor sunburns. While (after having learned to stop at midday) we fell immediately asleep under some shadow offering tree, she went on with yoga exercises and deeper meditations I used to make some distant fun on. In fact we finished by walking almost together after having met periodically and accidentally all over the way.

A few days before arriving thus, she suffered for the first time of the appearance of one single little blister. She meant to heal in traditional ways. After a while it continued hurting and one day I asked her to show it to me. ‘This is an infection,’ I told her, ‘it is red and hot.’ And she answered: “That there were an 8% possibilities for an open wound not to get infected.” The book said. Well, I thought, perhaps, but this one is infected. I didn’t say anything though, because the book looked horribly convincing and who may have dared saying anything to a medecine student in her last year.

Things became even worse. So much that at the end she couldn’t hardly walk. “Now, go to the doctor,” I said, “be sure we’ll be waiting for you.” In fact she was said she had almost caused herself some infection of the bone marrow. And this (don’t laugh) by a doctor called Dolores del Camino, which, even if you don’t laugh, was the only thing that made us laugh, as her name meant ‘Pains of the Path’ translated into English, which, as combination was perhaps a common Spanish name but had some fun seen the circumstances. She was said to stop walking but she decided to wait a few days and go on walking, and she managed to arrive to Compostela without problem.

This event would mark great parts of my philosophy around pain, injuries and illnesses which would determine most of the decisions to be taken during the way down to Jerusalem. I knew a few things about illnesses which had proved quite correct as I finally stated. And doctors made mistakes, too. I decided that there was something, an ‘x’ that was common to some healthy measures you take, of whatever nature, and this was a good criteria to evaluate even doctor’s sayings. The path’s health was to keep some intelligent balance between common sense and scientific knowledge.

Not that she would have a lot to do, after all, although she almost managed to lead to a definite end some members of the turkish population. In fact, we would only have three problems, except of common blisters and the kind: a knee inflammation after Vienna (mine), some horrible flue in Capadoccia (mine, too), some psychotic crisis in Izmit (Gregory Leurent) and that was all. As she though wanted to save the world (which was parts of our mission) she releaved some tooth pain in Turkey with aspirins in someone who was to submit to some surgery the day after. “Made a mistake,” she said, “aspirins augment the blood flow.” (Should have thought of it before, I thought, may blame us now for causing accidental death among turkish population.)

Hats became thus of obligation and good shoes. Midday obliged to some stop in summer and finally we were to walk more or less 8 hours from 5 or six in the morning to 11 or twelve and then a few hours the afternoon. As heat and hunger do make you nervous and even aggressive, we were to keep some healthy balance of food and water in order to avoid excessive frictions.

In fact you quickly stated one thing: our civilization had cut us off from natural behaviour. Neither did we know to rest nor to feed ourselves, nor to protect ourselves from pain or tiredness. Our superficial manners did disappear very quickly when confronted to physical strain. Two things to be avoided: Maxime Catroux had drunk all water in some lonely Spanish desert without thinking she wasn’t alone. And the behaviour having lead finally to make Clotilde and David leave, was to be avoided, too. How? Davids were not invited to the party.

Who was ‘David’? You need the proper localization of the trouble maker before leaving, after it will be too late. Not that the others weren’t, it is that even common trouble makers submit to some kind of order whenever of need and only some others, some rare specimena, may cause the failure of an expedition because of a determined characteristic. In this case, after having made a vast examination, I concluded that the type said “You haven’t asked for my permission”. My tests did always take the most peculiar turns because in fact you have some intuition without name, without structure, without rationalization. You thus make up a situation born of this intuition in order to get the principle in word of what seems to cause trouble. In this case I planned some improvement in philosophy teaching having as goal to underline more the ability of abstraction in the seizing of concepts, demonstration of theses and building up of systems than in the undetermined study of non evaluated authors. When we (the girl’s party which made already quite a large group) had even written down the proposal, we invited David to a meeting in order to ask him whether he would agree. And he said: “We hadn’t asked him for permission.” Ask for permission for what? I said and asked him kindly to leave. Most men were excluded this way, even Jerome, who may have been tempted. In fact, the disposition inside of a general constitutional frame where equality between men and women was warranted, pretending women had to ask for permission to ‘a’ man, in order to move a finger, was the one categorized as ‘dangerous’ for the expedition – correctly. Only one left who was starting to claim for such pretensions, Emmanuel Castro.

Our men were thus factually no men. Straw men to sell appearance and little more. Or too young then to pretend to more. Gregory Leurent avoided men’s circles because he said “he didn’t want to quarrel all the time like a cock.” Emmanuel Castro was 19 and Oriol Vilaseca was 18. That was our ‘male’ environment. Not that I pretended to build up some feministic club, but to my understanding the general lack of respect to constitutional rights was to be considered as dangerous for an expedition. If you’re not able to submit to your own constitution, how do you want to submit to order in case of danger? Good bye, and think about it twice.

Of course we were said we were all going to die, as usual. Jerome Lafon maintained that, if of need, he would come to our rescue with a helicopter in Turkey, which made me laugh very much (have anything against Turks, the guy?) and even jumped out of a side street the day we were leaving in order to make a last attempt to stop us from our entreprise. I laughed again. “You’ll think of me,” he warned. “Certainly,” I answered, “but I don’t think it will be a nice souvenir.”

They looked jealous, but I didn’t care very much.

What was it then which had impressed my mind so much during the path down to Saint Jacques so as to make the idea of a path to Jerusalem interesting? Not only walking. In fact, if you have to gather all the impressions under one sole name you’d say it was ‘custom’. There is some beauty in staying in places where people have staid for hundreds of years and where villagers offer a chicken every now and then to a church in Santo Domingo de la Calzada in order to keep memory of the following story: during the Middle Ages people were pardonned some greater sin and thus avoided prison if they exchanged a penalty for a pilgrimage to Compostela. There is somewhere an enormous wooden cross carried by some Dutch he finally had to leave in some church. In this case, three French were on their way to Compostela, the parents and a son. They stay at Santo Domingo in a hostel and the maid makes some unproper propositions to the young son, who refuses, alleging he’s a pilgrim. She gets furious and accuses him of robbery. He’s condamned to death and hanged. The parents are about to go on when they decide to say a last good bye to their son, who, they discover, is still alife. They thus run to the judge who is eating some roasted chicken to tell him their son is alife. He says: “As much as this chicken is able to sing, as much is your son alife.” And the chicken stood up and started singing. The boy was thus put free and ever since, people of the town offer a chicken to the church which is kept in some cage in the upper parts of the building. It’s beautiful to see the chicken there after so many hundreds of years, were the story true or invented.

And then there was a custom while arriving to Compostela that those arriving first some day were given gracious breakfast at a five star hotel next to the Cathedral, which had been a former hospital and hostel for pilgrims, and this for a few days. It’s not for the gracious, you really don’t care and need, finally, it’s the custom. And there was some real beauty arising from those customs, something mysterious and relaxing that put some peculiar aura on the whole adventure you can’t forget, at the end. And this was perhaps the most fundamental reason of all. Somehow you prefer to create a surrounding where you have to admit people were not as bad as you’re supposed to believe. It’s not that you may not have afforded to pay some shelter, even if it was not easy to find there where we were, it is that you want to see with your own eyes that people are still able to be generous. And this is more important than anything else.

from left to right, standing

Sonja Kasten (26) born in Madrid – finished maitrise (PhD) in philosophy Paris IV Sorbonne

Gregory Leurent (24) born in Angers – third year of philosophy at Paris IV

Oriol Vilaseca (18 ) born in Barcelona – one year left before finishing school

from left to right, sitting

Maxime Catroux (22) born in Paris – third year philosophy Paris IV

Clotilde Bonhomme (21) born in Paris – second year philosophy Paris IV

Conchi Fernández (25) born in Zaragoza – finished career of medecine in Zaragoza

Emmanuel Castro (19) born in Reims – finished school at the Lycee Francais in Barcelona

Later (not in picture)

Jorge Kasten (23) born in Madrid

Beside the tasks given to each and the charges (president: myself, vicepresident and doctor: Conchi, finances: Clotilde) some individual inspirations were allowed like the production and reproduction of the t-shirt that can be seen on the picture. As far as I can remember it was Conchi’s idea with Oriol’s inspiration to put the Hebrew name for Jerusalem on it. Thus: Yerushalayim, but badly written. Oriol forgot the last ‘y’, reason why we carried an orthography mistake for thousands of kilometers with us.

As we had no music with us, tons and tons of different songs were learned by the way in order to forget distances. Most of them came from Conchi’s repertoire.

In order not to provoke excessive turmoils among parents and family members and though not spend too much money on phone calls, we instaured a circular system. Thus, one member of the expedition phoned to his family and this one had to phone some relative of the next member, and this one to a third, etc as listed on a list that had been distributed before. The week after, the next member phoned to his relative who went on the list starting by himself, etc. Little exceptions were made. In fact only when we decided to change our travel from Rumania to Serbia.

Even if Isabelle Rose proposed to ask for some sponsorhip somewhere, I was finally quite happy her demarche wouldn’t have any success whatsoever.

General overview of the path taken in France. In fact, accidentally, things were made easy to us. Walking upper north than actually needed in order to visit some acquaintances in the region of Champagne (Ay) we were told to just walk along the Marne canal, down to Domremy, the native town of Joan of Arc. We then had to go up the mountains separating main France from Alsace (Vosges) through the very sharp Col du Bonhomme. This made us arrive to Colmar and from there the German border was almost visible.

Duration of path in France: 29.06 – 20.07 (3 weeks)

‘Departements’ (Provinces) crossed: After Paris, Seine et Marne, Marne, Meuse, Vosges, Haut Rhin(Alsace)

around 600 km

First days after Paris:

First and second (Unknown)

Third: La Ferté Sous Jouarre, Paroisse Saint Denis

Fourth: Dormans, Madame Suzanne Vast, 7 Place de l’Eglise

Sixth day, (weekend): Ay, Les hommes grenouille

8th day: Recy, Anne Marie Pastrés, 5, rue de Tournelles

9th day: Saint Amand sur Fion, Mairie

10th day: Cheminon, Menuiserie Pierre Parisot

11th day: Juvigny en Perthois, Pierre Gerard, 7 place de l’église

12th day: Luméville, Madame Levandeau

13th day (weekend): Carmel Domrémy

15th day: Oelleville, Jackie Collin, Café du Commerce

16th day: Derbamont, Paroisse, Abbé A Roy

17th day: Vaudeville, Mairie

18th day: Corcieux, Paroisse de Notre Dame

19th day: Le Bonhomme, Mairie

20th day (weekend): Colmar, Paroisse Saint Francois d’Assise

General overview of the path taken in Germany. Quite quickly we decided to change the GR, getting lost in Alpes, for little side roads, avoiding the most possible big towns and touristic places. In fact, we even had to run away from extremely crowded (already) Bodensee. A path marked by the first encounter with Danube boy, thousands and thousands of lakes and marshes and the overwhelming shadow of Alpes to our right.

Duration of path in Germany: 20.07 – 10.08 (three weeks)

Bundesländer (Regions) crossed: Baden Würtenberg, (Breisgau Hochschwarzwald), Baden, Bayern

Around 540 km

Border: Breisach Landstrasse

22nd day: Merdingen, Katholisches Pfarramt Sankt Remigius

23rd day: Freiburg, Misión católica española

24th day: Titisee, Spiegelsbach, Frau Willman

25th day: Doggingen, Naturgemässer Land- und Gartenbar Wehinger

26th day: Hattingen, Gasthaus Sonne, Paul Seyfried

27th day (weekend): Boll, Gasthaus Schwanene, Inh L Löffler

29th day: Kalkreute, Karl Müller

30th day: Münchenreute, Erwin Hinderhofer

31st day: Eintürnenberg, Ruf Berthold

32nd day: Altusried, Katholisches Pfarramt Sankt Blasius und Alexander 

33rd day: Ruderatshofen, Katholisches Pfarramt, Herr Zahner

34th day (weekend): Bidingen, Sig Parrochiae Sanct Pankratius, Herr Siegfried Beyrer

36th day: Peissenberg, Katholisches Pfarramt St Johann, Herr Gerhard Schmidt

37th day: Beuerberg, Katholisches Pfarramt Sankt Peter und Paul

38th day: Rietramszel (under the dark sky)

39th day: Beyharting, Judith, Herbert und Jorun Klinger

40th day: Amerang, katholisches Pfarramt Sankt Kupert

41st day: Altenmarkt, Sigillum Parochiae Catolicae Baumburg, Herr Thomas Scheichlig

42nd day: Austrian border Ettenau

General overview of the path taken in Austria. Chosen because it would allow the lowest pass through Alps, it allowed factually to arrive to Vienna in an almost direct line without having to get bothered by excessive climbing. Contrary to all expectations we would just have to chose the right hills in order to avoid excessive tiredness.

Duration of path in Austria: 10.08 – 3.09 (three weeks with 10 days stop in Vienna)

Duration of walking path: 13 days (2 weeks)

Regions crossed: Oberösterreich, Niederösterreich

 around 390 km

42nd day: Haigermoos, Pfarramt

43rd day: Maria Schmolln, Wallfahrtsort Pfarramt

44rd day: Eberschwang, Pfarramt

45th day: Steinerkirchen, Pfarramt

46th day (weekend): Ernsthofen, Pfarrkirche Frau auf der Rast

48th day: Ulmerfeld, Pfarrkirche Petrus und Paulus

49th day: Oberndorf, Herr Leopold Punz

50th day: Wilhelmsburg, Pfarramt, Herr Norbert Buhl

51st day: Laaben, Kirchenwirt M Sekulic

52nd day: Kaltenentgeben, Pfarrkirche Skt Jacob

53nd day: Vienna (friends: Esteban Kroner and other)

Sigillum Parochiae Metrop. AD Sankt Stephanum Vindobonensis

64th day: Stixneusiedl, Gendarmerieposten

65th day: Zurndorf, Katholisches Pfarramt

66th day: Hungarian border

Celebrating 1000 km at the Austrian border. From left to right: Conchi Fernandez, Sonja Kasten, Clotilde Bonhomme, Emmanuel Castro (behind) Gregory Leurent

Thanks to this visit, I had never problems to populate Vienna placed novels in the corresponding decor. It was just to remember Cornelia’s mother in order to have the most exact surrounding for whatever may happen in Vienna. Thus, Austria kept itself in the most balanced relationship between gendarms and Cornelia’s mother. This arbitrary, I must say, and quite restreint vision of Austria, which counted, for my personal knowledge with little more than Joseph II and Sissi, Stefan’s Zweig ‘Schachnovelle’ and some Nazi hunter who used to appear in movies, was though extremely helpful. We would never have problems to find some shelter in Austria and all in all, people were extremely kind.

The heat wave was over and we would have to confront ourselves to rain, again. Sometimes, not often, not much, but enough as warning for what was to come, after.

Having celebrated the first 1000 km at the border, we knew we would certainly have to stop soon our rigid 30km a day rhythm. In fact, we had thought it would start in Austria, but having found some peaceful valley that lead directly to Vienna, we would not even have to climb up mountains that may slower  down our path. Having 2000 km on our back, we could even become a little bit pretentious and deviate a little from the main road in order to walk up, for example, to Maria Schmolln. Maria Schmolln was a place for pilgrims and, if you want it or not, it was enough of loneliness and misunderstandings: the very fact of being surrounded by people who may have even from far, similar inspirations was gratifying enough so as to try the way up.

Haigermoos. With the woman who was not ‘of sugar’. From left to right: Gregory Leurent, Clotilde Bonhomme, the key holder, Sonja Kasten, Emmanuel Castro

In fact, we had been thrown back to the middle ages from the very day we had entered Austria. We had arrived to some village, Haigermoos, where an older woman keeping the keys of the church told us to wait for the priest who was in some village in the whereabouts. It was raining. “Go, home,” I told to the woman, “don’t get wet. We’ll wait here.” “I’m not made of sugar,” she said proudly and insisted in waiting under the rain for the priest to come. We were lodged somewhere and in the morning, we were shown the church, a to an old medieval order belonging church, which looked quite impressive.

Maria Schmolln was quite old, too. We staid in a monastery hold by two monks and even went for a bath in a river not far away. There was already a difference. You had the feeling you were not stared at, as if the very eyes looking at you were keeping some kind of distance which assured you the breathing inside of some private space.

At Maria Schmolln. Invitation to dinner. From left to right: (around the table) Gregory Leurent, Clotilde Bonhomme and Conchi Fernández

The Church which, with three exceptions, would lodge us all over Austria, was quite rich, too, as in Germany. But it was different, as if, again, it’d not be of need to ask how much it had cost. We met some Bosnian refugees kept by the Church and trying that day to be very polite and ask some questions (extraordinary effort) I was said, that seen the situation (with the refugees) there was not a lot of space for conversation, which I thought most adequate as avoiding me from making further efforts.

It had happened before that we were invited to eat or even (!) given some money for an extra chocolate, the priest had said then (as I refused, not wanting to look too much as a beggar), but here, things started to happen spontaneously as people passing by with a bike and telling us they had left 12 bottles of some soda in the village after, “yes, you’ll see some house while walking down, and it is just there.” Which made us have the feeling to be looking for easter chocolate eggs and in any case was much more agreable than to be given some Mark in the hand. A man passing by with a tractor told us he had many saucissages at home for us, he really said ‘for us’, and urged us to walk up the hill for lunch. There was no refusal although we had to get up a quite sharp hill and there he was, with hundreds and hundreds of saucissages boiling in some stewpot and he shew us his hands which were horribly swollen and said: “Made a mistake. Put the hands into a beehive and was bitten all over. Was lucky I didn’t die.” We were even obliged to drink a beer … in order to avoid the Schnaps.

Days were passing more or less peacefully when Saturday arrived. We were in a village called Ernsthofen, where we had arrived early at midday and we went for a coffee, which – I had to state again, shew obvious improvements to the French or German one – and I remember I thought: “We’ll never find a place for the weekend.” With such conviction that I wouldn’t believe my ears when the priest of the place told us: “There was no problem.” This man, who looked like an older corsair, with a black eye patch he was wearing because of some wound of second world war, gave us our first lessons in Austrian history. We learned about the Turkish invasion, how they had surrounded Vienna and invaded most of the country before they were finally thrown back to the actual hungarian/serbian border. And this with great details on points of invasion, rivers crossed and singular battles, details I would forget quite quickly but leaving the impression he was really fascinated by this aspect of history, fascination that was quite contagious.

Rain on the road. From left to right: Clotilde Bonhomme, Sonja Kasten, Conchi Fernández, Emmanuel Castro, Gregory Leurent

My thoughts were concentrated on the Gregory Leurent affaire and in fact, I had little time to watch the surroundings. He had asked for 20 cents to phone to France in order to be phoned back and thus tell about his plans. In fact, I was quite indifferent about the issue. If he gets some prorrogation of the army (I calculated, wickedly), seen the usual never ending administration procedures, it will take at least 4 months. In 4 months we’ll have arrived to Jerusalem. He can’t get a passport otherwise, consequently, let him talk.

This was my very hypocritical, I admit, position at that moment when, yes, he came back saying that his idea had produced highest shocks among the people he had been talking to, who were saying, he was under my wicked influence and that it would ruin his life and I don’t know what. “Ah, my wicked influence,” I thought. There we are. The worse I could have thought of, and (I carefully asked), Flor Castro does agree with such perspective? If you wanted or or not, Flor Castro had passed the examinations to become judge and her point of view said a lot about the general judging positioning in France. She was the most scandalized of all. Hm, I thought, that’s nice news.

Of course I launched immediately a counter attack. What the damn does it mean ‘under my wicked influence’? Is the guy not 25 years old? What, is he a child? A baby? Ok, I said, ‘I do completely agree with Gregory Leurent’s idea’ because taken from the very neutral point of view of law, he’s completely responsible for his acts and should, if not mentalyy ill, be able to respond for his own decisions, even under my wicked influence. Of course I still prayed for the fact army administration would take months and years to solve the question, which all in all, allowed my quite free dealing with the subject, which had much more to do with the idiocy pretending someone may not to be able to respond for himself than with the actual continuation of the path.

Which was actually the ‘Austrian’ position. Esteban Kroner’s father, a reputed journalist of one of the major newspapers in Vienna, under whose roof we would stay for 10 days, put in knowledge about the whole, finished by saying:” He’s grown up. He’s the sole responsible for what he does.” Which filled me with extraordinary satisfaction so that Austria got up some steps on the scale of my personal evaluation table and I sighed out: “Ah, such luck. Finally the world is not filled only with idiots.”

In the meantime the, what I would call, hysterical women club, was being built up in Paris, consisting mainly of Flor Castro, as leader of the movement, Clotilde Bonhomme’s mother and Gregory Leurent’s girlfriend Gaelle. We didn’t talk to them and though you could feel it. Flor Castro said she was going to come to visit us in Vienna. Such fun, I thought.

In the middle of woods

Two days before arriving to Vienna, having been given shelter by a bartender of yougoslavian origins, Sekulic, I had a horrible night mare. I was sleeping where I was sleeping in my dream and someone, like a ghost, was approaching me with a knife in his hands and was about to kill me. In my dream, I was struggling to get awake, and couldn’t, and made a further attempt, and couldn’t, and when I finally woke up, I was at exactly the same place I had dreamt of and in the darkness I carefully started to search for the murder. How strange, I thought – have some psychopath around? These dreams, I knew, were no accidents. What consciousness can’t work out or doesn’t want to work out becomes, like drops, slightly, a dream that keeps in its story the characteristic of someone who is definitely ill. Who? I wondered.

On top, I had another problem. The actual configuration shew couples in organization with one lost ‘electron’, as I said, Clotilde Bonhomme. Conchi staid most of the time with Gregory, which wasn’t that bad either, and Oriol was playing chess with Emmanuel. I prefered to stay alone. Poor Clotilde was alone, thus, and in spite of her desperate attempts to start one or the other conversation with me, nothing would move me to leave my isolation cocoon, carefully built up from the moment we had left Paris. I was already then making calculations. What can you live without? What do you really need to live? A little before the Austrian border I had already left almost everything and that was … everything.

No time for friendships and affective involvements that may disturb my plans. But I wouldn’t want to loose my financial agent, either. A few days before arriving to Vienna we phoned to Esteban Kroner in order to say we were arriving. He said: “Good news. Your brother Jorge is coming for a visit to Vienna, too.” Hmm. Good news, I thought. But perhaps a solution. I remembered Clotilde had told me once, a long time ago, at night just behind the Palais de Justice that: “If she met a man like me, she would marry him.” Extraordinary, there ‘the man like me.’ Of course he didn’t show any kind of deeper ressamblance, but I didn’t think Clotilde would look that far.

Esteban Kroner had been a class mate of my brother Jorge. His father, the journalist, had been correspondent in Argentina and then in Madrid and had finally moved to Austria. Esteban’s mother was Swiss, reason why Esteban would finally chose the Swiss nationality. He had never told his parents of our arrival, thing we didn’t know, as he thought, at that moment, that he may dispose of common goods the way he understood it. Luckily for him, half of the group was to stay at the house of some friends of Clotilde Bonhomme. These, whose name I have forgotten, were Austrian and had an appartment in the same house than the Bonhomme’s in Paris. Arriving to Vienna, were to stay at Kroner’s house: my brother, Flor Castro, myself and someone else. The others were at the other top of the town.

Esteban Kroner managed to have a car crash exactly the day we were to arrive, reason why he had to lend someone else’s car in order to pick us up.

Good friends. Sonja Kasten and Oriol Vilaseca.

I had arbitrarily decided to invade one of the famous Wiener Kaffee somewhere in the middle of town with bags and everything while we would be waiting for Esteban. Thus, having an excellent coffee and with a newspaper in our hands, surrounded by well dressed people with hats on their heads, we were enjoying our first capital ever since we had left Paris. It’s extraordinary how respectful these people were, finally: I did not see one single risen eye brow all over, although I controlled from behind my newspaper, just in case I would see some warning signal that should mean we’d have to leave the quickest possible. The only shocked was Esteban and thus we left almost at once after his arrival.

A rather peculiar chess game would take place, then.

We had already tasted the most wonderful ‘Apfelstrudel’ (with cream, yes) and in fact, the only thing left – I thought – was the Spanish riding school, some traditional horse training place which, unluckily, was far too far away, so that we would finish by missing it along with its reputed arabic horses.

Restrictions had been retired for the time we’d be in Vienna, and alcohol was flowing (the other side). The day Flor Castro was to arrive by train, Emmanuel, and not only him, was already quite drunk when we left for the train station. As we had arrived very early, Emmanuel sat down for a rest at the end of the train rail. A gendarm arrived and told him, ‘it was forbidden.’ And he started shouting around and say ‘he’d do what he wanted and what was it all about’ and it almost became violent. When Flor Castro arrived, Emmanuel was at the police station. “Let’s go to pick up your son, ” I said at her arrival, “If we can. Police doesn’t joke here.” It really looked serious and I knew it was. Some negotiations started. He was to be taken to some prison somewhere already for ‘aggression to authority’, which, all in all, I couldn’t but agree with. As I was speaking German, I gave longest explanation on the psychological status of exhausted pilgrims and other troubles, which seemed to somewhat calm down the quite furious agents. After a while, the officer said, he’d have to pay some fine and this only if he gave clearest signs of repent. How do you show some repent in a foreign language you don’t understand a word of? I made the following. I told him: “this means in French ‘I’m sorry for what has happened’. When I say this long incomprehensible sentence (as question), you immediately answer ‘ja’, ok?” He agreed after being informed about the exact meaning of each word. And said ‘ja’ in understandable way, which was satisfying enough for the officer. His mother was then asked to pay the fine and we could leave.

White racer moves forward and blocks black Queen in our chess game.

It was obvious that Flor Castro was arriving with the clearest intentionality of moving his son to go back to Paris at once. Who, in no case, would be under influence then, I said, ironically. This happening at the train station was putting her in psychological inferiority. Such a misbehaviour, your son, and with such education, can you ever be taken for reliable? (I wouldn’ say that, but it was obvious.) I proposed to ask for Emmanuel’s opinion and he said, he wanted to stay and that I should in any case, do whatever in order to avoid for him to give in to possible pressure. (It’s not my business, I thought. Stand like a man, if you can, yourself.)

This question solved (discussion which lasted though for some days where I had constantly a horrible headache) we jumped to the next one. My strategy concerning Clotilde’s loneliness was giving result and I saw them one day, with one or another beer foaming in between the conversation, making psychological analysis on whatever, probably myself, by the way. My brother who had said “he had come to say a definite good bye”, good bye whose nature I didn’t want to get too much aware of, said after “that Clotilde’s exposure had moved him so far so as to make his decision reversible”. Honestly I didn’t care very much about his decisions, neither about the first or about the second, thing he didn’t appreciate very much, reason why he decided to take further steps in order to attract attention and conquer Clotilde. Decision which I did appreciate very much, this time, although … You have to be very careful.

While driving back one day to Kroner’s house, they were both in the car boot when my usually quite careless attention felt some movements which were exceeding natural temperature. I thus turned myself and accidentally slashed one or both at the same time who woke up from alcohol in a quite angry mood. “I’m sorry, ” I said to Clotilde, “but affective involvements are outside of Constitution, if you want to have a love affair now, you can leave for Paris.” Which was a polite way of saying that I thought the whole a little bit quick. My brother got so furious that I wouldn’t see him again, which I wouldn’t mind very much either. In fact, my strategy would finish by working. Forbidden, some good, were it a womam, is much more interesting than if easy to get. 5 days after leaving Vienna, my brother transmitted through the common means that he would join us in Istanbul. “Ma dear,” I said to Coltilde, “your loneliness will be put an end in Turkey. Just be a little bit patient.”

This was not all. Flor Castro having been brought to more amiable dispositions thanks to the great efforts of Mr Kroner, who maintained stubbornly that men had to take their own decisions, some Wiener Kaffee and one or the other Apfelstrudel (you have to know how to seduce French), we went to visit one or the other castle, another of her prefered hobbies. That day we had been to the King’s Palace, where there were still the rooms of Ludwig II cousin Sissi (Elizabeth), married to Joseph II and great friend of Hungary. That evening we were invited to have dinner at the Bonhomme’s friends. I don’t know how it started. Flor was eager to make other’s participate of her visit to the castle and all of a sudden a hottest discussion arose concerning kings and queens and Marie Antoinette and the French had not the right to talk, and one of them was a historian, and I, yes I, who had carefully left the imperial crown on Joseph II, was about to disappear under the table.

I concluded that the historical perspective was different and taking out of my pockets some forlorn Herodotus said, that each had the right to say history his own way. Which somewhat calmed the quite aggressive exchange among parts although a very frozen air remained. I decided it was perhaps about time to leave and that dinner had really been very good and the wine, too, even if it was not French and took my way to the door.

It was then that from a certain distance I saw Gregory Leurent at the phone, crying like a Madelaine and asked, carefully, what was going on again. I was said that his girl friend Gaelle had told him she would leave him if he staid and that he couldn’t decide himself. Hmm. Well, take a decision, boy, I said. He would never take a decision. He said he didn’t know how to write a letter to the army, and I wasn’t going to do that for him and thus, the following dispositions were taken: Oriol was going to stay back with him until they’d decide something more concrete and we would leave.

Leaving Vienna we were thus only 4: Conchi, Clotilde, Emmanuel and myself. It would manage to break the Oriol/Emmanuel couple as much as the Gregory/Conchi couple and now, the distribution would look the following way: Conchi/Clotilde on one hand and Emmanuel and myself on the other hand. Had to take care he wouldn’t end up in a high security prison.

Mr Kroner expressed his deepest admiration for what we were doing and insisted in accompanying us the last day. “And all these people in the subway don’t know what you’re doing,” he said, as if it were the most astonishing thing of the world some people may go that far after having come from that far without anyone being the slightest aware of it.

It was raining that day. And I was tired, psychologically quite tired. I didn’t take care. We hadn’t left Vienna when I twisted my knee. That was what was missing, I thought, have this on top of all. But perhaps it was better to feel some physical pain rather than to have these gray clouds all around soul.

That day we arrived to a little village that was so little there was no church inside. The only thing there was, was a gendarm’s post and we asked ‘where we may ask for a place to stay’, “Here,” the man said to our greatest surprise. Apparently some old house, clean and proper, was hold under the responsibility of gendarms, who had the keys of it. We were thus lead to the little house and I wouldn’t be able to resist temptation to ask them to put their stamp on our booklet. Get a Gendarm’s stamp in Gendarm’s country, I thought, and after having obtained it, I could not but watch at it once and again as if some deepest accordance had been obtained between my vision of the world and some symbol in our booklet.

One more village, next to the border. We were told many people were passing this way to the Czech Republic and Hungary in orde to buy cheaper goods. Borders started to become a new headache. Populations always moving and troubled, it would be a new factor to consider. Punzdorf would be the last place where we were be able to communicate ourselves without problem. My aching knee would though perturb my psychological analysis of whatever implied.

With originally planned path from Kiskunhalas to the Rumanian border through Szegd, general overview of the path taken through Hungary. The straight path leading originally to Rumania was almost only siberian steppes, plain and empty, full of dust. Due the quasi impossibility to communicate we will have to stay in main roads that are though not very busy. Rain will accompany us all over the way. Decision to change Rumania for Serbia was taken in Kiskunhalas, where Oriol alone, will join us coming from Vienne.

Duration of path in Hungary: 3.09 – 19.09 (16 days)

around 450 km

66th day: Mosonmagyanovar, Kath Plebania

67th day: Dunaszeg, Kath Plebania

68th day (weekend): Pannonhalma, Bences Gymnasium

70th day: Bakonyoszlop, Kat Plebania

71st day: Varpalota, Kat Plebania

72nd day: Aba, Kossa Lajos – Aba Vovosmarty 63

73th day: Mezöfalva, Magyarok Magyyaszonya Egyhaza (church)

74th: Solt,  Szikra – MezögazdagasiTermelöszövetkezet

75th day: Kiskörös, Szent Jozsefröl Elnevezet, Kat Egyhaz

76th day: Kiskunhalas, Kat Plebania

77th day: Tompa, Kat Plebania

78th day: Serbian border

General overview of path taken in Serbia. The Danube valley we almost never left except to walk in hills and valleys mostly to the right. Obliged by the army to keep the main road 100 km before the Bulgarian border, we will have to climb up the Balkan mountains on main roads to reach Sofia.

Duration of path: 16.09 – 7.10 (22 days)

19 and half walking days: around 550 km (28km a day)

79th day: Cantavir, Balog Istvan

80th day: 7 km before Becej, Petacor, Mixel Malea

81st day: Curug, Tzrkva

82nd (weekend): Vilovo, Tzrkva

83rd day: Baranda, Tzrkva

84th day: Pancevo, Tzrkva, Tsedomir Milosavshevit

85th: Bavaniste,Tzrkva

86th: Smederevo, Tzrkva

87th:  Saraorci, Restaurant Mali Raj, Milojevic Miroslav

88th (weekend): Velika Plana, Tzrkva,  Ana Radojevic, Oslovodenja 65

90th day: Bagrdan, Ball room, Tsirtjebuli

91st day: Rasevica, Jyxor

92nd day: Brahina, Matie Zora

93rd day: Trhjane, police man Dimitrijsvic S. Dragan

94rd day: Camurlija, shop “L. B. C.”

95th day (weekend): Devnik, house under construction 

97th day: Bela Palanka, Pesic Ljubija, Fk Jedinsivo

98th day: Polska Rzana, Ciril Dr Svatozar Zoran

99th day: Dimitrovgrad, Tzrkva

General overview of path taken in Bulgaria. Getting up the Balkan Mountains means to reach the valley between these and the Rhodopes Mountains, natural border with Greece. Being the only plain in Bulgaria, main roads pass here towards Turkey or the Black Sea. As we had decided to visit main towns Sofia and Plovdiv, we will just walk on side paths along the highway, whenever this will prove possible. We will cross the border at the so called ‘three borders point’, where Greece joins Turkey and Bulgaria.

Duration of path: 8.10 – 22.10 (14 days)

13 walking days: Around 350 km (27km a day)

100th day: Sluvnuz (?), Tzrkva

101th day: Sofia, Paroecia Catholica

102th day (weekend): Novi Xan, otetz Ivan Ivanof

104th day: Ihtiman, Hotel

105th day: Belovo, Tzrkva Zveta Troika

106th day: Pazardjik, businessman Roumen Iliev

107th day: Ctamborusku, tzrkva Sveta Troika

108th day: Plovdiv, Seminaria Kiril i Methodij

109th day (weekend): Popovitza, Antonij Basilets i Beski

110th day: Filovo Varbitsa, Obitsinia Dimitrovgrad, Xa Kovska

111th day: Xaskovo, Pogkrepa

112th day: Harmanli, Bisca, Valko Dimitrov Gora

113th day: Svilengrad, Protestant Church, daughter Sonja

114th day: Turkish border

General overview of the path taken in Turkey. Arriving through highways and plains to Istanbul, we will cross the Pontos Mountains through Pamukova after having bordered the Maramara Sea until Izmit and Gölcük. Arriving to the large valley of the Porsuk river at the proximity of Eskisehir, we will cross the harsh and frozen anatolian haut plateaux until the Tuz Gölü (Salt lake). We will deviate from the actual path to the east in order to have a view on Capadoccia in Ürgüp and Avanos. Form there we will turn right south and cross the Tauros Mountains through Pozanti to arrive to Tarsus and Mersin. From there we will take after an eternal stay in Mersin a boat to Cyprus. Not being allowed to cross from the Turkish side to the Greek, we will have to return to Mersin and will take a bus to Marmaris, from where we will take a boat to Rhodos and from there to Greek Cyprus.

Duration of path: 23.10 – 28.01 (3 months)

Border – Istanbul: 23.10 – 1.11

Stay in Istanbul: 1.11 – 12.11

Istanbul – Mersin: 12.11 – 8.01

Stay in Mersin: 8.01 – 18.01

Stay in Turkish Cyprus: 18.01 – 26.01

Marmaris: 26.01 – 28.01

Greek border: 28.01

58 walking days: around 1100 km until Mersin (19km a day)

around 30 km from harbour to Turkish/Greek border in Cyprus

116th day: Edirne,  Ayvazoglu Hoteli, Meydani 11, Cemel

117th day (weekend): Havsa, Yeni Mah Spor Külübü, Ümit Zabir

119th day: Lüleburgaz, Ebes Kara Yolu, Sur Tesis Levi

120th day: Vakiflar,  ES Karayolu Üzeri, Sabri Arcocuk

121th day: Seymen, Ziraat Tehriyeni, Ömer Ergün

122th day: Selimpasa, Yüksel petrol

123th day: Kücükcekmece, Sevis Istasyonu, Ömer Karamahmutoglu

124th day (11 days): Istanbul, Fransiz Lape Hastanesi, Büyükdere cad. 122-124, Sisli

136th day: Pendik, Koc Özel Lisesi, Tony Roberts & denise Miltenberg

137th day: Tasköpru, illegible signature

138th day: Sevindik, (Körfez Kocaeli), Huseyn Kiraz

139th day (weekend): Izmit, Altinnal, Turizm Islatmecilik Yatirim

141st day: Kurtköy (Sakarya Sapanca) Yasar Karan

142nd day: Dogancay, Hatua Selahhaddin Kocaman

143rd day: Umurbey köyü, (Geyve Adapazari) Mustafa Terzioglu

144th day: Karacaören Güymüksuyu, Mehmet Gungor

145th day: Gölpazari, Gölpazari Belediye Baskan, Ilyas Ünal

146th day: Uzumlu köyü, Saffet salataci

147th day: Inhisar, Inhisar Belediye Baskan, M. Aci Koyundere

148th day: Mihalgazi (Eskisehir) Mihalgazi Kaymakomi, Mustafa Tutulmaz

149th day: Hekimdag Nahiyesi, (Eskisehir) Bircan ve Gülten Uysal

150th day: Mutlalup (Eskisehir), Turgat Reis Cad, Meler Kilif

151st day (weekend): Agapinar, (Eskisehir) Sezer Aglar

153rd day: Alpu, Alpu Belediye Baskan, Idris Özcun

154th day: Beylikova, Beylikova Belediye Baskan, Hasan Tezel

155th day: Sariköy, Yunusemre Beldesi, (Mihaliccik, Eskisehir) Kaya Eyüp

156th day: Karadat Köyü, (Sivrihisar, Eskisehir) Mehmet Yalcin Bekci

157th day: Ortaklar, Ortaklar Köyü Muhtari, Niyazi Yilmaz

158th day (weekend): Beylik, (Polatli), Beylik Köprü Köyü muhtari, Halil Albayrak

160th day: Sakarya Köyü, (Polatli, Ankara) Veysel Tunspilek

161st day: Töydemir Köyü (Polatli, Ankara) Muhkrem Ceskun

162nd day: Kavakköy (Sabanca, Polatli, Ankara) Sabanca Köyü Muhtari, Süleyman Ucar

163rd day:  Katanci Köyü, (Haymana, Ankara) Talip Yazici

164th day: Yenice Nahiyesi, (Haymana, Ankara) Ali Akar

165th day (weekend): Kirkpinar Köyü, (Kulu, Konya) Hanifi Tetik

167th day: Degirmenözü mah (Kulu, Konya) Nurettin Görgülü

168th day: Kulu, (Konya) Belediye Baskani, Tayyar Budak

169th day: Bozan köyü, (Kulu, Konya) Ben Sahnur

170th day: Serefli Kochisar, IS tekel Kaldirim Tuzlasi, Hamit Öcal

171st day: Fadilli Köyü (Serefli Kochisar, Ankara) Abdullah Pecenek

172nd day: Agacören  (Aksaray) Basaran Ekmek Lab, Ramazan Bozkurt

173rd day (weekend): Ciftevi Köyü (Ortaköy, Aksaray) Yakup Irmak

175th day: Abusagi Kasabasi (Gülsehir, Nevsehir) Belediye Baskani, (Refa Kaya)

176th day: Tuzköyü kasabasi (Gülsehir, Nevsehir) Osman Gülen

177th day: Gülsehir, firemen, (no signature)

178th day: Avanos (1 day rest), Belediye Baskani, Mehmet Seyhan Duren

180th day (weekend) : Ürgüp, Yeni Hitit Hotel, Bunlu Pinar Caddesi, Naci Irisi

182st day: Kaymakli, PTT Merkez Müdürlügü, Müdür Mustafa Aydin

183th day: Gölcük Belediye Baskanligi (Nigde), Dede Yüksel

184th day: Ovacik, köyü muhtari, Kadir Kurt

185th day: Ückapili Köyü (Camardi), muhtar Besim Yasar

186th day: Camardi (Nigde) Bereketti mah, Timur Özkan

187th day (weekend): Yelatan Köyü, (Camardi, Nigde)  Mehmet Okatin

189th day: Kamisli (Pozanti, Adana) Kesul Demir

190th day: Pozanti, Yurtcu Hoteli

191st day: Damlama (52km!) (Tarsus, Mersin) Mehmet Aydin

192nd day: Tarsus, Belediye baskanligi yebil, Seyfi Zeyzef

193rd day: Mersin, Belediyesi Baskan Özel Kalem, (Hatiye)

18.01 Mersin (Tasucu) - Girne : ship

19.01 Girne: house under construction

20.01 – 25.01 Lefkosa: Hamza Özbek

Time passed. We had gone up a hill, and again, there was no possible water supply at view sight. “Be careful with the water you drink,” I said, “we don’t know when we will find water again.” Emmanuel asked to be given water by the others. “Don’t make me laugh,” I said, “You didn’t want to carry your own water. There is no water for you.” He became white of anger and though stopped asking for water.

“Playing the prince of unknown kingdoms,” I said to Conchi, “Who wants others to carry water and food for him?” The problem had been cleared up for me at that moment. There are unknown agreements made in silence in the unconscious, and I had taken care enough to make one of those before making a test on whether Emmanuel would jump under a certain number of conditions. “If you do, you leave.” And he had said, ‘he wouldn’t’, but as he had, he would leave.

I asked for Oriol. “Look,” I said to him, “I need some historical information on Turkey whenever we will arrive to Istanbul. I don’t want anyone to know about it. Can you think of how?” Oriol thought for a few minutes and then said “A tourist guide. Tourist guides are usually full with complementary information on History.” “Brilliant idea,” I said. “You can ask for one when we arrive?” “Why don’t you do it yourself?” “Because I don’t want anyone to know I’m searching for someone.” “And what are you searching for?” “For the sultan.” I said in such tones that he immediately answered: ”You’re joking.” “Yes,” I said and finished the conversation.

At a certain distance, the pale blue sky was lifting an ochre dust forming a transparent veil on the already visible mosques. We crossed some arms of the Marmara Sea entering into the earth and having obliged to the building of bridges. Some discussion arose on whether that was Agia Sofia or Mehmet II, showing with their fingers towards heavens. As we couldn’t solve the problem, we meant: one of them.

Charged with tiredness, thirst and hunger, our minds were hardly able to make the difference between fantasy and reality: the town was stretching itself in front of our eyes as if some imagination had dared escaping the closed realms of head bones. Going up and down small hills and streets, crossing bridges and trying not to loose orientation, we crossed the older walls, still there to our right with some holes inside allowing the passing of cars and trucks and buses.

It was Friday, I think. We left the quarters of the ottoman Palace, Mehmet II and Agia Sofia and went to what we were told after were the Latin quarters: Galata Tower, Taksim and Beyoglu. We sat down in a little park near to the Pera Hotel, having to our left the Marmara Sea, already pointing to Asia. We went on expedition with little hope to find some place where to rest for a week. “And now, how do we say Catholic Church in Turkish?” We asked to each other and didn’t know. Conchi proposed to show a cross and ask ‘nerede’ (Where?), thing which was accepted so that two of us were sent with such mission around town. The others went for tea. We were somewhere in the middle of town and we hoped Churches would be in the whereabouts.

In fact, they would find one quite quickly, somewhere around the main pedestrian street in Beyoglu. After some discussions, the French Embassy was asked for help and they proposed the ‘La Paix Hospital’, as they usually receive pilgrims. The hospital was phoned and they answered, we may stay, but just for ten days. That was already three days more than we had planed, and we wouldn’t say no.

When they came back, we were told the news. French Embassy? I asked, with very suspicious undertones and leaned back. “That’s shit,” I said loudly, expressing some deeper uneasiness, “Inside of this war …” (And why does the French Embassy determine whether we should be received or not by a Catholic Hospital?) “Did they find it at once?” I asked to change subjects. “No, they said there was no place where we may stay. But we showed our booklets and the priest seemed fascinated by all the stamps and places and this moved him to phone to the Embassy.” “Didn’t I tell you,” I said to Conchi, “news have already arrived until here.”

The priest, I think belonging to some Italian order, accompanied us to the bus and told us until where we had to go. “Just say to the bus driver, ‘Sisli’.” And we thanked him.  He gave us some money for the bus tickets even if we refused and said, “That’s my contribution to your trip.”

Arrival in Sisli. In fact, a great square called Taksim lead through a main road to the same main road with a different name, Büyükdere and the hospital was on this main road to the right. Quarters were modern here and broad and the hospital looked likes a XIXth Century building perhaps built up in such style at the beginning of the XXth. We were received by a sister called Irene, from Greece, and she showed us some rooms to the left of the entrance getting up some staircases along a wide corridor. They did all speak French there. We were given severe instructions, that the hospital closed at six, that we shouldn’t make any fuzz and that we may stay ten days and that there were celebrations three times a day, if we wanted to participate, in the Church downstairs to the right of the entrance. She said she would bring some sandwiches to eat and I said, it doesn’t matter and then she said: “It is custom.” “Well, if it is custom.” A square park was visible from the windows of the corridor with four paths going from the middle of each side to the centre, where a Virgin was waiting for some secret prayer. To each side of the park were the two floored buildings of the hospital. “What order do you belong to?” I asked to Soeur Irene. “C’est les Filles de la Charité.” Filles de la Charité … Filles de la Charité … Ah. Yes. The order founded by Sanct Vincent of Paul, I knew about because a teacher at the same Berlitz school in Paris than myself, an Australian called Terry had told me I was living then, near Gare de l’Est, there were had been the leprosy hospital of Saint Vincent of Paul. He had even shown me the Mother House of the Filles de la Charité near to the Hotel Lutetia, order he founded when he got fed up with wealthy Lady’s not moving a finger when the time had arrived to help out in practice. He had then left for the country and asked young women whether they wouldn’t want to come with him to take care of ‘this child’, he had said, and thus, a small group in some careful distance to the fine ladies was given the charge of all sorts of tasks, visit to prisoners, orphanages, ill people. They were given some education, were taught to read and write and some instructions on religion and were free to leave whenever they … would fall in love. Being the only order allowing nuns to leave it had been standing on war foot with Vatican and Rome ever since.

Already in the café, some deep meeting had taken place. It was a spacious hall belonging to a XIXth century hotel, which was really very beautiful and did, I said, “awake the desire of some conspiracy belonging to spy work of the times between wars.” Laughing, I said “Be aware. We’re going to infiltrate the Church now. Not that I have anything against these Filles de la Charité, who, of all orders, is the most sympathetic of all to my eyes, but there must be a way to prove definite failures in the functioning of the Church as such and even better, some obscure, dark and ill relationship between the French State and the Church.” Conchi looked afraid and said: “And what are we going to do?” And I bursted out laughing and said: “Ya se lo ha creido todo otra vez.” (There, she’s believed everything again.)

“May I tell you the truth?” I said to her, “I think that’s what they are doing. After the event in Plovdiv, I’m sure they must be wanting to prove we have some hidden obscure intentionality and if they have gone as far so as to kindly warn Turkish authorities of their well founded suspicions, they’ll pay for it, I swear.” “And we, what are we going to do?” “Nothing. Keep low profile. Say yes to yes and no to no. Behave naturally. If you want to go on tourist excursion, do, if you want to go to the Church, do. Just don’t force your behavior, I’ll take care of the rest.” “Do you really think they’ve gone that far?” Conchi asked. “I’m not absolutely sure, but it looks like it. I’ve the feeling a part of my own reactions is nothing but an answer to what they are doing. And for the time being I have to orientate myself on intuition, although I have no proofs.” There was a silence. “On top, we have to find the Sultan,” I said laughing and to give to the whole a humorous touch “Shall they be right if they suspect we have some deepest, obscure, political intentionality.”

Having arrived to the Hospital, I decided to stay in my room and lay down while the others wanted already to eagerly discover the town. I stood up. I looked out of the windows. I looked at the Virgin in the middle of the garden and thought, “Such a nice place.” I changed my original strategy, which was to keep polite distances from the people inside of the Hospital. “Such a nice place.” I decided to go to the celebrations in the evening, called, I learned, ‘vepres’. (From Latin ‘eve’.)

The mother of Emmanuel was to come again, along with Clotilde Bonhomme’s mother. We were waiting for my brother Jorge and for Maxime Catroux. We phoned to Paris in order to tell them where we were exactly. They were to arrive a few days later.

A few days was enough to learn a lot. The history of the hospital, that it dealt with psychic illness, that sisters were spare, that there were sisters from all over the world, from Spain, France, Greece, Italy, Slovenia, Cuba. We were introduced to the director of the Hospital Soeur Marie Louise and to the financial responsible Soeur Susanne. “Ah,” I said, “you have a women’s organization like ourselves, too. Clotilde is our financial manager.” “Perhaps we have a lot of things in common,” Soeur Marie Louise said. “Maybe,” I answered. And I kindly requested for the permission to participate to the evening’s celebration. After a few day I had managed to get an appointment with the Spanish ‘section’ in order to visit the Hospital from inside. Let us say, on Wednesday. Spaniards were Soeur Maria Teresa, Soeur Esther and Soeur Margarita, all gathered in the left wing of the buildings, first and second floor.

Istanbul. The same locanta with owners. From left to right: Maxime catroux, Clotilde Bonhomme, Jorge Kasten, the owner, Sonja Kasten, Conchi Fernández, Oriol Vilaseca

I was then informed of the fact that it was said, I had been qualified as leader of a suicide’s sect and potential terrorist. Hmm. “Tell who ever has given this extremely interesting information to you, that the very fact of putting dirt on my name will have consequences. Ah, “I continued, “Do you know that the hospital is under French territorial jurisdiction?” She didn’t seem to understand my wicked implications and I said, I really didn’t feel like tourism and left for the Hospital.

I closed myself into my room. Freddy and Michel have AIDS, such an accident. Such a stupid, bloody accident. A peculiar thought arose in my mind: and if they are killing them? If they have acquired the virus through some injection or other? I went through the French path again. The Marne canal. A military strategic point? I wouldn’t know why, but … perhaps. Hmm. Hmm. I don’t want to become paranoiac but it may be. If this is true, Flor Castro is in danger of death, too.

(In 2008 I would learn through the coincidence of codification of the name, consisting in the ressembling of the German typification for secret agents as H21 (for Mata Hari, for example) and HIV, for AIDS, that high probablities existed AIDS were not a virus artificially developped for military purposes.)

I shared some spare remarks on the subject with Conchi, whose head was full with sultan’s palaces and mosques, little ships crossing the Bosporus and Turkish bazaars. “Keep my back,” I told her, “I’m not going to talk to them again for the suspicions and possibilities I’m telling you, I don’t want them to know about. If they get angry, just say, there are reasons, even if it were that I’m going through some mystic period.” She agreed. “You think Freddy and Michel are going to die?” she asked. “That’s in God’s hands,” I answered.

Birds were squawking over Bosporus although I couldn’t see them.

I had just managed to go through the guided visit of the first and second floor of the left wing of the Hospital. Maria Teresa and Margarita were downstairs in the gerontology department and Esther and Clemencia, the Cuban, were in the second floor, the chronic ill women. “Why are you interested?” They asked. “Well, I’ve always been interested in mental illness. On top, I want to establish some relationship between some philosophical principles and psychic disturbance.” The, what I called, folkloric Spanish group, seemed very happy to share all sorts of wisdoms and even prepared a coffee and something to eat and I asked some questions, looking naturally very curious on such a dedication to God and the human. I remarked already then, that the very fact of belonging to a national group did give stars and points to groups of the same belonging. I was born in Spain, Conchi and Oriol were Spaniards. They could make prevail as Spaniards that some Spanish people had already arrived so far in their individual dedication and this seemed to give them some privileges in the obtaining of favors or agreements.

I immediately said to Soeur Marie Louise that we had never arrived so far without the help in depth of the French members. Thing that seemed to deeply reassure her concerning the vivacity of the flame of faith among French youngsters.

To distract me, Oriol arrived with a tourist guide. Quite complete, French. Let us see. Turks. Arrived around the 9th or tenth century from the plains of Mongolia. Tribe related to Mongols and Tartars. Settled in Asia Minor taking territory from Byzantium on a variety of populations as described by Herodotus, like Hittites and other. Form 12 tribes forming 12 jurisdictions around Constantinople. Conquer parts of Greece, go up to Bulgaria until Austria surrounding Constantinople after the youngest son called Ottoman having gathered the brothers in order to make a definite war. Conquer Constantinople, establish  the Ottoman Empire on the name of brother Ottoman. Map of the different jurisdictions of the 12 tribes. Where was Ottoman? Not surprisingly, just beside Constantinople. Here. Gölpazari. Capital of his jurisdiction.

“Conchi, here we have the Sultan.” “You’ve found him?” “Yes. Where would you go if fleeing Constantinople? If this was his former territory he must have kept properties and links to that place. If I fled, I’d go back there.” “To Gölpazari?” “Or the whereabouts. It’s on our way. Perhaps we’ll find him.” Some time passed. “Now, forget about it all,” I told her. “Why?” “You’ll remember when time comes. It may be dangerous to know too much, now.” She laughed. “You think you can forget that easily?” “If it is of your interest.”

Gregory was sitting for hours in the Church.

The crucial day arrived when Emmanuel was to vindicate for a ticket back home. He arrived, having wanted to announce through his most loyal messenger Oriol, that he had some important matter to discuss with us. In fact, Oriol had already betrayed him and had come the afternoon to say that Emmanuel had told the most horrible lies to his mother, consisting in saying that we were making black magic in Bulgaria with candle lights. “That was because there were only candles in that village,” I said, half laughing. “Well, and it is true, that from his point of view, AT may belong to the category of magic, and to him, very black so.”

I took some fretful airs as if I were the last King of Jerusalem, Baldwin, having to answer to an impertinent request of some member of the Order of Hospital, and making a wink, I said: “Let him come, at 8 exactly, accompanied by his loyal servant and my counseller, Conchi.”

They arrived 10 minutes late, which was already a quite nice excuse to get angry. I was laying on my bed, as I would not mean to give importance to such meeting by even sitting down, and said, what the matter was. “I,” he said, “I want to get my former privileges back.” I may have expected whatever, but this really puzzled me, although I wouldn’t move an eyebrow. I turned my head to Conchi and asked with some metallic irony in my voice: “Did you hear before he may have had any kind of privilege?” To which she answered, no. “Well, ” I continued, “were it that you had privileges. What happens if they are not given back to you?” “I’ll leave at once.” I closed my eyes for a few seconds as if really meant I could be horrified by such a perspective.

I opened my eyes again without moving a muscle of my body: “As far as I know you have already been poisoning other people’s ears with lies and dirt and defamation. At least, try showing some respect towards other people’s beliefs before qualifying the AT as magic and do please consider how many people in the world get their only light from candles who would certainly not want to be accused because of this very fact, of going through black magic rituals.” Underlining the fact that there were possibly much more people in the world under the magic light of candles than with electricity supply, and that even those, yes, even those had to go from time to time through some black magic ritual, I praid him to consider he was putting two third of the world in some opposite camp. Thing which seemed to trouble him, and he asked whether his mother had told me. “Do you really mean I were like you, spitting names without consideration to whoever may ask? If I’ve got that information by myself, see how you get the information of how I got it.” He was sent out, for a 5 minutes deliberation.

A thunder was heard, from far.

After some really puzzled exchanges with Conchi concerning the possible privileges the whole was about, we concluded, there had been none. “If he’s claiming for new privileges, this implies changes is structuring and organization and we’d said, there would be none. Submitting ourselves to our own constitution, this means, he may leave. I’ll ask him though, whether he wants to go on without any supplementary privilege.” Conchi agreed. “I may, I say, be wanting to look like the last King of Jerusalem, which makes a nice performance, don’t say, and mean and pretend I haven’t heard your words, and thus do as if today nothing had happened. I will put you to choose between the going on without any kind of privileges whatsoever, as before, I would imply, or to leave at once from here if you insist on your pretensions. And make sure if you stay, that you forget having ever dared claiming for something that was not yours or anyone has ever provided to you.” There was a silence.

I was just looking in front, calmly waiting for an answer. “I leave then.” He said suddenly. “Good bye, then,” I answered “be sure you’ll forget whatever you’ve experienced until here on the path and that you will not take a single profit out of it. What is mine is mine and I don’t share.” And turning myself towards Oriol, I asked him, although he had already said he wanted to stay, in order not to provoke frictions with Emmanuel: “And you? Do you want privileges, too, or do you prefer to stay?” He said, he prefered to stay.

“Take your stuff and leave whatever is of common property, at once, before the Hospital closes. Hope you don’t need help in order to make your luggage.” He left. Then he came back and said: “The door of the Hospital is closed.” “And you think,” I said, “There will be nobody to open the door for me?” The door was opened and he left.

(I would never see Flor Castro or his son ever again.)

Of course, the very moment they had both left, I started laughing and said to a somewhat amazed Conchi: “Hope you liked my performance.” “But, where did you get that from?” She asked. “See, I fell on the history of the Kingdom of Jerusalem while reading about the Ottoman Empire. I was thinking that only some features would be recognized by some virtual Sultan and wanted to see what may generally be known of Christians as common culture. The kingdom of Jerusalem fitted me well. I was thus trying to get into their psychology when the idiot arrived. Why not.” “Some features?” Conchi asked. “Look, if there is a Sultan running around somewhere, he will certainly not receive whoever. And not because he wouldn’t want to, as he certainly does not know who he is, but because he may have kept some hereditary vision of things reacting to reality in a very peculiar way. We will not find him unless we’re at least Kings or Knights or some worthy representative of Heaven’s Kingdoms, who necessarily, thus to appear, will have to lean on the former.” “Thus, you’re King Baldwin?” She was so fascinated by such a possibility, that she seemed ready to invent some golden crown and put a silk tunic on my shoulders, thing which made me horribly laugh, and I said “Leave King Baldwin to Gregory.” “To Gregory?” “Yes,” I answered, “King Baldwin had a leprosy. You are my counselor and I put myself under the concept of a King. The others are guards. We don’t need crowns and tunics, just concepts. But don’t tell the others.”

“If it works,” she said. She then pointed at the fact, that Gregory seemed to behave better and that he was spending all his time in the chapel. “Ah, Conchi,” I said. “You’ll never stop being Spanish. When are you going to learn not to give importance to appearance. What is of God, you keep in the most hidden place of your house, and if you can, your house is your soul.” And I said “come, let’s have a coffee,” because we had bought lots of soluble coffee and we could heat water thanks to Soeur Irene. “Look, your hero is sitting in church because he thinks and he knowns this will impress the Sisters who may want to see in that some priority in leadership. We all have different parameters to establish values and hyerarchies, and they see things like that, and he knows that very well.” “You think he’s that bad?” “Oh, even worse. Look at the situation. Comes as a beggar without a penny, is thrown out of our group and wants to sell to the world the impression he’s the leader of our group. I mean, what do you say to that …”

And Conchi sat back and said, “you’re right. By the way, what has happened with Emmanuel?” “Hmm,” I answered. And some minutes passed where I tried to order my thoughts and to clearly establish how much I may say. Then I said: “There are things you don’t talk about. There are things I never talk about, but it happened that you were there and perhaps, – but that must be because of this silly herpes that is bothering my cheek, – I will have to tell you a few things. Emmanuel has a ghost that has been woken up by Gregory. You can’t fight with a ghost if not with a stronger ghost. He seems to have fished a medieval ghost, perhaps of a knight or a chevalier. I quickly found the ghost of a king and of his counselor. What else can you do if you want to go on walking?”

She changed subjects. “And why do you leave Gregory do as if he was leading the group?” “See how the situation is, my dear Sancho Panza, we have no front. We’re just surrounded and without walls. On top there is risk the possible murder attempt on Freddy and Michel may not fall on us. If there is some idiot who pretends to lead the group and wants to charge himself with all possible consequences, may he.” And a few seconds passed. “He’s going to loose his nerves soon. You’ll see. I’ve blocked the process until here, but it won’t last very much, now. If people want to believe that such a creeping creature may ever lead us to Jerusalem, they don’t deserve better. How stupid people are,” I continued, somehow pushed to confidences, “they think it is easy to take someone else’s place when it is the question of glories and honors. And they don’t see that the weight another has been wearing is going to make them powder. Earlier or later. Sooner or later. It will happen.”

Conchi, whose absent mind seemed to be troubled by ghosts and other mysterious creatures, stood up all of a sudden and said: “Do you think I’ve a ghost myself?” “Hope you don’t,” I answered. “Don’t ever get into these waters.”

That day I went to the Chapel all alone by myself, late at night and it was still open. The large quite modern space was filled with ranges of wooden chairs and a wooden Christ at the end was looking gloomily into the whereabouts. And I thought: ”Not the order of the Temple, or the order of Saint Jacques. Hereby I found today the Metallic Order. There is no State, if they use of poison to kill people, no Church if they help distributing it, and although I have no proofs, I know. I stay without country today and without religion, without mother or father, because it may put them in danger. I put myself under your orders, whoever you are and fold these words into some hidden file of my heart, where I may find it again only then, when there will be no danger anymore. I claim for myself the Kingdom of Jerusalem because it is a Kingdom of spirit and I have no earth. Is there anyone who may hear these words in silence, shall he come with me, from near or from far. Shall your grace be on us.”

And I left. Thinking I had written a very beautiful poem.

Jorge and Maxime were about to arrive. In fact, they would be arriving only two days before we would leave and would have missed the appearance of ghosts and other human fantasies. Clotilde had said that I must be happy to see my brother, as it would reinforce my lines. “Certainly,” I said and went to see Conchi and tell her new confidences. “See, she says I must be happy because my brother arrives and though I know there is no one on earth who may hate me more and who may jealous me more. If he doesn’t come to pretend after he has made everything all alone by himself, he will destroy the project. When he phoned to ask whether he may come, I had answered with a letter saying that ‘being my brother in blood, I hoped he would soon become a more psychically determined relation’, which I hope, puts things as clear as necessary because I don’t think this deeper relation will ever exist.”

Conchi wouldn’t get out of her surprise: “You don’t like any of them and though, you tell them to come?” “I didn’t tell anyone. They are just useful, Conchi, they’re just very useful.” “And Clotilde?” “It’s not to become dramatic but she’ll die, if God doesn’t help.” “To die?” “She’s ill, Conchi, don’t you see it. She is ill, Gregory is mad. I don’t know what she has and she doesn’t know it either, but what, my dear doctor, don’t you see her teint? Don’t you see her eyes? She’s perhaps even more ill than I may want to admit myself.” “And what do you think she has?” “How may I know? I’m no doctor. What would you say?” “Aids?” “You know,” I answered. “And if it were Aids,” she said, “you think it may be healed by walking to Jerusalem?” “Can I be honest with you?” (We were in the garden and made a turn around the corner) “I think Aids is an artificial virus. A virus does only appear as some side effect of some mental or psychic weakness. If you create an artificial virus, it does certainly correspond to the mental illness of who has created it, but not necessarily to the organic weakness of whoever. Logically, if you know more or less what structures the virus is attacking you may counter attack it through some arrangement in general dispositions. What is bad for me, may not be bad for others. My brother can be of help, there where he may only destroy me.” “Will she be healed?” “I have some hopes, now that my brother has arrived. And if I tell you the truth, I had none when we left Paris. Who knows.” “And you? Why can’t you take your brother’s place?” “I’m not that wicked,” I laughed.

In fact, for the first time since we had left Paris I knew we were going to arrive to Jerusalem. In spite of the, I would say seen from a general point of view, quite oppressive environments, I felt a quiet happiness and was in the depth, more than relaxed, once my horrible herpes had decided to deform my beautiful face for a while. “Must be the Bulgarian”, I thought, “who’s helping to get that dirt out of my soul.”

Having observed that some person was constantly accompanying a nun in the second floor, Esther, I told so to Sor Maria Teresa. My target was the second floor. If there is shit, it must be there, I thought. Just spread the rumour, there may be some obscure love affair behind. If I’m lucky, Esther will fly. An empty place more. “I’ll take care of the whole when I come back,” I said to Maria Teresa. “You’re coming back?” “Certainly. We will come back walking and I hope we’ll have the pleasure of meeting you again.” I spent quite a long time talking to Soeur Maria Teresa, whose ‘lines’ I had thought the most appropriate to try an infiltration. “If Gregory is able to charge Emmanuel with all his madness, there is a logic allowing to grasp someone else’s unconscious in order to make him say and do what is in your interest. The structure ‘a’ (Gregory/Emmanuel) must have a corresponding structure ‘b’ (myself/x). There is no other way to infiltrate this place. It seems to stay under military jurisdiction. It must be Soeur Maria Teresa, it makes exactly the same tilt than when I think of the others. I’m not wicked. Is there anyone in the whereabouts who wants to sanctify himself for cheap?”

In fact I had already observed that these poor nuns were the toys of higher forces they certainly didn’t know what to do with. It was easy to remark that they had had dreams, beautiful dreams when they had been young, of helping the world and the poor in some unrealistic suspension of the awareness of human reality. These dreams were a heavy, solid ground I could walk on. I liked those nuns, they were really very, very funny and seemed to have jumped out of some Almodovar movie, except for one or two, I wouldn’t take too much care of. If I liked them or not was not the question. There were higher interests in the game, probably, I thought, a French military stronghold in the middle of Balkans. May you excuse, if I put your reputation and your name slightly in danger, if it means it could eventually save many people’s life?

I didn’t feel any kind of psychic opposition to my proposal, but that was because I didn’t imply the consequences…

(Nobody belonging to the group committed suicide. As I didn’t become a terrorist, they slightly changed the accusation for the one of ’social terrorist’, which did though not change anything to the fact that French ‘prophecies’ where not very well founded, on one hand, and on the other, were eventually already then more pointing more at themselves than at anyone else.)

Conchi said she would have to ask many questions in order to be properly informed on the whole and have thus referential points concerning my own vision of things.

We were taking a sharp way south. As we were arriving to the second mountain chain, the Taurus, we would have to leave the side roads in order to join the only main road crossing at that place. Although we would leave the main road at a certain point and would get into the mountains at Yelatan. It was freezing cold. We would pass the last day of the year in a village at the highest point of the path: there was snow all over and almost no heating. Sleeping with pullovers and trousers, jackets and hats, we would hardly dare moving a cm in order not to freeze there where our shivering body had not badly warmed the place. Leaving the paths again, the rest would just be a main road full of cars and trucks that couldn’t move because the street had been blocked by snow or other. We were making slalom among cars, much quicker than them, by the way, and reached records in the middle of winter with 52km arriving to Damlama. That day Oriol said that I had leading qualities and I laughed. “Why do you say that?” “Because you just say and you have them all moving towards a record of 52 km.” “It’s to tire them up. But I don’t think this may be a real attribute of leadership. It’s management of people, to lead is deeper.” We were arriving to Tarsus, the town where Paul was born. It was raining.  

The major insisted in calling the newspapers and we were taken an awful picture in his office that would appear in the ‘sabah’ newspaper the day after. They asked some questions but we wouldn’t understand. In fact, I remarked they seemed to speak what I would call, ‘some other Turkish’ I would never learn. We were quickly arriving to Mersin, the town from where we would take a boat to Cyprus. Lodged by the Catholic Church there, we would have to wait one week until the next boat to Cyprus left.

Although excessive proximity in the walking order was always seen with suspicion by the rest of the members of the expedition, we managed to avoid frictions by saying – and it was Conchi, because she was apparently much more convincing – that we were passing through some temporary madness and we didn’t want to bother the others with our illness and they should please excuse. In fact, from time to time, over swapped by a horrible common laughter, we would stop in the middle of the way, making all sorts of Zulu dances and the kind, which, certainly, should reassure the others about our state, but were also born out of circumstances we could hardly manage.

Conchi informed me that she had told Oriol about his task as shield holder and that he had accepted, asking though what his task actually was. “You just have to take the blows.” “And they will be many?” he carefully asked. “I don’t think so,” she said and Oriol agreed. He was thus put in relative knowledge of our plans, about how we would conquer Jerusalem and how it would take 15 years, at least. “That’s a lot of time,” he said. “Can it not be a little earlier? I will have forgotten everything until then.” “It doesn’t matter,” she said, “you’ll be happier after, remembering the whole.” He asked whether he could give his opinion on the whole and this was accepted and he asked, why we’re conquering Jerusalem. Conchi said that we had already found Saladin, the sultan and the last Romanoff and the salt lake and that necessarily we needed to do something else from then on, and as Gregory had provided us with such an excellent idea, we would try doing so properly and in justice and without infringing international law. He found the explanation satisfying, was said that he had to intuitively grasp the essence of the project and that Conchi would be said all, but he almost nothing and he would have to keep the notion of right and justice inside of the vision deriving of it, thing we would not interfere with.

He was thus said that a ban would be published many years later, (with clarions and trumpets – or, if not available, with many stars to the right and to the left of the ban’s title) saying exactly what the ban says as transcribed below. Oriol listened carefully and listed all the names of the countries and then said: are missing Jordan and Egypt. I said: Jordan and Egypt are waters and not walls and thus all waters are missing. Shall appear the walls and the waters be kept in secrecy. Thing that  also satisfied Oriol. He then asked whether the ban would be published in Spanish and there was some deliberation and I said: “Not in Spanish. In English in order for it to be understood by the most.” Conchi asked whether she would then be allowed to translate it into Spanish, and it was granted, and immediately Oriol requested the Catalan translation, which was granted, too. “But how,” Conchi said, “is the ban going to appear? You will publish it in a newspaper?” “As far as I know a ban has to stay for a determined period, let us say three months, in a place that may be visible to many. It can be the front of a church, or the market place, or the town hall. But seen the importance and subject of the matter it should be published in some place available to many from all over the world. I’m sure there are angels, and from here until then there will be means. Some hooligans will help, certainly, because hooligans do always help.” Not very sure about this issue, Conchi proposed if there were no other means, to send the ban to her, for example and she would properly publish it in the middle of Zaragoza, she said, if I’m there, or wherever I may be. “En el rollo, si hace falta.” (If it is of need in the ‘rollo’ – the meeting point in Spanish Royal properties marked by a column where people were informed of matters concerning the general management of a place and where they were publicly discussed over.) “And where will be found the rollo now,” I said, in deepest misbelieve.

(Actually there is a rollo here, in Cuenca, Ecuador)

* * * * * * * * * * * Ban “I’m Jerusalem” * * * * * * * * * * *

Posted on August 1, 2008 by Sk

Shall each take his shield holder.

If there is dispute.

According to information arrived to Ürgüp, Turkey, December 24th, 1992, claim without settlement persists, Jerusalem corresponds to the descent of the Queen of Sabah, still alive in Pakistan.

In agreement with the same and having established conditions in Jerusalem, Israel, in February 2004, in right and having verified, I give back the Kingdom of Jerusalem to the Queen of Sabah, who may therefore claim tribute as established.

It is to say and to be said: that hers is the Kingdom whose possession of higher realms.

Having asked from the Sultan in Turkey to defend her pretensions, he agreed as it be said, she were a woman.

And help.

Hereby I request for myself the honor of management of what would be corresponding and the counsel for Conchi Fernández, as agreed, inside of the Kingdom of Spain. And for the shield holder to continue his task, who is, Oriol Vilaseca, if it is of his liking. And no one else, except of who would be determined if there were agreement.

Jerusalem. Give in. You’re enclosed.

Were it you don’t know who at the origin of all walls, I remind you of agreements as given, written down, signed and recorded. Whose non respect would mean war.

Guard of Pakistan.

Walls of Iran and of Syria, of Lebanon and Morocco, walls of Algeria and Iraq, walls of Arabia and those surrounding. Walls. Defend your right and what is of yours, as said.

Guard of the Empire and guards of Russia. Keep the rear.

And claim as follows:
Agreement has been signed that if I managed to enter Israel three times, by earth, by sea and by earth in the time of ten years, from then on, which witnessed by those who witnessed and who may prove, the Kingdom of Jerusalem would be handed over to me, and I’d have 5 years to claim. As it happened, for which I advance just entry 2 and entry 3 as hints, and if anyone may want to study those and others, shall he advance. If they pretended now, it had never happened, they will be considered liars because I have witness, who is, and shall they defend their position in war. Would it be for us who claim, to win, shall we stay and they leave, would it be for them who refuse the claim, to win, shall we leave and they stay and no further claim will ever be made.

And we will win because justice is on our side.

Three months are given to the Queen of Sabah from today and on, to claim back for what is hers, in the means there should. From me, to claim from them.

Should it not be of her desire to take what is hers, shall it remain in my hands until whose claims back, and dispositions, the same.

Shall each part determine his messengers. We, from our side, accept only, for us: Yusif, at Hotel King David, through the intermediate of England and from their side, Irit Gazit, at the same place. Whoever has to say, may he say to her, and she to him, and he, to us.

As no other claim as verified has been hold for true, no other is accepted and no other has agreement among those who presumably pretend to what is not theirs.

Whoever may ever again claim for what is not his as it is established as it is through highest signs, shall he or she be put to death, by  means that come from heaven. What is his, is his and he knows to defend and to keep.

This is today, July 30th 2008.

To whoever concerned, shall each advance.

Shall it be as it is of her desire,

And my titles,

copy of original, handed over to me by my father, Arne Kasten, son Elisabeth von Speth Schülzburg, descending in direct line from Freiherren von Speth, established such in the 12th century and then splitting into Baronen von Speth and von Speth Schülzburg, of who she one.

For Oriol, the following dispositions were taken: that he should try avoiding frictions between the Central Government and Catalonia in order not to be found in a situation of quarrel whenever everything would happen. That he would be informed the day before the ban appeared, but that he would not receive the message. That it would be refered to and he would have the choice of agreeing then or quit. That he thus would become a signal for all those not having wanted to believe in our marvelous project like an incredulous Thomas. If he did personally not agree anymore, in some deepest fury on something that would happen, someone else would be put in his place. But that probably, his father would accept in his name and he would, if we were right in our appreciations, give in to our proposal after carefully having asked for explanations in ways that would be understood. Oriol was listening very carefully and said: “And if I answer to the message, will it mean that I’m out of the game?” “We will see,” I said, “but I don’t think you will answer.” Oriol said himself satisfied with the explanations, verified we were not mad, asking a few questions on our birth date, civil status and place of origin, got surprised after learning it was just a strategy and freely left to make his introspection and try seizing the whole all alone by himself, “in Catalonian,” I added.

Conchi started her questioning and all sorts of matters were dealt with, which I will perhaps not be able to transcribe in their whole extension.

The new project, called ‘I’m Jerusalem’ was defined the following way: In a for us most unbelievable way, a whole amount of circumstances and events had opened our eyes on several facts, facts that may even be considered historical facts. Dealing first abstractly with the matter of property and ownerhip in what concerned Kingdoms, which is to say, I added, also in what is matters of love, which do interest us more, we had been induced into error by the pretension of Gregory, he may have some rights on the Kingdom of Jerusalem. That in any case, we had assumed this pretension, as – if it were one, it may fall on our heads in the ways of some malediction and/or curse – by taking on us the property of the same, and this in my name. That, – after having established some relative hypothesis, which was, that it must be of Jews as Jews were there, – being in knowledge of law, saying that a blank title could be kept only and only if there had been request for other possible pretenders to claim, – and without it being specifically in our knowledge that news had already been spread all over, – we had been informed of a claim that may reach as far as Salmon’s times, that the Kingdom of Jerusalem belonged to someone who presented herself at that moment as ‘The Queen without name’ and who could be located in the regions of Pakistan. It was told to us, also, that not only Gregory pretended, though not more, but that someone else whose name we couldn’t decypher had said in Jerusalem “I’m Jerusalem.”

We thus defined our position: Among all, the only one who seemed to righteously claim, was the one in Pakistan, as I had not only be informed in person but other signs in vision had appeared to me before, warning of the malediction pending on who may pretend. That this very fact, that it appeared as a warning and not as anger or violent pretension, was seriously to be considered, and that, if it were not, in any case she did deserve. In order to determine whose the right, two requests were made: One to Hollywood, to make a film on the historical period of Baldwin in order to reconstruct the period were it from a distorted perspective, (which was done) and thus have more precise data concerning the general apprehension on the subject, and one to Pakistan, in order to provide proofs that could be convincing enough to us, perhaps to others and in any case, to herself. That if the one who pretended in Jerusalem, were it only in words, was not in knowledge of the malediction he would have to be carefully dispossessed of his statement in order to avoid it may not fall on him and his people. If his claim was proved wrong, he would accept the duel and loose the right to claim.

Instead of claiming for ourselves, we claimed thus for the Queen without name as it seemed to us the most just claim. But, that seen the circumstances and the world as it were in our surroundings, we kept the following position, which, if accepted by Pakistan, should lead to the meeting as requested, though not otherwise:

1. that a woman’s kingdom affected the realm of souls and thus not the outer organization in this that it maintains positions of power, but only in this that it gives image to the realm of soul, and of this soul specifically, as head and Queen, in this that its desire was to fulfill desire in all its possible figures, as we could conclude from the way she had approached us. That not being in knowledge of deeper links of love, people may be awaken to these by the means of the realization of smaller desires or wishes, that may take the form of some Nicolas in his icy regions and other socks put in front of the door at Christmas times. That, being this accepted, it did not imply changes in political organization, and the vindication of the Kingdom didn’t mean, Jews would be dispossessed of what they had obtained by legal means in what concerns the outer organization of power: the shedding of blood.

But that sometimes it was of need to vindicate for more, if just claims were not listened to. To say: that war was justified in the case that having put conditions accepted by the environment in question, which does not accept word, but only signed documents and agreements among the people, these conditions were not respected, it implied the breaking of an agreement and was thus, a proper reason of war.

That this is why we put ourselves under the orders of the Queen without name, because in two worlds, the one accepted only word and the other only documents and as both had to be respected, the claim of the Queen without name (further: Pakistan) had to be translated into terms that may be understood by those living in other contexts and that, if this were done, and they were not respected, it would be a proper reason of war.

It was asked why Pakistan should accept the presence of those infidels and I answered that it was obvious that Pakistan answering to wishes, would not but agree in this that people without country, who in right had claimed for it and obtained it, would stay and thus warrant for the accomplishment of all, as it may arise. That it was though always the will of God to test people’s faithfulness and they may loose their rights if they did not do as agreed, if they wanted to push thing towards war. And that they were surrounded, and they would loose and they would again be spread among the people.

It was presumed that the said agreement, coming from the times of Salmon, must have staid in their memory, to which they may refer and stay without love, desire or wish forever if they didn’t give in to the said.

(Under these conditions, a meeting took place in December 1997, in Pakistan, conditions that were not changed as no one did say a word aloud of what it were about, thus implying, on the one hand, that my proposal had been accepted, and on the other, that Pakistan did not claim for territorial sovereignty as such. Thing that may be imposed if agreements not respected, had been said. As sign of the agreements on the conditions as given, was left an embroidery on rough silk envelopping some chevaliers into a Pakistani motif to my aunt, who as blind messenger of the Metallic Order was not put in knowledge of the goal and purpose of the meeting.)

Ratified.

2. Concerning the historical circumstances and with, finally, the help of the Hollywood movie called ‘The Crusade’, we reconstructed the following story: there were women’s kingdoms, as we knew from Herodotus and the Queen of Mytilini, mostly in Asia Minor and beyond. That in these kingdoms, women had sovereignty without interfering in man’s world organization, although sometimes they did. That thus, Queens would even travel far beyond borders to exchange wisdom and law, as it is proved by the story of Salmon who received the Queen of Sabah. That seen the nature of these exchanges, the Queen staid in the realm of matters concerning love and affairs at home, involving wisdom and justice. That most probably as it was also the case in Macedonia, some women were allowed to get into the army and other naturally to man belonging activities without this causing friction. That most probably, some kind of Order had been born out of all these observations and some women were actively transmitting messages and presents all over the world on horseback, until (the Queen smiled) they would themselves feel the wanting of getting married. That most probably some Christian woman was hired in Jerusalem, during the troubled times of Crusades. That this woman, marvelled by what she was seeing, did probably talk too much and her words understood as if it were an earthy Kingdom. That this did suscite jealousy and envy and men of some countries, among which France, Belgium and Germany, had wanted to conquer this kingdom by violent means, to which the Catholic Church would have added stratagemes, lies, and false pretensions on papers whose validity had never been accepted by the one who ruled. That trouble arising it had lead to the destruction of Jerusalem and it had been put under Muslim jurisdiction. That the Kingdom remained. That most probably, wishes left by Jews in the wall of lamentation were read and studied by those. That not in knowledge of the before mentioned, Jews had won a territory without considering whose the psychic realm. That this had been allowed because wicked people in the Church and other, would have been in knowledge of the malediction and had thus wanted to push Jews to further sufferings and pain. That we would test whether it was on purpose or an accident, and if it were on purpose, shall the malediction remain and if it weren’t, shall they send messengers to Pakistan for agreement. That we would further search for those who were behind this wickedness and try revealing it as such. That seen the general logic, we may almost pretend, a request had been sent to whoever responsible and whoever in charge, had laughed at it or purposedly wanted not to understand the very difficult language of Urdu (which means: at the origin.)

That we, in any case, as no signed agreement was possible between Pakistan and us if we wanted to respect the nature of her Kingdom, could, respecting a tacit agreement, put sign of written agreement and in justice claim for what was hers, and give it back.

Shall God not open her eyes until the time has come.

3. That many tasks were deriving of this sole task and opposition high. Forces in favour and against were evaluated. And many were against and more were kept as if they were against. Shall men stay against our purpose? Shall they stay without love or soul at home. Shall power resist? Shall it not get the support of the people and dry out by itself. Shall knowledge be against us? Shall it loose its source of inspiration and not convince. Shall religion bar our way? Blasphemy it implies as this is of spirit and as thus forwarded and the one who says, says ‘the one who aggresses spirit, shall he be condamend here and for all eternity’. The one who puts his hand on a woman, is spitting on the spirit and is condamned. Shall time pass and I will gather: nomads and gipsies, travellers and hooligans around her wish, as they move in time and spirit moves in time. Kings of nomads and gipsies, agree to a meeting and those the others, too. Thus the guards of ancient times, who were in knowledge and still. Peace among Turks and Kurds, as I need the guards of the upper mountains. Keep war in some places to distract attention, and this is your task, Serbia. Push back in evidence those who pretend and falsely claim. And this for the nations whole, as they didn’t know to put frein to the pretension of their kings. Shall the Sultan in Turkey be with us, because he’s of God and listens to our words that are her words. Make signs, demultiply signs.

4. In order to order people and gather them around their own soul and believe so that at the end they may judge by themselves, we said. That the Christian version of the happenings in Israel at the times of the one called Christ, was formal and belonged to understanding. Shall these people, and who listens, judge on this affair by their means and laws and organization. That the Muslim version on the same happenings was of soul and belonged to heart in this that it demands of open eyes. Shall those people judge on this affair by their means and laws and understanding. That Jews were those who were still waiting to know and that this should be accorded to them, to be those who don’t know and still wait, because many there are who may still be waiting and don’t know, and that this was God’s will and had to be respected as such. Shall though some be informed.

Territory of jurisdiction, whoever in knowledge of all, let us say, Teheran. As Islam does accept three sacred books involving three religions and could thus judge on the view of all. That the jurisdiction of Christian was to be considered but not accepted without deliberation as they did only accept their own books and thus for Jews. Koran is law, and law says the three are holy, of law it is to respect three versions and shall they judge and be given judgement on all matters whenever requested.

(Ratified in Lahore, Pakistan)

Shall this affect only countries concerned. To say, Europe, Arabic countries or Islamic countries and Israel. Not in any case, Asia, Africa or South America, suspended of other quarrels and not in the acceptation of our matters. Shall the United States decide where they want to belong to. (And they staid outside.)

In this vision of the world we would move, though not impose.

5. Concerning our own matters, I said: that I would verify whether there was no repent in the question of the attempt of murder, as I wanted to keep some hope. That behind this hand would be put all other possible intentionalities of murder on all those who of importance involved in this affair, in the time reaching from then to Jerusalem and the way back, until the Salt lake in order to seek for responsibles and keep them away if possible.

(Given as proof: if I tell you to go down to the salt lake and take a picture from you there, that day, that day you had a red jacket on, and you do even if I tell you it is forbidden, guilt is on you and will remain as much on the head of the ones who wanted to induce even if they don’t go down to the lake ad you will become sign for all others having the same intentions. It happened.)

That having located all possible attempts of murder I would cut myself in two, as one part of myself would be aiming at revenge and the other would keep itself following holy purposes. That this would imply many sufferings and that perhaps I would even get lost, but that there was no other way to obtain our purpose, as far as I could see.

That Conchi would go back and do the best to get up social scales in order to be reliable at the moment it would be of need. That she may communicate to her sister Loli what our plans were about, but that she would not understand and this would protect our plans. That she should go on search of documents, papers and archives to determine her exact origins as it could be suspected, that having ended in such an environment, it may not be high and without vindication and if their was reason to vindicate, to do as we had been doing until then. That she should then create an opposition to the King of Spain, in the name of Isabella and claim: foros (particular law) and privileges, but without making too much of a fuzz on it and clear up why the Kingdom of Isabella had disappeared and say or mean: that in Spain there is what you acquire before the marriage and after and each keeps what he had for himself and what is acquired after belongs to both, and that, in what was of hers, the Kingdom of Spain was to be understood as “Kingdom of Aragon and Kingdom of Castille and the rest, in one name all, the Kingdom of Spain”. Y que no se pasase de la raya ni abusase de poderes y títulos. (That he should not cross the marks nor abuse of power and titles.) That he would then take all means to assure his power though appearance in public and would finally push to force the continuation of the branch as little hopes there were it may happen otherwise as winds in opposition heavy and strong, but that she would use silence and gestures and spread her psychic vision on things through acquaintances and friends mainly in the realm of medicine, where there were many women. That at the end, she would win her battle because soul prevails and this without having said anything.

That she should write a book on the Path of Jerusalem whose nature would be such that nobody would ever know about what had really happened and thus not awake suspicions where she would leave out these things as said. And distribute it. Of value then, because probably the French members would deny having ever participated to such an expedition or distort its nature saying we had taken cars or whatever and this would be proof and perhaps Oriol would do the same his way, and thus we would have two witnesses and proofs and our arguments would prevail.

She was asked whether she wanted something and she said, a child. And I said, but this will distract you from your task as counselor and then said: let it be. Because they will be wanting to distract you and grant the child and then you’ll have the child, and if you don’t want to become counselor then, shall you say, who may.

She then asked why I had doubted first. “Because,” I answered, “There are no lines of love left. I’ve been through all the happenings and it is obvious that love is granted through the signs forwarded by Pakistan. We have wanted to take for us what is not ours and a heavy malediction has fallen on us. Because of France and Belgium and Germany, great trouble has arisen in all Christian countries because none of the others did punish for what had to be punished for. Thus, there is no warrant the father of the child be the father of the child as spirits do enter man when they are about to generate another and in this there is confusion of whose the child. Which is punishment. But I will ask for a special favour from very high, and thus the child will be yours, and shall it cover our sin.” “And the father?” “Shall he get jealous,” I said, “and if then, when all will be revealed, he knows to claim by means of justice and without imposing, shall it be his.”

There was a silence.

It was considered that if such extarordinary happenings shook the Crown of Spain, England in the name of the Queen, would get very jealous, as it was her historical role and that immediately we would have to demultiply signs and oppositions in England, too. That we would give the Kingdom of France to Harry of England and this with abundance of signs. Conchi showed greatest surprise and said: “You have said yourself we should take into consideration the outer world and not get lost in dreams. Do you think it is possible such a thing may happen in our days?” “Why not? Look at what we have in our hands: the foundation of the history of France in a tunic hidden away in an angel in Reims. That’s very, very much. It’s difficult for kings to make children because the pressure is so high that it is only possible in very peculiar circumstances. I know how Harry was born, because I was there, In France, in Paris, and was sending lines of support through an English woman called Jackie Parker. I know him very well, even better than me although I don’t know the why. He’s a trouble maker and a very intelligent spirit. He will run into the hypothesis very easily and it will be much better than to have him countermining his brother. He will be very wicked if he does not take his proper path and this will be a convincing enough argument even for the Queen, to get rid of such a lascar. Now see. Prepare the hypothesis slowly: you start with Eleanor d’Aquitaine (and she asked for explanations, which were given) and say, he may claim for the throne of France. Someone will read, someone will say, it arrives necessarily to the ears of Harry himself. Enthusiastic, he has already ready to invade France with troops and a band of hooligans. At that moment, you induce it may be dangerous. Further instructions: put oil on your head in Reims. Put conditions for a duel. If you succeed … Get support in France and he is a virtual king.” “And the support in France?” “Have I told you about Ines de la Fressange? She must be quite important, I don’t know why. I have her lines, as I have studied them all over the path, it may make deepest support in France.” “But she’s a model?” “Yes. But things are not the same from one country to the other. What noble people are in Spain, are fashion makers in France and these differences you have to be carefully aware of. There he is, our Jean Sans Terre, having wickedly introduced his plans to the Crown through Camilla Mountbatten, who will certainly burst out laughing and then say, if you can. ‘And don’t say, I didn’t warn you.’ But how do you make French now recognize such kingdom? You need a very powerful sign, something that may shock people and warrant their support. It’s never enough to show titles and rights, you need to get into the depth of people and this can only be obtained through a happening linked to your person, having to do in depth with the identity of the people. We have it. We may hand it over.” “How do you know the tunic is there?” “I was told that it was a very rare statue because it was made of two pieces. If you do that, which is very difficult if you work with stone, it is that you’re hiding away something. And I just put all the pieces together. The other soldiers at the crucifixion were Romans. The French one, because they always boast too much, said finally he had been tricking. The Latin one got furious and claimed, it was theirs. The French hid it away. There it is, there is no claim, it is theirs, if they recognize where it comes from.” “Who told you that?” “Flor Castro. Another without name. Probably a Bourbon sent to Spain for spy work. They finally went back, after many generations. What had been intended to be done in Spain, happened finally in France. They made her furious because of the examinations and I arrived just at the good moment. Secret of Champagne, secret of Reims, secret of Vaux le Vicomte, everything.” “And she knew about the tunic?” “No. I guessed. You should be careful before you make furious people who can’t appear in castles and with crowns, because being of oldest families, they have the way to harm you. Shall they dare making furious Ines de la Fressange, they’ll see.”

At that very moment, I stopped the conversation and said: Se va  a liar, se va a montar un pifostio. (There is going to be a mess, but a real one.) And Conchi asked: “Why?” “Because I have just remembered something, something I had half forgotten but which came back the other day. With the messenger of Pakistan arrived the news, someone was waiting for me in Jerusalem. I didn’t give too much importance to it, but while talking with you, I’m still working out things as I’ve said them, I’ve heard them, as they arise from memory. I requested for our arrival to be anounced in order for us not to arrive as thiefs, bandits or unwanted visitors. Now I remember again, it was the last time I saw Shiri Tsur, before we left and I told her, half joking, that it was no way of doing to arrive like that and that please, if she could do me the favour and transmit.” She laughed and said: “Like in the middle ages?” I said “yes, that it fitted well the ambiance. And she asked where she should tell it to. “You’ll find your means,” I said, “Even if you tell to anyone, it will arrive there where it has to arrive.” And she laughed once again, puzzled and asked: “You think it’ll work?” “Sure,” I said, “be sure. Ah, and if you can please say, we will eventually need of help from Hungary and on, to open the path from the other side. Don’t think it’s easy.” Shiri smiled as if she had agreed to some children’s game and then said: “You will tell me if it worked? Even if I’m married and have many children?” “Certainly,” I said, “even if it is much later.”” Conchi asked whether Shiri was Israeli. I said “yes and I don’t know exactly who, but she’s certainly not born from yesterday. She must have the links, and this may be the problem now.” “Why?” Conchi asked.

“You remember when you told me Gregory had wanted to make some proposal of marriage to me? It may be someone else’s idea, because I don’t even think he may have ideas by himself. If what appears to me now is true, I’m in quite a shit.” “Why?” “I don’t know who it may be, but it must be someone of rank inside of tradition. You remember, I told you about an ally? I derived the presence from Shiri herself. Perhaps they are relatives, perhaps they’re enemies, perhaps they don’t know each other. I’d say they’re enemies because nobody knows the other better than an enemy. Nobody. And Shiri knows that one very well. The thing is, enemies on which ground? Or perhaps not enemies as such, but oposition. The more times passes, the more we walk further towards the Siberian steppes, the more I visibly see an organization that is hidden away but is revealing itself. The signs leading to the sultan. The properties left in suspension. The ways people talk or not. It builds up a broidery of intentions and knowledge, of hyerarchies and influences that have nothing to do with appearance. With kings and protocoles, elections and votes. I’ve been thinking a lot about Jews, by the way, as we are walking down there. They must have some kind of organization of the kind, too. Traditions going as far as Abraham and even before. Secretly kept descent of David and such, ways of communication linking people from very far. I think as much the one as the other are in some historical quarrel that may have been there for hundreds of years. See the kind, a faction says, we support Absalom and the other, we support Salmon, and some who maintain Salmos was a woman, and others she or he couldn’t rule because she was an offspring of adultery and many etc. And there they are, fighting their quarrels that have frozen in every days life with anyone knowing anymore what it is all about. There are many quarrels in Judaism and some are very funny. Have you seen the movie with Barbara Streisand, where she plays the role of a woman who gets into an orthodox bible teaching school and has to become a man because only men can get into? You watch it, and you laugh and say what it is all about. And then you hear a current of men saying: “Women have no law. And thus, they can’t learn about law.” Ok. Things are organized around that and finally one day, a woman is discovered who is dressed in men’s clothes. Scandal. Ah! The one is immediately summoned to the rabbi in chief and said very seriously: “Women are not allowed to wear man’s clothes.” And she answers: “Women don’t know about law. How shall I have known about that?” And one rabbi laughs and allows the entering of women into the school under this excuse and only if she’s trapped and the other gets furious and sharpens measures of security. To say. And one current is there and the other is there and there are horrible jokes said from one side and the other, and surreptitious insinuations and attacks and counter attacks and one day, eventually the quarrel disappears, or not. There are quarrels that have never been settled and live on and go on, and I think I’ve run into one of those.” “And where the problem?” “I don’t take positions in other people’s affairs, even less if I don’t know what it is all about. I presume they’re quarrelling about the house of David. Shiri told me that she had written some examination saying that the kingdom was a progress in regard of the judges. I sharply answered to her then, that there is a heavy malediction pending on the House of David and that twice explicitely it is warned not to do as nations. Jesus is House of David, and it was no fun. But there must be others, and it should be no fun.

- I had to tell Conchi then, that I had bought my chocolate, but that was related to the German Empire and I had to come back to the subject later -

My position is thus very abstract and what, I’d have said to Shiri and I never did, ‘would you call the German as judge now, the one who says, when two quarrel, the third is happy?’ But that is what it looked like. Shiri has always been a deep fan of my wisdom, perhaps as one of the little who may appreciate. If she was wicked enough so as to put such conditions to the mysterious ‘other’, it’s done for me, and she certainly was. Not enough with that, I presume that both are horribly powerful. Shiri is very clever. Look at the strategy: See, a friend of mine is travelling to Jerusalem on foot (she says, hypocritically playing friends for the first time in 758 years – but this she’s learned from me in the meantime, because we were learning eagerly one from the other who may exceed in hypocrisy in the given whereabouts, while I was learning other, I have to confess). She knows very well what impresses the other. Walking through so many countries in summmer and winter, speaking many languages, fighting with windmills and with snakes. Impressive, isn’t it? It is my friend, thus, she’s with me. And they must have rules also, you see, as ancient as Adam and Eve, like my friend is not my enemy’s friend and the kind. Shiri has had time to study me, she knows I won’t betray her even if my rules are perhaps not exactly the same, but I will submit to the rules of others in her country. If she puts a mark of whatever kind, implying ‘It’s me’, there you have the other, carefully studying from a satellite all possible movements. I don’t know who it is, but from what I may have concluded, if it is a woman, she hides herself behind the mask of a man very well, and if it is a man, she knows to play the woman very well. In any case, it is someone who is very powerful and even dangerous, I’d say. In Avanos she’s already solved the problem. ‘I make a love a proposition to her,’ let us say, he thinks, because in any case, and if it were a woman, she will be desguised as a man and they desguise very well. ‘Love prevails on friendship,’ she says, turning her back to Shiri. And Shiri has no answer. There is one, but she won’t say. It is obvious that she may say: “I verified friendship. Did you verify love?” But she wouldn’t get there and that is what troubles me. They don’t seem to move inside of an inherent notion of love, reason why apparently the malediction of Pakistan does not yet weigh too much on their heads. The most Shiri will do is to try knowing whether what the other says, is true. Well, it’s obvious and known that these Jews lie very well, but at such a level there may be proves. It proves it is true. Yes, I argued getting into foreign affairs, did anyone ask me? It would not be surprising if all of a sudden and breaking my usual reserve on the subject, I start thinking about marriages and children. This is what worries me, some intuition is warning me of something I’m even taken position to, without knowing why.

How carefully we have to consider things, sometimes. If I say no, this person will be furious and being powerful, it’s no good to make him furious. I deduce that Jews don’t know to love, they persuade. You see the kind, I’m rich and powerful and handsome or righteous and honest and whatever other qualities they may sell to a woman without having too much to stand as liers after. We do, too, I admit, but we have other traditions, with love songs under the balcony and secret signs in fans, messages in bottles and the kind, and I belong more to this tradition. It’s of evidence that even without getting more inro it, I’ll say, no, intuitively. And that, that will cause trouble to my projects.” “So powerful?” “I guess. Quite rich, not to say, very, probable quite powerful social position, with influence, not silly. It makes power.” “And Shiri?” “I don’t know. Sometimes you evaluate better what is far away than what you have beside. You see, if I were a diamond dealer I wouldn’t put it on my visit card, Shiri’s ‘enemy’ would, perhaps, because half the people would never believe it. But Shiri is more like myself. Go to study to France? Careful with your pockets. Gets a relatively comfortable apartment to show easiness without it being excessive so as to attract attention, keeps measured expenses, does not fall into the pit of the beggars and though you never know. I don’t know. I wouldn’t say diamond dealer but I wouldn’t say she needs a salary, either. They are more discreet this side, but less hazardous like the other is. From this point of view, I’d chose the second. I like the mad and the crazy, someone who is able to spend 2.000.000 dolar to buy an island to spend holidays inside, even if he never goes. But this is liking and has nothing to do with power. And what, say to such a character, you prefer that, personally, even if you’d prone the other as social model, forget it, he is going to get up to the clouds and there will be no way to get him down from there.” “Do you think it is a man?” “Shiri thinks it is a man. I don’t think he is, or she. See the problem? It is someone who may appear in front of your nose at any moment with a different disguise every time and you will never be able to know who it is. It’s interesting as movie, but in reality …” “How strange,” Conchi said. “And if Shiri is right?” “I’ve never talked with her about that. I guess she thinks it is a man, because of her reactions. A woman is never but a woman, they are that silly. You say something and she says, perhaps, a man says exactly the same and there she is, it becomes a universal truth at once, and Shiri reacts to that person the second way. But that person  show’s some features that are not proper to a man, intuition, for example, and I would say, that even looking very much like a man even in her reactions, it is a woman. A peculiar woman, perhaps, but a woman.” “And if it is a homosexual man?” “No. Homosexual men have no strength nowadays although they may have had. The strength of this person does not correspond to the general average of homosexual men in our days. No. I’m almost sure it is a woman.” “And what are you going to do?” “I’m going to play ‘his’ game, as it is thus ‘he’ appears. I’m not sure, I say, but I wouldn’t go as far so as to verify. You never give an answer at once. I have to test and verify. On one affair and the other. The best way is to give in to his game and this will make our request for a duel much easier and in any case it will distract him for a long time. Perhaps he will forget and perhaps he won’t, and perhaps he’s just fallen in love with someone else.” “With someone else?” “See, I’m juggling here with Ines de la Fressange, Sultan’s and Queens of Sabah, who do all form some cover for my real self as long as I’m walking. Who may this person pretend to have fallen in love with? This is the first question. Perhaps with Ines de la Fressange or even with the sultan. You never know. I’m not the kind of believing you form a woman to your pleasure, as if it were clay and you shout around and there you have your creature. I think more the contrary. There is no man if he doesn’t know to read your soul and form reality inside of these movements. If it is a man, he will think the first way. If it is a woman, it will be twice as bad because she will have some image of men that is determined by the before mentioned, but this, in women’s eyes, does almost give worse than a dictator if she wants to do the same. You see, men take very determined airs and are about to bomb up the world and then a feather falls from the sky and there they are, forgetting everything – when they’re men. They are then even childish and this is what makes their strength. But a woman does not see how this is working and when she translates the determination into her own parameters, it becomes a yell or a naked imposition. Would you fall in love with such a creature, who on top thinks that appearance makes all and that it is enough to put some uniform in order to be a man? Don’t make fun. There is nothing worse than a woman pretending to be a man, because you may be a man, but then you are and do not pretend. Such a game. And if it is a woman and I’m so stupid, and fall in love, and what after? I mean she can falsify papers to get married, perhaps, but, what, what is she going to do after. Pretend she’s on secret mission forever? I must say, it is funny as hypothesis, but funny means dangerous and he is going to get angry anyhow. But that’s what I say. You never have fun without danger and thus, by taking her by the nose, you’ll have quite a lot running after. So, what does it mean to fall in love? To cheat Shiri on her pretensions? 15 years is time enough for the pretentious, vane, egotistic and many other names deserving creature to forget about it all, or not. But then, I’ll see. Because exactly this is the question I’m going to ask both pretenders to the earthy Kingdom: who of you both, man or woman, knows to recognized who in love and by what means it may last in time? Who, perhaps, does know he or she doesn’t know and gets to find the right advice at the right place? The one who will properly answer to this question in 15 years, will know how to know by himself or herself and make it be recognized. Ah, and don’t forget to protect your borders in the meantime, because at the end I may take it all away from both of them if I further develop German characteristics.” Conchi asked whether I thought there may be a real Israeli Kingdom. “Bah,” I said, “impossible. These people are hard necked and uncirconcised of heart, which means, that each does as he likes, understands and feels and this makes it difficult to govern upon them. This is why they are counselled not to take a king, because a king is a king and has to rule on others. If they don’t obey, they impose and may become violent and it is their right because you wanted to. The only way to put some common measure to all these peculiar sheep of all races is love. People appreciate nothing more than that and for that and the warrant of it, they may do whatever you say, even yes, even to circoncise their hearts. The one who solves this questions, wins the battle but will wear no crown. Isn’t it true that the very moment he/she’ll have done so, he/she will yearn for someone to love him/herself and having obtained this, will he not be wanting to spend more time walking down the river and picking flowers for the one he loves than wearing crowns and purpure mantles? It’s evidence, it’s more than evidence. Probably, there are then two ruling principles in opposition and complementarity, because people need references. As this funny woman plays the role of man so well and so badly at the same time, I’ll create two poles, one in Shiri, for women and one in the other, for men. How wicked I’m isn’t it? Because as woman she will mean she doesn’t play the role of man well enough and will be searching for answers, these answers need questions and as men are a little bit dum on a certain number of subjects: the very fact one of them is asking a question, will allow others doing so, too (no, men don’t ask themselves questions) and there will be a horrible amount of cockroaches at the end of days and perhaps a few men. In any case a polarity. I will support Shiri, of course, but this is in the other’s convenience, too. I will not neglect the other, because the more she pushes into te right direction, the easier it will be to solve all these questions.” “And you?” Conchi asked, “what are you?” “I’m both and one of both and nothing at the same time. That is the burden I will have to wear for asking for help. What? Shall I not pay if I requested. This is my proposal. I don’t take imposed burden as ways of thanking but give my way an answer as I did not request the means by which help should be arriving. Perhaps they won’t accept my proposition and this will free me of all burden. But who knows, the question is of interest and may forward our affairs.”

Finally Conchi asked what that all had to do with possible trouble arising and the pifostio (mess) that was to be organized. “Well, you see, there is no worse poison than love. If my ears hear well and I know how to discern the tones even from far, there is more than an invitation behind an invitation. It happens, you play the man so well, you finish by falling in love with a woman. Or worse, she thinks I’m a man, which is difficult to discern from a satellite. Even worse, her husband in reality is homosexual and she is eating up repressed currents and falls in love with a man homosexual, she may think I’m. Who knows? Everything is possible. But whatever it is, it hears much deeper than microphones and satellites. It goes into the depth of soul and have a look at the world organization we’re building up here having as sole purpose the coming in help of the Queen of Sabah. Our intelligent ideas may have found a deeper ground we may have ever expected. And this will have consequences I have to deeply think about.

Ah! I will profit of the whole situation in order to put the one a quiz. It may still be it is a man or a woman seducing enough in order to make me change my ideas. Because I said when I was very young that I would not get into those waters. My presumed love affairs are nothing but extreme urgency operations for drawning people. There is no one else who may deserve my attention. But why not? Let us not be stubborn. Whatever it is, now, from a personal point of view, can you free me from Gregory, the bastard? If you’re a man you should. If you’re not, I don’t care about you. Imagine. Such a pleasure. Find someone – and even better if it is a woman, because she won’t bother you excessively – who is jealous enough to murder and slaughter those ticks pretending to something they can’t even see. Such pleasure. You don’t have to care about anything else, you do your job and are never bothered. I would be too lucky to find someone like that. But in any case, you should never loose hope, and as the one has pretended, shall he/she at least help to find the right one. I mean, honestly, I’d say at least the one in question has money and very bad reputation, thing that makes others afraid, which is very convenient, it’s something. I mean, as a woman, I may not have anything, material, I want to say, but if I have other things to present, like a quiz and a French tortilla and good taste, it sells as well and I would put my wealth at quite a high place for someone very determined. As I don’t like to be appreciated for my apearance, I don’t insist on these features, because I search for someone who appreciates conversations, humor or quiz, and things like that, but in this what I offer, I esteem myself quite.

Now, it’s the same the other side. I’m not interested in boring scientists or I don’t know, vain actors, I’m interested in someone who may be very strong from a certain point of view but complementary to me. And see, it’s true I wouldn’t accept a proposition of someone who were in the carpet market even if he had money, I don’t know why. But in any case, I would not even think of a beggar, creeping creature like this Gregory. How horribly insulting. I feel still insulted and I promise, so much, that I will manage to bring him until Israel in order to know whether it is possible this other potential and virtual pretender may free me from him. If this person, I mean, honestly, even if it were a woman, and just for that, is not able to understand how insulting such a thing may be, there you have another one who falls into the pit. You see what I mean, I’d even prefer it were a woman, just to rub it on this other’s nose, you see the guy, not even the worm you’ve hanging around there is of any kind of interest to me.

Honestly, for god’s sake. Such a shame. You understand me? If I were a man, and I figure out I’m in such a situation, and you say, ok I lie, because I want something else, but even in this case, don’t you bring something? Precisely, because it is a lie, who do you hold me for? Am I in the obligation of giving you anything for free, on top. Because if you bring a castle and 2.000.000 USD and a Rolls Royce I may say, ok, but someone who has nothing, does never listen to what he is said, does not respect one single word given to you, is ugly on top, because it may be an argument, - for the decoration, - does not know to work and on top pretends that I’m in the obligation of helping him… I don’t know how you see it, but it is ridiculous. What, you come with nothing because I’m worth nothing? You mean I’m stupid and will share what I have acquired through intelligence just because it pleases you? Who are you, thing?” And I laughed and said: “Bad luck. But I don’t think it’ll be possible. Imagine the scene. Sorry Greg, I’ve fallen horribly in love here with such a horribly beautiful woman who has many diamonds on top. Ah. What do you say? Just for the fun, I swear I would do it. But obviously, the poor person. I mean, I’m far away from these virtual countries but she would be there in her country and such a scandal … But this it is, this it is, the scandal is that, you see, the creeping creature even pretending to such word in my presence, that’s the scandal, the real one. And nobody cares, ah, the poor man, ah, it was of his interest, ah, it may happen. All excuses and explanations for such a deplorable fact. And you go and want to make fun on that with some clear image stamped on his nose and this ah yes, what a bad example for children, what a horror. What, where the horror? The horror is there not here. But obviously, nobody understands nowadays such a medieval point of view.”

Conchi though agreed with my point of view and even laughed imagining such situation and proposed to help to its realization. “No, no, no,” I said. “Don’t get too far. Psst. These people are very important somehow, although from our little point of view, they may not appear as such. I mean, as troubled human beings by questions of love and romantic moods, we’re all more or less the same, but there are hyerarchies and there are people it is better not to trouble too much, for a moment. If I’m right, and this person is playing the man, such a scandalous situation may reveal more than it is actually of need. No, no, no. Leave the love moods for later and this only if he/she solves the question.”

(He/she never solved the quiz and was finally identified among many disguises as a woman in 2003. The problem between kings and queens was not yet solved. The love question was progressing.)

I had already then to put a brake to the continuous flow of words and questions and tried gathering my thoughts around some clear and defined principles. It was obvious that I had taken the ‘duel’ seriously for  simple intellectual reason. It was fascinating as purpose and almost impossible, and impossibilities are always exciting. It was obvious that I would have never done so if Conchi had not pushed that far into the direction of the visualization of concepts in the scenery of reality and that I still didn’t know exactly what she was up or after. In no case it seemed dangerous though and in fact I would have resumed the whole in the words ‘I want to see something fantastic arising from reality once in my life’ and at least that, although there could be other things hidden behind I didn’t have to care about, I could stand for, too.

My evaluation of the situation was thus the following. You consider the whole as a hypothesis. Is it possible to ‘conquer’ Jerusalem in the terms as said having alerted authorities on such a possibility? I started laughing. And the fun arising of this thought did even reassure me in the development of the hypothesis. Let’s see. First, what would be the finality? The only plausible one was a kick in France’s ass, justified by what had happened already. How? By pretending to a solution to the tension in Middle Orient. By pretending to one, not by finding one as – I was sure – solutions are no theories but the result of the careful understanding of a situation and the situation I knew very little about. The fact that France was pretending to idiocies, and that was evidence, allowed only the countering of idiocies by idiocies and the best of all was that our idiocies seemed to have a much better foundation than theirs.

It was wicked, it’s true, but they had been very wicked, too.

If France was betting on armament in order to fill empty treasures, there was nothing better than the solution of all problems in order to counter such intentions. And it was of little importance if they were actually solved, important was they believed they were so that they would loose the correct appreciation of reality allowing them to find the right contact at the right moment to sell their weapons.

They’re going to pay with quite a lot for miserable 60 USD, I finished by thinking.

The draft of the solution: it looked at first glance more like putting fire than a solution but that’s because solutions have to take many turns sometimes. Thus: to support Pakistan’s claim made me appear at first view as ‘enemy’ or ‘opponant’. This would create unnecessary tension between me and Israel and in order to avoid this, I would have to think of some trick, to deviate attention. In fact, it would still be difficult to see at that moment to which extent the Pakistan claim was doing them a favour. First, it was not a territorial claim. Second, it reduced all other claim, even a Palestinian claim, to ashes. Knowing that Islam reacts more on psychic grounds than on those of understanding, a woman would have broadest influence in the region, calming down all sorts of bitter desires of revenge. A possible defeat would make Israel extremely sympathetic to everyone’s eyes (the kind, they don’t win everything after all), the respect of agreements would open to them the Islamic world and they would get rid of all sorts of misbehaving entities. With one sole stroke.

A marvel. Having Obtained some more or less virtual integration in the Islamic world, Europe would loose its importance and this could mean, even deeper financial poles related to their main activities as banking and diamond sales would change. And this would have as consequence to refuse some lend request France would be in need of after having made hundreds of fail investments in possible war for 15 years.

Betta be careful, France.

It’s true that there was something troubling me slightly but at that moment, it was still a nice joker in my hands making the project at least … possible and I would win the bet, I was already then sure of it even in the worse of cases, I said to Conchi, where you go to whoever responsible and say, exactly this person with this name is going to do that. The troubling point was my excessive knowledge, I had hold until then for common culture. Conchi had thought herself obliged to warn me on the fact that it was not common at all. The better, I thought. If nobody knows about my mysterious ways to make things move and obtain information, nobody will have any strategy to fight against it. But, where did it come from? What kind of reality was it actually building up? Who shared this reality?

If Conchi did rely so blindly in my sayings, it was because at that moment, it was enough for me to say something in order for it to become true, and this very astonishing fact to her understanding was at the origin of her blind belief. I wouldn’t have been able to explain how this was happening, either, but it was true. I was telling her: “They will come and say …” And some time later they arrived and said exactly that and in such recurrent ways that it could not but strike Conchi’s usual perception of reality.

It was a fact that I had a very peculiar way of dealing with reality, thing I would have to deeply analyze in order to establish a bridge towards different and more common ways of structuring reality. But that I would deal with later. It was obvious that most of the hypothesis I was building up involving Kings and Queens and oppositions were logical devices I was already then constructing in order to attack there where I was the master: the unconscious. If Conchi was understanding these as projects that should become visible in reality she would be doing me nothing but a favour: people’s eyes would be concentrated in what they had in front and forget the rear. The realm of fantasy, of imagination, where fright arises and evidence, were it a fake one.

It was not easy, and that’s why it was interesting. Were it only a project ending up in a bet between Conchi and me, I would have in my mind the most difficult concept of all: the perfect realization of a structure that may perhaps show weaknesses in reality but did not or almost not in concept and it would be this concept I would have to be dealing with. Such a provocation for my bored mind. And if, yes, if, Conchi did finally not say anything to anyone, France would believe she did, and that, that was exactly what I was wanting.

The best of all. The fake doubling the fake in an unreal superposition of realities. Israel, you gave in to the challenge. You refuse the evidence? – They wouldn’t. Perhaps just because it would not be true. Such fun. The bow of an hypothesis stretching itself from 1992 to 2008 in the very midst of reality. Hmm. I wouldn’t have said no.

We went to the border and went through the grey zone. To our right a school building and the border control to our left and the border police told us not to continue. We asked our request to be listened to and we were said to wait as we maintained we were walking down to Jerusalem and that we were pilgrims under higher jurisdiction. After a while, a priest belonging to the UNO, in the Canadian section (honi soit qui mal y pense, was written on his shirt) was sent for deliberations and said, our task was difficult but that he would transmit to given authorities and that we would meet the other day.

The grey zone was a space of not a kilometer between both borders left exactly as it had been after the war between Turk and Greek, as latter having provoked things under the rule of Archiepiscope Macarios to the point, to force the Turkish intervention as there had been no respect of Turkish rights, – we were told.

A first volunteer to sanctify herself appeared at those moments, when we were still waiting for the priest’s answer. It was a woman of New Zealand whose name I have forgotten but may still be somewhere, a nurse living in England, I think in London, and who was on holidays thinking to return to New Zealand. This woman approached us while we were having coffee and had wondered what we were doing there as she didn’t know there were walking paths in the mountains in Cyprus. We laughed and told her to sit down and finally she admitted that she was really bored, that she had gone through the tenth book since she had arrived and wanted some conversation. We told her that we were in the middle of some discussion concerning the possible end of the world but that, please, she should accept an invitation to coffee in the evening.

And I told Conchi that I had a wicked project for this insolent person. Conchi asked whether it may not be some agent, yes, of Scotland Yard, I said, and laughed and said: “Look. I’m not going to drive myself crazy with hypothesis, I have enough of. I take people as they appear and people are what they are in function but also human beings and as it is someone who has contacted us as private person I will deal with her as such, and she won’t harm us, whatever she may have in mind, which I don’t want to get into.”

In fact the end of the world hypothesis that was dealt with at that moment was the fact that Gregory really dared falling on his knees to ask for a marriage, thing which I hadn’t been wanting to dare thinking and he was thoroughly shouted and scorned at, (a pleasure, I said) for a long while, the whole spraid with a large amount of insults in Spanish, German, English and even French. Not enough with this, he started trembling after a while and said he was very afraid because of the situation at the border and that we would all be killed and what he may do. This awoke again ten thousand violent reactions, like saying, how a coward may even pretend and dare asking for a woman’s hand, as I hoped he didn’t ask me for marriage as a man. He was said to leave at once and not to come back. To take his luggage and disappear. And there was a silence and I said: “And don’t come back, if you don’t have money.” He was sent back without a penny, and shall he beg around to others.

Conchi asked why I had said “to come back without money. Do you really want him to come back?” “Look, these are all tests. I told you, I hope he won’t dare arriving with such a proposal even ifyou tell him, he may. This is a sign. I tell him now, leave, and don’t come back without money. Another sign. And perhaps there will be others. I must tell you that I have learned a lot during this path, an enormous amount of wisdom coming from God and the people in their diversity, I have added to what I already had, many other tricks and stratagemes. I think I caught this in Hungary, around Pannonhalma, although I should verify not to attribute something vainly to whose it is not, although why not. What Gregory has is an evil spirit. An evil spirit may express itself in different ways depending on how strong the surrounding structures of understanding are. If these become weaker, the spirit, kept inside of these barriers, will express itself and have very evil consequences. I put marks of the kind: this barrier is not more, and do you do this? and, this other barrier is not more, and do you do that? And other in order to measure the depth of the possible evilness. I suspect something: that this spirit may get into a child, as it is tied now and may free itself this way. And this is what I want to know. If Gregory gets married and has children, it means there are possibly no barriers of protection anymore, and this means the situation in France will be of dispair and even worse, I may have to jump into the pit, into the shit and the dirt in order to rescue the child, if it is ever possible. “

Conchi asked why I didn’t avoid this now. “Because I don’t have the lines. Spirits are like logics, compounds in movement, you have to be able to think such wickedness and there are things you can’t dare without being sure you have highest protection. Everything has a good side. If this is true, I may catch the lines of paedophilia nets and organ traffic mafia, because their structure is this.” “And why don’t you tell the spirit to get away?” “Because I’m not paid for it, that’s why. You think Christ wasn’t paid for what he did? Not in money, but with some present or some invitation or some presence or favour here and there. If you knew how many of those spirits I’ve hunted ever since I was born, you would be surprised and the only thing people do is to spit on my face. No, thanks. It’s enough. You see Gregory all alone by himself and you say, how much may he harm? And I can tell you now that he may cause a world catastrophy because he’s destroying the membranes of concept and notions get dissolved like an aspirin in water. You don’t see it, it works from inside, it eats up ground slowly and slowly and this is why I brought him with me: to say to the nations, be horrified and take care, this is a spirit that comes at night and through soul, if you see it arriving take distances and wash your hands and close yourself into the deepest realm of your soul. But this warning will not reach France, because they haven’t answered to my request for paiment. And this means that things are bad in France. Already.”

I had started eating a little bit.

We met the woman from New Zealand at a café in the evening. We asked each other some polite questions, concerning the social security system in England and hospitals and nurses and responsibilities, private affairs and other matters she should not have answered to as a British, but she was in Cyprus and vaguely said, she had a boyfriend. After this exchange, where careful undertones were trying to determine how deep the understanding of other undertones may be, I told her I had a mission for her, and laughed. “A mission?” “You see, we’ve been through a hospital in Istanbul, a French Hospital hold by nuns.” She looked interested. “So?” “I think there are some valuable documents inside. Secret documents concerning the second world war. It would be interesting to know what they’re about.” “How do you know?” “A sister told me (but it was a lie). Made reference, I mean.” “That’s interesting. And how could I get there?” “Well, you play well the role of a desperate nurse on holidays, who wants to change her life and says, why not  a year as a volonteer and some mystic currents and blabla. You go there and you say, I want to talk to someone called Maria Teresa. They’re lacking of nurses, if I’m right they will fire soon another one. They will say: Oh, God’s will, just exactly at this moment a nurse from New Zealand arrives. You see, people are stupid. You say you come from Engalnd, you’ll never get inside. You say you com from New Zealand and they say, what’s that, some islands where coconuts grow, that’s all, no danger, bam, you get inside. It’s easy like that.” “And where are these papers?” “I think they may be in the secretariat. Like that, you see, like something nobody cares about, nobody gives importance to. As far as I know, they were brought by a priest from France in order to keep evidence, when time will change, of the justice of their decisions, but I think the army is behind.” “The nuns don’t know?” “Perhaps one of them. But they are silly, they have parameters to measure reality pending on how many rosaries you’ve been through in a day, even if they knew, they’d not know what its importance is. There are two Armenian working there, they may help. You are there, working, you say you’re alone, you want to have a coffee with the secretaries, and you stay there for a day or two, a week, and then you start looking at the man and he starts showing some interest, stays there after time at midday and days pass and you say, why don’t you go for a pizza? In the meantime you know the pizza shop is 15 minutes away walking, 10 minutes to wait at rush hour, 15 to come back, that makes 40 minutes to go through the papers. I have the agreement of the head in chief, Sor Juana, she knows about these papers but doesn’t know how to evaluate them. It will make space for you.” “And why doesn’t she take the papers herself?” “Because the hospital is under French jurisdiction and it seems to be an argument although it shouldn’t.” After having asked why those papers could be of such importance I told her that it was not that much – although – what had happened during second world war, but that it proved that their were people actively acting towards the justification of such facts, trying ti impose a way of seeing implying their possible justification, and this implied the Church.

She asked for a second coffee. And asked: “I have the choice?” “You do. Consider how dangerous it is before you take a decision. Let us drink a second coffee and you decide after.” “And what do I do with the papers?” “Send them to Scotland Yard. Reference: eskay.” “You have contacts in Scotland Yard?” And she was about to say something. “Psst.” I said. “Don’t tell me anything. Sometimes it is dangerous to think too loud.” “And why reference: eskay?” “In order not to involve you. SK are the capital letters of my full name. But write after your own name for the time medals and glories will be distributed.” “These are new methods,” she said. “Yes, directly imported from the Israeli Intelligence Service.” And laughed. I said: “I will write a letter to you to the address you will give to me, and ask if you didn’t have a beautiful stay at Lape and the kind and blabla and mystic inspirations and many Virgins, and if you answer saying, ‘it was not that nice, I don’t know what you saw there,’ blabla, I will know that you did as we had agreed. But it will take time to reveal these things and don’t expect less than 15 years.” “And why shall I give such a negative answer?” “Precisely. They will go through our letters and if there is a sign of a positive excitement they will suspect and this will put you in danger. I will answer and you will never ever answer to my letter and thus they will think, lost some other adept to the secte and will not research further.”

Conchi said then that I thought there was a terrible illness having started to develop itself. I cut her a little bit brusquely and said: “This is some preparation for the mental state you need in order to get there. Kind end of the world, some sipsi lurking around and everyone more or less terrified, nothing to do and so on.” “And what is this illness?” “Something that rottens the nervous system inside of the dorsal spine. Something that awakes all alone by itself, like a herpes, but not a virus, and veiled to the eye so that we can’t see it through microscope and the kind.” “And the cause?” “Cosmic radiation in interaction with a substance produced by some kind of rottenness transmitted by animals, well, not by animals, by the plastic covering meat.” “You think it was wrong to kill the cows?” “No. This is something different. To kill the cows was very intelligent. This other illness is produced – of the mad cows, I mean – by the giving to animals of organic substances, like powder made of bones and the kind in interaction with hormones and related.” “Possible contagion?” “At this moment, none. Only a determined psychic type, of whose many in France and Italy and a few less in Germany may be affected. But it may get worse and be transmitted through the eyes. As some kind of very low frequency.” “Effects?” “Shuttered understanding. The impression you have brilliant ideas without causality and producing psychotic crisis, and in the best of cases, deepest depression.” “Possible population involved?” “Millions. And can be more, mostly in Europe.” “Ways of healing?” “None, at this moment. This is why no publicity is given to it. What for? It finishes by affecting the organism producing a total collapse of the nervous system.” “Time of evolution (she said some other term).” “Depending on organisms and mental state. The healthier the structures are, the better. But computers are spreading an ill logic and it will fasten up the consequences.” “Can I know about that?” “No. Shall those affected find me when they’ll be in need. I proposed to them the solution at Sorbonne and they refused to accept its importance. Shall they carry the consequences now.”

And she accepted the proposal. Tests were made in order to know how much she would resist to an Armenian beauty and the coffee shop owner almost fell on her and invited her about 10 times to go home with her, but she very Britishly refused, which very much reassured us.

(This woman went finally to Lape and staid there for a month. She managed to introduce herself the way I had told her with some personal inspirations, Conchi had added, after having being asked if she had a mission, too. She received a letter of mine to which she answered as we had agreed, saying, she would add the information about the illness. The documents should thus be in Scotland Yard along with the given informatio, if she was not Russian after all.. I never saw her again.)

Being thus sure of the fact that our infiltration would succeed as not made by ourselves, we thanked the one of New Zealand with regards to the Queen, and the kind (Why the Queen? she asked, because New Zealand belongs to the Commonwealth.)

I went on to explain to Conchi some points on laws of probability and measures and she wanted to know, what the logical mistake was. “Ah, Conchi,” I said, “You’re very curious. This secret is worth millions. This is why I’m so furious. It is worth the life of many and this is millions in money if you have something in your hands that may avoid it.” “But you wrote it in your memoire.” “Don’t be silly. I wrote my memoire in presumptuous and high strung words, indicating that I was hiding away something that was worth a lot and I wouldn’t say. Do you really think, I’d written it like that? Knowing French? Without that I had already ten who wanted to steal it. Don’t be stupid. You write things some way and then someone arrives who understands your way of saying and you negotiate and may give some supplementary explanations. Logically, I would say. I’m not the kind of asking for millions for what I do, although I may, but I get furious when someone wants to deal with me saying what I have is of no value because women don’t think. Don’t you fuck them up? And this affects mainly men, and they will start crying after. And nobody cared but of stealing. No, dears, I’m sorry. I think the only one who understood was Shiri Tsur, another reason why I started this path. I hoped there would be someone there.” “You seem to have quite a confidence in Jews.” “There is one or the other with some brightness there, but don’t say too much, they get easily caught by presumption. But I have changed my plans, I have made my evaluations and it is nonsense.” “Why so?” “Because nowadays there is no relation between logic and health. This is worth something because it is related to health, to the most important thing for a human. These Jews are in some zyklon b2 and can’t sell themselves, either. They won’t keep the secret. Say, perhaps something good for satellites and computers and spread the illness or it is easily copied. And in a few years, they will have stopped bad side effects for the price of two olives. No, thanks. And it is not even good for computers, I think. It slowers the processes. The good does always slower the process but it keeps you alife. Evilness is very quick, always, but the effects are there, after.” Conchi really but really wanted to know what it was about. “But you won’t understand anything. It’s a symbolic logic, coded.” “Precisely,” she said. “As I don’t know.” “You’re becoming wicked, I remark. Good. As you really but really want to save the world, do the following. I write for you: (f thus v = v) = f & v thus v = v only and only if v is v. And when you’re going to ask for a duel and all the rest, you put this on the table and say, with great arrogance, ‘with this you save the world’ and leave with dignified airs. They’ll need some time to know what it is about and from symbolic logic to computer logic and then the transcription and when they’ll have arrived to know what it is all about, they’ll have spent so much money and such an effort that they will ask for millions for whatever derived.” “You’ll stay without your millions again.” “There are things you don’t ask money for, and though, sometimes. But you measure the appreciation of others for your work in dolars and in draxma or whatever there is. If you see, they say: ten pennies, you laugh and you leave and shall they die.”

Here arose the question of Russia, as Conchi asked why I did not send what we called after the magic formula, to them. I answered that I didn’t know Russia very well but that I was sure they had structures of understanding that were not strong enough for that purpose and that it was of course possible to give longer explanations but that I thought we were in some state of ‘heresy’. I added: “Russian people are very healthy but evaluate on grounds of soul. Soul is made on common belief. What has happened these days is for me a proof that something peculiar is going on that gets out of common belief and this means we have no common ground of understanding. It is meaningless. We have some common ground apparently with Turk, populations reaching as far as Pakistan, but they don’t have the formal patterns. Jews have good formal patterns and will react to those if you don’t make the mistake of making of the whole a mystic affaire. Russian are good to infiltrate the hospital. I will try to find the bridges to those. On top, I’ll have to ask from higher realms whether our peculiar ‘net’ has some deeper theoligical justification.” “The one of New Zealand is Russian?” “Must be Natasha’s cousin,” I laughed.

General overview of the path taken after Mersin. Taking the boat to Cyprus, we went walking to Lefkosa. From there, after 10 days stay, we took a bus back to the harbour at night and at night we left for Marmaris. The day after we took a boat from Marmaris to Rhodos, where we had to wait a few days. Then, we took the boat to Cyprus and from there, (at those times there was a direct line,) from Cyprus to Haifa. From Haifa to Jerusalem we went through the Carmel mountains and then straight up spending our last night in a Trappa monastery having a petrol station on the road. We arrived late at night to Jerusalem.

In Greece, Rhodos

2.2.93 Greece, Rhodos, Pierre Franzidis, 5 A odos Dragoumi

Path taken in Israel

4.02.93 Israel, Haifa, Katherina Fuchs, Filles de la Charité

5.02.93 Israel, Karmel

6.02.93 Kfar Quari, Masalha Kiram

8.02.93 Herzliyya

9.02.93 Resh Ahayin, kibboutz, illegible signature

10.02.93 Abbaye de Latroun, Pierre

11.02.93 Jerusalem, Maison d’Abraham, signature

We had been walking around Rhodos and the priest, lead us through little streets to orthodox churches and castles to older stories, where chevaliers were still terrifying the surroundings. We went to have coffee, the Turkish coffee they call Greek coffee in Greece and Cyprus coffee in Cyprus in some older taverns and learned a few Greek words as the one who had the restaurant where we used to eat our cottelets refused to bring us water if we didnt say ‘nero’, or meat if we didn’t say ‘mprizola’, and thus we learned also to say kalimera (good morning) and kalispera (good evening) and efxaristo (thank you). This way Conchi learned that her nickname, we had given to her, ‘kalimero’, from the cartoon where some little chicken is always walking around with an egg shell on his head, meant ‘good morning’. She had been given a second nick name by myself which was ‘cünkü’, meaning ‘because’ in Turkish. But she insisted in regaining her original name before arriving to Jerusalem. “Were it not that I arrive without identity to those places.”

Signature of Katherina Fuchs, Haifa

The day we were about to take the boat, there was a storm. The waters were crashing on the dock and there was questioning whether it would finally arrive to the harbor. Hours passed and finally we saw the boat arriving among the waves. We were a little bit nervous, perhaps afraid, as our goal was near and who knows how many denunciations concerning sultan parties and related would not land in the corresponding police office before we managed to leave.

I had decided to get quickly out of my prophetic delirium, effort which managed to draw Conchi and Oriol out of deepest waters, too. I thus concentrated in the reading of psalms and prophets, having as task to forget whatever we had been talking about and to leave it in the depth of my unconscious until the criteria of comparison to the other texts may be established. Conchi insisted though in this that I should continue pronouncing ‘judgements ‘ (sentencias o categóricas sentencias) as she liked them very much. She carefully noted down each of them.

I didn’t leave the boat when we arrived to Cyprus, and there were some hours to wait. And told to the others to be careful and not to end up in some high security prison. We were looking into the sea and up to the sky and the journey was long. Some night must have passed, but I was trembling because of the effort I was making to attach my consciousness to visible and touchable empirical facts and then, we were arriving and some kind of mystic aura was bathing our minds I didn’t want to get too much lost into.

We could see Haifa. The golden cupolas of a temple was to be seen from far. The boat was approaching slowly and there we were, the goal of all purposes, Israel. I was waiting for some sign that should confirm we had not gone completely lost in madness and was waiting and trying to repress correspondingly any expression of happiness. In Haifa we were lodged by the Hospital for handicapped children, belonging to the Filles de la Charité, thing we obtained after having shown stamps and seals of our stay in Lape. And we staid in a brick house at the entry that was empty. There were two Spanish sisters and the director, an Austrian called Katherine Fuchs. We were shown the hospital and of course I thought it would be a nice starting point for the second incursion to Lape and we said we would come back for Easter and that we hoped we may celebrate it together.

Signature of Palestinian in Kfar Quary

We left. We went up the mountains to Carmel and the monastery there closed the door saying they had no permission to receive guests and had no food. There was nothing in the whereabouts and we had no food with us. “Must be Jezabel’s prophets.” I commented, wickedly, and I informed everyone of the fact that Elie or Elisee, I always confused the names, had trapped here Jezabel’s false prophets with the sacrifice he had poured water on and that had though taken fire. We were laying at the entry as it was night and the next place was very far away, and a soldier had brought his girl friend to this place and was pointing with a sub machine gun to the sky.

We didn’t sleep very well. It was cold and we were hungry. We stood up very early in the morning and went down the hills. It was Saturday and there was a kibbutz about 15 km away. Bad luck, it was an orthodox kibbutz and people wouldn’t move from their chairs. After a while of negotiations and explaining our miserable situation and some careful reference to one or the other bibles’ passage we managed to convince them not only of giving us something to eat, as there were no shops, but also to sign our booklets although it was forbidden to use pens on Saturday.

As we were trying to cut from the coast towards Jerusalem in order to avoid the Tel Aviv-Jerusalem main road, we were getting into Palestinian territory. We were pushed back in the middle of hills and mountains by a UNO car, telling us that it was dangerous and that they would think we were Jews and throw stones on us. We though continued and this time we were persuaded by Palestinian to go further west in order to avoid trouble, what we did. We managed to assure ourselves the help of Israeli Palestinian who had some villages nearer to the coast, allowing us to avoid the main road. We would stay there for a week end.

We arrive to Herzliya and we didn’t even make the effort, seen the constructions, to search for shelter. A Jew who was selling something in the whereabouts, told us to stay in a commercial passage but to leave early in the morning. He asked for our opinion concerning the truth of a Messiah who seemed to be in the United States and I didn’t want to take a position. “What does he say himself?” I asked. “He will reveal when he dies.” “Well,” I said, “then wait for this moment.” 

It seemed impossible to avoid the Tel Aviv main road but we were walking inside of little paths crossing the quite fertile valley bordering the coast. It was raining, sometimes. We decided after some deliberations to cross the main road, – a danger! – in order to reach arrive to the side to the south of the road and thus get to a monastery of Trappa, that seemed to be there. We had to find a hole in the metallic fences which we finally managed to do after having sent expeditions to the right and to the left of the fence. Luckily there was not a lot of traffic although it seemed like a market square at peak time, to us, seen the little traffic we had seen ever since we had left Istanbul and that was more than three months ago. On top, we were very tired and a little bit terrified.

It was night when we arrived to a petrol station hold by a monk in his order clothes. We didn’t laugh, but almost. We asked whether we may stay at the monastery and he said it was a cloister where monks stay closed in for a life without getting in contact with the world. “You are outside,” I said. And he explained to us that he had the financial management of the petrol station. “It means though, there are exceptions.” He said he would phone to the monastery and after quite a long conversation, we were said we may stay a night. We arrive to a big building, staying a little bit outside of the main road,  40 km away from Jerusalem, exactly, as they pretended this was the place where Jesus had met two pupils after having come back from death. There were other places having these pretensions, about two or three, to the north of Jerusalem. We asked how many kilometers the others were away from Jerusalem and they said, “about ten or 15”. And I said, the most probable thing is that it was here, because they said that time passed very quickly and they were making an enormous amount of kilometers in very little time. Another time distortion effect, I said to Conchi.

They gave us something for dinner and something to drink even if we insisted in this that it was not necessary. We were given shelter in a meeting room, used often for celebrations and usually open to the public. We decided to launch a massive attack on Jerusalem and try arriving the day after. We would phone to the Maison d’Abraham, where we had assured ourselves a stay thanks to the information obtained in Lape although we had informed them in Haifa that we would arrive two days later.

It was almost raining, that day, again. Oriol forgot his rain cape in his excitement outside of the monastery and he found some traces of it having been eaten up by dogs in the morning. We hoped it wouldn’t rain. We were trying to cut through woods and mountains and got lost. We reached a river and there was no bridge or time to find it. As the others seemed reluctant to cross the river walking by just pulling the trousers up and taking the shoes in their hands, I crossed once and left my bag and my shoes and came back to take them across the river. Three of them, while Conchi, Gregory and someone else, looked for some other place where it would be easier to cross a little bit to the left, but it was worse and their clothes got wet.

We were getting up the mountain when it started to rain. I left my rain cape to Oriol and wouldn’t mind getting wet, just to arrive and I was very happy. We didn’t know where we were. We arrived to a place called En Kareim we could find on the map that helped to orientate ourselves. That was the place where Maria had been to visit her cousin Elisabeth when she had her son John.

We tried to phone to the Maison d’Abraham when we arrived to Jerusalem, but we didn’t know how to recognize a phone box and when we finally did, we didn’t have the corresponding coins. We finally managed to get some and told to the sisters that we were arriving. “But you were to arrive tomorrow,” they said. “We quickened up the process,” Oriol said. We crossed Jerusalem until the old town and passed through the Jaffa gate towards the other side of walls. Rows of soldiers were keeping the gates and we passed whistling towards the Palestinian side. The Maison d’Abraham was just behind the old cemetery, to the right, among the trees on a hill that was said, was the place where Salmon kept his 99 wifes, also called, ‘the mountain or hill of scandal’.

A sister received us at our arrival, coming out of the house and greeting us in the garden.

Signature of the Abbaye de Latroun and Jerusalem, Maison d’Abraham

“It was not a long path up from Haifa to Jerusalem and although it was raining that last day and Jerusalem looked like burning fire in the night, with all its red and orange lights bursting against darkness, some horrible evidence appeared that very day, and this was, that unable to understand what all these texts were about, I may better consider them as belonging to an identity than to a fleshless amount of bones, and this identity could be talked to were it in a not very precise way. I was horribly happy that day and this thought I considered as some kind of crown obtained from heaven’s after such an effort so that I wouldn’t care about night and rain.

Arriving to En Kareim it was already so dark that it became impossible to orientate oneself and I was obliged to ask where Jerusalem was, a somewhat stupid question as it was obvious that it was exactly above our heads.

My adversary was somewhere around in the whereabouts, hiding itself behind bushes and woods. I had just needed a few reminders of conversations in order to typify almost hypothetically some character corresponding to the coordinates ‘God’s belief is some trauma of childhood’ and Eymel Wardi said, after having invited me to coffee in a hotel in front of King David ‘That’s King David. Where the bomb attack happened to British headquarters.’ Which bomb attack, I said to myself, in complete lack of knowledge of such historical events. It didn’t matter: the tones obviously revealed that my adversary had some link to Hotel King David, which looked impressive enough, so as stopping from wanting to provoke a too frontal crash, at once.

My adversary was, it seemed, a woman, a little younger than myself, somewhere in the training at the intelligence service as from some to diamonds linked family, and not exactly Mossad, something starting with Bes or Sev or whatever. Probably, seen the kind of exposure she was able of, specialist in psychological torture and manipulation. (I don’t have to be kind with my adversaries.)”

From “Firework in Amaretto”, chapter 16

We had arrived.

If there is dispute.

According to information arrived to Ürgüp, Turkey, December 24th, 1992, claim without settlement persists, Jerusalem corresponds to the descendence of the Queen of Sabah, still alive in Pakistan.

In agreement with the same and having established conditions in Jerusalem, Israel, in February 2004, in right and having verified, I give back the Kingdom of Jerusalem to the Queen of Sabah, who may therefor claim tribute as established.

It is to say and to be said: that hers is the Kingdom whose possession of higher realms.

Having asked from the Sultan in Turkey to defend her pretensions, he agreed as it be said, she were a woman.

And help.

Hereby I request for myself the honor of management of that which would be corresponding and the counsel for Conchi Fernández, as agreed, inside of the Kingdom of Spain. And for the shield holder to continue his task, who is, Oriol Vilaseca, if it is of his liking. And no one else, except of who would be determined if there were agreement.

Jerusalem. Give in. You’re enclosed.

Were it you don’t know who at the origin of all walls, I remind you of agreements as given, written down, signed and recorded. Whose non respect would mean war.

Guard of Pakistan.

Walls of Iran and of Syria, of Lybanon and Morocco, walls of Algeria and Irak, walls of Arabia and those surrounding. Walls. Defend your right and what is of yours, as said.

Guard of the Empire and guards of Russia. Keep the rear.

And claim as follows:
Agreement has been signed that if I managed to enter Israel three times, by earth, by sea and by earth in the time of ten years, from then on, which witnessed by those who witnessed and who may prove, the Kingdom of Jerusalem would be handed over to me, and I’d have 5 years to claim. As it happened, for which I advance just entry 2 and entry 3 as hints, and if anyone may want to study those and others, shall he advance. If they pretended now, it had never happened, they will be considered liers because I have witness, who is, and shall they defend their position in war. Would it be for us who claim, to win, shall we stay and they leave, would it be for them who refuse the claim, to win, shall we leave and they stay and no further claim will ever be made.

And we will win because justice is on our side.

Three months are given to the Queen of Sabah from today and on, to claim back for what is hers, in the means there should. From me, to claim from them.

Should it not be of her desire to take what is hers, shall it remain in my hands until whose claims back, and dispositions, the same.

Shall each part determine his messengers. We, from our side, accept only, for us: Yusif, at Hotel King David, through the intermediate of England and from their side, Irit Gazit, from the same place. Whoever has to say, may he say to her, and she to him, and he, to us.

As no other claim as verified has been hold for true, no other is accepted and no other has agreement among those who presumably pretend to what is not theirs.

Whoever may ever again claim for what is not his as it is established as it is through highest signs, shall he or she be put to death, by  means that come from heaven. What is his, is his and he knows to defend and to keep.

This is today, July 30th 2008.

To whoever concerned, shall each advance.

Shall it be as it is of her desire,

And my titles,

copy of original, handed over to me by my father, Arne Kasten, son Elisabeth von Speth Schülzburg, descending in direct line from Freiherren von Speth, established such in the 13th century and then splitting into Baronen von Speth and von Speth Schülzburg, of who she one.