EVERYWHERE(at the same time) - 5 - Amman/Hanoi/Doula/Bogotá/Naples/LosAngeles

Now, I’m in Al-Balad, a downtown area in Amman, and at the same time, I’m in Hanoi, I’m in Duala, I’m Bogotá, I’m in Naples, and I’m in Los Angeles, now going through Santa Monica Boulevardi. But, back in Amman, still at the the so said al-Balad area, going along the Rainbow street, formerly known as Abu Bakr Al Siddiq Street, and, after a while, I’m in Hanoi again, this is, now going across the Long Bien bridge, and so, here now, we are actually five, mounting on tree bicycles only. And as it goes, I’m in Duala again, a major port city in Camarons, more precisely, a city in front of the Bight of Biafra, also known as the Bight of Bonny. And at the same time, I’m somewhere in Bogotá, the third-highest capital in South America after Quito and La Paz. And then, I’m in Naples, still going uphill, following along this cobblestone alley with several skewed buildings on both sides, some of them with their varandas half covered with different kinds of awnings, and others, showing an array of trinkets hanging from their balustrades, strange clothes, household appliances, wigs, etc. And then, again, I’m in Los Angeles, still going along the Santa Monica Boulevardi. And at the same time, I’m in Amman, now at the Jara Souk, some kind of street market with a panoply of handmade items, colourful ceramics and plastics, beaded jewelry, little jars with Disi Sandstone, the type of stone that the Petra temples were made of, local honey, and, between other things, books about old civilizations, like the Ammonites, the Moabites the Edomites... and paintings of royalty figures, like this one here now, this is, a big canvas of king Hussein bin Talal, Abdullah II(the current king) and Sadam Hussain, all side by side, drinking tea and eating biscuits. And then, further, I’m in Hanoi again, presently cycling along some sort of narrow avenue just on the side of the Red river, yes, that famouse river coming from China, and, thus, as before, we are five, following on tree bicycles only, this is, the two local guys riding on the front are actually riding a bicycle that have some kind of trunk on the back, a trunk covered with bamboo baskets and stuff, and me being the second, driving my own bicycle, also carrying some equipment, and then, on my back, there are the Russians, also mounting on one bicycle only, and, yeah, as it goes, I can say that this scene can look a bit ridiculous, coz, they are too big for that bicycle, and thus, there they come, meandering through the middle of the road, with their bodies intertwined, like if exercising some circus gimmick. And then, I’m in Duala again, the capital of Camerons, now advancing on the side of the Wouri river, and further, going more into the city, this is, now going across the Akwa neighborhoods, and so, I may say that, the traffic here is actually a mix old European/japanese cars from the eighties and some sort of motorcycles as well, this is, some of the drivers of those motorcycles are actually driving with one hand only, using the other to hold some sort of colorful umbrella over their heads, what should be some kind of moto-taxi, and then, as we go through, I come to pass a series of small supermarkets and small offices to receive money sent from external countries, like the ATL Money and the Money Grant, and some mechanic workshops working side by side with bakeries, this is, the black oil from those workshop spreading until the entrance of the breadshops, that also sells meat, and then, after some more deconstructed buildings covered by branches of the Moringa, also called the Drumstick tree, or the Benzoil, I get to know that the oil extracted from this tree is actually incorporated into cosmetics, in europe, not here, they say. And then, I’m in Bogotá again, now at the top of a mountain just on the side of the city. A mountain where is the “El Señor Caído - The Fallen Lord" monument, which, they say, rises around three thousand meters above the sea level. And then, I’m in Napolis again, this is, after having been walking through that cobblestone alleys with skewed buildings on both sides, some of them palatial, I got to a crossroad with an abandoned fountain and a broken saint statue on the top of it, I mean, now I can see that there is something covering the face of that saint. And well, as I'm getting closer and closer to it, now I can see that actually this saint has some kind of gorilla mask on his stony face... and then, after quenching my thirst on the so-said fontain, there I go, already mounting over the curved body of this saint, and then, yeah, as I reach his head, straight way, I’m quickly picking this gorilla mask and inserting it on my own face, and so, now, here I’m, I mean, through the eyes of this mask, I'm currently watching the roofs over the city, and further, that huge blackish mountains on the back of it, this is, the so-called Mount Vesuvius, an active volcano that already destroyed Pompei and can actually erupt at any time again… and so, as I think about that, I begin to hear some kind of laughs, hootings, boos, coming from… well, apparently coming from my back, and so, instantly, as I get down from this silly statue, there I go, already in the range of these human noises, and thus, while I advance, I’m actually beating my hand on my own chest, letting out some roars, this is, by now, I'm actually experimenting my new personality. And then I’m in Los Angeles again, more precisely, going along Sunset Boulevard where Elvis Presley once had a house, and then, I’m in Amman again, still at the Jara Souk, this is, by now, I’m actually experimenting some typical Jordanian food such as zaatar bread with fried shrimps and hummus, being Zatar, a Levantine culinary herb or a spicy mixture that includes toasted sesame seeds, dried sumac, basil, thyme, etc. And as it goes, I also try makdous, a dish of oil-cured aubergines and tangy eggplants stuffed with walnuts, red pepper, garlic, olive oil, etc. And then, I also try something African, because I end up at a stall with some guys from the Eritreia, and so, this man with a long orange beard with beads on it, named Isaias, he just offered me something he call Genfo, this is, a stiff porridge-like mixture of dark butter, red peppers, sunflower seed and Beles, some kind of cactus pear I already know from other north african countries. And then, I’m in Hanoi again, already going across the city centre now, the so-called Phố cổ Hà Nội, this is, before we were five, riding on three bicycles, but now, we are just three, riding on two bicycles, I mean, the two big russians have just disappeared in the middle of the traffic, and so, by now, it’s only me and the other two other local guy riding on the same bicycle, and then, as we reach the gardens around the “Hoan Kiem” lake we dismont, and in the meanwhile, my colleagues are already going through this gardens carrying wicker baskets loaded with staff like decorative paintings, bamboo miniatures, etc, this is, they are actually looking for clients that would buy their merchandise, and me, well, me, there I go, already moving to the entrance of the Cầu Thê Húc, this is, the Welcoming Morning Sunlight Bridge, where I will install my percussion set composed of bamboo instruments that I will play for the tourists and other visitors. And then I’m in Duala again, and, while following along the Boulevard de L’Unite, I actually meet someone that wants to buy my hair, and so, we discuss about it. And in the meanwhile, I’m back to Bogotá, and so, I go across Las Aguas, Vera Cruz and the Alameda neighborhoods. And then, I’m in Napolis again, I mean, I'm back to the top of that hill from where we can actually see the Mount Vesuvius, this is, by now, I’m at some kind of small plaza hidden in the middle of some decrepit buildings, and, I may say, there are some kind of nightlife here, this is, some people actually wandering in front of some kind of bars, nightclubs, and others, actually hanging through the small gardens in the middle of this plaza with beer bottles or plastic glasses in hand. And so, as I go through it, amidst all the giggles, whispers and whimpers, I even can hear tattered discussions about the existence of abominable beings; interjections of dubious connotations; lascivious looks topped off with weird pronunciations; stories about transgenic fairies and smart woodworms going through your body; stolen kisses; and then, I can even see some guys acually pissing in the middle of the bushes, and further, there are also some guys and girls lying on the central lawn, heads turned up, eyes staring at the closed sky, and others, going through them, spilling beer in their faces, telling all kinds of bullshits, and then, there I go too, still with that gorilla mask covering my face, now introducing myself loud and clear "Uha uha, ed io ho due amori (Uha uha, and I have two loves)... Uhu! Aha! Uhu! Aha!... che in nessun modo sono uguali (that in no way are the same)... Uhu Aha Uhu! Ma non sono sicuro (but I’m not sure!)... Uh! Ah! Ah! Se sono immaginari o irreali (if they are imaginary or unreal) Uhu aha! aaah!” I scream, while giving some punches on my chest, and then, I continue like this, "Ma non ne sono sicuro! (but I'm not sure!); “ahu! ahu! Che mi piace di più! ahu! ahu! Che mi piace deedee più!" (Which I like best) I say, still advancing through the central gardens, and then while passing on the side of two young dudes with studied beards, I hear one say “Relativity only exists with knowledge of the absolute, but...”, “But but!” I troll “the absolute or the relative... which one is the most... uhah uhaa”. And then, on the other side of those gardens, I also see, a couple of guys dressed in black actually dragging themselves across the lawn, apparently, looking for something they have just lost… and so, there I go, already doing some pirouette in the middle of them while punching my own chest saying, "Ma non sono sicuro.. ahu ahu… ma non ne sono affatto sicuro... (but I'm not sure, ahu ahu, but I’m not really sure) “dottore o ingegnere... yeah… doctor or engineer... quale sia più banale…” (doctor or engineer, yeah, doctor or engineer, which one is more trivial) I say, and then, there I go, already leaving those gardens, going across the road surrounding it, this is, currently approaching the entrance of some bars and nightclubs where there are more people hanging in small groups, still with my gorilla mask on. But, now, back to Hollywood, Los Angeles, this is, while following through some back streets I just met this guy that swears to have participated in the movie called The Sting, a movie that was shot almost fifty years ago, and so, I ask him what kind of movie is that after all, and, well, he tells me that this is a movie from the Caper genre, and well, I tell him that I don't know what that genre is, an so, he explains “the heist or caper genre is a subgenre of crime films focusing on the planning, execution, and aftermath of a significant robbery”, and, after he have explained me some of the scenes he have done in that film, he even wants to show me where the movie was actually shot, and so, straight way, he orders a taxi, and there we go, already advancing through the Hollywood Freeway. And then I’m in Amman again, still at the Jara Souk, now talking with this man from Eritrea, this one that offered me that porridge-like thing, and so, presently he is actually explaining me about the war in his country, this is, “from sixties until the nineties, Eritrea fought a thirty-year war of independence against Ethiopia, and then, after the end of the war, they still couldn’t agree about where to demark the border between the two countries, this because they keep looking back to colonial-era treaties between the Italian Empire and Ethiopia, and in this view, the one who always ends up losing is Eritrea” he says. And then, I’m back in Hanoi, this is, by now I'm at the entrance of the Cầu Thê Húc, I mean, at the entrance of certain pedestrian bridge over the “Hoan Kiem” lake, a lake situated on the old quartier of the city, and so, yeah, I’m busking here, I mean, I have my percussion set already installed here on the floor, just before the bridge, and I may say, a set actually composed of a Dàn Bầu, some tibetan bowls, some wooden boxes of different sizes, and a t'rung, that is some kind of traditional bamboo style xylophone, and, I’m actually playing on all this at the same time, and, as it goes, some locals give money, some tourists take fotos, others make questions about my identity, and well, I say that I’m actually Thai, Japanese, Malaysian, Russian, etc, and, I even fake some japanese accent, etc, this is, the important is to keep playing. And then, I’m in Duala again, this is, I have just reached the Rond Point Deido, where is the most famous and emblematic artwork of Douala, a majestic twelve meters tall sculpture made of different kinds of scrap metal, this is, a sculpture depicting an iron man made of different kinds of screws and stuff, one leg raised, one hand over his eyes, like if trying to see beyond, and some kind of ball over his head, a sculpture that, despite its formality, is still often nicknamed the Njo Njo of Deido, this is, the evil monster of Deido, I get to know. And then, I’m back in Bogotá, this is, at the Parque Bicentenário I meet a guy from Muisca ethnicity, an ethnicy whom prior to the arrival of Columbus have actually settled in the valleys and fertile highlands of the Altiplano Cundiboyacense (modern-day departments of Cundinamarca and Boyacá and small parts of Santander), and, was actually one of the great civilizations in the Americas. And plus, I also get to know that, the agriculture and salt-based society of this people was actually rich in goldworking, trade and mummification, and, their religion consisted of various gods, mostly related to natural phenomena as the Sun (Sué) and his wife, the Moon (Chía), rain (Chibchacum), rainbow (Cuchavira), feasting (Nencatacoa) and wisdom (Bochica). And then, I’m in Naples again, still at this piazza from where we can have glimpses over the Mount Vesuvius, this is, I’m now standing on the sidewalk in front of the entrance of one of those bar/taverns, and so, here on the side there is some green-haired young man playing the guitar in a fast and awkward style while singing something like “diffondi tua merda, diffondi tua merda, prima che ci si impantani diffondi tua merda, ovunque tu vada diffondi la tua merda, diffondi tua propria merda”, what means something like “spread your shit, spread your shit, before you get bogged down on it, wherever you go, spread your shit, spread your own shit…” and as he say this things, here I’m, here I’m, standing on his side, giving some punches on my own chest, and then “non mangio pasticcini, non mangiamo più pasticcini, a noi non frega vostre leggi puzzolenti…” he keeps saying, and as he sings this, I’m already entering one of the bars on our back, still with my my gorilla mask on, and well, after some more punches on the chest, there I go, already trying my luck, “Utsh-Utsh-utsh, per favore, fare l'elemosina al gorilla - Utsh-Utsh-utsh please, give some alms for the gorilla” I scream, and well, as I say this things I’m getting some attention, this is, some people are actually turning to me, and so, now, I must continue, “compiacere, per favore, fare l'elemosina al gorilla che ha anche il diritto di amare, ma come può farlo con la bocca asciutta? come può farlo eh? Fai l'elemosina al gorilla, compiacere - please, give some alms to the gorilla, please, who also has the right to love, but, how can he do that with a dry mouth like this, how” I say as I go through the insides of the bar, and then, coming from the side of the balcony, I actually can hear something like “torna allo zoo, cagnolina, girati e vai a cagare al cimitero, pipistrello - come back to the zoo you doggy, turn around and go to shit in the graveyard, you bat” and then, “ma dove vieni, faccia da mucca - but, from where are you coming you cow face!” someone comments, and, despite these comments, I may continue, thus, “fate l'elemosina ai gorilla, che ha bisogno di monete per recuperare la sua condizione umana - give some alms to the gorilla, that is in need of coins to recover its human condition”, I say, and well, despite cheering up the crowd, acually, I’m not being very successful in my requests, and so, before I turn around, the establishment's security man is already coming within my reach, saying "Non puoi essere qui mascherato, e non puoi essere qui anche a chiedere soldi! - You can't be here masked, and also, you can’t be here asking money”, and, well, as I hear this, straight way I even say, "Non posso essere qui mascherato tanto quanto tu non puoi essere qui con un beccuccio - I can't be here masked as much as you also can’t be here with a nozzle on your mouth”, and, as I say this, now, paff, I’m already receiving one punch, two punches, and then, my mask falls on the floor, and there I go, already crawling in between the legs of all those people, trying to recover my mask, and, as it goes, I receive one more kick from here, one more pnch from there, and then, as this happens, the punks that were outside at the entrance, by now, are actually coming in to defend the gorilla, myself, and well, those who were playing snooker in the back, by now, are actually coming armed with their sticks against the punks, and in the meanwhile, there are chairs and tables flying around the establishment, and then, while I run into the toilet someone turns up the volume of the music, which the lyrics say more and less like this, “Quando cammino per strada (when I walk down the street) / Tutti mi guardano (everybody looks at me) / Sembra che vogliano mangiarmi (and it looks like they want to eat me) / E questa merda non finisce mai (and this shit never stops) / E quando accendo la televisione (and when I turn on the TV) / Tutti parlano di problemi nazionali (all them talking about the national problems) / Niente può essere risolto (nothing can be solved) / Loro sono animali (for that they are animals) / Sono animali (they are animals)... And then, I'm back in Los Angeles, this is, me and Oliver, this ex-actor on a loan that I have met in the hollywood neighborhood, and so, as it goes, the taxi leaves us at the entrance of the Skid Row area, this because, as said before, Oliver wants to show me some of the locals where that movie he participated (the sting) was actually shot. and thus, here we go, currently hitting the crossroad between the San Pedro street and the 5th street, and so, yeah, we are actually in the heart of the SkidRow by now, and, well, as you may imagine, there are many tents installed here along the sidewalks, and thus, as it goes, a bunch of shabby people are actually dwelling around those tents, yelling nonsense stuff to the passersby, and, in the meanwhile, as we pass in front of this group of tents, there is this guy dressed as Elvis, actually pointing some sort of plastic gun into us, and then, as he makes this sounds like if the gun was actually shotting, my mate tells me, just now, “you see, it was there… I mean, one of the main scenes from that movie I told you about it was shot there, you see...” he says while pointing up at the windows of some kind of decrepit building with a front lettering actually saying “Panama Hotel”.

EVERYWHERE(at the same time) - 6 - Alqahirah-Paris-CapeTown-PuntaArenas-Harare-Melbourne

Now, I’m in Zamalek, Alqahirah, Egypt, a man-made island on the Nile river, and at the same time, I’m in Paris, I’m in Cape Town, I’m in Punta Arenas, I’m in Harare and I’m in central Melbourne, more precisely at the Docklands area. And, as it goes, I’m back in Zamalek, Alqahirah, and thus, here I’m at some kind of pier by the Nile river, this is, by now I must go around and find clients to get aboard the feluccas, this is, recreational boats used to transport tourists for perambulations up and down the Nile. And then, I’m Paris again, currently going up the big stairs in front of the Montmartre cathedral, and say, from the top of this emblematic staircase it is possible to see almost two quarters of all the city roofs, thus, well, tourists and tourists suckers of many types and shapes, here ere are coming, onto this podium, I mean, not only the paunchy americans and the chinese photographers, but also, the so called low-budget travelers, backpackers, night-goers of all kinds, some still attracted by that idea of Paris city of dead romantic artists, I mean, the surrealist movement finished decades ago, but, the sons of the Maghreb migrants are coming to replace it, this is, here they are, already arriving  through the side alleys of this stars, inside sportive cars, like in the movies, and as they stop-by, all the doors from their cars are actually being open, and so, a huge hashish smell is arising accompanied by hip-hop beats with arabesque melodies, and then, we also see some naked legs, this is, fashionable ladies are also coming out from these cars, like in the movies, and then, white youngsters that were at the bottom of the stairs, are approaching these cars as well, and, as they approach it, they are already doing some kind of waddle, like imitating the moves of the maghrebins, And then I’m in Cape Town again, more precisely going through the Khayelitsha, a slum village that extends from the suburbs of the city itself until the dunes, by the seacoast. And at the same time, I’m in Punta Arenas, historically known as Sandy Point, the capital city of Chile's southernmost region, Magallanes and Antartica, located on the Brunswick Peninsula, a peninsula almost on the extreme southern point of the American continent. And I’m in Harare, now following aboard a minivan, along the airport road, going in the direction of the city center, and, as we advance, I’m learning about the Ndebele and the Kalanga and the Tonga and the Shangaan and the Venda, etc. And as it goes, in a while, I’m back in Melbourne, this is, now advancing along La Trobe, a street that passes over all the tracks from the Southern Cross station, a main station in this city, and so, here I am, stopped, staring at the tracks down there, and the trains coming over it. And then I’m in  Cairo again, already entering a felucca, this is, some sort of recreational boat already loaded with small group of tourists me and the boys picked up in the streets and alleys around the main hotels of this Zamalek inland, I mean, hotels like the Om Kolthom, the Nile Zamalek, the New President, the Flamenco Cairo, the New Star Zamalek, the Cairo Marriott Hotel, the Nile El Gezirah, the Hilton Cairo etc. And so, already departing, the tourists seated around in wooden benches, Amon, the capitan, driving the engines there at the front, Menes and Yussef, the cadets, walking through the deck, spreading portfolios about this trip, and me, the public relations officer, answering silly questions from the tourists, this while tempestuous Arabic pop music is blasting from the cockpit, making people impatient. And thus, as it goes, at some point, an Italian couple is already asking me in bad English, how many stops we will make along this trip, and I, well, in a mix of Italian, Spanish and English, say “It depends… the first one will be already on the next Inland just five, ten minutes from here, at the Manial Al Rawdah inland, I mean, there we will visit the Prince Mohamed Ali Palace and the Umm Kulthum Museum, and then, further, on the Giza side we will visit the Pharaonic Village, a thematic park showing five thousand years of Egyptian history, and… some of the attractions of this park will be… the Tomb of Tutankhamun, the Mummification Museum, a Cleopatra's Exhibition, a Coptic exhibition and the Nubia's History Museum, and then… we will visit the Dahab Island Palace and at some point we will probably stop on this or that cafe of this or that inland to come, depending on the captain’s mood. And, as I say this, a japanese tourist asks me if there are or there are not crocodiles to see in this river to see, and “well” I say “ if you really wanna see the Nile crocodiles, you should go further south, and get on the next boat that will take you to the border with Sudan”. And as I say this, a couple of Americans are already asking “aren’t we visiting any pyramids on this trip?”, “No” I say, “there are no pyramids on the banks on the Nile, the closest pyramids to see are in Giza mainland… for that you should get off at Abbas bridge and take a minibus or a taxi there… I mean, it isn't too far, only about ten miles from this bridge I just said, and, you may go walking, as well… it’s a nice walk…” and then some British guy also says, “so this is not taking us to Luxor, I thought we were going to Luxor or Aswan, one of the guys that recruited me on the hotel told me we would go to such places…”; “no, we are not going that south, that is about five hundred miles from here, we never told you we are going to Luxor, the boys may have told you we are going to visit the Luxor gardens, here in Cairo’s metropolitan area, if you wanna take another boat to Luxor they can help you with tickets and connections…” And then some other guys from Saudi Arabia just ask a few other questions more, but, as I couldn’t understand their arab pronunciation at all, I had to call the boys, Menes and Yussef. And then, here I’m, in Paris again, by now going down the stairways on the side of the Montmartre funicular, and, as I go down, I find some rickety musicians here, playing across, busking, this is, one is playing a very untuned sort of violin and the other is just blowing on a fat tube made of cardboard, using it as some kind of didgeridoo, and as I pass by on their side, I try to sing along with them, but instantly they send me away, and, then, as I keep going down, I pass two other guys just wandering up and down this staircases, this is, they are actually picking abandoned drinks here left, one wearing a Pokémon’s t-shirt, and the other, a semi-chubby guy with shaved head and a tricky kind of smile. And yeah, as we exchange some words, I already can understand that they must be Romanians or Hungarians, something like that, and as it goes, they even want share some of their recycled drinks with me… and, as I continue, further down, almost at the bottom of this stairs, I find this girl sitting alone with some kind of cloth in front of her, actually an apron filled up with different kind of stones, some vulgar some semi-exotic, and also some pieces of broken jewelry in the middle of it”, and yeah, here I stand. And now, back in Cape Town, this is, I have walked from Monwabisi Beach to Gordon's Bay, from where we can already catch sight of a series of craggy rocks, more like crocodile tails entering the water, and further, there are this swirling breezes moving around, more like a… a flock of miniature birds, or, some sort of typhoons disappearing into the sky. And then, after the breeze has passed, there in dunes, I catch sight of some sort of a wrecked ship, stranded between the rocks and the mounds of sand, this is, from here I already can envisage that it has some kind of round windows all around, like a submarine, and the roof is actually covered with enormous sails and other sorts of junk all bouncing and tinkling together… And then, I’m back in Punta Arenas, now going through Plaza Muñoz Gamero, a small, green sallow square with the statue of Ferdinand Magellan in the middle, being Magellan, or Magallanes, or Magalhães, a Portuguese/Spanish seaman, that, it is said, the responsible he was for having planned and led the first circumnavigation of the globe, despite having perished shortly after his passage through these lands, eaten by natives of the Philippine Islands. And so, back to Harare, now walking through the city center, I pass the posh neighborhoods of Eastlea North, Newlands, Gunhill, and then I see myself on the crossroad between Churchill ave. and Borrowdale ave. where I meet a small group of chubby middle aged ladies with the Zimbabwe flag over their backs and some containers in their hands, and as the cars, mainly jeeps, stop by on this crossroad, they move to their windows offering their goods, a mix of ready male meals, american brand drinks, decoration stuff for the cars and even some cosmetics, I get to see,  when I pass by on their side and they offered me something to soften my skin and make my muscles grow. And then, I’m Melbourne again, now walking along Collins Street, a major street in the central business district, a street named after Lieutenant-Governor of Tasmania, David Collins, who led a group of settlers in establishing a short-lived settlement at Sullivan Bay in Sorrento. And then, I’m Alqahirah again, this is, by now we just moored on the banks of the Manial al-Rawdah inland, known in Antiquity as Babylonian Island, a small inland on the Nile river, still part of the Cairo’s old city, the so called Miṣr al-Qadīma, and thus, after we have visited the Nilometer monument, that is said to be one of the oldest structure built after the Arab conquest (20 AH/640 AD), we moved to the opposite extreme of the Island, where we went to visit the Prince Muhammad Ali Palace was built in the island's that survives in its original form, we moved to  Prince Mohamed Ali Palace, a palace whose construction was ordered by Mohammed Ali Tewfik, the Ottoman heir presumptive of Egypt and Sudan in the periods 1892–1899 and 1936–1952. A palace featuring a blend of various Islamic art styles, including Fatimid, Mamluk, Ottoman, Andalusian, Persian, and Levantine influences. It comprises three main structures: the Reception hall (Selamlik), a the Residence Palace (Haramlik), and the Throne Palace. Additionally, the complex includes a mosque, a hunting museum, and a clock tower, resembling the Kutubiyya mosque of Marraquech, all surrounded by gardens that host a rare collection of trees and plants, a mish-mash of gnarling banyan groves, cedar groves, palm trees, and manicured lawns… And I’m in Paris again, now advancing through the streets with my gang, this is, accompanied by the musicians I found busking on the top of the Funicular stairs, the guys that were actually picking abandoned drinks on the side benches of this stairs, and that girl that was selling stones at the bottom of these same stairs. Thus, together we go up the Blvd Marguerite de Rochechouart, and the Blvd de la Chappelle, passing in front of a series of sex-shops, bakeries, barbers etc. with their roller shutters pushed down, shutters graffitied with different kind of tags saying things like “Awa Hype”; “Banana Hypoo” “Sex, Crocodiles & Hipnosis”; “Je ne sais pas quoi”; “Vive la fièvre jaune”; “Haute couture made in Bamako”; “Le Bon Shit”; etc, and then, as we reach the Barbès Rochechouart metro entrance, there are piles of mushy fruits and other stuff piled on the sidewalks, under the rail tracks, and so, as we pass by it, Nadja is already producing a couple of plastic bags and there she goes, rummaging through those fruit piles, choosing the best ones, this is, filling her plastic bags, and then, further, still under those same rail tracks, there are also other piles of different stuff, things like, broken furniture, plastic wares, miscellaneous trash, and even some lacy underwear on the top of it, and so, there they go, the boys now, already picking up some of this underwear, blowing on them, making the species flow around, and then, even dressing it on the top of their clothes while following each other. AndI’m in Cape Town again, I have reached that wrecked kind of ship thing and managed to meet some dwellers. Names like Luan, Mieke, Amahle, David, Michael and Annika have come into the air. And, it looks, they are all into some sort of radical recycling environmentalism. Plus, they say that the submarine, this wrecked kind of ship into a hostel converted, is a project by some of the ex-residents of the Johannesburg Cape Town favelas,  plus some outsiders, from the savanna, and as it goes they give me the invitation to get in. So, here we go now, already advancing through the cracks of light coming off the gaps between the sails on the ceiling, cracks of light that are actually producing drawings on the skin of our semi-nude bodies, as we advance. And so, while moving around, I can see those wavy wooden walls, covered with what we can call as fauvist paintings, and also I take a look at some black and white photos by the rack, of what I think to be figures of old pirates, males and females with thin mustaches and strange beards… and now walking over to look closer some of those faces, staring at the photo of a black woman with a thin mustache and a minuscule captain hat laying a bit on the side… and then, while looking at that, someone explains me that “here on the ground floor it’s where our rooms are, this is, the residents’ rooms… and there, on the first floor it’s the communal area where there are also some rooms for guests…” and so, up we go, already advancing through some spiral stairs. And then I’m in Punta Arenas again, still here by the Ferdinand Magellan statue, this is, I just met some people from croatian offspring and by now, they tell me that the fathers of the fathers of their grandfathers frt came here to settle on the so called “Tierra del Fuego”, that is the southern province of South America itself, this is, they came here attracted by "the gold fever", after the discovery of gold on the island of Lenox. And then I’m in Harare again, actually going up the Borrowdale ave., the main road crossing, Borrowdale, a rich residential suburb in the northeast part of Harare. And as I follow on the road side of this avenue, I see many brand new villas, and others still in construction, and also a bunch of outdoors announcing a range of cosmetic products, building companies, sunglasses, toilet furniture, and bank loans that will give you free medical care for you and for your pets. And then, back to the Collins Street, in Melbourne, a street that goes across all this central part of the city, therefore, by now, I’m actually passing in front of the Café Eurasia, where I see a lady in a knee-length skirt actually massaging her ankle, and as she does that, her glasses actually fall on the floor, and then, there I go, this is, after the entrance to the Melbourne SkyHigh Apartments, I pass the Daniel's Donuts shop, the Breadtops bakery, the Miss Siam Thai ice creams, the Adoria Jewels, the Rockit Barber Shop, the Pulo Pool Parlour, the Mercedes me Store Melbourne and finally the M.J. Bale, a men's clothing store, just on the side of the InterContinental hotel, actually a building with some sort of neo-gothic architecture, and so, here I stay, watching the people getting in and getting out of this hotel. Back in El Cairo, still aboard this recreational felucca, after passing on the side of the Jazīrat al Qurşāyah, we disembark on the Giza bank this time, in front of the entrance to the Pharaonic Village, some sort of Disneyland made in Egypt, a thematic park showing five thousand years of Egyptian history, composed by a Mummification Museum, a Cleopatra's Exhibition, the Nubia's History Museum, and so on. And then I’m in Paris again, still accompanied by my gang, we pass the surroundings of the two big rail stations, Gare du Nord and Gare du Lest, where some other homeless guys dwell during the night, we go across the Saint Martin canal, where we recycle some more stuff, and then we go down the Boulevard de la Villette  carrying a lot of bags, some furniture items, and, as we go, we have to make a lot of stops here and there for resting and for rearranging the position of the staff we are actually carrying on our backs.  And then I’m in Cape Town again, at the top deck of that wrecked ship converted into a hostel, under the tinkling sails, I got to Know James and Magda, he from Australia and she from Ireland, both well traveled. And as it goes, he is already telling me that “I have traveled the world in order to watch, discover, and experiment peculiar sorts of rocks” and she “I have traveled the world in order to watch peculiar sorts of flora”. So, he is, let’s say, a do-it-yourself petrologist, and she, a do-it-yourself botanist, let’s put it like that. So, they would recount their stories about traveling the world. Just now, James begins by saying that “I ended up here because I wanted to see the Karoo area, where many kinds of crystals like the garnet, the topaz, the tourmaline, the rose quartz, or the aquamarine can be found. And she would follow “here I came to wander through the Bushveld areas and look for particular kinds of aloes and mesembryanthemums… plus the Crassulas, a genus of succulent, and the euphorbias, the stapelias, the desert ephemerals and of course, the different kinds of proteas…”, and by its turn, James is already enumerating the places where he has seen some spectacular rock and mineral formations worldwide, places like the “Giant’s Causeway in Northern Ireland, the Moeraki Boulders in New Zealand, the White Desert of Egypt, the Reed Flute Cave in the Guangxi Province of China, the inlets of the “Mono Lake” of California or the Devil Towers of Wyoming, also in the United States”. Then, he tells us about the “Cave of the Crystals” in Naica, Mexico and the “Door To Hell” in Turkmenistan; the “Chocolate Hills” in Philippines; the “Salar de Uyuni” in Bolivia; the “Stone Forest” in China; the “Fairy Chimneys” in Turkey; the “Jeita Grotto” in Lebanon; the “Yellowstone'' also in the United States; the “Eye of the Sahara” in Mauritania; the “World of Ice Giants” in Austria, the “Babene” in Romania, etc. And so, after hearing all these names, she doesn't make it for less, and there she goes, also listing places she has been only to watch some miraculous flora. Starting with the “Corpse Flowers” in Indonesia; the “Dragon Arum'' in Creta and other Greek islands: the “Giant Water Lily” in the Amazonian forest of Brazil. The “Elephant-Foot Yam” that can be found in Papua New Guinea, Australia and Madagascar; the “Welwitschia Mirabilis” one of her favorite plants, that can be found in West Africa, mainly Namibia and Angola; the “Marble Queen” from Sri Lanka, and the “Nepenthes”, a carnivorous plant from Indonesia, Brunei and Malaysia that looks just like a pitcher, also called monkey cups coz monkeys often drink their stored water. And then she tells us about the Cape Sundew, that can actually be found here in South Africa, “it has strap-like leaves” she says, “tentacles that capture glistening dewdrops which entices insects… a hardy carnivorous plant, used to treat a range of ailments, everything from warts and sunburn to tuberculosis, coughs, and syphilis.” And then, she comes with the “Hammer Orchid, scientific name Drakaea, a kind of orchid that also can be found in my hometown in south-west Australia… but here, in this precious country, is one of strangest flowers I have heard  about… common named “African Starfish Flower” or “Stapelia Lepida”, that is a big pink flower with a foul smell” she says, “so much foul smell that it’s known locally as carrion flower, this is, it smells like rotting meat, and also has a coloration and hairs that actually look like a decaying animal… also called toad plant, or starfish cactus, although it is not related to cacti at all, and unfortunately, this is a threatened species that has been compromised to degraded habitats, and a prey for the collectors of eccentricities… plus, the Zulus has been using it as a remedy for hysteria...”; “and do you think that it works?” James asks. “Some kind of reaction it may cause” she says, “coz it has been used in Swaziland by sorcerers as a poison for killing… and so, it’s said that the habitat of this plant is in the east part of the country, close to Eswatini and the border with Mozambique, and I wanna go there…  And then I’m in Punta Arenas again, still talking with this people from croatian offspring, I’m telling them about my trip through the Balkan area, this is, how I was arrested in south Serbia, because I had a stamp from the Kosovar republic in my passport, they they would tell me that I should not have that stamp in my passport, coz that country doesn't actually exist. And so, back to Harare, again at Borrowdale, here wandering through some occupied gardens in the middle of some posh European style buildings, where there are people squatting in informal settlements, living in small houses made of bulrush, with whom I stay. And then, I’m in Melbourne again, this is, after following along the Collins Street, I have just reached the Fitzroy Gardens, some public gardens located on the southeastern edge of the city centre district, and so, while wandering under some Bunya Bunya Pine trees, I get to know Krishna and Malee, he is Chinese, she is Thai, and as it goes, after a small conversion about Thai and Hindi cinema, they are already inviting me to accompany them to their small restaurante, located on the next neighbourhood, just after this park. what I accept. And then, I’m in Cairo again, now mooring at the Maadi Island, this is, once more, a thing made for the tourists, thus, on this island there are three sections, being the first, a rural section, which is predominantly popular, with carts of beans, koshary, and restaurants with open ovens on the front.. The second section is Italian, and it serves all Italian dishes, including sweets, meals and drinks, and is characterized by green spaces in the style of the Italian countryside, I mean, there are a couple of nerium oleanders here, a shrub commonly known as rosebay, a thing typically associated with Italy, but, in fact, I got to know, in the Sinai desert this plant is widely used in traditional Bedouin medicine to treat… and then there is the third section in this island, I mean, the Chinese section, designed on the basis of the Chinese style, with a bunch of restaurants displaying various Chinese and Asian dishes, chinese traditional music being played in the middle of the plastic gardens. And so, as the gardens melt, by now, I’m back in Paris, still with my gang, this is, by now we are actually entering a narrow building in the Belleville neighborhood, and so, as we go up the stairs, we are actually carrying all those bags and  furniture items that we are bringing from the streets, and so, while we do it, we are actually producing some inevitable noises as our stuff beats against the surrounding walls or against the hand-rails, and so, as it goes, we can then hear some voices, this is, some individuals inside their flats are actually protesting because of those noises we are producing, but as seen as we reach the top floor, these voices extinguish. Back to False Bay, Cape Town, as I get out of the submarine, I meet a group of guys that have just arrived in a convoy of caravans and big trucks, mainly Germans accompanied by some African ladies. So, as I get in touch with some of them, I get to know that they came driving all the way from Europe until here, and more I get to know that, they brought big sound-systems with them all the way, and so, along their journey they have been throwing free rave parties here and there, “in the outskirts of big cities, in the prairies, in the desert and in the savanna” one says. Plus, they say that have crossed “all middle east from Turkey until Egypt”, and once in Cairo they “have participated in the development of the so-called new wave of Shaabi music, also referred as Electro Shaabi or Mahraganat…” and then they came to Ethiopia, “where we have also participated in the “Ethiopiyawi Scene”, and we have made some good friends up there, one is here, his name Abai, he plays the krar, a kind of bowl-shaped lyre and the washint, a long flute similar to the middle eastern Ney”. And so, as it goes, other German guy continues saying that, “after Ethiopia the caravan followed to Somalia, where some members from the the caravan got sick, nevertheless, the trip continued through Kenya and Uganda, where we have also stopped for a while, collaboration with the local Nyabinghi drummers, and then we have crossed into Rwanda and Burundi where one of the members of the caravan got kidnapped but once more, we continued… following in the direction of the congo river, we roamed west, and arrived in Brazzaville, the capital of the Congo Republique, and Kinshasa that is the capital of Democratic Republic of the Congo and then, between this two countries, we got into some political problems, things related with visas etc, and while we managed to sort the issue, we arranged with a group of dancers to travel with us further, and so, here they are…” the guy says while nodding to that group of dark skin girls now by the entrance of the submarine hostel, socializing with the locals. And then, I’m in Punta Arenas again, now walking along Avenida Independencia just passing on the side of the Bernardo O'Higgins Riquelme Statue, that was the Chilean independence leader who freed Chile from Spanish rule, actually a wealthy landowner of Basque-Spanish and Irish ancestry, I instantly got to know. Back in Harare, here I stay, on the side of some small houses made of bulrush, with whom I stay, under a Mtukutu tree, here eating monkey bread and drinking Kachasu, also known as tototo or nipa, a kind of local alcoholic spirit, this while speaking with some Goffals, I mean, persons of mixed race: Shona, Ndebele, Bemba, Fengu, British, Afrikaner, Cape Coloured, Cape Malay, Portuguese, Greek, Goan, and even Indian descent. And then I’m in Melbourne again, Richmond area, this is, I’m actually inside this small restaurant owned by this Hindi Man and this Thai woman that rescued me at the Fitzroy Gardens, and so, by now, while she cuts some phak kat khao, some sort of chinese cabbages, and he prepares the Kashmiri pulao, a traditional Kashmiri rice dish that includes ghee, fried almonds, cashews and raisins, we are actually talking about Richard Parker, the bengal tiger portrayed in the movie Life of Pi. And, as it goes, I'm back in Cairo, but, by now, I’m no more woking for that recreational boat transporting tourists up and down the Nile, this is, by now, I’m at the Qarafa, also called City of the Dead, or Cairo Necropolis, on the Mokattam Hills, an area that is composed by a series of vast Islamic-era necropolises and cemeteries, plus some parcels of slums in the middle of these cemeteries, and so, as I dwell around here, I get to know that, since the old times, many people came from the rural lands of Egypt to exercise functions here, functions as tomb keepening, sculptors of mausoleums, gardening, and then this rural workers would also bring their families and so, slums would grow, and, other activities would come up, as, the multi task petty thief, conveyors of many kinds, repairs of small contraptions, sharpeners, bread makers, women selling flowers and plants with spiritual properties, astrologers selling pots of strange smokes, etc… And I’m in Paris again, already inside this flat in the Bellville neighborhood, a flat filled with various pieces of trash brought up from the streets, this is, there a lot of broken pieces of furniture leaning against the walls, piles of books, old machinery, etc, and in the middle of this items there are also some guys stretched on carpets, some  sleeping, some dozing, some drinking tea, guys from Asian and Asian nationalities, I get to understand, as it goes, I get to know Hugo, the only French here, actually the renter of this flat, and as it goes he is already explaining to me, that “all this guys you see here are illegals, I help them, this is, they pain me no rent, and they help me, I mean, they bring me all this products from the streets, sometimes not from the streets, and so, I have a van, everyday we pack our van, and we go and sell some of those items on occasion markets around the city, and thus, if you wanna stay with us, tomorrow, you should help us loading the van, are you ok with that?”; “Oui, oui, I’m very Ok with that!” I say.  And then, I’m in Cape Town again, swimming on the needles sea now, and I'm in Punta Arenas, this is, I have passed Av. Independencia and Av. Pdte. Salvador Allende Gossens, and I’m now entering the Magallanes Nacional Reserve, and at the same time I’m in Harare, still here on the side of some bulrush made houses, this is, someone is telling me about the achievements of Shaka kaSenzangakhona, also known as Shaka Zulu, and to finish it, I’m back in Melbourne, Richmond area again, still inside this restaurant owned by this Hindi Man and this Thai woman, now trying the food they have prepared for me, and so, as I taste it, we are actually talking about Preta, some hungry ghosts of the Buddhist tradition that have become part of the Thai and Hindi folklore, some kind of ghost with many small mouths but an endless appetite.

EVERYWHERE(at the same time) - 4 - Agadez/ London/ Istanbul/ Oporto/ Paramaribo/ Yazd

I’m in Agadez, north Niger, the capital of Aïr, one of the traditional Tuareg Berber federations, and at the same time, I’m London, I’m in Istanbul, I’m in Oporto, I’m in Paramaribo, and I’m Yazd, a city in central Iran, nicknamed the "the city of windcatchers". And then, I’m back in Africa, this is, I’m back in Agadez, now walking along a row of crude mud houses with colorful tarps over the main door, and then I’m London, actually going down the infamous Oxford street, currently passing in front of a series of souvenirs shops with the city's main staples on its showcases, this is, the union jack, the mini telephone box, the mini big ben, the mini double decker bus and the mini royal mail postbox. And as I look at that, in fact, in front of one of these showcases, at this right moment, I see a real size phone box, apparently out of order, but, some tourists are still going in and pretending to pick up an imaginary handset, making that memorable London photo, and as this happens, some meters back, I see another tourist shooting this same scene I’m describing. And then, I’m back in Istanbul, Turkey, now going through the Galata bridge, a bridge over the Golden Horn, linking the old Costantinople with Karaköy, a name that may come from the Turkish word “Karay", referring to the Turkic-speaking Jewish community called the Crimean Karaites. And then, further, I’m on the opposite side of Europe, by the Atlantic ocean, this is, I’m in Oporto, the second biggest city of Portugal, presently getting out of the São Bento station, the main train station in the city centre, and so, after crossing this slanted street in front of the so said station, I’m actually passing on side of some terraces with skewed tables where people are actually drink small coffees and stuff, and then, there I go, down a narrow pedestrian street they call “Rua das Flores”, this is, “Flowers street”, and so, instantly, as I get in this street, I already have some gypsy guy dressed in black offering me cocaine and axixe, and, as I smile at him, slyly, he is even trying to show me something that he has wrapped in some kind of plastic bags, but, “I’m ok” I say, and then he leaves. And, as I keep going down this pedestrian street, I appreciate the buildings with their tiled facades, some of them in semi-ruin, but, still, with their lush pots of flowers up there, on the narrow varandas, on the second, third, fourth and fifth floors. And so, after passing a couple of souvenir shops(apparently owned by indian dudes), and a couple of boutiques and some small restaurants, I come to pass in front of some graffitied showcases, and hus, in front of one this showcases there is a man seated on the floor, under a big umbrella, talking loud, with mixed emotions, non-stop, this is, some kind of modern days Diogenes, and then, as I keep going down, I pass some more buildings that look shutdown but actually I see people getting in and out through their doors, and apparently they are foreigners, perhaps some kings of B n’ B hostels. And as I advance, at some point, I approach this girl with an old fashioned bicycle on her side, the bicycle actually totally covered with small drawings of paisajes, aquarelles and so on, and, as I look at it, I get interested in one of that drawings, that is not a paisaje, I mean, a drawing portraying a man wearing a trench coat and some kind of funny hat actually launching a large paper aeroplane (with some tiny letterings) into the air. And thus, I approach this girl (street artist) now and ask her if I could see that drawing from a closer angle, adding, “I would like to know what is actually written on the wings of this airplane”. And I’m in Paramaribo now, the capital and largest city of Suriname, more precisely, at the Leonsberg Ferry Terminal, located in front of the Surinamo, an earth coloured river coming from the Brokopondo lake, about one hundred miles below, not far from the border with French Guiana. And then I’m back in Yazd, a city in central Iran, actually positioned in the middle of some sort of oasis where the Dasht-e Kavir and the Dasht-e Lut deserts meet, being both considered salt deserts. But, coming back to Agadez again, now going through a labyrinth of mud houses, some with corrugated steel roofs, some with clay roofs, but, no transit here, just people passing by with their flowing gowns and kaftans, some girls carrying trays on their heads, this is, trays with bags of nuts, fruits, aperitifs, sometimes nothing to be seen on it, and also, from time to time, a couple of donkeys are passing by, pushing carts with water containers, wood, head sized potatoes, etc. And as it goes, then, I’m actually arriving at the Grand Mosque of Agadez, this is, a mosque with enormous mudbrick minarets, a World Heritage Site, and so, at the door of this same mosque there is some kind of stall with a guy selling teas, and on the side of the stall there is some monobloc chairs with some kind of shade over it, where the casual man can drink his tea before and buy his lottery tiket before going inside to do his diary praying session. But, back in London, here i’m, still going along this super busy Oxford street, and, as I go through, I see people walking fast, with all kinds of accessories attached to their clothes. some pushing suitcases, others being pushed by these same suitcases. Tweed skirts. Tartan skirts. Aloha shirts. Flannel and cavalry twill trousers. Polished jeans carrying legs with a gait that reflect the personality of the user, sometimes manly, sometimes nervous, sometimes calm, confused, relaxed, curious, late, premature, disintegrated, attentive, sleepwalking, tired, greedy, sly, self-centered, bizarre, etc… And then, from “The Tottenham” pub, big-bellied Englishmen are coming out with haughty eyes, and others with minor bellies and shifted eyes, some raising their hand straight away, as they are coming out of the pub. calling taxis. Then, after the traditional Mcdonalds and Coffee Primo, I pass the “Cornish Bakehouse”, some more souvenir shops with t-shirt stores showing off pop-rock icons, slogans of freedom, mysticism at the price of traffic smoke. And then the Emporio Armani, just behind the YB bus stop where you can take bus 10 to Hammersmith, or the 98 to Willesden Gare, or the 73 to Victoria, or the 7 to East Acton, or the 390 to Notting Hill Gate. And then, next to some sort of Thai massage parlour, we have this green and yellow sandwich shop, the current sandwich leader in the world, according to their advertising at the door, and so, as I go inside, looking at the walls, I get to know that this green brand has forty thousand equal restaurants spread through one hundred countries in countries world, something like that. And not even ten meters later, we are facing another world’s leader, ladies and gents, that’s the magnificent "Starbucks", the largest coffee shop in the 3 universe, according to the sky-news. And so, yeah, we can say, this is all that remains from the world peace campaigns from the sixties, ultra biodegradable-caffeine imported from the so-called “developing” countries. And I’m in Istanbul now, presently going up the Galip Dede Caddesi, in Beyoğlu, this is, a steepy alley with many kind of musical instruments shops along its entire length, and so, as I’m going through it, I’m actually entering this and that shop, exchanging half sentences with their clerks, and then, experimenting some of these middle-eastern instruments like… the santoor, the kanun, the the zurna, a double reed sort of flute, many kinds of sazs, some sort of long-necked double-stringed lutes, the cümbüş, that is shaped like an American banjo, with a spun-aluminum resonator bowl and skin soundboard, although originally configured as an oud, this is, with no frets on its arm, and, as it goes, and I also try some percussions, as the riq, that is a small kind of tambourine with jingles attached at its frame, the bendir, a much bigger wooden-framed drum with sand inside their skins, let’s say, and many kinds of goblet drums, I mean, the infamous darbuka, with its acrylic made skins, a instrument that is a national symbol in this country. And then, I’m back in Oporto, north Portugal, still going down this “flores street”, and as I go, now, I’m actually passing some more semi-abandoned buildings with bluish mosaics, and then, amidst some rusty pillars, under some kind of balcony, I see a fat woman, apparently blind, announcing some kind of lottery tickets. And, I stop for a bit, looking at her, and then, I’m already on the go again, now passing by a couple of restaurants more, this is, small restaurants with their tables on the middle of the street, and so, all the ones actually seated on these tables are tourists, and then, as it goes, I kinda hear what they are actually talking about, this is, they are actually talking about the Ukrainian-Russian war, that the one profiting with it is China, because… and then, after a couple of antiques, I pass the MMIPO, this is, some kind of museum with art from the portuguese renaissance period, and then, as this narrow street debouch into some kind of square, on my right there is this burlesque church, that they call “Igreja da Misericordia” or something like that. And so, in front of its facade, a hollowed-face man is actually offering old coins to the passers-byes, and so, to the ones that are actually accepting these coins, he is actually telling some kind of sayings. And as I actually hear some of his babblings, I’m actually appreciating the sea monsters coming out of shells in the church's facade above him. And then, over, I’m in Paramaribo again, now going along the Anton Dragtenweg street, this is, a street still by the Surinamo river, and so, I’m actually passing some single-story houses spaced apart from each other with large green spaces, some painted dark red, others with dark wooden facades, and, I’m actually coming accompanied by my new friend, this is, the one I met on the Leonsberg Ferry Terminal, his name’s Arbi, and so, here he is, now talking about his ancestor, about how they come from Java island to settle here. And then, I’m in Yazd again, a city in central Iran, more precisely at the Ātaškade-ye Yazd, also known as Yazd Atash Behram, a Zoroastrian fire temple that is said to hold a fire burning here since circa one thousand five hundred years, and more is said that this is one of the nine Atash Bahrams, say, Victorious Fires, that is burning since the advent of the Zoroastrian, a religion founded circa 400 BC; being the other eight Atash Bahrams, say, Victorious Fires, located in India. And as it goes, I’m back in Agadez again, this is, in the meanwhile I have reached this openair market on the suburbs of the city, and so, as I wander through it, I see men with all kinds of turbans on their heads and women with huge rings on the their noses going through this maze of stalls, actually not stalls, just some rough pieces of tarp scattered in between the groups men, goats, camels, etc, and then, over some of these pieces of tarp, I see some king of huge pumpkins and other vegetables, like, red onions, pods from the Moringa tree, plus some kind of dry grains, tamaras, and some kind of pinkish salt, this many tarps actually displaying this kind of salt with different pinkish scales, apparently mixed with some kind of gemstones, and also, other tarps displaying animal hides, broken lcd screens, old mobile phones, and other sorts of outdated gadgets brought from europe, and so, around those european items, there actually a bunch of darker skinned guys, without turbans, wandering around it, this is, the famous ilegal immigrantes coming from the south, from countries like Eritrea, Sudan, Chad etc, this is, 4 guys with the intention of crossing all the Sahara and then getting into European lands . And then, I’m once more in London, still going through the infamous Oxford street, this is, by now I’m actually passing the London Perfume Company, the Pizza Hut, the Currys Pc World, the “Intimissimi”, the“Harmony”, the “Foot Locker”, the “United Colors Of Benetton”, the "Clarks", the "Claire's", and then I don't know how many souvenir shops plus, I’m coming against one of these three wheeled taxi-bicycles that normally wander through this part of the city, and then, as a way to apology, its driver, a guy with some kind of tanned oiled skin, long beard, and a sweet kind of tone, certainly a pakistani… decides to take me for free to the Piccadilly square. An so, already on the move, while we go across the narrow alleys of the Soho neighborhood, a neighborhood with its immensity of small pubs and lively nightlife, and as it goes, the driver of this rickshaw kind of thing, is actually having a video conference with with some girl that is on the opposite side of the world, but not in China, not Pakistan, not in India, “she’s in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia”, he says. And then, he even shows me her face, on the video, some kind of fluffy face I may say, this is, her eyes exuberantly painted with black shadows, and then, I say to her some words in malay language, she gets all enthusiastic, this is, soon revealing that she also wants to come to Europe, but not to London, she actually wants to come to Berlin, and so, “Why Berlin”, I ask while we struggle to pass through a group of people wandering in front of some pubs with their pints in hand, and as I pass it, here comes theanswers, “because of that square with that big angel” she says; “What angel?” I ask; “The one that was moved by the Nazis and survived the war”; “Have no idea about that”; “Oh, haven’t you seen the movie Wings of Desire from Win Wenders, with Nick Cave, the Australian singer?”; “No, I guess no, I know Nick Cave but it’s not my genre” I say, and then, continuing, “I guess I haven’t seen that film, but, you tell me, what is it about?”; I ask, and then, “Well, well” interrupts my driver, suddenly taking the phone away from my hand and moving it closer to his mouth as he starts to sing some kind of songs in his mother language, this is, I’m not sure if it is in hindi or in punjabi, or in pashto, or in sindhi, or in urdu, but it sounds good, and then, as we keep advancing through this Soho area, embraced in this kind of singing, the people dwelling around the bars are even waving at us, whistling, screaming, and some, I mean, some are even coming running after us, this is, after our bicycle, after our rickshaw, and as they come, on the going, my driver is already turning the camera from his phone to them, while still singing, this way showing to her lover in Malaysia or whatsoever, the impact he is causing on this people here in the streets of London. And then, back in Istanbul, presently going through the Istiklal street, one of the main pedestrian streets in this city, and so, here I go, opening my way through the clusters of dark eyed people walking in both ways, expressions full of drama, some bashfulness, some rashness, some frenzy, some boredomness, some levianity. And as I advance, I’m throwing looks at this multitude of faces, but without losing too much time with any of them. And so, further, as I surpass the police squad in front of the Swedish embassy, I overtake some pale tourists staring at the showcases with Turkish delights. And then, as I keep going, I come to an interesting attraction, that is, an old man, a peasant, is sited on the floor, actually surrounded by cats of several colors and creeds, and in front of him is a white scale, and the cats are actually going over the scale and weighing themselves, and as they do that, the man is actually speaking with the tailed ones while throwing animated looks to the passer-byes. And then, further, as I advance some more blocks, I’m actually passing some fat arabs wearing pointed shoes, and some of them are actually coming companied by their princesses with golden scarves around their heads, and so, as I pass by, I’m even winking at some of them, and one or other can't help but laugh, but, a shy sort of laugh, and then, their husbands throwing me sick looks. But, further, after passing a small group of Russians stopped in front of some cosmetics shop, I see haunted Europeans on the gate of the ultra-protected church of Santa Maria Draperis. And then, further ahead, we have disguised Americans stopped in front of some ice-cream shops, and the guys inside those shops are actually making odd percussion noises beating with their metal pincers against the balcony made of can, doing some theatre, and as it goes, some garbage collectors are already arriving with their trolleys full of cardboard and other kinds of trash, now stopping by here, throwing indiscreet glances at the American tourists in front of the ice-cream parlors, and then, the guys working in this parlors, sending the garbage boys away… and as it goes, there are some commotion, some tumult, some ruckus… but, I leave it, this is, there I go, now I’m passing in front of some more kebab houses with doormen shouting “Buyrun–Buyrun–Buyrun”, and then one more commercial center, and one more tea house, and one more Baklava shop, and one more changing money store, and then, again, I’m passing in front of a certain group of street musicians, this is, one of them is playing the clarinet, a nagging sound, and the other on the side, a kid, playing the darbuka, smartly, and one another, playing some kind of semi-acoustic guitar, but, totally misunderstanding what rock n’ roll is about. And then, as I reach the Beyoğlu HalkDöner, I envisage another street musician, a mustached old man playing the a bowed string instrument similar to the violin, but he is not holding it on his shoulders, like we normally see, here he is holding it between his legs, playing it opposite way, what looks much more cozy. Back in Oporto, now at cais da ribeira, a downtown area by the Douro river, and so, I now go under some arcs, a shabby place with some storage places, some old pubs, some old fashion whore houses, and then, at the end of this passage there is an entrance that lead me back to the embankment of this same Douro river, and so, as I go through, I pass some stalls with fluffed ladies selling embroidered fabrics and some other guys selling tickets for boat trips, and then, I’m actually mounting on this narrow bridge, apparently designed by Gustave Eiffel, the same guy that designed the famous parisian tower, I get to know. And so, once I reached the opposite side of the bridge, “here is Gaia, it’s no moro Oporto” someone just tells me. And thus, by now, as I turn right, and go a bit down, I already see some small wooden barges wobbling on the water, this is, barges loaded with barrels, what may be just a representation of what was the thing, even so, it looks sweet at this time of the night. And then, as I advance, I’m already passing in front of the Cálem and the Kopke port wine cellars, and then, arriving at this square where is this Manueline style building, a building with the statue of a big cloaked man appearing on the roof, this is, the sign for the Sandeman Porto-wine brand, being the Sandman a mythical character from the Germanic and Scandinavian folklore who puts people to sleep and encourages dreams by sprinkling a certain kind of magical sand onto their eyes, I just checked on google. And then I’m back in Paramaribo, still going along Anton Dragtenweg street, a street by the Surinamo river. And I’m in Yazd again, now going through the city centre, where there are some kind of tower buildings with some huge chimneys like thing on the top of it, actually what they call here badgirs, some kind of building that used to host and refresh the many travellers of the Silk Road, they just tell me. And then, I’m back in Agadez, now leaving the city, actually aboard some kind of pick-up van filled up with sub-saharian black men, this is, the so-called illegal migrants intending to go across the sahara, and then, illegally-cross the Mediterranean sea in order to reach europe. And so, as we pass through the suburbs of the city, some kind of deserted area is already in sight, and then, as we go through it, a mixed up conversation about european football is actually coming up, this is, the names of african players actually playing in European teams are being pronounced with different tonalities and accents and then, the name of the teams where the just said players are actually playing, are also said with different tonalities and accents and so, exemplifying, the thing is going more and less like this: Salah: Roma/Liverpool. Sadio Mané: Bayern Munich. Yaya Touré: Manchester City/Olympiacos. Édouard Mendy: Chelsea. Felix Afena-Gyan: Roma/Juventos. Romelu Lukaku: Chelse/Manchester/InterMilan/Napoli. Etc etc etc. And then, I'm in London again, more precisely, at Piccadilly circus, this is, I’m here seated at the stairs of the Shaftesbury Memorial Fountain, a small fountain with some kind of winded figure on the top, and so, I’m here seated just on the side of a friend, Mr Ubiquitous, this is, some sort of middle age man with a big orange beard, and his body/clothes actually totally covered with big clocks with different timings, this is, he have like fifteen or twenty big clocks actually attached to different parts of his clothes/body, and so, inumering them, there is one on his crotch, a couple of them on his legs and feet, a big one on his belly, another big one on his ass, a couple of them on his back, two big ones on each side of his chest, some smaller ones around his neck and even, a crooked pointer on his forefront. And so, as it goes, his performance is, he is here just saying some salutations in different languages, and me, well, I’m his assistent, this is, I’m actually going around, distributing his card, this is, the card with his name and his website, a website where you can actually see some many photos of mr Ubiquitous in the many squares of some diferent worldly cities performing this same figures he is actually performing here right now, and thus, as it goes, tourists are actually coming on his side, just to take pintures together with this man of the one thousand watches, and as they make their pictures, they are actually invited to deposit some coins in the plastic bowls at the feet of the artists, and then, as they deposit a coin the man gives them a small paper with a special message, and the message can be something really silly like, “get naked now or you will never remember!”. And then, I’m in istanbul, more precisely, at Taksim square, now staring at the monument in the middle of this square, actually, the Cumhuriyet Anıtı, someone tells me, this is, a statue portraying the founders of the Turkish Republic, with prominent depictions of Mustafa Kemal Atatürk, the founder of the republic, İsmet İnönü, a statesman, and Fevzi Çakmak, a field Mareşal, someone explains me, and then, as I turn around of it, I pass a small group of russian tourists taking photos of the thing, and then, on the other side of it, I also find a brunette guy leaning against the fence of this same monument, and as he sees me, here he comes right now, already picking some small boxes from inside his big plastic bag, what comes to be perfume flasks, fragrances, this is, as I see it from a closer angle, between other things, we have here fig blossoms with jasmine, rose blossoms with citrus fruits, saffron blossoms with cloves… and then, as I make as leaving the place, he even inserts one of his flasks on my pocket. And then, I’m in Oporto again, or more precisely Gaia, which is on the other side of the river, and so, here I’m, inside some kind of shipyard, by the river, actually getting drunk and stone with some guy from Norway. And then, I’m back in Paramaribo, still going along the Anton Dragtenweg street, with Arbi, this is, we are now reaching the city centre, and so, in the meanwhile we go along some kind of bridge in front of the Palmentuin, a small palm tree garden with some kind of cottage in the middle, we pass the Statue of Baba and Mai, an homage to the immigrants that came from Calcutta in India, the Mama Sranan statue, a statue with a female figure wearing a round hat and holding five children in her arms, and as it goes, my mate Arbi actually tells me that this figure represents Mother Suriname, with her five population groups, namely the Creoles, the Hindustani, the Javanese, the Chinese, and the Europeans. And then, after this statue we get to the independence square, where is the Fort Zeelandia, a fort built by the French and the British, rebuilt by the Dutch, that served as a prison already in the 20th century, during the Dési Bouterse dictatorship, my brother Arbi also inform me. And then, I’m in Yazd again, now inside some sort of city garden, and so, I’m here with Arash, the gardener, and as it goes, after talking about the plants on tis garden, Arash is actually talking about Yazidism, also known as Sharfadin, this is, some kind of religion which has roots in pre-Zoroastrianism, and, as it goes, the man iis actually telling me that in this religion there are actually seven main divinities seen as angels, being the first one Tawûsî Melek, that is represented as some sort of peacock, “which flew around every part of earth to bless it” he says, and then, “there is six more, are them Fexreddin, Sheikh Shems, Nasirdin, Sejadin, Sheikh Obekr, and Shex Hesen”, tells me the gardener.