THE DREAMING TREASURE / illustrated /

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SYNOPSIS A young couple travels by car around a lake in Marshland, within the Portobello coast. The tour they perform brings them several memoirs about an ancient treasure, supposedly brought there by the Normans when founding a colony in Murtoyland, a small town on the edge of lake Avia. The treasure hunt begins guided by some old maps the protagonists carry with them. Although, will they ever reach such a treasure?

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Dave McFather

THE DREAMING TREASURE

ApriL Books

Dave McFather

THE DREAMING TREASURE SYNOPSIS A young couple travels by car around a lake in Marshland, within the Portobello coast. The tour they perform brings them several memoirs about an ancient treasure, supposedly brought there by the Normans when founding a colony in Murtoyland, a small town on the edge of lake Avia. The treasure hunt begins guided by some old maps the protagonists carry with them. Although, will they ever reach such a treasure?

NOTICE

Port Obal is the name of an ancient Phoenician port that is thought to have been situated on the northern banks of lake Avia, also known as Ria or the Haff. In this narrative many names of places like villages, towns and cities, are used but only a few of them are coincident with the current or original name. Merging Past with Present, the narrator makes the reader watching to ancient historic scenes such as the invasion of Murtoyland by the Normans, who left forgotten treasures in those territories, and presents the readers with a brief visit to the ruins of the ancient Fort of Car Regal and to the lost giant Towers of the Ria. The Marshland islands are a grateful stopover to the narrator and his girlfriend Michaela, once it allows them to describe the animal and plant biodiversity oonthese Islands that currently proliferate through the Haff due to increasing council drainage interventions that are the source and the knot of discord generated by different political ideologies in Port Obal and Aviarium cities. Nevertheless the treasure left by the Normans is still there, where the Normans left it, we are to assure you.
Question is: Who will be the lucky one to find this Norman Treasure?

THE DREAMING TREASURE Chapter 1 - FIRST TRAVELS Chapter 2 - GOLDEN BEACH Chapter 3 - MICHAELA DAYS Chapter 4 - MARSHLAND Chapter 5 - VIKINGS' & NORMANS' WANDERINGS

Chapter 1 - FIRST TRAVELS

HELLO!, my name is Titus Economicus. I like to dream about treasures. I indeed want to tell you about this Norman treasure, but first let me talk about my school days, when I studied in Aviarium city. ( See map). To follow my narrative you should time to time search on the maps annexed. I remember, during my last year-term in Aviarium's High School, I used to go hitchhiking with some friends who also decided to get involved in such a project. We agreed to dress stylish academic garments from Coinbridge University. This kind of apparel was a means and an end. A lift would show up on the first hitchhiking attempt of a harm stretched over the road. Students dressed in academic style presented to their fellow citizens, as unreal Round Table Knights. They were acknowledgeable small gods of easy speech, ironic and mocking attitude, to whom no one should deny anything, to whom all doors should remain open. They would be the future Lawyers and Doctors to whom everyone would sooner later recur. Weighing on their back, centuries of academic tradition should be respected. Back in History, students would have had a pact with the Devil, were individuals of all kinds of wired things, especially those who had been keen enough to sell their soul to Satan, like Faust and Dorian Grey did, if you ever heard about them. It is taken for granted that students unravel the mysteries of the world, because they study it, or because they are the most free individuals with long enough holidays to ramble around the planet. Travels are every time a great source of information and experience. Those who are often absent from their home town and their families, or their tighten circle of friends, have

more opportunity to open the limits of their sights and minds. This is because what is new reacts against what is old, forcing this last accepting its innovations.

All this was happening long before, me and Michaela ( my girlfriend ), knew about the treasure, or even acquainted one each other. So, I used to leave the beaded-iron-dark-greengrid – the fence around my school – when Spring started creating some desire of freedom. Why on earth did I have to learn one Language, one Religion, one History and, most of all, one Politics!, in addition to all other Sciences, which besides was, among everything else, a task against what, the spirit of any good student contested, although not doing so by totally refusing it. We could accept to learn as many languages and even as many axioms we were supposed to learn, even if axioms start by teaching not to argue, in the first place. However, to be successful in our future lives it became necessary to take languages and axioms by heart. During my life as a student, I lived in a shared house – a cottage with doors and windows all the time very well maintained and painted, in a street by the High School. The Landlady outstanding for her waxed floor, and, alas!, if her guests or even her children, put at shoe or a toe, out of carpets inside ways! To reach our rooms, we had to endeavour through a narrow corridor with access to a staircase, covered by a red plastic carpet. Our rooms were a sort of tiny little closets which walls leaned to some divans, tables and chairs. At the top of the stairs, in between rooms, the common wardrobe. By noon, we stood at the school's gate, shaking our heads, nodding, looking at the sad marks obtained in the tests assessed and delivered by our teachers – or cogitating about having been invited during lesson to approach the blackboard. Beautiful object was, no doubt, that black-heavy-slate attached to the wall, looking moreover like a sad night rather than an object made of stone. It was a sort of consolation prize after the small framed slate that we carried along with manuals in Primary School: instead of transporting it, we were, thereby it, carried on during lessons.

After school, by noon, I went home for lunch where I could immediately feel the habitual chickpea-soup-illfated smell. Sitting at the table, eating the bloody chickpeasoup and listening to the news, as Radio Renaissance was all the time tuned up throughout the building. Portobello's news service was usually concerned, about events that just happened to occur abroad. This was followed by a comedy of the preference of our hostess, a woman of dried breasts and feelings who boasted her guests to be anaphylaxis, well treated, very clean and tidy. We were a sort of pets, entrusted by our stupid mums to others of the same resemblance, who, in turn, entrusted us to our teachers. Our readings and hobbies contained affinities to some techniques used in treasure discovery and excavations, so, as to operate on firm land and underwater, such as the use of diving technique using bottled oxygen and mask. In my Grammar School year 8, by remarkable coincidence, the nine subjects that comprised the curriculum for that year, were ministered by nine different young female teachers. In the awakening of sexuality, spending the whole day listening to beautiful, well dressed masters, chattering about numeracy and literacy was, indeed, very exciting. Staring all day turning our eyes to the knees of some less prudish young governesses, or to be lucky enough to glimpse the panties' colour of some less careful, was taken by all students of class, much more attractive than to follow their chatter. So, it happened often that sit number one in class portfolio, usually occupied by Adam, was the same way, often, disputed at the Golden Buttons' Game, if not through playground fist fights. But, at the end of the day, our mums were, as a rule, always happy enough with the rough C marks we could grab from the greedy hands of our teachers. When I started hitchhiking, wearing academic cap and gown, I was already somehow showing a quite beardy face. I was an enough old big prick and decided to

temporarily swap the company of my usual co-Science companions for the most loquacious and intellectual colleagues of Arts and Literature. When in the last two years of my high-school days, I choose to move to a different guest house; the time I spent in the path I had to walk, after leaving the new residence to get to school, was longer and passing through the city centre. This allowed me to keep tracking my companions even further in the way, when returning from school, leaving them at their homes' door and continuing the journey in the company of some other ones, until, finally, I reached home myself. The stores had not yet closed, cafés were filled with customers, and I frequently preferred to delay in such environment rather than going boring under the dim light atmosphere coming from the skylight of my bedroom. Not that often this wasn't the sole solution to redeem my laziness, when I entertained myself drawing maps of far exotic lands, giving special attention to the scraping shape of the sea coast or lacustre lines, using Indian ink to pop out in relief the more characteristic details. It was by this time of my life that I resolved to begin, consciously, start travelling round the country. By the finalists' tour date, me and my colleague Jonathan Euphrazius, we rather fancied to travel on our own, to the unknown and sleepy city of Ullipseya, ( the city of Ullysses ). After duly cherish at the city's centre, and try out its memorable city's centre Lift and Subway, we made acquaintance with two Spanish girls outside a Hotel. The chicks showed up well on time. Immediately seduced by our magic cloaks, right under our dolmens they accommodated and settled under our embrace. Ullipseya is a quite beautiful city but, as well offering us two nice guapas, it was a hit! During those days we visited the best places in the city, either walking down the main routes, or, climbing and descending alleys on its mysterious neighbourhoods, listening to the city's best folk singers, listening to the Fado, eating and drinking in the best typical city restaurants and taverns.

It also happened that one of my frequent stops was the city of Lehrida. I have some friends in this town whom I use to meet, just for acquiring some quiet motionless ideas, each time I return from my travels, or just when I feel like in the need of a bit of philosophic discussion. Although these friends are not any kind of intellectual blokes, instead, they prefer to have some drinks and sing the Blues, or other countryside urban traditional songs. It happens often we ended up evenings waiting the dawn while striking our viols and guitars. Most of the time was spent at T-Rex King Pena's home, light hearted and cheerful artist from the 60's who spent the days drinking frequent shots of whisky and playing electric guitar, with what he prepared himself for the band's rehearsals. These could extend until late at night, especially when it required the intervention of the iconoclast, say, sonoplasta or sound man, Mr Pine Hero, generally integrating circuits in other already previously integrated ones. The contracts for the band were provided by show house manager Mr. Tom Neck, an enthusiast on Progressive Bands. This playhouse had three different floors, with a Coffeeshop on ground floor, ballroom, tea house on first floor and Casino on top floor. The tea area was especially adequate to organize meetings or simply was a good place for isolation and study. It contained a small library with volumes of literary discoveries relating to lands and other holdings in Africa and on the far Est Asian lands, aside the complete works of Verne and Dumas. This was where I merged Science and Fantasy and studied old maps, redrawing and memorizing them, however just taking a first glimpse of what could be the utility of such a hobby. I was just a little fellow overwhelmed by Art and Literature. * Out of record: the implementation of any artistic activity requires an artist to live intrinsically from it. Any other activity becomes tedious even when material aspects of life, depend on it. To survive, man, carries out

activities, in most cases, completely out of his original goals. I mean, the man who spiritually minds, i.e., the man whose goal is to create, however not the Creation which exclusively consist in maintaining the existence of the specie. This activity has essentially an animal origin. Animals engage in intercourse only because nature tells them so, without however finding the beauty of sexual act. Religion seem to have little or nothing to add to the point, since they only favour the missionary's position . Sexual act between man and woman, closes aesthetic shapes that society tolerates and that are shown through Arts, like Painting and Cinema, although sometimes these arts and sense of beauty can be illhandled or ill-marketed. But the beauty of sex can, nevertheless, be appreciated outside these commercial reproduction. Say, like in front of a mirror, following an appropriate procedure. Please start by stripping yourself naked! Now, look at yourself in front of an enough large mirror. Enjoy watching your face, your breasts, your gender. Turn profiling. You must, of course, appreciate your profile, because if you don't, your personality is diverted from itself. You think you like other profiles rather than yours … Until you love yourself, it may happen you love nobody else. Self-esteem is essential to love. Love is all the times a way of surviving, sometimes the most important one. You may have money, own a house, be married and have children, car and a nice job. While you constantly complain that all that is yours, as if they were your property, meaning, when you repeatedly mention your wife, your son, your car, your money – in the same way, other people will be forced to share your attitude. What I really want to say is that your wife, to me, has no name, if you don't call her by her name when you talk about her, either in her presence or absence, I dare not to say you talk about Kelly or Mary, just as few as Mark's wife or John's wife. I understand that you are depersonalizing your wife. Sorry to say.

In her turn, 'your' wife, also reawakening depersonalizing you: my husband, my man, my Mike, are part of jargon expressions of today's small bourgeois talktalk. Now, I can tell who you are when I eventually listen to such kind of expressions. I will not believe you, nor your wife, neither your children! You will be able to contest my statement with all the philosophies that knowledge can enclose, if, by chance, you are an educated person. But, if it happens that your daughter falls in love for me, ( as an Artist, of course ), you will not forgive her so easily, by disrupting your heritage. If me and her decide to live together with no official marriage, or by any means at all, even she has already reach adulthood, you will not give up compromising and get away to convince both of us to marry at least civilly, once about religion, you don't care too much, a.s.o., blah, blah, blah … And you will even get your intentions achieved, because perhaps your daughter she is not as brave as she thinks and she is completely alienated by the bad paternal education you gave her. It seems, even, to have happened that you were, in a recent phase of your life, in love with your daughter, and vice-versa, was it not? You bloody jealous dear-daddy-oh! … The ladette-girl goes to school to learn about Numeracy and Literacy, Costumes and Fashion; mum has shown her some books that shed light on peculiar subjects; that sex and the pill should only be tried after the wedding and all other contraceptives methods fail by many as a certain percentage, and that the 'temperature method' is the one valid once it looks the most moral of all, makes laddetes have many children and also makes people going to Heaven when they die. However, evidence shows that, most of times, best contraception method is to have a glass of water instead of ... ... and, at the end of the day, there she comes, your little girl, poor thing, asking me to explain what you should have already explained her for long, taking me simultaneously by her father, her brother, her lover, and

who knows what else! Oh yes, my lovely doves, as long as you keep believing the sacrosanct wisdom of Mum and Dad, it's ascertain that you will marry soon and arrange hubby, home and loads of babies. I wish you all, the best! *** At home, a composite of varied sounds and silence, returned. The sound of the wind caressing the foliage of trees throughout the yard. Birds chirping quietly. Blackbird will keep singing until late in the rainy afternoon, leaving in the air a dull light of an overcast grey sky. The lady next door opens the door on top of the stairs, coming down stairs hitting her clogs on the steps, singing a malicious chorus song: a mix of Jazz and Gregorian chant. In the backyard little more is heard. Chickens numbed with boredom lining up on their perches, getting closer one to each other, necks under their wet and pasty feathers. The dog curled up inside his hut. The cat stalks without any opinion. On this side of the house, where the clock works and the nib groans, is the road, the neighbouring houses and the front building. Modern buildings with large balconies over the street, usually uninhabited. Cars pass hooting on the curvecorner of street. Drivers are mere plastic figures sitting behind the wheel. They leave a void and a silence between each shifting gears to disappear in the next corner, down the road. Beyond the house, multiple backyards. From the main window in the hall I can have a glimpse of a small abandoned handball court. It is an uneven hard gravel enclosure, wooden beaded, rotten and waving, soggy with humidity, that endeavours to keep up, pushed by vegetation tufts and wild spiky herbs covering the audience sits threatening ruined concrete benches. Surrounded by ancient uncoated walls than that of polypodium rhizomes adorning them, the handball court is actually completely abandoned… During the time the nights turned into shiny mornings, the small young group of trainees, coached and sported throughout Summer. The intense blue sky,

the sun, races around the court, jumps, the strong handball shots! Ball here, ball there, around the small area. The attack, the defence, the scores. When I get back home in cold winter afternoons, usually I carry out an operation consisting in moving, from my bedroom to the living room, a heater with infrared resistances and a portable tape recorder, in which I insert a tape of classical music. Then I grab a book, a novel most of the times. The days are starting to be very cold by Christmas Eve. On these days one feels like reading a nice book. Stretch out on the couch and let the time go by until I am called for dinner. The room is hot, the music in Prelude compass and so, there I am, legs stretched and crossed along the sofa. From the street arrives to my ears the sound of latecomers passers-by to collect their motor vehicles, hurried or slow, thoughtful or easy going. Winter is a tough time for both body and heart, causing people's concern, determining, among other things, the colour of their garments. Although the shop windows and the streets are adorned, Christmas packages are flowery giving magic to the objects they contain and passers-by shoes are brand new, there is more hardness in people's hearts than one might expect from such a season. As in a mental calculation, thus are working their hearts. The Family will meet these days, and trough it, Country & Kingdom. Around their families people gather, discovering their isolation from the rest of planet's families and individuals feel the same repeated rough feeling, revealing how each one's role, ultimately, turns out to be quite so restrict within one's family. These memories refer to interregnum periods between meditations, study trips and some procedures for several countries and continents long before the more contemporary events, related to climate change, occurred on the planet, which are necessary to known if we are in the need to gain a thorough understanding of

the conclusions arrived after those vicissitudes came across in our search for the lost treasure in the mud shoals of the Haff, ie, the lakeside area that circum-write the expedition to recover these riches. Once upon a time, by Christmas, I decided travelling to a city in northern France where I would spend Xmas with some French friends whom I had met in a previous summer: a couple of real Britons of robust completion, both blond, nice blue eyes and beautiful white skin not ever captured by sun stroke. I caught a train called the 'Emigrant Train'. 'There goes the Emigrant', someone shouted, planted on the deck of a lost station in the mountains. On that long time ago Xmas, I arrived to a city called Lille, a large industrial city on northern France. However, I barely had chance to know the city. In addition to having moved to the city suburbs, we, ( me and my French friends ), never got to the city before dark in the evening which arrives early in those regions, that compared with southern countries' soft climate, can almost be considered as Arctic, if you know what I mean. Everyday we used to drive on a road among the fields, crossing a few urban areas, all with the essential requisites of a well organised society and civil life, from petrol stations open at any time of day and night, to large supermarkets divinely illuminated, before entangling ourselves in the amazing density of road traffic main link to Paris. In those days it was a predilection of my friends and other companions, to show and offer for tasting some varieties of beer at an infamous local Brasserie, among domestic and foreign labels. At the third or fourth Gueuse, ( a most famous Belgium beer ), I probably did not know too well what I was speaking about. I was speaking a strange language, possibly placed among Portuguese, Spanish and French languages, that could be called French Geese or, eventually, French Gaulish. The French fellows, as they mixed Cognac with their beer, in

order to increase the alcohol percentage, ( already high enough for an eventual tumble to be serious ), started to speak in some French dialect that they never learned at all in their school days. After exemplifying various regional arrangements of speaking their native language, they concluded that French was a language that did not exist at all! and that, in reality, there was only a certain number of ways of speaking it, sufficiently different one from the other, so that it was impossible for native folks from two contiguous geographic regions, to make understand each other, or to understand mutually very poorly and very deficiently. Folks just could talk in their restricted dialect variants, since what, there just were Dialect Variants, not posterior, the Language, not made up after the existence of the Language. Therefore, the Official Language of a country, would be some kind of language prototype invented by scholars and not at all a natural way of speaking ... In this way, I could understand them, however, they could not always understand me. Or, they understood me but I did not always understand them, or, ( never mind ) ... everything depending on the language array chosen by them to communicate with me. In fact, no one was understanding anybody at all. I was saying things like 'j'aime beaucoup de banana, because n'a pas de carosso' meaning ' I like very much bananas because there's no stone inside', or ' la vie est belle mais les femmes dont cabo d'elle', meaning ' Life is beautiful but women spoil it most of the times'. Gorged with Belgium and German beer, we returned home. At home I delighted myself with the plenty varieties of cheese and sausages it was possible for me to find there. Whatever the time we arrived home, the heating system was continuously switched on, lending a warmth and relaxing environment inside the house. A table for a score of guests, length-guarded by long benches, occupied the bottom of the large living room. There were also chairs of various colours dispersed throughout the compartment.

We, informally sat down at the benches, drank and smoke. By the end of the year, I briefly visited London. I crossed the Channel together with the philanthropic company of one of the palls of the copins Fench group. All together, our budget was made of a few tens of pounds. We roam through London streets until the dosh wasted completely. Thence, after returning to Lille, I blew to Paris where, I was welcomed back again by other French friends. Some visits to the major museums in the City of Light, solidified my artistic and cultural goals. Some walks along the river Seine repaid me the 'Lost Illusions'. Next I flew from Paris to Rio de Janeiro to meet my brother. Returning, I flew to Zaire, where it was excessive heat and bad working conditions. More recently I travelled to Belgium and Morocco, both of them very exotic countries, believe me. And finally, I went to the Algarve that, some say, is a pretty great nation. What more are you expecting from me, mates?! I still intend to go to Swabian, Turckey,and Sindhia and, why not, Tchina? To the States and to the USSR, to assess the respective war potential, since stuck as I am between two fires, it's all the time good to know what one can take over one's head. To the Moon I would much enjoy as well to go. And not just! Therefore, my friends, here you see me, once again, patiently waiting at this lost roundabout outside my home town, hovering desperately my thumb over the road in order someone give me a lift !

However, despite all the contingencies related to travels ( either by hichhiking or using personal or public means of transportation), I stubbornly departed, carrying maps, binoculars, compass and other exploitation artefacts, towards lake Avia or, alternatively, towards

Golden Beach with the intention of finding treasures ... ( see maps )

Chapter 2 GOLDEN BEACH

GOLDEN BEACH was the place where I studied and defined the necessary paths to achieve successfully extraordinaries expeditions in search of this graceful dreaming treasure left by Normans and Vikings on Haffland. But these were not just strategic or tactical situations related to such expeditions that I was worried about. There were other philosophic contexts that also afflicted me while visiting Golden Beach. I could even found in those moments that to write or talk beyond what self- experience can tell, is an act that shows as useful as talking about what we don't know or trying to draw conclusions about matters that were never witnessed or understood. The experience gained on every day tasks is multiple and diverse, making individuals unique beings each one different from all others, due to imperceptible differences. But the common background that is received by the various human groups, continues unabated in certain periods of History, causing the spread of ideals, mass movements, revolutions and wars.

To describe the processes extending from experience to its reflection, and from this last to the summaries prepared by our own mind, and the actions of independent individuals, or individuals acting in a group ... may, or may not be, the goal of this context. To myself, walking through streets and places filled with happy and unhappy people such things are commonplace, they can be part of this story. I walk over the pathways, I see people crossing by, greeting each other more or less formally and I follow unpretentious, looking the gestures so often repeated and forever fixed in the shop windows' glasses open to plazas and streets, such as oil paintings on large canvas as spleens of another world. Obviously, these strange cogitations that occurred me in Golden Beach, distracted me often from issues related to the pursuit of the Norman treasure, that I promised myself to enterprise the most soon I could. These ruminations of mine were stronger than my own will and, in almost all countries, one can experiment this sensation. Hallucinations, you may call it. That may have been, however, these ramblings stood so relevant in my mind, I never deviated a grain from the main goal of my preliminary studies: the certification and location of the Norman treasure. Urban streets are obviously as well the houses and sideways. Houses are good for almost everything these days: to live, love, work and die. Business houses are placed at the economic fulcrum of all urban centres, from the most devious towns to those situated on a great city centre, all of them having its doors open and shop windows displays quite filled all the time. Inside, clerks can be spotted with an upright attentive look, behind heavy wooden desks or counters. They move in a small rectangular area in front of inside displays, are slow and meticulous in their

gestures, gentle in their manners, polite when greeting, kind. They are as so, thereby, attending their customers ... “May I help you sir?”- they use to ask. All this I watched or remembered casually as I sat down at my usual table at a Café that you may as well know, from which windows one can overlook the seashore. At my usual table, while remembering past situations, I entertained myself sketching maps and planting on them the proper names of places to be sightseeing ahead. A thick volume of Ancient History also accompanied me, where I analysed the routes used by those brave Vikings and Normans in their assaults to the Peninsula, either by territorial incursions but also over sea routes that brought them to the Haff or led them to Lisbon, the El Garve and the Mediterranean. I simultaneously remembered a time when I used to buy almost every kind of things that exist among the different goods every time on display; in whatever rare or less seen item, I employed my money. With the passage of time, tired I became of buying such a large host of gadgets on which modern bourgeois society exhausts its resources, I stopped, exhausted the same way, as I sat on a stone mark by the street. Through it was passing a group of young people who, at first glance, looked very strange to me, either because they were not of my acquaintance and their gestures were out of the ordinary, the way they dressed different from usual. They were talking one each others in a loudly but frank mood. Eventually I found that not all of them were entirely unknown to me. Among them was Beau, a friend of mine. He was talking with someone who I distinguished and had heard about, however vaguely. By precaution, I reserved myself from formulating any idea about such a person before experience and subsequent reflection of our acquaint could produce

enough elements to do so. It was all a matter of opportunity and, behold, the good opportunity was arising. They all surrounded me, and Michaella was finally introduced to me. Extending gently her hand versus person, she drew a smile that instantly cheered me up. But so tired I was, that didn't even politely rose up from where I sat down and in this same attitude I saluted her, taking her hand, feeling its warmth cooling down to my heart ... You know?, I can't even miss to tell about the Treasure without also telling about the houses and events in Gold Beach. I do not think these things are really all interconnected, but similarly to us, the Normans also had homes and families, living in their social clusters and, under these stringent aspects, I believe they were not but brave people ( that would even swelled the Crusades' flow ), very different from us today, but just doing as we do today and, the same way, we will not be much different from them in tomorrow's outcome! Would you not agree? OK. So I was talking about the houses in Golden Beach ... The public houses are those frequented by the public. Athough there are also private domus. It's in these last that habitually live families.

Families are groups of people related by consanguinity. A family may contain several generations or stages of life: grandparents, parents, children and grandchildren. Very more rarely it can include great grandparents and great grandchildren. But between the great-great-grandparents and the great-greatgrandchildren no longer exists familiarity, since the recessive genetic characters are only prevailing to the fifth generation, backwards and forwards. The family reduced to only one or two generations is the most common type of family to meet these days. Young couples often live together for some time with their family ancestors, because of insufficiency of economic resources, or for reasons connected with the housing problem. There is also a predisposition to premature marriage, if we consider that, according to the best statistics, the independence of adults in relation from their family, ideological, political, religious, economic and sexual chain, is only achieved in the best cases, and especially as regards the two latter aspects, around when they are thirty years of age. This is why, some system sociologists and psychologists, advise women not to marry or give birth before that age ... But no one cares ... The existence of houses are linked to the existence of people. This mutual relationship is most striking in the centre of the social aggregate. In this centre the buildings have different architectonic styles, the architecture goes back in time a century or more. The modern or modernized Coffeeshop, the Empire style fountain, the stone or bronze statue, the Central Bank's building, the ministries, the court of law, are usually located in the heart of a city or town centre. In the centre of small towns and villages, buildings usually face each others around a Central Plaza forming a

typical urban square. This is what happens in Portobello and other countries in the continent. In greater cities those buildings can be spread along down town. In both situations, different kind of human types of a given geographical area, can be found. Of these human stratus, the most common is undoubtedly the modern bureaucrat, briefcase in hand, passing by or wandering around city centre, with his head full of figures and applications. In smaller centres, mornings are always prone to heads of local parties brief meetings, archetypically in some countries called Caciques, or prone to farmer managers and wealthy landowners meetings, questioning each others wrangling about lands and pine forests. On summer afternoons, when the bulk of population departed on holidays, being absent from towns and cities, one can see some representatives of the most elderly population, sitting on public benches under the trees' shade as mums pass by pushing their prams. And by the end of some afternoons, after the return from beaches and the bustle of factories, when the leaves are mixed on the floor in slow eddies – groups of gypsies, family or tribe you can never tell, come bubbling through, men ahead, grimy, with hats bent on their heads, followed by their women, chattering in a very rag language, holding children by their arms. Colourful skirts, cloudy blouses, hair in the wind. Backing them, a whoop of boys, comes and goes around, within the limits that their march impose. They don't have time to look around, they just care about the way ahead. As in a movie in which lengthy scenes of black and white images are interspersed with some quick coloured others ... With the boys' shountings echoing down the streets and car engines' purring, one arrives to dinner time.

Centra Plaza is, by this time, deserted, only peeked through the eyes of some young buck or other unexpected customers spotting behind Café Central's windows, or other like; though they live far from town, and they must to wait until evening closes and with it, dinner time ... Meals also play an important role in people lives even when they are on venturing excursions outside of their habitat, such as when to leave for work, vacation or search for treasure. Life is adventure. For having dinner, one must 'set the table ', meaning, spreading over the towel, a certain amount of dishes, cutlery and glasses. Habitually, as well, are also placed on top of table, a bottle of wine and a crust of boron. First you can help yourself with soup. It will follow a fish or meat dish. Some people say that all this kind of service costs to much money and some of them simply lose their appetite as they sit down for dinner. Today, dinner can be considered the main meal of the day. That's when most of people get together after a working day and sits more casually at table, once, after dinner, they have nothing important to do, aside reading the newspaper, smoking take an open air walk or watching TV. Arriving on the second course, if this is a fish-dish one will have to part aside the fish-bones, add olive oil, garlic and pepper, to cut potatoes in half and hold up, considering sneaky philosophies looking at the eventual, touching and candid, boiled chicken's egg. To take then a piece of boron and keeping up with wine, bear or cidre. Dessert: fruit or cake. Finally, a black coffee, espresso! All this takes place quietly, like a ritual, in a family home, where the radio can be tuned or a conversation unfolds about issues that always raise during a meal: the price of food, its preparation, its relationship with the human body . Outside, in take-away shops, boarding houses, restaurants and snack-bars, cafeterias or canteens, the situation is completely different.

There is not a hierarchy as noticeable as when the meal takes place at home, but one can hear more noise, the sounds produced are stronger, the clinking of glasses and cutlery, the steaming from the plates, acquire their own hues, giving the meal a more relevant community aspect. At the end of meals, one must face digestions. To walk the distance between the place where one had dinned and a nearby café or pub, is the most commonly process used. Even coffee as a beverage, is a digestive. Other best known digestive drinks are Brandy and Cognac. Although, to a nervous completion as mine, resorting to a latté or lemon tea is most of times the best choice. To a nervous temperament like mine, one of the latter options is the most convenient. This was what used to happen after having dinner, both in Port Obal and Golden Beach. It happened I'd had just ordered my latte, an habittude that I had recently acostumed, when Beau sat down at my table. He was radiant. Resting his elbow on the table and giving a touch with his hand on mine, he leaned over to me and invited me to go out discreetly as he had a surprise to reveal; according to Beau I should hurry up and accompanie him to the railway station, little time was left for the train, in which Michaela would arrive. We ran right away to my car parked on the ramp with its wheels turned to the road. It was just the time to open the doors, sating down and turning the key. The tires spun and in an instant we arrived at the rail way station's entry. The train had just arrived and in the arrival's confusion, Michaela was a distinguish figure herself: a scarlet scarf tied around her neck, rucksack in tow, her face slightly retouched. Immediately she recognized us and smiled back.

In the car, as we drove slowly, we began inhaling the scent that her rare perfume was outing from her gestures to the car's cabin atmosphere. We drove and talked looking at the passers by, along the city avenues shop windows and other displays, in the warm summer evening. The traffic flew along the wide avenue we were flanning. Geometric buildings mirrored neon lights, car's headlights and traffic lights. Trees lined the side walks. As we enter a roundabout in order to reverse the way, the floor began to acquire an unusual transparent glass colour ... For a moment it acquired the colour of polished steel and I felt by the lightness of the stirring wheel that the tires had lost grip. Suddenly, as it usually happens in comic stories, in which events show up most of times without prior notice or plausible explanation, I swear it was so!, the car started to take off the road. We felt as we were floating among the houses. As we were achieving the heightness of rooftops we noticed that someone on the side walk, was waving a scarlet handkerchief, and we could not see who was doing so, but we were not caring at all, now that more and more than ever, we were climbing to the sky, the city was becoming a pool of light in the darkness, others came around, Madrid, London, Paris ... what do we knew? We were vertiginously escaping from Earth! ... *** I awoke with the sun beating full on my face. It would sure be passing noon once I could not hear the usual morning noises: engines working, shoutings, even the rattle of the goods' trepidation on the lorries' bodies. I showered, stepped outside. If Beau was not failing, he would be waiting for me outside the town, at the bus stop.

In fact, there he was, sunglasses and shower-towel rolled under his arm. When we got to the beach it might be about half past one. Many folks were returning and others, like us, came and settled in the sun, watching the sea. With our towels already stretched and laying down looking up to the blue sky, we noticed that a cloud was forming over our heads. Gradually, against the beautiful blue sky, it began to take shape on one of the clouds, like coloured images that boys keep within their missal on the day of their first communion, surrounded by an overseas blue mantle, it began to shape up the nice slim body of Michaela. We no longer were astonished of this new apparition, or what else might come to pass further. We spent a good quarter of an hour worshipping her and, this is when we noticed that we didn't bring cigarettes at all. It was a real paranoia as we had to get dressed and retrace the path that starts around the end of the beach where we stretch, until the first houses of Golden Beach. And so ... once again, we found ourselves looking at those houses. The hamlet of a province beach is the most chaotic urban sketch that any Architecture has ever designed. A small and compact avenue flanking old dwellings, none of it showing any kind of resemblance. Laced balconies, diverse sloping roofs, colourful façades, follow up to the beach sand, as if their builders had been creating strange architectural ambitions extremely remote in time, each one designed with the most disparate styles. Some of the houses resembling small castles, authentic miniatures, including small balconies or flowery sun rooms; sacred images printed on tiles or small sculptures of stone or clay, came to be commonplace.

Sometimes a subtitle gives the name to the dwelling or some Roman letters are written down on the wall dating its foundation! On the tar long shrouds made of sand that the wind stirs up. On the terraces one can spot, moving slow, the rhythmic of various summer colours: red lipsticks, blue watercolours, whites of porcelain and limestone. Gangs of heterogeneous people flow down the weekend, dragging to the seaside ... Wearing white linen trousers, perfectly adjusted to the rigours of their legs, women walk. Hip to toe are shaping legs who fail to guess the intentions of the inner muscle and tissue that surrounds them, tapering solid profiles supporting high heels shoes, at each step projecting the slippage of their great buttocks in a pulsation of blinding white reflexes. This whole panoply of outsiders usually do not walk on the beaches looking for treasures but the beaches are ideal places to find objects of gold and silver especially if you own a metal detector. At this point of story we were sat on an outside terrace looking at a man sitting on a bench listed yellow and white, that took his hand to his shirt's pocket from where he sorted out a half-smashed cigarette that slowly began to roll between his fingers, looking at it attentively, as if he felt the novelty of a new tobacco brand, lately shown on the market, or as if that make, for a second, looked strange to him. A slight wrinkle of shadows appeared on his forehead, a slight smile of despair inspires his lips. He struck a match and the flame has barely room to assert itself under the sun's pressure. He takes the cigarette to his mouth, lights and sucks it with a slowness that a convicted to death would not have while smoking the last cigarette of his life. He relaxes his legs one over the other, leaning his head on the public bench's round back. In the air it expands a warm pleasant odour of burnt sap and other resins, blown over the streets, tar

and gravel, leaving life suspended off itself for a short while, so brief that it soon becomes a feeling of imminent danger and a sound produced by the voice of insecurity starts spreading on the pavement, runs through avenues like foam of sea waves on the sand. Who was out there on the nearby terraces reading newspapers or drinking soothing drinks under the shade of coloured umbrellas, or stretching out on towels on the burning sands on the beach, started running, exalted, joining a wave of people in a mad rush towards the pine forest where every time higher and knocked by the wind, was rising up giant blades of fire. . The edge of the forest around the houses, was burning. Relentless wall of red flames rising to a cloudless blue sky. While this was happening I was with my attention steeped in the study of the maps I had found among old papers in the old ruined library, when the council failed to build the new library in Port Obal. When I drew my attention to what was going on on the avenue, I noticed that a brief rumour of people panic, made the man lifting his head. When he opened his eyes he just saw deserted streets, evicted houses. Inside the coffeshops, there was nobody. At the bottom of a counter the waiter was at the phone. Only the profile of Michaela could be seen behind a shop window, leaning over a table. Her legs were crossed under her bright light and petal roses skirt, the laces of her sandal apart on her foot. With an imperceptible gesture she leans her black hair over her head. Detaching an air lock, she shows her icy smile behind the bleeding windows in the afternoon. Reflections of the sun's flames are burning crude ambitions in the insides of those compacted houses, old houses, ambitious buildings, staring with wide open eyes, closed by red doors of vomiting blood, discharged to foul streets open on ancient sands. The urban mummy agonises. On the beach, a smile of sun extinguishes.

This was really the fantastic way that events unfolded when by that time we visited Golden Beach. Michaela was still just a dream and was not yet among us in those unforgettable days. Micahela days would still be ongoing.

Chapter 3 MICHAELA DAYS

SO, THOSE WERE OUR RIDES and memories around Golden Beach – that inhospitable town by the sea. Some years latter from those happenings I was at home resting and thinking that I still didn't know how to restart my writings. Finding the sentence to begin, the key of Openy, was for me, most of times, the greatest difficulty. Because the first sentence should contain all the elements needed to captivate the reader's attention. As for, insensibly, he can pass to the following sentences, always with increasing and greatest curiosity and pleasure. If possible, the first sentence and the last sentence, both, should potentially contain the whole story (each one synthesizing the story in opposite directions ) without, however, to disclose the story's full content in order that readers who read the sentences, read from the beginning to the end, and, for those who attempt to read just the End, do not get in possession of the secrets contained in between. But it may not be enough just to know to read ... Sorry for that. Intermediate sentences are easier to understand, they can be written on the pages without measure or

effort, generating very different periods, plans and form. They are the pillars of the Narrative. Then, the words. There are words difficult to find, reluctant to adjust to ideas and context. One simultaneously rests with pen and nose pointing to the air, searching for words, as if words were invisible, hidden behind the mystery of the objects. We sit and watch the world around us, whether it's just a desk with objects scattered across tabletop, at random, incoherent, agitated, vibrant, ... or the table at the Café where we sit down for a coffee, the garden's bench, or stones across a path. There, one stares looking for answers amid the branches bending from the trees, within the groves in the parks, on top of the tallest bushes, in the hamlet emerging from behind the blackened trees' trunks, in the vehicle's traffic circulation and even in passers-by surprised by one's thoughtful attitude, surprised with ourselves, as well, so alienated from reality we are. In the course of description, or narrative when it exists, the writer, little by little, is setting the title to give the story he writes. More than the first sentence, the title hits the reader's attention. As a matter of fact, it is actually the first sentence the reader reads. It is written on the book cover, in upper-case distinguished characters. The title is part of the work; the tale or set of tales. However, it survives beyond the story, so that one cannot imagine a book without a title, or having just a title, a cover with a supersugestive title, where the unfortunate reader would be smeared enough with curiosity but, anticipating anodyne pleasures, rushing to reach them, when browsing searching for the beginning of text, would just solely find blank pages, which nudity became shocking and would daze the reader to his mouth-ajar. I was taking these notes as a grammatical revision, foreseeing the of starting writing some narratives related with the Norman Treasure and this was the track I was following ...

Being in fact, the title, the first sentence of a book, it might not be the first sentence the writer writes. And if it happens to be, the writer might need to modify the title of what he's writing, in a way or another – because the story starts to escape the sense of the original writing plan, or, because he finds a brighter and more suggestive title. Conversely, he will be able to imagine and design a book without a title, where the nudity of pages would be transferred to the cover, those being filled with a text which, after having read it, the reader would be supposed to think of a title to give the book. How many titles would such a book have ?! Or, misaligning the words' alignment to form incoherent periods, so, once again, the unfortunate reader, would be invited to make up a story. Each reader, each story, as one can possibly imagine. * It's past midnight and I can listen footsteps on the road. Voices and footsteps. It's the voices that most impress me, footsteps just accompany them. It's hurried footsteps, voices of discussion, which rise simultaneously and hurt the houses' windows. For better listening themselves. It's past midnight and I should go to sleep ... But I still keep awoke ... The clock shows it's round midnight. I can hear voices outdoors. Voices and footsteps. It's voices that impresses me most, footsteps just follow the voices. Hurried footsteps, voices of discussion, rising up together hitting the houses' windows, in order to those voices can listen to themselves better. It's past midnight and I should go to sleep ... but I just keep awaken. What about you? *

A clock works at the rhythm of it's pendulum oscillations. It is a restless heart in the room, pounding relentlessly, isochronous. Often objects fall asleep. The same way as everybody, they cease to exist for us, and for themselves, along the time after which, we return objects back to life. The book that I opened during this afternoon and turned the pages, reading, one after the other, rests now closed on tabletop. Just the cover still lives in the colours and images printed, once, beyond the content of its paragraphs and its sentences and words, their content, accompanies me to bed until I am asleeping. The cover's female's profile with very soft long black hair, the pomegranate mouth-ajar, the whole smile of this woman, accompanies me to my bed and, there, sketches herself again, taking shape and refuge. On the table, the pencil, the eraser, the box of watercolours, paper. Colours endure more than shapes. The sky, the sea, have colour, predominantly to have or a shape. The clouds have no defined shape. They are a deformable form, undefined, undefinable. The same happens to the waves on the sea – huge spaces in relation to other volumes and other tighter shapes. These material shapes are located in Space-Time, this one, Matter was able to engender at the very Beginning. At the end of Movement it's located the end of Time and the end of Space. The Night of Time. The end of Space will be an opposite outer-space. An anti-space with an anti-time. A space in the Future. An adverse time. Like an adverse book, an anti-book. An anti-book, so to say, a book with an infinite number of pages. That's right, an infinite number of pages! It would be a book without no beginning and no end where nothing would be repeated throughout the pages, where reasoning rarely would be unable to return to its starting point. Where nothing is repeated, either

locations or characters. To write such a book would be necessary, above all, overcome Death itself. Well, each one's Death it's all the time each one's Immortality. * On the table, the objects keep quite like asleep, or may be dead. I can touch the sleepy objects with my hand. Some, those more malleable, yield to the pressure of my fingers, contract as they feel the the Fear. They move! Like if they woke up from their own slumber. This sheet of paper, crumpled and broke into dozens of triangular faces, stays quite when released, popping like a pine cone under the sun. The moment that I abandoned it on the table, it's still living a small fraction of my life. After this, it returns silent again. I push it over the table. At each new position it stops, it shows me a new different aspect. It's living' again. I unfold it, extend it. It shows a rough surface to the touch where it is possible to discover valleys and mountains of snow. And rivers too. It's enough to draw blue lines with a pen over the more pronounced grooves. These traits-rivers converge on a more concave point down the stretched and untwisted sheet. In the crumpled drawn sheet I can see a world of mountains and rivers, I can see the World. Please just try to say very quickly: 'She sells sea shells on the sea shore. But the shells she sells are not sea shells I am sure'. * Maybe I was getting a little crazy due the stress caused by the urgency of starting the treasure trove on the lands that I knew so well through forcefully visited and remembered places.

* However, not so soon attempting to describe the outdoors! The street, the public indoors, is more upbeat. The still life inside this room let itself capture much more easily: a vase of flowers, the books on the shelf, the ashtray; the bottles in the mini-bar, with their strange and suggestive labels. There's a piece of heaven I spot throughout the window over the rooftops. In the background, the sun mirrors itself, shining onto smooth metallic roofs. Through the windows' frames as well. Small framed glasses with dried cracked bitumen into pieces. A gentle breeze flows in the air. The flies are dancing along spaces where the sun gets strained. Mid Day is approaching. I can ear the sounding of sirens and cars hooting. I can hear engines purring. Soon machines will be working. As well as labourers. Someone, in the court yard ends ( or starts ) a job, may be sticking nails on a board. I can hear the pounding ever more frequent and accelerated : bang, bang, bang, ... I definitely was becoming crazy. *

Before 2 pm I have to leave to a rendez-vous with Rolanda. She is certainly already sat down at a table, in the Café, where she waits keeping very still and calm until it's time to leave to school. She will be very quite, no gesturing, no blinking. Her hair, covering part of her face, are thin wires of pure gold around her shoulders. Her presence and her voice are essential to me. I can't wait any more! I exit to the street! However, arriving to the Café, I do not meet her. I walk back home. I'll take the afternoon to read a few chapters of a book – a white binder hardback where printed shades connect colours red to black, a street in the background behind which, streams a river and some boats. Some people wander within a profusion of Eastern symbols. In the centre of the street a man carrying a basket loaded with fish. The author, Maria Butterfly, revives several episodes of her life scattered around the world: Brazil, Angola, India, Timor. Gradually, her narrative makes readers knowing people and places, all the time different from one each other, makes us understand ourselves and the others around us. The author revives, in her book, a world of people and places, different ethnic groups, family memories, childhood memories, adolescence memories and even a holiday she spent in England at Mrs. Miles' home! The worst part was during nights. The night came to surprise me, alone with my delusions, my dreams, my nightmares and all other night monsters. I am wondering if it's worth continuing to think. Mind is like water from a river. Mind crosses mountains and valleys full of words to stay stagnant in a lake or a sea of contradictions. When night falls, mind ties them together in a form of an impenetrable network, tight enclosure, labyrinth with no exit, unsolved problem. At this point it becomes painful to think, painful to live. Mind traps are very varied. They reflect life's web, its unsolved mystery.

Wake up! Get up! Go to work. Eat! Sleep! Wake up! What a boredom! Every day, everyday, all days long, continually seeing the same folks, tell them every morning 'good morning!'. As if days w'd have to be necessarily every time good. Or, being lousy, with those words, one could magically to modify them. If one says: 'Bad day!', one w'd certainly turn folks out of their wits. However, the logic presented in both situations, is the same. The emptiness of the days. The empty days. The same day every day. As if life was a graveyard of days that overlap, one after the other, their ruins, to contemplate them overnight and study a new architectural restoration under different perspectives, which will resume at dawn, rebuilding, until noon, coordinating the stone-hours one on each other. And, in late afternoon, of each day, keep gazing them again until sunset, to make them collapse with a simple gesture, like castle of cards or a sand blasting. A graveyard of days. A cemetery every day. * Especially about meals time I was really fading down. Eating. The pleasure of eating. The mental relaxation that comes after meals. The meals. Their colour. Vegetables. Meat. The restful yellow colour of frying ships. In every day’s actual life, where work can't bring much pleasure, except which results from the benefit of not starving and sleep rough, in this wasted effort of our daily glory, eating is the most exploited act each day. One meal at the time. The dinning-table and the variety of delicacies. The gastronomical accessories. Spices to predispose to appetite or euphoria. Finally, digestive drinks. But usually one starts with a Soup as a first course. Spoons lifting

and overflowing, snapped back to mouths sipping them, fat shining, slippery. Dip back again into the liquid soup plate. Repeatedly for several minutes. Other courses will take place. Swap up silverware. In modern days, Macrobiotic is gathering fans who are trying to refuse or quit eating habits that the family's ancestral structure impose; generic foods are replaced by their integral form as brown rice and whole bread. The refusal of consumption of industrial sugarcane sugar or beetroot sugar. The refusal of sucrose obtained by excessive refining industrial processes. The refusal of excessive consumption of animal fat. Its replacement by the vegetable counterpart. The perfect combination of cosmic forces contained in food. The psycho-somatic balance. The Yin and the Yan. To every character, to each one's body fitness, the food elements that best suits to each case. ''Each one of us are what each one eats, tell me the places you frequent and I will tell you what you eat. Tell me what you eat and I will tell you who you are.'' The discovery of one's Self, of one's self spiritual potential, through the food that one takes. The spirit preparation to achieve perfection in the act of love ( or love making), through the necessary requests like controlling hygiene within our body. The new joy of life! * And, as watching television, it was then I flew the cookoo's nest! * Any way, I just had my dinner: pork liver baits with onions!, can one imagine!? I switch on the TV: a Venezuelan-Portobelian kind of emigrant speaks in Spanish. I do not understand

everything he says because when the sound hit, the image came up on screen and began to tremble. It was a kind of interview. Next news: the death of Fiasco Mortgage. The interrogation is: how will the Theatre in Portobello devoid without this dramaturgy personality. Joseph Vyana, another Portobello actor, speaks. He tends to be present in all discouraging screen situation. Then, the Football! The goal! The reaction of the national team: twenty-two minutes after the beginning of game the football player Albert finishes off lamely, the Swiss defence misses the cut and the keeper ends up watching the sphere passing at his side into the nets … The Weather Report and the rubric 'Profile'. In 'Profile', (the Bugle had already been announced as well as Barbie, the jester doll; the overwhelming pace of modern life; sleep well on flexible springs with appropriate background music; TARARAM, the Lonely Radio Telly! In 'Profile', Louis de Guermant: cartoonist, designer. Drawing is a form of communication, such as a text. To express oneself through cartoons is like expressing an opinion, a criticism. The design of intervention and Comics. The difficulty of their reading. A quick and easy understanding, the underlying joke. 'The portrait exhaustively finished reveals to the artist the full understanding of his model's personality. The most interesting part of creation ... .'' The lady-presenter says something about Tony Blair ... Image: a man goes down an embankment sat on a barrow. The lady says something about number one Brahms's concert. Tararam, EFACEC, DIVOR, CINZANO, COSI BELI! In nature nothing is created, nothing is lost. Everything just changes. Transform scrap into quality pieces! 'The Aster's Magazine. Hoover, the Father Christmas. Merry Christmas! PARARAM PARARAM

'The thing is that Doctor Amanda asked me to discover the whereabouts of a certain person ... , 'What is it, a secret?'. In September, so help me God ... .' *** I improved slightly my state of mind when approaching the hour of the theatre's rehearsal. The theatre rehearsal it's by evening, after dinner TV soap. 'The Aster' is a soap opera that passes daily on the small screen. Rare are those who don't assist. Those adapted to Telly Torture, can, through daily episodes, understand the world of social relationships of a foreign country that speaks a common language. The author's original work is Janet Claire. Through her work, one can appreciate the stress laying within families of two distinct social levels of Rio de Janeiro's urban area. Families economically apart, but, nevertheless, quite close in their way of appreciating the world and third parts. These last are mostly their own children. The child of a family that ends up as an internal patient in a psychiatric clinic because he rejects to follow the footsteps of his ancestral, refusing living according to the bourgeois, illiterate and selfish way of his family status that just can't see the world apart from theirselves. On the other hand, the world of the opposite class, where spaces are narrower, where people are constantly overstepping one each others in their gestures and ideas. It is the day by day of a poor family, the typical case of a mother who wants to see her children married and out of doors as soon as possible. Between these two situations in which the heroin of story sees herself surrounded: the one of a future, cruel and sexist, crude and clumsy husband, who's about to quit his job – Conception's daughter, worked as a barber before she worked as a taxi driver, jobs that she successively abandons until she is reduced to make embroideries at home, to please her boyfriend - Lilly , decides to run away from her home.

Simultaneously with her fugue, occurs Marco's escape from the nursing home where he was hospitalized. Marco had abandoned his university studies and was, supposedly, (once he completed them ), predestined to be the successor of his father in managing the family business but, instead, he decided to go aiding the indigent, living in the far backwoods in the Brazilian jungle, where people were dying of boredom and children of starvation. Marco dedicated his helping activities to Francis of Assisi, one of the first protesters towards the way of life and mentality of the adventist bourgeoisie when, in 1200 AD, he decided to abandon the luxury in which his family was living, stripping himself from the wealthy life stile of his family, leaving to moore to rescue the poor peasants, helping them in their agricultural work, in return for a thin crust of boron or even for nothing. Marco, finally, returns home where he keeps seeing his mother distracted and confused with her own beauty, all the time in front of a mirror, surrounded by a regiment of beauticians and maids that keep adorning her clothes and helping making up her face, for parties, balls and receptions. Marco refuses to yield to the wishes of his father, as he prepared to engage him in running the family business. Outlining his reasons, he shows the needing of going to join his Franciscans cronies, in order to fulfil the mission that he felt himself called for. His father cast him forcibly in one of the best clinics in Rio de Janeiro. Marco obeys, but not without warning that he will not give up his intentions. Once escaped from the clinic, Marco meets Lilly. They both meet along their escapade trends. ** After the play rehearsal things would become again dark. Now, that my mind turned its attention to the

contemplation of nature and that I'd like to travel across the country, if not around the world, I am tired. The polluted air of urban centres, the car hoots and the exhausts fumes left me, somehow, intoxicated, entering my body as a deadly poison. How many years of life have I lost in this abominable daily activity of constant frequency of Cafes' rooms and other polluted areas, in this nasty race of running after everything and everyone, with no purpose? Will I die prematurely? Of which illness? Of inevitable cancer? Heart attack? Paranoia?! However, Nature is calling me: ''Come down my trends, valleys, glades and trails, penetrate in what remains of my paths, of my bowels. Breathe the fresh air I still have left. Come to contemplate the blue, yet not entirely stained, of my Heaven. Come to my fields, leave the stifling cauldron in which you are locked up, leave your room, your home, your office, the assembly line in which you work everyday, even leave your country and your King!'' ... *** Just during the hours I used to meet Michaela could I recover and even then not always. One evening, Michaela left me with two brief kisses. Her mouth just slightly touched mine, her lips just hissed a word upon mine, the terrible word of delayed love but, nevertheless, present. At the moment of farewell, until a few days later, the evening got, under the halo of street lights, the tone of her pink soft wool hand knit sweater. And, like in a dream, on a way beneath the clouds, I returned home muttering the word that she whispered upon my ears. I was loving her with a dire need for love, but as I just could meet her, not before some days later, I'd to be suffering the torment of her absence, with no lament. ''I know I will rejoice when I'll meet you again. I'll be happy again when I'll look at your green deep eyes. I

know I'll share lots of kind words with you, that I will remember when the night comes flooding my soul with solitude. I know I'll have the caresses of your hands, the warmth of your mouth, the softness of your rosy cheeks. For some hours along I'll behold your beautiful smile. But, I also know that for each one of the things you'll be giving me, you'll be taking with you some part of myself. That in between each time we glance each other, to a point that, for a while, I'll fail to hear whatever is happening around, the sound of TV, the balls shocking in the pool or even my own heart beat and my breath – you will laugh of me, you will mock of me. To the guy there, some how younger than I, you will stroke his hair; to another one, your long time friend, you will give your advice, yet to another, you will give the pleasure of dancing with him; yet yet to another one, even if not of your acquaint, you will take overflowing pints of beer. Then, I call you and ask you softly, in a whispering way: why do you make me suffer? Answering to my question, you will say: 'You are the only one to know ...'. But, when the night will drift us away, when sleep will drag us down, I will return to feel the warmth of your kisses. Michaela went astray on that Saturday afternoon. She left away, taking the sun with her. During her absence I boldly devoted myself making some scenarios, that I was requested for the play. I spent the afternoon bending over the panels drawn on a large table, surrounded by people who, at the Theatre building, was walking back and forth, circling around me, pressing in the bustle of ending the scenarios. I also planned a mural to decorate the room so it, could be later used, as audience and ballroom background. The stage slowly built upon me while I recalled Michaela. I imagined her catching the train, making a few minutes travel, getting off at the station in the next

city. Who was she expecting? A boyfriend? A friendgirl? I had asked her nothing about that subject and this was the best I could do. Love tastes better when lovers know little about themselves. Matters you are not aware of, can't make you jealous!, isn't that so? ... Evening brought back Michaela to my arms. All the time the same rosy look on her face highlighted under the moon in the dark blue sky. In her mouth was drawn a broad and nice smile. Her black hair, her green eyes. A greenish transparent water eyes beaten by the afternoon sun declining in the sky. I saw her appearing at the door leaving hovering above her look those who were there waiting for her. I saw them all suspended from her look like statues petrified by her gesture. * Michaela is lying now on a couch; I confine myself about her. I feel her soft lips around mine, the velvet skin of her face against mine. I noticed that her eyes were momentarily pondering about something. We kissed together at some length, during the brief time that the night still could offer us. Somebody were beating chips against a game-board, others were simply making up or just telling stories to entertain each others. Everything went a bit strange and apart around us and far beyond. Finally, at Dylan's place, we tasted sweets and drank liquors, listened to the music and burned incense. As if, suddenly, she had noticed me, as if just at that moment she noticed I was on her side, Michaela, finally, gave me her hand. At the end of the rose garden I can see Michaela's home, pink as the colour of the roses in the garden. The weather is wet and just a blink of sun slides shows briefly off the clouds. The green colour of the windows' frames in the houses around is the same green colour of the trimmed bushes in the garden. It's a perfect time for gardening, a time for a change in the urban flora. Men

revolve the muddy and soaked malls, bending over their tools and over the ground as they prepare for paving or landscaping. Digging, they raise up their hoes and shovels what makes the ground vibrating sensibly. Looking at her home, I compare the blows that the men fire on the floor to the one that is hitting full in my heart. Without bothering herself a single moment about my suffering that day, she greeted me wrong, she simply, moved into someone other's arms! Shamelessly, in the presence of those who had testified our first exchange of kisses, our first hand-in-hand, intertwining, barely expired two days on our first date, and there she was nibbling the lips of another fellow, hiding both behind the sceneries that I had myself so worried to paint! She stared at me like the enemy during battle. She made me die of jealousy. That day I slept badly. Morning awoke me sleepless. I shivered all night. I dreamed horrors awaken. I tried a dialogue of reasons with my rival. I suggested we let her evolve between us both, however neither me or him giving any access to her desires. In vain! My rival was as passionate as I was and, if these episodes were occurring in the Rocambole's days, certainly we would have beaten together in the open field. I saw her as a woman hurt in her dignity that, in an access of pride, for having been so easily entangled by me, suddenly angry with herself, had plot that mise en scene in order to doge her persistent lovers. Perhaps, as well, to test my love or may be simply just to enjoy the taste of other mouths and tongs, like those of my more direct rivals. Who knows? I have trouble in my sleep. I barely eat at meals. I'm sick! I suffer from nightmares. I dreamed of a room in which centre was a tennis table. They both were seated, closing each other, whispering ... I entered the room looking for a book that I left astray in the rehearsing confusion. I asked them if they'd not seen some book when they came sitting there. On that same minute, from their mouths began to sort out

dozens, hundreds, of small white balls jumping across the room's floor which grew on me, creating white waves around me, with elastic crests effects. I'd to hurriedly leave the room. In return I was being chased by some of the small balls that were implied themselves through the door's cracks that I kept quickly shutting behind me, on my tail. Once, I listened to a pianist pouring a bag of table tennis balls inside his grand piano as he was beginning his concert. Under the action of the piano's hammers, the balls jumped every time he performed musical passages, some of them sniping out of the piano down the stairs of the stage, running towards the audience as they went being smashed by the audience's shoes. Curiously, the sounds that dropped off, muffled under the shoes' soles, were provided by the pianist, were an effective part of the musical piece. … * I was two steps away from Michaela's home. Never having been there, I imagined the building's inside. A small room at the entrance. Passing the room, bedrooms, bathroom, kitchen. I imagine her coming out of the shower, drying herself with a towel. Now, she walks across the hall, wrapped in a bathing towel. Her hair's still wet moulding her neck, giving her a seductive tone. Gets in her room where she starts to dry her hair, next putting on her some garments, making up herself. * I don't usually wake up early but, today, I got thrown out of bed not even yet stricking 8 am. This is because some builders were working out hard on the neighbour building's wall. It was a work that went dragging on for too long once the builder halted construction works on several occasions. First, he built a

garage over which, a posteriori, built a first floor, putting the building for sale. As it was not sold as soon as expected, the builder decided to subdivide the ground floor, intending it to be inhabitable too. The works continue, therefore, its third phase. But today, even before noon, I must ask the builder not to start so early hammering and chiselling because I have rehearsals and musical performances during soirées, and I need to sleep during a good part of morning. How to ask him without hurting his susceptibility or expose myself to ridicule? I´ll enter the building. The door will be open, the floor covered with construction materials some of them spoiled, others brand new. A mason opens a groove on the wall. - Good morning!, I say. - Good morning, Mr Economicus. - Is the manager in the building? - No, not today – the worker replies - I want to know if until the end of this week, could you be working not making use of hammers and chisels? - ... As I relate to the tools in his hands, he stops a moment staring at them. - ... I am busy with rehearsals and performances and have until the end of the week, as my room is on the other side of the wall, there's a pounding, waking me up too early everyday. - I'll talk to the manager – he said. –Well, then, thank you! Abandoning the construction site I return home. If it happens I meet the manager through the cloud of dust and lime: - Good afternoon, I say. – Good afternoon, Mr Economicus. - Sir, I would like to ask if it's possible to stop hammer and chisel works on the common building's wall during next weekend? ... - ... - ... once I cope with some rehearsals and performances coming.

… - ... if possible ... please ... - ... - If you can do me the favour ... - ... -.... ... - ... Absolutely!, Mr Economicus. Don´t worry, I'm going to worn my man. - So, thank you very much, sir, and good afternoon, sir. – Good afternoon, Mr Economicus. .................................................................. *** The image of a building during its construction, is something that usually brings me a terrible impression, as a skeleton of a human body or an animal. Looking at the structure of a building during construction, concrete pillars linked by thick steel cables, like a powerful armours crossing over each other, pouring out, running over around the ceiling-less building, no coating, rising up to the sky as an ancient Babel tower. Through the walls, rectangles, vent windows where future residents will bend over and dream of dreams that are usually dreamt in newly constructed buildings. So, myself, I dreamed and I designed my home in the future: one basic room, one single large room, made upon a sphere split into three proportional parts by horizontal planes. Then, take the two upper parts of this sphere, just place them onto the ground. These two thirds of a sphere placed onto the ground are now divided by triangular units strongly connected to each other on the sphere surface. Finally, you have a basic external shape called 'geodesic dome', so a geodesic home! Absolutely fantastic! A dream almost impossible to perform, the home of our dreams...

*** It´s Wednesday afternoon, when clerks are really busy at work and work more efficiently once they have many things solved and as many as to be solved. It's like the week's noon, the middle of the week. Midpoint of events and phenomena in general is a critical point by the instability it creates. The weight of events, as a sun, rises in the sky, gets greater, then after, beginning to decline, falling in the horizon, being the midpoint of a path on a space-time curve. Every person, every plant, every animal, every thing, every being, is one of those plots. In modern days, week by week events, most of the times, end up in a better or worse weekend which can be a boring or exciting weekend. In both cases, folks eccentrically exclaim: what a bloody weekend! *** When I was a boy I used to be attracted by the big screen movies. I was seduced by long movie tracks which impersonate slavery historical times. Via screen I could see passing endless rows of slaves. Black people and Jews were the most human types used for such purposes by movie makers. During this epoch of my life, I yet didn't know what was the meaning of the word proletariat. Later I learned that the term proletarian refers to men of numerous offspring. This was the Latin classical concept of the word. Ever since the Industrial Revolution and still during Victorian times, the word above was used to designate any employee with a lousy salary, as part of the capitalist production system. Although, those who could get higher salaries, nevertheless being as well employees to some employer, received the designation of Lupen Proletarian. This system operates in the way of production of goods in general, since slavery and feudalism to capitalism itself, having

sailed up in communist regimes, just not adapting so well in anarchists ones, which, besides, these last ones never took over in any country at all. However, the links connected to these ideological tendencies can be many and mixed: Anarchy-Syndicalism, Marxism-Leninism, Maoism, Stalinism, even Nazism or Terrorism if not Radicalism, Vanguardism, and Chauvinism, just to cite some of most known ... As anyone can see there is a general tendency to the ism. Ism is a seism. * BITS!!! It's around 8 pm. I turn on my Telly. THE-LAFf-A-

There they go, racing on a bicycle, mounted on a treble sit bike, carrying a leader! They cross streets, pedalling ahead of cars, arriving to a house. There they are hanging large paintings from a sitting room's walls, using the the ladder, painting doors, pasting wall paper. The ladder moving crazy, never stops making somersaults. What a big mucker! Change of tempo in music. Slapping one each others an other folks in the room, the hosts engaging themselves as well ... the decorators having met the house's Landlord, knock him down and flee with his wife on the bike! Bloody funny movie! * Well, the theatre group will show up on stage with no final rehearsal. The whole afternoon was occupied in transporting the furniture and arrangement of stage. But, many of these props – some of them within the décor to give the necessary transition from play to play, so, as to make the changes more effective – will be replaced by others that were lately quickly improvised. Roderick, the director, walks on a treadmill, walking up and down the

stage, shouting orders, modifying earlier decisions, solving with clever and instant moves some of the scene past problems. I returned home for dinner. I'm walking by the streets in town. At home, my mother prepares dinner. I keep having a saddened heart and some discouragement of myself. New memories invade my thoughts ... Desiring some freedom and unconcern, to step on stage at ease, on the other hand, I am embarrassed by this hard feeling of missing Michaela. At the time settled, with full audience, not yet with the stage curtain withdrawn, old Ivan's character, appeared on the platform declaring his intention, or, more precisely, his wife's intention of, coming up at scene to talk about the maleficences of tobacco, the harmless of tobacco. The poor man, who indeed was wearing tattered along thirty years, since his marriage more precisely, would eventually take off, angrily, his jacket, throwing it to the floor and crushing it with his feet, after making the most foolish confidences about his life, and also, in a way, of other of his folks' lives, like his wife, even like those on the audience, who were listening to him with a non believing smile on their faces and as well laughing at the man's funny speech. As so, he recovered his coat from the floor, because his wife was already watching him from the dressing room. In a final appeal to the audience, he asked them not to compromise him upon his wife who still could make him pass other stronger martyrdoms. Of course, himself, who had not a spared single penny in his pocket, penniless he was, and, not even lowering ten cents on the brochures' price, advertising his wife's school, hadn't been able to sell at least one single one of them. Therefore, the poor man gave up, continuing on stage after talking about everything but not about what he intended to talk in the first place: the Harmless of Tobacco. But were not, precisely those, such maleficences ?!

Other characters, not less important and disturbing, showed up on stage. The most impressive, certainly the most terrifying, was the Dark Angel of Death. A dark angel wearing a dark robe, long to it's feet, entoured in an aura of agony, a premonition of death. The messenger of Death! Death with no Hope. What about the Madman's play? The Madman is the man who does not want to be confused with his madness and Madness is what is beyond oneself in day by day life, on the sidelines of memory, in our frustrated thoughts. The Madman says it is impossible to live a life in a world where he has to admit himself being a descendant of a beast – the primate species of anthropology books – and, simultaneously,, feeling able to upgrade his thoughts to the highest philosophical musings! In fact, the evolution gap that separates man from his macaque cousin, ape-like anthropological form, is such that it is hard for the Madman to believe in the Evolution of Species and as well in the Theory of Mutations, and, even more, in Religion! So the Terrorist Madman does not understand life and does not understand those who pretentiously say they understand. Therefore he wants to deny Life! He will go with his ingenious device to raze buildings and neighbourhoods, cities and universes in general, reducing everything to dust, cosmic dust ... And mankind must be just grateful to this terrorist! Midnight. Death was thus the central theme of these plays. I notice that Theatre is life like. Easier to live than to understand. Today the footlights on stage and backstage are silent. On the stage there is just echo of truce, an echo of the audience's applause. Show

has ended but not Life. Like everyone else, Michaela, will be back when the morning shines.

Chapter 4 MARSHLAND I

ACTUALLY, ME AND MICHAELA, (also a great adventurer companion), as we were descending the valley by the river Volgila on the Sierra Da Lappa, we were leaving behind us the old lands of Laffoons where we delighted ourselves with some small dishes of the infamous stewed veal and the not less infamous pastries of Volgila, making a stop in Serrazes, where we contemplated the famed Written Stone – a rock with geometric drawings of mysterious meaning – wonder of the Portobelian Rock Art. Following the road, we arrived by the Lake Avia where the Volgila river expands and flows through two canals, to the lands of Moyra in the South and Port Obal in the North. Two rivers flow into the Avia lake: the river Volgila and the river Certeem in a common estuary.

However, in the northern wing of Lake Avia ( The Haff ) lands a small river that, after crossing Port Obal and receiving the Great Grace Creek's running waters (see map ), downstreams by the Time-Out-Rock-Café, ( also called 'the Rocafé' ), a night club that succumbed to the flames of a fire after the Carnival of 2008, without ever been clear the contours of this mysterious event. In contrast with the Community's Library, across the car park, now surrounded by Rocafé's fences of barbed wire preventing its access, except at the main entrance, where the gang that shifts on the park uses smoking cigarettes due to new laws passed to ban smoking in working places ... Following through the right wing of the Library's building and turning up towards the Square of the Penitents where, turning left, one reaches the top of the Calvary to the back of the Market, known as the Calvary Hill, ( see map ), one quickly arrives to the new bridge over the river Casper .

All the time flanking the right wing of Abel Andy's building, somewhere up to a stone staircase, one reaches the traffic lights at Railway Station Garden. This garden has a central-circular halo drawn in various colours, in accordance with the passage of seasons showing different species of flowers which are, in seasonal succession and human patience, there planted. From this flowery circle depart four main alleys lined with leafy trees that provides the necessary shade to the wooden benches that arise along the lanes, planted in alternation with the trees. ( see map ). This is where pedestrians circulate usually addressing to the old railway station. This station is older than it should be. Trains are from the electronic age while the station's structure remains in the steam age. The trains run through it, faster than the capability information of notice and visualization, and the Doppler effect of a train that moves through it, distract the passengers who are toddling on the platform, enough to cause serious coma in relation to the sound of the next train, leaving users with their ears stunned, all resulting in total collective disorientation. People are traumatized and shivering, looking at each other, moving around like ants to opposite sides from the the amalgamation sound epicentre. Folks have already addressed the president of the Community to decide on the matter, who said that there is little to say about Port Obal's old railway station that could end as a multi-purpose space linked to culture or musicology – instead of responding that the solution should be in the construction of a tunnel from Womb Bridge to New Bridge, (which, alias, is what folks would like to hear him saying). ( see map ) An alternative option, in order trains could run without stopping, would be an extra via, therefore no tunnel was needed, and extra visa are there already, beyond the second platform. But this conclusion is an erratic one that has to do with the exaggerated inflection that the cross would have to suffer because of the existence of the Felt Factory, and a tunnel would again be the solution, but again openings

of tunnels are always likely to cause collapse of nearby old buildings – that's why somebody got the idea of constructing a bypass to replace the old level crossing (now effectively closed), which after all could not be performed, it seems, cos of the ancient very valuable buildings like the mega historic United Braza Brothers ballroom building and the Armedand Rose boarding-house and equally, as often cited, the famous Felts Factory, which has the special characteristic of being the only plant of this kind in Portobello. All this goes against the Main Project at the Council, so beyond its budget that only by the part of the Community would cost 6000 million sestertii. Now the Community nor even one million has available, even to build a simple subway crossing below the level the one in actual use, downstream of the railway line in relation to the station. The first platform would descend in proper sloping ramp and steps, to the crossing point, and then ascending to the second platform in the same way. The distance between the crossing point and the station's entry is compatible to proceed the necessary trigonometry. In this solution the station itself would not have to be sent to such a condition of museology, predicted by the so said Mayor of Port Obal. Whether so or not, this gives us as much, because it's now summertime season, and instead we preferred to go to the brewery house named 'La Miñota' that serves quite popular snacks. There we found the owner, Mr Albert, very very busy making sandwiches according to the standards required by the EU. We asked for a Recipe with sugar still we had to face the cyclo-cross route across the Pontoon. ( see map ) After several cheers to the health of all clients and friends we disbanded outdoors and cut through the infamous Station's Lane. Another picturesque alley in this script, the Station's Lane, runs along the lateral wall of the old and arquivetust building of College Juglio Egal Dennis. Honour made to the great novelist who only accounts for his memory with a small bust erected downtown in the

Garden of the Fields, which is no longer the only statue built in Port Obal in memorial to their emeritus, counting now for the same effect, with the monument erected in the Ancient Place of the Pond, which was ultimately both a place and a pond, formerly called Poza, built in memory to the international boxer Santa Cameroon; and the abominable statues commemorating the local Carnival season in the BP's Petrol Station-Garden, and also the bust of Clare of Aviarium in St Michael's Garden in Port Obal, so, Portobello is the country and Port Obal the town. Even with respect to these centennial commemorative rock erections we will also consider the megaliths of the Great Roundabout ( Rotunda ) on the the Variant Road and the great pebbles scattered on the grass inside the hall of the Library that simple minded people do not understand how was it possible to have end up there. But this is so, pebbles are pebbles, and there is nothing to do about that! It should as well be noted that the Garden of the Fields was, as well formerly, a pond, known as ''The Lagoon of the Fields'', and that in a epoch not too much recessed from the present day, although not remounting back to Viriatho, but to all appearances, going back to the birth of Portobello, i.e., the times of Dom Alphonse Enriched. This hypothesis, though contrary to the geological age of sedimentary strata, fits however, in the timeline according to the Bible and even has in its favour, the recent existence in the old property of the Necklaces Family Pond on the banks of the Haff, opposite to the old pier - the Stone Quay - that, not even two or three decades ago, also dried up for good. There would exist in this pond, if not Global Warming making its effect since that time, some monsters, such was the profusion of fish and bighead toads that abounded there, which would become in just a few decades, all in accordance with the same timeline, into giant frogs to the delight of Normans and Britons who are the experts in fishing and hunting such slippy amphibian. Referring us back to the lately mentioned Railway Station's Lane, it runs parallel to the old Juglio Dennis

College, as said, bordered to the same extent by the famous Station Wall, it seems older than the Berlin Wall, with the advantage of having not yet fallen down. There are walls that resist! It doesn't even shows any vestigial of collapsing or the like. There it is, like a faithful guardian of the old station. It extends to where there is an ingenious metal wheel to get wagons around that were hasty in embarking flour at the mills and other factory counterparts, which brilliant and proud silos were, not so long ago, well spotted from the bypass road, known as the Variant. The lane narrows after this step with its wall always running to its right and a degraded mini hamlet skirting to the left. The Lane begins showing faulty pavement patches and who is riding a bicycle has here the chance to experience a sudden and profitable acceleration of the vehicle. But beware !, might the course to reveal itself instantly treacherous and the most careful might end trap onto a second wall, this last frontal, what will determine the 'twist in the tale' of the race or a broken head of the rider ... right? You may have to hold very firmly the bike's handlebars and tilt your arse to the right to enter the 'narrowing space', now, between two very close walls, not much more distant from each other than the measure of a handlebar itself. The feeling is like you have entered a black hole. Time shrinks, Space is reduced and Speed is infinite! With a little luck you can reach the end of the Time disturbance created in those 50 yards or so. At the exit we feel as if emerging elsewhere in the Universe and that is as so if we don't reduce conveniently the speed of our bike. After exiting this time-travelling-tunnel, we face a spacial pontoon ( see map ) which throw the vehicle into the air. This is the crucial point of trip, where we get into weightlessness as suspended, almost levitating, during ... ?...

Just pay attention to what follows: when we throw a ball vertically to the air, the ball goes out of our hand at the speed at which it is shot, losing speed until speed reaches zero. The question that arises is: how long is the ball stopped up in the air ? Scholars do not respond to this dilemma in their in Physics Notes, because if answering, for example, that the ball is stopped even for a fraction of a second, this will be the same as if they replied that the ball is in levitation during that time . Now, as everyone knows, there is no levitation except in the vicinity of absolute zero Kelvin temperature. A ball thrown into the air never actually stops, only its speed, at best, almost reaches zero, but can not reach it, except in the ideal condition of a perfectly vertical launch which is a condition impossible to achieve in reality. Only in the role of our scholars' notebooks objects have the opportunity to levitate. As with our bike, the jump it suffers, independently of how great it may be, is never processed in the exact vertical line and that's good, because if so, we could end up on a levitation on the pontation, meaning, the pontoon ... ( see map! ) But the feeling of such jumping in the air is of genuine weightlessness! Soon reality wakes us up, since we will plop down with the fall impact, if we are not aware of our movement. These spatial idiosyncrasies, which still exist in some corners of our metropolis, could be exploited by Dr Leonardo da Vincezo to make a Tour to the modern Port Obal, this time ... on a cross bike! As exiting from this treble effort, now we are pedalling close by the railway. If a train happens to pass over the line above our heads, heavy as a train is and apparently slower than our bike, the feeling rages up and throws us headlong to the lane's top, where it ends, reaching the main road.

After the climbing ... we take advantage of the descent to the roundabout at BP petrol station, passing in front of Thomas Moor's former infamous house. In the roundabout where our Nissan Sunny is parked, we let go of our imaginary bicycles and enter the car. Michaela, already sat down at the passengers place, combs her hair looking to the small mirror on the back of the car's sun stopper. I settle myself in my place at the Nissan Sunny stirring wheel and after some accelerating kicks in order to heat up the machine, we roll on the highway. Thunderstorm clouds rising in the sky are, at times, obliterating the sun. Some water drops are trickling stress on the wind shield, and in a few seconds, we think it might rain. But it's summer, the afternoon will last until darkness comes, and, by dinner time, it will still be daylight. Soon we devise the next roundabout on top of the road with its sharp megaliths cut in the blue sky. We double the encircling roundabout towards Golden Beach. In no time, we cross close Yasac Saltano and Al Copper factory buildings. We are required to slow down at the Shopingcenter's roundabout and soon we roll down the road into the pine forests and, after passing the YMCA hostel, we turn right by the old alternative road. To say that just two decades ago, this path was punctuated by absolutely no reference at all, no factories, no malls, no inns of any kind, nor even unexpected roundabouts ... just pine forests and some bushes bearing their whitish fruits. On the new irregular tarmac path and occasionally bumpy pavement, I downshift for convenience and safety. We do not feel like talking during this part of the journey. There is a different spirit in this forest ... it's a quiet and peaceful pine forest where the vegetation takes different shapes at each step, as I let the car slide through the road's irregularities, as by happy fate, abandoned there between bushes, pine and eucalyptus

trees. We pass the entry of a farm, then a house of debased patina. Little more makes presence until the junction with the Forest Road which, unfortunately, was also converted in a roundabout. Next to it, the vegetation is denser, trees and shrubs are predominantly high and blackened, forming contrast with the bright density coming from West through trunks and branches, to define beams of sunlight similar to incandescent lighthouses. We start looking to the right side arriving the roundabout and, in a first impulse of our the senses, we feel attracted turning to the right, through the hot and mysterious Serpent's Forest ( see map ) density but the rotary previously drawn in our minds becomes stronger, it is appropriate that we deterred our desire for escape, moving ahead. Soon the sacro-Corbusianne contours of the attractive architecture of Golden Beach's chapel erected in honour of Madonna of Pietat, are becoming visible. The secular part of the procession in honour of this Madonna who stands on the mobile altars, at the shoulders of sturdy fishermen, accompanied by the canopy, under which march, sheltered from the sun, sweating, the pastors who will launch the blessing on the sea, both across the beach where the ocean rolls its waters at the feet of believers kneeling, murmuring some sort of appeals to God for their fishing campaigns. By the time we pass in front of the chapel is almost night. We parked halfway between the Fair and restaurants' area from which we will choose one where to dine. Although before doing so we decided to go for a walk on Golden Beach main avenue. We walk down the avenue at the time cafés are not so busy and slow down the service, in expectation of night customers. The terraces are still deserted, the public lighting not yet set up, restoring the relaxing and fading twilight, suitable for walks and lucubrations of those who have nothing more to expect from their life. But, alas, life goes on always different, now under the

aegis of the night, as the street lights illuminate the pavement, as the waiters circulate their shiny trays between the tables as the first night customers arrive. The disc-jockey from the sound booth, as he left some Mozart's symphony playing, while himself, too, had his dinner, races now across the boulevard and climbs up hastily to his sound altar with innovative playlists ... We have walked over a few dozens of yards downstream on the pedestrian pathway and concluded also to be suitable, for us as well, to refuel. * Early morning we left our tent. We improvised a breakfast of bread with butter and chocolate milk, after which, we compacted stuff in our Nissan Sunny's boot ( together with our metal detector ) we got on the road again to continue our road map's trajectory, leaving behind the Varina's roundabout – a set of excellent statuary in homage to Port Obal's fishermen's wives. Soon we reached Car Regal ( see map ). Somewhere, near another roundabout, there are the ruins of a Fort that you also will be able to find if you seek, as good as we did, when sometime you be there. This would have been a strong fortress, as we conclude by the observation of its ruins, a huge turret where the great Founder, Dom Alphonse Enriched, watched the manoeuvres of the descendants of the various barbaric tribes that roamed through it: Turduli, Celts, Goths, Romans and Arabs, with fixation more or less long, or even just passing through, and who died of fear at the sight of Dom Alphonse Enriched when he went hunting ducks or stopped for a rest at these strategic fields dominated by the Fort. There wasn't yet any pine forests, (Dom Denis, a further king, was not yet studying at the university), so the Fort of Car Regal showed its presence on the dunes' clad only in low vegetation, and from this sight point, one could see – the early straw cabins where those ancient hords stayed overnight and from where emerged,

potentially perhaps, the prototype of the huts of Port Obal's Up Town Dwarves Low Cabins. After this lesson History learned at Car Regal, rolling on the road that would lead us to the most characteristic north estuary of lake Avia, we didn't lose the opportunity to take the extra strong coffee at Titan's Arino's Beach Bar with its actual modernized architecture. The pine forest on these shores is the same as it was many decades ago, where already was operating a Bar, but just as a mini-bar, with cloth changing private rooms and toboggan near the shoreline, that Siñora Ermingarda controlled carefully from her vigilant position. The friendly Arino's Beach is a small beach where kids went to swim towards the aquatic part of the water extension called 'the Carrier', close to the other side of the Haff, (see map), place of passage of deep draft vessels, including the popular barge, carrying asymmetric granite blocks weighing about a ton each. The discharge was made in the said pier, within walking distance to the north. This pier, piling up a pyramid of these stones, used to make the joy of several kids enjoying playing out there during summer time. The depth of the Carrier would be, as now, about seven yards. The game was to check who could dive to the bottom of the Carrier and dive back, bringing as proof that ones hand had touched the Haff's bottom, a handful of mud, a task that obviously made difficult to dive up, as it was necessary to swim in rise, with a closed hand full with mud ... There are no longer such small heroes ... Our next stop will be Tower Beach also called Torrance. Currently with a few hotels and several restaurants and cafés, Torrance is situated on a sandy strip of land separating the Atlantic Ocean from Lake Avia. Torrance is a place of vacation for many foreigners during the warm season. Only with access from the road on which we drive, is truly a remarkable place for its areas of humble fishermen dwellings of wood called haystacks.

The attractions of Torrance are, especially related leisure activities, given the location of this place between river and sea. The long sandy coastline attracts a large number of tourists in search of sun during summer time where they relax their existence on the sea and rivershore along beaches, in search for water sports such as sailing and windsurfing. The dominant religious festival of this place is Saint Payo of Torrence, a popular pilgrimage which attracts countless people, from all parishes in the neighbourhood. About this drunky kind of saint the legend tells that the saint has been spotted drinking wine when bathing in the sea ... Such fame is attributed to this saint (who is simply represented by a wooden baby Jesus), derives from the fact that the pilgrimage takes place in the middle of vintages' harvest time. Taken by the duality of the fame of this saint, the pilgrims take ambiguous behaviouring, both proving to be the most complete blessed, as, soon after, entering by waving and cursing all over the place and corners of the small town. Tradition tells us that in ancient times, some patrons, had acquired the habit of diving the image of the saint into wine, ritual that could only be approved and have been carried out by experts masters on the arts and libations in the honour of Bacchus. In the posters' festivities we can outlook for: the procession, the double fireworks (on the sea and over the estuary), and the regattas of boats and Moliceiros, this latter a type of boat acting as lake Avia's ex-libris. In this resort you can taste good fish stews in the most popular restaurants and taverns, or for those penniless ones, barbecued sardines in the outdoors and Valongo thread breads, both to keep up with the inevitable 'American' red wine! Welcome to Torrance! Passing along the river Avia by the river's beach, named Little Torrance, we must remember the time when, on the shore of this small river beach, a large sea boat

has landed, which dimensions were comparable to that of a transatlantic, said to have belonged to General Espeeniol, a military fellow who had distinguished himself during the colonial war. The boat, given as inoperable, then dragged out to touch the tongue of sand, also said Towerino Beach, was slightly tilted to the beach side due to subsidence of the riverbed muds. Nothing serious, the boat was not only respecting the town's secular tradition about pent, as this was not so exaggerated that it was indeed possible to move inside the ship. From the ship's deck, positioned surely at around ten yards from the sandy river beach, was launched a metal staircase properly crafted, giving access to the boat and, subsequently, to a bar of beverages that somebody had the idea to install inside this obsolete Portobello's large naval vessel. Although being in exhibition and in use, as a bar, for only a few years, this nautical Colossus ever seen stranded in the estuary-lake Avia, could be considered the biggest tourist attraction ever, in the Ancient World of the old pond-lake. This was about time to think of using, somewhere convenient, our metal detector. We decided to make use of it in one of the Marshland's islands we will soon be visiting and so we continued our journey further south of Torrance. We decided to do so when arriving to the marshland islands ( see map ). According to one of our theories about the treasure's location, or parts of it, those small islands called Sapals, would contain at least some dispersed coins, once the dredging was made by shooting the mud hoovered from the Carrier's bottom, towards the margins sides. This could demonstrate the treasure real existence or loose parts of it. Located in the neck of land (isthmus) that extends north of the lagoon, between Torrance and St Hyacinth, the Pousada ( Inn ) of the Ria, also called Pousada da Ria, is set in an unique naturally beautiful spot. From the balconies of this Inn, one can look to the fullest extent to a blue lagoon under a sky full of peace. It

is a place where you can take at ease, a good glass of regional wine while watching the rude labours of the local fishermen during the harvesting of seaweed. You'll see the 'Moliceiros', long boats with high prows laboriously painted with sacred or typical motives. The inn has 18 rooms and two luxury suites. Ten rooms are on the first floor and overlook the lagoon. Facilities include bar, restaurant, terrace, swimming pool, tennis court and car park. Sailors and public in general are informed that the wind ( Nortada ) is in perfect sync with the meals, so that it begins to blow soon after lunch and ends when the water sporters are back for dinner. Enjoy sailing, lunch and dinner at the Pousada da Ria, and after dinner, sleep a peaceful sleep in a location free of wind and storms or other disturbances from aggressive and disruptive urban sounds. We left behind the Pousada da Ria and come by to the Dunes of the Natural Reserve of St. Hyacinth. The dunes of St Hyacinth are a natural reserve made up of beaches, dunes and hoods where there is a pond as a refuge for waterfowl, especially in winter, when it focus thousands of wild ducks. On entering the reserve we come across a dense forest that stretches for miles along the isthmus. There is a footpath through the forest to the sea's sandy beach. Pine trees and acacias consolidate the sand but prevent the growth of some native species. Willows and grasses-of-the-pampas are other exotic but alien species. In areas with low accumulation of water willow trees grow with difficulty. The same for some alders and black poplars, of a more grateful and deep green. Samoucs, strawberry trees, gorse, reeds, sangaños, myrtles, pastries, butcher's brooms and rosemary are a set of native species that grow among the other larger species of trees.

In order to keep the dunes' line and flora species, and serve as a shelter to a colony of herons, was established in 1979, the Natural Reserve of St. Hyacinth a sandbank which lies on the northern Ria, this extending until Port Obal. This Reserve has an area of 700 ha and is located within a wider area of seabirds protection. It is divided into three sub-areas: forest, dunes and freshwater ponds, the largest of these, the Pateira of Fermentelos, the second largest natural lake in Europe , preferred site for the passage or wintering migratory waterfowl. It seems, then, everything's fine, if not for the contention that the dredging of the Ria, as far as we have noted, was not conducive ( favourable ) to people living in the area and also to the municipality of Port Obal. The navigable channel to the northern arm of the Ria that has been previously mentioned under the name of Carrier ( see map ), ended up naturally more passable, as the dredges removed mud, seaweed and other sediments from the old silted water-route but those sediments were laterally projected by the dredges towards the margins, creating elevations on the riverbed in the already enough shallow lagoon. This resulted in an unexpected proliferation of surrounding marshes and channels that interfered with the distribution of tidal waters, having even, in some cases, caused minor disasters like floods and the ruin of some corn fields ... *** It's time now for us to explain what is a Sapal. The geological formation of a marshland-island ( sapal ) is closely related to the deposition of sediments that causes the elevation of the lagoon's bottom in characteristic points, forming small islands.

The dredging of the Ria's channels, recently occurred, for better navigability of the estuary, caused instant island formations, all over eveywhere and also near the banks, contributing to obstruct the navigation of small boats and Moliceiros, with which is customary for locals to navigate there. Especially during low tide the boats suddenly stuck, stranding and delaying boatmen anf fishermen daily routines. The gathering of seaweed became hampered because, in fact, this eco-system remained temporarily paralysed. One must be aware of water-herbs as it may be impossible to reach, in low tide, these islands, given the large extension of exposed bare mud constituting an obstacle which can prove fatal even for the more diligent adventurous. As the danger of stranding boats is greater, the main problem is to be able to stay mired in the mud with water by the neck if risking walking on the patina of the treacherous slippery and slimy sediment, both in trying to get to the Marsh's opposite banks even if the journey to reach them is only a few tens of meters. The mud is slippery and treacherous, having already occurred jams and drownings of children who tried to escape from the Haff's bottom, while writhing in the mud, with what they could only ever get more and more stuck. One must begin the journey to the chosen saltymarsh island, at most by half-tide. Never with empty tide at all! The same is said for the expedition's withdrawal. Leaving our Nissan Sunny parked on the roadside, we took the small inflatable vinyl boat, in which we placed two bladed-paddles, the metal detector and two pairs of tennis rackets, because, as it's used to say, 'as you go to the sea, you better prevent yourself on land'. At the point where we were, we float the boat on the water very carefully, not to turn upside down its load that included a small meal consisting of pastries and other Vouzila's delicacies spared from the previous day, and we paddled cautiously up to the Marshland.

Marshland is, more appropriately, the mantle of humus and vegetation that covers every island, the same having appeared in greater abundance, during the drainage of the main waterway in ancient times called 'the Carrier'. Dredges threw the sediment muddy beds from the channel, randomly, onto the banks. The vessels drew the sediments from the haff's botom and shot the sucked material, far onto next to the lake's banks. The currents and tides were in charge of getting the rest of the configuration, changing the bathymetry of water in the shallows, decreasing its quota ... When we reached the edge of a marshland we anchored the small boat as best as we could and we took out the equipment. We crossed the small bush of reeds, bulrush and some branches of angustiofiliae involving the small island. This vegetation is populated by a myriad of beings that characterize these islands. Walking through the reeds with our waterproof boots, we could observe, under the water, seagrass meadows, where were some mullet small swimming, but also were rambling and breathing some crick, crabs and clams. Looking closer, and walking as quietly as possible, we saw many wading birds, gulls, sandpipers, plovers, kingfishers and, of course, the usual and inevitable taylorinsects waving upon the water. Grebes, ducks, moorhens, and some flamingos fluttering in the distance. As we move into the Marshland we note the decrease in water's salinity through the change of vegetation that now predominantly consists of matrush. Dominated by freshwater occur more frequently plants of the family Cyperaceae known as bulrush. In the region of freshwater (high marsh), the terrain is more consolidated and, as so, we could extend a towel on which we distributed our lunch, as we sat down to contemplate the marsh's view as, happily, we shared our victuals.

** Not all the gold and silver captured by Normans & Vikings were transported to their native land, part of it would eventually be transported on several boats in the hidden cove which consisted the Haff, out of sight of the sea lanes of the time between the northern seas and the Mediterranean. These boats were led by Leif Ericson who entered Haff on about 865 with the idea of finding a good hiding place for his treasure. This treasure was to be called 'The Dreaming Treasure'. On the lands surrounding the Haff, there wasn't, as today, any caves or mountains, so that our browsers Vikings could only hide their treasure by burying it in shallow or deep graves scattered in the grounds neighbouring the Haff, which was justified by the fact that they intended some time later, retransport the treasure to better place. However, the Haffiana Cove - the Ria seemed to them the most ideal place to keep the lot outside the reach of French, Spanish and Arabic looters. This treasure was transported in amphorae, safes, and other similar receptacles of the same kind, as pots, pans, jars or any other sealed cups made of clay or terracotta, amphorae of ovoid form with two symmetrical wings, of round shaped bottom tip or narrow foot whose typical use would originally be to store food and other consumption stuffs, such as brine, like the Greek did, using them to keep liquids, particularly wine, but also oil, nuts, honey, cereals, or simply water. Everywhere in Portobello, on the coast or near rivers, are daily found fragments of these containers, although they may have been manufactured as far afield as the eastern Mediterranean and Greece. The amphorae only began to be manufactured by the Lusitanian - the Portobelian ancesters - later in History. The cited envasements were filled with gold and silver in the form of coins of all ages, including Roman coins and gold and silver objects of everyday use. Where did the first coins came from? There is no consensus on exactly where the first

coins appeared. The most accepted theory is that the coins arose independently in India, China and Lydia (region of modern Turkey) around the year 650 BC. As Indian and Chinese coins had no currency format (the Indian silver bars were stamped by a competent and Chinese were shaped like tools such as shovels, hoes, knives, keys) it's conventionally said that the first coins were archetypes of alloys of gold and silver from Lydia. These coins had a lion on the obverse and an incuse square on the reverse to show that the metal was pure, not just plated. How were made the first coins were made in antiquity? The old mint masters proceeded as follows: first, two specimens were prepared with the coin designs in low relief constituting the 'intaglio'. After, one metal disc previously melted, was heated and placed against a fixed hallmark on an anvil. With the aid of a hammer, the other mark was slammed on the disc and the drawings were transferred from the stampmarks for the coins. As this is a handcrafted process, there are differences in the currencies caused by different dies used.

Is it possible to find old coins today? Yes, you can. In ancient Greece, from the year 600 BC, and in the Roman Empire from the Republic to the fall, all transactions were made through coins. The volume of coins minted by these great empires reached bilões of units. Weekly, ancient coins are found in excavations in various European countries such as Italy, Greece, France, England, Spain, Bulgaria, Turkey, Syria, Israel, Iran, Iraq, Afghanistan, India, China, Tunisia, Egypt, and of course in Spain and Portobello. These findings have been occurring since the 60s, when it was invented the metal detector. How did these coins survived to this day? The economies of ancient peoples were simply placed inside clay jars or leather bags that they buried in the backyard or in another secret place. When men went to war and died in combat, the exact location of their property died with them. The coins made of pure gold and silver have remained unchanged until they found, since these metals in the presence of moisture gain an electronic protective cover, never oxidizing beyond that layer. Gold is eternal and is therefore used as a monetary standard. Each country legally can only have in circulation, a number of coins and notes in an amount equal to the amount of gold, silver and jewels that are contained in its coffers or vaults. The countries that exceed this value, enter into economic depression, due to inflation. As a friend of mine said, '' so, if there is lack of money, why not making more money?''. However, the solution to get out of currency crises is not to make more money. It will perhaps be to do better agriculture and producing better products. Bronze coins suffered more over time, depending on the quality of soil where they were buried. Coins found in a dry climate country tend to be better preserved than others found in a generally humid country. How much can cost an ancient coin ? The price of an ancient coin can vary between 5 and 50,000 pounds, as a rule.

But it may also be worth millions of pounds. Which currencies is worth to collect? Greek and Roman coins are very beautiful. Jewish coins are a History lesson. Chinese, Persian, Indian, are almost always symbolic. Coins comprising the Jewish, Greek, Persian and Roman, are called biblical coins. * While Michaela was preparing the meal, I began to try the metal detector, around the site where the dinning towel was already stretched, until the detector started beeping. Beep, beep, beep ... faster and faster, over a hearth's given area. It was a soil area of consolidated mantle that I exposed by extracting some of the vegetation on it, in order I could dig it with my bare hands. After rummaging the soil a bit more, I felt, between my fingers, a hard round object. Bringing to light the finding I could almost immediately see that it was an ancient brass coin. - Eureka!”, I screamed with joy. - What is it, Titus?” asked Michaela very surprised, as he smoothed the towel while I stretched myself on the floor feeling very happy. - I think I found an ancient coin, maybe a silver or golden coin!'' I turned to the side where Michaela was standing, and opened my hand letting her eyes looking at the gleaming currency in the sunlight. - Wow, that's luck!, Michaela exclaimed. ''If you can find some more coins like that one we can have our ''dredges theory'' confirmed, if besides so, it may be that the coins are contemporary of the Normans or older that them, don't you think sweet Titus?'', she asked. I continued applying the detector here and there, randomly, within the surrounding area, and could 'catch' some more coins, altogether six, of different sizes but with similar gliming aspect. I drew from my pocket a small transparent plastic bag where I inserted the coins, thinking that we might come back later with better

equipment to resume the search. But the best part of this expedition was yet to unfold … Michaela spotted the sun, stretching her gaze on the shore and road, which was scarcely busy with some cars circulating and our Nissan Sunny parked. The sun darted its generous rays over our heads and the Nortada ( North wind ) was not manifesting itself very hard by what we could smoking a cigarette while we were returning to our pleasant conversation. Little frogs and toads were singing everywhere, all around. A litter of water-rats the size of rabbits went across, racing, on our visual field. The summer sky was smiling at us, young ones, stretched on our towels, with the Marshland around, showing its favourite fauna and flora. Two white storks flew away towards the other side of the marsh. We had the idea of throwing some stones to a small pool on the other end of the marshland island . An unexpected splash of wild birds started and a flock of mallards rose in flight with their near-near friendly guttural croaking. Other exotic birds hovered in the air and it was then, suddenly, that the sun was completely obliterated and it became darking. Simultaneously, a giant toad, appeared in front of us (perhaps attracted by the remains of our snacks), starting ominously, hopping towards the place where we settled. Not quite a toad, but rather more a respectable animal, above the size of a wild rabbit, with a toad's torso and a tail of a giant tadpole, wings and head like an albatross, from which toothy and beaked jaws, released a powerful and tremendous Howl, an awful Howling ! , only comparable to the infamous Ron da Moyta ( the Bush's warewolf ), making the air vibrating the reeds in the area

where the rods began to whistle a shrilling and supernatural melody. I recoiled in horror in front of this vision of the Supernatural. The giant toad-bird threw himself a leap into the air, driven by its long hind legs of a giant toad, and, in the middle of the jump, ( in the point where things hang or hover ), it flapped its wings, being able to maintain a horizontal flight for a few tens of meters, while stridulus snoring, bulging its pisciform turbot eyes, echoing the sound of its howls over the pine forests of St Hyacinth's Natural Reserve. After losing altitude, it went crashing suddenly, on one of the ponds within the marsh isle. This Marshland's Chimera, has rarely been seen. Only a few reports have clashing out of its existence and it's believed, according to the most advised scholars, that it constitutes an unexpected genetic jump in the evolution of Marshland's fauna. Was it some phenomena in animal evolution occurring here so early? Was this a subproduct of the rapid evolution of animal kingdom that was processing after the last dredging and sudden multiplication of the marshes?! ... I imagined the dredgers working continuously pulling out the lakes' bottom and shooting it, to anchor wrapped in bold seaweed, as volcano bombs falling on the innocent marshes increasing its level above water, making their flights over veritable volcanic mountains flown by these new stone pterosaurs, including lots of Norman coins, flying together through the air towards the banks ... when I was violently shaken, and punched on my back and my belly. - Wake up, Titus, mate! Look how the tide is going down!, Michaela screamed. I woke up dazed, rubbed my eyes and stared around. ''Lucky thing to me, I dared not alone in this journey'', I reflected, while returning from the pseudovulcanic Ria's hideous darkness.

I recovered in a hurry, the scattered stuff on the hard dirt marshland's area where we were lying and both of us ran to the edge of the mash but our response to the new developments was a bit late. Either the tide was empting or filling, what was ascertain, my friends, is that the small boat presented itself irretrievably stuck in the mud! The water had receded a good dozen yards from the banks line. There was only one solution which patheticly was ... the tennis rackets we predicted having to use if we experienced any delay in the return (as indeed we were to check) and that we could use for moving through the mud, by comparison with what Eskimos do when they walk on the snow using the same artefacts, capiche? Please none of you laugh, ho, you, other late afternoon adventurers. If someday you row to Marshland, remember that you might as well get confused with the Tide! ... As having the coins recoiled in my pocket, we tied, as best we could, the tennis racquets to our waterproof boots and we slipped to the boat over the naked mud the best we could until the remaining water that the tide had kept had not yet eclipsed. - Just in taime ...”, I murmured, with a sort of Irish accent, such was my excitement. Both now on board the vinyl canoe, we were paddling with great effort against the downing tide. As we arrived to the margin, panting, we stretched on a sandstrip that was showing there, like ancient Argonauts reaching the Hellespont's shores. We escaped for good! Imagine what it would be if we had to spend the whole night in Marshland?! We would, of course, be eaten alive by vermin, or the rare 'birds' of this new evolutionary line surely would swallow us ( together with the coins collected in my pocket ), in the aftermath of the most recent dredging coming out from incompetent local authorities and mayors who, being not able solve the problem of Port

Obal's Railway Station, much less, at this distance, it seemed to us, were sure not able to solve the Avia Lake's problem, all together. The scholars that had been considering the Haff as one of the seven wonders of the world to date, should, at this point, be writhing in horror when they see their ideas rolled over on the floodplain. But quitting is dying and we must be again on your way. I packed our small treasure, subtracted from the marsh's soil, in a safe corner of the car's boot, and we continued our travel. But quitting is dying and we must be again on your way. I packed our small treasure, subtracted from the marsh soil, in a safe corner of the car's boot, and we continued our travel. While driving, I kept on thinking of how the Greek's numismatic tradition could so easy propelled along the centuries throughout the planet, directly or through a complete network of influences. In the wake of Alexander the Great, whose troops seized the noble metals richness accumulated by the potentates of the Middle East and turned it into coins, this tradition has expanded considerably around the Mediterranean. After having used bronze ingots of Etruscan inspiration, Rome hallmarked its first coins in the third century BC, under the influence of the Greek cities of southern Italy. The Roman colonization then gave a boost to the numismatic only equaled by the colonial expansion of the nineteenth and early twentieth century. Beyond the borders of the Roman Empire, the Sassanid numismatics perpetuated a practice that denoted strong Hellenistic influence, transmitted by the Parthians, whose empire in its heydays, founded between the second and third centuries BC, extended from the Euphrates to Afghanistan. This Hellenistic tradition also influenced the early Islamic coinage while the Roman tradition was perpetuated in European Christendom.

A similar process occurred in India, in which successive steps directly affected Greece, with the arrival of Alexander troops, followed by contacts with the Roman Empire and finally the Muslim and European colonization. When the Spanish conquistadors arrived in Mexico in the sixteenth century, the cacao beans were sometimes money. The chroniclers noted with astonishment: money grew on trees! The road where we transit is a dead end. Arriving to St Hyacinth we stumbled upon the door of the military headquarters at the Aviation Base, where are trained the Portobello marines. Here too there are some incipient shipyards. It seems like there is also a small ferry link to the port of Aviarium city. However, we regarded the feasibility of continuing our automobile trip across a bridge that would link directly with the lighthouse on the opposite margin and then with the city of Aviarium, but we only rest with our imagination of it. We turned the Nissan Sunny around into the road's opposite direction and we will be trying to cross the Haff of Port Obal on the tourism utility bridge, famous by the crossing point where it is launched and as well as by its architecture and design: Vannila's Bridge ! Vanilla Bridge ( see map ), built during the 60's, somewhere where the margins of the estuary are closer, is a volute that rises to a point enough high to be able to achieve a wide panoramic view of the estuary in both directions of watercourse. From the top of the bridge one can see the water's distant horizon line. Looking from the top of bridge, south, it shows the amplitude of the water sheet, where one can observe the curvature of the horizon when on clear days. It is a place where anyone can, with some imagination, demonstrate the sphrericity of Earth, no kidding.

The bridge, itself, seems to be in the need of development and expansion of its board, in order to meet the growing volumes of traffic. It is assumed that at least it will have separate lanes for bicycles since the construction of a two-way plan appears to be prohibitively expensive, once the bridge is only used as a sinker of heavy traffic during summer months . The road that extends off the bridge, south, towards Murtoyland, is an example of a road section which should be repeated along the haff's margin in order to reach some road junction at the entrance of Aviarium city. But, arriving at the end of this road section of about 2 miles long, our claims die on Bestida, just as some decades ago the road coming from Aviarium, ended in Bestida's docks, from where boats departed to Torrance, at that time, a poor fishing village. We accelerate our Nissan Sunny on the long way ahead where it was possible to reach nearly one hundred miles per hour without much effort on the car ... But right here ends the story of our speed records, for what awaits us then after we suddenly change direction, now with the car's compass pointing to the mountains, is a road of twists and turns continually surrounded by the old town's hamlet.

From the year 3500 AC, instead of the using of polished stone, it took place the use metals, especially copper, gold and bronze, as discovered by the Egyptian and Sumerian the casting processes of such metals. However not yet iron. It followed up the Bronze Age and the construction of the Great Pyramid of Keops, on place of Gizah, in Egypt. 1100 BC, was the beginning of the Iron Age in Greece and bronze began to fall into disuse. The increasing use of iron increased also the contacts

between people who used iron utensils as a medium of trade. 650 BC: the world's first coins emerged in Lydia made with an alloy of silver and gold. 360 BC: Philip of Macedon conquers Greece. 55 BC: Julius Caesar invaded Britain. The Roman coins of the time had the portrait of Caesar. This is the epoch of the Julian calendar (Julius Caesar) which already contained 365 days and provided the ''leap'' year. 27 BC: Octavian Caesar Augustus becomes the first emperor of the Roman Empire. 476 AD: End of the Roman Empire in the West, which marks the transition to the Middle Ages. In the sixth century, a certain monk Dionysus the Short adopted the birth of Christ as the start of the Christian era. Before that, coins were not dated. 1095 to 1270 AD: The Crusades, military expeditions head for Asia Minor and Palestine and also sought for the opening of trade routes. 1232 to 1253: Florence and Genoa issuing gold coins. 1278 to 1253: Marco Paulo's trip to China. 1415: Portobello starts its maritime expansion, aiming to search for gold on the west coast of Africa. 1500 to 1520: It was taken from Africa to Portobello, on average, 400 kg of gold per year. This gold has been all 'buried' in the beautiful Monastery of Batalha and the ugly convent of Mafra where the king, John Ratan V, was going to sleep with a nun. 1588: The English fleet beats the Spanish fleet. 1640: England helped Portobello to releave from the Spanish dominion. 1772: invention of loom in England. 1765: James Watt perfected the steam engine, first regular and stable form of energy invented by man and the stone of Industrial Revolution. 1784: created the production process of steel in England. 1776: Independence of the United States.

1789: French Revolution. 1848: discovery of gold in California. 1907: international banking crisis. 1939 to 1945: World War II 1971: England adopts the decimal system. 1973: the United States abandoned the gold standard. 1975: intensification of minting commemorative coins worldwide. 1991: the en of Soviet Union. 1999: beginning of the new monetary standard of the European Community: the Euro.

''Once, the Normans walked on the marshlands and sailed on the Haff ...'' These descendants of the Vikings, the Normans, were established in northern France, when they decided to come down, by boat to the Iberian and Italian peninsulas, where they founded colonies and kingdoms. The economy of the Vikings relied on fishing codfish what they practised in northern Europe. This people were warriors that imposed a lot of respect in the region. They made weapons and shields and metal warships called drakkars. There were not Christians ( only around the year 1000, in contact with the Europeans, they began to adhere to Christianity), once they believed in many gods ( polytheism ) linked to the forces of Nature. Odin (god of Wisdom) and War), was the greatest deity among the Vikings. They also believed in other gods, such as Thor, god of the Thunder and son of Odin, and Freyer, god of Peace and Fertility. They also believed the Valkyries, brave women who rode with Odin during battles. They were used to lead the brave warriors killed in battle to the Valhalla (Viking heaven).

The Normans were a people that set in medieval northern France, whose aristocracy largely descended from the Scandinavian Vikings. They developed an important political role in the northern part of Europe, Mediterranean and Middle East, as the colonization of Normandy, the Norman conquest of England, the establishment of states in the south of Sicily and the Crusades. Several legends were invented about him ... By attacking the Carolingian empire the Scandinavians did not seek to conquer lands. Their goal was the appropriation of the churches' wealth and coastal cities as well as also the capture of slaves. The road where we transit is a dead end. Arriving to St Hyacinth we stumbled upon the door of the military headquarters at the Aviation Base, where are trained the Portobello marines. Here too there are some incipient shipyards. It seems like there is also a small ferry link to the port of Aviarium city. However, we regarded the feasibility of continuing our automobile trip across a bridge that would link directly with the lighthouse on the opposite margin and then with the city of Aviarium, but we only rest with our imagination of it. We turned the Nissan Sunny around into the road's opposite direction and we will be trying to cross the Haff of Port Obal on the tourism utility bridge, famous by the crossing point where it is launched and as well as by its architecture and design: Vannila's Bridge ! Vanilla Bridge ( see map ), built during the 60's, somewhere where the margins of the estuary are closer, is a volute that rises to a point enough high to be able to achieve a wide panoramic view of the estuary in both directions of watercourse. From the top of the bridge one can see the water's distant horizon line.

Looking from the top of bridge, south, it shows the amplitude of the water sheet, where one can observe the curvature of the horizon when on clear days. It is a place where anyone can, with some imagination, demonstrate the sphrericity of Earth, no kiding. The bridge, itself, seems to be in the need of development and expansion of its board, in order to meet the growing volumes of traffic. It is assumed that at least it will have separate lanes for bicycles since the construction of a two-way plan appears to be prohibitively expensive, once the bridge is only used as a sinker of heavy traffic during summer months . The road that extends off the bridge, south, towards Myrtleland, is an example of a road section which should be repeated along the haff's margin in order to reach some road junction at the entrance of Aviarium city. But, arriving at the end of this road section of about 2 miles long, our claims die on Bestida, just as some decades ago the road coming from Aviarium, ended in Bestida's docks, from where boats departed to Torrance, at that time, a poor fishing village. We accelerate our Nissan Sunny on the long way ahead where it was possible to reach nearly one hundred miles per hour without much effort on the car ... But right here ends the story of our speed records, for what awaits us then after we suddenly change direction, now with the car's compass pointing to the mountains, is a road of twists and turns continually surrounded by the old town's hamlet. As we said before, ''Once, the Normans walked on the marsh lands and sailed on the Haff ...'' Upon arrival at the Haff they founded a colony where now stands the town of Murtoyland, so called because of its fields covered with variegated plant species, which, as a result of the Nortada and Sun incidence, wilted and died easily.

These dying flowers of myrtle, would have given the name to the land of Myrtleland, therefore, the land of vegetation and dead flowers, or, for the same reason, also called Dead Land, then Dead Myrtle Land and finally, Myrtleland as also Myrtoyland or Murtoyland. On Murtoyland wandered, around the year 1000, Eric Red Neck, who may have not, as has been thought, landed in Greenland afterall, because the navigation knowledge of these people, even though of Viking origin, was very poor, preferring these coastal fishermen, sailing, especially when they could do so in the calm waters of quite lagoons. Murtoyland is a town related with the dairy milk industry, after leaving the old industry of seaweed products. Murtoyland is actually a featureless place, with a road winding through ruined rather than ancient houses, or others houses of modern style, in accordance with emigrants' fashion, mostly absent in the U.S.A. The young American-Murtosian girls have always been the target of the imagination of young single men in Port Obal that ever since eagerly courted them by both their 'beauty' and fortune.

*

We are now to list the technological evolution of man through his inventions in the fields of agricultural techniques and new metal discoveries, technological evolution and improvement of transport by sea during the Middle Ages, 476-1453 AD. In the High Middle Ages: Ivenção the stirrup ( estribo ), modern chainbody ( cota de malha ), metalic armor, Elm, Romanic Style in architecture, Gothic Style, Papermaking (China), modern plantation employing crop rotation, Roca, Tear, Modern Archery and modern arrows.

Powder: potassium nitrate + charcoal + sulfur. Fire wepons: guns, rifles and machine guns, Leme ?, Compass, Keel ( quilha ), Cloth Sail, Quadrant, Astrolabe, Water Wheel, Windmill, Press. Have you ever dreamed of a treasure? A pot full of old coins worth a fortune! That's what happened to Dave Fish, a chef at a hospital in Devizes, 150 km from London. He is one of the 9000 treasure hunters from Britain. Dave spent 22 years waiting for a breakthrough. He found one thing here, another there. Nothing of great value. For him, it was worth his funny hobby. Until one fine day, when least expected, it happened. He found 52,503 coins from the times of the Roman Empire. The metal detector emitted a signal. Not exactly a beep, it was more like a groan. "There I felt I was on top of something really big," recalls Dave. Dave said he was so excited that he dug the site with his own hands. "I touched the mouth of the clay pot. I thought it was just some coins. I never thought I would be so much coins this time. I looked at the sky and said: thanks God. " Experts from the British Museum concluded that the coins are from the third century AD, are part of the single batch of coins minted in England during the occupation led by the Roman Emperor, Marcus Aurelius Caralhius, who also dominated the north of France. It is silver and bronze coins. Experts believe that it was deposited in a clay pot, 30 cm from the surface, as a religious ritual, an offering to the goddess Earth, a custom common among followers of the Celtic religion that dominated Britain for two millennia. Experts estimated that this treasure worth £ 8 million. The museum director says that this is what attracts treasure hunters. British law to archaeological discoveries is the fairest in the world. In England whoever finds something old must bring it to the museum, but on

the other hand, the museum has obligation to pay the right price. The British Museum is full of archaeological treasures found by amateurs, totalising 85 thousand discoveries, among them silver cutlery from the II Century and also silver trays, used by Roman conquerors. A gladiator's elm was valued £ 3 million. But it's not just fro the earth that treasures come up. At the bottom of the Baltic Sea, some divers recently found the oldest collection of bottles of champagne in the world. The Swedish Christian Ekstrom, chief of the expedition, says its value is a double one: for its historical value, since the drink has more than 200 years and each bottle can be worth 120,000 pounds, and, not less important, there is the value of the champagne taste itself. Just imagine you can taste the champagne of a so old crop! * For the Normans, the waters were no more than a route for terrestrial prey. If the sails or oars were not enough they resorted to tow. Often they carried boats overland when necessary, a creepy way to avoid confrontation in a fluvial route. Over time they learned to ride and did not hesitate to steal horses like when when they perpetrate a large theft of horse herds in East Anglia. Several cities such as Cologne, Rouen, Bordeaux and London, succumbed to the Normans's assault. When they proceeded to plunder these were fruitful as in the year when some 810 monasteries were forced to pay them tribute. This gave rise to a flow of Western economies to the Scandinavian ones. Some museums in northern Europe, still exhibit large amounts of gold and silver from trade, but also plunder and ransoms in the form of coins or pieces of gold and silver jewellery in decorative style that they converted to their taste.

* The said towers built by the Vikings on both sides of the Haff were shelter for men and treasures, for a few decades until it crumbled under the onslaughts and erosion of offshore winds that lifted the Gelfa's sand and threw it against the towers' walls. These towers had been thus indicating the local in the surroundings in which the constituent parts of the 'Dreaming Treasure' were buried in the soil, so the Vikings should have had maps in their possession for the purposes of, upon their return, to rescue the lot.. In such a way, the surrounding lands around such towers could constitute currently a search local, through digging the embankments or simply by using the metal detector, although, in the latter case, it is possible to detect metal objects up to twenty inches deep. The construction of a metal detector is relatively simple so that we can describe the construction of a simple and cheap one. Athough, there are in the market commercial versions priced at about one hundred pounds each. As you may have already said, not all fractions of the treasure were recovered by the Vikings on their return to Scandinavia when their expansion declined. When the towers collapsed, there were no longer signs in the areas where the treasures had been buried and with the Haff's expansion ( which is currently, however, in regression ), eventually submerged those areas, or they came to be buried by mud and seaweed, and other harmful algae in general, having been drop at a depth not attainable by the moliceiros-men's rakes. It was for this reason that the Ria never proved to be a treasure for those sailors and peasants of the region, who never enriched, albeit with so much treasure under their feet and boats. More recently, the dredging, that would eventually displace the amphorae, rolled to the Carrier's depths. If

these amphorae were still intact with their filling, the dredging broke them, eventually dispersing the coins and other silver and gold small objects into the muddy bottom, then being thrown by air towards the margins, mixing with sludge and seaweed, so, focusing and simultaneously dispersing on the Haff's current margins and over the newly formed marshes. Thus, the Dreaming Treasure, would have awoke in our days, in such islets called marshes. The proof can be found in the coins we indeed found in a Marshland Island called the Visited Sapal. With the most recent dredging, desilting off the Haff, the coins were, instantly, mixed with mud, algae, seagrass beds and algae and tossed along the Ria's navigation, line and eventually became consolidated among the sediments, under the marshes' mantle. This is proved, by a handful of coins, we, me and Michaela, inded found on the visited small island that we intertidally hastily exploited. ( see map ). Evidently, we did not repeat such searches, extensively to the other islands, leaving such a feat for other explorers and better equiped expeditions. As demonstrated our thesis, we preferred to continue our journey away from ghostly locations, as proved to be the visited small Sapal. Fruitfully but hideous ! He was as well could demonstrate the 'martyrdom of the sapals'. According to our calculations, the sapals, in its entirety, contain about one hundred thousand ancient coins from the time of the Normans, Vikings and earlier times before these navigators. This only refers to the fraction of treasure scattered along the banks, dispersed by dredgers against the edges of the Haff. Having to also take into account the fraction that have been hidden in the lands of Murtolandia, the Mount and Estuaries, especially the Texugueira estuary, as evidenced by the research conducted in these two areas by Cristina Sandoz, as reported on her work, unfortunately still unpublished, ''The Haff's Great Treasure''. The areas around those creeks are also easy to reach, using inflatable vinyl boats

or canoes, and revealled to be much safer hunting areas, than those within Marshland (see map), and can also be achieved using jeeps or other appropriate vehicles, among which undoubtedly cross-bikes, like the hypothetical ones used in Port Obal bike-cross-races, supposedly still to be addressed by Dr Leonard Quevedo, already quoted. It is also possible that among the constituent fractions of our treasure lies scattered as concentrated some of the Templars' treasure, who were at the time of the wandering Norm-Viks, living in their monastiers on Norman lands in France, Scotland and Spain, before Philip, the Beau, had chased the Order, stole their lands and confiscated their goods and possessions. And although possibly, but not likely, you may be able to find tiny occasional excerpts of the Solomon's Treasure, as well as scanty relics of Noah's Ark and surely some atoms and molecules and the Shroud of Christ and Cross. Allah is great! So is God. * Famous for the D Day, Cheese and Cider, Normandy has a range that extends from its back to its coastal rural areas. With almost virgin landscapes, bright meadows, green and cold, and pine forests, Normandy remains a haven of tranquility. Its villages, clearings and roads covered in leaves are an ideal place to rediscover the joys of nature amid a variety of architectural styles. This particular architecture style, highlighting the Cathedral of Rouen, Honfleur houses and church of Sta Catarina, this one, a magnificent church sustained by panels and wooden stakes with its tower's bell located next to the church in order not to bend the church's timbers under its weight. Bernay and Corneille are examples of cities that prevail in the wood paneled houses. Normandy is a region of contrasts in a plagued region by a some times severe climate. Dotted by solid

stone mansions, farmhouses and barns, whose roofs are made of stone, preferably to ceramic or slate tiles. In the region within the Contentin peninsula are noted coatings of blue and green slate, often with circular shapes. Granite is a stone that is ever present in buildings. This rock is an alloy of three minerals: quartz, feldspat and mica. Almost as stiff as marble, it's sufficiently acidresistant to be used as 'tiling' in coatings for kitchens in the Norman mansions. Resistant to fracture and electric shock from lightning, it's the preferred building material in the region. The blocks' bonding material is a more fragile substance because it uses limestone or lime as cement, which, however, combines well with granite and although porous, in the occurrence of cracks, these easily self-consolidate. * The Vikings crossed the the Atlantic sea, the coast of Africa to the Mediterranean and Russia as settlers and traders, hoarders and rapinators. Leif Ericson flowed to the beaches of North America, in Newfoundland and Labrador. One day he endeavoured to carry, to a safer location, the treasures collected across the lands of France and Spain. Navigating the Galician coastal colonies he founded colonies in Tui and in Povoa Do Varzin and, in the Haff, he founded the colony of Murtoyland. Here was discovered, in the XX century, a Viking graveyard, a pottery and an adobes landfill made of mud and seaweed, with which they built huts similar to those in Cabanons. But the towers of Torreira and Murtolyland were built with granite stone, possibly extracted from quarries still existing to the south of Portal City, and north of the quarries of Accully ( see map ), as Magda Lena, Val and Dares Coin Broes, along the current railway line quarries that, in those recessed times, were closer to the Haff than they are today, because the Ria stretched north to Eggs Morizoum, being the blocks transported from this last town on their boats along the haff.

The Vikings were pagans. In vain Charlemagne tried to convert them, which only he managed to do by the power of fire and sword. The introduction of Christianity in Scandinavia has created a schism in Norway. They were a coastal population in the need of expansion. This, however, remained mainly maritime rather than continental which caused a decline in agriculture in the homeland. Sure, crossing seas is always funnier than digging potatoes ... Stealing here, looting there, is more profitable than sedentarize. One theory holds that the Vikings were seeking women during their expansion, after all. Of course to marry because of lack of women in there homeland. Not that the Vikings were rapists or kidnappers. There was, however, a lack of 'Valkyrie', and the few that still remained they preferred gods than men, and some others, eventually, had left to Mongolia!, to meet the terrible Attila that eventually cut their head off ... The old trade paths were interrupted with the Fall of the Eastern Roman Empire. The expansion of Islam in the seventh century blocked the trade routes. The Mediterranean was dying almost with no movement of boats by the time the Vikings began to sail and paddle on this sea. The Vikings reconstituted the sea and land trade routes. Long live the Vikings! Interestingly, there was also a Vikings cemetery in the Isle of Man, in Great Britain, where are buried Viking warriors alongside with the local English and Irish female population. One of the circumstances that made the Vikings, led by Leif Ericson, to leave in a few decades the Haff, there forgetting abandoned, some of their treasures, was precisely for the same reason above: lack of valid and free women availability both in Porto Obal as in Golden Beach. Like today, also those in times, one would have to navigate El Garve's beaches to be able to spot naked beautiful bodies of beautiful Swedish women, as in Salema beach, for instance, or the breasts of fortuitous

topless British girls in Praia da Rocha, or even Arabic women simply walking involved in their 'bulkas', walking across the avenues in Lagos and Albufeira, straigtly from Morocco. Because on Haffland, they could find nothing! Just mud and seaweed. About local nymphs, nil ! Only at the Serpent Forest (see map), can one, today, have a glimpse, from time to time, of beautiful nymphalic silhouettes of Romanian or Lithuanian gorgeous women, ( these last as well from the genetic Baltic trunk and other Norman-Viking blood ancestry), however, not Polish, of course, these, as well beautiful, as it happens that Pope John Poet II, did not let them go so far. Amid such limited means, one might almost say, 'I was almost dead in the desert having Portal City this <> close - as in Portal City you never miss, I can tell you. Also in the year 865, a large army of Danish Vikings led by Ivan the Boneless and his partners Haffão and Wolverine, came to East Anglia. They headed to the north of England and captured the city of York, but leaving some treasures buried in East Anglia, an issue that will become the object of our next book, 'The Treasure of the Fens'. Most Anglo-saxon kingdoms were at war with the unexpected crossing of Danish Vikings and it was Alfred Natex who put them in order, retrieving York. Most of the population of East Anglia, where the author of this book currently resides, is of Scandinavian origin, because the invaders accommodated very well with the Anglo-Saxon females and their local dialects. The current generic dialect, in the south of England is British. In this dialect are silent most of the R, especially at the end of the word. For example, 'better' is not spelt 'better', but 'beta'. 'Clever' is not spelt 'clever', but 'Cleva'. Now, people of East Anglia, especially the Norfolkers, quite like Los Manganeses in Spain, 'eat' the 'r' but also eat the 't' and their local linguistic expression is like speaking jerky

English, with no meaning at all, fro which our friend Valentin gives a good imitation, even without knowing how to speak English at all: - Ho, hey, ho, hum, maite, gimmy wa<>er! ”.. Did anybody understood? Thankfully not. 865 was also the year of the alliance between British and Vikings. Taking advantage of the truce offered by the Alliance, the great Leif Ericson sailed to Spain shores like Cantabrian, Galician and Portobellian shores, carrying his treasure in a dozen boats that reached the Haff, entering near the promontory where the famous lighthouse currently called the Hiliabum light house at the entry of Aviarium's port. Heading north across the Haff, early he arrived with his fleet at the infamous Barrínia Eggs Morizorum, south of Accully, returning after this, back to Car Regal (see map), where his flotilla landed front of Petrus Callis, in front of the actual Good Great Frog ruined night club, and with his warriors he walked one pedestrian mile across the old Tinto Necklaces property, finishing this tour on the famous Serpent's Forest Lake, and this was the place where historians think him to have hidden the first fraction of the dreaming treasure, so on the banks of that small lake in the surrounding pine forests. It happens in this area there is currently a sign next to a restaurant, with the following words: 'Private Property', which has hampered the search, continued today, by metal detector's 'aficionados'. Also located in this vicinity have been placed the forte of Dom Alfonse Henriched, as previously mentioned. Generally speaking, the Haff's margin is the sandy shore where the pine forest extends, at this end of the Haff, until the Navy Turret. The road, forks at a small chapel, turns left to Marina and right to Ty Josa. On the other side are the locations of the Navy Tower and Torranzel, also good areas to try the metal detector. It also can be found - however not detectable by metal detector - old plastic buttons from old Ram Alda factory - the factory that laminates the steal transported from Sheffield, who could ever guess?

If in these areas, hunters find no treasure at all, they can certainly find good red wine at Jerome's Tabern, or at any tavern or restaurant from Arino's Bar to Vanilla's Bridge ( see map ). As a last resort, we recommended in Port Obal, John Gomez Social Cellar, the restaurant Limpopo, as well as the aforementioned Casa de Pasto ( Delicacies House ) 'La Miñota', in the former Port Obal's Train Station Plaza, or even in Ron Cafe. In Golden Beach, 'The New Pine Vale', 'The New Cuña Ladronis' and 'The New-Old Delmar', and at any point of barbecued sardines south of Golden Beach. With the same purpose, we can still be considering the three New Port Obal Steps: the Step of the Dead, the Step of the Turtle and the Step, of the Horticulture, in the way to Fountain Street, one of the famous Port Obal's water springs, in their same locations for centuries, except for the Light Spring, and the springs within Zee Genie Fifth, as we were saying, namely, the Pelames Spring, the Conger Spring, the Casal Spring and the Penitentes Spring, by the Penitents Garden. A good screenplay for the weekend: Dinning in Paradise Restaurant, expresso at Xico's Bar, and, if Saturday, glorify up in Glorys Night Club ! Still about the lootings of our historical friends, the Vikings: some monasteries were looted in 795 on the west coast of Ireland, until 830, when large fleet of Vikings landed on this island. Many Irish Vikings married and had children with red hair. The city of Dublin is derived from a base Viking warrior. The Vickings were both Scandinavian and Danish. Denmark is the largest country in Europe. No? So what about Greenland? An arshole originary from Golden Beach, said the Americans have had purchased Alaska from the French, but have not it been from the Russians?! Who cares, any way? ... Still about Normandy, this name derivates from the 'Norsemenduring' word. The Duchy of Normandy, was created by Rollo, a Viking leader who married Gisela,

daughter of the French king, Charles the Simple, who ceded land to the Vikings to be them to hold their successive waves of colonization. A plan as 'simple' as intelligent. The descendants of Rollo adopted the Gallic language, according to the theory exposed before, and married the local chiks. A descendant of Rollo, William, became king of England after the Norman Conquest, at the end of the battle of Hastings, a kind of unsuccessful Aljubarrota. Buried treasures Vikings were also found in the Netherlands. Consisting mainly of silver, as the treasure found in Wieringen, dating from 850. It is therefore a fact that during the mid-ninth century, the Vikings, were dedicated in reivindikingate and thiefvikingate and really buried treasures ! We estimate that all of you are now perfectly convinced of our travels and theories about the Haff's treasure. The Haff's Treasury was a treasury buried 'en passant', on a geographical location hidden away from shipping routes to the south of Portobelo and south of Europe, to be recovered also hypothetically 'en passant', latter. But it was a treasure that was forgotten, asleep. Over time, some of this treasure was submerged in the margins and some at the Haff's bottom. With the municipal drainages promoted by council camcorders eventually the treasure broke under the dredgers and was thrown by the same dredgers, involved in mud and seaweed against the Haff's shores, getting mixed with the materials that have accumulated over the marshes, blended with it, especially smaller objects like coins and other small objects of silver and gold of everyday life, like rings, bracelets, earrings, necklaces and tiaras, which were obtained by the Viking jewelery, using gold and silver plundered across their 'world tour'. A sign on a street in Póvoa do Varzin in Portobello, contains the so called Sigla Poveira, a set of names related to the Scandinavian name 'Bömaker'. There is a boat called 'Lancha Poveira', which some scholars

believe to be derived from the archetypal Viking ship. Similarly, the 'moliceiros' ( the haff's boats ), are derived from the archetype of Phoenician boats; the 'lanchas poveiras' are derived from archetypal Viking ship, the drakkar. Port Obal was the name of the Port that the Phoenicians founded in the Haff, long before the Vikings to venture there, making Port Obal the oldest city in the kingdom of Portobello. There are folks that mistake Phoenicians and Vikings, and end up saying that the moliceiros descend from the drakkars and lanchas poveiras descend from Phoenician boats, which creates a mess. Further, after reading the book 'On the Road', by Jack Kerouack, some say Dostiofski instead of Dostoevski, as it happens to be the case with our friend, recently returned from the Elgarve, Sir John Bessa Drink the Last One, ( a very extended royal name ), once it's one of the last, since we're in our final stretch. We might have that one as well, telling about a so tiny lady, that instead of praticing in the swimmig pool, practiced, preferently, in the chalice ... Other Viking 'sources of income': in 860, our valiant warriers, kidnapped the king of Pamplona. The following year they asked for his ransom, 60,000 golden pieces. The Viking raids continued through the next century. In 968 they killed the Bishop Sesinando de Compostela, sacked the monastery of Curtis and attacked the city of Lugo. The ciy of Tui in Spian ensued in the tenth century and was also ransacked. In 1015, they kidnapped the daughter of Yellow Metalllis who had to pay a ransom and give away part of his lands to the Vikings. In the city of Póvoa do Varzim, founded, as we have said, by the Vikings, even very recently some locals practised the endogamy, a custom that the Vikings practised and still takes place among the Gipsys. Endogamy or Inbreeding, is the practice of marriage exclusively within the same ethnic background, just how

the gipsys do, because they do not want to mix with the local population. Roma marries Roma and tha's it ! Marriage is a practice dating back to ancient primitive women slavery. The woman was a slave to the man long before the man made slaves their prisoners of war. In our days women still continue to be men's slaves. Before that, women were free females ... Early marriages were processed between groups of women and groups of men. Women are forced to copulate with any man in the group, whether or not that was their desire. Obviously, this requirement was not extended to men within the group, as each one could chose the woman or women he liked, within the group. This was followed by other forms of marriage as the wedding called 'sindiasmic'. This is a kind of marriage in which one woman can only mate with one man. In this type of marriage the man had become the owner of the woman and infidelity of women was subjected to physical punishment or even death. It is a type of monogamous marriage but only with advantages for man. The modern wedding is also a type of monogamous marriage, but in a modern way. The woman continued to be exploited by man even if she had a job herself. During her weekly working hours in the factory or in the office, a woman creates products or services in her work that she exchanges by earnings or a weekly salary (value of exchange), that 'pays' her work. But arriving home, after working, a woman has 'another job', this unpaid, consisting of, 1 - Restoring man's working strengths by preparing his meals and satisfying his sexual appetite, because not just of bread lives the man. 2 – Also she still have to wash the dishes, make the bed, take care of the children and clean the house. All this regardless of her husband being poor or rich. The women's labour force is ultimately appropriated by men. Men always keep a fraction women's work for him, which does not escape the appropriation of men. In conclusion: women work for men

whether they like it or not, provided they are officially married and all goods that women continue to build up, leading to the present day incorporate women's slave labour, through the daily reconstitution of the productive force of men. If a married woman is to work from home, that will be difficult for her husband to reconstitute her working force by any means, at best he will give a help to dry the dishes and cutlery, just to disguise. This also happens in communist societies where domestic work is one hundred percent performed by women. It is the wife's work that keeps her husband alive and creates physical and intellectual conditions so that he can produce. All women, either are men's sexual property, or intende to be, through marriage. As a group destined to be appropriate by the group of men, women are not free. Even if a man has good income, just have to be a mean spirited to give his wife a low standard of living. Once married, women hardly realize that signed a slavery contract. So, even she has a job and works the same number of hours that her husband does, it doesn't come across her mind to require him to do his share in housework and child-rearing. And much less to complain about her sexual freedom that he requires for himself. Even if the woman does not need the man for anything, she accepts that he gives orders and decide her life. This is because the woman lives alone with his oppressor fears violence from him. The man would not allow to undermines the rights he acquired for millennia. And the oppressed has no way to liberate herself from oppressor, unless she abandons her husband, which only a few can. The best way to end the authority and supremacy of the male is to let him be alone without no one to comand! *** After snaking the green fields of Murtoyland on the new lined road towards Starredja, we cut somewhere halfway to the left, towards Pardilos. Again the road is lost in twists and turns of immediate danger, with walls of small farms suddenly appearing at every turn of the road.

We quickly passed the centre of Pardilos, a kind of wide wild harddirt field with a stone-cross stacked on it . Again the mix of old houses and ruined walls, corn fields, houses in 'maison' style, and also some beautiful old cottages corrugated by the decades, uninhabited. We cross some other corn fields and suddenly, abruptly, I stopped the Nissan Sunny at the junction Havanca-Entraguas, whereas, in this journey, it imposes a sensible deliberation and decision about where to decide to continue our journey. Forwards: Havanca or Entraguas? The Big Decision! The councillors of the parish of Havanca ran back and forth, within the district, offering their services, sometimes to the jurisdiction of Portal City, other times to the parish of Aroca in the Portobellian far east. Havanca has been during centuries fertilized by the various estuaries coming from the Haff, whispering sweet and romantic names that touch us closely to the heart: Teladouro, Taboada, Ameira, Texuguera, Salreu and Cinnamon! Great extensions have transformed the ancient large train station in Havanca and turn it into flag stops! We fear the same will happen to the old station of Port Obal after the earthworks of the eclectic old urban amalgam, pending since the end of the nineteenth century, where the rogue writer Ega De Queiros begins, in one of his books, the infamous journey that would take the protagonist from Port Obal to Lisbon. The buildings in front of Port Obal's train station, obviously would have to be wiped out, all of them, left, right and forward, to create the Station's Square, actually called the Precursors of Republic's Square, with large enough dimensions in order buses can manoeuvre at ease and park in appropriate space, and as well to be possible to spot the trees' branches in the Garden's Station Park, with no obliteration of any kind and, finally, to absorb the open platform that will shape the future of Port Obal new railway station!

No kidding! Like in Havanca, the best architecture is the construction of a railway station of open and wide dimensions, with enough output, all shallow, graded, paved and beautifully landscaped. Let us do not forget, however, the pleasant small town of Havanca in which our thoughts are still lingering ... In the restaurant, once nicknamed 'The Kill and Steal', we can yet delight on a good 'feijoada' ( sort of beans and sausage dish ) as locally confectioned, and, in the centre of the small town, as it is still there!, enduring the time and the the scoundrel's jackpots, the famous statue of the lonely and almost solitary Portobello's Nobel Laureate, Phd Egan Monet, the inventor of lobotomy, which was in fact the greatest invention of the Portobellians who suffered it more acutely during the forty years of Sal Hazardian dictatorship and from which they never will recover not even in a hundred years! An imposing church, along the main road, guarded by giant sycamores and mulberry trees, especially never noticed from the street due to the speed which it happens to be cross by. Not far, the Egan Monet Museum, house where various works of art can be admired, including some pictures of the Portobellian painter Malhoa, belonging to the collection of the late eminent surgeon who performed the first trephining of the history of medicine, deed only equalled, during the 60's, by Dr. Barnard, when performing the first heart transplant. Although, even if such methods are no longer currently used to treat neurological patients, the experiments of the Portobellian master of medicine and surgery were the first step for the study and medical intervention in the human brain, being a point of departure for understanding the functions of various organs in the skull of a primate species that, by nature, like it or not, irreducibly, we belong. Importantly, though, to enhance as well, in the cited Museum, an indo-portobellian collection of porcelain and ceramics!

This however was a review and we almost decided to move ahead to Havanca, when we reminded that a direct analogy to complete the form, would be to continue following our road map trough the way until Entraguas ... The Nissan Sunny was rolling again through the woods that constantly were obliterating the visibility needed to drive safely and oblique sunset shadows were projecting darkness in the woods where, for decades, still stand quartering the camps of the Roma Entraguanian Gipsys. Still we wished to visit this camp for the purpose of reviewing and studying, once again, the typical habits of this ethnics. Through the trees, around the camp, facing the road, as wandering slowly, we spot a golden angel involved in the abstract infinity of its thoughts ... We decided to take the last pencil of light to visit Entraguas as placed between waters. In volume V of Frei Augustine's work, a retired barefoot anchorite, it narrates that at the holy confluence of Black and Gonda rivers it appeared the image of Our Lady of Entraguas floating on a boat made of stone!, whose litic remains still lie scattered on the banks and bed of these water streams. Was it not for the constant pollution of this increasingly intolerable consumer society, the pilgrims could still bathing in the holy waters of these confluent rivers, for the sake of their ailments, once the waters were miraculous! On February the 2nd, they celebrate the day of the Purification, in this church with three altars. On a white limestone, which is actually stored inside the shrine, appeared the image of Our Lady that devotees just tried to take to the main mother-church, but such little did, because the image of the Lady kept appearing, again and again, on the white stone. It was,

therefore, the will of the saint Lady that it should be erected on site a church, so much so, that while the work lasted, the saint Lady kept herself still in the main parish church. The current chapel, (which we could still vaguely spot as we slowing the march against the night advancing that was threatening to end our aim of making a short stop), does not match with the chapel's original design, which was to be far more modest, judging from its volutes that sustains the curved side walls of the new construction, like splendid miniature of Our Lady of Paris. Litten the Nissan Sunny's headlights, we entertained ourselves to do a calculation, that we might still have time before dinner, to an eventual stop, even under the last dim light, at the blessed source of the writer Juglio Eagle Deniz. Moreover, the place is so underrated we conclude that this is the ideal lighting for both the contemplation of the famous fountain as well as the eternal old paper-mill, like a phantasmal architectural cartoon, nailed against the firmament of the early evening sky. Once arrived there, we made a stop and exit the vehicle letting it in idling purr. Back shaped geometric skeleton, ghostly cutting off the building, pile of boards and walls with rust and brine, digs in the river's mud, the old pilings that still hold it. Passive shingles of the old factory's cooling room, where some damn birds nest in the midst of corn lands, as a strange form of passive existence in complete defiance of the shifting ideology that is wounded itself while slipping on the fountain's steps, on the opposite side, whispering remedies for this desperate and confused situation that willows and weeping willows, on the margin below, are shouting to be indignificant for the 'situation', more than were the formerly teachers' wages and civil servants in general, including those of Port Obal's Council.

Shouts that reach through the air to the frontispiece of that Council, sliding the walls and window panes of the main bureau, the Hall and the Councilers' and deputies' offices who end up playing whist and drinking glasses of red wine in the John Gomez Social Tavern's secluded cellar, a near by tavern. The plant produced enough paper for years and years, to be used in applications addressed to the Mercy House and to its successive emeriti managers, requiring the use of those areas comprising the former Slaughterhouse, the Fountain, and the Matos Quintus's Campus, along the river, and other fields, on the opposite side of Highway Bridge crossing them. On top of hill on the former Slaughterhouse, the University of Port Obal! The Fountain would remain faithful to its original design. The Universitary Campus, on the Matos Quintus's Campus. The Road-Bridge would be extended to the ebb and flow of students to rustle their caps and gowns across the corn fields. Beautiful Tricanas ( University Mermaids ) singing on the banks of river Casper also dredged and enlarged. How really great space was there left for a new library!? (To quote here that during the Academic Crisis of the 40's, Dr Pears Morgado offered his vast properties located in Rawalpindi Moyta for the construction of a new university when the Portobello's political system regime were in the mood that, one day, the Law School in Coinbridge, should be razed down, including in the devastation ... its Iron Gate and Tower! ). So, you can imagine. The High School (formerly called Helena Anderson College) would never have been, at any time or anywhere, so close to the University. The square and the source of the Penitents, the market, the coffeeshops, the pastry shops, the

bookstores, the butchers, the boutiques, the Fountain itself, the Steps of Christ chapels, Retrocess Café, the 'Oh Chico Bar', the Almost Empty Quasar, the Rocks Bar, and even Glorys night club, would not have to be in so often shutting down situations if under the flood of a miraculous ... , let's say, five hundred, university students walking around the streets and plazas of such a secular town ! But Our Lord of Steps and Our Lady of Mercy didn't want it to happen and the only way to overcome this bitterness is to continue, such as disinherited, to wash the feathers of our grievances by the counters of Varina Bar and Alberto's Tavern, John Gomez Tavern, also lamenting that no longer Limpopo, no more of Joe the Mug ( Tee Antonius of the Timeliness Tijeliñas ), nor Campbell or Successor!, peroni a seculum a seculorum. Amen! STILL ABOUT COINS How to clean and preserve ancient coins? PATINA The natural oxidation found in coins of all metals is influenced by weather and location where the coins remained until its discovery: atmospheric air, earth, clay, mud, water, chemicals, volcanic waste, etc ... The oxy-copper hydrated carbonate, in its initial stages, shows iself porous and of greenish colour and is formed by oxidizing the metal itself in the presence of atmospheric air. In principle one should not attempt to remove the Patina, or use any abrasive materials such as sandpaper or deoxidants. The Patina adds value to the coins! The Patina may display different colours: Green light matches a recent Patina, easily to wipe out, however you should not try not remove this patina once it ads a value between 20 and 30% on top of coin value; Dark green: if the patina is not very thick and doesn't hide the engravement, it's estimated to increase

50% in value. Bluish-gray: characteristic color of coins found near volcanoes. It is much appreciated and rare because it accentuates the engravements. Increase by 100%. Yellow-Copper: it'scalled the river Tiber patina, due to the action of clay products, at the rivers estuary. It can be smooth or grainy. Values by 50%. Marron-café is the most common patina. If uniform and present on both sides, the currency increases by 30%. Dark Red: patina from land rich in copper oxide. If uniform, 50% increase in the value of the coin. Black: patina related to minerals present in water. It is generally bright. It has the defect of being so thick and for that fact damage the etching but increases by 20 to 30% its value. STAIN - Calorimetric Reaction produced by the action of various chemicals, paints, organic waste associated with overheating. CORROSION - Oxidation caused by the action of air, water, chemicals, or contact with other metals, reacts in such a way in the coin's facial, which produces excessive wear, making it impossible to recover the affected area. The corrosion process is irreversible but can remain stable through oxidants. A simple clean up will solve the problem. INLAY - Impregnation of earth and organic materials adhering over time eventually settle on the coin, making it very difficult to remove. A simple clean up will not resolve the problem because of the encrusted material sometimes found between letters or between very small details, which will require the help of experts. DIRT - Surface Impregnation associated with constant use, but easy to remove. Cleaning copper coins: Copper is a metal sensitive to the action of oxygen and sweat acidity from the hands and therefore the preservation caring should be much made carefully, in order to avoid a change in colour or early corrosion. The manipulation of copper coins with

advanced corrosion besides to be a nefast proceeding is directly dangerous to health. The Patina found in copper coins must not be removed because of the layer of natural oxidation that was acquired slowly and gradually over the years and its function at this stage is that of protection. Before undergoing a copper coin cleaning treatment, you must carefully check if there is rust, what type and degree of impact. The surface oxide attacks the coin so that you try a full removal of the area, the coin's surface in smooth parts will ge wormy, largely disappearing the relief of the image, that previously was perfectly visible. If the coin is presented in good condition but dirty with stains or dirt, it should be brought to the flame of an alcohol based lamp, remaining until the flame edges become greenish, which indicates that the coin surface impurities were burnt and that the combustion of copper oxide has initiated. At this moment, the coin will be removed off of the flame in order to cool. After being cold, it will be brushed with a brass brush, slowly adding powdered graphite whose excess will be eliminated by the eliminated by the use of a chamois. Thus, the coin will not continue to oxidise and will also be impervious to the action of water or fingers' moisture. Cleaning Kit: One 10x20 lens, calliper, plastictipped, wooden or vinyl tweezers, brass brush 2x10 cm, graphite powder, sodium bicarbonate and benzene, cotton flannel or similar cloth. Cleaning gold and silver coins: gold and silver coins can go through a more streamlined cleaning process. We restrict ourselves to the use of some fewer abrasive materials such as water, soap, toothpaste or a very dilute solution of water with household sodium bicarbonate for 10 minutes. After that, the coins must be dried with absorvent paper or cotton soft tissue without rubbing. Conservation of Coins: always leave coins well dried before you store them, avoid storing coins of

different metals in contact with each other because they can form, with elapsing time, a battery element that will transport the metal from one coin to another; avoid prolonged exposure of coins to moisture and air. Packaging: A plastic sheets coin album is a good option because it allows you to save a greater number of coins in little space.

Still about Viking treasures: an amazing Viking treasure was discovered thanks to the treasure hunting experience, of an English and his son while performing their man pastime. It is estimated that the treasure has been buried for over a thousand years! This treasure was actually found with a metal detector in a field in Harrogate, North Yorshire in January 2007. But now a Museum in London bought the treasure for about a million pounds. The centerpiece of this treasure is a silver jar finely decorated with standards of the time. The cylinder was discovered filled with coins, bracelets and jewellery from around the world, some as far away as Afganistan. There were also objects from Russian, Scandinavian, and other various parts of Europe. It consists of rings, earrings, chains, needles and pins and brooches, of incalculable historic value. It's supposed that the treasure belonged to a rich Viking who died during a battle who he was buried with it. Viking treasure was sold for nearly 2 million pounds!: London (Reuters Agency): an great treasure of Viking jewellery and coins was unearthed in England in 2008 by a team of treasure hunters and was put at exhibition at the British Museum. Worth 1.8 million pounds, the York Valley's Treasure includes objects from Afghanistan, Ireland, Russia and Scandinavia. The Museum of York and the British Museum bought the treasure, which they described as the most important discovery of this kind, made in the last 60 years in Great Britan. It includes 67 objects and 617 coins, contained in a silver vessel, golden plated, made in Europe during the ninth century. This container was perhaps executed to be used in church ceremonies. It's thought that it has been stolen from a monastery by Vikings, or offered as a tribute to the Vikings. The treasure contains coins relating to Islam and the religion of pre-Christian Vikings, and other related to Christianity. About 160 years ago it was found in the Cuerdale, Lancashire, a treasure trove of more than 8000 objects. The famous Cabanas Treasury: it ran the year 860,

shortly before Leif Ericson enter the Haff. After looting some Mediterranean ports and villages the Viking Drakkar sailed at full speed. Of its crew of pirates was making part, Harald, the Helmsman, a burly man always ready to fights and thefts. The idea of Sven, the captain, had been to stop on Galicia lands, a little further south, but he did not know if he would be welcomed by the countrymen who, so far as he knew, had settled there peacefully a while back, and he didn't want to get into fights with his own kind and risk losing his loot, it would be better to proceed without stopping on Euracini lands and continue further north where he would land to supply with food and water. Sven just longed to return to his homeland on the distant Gotelândia. That day sailing with the wind in favour, however in the horizon could be seen large and dense rain and wind black clouds, while the sea began to roughen and the waves rose higher and higher. Men accustomed to the hardships of life on the high seas tried to accommodate themselves as best they could, as they knew that the torment was approaching. By moments Sven regretted not having anchored in Euracini certainly it did not have cost to much to pass up for mere travelling traders, if he had chosen well the land where to land, and would not have to face now that so violent sea without food and without water. In his thoughts he called for protection of Odin and Thor. But the storm fell on them with the same force of Thor's hammer, pushing the drakkar to the black and sharp rocks that covert by the waves was surrounded by a small bay quite north of Euracini. The proudish drakkar broke into pieces against the sharp teeth that seemed to protrude from the waves to devour. The thunder rumbled, lightning up the darkened sky and threatening the sailors. It seemed that Thor had turned against them. Everything ended with astonishing rapidity. The next morning, a man still dazed and by the struggle he had to undergo for his life, floated clinging to a piece of wood. Harald had miraculously survived and came to the shore in a cove. Around him were scattered

remains of drakkar on the sand and, then Harald spotted something half buried by rubble. He roe up and searched for what had call his attention, approached a bit more, and saw that it was a part of the chest with his own sacking. The great part of the loot! Harald knew he desperately needed rest, but also looking food and shelter and did the only thing he could with the chest and so hid it as best he could and set off in search of shelter. He found a town, not far away, simple people, small farmers, who gather to eat and live. Exhausted he asked foe a livestock skin and a piece of charcoal, and the he drawn what he recalled: the best place where he deposited the chest, following what he hide the map out of sight of the villagers as he re-established. But Harald succumbed to stress and disease that attacked and eventually died. In the town remained a legend of his brief passage and that he would have left there hidden something very valuable. And it was this map, that has survived until today, where Harald had hidden it, in a small village near what is now the city Viana do Castelo, in Portobelo, which you can also search for to find another Viking, the one originally from Gotelândia, supposed to be buried near another towm in Portibelo: Viana do Castelo. In conclusion, not far from each other, there, potentiality exist two buried Viking treasures, in Portobello: one near the city of Viana and the other one, both on Portobello´s west coast, the Haff's Treasure !

We enter the Nissan Sunny saying goodbye and longing for one of the favourite places of our childhood. Suddenly we recalled that we also could no longer driving in front of the Council's building in so easy way as before. The new parking lot at Council's Square does not allow, for those who eventually arrive tearful from the Great Fountain, to drive directly into this square. We wandered the car through the alleys and lanes maze around the old Ram ALda's Factory. Driving back to the south variant-road we would have to circumvent to the Hospital's area and the New

Firemen's quarters area, filled with a panoply of speed bumps, traffic lights and ambulances traffic. Across the alley, next to the Old Press building, we would have to turn left and down, and turn right before the New Press building and then make a right at the 270 degrees elbow close to the Popular Cooperative Bodega and, not noticing the new traffic plates, we pass the remains of the former rice-husking factory, later named Pilchard after being, somewhere else, the Plover and the Pilgrim in Golden Beach! A kind of a complicated rally of memories in curves and counter curves ... and some prohibited senses! We finally arrived on Lake Aral Avenue stopping at the red lights. When the green light would show up, we would be owned by the ecstasy of the brightness of the New Plaza! Overlitten by the reverberation of this New Light that those sun of a gun politicians did provide to the citizens of this town, we almost left escape the entrance to the street outside the Court that, in a few seconds, would lead us to the oldest restaurant in Port Obal: the Restaurant Paradise! Controlling the parking manoeuvre with caution and respect for the Dead Man Steps, we parked in front at the restaurant's doorstep, however on the opposite side of the road. Finally, we could recover our strength after this odyssey that we began to report on the lands of Vixen. No more Volgila pastries were left but we could, after dinner, to have paradisal desserts! We well deserved them! We enter the restaurant and we were greeted by customers we recognized from previous meetings. The waiter politely led us to a table well positioned in relation to the TV set from where was coming the sound of Barbecue News that, at that time, were breaking. Having a look at the menu, we hesitated what to choose. After some reflection and discussion we decided, one more time!, by the house's speciality: Codfish a la Paradise !

This codfish delicacy is prepared using the oven, on a tray filled with sliced potatoes and various other ingredients and seasoning, such as, onions and strips of sweet peppers and bacon bits. First, soaked in milk, the codfish slices ( previously boiled ) are packed in a ceramic tray and then added over, the potatoes' slices that were previously fried with the sweet peppers strips and bacon. The whole is placed, to finish cooking, in the oven. Some smashed black olives complement the dish's aspect. It can be kept up with red or white wine, orange juice, coke or beer. We just don't advise Carva-lhe-lhe-lhelhos water ... And so we were enjoying this top of menu at restaurant Paradise as we kept reminding our recent adventures lands of Port Obal's lands. When we came to the dessert, it was time for our disagreements about this life, to manifest. I applied myself on a hard-baked apple; Michaela preferred to refresh her ideas on a fruit-salad. Nothing could keep us apart in this world except the particularity that my travel partner liked to have espresso with no sugar at all! It struck 10 pm in the Matrix Church's tower's clock array when we paid the bill and said goodbye to everybody when leaving the restaurant. We crossed the old mischievous Smith Family Plaza towards the Plaza of Malzino De Albuquerque in the Old Town's Square, formerly know (as yet in the decade of the 60's) as the Chicken's Marketplace, where a main fair was held at this market, especially frequented by poultry traders in general: chicks, chickens, rabbits, eggs, chickens again ! By those days, this square, paved of ground-dirt, enjoyed the shade from the tops of several large mulberry trees that children climbed in search of small tender leaves to serve as food for silkworms which they thrived carefully in cardboard shoe boxes ...

Cleaning copper coins: Copper is a sensitive metal to the action of oxygen and hands sweat acidity and therefore the careful taken in its preservation should be improved in order to avoid alteration in color or corrosion.The manipulation of copper coins with advanced corrosion beyond to be anti-hygienic is directly dangerous to the health. The Patina found in copper coins must not be removed because the layer of natural oxidation was slowly and gradually acquired over the years and its function at this stage is that of protection. Before undergoing a copper cleaning treatment, you must carefully check if there is rust, which type and degree of impact. The oxided surface attacks the coin so that the fully withdraw of it from the coin's surface on smooth parts, will remain womy, largely disappearing the image's relief, which was perfectly seen before. If the coin is presented itself in good condition but dirty with stains and impurities, it should be brought to alcohol based lamp flame, remaining there until the edges become greenish blue, which indicates that the impurities were of the coin's surface have been carburated and that the the copper oxide's combustion started. At this moment, the coin will be removed from the lamp in order to cool. After being cold, it will be brushed with a brass brush, slowly adding the powdered graphite whose excess is eliminated by using a flannel. Thus, the coin will not continue to oxidize and will also be impervious to the action of water or fingers' moisture. Cleaning Kit: 10x20 lens, caliper, plastic-tipped tweezers wooden or vinyl, brass brush 2x10 cm, graphite powder, sodium bicarbonate and benzene, cotton flannel or similar. Cleaning gold and silver coins: gold coins and silver could go through a more streamlined cleaning process. We should restrict ourselves to the use of less

abrasive materials such as water, soap, toothpaste or very dilute solution of water with household sodium bicarbonate for 10 minutes. After that the coins must be dried with aborvente paper, cotton or soft tissue without rubbing. Conservation of Coins: Always leave coins well dried before you store them, avoid storing coins of different metals in contact with each other, because they can form battery element that will transport the metal from one coin to another, within some lapse of time, avoiding prolonged exposure of coins to moisture and air. Packaging: A coin album with plastic sheets is a good option because it allows you to save a greater number of coins in little space. * . ................................................................................

The night was warm and calm. We heard in the distance some musical sounds coming from the Garden of the Fields inviting the locals to one more popular meeting ( la fiesta ). To say that this garden, boasting beautiful roses that festooned several metal arches placed to support the rosebush forming a tunnel along the garden's length beneath which pilgrims walk, was, yet not long ago, a lagoon ! This new view of the geological evolution of these lands we now walk on is worthy to be explained: because of the Haff's waters recession to the place where the waters actually are, therefore, where we 'found' the Fort of Dom Alfonse Henriched, ( the Portobellians first father, as we know), would not have happened so far in time as classically has been thought, or even in the way it was described in geology and geography textbooks of the ancient teaching regime. And it was not as well, just the intervention of Nature that led the waters to the point where we now see them. It has also include the action of the Man of Port Obal !

The Man of Port Obal saw the formation of the Haff and he must have been the first who conquered it. In fact, the set of land segregated to the Haff, is relatively recent and must lie in the origins of Portobelo's nationality foundation, so in XII century. Just before this century, we can consider almost all the Port Obal's downtown as a marshy arc, intersected by numerous creeks through the margins of which reeds grew. The Haff prolonged itself until near the village Dwarves Cabins, through the riverbeds, ( fantastic rivers by that time ), Grace and Casper rivers and, at the south and east of that known village, stretched out grounds and gardens, which then gave rise to the Action Farm, with the designation, as already mentioned, of Port Obal's up Town. Imagine now how the lagoon's water would have come down to our feet, here on the site, of the Fields' Feast ( la Fiesta de los Campos ). Coming from Bush and Marine areas, it grew up with the tide's flood and was waving against the wind billowing every time more and more. Let us, so, recall, to help us understand this type of lands invasion, by the waters coming from the Haff, the events that occurred during the last floods in Port Obal in the year 2000. The scriptures were praying that the world would get to the year 2000 but would not go beyond ! The first end of the world was caused by water, according to the sense of our mothers and grandmothers, and died almost everyone drowned. But in the next end of the world, we all die, burned by fire, no more no less ! Already the first one of these fates had happened to Our Lord Himself, as it is scientifically proven and described in the Bible, to have drowned, once it is recorded that after His death, the Apostles tried to find Him using a bucket ... at least in certain bibles ...

So what? Elton John, English singer 62, said he thought that Christ was a super intelligent and compassionate gay-man who understood human problems. He said that Jesus wanted us to love each others and forgave mutually. It was not clear what made us so cruel folks. Elton said, as well, that trying to be a gay-woman in the Middle East would be signing her own death sentence. Elton John is just one on the list of stars accused of blasphemy in the U.S. Also the Beatles records were burned just because John Lennon said that the Beatles got more popular than Jesus Christ, which indeed is true ... Madonna and Jay Z were insulted just for representing on video the character of Christ. And Mick Jagger was also thrown to the flames for writing the so nice song by the Rolling Stones: ''Sympathy for the Devil ". During the almost dilugian floods, occurred throughout Portobello, in the year of disgrace of 2000, ( that we recall for the sole purpose of understanding how the Garden of the Fields, was yet in the X century, a lagoon ), due by a more rigorous winter than the previous ones, it rained without stopping. The constant rain and muds displacement thickened, increasingly, the rivers. Dams filled ... Heavy rains and moderate persistent rains, occurred on that fateful year of disgrace of 2000, resulting in the rapid increase in the rivers' flow throughout the country, and Port Obal has been hit by floods on the tail of a series of plagues spread across the country that caused the collapse of river banks, displacing people from their homes, damaging crops and forcing the gradual opening of dams successively to higher and higher flow rates ... In the case described, Casper River overflowed its banks in the place already described as the cornfields of Casal, and the water climbed the existent wall, a sort of mini wall of China, preventing the circulation in route.

Also the old Green Sacor's Garden was flooded, and consequently, the shops on this area, at the level of ground floor. Floods are, at Earth's scale, a natural hazard that affects most of populations. It is a danger that reaches the territorial areas located near the hydrographic network, the coastline, dikes and dams. The disasters caused by floods have been increasing as a consequence of urban sprawl on marshlands. A flood may be defined as a general and temporary condition of flooding, complete or partial, of an area greater than about 8 square km of normally dry land as a result of the inland overflow or tidal waters, or the unusual and rapid accumulation surface water from any source, mud or collapse of land along the coast from a water surface as a result of erosion or destruction by waves or by current which intensity is higher than the usual figures. There are several types of flooding. Progressive River floods, storms, flash floods, mud flows and lahars, and the collapse of dikes or dams. Progressive River Floods: in PortobelLo, the irregularity of the rainfall (inter annual and seasonal) leads to the flow of rivers to show wide variations, with significant differences between the rivers of the South and the North West: South rivers have specific annual runoff 6-7 times lower than in the Northwest, the greater irregularity in the flow can in wettest years exceed 100 to 240 times that of the driest years. The rivers of the South are mostly temporary and have flood tips that reach 200 to 300 times the annual average flow. Rain leads to prolonged soil saturation leading to a higher proportion of water to flow through the river's bed. When the channel is no longer able to contain the volume of circulating water, this one goes beyond the protection zone and invades the surrounding area, i.e., the full bed. About 80% of the country has reduced substrate permeability (granite, schist and clay formations), with

the exception of springs fed by carsified calcareous in the centre of the country. These conditions contribute to an increased risk of flooding. The floods are conditioned by the progressive system of dams, which reduces the frequency of floods but that under certain conditions may contribute to increased flow peak. 'Storm surges' are generated by the combined action of a stormy tide and weather. They can generate very high levels of destruction in the coastal lowlands, particularly those who are protected by dikes, where the destruction is important both during flood and drain. An European example is the 'storm surge' in 1953 that severely hit England and Holland, causing over 1,800 deaths and tens of thousands of homeless. One of the world's most vulnerable countries to storm surge is Bangladesh, hit in 1970 and 1991, with records of 300 000 deaths and 140 000 respectively. Quick Floods: A 'quick flood' is the result of very intense rainfall over a period of several hours. Quick floods are deadly. Affecting small watersheds and depressions, are caused by stationary convection caused by the interaction between the polar and tropical circulations, namely in the South, in the regions of Lisbon, Alentejo and Algarve. The quick flooding occurred in Lisbon on the morning of November 26, 1967, in the area of Loures was generated by heavy rain over a short period. About 700 people died, mostly inhabiting buildings located in flood beds. Torrents of mud: Slightly consolidated soils can slide easily under the action of intense precipitation. If water saturation is too high the mixture of water and mud can move at high speed with a large destructive potential. An example of this phenomenon took place in August 1987 in Switzerland, with the formation of numerous mudslides on the slopes of the Alps.

A 'Lahar' is a word of Indonesian origin and describes a mudslide caused on a volcanic cone. When there is an eruption, large amounts of ash build up at the base of the volcanic cone, with mobilizing potential under heavy precipitation. If for example a volcano covered with snow and ice erupts, the mass of water from the fast melting can mix with volcanic ash and debris, becoming a process of high destructive power. Examples of Lahar occurred on May 24, 1926 in the volcano on the Japanese island of Hokkaido Tokakidaki that generated the destruction of about 5,080 fires and caused 144 casualties. One of the most famous events took place in 1985 at Nevado del Ruiz volcano in Colombia, which killed 23,000 people and destroyed 5,000 homes. Imagine now that instead of water coming from a river, it comes from the marshes of the Ria ... ( see map ) ... in the patches of Bush and Marina, coming down to the Hospital grounds, following which, dividing itself and running part of the waters nearby the Hospital building then flowing down the Hospital's alley across the entire route , then close by Juglio Eagle Denis restaurant that is located in the the road´s lower level ; here the flood veers towards left, beneath the houses of the Seraphine's Discounters and by Peter Lamys' house, and always up to the building of the Sarah Magoo's store, flooding all around the Garden of the Fields without, of course, escaping to enter of Dr Mischief House, which is predominantly a one-story building, making the inevitable backlash on the Borgias's Pumps, next to Iron Father Street, coming again through, knocking the off the Social Labour Party headquarters which is a small house but a very sturdy one, though, of course, no chance to withstand a tsunami of this nature. With the increasingly heavy flow climbing to the threshold of the back of Malachias Unit 2, crossing to the other side of unit, mixing with red wine, adding to the water that flowed from Malachias Unit 1, coming mixed with white wine, sweeping over Egan Moniz

Street, beating in full the Old Firemen's building, shaking the Ideal Terrace Café, coming under the Arches of Campbell and here, carrying with pyrolytic, more white wine, soda and beer ! This fatal recipe continued its journey mixed with photos from the 60's at Photo Lemon's working shop, until slowing down, exhausted, with all that morphine, spreading off at the Police Station, temporarily softening the Black Side of the Force ... Then it came running down Lime Stone Street Blues, scamming with how many drinkers it stepped on, who, of course, did not lose this last opportunity to have a drink. The river, indeed the creek, that ran down to the Haff, thus receiving waters coming from the main stream described as Ria, when the waters ran up by the Jack the Nails Chapel, suddenly entering the gate of the infamous Joe Genie's Farm. Some say these kind of floods are related to the Greenhouse Effect which is already being acting since the discovery of fire by man, although, by then, not as dramatically as on these days. Actually, scholars don't say anything at all, they seem to have forgotten about it, but this just proves that if the Ria came as far as the Garden of the Fields so it can reach farther if increasing the Greenhouse Effect, causing floods that will inundate Malaga and, no doubt, Havanca, Starreedja, Aviarium and thus to south, Moyra and Quyaios because the water level will rise once the whole Mesozoic area will be getting submerged, surfacing only to the Paleozoic land level. We think we are doing quite well in order to make ourselves understood ...

THE DEEM EFECT With the Haff advancing even without the Greenhouse Effect working on, that was how was formed

the Lagoon of the Fields where actually stands the Garden of the Fields, however it will not return to occur so fast due to the Deem Effect, i.e., the anti-greenhouse effect or cooling-effect that is being occurring alongside with the Green House Effect, so, The Deem Effect ! Aircrafts flying through the air, especially jet propulsion ones, leave in the atmosphere traces of water vapour to disperse and form continuous and long curtains, very like a thin veil of water vapour surrounding Earth, contributing to a decrease in radiation and sunlight intensity per square mile. Space debris resulting from space junk orbiting the Earth, which metal sheets that it is made of, are keen to reflect sunlight back to space. And the rebuilding of the ozone layer, especially since it was abandoned the use of fluoretanes, all these factors have contributed to slow the melting of ice caps and the consequent rapid rise of water. Some people, keen on religious exaggerated culture, believe that the rise in water level after the complete breaking of the polar ice cap, will leave the Earth flooded over the mountains and the rainfall will be so great that every land will remain underwater ... so, as if the rain came from space. Also according to their believe, it will happen another great flood as big as the biblical one, but we perfectly well know that for more ice that will melt, it will be difficult that the waters reach the lands of Sotto, or even Harada, ( two villages in the outskirts of Port Obal geographically placed on the neighbour hills ), this, just to give two examples of urban places situated on the limit of flood extension. But some lands located on some islands may well disappear entirely from the earth surface which sure is what is gonna happen to the Tuvalu islands in the Pacific. This group of islands in the South Pacific is expected to be one of the first victims of global warming. As the water level is increasing the lowlands of the islands whose maximum height is only 5 meters above sea level will be flooded and you can say goodbye to these paradisal islands of palm trees and blue lagoons:

the TV islands, as they are known, because the Web sites relating to these islands ends in .tv instead .com or .uk. Scientists predict its demise by 2050. If you are visiting these islands in time, you will be able to tell your children that you went to a place where they will never be able to be ... On Golden Beach the shore drops from about 2 or 3 meters above sea level at the top of central avenue to much less than one meter above that level. By Car Regal the quota is already substantially below sea level. Therefore, once the rising water caused by the passage of waves over all the avenues and beaches from Eggsmoriz, sprawling across the Serpent Forest, Car Regal and the Haff will disappear around that same date: 2050. The Roundabout's fishermen's wives will have the water by their fish baskets on top of their heads! Fateful year for this area of the Portobelo's coast. ( see map simulations, next ).

England and Portobellian coasts To say, England will almost completely evaporate, so to speak. What a shame ! It's not understood so hard determination in building new buildings, plazas and squares by the sea when for all these architectures is provided a so close end. Entire cities such as London, Lisbon, Port Obal and Aviarium, will simply vanish from maps without any remedy. Even if this Flood really happens, it will not be a Deluge of the kind Creationism frontmen may think it will be, but it will cause problems and conflicts among riverine populations not only from Portobello, but also in countries like India, where the moving of displaced people by the, slowly but effective flood, will cause local wars for possession of space and food resources. The men from Port Obal will lose their Gelfa and will have to seek pasture for their cattle to the lands of Topapila or Gwen Obal, two other villages in the outskirts of Port Obal.

If it really happens, (the rising waters caused by global warming), the salty marshes of land that run from Port Obal S. Hyacinth will vanish. When the TV islands in the Pacific Ocean disappear most of the mentioned places situated near the Ria and the Haff will eclipse under the waters of the Atlantic Ocean. It's not worth being with illusions. With global warming acting in full, sharks swim alongside the Moliceiros in the Ria which will make impractical the industry of seagrass and seaweed. Vannila Bridge no longer will be useful although it will have a good part of its structure above water. The Tower of Dom Alfonse Enriched would be well above the surface of the water if it still would be there there and might constitute a stopping point for motorboats. The sea will form new beaches that will scatter over several places throughout the Portobelian coast. In fact all the beaches in PortobelLo will disappear, even those in the Algarve, and several decades or even hundreds of years will take to form new beaches. The tourism industry in coastal regions will die. Global warming will eventually contribute for the totalitarisation of Europe. People who have not attended school long enough to learn about Geography, Geology and Climatology believe that Earth is just 5000 years ago, but it is necessary to be a complete idiot to believe that a mountain, whatever one, just is 3000 years old ... They also believe that, once, man lived 400 years! These kind people, believe everything they are told, no matter. This blend of Christian fantasy and Greek mythology that exists in the mind of confused and science ignorant citizens who have not attended or have not had time or opportunity to attend at least up to 15 years in basic school, believes in the wonders of science and technology the same way of those of religion, but they can't explain how TVs or refrigerators, micro wavens

or fluorescent lamps, or even cars, work ... Do they? We don't think they do! ... ... especially girls that when cars breakdown, always say ''it's battery's faulty ...'' It can be a matter of battery, indeed ! They don't even guess how! However the World will not end by flooding because there is not enough water for it, but it could eventually rise to excessive temperatures, that achieving an average more than a few degrees (not many are needed) above the actual average, there will be changes in plant and animal species with generation of mutants that will not necessarily survive in all species, and most of them tend to disappear in a few years, the domestic species being most immediately affected: dogs, cats, rabbits, cows, chickens, turkeys, ducks , doves, squirrels, camels, bears, horses and asses ! There will be an immediate proliferation of vermin: rats, flies, gnats, cockroaches, worms, fleas, bedbugs, ticks and lice ! It will not be just prosaic biblical plagues of locusts that will come to destroy the modern Pharaohs' harvests ... If the temperature rises further, it will begin to free gases and vapours from the subsoil, mines, cemeteries, swamps, marshes and even from the Haff ! Methane bubbles will start to loosen up from the waters of the Ria and other lakes and lagoons, as well as from the oceans and seas ... The upsurge of volcanic activity, the earth's plates fracturing into smaller and everytime smaller pieces and magma sliding along mountains and valleys. When the percentage of methane in the air reaches the ignition point, explosion of methane and other hydrocarbons begin to occur causing outbreaks in oilfields that still exist. The Earth will become a fireball enveloped by water vapour that

nearly focus much of the water in the clouds, substantially lowering sea levels. And in this scenario, neither the insects will survive. It will be the planet's total destruction. Neither man or animal, nor vegetable, survive in this climate. Acid rain will continue to fall for millennia. The planet will be surrounded by dense clouds of water vapour by where, for millennia, the sun will simply not penetrate. Eventually the polar ice caps return to form, but this time without 'Neanderthals' to tell the story through their fossils. For neither bacteria will survive! Eventually, the planet's stability will be back ... Eventually, too, some meteorite will cross the sky hitting the Earth and bringing back the material from which will form new amino acids and from these the New Life. During this time, the whole Universe, on this and other nearby galaxies, and in others, even millions of light-years distant, will not noticed the difference, being absolutely oblivious to the changes on Earth for as many zillions of years! The universe will continue to expand regardless of the species to extinction on Old Earth and the recreation of new species on the New Earth. The Sun, during all these seizures may get a few million years older ... But, what a great thing, the Sun's can go up to 10 billion years! Nobody, not even aliens, will give a penny to watch the cataclysm. The Universe will not give a dime for this ! Although, turning to the question, did it, or did it not, existed the Lagoon of the Fields?: All evidence points to Yes as an answer.

So, why does the Council don't operate an archaeological dig in the Garden of the Fields in order to determine the age and time of existence of this lagoon? It does operates, yes sir! For now the road is again a tar mat, but just let some manhole burst out water, to see if it doesn't soon comes Mr Council Water Services with his team of diggers to proceed to an councilmologic-archaeological excavation. The excavations use to begin by early morning with men armed with pickaxes and hammers for the perforation. When the hole reaches about one meter, the manager shows up in his nice suit and tie, to inspect the excavation. Curious onlookers begin to form a circle sufficiently out of the gestures of the excellent supervisor. - There! - Here? - More too the side! The worker, at the bottom of the pit, extends to the manager a white object. The manager picks it and raises his hand in the air in order the on-looker's circle can gaze the finding. Between the manager's fingers is a small white shell. - It's a mussel! - everybody claims. The calcareous shell of the best known Lamellibranchia crustacean comes to light to prove that in ancient times, but not much long ago, due to the low thickness of sedimentary marine layer, life existed at that depth. - Yes, yes - says the council's worker from the bottom of the sand pit - the one who always carries the trouble is everytime 'the Mussel' ! After these archaeological digressions staff will go for lunch and the hole will stay there in the middle of the road ... But leave it! What matters is that this proved, that with the advance of Greenhouse Effect and while the mussels are cooking, the Lagoon of the Fs is a reality

which we must face every time we cross the Garden of the Fields in Port Obal, Portobello. *** Viking treasures: an amazing Viking treasure was discovered thanks to the experience of hunting for treasure, English pastime of a man and his son. It is estimated that the treasure has been buried for over a thousand years! This treasure was actually found with a metal detector in a field in Harrogate, Nortg Yorshire in January 2007. But now a Museum of London bought the treasure for about a million pounds. The centerpiece of this treasure is a jar of silver finely decorated with standards of the time. The cylinder was discovered filled with coins, bracelets and jewellery from around the world, some as far away as Afghanistan. There are also pieces of Russian, Scandinavian, and various parts of Europe. It consists of rings, earrings, chains, needles and pins, brooches!, Of incalculable historic value. It was thought that the treasure belonged to a rich Viking who died during a battle and that he was buried with him. Viking treasure sells for nearly 2 million pounds!: London (Reuters): an important hoard of Viking jewellery and coins unearthed in England in 2008 by a team of treasure hunters and was put in exhibition British Museum. Reviewed by 1.8 million pounds, the Treasure Valley York includes objects from Afghanistan, Ireland, Russia and Scandinavia. The Museum of York and the British Museum bought the treasure, which describe the most important of this kind, made in the last 60 years in the United Britain. Includes 67 objects and 617 coins, contained in a vessel of silver, gold plated, made in Europe during the nineteenth century. This container was perhaps executed to be used in church ceremonies. Aventa that has been stolen from a monastery by Vikings, or given as a tribute to the Vikings. The hoard contains coins relating to Islam and the religion of pre-Christian Viking, and other related to Christianity.

About 160 years ago is found in the Cuerdale, Lancashire, a treasure trove of more than 8000 objects. The famous Treasury Cabanas: ran the year 860, shortly before Leif Ericson enter our Haff. After looting the villages of the Mediterranean ports and the Drakkar Viking sailed full speed. Its crew of pirates was part Harald, the Helmsman, burly man always ready to fight and theft. The idea of Sven, the captain, had been stopped on lands of Galicia, a little further south, but did not know if it would be welcomed by countrymen who according knew, had settled here peacefully while back, did not want to get into fights with her and risk losing her serve, it would be better to proceed without stopping Euracini lands and continue further north where he would land to supply food and water. Sven just longed to return to his homeland to distant Gotelândia. That day sailing with the wind advantage, but on the horizon could be seen large and dense black clouds of rain and wind, the sea began to roughen and the waves rose higher and higher. Men accustomed to the hardships of life on the high seas tried to accommodate themselves as best they could, they knew that approached torment. By Sven moments regretted not having anchored in Euracini certainly do not have cost much to pass up for a mere traders travelling, if he had chosen well the land and who would not have to face now that violent sea without food and without water. In his thoughts called for protection of Odin and Thor. But the storm fell on them with the same force of Thor's hammer, pushing the drakkar to the black rocks and sharp waves that covert surrounded by a small bay north of well over Euracini. The proud ship broke in pieces against the sharp teeth that seemed to protrude from the waves to devour. The thunder rumbled, lightning lit up the sky darkened and threatening, it seemed that Thor had turned against them. Everything ended with astonishing rapidity. The next morning, a man still dazed and worn by the struggle waged by that life, floated clinging to a piece

of wood. Harald had miraculously survived and came to the shore in the cove. Around him were scattered remains of drakkar in the sand and when Harald was spotted something half buried by rubble. The cost rose and reached for what he had called at, approached and saw that it was a part of the chest with the sacking of Sven. The biggest piece of loot. Harald knew I desperately needed rest, food and shelter and did the only thing podiarastou box and hid it as best he could and set off in search of shelter. Find a town not far away, simple people, small farmers, who gather to eat and give. Very weekned asks a skin and a piece of charcoal drawing that recalls the best place where you deposited the loot and hide the map out of sight of the villagers as they reestablished. But Harald succumbed to stress and disease that attacked and eventually died. In the town remained a legend of his brief stay and which would have left there something valuable hidden. And is this map that has survived until today, where Harald was hidden by that small village near what is now Viana do Castelo which will have to find to get to the treasure of the Vikings' piracy in Gotelândia and take their loot ... * Once again, back to our Nissan Sunny, we went up the hill, next to the Alphonse Martin Turret, (inspired by the turret of Dom Alphonse Enriched), which many good people think is the Castle of Port Obal!). And, again, if given the same unusual predicament that we cannot cross the Central Plaza the way we use to, therefore passing in front of the Council's building. But then, we do not know which way was forbidden to go any more, to sense which way was the good one to have it back from the point where we initially started, and after some time of being deceived, we finally freed up by the Hospital side, through Hospital Street ... Everything was very well concomitant by the local authorities, right from the beginning: the schools and swimming pools to one side, the Carnival Course to the same side ... It seems it's taking shape and materializing

the old plan of New Port Obal and Old Port Obal town, with these more abrupt separations based on the Modern and Ancient styles. No cars at all hissing back and forth in front of the City Hall. This was the first measure taken! One will have to park the car far to the sides of the football stadium or in front of Casper-Mercy river, or, at best, in front of the Library, where there aren't (yet!) parking meters. All in all we thought it would be better in the future, not trying to park in Port Obal at all, except in front of the door of restaurant Paradise, or next to the terrace of the ''Ho Xico's Bar'', any time we came to this town, whether it's coming from Vixen, Portal City, Aviarium, France or England. After completed the second round, however to avoid the traffic lights, we went straight to Marina, but we couldn't avoid again the bumps, and launched on the road we turned, before reaching the headquarters of our Egyptian friends (the Gipsys) who did very well in entering in a strike for not wanting to pay taxes to the Tax department, as taxes are not worth to be paid, after all, just because of some old fashion clothes collections and CDs from the stool competition, and as so, the Gipsys were segregated out of the market place, but no matter, the fishermen's wives have returned again to the streets to sell fish, rather in the market where they were forced to sell by the EU new laws, because no one was buying any fish products in the market after all, and that's well done!; not because anyone is not going to the market to buy fish, but because of the fact that the fishermen's wives coming back to the streets to sell their fish, and no one is supposed to abide by laws of any Portobellian Socratacy, because these laws serve only to pay fines, and to make money for the courts, lawyers and judges and of course the Police! The resistance to the Socratacy laws, after all, it's remaining, thought the government thought they had everything under control once again but how wrong they are!

*** With the Haff on our left we continued to give gas on our Nissan Sunny and there we were once again in Car Regal ( see maps ) and so we got to back to the Fort of Dom Alphonse Enriched once again but there was nothing to see there once it was approaching twilight time and who wants to find something has to go by day-light and search very well as we did, not only the Fort but also everything else in life, otherwise you risk never finding anything at all because it never have been there or because it is no longer there. And so is life, for early risers, but this does not preclude staying in bed until noon which, nevertheless, is the best form of contesting the bourgeoisie society. And so we returned once more to Golden Beach. Leaving our Nissan Sunny parked near Phoenix ( a night club ), we walked down to the beach. The night was warm, the air still. The lapping of the waves on the sea pack started to rock us as two babies and eventually we fell asleep on the sand.

We dreamed of paddling a small boat in the ripple stirred water on the other side of the lake. The boatman of this dream dropped a man at the makeshift pier and went away seeing the man becoming increasingly distant and darkened with a briefcase in his hand. Behind, in the blackened blue early evening, was the huge mansion. A one-story construction, formless block, left isolated on the small island. The open window of a windy hall was beating .

The boatman disappeared wrapped in darkness and water and to the passenger just came to his memory the scenes of a comedy where, on the outskirts of hell, a boat almost sank bursting with demons ... The man turned his back on the lake and took a path through the cane pack whistling tunes that rippled horrible melodies. As getting to the house across an alley of fused moon light silver, the man stopped agitated and confused, taking shelter under the porch that preceded the mansion's entrance. He pushed the door that hardly ceded to the strength of his arm. Inside it was pitch dark. He snapped the wheel of a lighter which flame led the way to a small oil lamp, the only ornamentation on a rough dirty table. He drop the suitcase, came to the light strand, covered it with a glass that lay by the lamp. He opened the briefcase from where he began to sort out some white paper sheets. He sat down, lit a cigarette and started smoking and writing. Outside the wind swirled around like with furious craziness, scanning the lake surface, loosely billowing it, crashing down without haste, in the woods and pine forests that extended across the dunes to the sea. “An appropriate night for monsters, witches and ghosts”, the man thought as he bent the nib on the paper to start a new paragraph. He had decide to write a bit about his life as a student and teacher, about his daily life at the heart of Natural Sciences. He was a man still young to deliberately expose himself in the turns of dull philosophical and scientific speculation, but it gave him a boundless pleasure. Now that he delivered his students to their experiences around the world doing study travelling to collect the necessary data for their thesis, he also intended to move away from that strenuous everyday learning-teaching, teaching-learning, in which he began to agonize, and decided to investigate what parts of the

Nature were still existing in Civilization. For this reason there he was at the fifth of his grandparents abandoned and lost in the confines of those lands close to that swampy lake, the Haff ... The boatman, old servant in the family, neither wanted to move the boat, saying that it was preferable to row the next day by morning, it would be safer, the boat could capsize, it was dangerous as being late at night ... But the teacher urgently needed to be isolated, to think, to urgently write and describe his latest findings on animal evolution ... He looked at the almost unwritten sheets of paper. A gust of wind turned the crest of a wave and threw it against the little wicket's window opened across a half-meter thick wall. With the sound of water dripping through the glass diverting his attention, it seemed also to come a howl . Something apart, different, on the other side of lake, or in the other world, he chaffed in thought as he always did with everything he lodged in his mind, apparently bypassing the contours of the limits of his imagination. As the sound faded, he drew with his pen a round high-case capital letter and envied himself by the cold style he used to write. He didn't have, however, time to finish his first word, something like Muow or Meow, when, again, closer, the roar ( the Hawl, THE HOWL ) was heard. Very close, by the way, for whatever was lose on the other side of the lake, certainly translated itself to the edge close to the house. Whatever it was, flown or was brought out by the wind, and was now walking around the house, crepting around the building, gasping and snoring almost mindlessly surpassing the cyclonic roar of the wind. Whatever it was, hit with its limbs, or wings, on the

small porthole window and began to peer into the dimly lit inside through the wicket's bars. The man rose the numb with fear and saw a huge misshapen nose trying to grab the iron bars. It was a facies of a primitive mammal, hugely woolly, with sharpen teeth like the early birds ! He looked at the door that remained closed, and when he looked again to the horror in the window, the horror was no longer there. He ran to the house's door to make sure of his safety and tried to lock it up when his strength fainted and his body was pushed back with the violent turn of the door. He was projected to the middle of the room and fainted. His glasses were shattered by the impact against the concrete ground floor. *

The Bush woke with the morning mist. The Bush is a place situated at the confluence of two water bodies such as within a peninsula. To get there one has to pass a suburban highway tread in front a few isolated hamlets on the back of a steel mill, dip in the pine forest, to fork at the entrance of the village, where a tower of a small church stands. One branch, (the oldest one), built on the place among houses lining the roadside, almost all with very well cared small gardens front of large front doors that when half open might suggest the sight of small threshing of corn spread to dry, sun-beaten during the afternoons, when the land owners and their guests gather around a big pyramid of spikes that the small homestead produced. Boys use to walk along these paths on Sunday afternoons, throwing stones at the birds that perch on the wires above the rooftops, and cats curl up quietly by the door sills next to the gardens during the warm afternoon sun, keeping themselves warm until the end of the day. The other road, of more recent construction, is marginal to the haff and goes along the water and reeds

that grow around small ponds open on the bank, on which surface floats almost everytime a green carpet of lentils. On the other side of the road, a low wall separates it from some meagre corn lands. Its construction is halted where a bridge, only hinted, climbs up a creek that serves to irrigate the lands. * When the fog withdrew the boatman crossed once again the channel. Crossed it over pole and wrist strength that he was burying in the under water mud quicksand. The boatman didn't want to wake up immediately his passenger, but when he arrived and saw the house with its door wide open he was surprised once he did not anticipate having to pick his passenger so soon. He got close and peered. The man was laying on his back, his arms outstretched and his head drooping on his shoulder like Christ to whom the cross had not been risen. Like an unchained Prometheus, he had his clothing loosen on his belly, exposing a hollow in his fiercely devoured ventre. The boatman drew back in horror to the door in time to see, running in the distance, on the other side of the Haff, a group of hunters who, that morning, had organized, determined to discover the source of the screams they heard during the night. Ahead in the distance, a huge bird never seen before, lifted a heavy flight and drift slowly away towards the North Pole, never to return again ...

GGGGRRRRÁÁÁHHHÚÚÚ!!!

GGGGRRRRÁÁÁHHHÚÚÚ!!!

Although, don't worry ! Gather your maps and have ready your backpack. Around the world there are amazing treasures vanished since centuries. The greater treasures of History are: The Arch of the Aliance, The Pharao's Lost Treasure and the Treasure of Montezuma ...

Chapter 5 VIKINGS' & NORMANS' WANDERINGS

AS WE HAVE SAID, 'once, the Normans walked on these lands and sailed on the Haff ... ' After Charles Magnum, all the German-speaking populations that inhabited the south of Jutland, were Christian converted and incorporated in the Frankish kingdoms, under the influence of Western civilization. Farther north lived other Germans, who, with some independence had retained their unique traditions ... Their languages, the different languages of Germany, belonged to the other branch those who had recently advanced in the common linguistic branch, currently under the name of Scandinavian. The originality of their culture, compared with its neighbours to the south, could be expressed as a result of the great migrations that in the first and second centuries, had made vanishing many elements of contact and transition, leaving almost deserted the German lands along the Baltic sea and the river Elbe. These people did not constitute an union of tribes nor a special nation. They distinguished themselves from the Danes, in the islands and in the province of Jutland. They were called the Gottar, still remembered in the Swedish province of Vester and Oester; the Swedes themselves around Lake Malar, and finally, separated by other people scattered over forests and plains of difficult crossing due to snow and ice, but being able to contact the remaining, through the common sea on the sea coasts of a country that would be called Norway.

The Germans from beyond the Elbe began to call these men 'Northmen' or Nordman, identifying them with one of the cardinal points. These were the 'pagans from the north', whose incursions triggered in the year 800, lasted more than a century and made the West moaning. Better than sea sentinels that at the time were gazing the high sea, trembled at the idea of sporting the bows of enemy boats, or than monks occupied in elaborating and writing about looting contents operated by the Northmen, historians can today trace the Normans current attacks and assaults that stretched from Ukraine to Greenland causing multiple commercial ties. Also from their funeral rites, one can accurately reconstruct a Norman fleet. A ship, hidden beneath a mound of earth was the favourite tomb for their leaders. Archaeological research in Norway brought to light many of these marine tombs: boats that were designed to make short rather than long trips to distant lands, but also good for making long journeys, because a ship copied from an original one, which was called Gokstad, could, in the XXI century, crossing the Atlantic. However the 'long' ships that spread terror in the West were otherwise of a different type. However not different to a point that the image of the vessels in the cited graves could not not show a good picture of them. These boats were bridgeless boats, constructed by loggers and timbermen. With a little over twenty feet in length the boats could move the oars or sail, carrying each between forty to sixty men, although a little tighten ... Its speed was, measured by the prototype Gokstad, a dozen of nots. The hull went under water just one meter which gave advantage, when it was necessary, to abandon the sea for high-venturing in river estuaries and even up over these. And this was as so, just because to the Normans as to the Saracens, the waters were no more than just one route for terrestrial prey. They had a kind of innate knowledge of the rivers, as soon becoming familiar with the complexity of the pathways so that, in the year 830,

some of them had been able to serve as guides to the Archbishop of Ebbon from Reims, on the trail to the emperor. Ahead the prows of their boats, the branched network of rivers' affluents opened the multiplicity of its own deviations to surprises. In the river Escalda the Normans are noticed up to Cambrai; in the river Yonne, to Sens; in the Eure, until Chartres; in the Loire until Fleury, far upstream at Orleans. Even in Britain, where the water courses, beyond the line of the seas, are much less conducive to navigation, the Ouse, although, took the Normans to York; the Thames and its tributaries, to Reading. If the sails or the oars were not enough, they resorted to tow. Often, in order not to load the ships too much, a detachment of men went by land. Was it necessary to achieve the margins, on very low riverbeds? Or, in order to make a loot, to take across shallow waters? Canoes came out of the boats. Rather was it necessary to overcome the obstacle of fortifications that blocked the current in the water? In this case the Normans improvised transport by land for the boat, which they did in 888 and 890, to avoid passing through Paris. Far away in the East, on the Russian plains, the Scandinavian merchants had they not acquired a long experience of these alternations between the navigation and ships transportation, from a river to another, or to avoid rapid waters? Such was the versatility of the Normans. Similarly, these admirable sailors feared-not travelling on land, through its ways and struggles. They would not hesitate to leave the rivers to launch the hunt for prey across land, when necessary, as those who, in 870, through the forest of Orleans, followed the trail of the monks to Fleury, who had fled from their abbey by the Loire, following the tracks left by carts. Increasingly been accustomed to ride horses, more to travel rather than to fighting, most of which, of course were stolen from the region they were visiting, as they were crossing it. And so, in 866, the Normans made a great horse robbery in East Anglia. Sometimes they moved the horses from a looted land somewhere else where they were going to act: in

855, for instance, from France to England. Thus, they could move increasingly away from rivers. Did the Normans not sported, in 864, leaving the ships in the river Charente and going to Clermont d'Auvergne, which they have taken? On the other hand, by moving faster, more easily they surprised their opponents. They were extremely skilled in raising fortifications and defend themselves against them. They knew also how to attack strongholds, being in that greater than the Hungarian horsemen. In 888, it was already long the list of cities that, despite their walls, had succumbed to the attack of Normans: Cologne, Rouen, Nantes, Orleans, Bordeaux, London, York, to name only the most illustrious. In truth, besides the element of surprise that sometimes have played its role, as in Nantes, which they loot on a feast day, where the old Roman walls were far from being well maintained and even further from being defended with great courage. When, in 888, in Paris, a handful of energetic men learned to repair the fortifications of the Cité and be of ardour for battle, the city that in 845, was almost deserted by the inhabitants, had been looted and, further, probably two times more, after it had suffered the same outrage, this time successfully resisted. The raids were fruitful. The terror they inspired in advance was not the least. Communities that saw the government unable to defend themselves, such as from 810, certain groups of Frisian, and isolated monasteries, had been the first to pay tribute. In time their own rulers have become accustomed to this practice: for money, they obtained the promise from the Normans as to containing their plunder, at least provisionally, or turn to other victims. In western France, Charles the Baldman gave this example from 845. The king of Lorraine, Lothar II, imitated it in 846. In eastern France, was the time of Charles the Fat in 882. Among the Anglo-Saxons, the King of Mercia did the same, perhaps in 862, the King of Wessex, we are sure, in 872. By their nature such ransoms served as a constantly renewed bait and thus indefinitely repeated. As it was from their servants and, above all their churches, from whom princes should

required the necessary sums, it finally settled the disposal of Western economies into Scandinavian economies. Even today, in memory of those heroic times, museums in the North preserve in exhibitors astonishing quantities of gold and silver: they were the contribution from trade, largely of course, but also to a large scale, as have said the German priest Adam Bremen ' fruits of the spoils. ' Curious is the fact that, stolen or received as ransom, under the form of jewellery fashions according to the Western taste, these precious metals were often melted down to make new jewellery according to the preferences of the new owners, the Normans, what constitutes proof that we are in presence of a particular civilization with its own traditions. Prisoners were also stolen and, unless they were rescued, taken overseas. Shortly after 860, were in such a way sold in Ireland, black prisoners who had been brought from Morocco. It should be added to the portrait of these Northern warriors, strong and brutal sensual appetites, the pleasure of blood and destruction and sometimes terrifying crazy outbursts, in which violence had no limits: as the famous orgy during which, in 1012, the Archbishop of Canterbury, hitherto carefully saved to be obtained for him a ransom, was hit with the eaten bones of animals at the banquet. It tells us that an Icelander, who had been campaigning in the West, had the nickname of 'man of the children' because he refused to impale them on the tip of the spear 'as was customary among his companions.' This is sufficient to understand the terror that these invaders spread around ... The name Normandy is derived from the territory conquered by the Northmen, or Norsemen, during the IX century, and confirmed by treaty in the X century. The Duchy of Normandy was created by the Viking Rollo. He had besieged Paris but in 911 he began to pay homage to the king of the Franks, Charles the Simple, by the Treaty of Saint Clair-sur-Epte. This treaty made Rollo the first Norman Earl of Rouen. Additionally, Rollo was baptised, married Gisele,

the illegitimate daughter of Charles, became a vassal of the king. In return Rollo legally gained the territory that he and his Viking allies had originally won. The descendants of Rollo and his followers adopted the Gallic language and crossed with the locals. They would become the Normans with a mixed language of French and Scandinavian, and divided into Francs and Gaulese. Rollo descendant of William, Duke of Normandy, became King of England in 1066 after the conquest of the Battle of Hastings while he simultaneously retained the fiefdom of Normandy ... In 840, an undetermined number of vessels boarded the Galician and the Asturian coasts until they reach the current Tower of Hercules – tower and lighthouse situated on the city of La Coruna in Spain - (its large size must have seemed important to them) and looted the small village at its feet. Ordoño I had news of the expedition and summoned his army to counter the incursion, defeating the Vikings and recovering much of the loot. He ordered to sink between sixty and seventy of their ships, which should not have been a great victory as evidenced by the fact that he followed the campaign by looting. In Lisbon the chroniclers speak of a fleet composed of 53 boats. In the year 844 another Norman expedition devastates the city of Gijon and followed the Atlantic coast to get to Lisbon and attack this city. Then they took Cadiz and rose again by the Guadalquivir, Sevilla sacking it carefully for 7 days, from which they launched attacks on land. However, when Abderraman II came out with his men, and after some battles, they saw that the Vikings could not overcome the Andalusian force and fled, abandoning Seville and leaving many behind, who surrendered to the forces of the Emir. Of these, the luckiest ended up raising horses or making cheese, the less fortunate took the old punishment for piracy, being hang. During the reign of Alfonso III of Asturias, the Vikings came to cut the naval communications with the rest of Europe. The historian and hispanist Richard

Fletcher mentions at least two notable inroads in Galicia in 844 and 858. Afonso III was very concerned by the threat of the Vikings to establish fortified posts on the coast, as did other kings. In 858 the Normans navigated the river Ebro from Tortosa, they croll to the Kingdom of Navarre, leaving behind the inexpugnable cities of Zaragoza and Tudela, then through an affluent, the river Aragon until they found the river Arga, which also they climb, reaching to Pamplona to rob, kidnapping the king of Navarre. A similar expedition strikes Orihuela from the River Segura. In 859, the Vikings come back to Pamplona and kidnaped the new King Garcia Iniguez. As a result of these attacks, in 859 some tried to stop them again. They widened the port of Seville and the fleet was increased by maritime surveillance under the reigns of Abderraman Alhaken II and III. Abderraman II, before the Norman incursions, builds 'the Ribats', fortresses in river mouths, between the so-called today San Carlos Rapita in Tarragona, La Rabida in Huelva Red River, La Rábita in Granada, and between the mouths of the Rio Grande and Guadalfeo, aso. In 968 the Bishop of Santiago de Compostela, Sisnando, was murdered and the monastery of Curtis was plundered, and they had to take measures to defend the inner city of Lugo (Spain). The sack of Tui in the eleventh century would make resign this episcopal city empty for half a century. Upstream the river Minho, as in its left margin, in the riverside cliffs of Melgaço, there on Mount Prado, were found dozens of mysterious and large heads of fantastic figures, similar to those that the Vikings carved, some historians think having this origin. The capture and taking of hostages to demand a ransom was also common practice: the historian Fletcher mentions the payment made by Yellow Mestáliz to ensure the safety of his lands and redeem their daughters, captured in 1015. The bishop Crescónio de Compostela (1036-66) repulsed yet another Viking attack and built the towers of

the West (Catoira) as a naval fortress to protect Compostela. Póvoa de Varzim in northern Portobelo, was colonized by the Vikings and the city of Braga was often plundered, and across the valley and river Cavado valley locations so often, that motivated the construction of the impressive city walls of Vimaraes. Also in Portal city in the Douro River estuary and Lisbon suffered attacks of great importance. More striking was the Count Gonzalo Sancho that destroyed the entire fleet of Gunrod of Norway; Count Sancho stabbed and captured the crew and their king. No one knows the cause or causes which terminated the Viking raids. Some authors opine that the acceptance of the Christian faith around the year 1000 by the majority of the Vikings, attenuated their desire to attack their look-alike, the Normans. It also points out that the raids were just a fashion that ended when they had nothing new to come over. Anyway the Nordic kingdoms wanting to open more to the rest of Europe and trade with them instead of raiding them. An example is the case of the Castilian King Alfonso X of Castile and Leon who married his brother Ferdinand with Princess Christina of Norway March 31, 1252, because the said marriage was convenient for both Alfonso X as to Haakon IV. During the raids of the Vikings in XI century, France changed. The reign of Charles the Bald, was coincident with one of the worst of these raids, though he has taken a position through the edict of Pistres in 864 to ensure a regular army of cavalry under royal control, to act when necessary and to face the invaders . Carlos also ordered the building of fortified bridges to prevent the passage of invaders. The Britons were allied with the Vikings but were caught climbing the Loire. Robert of Neustria and Ranulfo of Aquitaine died in battle of Brissarthe in 865. Antwerp was sacked in 836 ... The Vikings' buried-treasures consisting mainly of silver were found in the Netherlands. Two of them were found in Wieringn. A treasure found near Wieringen,

dating from 850 in 1996, is believed to have belonged to Rorik that had there a camp of soldiers. In Portobelo the Vikings were in Povoa do Varzin where they left the acronyms 'poveiras', describing family names related to the Scandinavian word 'Bomaker'. The 'Lancha Poveira' is an archetype of a Viking ship. Viking raids occurred off the coast of Galicia in 844 and 858. Tui was sacked in XI sec. In order to obtain ransom money, gold or silver, people were kidnapped by these Vikings-normans. Yellow Metaliz was forced to pay a ransom to the Normans-Vikings for his daughter captured by them in 1015. The Bishop of Compostela, Crescónio, 1033-36, repelled the Vikings and built the fortress towers in the county of West Catoira to protect Compostela from the approaches of Norsemen of the Atlantic. At the time, the Town of Povoa of Varzim, was conquered by the Vicks around the IX century and their influence was still visible due to the recent practice of endogamy in that community. In the city of Póvoa do Varzim, founded, as we have said, by the Vikings, even very recently, some locals practiced the endogamy, a custom that the Vikings praticed and still takes place among the Gipsys. Endogamy or Inbreeding, is the practice of marriage exclusively within the same ethnic background, just how the gipsys do, because they do not want to mix with the local population. Roma maries Roma and tha's it ! It is commonly practised in unrooted cultures that live in foreign countries with the goal of resisting to integration. It encourages the solidarity within the group what by itself ensures great control over the group resources, what might be important to the group selfpreservation when it tries to establish within an alien culture. In these days, etno-religious groups, since far are resisting to complet integration, as for instance, the Romani and the Ashkenazi Jews in Europe, who practised

severe endogamy. Although this kind of practice of isolationism, as endogamy, may to end up in group extinction in spite of its preservation. Once genetics deceases can develop affecting a large percentage of population. For instance, worried in preservating their religion, the practice of endogamy between the Samaritans is menacing this community, being that the refusing of external together or not with the non-acceptance of other religions, led this group decrease until they are no more than just some hundreds. There is also the so called 'class endogamy' and 'job endogamy', making that individuals from the middle class are just preferring those of the same class for marrying, or that individuasl whose parents are doctors just choose for marrying other doctors' sons and daughters. In 844, the Vicks of Andalusia attacked an area dominated by the Saracens. Then plundered Lisbon, Cadiz, Seville and Medina Sidónia. *** The first Viking long ships reached the Iberian Peninsula in 844, 50 years after their first expeditions have reached Northwest Europe. This year the Vicks sacked Gijon and landed in Coruña, but faced stiff resistance from the Asturian King Ramiro I, who, for a moment, neglected the fight against the Moors. The Vicks withdrew in the next weeks, following ransacked neighborhoods of Lisbon before they move to take the Guadalquibir and Sevilha. They were defeated by Blammen (Black men, the Arabs) in Tablada and retreated to the north. In 860 a new fleet attacked Galicia, the Portuguese coast and again Seville. They crossed the Mediterranean and sacked the

Balearic Islands. After attacking Pamplona they cross the Ebro River and captured the King of Navarre, Garcia Iniguez who had to pay a ransom for his release. Successively they were finally Gonzalo Sanchez and Al-Hakam II. defeated by

In 985 the Vicks first reached the American continent when they accidentally were diverted from the route to walk up from Greenland to Iceland. This was followed by Leif Erikson, son of Erik the Red, who explored areas of the west in search of major size trees' trunks off Greenland, since there was only small trees there. Leif Ericson (in Old Icelandic: Leif Eiríksson) was an explorer popularly known as the first European to discover North America and, more specifically, the region that would become Canada. He was the son of Eric the Red, an outlaw from Norwegian, which in turn was the son of another outlaw, Borvaldr Ásvaldsson. His mother was Bjodhildr. His father founded two Norse colonies, the Colony West and the Colony East both in Greenland, whose name was of his own. Leif had good notions of navigation and, by the year 1000, he believed in the story that there were lands beyond Greenland, then he went south to find land where the cold was less intense. Heading south, he found very wooded lands, and later signs of settlement, where he landed to make contact with the native inhabitants (American Indians). Leif called the land Vinland (to attract more Nordic men to that land; it means land of vineyards), calling Skraelings to the locals, which means 'uglymen', as the Norse were blond and red hair with white skin and the Indians very different than they were used to. The coexistence with the natives was peaceful during the months of camp, where they exchanged furs and leather for Nordic fabrics. Leif founded there the city of L'Anse aux Meadows that had a population of about

thirty people, and returned to his homeland for more people to that wonderful land, but knew that his father had died and had to take over the village in Brattahlid in his place. Yet people continued to go to the new town by the year 1012, when the indigenous population invaded and destroyed all the houses (some survived and were found together with remnants of Viking pottery in excavations conducted in 1962, which indeed proved the existence of Vinland). In 1964, U.S. President Lyndon B. Johnson proclaimed October 9 as Leif Eriksson Day in order to celebrate the arrival of the first European to North America. But historians consider Christopher Columbus as the real discoverer of America. On the return voyage, Leif Ericson rescued an Icelandic castaway named Bórir and his crew, an incident that would enforce his nickname of Leif the Lucky (in Old Norse). It is believed that Leif Eriksson has lived between the years 970 to 1020 of the Christian era. Canada established a temporary camp in Lanse aux Meadows, located in Newfoundland, which was to be 'rediscovered' by the Portabellian Corte Real.

***

In their various stints in the Portobelo's coast as they headed for the Mediterranean, sure the Vikings did caught in their sight the large estuary of Ria in which they entered about 885 led by Eric Redneck. Erik the Red (also known as Erik the Red, Red Neck or Eric Redneck), was one of the famous Vikings in history, perhaps the most famous. He was born around 940 in Norway, however from there he was banished for having killed another Norwegian. Erik was banished to

Iceland, where he rebuilt his life with his family until the year 890 when, for unknown reasons, he killed another man and was banned again. Without being able to live in Norway or Iceland, Erik and some of his followers went sailing for two years to discover new lands, and as so he landed in Greenland. With the idea of creating his kingdom, regardless of Norway, Erik returned to Iceland to get more people and founded the city of Gardar and the village of Brattahlid. Gradually people were coming and Greenland was inhabited more and more. His son, Leif Eriksson, who always helped his father, introduced Christianity in Greenland, despite the strong opposition of this last. Around the year 1000, he arrives in North America who named Vinland (Viñolândia) because of the wild vyniards he saw here. Erik died in 1000, leaving his son Leif Eriksson as his successor in Brattahlid. Led by Eric Red Neck, the Normans navigated inside the Haff heading to Murtolyand where they anchored. The ships' hulls had low draft and the Haff was deeper making easy its navigation. Locals used the moliceiros (typical boats similar in style to the Phoenician), with which they navigate searching for seaweed from the Haff's bottom, but the Normans were not interested in seaweed. A small fleet of boats from Eric Red Neck was carrying a chest containing the product of some of the loots and ransoms of the Normans during their previous campaigns. Eric's mission was to find a hiding place outside of the Spaniards' and Saracens' routes so that he could proceed with the concealment of the treasure they carried. They arrived surfing the Haff's northward left bank, but the light that shimmered in the air, reverberating on sand banks in Torreira, blinded the invaders who decide to switch to the opposite shore-side, Murtoland.

In the IX century, these lands were virtually deserted, not even Dom Alfonse Henriched was yet riding on them. Just deserts of grass lawns and some few herbivorous could be spotted on the Gelfa, a strip of sand dunes in between the haff and the sea. Arriving in Murtoyland, Eric founded a Norman colony of which remains today just the ruins of a cemetery. The oldest document that refers to the village was found a century after the establishment of Port Obal. It was referring to piracy practised on a large scale in this part of the coast by the dreaded Normans, who for two hundred years long crossed this coast and became the foundation of a Norman colony in Murtoyland. Here the Normans lived very happy on their Norman village, called Haffland, name given by the Vikings to the area of the Haff northwards of the Ria. The area was explored by Leif Ericson initiative from a settlement established around the year 800 on the north coast of the Iberian Peninsula. The exploration of Haffland was performed by the Vikings establishing colonies in the northern Iberian Peninsula and motivated by the scarcity of resources that there was in this region. The colonies were in some measure suitable for human occupation, but had disadvantages such as wet weather, scarcity of wood (if you think, Dom Denis was not born yet ... ) as combustion material, construction of houses and boats and as well the lack of available sources of iron. To remedy these shortcomings, Leif Ericson, son of Eric the Red, founder of the colony, took the initiative to explore the surrounding area. The first trips revealed promising discoveries in a continental climate relatively mild and full of resources essential to survival, especially in the south arm of the Ria. Besides Haffland (land of haffs and swamps), Leif Ericson also described Marmeland, and Hello-Ville, reported in the sagas as ideal locations for livestock. Since it is impossible to travel except in the

summer due to the weather, Leif Ericson soon found advantage in establishing a base for winter season in the region: Murtoyland was the name given to this settlement. The only historical source that mentions the colony in Murtoland-Haffland are the Norsen sagas. According to these texts, Haffland was founded by Leif Ericson, Mhalvado his brother, and his sister and his wife, by the year 1000. The site was described as a small village intended to serve as headquarters for expeditions that continued throughout summer. Due to the absence of independent sources and Viking traces on Murtoyland, historians remained sceptical of these narratives, classified by some scholars as fantasies. The doubt vanished in the 60s, around the time of the opening of Vanilla Bridge when a team of archaeologists discovered the ruins of a Norman cemetery of Norman architecture in the area of the current Murtoyland to the north branch of the Ria. The site consisted of eight towers, of which three of them with room to accommodate about 800 people, a carpentry workshop and a forge for iron extraction, a technology identical to that of the Viking's ancestors. The carbon14 dating technique has indicated ages around the year 1000. The location and characteristics of these ruins were in accordance with those described by contemporaries of Leif Ericson and confirmed the veracity of the NormanViking presence in the Northern Haff ! One of the most striking features of the village discovered by archaeologists was the lack of artefacts that usually accompany the Vikings. The excavations revealed only the presence of 99 damaged nails, 10 nails in good condition, a preacher of bronze, a rattle, a glass bead and a knitting needle. This slim archaeological finding is interpreted as deliberate abandonment of the colony, which is supported by the narratives that tell the time when the colony was abandoned after a few years of existence.

According to the sagas, the Haffland had all the characteristics of a promised land, but the ideas of exploration and colonization were abandoned, it seems, suddenly. After some of the marshes being dried, the land became fertile, allowing in Murtoyland the cultivation of various agricultural products including corn, beans and potatoes. The fertility of the land is mainly taken from the seaweed from the depths of the haff using special boats called 'moliceiros', activity that is currently endangered. In the difficult times over which is passing the Portobellian agriculture, farmers have seen cattle on the fields of Murtoyland affected by pleuropneumonia, a disease that has caused losses in their income. The Dreaming Treasure has been for some time buried in Murtholand, perhaps in a place called the Mount, and was later transferred to Buñeiro or perhaps in one of the marshes to the north near Havanca, possibly in the Texas Gueiras or Bulhas estuaries. It was transported by land or canoe and buried with the possible intention of being retrieved when a new passage of the Normans with their boats heading towards Lisbon. Finally, as the Haff is muddy and viscous since those times, might have happen that the amphorae and chests in which it was shipped, have slipped by tectonic movements and sliding of mud and water into the deeps of the Haff and now find itselves - after the transformations caused by dredging - in some of these marshes. It can come to the surface of the water by new dredging or other holdings or hanging in some local fisherman's rake whiling moving his 'moliceiro' (the tipical boat already described) on the water surface of the Haff. A profitable hobby was what the English treasure hunter, D.M. Fisher, discovered when he found in England, about 5000 Norman coins, dating from the third century: one of the greatest discoveries of all times in

Britain. The treasure found and subsequently brought to the public, was transferred to the Brutish Museum in London, where the coins were cleaned and saved. This work was done in two months and accounted for about 400 hours of work for the conservative team. In total its value is expected to reach 3 million pounds and includes hundreds of currencies - mostly of silver or bronze - with the image of Marcus Paulus Resendis, Roman emperor who invaded the site and took possession of the land in Britain and northern France in the third century of our era. Archaeologists believe they had access to find the treasure, which sheds light on the economic crisis and coalition of the British government in the third century and that will help rewrite history books again. Who gives us some interesting facts about the Gelfa, (the land strip between the Haff and the sea), is Monsignor Michael Olivier that gives the meaning that is still found in dictionaries: grass and pastures rose on the wild, and a more daring one about which quotes a French author, Gi Micard, who peremptory affirms that the name Gelf comes from the Arabic word 'djilf': 'terre où les récoltes sont précaires et les champs abandonnés à la grâce de Dieu', meaning 'land where crops are poor and fields abandoned to the grace of God' so, in accordance with the meaning we recall, since we were kids, of mess, haem, disorder ... About Torrance, Pedro Gomez of Cabananon, rests in some dought, not knowing how to tell it, raising the hypothesis of the origin of this name being in the word Tower, so, Torre or may be Terra, so, hard-dirt, not without citing several other places with the same name or similar names. But my friend Michaela, in her turn, doesn't hesitate of plunging deep to a Torrance done by the heat of soil and the trembling of the atmosphere, making things toasting in the air! Nevertheless, (so according to myself as well), archaeologist-linguist Titus Economicus, I think that to the

feminine suffix 'eira' it's attributed the meaning of 'the place where one can find the object expressed by the primitive word', in this case, an eventual real Tower. The Torrance area was in old days called by Murtoylanders the Sandy Place, what could even contribute to the junction of two words, so, Sandy Tower or Tower of Sand ( areia ), to originate the toponym that we know today: Towareia --> Towarreia in which the syncope of the w and the repetition of the r turned into Torre Arreia!, meaning the Falling Down Tower. As a matter of fact there were eight towers!, not just one : the Tower of Dom Alphonse Enriched in Car Regal; the tower of Torran of Lameiro; the tower of Torrance; the tower of Murtoyland; the tower of Torreino; the tower of Arino; the tower of Tyjosa and the tower of the Torranzel. The said towers built by the Vikings on both sides of the Haff were shelter for men and treasures, for a few decades until they crumbled under the onslaughts and erosion of offshore winds that lifted the Gelfa's sand and threw it against the towers' walls. These towers had been thus indicating the local in the surroundings in which the constituent parts of the 'Dreaming Treasure' were buried in the soil around them, so the Vikings should have had maps in their possession for the purposes of, upon their return, to rescue the lot. In such a way, the surrounding lands around such towers could constitute currently a search local, through digging the embankments or simply by using the metal detector, although, in the latter case, it is possible to detect metal objects just up to twenty inches deep. The construction of a metal detector is relatively simple so that we can describe the construction of its principal: a coil of copper when under the passage of a low intensity eclectic current, changes its magnetic field shape at the approaching of an object made of metal. Although, there are in the market commercial versions priced at about one hundred pounds each.

All those towers fell down over the centuries, sparing from some of them, just very flat vestigial. The last one to fall was the Sandy Tower, already vaticined as the 'Torre Arreia', the Falling down Tower. It happens that when the tower really fell down, just the Eire was left standing up precisely where it had been implanted and the place passed on being called the 'Eire Tower', or Tower Eire. * As you may have already said, not all fractions of the treasure were recovered by the Vikings on their return to Scandinavia when their expansion declined. When the towers collapsed, there were no longer signs in the areas where the treasures had been buried and with the Haff's expansion ( which is currently, however, in regression ), eventually submerged those areas, or they came to be buried by mud and seaweed, and other harmful algae in general, having been drop at a depth not attainable by the moliceiros-men's rakes. It was for this reason that the Ria never proved to be a treasure for those sailors and peasants of the region, who never enriched, albeit with so much treasure under their feet and boats. More recently, the dredging that would eventually displace the amphorae rolled to the Career's depths. If these amphorae were still intact with their filling, the dredging broke them, eventually dispersing the coins and other silver and gold small objects into the muddy bothom, then being thrown by air towards the banks, mixing with sludge and seaweed, so, focusing and simultaneously dispersing on the Haff's current banks and over the newly formed Sapals. Thus, the Dreaming Treasure, would have awoke in our days, in such islets called sapals. The proof can be found in the coins we indeed found in a Marshland Sapal called the Visited Sapal.

With the most recent dredging, desilting off the Haff, the coins were, instantly, mixed with mud, algae, seagrass beds and tossed along the Ria's navigation line, and eventually became consolidated among the sediments, under the marshes' mantle. This is proved, by a handful of coins, we, me and Michaela, indeed found on the visited sapal that we intertidally hastily exploited. ( see map ). Evidently, we did not repeat such searches, extensively to the other islets, leaving such a feat for other future explorers and better equipped expeditions. As demonstrated our thesis, we preferred to continue our journey away from ghostly locations, as proved to be the visited small sapal. Fruitfully but hideous ! There as well we could demonstrate the 'martyrdom of the sapals' and their sudden multiplication. According to our calculations, just the sapals, in its entirety, contain about one hundred thousand ancient coins from the time of the Normans, Vikings and earlier times before these navigators. This only refers to the fraction of treasure scattered along the banks, dispersed by dredgers against the edges of the Haff. Having to also take into account the fraction that have been hidden in the lands of Murtoyland, the place of the Mount and both Estuaries cited above, especially the Texas Gueira estuary, as evidenced by the research conducted in these two areas by Cristina Sandoz, as reported on her work, unfortunately still unpublished, ''The Haff's Great Treasure''. The areas around those estuaries are also easy to reach, using inflatable vinyl boats or canoes, and revealed to be much safer hunting areas, than the sapals Marshland (see map), and can also be achieved using Jeeps or other appropriate vehicles, among which undoubtedly cross-bikes, like the hypothetical ones used in Port Obal bike-cross-races, supposedly still to be addressed by Dr Leonardo Quevedo, already quoted. It is also possible that among the constituent fractions of our treasure lies scattered as concentrated some of the Templars' Treasure, who were at the time of

the wandering Norm-Viks, living in their monastiers on Norman lands in France, Scotland and Spain, before Philip, the Beau, had chased the Order, stole their lands and confiscated their goods and possessions. And although possibly, but not so much likely, one may be able to find tiny occasional excerpts of the Solomon's Treasure, as well as scanty relics of Noah's Ark and surely some atoms and molecules of the Shroud and Cross of Christ. Allah is great! * Famous for the D Day, Cheese and Cider, Normandy has a range that extends from its back to its coastal rural areas. With almost virgin landscapes, bright meadows, green and cold, and pine forests, Normandy remains a haven of tranquillity. Its villages, clearings and roads covered in leaves are an ideal place to rediscover the joys of nature amid a variety of architectural styles. This particular architecture style, highlighting the Cathedral of Rouen, Honfleur houses and church of St Catherin, this one, a magnificent church sustained by panels and wooden stakes with its tower's bell located next to the church in order not to bend the church's timbers under its weight. Bernay and Corneille are examples of cities that prevail in wood panelled houses. Normandy is a region of contrasts in a plagued region by a, some times, severe climate. Dotted by solid stone mansions, farmhouses and barns, whose roofs are made of stone, preferably to ceramic or slate tiles. In the region within the Contentin peninsula are noted coatings of blue and green slate, often with circular shapes. Granite is a stone ever present in buildings. This rock is an alloy of three minerals: quartz, feldspat and mica. Almost as stiff as marble, it's sufficiently acidresistant to be used as 'tiling' in coatings for kitchens in the Norman mansions. Resistant to fracture and electric shock from lightning, it's the preferred building material in the region. The blocks' bonding material is a more

fragile substance because it uses limestone or as cement, which, however, combines well with granite and although porous, in the occurrence of cracks, these self-consolidate easily.

* The Vikings crossed the the Atlantic sea, the coast of Africa to the Mediterranean and Russia as settlers and traders, hoarders and rapinators. Leif Ericson flowed to the beaches of North America, in Newfoundland and Labrador. One day he endeavoured to carry, to a safer location, the treasures collected across the lands of France and Spain. Navigating the Galician coastal colonies he founded colonies in Tui and in Povoa do Varzin and, in the Haff, he founded the colony of Murtolyand. Here was discovered, in the XX century, a Viking graveyard, a pottery and an adobes landfill made of mud and seaweed, with which they built huts similar to those in Cabanons. But the towers of Torrance and Murtoyland were built with granite stone, possibly extracted from quarries still existing to the south of Portal City (see map), and north of Acculy, as Magda Lena, Val Dares and Coim Broes, along the current railway line, quarries that, in those recessed times, were closer to the Haff than they are today, because the Ria stretched north to Eggs Morizorum, being the blocks transported from this last town on their boats, along the haff. The Vikings were pagans. In vain Charlemagne tried to convert them, which only he managed to do by the power of fire and sword. The introduction of Christianity in Scandinavia has created a schism in Norway. They were a coastal population in need of expansion. This, however, remained mainly maritime rather than continental which caused a decline in agriculture in the homeland. Sure, crossing seas is always funnier than digging potatoes ...

Stealing here, looting there, is more profitable than sedentarize. One theory holds that the Vikings were seeking women during their expansion, after all. Of course to marry because of lack of women in their homeland. Not that the Vikings were rappers or kidnappers. There was, however, a lack of 'Valkyrie', and the few that still remained they preferred gods than men, and some others, had left to Mongolia!, to meet the terrible Attila that eventually cut their head off ... The old trade paths were interrupted with the fall of the Eastern Roman Empire. The expansion of Islam in the seventh century blocked the trade routes. The Mediterranean was dying almost with no movement of boats by the time the Vikings began to sail and paddle on this sea. The Vikings reconstituted the sea and land trade routes. Long live the Vikings! Interestingly, there is also a Vikings cemetery in the Isle of Man, in the Brutish Islands, where are buried Viking warriors alongside with the local Brutish and Irish female population. One of the circumstances that made the Vikings, led by Leif Ericson, to leave in a few decades the Haff, there forgetting abandoned, some of their treasures, was precisely for the same reason above: lack of valid and free women both in Porto Obal as in Golden Beach. Like today, also those in times, one would have to navigate to the El Garve's beaches to be able to spot naked beautiful bodies of beautiful Swedish women, as, for instance in Salema beach, or the breasts of topless eventual British fortuit girls in Praia da Rocha, or even Arabic women simply walking involved in their 'bulkas', walking across the avenues in Lagos and Albufeira, originated from the Morocco. Because on Haffland, they could find nothing! Just mud and seaweed. About local nymphs, nill ! Only at the Serpent Forest (see map), can one, today, have a glimpse, from time to time, of beautiful nymphalic silhouettes of Romanian or Lithuanian

gorgeous women, these last as well from the genetic Baltic trunk and other Norman-Viking blood ancestry, however, not Polish, of course, these, as well beautiful, but it happens that Pope John the Poet II, did not let them go so far. Amid such limited means, one might almost say, 'I was almost dead in the desert having Portal City this <> close. In Portal City you never miss, I can tell you. Also in the year 865, a large army of Danish Vikings led by Ivan the Boneless and his partners Haffon and Wolverine, came to East Anglia. They headed to the north of England and captured the city of York, but leaving some treasures buried in East Anglia, an issue that will possibly become the goal of our next book, 'The Treasure of the Fens'. Most Anglo-Saxon kingdoms were at war with the unexpected crossing of Danish Vikings and it was Alfred Natex who put them in order, retrieving York. Most of the population of East Anglia, where the author of this book ( meaning me, Titus ) resides, is of Scandinavian origin, because the invaders accommodated very well with the Anglo-Saxon cheeks and their local dialects. The current generic dialect, in the south of England is British. In this dialect are silent most of the R, especially at the end of the word. For example, 'better' is not spelt exactly 'better', but 'beta'. 'Clever' is not spelt exactly 'clever', but 'Cleva'. Now, people of East Anglia, especially the Norfolkers, quite like Los de Manganeses in Spain, 'eat' the 'R' but also eat the 'T' and their local linguistic expression is like speaking jerky English, with no meaning at all, from which our friend Valentin gives a good imitation, even without knowing how to speak English at all: - Ho, hey, ho, hum, maite, gimmy wa<>ter!”. Did anybody understood? Thankfully not. 865 was also the year of the alliance between British and Vikings. Taking advantage of the truce offered by the Alliance, the great Leif Ericson sailed to Spain

shores like Cantabrian, Galician and Portobellian shores, carrying his treasure in a dozen boats that reached the Haff, entering near the promontory where the famous lighthouse currently called the Hiliabum Light House at the entry of Aviarium's port. Heading north across the Haff, early he arrived with his fleet at the infamous Barriñia Eggs Morizorum, south of Acculy, returning, after this, back to Car Regal (see map), where his flotilla landed front of Petrus Callis, facing the actual Good Great Frog ruined night club, and with his warriors he walked one pedestrian mile across the old Necklaces Family property, finishing this tour on the famous Serpent Forest Lake, and this was the place where historians think him to have hidden the first fraction of the dreaming treasure, so on the banks of that small Lake in the surrounding pine forests. It happens in this area there is currently a sign next to a restaurant, with the following words: 'Private Property', which has hampered the search, continued today, by metal detector's aficionados. Also located in this vicinity have been placed the forte of D. Alfonse Henriched, as previously mentioned. Generally speaking, the Haff's banks are the sandy shore to where the pine forest extends, at this end of the Haff, until the Navy Turret. The road, forks in the chapel of St Marine, turns left to Marina and right to Ty Josa. On the other opposite bank are the locations of the Navy Tower and Torranzel, also good areas to try the metal detector. It also can be found - however not detectable by metal detector - old plastic buttons from the old Ram Alda factory, the factory that laminates the steal transported from Sheffield, who could ever guess? ... If in these areas, researchers find no treasure at all, they can certainly find good red wine at Jerome's Tavern, or at any tavern or restaurant from Arino's Bar to Vanilla Bridge ( see map ). As a last resort, we recommended in Port Obal, John Gomez Social Cellar and the restaurant Limpopo, as

well as the aforementioned Casa de Pasto ( Delicacies House ) La Miñota, in the former Port Obal's Train Station Plaza, or even in Ron Cafe. In Golden Beach, 'The New Pine Vale', 'The New Cuña Ladronis' and 'The Old Delmar', and at any point of barbecued sardines south of Golden Beach. With the same purpose, we can still considering the three New Port Obal Steps: the Step of the Dead, the Step of the Turtle and the Horticulture Step, in the way to Fountain Street, one of the famous Port Obal's water springs, in their same locations for centuries, except for the Light Spring, and the springs within the fifth of Zee Genie, as we were saying, namely, the Pelames Spring, the Conger Spring, the Casal Spring and the Penitents Spring, by the Penitents Garden. A good screenplay for the weekend: Dinning in Paradise Restaurant, espresso at Xico's Bar, and, if Saturday, glorify up in Glorys Night Club ! Still about the lootings of our historical friends, the Vikings: some monasteries were looted in 795 on the west coast of Ireland, until 830, when large fleet of Vikings landed on this island. Many Irish Vikings married and had children with red hair. The city of Dublin is derived from a base Viking warrior. The Vikings were both Scandinavian and Danish. Denmark is the largest country in Europe. No? So what about Greenland? An arshole originary from Golden Beach, said the Americans have had purchased Alaska from the French, but have not it been from the Russians?! Who cares any way? ... Still about Normandy, this name derivates from the 'Norsemenduring' word. The Duchy of Normandy, was created by Rollo, a Viking leader who married Gisela, daughter of the French king, Charles the Simple, who ceded land to the Vikings to be them to hold their successive waves of colonization. A plan as 'simple' as intelligent. The descendants of Rollo adopted the Gallic language, according to the theory exposed before, and married the local cheeks.

A descendant of Rollo, William, became king of England after the Norman Conquest, at the end of the battle of Hastings, a kind of unsuccessful Aljubarrota in Portobello. Buried Viking treasures were also found in the Netherlands. Consisting mainly of silver, as the treasure found in Wieringen, dating from 850. It is therefore a fact that during the mid-ninth century, the Vikings, were dedicated in reivindikingate and thiefvikingating, and really buried treasures ! We estimate that all of you are now perfectly convinced of our travels and theories about the Haff's Treasure. The Haff's Treasure was a treasury buried 'en passant', on a geographical location hidden away from shipping routes to the south of Portobello and south of Europe, to be recovered also hypothetically 'en passant', latter. But it was a treasure that was forgotten, asleep. Over time, some of this treasure was emerged in the banks and some at the Haff's bottom. With the municipal drainages promoted by council camcorders eventually the treasure broke under the dredgers and was thrown by the same dredgers, involved in mud and seaweed against the Haff's shores, getting mixed with the materials that have accumulated over the marshes, blending with it, especially smaller objects like coins and other small objects of silver and gold of everyday life, like rings, bracelets, earrings, necklaces and tiaras, which were obtained by the Viking jewellery, using gold and silver plundered during their 'world tour'. A sign on a street in Póvoa do Varzim, Portobello, contains the so called Sigla Poveira, a set of names related to the Scandinavian name 'Bömaker'. There is a boat called 'Lancha Poveira', which some scholars believe to be derived from the archetypal Viking ship. Similarly 'moliceiros' ( the haff's boats ) are derived from the archetype of Phoenician boats, being the 'lanchas poveiras' derived from archetypal Viking ship, the drakkar. Port Obal was the name of the Port that the

Phoenicians founded in the Haff, long before the Vikings venture there, making Port Obal the oldest city in the kingdom of Portobello. There are folks that mistake Phoenicians and Vikings, and end up saying that the moliceiros descend from drakkars and the Lanchas Poveiras from Phoenician boats, which creates a mess. Further, after reading the book 'On the Road', by Jack Kerouack, some say Dostiofski instead of Dostoevsky, as it happens to be the case of our friend, recently returned from the Elgarve, Sir John Baldwin Bessa Campos. We might have that one as well, telling about a so tiny lady, that instead of practising in the swimming pool, practised, preferentially, in a small chalice ...

Other Viking 'sources of income': in 860, our valiant warriors, kidnapped the king of Pamplona. The following year they asked for his ransom, 60,000 golden pieces. The Viking raids continued through the next century. In 968 they killed the Bishop Sesinando de Compostela, sacked the monastery of Curtis and attacked the city of Lugo. The ciy of Tui in Spian ensued in the tenth century and was also ransacked. In 1015, they kidnapped the daughter of Yellow Metalllis who had to pay a ransom and give away part of his lands to the Vikings. In the city of Povoa do Varzin, founded, as we have said, by the Vikings, even very recently some locals practised endogamy, a custom that the Vikings practised still takes place among the Gipsys. Endogamy or Inbreeding, is the practice of marriage exclusively within the same ethnic background, just how the gipsys do, because they do not want to mix with the local population. Roma marries Roma and that's it ! It is commonly practised in unrooted cultures that live in foreign countries with the goal of resisting to integration. It encourages the solidarity within the group

what by itself ensures great control over the group resources, what might be important to the group selfpreservation when it tries to establish within an alien culture. In these days, etno-religious groups, since far are resisting to complete integration, as for instance, the Romani and the Ashkenazi Jews in Europe, who practised severe endogamy. Although this kind of practice of isolationism, as endogamy, may end up in group extinction in spite of its preservation, once genetics deceases can develop, affecting a large percentage of population. For instance, worried in preservating their religion, the practice of endogamy between the Samaritans is menacing this community, being that the refusing of aliens together or not with the non-acceptance of other religions, led this group to decrease until they are no more than just some hundreds. There is also the so called 'class endogamy' and 'job endogamy', making that individuals from the middle class are just preferring those of the same class for marrying, or that individuals whose parents are doctors just choose for marrying other doctors' sons and daughters. Marriage is a practice dating back to ancient primitive women slavery. The woman was a slave to the man long before the man made slaves their prisoners of war. In our days women still continue to be men's slaves. Before that, women were free females ... Early marriages were processed between groups of women and groups of men. Women are forced to copulate with any man in the group, whether or not that was their desire. Obviously, this requirement was not extended to men within the group, as each one could chose the woman or women he liked, within the group. This was followed by other forms of marriage as the wedding called 'sindiasmic'. This is a kind of marriage in which one woman can only mate with one man. In this type of marriage man had became the owner of the

woman and infidelity of women was subjected to physical punishment or even death. It is a type of monogamous marriage but only with advantages for man. The modern sindiasmic wedding is also a type of monogamous marriage, but in a modern way. The woman continued to be exploited by man even if she have a job herself. During her weekly working hours in the factory or in the office, a woman creates products or services in her work that she exchanges by earnings or a weekly salary (exchange value), that 'pays' her work. But arriving home, after working, a woman has 'another job', this unpaid, consisting of 1 - Restoring man's working strengths by preparing his meals and satisfying his sexual appetite, because not just of bread lives the man. 2 - Also she still have to wash the dishes, make the bed, take care of the children and clean the house. All this regardless of her husband being poor or rich. The women's labour force is ultimately appropriated by men. Men always keep a fraction women's work for him, which does not escape the appropriation of men. In conclusion: women work for men whether they like it or not, provided they are officially married and all goods that women continue to build up, leading to the present day incorporate women's slave labour, through the dayly reconstitution of the productive force of men. If a married woman is to work from home, that will be difficult for her husband to reconstitute her working force by any means, at best he will give a help to dry the dishes and cutlery, just to fancy. This also happens in communist societies where domestic work is one hundred percent performed by women. It is the wife's work that keeps her husband alive and creates physical and intellectual conditions so that he can produce. All women, either are men's sexual property, or intended to be, through marriage. As a group destined to be appropriate by the group of men, women are not free. Even if a man has good income, just have to be a mean spirited to give his wife a low standard of

living. Once married, women hardly realize that signed a slavery contract. So, even she has a job and works the same number of hours that her husband does, it doesn't come across her mind to require him to do his share in housework and child-rearing. And much less to complain about her sexual freedom that he requires for himself. Even if the woman does not need the man for anything, she accepts that he gives orders and decide her life. This is because the woman lives alone with his oppressor and fears violence from him. The man would not allow to undermine the rights he acquired for millennia. And the oppressed has no way to liberate herself from her oppressor, unless she abandons her husband, which only a few can. The best way to end the authority and supremacy of the male is to let him be alone without no one to command! Cest la vie. Au revoir. And, of course, we couldn't abandon this treasure hunt without talking about Codfish that, for many centuries, exists in large numbers across the North Atlantic from the coasts of Canada to Norway. The abundance was such that the Vikings in the early years while living in Greenland, they sung in their sagas the large amount of codfish that daily during high tide, filled the fjords. In some places, the voleys of codfish were so great that the water seemed to boil. No one knows for sure when it was started the fishing of so called 'faithful friend' and it's even possible that it have been fished since ancient times by various people. Unfortunately, today, the oldest coeval evidence arose only in the sixth century AD. But the Vikings, inhabitants of the fjords of Scandinavia, warriors and navigators of indomitable courage, who have been developing the fishing since the fourth century, with a nautical mastery superior to the people of their time, began their expansion devastating the coasts of Europe, and even into the Mediterranean. In 983, Erik "the Red", who was to be exiled from Iceland, sailed west, reaching a wooded land covered

with good pasture, which he called Greenland. Returning to Iceland, Eric formed a fleet of 27 ships that departed the land discovery, where he settled. Around the year 1000, his son, Leif Ericsson, who inherited his father's adventurous spirit, sailed south. Out of Greenland, he reached new lands designated by Waldlandia, Hellolandia, Marcolandia and Winelandia. Soon after these discoveries, the Vikings settled in the new lands that remained colonized for centuries, and sung the Scandinavian Sagas. The dredging of the Ria of Aviarium iwas not held for nearly 16 years, is a major program of interventions of Molis of the Ria of Aviarium to be completed by 2013. This is one of the most desired intervention by the users of Ria as it will facilitate mobility in the main canals of the lagoon and improve conditions for an important set of economic and leisure activities, and fostering new activities. According to the Coastal Molis responsibles of the Ria of Aviarium, it is 'an intervention in terms of significant technical complexity and with a process of environmental impact assessment, whose first steps are already being taken.' Actions will include implementing sediment sites with siltation problems to other sites that are not yet defined and where there is deficit or sediment strengthening and stabilization of banks and dunes, thus allowing an optimization of the dynamic equilibrium of the lagoon. Currently they are preparing a series of studies on the evolution and dynamics of coastal and estuarine margins by enhancing recovery of dikes and dams and also on the mobility and navigability of the Ria. The studies are suppose to identify in advance areas at greater risk of erosion and flooding scenarios to assess the short and medium dynamics term of coastal and estuarine, to point out technical solutions to minimize the risks and problems, and to order the movement in the navigable channels of the Ria.

The study of the evolution of coastal and estuarine dynamics is also examining the sediments, disposal sites, as well as to develop a model of dredging, providing for the future process of maintaining the navigability of the channels. 'These baseline studies, already underway, are designed to ensure that the interventions promoted under this operation fit on one hand, a systematic and updated set of technical and scientific knowledge, but also in other empirical knowledge transmitted by users present in the Ria of Aviarium ', declared the to the newspaper 'The News of Port Obal', Tortoise Marmeyd of the organisation Molis-Moliço of the Ria ( M.M.R. ). The MMR has provided, among others, to promote three projects for the development of the structural line that match the dredging of the four main canals of the estuary (Porto Obal, Aviarium, Iliabum and Moyra), strengthening the banks of the Ria of Aviarium, through recovery of dikes and bushes and the strengthening of the lagoon cord between Moyra and Costa Novarum. It should be noted that the Port of Aviarium will yield about 2.5 million cubic metres of sediment stored just along the Port of Aviarium. These projects make up about 35 million of a total of 100 trillion sertecius in total investment. All to generate new sapals and marshes! The good point on this is that they are giving more opportunuty to treasure hunters, my multiplying the sites where easely treasure can be found ... In addition to these structural projects the MMR also provides a broader set of interventions. The requalification of the marginal fronts of the lagoon municipalities, the appreciation of the Patheira of Fermentelos, creating a cycle that will complement the existing network and upgrading in the Ria and lagoon fishery pier, are just some examples. Among the actions in an advanced state of development focus on a set of projects whose implementation will be undertaking a public tender in the very short term, including the restoration of the old railway station of Paradela in Sever do Volga, the

restoration of the Patheira of Frossos , reordering and qualification of lagoon fronts of Port Obal, Starredja, Iliabum, Wagos, Aviarium and Moyra (south of St Hyacinth, see map), the restoration of the Gago Creeck in Aviarium, in the way of Iliabum Park and the Old Carrier Oliveira Quarter, the regeneration of public spaces of the Reserve of St Hyacinth and further strengthening and upgrading of shores between the New Arrived Creeck and Quay in Murtoyland, it is expected that these interventions are on the ground shortly. The MMR is an unique partnership in the country, between the State and the Intermunicipal Region of the Community of Aviarium and is an operation for improvement and enhancement of risk areas and degraded natural areas located on the coastline. *** We can only wish to desired the maximum success on this new venture, hoping it will be more successful than the first which created general anarchy on the lands of Port Obal, mixing the sludge in the bottom with the surface clear waters, creating serious embarrassment that embaraced the derivatives of the new seaweed and seagrass beds industry. We can only hope that the Dreaming Treasure is finally found or at least brought out of water for some of the dredges and scubadivers or other men who are employed on contract, or simply caught by any moliceiro's boatman's rake ... But attention, be carefull because, like other treasures also this one is defended by a dragon: the monster-dragon of the Lake Haff, called the Delta Dragon, possibly much superior to the one in Inverness !!! Therefore, compared to the quoted Treasury in the Brutish Museum we wish the Normans' Treasure can rest

home to find its place in Port Obal Museum or St Joanne's Museum in Aviarium. We wish you all, Good Luck ! Michaela & Titus

THE END

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