chapter 10

chapter 10 – North Winds

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Thinking backward it’s clear to me, that this journey had to finish the way it did. The trouble is that thinking backward is hinting of some delay in reality perception, like that moment less then 4 hours ago. The queen faded somewhere in a field at the Sharon on the way to the ocean with no explaining. Not a word, not a glance not even the smallest gesture. We marched within waves of yellow tall flowers, each one in his own detour when suddenly the detour of the queen didn’t lead her back to our direction, and that was it. At the next moment it was only me and the king on the way to the sea. Even there I did backward thinking. Long time after I was still glancing back, before I realized that she just went to play in another place and she isn’t coming back soon.

But I’m getting used to the wired behavior of the royal couple and I find myself less and less surprised. There is some great mad logic in that. The king and I continued until we arrived to the beach with our pants rolled up to our knees and climbed a couple of giant rocks that grew out of the water. I am proud to say I wasn’t surprise to find by the end of the climbing, a couple of royal sits as same as I wasn’t surprise to find out that only the king’s sit was dry.

We sat under the not so cold sun of the winter and talked about the Badulina’s language that has so little words. For example; there are no times in this language, just the present.

“So how do you say in Badulinian something like: yesterday I have been to a party?”

“Yesterday I am in a party”

“What happen with less defined past? Don’t you have a word for Yesterday?

“If the past is less defined why do you need a word to define it?”

“I see. As far as your concern in Badulina, most of what happened in the past does not exist since you have no ways to define it or talk about it, it’s almost not a part from your culture.”

The king was very busy in one of his favorite hobbies; rainbow hunting. There is no day where we are not surrounded with multi perfect rainbows, regardless the weather; at shop’s windows, in the shower, on jewelries, on fly wings.

Or on a dove’s neck, oil spot on water, gasoline spot on the road, a child painting. A rainbow hunter changes the focus. When he enters a restaurant the first thing he will look for wouldn’t be the menu, it will be a rainbow of course. That hobby suit only dose who are not disguised by rainbows. The king collected with his eyes the water drops that crashed under his brown legs like a wild herb of buffalos. The conversation between us didn’t interrupts his focusing in the hunt and I couldn’t complain he isn’t listening

“Same with the future” he said “we don’t have future.”

“And what for, if I may ask, is this saving on words?” does it cost money to invent another word? Does it catch space at home?”

“Yes.”

“What yes?”

“Words are objects like any thing else that is made by human. They are tools, like scissors, like glue, like shoes. Useful objects that made our life easy. Think that you will start collecting scissors out of admiration to the scissors concept – suddenly you become a mad collector of scissors: Scissors for silk, for the ears hair, for pizza and designer’s scissors. And whatever you can’t cut with scissors is not interesting for you and suddenly you don’t have shoes.”

“I’m sorry I lost you there, why suddenly I won’t have shoes?

“You clipped them. That the way it is when tools loses proportion. Suddenly you become their device: Past, future, Mail, female, rules, countries – words can catch a lot of place.”

The sun was already down, pre-sunset. Her warmth memory echoed on my skin between my shoulder and my cheek.

“Rain” said the king. Somewhere north-west you could see a vague spot of clouds.

“I thought you are in summer year.”

And that is what they explained me, by the way, once, when I mentioned the weirdness of this winter in Israel that was non rainy. “Its not wired” they say “Other wise we wouldn’t be here.”

“We are in a summer year.” Confirmed the king.

“I thought you say that you are not going where it’s raining this year.”

“That is correct.”

“And I thought you also said now, in Badulinian, that you are expecting rain.”

“That’s right as well”

“And how can it be?”

“It can’t. We are living.”

“Who lives? When?”

One kind of time froze the other kind started running mad.

“Her royalty and me, today.”

“Are you living? Where to?”

“I don’t know we shall see what they have at the airport.”

“You’re just going to check who has a couple of tickets and this where you will fly?”

“Of course not and talk single to me, I need only one ticket and it will wait for me in the destination Ill choose.”

“And the queen?”

“She also needs only one ticket and it will wait for her.”

“To separate places?” I chalked because of the effect of the non-ending sun without one lousy drop of rain.

“I have no idea where the queen is flying too but if we sit here until sunset its likely we see her plain taking of.”

I stared the sky, they had the same color of a TV’s screen when I press ‘stop’ at the video machine and until the bitter end I don’t understand the movie.

“That’s it? Living? Going away? All of a sudden?”

“is there another way?”

“You will be surprised, I know one personally. You collect information, let your friends know. Close business order tickets buy what you need pack clothes and object according to the coming conditions, make plans – I guess for you it a victim’s behavior.

His African hair was sucked with soft red light from the sunset. He didn’t spoke to me cold and didn’t amused himself with a verbal entertainment it was important to him. What “it?” I was important to him. “King” he repeated what he told me on our first meeting in India “Is expecting everything to happen of course for his satisfaction, in any moment. You don’t need to stress your head with plans. Wish for it and you will already have an open sit.”

“Yes, in the first class, great, but I have seen you make plans, Lets say with Climpton – you were planning ahead to meet with him and you did all the necessary to make it happen.

“I wanted to meet him I didn’t plane”

“You wanted, you planed – from where I’m coming its looks the same.”

“A plan is a straight line, a will is a wave.”

“A translation?”

“The meeting with Climpton itself wasn’t important to me. It wasn’t the pole that I was tuning my compass by. He gave me the first sign, the idea was attractive he woke my will I let this will lead me on, step by step and lets assume that while I was playing a waiters in the hotel allegedly through Climpton I would meet sub character or sub events that would give me a new desire – I would go ther and thank Climpton for bringing me over.”

“And now you are thanking me for bringing you over?”

He kept smiling; this conversation wasn’t easy for me. He held my hand with both his: “Thank you for bringing me over”

He released his grab one second before I pulled my hand.

“When?”

“The queen about now and me sometimes after sunset.”

It was cold already the half north side of the sky was cloudy crawling like heavy smoke around the sun, from south the sky was on fire. A little shadow appeared. An airplane.

“I don’t believe you have equal word for consideration in Badulina?”

“Ther is and you write and express it the same like Pride. In a royal relationship there is no place for them, you are a king you are beyond the little accounts.”

“You don’t have to be a big shot counter to say goodbyes before you leave”

“She already said goodbye.”

“Who?”

“She departed from you with love.”

The credits run on screen. Ending music, the sun is packed and once more I didn’t understand. “She didn’t” I insisted “She suddenly disappeared.” I was shivering from cold

“Remember. Put your hands in your pockets if they are cold.”

I did. I felt something round in my pocket. Ah, that.

Hello rumination again.

Oh.

At noon, before we came to the beach. We parked at the shopping center in Natanya to eat ice-cream. The king stayed outside, rapped in conversation with the security man, Ethiopian with blue hat. The queen pulled me for a second next to a slut machine that had all kind of little toys: “Do you have change? I want one.”

I remarked politely that the machine is unplugged “And beside” I added, “It’s a trick, you cant simply take a toy you have to win it.”

“OK” she melted like I just said the opposite “Do you have change?”

I looked through my pockets: “No, your majesty.”

She pulled me again: “Let’s go eat Ice cream, we can make change.”

The favorite Ice cream taste of her royalty is the one her partner ordered. Lately I found myself order much more Ice cream then ever. This time I ordered Rum and Raisin in a cup with no spoons as costumed in Badulina. And nothing more to say, fingers are much more pleasant then spoons while in between she sucked her Ice cream as well, Chocolate Cream. We didn’t speak much; she had that smile that coloring the entire world with the taste she is experiencing. In those moments, what can I say?

A moment before we were going away I saw a chocolate drop on her chin. Before I was thinking about my action I wiped it with a finger. Just about when I started pulling back my finger I became aware of myself. I watched her. Her stare was focused on the ice cream on the tip of my finger. What am I going to do with this drop? Wipe it with a napkin and throw it away? Licking my finger? If there was a king here what would he do?

I stopped my finger in the middle of the collecting and changed direction. Her Ice cream’s smile that where this drop belongs. I smooth the finger’s tip at the center of her lips. Top to bottom and whatever on the way, a vague road of chocolate. And then, in the middle of the stare she closed her eyes for a little second and then opens them and looks at me. I don’t know which language will fit this stare but I can easily define how someone that is observed like this can feel: Like a king.

On the way outside the machine made lots of noises. Now its working. A thirty years old couple try their luck and around them a little crowd. The machine’s frame is made from line of many little lads and between them some red ones. A little light is running through the frame and who ever makes it stop on a red lid is winning random price. For that ther is a red big bottom.

But the couple that plays discover few things about light’s speed and by the time they finish pressing the light is already 4 lids away from a red lid. The continue missing until the last fifth trial. The crowd contains 3 Natanian guys and two Yamane kids, religious with black cups and wigs like his royalty hair. One look at the kids expression is enough to make you understand ; They live in the neighborhood and this machine is there mythology and television at one. Later they will also sit at home and analyze moves they have seen all day each one is letting his friends know how he would probably stop on the red lid if, of course, he had money to play by himself.

When all the trials are finished the couple walked away. The queen marched forward. I took out a coin from my pocket and she slides it in. On the window above the red bottom appeared the 5 trials she had. The noise and ringing re-appeared but the lights didn’t go on. We waited for a while but nothing happened.

“Maybe you should press the red bottom to begin” I offered.

The queen pressed. All that happened was annoying ring of Trombone, the number changed to “4” and there goes one trial. The lids remain off. Only the rings were evidence that the internal clock is keep counting like the light is on. “Liars” said one of the youngsters “There goes your money, everyone are thieves.”

The queen doesn’t speak Hebrew. She smiled to the youngsters and then to the kids that looked especially fascinated. A new turn in their mythology history. Then she closed her eyes and concentrated on something. She pushed the bottom, trombone, 3 trials. She didn’t open her eyes. Push. Trombone. 3 trials. 2 trials. One of the two kids pushed gently forward until he is stick with the machine on the left side of her royalty is head rich her hips. He concentrated on her movement, at her smile at her closed eyes. Not on the machine. Press. Trombone. Last trial.

In a more ancient language then religious and words the small child is praying, for a magic. The queen doesn’t open her eyes, continue smiling this smile that ignores every statistic reality. Her hand search for something in the air, the way to her little toy. The machine makes seductive rings but her hand is going away down to her left, finds a little scalp with a big cup. She takes one step backward and the child raises his eyes scared. He watches his friend who encourage him “Go, Go you crazy one.” He reaches the bottom. Still no lights. The hand of the queen is barely touches him. He closes his eyes and presses the bottom immediately. Nothing. Silence. Even not a trombone’s sound. The child turns to walk away when the music stops him: a mix of trumpets and clapping. Something is shaking in the machine and something falls to the bottom. The child turns back put his hand and take out a shiny toy from it. He watches it for a minute and give it to the queen almost bowing. Then he walks away hugging the other child and both of them are speaking fast and together simultaneously. The Natanians swallow their air and the queen lives the stage. On the way out to the king I say: “I thought you will give the toy to a child”. “That’s what I’m planning to do”. And she gave me her departure gift, a key ring with an old looking compass that his north needle is pointing every moment another direction.

In my pants pocket with the king on the beach I took it out. The needle danced like a sprinkler. I turned it on its back. At the last light before the end of the sun I suddenly saw a dedication. It had my name and red heart and there was her name as well. I don’t know when and where. Magic.

“Are you coming with me to the airport?” asked the king.

The king is always ready for packing. He doesn’t collect more property then his back pack. The more universe is floating him with gifts he lives gifts behind him. He also didn’t have any arrangement. When we went into the cab it was dark and cold. In half hour there will be no more Badulina’s king, He will become a story. I watched his profile reflecting at the wet window, His psychedelic curls, this look that never fade not even in darkness, this elastic body that dance with the car jumpers like an octopus in Jacuzzi . The most amazing lunatic I ever met. When he will not be around I will get sober, since even if his entire wired story is correct you still have to be a natural Badulinian to live like that. And as for us, the rest of humanity he is a good story maximum. Back to facts: there is no good without bed, every pleasure comes to end, life is not a picnic.

“Happy day for you” He suddenly said, five minutes away from Ben-Guryon airport.

“For me?”

“Yes. I move from you road.”

“Which road?”

“The road to become a king. So far, for you, I was his royalty and you were the dummy reporter that asks questions. Now when I’m gone you will have to be your own king.”

“Or a dummy reporter with no king.”

He laughed.

The only rain during the winter’s royal visit from Badulina purred on the king during the 10 meters that separated the taxi from the airport roof. Flooding, stormy rain, like there was winter here all the time. I crossed these meters running. The king stopped in the rain, raised his hands, closed his eyes and gave himself to the water, finally he joined me total wet “I love rain” he said.

He marched in the terminal like a costumer at the grocery store, reading the lettering on the different boards, stop look at the magazines, chat with two French girls. Turn in the empty counter of KLM, buys a ticket to Amsterdam and goes to drink cappuccino.

A while after he went into the departure flight floor and that was the last time I saw him. I don’t know where the queen flied but I’m convinced they will meet soon.

Badulina, as I told you, is not the real name of the kingdom. It’s a fiction name and his royalty told me the real one, but this is the name used by the citizens not on the map. I don’t know the official name and I don’t have an ecect geographic location of the place. A little town on the cost line of Europe with ancient palace and slating houses. My chances to find Badulina are not clear but they are bigger then the chances of biting a defect slut machine. I’m not planning on packing much. I have a feeling that in Badulina I have all what I need, that something there will make me feel home. Its possible that Ill find another kingdom – his royalty told me that there are much more little kingdoms then what we think, maybe something on the way will turn me other wise but I’m not worried – I got a compass.

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