«Is he buried in Ankara?» she asks, not fully understanding.
«Luigi Barbarino, that’s his name, died one week ago, while digging an archaeological site: Tarsus. I need to go there to get the corpse back…»
«A friend of mine lives in Tarsus… actually, an ex-friend: he can help you. He’s an engineer in a petrochemical plant. I’ll give you the address» she says tearing a page off her agenda and scribbling on it.
I would not take too much advantage, but: «Thanks, but how do I do with the language?»
«He speaks Italian well» she says almost angry. «I taught him.»
«Could you give me his mobile phone number, so I can give him a call from here?»
«Actually, I deleted it, but if you go to this address you’ll find him for sure. Say that Chiara sent you.»
She treats me like a child: she takes me to the bus station, gets a ticket on my name and puts me on a coach. Her perfume is a blend of Oriental mysteries. I go away, but not before having written on a paper my phone number.
From outside the bus to Tarsus looks nice, in its 60’s style and as soon as I get on, I understand it really is still in that years. Moreover, everyone smokes: the air is unbreathable. Luckily in the sixties you could still open the windows: I spend the six hours journey with my head outside, just like dogs do (who knows why!). With my head out like that, I can see Ankara, until now I just knew its sad looking offices. The buildings remind me of the endless stretch of grey London houses, with one difference: here they are crumbling! For a moment I erase homes and mosque’s domes and try in vain to see the column that the city of Ancyra (Ankara in roman times) built to honour the emperor Flavius Claudius Iulianus.
Dear Julian!
I’ve really been obsessing over the last pagan emperor of the roman era for ages now: when I worked at the University, I wrote several articles and a couple of books about him. His conversion from Christianity to paganism caused him to be named the Apostate and for all his short life he tried to attract new worshippers, reforming the traditional religion: his utopia was to get the whole empire, now unavoidably Christian, back to its pagan roots. The whole reason of his charm to me is here: Emperor Julian wanted to change the world, without realising that the world had changed already, but in a different direction and there was no going back. While I was still on the plane, I promised myself that the philosopher emperor’s column would be the first thing I’d see in Ankara, but with all that bureaucratic mess…
It is actually Julian the reason I came to Turkey: the official mission is to get back the remainders of poor Barbarino, but I’m here mostly to see the dear emperor’s tomb, never found until now, and that the professor, shortly before his death, told me in a letter he had finally discovered!
The bus is proceeding at a high speed on an endless desert plain. I fall asleep imagining to be in one of those American movies where the protagonist travels the States coast to coast.
Meanwhile in Ankara, lieutenant Karim, the one from that never ending afternoon at the customs, gets back home where his two sons are waiting for him; their mother left years ago.
Aturk, the oldest, was standing behind the doors from several minutes and he slams it open when he hears the noise of his father’s old car. «So, are they giving it to me?»
«Don’t we say hello anymore?» answers grouchy his dad.
«Welcome back, Mr lieutenant» says Aturk in a mockingly serious tone, then he repeats: «Will I get it?»
Karim does not answer, he enters his house, leaves the uniform jacket on the coat hanger and goes sitting on a brown armchair in the living room; his son follows him.
«They haven’t told me anything.»
«Can’t you just call them? Do you realise how important this is?»
«I know» he says grumpy. «Get me something to drink.»
The lieutenant gets up to pick up his jacket again, he takes a small black leather diary from a pocket, goes back to the armchair and dials a number on the phone: «Good evening, this is…»
«Don’t say your name!» The voice at the other side immediately interrupts him. «I told you not to call.»
«Yes… I know, but, you see…»
The mysterious voice cuts him: «Did you do what I asked?»
«Yes, Mister…»
«I told you: no names!»
«Well, that Italian: we stopped him and hold him until we could. Now he has a document from the embassy, he will get back his passport only on Monday.»
«Good! Remember: when he gets back to Ankara with the coffin, do as we told you.»
«Yes, seal it well and carve the letters…»
«Follow the instructions» stops him abruptly the voice.
The lieutenant proceeds, fearful: «Of course. I wanted to know if, as agreed, my son…»
«He can apply.»
«So, you guarantee he will…»
The voice again: «I told you he must apply: this means he will succeed!»
«I… Thank you.»
«Goodbye. Don’t call here ever again!»
«Thanks again and good night.»
Aturk enters from the kitchen, slowly and goofy watching out not to let a single drop fall from a glass full of a low-quality white wine: «So?»
«You can apply.»
His son doesn’t understand either: «I’ve got the application ready since months ago…»
«I told you to apply: the place is yours.»
«Thank you, thank you» Aturk gets closer to his dad, as to kiss him. He just hugs him, to be coldly hugged back.
«Come on, go make dinner for you and your brother now.»
The lieutenant sips his wine slowly, before going to bed, satisfied with what he had done during his day.
Saturday 17 July
I fell asleep California dreaming and I wake up in the middle of traffic noises and undistinguished yelling, while the bus gets slowly into the station: Tarsus reminds me of Palermo, which, according to the movie Johnny Stecchino is famous for its chaotic traffic.
I walk to the city centre, or at least what I imagine it to be: there is a monumental door from the roman era (might this be the renowned door where Antony met Cleopatra before Actium’s defeat?). Here no one speaks German, I just show the paper with the engineer’s address to anyone I meet: between gestures and half English words, they show me a road running along the Berdan river. My classical memories remind me that is the Cydnus, famous in ancient times for its transparent but freezing waters,
