What if I had Time Machine in Portugal?

“Yeah, but what if you went back and killed your own grandfather?"
He stared at me, baffled. "Why the fuck would you do that?”

Stephen King

If I had Time Machine in Portugal, I would go nuts with it. For sure, I would go and meet Fernando Pessoa in Lisboa. I would become crazy writer with him, develop heteronyms, while drinking Absinthe in A Brazileira, in downtown Lisboa. I would indulge in literature discussions, and go to hell with opium addiction. I would become restless and sleep-deprieved, agitated and lonely, so my only option would be sleepless in silent night. A room lid by one candle and lonely words that could generate another „ Book of Disquiet.“

Or maybe I would chill with Erich Maria Remarque, who wrote book about Lisboa, called „ Lisboa´s night.“ I would see Lisboa in the midst of Second World War, hear the stories and struggles of the international refugees, all trying to escape from Nazis and their crazy politics. I would try to escape to America with the last boat, at the same time hearing the sad reality of those escaping. I would lid cigarettes and share romance with brokend minded women, sad love stories in underground, smoky bars, while praying that they would not catch me. I would share my story, like it was my last time to do so, with people with the same destiny but different country.

I would cheer in 2004, in Porto, when Mr Magic, Jose Mourinho made miracles with local team. I would go nuts, while watching the Champions League final in some tasca in Porto, when local equipa beat Ac Monaco. I would sing and chant, when the team would return to home town, when streets would be coloured in blue and port wine poured endlessly. Even tough, I was born to be Sporting fan, words of a lying extranjeiro, I truly would have like to see such moments. Or see, how the black panther, Benfica´s brightest star of the history, Eusebio, runs and dribbles at opponents, score hattricks and start celebreting madness in stadiums. However I would be every day at his door, trying to convice to stay loyal to Sporting. I would have liked to witness his greatness, his legacy, his power and ability to change the world, to give meaning to ordinary day life. I would have followed this hero, thanked him for such great times, beg for him to do even greater. Sadly, few months ago, this hero passed away.

I would have liked to be small boy, born in villages of Alentejo. All my childhood would have passed amidst wine yards, lemon trees, barking dogs, Sunday church and family dinners. I would have seen olive-skinned local girls with cherry perfumes, gallantly daydreaming, while lying in the golden fields. My grandfather would be a sailor, a miracoulas hero, who would have seen Seven Seas and Lands. A forever- traveller, passionate smoker, who would tell me about foreign lands and unknown treasures in our garden. He would teach me the meaning of good wine, home-produced wine, while talking endlesly stories about portuguese maritime success. I would hear about Magalhaes and Colon,Vasco de Gama and their bravery. I would hear about portuguese inventions, the genius of caravels.

Maybe I would time Travel to Age of Discoveries, smoke some good good early in the morning on the Carracks of Vasco Da Gama, while taking on the longest journey out of sight from the land by that time. I would stare at the sea early in the morning,praying that the sea will calm down and that we could reach India. I would fight off the pirates, treat people with spyhilis, write diary about Vasco da Gama and his endless speeches on board about spices and the miracles of India. I would write letters to my family in Lisboa and Alentejo, I would instagram the endless dancing in Calcuit, while sailors and marines dance with prostitutes to the dawn. 

Also I would like to put sense in senhor de Gama. I would stop him at his second vojage, when he intercepted a ship of Muslim pilgrims at Madayi traveling from Calicut to Mecca. I would stop his looting of 400 pilgrims, including 50 women, I would not let him to lock in the passengers and the embassador of Egypt. I would let him to burn them to death and yell:


I guess he would have like to kill me for that. But if he tried, I could always time travel, back to Coimbra, saudade and Radio Universidade de Coimbra.

I would join with Amalia Rodriguez at some smoky tasca, when winetakers hear her and my matching voices. We would sing for our craziness and greatness at the same time, we would forget yesterday and today, open our mouths and SING LIKE IT IS THE LAST NIGHT WE ARE ALIVE. We would vanish to the rytmh of portuguese guitar, when it cuts deep down to listeners heart. And it cuts deep, with nüri nuga, just to make our only need - to lose oneself - visible.

We would kill our sorrow with our only passion TO SING ! TO SING LIKE IT HAS NEVER SUNG BEFORE, TO SING TO MAKE THOSE WINE GLASSES SHAKE, AND LISBOA CRUMBLE. TO SING, YES TO SING, SING AWAY OUR PASSIONS, SING AWAY NATIONS. Become human by singing, become alive WHEN SINGING. And when we finnaly have collapsed, hardly letting out our last breath; when our all life has put out there, our blood runs out of pain and sadness, we stare at the crowd. We see the microphone burning and crowd silently staring at us. We moved them, we made their life meaningul. We shared a moment. A moment of magic. It seems that this night all the microphones would be burning with a tremendous flame.
I would chill with Saint Elizabeth, while she feeds poor and complains endlessly about her weight issues. I would repeat all the time that she is fit – when she truly is. Her answers would have been simple self-pity monologues that bore my libido. In the evening she would be nice, we would sit by the window, smoke some good- good , make love in the queen bed, cause Dinis is busy with parties and big pimping , and then smoke, smoke again. And in the morning it would feel amazing to walk in Coimbra. Sundays, day time, with its all sweet odours, while knowing: you are royal.
To see the greatness of her husband. Major influence in Portuguese history, second king of Portugal. A man with a mind, responsible for establishments of Universities. Also, the first portuguese university – Universidade de Coimbra. I would not forget his smoky balcony, when he wrote so many great troubador songs, made happy plans for his people and dreamed about Escalades in a year 2000 and meeting Steve Jobs. He had universal mind, infinite mind, mind of the Whole Earth. I long for going to one of his swinger parties, dream that it feels as hot as Kubrick`s eyes that where shut with Nic..oooh.. Niiicoole Ki-..ii.. oh man.


The warm and gentle summer breeze touches your just awakened body when you open your two sparkling hazel eyes for a bright new morning. Smiling, as always. Over the horizon one can see two rising suns. Yes, there are two suns in the heaven now, as the ancient hopi prophecy has turned out to be true. But pale moon, having done its nightly task sharing dreams for people asleep, makes it's way to the next round. The circle is full, once again, in order to start again. Alpha to Omega and Omega to Alpha.
The air stands still, there is a brief moment of total silence before choir of birds greet daylight and the cover of Atlantic ocean in Algarve flashes back some memories from the times long gone. Nowadays nobody counts the days or years anymore. Time itself has stopped or lost it's meaning as a money making machine for the crazy language speaking apes. Rather it is seen as a virtue, some kind of magical device that unites all the momentums from the so-called past and so-named future to the one place where floating consciousness can bear eternity. Omnipotence, ubiquity and omnipresence are well-known terms.

You rise from your cosy tailor-made hammock, made from bamboo and hemp. This rest-nest is truly the best for daydreaming and stargazing. Girl with olive skin and round eyebrows looks at the mandala in the middle of hammock. There´s symbol of Yin and Yang, reminding her everlasting harmony of the multiverse where every moment is to be enjoyed, life itself celebrated and danced in the rhythm of magnificent tunes.
Your curly black hair are dancing in the wind when you make your way to the warm waves. Soon enough water plays with tanned naked body. To give yourself fully to the ocean, letting go of letting go. Getting wet. Letting water pet your long legs, flat stomach and curvy bust. Yes, the nipples do get hard too. Your round lips turn to smile when tongue tastes the salty water on them. This is the taste of Portuguese freedom, because saudade and longing are gone now, Godot´ has finally arrived and Estragon is happy as a puppy.
Sunny girl walks out from the warm ocean, smiling with joy. She lays down on golden sand, puts on her magic sunglasses and gives an order to the machine. Time machine, uniting past, pre-sent and future. What a victorious ride it is to be able to travel without moving! "Lets ride, my dear," sounds a whisper and device starts its imaginary engines...

For the old-believers, who trust numbers, some kind of time still exists and therefore they are still keen on buying wall calendars and this year is marked by 2035.
But she remembers. The new rise of Portugal started back in 2014, when bunch of open minded students started mental revolution. It happened in Coimbra. That lovely little town full of fresh ideas and beautiful people, narrow streets and stray cats. Like all revolutions this one also started in the kitchen, just close to Sao Jeronimo park. On a bright spring morning, when all the landscapes were singing with lust for the new era everything seemed to be easy enough to accomplish. Youngsters in the kitchen were just greeting the day and looking out from the window, where glorious mountains were still covered with mist from the previous night. Suddenly one of them told others to write down dreams, which they wanted to share. They did.

Suddenly everyone agreed upon two facts: all they really needed for changing this world were peace and love. Love from the button of the heart and peace from within. Breathing and being the same with the surrounding environment. And then things started to happen, even the wildest dreams, especially when they were good ones, magically took place. It was even bit funny, this mental inner-space freedom.
Time machine showed the next episode. Two years later united hearts had lead the way. Coimbra old town was covered with colorful beautiful houses, once abandoned buildings were now filled with intelligent and lustful youth. Student unions were backing each other and everybody had free place to live. With the knowledge from the university and open minded thinking miracles really started to happen, first in Coimbra, then in Portugal and after that all over the world. At his final year as serving president Barack Obama had shown benevolent behavior and legalized cannabis in the States. Pretty soon Angela Merkel did the same. Poland had to reorganize it´s agriculture and was for the year 2019 biggest organic hemp grower and exporter in Europe, making fortunes. In Estonia shamans kindly offered magical mysterious adventures to the deep forests, where fairies lived.
Time machine started to play Chris Cocos tune My Sunset and girl smiled again. Blue sky and summer sun reminded her that perfection is here, on Earth that we share.

Listen the show at:  http://www.mixcloud.com/Babel_RUC/time-machine-in-portugal/