07 Feb 2011
After a month taking in the merchant district, I decided it was time to move on. Now, certainly there was more to see, but I figured that if each district held a hostel similar to the one in which I was staying, I may as well spend some time in each of the districts.
The two districts bordering urbs serpentum to the south are two mountain peaks, part of the mountain range separating the unnamed city from the rest of the world. Much lower than that wall of rock, they’re really more large hills than anything else. They are mons solis, the district of Apollo, whose temple overlooks all the rest of the city, and mons accipitris, devoted to Ra, the smaller of the two hills, but whose temple by no means less impressive. To the north are the imposing glass skyscrapers that surround Thoth’s temple, urbs speculorum.
I opt for the south, figuring I can make my way around the city in a clockwise motion, which would put Apollo next on my list.
Checking in at the new hostel. It’s much less crowded than the last.
The room here is nicer, as well. Still very spartan, no more than a bed and a desk, but it’s neater and the two pieces of furniture are in better condition. Also, the view from my window is fantastic. There’s even a porch. I can watch the sunrise, if I bother to wake up that early. The temple of Apollo is behind me, further up the mountain.
I’ll check out the temple tomorrow. For now, I spend the rest of the day wandering around the streets, enjoying the scenery. Mons solis is far less busy than where I came from. The majority of people living here seem to be artist, poets and musicians. I stop in a coffeeshop and sit for a while, listining to a couple performers recite some of their poems. None of them are very good, to be honest, but they do seem more honest, less affected than I’m used to in the setting. It’s nice.
At night, I sit out on my porch and review my stay so far. I can’t believe it’s already the first week of February. This last month went by far too fast, and I still have so much to see. But at the same time, I’m here. I never imagined I would actually make it here, but here I am. It’s real. It’s beautiful.
07 Feb 2011
Urbs serpentum is no place for a poor traveller on a strict budget. Were I a tourist looking for trinkets to bring back to my family and friends, there would be no better place. Around every corner is a merchant hawking his wares, from the extravagant to the disposable. The smell of exotic spices is inescapable. I make it a point to only bring enough money for food for the day, not only to avoid temptation, but to foil thieves. What I don’t carry can’t be stolen.
Hand in hand with sights and smells from every corner of the world goes language. It seems to me, wandering around the forum and commercial district that each merchant is speaking a different language. Some I recognize, some spark an inkling of familiarity that I can’t quite place, and still others barely sound like words at all.
And internet cafes! At first I was surprised by them, if only because free internet access seemed at odds with the mercantile nature of the district, but of course Hermes is not only the god of merchants, but also messengers. Many of these cafes also offered courier services to deliver physical packages or would hold them for pickup by one of the various such services available in the area.
Rather than lose influence as the need for personal delivery of messages waned throughout history, here the followers of Hermes embraced the changing times. Their innate entrepreneurship allowed them to offer all sorts of services to facilitate communication using the technology of the times. Many of the shops showed signs of going through many iterations, some changing with the times so frequently I got the sense that I’d have to wrestle remodelers as soon as the next fad gained traction.
23 Jan 2011
After settling in and spending a few days just getting a feel for the ebb and flow of the city, it was time to really begin. The first place I needed to see was the temple of Hermes.
Prominently located right in the middle of the forum, the temple of Hermes is a busy, loud place. You have to fight your way past hawkers, lucky merchants who were able to set up shop close to the entrance. Decidedly unlike the Christain story of Jesus of Nazareth’s angry display at the temple, this temple is a den of thieves. Hermes, after all, is a god of messengers, merchants, and thieves.
Inside, it’s all overt displays of wealth. The priests are all adorned in exotic finery, and clearly well-fed. Many of them come from wealthy merchant families, or I imagine are retired merchants themselves. Where elsewhere such displays would be a sign of a corrupt church, here they signify a thriving faith.
I don’t stay long, however. I will have plenty of time during the coming year to study the architecture, religion and culture here. For now, I’m a tourist. I want to see as much as I can, get comfortable with the city.
For lunch, I stop at a small restaurant in the forum (chosen largely by the price of the menu; I am on a pretty tight budget). It appears to be some “fusion” place, Indo-Chino-Eurpoean or some combination. It’s fantastic. Often, places like this try to hard to be creative, and while they may understand each cooking style individually, don’t follow through or really understand how to blend them. Here, however, everything seems effortless, as if each dish was from a recipe that’s been in the family for generations.
I tip well. It leaves me low on cash for the rest of the month, but it’s worth it.
16 Jan 2011
Unfortunately I didn’t have time to write anything after my last entry, describing my entrance into the city. Things got quite a bit hectic as this turned out not to be the somber church state I’d expected, but a teeming, bustling, living city like any other. I was immediately beset by stall vendors, street preachers, harried business-men and all sorts of other city folk going about their day in the forum that made up the main entrance to the city.
Most of this time was spent avoiding the merchants, because, as tradition dictates, I had no money on me after my trip and no possessions to barter with. Those especially persistent few who managed to corall me were understanding, however, as my position was not uncommon.
So I made my way through the forum, taking in the sights. I was rather surprised with how busy the forum was, for such a secluded and secretive locale. Though there were actually two passages through the mountains – one for pilgrims such as myself, and another, smoother pass for itinerant merchants, it still quite a journey to the next nearest city.
After some time, I decided I’d had enough and began asking around for the temple of Hermes – the god of this district of the city. His was always the first destination of those such as myself, pilgrims who had no particular god whom they already worshipped (naturally, a devotee of Apollo would head straight to his temple, and so on). As I was planning on spending a year here, the priests of that temple would help me make accomodations for lodging and set me up with a weekly allowance to cover my expenses during my stay.
Or so I’m told. It still sounds very strange to me – do they have funds put away for the sole purpose of supporting vagrants such as myself? Surely a policy such as this is not sustainable. But I was assured many times over, even by people who’d visited, that this exists. And there would be no limitations to it – I’d be supported for however long I stayed.
The hostel I’ve been put up in is just outside the forum proper, still in the district of Hermes (urbs serpentis). I’m told that I may stay here until I get my bearings, or for as long as I’d like, after which there are similar hostels in each of the districts (save that devoted to the two unnamed gods) that I may transfer to. Surprisingly, our rooms are not shared – I have a room to myself. No real amenities, though. Just a bed and a desk. A basic breakfast and lunch are served each day, but dinner is my own responsibility (sadly, no kitchen facilities for me to use). A shared toilet and communal baths.
I was also able to ask a bit about the allowance those such as I receive. There is in fact a communal fund, shared by all the temples of the city, put aside for dispensation. All temples in the city are required by law to participate. A figure is calculated monthly, and then it’s shared equally among all the pilgrims. So it’s expected for the amount to dwindle as the month progresses, as more faithful arrive, but I was assured that measures are taken so that it will never drop below a certain amount.
08 Jan 2011
It’s hard to believe I’ve spent a week on this mountain with no food, no supplies. Honestly, it’s hard to believe an entire week has passed in the first place. But here I am, overlooking the city. I must say I was taken aback when I finally made it over the highest point of the trail, and saw the city spread out before me, nestled inbetween the mountains on one side and the ocean on the other. It was… it’s hard to describe. It’s not fantastical; there’s no perilous towers scraping the heavens. It’s not especially foreign architecture, either, or resplendent with gold and jewels. Certainly, what I imagined in my head during the years before I made my journey was far more impressive.
But I can finally see it. It is real. Maybe that’s it – for so long, it was only a thing of rumor and legend. Really? A city that’s on no map, and has no name? Even the many people who’d claimed to visit it. Surely it was all some elaborate joke; they were just pulling my leg. I’m here now.
Don’t let me give you the wrong impression, however. The city is beautiful. It looks a strange sister to Rome, with marble being the most common building material (it seems from this vantage point), and ruins of old temples and archways sharing equal space with living architecture. And other parts, residential areas, look liks small New England towns. I can only imagine that the fall season here is just as beautiful. And to the northwest, towering glass skyscrapers. I imagine that’s the “urbs speculorum”, the city of glass. Where, apparently, the followers of Thoth went from scribes to publishers and computer programmers, treating the art of typesetting and software engineering with the same reverence they’d given writing and calligraphy.
To the south, along the sea, small houses nestled along the cliff, crashing waves beneath, reminiscent of the islands of Greece (though addmittedly I’ve never been). Everywhere my eyes rest, it looks like someplace else – but nothing seems out of place.
But enough of this. It’s time to move on.