On June 14, 15 and 16, a meeting will be held in La Graciosa, organized by the Orotava Canary Foundation of the History of Science, to commemorate the arrival of Alexander von Humboldt to the eighth island. Some time ago I wrote the following and I attach it as one more story.
Between the 7th and the 8th, between the past and the future, which are but "shadows" of the eternal present. '887'. Allow me a little white humor in powder. In the country of Paquí Pallá, S.L. A few days ago I read that analyzes of the Thames River gave such high levels of cocaine that the eels were hyperactive. Almost nothing.
Soon after (one or two days) I read that the Juan Sebastián Elcano is coming to La Graciosa to commemorate its recent declaration as the eighth inhabited island of the Canary archipelago. And I think: it's going to enter the River. There are no eels here, but you never know where the hyperactive moray eels might be going. And I don't write anything (I thought about doing it yesterday because it's a bit strong, people are very attached to their symbols.
Damn, today, I insist, today, I turn on the news and I come across this: the military justice reopens the case of the 127 kilos of cocaine from the Juan Sebastián Elcano. The investigation into how the drug traveled from Cartagena de Indias to New York and, from there, to Spain, is far from closed. The First Territorial Military Tribunal has ordered the reopening of the case and the instructor, for the moment, has summoned the cook and the pantryman of the Spanish training ship to testify as investigated (condiments). They must be the most knowledgeable in memory.
And something strange is happening to this head of mine, because it has started to intertwine things from here and there without stopping. It is as if it had descended a little into the world and was now becoming aware of the wiring under the subsoil that connects and relates the avatars of human life. At least, those that entertain her and when I say her, it is her. The head. And once you see the cables, the world is different. For the head.
At all these, my concern is that Paqui´Pallá will see where they threw the powder. Because if they didn't throw it, we know that this River and its breeze is the most romantic and exciting. On November 7, if Pallá is not blamed and arrested (which is likely, if they talk in the kitchen), Paquí will be there.
The same November 7 that Christopher Columbus arrives at the port of Sanlúcar de Barrameda returning from his fourth and last voyage (one for each mast of the Elcano or vice versa), sick, tired, without a line to lift his spirits and without strength, and surely without teeth to chew leaf. And probably thinking: damn discovery! Or satisfied to have given everything and broken everything.
What I do know is that, around those days, the River will be packed with chicks of shearwaters excited with the luminous crescent moon of the night before, in their first flight. For the adult and old wary birds, the sailing ships deployed in the River, pirating from Paquí Pallá between the new and the old world, are more than familiar stories. They are amused that we are in the eighth century since the name of La Graciosa was documented for the first time in 1375 in the Catalan Atlas of A. Cresques. 8 centuries, 8th island.
Could the wiring of the world have sent the ship to La Graciosa on the 8th and we would have made a triple 8, but that third 8 of November follows the sequence of the 7th of Columbus and is the day that Hernán Cortés arrives in Tenochtitlán, the wonderful and hypnotic capital of the Aztec empire, and the emperor Moctezuma received him with all the honors convinced that he was an envoy of the god Quetzalcóalt. We already know what followed. And on the same November 8, Donald Trump reached the presidency of what is now an empire and so many other presidents. Also in the name of God he wants to finish the job: he does not like the miscegenation that that left. Neither the blacks nor the yellows. He likes himself.
So better that he is not here, bad vibes, that third 8. Let it come as it is programmed, the 7th. And we leave the sequence in '887'. Which is curiously the title of a strange play that precisely takes us into the world of memory and the wiring of the underworld, the separation of territories, time and the unconscious. In 1988, Alexander von Humboldt gave his name to what is now a training ship like the Juan Sebastián Elcano. And I add this taken from http://fundacionorotava.org/actividades/programa-y-reservas-simposio-hum...
"Alexander von Humboldt is a giant of the History of Science, considered the Father of Biogeography, his name has been traditionally related to the Canary Islands through his visit to Tenerife, the ascent to Teide and the establishment of the famous vegetation floors that stratified the plant species according to the height above sea level. Much less known is the fact that the illustrious German naturalist set foot for the first time on non-continental European soil when he disembarked in the northeastern area of the island of La Graciosa. The story that made him stop there deserves to be told, its dissemination and knowledge will contribute to reinforce the place that La Graciosa deserves to have in the History of Science".
Well, it seems that time exists, but it only seems so.
