03/01/2013 14 CAPITULO 14


26/12/2012 13 CAPITULO 13


25/11/2012 12 CAPITULO 12


01/11/2012 11 CAPITULO 11



China - Capítulo 11
09/10/2012 10 CAPITULO 10


Second Part

01/10/2012 9 CAPITULO 9


First Part

12/09/2012 8 CAPITULO 8

The Pascal Jenny

Los Pascal Jenny
01/09/2012 7 CAPITULO 7

The Romanov

death and resurrection of the last Tsar

26/07/2012 5 CAPITULO 5

Stalin's gift to peron

15/07/2012 4 CAPITULO 4

The Baltics

08/07/2012 6 CAPITULO 6


Vague fragments of a diary

03/07/2012 3 CAPITULO 3

Without Prejudice

Three versions of Poland

21/06/2012 2 CAPITULO 2

Becoming Berlin

Becoming Berlín
14/06/2012 1 CAPITULO 1

Occupy Frankfurt

Expreso a Oriente - Occupy Frankfurt



Capítulo #0. Preface

We are finally seated in the 51 row of the LH511 flight bound for Frankfurt.  Seats H, J.  dRummer, by chance, ended up with the K one, but of course, he will deny the political affinity consonant.

The plane is large, two-story (above, first class, a deferred dream).  Stewardesses are obviously German. One smiles to us – the less blonde – the one who will invite us afterwards with a beer.  We are cool.

As it always happens in travels, flight hours lead you to assume things. Things, that in this case, are capriciously inevitable: Tito, Gaston and I boarded a plane that took off from Buenos Aires; and we will not be back for at least eight months. Two hundred and forty days with no country of departure, with no city, homeless. And that´s what I meant. We assume this, as the aircraft goes into a thick cloud that bathes us with turbulence.

Hours make us realize about the trip. It´s already dark, Tito sleeps. He was nervous in the takeoff; even he touched his heart (or breast?) with his right hand. It was a clearly aged gesture, like more worried for a heart attack than for a plane crash.

I think we must not be in that age, yet. I guess it´s the accumulated fear or maybe he was stunned by the evidence that days go by and leave us in the last ones. Or in the first one… Anyway, the fact is that Tito sleeps next to me and I look at him. Same as always, his mouth open threatening to snore.  He is not drooling yet.  Yet.

dRummer of course is restless. He watches movies beginnings and sneaks a look at girls. Right now, on my left, there is an exquisite blonde, dedicated to the elastic task of accommodating a bag.  Drummer also notes her, putting that little face…. He will clearly be my partner in perversion.  With his eye about to explode but without caring.

It´s a monumental sty named Orlando (his way to optimize things is putting proper names to misfortunes). Suddenly I ask to myself, how he will call a possible Malaria of Mumbai, or rabies in Siberia?  As well as I flirt with tragedy, he avoids it.  Even in his most evident point.  His virtue, with no doubt.

It is dawning. Below, Frankfurt. The stewardess announces it and Tito touches his breast. We are getting down to earth. Now I assume it: I went away, we went away. We are landing in Germany. We went away. Yes, went away.

Later, there will be Poland, Ukraine, Belorussia, Latvia, Estonia, Lithuania, Russia and then yes, the Trans-Siberian, the core of the adventure, the magnet of our warm piece of metal that now, under the tenuous sky of Germany, stops being the tension of the trip to become, suddenly, in the first day of an accomplished dream.

TextJoaquín Sánchez Mariño
VideoExpreso a Oriente
MusicUnder Control,  The Strokes


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