Ebria
Established Nation
Ander
27-30 July
27-30 July
Hamrun wasn't really like how I imagined it. I was imagining some god forsaken cities that were built around great castles, with arabesques all-over the place and everything decorated in all sorts of motifs that begin to feel hard on your eyes, all while giving that stench of old, passed, the smell of a past that as much as it went away, it never really left, and will never leave. Big was my surprise when the plane landed at the Tablada Airport, passing right above the city, and I could see some skyscrapers in the north, some high rises in the centre by the sea, and and long rows of classical hamrunite adobe houses, with terraced roofs, which probably Dona Sabrina would have loved. I came three days ago. I had to report in on the 28th, but as I arrived on the 27th, I spent a night renting a room in the city, and walked it up and down to explore it for a bit.
Hamrun was weird. It was Ebrian, it had that feel, but it was strange. The buildings in the city could be divided in three main categories: 1st, the oldest, adobe houses of two stories at most, then the mid century bauhaus style, which San Lawrenz seemed to have a lot and it was even called the White City, and then the new, modern constructions either as social housing, which were high rises, or office buildings, which were quite far away from downtown itself. There were no cathedrals or other grand religious buildings, but small mosques, with only one minaret were dotting the neighbourhoods and obligatory right beside was a chapel, in what felt as a probably forced coming together, but which now, centuries later, felt quite natural.
The number of pedestrianised streets or streets closed off solely for busses, trolleybuses or trams also shocked me. It felt like in the Alcazaba, which was the Ebrian version of the Uroduah Al-Qasbah, the old citadel, you could only walk, and the same in the Ciudad Blanca, the neighbourhood of bauhaus 1930s and 1940s style buildings. Even so, many merchants were going about, with some specialised bicycles that were carrying goods, and sometimes even small carriages pulled by them. Tourists were omnipresent, especially in the Alcazaba, to see the old fortress and the Mezquita Catedral, the 9th century great mosque built in old Batalyaws and turned in the 1500s into a cathedral, in this mix of Uroduah and Christian Ebrian styles. With all the tourists, the image of local romance, orientalism and exotism existed too, and many used that to promote horse drawn carriage tours of the old town, which made hoof sounds omnipresent, and also the smell of horse dung.
What was also surprising was the great number of food carts and street food. I was used to Amerida's and Valls' tapas culture, but it seems it wasn't the same here, for there were little establishments where you could sit down to snack. If you wanted that, the park, or a bench was for you. If you wanted to drink and eat seriously, restaurants were waiting, but weirdly nothing in between. I was imagining carts like that selling hod dogs in Charleroi, or tacos in Gran Occidentia, but no, here they were selling fresh juices, and it seemed freshly squeezed watermelon was one of the most popular, and nuts, especially nuts, going from cashews to roasted chestnuts and or course, corn, from boiled to roasted. Probably for a tourist, this whole overdrive with the sounds, the smells, for between horses, chestnuts, you felt the smell of incense everywhere, followed by the smell of coffee, which was always sold on streets by "cafeteros", who were going about with huge thermoses, and followed by the smell of flowers, especially in the old town, where terraces were filled to the brim with pots of flowers, flowing down the walls, in what was an explosion of colour over what was a city painted mostly white, so as to escape the heat. But over all of this, was the noise. Music could be heard as you were moving about the street, from houses, where people were keeping their windows open in the July heat, most not having air conditioning and most didn't care of the recommendations for a quiet neighbourhood either. Music could be heard from houses, music could be heard from bars and restaurants, music could be heard from the random street singers, either by voice, who were singing either in a weird dialect that I needed a few minutes to recognise as Ebrian, or in a totally foreign language, that clearly was Hamrunite, or playing guitars, which wasn't that weird for Amerida or Valls, as the Ebrian guitar was worldwide known, but also Uroduah or eastern instruments such as the oud or flute. And above everything else, the last of the surprises were the cats. They were everywhere. Roaming all over the place.
The next morning I presented myself to the Military Base 529966, which at first, while still in Valls, I thought it might have been somewhere outside the city, but it was literally in the middle of San Lawrenz. In front of it, a large thoroughfare, on the other side of the road from it, a huge park that led to the Plaza de Ebria, to its left the high walls around the Alcazaba, to it's right, shockingly, a large shopping mall to the right, with hundreds of people walking in front of the base. I was presented by papers to the guard at 7am, as I knew at 8 there was a call up, and I was quickly sent to the administration building, where I was to report to General Oreste Scarlata, the commanding officer.
I was sent to room 5 on the 1st floor and as I entered, there were two desks there, with a lady brewing a coffee in the back of the room, and three more doors going to other, different rooms. I must say I was already a bit anxious. I always were when I was to meet new bosses or people whom I new were to be my superiors, and being in Hamrun, I remembered that they had a completely different language, even the Ebrian they spoke had a weird accent and I was freaking out that I might sound weird with a mixture of Amerida and Valls accents. I laid my luggage on the floor, as I was carrying it with me, and I tried to greet the lady, but all I managed was mumble something, so I was just thankful that she didn't hear me as she was concentrating on starting a coffee maker.
"Buenos días, señora," I say, and that's when she turns to me. She was quite short, and looked like she was in the 50s, with bobbed hair and a pair of reading glasses on. I came closer and looked at me, measuring me from head to toes. Usually I would have worn the grey uniform, but all I had were civilian clothes, which as much as I tried to make them as formal as possible, with a shirt and tie and even a jacket, I really felt out of my place there. "I'm teniente Ander Alejandro Suarez Blanco, I have been transferred from Valls..." I begin saying, but she cuts me off, and I don't really know why, but she instantly became hostile in my imagination. She had the vibe of a typical angry middle aged secretary with no patience at all. "You need to report to General Scarlata," she said. "I was sent to office no.5, do you know where he is?" I ask a bit... anxious, knowing her style and probably just asking for some shouting and yelling just for insisting, but she kept her composure.
"You found him," said a man, shorter than me, a bit on the larger side, but with a clear body shape that shown that he used to be quite athletic. He was wearing a garrison style nutria uniform, with a a white shirt, a greenish dark beige jacket, black tie and a chapiri hat, more typical to the Ebrian legion. I turned around to him and gave him a salute. "Come to my office," he said requesting me to follow him. We entered through one of the doors leading from the antechamber. I offered him my papers.
"Administration and management... Armed Police Corps, Valls, Once de Mayo Committee..." he was whispering, unsure if he knew I was hearing him or not, as he was reading through my files. "So, general Pisani seems to have liked you," he said as he put the files away. "Yes, general," I say, a bit stiff and stern, as I try to show a good image. He smirked. "Weird for that bitter Nuorian to like somebody. But don't fool yourself, he liked you enough to send you here," he said, slowly nodding as if he said something extremely profound. "With all due respect sir, can I ask a question?" I say and he nodded. "Do you think it was a punishment?" I ask, but then I immediately regret for it might have sounded bad. He put his arms on the desk and came closer to me, even if I was standing at attention three meters away from him. "At ease, relax," he says, this time, with a much more warmer tone. "It all depends on how you see it. A mainlander like you, especially from Amerida, would see it as an exile. An islander like me, being sent to San Lawrenz, would be seen as divine blessing. At the same time, a storm feels like it's gathering on the horizon," he said, and I don't really know what came up to me, but I instincively turned my eyes a little towards the window and he immediately caught it and started laughing. "I meant the war... Jesus, it must be true that poetry died on the mainland with Lope De Vega and Miguel de Cervantes..." he said and after he laughed one or two more times, something that got a slight smile even from me, which he seemed to like it, he continued. "Probably you will thank your God, be it Dios or Allah, that you are here, not in Valls or Amerida if it starts, for got knows what can happen in such central places, where hear, we're an insular backwater," he added.
He looked some more through my file and then looked at me. "I'll make you an offer. I need to build this whole Hamrunite Territorial Defence unit all by myself. Probably you've seen the legionnaires marching around. They will soon be gone, either to Hajr, or dislodged in the country, or sent to god forsaken places like Natal or Rio de Oro. A lot of people from allover the place were brought in to administer this unit and you were one of the firsts to arrive. So, as it's fully in my responsibility, I will make you a great offer, and ask you waht do you want," he said and stressed the last part. That took me a bit by surprise. "What do I want?" I repeated, a bit gobsmacked. It was the first time since I put up the uniform that I was asked this. "Yes, do you want to work with the inventories, or here at the headquarters, or in the islands," he added, but I stop him replying maybe a bit too rushed. "Here... headquarters," I say and he smiles and laughs. He looks through my file again. "I'm glad you do have a degree in administration, but you did some report writing mostly and shadowed in some detective work. I know that you are in the end, Armed Police Corps, not a soldier, but I would want more experience in hadling the whole organisation, so I have decided to make you my aide," he said and I look at him with big eyes.
"Still shocked? ever heard of that first come first served saying? Just be lucky you came in early. I will want, for your stay in Hamrun, until you're transferred back, to be my eyes and ears, to help me with the papers, to even help me with some domestic stuff. As we don't really have a lot of space, as you can see... this base was build long before the city expanded so much, I will put you on the list with our cyber experts and others who have the right to live in the city. Go take your uniform from the warehouse..." he was saying but then he stopped looking at the clock. "It's nearly time for the 8am roll up. After you take the uniform, come dressed in it for the roll up and then go to the finance office and make a request for the rent discount in the city, so I can sign it," he said looking around, as if to ensure he didn't forget anything. "Remember. Living in the city is a privilege. If you miss the 8am call when you're on duty, you will lose it, understood?" he said, a bit sternly, so I knew to respond by the books for this, to his joy. "You can stay for a few days at the base, until it's fully populated with the recruits, and until you find yourself an apartment to rent. After the roll call you'll report to Señora Yasmin Tudela, the lovely secretary you already met, to give her your documents so she can build up your files at the base, okay?" he asked. "Dismissed," he said and I saluted and left to get my new uniforms.
Hamrun was weird. It was Ebrian, it had that feel, but it was strange. The buildings in the city could be divided in three main categories: 1st, the oldest, adobe houses of two stories at most, then the mid century bauhaus style, which San Lawrenz seemed to have a lot and it was even called the White City, and then the new, modern constructions either as social housing, which were high rises, or office buildings, which were quite far away from downtown itself. There were no cathedrals or other grand religious buildings, but small mosques, with only one minaret were dotting the neighbourhoods and obligatory right beside was a chapel, in what felt as a probably forced coming together, but which now, centuries later, felt quite natural.
The number of pedestrianised streets or streets closed off solely for busses, trolleybuses or trams also shocked me. It felt like in the Alcazaba, which was the Ebrian version of the Uroduah Al-Qasbah, the old citadel, you could only walk, and the same in the Ciudad Blanca, the neighbourhood of bauhaus 1930s and 1940s style buildings. Even so, many merchants were going about, with some specialised bicycles that were carrying goods, and sometimes even small carriages pulled by them. Tourists were omnipresent, especially in the Alcazaba, to see the old fortress and the Mezquita Catedral, the 9th century great mosque built in old Batalyaws and turned in the 1500s into a cathedral, in this mix of Uroduah and Christian Ebrian styles. With all the tourists, the image of local romance, orientalism and exotism existed too, and many used that to promote horse drawn carriage tours of the old town, which made hoof sounds omnipresent, and also the smell of horse dung.
What was also surprising was the great number of food carts and street food. I was used to Amerida's and Valls' tapas culture, but it seems it wasn't the same here, for there were little establishments where you could sit down to snack. If you wanted that, the park, or a bench was for you. If you wanted to drink and eat seriously, restaurants were waiting, but weirdly nothing in between. I was imagining carts like that selling hod dogs in Charleroi, or tacos in Gran Occidentia, but no, here they were selling fresh juices, and it seemed freshly squeezed watermelon was one of the most popular, and nuts, especially nuts, going from cashews to roasted chestnuts and or course, corn, from boiled to roasted. Probably for a tourist, this whole overdrive with the sounds, the smells, for between horses, chestnuts, you felt the smell of incense everywhere, followed by the smell of coffee, which was always sold on streets by "cafeteros", who were going about with huge thermoses, and followed by the smell of flowers, especially in the old town, where terraces were filled to the brim with pots of flowers, flowing down the walls, in what was an explosion of colour over what was a city painted mostly white, so as to escape the heat. But over all of this, was the noise. Music could be heard as you were moving about the street, from houses, where people were keeping their windows open in the July heat, most not having air conditioning and most didn't care of the recommendations for a quiet neighbourhood either. Music could be heard from houses, music could be heard from bars and restaurants, music could be heard from the random street singers, either by voice, who were singing either in a weird dialect that I needed a few minutes to recognise as Ebrian, or in a totally foreign language, that clearly was Hamrunite, or playing guitars, which wasn't that weird for Amerida or Valls, as the Ebrian guitar was worldwide known, but also Uroduah or eastern instruments such as the oud or flute. And above everything else, the last of the surprises were the cats. They were everywhere. Roaming all over the place.
The next morning I presented myself to the Military Base 529966, which at first, while still in Valls, I thought it might have been somewhere outside the city, but it was literally in the middle of San Lawrenz. In front of it, a large thoroughfare, on the other side of the road from it, a huge park that led to the Plaza de Ebria, to its left the high walls around the Alcazaba, to it's right, shockingly, a large shopping mall to the right, with hundreds of people walking in front of the base. I was presented by papers to the guard at 7am, as I knew at 8 there was a call up, and I was quickly sent to the administration building, where I was to report to General Oreste Scarlata, the commanding officer.
I was sent to room 5 on the 1st floor and as I entered, there were two desks there, with a lady brewing a coffee in the back of the room, and three more doors going to other, different rooms. I must say I was already a bit anxious. I always were when I was to meet new bosses or people whom I new were to be my superiors, and being in Hamrun, I remembered that they had a completely different language, even the Ebrian they spoke had a weird accent and I was freaking out that I might sound weird with a mixture of Amerida and Valls accents. I laid my luggage on the floor, as I was carrying it with me, and I tried to greet the lady, but all I managed was mumble something, so I was just thankful that she didn't hear me as she was concentrating on starting a coffee maker.
"Buenos días, señora," I say, and that's when she turns to me. She was quite short, and looked like she was in the 50s, with bobbed hair and a pair of reading glasses on. I came closer and looked at me, measuring me from head to toes. Usually I would have worn the grey uniform, but all I had were civilian clothes, which as much as I tried to make them as formal as possible, with a shirt and tie and even a jacket, I really felt out of my place there. "I'm teniente Ander Alejandro Suarez Blanco, I have been transferred from Valls..." I begin saying, but she cuts me off, and I don't really know why, but she instantly became hostile in my imagination. She had the vibe of a typical angry middle aged secretary with no patience at all. "You need to report to General Scarlata," she said. "I was sent to office no.5, do you know where he is?" I ask a bit... anxious, knowing her style and probably just asking for some shouting and yelling just for insisting, but she kept her composure.
"You found him," said a man, shorter than me, a bit on the larger side, but with a clear body shape that shown that he used to be quite athletic. He was wearing a garrison style nutria uniform, with a a white shirt, a greenish dark beige jacket, black tie and a chapiri hat, more typical to the Ebrian legion. I turned around to him and gave him a salute. "Come to my office," he said requesting me to follow him. We entered through one of the doors leading from the antechamber. I offered him my papers.
"Administration and management... Armed Police Corps, Valls, Once de Mayo Committee..." he was whispering, unsure if he knew I was hearing him or not, as he was reading through my files. "So, general Pisani seems to have liked you," he said as he put the files away. "Yes, general," I say, a bit stiff and stern, as I try to show a good image. He smirked. "Weird for that bitter Nuorian to like somebody. But don't fool yourself, he liked you enough to send you here," he said, slowly nodding as if he said something extremely profound. "With all due respect sir, can I ask a question?" I say and he nodded. "Do you think it was a punishment?" I ask, but then I immediately regret for it might have sounded bad. He put his arms on the desk and came closer to me, even if I was standing at attention three meters away from him. "At ease, relax," he says, this time, with a much more warmer tone. "It all depends on how you see it. A mainlander like you, especially from Amerida, would see it as an exile. An islander like me, being sent to San Lawrenz, would be seen as divine blessing. At the same time, a storm feels like it's gathering on the horizon," he said, and I don't really know what came up to me, but I instincively turned my eyes a little towards the window and he immediately caught it and started laughing. "I meant the war... Jesus, it must be true that poetry died on the mainland with Lope De Vega and Miguel de Cervantes..." he said and after he laughed one or two more times, something that got a slight smile even from me, which he seemed to like it, he continued. "Probably you will thank your God, be it Dios or Allah, that you are here, not in Valls or Amerida if it starts, for got knows what can happen in such central places, where hear, we're an insular backwater," he added.
He looked some more through my file and then looked at me. "I'll make you an offer. I need to build this whole Hamrunite Territorial Defence unit all by myself. Probably you've seen the legionnaires marching around. They will soon be gone, either to Hajr, or dislodged in the country, or sent to god forsaken places like Natal or Rio de Oro. A lot of people from allover the place were brought in to administer this unit and you were one of the firsts to arrive. So, as it's fully in my responsibility, I will make you a great offer, and ask you waht do you want," he said and stressed the last part. That took me a bit by surprise. "What do I want?" I repeated, a bit gobsmacked. It was the first time since I put up the uniform that I was asked this. "Yes, do you want to work with the inventories, or here at the headquarters, or in the islands," he added, but I stop him replying maybe a bit too rushed. "Here... headquarters," I say and he smiles and laughs. He looks through my file again. "I'm glad you do have a degree in administration, but you did some report writing mostly and shadowed in some detective work. I know that you are in the end, Armed Police Corps, not a soldier, but I would want more experience in hadling the whole organisation, so I have decided to make you my aide," he said and I look at him with big eyes.
"Still shocked? ever heard of that first come first served saying? Just be lucky you came in early. I will want, for your stay in Hamrun, until you're transferred back, to be my eyes and ears, to help me with the papers, to even help me with some domestic stuff. As we don't really have a lot of space, as you can see... this base was build long before the city expanded so much, I will put you on the list with our cyber experts and others who have the right to live in the city. Go take your uniform from the warehouse..." he was saying but then he stopped looking at the clock. "It's nearly time for the 8am roll up. After you take the uniform, come dressed in it for the roll up and then go to the finance office and make a request for the rent discount in the city, so I can sign it," he said looking around, as if to ensure he didn't forget anything. "Remember. Living in the city is a privilege. If you miss the 8am call when you're on duty, you will lose it, understood?" he said, a bit sternly, so I knew to respond by the books for this, to his joy. "You can stay for a few days at the base, until it's fully populated with the recruits, and until you find yourself an apartment to rent. After the roll call you'll report to Señora Yasmin Tudela, the lovely secretary you already met, to give her your documents so she can build up your files at the base, okay?" he asked. "Dismissed," he said and I saluted and left to get my new uniforms.