Bridges of Maastricht

Dear visitor,

this post presents my reinterpretation of a text fragment that I found a couple of weeks ago. The text fragment has no date, but it is safe to say that it is from the first century CE. The content of the text is about the first stage of a feast. Sacrifices are made to an eagle, Bacchus, and Jupiter. The person who did research on this text thought that the eagle represented Jupiter, but I came to a different conclusion.

I present the text fragment sentence by sentence and add my interpretation.

“The eagle opens its beacon and smacks with its tongue to drink red honey. The bacchanal is perfect.”

The initial idea was wrong. The eagle does not represent the Roman pantheon, but the Batavian gods. The Batavi were a Germanic tribe living in this region. Later, they became important auxiliary troops. Little is known about their religion and even less about the tensions between Batavi and Roman culture and religion. Identifying the eagle as Batavian helps to draw a picture that is in favor of an integration of Batavi gods by the Roman settlers. A Roman settler is the author of the text and the one organizing the feast (bacchanal).

The picture below shows a detail on a door I have found in the Grote Gracht street in Maastricht.

“To join this table, my uncles and sisters came all the way from Cologne (Colonia Claudia Ara Agrippinensium).”

Maastricht has always been important to people living in this region, because it is possible to cross the river Meuse (or Maas). The Roman built the first known and permanent bridge, erected a castellum, and named the place “trajectum ad mosam”. The name became Maastricht.

By controlling the bridge, the Romans connected their settlements in the East and West, such as Cologne. The text is evidence for the importance of Maastricht, because of the visitors from distant Cologne. 

The pictures below show: 1, a lion marking the site where the Roman bridge stood (see also the banner of this blog); 2, two stones with the words “Porta” and “Regia” leading to the lion.

“Bacchus, look at their offerings and be appeased.”

The second sacrifice is for Bacchus, known as the god of agriculture and wine. Bacchus as a god is more complicated, but in the context of this text, it is safe to say that he is the patron of the feast, the bacchanal. 

The picture below shows one of the Bacchus depictions on Maastricht buildings, in this case it is the theatre at the Vrijthof.

“Jupiter, behold and bestow. These are the words between you, Jupiter Stator, and me.”

The third sacrifice is for Jupiter, known as the king of the gods. The epithet (addition) Stator means that the author of the text addresses Jupiter in his function as god of the soldiers. Jupiter Stator makes people stand firm and fast. This epithet is in favor of establishing order.

The picture below shows archeological findings below the Hotel Derlon. At the place of the hotel stood a Roman villa. It is possible that it was the location for the feast in the text. Archeologists think that the statue fragments show Jupiter. There is a drawing that reconstructs the fragments.

After talking to the archeologist myself, I have a different interpretation of this statue. As it was revealed to me, the statue fragments have shown lines that formed scales and feathers. The lines cannot be seen now, because they have been removed violently.

It might be possible that the Jupiter statue was slightly different. Instead of a naked man, the man’s skin might have been covered with scales and feathers. If the statue mixed Jupiter with animal skins, it might be possible to argue that the statue is another example for the integration of the pre Roman culture.

If the text tells us about a sacrifice to a Batavian god (eagle), and the statue shows a hybrid of Jupiter and a bird (feathers), we have two elements, text and statue, that tell us more about the people living here. 

The last sentence in the text fragment remains a riddle:

“Another child wishes to speak to the sea of stars beyond your celestial majesty.“

For this sentence, I need more context, but this is how the text fragment ends. There are loose relations between the text and images of stars, such as the Onze Lieve Vrouwe basilica with the Gothic chapel of The Lady of the Stars, or the coat of arms of Maastricht that bears a star. These relations do not make sense, because the text predates them, but who knows, maybe I will stumble upon some further clues in the future. 

To sum up, I argue that the text fragment tells about a feast that begins with sacrifices to the old Batavian gods (represented by the eagle) and the Roman gods (Bacchus and Jupiter). A joint sacrifice tells us that there was at least one time in the history of Maastricht, when the Batavi religion was respected by the Roman settlers. The hybrid statue provides further evidence to this interpretation.

The text is interesting, because it shows that the pre Roman heritage did not dissappear. The Roman soldiers and settlers integrated the former cult and paid respect (honey sacrifice). We can assume tensions and uprisings, but the the texts helps us to understand that the Batavi and Romans built a bridge across their cultures, religions, and worlds.

Now, it is time to close this blog. There are too many memories attached to this page. If you want to see more of Maastricht, I will put the link to my new blog here soon.

Sunny Wednesday, 17.06.15

Dear Mark,

I think I have solved the riddle. There were two groups in Maastricht: the Batavi and the Romans. I do not speculate about the religious tensions. Unlike Rik, I have proof.

Rik missed the information that the eagle is Batavian. He attributed the bird to Jupiter. The consequence was that he was looking for further information while he had everything already in his hands. His mistake? He did not ask if his interpretation of the eagle as Roman could be wrong.

Rik did not know that there was a statue of a Batavian deity or at least influence on the depiction of “Jupiter”. Rik overlooked the evidence, partly because it was gone with the assistant’s violation, and partly because he thought evidence about Batavi would be outside the Roman castellum, meaning outside Maastricht. It is possible that there is more evidence, but there had been little archeologic research outside the city borders.

On the basis of the eagle text and the “Jupiter” statue, I deduce that the religious tensions were dissolved and both groups could coexist in Maastricht after the Romans settled down.

There is not only this evidence, but also a story to tell about resistance, integration, and submission.

The Batavi resisted the Romans as warriors and priests. When the legions were victorious, both cultures merged. (This happened similarly along the Limes border in Germany.) During occupation, the warriors became Roman auxiliary troupes and the priests lost their influence. Christianity has finally swept all traces and tensions under the unity of the church.

I think that this is it. I feel tired but also satisfied deep in my heart. A good feeling after this detour into someone else’s research. I think it is time to take care of myself now. I should make peace with the world and let you go.

Fine Monday evening, 15.06.15

Dear Mark,

I spent the night with writing, because it always helps me to see my ideas on paper. The core question is whether the text fragment speaks of the Romans and the Batavi.

Is the eagle a Batavian deity? It is probable that the aboriginal tribes worshipped the animal.

Does the author make a sacrifice to a Batavi god, before the bacchanal begins? If there had been a conflict, a sacrifice might work as a sign of truce towards the Germanic tribes.

Or does the eagle belong to Jupiter? In my dream, Jupiter denied that the eagle was his. But was my dream about Jupiter? Online research was fruitless. There are no Jupiter depictions or tales where the god wears feathers and scales. I could not find any other Roman god with these attributes.

What if the statue in my dream was not Jupiter, but a Batavi deity? What if the statue found under Hotel Derlon was not Roman but Batavian? In case that the statue depicts an older god, the text fragment would be about a truce between a Batavi god represented by an eagle and the Roman deities Bacchus and Jupiter. The author sacrifices to the old god to pay respect and to reaffirm peaceful coexistence.

So far, this makes sense. Unless I forget the weird behavior of people involved in looking for traces of the Batavi religion. Rik dissapeared and left a trail of disjointed evidence. The archeologist’s assistant destroyed traces with the effect that it is more probable to interpret the statue fragments as depicting Jupiter. Well, and I get beaten up, my property is damaged, and my health suffers.

Allow me a last speculative question.

If there had been two groups fighting each other during Roman times, and people get hurt when they get involved in unearthing this conflict, is it safe to ask whether the two groups are still in conflict?

Finding evidence for this might give clues about Rik’s dissapearance, explain the unprofessional motifs of the assistant, and give me the satisfaction that what has happened to me makes sense.

Hot Sunday, 14.06.15

Dear Mark,

the archeologist solved some questions.

What were the two groups? Batavi tribes lived in South Limburg before the Roman conquest. The tribes had probably a bridge here or at least a ferry. Archeologists have found a pre Roman path underneath the Roman street at several points in Maastricht, for example Tongerseweg. This street is older than two thousand years!

Is it probable that there were tensions between the aboriginal peoples and the Romans who secured this region with a castellum? When I dreamt about the battle on the bridge, did I dream of an uprising? A dream is not evidence, but let it keep in mind as a probable scenario, because here lived the Batavi.

What was the religion of the Batavi in this region? The archeologist did not know much about religious practices before the Romans. Either the Romans or the Christians eradicated all traces. They did not use bulldozers like the barbarians in Iraq, but the idea was the same. Conquer an enemy with fire and culture. During the Roman conquest, the Batavi still lived their traditions. It is probable that there were tensions between followers of the old gods and followers of Jupiter.

At this point, I got some evidence for Rik’s research, but it did not help me to understand the text fragment about the eagle. I wanted to know if the text about the bacchanal spoke about the eagle as Jupiter’s animal or not. I showed the text to the archeologist, but he was not sure. Context was missing. I then asked him about the Jupiter and eagle statues found under Hotel Derlon. The statues might have nothing to do with the text, but I wanted to know more if the fragments really showed the god and the eagle as separate entities. The archeologist was not convinced of my speculation that the fragments might have been one statue. When I asked him if it was possible that the stone wing was part of the god’s back or shoulder, he looked annoyed. I asked why he did not simply laugh about my suggestion. He told me why. Maybe the most interesting thing that I have learnt today is his anecdote. I try to retell it in the archeologist’s own words:

Sunny Saturday afternoon, 13.06.15

Dear Mark,

the day was hot and the afternoon wind blows the dust and small particles into my eyes. Despite the rain, the air smells dry. Something seems different, but I do not know what. I’ll type what I see while I walk. Maybe I’ll figure it out. 

People slow down and make space. Is it wonder in their eyes? I check my appearance in a window. Nothing unusual. My hair and beard are messy, but no seagull poop on my shoulders, no open fly. Some passers-by give me a warm smile. Maybe I look very worn out. I am tired. I have to pay a heavy toll to the sleepless nights in May, the dreams, the recent news, and the last two nights. I hum the A team TV series theme.

The huge yellow marl Sint Lambertuskerk is in front of me. I cough. My throat feels like sandpaper. At a grill room, I pause and buy an Uludag. I realize that I did not have lunch. I order a kip dürüm. The food and soft drink help with my throat. At Grote Gracht corner Sint Nicolassstraat, I finish my drink. In time, because the last waste basket until the city center is at the corner of Zakstraat. There is another one at the Amigo frituur grillroom, but this one is always full. I throw my can into the basket. Students on bikes with groceries, teenagers with friends on baggage porters. A girl coughs. I stare at her. She coughs again and her handkerchief turns red. She notices me. A hostile look from her and I move on. Tires bump on cobblestone and shake the metal frame of several bikes, when I walk by the faculty building at Grote Gracht 90-92. I pass a sex shop and a coffee shop where they sell weed to residents. The coffee shops are open again after the attempts of the city council to ban drug tourists. To decrease criminality. I think about my broken cellar window and what happened two days ago.

The Grote Gracht goes slightly down. Bicyclists have a hard time to move up the hill. People stop talking when they pass me. Not tourists, but locals. I try to ignore them. I must look silly as everyone starring on a smartphone while walking. Schlager / carnival music from the Helo Mestreg pub. Ten years jubileum. Merry people are crowding the side walk.

Passing the townhall. A man with two bags of sushi and a Zorro carnival hat laughs at me nervously. I smell beer.

I leave Hoenderstraat and enter the Maasboulevard. The salty air from the Maas hits me. Seagulls are screaming.

For the first time, I notice the cam at corner Mariastraat. The pub owner seems to like loud music. A woman sits outside in a blue shirt. Her head rests in her hand and she watches me. Our eyes meet and she does not look away. Waiters and waitresses cross the street with full tablets. People sit in the evening sun at the promenade. I enter Stokstraat with its boutiques. Posh territory and what kind of music from the pub? I tell you in three words: Albano and Romina Power.

I speed up and it becomes quiet around me. Most of the boutiques and art sellers have closed at this time. Few people here. A man walks in front of me. He wears a rose jacket, white trousers, light brown shoes. The Maastricht style of the upper class. When I pass him, I hear that he halts. 

I see the back side of the basilica and turn right at the Luna Rossa gelateria that is in a temple like building at the corner of the street. It is crowded, because the ice cream is usually good. Trash lies around the gelateria

I enter the Onze Lieve Vrouweplein or, in local dialect, Sievrouweplein. At the side of the church a bike parking lot. A stench rises from the sewers at one point. The basilica is a massive church in the Roman style. The yellow marl stones have turned dark in the last centuries. Onze Lieve Vrouwe looks like a medieval castle.

The restaurant of Hotel Derlon occupies parts of the Sievrouweplein. I have arrived at my destination. What was different about my walk today? People stared at me, but maybe they just look at me, because they think I do not see them while starring on my smartphone. I check my appearance in a window. I do look tired.

13.06.15. I dreamt of fire. People ran over a wooden bridge. They came from the side opposite the city, or rather the castellum. I smelled the burning huts at the other side from where they came. Man and women in cloth with hammers, clubs, and swords. I stood firmly and waited for the command. We will be victorious over this panicking pack.

After the skirmish, we threw the bodies into the river. Auxiliary troops cleaned the huts. Those too stubborn or too weak were thrown into the water.

In the evening, we heard the screams of the captives and traitors. Order returned. There will be a feast this night.

—

Summer Friday, 12.06.15

Dear Mark,

After the Police made their report, the senior officer suggested that I visit the doctor.

She examined me. My skull is fine. I should rest, have a walk, and eat healthily. When I sleep less than four hours, I should contact her again. The trivial advice does not help. How can I rest? I need to do something. I must lay my hands on a task.

Tomorrow, I will contact the archeologist.

Windy Wednesday, 10.06.15

Dear Mark,

around three a.m., I became hungry. I had spent some time over Tacitus. Yes, I read the original version, because I tried to find details about the Batavi rebellion. I had emptied a kettle Lady Grey tea, but I needed something solid. I took the kettle and walked to the kitchen in darkness. I am familiar with the appartment; no need for lights. When I opened the kitchen door, I first thought that I was dreaming.

Do you remember when we visited the farm? You were fond of the chicks in the incubator. It was the same stuffy smell of warm feathers that filled my kitchen. Feathers and the sharp stench of a terrarium. Before the window stood a figure. The light of lanterns flooded from outside, so I could only see a black silhouette. The figure did not move. Arms were hanging. But I moved. I threw the kettle at the personage. This was, as it turned out, the worst thing I could have done, because the figure, with a sudden smooth motion, spread its arms and moved towards me. Without further effect on it, the kettle shattered the window. I wanted to get the kitchen door between me and this intruder. I did not make it. A hand grabbed my throat and torn me down. My head hit the oven. Black.

When I woke up, I was not bleeding anymore, but I tasted blood on my tongue. It was cold. Morning light played in the shards on the floor. Slowly, I stood up. No one was in the kitchen, but at that moment, I felt, yes, I felt that something aimed at my head. I realized in a deep part of my reptile brain that I had to freeze, but my mammal body did not respond so quickly. Before I could react, another blow brought me down.

When I woke up again, it was morning. My mouth was dry, my limbs felt cold, and I had a headache. I did not stand up, but listened. 1 … 2 … 3. No noise, no shuffling, not even the feeling of a presence. 97 … 98 … 99. I moved. I left the kitchen and looked at myself in the mirror. My face looked like a portrayal of a barbarian. But the war painting on my face was red. Something was behind me. 1 … 2 … 3. I felt that it left. It was as if someone turned off a humming refrigerator that you do not notice until the machine breaks down and the humming stops. My headache became worse.

I was careful, moved only few steps at a time, but after I had checked my appartment, it was clear: no one was in my home anymore. My front door was open. I closed it.

So this was that. We will see what the day brings. Now, I need a Paracetamol. At least painkillers are cheap in the Netherlands, because I will need a lot of them. Half an euro per package. I’ll get some … and breakfast. Oh, I should not forget to pick up the kettle. Then I need to call the landlord. There is another window to be replaced.

9.06.15

Dear Mark,

I must keep on writing to you. For me, you are now as real as anything else. My thoughts cannot grasp what is around me. I just write myself into the world as I move. Yes, I still do my daily walks. How could I rest when I do not feel the ground under my feet?

Before me, the buildings unfold as I walk these old streets. The brick and marl walls move as if I am standing on a cart rolling downwards.

The movement is accompanied by a feeling as if something has pulled off my arms. Instead of closing the wounds by pushing some bandages into the armpits, someone pushes more and more blood into me to prevent lethal blood loss. I keep on bleeding and I cannot stop.

Would I look back, I might see a trail of blood, but I do not look back. Thinking about you helps me to keep on going. What detail might amuse you about Maastricht? How would you react to my speculations about Romans, gods, and dinosaurs? Would I look back, I might stop asking and I would halt. Then, I would choke on the blood being pumped into my body.

In the next post, I tell you more about what I see now when I walk those streets. The city has changed.

Rest in peace,

Monday, 8.06.15

Dear mother and father,

I do not understand your wish for me to stay here in Maastricht, but I respect your will. Just tell me when the date is set and I take the next train. I will need nine hours with the ICE. Please tell me as soon as possible. I do not even want to think about the slightest chance to miss the funeral.

A lightning is a natural disaster. There is not a human being to blame. Please keep this in mind.

I will call as often as possible. Meanwhile, I take some time off work. I’ll continue writing here. So far it helped me to focus. More important, I want to finish what has been the last conversation with my little brother.

Sunny Sunday, 7.06.15

Dear Mark,

I visited the excavation in Hotel Derlon. It is situated directly next to the Onze Lieve Vrouwe basilica. See what they have found:

They built a lounge around the ruins.

Look at these fragments of a Jupiter statue.

This is how the archeologists envision the statue (above) and the villa where the hotel stands now (below).

Amazing, right? Similar to what I dreamt about.

I think that my dream was a coincidence, but it is a villa with a statue and an eagle! Or at least there is a fragment of feathers and the artist has envisioned an eagle at Jupiter's feet. I have to talk to the archeologist my colleague Jos referred me to. He will know more details and maybe alternative versions of the fragments.

Sunny Sunday, 7.06.15

Dear Mark,

in Maastricht, “due to its more inland location in between hills, summers tend to be warmer” (Wikipedia). I experience this now first hand. Although the temperatures fell from thirty to twenty, the warm air stayed, exactly because the city is located between hills and in a valley. With the stale air, the dust and small particles stayed. And every fresh breeze blew them into my face. I sneezed the whole evening. Really annoying. 

Maybe it was because of the hot air in my living room, or because of my problem with breathing due to the dust in my nose, or because I was still upset about the break-in attempt, I did not dream well last night. You remember how envious I always was about your vivid nightly adventures when we were little? Now, I can tell you something.

The dream started like this, or I think it was a dream, because I woke up to the sound of church bells that did not stop to chime after the usual twelve times. At first, I was annoyed. Then, I thought that this must be a dream, because of the unusual chiming, and because the room looked different. The TV was gone. Instead, there was a cupboard. Usually, I would have ignored a piece of furniture, but this one created a need in me to pull the bed sheets over my chest, just to have something between my skin and this bulky presence.

The bells stopped at some point far beyond twenty. In the spreading silence, my ears tried to sense any sound. Nothing, not even the sound of a single scooter. For a couple of minutes, I lay there in the dark. Behind the walls, a rat was following its nightly duties. It must have been a rat, because no neighbor moves that quickly and at this height.

Nothing else happened, except my urge to stare at the cupboard on my left. For some reason, I felt that it would be a good idea to keep the two closed wings in sight. As if they were about to move at any moment. Nothing moved for a time - not inside my room nor outside. Only the rat behind the wall was running towards the right corner of my room.

And then: the sound of tiny feet suddenly stopped. Where was the rat? My eyes moved to the right corner where the animal was supposed to be and at that moment two things happened. Something … moved from the left to the right. It was too black to recognize a shape or any features, but my fingers clawed instinctively into the mattress. I then heard how the cupboard wings closed and my shoulders cramped. I could not breathe. 

Then, or because of this, I woke up. I breathed heavily in through my mouth. My chest hurt. I was covered in sweat and you can imagine how quickly I turned on the lights. Everything was normal. The TV was there again. I stayed in bed, but the rest of the night was quiet. At three in the morning, the first cars drove the Via Regia back to Belgium. Party people left the city. At that time, I was reading about the mosasaurus. Here is a newspaper article. It is in Dutch, and it gives some details of the find (20.04.15, sixth find since 1766, 66.3 million years old, at the foot of Sint Pietersberg outside Maastricht). Here is a video of a 3D projection at the Onze Lieve Vrouwe basilica. It shows the lizard as a fossil in movement. Despite the artist’s intention, the sight of a gigantic skeleton lizard soothed my mind and I fell asleep around five in the morning.

Sunny Saturday, 6.06.15

Dear Mark, 

before I write about something interesting ... well ... you see the picture.

When I came home, I saw that someone had tried to break in my cellar. During the day! The stone was still there. I threw it into the bushes.

I have to write a report for the police - an aangifte - in Dutch. I made a picture, because the landlord needs the aangifte and a picture for the insurance. At least he reacted quickly. What I hear from colleagues, I am lucky with my landlord.

Oh yeah, I feel lucky.

I’ll write something else later.

Sunny Saturday, 6.06.15

Dear Mark,

there was a thunderstorm hovering above the city last night. Lightning flickered between 9 and 11 p.m., but a storm passed. A couple of times thunder struck, and at point eleven, it began to rain, but that was it.

You asked whether I came up with a question. I do not think that I will be able to find Rik. This is the job of the police.

I think, however, that I might understand what Rik’s question was and probably find one solution myself. In short, Rik was looking for information about the religious practices in this region.

I get from his messy research folder the hypothesis that there were two groups in the city. The Roman settlers and soldiers worshipped Jupiter and the Germanic native tribe worshipped their gods. This is what the text fragment shows, too. The divide was deeper and more prominent to local politics, involving different groups, and different goals for the settlement’s future. At that time, it was not a city. As far as I can understand from his research materials, Rik was bothered by this divide, but could not or did not deliberately tell what it was that motivated his curiosity.

My next step is to find a question that fits the arrangement of information that Rik collected and that is available about the city. For this, I talked and will talk to historians and visit local archeology sites. When I have a hypothetical question, I will try to find an answer. When this sounds like trial and error to you, then you are right. Nonetheless, that will help to sense a direction, before I drown in details.

Sunny Friday, 5.06.15

Dear Mark,

I hope you have a nice festival despite these temperatures. Thirty two degrees is extreme. No wonder, why I felt that dizzy during the last days.

Yesterday at the conference opening, I met Pieter who told me some interesting things about the Maastricht’s Roman heritage and its history in general.

From everything he said, what was relevant to my question about Jupiter was the excavation below Hotel Derlon. Only a couple of years ago, they found a Roman villa with a bath and fragments of a Jupiter statue. I have to go there. Didn’t I dream about a villa and a statue on a column? Or was this dream rather caused By Rik’s text? It is not that unlikely that my mind conjured up images of a Roman villa as a place for the bacchanal. And some sort of statue is not so far fetched either. The hotel opens the ruins to visitors on Sundays, because they built a lounge among the excavation. I imagine that this place will be popular during todays heat.

Another interesting thing was that they have found another mosasaurus at the marl mining factory at the foot of Sint Pietersberg a couple of weeks ago. The mosasaurus was a carnivorous, aquatic lizard. I had seen several specimen at the natural museum in the city. This is the sixth mosasaurus find since the 18th century. Alright, I stop. You never liked dinosaurs as I did when we were little.

After the chat with Pieter, I had my walk from the faculty building in Grote Gracht 86 to the Vrijthof. You remember the picture of the basilica and the red church? I passed the De Grote Sociëteit restaurant when my eyes fell on the theatre building. On the right side of the main entrance, there is the stone face of Bacchus. The god wears a wreath of wine. His grotesque mouth is grinning while he looks across the wide space of the Vrijthof and must see the abominably ugly statues on the other side of the place. The statues are as high as a man. They should remind of carneval. Carneval is one of the cultural highlights of this region, due to its Catholic roots. Bacchus seems pleased to see symbols of cultural madness standing in the heart of the city. Here, religion is represented by churches of both confessions. The military power is represented by the Hoofdwacht. Culture is represented by the theatre. And Maastrichtian savoir vivre is represented by many cafes and restaurants. A lively and appreciated heart of the city and Bacchus is framing it.

What does this have to do anything with the riddle about the meaning of Rik’s text? Well, at the moment, I realize that I have looked into one direction only. Jupiter as the principle of power and order is only one side. Bacchus as the principle of divine madness and disorder is the other side. I should think more about both of them at the same time.

Oh my, such a long text. I go to bed now. I feel like I could get some sleep. Maybe I dream about Bacchus this night.

Sunny Thursday, 4.06.15

Dear Mark,

I had a weird dream last night. I stood in the middle of a courtyard with low yellow walls. Behind me was a Roman villa. No one was there.

A blazing midday sun and few clouds. In front of me loomed a column with a statue of a man covered in scales and feathers. In his hand was a lance. On his head was a crown. He had a beard. I thought about Jupiter. At his feet rested an eagle.

Seeing the bird in my dream, I had a lucid moment. That means I was aware of dreaming while dreaming. In a moment of exceptional cleverness, I used this awareness and asked the statue. When it was a dream, I might get an answer, was my thought. It answered me.

May I ask you a question, Jupiter? If so, please respond in a manner that I understand.

- ask

The eagle at your feet, is it yours?

- no

Is it associated with you?

- no

Is the bacchanal held in the villa behind me?

- yes

(I slipped back to sleep and the last questions that I remember drifted in a strange direction.)

Have you met Rik Ummels?

- no

Has Rik carried the honey to the temple?

(I do not remember anything more.)

So, what to do with that? I do not know. One thing is sure, one clue is better than too many, so I will check upon the Roman past of this city. My colleague Jos replied to my email. His field is not ancient Maastricht, but he gave me the name and address of someone who had been the town’s archeologist for over thirty five years. Maybe he knows more about the Jupiter temple somewhere in the city. I also met my colleague Daniel, and he recommended to talk to Pieter from the History department. Pieter will give the opening talk to the graduate school conference this evening. I think I will go there and talk to him. I need a walk anyway.

Sunny Wednesday, 3.06.15

Dear Mark,

thank you for helping me with the sound files. I will include a link to my online storage in the next days. When you are back from the festival, you will have them. Update: LINK

I walked the Maasboulevard yesterday. During the week, there are not so many people and it felt a little bit like Monday morning. The Monday mornings in Maastricht are the pinacle of Mondayness. Except the supermarkets, all shops and municipality offices open at 1 p.m. Why? Because people have to get a little bit sleep after the weekend. They take the Monday morning, because a real Maastricht citizen (also called Sjeng) meets friends for borrel. Borrel is a beer and some snacks, like fried meatballs, coated nuts, or ossenworst. You can imagine that borrel is popular and people here have another one on Sunday evening. Therefore, Monday morning is a little bit different here.

I spent some time on the Oude Brug (St. Servaasbrug) and watched the Maas flowing down. A little bit down the river, there is a column with a stone lion that shows were the Romans erected their bridge. I will include pictures to the next gallery. I tried to imagine how the bridge looked like. As I was daydreaming, the water turned red. I thought about an optical illusion. I did not feel well this day, although I had been able to sleep a bit. Then, I realized that the color changed between red to yellow. The Maas reflected fire. The waves made the flickering reds and yellows dance even more spasmodically. While I was starring into the water, a hand touched my shoulder. I jerked around and looked puzzled into the face of a middle aged Dutch man. I remember a blue jacket, a brown cravatte, a light blue shirt, and beige trousers. His skin was tanned and his shoulder long hair were backcombed. He smiled, said not a word, and left me again. I was not able to move until he became a blue blotch that moved in direction of the Onze Lieve Vrouwe church.

I fear that I had looked suspiciously while starring into the water. Who knows how many people have committed suicide on the Oude Brug or the previous bridges? Nevertheless, I had a funny feeling after this encounter. The sjeng did not give me a smile that was worried but rather, and this might sound silly, reassuring.

It is evening now. I send an email to my colleague Jos who might know more about the early history of the city. Tomorrow will bring sunshine and we expect 32 degrees on Friday. Maybe that's why I felt so dizzy yesterday.

Cheers,