Chris De Bié - Storia Theurgica - The Hippie trail -
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Storia Theurgica
The Hippie trail


- _1. The escape
- _2. Gate to Asia
- _3. Persia
- _4. Afghanistan
- _5. Pakistan
- _6. India
- _7. Nepal
- _8. Back to Europe
2. Gate to Asia


Music by JoeMono - Saz played by Korkmaz

What a fascinating chaos! Despite the signs forbidding the use of the car horn – or perhaps because of them ? – car horns were used continuously and seemingly with joy, thus drowning the omnipresent oriental music. This music came from old cassettes and was of the corny-exotic type getting on my nerves; however, I would get used to it in time. We bought a map of Turkey and went to the bank. The proceeds obtained from selling my 'legacy' in Germany had not arrived yet. We did not feel like waiting for the money here in Istanbul. We wanted to get out of this chaos – to which I would get used too – and bought a ticket to Sile.

It was a beautiful drive along the Bosporus right up to the 'Karadeniz' as the Turks call the Black Sea, only a few hours away from this Moloch called Istanbul. Jörg seemed to be a bit irritated because he would have liked to travel on, but I had asked my friends to send me the money to Turkey. Teheran or Kabul seemed too risky for transferring money.

What a calming idyll; we looked for a cheap guesthouse. I enjoyed the sea view from our balcony but Jörg immediately ran to the beach and made friends with a German couple, Klaus and Susanne, who were on their way to India in a cheap camper. I was weary of them right from the beginning. I on the other hand met Mehmet a young Turk. He was about to open his own disco, situated on top of a cliff; with little money and lots of work he managed to fulfil his dream. The tables were made of old tires and a glass plate. To obtain a license for his disco Mehmet was forced to shave his moustache, something quite scandalous for a Turk, but the authorities forced him to do so and Mehmet was a freak and could live with it. Anyway it seemed as if Sile had become a meeting point for Western freaks who were seeking a rest on a long journey.

I spent the next few days with my new friend and helped him to create the opening posters in english.

"Welcome to the LOVER’S DISCO.
A place for friends. A place to be.
Best music in town."

I even borrowed him some money to buy drinks. Meanwhile Jörg was spending his time with Klaus and Susanne on the beach and we saw less and less of each other. On the disco’s opening night the three of them went to the well known ‘Sile-Disco’ but didn’t turn up in our establishment. Next day I met three German guys. One of them was Bernd, a friend of my supplier from southern Germany. We made a date for the evening. What a coincidence! - or rather, what a karmic connection!!

The five of us were roaming through Sile, Bernd had announced a surprise.
"I have a few grams of Psylocibin, magic mushrooms – are you game?"
"Sure, there couldn’t be a better moment for me. The three of you are going back to Germany and you Jörg might accompany me still for a while, but you can return any time you like."
"Well, I am not so sure" Jörg answered.
It was clear for Michael and Tom however.
"Well here are three gram."
"I only want a little bit," Jörg, who actually did not want any at all, said.
"Ok. It was meant for the three of us. Chris you as our guest of honour are getting one third, Jörg as much as you want and the rest we divide amongst ourselves."
I felt very honoured and loved. We looked for a quiet place where our little fire could not be seen. Fiery sparks made crackling noises, music, illuminating us under the starry skies. Jörg took more than I had expected.

In this archaic landscape I felt propelled into the Stone Age. Stones were telling their stories, trees gently caressed me and flowers presented me with their scent. Ants almost changed their direction at my will. The wind touched me … I was like a leaf in the wind … I was the wind! I was one with the Creation!

I was laying on a bed of moss and enjoyed it.
"Chris, are you ok?" Bernd asked me.
"It is beautiful. The wind is playing with me and the sea is calling me."
"Chris, are you really ok?"
"I feel newly born and I want to go to the sea. It calls for me!"
"Do you know why the Black Sea is called black?"
"Yes, I know!"
The weather here was unpredictable. After the most gorgeous sunset a storm could come up within minutes and you’d have to run for safety. Many people had drowned here already ...
"I want to go swimming."
To reach the sea we had to walk through the sleeping town of Sile. A beckoning smell wafted towards us. The baker was at work! Impatiently we waited for the first ‘Ekmek’; ah, how delicious it tasted! The baker looked slightly astonished at his bread. Does it taste any different today, he seemed to ask himself.
We proceeded through the slowly awakening town towards the beach. We had barely arrived there when I got rid of my clothes. Only Bernd followed me. He dared to swim out a bit but I wanted to go out further and further.
"Chris! Come back!" they all called together.


Sea of Love
Digital image by Mimulux

"I feel like an embryo embedded in amniotic fluid, so well protected in this beautiful sea of love. Nothing can happen to me."
I swam back even though I would have preferred staying in the amniotic sac. Bernd embraced me.
"I understood you. Now you are ready for your adventure."
Jörg looked at me, confused and frightened. It was clear to me now that we would be going separate ways. He hadn’t understood me. Bernd and his friends drove home and Jörg continued his journey with his false friends. I went back to Istanbul, my money had arrived.

15 years later I ‘accidentally’ met Jörg in a supermarket in Cologne. He had just come from New Zealand where he lived with his family for 10 years. He was an apiculturist in New Zealand and here to sell a queen bee but the local ambiance did not suit her. He stayed in Germany for three days and I celebrated my 40th birthday – I was told then that Susanne and Klaus had robbed him in Anatolia.

Jörg had left me. I was all alone in Istanbul, a city that never sleeps. I couldn’t sleep and drank half a bottle of Raki and had a strange dream:


"The illumination"
Painting by Iron Irene - Acryl on paper

I had been in a kind of prison for ages it seemed. Or was I a yogi in the Himalaya? Was I a prisoner? Or had I just become a recluse to obtain total freedom?
There was something threatening about it yet I was not afraid.
I had lost the freedom to return to my country. That door had closed… or back behind closed doors .. but all the others were open to me … or were opening on account of this. It was like an illumination. Now I had a premonition that I was priviledged. You don't chose such a situation. I will have extraordinary experiences.
Looking back I can say:
"That was the best that could have happened to me!"

I visited the Hagia Sophia with its enormous, seemingly floating cupola. The multi-colored glasswindows combined with the hanging lamps created a magic atmosphere in this museum, which was formerly a Byzantine church and later a mosque.
  Iron Irene


Hagia Sophia
Photo by Tabaiba

Afterwards I proceeded to the famous Pudding Shop. The restaurant was famous for its puddings, thus the name Pudding Shop. Hardly anybody remembered the actual name. Here you'd encounter travellers to the Orient from all over the world. It was the first meeting point on a very long journey.


Pudding Shop

Sipping a cool Efes Beer I listened to stories about Full Moon Parties in Goa and to the praise for the dope in Manali. The Amir Kabir in Teheran and “Siggi's” in Kabul were recommended as next meeting points.
  Pudding Shop


Efes Beer

There was a large board on the wall, full of messages with people looking for fellow passengers, or infos on meetings and dates. Some even pinned letters to the board thus creating a kind of “poste restante” facility.


Bulletin board
Photos from the archive of the Pudding Shop - Lale Restaurant

A group of Dutch, British and Germans arrived; they had traveled by bus from Amsterdam and were on their way to Kathmandu, with tickets purchased from the Magic Bus Agency and were frantically looking for dope. In Istanbul this was a difficult, dangerous and expensive venture. I had a small piece left over in the pocket of my pants. A farewell present from Bernd. After having bought a bus ticket to Teheran from one of the agencies in the vicinity, I wandered around the huge city and allowed myself the luxury of a boat trip on the Bosporus. This was how I celebrated my departure from Europe.


Photo by Ruff Libner (Trav.didje.)

I got hold of a brand new Mercedes bus with a driver wearing the uniform of a flight captain and enjoyed the comfortable ride. Refreshingly perfumed towels were passed around and the journey was interrupted for tea breaks. We crossed Anatolia, or rather wild Kurdistan, to which the South of Iran and the North of Syria and Iraq belonged to as well. The landscape and the people were getting wilder, even hostile.

  Travelling didjeridoo

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© by Chris De Bié admin: 17.03.2019