Dear friends.

I like to run every morning. These trips across the World have given me the chance of doing it in very special places. I crossed the Golden Gate, I ran in the Namib Desert, in the Grand Canyon, along the Indic Ocean, in the wild forest of Slovenia, in the Jungle of Tanzania, beside the Danub, the Mississipi, the Jordan or the Bosphours… but today I did it on the same way Jesus carried the Cross to the Golgota, on the Via Dolorosa. Yesterday I reached the very heart of the Old City of Jerusalem, Muslim Quarter. As you know, the Holy City is split into four quarters: the Christian, the Armenian, the Jewish and the Muslim. Via Dolorosa from the Getsemany to the Holy Sepulchre is in the Muslim one. I rode the most narrow streets, full of people and stores and had night in a youth hostel. This morning I woke up early as usual, about 6: 30 and at 7 I was running to the Mount of the Olives, from there I ran the Via Dolorosa hearing my steps on the ground and triying to feel his sorrow and pain. I stopped at the Holy Sepulchre door because I was wearing shorts and that suit was not nice to visit the Christ tomb. As I read in a Ortodox Monastery in Syria: decency is wisdom. So I came back to the hostel, had a shower, wore long trousers and took the Little Fat to go there. I almost put her into the Church but the police stopped us at the door. I lighted two candles: one for the whole World and the other one for the people I love.

Then I went to Belen, in the Palestinian Territories. Some people had told me it was impossible to go in with a motorcycle, but in fact no one stopped us till we arrived to Bethelem. There, guys wearing green uniforms and carrying AK 47, Palestinian soldiers of Al Fatah, said the city is closed. They checked my passport and asked why I wanted to go in. “Because there is the Natividad Church and I want to pray” They said it was dangerous, bla, bla, bla. But finally one showed to me his phone. There was he on a bike. Another biker. We are everywhere. They let me go into the city and reached the Jesus Christ birthplace. I went into the Catholic part and asked for confession. One Northamerican priest asked me how long since my last confession. “About 20 years” I said. He surprised and I continued: “But now I feel Jesus loves me and I do not why. I am just a normal guy with a lot of defects, but someone is really taking care of me and I just want to say thanks for all the happiness and the luck I had in life and in my trips. It could not be just by chance. There are angels helping me. I saw them from Johanesburg to Samarkand, from Beirut to San Diego”. He said it was impossible for him to give me absolution but he will give me his blessing. I think it is Ok because 20 years are nothing only in the tango songs.

Keep being good.