Uncle Greg's Treasure: A Novel Full of Riddles and Time Zones

By Cédric H. Roserens

It is Swiss nomadic writer, traveller, web content producer, chocoholic, vexillologist, Strauss and Dvořák aficionado, and avid stargazer Cédric H. Roserens' first novel. 

 

A Wishing Shelf Book Awards 2018 finalist. 

 

An epistolary adventure around the world.

 

Forky's not-that-brilliant banking career is brutally interrupted on the eve of his 40th birthday, to go find a treasure that no bank could store.

• Language: English
• Publisher: CHRoserens Dot Com Slash Pro
• Release date: May 19, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386237372

Cédric H. Roserens

Écrivain-voyageur, nomade numérique, rédacteur web, chocoholique, un brin vexillologue, et observateur attentif de la voûte céleste, CÉDRIC HENRI ROSERENS est né à Martigny (Valais, Suisse) en 1974, un peu trop tard pour être James Cook et explorer les eaux infinies de l'océan Pacifique, un peu trop tôt pour être James Kirk et explorer les espaces infinis de notre Galaxie.

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FOREWORD

The characters and the company names featured in the book are fictitious, even if they are partly inspired by my private and professional experiences. The places are real (aside from the names of the cafés, hotels, etc.). The towns and countries are among those I have had the privilege of discovering during the last 15 years, except for Naples, Puerto Rico, Pago Pago and a few other necessary stopovers.

You will meet many Jeans in my novel. Jean is the French equivalent of John.

The epistolary style is a 21st-century one: letters are e-mails. This explains why some are sent the very same day.

The world I describe in the novel through the eyes of the hero can sound slightly idealized, but this represents my experience as a traveler. Despite a constant tsunami of bad news – not to mention fake news – I feel we live on a planet full of opportunities and of immense beauty, far more hospitable than hostile! May this novel, my first, push you to pack and go explore Mother Earth as much as you can!

The e-mails sent and received by the hero throughout his adventure are the core of the book. No worries if you are lost in the many riddles of the novel, you can find them in the appendix at the end of the book.

I wish you a pleasant reading experience!

The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. Lao-Tzu

PROLOGUE

Geneva, Switzerland. Friday, September 17, 2004. 4:59 p.m.

And 50 seconds.

The countdown starts:

10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, 0!

Beep, beep, beep....

The time clock gets crazy!

Weekend is coming!

The employees of Boquet & Cie are queuing to get out of their office. Jean-Baptiste Fourchette is among them, anxious, checking his clock meticulously. His train is leaving in 19 minutes. He cannot miss it. He has an important meeting tonight in Martigny, 73 kilometers east of Geneva: an apéritif with his best friends!

Boquet & Cie, bankers in Geneva, have been around since the dawn of time. The company employs more than 1,500 local and international workers. Business is very good. When one starts to work at Boquet, as the saying goes, one quits as a retiree!

Boquet & Cie, not to be confused with Bocquet & Scie, carpenters from father to son. Bocquet & Scie have been around since the dawn of time too, but in Russin, a bucolic little village set in the Geneva countryside.

Geneva, on the shore of Lake Geneva (for the locals), on the shore of Lake Léman (for the others). Geneva, more than 200,000 inhabitants. Perhaps more than 500,000, depending on what is included in its periphery. Geneva, center of the world, one amongst many. Center of the world, yes, but only from Monday to Friday, because once the weekend comes, Geneva is given back to the Genevans – as soon as the herd of frontiersmen has gone back to neighboring France, the packs of Vaudois and Valaisans to their provinces. Hardly less spectacular than the great migration of wildebeest in Tanzania, this vast crowd in slow motion paralyzes the city center every Friday in the late afternoon.

If Jean-Baptiste is so eager to flee Geneva, like every weekend, there is another reason: the sun! Yes, the sun is becoming rare from mid-September to mid-May in Geneva. Winter is not far. At the other end of the lake, on the other hand, it is shining! The almost-Mediterranean climate of Valais makes it possible to enjoy a cheese fondue outside on a terrace at least 364 days a year!

Another explanation for Forky's eagerness to join the Motherland: he is going to reach a milestone this weekend!

Forky? That is Jean-Baptiste Fourchette's official nickname. It comes from the fork. Why the fork? Because Fourchette, his last name, means fork in French, his mother tongue.

The Motherland? Valais, of course! Valais, one of Switzerland's 26 provinces, known as cantons. Because yes, Forky is slightly independentist in his spare time. Particularly when FC Sion, the soccer team from the capital city of Valais, reaches the final of the Swiss Soccer Cup.

A milestone? Born on September 18, 1964, Jean-Baptiste Fourchette, 1 meter 87 high, dark-haired, close to slim, is about to become a 40-year-old man! Last night out as a 30-something. That is going to be something! He will go back home early for sure. Early the next morning.

Precise as a Swiss clock, Jean-Baptiste greets his parents at 7:02 p.m. as soon as he arrives at the station, where they met. His generous parents welcome him every time he spends the weekend at their place, about 50 times a year!

What about the two remaining weekends? There is the second weekend of July, traditionally dedicated to camping in the south of France with his workmates. And of course, the company ski weekend, at the end of March, Boquet sur lattes, in Zermatt. Boquet, a bank of traditions and connections, notably with the renowned hotel owner's families of Zermatt. For two days, and one wild night, the company and its employees land en masse at the foot of the Matterhorn to strengthen the ties far away from daily busyness.

There is no need to explain in detail the evening of Jean-Baptiste in Martigny, a well-watered night in spite of the dry weather! As planned, he returned home at sunrise to his parents, a mere five kilometers away from Martigny, in Charrat. By train! The advantage of getting out of the last bar at 6 o'clock in the morning is that there are already trains running, a much cheaper option than a taxi ride!

Charrat, the childhood village of Forky, lies between relatively-unknown-but-nevertheless-magnificent mountains. To the north, the Grand Chavalard (2,899 m). To the south, the Mount Chemin (1,808 m) and the Pierre Avoi (2,473 m), the latter being best observed away from the hillside. Charrat, slightly more than 1,100 inhabitants, a peaceful village between the towns of Sion and Martigny in the Rhone Valley, left bank. The influence of agriculture is obvious, especially on the hillside, which is covered with vineyards and apricot trees. Other fruit trees are to be seen even in its inhabited streets. Charrat comes out of his sleep every two years for the village festival, which sees all the communities of the village gather in one of its neighborhoods in a joyful multicultural and gastronomic hubbub!

The Rhone Valley, a heaven for Forky! A heaven full of vineyards – as far as the eye can see – with its innumerable grape varieties he knows by heart! These grapes will be honored soon at the Foire du Valais, the Valais Fair. An unmissable event for Forky! It is due to open at the end of September in Martigny, 20,000 inhabitants. A town with a Roman heritage, formerly known as Octodurum, and currently known for its Valais Fair, its fine arts museum, and the Bâtiaz Castle. What is yet unknown to Jean-Baptiste is that the end of September will have a completely different meaning for him this year. But let him sleep in peace.

Tena, Napo province, Ecuador. A few months earlier.

– Francesco, do you hear me?

– Si Gregorio, come stai? Tutto bene?

– Yes, tutto bene, grazie! We are leaving tomorrow. First on the río Napo in Ecuador and Peru. Then in Iquitos, we will throw ourselves with the Napo in the Amazon!

– Damn Greg! The Nile and the Yangtze were not enough? Do you really have to go for one more round?

– Yes, Francesco. And you know it's not without risks! And I'm getting older! So, please, don't forget to send the letters early in September if I'm not back in Italy by then. At worst, they may be considered as my last will!

– OK, Greg. Take care of yourself! No way these letters will become your last will; many other rivers are waiting for you!

Charrat, Valais, Switzerland. Saturday, September 18, 2004.

Forky wakes up; it is 2 o'clock in the afternoon. No headache. No hangover. No risk, indeed, as he has been drinking only good wine from Valais! Nevertheless, he followed the advice of a wise Valaisan man and drank three glasses of pure spring water from the Alps just before jumping into bed. The renowned pure spring water from the Alps is renowned for many reasons, notably for its healthy minerals. Another reason, known by few, is that it prevents hangover!

Jean-Baptiste's main task for the afternoon: open the mail. Main task for the evening: enjoy a cheese raclette with his family.

The raclette, or should we say Raclette? It deserves a capital R. Valais' yummiest dish! Valais' contribution to world-class gastronomy! Many other provinces try to imitate it, without success. It is unique. It can only be enjoyed at its best in Valais. No need to argue about that. It is a fact. Period. Forky cannot wait to savor slices of melted cheese from the Alps with his family.

Mail first. Bills mostly. Wishes aplenty. Not every day is one's 40th birthday! He notices one particular letter. The stamp is Italian. The postmark is from Parma.

Ah, Parma! Its holy trilogy: pasta, ham, and cheese! Parma, 200,000 inhabitants, not as illustrious as Venice and Florence in Northern Italy, even if it has more than one ace up its sleeve, among them the Baptistery and its sublime dome's 16 rays, finely decorated with frescoes in six parts, the fifth featuring episodes of the life of John the Baptist... but back to our John the Baptist, aka Jean-Baptiste, and its Parmesan long-lasting memories. When he was a teenager, every year he used to visit his uncle Gregorio and Padre Francesco – the cousin of Gregorio, working as a priest in Parma, whose cellar's richness is unequaled in all Emilia-Romagna region.

One letter from Parma, Forky knows who may have sent it. He opens it straight away, and is stunned! Here is the letter....

Dear Jean-Baptiste,

Forty years old and all your teeth, congratulations!

Fifteen years at Boquet, twenty-five to go and you will be a happy pensioner.

If you have enough energy left.

I know that ending as an anonymous alcoholic in a bank in Geneva has always been your dream since childhood, but if by any chance the idea of a small break, a sabbatical, has ever crossed your mind, if the sacrifice of a few months of your brilliant career as a basic employee does not scare you, then and only then do I have a present for you!

Not a usual present: a treasure hunt!

Yes, you read it right: a treasure hunt!

You are expected for Christmas at Francesco's cellar in Parma. We will give you your first riddles.

Your quest will take about one year.

You know what you have to do.

P.S. If you are not up for the challenge, you are still welcome for Christmas at Francesco's cellar in Parma! A Forky-Forty stamped Jeroboam is waiting for you!

Happy birthday!

Uncle Gregorio

A treasure hunt from Christmas this year? Considering Forky's three months' statutory notice, that does mean resigning before the end of September. And the end of September is near!

It is a difficult decision to make, to say the least. Particularly after 15 fruitful years at Boquet & Cie.

They would not understand it.

They will not understand it.

They do not understand it.

They are not understanding it.

They did not understand it.

Nevertheless, Forky did it! Against all odds. Against all his hierarchy. He did resign for the end of 2004. His last working day will be the Northern Hemisphere's winter solstice, aka December 21, as he has a few days off left. December 21, by a fortuitous coincidence, is the day of the CCD, aka the Christmas Company Dinner. Sacrilege! That usually special and highly expected dinner will be unusually special and unusually highly expected this year!

E-MAIL 1

Sender: Jean-Baptiste Fourchette

Recipient: Marie-Jeanne Dufourlin

Subject: Rules of the game and Happy New Year!

Date: Sunday, January 2, 2005

Location: Parma, Italy

Dear Marie-Jeanne,

As promised during the Christmas Company Dinner (CCD) on December 21, I will send you my weekly report every Sunday evening of 2005! This first report is a little bit more than a week long, though. It extends from Christmas Eve 2004 to January 2, 2005.

Friday, December 24, Christmas Eve. I arrive at Parma's railway station just three days after the CCD. Padre Francesco welcomes me, alone, as we do not have any new news of my uncle Gregorio, who has been exploring the Amazon for more than six months now.

Padre Francesco, in his sixties, no gray hair and a haircut that Elvis Presley would have loved. He is a Catholic priest in Parma and the cousin of my uncle Gregorio. Nickname: Cesco.

Gregorio G. Verna is 62. Therefore, he is in his sixties, too. No gray hair either, he is bald! He is my uncle, and has such a noble profession: adventurer! Nickname: Greg.

We lose no time and go straight to Padre Francesco's den, which is indeed a cellar, directly accessible from the small, discreet, and pretty Chiesa di Santa Lucia, the church he manages. From Abruzzo to Veneto, from Tuscany to Emilia-Romagna, from Sicily to Lombardy, his cellar is an extensive encyclopedia of Italian wine! Grape varieties do abound: Malvasia, Sauvignon, Moscato, Pinot grigio, Pinot nero, Barbera, Merlot, Montepulciano, Nebiolo, Rondinella, Sangiovese, etc. Enough to feel dizzy! A real cavern of Ali Baba, Cesco's cellar! And this perfume of Parma ham, divine enough to convert vegetarians and vegans!

I entrust Francesco with the task of keeping the Jeroboam promised by Uncle Gregorio as a Christmas present, just as long as I carry out my journey. It will be opened precisely in one year when you come back, treasure in hand, for next Christmas! says Francesco. Amen! is my reply.

The time has come for Padre Francesco to explain in detail the rules of the game made by Uncle Gregorio with his modest contribution. Rather than a game, it is looking more like a treasure hunt. The treasure is a puzzle! A puzzle made of 51 pieces. It will be revealed gradually throughout the year 2005. My mission: discover one piece of the puzzle every week, from the beginning of January. The 51 pieces are in 17 different countries. Three pieces per country. On the back of each piece, one letter of the alphabet preceded by the number 1, 2 or 3. The combination of the three letters found in a country, in the order defined by the numbers, will form the three-letter code of the next country – the code being the one used for the Olympic Games. For example: the three pieces that would identify Switzerland as the next destination would have on their backs: 1=S, 2=U, and 3=I. SUI is the three-letter Olympic code for Switzerland. Furthermore, after each country identification, it will be necessary to obtain approval from Padre Francesco by e-mail, so as to avoid moving forward to the wrong country.

And how shall I find these pieces? By solving three three-word riddles, which will lead me to three places per country where I will find them. Everything will go by three!

Francesco will send me three new riddles each time a new country has been correctly identified by the inscriptions on the back of the three pieces of the puzzle found in one country.

The journey should be completed just before Christmas 2005. Indeed, 51 riddles from Monday, January 3 – the first day of the official first week of 2005 – this means that the 51st week will end on the weekend of December 24 and 25.

The first country has not to be identified. It is Italy.

Once the 17th and last country will have unveiled its three pieces of the puzzle, I will have to return to Parma, Italy, to make the quest officially complete.

I am puzzled! Puzzled for a puzzle! The instructions, although perfectly clear, move fuzzily in my mind. Is that a side effect of the Moscato we drank during the explanations? Anyway, the next morning, Christmas Day, Padre Francesco rephrases....

Three riddles per country. Each riddle guides me to a piece of the puzzle. One per week. Once the three pieces of the country are discovered, combine the letters on their backs, in the order specified by the numbers preceding them (1, 2 or 3), then contact Padre Francesco to validate the next destination and receive the next three riddles. Another example: Italy, my first country, could have been revealed to me via the following three inscriptions: 3=A, 1=I, 2=T. I+T+A = ITA, in that case.

Everything is clear in my mind now! As a bonus, I get a beautiful new backpack from Cesco. And an envelope, with the first three riddles inside. Padre Francesco will keep them warm until I return in January.

This gives me a free week to end 2004 in style in Valais. That is, to say goodbye to