Of the gladdest moments in human life, methinks, is the departure upon a distant journey into unknown lands. Shaking off with one mighty effort the fetters of Habit, the leaden weight of Routine, the cloak of many Cares and the slavery of Civilization, man feels once more happy. Richard Francis Burton

Wonderland? Why, yes I have been there. It is off the coast of Never-land. A sort of between Oz and Kathmandu. However, on the Chinese side. Not the Nepal side of the Tibetan hiding place of the garden of paradise near the ocean. Few people realize that in England. The reader with the assumption that Alice was English. That small portals or wrap hole or rabbit holes lead to the tunnels that crisscross Europe leading to all sorts of places in the world and elsewhere. Any ways, Charles Lutwidge Dodgson talk with great-great Uncle Richard Francis Burton lead to his rather oddity book. About a place that great Uncle Burton talked about during the night tea. Uncle Burton talked about how he and a madman. That made hats for a living. Once fell through a hole following a historical piece stolen by what only he could describe was a fast moving bunny rabbit which he never caught. The hat maker in one of Uncle Burton’s many tales. Was given the name of Gregor MacGregor after a discussion that he never was sure his real name but that he was a hat maker was for sure. The title unofficial or not was part of the real tale told by Uncle Burton when he would take a shot of whiskey. There was this map. Which was the special historical piece which was stolen? The map that could take people cross time, space, and supposedly worlds. The mad hatter MacGregor had stumbled upon this map during his conquest of the republic of Poyais. Just where had the map come from? Who knows? However uncle Burton told how titling MacGregor at times pirate or cacique of Poyais. Had at one time pirated a Spanish ship that had treasures coming from Europe to Venezuela. At times one had to ask uncle Burton was he sure that the ship was not coming from South America to Europe. Or why would Spain send treasure to South America? Whiskey at times tell tales and you have to verify and wonder about them. No. Uncle Burton was sure that MacGregor had said the ship was bound to Panama City. A catholic cardinal or some high official carrying books, maps, and to a pirate very little useful spoils to be spent. Anyway where was I? Oh, yes. The dream. Or was this the dream? Dreaming is awful sorrowful these days. Watching the end of time. The wheel has spun out of control and watching time spin backwards billions of years people forget. Pray for peace. Anyway a twinkle in my eye I am not there any more. Humor a map. Yes yes that was where this story was supposed to go. AH, yes. After some wine. Let me see. Getting back to the map of the universe, Wonderland, Sir Barton, Pirate known as MacGregor, and well the rabbit that stole the map of the universe. Where was I? ah, yes. Uncle Burton or Sir Barton the man was everywhere in 1800s he lived a charmed life. He and Mr. MacGregor meet off the coast of India. General Pirate MacGregor had the map with him and was on an expedition to Nepal. The idea of gaining more investors for his territory in Venezuela required that he have something special. The map indicated a gold statue which MacGregor had promised one of his investors. Sir Burton was not Sir at this time. He was a young man in I believe he said he was it the 15th or 18th Bombay Native Infantry based in Gujarat and under the command of General Charles James Napie. Anyway Uncle Burton was one of the few learned white men that was interested in languages and learned oh gosh lots according to Uncle Burton.

I think a short list was a proficient speaker of Hindustani, Gujarati, Punjabi, Sindhi, Saraiki and Marathi as well as Persian and Arabic. Anyway, Mr. MacGregor arrived in India aboard a steamship and was lost looking for someone to help with languages in Bombay. The two meet er per Uncle Burton at a brothel. At this time, Mr. MacGregor was calling himself Cazique of Poyais. In layman’s term, a chief of a South American country to which he was selling land, and other items to any would be an investor. The two meet over a woman. She introduced Uncle Burton to Cazique of Poyais in English. Because she had listened to Mr. MacGregor tale and thought that Uncle Burton could help. Any ways Mr.MacGregor vice general of the Venezuela army over a drink told this story. He was in a battle with some locals in Caracas. A cannon ball had bounced and hit right under him while he was reviewing an old map he had liberated as a pirate from a priest or cardinal. The cannon ball had exploded, and when he had awoke, he was in Bombay of all places. He had served her Majesty for a few years and recognized the city from stories he heard during service. Well, he had folded up his map and found that he had some loose coins. Stumbling into a local house of ill repute, he had meet the lady which had introduced the Uncle Burton. In short order, the two had made plans to follow the map. That changed daily to a shrine where Oro in Spanish was spelled out on mountain claiming to border India and China. The weird part was that the map would change at times. And the outline of England with territories named Oz, Never-land and other lands unknown in the 1840s were shown. Anyway, Uncle Burton, Division general MacGregor outfitted a small team to remove said statue of gold for financial gains. The team comprised two others, a mule, and supplies. They set out in 1945 or 1956 depending on which reality you would count the years in. They crossed the mountain range. One night while sleeping near a lake. Some bodies as Uncle Burton would described them snatched one of the two mule handlers. His description that one moment the guy was carrying firewood back to the fire. The next a hooping dead person or as the Chinese people later would call a vampire hopped out of the lake and grabbed the guy. The other three attempted to get their companion back fighting the bodies. Uncle Burton eyes would stop for a moment. In disbelief he would say that the flesh of the skulls came off most of the bodies. They tried however their mule handler had his throat ripped out and bleed to death. He shook his head. The bodies just ate their mule handler. And slurped up his blood where ever it fell on the ground. With slurping sounds that memories made Uncle Burton shiver just recollecting the happening.