Porto
My niece, who is Portuguese, had booked a room for me in a hotel on the Rua Santa Catarina. Sitting in the Majestic Café next door, I was thinking about Santa Catarina, who has pursued me since my birth.
My mother's name is Catarina. My grandmother's name was Catarina too. My first girlfriend was called Katarina; she had fled Bratislava for Rome, where I met her. My second girlfriend was from Rome and her middle name was Catharina. My wife too is called Katarina.
"Excuse me, what is your name?", I asked the woman sitting at the table next to mine.
"Why do you want to know? We're not acquainted!"
"Catarina is a name that runs all the way through the story of my life," I told her, "and just thinking about that, my curiosity won out over my manners."
"Very well, then! But your story will become even stranger. My name is Katelijne and I live on Place Sainte Catherine in the centre of Brussels. I teach Flemish and English here in Porto. I really would suggest that you visit the cathedral of Sainte Catherine in my home town. With your story you simply must go there."
