Sunday, December 28, 2008

Cracks in Fort Europe.


With the worsening of this so-called world wide Credit Crisis it seems to me that Fort Europe is starting to show signs of decay, cracks in the walls of an economic power house, politicians desperately running after the facts while the financial world around them is falling on its fat asses, the automobile industry getting thick layers of dark brown rust.

Economic predictions getting readjusted at least once a week with the situation looking more glum with each passing day.

Not that that stops those that are quite familiar with poverty and economic hardship. For those down in the cradle of the human species, dark skinned flat nosed and impoverished africans so desperate for a better life they are willing to risk life and limps to try the dangerous sea crossing to Lampedusa - an italian meditereanan isola closer to Libia then Italy - in leaky wooden ships that are rotting away under their black african feet.

If they make it and don`t drawn in the process, don`t end up in concentration camps waiting for deportation, they might have too sell small handicrafts in southern italian cities to passers-by or else work in the acriculture for a few meagre euros a day, sleeping in old empty factories on cold concrete floors in their hunderts.

No medical health care for those, no sanitary conditions or running water.

Those that are lucky might end up in north italian cities selling their athletic male bodies to sex hungry fat german and scandinavian women that know exactly where to find them - the mouth to mouth info service goes a long way here I guess - often driving for several days through EUROPE to reach these cities in expensive cars that are supported by huge alimonies. Their slips wed in anticipation of well hung african males.

Dark african beauties the victims of international gangs always on the look out for new female flesh to fill european brothels. By the time these poor creatures are worn-out and ragged looking they will continue their sex trade in the filthy alleys of cities all over the continent giving up their once nubile and beautiful bodies to fat and drunk europeans, looking for customers in dark bars with a bad reputation.

With the cracks appearing in Fort Europe one might ask the question what will happen to those, those that live at the lowest levels of our society, those that have families to support back home, those that have risked everything to attain a better economic life, those that came to our economic power house harbouring dreams full of hope and ended up in a miserable excistence.

For them returning home is not an option.

Tuesday, December 23, 2008

Interesting street stories in exchange for a few free beers.


I take my free coffee to drink it outside despite the cold. There are just too many people inside the Schakel, too many smells, odours, and sounds that come with ths sort of visitors a place like the Schakel attracts. It`s after all a homeless centre.

People sit at tables coats covering their heads, bend forward on their chairs, sometimes swept all over the table trying to nap a bit after a night of being on the move.

You can`t sleep outside in Amsterdam. Cops on motorbike will keep sending you around, they find you asleep on a park bench and a fine will come your way. They don`t need your name any more, they know it by heart, dozens of tickets have been written out by these leather clad motorbike cops, they know their customers.

Sitting outside on the steps of the Schakel in the biting cold, my hands clasped tightly around my free cup of hot coffee, I can only feel happy this sort of stressfull life hasn`t come my way as yet. Only 19 years left untill my pension, I should be able to sit that out.

A few days ago Rob came over to say goodbey informing me he`ll spend X-mas and the New Year`s celebration with his folks in the south. Good for him!!! Needless to say that that Little Shit Richard was with him as well hoping for a fee beer.
Now the free Spaarndammer street bar might have officially closed down but occasionally is sort of ajar for Rob only, and because of the upcoming festivities I decided to let Richard in as well and let them have a free beer, right out of my frigo so cold to the touch.

Poor Ali having been jonased out of Harry`s house, thrown down the stairs, bottles of beer and an old bicycle dragged down to the street for possible selling while stupid coke smoker Harry was comatose on his bed due to a whole river of stale beer, tabacco, joints and basing coke.

He`ll be in for a nice surprise by the time he wakes up. His tabacco gone, no more Mary Jane, a bike that no doubt belongs to one of his many street contacts, one of his drinking buddies or else coke smoking pals dragged down the stairs and sold on the spot for 10 Euro to a passer-by, stale beer left in half empty cans or bottles having gone down Rob`s and Richard`s thirsty alcoholic throats.

Interesting street stories in exchange for a few free beers.

Wednesday, December 17, 2008

Living among the Bratwurst people

A stray puma was regularly sighted in a forested area in the south of Holland - needless to say nobody had an illegal puma "house" cat to report to the authorities - eventually some old lady phoned the newspapers informing them of a bit big stray cat she fed milk too in her garden each morning - her eye sight was rumoured to be bad.
When a reporter and photographer showed up the next morning....well, I`m sure you get the idea.
The puma wasn`t heard off for two years, he/she moved across the border, to Germany to live among the BRATWURST people. after two years of living in Germany he/she returned to Holland and made the Hoge Veluwe - a forest reserve in the Netherlands - his/her private hunting ground being regularly spotted by humans, photos in the newspapers and even a few specials on national TV, attracting lots of human visitors to what he/she considered his/her private territory, got on his/her nerves.
Rumour has it that our Puma friend has returned to the land of the Sauerkraut and Bratwurst people.

Sunday, December 14, 2008

Back in the arms of Pillipino Hunting Girls


It`s pitch dark, no moon to be seen tonight, the only light in this black world is that of our motorbike`s front illumination that for only short moments light up the shapes of trees and bushes at the sides of the road.

Up and down hills we go at high speed and the dust of the unpaved road we`re on invades my nose, not that I have the time or posibilty to do something about it. I`m the passenger here holding on the this crazy Hunting Girl as for dear life. We are on the way to her house and she seems in a great hurry to get me there.

This paticular lady has been after me for most of my stay in Puerto Gallero. I met her in every bar of this Phillipine coastal beach village which is totally dedicated to the tourist industry.
Bars full with hot looking Hunting Girls and fat bellied horny western males that fuck young good looking Phillipine women for a few meagre bucks.

Hunting Girls they call themselves and "yes, sir, I`m available", "me Hunting Girl, sir".

This lady that I`m now holding on to for dear life while she is racing us to her house - God knows where that might be, we`ve been riding like this for what seems hours.
Where she got the money from to buy this Yamaha 500 cc Off The Road race monster...I`ve no idea, maybe she has got a Sugar Daddy somewhere in Europe.

Tonight though her slip must be soaking wed considering the haste she has got to get me to her bed...

We reach a small hamlet where a few lost street lights show me half a dozen wooden houses, a couple of sleepy stray dogs lie around in the garbage strewn street, a couple of Phillipino males dressed in lungies and gray T-shirts that must have been white in some long forgotten past, sit on balcony playing cards, their excited voices reach my ears while Miss Hunting Girl slows down in front of one of the houses.
Two dirty and rough looking kids play outside the house despite the late hour.

Miss Hunting Girl starts talking to them in a language I do not understand - probably
Tagalog, the main language in the heck of the woods - Thean she switches to english asking the kids why they are outside, why are they not inside the house waiting for her.

Obviously these are her kids. Does she want to fornicate with me while these kids are in the next room waiting for mummie to finish off this crazy half drunk male tourist from the affluent west, getting 500 peso in exchange for sexual services rendered so she can buy food for them?
Wouldn`t surprise me, stranger things have happened to me during my mad backpack years on the international road, checking out local bordellos and prostitution scenes in dubious neighborhoods of big cities and small villages alike.

This really is too much.....I wanna return to Puerto Gallero but before I can tell her so, the world around me starts to dissolve, everything that was only moments before so real is becoming a simmering memory that disappaers from my mind and even before opening my eyes I realise I was once again in Morpheus dream world reliving the past as has happened so many times before.

I slowly try to sit up straight in my bed, my erection is so hard and strong it is painfull, I can feel the blood in my male member pulsing, vibrating in anticipation.
I presume having one of these notoriously horny Pillipino Hunting Girls in my bed now would take care of the problem......

The illuminated green numbers on my mobile phone`s screen tell me it is 3.00 o`clock in the morning, a good time to go to one of these tourists bars down town.

Maybe a few drinks will calm me down.


Thursday, December 11, 2008

An unknown lady

I wait patiently in the queue of the Albert Heyn supermarket trying hard to ignore the old lady behing me who is doing a bad job of pushing her rollator in my *ss.
I`m inside my head, Thailand is really close now, Mag is close now and off course my two kids, Joy and Jay......D*rned rollator again taking me out of this sweet dream. I`m about to turn around and give this old lady a few words on controlling rollators when I see her.....the lady in front of me..."don`t you just hate that, bored old people pushing rusty rollators up your ***?"
Before I can answer it is her turn to pay and get her shopping off the assembly line.
She is gone by the time I have paid and got my stuff together, but I have her face in my mind`s eye....a good face and perfect for a painting.
Here is the result...hope you like it.


Acrylic on cardboard.

Sunday, December 7, 2008

King Bhumipol

With all the blockades, the banners, public political speeches, occupation of both airports Don Muang and Suvarnbhumi, one can only wonder what is happening in the Land of the Smile, in Thailand?

The PAD, the party that has been resposible for most of the above, seems sympathetic enough. But what do they really want and who are they really?

Now in the eyes of the thais I`m just another stupid farang, just another stupid foreigner, never mind I speak the lingo, never mind I lived there as a mere kid, I`m still a STUPID farang.

Still, I`ll try to explain to you my farang point of view on the present thai dilemma, after all we`re ALL OF US just a bunch of stupid farangs.

The PAD, People`s Alliance for Democracy, is made up mostly of the millitary, the business, the ruling and the intelectual elite of Bangkok, the well educated who have well payed jobs at one of the many foreign companies based in Bangkok, those that look down on the poor uneducated masses from the poor north where people often work 12 long and cruelling hours in the rice paddies under the hot thai sun, where people are as poor as the proverbial church rat - in Thailand`s case we`re speaking of temple rats I presume but I`m sure you get my point.

According to the philosofies of the PAD these people have no voting rights due to the fact they lack the necesary education to vote correctly, in their ignorance they`ll make the wrong choice.

Lets now get to the other side of the the Thai Rak Thai - thais love the thais/Thailand - the party that has been ruling the country and having won three elections since 2001, first under Thaksin Sinawatra who was as corrupt as any other thai politician but stuck true to his promises to improve the lives of the poor masses. He introduced a reasonably good health care systeem for the poor, good and affordable. He started a war on drugs - the poor masses anywhere in the world are plaqued by drugs and alcohol, poor people anywhere looking for a few cherished hours to escape their miserable excistence.

For the inhabitants of power centre Bangkok this was inexcusable, they considered his policies a direct threat to their own survival, direct opposition to thier own position. Therefore their recluctance to voting rights to under-educated farmers.

Still with me? Good, the situation gets even more complicated by the fact that the nation`s fate is in the hands of an old and sickly DemiGod. One word of His Royal Highness, King Bhumipol Adulyadej and the whole situation can be dissolved peacefully. It has shappened in the past.

Bhumipol who had his 81 first birthday last friday, who has ruled Thailand successfully for 62 years, has been ominously silent these last few months.

According to crown prince Vajiralongkorn who has a dubious reputation as a womaniser, drug and alcohol aficionado, his father has been a "littte bit sick " off late.

The fact that His Royal Highness, King Bhumipol is slowly dying is a complete TABOO, not discussed, not talked about. And since we`re not allowed to talk about his demise, forget a serious discussion about the end of His rule, His political inheritance.

His son is not up to the job, too busy chasing beautifull pr*stitutes, drinking cold Shinga beer and Mekhong Whiskey mixed with ice cubes and Coca Cola, maybe a few snorts up the royal nose for good matter.

The cloudy power play the King has been playing for the last 62 years might not always have been good for thai democracy but it did hold the thai nation together.

With His inevitable demise he leaves his country in deep mourning but also He leaves behind a hopelessly devided people.

Remember please, dear Thai Nation, these were merely the words of a Stupid Farang who is presently mauo beyond believe and just raving his stupid head off. So don`t lock me up for sacrilege in Bhangkwa Prison aka Bangkok Hilton, next time I visit your country.

If you are still with me, well thanks for the attention to my raving.

hehehe. LOL


why do garillas have big nostrils?

Gorrilas have big nostrils so they can sniff out all these camara hung white tourists from the rich west, dressed in baggy shorts and color rich shirts.
They have big ears too so they can hear all the OHs and AHs and the countless OH MY GOoooooDs.
Their eye sight is not so good though due mostly to all the camara flash lights. After so many years of getting foreign camaras stuck up their hairy faces poor eye sights has become a genetic defect in the gorilla species.
Hehehehe, LOL.

Saturday, December 6, 2008

The caprecious Lady Fortuna


The moment I walk into the Centrum Bar in the Warmoesstraat, I know the whymsical Lady Fortuna is on my side tonight. Maybe it is Lady Fortuna herself sitting there at the bar sipping from a glass of white wine, high heeled black boots, black net stockings on long well shaped legs, a dark blue blazer and an expensive looking fur coat.

Maybe she was out shopping today in the PC Hoofdstraat, the most expensive shopping street in the whole of Holland, I know they sell fur coats there.

Not that I`m paticularly interested in her fur coat, not at all. My interest in her concerns a whole different topic of conversation.

The place next to her is empty and moving over I realise I better be carefull here, I might very well fall in love tonight, get drawn in by these bright blue eyes that scan me openly and without embarrasment while I smile at her and try to get the bar lady`s attention at the same time.

"Hey lady, fancy a refill?"

Before long we find ourselves a free table and a bit more privacy, away from the busy bar. She wants to know all about Amsterdam. This is her first trip to Europe, soon having to go back to her native Baltimore.
She seems well educated though she tells me next to nada about herself, about her live in Baltimore. She just listens to me, big blue eyes looking straight into mine from under black eye lashes that have been carefully manicured, her long legs crossed, bended forward a bit with her slender fingers of one hand on my knee.
I see a gold ring with a shiny stone in it...a diamont? She really must have shopping in the aforementioned PC Hoodstr.
She obviously comes from a well to do background....not one of these backpack chicks in old blue jeans and oversized T-shirt I normally carry home on the back of my bicycle.

Instead I`ve this contessa sitting on the back of my bike cycling home through the night of Amsterdam, feeling her small hands around my waist, her slender fingers exploring the front of my jeans. My untamable erection hiding under the fabric of my pants seems to amuse her and I can hear her excited giggles in anticipation.

If she is really the caprecious Lady Fortuna, the Godess of Fortune and luck, I better perform well tonight or else....I will be out of favor with her and will have to live a life of poverty from now on, my good luck gone ending up with an eviction from my house, no more quick and easy money, pas de uitkering and now more Thailand trips every year....yeah, I better perform well tonight.

Well, the juicy details I gonna keep to myself but I wake up to the activity of a very worried beautifull lady with raven black hair busily getting dressed.
"Please, please, you phone taxi for me Hans", "I need to get to the airport my plane will leave in only two hours time", I still need to pick up my gear at the hotel".
Nervous female fingers pull at the dark blue blazer pulling it down her body and thereby hiding her sexy red lingerie from my view.
A last kiss and her slender fingers probing my throbbing erction underneath the towel I have wrapped around my hips, and then she is gone hurrying down the steep staircase in my house on her high heels, to her waiting taxi, to pick up her gear and off to the airport.

Sh*t, i don`t even have a telephone number, no address, no e-mail, nothing and nada.

I go back to bed trying to ignore my disappointment, trying even harder to forget about my by now painfull erection, no morning s*x here under warm sheets and in my own bed.

Only when I wake up again do I find her expensive fur coat, left behind in my house.
Maybe I should cycle over to the PC Hoofdstraat later and try to sell it back to the shop where I presume she bought it.

Friday, December 5, 2008

thank you Lady Fortuna


I hear the alarm of my mobile phone desprately trying to get me out of Lord Morpheus arms, the warmth of my bed is irresistable though it would have been even better had there been a warm female body to wake up to.

Still, my social duty, my volunteer job at the animal farm, my twice a week security of my social wellfare is calling out loudly to me in the form of a rooster`s cry.....cocorico, cocorico, cocorico.....from my phone.

D*rned, it`s just the waking up that is difficult, the work is easy and enjoyable enough. Never thought that I would end up as an animal caretaker.

I always thought I would find my ultimate demise somewhere far away, in some god forsaken third world nation, in an impoveriched country where they quite happily slash your throat for a few miserable american green backs. I was sure for many years I would probably find my death at the hands of money hungry thugs who hate my white skin but lover the color of my foreign currency.
Or else die in a traffic accident on a badly mantained road, travelling by local chicken bus, get knocked down by a drunk truck driver while being on one of my cycle trips in Mexico, the States or here in Europe.
Drown in azure blue oceans while scuba diving. Find my absolute oblivion being sick as a lost stray dog that roams the shanty towns of India and nobody cares a rat`s about.
Or else get knifed in my sleep by one of these hunderts of prostitutes I took back to dirty cockroach invested hotel rooms all over the place. A night of pleasure that would cost more as my drunk mind at first suspected. An miserable female human creature intended on more money as I would pay her in exchange for sexual services.

Well, I could go on, rave a bit more but in the end it all comes down to the never did happen though there have been many very narrow escapes...Lady Fortuna was always on my side guiding me through the world`s nastiet bars, helping me to fight off cut-throats and man hating putazos, checking on my health and helping me back from total mental insanity after yet again another period of addiction to mind enhancing goodies, after yet again hanging out with the weirdos and drop-outs of this globe.....STOP RAVING HANS.....I`ve a house and a good income, thank you Lady Fortuna for being on my side.

Now help me once again please when to night I`ll hit the tourist bars again on a sex driven quest for female companionship, some hot chick keen on a night of passion with a local dutch man.
Don`t worry foreign backpack lady, I`ll happily comply.

Thursday, December 4, 2008

Mahatma Ghandi

I did this aquarel last weekend after seeing these dope-up mis guided youngsters shooting Mumbai to smithereens.
The people who poisoned their minds with their evil and twisted ideas, making them to lay down thier lives in a fruitless war taking dozens of innocents with them on the way to their final oblivion while these behind the scene continue their horrible work.
Gandhi probably turned around in his grave last weekend.
Well, actually he got crematewd but I`m sure you get my idea.
Well, I hope you at least like the aquarel photoshopped and all that.

Wednesday, December 3, 2008

this crazy mad man`s destination....

Well over a year now since I had my last joint, was hanging out wqith the members of group of Evil Brothers, sitting in the park drinking cheap can of luke warm beer quarreling over spare change and similar useless alcoholic conversation topics.

Every so often I hear of Kleine Mark or Boone or the Gods know who, has died, been found in his house cold as a frozen christmas turkey smelling the way an several days dead body usually does.

Drinking my usual cup of free coffee in the Schakel, my warm bowl of soup in the Tweede Mijl aka the Tweede Kwijl - and no I`m not gonna translate that, just some homeless centres in my neighborhood - I see new faces every week.
I see new people in the park whiling away a lost life with no purpose or destination.

Lost souls trapped in a miserable life.

Despite a whole life of hanging out with these people, actively searching them out during my long and lonely backpack years across the globe, getting smashing drunk in railway stations and public squares, on park benches and in dark bars with a dubious reputation.....still no answer to my hopeless quest....nothing and nobody out there in the whole wide world giving me a meaning to the where and when....just more sh*t and misunderstandings, more misery and poverty, more stupidity and MORE DRUGS, BOOZE and PILLS, COKE and HEROINE.

I gave up last year deciding to put an end to this crazy mad man`s higher understanding or divine enlightenment....just a man who was once an innocent boy keen on getting beyond the reason of the human race`s excistence....a lonely and lost soul who traveled the world on a mad search and found no nada

Sunday, November 30, 2008

Fankial problems

Sh*t three times in a row. Every time I open a newspaper I`m besieged by stories about the financial crisis roaming the earth like a wild fire.

Even the bloody terrorist attacks on Mumbai or the inevitable bloodshed that is about to happen at Suvarnibhumi New Airport and The old one called Don Muang, when the police will storm them and throw the anti Somchai Wongsawat prostesters out in the street, can not move the credit crisis to page thirteen.

Reading these stories - like I`ve a choice in the matter - I wonder how long the USA can keep going on throwing billions of green backs around as though it were free toilet paper.
Looks like Obama has a serious job ahead of him. Not something to envy him for.

My own problems - what is gonna happen when Suvarnibhumi is still occupied by the time I fly to Krung Thep? - seem tiny in comparison.

Sunday, November 23, 2008

Jogging in the cold of winter.

Outside it is cold and that white and wed stuff called snow is coming down in droves, big white flakes obscuring the view of the garden behind my house.
It`s not that I object to the laws of Mother Nature, or her whims for that matter, the problem is that I`ll haqve to go through this bad weather later for my usual half hour of jogging in Westerpark, I`m determined so no way this sh*tty weather will be an excuse to stick indoors, stay in the warmth of my appartment.
The big red colored gas heater is located right next to my bed, radiating an ever broadening aura of cozy heat, something to think about while I`ll do my jog.

Not that I`ve any serious rights to complain...think about the other creatures of Mother Nature, the birds and mice that need to leave the warmth of their burrows, a warm and cozy place on a bough surrounded by poison ivy that keeps out the way there, these warm blooded animals need food aplenty to keep the internal oven going.
The alternative is not acceptable!!!

Yeah, lets think about these things while I do my jog today, sleet in my face combined with gusts of ice-cold wind, slippery snow on the path underneath my running shoes.
My cold might be gone but my nose is still running, and will so even more during my jog.

Monday, November 17, 2008

Clammy sheets and feverish dreams


I did my social participation thing at the animal farm though I was staggering around the place most of the morning due to my cold and subsequent flu.
Well, at least I got my payback the way my Buddhist believe taught me. Beautiful sofia came over with her cute little dog jopie giving me a great and warm embrace. Too bad about my cold, I had to tell her no kissy kissy stuff here or you will get infected too.

I wake up every ten or twenty minutes or so, my body racked by heavy coughs and covered in clammy sweats, my sheets are soaked with it and ready for the dryer.
All night my short bouts of sleep are tormented by nightmare attacks. The feverish nightmares that can really do your head in
and leave you in a state of bewilderment.
These dreams in my case are always the same. Prostitutes the world over, ladies that I took back to my cheap and dirty hotel rooms for a night of pleasure, women that helped my while away the lonely nights in far away countries. Females that had very little say in the matter coming from poor backgrounds, often as impoverished as church rats. Having kids staying with their own mummies while they go out in the darkness of third world streets in dubious neighborghoods looking for customers, money in exchange for sex. Drunk and smelly men, big beer bellies and macho behaviours. Male violence is no stranger to these poor creatures of the night.
Hunderts of these, if not a couple of thausend shared their bodies with me in far away countries where there is no social wellfare system.
Each and every one I remember vividly. How could I not? They inhabit my dreams, screaming at me with distorted faces and worn-out bodies, their mental health gone down the drain with every passing customer. They are trapped now, need to keep working in order to pay for the expensive medicines that countless STDs and Hiv require. Addicted to booze and drugs that need even more cash......I wake up once more wrapped in sheets soaked with my bodily fluids, my body trembling with fever, feeling cold and hot at the same time, I get out of bed deeply disturbed staggering to the fridge for an ice-cold beer, the darkness of my house surrounding me.

Saturday, November 15, 2008

Het Geuzenbos


"I go out for a ride, need some fresh air", I tell Kyung when I see her im my street waiting in the ATM queue.
I actually really do after last night`s little party downtown, I didn`t get home untill well after seven in the morning half drunk on Red Wine and dead tired.

It takes just ten min. of cycling direction Ruigoord and I`m in the middle of nowhere, a small cycle lane with wild vegetation on both sides, coots and ducks in the canal, wind in my face and a huge bird of prey gliding on enormous wings overhead.
I`m snottering like hell, the occasional sneeze with big drops of snot flying out of my nose - good thing I wear a raincoat. This is a serious cold I`m having, a little gift from Hannes, my upstairs neighbors` little baby boy, from last week when I was up there playing with him.
I might not be much of a father to my own kids but I really adore their little son, most likely because he is not my own, no respopnsiblity there.
These thought are racing through my head when I reach the turn-off to Ruigoort. I notice a sign and an animal grille - a sort of contraption that spans the road and stops cattle from crossing from one field into the next.
The sign tells me this is the Geuzenbos, a forest completely given over to nature with stray horses and scottish herefort cows.
This could actually be fun, I lock my bike, cross the grille and enter a complete wilderness, muddy trails go up and down small hills covered with low bushes and trees.
The presence of huge lifeforms are evident by big heaps of cow and horse manure, the sort of animal shit I`ve been involved with at the animal farm for children where I do my volunteer job.
I`m real careful here, don`t fancy the idea of running into a stray horse or wild and mad bull trying to protect his little family on his own turf, his very own territory.
I`m extremely excited at the same time...then through the branches of trees and bushes I see a massive red haired bull, his horns are set apart with a huge distance between them looking real ominous, his nose is running with snot just like my own.
Hisa is sniffing the air suspiciously for my presence, his eye sight is probably not very good.
I remember the warning on the sign at the entrance...keep at least 25 m. between yourself and the animals...but I know an even better precausion...make a hasty retreat, yeah, sounds pretty good to me.
Cycling back to Amsterdam I feel real good despite my snotty nose. Such a nice place and even within cycle distance of my house in busy and crowdy Amsterdam. I`ll surely return.

Thursday, November 13, 2008



The new main library in Amsterdam, located near the main railway station is huge and offers free internet access. Now I might have my own internet at home, still it makes a great break during my daily cycle tours through the city, check my e-mail, some of the sites I visit, that sort of thing.
My daily cycle trips, the fresh air I breath while my legs do their usual job on the bike`s pedals, deftly avoiding racing cars and careless tourists that cross the busy roads often deep in conversation and burdened under bulky backpacks.
Despite the normal cold I always seem to catch at this time of year, I feel quite happy with life. I live in a big house, have plenty money with a good income though I only work at the animal farm for children two mornings a week, The Mary-Jane addictions that have plaqued my life, my very excistence, ever since returning from India thirteen years ago. It has been well over a year I believe since I smoked my last joint.
Even the weird and stangely disturbing dreams that always leaves me covered in clammy sweat when I wake up, leave me dead tired, about ready to drop down for the rest of the day, have mostly vanished.
The "Brotherhood of Evil Friends"....well, I see them occasionally when I go on my daily jogging rounds in the park, from a distance that is, big groups of rowdy drunks that seem to have nada to do all day but knock down cheap Albert Heyn Supermarket beer, smoked overpriced joints and tabacco, quarrel over spare change.
I see them in my street sometimes staggering along drunk as skunks, their clothes ragged and smelly.
Have I ever really been there with them....not even all that long ago actually.

Monday, November 3, 2008


If Buddha Had Known What He Was Talking About

If Buddha had been truly enlightened, he would not have told people that this world is full of sorrow and called it an evil that they should try to escape from.
He would have seen the meaning of sorrow, the wisdom that sorrow brings and told people to face it head on.

If Buddha had been truly enlightened, he would have understood the meaning of each stage in our lives including old age and death.
He would have seen that the progressive weakening of the mind and body is as instructive to the soul as the climb toward maturity.

If Buddha had been truly enlightened, he would have seen that sickness and pain help us focus on what makes us spiritually healthy.

If Buddha had been truly enlightened, he would not have told people to walk away from life, but to wade through it.

But I know how painful it is to confront each weakness. I, too, fear old age, infirmity, and the seemingly unending sorrow in the world.

If I could wipe it all away today, I would, but that would mean that everything everyone has suffered to this moment was meaningless.

So what is the purpose of my life?
What does a better world mean?
How will people continue to learn in the new world?

What does it all mean?

Bird Poop

I wake up early due to the rowdy sounds of the starling clan that has taken up permanent residence in the trees of the inner garden behind my house. I was sure they would migrate soon enough to their wintering place somewhere in south Engeland, apperently they`ve decided that the pickings, the human garbage of a city like Amsterdam, are more than abundant enough to sustain them through the winter. Why bother to fly over a fast expanse of sea to a cold and rainy England when the pickings can be just as good right here in their summer city where the streets are full with left over greasy patatas fritas and garbage bags clawed open by stray cats?

In the beginning, just a few weeks ago I actually quite liked this show of city bird life, wellcoming their noicy appaerance each late afternoon just before nightfall, their flying antics in flocks of huge numbers before settling down for the night in their sleeping trees.

However, by now the enormous quantities of starling bird poop under these slepping trees has started to produce a horrible stink, I`ve to keep my windows closed if I wanna keep this shitty smell out.

Saturday, October 25, 2008

Sweat Dream

AI wake up to the screams of the starling clan that has taken up residence in the garden behind my house. They are preparing for their yearly migration to England leaving Amsterdam to their brethren from Poland.
I`m not yet fully awake, as a matter of fact I`m still in the realm of the dream world. In my dream I`m back in Thailand, about to wake up in a shitty little room of a dirt cheap hostel located in Khao Sarn Road, the busy tourist district of Bangkok.
Even with the fan on I can sense the oppresive heat of the Thai sun promising me a sweaty day while walking around Bangkok, an activity I love while being here.
The voices of young local women doing the laundry outside in the courtyard, invade my dream. They are discussing the topics of their love life. The main character is a young australian male one of them went out with last night.
This is good practise for my Thai and I wanna stay in bed listening in on their conversation, eavesdropping so to speak, but the starling clan in Holland is way to rowdy and brings me back to my own bed, my own house in Amsterdam.
With a start I`m back and fully awake, the sound of the fan gone, these female voices discussing the male prowess of a young and lucky australian tourist, gone as well, the oppresive heat of a new day in Bangkok, gone too.
My body however, is covered with a thin layer of sweat, the sort of persperation that always covers my body while being in*t, that was one helluva realistic dream...... not the first time though.
Just two more months and this dream will be real again.

msterdam, 25 oktober 2008.

Friday, October 24, 2008


Amsterdam, 24 oktober 2008

The cow in this weird looking contrapcion is called Teuke and she lives and prospers at the animal farm for children in Amsterdam west where I do my volunteer job.
Twqice a year the farrier comes to the farm to give Teuke a pedicure job, cutting off the excesses of her hoofs you know.
You might think that Teuke is in great discomfort here, don`t worry she`s quite used to it. Not getting her hoofs cut every so often would be much more discomfortable to her.

I once asked this farrier what people think about this weird contraption dragging along behind his mini-van driving around Holland from farmer to farmer.
He told me he once got stopped by the police, "don`t worry sir, we do not wish to give you a ticket, just wanna know what is this strange thing behind your van?", "are you a window cleaner or, maybe a carpenter"?

Tuesday, October 21, 2008


Delightfull little names given to me during my backpack trips around the globe:

Ferengi....Malaysia and Indonesia.
Khawaja....pronounced in Egypt as Khawagga, from
the turkish Fat Man.
Msungu...certain african countries. Hong Kong.
Gringo....seems obvious.
Satan Nyora...Devil Snake in Bantu..< I liked that one >
Round-Eyed Foreign Devil...Taiwan < I`ll never return > guessed it, yes Japan.
Orang Puti...Borneo.

If anybody out there in the Internet realm has got any more to add...pls do so.
Hope you enjoy my collection of delightfull little names.

Monday, October 20, 2008


Amsterdam, 20-10-2008.

This being the time of autumn, the time of the year that the dropping of leaves multi-colored leaves makes certain people depressive. Well, not me, in just a few more months I`ll be off to my beloved Thailand, back to the country of the smile.
How many times have I been there.....I`ve lost count but I know I`ve enjoyed every trip I ever made in this fabulous country, even the one so many years ago when I got into serious problems and ended up spending 30 days in a dusty rat and cockroach invested police holding cell.
Even that trip was interesting to say the least.
After a whole summer of selling my games at the Anne Frank House, having saved up enough money to allow myself a SUPER GOOD time, two months in Thailand, I feel happy beyond believe.
There have been no soft drug addictions this summer, no stoned out of my farang mind times in my house being inactive apart from my frequent trips to the neighborhood`s many coffee shop buying hand rolled joints at inflated prices, drinking cheap supermarket beers and watching Blokker DVDs that they sell at dump prices.
Instead i bought myself a good ATB bike and cycle the city each morning visiting the public library and making photos of city sights which I up-load to photosites, a new hoppy.
Publishing my travel stories on the internet, an old hoppy that has become new in its design due to ever increasing interest I get in the world wide web.
Two more months and I`ll be back where I feel at home, Thailand here I come.

Thursday, October 9, 2008


Haaaa, you should know all the sh*t that has hit the fan here in Holland, banks being nationalised, dutch savers who have lost 1.800.000.000 Euros because of ICESAVE, an islandic bank that went bankrupt only yesterday, insurance and credit companies going downhill fast and people taking their savings out of the banks en masse.
Just mere months ago gouvernment members were falling over each other`s feet screaming their political heads off "all is save, nothing to worry about, the creditr crises is in the States, far away" and more of the same.
Good thing I have no savings to speak off, too bad for all these people losing their life`s savings though, because of stupid bankers thinking more about their own benefits than of those whose money was fattening their bellies.
And were are they now? Most likely...lying on a tropical beach cold beer in hand and a tropical beauty at their side, enjoying their "well deserved" bonuses.
Sorry for the harsh words ladies and gentlemen, just needed to let off some fustrations.

Monday, October 6, 2008

In memory

In september 2007 Bone, born Mark Lawrence David Scott, 13-02-1963 - 18-09-2007, living in the Spaarndammer street neighborhood.
His Mother would have loved to come over from England for his funeral but was prevented from such by bad health.
But she would like to thank all his friends for their love and support during those sad times.
In memory of her beloved son she send us this poem,

Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there, I do not sleep
I am a thausand winds that blow
I am the softly falling snow
I am the gentle showers of rain
I am the fields of ripening grain
I am the morning hush
I am the grateful rush
Of beautiful birds in circling flight
I am the starshine of the night
I am in the flowers that bloom
I am in the quiet room
I am in the birds that sing
I am in each loving thing
Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there - I do not die

On a personal note....I was with him and Rob in the park chatting about life and having a few beers just ten hours before he fell into a canal and drowned drunk as a skunk, not an unusual occurence in Amsterdam.
Rest in peace dear friend,
Always, Hans

Sunday, September 28, 2008

Dole money

In Holland there used to be a time when you reported to the Work Office for a job, they would ask you....

Are you here because you really want a job or are you here because the Social Wellfare send you here?
If you`re here because you want a job, we`ll do our best to give you a nice job.
If you`re here because you wanna get on the dole, we`ll inform the Social Wellfare people you were here and don`t bother you anymore.

The latter group now spends its time in the park drinking an endless supply of cheap supermarket beer, wearing ragged clothes, never having accomplished anything in life and suffering of bad health.
indebted to the bank, behind with the rent, a queue of bailiffs in front of the door and neighbors constantly phoning the police with complaints.

Thursday, September 25, 2008

This is Sesca, short for Francesca, one of my very best friends here in Amsterdam.
You see her here selling her handmade jewelry at the Leidsplein, the Square of Leiden, and you can find her here nearly every evening during the summer.
Sesca, thanks for 26 years of close friendship, all the modelling you did for me and all the laughs we shared, I hope there will be another 26 years of FUN in it for us.

Tuesday, September 23, 2008


In the days I grew up you only had catholics and protestants.
That was the way the world was and wasn`t talked about.
You didn`t talk to the protestants, and especially not to non-believers.

Sunday, September 21, 2008


My grand mother married a farmer`s son when she was 17 getting her first child when she was 18. she lived in a smal little community in the deep south of catholic Holland. Life was harsh in these times with the power of the church more influencial as the far away government in The Hague. Three months after her delivery the local priest would come over to the farm on his rusty old bicycle, dressed in his long black smock. He would ask her husband how come the wife was pregnant yet again. By the time she was in her early forties she had produced 19 children, looked haggard and twenty years beyond her real age.

Saturday, September 20, 2008

Real Fear

My grand dad was a robust man with pitch black hair who in his early forties had fathered 19 children and was rumoured to have the strengh to knock down a horse with a single punch.
One dark night at the end of world war two he cycled home on his old crappy bicycle from Eindhoven to his farm near Valkenswaard when the allied planes came over to bomb the Phillips factories that the nazies had turned into ammunitions producers, with bombs exploding all around him he dove into a ditch where he stayed untill the first rays of sun.
When he got home and looked into a mirror he saw a ravaged old man`s face and his raven black hair had turned completely gray.
It was the night he learned the meaning of Real Fear.

Wednesday, September 17, 2008

Every friday night was payday for my dad and his brothers, cash in the hand as was usual in that time, in the bar in the main square of the village where their boss had a financial interest.
They would come home late at night drunk as skunks. It were the nights my MUM would be submited to really heavy physical violence while grand MA would sit in the back room quietly pretending not to notice.
Me and my brothers would be upstairs in bed pulling our pillows over our heads trying not to hear.


That feels like a painful memory... and I'm sorry. I can relate to the abuse of alcohol. I practice living in the NOW and realizing that the past is over. I'm free. Take good care. :) By Saharis, an Eyefetch friend and female

By Wannabe, also an Eyefetch friend
I was in the same boat guys.
Sandi is right it is over & for our own good we must move on.

AudreyHarwick, as well from Eyefetch,It doesn't have to be physical to hurt, I can remember pleanty of paydays my dad would forget to come home and to put something on the table. I am the oldest of nine so there were a lot of mouths to feed. I got tired of the crap and told him to leave when I was 14. It was hard on my little brothers but it was better than having my dad undermine the effort my mother made to keep us housed and fed.

It is one of the big reasons why I have always had a job and never depended on a man to "Keep Me". That doesn't mean I haven't had my fair share of men, it just means I have them for whats really important Love.

Tuesday, July 22, 2008

Tilting over

Amsterdam is built on march land which is clearly visble in this photo with the houses on both sides of the little ally literally sinking into the ground, tilting over like the tower of Pisa in Italy.

Tuesday, July 15, 2008


Aaron is the boss` dog, the petting zoo dog, the dog of the animal farm for children here in Amsterdam West where I do my vcolunteer job.
When I arrive early afternoon for a coffee and a chat with Kyung, I find poor Aaron outside and locked up while the rain comes down in droves, not that Kyung has much of a say in thew matter or a choise for that case.
Aaron might be a nice dog but he hates children being a petting zoo dog or not.
He does look very sad in this photo though, probably due to the rain, almost makes you wonder how long he`ll be in for.

Thursday, July 10, 2008

A Metal Moon

In de nacht, terwijl de maan metalig
Brandend aan de schuine daken likt,

Krijg ik uit een venster dat toevallig
Openstaat een klap, een zoete schrik

Van muziek, ik voel mijn ziel omgeven
Door de koude van een groot geluk;

Ik wil vliegen, iemand heeft de nevel
Voor de maan veblindend weggerukt;

Handen uit de zakken nu, naar boven,
En gespreid, ik sidder en ik vlieg,

Maar dan hoor ik geluiden doven
En een hand klopt zachtjes op mijn rug:

`Vliegen is verboden`, zegt vol ijver
Een passant, `was dat U soms ontgaan?`

Met mijn kroon van maanstof op, verstijvend,
kijk ik naar het stilgevallen raam.

Monday, July 7, 2008


Two of the many dolls I bought for lovely Charlotte, my daughter.

Saturday, July 5, 2008


We are both called Hans and we both have been selling our craft at the world famous Anne Frank House in Amsterdam for well over 20 years. He his paintings and me my Mandala games. This bloke loves to pose and had his photo taken by literally thousands upon thousands of foreign tourists. As a real Amsterdam street person he definetly deserves a place in this gallery called "My Amsterdam".

Friday, July 4, 2008


At the end of my street here in Amsterdam is the river called `T IJ. many house boats over there and very picturesque.
Here is a part I paticularly like, a boardwalk with house boats moored on both sides.

Monday, June 30, 2008


Leo has been living on his house boat - no running water, no electricity - for over 18 years, alcohol problems and drug addictions have ruled and destroyed his live.
Problems a-plenty with the Amsterdam autorities made a mess out of his mental health.
I visited him today, his house boat is just down the road from where I live, and made this photo.

Thursday, June 26, 2008


one of these alcoholic tomcats from the park came over to my house today carying a bag full of videos and DVDs - did he find them in today`s rubbish? - hoping i would give him some change for his treasured half liter cans of cheap supermarket beer.
I have a quick peek, it contains every subject imagenable in the human species, from love and romance movies to war films, porn and sex, Evita from Madonna, detectives and police movies as well as .....well I`m sure you get the point.
This is entertainment to most people but to my alcoholic friend Rob it is merely a way to get HIS entertainment in live, his beer.
my way to relax is my artwork hence the combination in this photo.
p.s. hope that some of the titles of the DVDs do not shock you.

Wednesday, June 25, 2008


Amsterdam, 25 june 2008,
Tired and completely stressed out I return home from my volunteer job at the animal farm for children, my social participation "thing" I do here in Amsterdam, free of charge, no pay but plenty of cure.
It was a busy day with well over 150 children running around the place, climbing on top of the roof, letting the sheep into the field with the ponies that quite happily chased them around.
These kids are no supposed to do all this but their keepers don`t seem to mind, I`m in charge, I open , I have the keys......well I`m sure you get the idea...a stressed out day indeed....
When I return home I buy a bottle of Red Wine
Maybe two and do that what always relaxes is the result. Hope you enjoy.

Monday, June 23, 2008


we have 14 little baby chicken at the animal farm for children where I do my volunteer job.
cute and lovely but ìt will be my job to clean their cage every week.

Saturday, June 21, 2008


I call this Blue Heron Jopie and always share my lunch with him when I sell my Mandalas in front of the Anne Frank House in Amsterdam.
I`m the only one who can photograph him...he has a habit of swapping camaras out of tourist hands who come to close. He also likes to punch tourist legs coming within the reach of his huge beak.

Monday, June 2, 2008

Goodbey to the Gang of Evil Brothers.

Amsterdam, 02-06-2008. It`s early morning and my alarm clock wakes me up from my alcohol induced slumber, beer, Red Wine and pisang ambon did me in last night but at least it made me sleep, ready for the new day.
I`ve promised Magriet I`ll do two hours at the animal farm, today is the day they wanna clean the whole place, hard and heavy work is ahead of me but, luckily only for two hours.
Despite the tension and stress of both Magriet and Kyung, they always seem to have to take it out on the us, the volunteers, I survive the two hours of "Social Paticipation" and hurry back home to pick up my things and off to the Anne Frank House to sell my games.

Things are good for me today, I sell well and meet quite a few nice ladies.
These days everything seems to go well, my running in the park, my little one man Mandala business, my health, the things I do on the`s just all easy and well

I remember what Summer`s mother said to me while I was holding Summer - her daughter, you know - in my arms, ÿou`re touched by the hand of Lord Buddha, that is why you keep returning to Thailand".
Now that I`ve finally let the "Gang of Evil Brothers" go, and with themn the negativity that comes with it, it seems that things are finally going well.
Let`s wait and see.

Sunday, May 25, 2008


There about 5000 of these rascals living in the Amsterdam city centre and each individual has got his very own old lady that will feed them fish, meat and the like. These "old lady" spots are hot among these birds and fiercely defended.

Saturday, May 24, 2008


We are both called Hans and we `ve both been selling our craft at the Anne Frank House. He his paintings and me my Mandala games. Today
Hans met his dobbelganger, an american tourist and NOT his brother. Hans is the one on the right, do they look alike or what? The american is 12 years younger though.


Hans met his dobbelganger, an american tourist and NOT his brother. Hnas is the one on the left, do they look alike or what? The american is 12 years younger though.

Friday, May 9, 2008


Amsterdam, 09-05-2008. I felt pretty worn out this morning when I woke up, after three days of hard work at the animal farm and rising early in order to get there in time I presume there is no big wonder there. Still I decided to to go to the Anne Frank House and sell games - 22 games sold today, this year I might well do good with these funny little games. Only half awake and feeling the hard work at the animal farm still in my bones I see Rob arriving on his crappy old bike - for reasons that are beyond me he loves that piece of rust - ,he always comes over to the Anne Frank House when I sell my games, a small bag with sandwiches from the Schakel - my lunch bag - and the latest stories from the Gang Of Evil Brothers. No lunch bag today and while he smokes a few sigarettes he tells me he has been feeling way out of sorts, nauseated and sick whenever he drinks a beer - we are talking about somebody who drinks 15 to 20 half liter cans of cheap Albert Hyen supermarket beer a day, has been doing so for the past 15 years at least so small wonder there. Rob is the only one of this group of Westerpark drunks I still have positive social contact with.

Wednesday, May 7, 2008

Hans the Street Seller.

We are both called Hans and we both have been selling our craft at the world famous Anne Frank House in Amsterdam for well over 20 years. He his paintings and me my Mandala games. This bloke loves to pose and had his photo taken by literally thousands upon thousands of foreign tourists. As a real Amsterdam street person he definetly deserves a place in this gallery called "My Amsterdam".

The day before Queensday.

Amsterdam, 29 april 2008.It`s the day before Queensday, the biggest party in Holland, the city is hectic and in an excited anitcipation of The Big Day but the admosphere is good and the weather forecast suburb. The town is slowly turning orange, the dutch royal color.

Monday, March 3, 2008


Never talk about feelings,
if u really don't care
Never hold my hand,
if u're gonna break my heart.
Never look into my eyes,
and all u do is lie.
Never say hello,
if u really mean goodbye
If u really mean forever
Then plz say u'll try
Never say forever
coz forever makes me cry

Thursday, February 14, 2008

Jackeline`s death.

Amsterdam, 10-02-2008. Rob told me this morning about Jackeline, one of these street people that hang around the westerpark neighborhood. Apperently she died of cancer, no big surprise there. She was thin as a yearling tree, always together with Woef the Dog he owned. A friendly bitch that would always patiently wait for her while she was indide the Albert Heyn supermarket buying her booze. I remember that Harry once had sex with her but he laso told me, it was no big success....I also rewmember she used to come over to my house to visit me once she found out about that bottle of Wodka that was living in my kitchen. Every day she would come over to drink a glass of Wodka and then leave again, just to return the next day - with Woef the dog off course - and have another shot of Wodka. Once the bottle was empty, she never returned. I remember her grooved face, like for hunderts of life times of bad life was engraved there....en fin any one way, miss Jackeline - was she from England or from France, she was never really clear aboat the part - is no longer among us and will be dearly missed by Woef the Dog.

Monday, February 4, 2008

Adiction problems, still...

Amsterdam, 04-02-2008. Rob got his bicycle back!!! I saw him last week and he was fuming hell and beyond about Richard The Little Shit who had borrowed his bike and never brought the bloody thing back, reminds me of the cell phone thing I had with that Little Shit some weeks ago....not that I care much...Saw Rob again today and all in a good mood he told me he got his bike back. Richard probably thought "hey Shiva can kick hard but Rob can kick even harder!!!". I had a beer together with Rob in his house and the half smoked sigar on his table just freaked me out, amazing that after having been clean on the smoking department, a simple three quarters smoked butt of a sigar can still do such a strong job on me, can still bring this whole adiiction problem all the way back, can still get me back into this street life of losers, this life of Westerpark drunks, this brotherhood of professional drunks that do nada all day but drink King Alcohol, smoke dope and coke and quarrel all the time over the dough to finance all this crap....just how come I can sit there in that junk house, see that sigar butt on Rob`s table and feel that attraction coming back so strong, almost like it never was away at all....after all the good things I`ve been doing off late, the healthy jogging in the park, my volunteer job at the animal farm, SHIT I even became a member of the public library and have been doing great on the internet with my travel stories on - over 600 hits in a few days and that on such a small site!!! - Well, I managed to leave that sigar butt where it belonged, hAd only one beer, rest and relax a bit in the house and even went jogging once my body had gotten rid of that beer.

Sunday, February 3, 2008

World fame for Peter R. de Vries.

Amsterdam, 03-02-2008. Tonight is the night that dutch crime reporter Peter R. de Vries will get world fame, or at the very least american fame. Just a few short days ago he claimed on public dutch TV to have solved the Nathalee Holoway case, the disappaerance of this aforementioned american young lady during her holiday on the antilian island called Aruba. Joran v. d. Sloot, the suspect of her disappaerance and other player in this little drama has since freaked out and is now in hiding, though the dutch media has already found out where he`s currently staying. Holland is basically a small country with a bit of an overcrowded population problem, sort of difficult to hide in a country like that especially so when the whole population knows your face.

Wednesday, January 16, 2008

Move on from my chaotic past.

Amsterdam, 13-01-2008. New episodes, new sub-cultures, new hoppies. I could think of a few. Photography for one. Something that has obviously been dormant inside my mind, that poor tormented head of mine. That head that has been taking so much phycological beat-up crap from Magic Land and all the shit that visited me after I returned to Amsterdam. Yeah, wreiting is another thing that could keep me going. I have been keeping these scrapbooks for a reason after all....I shouldn`t stay the past, that crazy past, the Alcoholic Years, my Chaotic Life. Rather move on, explore the parts of my mind that are still in working order, not destroyed by these huge quantities of booze, pot and all the rest...

Closure of the Free Spaarnd. str. Bar.

Amsterdam, 10-01-2008. Three days now since I kicked the crap out of that Little Shit, Richard and nobody has been at my door, GOOD!!! If anyone I would have expected Rob. Hear the whole story and have a free beer or two - hopefully more if it is up to him - in the process. Maybe this whole street life episode has come to an end like so many other episodes in my life. Oh, I make myself no elusions, I know they will be at my door when there is no money around. However, the way I see it, the free beer stuff has come to an end, no more sigarillos, no more joints. The Spaarndammerstraat Free Bar has closed down like cafe Zus at the Haarlemmerdijk. Not under renovation with a gran reopening!!! No way, the Free Spaarnd. str. Bar has closed down PERMANENTLY!!! Too bad for the Westerpark Brotherhood of Drunks!!! Too bad indeed.

Saturday, January 12, 2008

Rob`s heavy laugh.

Amsterdam, 08-01-2008. 20 min. past eight before I phoned Kyung this morning to inform her Olivier had not shown up again. no big surprise there!!! I don`t even know who he is though he should have there in my tuesday morning shift for the last 4/5 weeks, never was there, never showed up!!!When I finished my shift - with Kyung and no Olivier - and went over to the Dirk van den Broek supermarket to buy my beloved Vaandel beer I could hear the heavy laugh of Rob and saw the worn out body of Richard in front of the Schakel. No way I was gonna get myself into any more shit after all the crap that happened yesterday....Actually I would feel happy when all this street shit would be over. Maybe it is time for another subject in my life.

Confrontation Day.

Amsterdam, 07-01-2008. The moment I entered the Schakel and saw Old Leo, I knew Richard would be in as well. Honestly speaking I already knew the moment I woke up this morning that today and the Schakel would was Confrontation day and place!!! Off course the Little Shit had his usual amount of kutsmoesjes - stupid excuses in Dutch - again and I wasted no time listening to his crap!!! A few feigned punches to his face were enough to distract him and my right foot found his ribs fast and good kicking him among the chairs while people were still sitting on them. I wasn`t out to hurt him all that hard, just make my point, make him lose face the thai way...Make sure he would get the message not to fuck around with me no more, right there and then while all his street friends were there watching and enjoying the free show, free entertainment....Yeah, my Chaotic Life in Amsterdam.

Sunday, January 6, 2008

More shit with The Little Shit Richard.

Amsterdam, 05-01-2008. Saw that liitle shit again, Richard, in the Albert Heyn supermarket queue. The shitty little bastart still owes me that money for the cell phone. Even though just a mere 15 Euro was a cheap way to get rid of him, no way I`ll let him get away with it - he might even get the idea that I`m scared of him. There will be no end thi story when he gets that idea into his stupid head! - so I confronted him with his debt there and then. No big surprise he came up with more excuses. Fair enough, I`ve a strong idea I`ll have to punch his face again. Has happened before under similar circumstance....

Friday, January 4, 2008

Drying sigarette buts in the microwave.

Amsterdam, 04-01-2008. I had a strong suspicion Rob would be off to his folks in the south of Holland. I mean it`s very unusual not to see him wandering around the neighborhood checking out the parking-automats hoping for some left behind small parking change, looking through the garbage for something or other still worth a few euros to someone, picking up sigarette buts for tabaco - never mind they`re wed by the rain, he`ll dry them in the microwave!!! And yes, I was right. Two days into the new year he rang my bell, a bottle of Red Wine with him as a new year`s gift - he`s the only one of all these street geezers I know who`ll ocassionally bring me a gift, all the other free loaders take and take but you can quite positively forget anything in return. Even when they visit me they never bring beer, joints and/or sigarillos along, they know there is always cold beer in my frigo....That is why Rob is still allowed in my house and the other tomcats have lost the premission to come up my stairs. Anyway, I need somebody to keep me informed of what they`re all up to and Rob is as good a source as anyone of them. He was full about the time he spent with his folks and the week in the north of France where they took him, his time with his mum and twin sister etc etc but I fear he`ll soon be back to his old street life searching the streets for sigarette buts never mind they`re wed by the notorious Amsterdam rain, like I said, he`ll dry them in the microwave.....