Back home, hard to believe.

Amsterdam.

I find it hard to believe finding myself back on the stairs outside De Schakel, the homeless centre in my neighborhood, drinking a cup of luke-warm coffee and wondering what in hell's name I'm doing here in this city.

I mean I had such a good time out there at the other side of the world, all the way around the globe in Southeast Asia where the food is tasty, the life good and the weather wonderfully sunny, where I'm the focus of constant attention of local ladies whose smiles are broad and full of promise.

There is no way around it though.....I`m back there where I belong and spend most of my life when not on the move, the place where I have my house and my social participation job at the animal farm for children, the petting zoo in Westerpark, my alcoholic friends - the Brotherhood of Westerpark Drunks - that I had vowed to ignore.

Instead I`m sitting here on these cold stairs sipping luke-warm coffee, cortesy of De Schakel, surrounded by these ragged homeless, the boozers and the druggies whose meagre belongings are often stowed on the back of a rusty bicycle.

Monday morning means garbage collection day so De Schakel is full with crap they found in the street early in the morning and hope to sell to second-hand stores later during the day.

I talk to Rob and Little-Shit-Richard about my trip, I cycle over to the bank to pay the bills that accumulated in the form of a huge pile of official looking envelopes pushed under my door by my neighbors - I`m overdue paying most of them but I don`t care a shit! - , I visit the animal farm to find out about my new hours - "start tomorrow please Hans, everybody is sick", Magriet asks me.

Hard to believe I was still sitting on Pattaya's boulevard just a few days ago giving Moo twenty baht for food and a few Chang beer to my former lovers. Sipping Leo beer while the Hot Mommas were busy "hey you sexy man, me go with you", calling after any passing farang male walking by.