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Always a good idea to spend a sunny and free afternoon in Amsterdam at Brouwerij 't IJ in - www.broewerijhetij.nl - . Long cmmunal tables ensure you will easily get into contact with other guests and fellow beer lovers.
Here with Paul and a mixed Maltanese, swedish couple living in London and their prize, a home brewn six pack.
A quick snapshot of a young visitor to the Anne Frank house today reading from the most famous diary in the world.
06.30
h. in the morning is way too early for most people to wake me up, a
certain nasty remark will almost certainly be my response, but in the
case of Miss Andoo on my cell all the way from that Asian kingdom where I
have been spending most of my winters the last quater of a century and
will soon be again, less than three weeks remainding and still counting
down...
Yeah well, it seems obvious that
in her case nasty remarks about the early hour are hardly the case,
after all I will soon enough wake up with her female extremeties, arms
and legs wrapped around me like the tentacles of some open ocean
octopussy, the way I remember waking up every morning last winter far
away from my beloved Mokum, in that stupid New Star guest house room
that has been my home all these long but highly satisfying and relaxing
months in good old Pattaya, more years as I seem to remember...
Her voice is soft and feminine wanting to remind if I will please,
please, please not forget my appointment at city hall, arrange the paper
for her, get her the invitation letter so she can get the visa, follow
me to Amsterdam rather sooner tha later, wanting to tell me about the
mail she sent me with the pics of her house in Petchabun where we will
stay in mere weeks to come...
I
hurry home on my neighbors donated Raleigh Velo, my old battered Indian
Games suitcase as always having found it comfortable place on the back
luggage rack, way to early but I can't give in to the temptation of my
old acrylic stained brushes, no way I can resist the call to freak
around with my jars of paint and create more faces from my personal
dream world...
Third world undereducated and impoverished
creatures of the night life the world over sceaming to get out of my
Mbungo head, or was it my Farang gray brain cells, maybe a result of my
Gringo existence in Central America...
Female faces belonging
to an army of the sisterhood of man pleasing money hungry females...or
maybe just poor creatures with no other choice in life but selling their
young nubile bodies...
I want to paint them in my house here
in good old Mokum and forget the Anne Frank House for a while. It
represents, aftyer all, just another sad story of a young female
