Stowinski National Park, at Lake Dolgie, 08-07-2001. I'm cycling through essentially rural land, sparsely polpulated with tiny hamlets that have a centuries old feel to it where small eateries were filled with hard bare breaking working class farmers quickly finish off tasteless looking food and whose hapless and crude clothes and often dull look in sometimes young but already wrinkled faces due to much time outside on the land, tells me all there's to know about their harsh excistence, about their meagre incomes. I now cycled along the Baltic coast, through a lake area set in [View Full Entry]

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Near Lazy, 07-07-2001. It is still dark when the call of Mother Nature wakes me up explaining to me in her benign way I have to get up to give some spare time to my full bladder. An opaque moon and the last vestiges of alien kingdoms on far away stars pay me tribute while I let my flow go.... Tjee, where do all these weird thoughts come from being alone out here early morning in a dense Polish forest near the Baltic Sea. Might as well try to rekindle my campfire and boil some coffee. After nearly a week of [View Full Entry]

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Inside Wolin National Park, 06-07-2001. My legs look like bloody stumps full with swellings and scratches, little bloody bites and lots of red spots. I have got to give it to them...Polish mozzies aren't anything but persistent...up and down my uncomfortable legs go on the pedals of my bicycle. I'm well on the way now to the Baltic Sea cycling through fields full with crops, the air heavy with the odour of ripe corn ready to be harvested. Small patches of temperate forest that seems to become more prominent the further north I cycle, and temperate forest slowly giving in to [View Full Entry]

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Close to Katy, 05-07-2001. It is close to 04.00 O'clock in the morning before I see divine light, before I see the hopelessness of being lazy, too lazy to leave the cozy comfort of my muffty old sleeping bag that has followed me on so many trips but seems to be unable to help me out, to protect me against that determined clan of mozzies so keen on my Dutch blood. Olds age and many trips have left their tracks on my nighttime partner, small worn-out patches and down right small holes big enough for small mozzie bodies. I will have [View Full Entry]

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Close to Trzebiez, 04-07-2001. There is an exodus of german holiday makers overtaking me on the road to the Polish border, European made mobile homes and Volkswagen cars containing whole families with bored children whose days is brightened up by the sight of me on my rusty old lady, tent and sleeping bag tied to the back, bicycle bags with spare parts, some clean clothes and my cherished sketchbook. I see them again at one of the next Rastplätze where the family has set up camping tables and plastic chairs, relaxing themselves like they gonna stay the night, their kids storming [View Full Entry]

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Germany, 18 km. on the road to Brenau, 03-07-2001. Cycling out of Berlin centre on an eastern route under a twenty-five degree sun I realise I couldn't possibly have chosen a better day to start this new cycle trip, four weeks of pedalling my iron lady through northern Poland carrying no Lonely Planet travel guide, just a map showing massive forests and an abundance of lakes no doubt containing zillions of mozzies keen on Dutch blood. It is getting late and I look around semi-desperately for a free camping place cycling through mostly agricultural land, passing farmers on tractors [View Full Entry]

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Holand, Amsterdam. The Buddha pendant hanging on my chest is burning a hole in my flesh no doubt trying to warn me I'm on the wrong track. I'm not supposed to be here on this old and rusty boat with Little-Shit-Richard and Rob. Still having a boat excursion around the canals of Amsterdam is every tourist's dream and even a hot item among the local populace. The Heineken beer coming out of this green colored bottle is gliding down my thirsty throat just fine while we manoeuvre through small little canals lined by houseboats and small water craft, a heron eyeing [View Full Entry]

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Holland, Amsterdam, 15-03-2009. I arrive to a sunny but crisp Amsterdam - goodbey to the Thai sun that I enjoyed so much these last couple of months. Goodbey to the melodious Thai language and hello to the harch sounds of marrocans passing me in the Haarlemmerdijk, tourist English and German, gutteral Dutch from the locals, rapid Spanish from pot smoking punks from Barcelona. The drunk brotherhood is still boozing away in Westerpark and I recognise each single one of them but even at the distance of a mere fifty meters they don't see me, already in the realm of King Alcohol [View Full Entry]

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Thailand, Pattaya, 13-03-2009. I wake up early morning to the soft noices originating from my bathroom where Joy is busy doing her laundry using my shampoo as a make-do detergent while whistling a Thai love song. I seem to remember finding her in front of my hotel, The New Star when I returned from Walking Street - the place to go at night in Pattaya when you fancy a bit of action - her big blueish colored left eye a dead give-away that she had another serious bout with her Small-Bestowed-Austrian-Tilak. If this was Holland I would need to have a [View Full Entry]

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Thailand, Pattaya, 11-03-2009. She has been after me all day wearing a ragged short brown colored dress that radiates an odour of stale sweat and assorted bodily smells. She has been drinking Chang beer steadily all day trying hard to hook up with me, pushing her slightly overweight body against mine and stealing kisses every so often. In fact she been doing her utmost from the moment she first laid eyes on me just after I appeared on the boulevard after my buffet breakfast at the Apex Hotel walking over to the boulevard for my first Leo beer of the day. [View Full Entry]

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