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Undocumented islanders.

Captain Zen — Mon, 10 May 2010 00:18:59 GMT

Undocumented island woman.

Dear you, read, if you have nothing else to do.

I am in the garden to rake. Raking is Zen, I love it. I am philosophizing over my longtime cohort in Tantra. She is technically bad in bed but I love her trying to reach the climax and she is so very good in her heart, she is so pure. Born under the sign of Virgo, she has a virgin like conduct although she flaunts her long legs and make all the men look at her. She radiates sexual power and very few men do not feel young when they observe her legs. On her right calf and upper thigh she has some unclear tattoos, it makes one want to see it closer. Part of her purity is now under attack. She has no nationality and no identification papers at all. The authorities that must give her rights (and duties) are getting to her head. She is not registered anywhere but in the French system from the hospital where she was born, from where the French census gets the information and register her as being born, nothing else. It does not give her automatically the French nationality. It depends on her parents what nationality they have. Her parents however have never done the needed registering. Her son, who also was born in the same hospital 20 years after her was also never registered anywhere unless by the medical facility, automatically. This pure young mother has hardly learned to write but never ever set a pen to paper or it was to doodle. Her son of four is a very quiet boy who hardly reacts when addressed. He is a little sweet boy without kindergarten knowledge, he grows up with the kids in the hood.

She needs help, money, education, work, a social worker. She has never seen the need for any papers. I respect that belief with all my soul. My integration into the paper mill, the paper tiger I call it, went smooth and easily in the Netherlands, a country of high education and control. Automatically the authorities had my name when they gave me travel papers and driving license when I needed them. Innumerable times I lost, renewed and showed my passport to border guards and consulates and embassies, policemen inside countries and on many borders on this planet. It is a man-made pain in the neck. I even had to renew a passport one day myself in the Red Sea when an outstanding debt prevented me getting it renewed at an embassy. After traveling through Egypt, Cyprus, Turkey and Greece I finally had paid off my debt and I got an official "laissez-passer" from the embassy in Rome so I could get back to Holland where i got a new passport. I will take financial help from my government if I need it, after all, they made me take their passport and nationality, let them care for their subject, me, if needed. I am also in the pure mind and realize that we are all slaves of the authorities, the system, the matrix. My impossible dream is a planet without borders where war is a crime. In my quest to find a pure friend, I went around the world and found this young princess of Sint Maarten/Saint Martin. Because I follow the rules and have my papers, I am. This lady is without any papers so she is not. She gets no voting card, no tax forms nor any government related anything. I am surprised that such miraculous unregistered pure person could be found on this tropical paradise island. I met this pretty woman when she was 17 or 18. She came with a group of girls to welcome me, to check me out, in Suckergarden, in 2003. When I found that she has no papers I wanted to help her. I went and I got her a extrait d'acte de naissance, a paper from Marigot Hotel de Ville saying dated 1re octobre 2001. I am sure it was dated wrong. I think 2005 was the year that I got it. The clerk in the office may have had a reason to misdate the paper, some immigration laws changed lately.

She does not go out in the day much, danger of controls are real, and what will police do with one who has no identification at all?

She moves at night and walks with only the simple birth certificate in her pocket, that should be enough we hope. Anyway, this lovely cohort in the Tantra experience never enjoyed intimacy much, but she enjoyed my respect because of her pureness.

We developed a deep trust and I heard many eery things she witnessed in the night. She works not, and asked why, she replies “My time has not yet come“. She lived a little both sides of the line that authorities made on Soualiga long ago to each claim a part and she grew up innocent of authorities, government laws and politics. She is the opposite from many many other girls. She does not sex for money, she does nothing at all for money. When you observe neutrally, she actually is a bit like a Buddhist monk. Not so surprising, she shuns the daylight, when all the people are working in offices to pay loans for their SUVs and homes, and she sleeps during that time, she lives at night when the money makers are not sending disturbing vibes. She roams the island bars until early in the morning or late at night, many times the rising sun puts her to bed. She goes to parties, celebrations, BBQs, dancings, and even to whore house bars to pass the time. But never alone, she is pure and she always wants a lady friend, or several, at her side. She tells me laughingly that a nice girl wants to make love to her. Some girl may like that, but definitely not not she. Why she always lives so, in the night life, with friends and strange people who also like dancing, she replies:”That is to forget the misery that goes on everywhere”. At the rare police controls she talks her way through. At shootings in parkings and bars she is always far out of the line of fire, but her witness reports are clear. She gets pocket change from people who have. But sometimes she is sick of begging and comes to me for petty cash. In her world she always has to lie, make promises that are never kept, she often has to offer something in the future, when she gets some cash. She is just like a begging monk or priest or politician. She promises you what you want. She has no money and no paper to prove who she is, no registered address, and no national identity card. I think she may give up some little pureness if she gets money from the authorities. She knows that French young single mothers like she get money from the welfare office. Now she is a gypsy. I hope that the promise of money may make this pure lady come to the registry office. She may be illiterate but she is highly sensitive to the vibes and very assertive, she senses the bad vibes coming from the census office, the door to a lifelong keeping up with the paper tiger, the renewals, the voting, the passport. What those paper pushers are doing she does not understand, it is not thought of in her pure world at all. And if you ever make something and get it sold, you will get taxed. She is an undocumented original islander. Kalinago are the original people of the Caribbean and in Soualiga she has no problem. But in the Republic of France, or in the Kingdom of the Netherlands, with the two lions of Zion holding the coat of arms with the crown on top. Kings and Queens are fairy tale things, an invention of the high priests of old. Now the King or Queen wants to know his or her subjects. Anyone within the Republic of France or the Kingdom of the Netherlands must be known. But what if you have higher guidance and stay pure, without a bond with any rulers. This is a wonderful island world for her. There was a chance to convince her for the need of a passport to travel when she wanted to go to Statia, to see a friend. Then she had heard from others that an identity card is good to have. Otherwise it is impossible to leave the island. She knows now that she needs a passport, or ID card but she will not understand why. I respect that, I see her pureness. Her gypsy free soul. But to go to the registry office, she will still not do. I should drop the case where it not that I heard her say that her sister is doing paper work for her and if I could get her an updated birth certificate again. I once got a copy of a birth certificate for her from the Hotel de Ville in Marigot. A simple paper for anybody who wants to know if a person is born there. I was refused at first. In the internet, the cyber cloud, I looked the “Service de Public Francais” up again and found that it was a service and duty of the Hotel de Ville to give out birth certificates. I had to show it to the leader of the pack, a lady in an separate office who was in command. After she verified that one of the two sorts of birth certificates could be given, I got it.

Will be continued. I thought for a title “To the Burger Master, Le Maire, the Mayor. But I called it Undocumented island people. Who will care? The hotel the ville, the aide social, the news papers?

Captain Zen

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2 powers in conflict

Captain Zen — Sat, 26 Dec 2009 23:06:25 GMT

On Dec 24, 2009 1:28pm, abaldal@gmail.com wrote: > How sorry is this world with its endless sufferings.How can one celebrate the birth of Jesus when you know the atrocities done by man against men. With the most sophisticated murder machines and total lack of compassion or respect for life one one side and the life saving hospitals and healing institutions and medical organizations on the other side. There are two forces, one is killing and sickening, the other to life and health, and they are in perpetual conflict. Enemies are invented or made by stealing from them. No matter what goes on in the minds of the leaders of the atrocity scenarios, I question: Have they been born with the lust for murder?" Answer: "no sir, it is a learned behavior". The Yale University in the USA delivers these monsters. There is a cabal of so called human leaders who are proud of the number of people they kill and have killed. They are cultivated minds, at birth there is none of that inherent. I don't think they traveled around the world in the flesh and lived with other people for months at the time. Just my point of view because I found that people all around the planet are ONE LOVE, discovered by travelling. There is another group of people who like to save lives. They have no particular place of education, they are planet wide. It is a normal thing to do to help and heal a wounded victim. Switzerland is holding the loot and spoils of war of many countries, and got its flag's colors inversed as the Red Cross symbol, an UN organization created to clean up after wars. So these forces, of making babies unlimited and more people who will join armies on one side, and the others who try to balance or diminish the world population with sickness, war and catastrophies on the other side. If people do not voluntarily make less babies, the government should set rules and regulations to manipulate population growth and wars. China did it. We here on SXM are on the side of the life savers, a rule or law to curb population growth is impossible. A birth right is the claim to a certain national property, where the birth took place. Therefore, there will always be soldiers in the years to come. As long as we make babies there will be soldiers. Women, to stop getting pregnant wash with lemon juice right after unprotected sex. The use of condoms can not be stressed enough, however, after a bursting condom, and a serious lemon wash, women, use eggwite to restore inside condition like before lemon wash. This a way to deny the next generation of controlling leaders their prey and victims. Men do your vasectomy. That way you never again let a soul suffer the flesh on the planet. Prevention before culling, eat the egg before it hatch. It is hedonistically also much better. Have sex and rock 'n roll, take only prescription drugs. When you see a kid getting sick and you can not help you suffer too. To prevent that suffering, make no more kid, or baby. I say, let them unborn souls stay where they are now. Men, do not enter the birth canal from the wrong side. For women I recommend the same as for the men vasectomy, irrevocable closing of the pipes after the first child or the second, one child for her and one for the child father is enough. Only by this method can the planet get out of the vicious circle of bringing more suffering into the world. Tantra sex and dancing and partying is the best way to free up out of present misery . But close your doors to the unborn who seek entry into the flesh. The yet unborn may become a killer or a healer or a homo, and suffer he will. No matter what race you was born from, first stop making more men. If all women decide to make more daughters than sons, wars world wide would stop for lack of soldiers. The few men allowed would have enough seed to impregnate all the women and get a lot more loving than they get now. That's my Christmass story, be good Captain Zen With the voluntairily family, the globalfamily planning, we can save the planet. There can be a good life for all sentient beings when we do not greed and just make fewer of us. We, the living, wish for the dead and the unborn to stay well where they are now for the New Year 2010

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The dead and the unborn are fine where they are

Captain Zen — Sat, 19 Dec 2009 01:42:05 GMT

I am not much suicidal any more and found out that My brother has a beautiful daughter that is in a dance group. I hope to see her dance on my island, there is one called "Motiance" and another group has been formed. Is time I write down the names and children. I never had the slightest desire to be with the family, I never felt what I feel here in the West Indies. All the feelings are so much intenser. So I follow the news and find the human race not good enough for me to be a proud member of. Here follows a little comment I wrote on an article about the hoax of birth certificate of the President of the USA. "Whoever the goon is that the real masters have chosen, he will be protected until they have no more use for him, your digging and asking for answers is irrelevant. In reality you Search his birth because you want him dead. Well, they who want him dead are not alone. As if dead or impeachment would change anything. If clever uncorrupted hackers can get inside weapon dealers computers, and disrupt them or blow their bombs up at the point of manufacturing then we can say that we are advancing. The minds of the monsters are deep dark holes and there is no compassion, none. I advice all men to do vasectomy. Deny [the leaders of] this unjust world another person to come into their control. Where the unborn are now, it certainly can not be as bad as on the planet here. Make no more kids. Prevent the suffering and teach compassion to the living. The dead and the unborn are fine where they are." I have my 65th birthday and I hope my 24 year old neighbor friend girl will come and lay with me. There is nothing so nice a birthday present as a young woman friend to come and lay with me. I hope you have an old man as lover, young men can not appreciate young women for real, old wine taste better and the best nurses are young women, they bring a dead man back to life. And all that is true, natural and they may call it hedonist. I am a humanist, no affiliation with god in this matter.

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wonderful day to die

Captain Zen — Sun, 27 Sep 2009 01:29:19 GMT

Title

Threatening suicide

All taboos broken, or

A wonderful day to die.

There are a few topics that are not spoken about. Death is coming to us all but it is taboo. The act of sexual intercourse, where we all came from, is also taboo. If the beginning and the end are both taboo, what can we expect from the in between, the time of living? Death and sex are the two pillars that hold up our life. From all the books about death, the Tibetan Book of the Dead is for me the best guide into the after life. It gives direction to the best possible way for the entity’s spirit or ghost in catholic language to reach Enlightenment on the moment of death, or in the Here After. A wonderful colorful world awaits one to drag one back in carnal form. The way to go free and never return is to follow the Pure White Light. As long as there are wombs and dicks, and new souls can be made, however, it is better to let them wait on the other side than to let them come here to suffer a life time. Necromancy is the science of communicating with the dead. I think it is bad to disturb a spirit as it is no more here. I say: people on this side and spirits on the other. The unholy ghost spirit that has left the body is supposed to adhere to the Holy Ghost so that the Wisdom of the Universe shows him his past life. He can than judge him self and choose to return in human form in order to overcome the bad he has done. Only the spirits of people who had studied and applied the laws of the Universe who in a sense were enlightened and in some way holy can stay with the bright white Light and not return in carnal form. To bring less suffering, we the people, must make sure the spirits stay there. By using condoms, vasectomizing and using the anti baby pill, or the spiral or the 6 month shot. Preventing more souls to coming in the flesh will benefit the ecology of the world more than any other thing.

There is a problem for many dying people because local priests have no guide for the departing soul, and science can not help, science is studying it.. The right to end life has been a hot topic in the Netherlands and Switzerland long ago. In these two countries there is a way for ordinary people who suffer a personal condition to die with dignity. It is called euthanasia in the learned world. Several conditions have to be met and more than one doctor must give their reports to a commission who then can give permission to the person who wants to end life with dignity. Often family members are present to say goodbye, a doctor to oversee the process and that is that. There are many cases that are not approved by the commission. People who want to die but are prohibited by law must continue to suffer. I am in that group. I want to die very much. I am not suffering enough they say, a pill can take care of my suffering. What many do not know is that more USA soldiers die from suicide than on the battle field. I should have died when I was 50. Unfortunately I live.on beyond the years I lived for true. I am now a living dead.

When I look back in my life I succeeded wonderfully. I did everything that other men dream of. I traveled very far and very much, I saw many different people and made friends the world over, I had lovers and I became a global citizen. I had the most wonderful cars, I learned to fly small airplanes, I learned to sail ocean going sailing yachts, and I rode horses. I sailed 15 good years that made me fall deeply in love with the immense open ocean. I came to the Caribbean 25 years ago and I love it here, I settled in Marigot, St. Martin in 1989. I learned new trades and became tourist guide, also sales representative, and then gold smith. In my life I had two sons and several sweet long lasting relations with lovely women. Now I want to die a little more. I am done with this life.

After I was hit in 1999 by the terrible car that broke my legs I am still limping like a crab. I asked my doctor to help me die but he refused. Instead he gave me pills. I get around the house in my wheelchair. A special shoe has been made for me; I call it my robot shoe. That helps a little but I need a walking stick or I lose my balance. The horrible feeling that god’s perfect creation, my body, has been violated by a zombie sort of person who hit me with his car makes me cry tears of frustration every day. I want to die a little much this time. I researched all possible ways to end my life and I have found the simplest way. Painless, effective and cheap, involving nothing illegal at all. That makes me feel a lot better, now that I know how I can leave this valley of tears, when my time comes. God has given me life, I offer Him now to please take it back. I am done with living. Been there done that. All my life I was curious about dying, to be without my body. I practiced astral traveling and indeed went everywhere, but connected with a silver cord to my sleeping body at home. Free to go into the sun and be gone. I hate the driver who took my good legs away, for not taking my life also. He was not even punished for what he did, but I am punished for the rest of my living days. His insurance had to pay my hospital costs, so the judge was sure he was guilty. Because I have given away every cent in my life to people poorer than me, I am suddenly without money and that makes me want to die a little more again. Please do not compare me with others whose condition is worse, that does not make my condition any better, so now I want to die for them; a little more again. To kill some body is called murder. Even the threat of murdering some one can land one in jail. Gandhi in his time was not the peaceful leader without violence that you may think. He seriously threatened to kill somebody, fasting himself to death, a murder of the self in this case, if he did not get what he wanted. I am convinced I can not die when my time has not come. I hope it comes soon. I want action. Death can not be as bad as living like I do now, and it can not be so bad at all, because nobody ever came back, except in fairy tales. Today was a wonderful day to die, it just did not happen, tomorrow maybe. Until then I stay here with you.

Chamba Chada

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A debt of honor

Captain Zen — Mon, 27 Oct 2008 21:34:50 GMT

Crazy Charlie came into my life in Amsterdam one unfortunate day. He was born in Tirol but had left there after having been involved in making explosives for a separatist movement. I was walking over the square in front of the Royal Palace towards my legally squatted home, when he approached me for a guilder; we still had national money then. He was broke and needed a coin to call his former girlfriend as he just came from a stint in a Belgian prison. He had no where to go and hoped she would take him in. Before he went to Belgium, he was in Amsterdam, hence his girlfriend. It had never been a good relation and he was happy to get to live in our amazing building. He told me he had done time for falsifying certificates of authenticity for fake antiques. He made new copper pots look old with acid and burying them in the ground for a while. He then sold them with self made certificates of origin stamped and signed by the secretary of the BADA, the Belgian Antique Dealers Association, rubber stamps and all. Charlie knew more tricks than the book holds. I took him in, first for a few days in my own big front room on a couch, later he got his own place in the building; there were empty rooms enough.

When Charlie was settled he asked me to help him with what he called a moral issue; paying of a debt of honor.

He explained that when he was in Amsterdam some years ago, he was often approached by youngsters who asked for a little money. There were hippies who came to the magic city, curious kids and druggies from all over the world. Many used to sleep for free in the park or on the stairs of the National Monument. True enough, these guys who had over stayed their welcome roamed the streets, often begging me too for a hand out.

In those days the parking of cars in the city had become a major problem and the first parking meters had appeared on the streets. Charley had been a certified lock smith, although he was thrown out of the profession for duplicating keys of bank safes. He now figured a way to help the poor kids. He had secretly made keys for the newly appeared parking meters and gave them to all the kids who asked for money. He explained that their piggy banks where all over town and with the provided key they could serve them selves. For his trained locksmith eye, the first parking meters where simple enough and he easily made keys to gave away, just for his own satisfaction. He never showed me how he did it. He was proud of himself to have had that generous and helpful idea. It did not take long for the police to find him out. Some careless kid had been taken in who spilled the beans. He was arrested and led before a magistrate. This entire episode happened long before I knew him. He told me how the punishment for his giving out keys was difficult for the prosecutor and the judge to determine. One; the legality of the very parking meters was still in question. A discussion was going on over who had the right to tax the streets and two; Charlie had not damaged anything or stolen anything himself, three; the amount of money that had been taken by the key holding kids could not be determined. So the judge gave Tiroler Charlie a stern warning. The judge had said: “Charlie, this time you will get away with a warning. Be informed however that the next generation parking meters will be much better constructed now that you have pointed out that they are vulnerable. I bet you will not be able to open the new ones.” Charlie immediately answered the judge: “Your Honor, thank you for your leniency, I heard you loud and clear, and I accept your bet. My honor as a lock smith is at stake and I bet you that I can open them.”

He then asked me help him with his task to defend his honor. I was amused about his story and found it hard to refuse such challenge, and I agreed. We went out for an inspection of the newly placed modern parking meters. They looked impressive indeed. Mounted on a 2 inch steel pipe, embedded in a block of concrete, buried deep in the ground they where practically immovable. Investigating them at location with a tent built around was not impossible but impractical, so it was decided to get one in order to study it in the privacy of his workshop. To do this we developed an ingenious device, a movable tent, to discretely remove one. In Holland we have transport tricycles for big loads. The front is a wooden flatbed of almost a meter and a half square that rests on an axle with wheel on each side. The driver sits on a saddle on top of the back wheel and his feet turn the drive chain. His hands move the flatbed in the direction the contraption is going. We had found a tricycle like that in a carport of our squatted house. Covered by a layer of dust with flat tires it had stood there many years. We mounted sticks on the four corners and connected those with horizontal bars. About one meter high it was. We covered the frame with old carpets and tarpaulin overlapping flaps in front. It was now a box big enough to hold a man. With a handsaw we made a slit 3 inch wide, in front of the wooden flatbed, all the way till the axle. That was to get the parking meter inside the box. Charlie had obtained a huge pipe cutter and his chariot was now ready for action. We waited till night fall and with Charlie inside I pushed it all the way across the wide main road. The weather was bad; there was not a dog outside. The rain came in gusts and the wet autumn leaves were flying through the darkness. With here and there a street lamp the light was scant and I was feeling excited and alert. Through an alley, on across another street onto the canal streets where the parking meters were. After a little more pushing I found an empty parking spot under a tree at a dark corner. The rain and cold wind made it the perfect night for our adventure. The trees rustled and swung their low branches and splattered me with wet leaves. I pointed the tricycle straight at the parking meter. The pipe went through the flaps and the slit, the parking meter was now right inside the box with Charlie. I walked away while he did his cutting. In case of a night stroller, or a dog walker coming too close, I was to whistle a certain melody. At my third pass, when I asked, I heard the muffled “All Clear” signal from within. Then I pulled the tricycle away from there. Up the steep bridge to turn left and get home as fast as possible. Looking back I saw the short steel pipe sticking out of the street where once had been the parking meter. Nobody would miss it or even know that there had been a parking meter. The trip back home was cold and apart from the feeling of victory uneventful. Once back inside the building Charlie carried his loot wrapped in a cloth with him to his dwelling.

I did not see him for a few weeks but one day Charlie came up with a bunch of keys. “It is time to try out my work, come along,” said he, “you have to watch for me, part of the deal.” He explained that the meters had indeed not been easy to crack; each one needed three keys to get at the money. He showed me three bunches of different size keys. One key to open the top, the second to free the box which held the coins and the third key to open it. The box was attached on a strong thin chain. We went out, again on a dark stormy night. It was autumn and the weather was often bad. Charlie was dressed in his black raincoat with a multitude of inner pockets that held pliers, cutters, a breaking iron and the rest of the tools of his trade. On his head a rolled up baklava, on his hands thin gloves. I put my darkest winter coat and gloves and out we went. The eerie light from the few street lamps through the moving branches, the rain and the howling wind made it a perfect horror movie scene. After midnight we spotted the perfect parking meter, between two parked cars, just there where a street lamp was not working. While Charlie started trying and inserting one key after the other, I walked around again with that crazy melody in my head. Nobody disturbed us; it was no weather for any one to be outside. At one of my passes he came away triumphantly and I heard the sound of silver. He attacked the next one much more confidently, but still needed a lot of time. When he had found the three keys that worked as passkeys for one row of meters on one street, the next street needed other keys again. I saw sometimes a glimpse of his doings, a flash of the many keys in the windy night under a tree that moves and rustles and the wind is raving loose leaves in the autumn storm. At a spot that was a bit more exposed, to save time, he would just open the top, insert the breaking iron for the money box, get it out and cut the chain with his strong cutting pliers. He would put the box in one of his deep pockets and move on. How many he opened I don't recall, but later that night we drank on his success in a few bars. We always paid with coins, not to raise suspicion we could not stay long in one place. We bought cigarettes from coin operated machines, and we ate at an automatic food dispenser. A few days later he asked me to come again but I refused. My argument being that I helped him keep his bet with the judge, to defend his honor, but I was not going to be a burglar, no thank you very much. He accused me of cowardice, but who was the stupid one when a few weeks later he was behind bars, for a good while this time? He had made keys for other people again and of course they had been caught and of course they had sung. I did not see Charlie for a few months; however, he did come back. Last time I saw him he was tapping electricity from a high tension wire. He had taped beer bottles two feet apart as insulators on a long bamboo pole. A thick copper wire was wrapped around each bottle neck and he shoved the pole out of his window until the copper wire touched the electric tramway overhead lines. The other end went into a buzzing transformer the size of three cubic feet. His room was the first one to have light that night. The guy who collected the money from the twenty or so people living here, to pay the monthly electricity bill, had eloped with the money, so what were we to do?

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meta NameGener

Captain Zen — Sat, 27 Sep 2008 16:23:31 GMT

1944 in this year of the monkey

On 20 December Alexander Baldal was born. In Nijmegen, Holland, at 11:30 AM, son of Joseph Baldal and Magdalena Cornelia Hagendoorn. I was the third child after Anne Marie and Joseph Johan Jacob.

1945 Rooster year,

My first birthday party in December. I remember nothing.

The fifth day of May, the war with Germany is over. No memory of myself yet.

1946 Dog year

I am 2 years old, the family has moved to Oegstgeest, nearby Leiden, in the west of the country. No memory of self at all.

1948 Rat year

In December I’ll be 4 years old. We went with the 4 children in the two-door dark blue little Opel Olympia to the beach in Noordwijk or Katwijk to make long walks, eat ice cream, buy fresh rolls, and have fun. It was often cold and windy, the sea green-gray. Dead jellyfish lay on the beach. We throw them all over.

1947 Pig year,

3 years old, kindergarten, the only thing I remember was that the maid Beppie, or Bep, brings me in the stroller to the play school on the Warmonderweg.

1949 Ox year

4 years old, 5 years in December,

We went by train to Eindhoven to celebrate grandfather’s birthday (from mother’s side), with the whole family. I remember “het Silveren Seepaerd” a classical restaurant. Grandfather had had the railway station’s restaurant. His style was old-world, luxury, silver, uniformed waiters, the works. His birthday is on the last day of the year, so the party is combined with New Years party. I went downstairs to get bottles of wine and champagne from the cellar.

1950 Tiger year,

5 years old, going 6 in December. I do not remember anything much of those times. I do not give the milk money for the play school to the woman teachers but buy ice cream for it on the corner from the entrance to the Leidse Hout, a park with trees and walkways. There was the ERMI ice cream three wheeler with a old man selling the icicles on wooden sticks. Deep in his tin lined insulated car with dry ice he kept the wanted delicacies.

1951 Cat year

Primary school in Oegstgeest. This year or the next I started at the “Lagere School” in Oegstgeest, de Terwee school on the Terrwee weg

Elize Rebecca is born this year, first called Elsje, later when she grew up and married, Rebecca. No clear memory of these times at all.

1952 Dragon year,

I am 7 years old. I became 8 years old on 20 December.

Lagere School. Do not remember a thing of these times. I must have been at school learning writing and reading and all that.

1953 Snake year

9 years old, I think, around this time, I learned sailing from Egbert Lubbers, who was a boy in my school class and who lived in the Spaargarenstraat, where our garden was. He had a sailing canoe, type Corjaal, a narrow two seater, paddles to get through narrow waters, a short mast for a gaff sail, a mid-sword that could be lowered and raised, a jib, a rudder, everything to sail about in miniature. We sailed from Warmond to the “Kager Plassen”. I learned from ‘Eppie” all the basic tricks to sail a boat, how to make some basic knots and handle ropes, which served me very well later in life. His parents rowed a “wherry”, a narrow, long sleek boat with a sliding chair for the rower, a seat facing forward in the back for the person steering with a small rudder operated by thin ropes. It had very long oars, went fast and was light. One day when Eppie and I went in his sailing canoe through a narrow water, towards the open lake, there were two pit bulls barking at us, I tried to hit one to make it go away, but it bit the paddle and never let go anymore. I pulled the paddle with the pit bull on it under water, but it bit the paddle right in pieces, and came out of the water with the wood in his jaws. A real nasty doggy. What a bummer. From the sailing I remembered to sit in front, we sat one behind the other, the midsword between my legs or no, I sat on the high side, wherever the wind came from. It had a gaff sail, that means a short mast with a long stick on the peek of the mainsail. The jib was thus not high, attaches to the masthead which is only three quarter up the main. Still it could pull in the young boys hands and I held it often stiff and strong. I learned to sail the right way, without winches yet, just a cleat and a sheet. What a great time on the lake it was.

1954 Horse year

I am 9, going 10 years old

Still at the primary school in Oegstgeest. De Openbare Lagere School.

1955 Goat year,

10 years and no real memoirs, maybe Aad Timmermans was my friend already. I sat high on his shoulders and he carried me to fight another young lightweight on the shoulders of another power boy. I remember playing marbles, having a sack full at times, and none but two at other times. Aadje’s full name was Adriaan of course, he was my adjudant I now realize, I always had a guy who stood by me in to help, protect, assist and even fight for me if I was attacked by bullies.

1956 Monkey year

12 years in December, what happened those years???

1957 Rooster year

12 years old. 13 in December. Was it this year that my father got a stroke? It was so serious that he never really recovered, he went to various hospitals, starting in Wassenaar, Leerdam, Utrecht and more. He came home a year or more later, dragging a leg and his right arm and hand were lame. His speech was affected, his mouth dribbled and he had become another person altogether. I had never known him at all, and didn’t know him much afterwards. But I loved him better after he came back from his sickness. I was at school at the Rijnlands lyceum, misbehaving, giving my mother more trouble than she needed. Unruly to the max, rebellious total because my freedom was at stake, my expression of loving the world, the father. I was often by mother Timmermans and her 4 boys, they were my good friends. The third, Aad would defend me at the school when I had made someone angry or they tried something on me, as I was small and a little frail. I could never swim like him, but he was my man, whenever force was needed. This year I went to the lyceum, a high school that would prepare for the academy later or the university. I was considered intelligent already then.

1958 Dog year

Now 14 years old I was at the “Rijnlands Lyceum” Rebellious like shit, I remember fights with the teacher English, she went so desperate that she was ready to jump out of the window.

1959 Pig year

14 years and going 15 I was kicked out of school. Jan de Kater came with a cigar he had stolen from his father. He shit in his pants when we smoked it and our first cigarette, we where nasty kids, in wintertime we walked the thin ice and in summer we shot with air pistols on the cows. I did not want to follow the religious hour, bible lessons, I questioned every word and statement of the bible. Had the first interests in sexual matters, sold condoms to other students, during Bible lessons. Had impertinent questions about the religions. Got removed from school for bad behavior. No violence, but rebellious and adverse to the trend. Five boys like me got removed from the Rijnlands Lyceum. We broke into the school one night and emptied the foam fire extinguishers and did some vandalism.

1960 Rat year

15 years, private lessons at home, then to the Hague, Scheveningen, de Zonnebloem School. Somewhat numbed into a life without goal, young, living without vision yet.

1961 Ox year

At school in Kijkduin, somewhere close to Den Haag. From home to school went as follows: Wake up around 7 am, go downstairs to the kitchen, put the gas under the pan with the porridge, eat it, dress in outside coat, take the bicycle out of the shed and paddle to the train station in Leiden. Take the twelve-minute ride to Den Haag, jump on bus 19 all the way to the end, which takes about 40 minutes, and walk 15 minutes to the school building. Every day 5 days a week,

1962 Tiger year

I continue school, examination tests are coming up. One evening mother asks me to put some letters in the mailbox which is situated opposite our house. We live in the Regentesselaan 46, by the Emma pleintje. Next to the big, red, cast iron letterbox is a blue machine that dispenses stamps. You have to insert coins, turn a handle and collect the stamps from a little window, lick them, glue them on the envelops and throw these in the slit of the big red box. In order to free hands I laid the letters on top of the stamp machine. Put the dimes and quarts in the machine, turned the handle and took the stamps out the little glass door in the bottom of the machine. When I had the stamps to put on the letters, I felt on top of the machine to get the letters, and I felt something else also, that happened to be a purse. Without looking I quickly put it in my pocket, finished my business, and went back home. Upstairs in my room I opened the purse, and found a lot of money, it was more than 700 guilders. I had never seen so much money. The next day was the day of the examinations for the end of the school period. I hardly slept that night and in the early morning I went to Den Haag as usual, and threw the empty purse in a letterbox near the train station. The mail service would take care of that, it contained papers, addresses, whatever, and instead of taking a bus to the examination place as usual, I took a taxi, maybe for the first time in my life. I felt elated, confident and over and above myself. I finished the tests much faster than all the other kids and instead of eating my prepared sandwiches like all the others, I fed the birds in a little park nearby and went to have lunch in the restaurant close by. There the teachers and inspectors also went for lunch and every body ate in style. I ate two fried eggs sunny side up with bacon and ham on bread, wow. Finished the tests and went home. Next day I found out that I had passed the test with no room for error, I reached just on the limit. One more mistake would have made me fail.... The summer recess had come, vacation time. The weather was good, I went sailing with the son of the village druggist in his Z24, a red painted ‘Vrijbuiter’, a sleek, fast little thing with a jib and a full battened sail. It was built during the war years and some limits in the measurements were allowed, so that all the few Vrijbuiters that got built were all pretty different. Then I found big BM from a friend of my brother Jos. I had all the money remember. With some of it I rented the BM. An old Mercury outboard came with it, antique looking, maybe one of the very first outboards ever made. I called the boat: “De Schuifpeen”, which means the “Sliding Carrot”. With all that money I was rich beyond comprehension, and who the friends were I don’t recall, but they were there. I had a crate (24 bottles) of beer on the foredeck and another on the aft-deck. Moored off at the “Bonte Koe”, which means: “The Spotted Cow”. Soon I had the nickname: “Het Bonte Kalf”, meaning the spotted calf. Bont means also wild, as we say in Holland: “Make it not too bont”, means: don’t go it too wild, take it easy. One day, a sunny morning, I moored the “Schuifpeen” at the dock of the restaurant disco-bar De Bonte Koe, where I had the waiters serve me breakfast on board, around 11 am. A man who was sitting on the terrace came up the pier and asked if he could see the old outboard engine that was behind on the transom. It was an odd old engine, brand name Mercury, with two handles, one for gas, acceleration and one for rich or lean. It had a four blade screw. It started by winding a thin rope around the flywheel on top and then pulling it. One had to experiment, according to the weather, the temperature, rain or shine, how to set those two to make it run. It was noisy and smoky, but it ran. I called it my cream whipper, and mysteriously it worked, while it had been on the attic of my friends home for almost twenty years until I had discovered it there under an inch of dust. The man identified himself as the country’s agent general for Mercury motors and wanted to buy it. He wanted it for the showroom of his company. It would be maybe the oldest Mercury in the country. After much beer and talk we made a deal. In place of the old relic the man gave me a brand new one, latest model, more power, less noise and smoke, a modern miracle. I used it until the end of that season and then gave it back with the boat to my brother’s friend. I do not remember doing anything special the rest of that year

1963 Cat year

My somewhat recovered father had secured me a job. I start working on the “Rotterdam”, at the time the fifth biggest cruise ship of the world. It was made to just pass through both the Panama and the Suez Canals. I made trips with the “Rotterdam”, from Rotterdam to Le Havre, to Southampton to New York. The ship stayed three days there, in Hoboken. Then one week at sea again, two days in Rotterdam and back to sea. I started as bellboy. I was dressed in a funny uniform, green pants with a silver stripe on the outside of the legs, a short jacket with silver buttons and on my head a pillbox. Than I was also elevator operator, and guide to bring people to their cabins and the restaurant and the various bars on the ship. It had 11 floors from the top to the waterline and 7 floors, decks they are called on a ship, under the waterline. My quarters were up front, port side, high over the waterline. The crew cabin housed 6 of us, most having the same rank in the same line of work. We were somehow the lowest of the civil crew, but there were lower ranked crewmembers than we, like the Spanish workman who we paid a little to clean out our cabin, change sheets and towels and keep it tidy. The crew bar was located in the crew mess room, and opened from 11 AM. I remember that for every door I opened the passing passenger would press a quarter in my hand. Four quarters in a dollar which was 3.60 guilders those days, a lot of money. The crew bar was only a hole in the wall were we could buy drinks and take it to the table or wherever. We could drink as much as we wanted as long as we came sober on the job. The price for a glass of foaming beer was 8 dollar cents! We would sit in the cabin and send one of us to the bar to fetch one plateau full. The one who went down did not have to pay, and took two dollars to come back with 24 glasses. It happened that I was on my way from the mess to the cabin with a plateau full of glasses on my shoulder together with a boy from another cabin in the same area. We had to negotiate various doors, staircases and corridors. The ship was moving a lot, outside we had an atlantic storm. Some beer spilled over me, but I managed to hold my course. The staircase was made of open iron web, and when the boy 2 decks higher than me crashed and his plateau with 24 glasses came down, I had to move out of the way fast, or I would have been showered with beer and small bits and pieces of glass. Later I worked in the restaurant as a beginning waiter and became a member of the crew show. I was a wild young crazy fellow and when I had a good drink I could dance on my hunches like I had seen the Russian Cossacks do. The cold war was very real those days and anything Russian was always a little strange, suspect or kind of forbidden and frowned upon. So, me being the only one who could dance on my hunches for real, the show organizers made a Russian show. I did the real Russian dancing, and the other guys sat on a low bench pretending to dance, throwing their legs up and down. That activity and the constant work with heavy loads running up and down stairs on a moving ship resulted later in having bad knees.

1964 Dragon year

The trip around the world on the “Rotterdam”. It started in New York took only 80 days. After the book of Jules Verne. From New York to Southampton and le Havre to take on more passengers. We made the boat Cruise ready. Straight to Gibraltar, the Rock of the British, stolen from Spain when England was mighty and terrorizing the rest of the world, they called it Ruling The Waves... Well I was ruling the waves and looked with wonder and awe upon my world. High ranking crewmembers got passenger cabins in the aft lower part of the ship. We had only half the capacity of guests on board. Maybe a few less than 800 and we had 800 crewmembers. One on one. Very luxury, not exactly the Titanic, but still very high class. In Gibraltar I got permission to go ashore, called shore-leave. I took a tour like a tourist, sightseeing. I did see a monkey, and some Englishmen. Nice old fashioned shop signs and white and black checkered caps on police men. On we went to Malaga and took on some passengers. Then to Menton, or Marseille for more guests. On to Milan, in Italy. I went ashore and met Italian poor hustlers offering black and white photographs of naked women. My first contact with pimps. It was cold, the locals where wearing old fashioned long heavy coats, everything was cold, almost freezing in a place that is built for heat, for a blazing sun, not for a cold howling freezing wind. In Athens it was also cold and I didn’t get off the ship. We never stayed more than a day or so in port and in no time we were back at sea. Now the weather got better. Real sunshine and arriving in Cairo I hung over the railing to see what happened. Egyptian boys diving in the water next to the ship when passengers threw coins over board, they seemed to have an endless supply of quarts in their pockets. I had little time, but could walk the pier beside the ship and there I tried to resist the dozens of hustlers. They offered Players, English cigarettes in sealed new tins, which later happened to be filled with paper and sawdust. Little giraffes and camels, made from genuine camel leather, only to later, when coming in moist surroundings, to fall apart because they were made of papier mache.

Through the Suez Canal. Although I had to work, I could look out now and again. Majestically the giant luxury floating palace which is my home now, slides through the desert. Pyramids are far away, but camels are close by and walk along the shore of the channel. My first contact with this new reality. A great lake in the Canal made for a stop. Passengers went to the pyramids, I stayed and worked the restaurant very much. I had to work breakfast, lunch and dinner shift. We had 4 ranks in the restaurant hierarchy, I had started at the lowest, called commie. I had to clear the stations of used things, and bring them away. I worked from 4 sets of 4 tables and two stations that held all the plates, cutlery and all else. There I put the food, which I got from the kitchen. A commie was not allowed to come close to the tables with eating passengers. The “commie de rang”, the next rank up, would put food from the station on the tables. The “chef” would hand it out, put it on the plates and the “chef de rang”, the highest of the four, only walked around with a broad smile, asking if the food was good, and took the compliments, and tips, and he cut the meat. Complaints went to the cooks, the chef de rang had never done anything wrong. The “chef” ladled the soup, the “commie de rang” took away the dirty plates, put them on the station from where I, the commie, brought them away, down the rolling stairs to the dish washing factory. Many a good piece of exquisite food was never touched and if the others had not taken it, I could indulge. The older workers knew how to order food for themselves, I was still a beginner, and working hard. So hard that I collapsed later, after Hong Kong, about that later. I became commie sommelier, that is the helper of the chef-sommelier, the wine-steward. Once, when I was attending the Captains Table, something of interest happened. It was a kind of privilege for special invitees. Every night different people ate at the Captain’s table and I was to fill the glasses with wine. That night the people, all in smoking and gala dress, were ceremonially seated on their appointed places. The table was laid for twelve guests in top style, three crystal glasses by each set of plates, three silver forks, knives, and spoons bordering each plate. Starched napkins in silver napkin rings, all in good order. The first Mate had a pretty lady next to him, then her husband, then the first engineer with a nice woman and her husband. Then some other first class passengers and at the head of the table the Captain, like his officers, in his gala uniform with all his stripes. Next to him sat an obviously very rich widow. She wore rings with diamonds as big as the Koh-I-Noor on each finger, shiny golden bracelets on her arms. Around her neck a large golden chain with a sparkling diamond pendant, and on her earlobes ear hangers that must have cost a fortune each. Her lips were over-painted blood red, her skin was a sickly pale powdered white. On her head she had deep, dark red hair and a small tiara to top it all off. The small talk had started, I had filled the wineglasses, and while standing between the Captain and the lady I could smell her penetrating perfume, something between camel sweat and jasmine. I stood at a safe distance to see if any glass needed refilling when the soup came. A great silver tureen was placed in the middle of the table and the chef started ladling the soup on the deep plates. The weather was calm and the ship hardly rolled at all. The spoons went clickety click and the red head asked for pepper. The first mate handed it to her and she shook it onto her soup plate. Then she suddenly looked up, hand with pepper dispenser in hand, poised stock-still, and sneezed. Se sneezed with such violence that her head went backward and then forward with such power that her red wig tiara and all, flew of, and landed with a splash right in her plate of soup. Spatters of soup landed on the captain who shoved his chair back and waved his napkin in the air. The consternation on the table was complete. Not knowing if I kept my face in check I shot forward, and covered the lady’s dripping front with my professional towel that I always had over my right arm. She was in shock and did not move. I stepped back, and the chef took over. He helped the bald, hairless woman up and away from the table. They disappeared as quickly as possible out of the restaurant. He came back a few minutes later and announced that the lady would continue her dinner in her cabin, thank you everybody, please bon appétit. The captain removed a few drops of soup from his front and also stood up to leave. He held a short speech to explain he had to change and wished everybody a pleasant dinner.

In Aden I was allowed off for a day. So I walked the medieval place, Arab to the core. I was on a market were many long dressed dark skinned men where milling about. A commotion in a corner of the huge open space that held the market caught my attention. I slowly edged close enough to see a podium, a stage with a chair on it on which uniformed people led a man in shackles. He was put on the chair and his arm bound to the armrest. A man in white long coat did something on his arm, I could not see the details, people were standing and pushing to see better in front of me. A little later the man in the white coat held a severed bleeding hand in the air. The man was a thief and his right hand was amputated as punishment. I was shocked and disgusted, I went back on board a little sick over what I had seen.

Then the “Rotterdam” sailed on to Bombay. I had shore leave and was going ashore with two of my colleagues. I had learned from the old hands that it was a good place to bring whiskey and cigarettes on land here as they were worth their weight in gold. I closed the arms of my jacket with a few stitches of strong twine and put a bottle of Johnny Walker and a carton of Marlboro in each arm. Slung the jacket loosely over my shoulder when I walked stone faced past passport control and my friends and I climbed down the gangway and into a tiny Morris Minor taxi. I tried immediately to sell a bottle to the taxi driver. But he had no money enough and would bring us for a few packs of cigarettes to a place where someone would buy my stuff. We came to the deep dark center of Bombay. The streets were narrow, and people milling all over. My friends and I went into a building that was almost dark inside. A room with couches and pillows, easy chairs and elaborate carved wooden panels, curtains and staircases. Barred windows from small rooms looked out into this room and behind every window was the face of a woman. The club owner came forward and we started to negotiate the price for the two bottles and the cigarettes. Some money changed hands and a woman took me to one of the little rooms. It was no more than a big bed and she closed the curtain before the window. Then she made me lay down and removed my shoes, my shirt and my pants. With only my under pants still on she started to put oil on my body and stroked me sensually and I relaxed. She rolled me over on my belly and massaged my back strongly and she removed my briefs. Then she undressed and in the dim light I could see that she was very beautiful and young. Her firm breasts stood out pointedly and her body shone like golden. She put me on my back and started to massage my body. Her naked skin touched me everywhere and she stroked my penis softly. I was hard as a stick and pointing straight up. She started touch to my face, while she sat over me and while she massaged my eyebrows she lowered herself onto my prick. She moved ever so slowly up and down on my stiff member and I was being lifted into heaven. I touched her breasts, she came forward enough to kiss them and I buried my face between the lovely soft mounts. Then she went down on me deep and pushed her bush onto my bush, so deep and so tender. She trembled all over so arousing, that I could not help but explode deep inside her pussy. She stayed a while longer on me and stroked my face and my body while she slowly climbed off me. She laid next to me and I felt like a god. Then she produced a small towel and a basin of water and started to wipe my face, my breast, my belly, my penis, and the rest of me clean. I fell asleep and woke up refreshed many hours later. It was just before daybreak. She helped me to dress and I went down the few steps into the big room. I saw the owner of the place lying on a couch being massaged by a blind man. He seemed to sleep. Then I found out that my friends had already left and I went out into the street. It was still dark and many people were on the pavement, sitting, and lying down. I walked slowly between the many people still sleeping on the sidewalk. Covered with a cloth some were waking up. Others slept on. A truck with an open back slowly overtook me on the road. It went only slightly faster than I and two men walked alongside it. Every time they came upon a person lying on the pavement, they would kick it on the feet. If the person moved, they went on to the next one. If the person did not move they would lift the cloth from the face and stir it. I saw how they lifted a body up together and threw it on the back of the truck. There were a dozen or so bodies already… I found a small Morris Minor taxi and went back to the harbor. The taxi left me to walk the last few hundred meters and there was a tattoo shop on the pavement. Three men sat around a box with about a hundred batteries in it. They were all connected together and powered a tool that was made of an old-fashioned house bell. The ones that ring when you press the button outside. This thing had no bell. But three needles attached to the vibrating point. I looked at the pictures of the possible designs. The men made me sit down and wanted me to take a tattoo. I took a pack of cigarettes out of my pocket and asked if that was OK. And yes, that was enough payment, I was to choose on. I took a picture of an old three mast schooner. That took about an hour to get onto my right upper arm. It has been there ever since. I got my tattoo with a tall ship on my right upper arm. For a pack of Marlboro, on the quay right in front of the boat.

Rangoon or Bangkok, with the Canal Boats, the temples, the girls.

Then to Singapore, where I learned to eat with chopsticks at the night market.

Manila in the Philippines where I went to the Scandinavian Club, with a young woman. Stories that tourists got mugged and robbed went around, that fingers were cut of to get rings from tourists, and more of that kind. I never gave it any attention and went ashore all the same, alone.

Hong Kong, where was a drinking water shortage and the boat produced water and pumped it to the shore for the time we were in harbor.

Osaka, Kobe, Hiroshima, I went to the museum of the Atomic Bomb, saw pictures of the devastation.

Hawaii, Tsunami

San Francisco Black Hawk Night Club

Acapulco, the high jumps in the sea from the rock, in the fjord.

Panama, with the animal sex shows,

Curacao, with Campo Allegro, the whore village.

Jamaica, with the double dancing in the jungle hangar

New York where a Dutch coin of one cent fitted the subway entry slot, it had the same size as the tokens. I had met friends who let me use a bed in a guest room in their house, 11th street, where I got my very first blow job from the sweet black girl that did the cleaning twice a week. She did me while I was on the toilet, going to shit. She took my member in her mouth and sucked me empty in no time, smiled and told me I was handsome.

And after that I escaped to the south of France to get away from the army service. My father comes to persuade me to go anyway. Did I go this year or next? Hard to remember. Once I was in, it took me two weeks to get out of the army again.

Back to France, I meet an Algerian guy at the Youth Hostel and go to Algiers with him it was around Christmas

1965, a Snake year

In Algiers we disembark after a stormy trip with most of the passengers seasick and puking, it was a horrible trip in the hold of the old steamer; our tickets were the cheapest... We were not allowed on deck, it was a bit scaring. Thinking about what happens in case the ship springs a leak; the passengers in the hold were prisoners... My newly acquired friend lived a bit outside the big town Algiers. We went to the house of my friend where we sleep and do nothing. Really not a thing. I cannot do anything and so I started to learn the local language. French could be spoken by most, but the people self spoke Arabic, Algerian, whatever. So I had my little book, and pen, and asked every body what the word was for this and for that. Having lost my eyeglasses when I was cutting wood at the youth hostel in La Ciotat, France, I could see near, but not far. That was no problem writing, but I could not see that the man in the family house did not like me talk to the females in that house. Coming from a western civilization, culture I did not yet know the customs in Algeria. My friend who had taken me with him had suddenly disappeared. When I found out that he was gone, I was told that the military police had come to fetch him for his obligatory time in the army. Now what? I had no idea what to do, where to go when the father gestured me to come with him. He pointed to my little valise, and we went in his small car to town. There he stopped somewhere in the center and made me step out. And he drove away. That was that. In an unknown town, without money, without any one I know.

I stay a while; get a new pair of eyeglasses after the one I lost in the wood breaking accident at the youth hostel in La Ciotat. Boy scouts helped me when I went to look for the embassy of Holland when my friend has disappeared and I was on my own, in a strange country without money. The Embassy says: you made it to here, you’ll make it back and gave me nothing. Sitting on the curb of the street were the embassy was located a young boy came to me and offered me tea and some sweets. I explained my situation and I could sleep in the garage of the house. It was an expensive neighborhood and every house had a big garden with a garage, built for and by the French who had departed after the independence war was won by Algeria against France. That was not many years ago and the richer people that I spoke to did not all agree to the present state of affairs. With sadness in their voices did they recall the good old times....Then, after having spent some days there and gotten money that the boys collected to buy a pair of eyeglasses I went to the local youth hostel and had to sneak in after closing time, as I had no money to pay, I slept on an empty cot, sneaked out through the window again before daylight and entered a little later as a visitor. There I met a German young man, Hans, who was sympathetic. He let me taste my first marijuana, kif from Morocco, light and pleasant to the palate. It made me explore the stars in the night when we laid on our back on the roof of the youth hostel. Stargazing in the clear African night is a wonderful experience. We found a job as extras in a movie being made by the Algerian TV company, about the war against France. I had to be dressed in a French Military camouflage uniform and shoot with a fake sten-gun on passing farmer like civilians. Garden hose rain sprayed a jeep that had no engine where I had to turn the wheel as if driving while the cameras were turning. It was boring, the waiting in between shoots was long, but the pay was good and I could now stay at the hostel for real. When the movie job was done I traveled, I mean hitch hiked with the German young man to Tunisia. The way was long and the money small, and we slept in local bath houses, “hamams”, very cheap and convenient. In the evening, after a day of mostly walking, hitching rides on trucks, in open pick-ups, in overfull long distance taxis, like a Peugeot station car with 10 or 11 people squeezes in the back, seats would be removed to make space, baskets with live chickens, bundles on the roof, sacks and pots and what not stuffed every where. We would end up in any kind of place. A village, a small town, a mere conglomeration of buildings and all we had to do is ask for the “hamam”. The bath house would always have lots of hot water, towels and mattresses. One would get a place, undress, wrap in the towel, get a piece of soap and enter the hot room. . Splash water over the body, sitting on a low stool, soap and wash and rinse. Often a person would be there to scrub your back and mostly offer a body massage that cost near to nothing. After being thoroughly cleansed from the day travels, one lay on the mattress, with a cup of sweet tea and some cookies or sweetmeats and fall asleep under the provided towel. At daybreak one would get a kick on the feet to wake up, and with or without a morning tea be put out on the street. That trip overland was very special, the first time in an Arabic country. I sometimes blew my penny whistle, a small flute with 6 holes that I can play a lot of melodies on. Hans painted with chalk on the pavement, huge Maria’s, and other figures, so we could beg with dignity. On this trip, in Oran I had to eat a roasted goat head, suck out the eyes, crack it open and eat the cooked brains, a delicacy when hungry. Before reaching the border we had no lift and started to walk the 20 or so remaining kilometers. Somewhat later, it had become dark deep night a pick-up truck took us in the back and stopped at the border to Tunisia, on the road to the town of Hammamet, after exchanging some money and contraband watches with the border guards, we came to a small village, got a sleeping place and were put out on the road in the early next morning. On the way to Tunis along the seacoast, it was beautiful. We ended up in the big town Tunis, Avenue Bourgiba. Every thing was called Bourgiba, a Hotel, a street, a park, a kind of cigarette, the money; it was all “Bourgiba”, the name of the president. When we, German Hans and I where on the street painting and begging a white European passed by and dropped a big banknote in our tray. Looking up with wonder he smiled and invited us for lunch and coffee in a classy restaurant. It does not look good for Europeans to beg, he said and he would take care of us. He was a rich architect, engaged by a wealthy Tunisian to built some houses and he was bored because there was nobody to talk to, to exchange intelligence in that so different a culture. Later we where in his house and he introduced us to some drug that made one high. It was “Romilar” from la Roche. Originally a cough medicine, but when you took 20 pills instead of one, you started hallucinating and laughing and having a very good time. That we did and I remember not much but the fantastic colored rainbows at the seaside, splashing water and playing in the shallow sea. Some days later, we lived now all in his apartment; we went to a place called Cartagena, north of Tunis. There we went to a horse stable where he had his horse and took us to go horseback riding. I had never sat on a horse. Hans said that he had. Ulli took his own horse, selected for me a meek, elder lady horse, and for Hans a young eager Arab. And there we went. Out in the open, my horse was calm, quiet and obedient to my pulls at the reigns; it was even a bit dull. Hans’s horse was jumpy and did all kind of turns and pulled hard this way and that. Ulli’s horse and he knew each another well, they went ahead and came back to see how we were doing. After a while I saw that Hans had problems as his horse was young and wild and I offered to change, he takes mine and I take his. And that we did. Wow, what a difference, to have a power pack between your legs. I liked it, but I could not control it very well, I had no knowledge about horse riding at all. Still, I had the distinct feeling that I had done this before. Surely it was a memory from a former life. Trotting went painful, I could not get the rhythm and when the horse went up, I went down, and the contact was painful. A little later, Ulli was far ahead, I went galloping, or better said, the horse took off with me. That was nice, much more comfortable, now it was like the horse was steady and there was hardly any contact between the saddle and my bottom. We were flying, the wind through my hair, the clop, clop of the hoofs on the hard packed sandy ground, the sea on the horizon, palm trees far away, it was a dream. I had done this for sure in a former life, I could feel it. My left foot came out of the stirrup, I could not find the stirrup back with my foot, we went so fast, everything was moving. Bad news, the stirrup on its leather strap hit the horse’s side hard, it went even faster, the stirrup hit my head, and it hit the side of the horse again and again, the young horse went in a frenzy of speed, it was incredible. And my head got hit again, until I managed to catch the flying stirrup and stuffed it between my left leg and the horse. Under while we were flying at top speed over the plain. Ulli tried to follow me, a joke, we were too fast. My right foot slipped out of the stirrup as well and it started to fly up and down. It started to swing up and down like the other one had done. I tried to catch it and pressed my legs tight around the little horse, but it was too much. The stirrup hit me and then I fell off. And found myself on the ground looking after the horse running free, in a cloud of dust, far away. How long it took for Ulli to get it back I do not remember, but I was getting up and started walking in the direction they had taken off. Some time later they came out of the horizon and now the horse had run itself out and was a bit quieter. I was back on top right away. Never felt so good. After that one time, I never ever, during my whole life, fell off a horse again. It was a marvelous day, I learned something of great value and importance: the feeling that I had lived before. That feeling was so strong that it made the scenery look timeless, as if we had been there hundreds of years, as if my friends were not friends from the twenties century but from eternity. Alexander the great had been there at Cartage and I felt that I had been there, that my name carried something of the inherited past. That evening the pain came. The unfamiliar exercise took its toll and without the powerful painkiller that Ulli provided I would have suffered terribly. As it was, the evening past like we were royalty, me basking in my victory over the horse, in the company of friends in an Arabic country in a spot that my name giver had conquered centuries before. What a feeling. We discussed the lack of marijuana, kif, ganja, grass, and it came up that we or one of us would go to Morocco to get some in order to find some kif, something to smoke other than the tobacco that was available. The water pipes that were in every coffeehouse should have something better to burn we thought. I myself had no experience with grass other than the little that Hans had had with him in Algiers and that was finished long ago.

And so it came to pass that I all alone went west, all the way to Morocco. The idea was that I would go and return with some kif as the marijuana is called there.

I did do the trip, hitching rides on buses, private cars, long distance taxis and anything else that went my way. It was an amazing feat for a young fellow alone with hardly any money, just a little provided by the Swiss. Finally arriving at the Moroccan border, my money was all finished, or good as finished. In the little town close to the border I could still find a sort of guest house, and a room the size of the bed with hardly room to get in. I slept the night through and woke up early morning from giggling, and women's voices. Looking out I saw the inner courtyard with small tables and chairs, some with a man or two, except one where three young women were joking with a young man. When they saw me, they called me over and I got a small cup of sweet tea and believe it or not, a pipe of kif. They smoked their morning puff and automatically invited me in. I smoked a few puffs, excused myself and went back to bed. And slept until 11 am. Then started my Moroccan adventure which lasted three month. After waking up and getting out in the streets I walked aimlessly around, not knowing what to do or where to go. Not much later I was met with the guy who sat with the women in the hotel patio. He took me to a place with bread and soup. A cauldron at least a meter across was built in a place, a fire was burning underneath and a man was stirring it with a huge wooden spoon, more looking like a rowing oar than a spoon. It made a nice thick pea soup and the half loaf of bread was freshly baked. It was the beginning of three month in Fez. I got an old jelabah, a dress that one enters from the bottom, puts arms and head first, and that covers the whole body, with arms and a capuchin, a hood. It covers the wine bottles I carry in my trouser pockets, which I have to carry into the inner Arab city. Alcoholic drinks are not permitted and soldiers are watching everybody entering through the gates in the city wall.

Here my story needs to be followed up, a lot more is to tell, a lot happened before I returned to Europe.

1966 Horse year

After I was back in Holland, maybe in this year did I find the magic lamp and did I know Francis de Waal, who went with a guy called Klaas. She lived in the general Vetter Street. She had a sailing boat, called BM, which I sailed on the Y, the Amsterdam harbor. Her father had a place on the Loosdrechtse Plassen, and she went years later with Jorjen Mikmak from Haastje Repje...I always wanted her; she had such small firm breasts and freckles, and raven black hair. I never got her...

Amsterdam, opium, amphetamine van de mysterious Germ Schut, who came into my life one day when I worked in “Broodje van Kootje”, trying to live with a terrible hangover. He offered me a little white powder in my coffee. It worked wonders and in no time I was feeling like new. That whole day I worked, cleaned, did everything efficiently, singing, happy, without eating anything, feeling great. The hangover like never existed. Later Germ took me to his house where he showed me the laboratory in his kitchen where he made the white powder, and he gave me so much of it that I put it in a salt shaker and had it in the pocket of my white working coat. I put it once in the coffee from my boss, who then started to show me how to clean the cutting machine, he got so carried away that after he cleaned the machine he started to clean the walls, the cupboards and the floors. He asked me if I didn’t want to take off, because he felt so good that he could carry on alone.

Germ himself and his friends would know that I had the powder and they came in asking coffee or a sandwich “special”, which meant I was to shake a little of what I learned was amphetamine powder on it. It was not yet illegal and many people used it. I heard that that stuff was made first in the second world war in Germany where the pilots that had to fly to England to drop bombs and then fly back used it to stay awake on those too long trips. Hitler lost the war, in spite of his drug, I did not use it very long, it gave me the shakes, made me feel colder than it was already and too active, doing things that were done already. In modern times that cheap nerve wrecking stuff has been replaced with the more sophisticated cocaine, which does virtually the same, it activates, takes away hunger and fatigue but gives me the nerves.

I live on the third floor of a house in Rapenburg, called: “Hospital Little Lexington” , meet my future to be wife Margona en her sister Carina, I am a junky then. Take lots of opium and amphetamine and help other junks to shoot the stuff in their veins. When I go there it is winter in Sweden, I recover, cold turkey style. Living at the house of Margona’s mother with the “kakelung”, the built in corner stove with tiles all the way to the ceiling in which we burned wood that gave a wonderful warmth so that you could be naked inside.

1967 Goat year

Then starts the most amazing trip with the two girls, without money, hitch hiking through Germany, Austria, Yugoslavia, Bulgaria, Turkey, Iran, and Afghanistan, back through Iran, Turkey, Yugoslavia, Italy, France and Belgium. Carina met her future husband Jannie, and Marcus was conceived in July or June on a French mountain slope near a little river, so romantic, it was perfect. I have to elaborate on this trip a lot, so much happened, me with two beauties in the Arab world.

1968 Monkey year

I am 23 years old, getting 24 in December.

I am in Sweden, I marry Margona Berit Margarita Eriksson on 2 February in Malmo. April 7 Marcus Pinocchio gets born. When I am in the room next to where the child gets delivered, I see myself unconsciously making the classical greeting towards the place he got into our world. Right arm outstretched 45 degrees into the sky, Hail my boy. Welcome.

I found out that I was a better than good baby sitter. Margona went out dancing and fooling around. I could feel it when one night I went after her and saw her kissing this boy Joren and I made a bad row. The relation ended after 5 years, we divorced.

This year I visit the artist Sture Johannson, and his friend K.G., who was studying psychology. He had in his house in the woods cases full of books, gotten from shops to further his studies. I found my truly magic book there, titled: the “Secret lore of Magic”, by Idries Shah, and he gave it to me as a present.

Sture created at that time already a painting with a computer. Together we made a huge painting on a long paper roll. It hung later in the Malmo Museum.

I ordered psilocybin cacti, Lophophora Williamsee, from a flower shop, to complete the cactus collection of my aunt, I told the shopkeeper. He got them from Switzerland but could not buy less than 24 in a box. No problem, I took them all. Once they had arrived, I cleaned them with Sture and we cut them in slices. The cat that lived in that house came curiously and hit a cutting with his paw, and became crazy, run all over the place, hung in the curtains, run over the ceiling, even upside down.

1969 Rooster year, I’m 24 getting 25

I am still in Sweden, am in a school to learn Swedish and small appliance repairs. Visiting the house of K.G. in the Swedish jungle, bush sometime, I realized that I did not want to learn any certain profession. I figured so; if I learn to be a carpenter I have to do that for the rest of my life, if I learn to be a mechanic or electrician, the same, I will be bored after a while. So I came to the conclusion that it would be better to become a magician. To change water into wine, to change lead into gold, that would be nice and never boring. K.G. just had gotten a case of books from a book company, all kinds of odds and ends, to do with psychology or related subjects. The books left in the case after he had taken what he needed were free for the taking. In it I found:” The Secret Lore of Magic.” by Idries Reza Shah, the Sufi master who compiles books of formulas, fairy tales and mystic information. He gave it to me as a present. That book I studied and it has thought me a lot. I have it up to today.

1970 Dog year.

I’m 25 going 26

I am healthy now, walk in Kungs Parken in Malmo, with the baby a lot,learn good Swedish in three month at the language laboratory, learn to repair adding machines, have a most wonderful black Mercedes 11 years old, wood paneling, narrow radiator front, plastic tulips with lights on the hat shelf. Meet Sture Johannson, the painter artist author, his water wheel house in the forest. Odessa, Rod Geiger, Katja of Sweden, the beauty of the land, small trips to Copenhagen, to get stoned in Cristiania. Saw a magic Concert with Ian Anderson, Jethro Tull.

Made a magic trip led by the instructions of Sven Lyra, whereby I froze to death almost but thawed again in the house of a stranger. That went as follows:

1971 Pig

Take a trip to Amsterdam after reading somewhere about LSD and want to satisfy my curiosity. Hitch hike and arrive in the night, raining and wet. Try to find a place to stay, end up in the Binnen Bantammer street, at the attic of some artist. (Ed van der Elsken, Aad Veldhoen??) The following morning I go down into a place where I find pills, capsules with the letters VWSD, the V and the W interwoven like the Volkswagen logo. I knock on every door, get no reply at all anywhere, start trying every door, 3 floors under the attic top floor, only one opens, the one floor over the street level. It is like a kitchen inside, but a kitchen where no cooking takes place. Cupboards but no pans and pots, a counter, a sink, all spotlessly clean. I open cupboards in search for something to eat, I’m starving after more than 48 hours traveling and walking in the night before. Outside the sun shines through the windows. nobody around. I find those pills, capsules more, I shake some, 5 maybe, in my hand, in my pocket and I leave. I was looking for LSD, as I had read about, was this it? I took one pill right away, drank some water from the tap and left, closed the door behind me, it locked, when I tried it would not open again. Did the spirit guide me? I descended the stairs, met a lady coming up. I asked her for some money to buy something to eat and she gave me a gulden. I then went out, took an apple from a fruit store display and walked into town. I did not feel anything and took another pill. Started looking for my old dwelling, did not eat, walked and walked until I got the idea that I had some undefinable powers and could heal the bad eyesight of the youngest princess of the royal family, and went on my way to the royal house” Ten Bosch” which I knew was somewhere in Utrecht. By now I was sky high.

ended up in the jail because I did not want to say my name

1972 Rat

Divorced officially and returned to Amsterdam with a Volkswagen van or bus, first touring Europe from pop-concert to festival, to fancy fair, taking people with backpacks who paid the fuel and food. Berlin, Madrid, Denmark, Paris, Zurich, Milan, Rome, Amsterdam, until the car was almost finished. I stopped at a place where homeless smokers out of the whole of Europe slept. The first night that I was trying to sleep on a normal mattress in that house on the Amstel, later called the Yellow Submarine, a Spanish guy with the name Manuel woke me up. He urged me to drive to Toledo, his hometown. At first I refused, but his need was so urgent that I had to get up and help him. I had no money and he had none. We went to the American Express office at Rokin and put out a sign looking for hitch hikers to Paris. A few turned up and with a tank full, and food, we left with 4 passengers in the back, Miguel and I in front. In Paris we waited at the Am Ex office for people that wanted to go south. We got a few for Basel, Switserland, so we went. Look at a road map, it is only a few hundred kilometers. There we found an English couple for Barcelona. I remember the Englishman was going to drive, I was exhausted. We had stopped for a break somewhere in the middle of an orchard of endless rows of trees full of nuts, we collected a big gray garbage bag full. We slept a few hours on the side of the road, but Miguel kept on pressing me with an unbelievable urgency. So we where on the road again and the English fellow on the wheel. I dozing next to him, his girlfriend on the passenger seat by the right side door. Suddenly the driver wanted to overtake a truck, and started the maneuver, but halfway another car coming towards us from the opposite direction forced him back behind the truck. Slowing down he started to slip in behind the lorry again but went too soon, and touched the left back corner of the truck with the right front corner of the van. So hard that the right window broke, the doorpost bent and the door opened. Seat belts did not exist yet and the woman fell out. We stopped and went immediately to see how she was. It looked like her arm was broken, she hurt a lot and we had to find medical help. It took some time before we found a hospital in a small town in the south of France, I forgot the name. After many well wishes, we left them there, what could I do? Miguel was all upset about the time we had lost and tried to speed me up to go faster to Toledo, the town where he lived. I had to make a bamboo frame to hold the plastic I put in place of the broken window on the passenger side. Thanks God it was such an old model that it still had a separation between the two front windows. At least we could continue. The urgency was still there and I never questioned Miguel, I just could feel his need for speed and tried to help. We drove on that night, through Madrid and on to Toledo. When the sun came up we entered a big parking place next to a cathedral or some such building. I only remember the very high walls, surrounding the empty square. Only one person was there, with a broom or something like a bag in his hand. He and Miguel recognized each other and exchanged greetings. Then they talked in Spanish which at the time I did not understand. A little later Miguel explained. We had arrived a short while after his father had died. He had fallen into a deep ravine, the day before, right on the moment we had the collision with the truck...

I left him there and went back to Amsterdam alone. Found passengers along the road, drove relaxed and slept in the van when passengers unrolled their sleeping bags outside. Back to the house at the Amstel. There I met other people like me who had no place to live and no money. Social welfare gave me some pittance, enough to survive, and the Kraakbeweging told about a big house they had spotted which stood empty and was ready to be opened up. Enough people had to be ready to enter and occupy, so the Kraak Beweging could claim another building

1973 Ox

Magic times in A’dam, Ali Baba, magic bus shows, dragon performance, concert in the Tropen Museum with Ravi Shankar.Oude Zijds Voorburg Wall. That was a most magic place. I was at the time practicing magic and had become town magician. Made so by Pi, the bus owner for whom I arranged the Dragon act and other show pieces.

As town magician I was asked to stop the traffic in the center of town. I did my prayers and asked the Highest to help me. Unbelievably, some kind of international trouble made the world oil so scarce that we in Holland got a car free Sunday. That was the best I could deliver and we towed the Magic Bus with ropes through the town on the Sundays we had found tourists that wanted to come with us... The next request I got was as difficult as the first. They asked me to stop the building of the Metro, the local subway, the underground train. It was to connect the outskirts of Oost, the Bijlmer, with the city. For the building in the muddy swamp like Amsterdam ground a special way of building was required. The tunnel through which the trains were to go could not be dug through the grounds, as in Paris and Moscow and London. It had to be made as a tunnel, caissons where lowered in the mud the same as through a body of water as they had done to connect Amsterdam with the north and in Rotterdam, under the waterways. Whole areas of the city had to disappear, a hole had to be dug, tunnel segments lowered and connected, the hole filled up and new living quarters built on top. For that system living areas where people where born, had grown up and lived, had to be demolished. That went not without heavy emotions. Sometimes Police had to help clear areas where citizens resisted progress. At places heavy fights had raged between city police and citizens that wanted to stay. Water canon and bricks against each other, wounded people on both sides. Now they came to me to ask to stop the building of the underground train... I devised a plan as follows: I compared, or symbolized the tunnel with a bad dragon who came digging his way towards the heart of the town. So I made a dragon from cloth and bamboo. Then I had the tourists that came to take a tour of the town on the Magic Bus dress in the dragon. I had them walk around the building called: de Waag, now it is the Jewish Museum on the Nieuwe Markt, the area that was under direct threat of the devastation of the Metro. The dragon was

Let me tell you about that place. When you stood on the street facing the building you saw 4 house fronts, each some three or four stories high, topped off with those famous Amsterdam gable-roofs, some curved like a bell or clock, some like a whipped cream pie and another straight like a stair. On the left was the “Zwarte Hand Steeg”, the black hand alley, on the other side the “Sint Nicolaas Steeg”, the Sint Nicolaus Alley. The four houses were hundreds of years old and had gable stone plaques with names. The house that I was to occupy had one that said: ”De Groene Hekels”. A “hekel” being a piece of wood with nails put through it, and turned upside down, not unlike the bed of a fakir. To make ropes and other materials from fires, hemp was used. The stems of the hemp plant where beaten on the hekel and pulled over it so that the fires parted length wise. The juice from the hemp plants was making the hekel green, groen in Dutch. From there the name. In the place they must have made fires for the making of sails and ropes for the boats that went all over the world in the times of the great discoveries. The house next to it had the name: “Prince of Orange”. Recently the four buildings had housed a company whose business was yarn, wool, ribbons, buttons and all things for sewing. Inconvenient in the middle of town the company had moved to the outskirts and the building was standing empty for a long time. Due to the great housing shortage squatting,(kraken) was in high fashion. Squatting meaning the occupying of empty buildings by youngsters who could not find a affordable room to rent. Students, laborers, all kind of people did that and the law said that once a room was occupied, had a bed, a chair and a table, it was considered a dwelling and one could not be evicted. Not be evicted unless the owner would provide an equivalent to the place to be abandoned. So a group of young people had formed and was ready to occupy the building. It was in the first days of December, and the best possible day to open a door in the Sint Nicolaas Steeg was on the very birthday of the Good Holy Man, the night of 5 December. In Holland, Saint Nicolaus’ Birthday is celebrated throughout the country. The tradition comes from long ago and has become a national event. Two weeks before his birthday on 6 December he arrives by boat, on his white horse and accompanied by his black helpers. They are called his Black Peters. He comes from Spain say the songs that small children sing at schools and before the chimney of their houses every evening. They place their shoes with in it something for the horse of Sinterklaas to eat; some dry grass or a big carrot. They do this every night until the great event itself, that takes place on the evening of 5 December. The songs are very nice and pretty, easy melodies and have high moral content. In the morning a sweet has replaced the hay and the carrot in the shoe for the children that Sinterklaas rewards, a whip of twines for those that need punishment. Then on the night of 5 December, a loud knock on the door makes the children run to open and two things can happen. Or the Saint himself is there with a bag full of presents, and he starts handing them out, or the bag of presents is there and a note says that he is so busy that he could not come in person... If he has come with his Zwarte Piet, he sits down, gets a glass of something and gives the presents to the children and members of the family. The presents are always accompanied by a poem. It must be read aloud and always says something about the person receiving the present. You must know that the family members make the presents themselves, only the smallest children still believe that the Saint is real. Bon, so the door of the great building was opened by the door crackers, who always where masked and did their deed in secret, alone and anonymous, because that was the illegal part. Once a persons could swear for God and Fatherland that the door had been found open, and that they had not opened it by force themselves, no law could get them out. I was one of the first group and I could reserve a place for me to occupy. The buildings of 4 houses had been interconnected with corridors, steps up and down as the levels where not at all the same. On the ground floor though was a reception room, very big and spacy. That later became our conference room and later tea and coffee bar and resting-place for weary, worn out travelers. I found at first inspection a place on the first floor, with only one entrance door, that had a sign, hand painted in old fashioned letters saying: “De Schatkamer”, meaning: “The Treasure Room”. It was low ceiling with big heavy beams and 10 meters long one wall and 12 meters the other wall, 4 meters wide. It had a trapdoor to an attic that was right under the roof tiles. Another room without a door of 4x4 meters became my sleeping room. As the Oude Zijds Voorburg Wall had once long ago been a canal, the house had been a warehouse or factory where rope was made. It had big opening doors that opened at the street side. On the top of the attic was a hoisting hook to attach a hoist . pulley and rope for things to be brought in and out. Later when I was installed and we had somehow arranged with the town electricity company to get power, I would swing open the street doors, remember it was high over the street itself, I had a flagpole and hoisted the Dutch flag, a huge one and I played on an amplifier, very loud, at sunrise, the Dutch national anthem, the Whilhelmus...

Crazy Charlie came into my life one day. I was walking home over the Dam, when he approached me for a gulden. To call his former girlfriend as he just came from a visit in a Belgian jail. He had no where to go and hoped his former girlfriend would give him shelter He had done time for falsifying certificates of authenticity for antiques. He had made new copper pots old by pouring acid on them and burying them in the ground for a while. He then sold them with a certificate of origin stamped and signed by the secretary of the BADA, the Belgian Antique Dealers Association, with rubber stamps and all. Charlie would later enlighten me with more tricks than the book holds. I took him in, first for only a few days in my own front room, later he got his own room in the house, there was still empty space enough. My neighbor was Indonesian Tommy, my self appointed Ambonese body guard. He was surely to be respected. His room was empty but for a mattress, a blanket, a pot, a pan and some bricks. Unwanted persons in his room he would repel, if needed with brick in hand... To cook he arranged the bricks and made a little fire, right in the huge room. His room was as big as mine, but entirely empty. He would hang around in my place and when asked to get out, he told me that he was my guard, as I was spiritual boss and magician and had some high rank in the hierarchy of freaks in that house. In my big room was a secret Seal of Solomon, the King of the Old Testament. It was hidden under a carpet, not to be crossed as a hammock was slung right over it. Also a piano had been brought through the loading doors with the hoist, brought by Charlie on the repaired Tricycle...

Charlie asked me to help him with what he called a moral issue; paying a debt of honor.

Before he went to Belgium, he was in Amsterdam, hence his girlfriend. It had never been a good relation and he was happy to get to live in my/our amazing squatted building.

When he was in Amsterdam that time long ago, he told me, he was often approached by youngsters who asked for a little money. Hippies who came to the magic city, poor kids and druggies from all over the world. They used to sleep for free in the Vondelpark or on the stairs from the monument on the Dam. True enough, these guys roamed the streets, begging for a hand out that was a known fact. In those days the parking of cars in the city had become a major problem and the first parking meters had appeared on the streets. As he had been educated a professional lock smith, he figured a way to help the poor kids. He would make a key for the parking meters and give these to the kids who needed money. He explained that the piggy banks where all over the place and the key holders could serve them self. For his locksmith eye, the first ones where simple constructions and he easily made keys and gave them away, just for his own satisfaction. He never told me how he did it, he also never showed me later. He was proud of himself, to have such generous and helpful idea. It did not take long for the police to find him out. He was arrested and led before a magistrate. This entire episode happened long before I knew him. He told me this in great detail. The punishment for his crime of giving out keys for the parking meters was difficult for the prosecutor and the judge to determine. One, the legality of the very parking meters was in question. It was still in discussion who had the right to how high tax the streets and, two; Charlie had not damaged anything or stolen anything himself, three, the amount of money that had been stolen by the key holding kids could not be determined. So the judge gave Tirol Charlie a serious warning. He held the following speech:

“This time you will get away with a warning. Be informed however that the next generation parking meters will be much better constructed now that you have pointed out that they are vulnerable. I bet you will not be able to open those. Be informed that a law will be in place to protect them, so do not be tempted.” Charlie then must have answered the following said he to me:

“Your Honor, thank you for offering me a bet, I heard you loud and clear, and I accept the bet. My honor as a lock smith is at stake and I bet you that I can open them.”

He now asked me to stand by him to defend his honor and help him with his task. Hard to refuse such challenge, and I agreed. We went out for an inspection of the newly placed modern parking meters. They looked indeed impressive. Mounted on a 2 inch steel pipe, embedded in a block of concrete, buried deep in the ground they where practically immovable. Investigating them at location with a tent built around was not impossible but impractical, so it was decided to get one. To study it in the privacy of his workshop. To get one we developed an ingenious device, a movable tent, to work discretely removal. In Holland we have transport tricycles for big loads, the front is a wooden flatbed of almost a meter and a half square that rests on an axle with two wheels. The driver sits on a saddle on top of the back wheel and his feet turn the drive chain. His hands move the flatbed in the direction the contraption is going. We had found a tricycle like that in a carport off St. Nicolaus Alley. Covered by a layer of dust with flat tires it had stood there many a year. We mounted sticks on the four corners and connected those with horizontal bars. About one meter high was it. Then we covered the frame with cloth, old carpets and tarpaulin. It was now a box big enough to hold a man. Charlie had obtained a huge pipe cutter and we made a slit 3 inch wide, in front of the wooden flatbed, with a handsaw, all the way till the axle, about the middle of the box. The chariot was now ready for action. It was pushed with Charlie inside, two tires where still flat, only one held air. All the way across the wide O.Z.Voorburgwal, into a narrow alley on across another street through an alley, onto the Singel. Over a steep bridge until we selected a parking meter at a dark corner. It was a very rainy and cold night. On approaching the empty parking spot I pointed straight to the metal pipe holding the the parking meter. Straight on the front and touching, through into the slit, right into the box that held Charlie. I walked away while he did his cutting. In case of a night stroller, a dog walker or a late home goner coming to close, I was to whistle a certain melody. A few minutes later I heard the muffled “All Clear” signal from within and pulled the tricycle away from there. Heading up the steep bridge to turn left and get home as fast as possible. Looking back I saw a short steel pipe sticking out of the street. Nobody would even miss the parking meter that once had been there. The trip back home was uneventful and Charlie carried his loot wrapped in a cloth with him to his dwelling.

I did not see him for a few weeks but one day Charlie came up with a bunch of keys. “It is time to try out my work, come along, you have to watch for me, part of the deal.”

He explained that the meters had indeed not been easy to crack, they needed three keys to get at the money. One to open the top, two to free the box which held the coins and three to open and empty it. The box was attached on a strong thin chain. We went out on a dark stormy night. He dressed in his black raincoat with a multitude of inner pockets that held pliers, cutters, breaking iron and the rest. All of the tools of his trade. On his head a rolled up baklava, on his hands thin gloves. I put my dark winter coat and gloves and out we went. After midnight we spotted the perfect parking meter, between two parked cars, just there where a street lamp was not working. While Charlie started to insert one key after the other, I walked around again with that crazy melody in my head. Nobody would disturb him. At one of my next passes he came away triumphantly and I heard the sound of silver. He attacked the next one much more confidently, but needed a lot of time. Three keys to try passkeys that would fit one row of a street, next street needed another key again. His bunch held many, I saw sometimes a glimpse of his doings, a flash of many keys in the windy night under a tree that moves and rustles and the wind is raving in autumn in Amsterdam, but he send me away. The next one took quiet a while to open. At a spot that was a bit more exposed he would just open the top, insert the next key to get the money box,get the money box out and cut the chain with a special strong chain cutting pliers, put the box in one of his deep pockets and move on. How many he opened I don't recall, but Later that night we drank on his success in a a few bars and later in an all night bar and always paid with coins, we bought cigarettes from coin operated slot machines, we ate at an automatic food dispenser, all with coins and we still had heavy pockets when we got home. A few days later he asked me to come again but then I reclined. My argument being that I helped him keep his bet with the judge, to defend his honor, as his assisted in honorable matters, but I was not going to be a burglar, no thank you so much. He accused me of cowardice and more stupidness, but who was the stupid one when a few weeks later he was again behind bars for a good while? Of course he had made keys for others and of course they had been caught and of course they had talked. I did not see Charlie for a few month, however, again punishment was not severe and he did come back. He then managed to reinstall electricity in our building.

During Charlie’s absence the building had become home to some 30 or 40 youngsters, one or two elder people between them. I was respected as house_magician and my room had a piano, a hammock, a huge table with a hole that was for a self built counter with a good size sink and a cooking stove. The place had been a store room in the days that it was built and had two doors of wood that opened unto the street, although we were on the third floor. From the attic a beam stuck out on which a hook to hold a pulley and rope was attached. With that they pulled up loads from the boats that came through the canal that was there long ago. The canal was filled up years before and at present iron rails where on that very wide street on which many fast noisy yellow tram line cars passed every few minutes on their iron wheels. The room was 6 meters wide and 12 meters long, had thick oak beams all along and was low in the ceiling. In the morning I opened the doors over the street at sunrise and stuck out the Dutch national flag and played the national anthem on an old tape recorder with amplifier that made it audible for every one in the neighborhood.

The people living in the building came together every week in the great hall downstairs. We had decided that only one door should be opened, and that everybody should be known to the group of starters and that someone should be at the door at all times. Beautiful ideas but impossible to realize. No or very little money made everything difficult. Electricity would be sold to the building by the city company as long as the bill got paid. So the first collection between the inhabitants went fine, the second also, but the third time the guy who was collecting split with the money. It was about 600 gulden and more than we could raise again. We lived some time without electricity. Water was still there, although that came from some system with garden hoses hooked up to water pipes from other buildings nearby. Gas lamps, oil lamps, I even had a system with a little engine that made a bicycle wheel turn that had two dynamos on it that provided 6 volt little bulbs that lighted my room, very pretty, like Christmas. Charlie came to the rescue again. It was in those days that he was released from jail for his parking meter stunt. Many freaks where now living in the building and there was no togetherness any more in those days.. Not every body knew every body else, other doors where opened to the Black Hand Alley and the Sint Nicolaus Alley, partitions had been blocked off, it was a mess and started looking like a junky place. I stayed away from most of that and the weekly meetings did not take place any more. Some of the original beginners group still came to my room when there were problems. And so it happened that their came a person to call me to come down to the big hall downstairs. That hall had been transformed in a place where street roamers, Vondelpark sleepers, junkies and beggars could find a moment of rest. We served sandwiches and coffee and tea, hot chocolate for cost price and had a fountain in the middle with an old washing machine pump giving a jet of water that fell back on itself. It was made of concrete. The furniture was made of wooden beams that lay next to train rails, indestructible, strong and heavy so that a blind horse could do no damage. Any way, I had to come down, it was urgent, Hells Angels had come in and were threatening the crowd. So I put on my magic cloak, a big black Moroccan cloak that was patched with hundreds of small pieces of cloth. I was wearing my parrot suit, as I called it, a trousers and shirt also made of small patches. A colorful hat from the Andes topped it of. Down I went into the big hall. At the bar counter stood a person dressed as a Hell’s Angel. Leather jacked, studded with metal points, boots, long dirty hair, cowboy gloves, a broad belt with a big metal buckle. He was obvious in charge, other Hell’s Angels were scattered over the place, the regulars looked disturbed and afraid. I approached the person and looked at him. He looked me over. And asked me who I was and what I wanted. So I told him I was in charge and that I was the house-magician. He laughed at my face and I was a bit at a loss for words. I bend down my head and looked down towards my toes. And saw a ring laying on the floor at my feet. Impulsively I stooped and picked it up. I held the ring up, right in the face of the man in front of me and I said to him: “As sure as this ring fits your little finger, so sure will you never get our house. If we cannot keep it, it will burn to the ground and nobody will have it.” His hand was there and I slipped the little gold ring straight on his right pinkie. He looked astonished at his hand with the ring on his pinkie, then he looked at me, turned around and slowly walked out of the place. The other Angels followed him and soon they all where gone. I lived there for a while and one day I heard a loud commotion outside my door. Opening, I found Tommy at the top of the stairs and two young policemen laying in a heap downstairs. The two wanted to come up for an inspection walk. The place was open, and not any more a private house, they had orders from their superiors to see if everything was all right inside. They looked at it as an extension of the street and had the right as was their duty to see if law and order were respected.

Tommy had thrown the two young police men down the stairs, he thought it his plight to keep uniforms away from my floor, or door. I had opened the door to see what the commotion was all about and I saw the two young policemen down the stairs, scramble up onto their legs and dust off their coats. They threatened revenge and closure of the house and arrest and return in full force. That looked bad. What

had Tommy in his head when he threw the two down the stairs. I proposed to go to the police station to apologize. And on the way to the Warmoesstraat we bought a bunch of roses. Inside the station I asked for the boss. We left the flowers for the men downstairs and climbed up to the head-chief of the force. He met us, Tommy never said a word, and when he found out what we came for he called me Ali Baba, leader of the 40 thieves. I then told him that I didn’t mind to be called Ali Baba, but I did not want to be mistaken for the leader of the bandits. Then I asked permission to tell him the true story of Ali Baba and the 40 thief. Warning that it would take a while, he let me tell it. That story is long and I took a short version of at least half an hour. After that the sympathy was restored, and he told me to look out for another dwelling. The house had become a gathering place for junkies and street criminals. It was not anymore the idealistic squatters paradise as we had started it. Doors where opened at different spots, corridors blocked, control was impossible, we did not know anymore who was living there and where. Tommy and I went back and had no trouble from his impulsive behavior that morning. My apology had worked.

Also this year: the Tiroler terrorist, Charlie made an electric door protection so that nobody could touch the door without getting a shock. On Keizersgracht 65 was a party, as never had been in town. Mr. Irving Fox with fat wife and daughter Plum where living at the squatters palace which formerly had been a monastery, with small rooms for the monks, a huge eating room and big kitchen, a chapel and inner yard. All that in the middle of the ancient heart Amsterdam. The party was in costume. I happened to find an outfit as an old fashioned caleche driver, horseman, with cylinder hat, gloves, whip, boots and frock coat. Later that day I put a Sinterklaas outfit and came dressed for the night as the good holy Saint. There was LSD and grass, hashish and at that time for me new sex movies, girls and boys in weird outfits, masked and dressed up like you never seen before. Drinks where in cauldrons placed on huge tables and the chapel was decorated with balloons and garlands.

The Magic Bus was a chapter on its own. Let me tell you what that was:

the boat Cornelia, fishing on the North Sea, meet the Paris girl named Gwendolyn with her lesbian Australian friend Annie, With whom I have sex together in the house of Pi. Gwen later invites me to Paris where I am to deflower her younger sister, Michelle. My knee locks up from the Russian dancing I did on board the “Rotterdam”, years ago, and I get operated by the fantastic young Swiss doctor Marti. I recover on the Cornelia.

1974 Tiger year

Back in Amsterdam, I meet old man Johannes Gerrit Zwertbroek in May and start to live in the Hartenstraat 19 in August or September. I got my big heated waterbed. Van Veen died and I lived in the downstairs shop. Met Tsuyoshi Hayashi, we call him Sammy. Cafe ‘t Heertje. Secrets of magic,

Here I have to add a lot.

1975 Cat

A comfortable year, meet Peter Vega, run the shop, deal hash, go out, show 8mm movies to the kids, organize in the ‘Old Bakery’, Zorro and Charley Chaplin evenings. Learn to fly small airplanes at Lelystad airport. Learn to ride horses the right way in Zandvoort. Have the most wonderful Citroen DS.

1976 Dragon

Later that year, Kaatje Stamm comes into my life, first she lived upstairs from grandfather, later with me. A mouse brought us together. One night I heard Catherine scream loud, as if she was assaulted or attacked. I could hear her scream clearly although she was two stairs down, along a corridor and two stairs up. I went down my stairs, threw myself through a little window, which was a shortcut to her building, flew up another stairs and entered her room. She stood there with her hands for her mouth on her bed, trembling. When I looked around the room, and saw nothing out of the ordinary I asked her what happened, she cried that she had seen a mouse. I held her hand and brought her down to sit on the bed. She shivered a little and I sat down next to her, holding her softly, talking sweetly and soothing words to her. She calmed down and relaxed a little. Her young lean body felt still tense, but also smooth and strong, and I started stroking her, her back, her spine and the side of her thigh. My other hand felt her small tight breast carefully, and she did not seem to mind, I explored a little more, it felt so good and her nipple became hard. In a moment I moved my hand down her flat stomach to her Venus mount. Her night gown was of a flimsy material and in the moon light coming through the window I could see her bush of golden hair shine in the low light. I was getting horny beyond return and started to feel her all over, and then, oh Lord be praised, her hands found me and she closed her eyes as she held me with both arms tenderly close to her. I slipped my hand under her nightly and lifted it up over her head and let it drop away. My face nuzzled her breasts and I kissed the smooth skin between them. My lips moved from one stiff nipple to the other and she sighed so deep. She was now next to me in all her 19 springtime’s young glory and her white skin shone as she trembled a little and I started to undo the buttons of my pants. She helped me wriggle out of my pants and shirt and I pushed her body softly backward upon the pillows. She lay down and I could see in the dim light the rosy color on her cheeks, her throat and her breast. I bend over her, kissed her softly on the forehead and whispered softly soothing sweet nothings in her ear, all the while feeling her little breasts and her stomach way down to the golden bush around her little clitoris that was moist and started to swell and throb. A little deeper down I could feel her warm yoni lips getting wetter, her juices started flowing seriously. Her breathing became shallower and faster now and she was all over my head and my back with her hands. My finger felt it getting slippery down there. She was now holding me with both arms. She pressed me closer to her. I led her hand to my swollen member and she shivered all over when she felt my hard rod. From there it was a small step to get into position so that my member touched her bush with impatience. She led my trembling rod towards her juicy love cave and inserted the head of my willing willy slowly into her tight wet warm hungry hole. We merged, we became one and united completely. Slowly I started pressing my wonder wand into her warm tight puss. She opened her legs as wide as they would go, she arched her buttocks up so as to take me in as deep as possible, my bush was rubbing hers. The feeling took me beyond earthly emotions, stars started to explode in my head. Our two bodies were one body, our movements were the holy union of the creating God. We made intense sweet love for a long and divine time. In the dim light I saw that her eyes were closed, her lips parted and with her mouth half open she gave a moan out of the depth of her throat. A little later she tensed and I could feel how my throbbing member got squeezed inside her, and my love juice squirted out in an explosion of creation. She arched her back and with a loud scream she climaxed. Then she relaxed completely, and I had the most peaceful, divine feeling. Filled with holy love I took in that sweetest of all sights as I slowly disentangled myself from her. I sat on my knees in devotion to behold the lovely shape of her body. I kissed her eyes, her mouth, her breasts and her stomach over and over again, as she was on the verge of falling asleep. I covered her with the sheets and softly told her I loved her. Before I left I said to call me again as soon as another mouse would scare her. She smiled and fell deep asleep.

From then on Catherine and I were lovers and we continued to have sweet sex most every day. We did it in the weirdest places, at any odd time, but that is another story.

I met the polish girl Margaretha Klimszack almost a year before I met Catherine, on a night I was walking home from the nightclub “Oxhoofd”. She stood with another girl looking into a shop window with office furniture. A curious thing to look at in the middle of the night and so I addressed the two girls. I found out that they were sisters, one living here and the other, called Margaretha going back to Poland tomorrow. But wow, was she pretty, and I invited them to come to my place. I just had hung dozens of paintings on the walls of the shop. A friend had them in his sous-terrain but it was so humid there after a water pipe had burst, that he had asked me to have them for the while. My place looked like an art shop, an art gallery almost, only it was too full, not a bit of the walls was visible. Landscapes, portraits, buildings, castles, animals, flowers, an abundance of images. The girls looked with awe and wonder at the paintings and at me. How sorry I was that Margaretha had to go the next day. We exchanged addresses, I poured a glass of wine, and walked with them to the taxi stop at the corner. She returned to Poland and we started writing many letters during something like a year. In that time I arranged a visa for her so she could come to visit. I had to get her health insurance, copies from her passport and all kind of papers. When that was done she could come to stay a few weeks. To invite somebody from what was then a communist country, I had to do a lot of things, ask permission to the immigration ministry, I had to pay for health insurance for the duration of her stay, show copies of her papers, passport, birth certificate and so on to the local police. When finally all that was done I could send her some visa, she had to go to the embassy in Warsaw, have pass photos made, bring birth certificate and what not. When finally, after a year of corresponding, she arrived by train. I went to welcome her with my big French automobile, the luxury Citroen. I fetched her from Amersfoort, a few stops before Amsterdam, she would have to change train there, so it was simpler to get her in Amersfoort. When I saw her she was as beautiful as ever, and my heart skipped a beat. She kissed me, as if we were old time lovers and I helped her in the car. Because of my relation with Catherine I was used to have sex regular and my member was half hard most all of the time, just thinking of it, seeing pretty women and so, when Margaret kissed me, I felt my member swell at once. She may have felt it already because soon after we had sex.

From the station I drove to the Loosdrechtse Plassen, a couple of inland lakes with pleasure boats. It was a nice summer day and I stopped at a place where small sailing boats where for rent. Margareta looked all around and enjoyed the scenery. I rented a boat, and she and me sailed over the smooth waters of the lake. No noise, no pollution, after the long train ride she relaxed and basked in the warmth of the sun. I then sailed the little boat straight into the shore where it was hidden in the high reeds at once. I lowered the sails and tied the bow to a small tree.

We started talking about how nice it was that she had come, how happy I was to see her, we kissed again this time a bit more intense, her tongue explored my mouth and my hands went over her beautiful breasts. It was no great problem to get her out of her shirt and soon I had the immense pleasure to kiss her firm breasts and hard nipples. It went a bit fast and impatient, the getting out of our clothes and the exploring of the bodies, and before I realized we were united. Her naked body lay on top of our clothes on the floor of the small boat, with the sun shining and I so full of lust, it was a wonderful young power play. Her hair was black as a raven and her eyes dark brown, her eyebrows dark and well defined. She closed her eyes and held out her arms. I lowered myself onto her body and my stiff member throbbed to enter her wet love cave, hidden in the black bush of curly hair. Our bodies touched and an electric power united us as if we were welded together. My member pushed towards her slippery opening, she helped with her hand to open her lips so that my dick could enter smoothly. I pushed slowly deeper and deeper. She moaned of pleasure and want. We moved in unison, we made love as two Gods becoming One. The sex was intense and liberating, it was a Holy Communion, an old, deep desire finally fulfilled. Unconsciously I had waited one year for this moment. Now that it took place the world disappeared, stars exploded, creation took place and we were love for true. As it came to a climax, the boat was rocking and rolling and little waves slapped on to the hull. We were in total harmony with nature; a bird came briefly to sit on the top of the mast when we lay next to each other, wallowing luxuriously in the afterglow of our lovemaking. A little later we dressed and sailed back to the place where the car was parked and we continued to Amsterdam.

Then I was with Catherine, and I explained to both of them how it had come to happen that they were both my lovers now. They graciously accepted the situation and I then had two women for a period of six weeks. They each had their own room and I slept one night with one, next night with the other. I was not yet so experienced in love matters that I knew how to get them to do it together with me. Years later I got that wonderful experience also. With two lovely young black women. Now always with one at the time, we never made a trio, that idea just did never came up. That situation lasted for the time that Margareta stayed with us, and then she went back to Poland. I lost contact with her, but I look back with tender feelings to those days of love. I was dealing in antiques and hashish, art and second hand goods, undeclared wine and other goods. I learned to fly small airplanes. I was very successful and had lots of money. It made me arrogant I learned later. I used to say that I put my black money in the white clouds and that if any customer did not get high from the stuff I sold, he could come with me on the next flying lesson. If my hash did not make him high, I would take him a mile high in the sky.

It was in those days that a fishing boat called the “Lammie” was stopped by the custom boats of the coast guard in the North Sea. The crew sunk the boat when they surrendered to the Coast Guard. Later the captain, who was rescued, said for the press that he had 20 tons of hashish on board from Morocco. When the military and custom police raised the boat later from the seabed, the newspapers reported that only 15 tons of hash was on board. For many months after that Moroccan hashish was on the market slightly water damaged...

Wouter sold it, that he worked together with the authorities was clearer than water after that.

I got a Citroen DS the luxe from two boys, heroin addicts who returned from a European trip that depleted all the inherited money of the one named Ramon, whose mother had left him a big amount, she had been a famous singer. I sail on the harbor and the lakes with a BM, as we call the small gaff rigged sailing boats that are so popular in Holland. Old brother John is enjoying the last year of his life tremendously. I get set-up by my hash supplier Wouter who lived on the Overtoom. Those days as always it was not legal to have more than a few grams.

One day he told me that he was going away for a week or so on vacation and he wants to give me a few kilos in stock as I always moved a good amount every week. I refused, arguing that I have no safe stash, no good hiding place and do not want to keep anything at home. The dealing went normally as follows. The customer would come to my place, see and try the samples that where there, decided on the amount, quality and price and would give me the money. I would go to one of my dealers, I had three reliable ones, Cesar, Peter and Wouter and I could buy from any of them what I wanted. I would mostly go out with the money on a pushbike. On the way I stopped at a green grocer to buy some oranges, apples or something like that. Then I went to the dealer, paid cash for the hashish and left. I put the hashish in the bag with the fruits and peddle to a prearranged meeting spot somewhere in town. There I would hand over the merchandise to the customer. It would never enter my house-shop. Wouter protested, said he wanted to be my supplier and I should take his offer. I still refused and left. It was a Saturday, and I had to do the shopping for the weekend, Catherine would cook. I went to the market, strolled by all the stands with delicious vegetables, ate a salt herring and drank a coffee. I was still a meat eater and went to a butcher shop. Inside I had completely forgotten what to buy. So I used the phone that hung on the wall in the shop to call home and ask Catherine what to buy. When I got her on the line, she told me that 6 policemen had entered the shop and that they had found a suitcase with some 20 kilo of hashish. That suitcase was brought there about an hour before by a friend of Wouter who had said it was for me. The policemen where in the house and also had found some mushroom powder, that was a natural drug, not yet illegal, but the hashish was still a subject for prosecution. I asked to speak with the police officer in charge, who was immediately on the phone. I told him that the stuff was not mine and asked his name. Then I explained that I had to go see my grandfather in the old people’s home. I said that the day would soon come to an end, that Sunday was next and why not would I see him in his office the next Monday? After that call I went to Glenn, a good freaky friend of very high potential. I told him of what happened and he went to my house to fetch passport and money. Next day I found myself in Greece. Glenn could not drive, but his German girlfriend Hanna could. So, after picking up my money and passport, the three of us drove to Brussels Airport, where I boarded the first available flight, which happened to go to Athens, Greece. At first I stayed in a shabby hotel in the city of Athens. A few days later I went to Piraeus. At a small round inner harbor, called Turko Limano, later renamed Micro Limano; I drank something and looked at the sailing yachts moored there. Most were 33 feet, 10 meter, some were larger and a few smaller. I knew how to sail. I had learned it from Eppie Lubbers when I was 12, and I had sailed a little on the Ijsselmeer and to England on real yachts. So I inquired about the price for renting a yacht to sail. It was a shocking amount that I could never afford. A little defeated I went back to my drink. Thinking about what to do next, a person came to sit next to me. We started to talk and he told me he was owner of the yachts I saw, and asked me if I could sail. He had seen me enter the yacht agency. I assured him I could and he asked me if I could show him, if I wanted to sail with a couple of Americans with their two kids for a week to Aegina, Hydra and Poros. I was to be skipper and got paid a good salary. Of course I accepted straight away and I went with him and a friend of him to show my sailing skills. We hadn’t gone out of the harbor for a mile when he said OK, he had seen enough and I had become skipper on his boat. From that moment on I could sleep on the boat, and prepare for the week with the passengers. Long ago, I had read some thing about a Chinese practice to burn money for someone who had died. In the afterlife he might need it. And I’m not sure why, but when I heard that Onassis had died, I burned money for him, such a rich man for sure needed that. I always had the feeling that the spirit of Onassis helped me then.

That year I sailed a lot of small boats all over the Aegean Sea and visited many Greek Islands. I became acquainted with the two brothers van Seggelen who had Seahorse Yacht Service and the agency for Swan Yachts from Finland in Glyfada. I rented a place to live close by there and started to learn a little Greek. In no time I was free lance yacht skipper. I got to sail with different boats with different people from all over the world. One day I was asked if I could go fetch a little boat, which had a broken engine and was left abandoned by the people who had rented it. It was on an island somewhere in the middle of the Aegean Sea. It was a nice time and my Dutch girlfriend Catharina came over with a carload of things out of the house in Amsterdam. It was a dragon year. I took Catharina and our little Pekinese dog on the ferry to Ios where we found the little sailing boat. It was less than 8 meters and had a big bed in the front cabin with the mast standing as a third leg in the middle of it. The cockpit was amidships and a small cabin with a double bed was aft. I tried the engine but it would not start. We bought water and food and set of to sail to the next island, direction Glyfada. It was a trip never to forget. From Ios to Serifos and then to Sifnos. The Meltemi hit us when we were ashore in the deep small bay of Sifnos.

1977 Snake Year.

Brother John died in Amsterdam on 20 October. I found my boat on the Boat Show in Genoa Italy. I went there with the Van Seggelen brothers, who represented Swan sailing yachts on the show. What a lovely old-fashioned classical shape in modern materials for a third of an equivalent European made boat. On the show are hundreds of boats and I climbed up to see every one that was in my price class. When I found the Chung Hwa 36, my heart was skipping a beat. I could not believe my eyes. It was a perfect big little boat. Sturdy and robust for its smallness, and looking very strong and safe. I took the address from the factorry in Taiwan and after the show, back in Glyfada, contacted them. I lived at Artimides Street in Glyfada with Catherine Stam, the very beautiful young Dutch tall blond girl.

1978 Horse

This year I bought the boat in Taiwan, I went there to see how it was made. I flew Quantas and made a stop at Bangkok first. I had never been there yet and I took eagerly in the oriental smells and the hustle and bustle of the small people. The busride to town was very hot. I booked in a small hotel in a sidestreet, next to a luxury place that was recommended by the tourist folders I took from the airport. The next day I took a bus to a seaside resort and walked ovver the beach. There were a few small sailing cats, Hoby Cats for rent and I went for a sail on the flat bay. The hobys belonged to two Belgian guys who told me that business was slow. They explained that the tourist all go to sex the local women and so much so that after they have no energy or money to rent a boat and do some sport. I curiously went to see inside a sexclub. One had to pay an entrance fee and then came into a room with almost no light and a glass wall. The wall was painted except for a one-inch wide strip to look through. Another room was behind the partition and a dozen or so women dressed in panties and bra’s sat or laid on couches doing nothing. They all had a big number on their clothing somewhere. One was to look good and choose one. I thought to have made a good choise, and told the number to the door attendant. But when I saw her in the little room a minute later she was not so nice at all. I did not want to sex her as I can only sex a woman that I find attractive, she must stir something in me. Anyway, she undid my pants as I was like shy and did not know what to do or how to act. She made me sit on the edge of the bed and started to give me kisses and licking my belly. She pushed me backward and I relaxed a bit against the big pillows. Then she took my limp dick in her mouth and started to suck. There was not much I had to do and of course my dick got hard. Then she looked up and smiled at me while she stroked my dick with her hand. She took off her brassiere and panties. Naked she climbed on the bed and as I was laying on my back with my dick standing up hard, she sat on her hunches over me and inserted my dick in her pussy. Up and down she moved slowly and very pleasantly. I held her breasts in my hand and I got a bit more feelings for what was going on. I made her get of me and lay down on the bed, went on top of her and started fucking. However as she was not my type so much I did not cumm. So I pulled out, and made her turn over, and sit on all fours. In that position I rammed it in and vigorously fucked her untill I came with an explosion that was more than I had thought possible. A little later I was walking in the sun outside and went into a local restaurant. Next to me was a Thai person who started a conversation. He spoke good english and worked on an oilrig in Saoudi Arabia He had a month off and lived in the north of the country. Came here to see family. We went to various hotel bars to have a drink. It was like wwe knew each other for yerars instaed of only minutes. Everywhere we went hotel owners and dignitaries greeted us as if we were high rank politicians or something like that. We got invited for free drinks and we saw a nice show of acrobats and dancing girls. The next day I went to what looked like a barber shop, exept that it

was that Hong Kong before going to Taipei. Had to beg for lower shipping price and met an Australian who sold Barlow winches and yacht supplies.His young housekeeper went to my hotel with me and we had good sweet sex. Only the second day could I enter that tight hole, with help of Vaseline and much probing. She stayed with me all the time I was in Taipei. We went to movies, “The 69 secrets of Shaolin”,and to a museum. When I asked her why she stayed with me, she said that she wanted to learn from me how to please her future husband. I found that very amazing, coming from another culture

than I. Since then I have learned a lot about sex with foreign culture women.

The boat was delivered that year by the Man Ming, a cargo boat from Hong Kong. It took me 6 or 7 visits to the shipping agents to reduce the price. That went as follows:

In the end of the year I went to Israel. From Cyprus to Tel Aviv is a course of roughly 120 and there was little or no wind so mister diesel Volvo was churning the soup. Left Larnaca in the night to arrive early morning, it was a Saturday. Still dark, 12 nautical miles out the coast we were met by an Israeli patrol boat. We spoke by VHF radio, they shone strong searchlights and pointed guns at us. After verifying our credentials, and confirming the course we were on for Tel Aviv marina they left us to go, and said we would be met by a small boat before reaching the marina. It was getting daylight, the visibility was bad, 2-3 miles, hazy and gray. The coast looks yellow, like the beach and the stones. Further up tall buildings, the hotels, Hilton, Holiday Inn and King David. All look the same from far. I could not see the marina entrance so stayed a bit from the shallows and continues along the coast. On the chart the new marina was not yet marked. But Jaffa harbor was. That was just a few miles further down the coast. By now the sun was out and the visibility was normal. I approached the old rocky entrance of Jaffa harbor, but coming very close, there was no wind, we could see right through the water that big boulders blocked the entrance completely. So I backed out and turned around. Then I saw sailing dinghies close by the beach a mile or so back. I understood that the marina had to be there, so I headed parallel to the beach towards the little sailing dinghies. The entrance to the marina is built from the same color rocks as the rest of the coast, that is why it was almost invisible. Close enough by I turned into the marina, found an empty slot, berthed and tied up. Made crew lists, collected passports and told my crew to wait while I went with crew list and passports ashore to look for the marina office. Passing the moored yachts I met a few people, all very busy rigging up boats and dinghies. Children and adults. It was Saturday, Sabbath, like Sunday for the Christians, I had arrived in Jewish country. Entering the marina office I was met with pandemonium. Several guys in uniform, khaki and navy blue where talking in Ivriet, talking in microphones, listening intent to speaker voices and all were too busy to even see me.

1979 Goat year

The boat was good and new, but my money was finished so I had to work. Catherine, Kaatje was with me then.In January in Haifa visiting Israel over land, boat in yacht marina in Tel Aviv. There I went to a stamp maker and had a rubber stam made for CC. It is like a boat steering wheel, with a picture of the boat in it and in the rim the name Chamba Chada and Holland. Big and very nice. I used it from then on everytime I had to clear in and out, stamped peoples passports when they got on board and made friends with all the officials that stamped my papers. That summer I was in Rhodos and many Greek islands. On Mykonos I had sweet sex with the angelic woman from Amsterdam whom I had always wanted, dressed in scrap cloths, but always looking like a heavenly angel. She needed money and asked me to pay something for her ticket home, she had spent every cent. Therefore she sexed me good and long and I was a young and a healthy sailor, who did fuck for real, with pleasure and vigor and love for the girl that I had wanted for years. I felt the godly feeling that night, a deep love for the universe that provided once again the sweetest experience a man can have, the sharing of the holiness of creation with a real good sexy woman.

Later being desperate for money in Glyfada I put the boat up for sale. It did not take long before a guy from England, who worked in Saudi Arabia with a vegetable growing project, paid 10% down and was going to pay the rest in full, next April. It was December and for my birthday I bought a ticket for a vacation visit to India. I boarded an airplane from the Australian airline Quantas, it had started in Paris and had quite a few young French travelers on aboard. Some of them were doing drugs and when a joint started burning it also came my way, we were really sky high. In those days smoking cigarettes was still allowed on planes. The plane made a stop over in Dubai and left soon after. In Bombay it was already night when we arrived and I took a taxi to a guest house together with two French men that I had met on the plane. I had heard about Goa and was eager to get there, to get there it was more adventurous to go by boat than over land. With a little help from my friend I found the boat which was going to Goa. Arriving in Goa I found a most wonderful lodging in a private house. The owners lived in a back room and let me and another French traveler rent the other part. The toilet was an outhouse, a little cubicle with a plank with a hole in it to sit on and to do ones business. The first time I used it I got the scare of my life. As I was sitting quiet to let the shit exit my end hole, I heard a loud snorting and grunting near my ass. I was so scared that I stood up and looked around and in the hole that was big enough to see through, I saw some ugly head from a hairy monster sniffing loudly. It was a big black boar of a pig. that came to eat my shit!!! Later I got used to the beast coming eating the shit almost from my anus, before it fell on the ground, it was unbelievable and right disgusting, but that was the way it was in Goa. Later I understood that the pigs loved the shit, not for the possible energy it may have held, but for the possible heroin that it may contain. Many hippies used horse and that drug goes through the body and much of it still is in the excrement when it leaves the body. When I saw a pig being tied down on the back of a bicycle to be brought to the slaughterhouse, I promised myself never to eat pork again.

The little house was close by the beach. On the beach there were some parties with grinding and bumping going on. It was Christmas and New Year and the Goa Party was a big event with world fame. On the beach most tourist girls were topless and I took some nice photos, especially from Nina, a 17 year old Swedish girl, so very pretty that I got surely horny from looking at her. Sex was not so much in fashion with me yet, there was some amphetamine and opium to keep the sexual urge away.

Food was being served in small open restaurants. In the past Portuguese sailors and colonists had been in Goa and it is different from the rest of India. Hindu is the Indian religion, but Goa is Christian. After Goa I went with a little private bus, a 16 seat Mercedes with only 9 passengers, very luxury to Hampi, Hubli, the stretched out city of temples. Hundreds of empty temples are scattered over a vast country site, built by a king, not more than a hundred years ago. It blows the mind to see all those unused temples, so very elaborately built, the statues, the carvings, the sculptings, it is totally unbelievable. After the visit to the temple of Hanuman, where monkeys stripped me of anything edible, we went through Tamil Nadu.

I had something with an American woman in Hikaduwa, Sri Lanka, yes it was there, in an almost similar setting, I’ll tell you what.

1980

I traveled overland with the small group of travelers to Sri Lanka, passed the coast Tamil Nadu, full of coconut plantations, as far as the eye could see. Saw men sitting on poles in the sea, fishing. In Colombo I heard about Hikaduwa, a small place at the coast, a little like Goa. So I lived in a small guest house over the street with a young Swiss man who like me traveled around. How and why it happened I cannot say, but at the end of the night I woke up, it was getting light, and looked at the young man sleeping. He was naked and the sheet had slipped of his lower body. I was intrigued by his penis which was half haard and I approached his bed, until I was close enough to touch it. His dick was not big, and felt nice in my hand. The young fellow slept on and I could not resist take his dick in my mouth. It was feeling good and it got hard very fast in my mouth. Never before had I done such a thing and I did not think at all what was going on. It just happened. By now his penis was firm and hard and I enjoyed having it in my mouth. The young sleeper woke up. Wow, what a surprise, he was angry, I confused, realizing what was going on, I apologized, stammering something like sorry, I didn’t meant to do that, sorry, and I went out. I crossed the street to the huge beach and started walking. The sun just came up. I walked far and long and it was sunny. On the land side where millions of coconut trees and on the beach a few white tourists sunbathing far apart. Suddenly I stood before a naked woman who was lying on a towel. Nobody else around for hundreds of meters. She had nothing on her naked body but a big hat covering her face. Her breasts were firm and small, her belly flat. Her legs where shapely and long. They were slightly apart and I could not help myself but sit down between them. I bowed down and I kow-towed to her sweet smelling bush. I lowered my face to her hairy triangle and I kissed her pussy ever so softly. She stirred, and withmy second kiss she woke up, slowly removed the hat from her face and looked at me with a pretty smile. What I was thinking of doing? She wanted to know. I asked her to save me from becoming a homosexual. I told her in detail what had happened that morning in my hotel room and that I was afraid that if I got no woman to make love to I was going to go mad. We started talking and went for a swim in the sea, dried and I oiled her body slowly, it was lovely to be so close with her. She told me she was American and I told her she was pretty. She was about 25 years old. Rich enough to have rented a small house in the coconut plantation. We got up from the beach and as it was lunchtime we went to a small restaurant and had a lunch with fish and salads. Then we walked another hour itowards her little house, stopping here and there to drink tea in a teahouse, talk to people she knew, as she obviously was there a bit of a time already. It was late afternoon when we arrived at her cottage. Sri Lanka is close to the equator so around 6 PM it got pitch dark outside and the night had begun. I surveyed the room with the big bed and felt the springiness of the mattress. The bed creaked when I sat on it and I asked her to give me a hand arranging the place a little bit different. We pushed the bed aside and took the mattresses of and arranged them directly on the floor. Then she got some nice cool coconot water drinks, and lit candles and incense. Then she went to the outside shower, and when she came back wet, only wrapped in a towel which fell of her in the room, I saw her firm breasts shining with a film of water and got hot like mad. Quickly I went for a rinse under the shower behind the house myself and came back in to see her laying naked on our prepared love nest. After a fast drying I went down on her like a hungry dog goes to a steak. She made me slow down and asked me to apply body lotion. That done, we had sex, and more sex. As soon as I had shot my load inside her pussy, I was hard again and took her anew. She stuck her sweet ass up and I went in from the back, doggy style, from the front, missionary style, from the side, spoon-spoon style, we fucked through the night, like I had never fucked before. We slept a little, ate a sandwich and we sexed again. When it was about 4 AM and she was totally satisfied I was till hard as wood and willing to continue. Then she told me about her girlfriend who lived in the next cottage, 50 or so meters down the path. She told me that her friend was so fat that she had a very hard time finding a boyfriend, and because I still wanted to fuck more, if I would not go to her and give her a good fuck for her. I went up and after she pointed in the direction where to find the next place, and I went. It was still dark when I knocked on the window and woke the girl inside. She was not very much surprised when she heard I was coming from her friend across the path, and she let me in immediately. Straight back into her warm bed, I undressed and crept in beside her. And yes, she was fat, but I was still hot and in no time was my member hard. I was eagerly looking for the entrance to her wet juicy pussy with my fingers. Boy, that girl liked to get it. Her soft pussy was dripping as soon as I slipped my fingers in her slit. I rubbed her clitoris rythmically for a while and she moaned of pleasure. She held hard on to the head end of the bed and her fat body stretched and moved like a wild horse. After I felt the spasmodic contractions inside her pussy I went in with my hard dick and excersized good rough sex. Turned her over and slammed it in from the back for the last time, I was fuller of energy than I had ever been. No more sperm to shoot, I just made the moves untill I came for the umpteened time and withdrew my always hard member. My legs were trembling from the vigor that night when I left her to walk in the first morning light under the coconut trees in the plantation.

There I met the owner of the place. We walked together through the place, under the tall trees. A noise came from the top of the trees and when I looked good I saw a troop of monkeys jumping from tree to tree. The coconut farmer explained that the monkeys do a lot of damage, they destroy the young coconuts and the flowers that must grow to become nuts. He told me that the government was Buddhist and shooting or otherwise killing the monkeys with poison for instance, was out of the question, and not allowed, and such a thing was just not done. The damage was bad and the owner of the plantation was pretty desperate. I then told him of the way to catch a monkey, by tying a transparent bottle somewhere. The bottle must have an opening big enough for a monkey to stick his hand in. Tied to a tree, where the monkeys come, you put something in the bottle that the monkey likes. A fruit or a banana. The monkey will stick his hand in the bottle and grip the thing inside. Then he will not be able to take his full fist back out of the bottle. Because of his greed or hunger, he will not let go, and he will be trapped. Then you will be able to catch him, because he will not let go the fruit in the bottle. By throwing a net over him and when you tap him on the elbow, he will open his hand and release the fruit in the bottle. Once you have the monkey you can tie him down, give him a beating to scare him, and put him on a car to deport him to a place far away. I stayed in Sri Lanka some weeks, I travelled to the southern tip where I had a meeting with world famous Arthur Clark, author of 2001 and 2010 of which movies are made. I stayed with him in his little pilgrim’s cubicle. We went together in the woods to do a magic ceremony and to produce a talisman to secure a piece of land against confiscation by the government who wanted to built a road there. I knew how to make a square protective talisman from tin on a Saturday with the engraving of the numbers of 1 to 9. The land belonged to a rich religious Buddhist merchant. He had built some very nice small lodges like the one I shared with Arthur where pilgrims could stay while they came to pay homage and reverence to the temple at the southern tip of the island. It is a Buddhist temple, built high up a rock. It contains a footprint of the Buddha it is said.

On a Saterday, before the sun came up Arthur and I went inside the woods to meet the local magic man, the shaman, the spirit master. Him was told that we needed a square of tin to make the amulet. He had collected tinfoil that used to be wrapped around corks of French wine bottles used in the better restaurants. The magic man crumbled some in a ball as big as a golfball. Then he tied strips of cloth around it and tied it to a stick of young green wood. He soaked the ball, now the size of a tennis ball in coconut oil. Then he put fire to it and turning it on the end of the stick he let it burn. The tinfoil was now in the center of the ball of fire. After some of the strips of cloth fell away burning and the ball got smaller, the tin had become hot enough to be liquid and suddenly it was running out of the fire onto a flat polished and oiled stone. The result was a flat piece of tin about 2 or 3 millimeter thick. The amulet must be made in the hour of the sun which is the first or seventh hour of the day to be powerfull. I cut a square from it with big shears that were at hand there and then. I then engraved the required configuration of nine numbers on one side and letters on the other. I did that with a big needle that I had bought for the purpose in a shop for sewing things on the previous Thursday, the day for steel. The needle was been in a temple and prayers and blessings had be said over it.The words engraved are sator, arepo, tenet, opera and rotas. We buried the protective talisman in the grounds. I then went up the mountain to pay homage to the temple’s Buddha. After the very long climb on the stairs that are hacked out of the stone mountain rock one arrives at the temple. The view over the Indian Ocean is calming and the tranquility of the monks is contagious. There are monks in yellow robes and I followed the stream of visitors. Many bought for a few penny a coconut from a monk to give it as a sacrifice to the temple. I did the same and got myself a nut. It was a normal hard dry coconut. There was a flat rectangular stone of about one by two feet with a groove or channel around it and a foot high iron fence around. One was to throw the coconut on that stone and offer it with a prayer to the temple or to the Buddha, or what it represents. The coconut water runs then off the stone into the groove and got collected lower down by the monks, as well as the broken pieces of the nuts that were thrown. They were constantly collecting the pieces. My turn came and I took the nut in both hands, raised it over my head and said my wish for the well of all. Then I threw it on the stone. The crowd around me said Oh and Ah, and exclaimed their approval. Wondering why, I then saw that my nut had split clean into two exactly equal parts. God has accepted your sacrifice was the word and people looked at me with awe and great respect. Later when I had gone down the long stairs again a young man made me sit down and talked to me while he made a pen drawing. When it was ready he gave it to me, it was a picture of the Hindu God with the elephant head. For protection he said. I gave him some coins.

I flew back to the middle of India, to a place with an impossible long name. In that town I met a German girl who wanted to share a hotel room with me. She had little money and was in need of company and she needed some good sexy lovemaking. She was with me a long hot night with the ventilator turning full force. She did not know the use of talcum powder yet. On sweaty bodies it takes away the moist feeling and makes the skin soft at once. I still like to powder a girl’s body generously with baby powder during foreplay. She liked it also very much. I massaged her pink young body with the talcum powder and it smelled like a baby. I powdered her from toe till top, backside and front side and her lovely breasts slowly and sensually. Her flat belly was hungry for a good fuck and I was eager like always to give it to her. I put my nose between her pussy lips and gave it a long wet lick upward to her shivering clit. She could not wait any longer and pulled my head up to hers and she kissed me on my mouth. Our tongues intertwined and explored our insides. She tasted like honey and we were all over each other instantly. Her hand took my hard rod and guided it towards her dripping wet lovecave. Soon our lovemaking was going sweet and slow. I had mu lust machine going and could not stop again. She came with a moan and a soft scream as if it was the first time in her life. She turned away from me to bask in the afterglow and did not move. I could not resist to enter her from the back once again and lay still spoon spoon style, without moving. My member inside her I felt the contractions of her vagina untill my dick relaxed and finally slipped out. I showered and went for a walk outside to drink tea in a tea house opposite the hotal. The next day I went to Madras, by train and then to Auroville , the commune of Aurobindo, where I had to deliver a message to the mother of the community. Arthur Clarke had given me the commission to go and tell the mother of the community to remove the sword out of the hall of meetings. That would be the remedy to make things go better. I arrived there and eventually delivered the message, but what came of it I do not know. The place looked like almost given up, or going very slow, as if the spirit had gone out. No vibrant feelings and the buildings looked neglected. I took the train across India back to Bombay and flew back to Greece in March.

1980 Monkey

Back in Glyfada in march I am broke again. The deal was that the boat should get sold and the money paid in April, but the buyer couldn't pay, and I had just spent all my money in India and Sri Lanka. Any way, I sit in the Kostas bar and drink from my very last dollar the most expensive cognac. Next to me sits an older man who drinks the same as me, so we start to talk. I explain my situation. He asks how much I need, and when I tell him, for the parking of the boat 1500 dollar, he tells me to come next morning to the same bar and he will give me the money. As I am astonished to hear such thing he explains that he is immensely wealthy and he has a deadly stomach cancer, will not live to the end of the year. That he is happy to give me the money as I know what to do with it. I tell him that he has free chartering for 15 days if he is for real. We drink one more, he pays and the next morning against my belief I go to the bar. At the appointed time, 9 am, a car drives up, a private driver in uniform with cap and all, steps out, no passenger, looks around, spots me, asks my name and hands me an envelope, turns around, steps back in the car and drives off. Totally flabbergasted I find a check for 2000 dollars in the envelope. I go to the bank as in a dream, and cash it, pay the marina where the boat is parked, get it in the water and start to think about sailing away.

To the islands, to have fun, sail with passengers between Rhodos and the Turkish coast, Marmaris, meet Hussein, the manager of Marti Hotel. Start a lucrative smuggle time with cigarettes, alcohol and coffee . There was the “Old Fox”, a Fyfe, classic yacht owned by the wealthy Lebanese Gaby Jabre. The boats where moored stern to, several boats deep, as the season was good and the harbor overfull. People had to step over other boats to get to the quay. Also over my boat who was nearest land, squeezed in at a good moment when another left. One night the smell of smoking hashish is very evident . Next morning harbor police enters the Old Fox, arrest the owner, who is on board with his older uncle and his young French female lover Later that day the lady and the uncle return, Gaby is still in custody. They tell me, as I had become something of a friend, because I did some work on the Fox, that Gaby was arrested because the police had found a little bit of Hashish on board. He was later released on bail, but their boat was impounded and put on a chain and lock right in front of the harbor police office. Uncle and lady and Gaby lived on board in all luxury as there was an expensive restaurant floating next door with the name “Kontiki”, that provided food at any time and came to serve it with two waiters, champagne on ice, silver cutlery and hot plates provided, on deck under an awning or in the saloon, by cozy light and classical music. I was invited several times because of my good manners and open mind. The discussion went about how to get the boat away from there. Uncle had slipped out on another boat, his passport was still with the authorities. He could not stay so long, business was calling. The story was that a sailor, a young deckhand had left the hashish in a matchbox on the boat, it of the harbor police did not belong to Gaby and his woman at all, they knew nothing of it, the police accusation was ridiculous and a lawyer from Athens was on the way to plead the case. The Greek harbor police of course takes the opportunity to confiscate an expensive yacht. Until the court case date Gaby was to wait, but because of the vast amount of money he paid for bail, he could wait on his boat.Not to move and be at justice disposal at all times. The Harbor police were not total stupid and had taken a part from the engine, a General Motors, 6 cylinder diesel,with hydraulic gearbox. A part that connected some three oil lines to the gearbox was taken of the engine by the police mechanic so that the engine could run but the gear could not be engaged. This was done so the batteries could be charged, pumps and refrigerating systems could run and hot water be made. The boat was moored stern to, right in front of the harbor police office, with a gangplank laying out, anchor out forward on a length of chain, maybe fifty meters of it. Not much chain was left in the chain locker forward in the peek. Now a plan to get out was discussed. Gaby’s son who had come over suggested a tugboat, diverging explosions at another spot in the harbor to distract attention. Hand grenades and explosives available to Lebanese freedom fighters galore, no problem there. Gaby’s daughter suggested some professional burglar should break in the harbor office and steal back the engine part. It should be installed and the Old Fox could sail away under power. To stop or prevent the police boat from following, a chain would be attached to one side of the harbor entrance, laid on the bottom and the other end attached to a heavy truck, to pull the chain up, after the Fox had left . I then suggested to find a replacement for the missing part at the manufacturer of the engine. Where was it made, model number, year of make where all registered and by telephone I found out that a dealer of GM existed in Athens. I was given money to take a trip to investigate. I took a domestic flight and a taxi to the dealer and explained that a heavy battery had fallen on top of the gearbox of an engine so and so, and broken the part that I could describe.To make the story better a welder had tried to repair it, but had given up and as it was of cast iron, destroyed beyond repair. The dealer could order the part no problem, but it would take three weeks to get it.. While he was on the phone I walked the hall where engines and things were stored and detected a similar engine as the one in the Old Fox under a thick layer of dust. I called the dealer, proposed to pay handsomely for the part if he would be willing to wait for the spare and install it on this, never sold engine, if he was so good as to unbolt the piece I needed there and then. So it happened that I came one day later on the Fox with the missing part. I was welcomed like a hero. A multi course dinner that night, waited upon by uniformed waiters who made sure my wine glass was never empty.. The next day Gaby managed to borrow his own original part from the police with the story to do something on the stuffing box and the propeller. We installed our new part in stead of the original and tried it out. It worked perfect.Then Gaby gave back the original to the police, who thought the Old Fox again was incapacitated., disabled. The anchor chain got cut by hand, with a hacksaw, by me, under decks, to slip away, the chain with the anchor was to be left in the water. An old fisherman was told to fish up what was attached to a thin nylon fishing line that we pointed out to him, attached to the restaurant barge next door. Then Gaby doubled the mooring lines, in broad daylight, both ends tied to cleats on the aft deck. Slip lines they are called in order to move away from a mooring without help and without leaving a line behind on the jetty.The day after the Fox would be gone the old fisherman could have and do what he liked with the chain and anchor. Then there where two-way radios to communicate between my boat and the Fox, as Gaby did not want to risk his lover woman in an eventual gun battle if ever it came to that. She was to be on Chamba Chada during the escape. Now it was only to wait for the day the harbor policeman who was known to sleep through his night duty to come on. A few days later it was so far. The policeman fast asleep, on his newspapers under the table in his office, Gaby slipped his mooring lines, cut the rope that held the anchor chain in place, started the engine with a roar that made me think the whole harbor must wake up at 3 in the night and motored away. We had color codes for communication, red meant all OK, white, they are coming, blue, the found out and are going to come soon. Gaby had his double barrel shotgun at the ready with elephant shot in order to shoot a hole in the waterline of any police boat that should try to stop him. The distance to the Turkish territorial waters was no more than 20 or so minutes, where the Fox would be out of Greek danger. All went well, the next morning I could clear out as usual, without declaring the lady and sail to Turkey. I got a very handsome pay for my services, that needs not mentioned. The only snag was that The Old Fox had gone aground in a small inlet where our meeting took place. My boat was not powerful enough to pull him free. When I left him in order to seek help I run into another Fox, the Young Fox with a New Guinea registry, an Australian captain/owner with a big moustache who was with a German woman who wore gloves to protect her hands that were damaged by leprosy. When he heard the story he was all to willing to help. With ropes and combined engine power The Young Fox pulled the Old Fox free. I saw him disappearing over the eastern horizon, towards Lebanon. A year or so later I saw him again in Porto Cervo, he had a new registry, and the America flag was prominently waving from the stern then.

It was maybe there that I met Ernst Cancrinus who came sailing in a small rented bare boat with his small family. Later more.

After that I did a charter for another boat, the Blue Trout, with retired Belgian admiral Koekenbier with a very young lover woman whom had just married him lately, I suspect only for money. On that trip I had to work the pumps of the old “Trout” because she was leaking a bit, the stuffing box let in water and I had no wax-rope to replace the one that was worn out. Before I took on that 2 week charter job I used to go from Rhodos to Marmaris and carry a load of contraband to the Marti Hotel, for my friend the manager Hussein Bey. The first time I came there I was invited by him, a ‘white’ Russian from Istanbul, to join him on his table for dinner. It was a lavish affair, with the famous Turkish cuisine at its best. The service in classical style with uniformed waiters was impeccable, and the company interesting, there were consuls, ministers and mayors present, with their wives. After dinner Hussein Bey asked me what I would like for a digestive. I mentioned Remy Martin, as I had learned from my grandfather mothers side, who was a high style restaurant man. That was unfortunately not available, explained he, after the military junta had stopped all foreign imports in order to keep the foreign money in the country. I then offered to get a bottle from my boat which was moored right there at the pier and so I did. When that bottle was empty as well as the Grand Marnier which I had taken for the ladies, Hussein took me apart. He asked me if I could not bring him on my next trip some Marlboro, foreign luxury drinks, photo film rolls and coffee.

I had been doing some trips to stock up his bar and it paid well, apart from the danger, the excitement and the adventure. To sail exactly calculated, to arrive with the sun behind me , almost invisible from the town where the danger, the custom office, was. To unload and sail on in a hurry, and later, after clearing in, to return to feast and party.It is a fabulous built place looking like a fairy tale magic castle with spires, corridors, twisting stairs, small narrow windows, hiding the modern airco’s, water pipes and phone lines. When I took the job to charter Blue Trout for 2 weeks I just had loaded my boat for a delivery to the Hotel. I explained to the charter guest, the retired admiral of the Belgian Navy who understood very well what was at stake and who approved the little action to be taken. I brought the loot to the ‘Trout” and we took off. On board me and the deckhand, a girl who knew the whims of the anchor winch and who could keep ship shape, and the two guests. Well under way I checked the boat from stern to poop and found some boxes with ammunition for a 12 gauge hunting gun in the chain locker, a most unlikely spot for them, with the risk of salt moisture. Pretty sure against detection by unwanted eyes, but I took them to the dinghy and stashed them in the emergency box with flare gun, smoke canister and water ration tins. That was in my view the safest spot, easy to dispose of undetected and not in the way in case a police or custom officer coming to inspect us. Later I gave it to my friends in Olu Deniz, the dead sea, an old pirate inlet, invisible from the sea, if you did not know it. The few guys who lived there went in the woods on the mountains all over the place and shot wild boar. They would not eat it themselves, but they knew how to slow-roast it for the visiting dignitaries from other countries, tourists. Any way, back on the Blue Trout with the boxes of contraband for the hotel we approached the Bay of Marmaris.On the port bow, the Hotel, west of us, and the town of Marmaris a nautical mile on the starboard bow.Perfect timing, the sun in the west and low, 7 o’clock pm a summer night coming. I told the admiral he could hold the wheel and course sir, if you please, sir, I would do my delivery with the dinghy, the loot was already in there. The dinghy with its powerful outboard was because of good weather not on deck but on its painter towing behind. The admiral took the wheel, asked for the Wilkies hand bearing compass I had on a cord around my neck, which I gave, and asked how long I would take to come back. Ten minutes, I replied, sir, I’ll be back in no time, ten minutes for sure. And there I went, jumped in the rubber hard bottom Zodiac, and pulled the the outboard to life. I undid the painter and was on my way. I had never driven that outboard, only had started it to inspect gear and propeller, before leaving but now I found out how fast that beast was going. In no time it was planing and leaving hardly a wake I was at the pier of the hotel before I had time to enjoy the ride fully. The fishermen and taxi boat skippers who tendered between town and hotel had seen me coming and welcomed me like the old respected pirate friend that I was. Didn’t I always give them the coffee and cigarettes they wanted so much? Didn’t I defy the law, like all those respectful men? They took the boxes, to deliver to Hussein Bey for me and off I was again, the whole contact taken no more than a minute. The outboard engine had not even stopped and with a roar I was back skipping on top of the tiny wave lets. Surrounded by pine trees on the mountains shores of the bay of Marmaris, to catch up with the ‘Trout’. Slow as a turtle she glided on majestically, while this rabbit jumped her from the back, made fast the painter and walked snugly and not a little self consciously up to the wheel. The admiral sat happily and and looking very pleased at the wheel.

“I am back sir, I can relieve you now, sir, if you please, thank you very much,” said I. He did not look at me when he spoke with an authoritive voice loudly at me and said:” What the Hell do you mean?” So I repeated my self, and said: “Thank you sir, I can take it now, You are relieved”. And he again; “ What the hell is your game mister, captain, explain yourself!” So I worried a bit and asked him what was wrong, I did not understand, would he maybe like to keep the wheel a bit longer, sir??” if you please”

He then pointed to his watch on his left wrist and exclaimed: “TEN MINUTES, you said, ten minutes, and not even 6 have past, mister, captain, ten minutes you said.”

I did not know if I had to laugh or stay serious, so I kept my wits about and said:” So sorry, sir, 4 more minutes, and then its my call, thank you sir, if you please,” while I walked the deck and looked at the mooring lines we would need in a little while. After that we had a nice time, although I hardly ever saw my passenger. He was or with his young woman in his cabin doing admiralty things with her or he was at the wheel that he now claimed as his own. My Wilkies hand bearing compass I never got back, as he would sit with it at his eye, chart on his knees and checking with a protractor the courses I set out. He enjoyed himself tremendously and left a handsome tip at the end of the trip. After that I left with Chamba Chada for the Eastern Mediterranean sea.

I had Catherine still on the boat and I shared the fore cabin with her. Horny like a stud, I sexed her every night for sure, although not very consciously. More like a habit, I cannot recall how the sex was with her.

I knew the Austrian Peter Spinn already before leaving Rhodos, with his red Turkish fishing kaaik with the Mercedes truck diesel engine. He sailed the Turkish coast with students from his country Austria. Some days before I decided to go east he gave me a big piece of hashish. It was a pound plaque of red Lebanese hashish. In Rhodos he gave it to me. His passengers did not dare carry it with them on their trip east. I saw him again much later in Sharm el Sheik. I hid the hashish wall hanging depicting Alexander the Great. It was a copper beaten image of the face of the great Alexander. I took it of its wooden back plate, and hollowed that out and hung it back on the wall of the cabin with the hash inside. My name is Alexander after all. In the beginning I was a bit paranoia about the big piece of hashish so close by, but later I did not think of it for most of the time, until in Fetiye and later in the military occupied Sinai, where I met backpackers and hippies who all liked to smoke. Then I took it out of its hiding place and put it in the dinghy. The little dinghy had the name Sattva, which means Harmony. The second port after Marmaris after we left Rodos was Fetiye, in Turkey. There two custom officers came on board for the usual inspection. Oh Lord, was I nervous. Glenn felt my tension and while I opened a bottle of whiskey, he started playing his guitar, not beautiful but loud and hard. I could play a Turkish song on my penny whistle called: Uskedara Kideriken. It is a nice classical Turkish song and the two military men knew it well. They could and did started singing it. After several glasses of whiskey the song had been sung 7 or 8 times, translated into English and Dutch, sung from back to front and still some whiskey was left in the bottle. The singing went on and on, Glenn made them sing over and over again, because he was recording it and then played it back, but every time he wanted it better, until I almost went mad and thought he would never stop. It finely came to an end when the bottle was empty and the two officers, both with a pack of Marlboro, now our brothers for life, staggered on shore and could be heard continuously mumbling the song further. It is about a rich lady who is been rowed over the Bosporus, by her secretary. What they are going to do or have been doing I forgot.

I carried the hashish all the way through the Suez canal and Red Sea to the Israeli military occupied Sinai and we and many young hippy travelers smoked it until the last joint. Glenn and Catherine both left much later in Sharm-el-Sheik. From Rhodos to Cyprus we sailed with a few backpackers which I picked up in the strange little island of Kastelorizo, which is Greek, exactly half way between Rodos and Cyprus, but only one mile from the Turkish coast. The hatred between Greeks and Turks came to materialization when we were there, because the next morning, mysteriously, a Turkish flag had appeared on the little mountain, the highest point of the island, easily seen from the Turkish coast village. What a consternation. The black clad orthodox priest and the three military boys stationed there went to take it away and a search went on for the invaders who must have done the vile thing. The Turks were never found of course.

And of course we stopped at the sunken city of Kekova. The birthplace of Sinterklaas, Saint Nicolaus, later Santa Claus is close by, the place called Myra. Kekova is a mystery, under water very clear one can see the foundations of buildings, houses, a whole city. Long ago the narrow island parallel with the coast has been a prosperous merchant center, because of its natural protection. The crusaders had the place for a long time in the middle ages and nearby Phoenician tombs are still standing. Opened of course, and emptied of all there was inside, but the tombs are there. Huge shards of old Greek pots and vases can be found still under water, I myself took some on the way back, but gave them later to hotel Marti in Marmaris, as it is illegal and not worth the risk to keep them on the boat. I saw a 2 and a half meter long statue of bronze that the fisherman tried to find a buyer for. It was hidden under water, they had towed it from where they had found it and wanted me to take it with my boat out of the country. It was too big for me, impossible to take. A bigger boat was needed to smuggle that thing away. I do not doubt that it is now somewhere in the mansion of a millionaire.

When we sailed out of there , Glenn, Catharina and I with the three hippies a group of dolphins swam with us out of the protected bay and jumped in the opposite direction as which we were going. Not once or twice, but all the time, and I got the clear message : go back, do not continue, go back. I told the passengers that we were not going, and should stay another day in the protected bay. I was met with loud protest and they all said I was mad to take a few fish serious and we should go, they had paid the food and the fuel, they had no more money to spend, neither had I, in Cyprus they could go to a bank, we had to continue and so we did. Once out of sight of land a storm started and lasted the whole trip to Larnaca. Then a very curious thing happened, a person came out of the fore cabin and presented himself as the Israeli Avi, Mossad, Israeli secret service. He had sneaked on board in Kekova with the help of a Turkish fisher boat, in the evening when I was asleep and the others thought that he was just one of the passengers. I had only taken on three. Avi was the only one besides me who did not get seasick and he cooked some fine eggplant dish during the darkest of the night. It was a hell trip, adverse seas, contrary waves, tossing and churning, gusts and ice cold rain. Storm reefs in the main and a small jib, engine running, hot in the enclosed saloon where the passengers were busy being very sick. When they asked if we could not go back I told them that we had already passed the point of no return, they should have listened to me before. Now I wished them good puking and a better trip next time. I was not enjoying the uncomfortable ride, however, but to see the people that did not heed my advice suffering did me some good. A jumping dolphin at the entrance of Larnaca Marina laughed at me as if to say: “You made it anyway buddy, good for you. Well done.” The passengers left as soon as we came in the marina and Avi was gone before I even knew. Later I sailed to Tel Aviv Marina and from there to Port Said to go through the Suez canal. In the red sea I had some nice adventures, diving and sex with English girls and I met Vicky my later boat wife for 8 years.

The entrance to the Suez Canal was a trip by itself.

Glen was there with his guitar and his chess computer Boris. We sailed down wind along the coast of the Sinai. The coral reefs are clearly visible because of the color difference. Deep water is deep dark blue, the shallow reefs are light turquoise. The wind is strong and night sailing is scary because I do not know where the iron pipes are that the oilrigs have left behind. They have radar reflectors on top, yes, but I have no radar... Half way down I met the “Zwarte Zee”, a gigantic tugboat from Holland. I speak in the radio to the man on the bridge and he invites me. The tug is for anchor and I approach it from behind, throw a line and make fast. Over the bowsprit of the Chamba Chada I climb onto the aft deck of the Zwarte Zee. I am on the bridge with my sea chart and the navigator marks all the abandoned drilling pipes. That helps, GPS is not yet available to the small sailors, I have to navigate on my eyes, binoculars, and hand bearing compass alone. I get a round trip on the tug, go through the walk-in-freezer where the half cows and pigs hang on steel hooks in the cold. When I say I’m low on sugar they offer me a 50 kilo bag. Later I sail further down, to a small inlet with a few huts and small buildings and some military personnel. They are Egyptians, the Sinai Desert has been divided in half and this part has been returned to Egypt after the Camp David accords. Glenn and I lower the dinghy and go ashore. Soldiers are waving at us with arms and guns. Catharina stays on board. We are invited to come to the office of the commander. A hundred meters from the jetty is a concrete hut. A jeep comes from the hut and the driver makes us climb in and drives us the hundred meters. We get inside and there is one rickety kitchen table, a 12 volt car bulb on a wire attached to a car battery and then the commander. A chessboard was on the table. Next to the door a light switch was missing. Some hebrew letters were under it. From the ceiling some loose wire. We were seated and invited for tea. So we told him were we were heading and then Glenn said to go fetch Boris. And when he returned he and the commander were playning Boris. When the bulb light started fading, the battery from the jeep came out, the empty one in the car and the soldiers push started it and they went to the waterside running gas. I had to sit waiting bored a bit, watching how Boris used three or four moves to beat the commander. Until Glenn put it so it played on and on, without anyone winning until no more pieces were left and it was a draw. Then we left back to the jeep, hundred meters to the jetty, and back on board, dinghy on deck and sleep till first light, anchor up, down winds along the reefs. A hard wind and a short wave. I stayed well clear of the reefs and arrived at the Southern tip of the Sinai where Israeli patrol boats met me. First, contact by radio, and answering questions. Where from, how many people on board, nationalities, where to and a few words of conversation. Arrived a little time later in the bay from Sharm el Sheik at the end of the day. Peter Spinn was there in his red kaik from Turkey. His hash was still behind the copper beating af Alexander the Great. I went along side him on arriving. A few days earlier I had found droppings, a rat must be on board. Thanks to the Cinese boat builders the waterpiping was brass or copper, not plastic. But some piece of pipe that I had changed in plastic garden hose was eaten through. The beast was thirsty. The rat was talked about wwhen I met Peter again on his boat. We ate and drank some wine. When his bottle was empty I went tover to CC and get another. I had some good Turkish wine staches away in small lockers underthe bed in the forecabin. A two-liter bottle was stored with the cork down, so as to take less space. I found the plastic bottle cap eaten through and the bottle empty. The fucking rat was very thirsty, and possibly very drunk. I found a bottle that was full and I took it. Peter and I emptied that

And I went to bed.

The next day I made free from Peter’s boat and went for anchor closer by the jetty, launched the dinghy. Had the yellow flag under the starboard spreader and the Israeli flag port spreader and my Holland flag high on top my mizzen mast. Daytime I would unroll my huge poop-flag on short pole. That hung becalmed an inch from the waterline.

I took the papers and went ashore at the jetty and walked up to the bar. Had breakfast and inquired about procedures. A military man checked the passports

And said we could all land. Three month stay permitted, when going for daytrips, inform the Navy by radio, when going over land to Eilat carry stamped passport. Along the coastline were some tents from travelers who had reached the end of the world and saw no fun in going anywhere. This was a godforsaken windy and salty and rocky place. It was winter, also here in the South tip of the Sinai. The water was clear but not warm. I found it to carry the boat easy. We went ashore with a lot of pretty things from the boat. We had to sell things to get money. Catharina later and Glenn took off first after a while, they wanted to go home. She took Teddy with her wwhen she left. I took people fishing to the reefs of the famous best diving spot of thee world. The Straights of Tiran. My best friend those days was a young man from the Seychelles, he had come down with a sailing yacht that had sailed away without him and he had no where to go. He was to be my deckhand for some weeks.

The days went by smoking pot at night and having a good time. Half he big piece of hash had now been distributed and sold and smoked, and the other half was waterproof wrapped inside a big sponge laying in the wet bottom of the dinghy. I used it to dry the dinghy out. There was a waterproof compartment front and back in the dinghy with a screwlock to put gear in. The sponge lived in there when not in use or when the dinghy went to the beach. That way it was out of sight and still close at hand. The sponge being heavier than water if dropped overboard would not be too conspicuous on the bottom of clear water either. One day these two girls from the English yacht came over, swimming, and they climbed onto the swim-ladder OK. I showered them with fresh water from the cockpit shower and we drank tea. Later when I was in Eilat marina the oldest of the two came for a daytrip and I had one of the best fucks of my life with her. Belinda was her name and she wrote a lovely poem for me. Her younger sister got serviced by my deckhand in the pilot bunk, so lovely…

The next day a Sabra girl with shaggy hair standing out from her head swam to the boat. She climbed on board with a message for the captain. She told me that she was secretary of the general in the occupied territory and he was the real boss. The police must ask him for permission to go into action against anybody, so she had had a document on her desk in her hands that asked for just tat. The police was going to do a search on my boat, for suspected ganja smoking. The girl came back the next day and said that the commander had signed the permission and now I could expect a visit from the enemy any time, she could not find out when. I learned later that I was observed at night with night glasses and infra red binoculars and they had seen clearly that a few people were smoking big joints every night. They were very sure to find the dope on board. When they came it was of course unexpected, a morning around 9 or 10. I was alone on board. The dinghy was on its painter tied to the stern. They came four of them, in a zodiac type dinghy with guns at the ready. They checked every nook and cranny, with flashlights and mirrors under the floors, in every pot in the kitchen, every drawer, and fount it not.

But for 1.3 gram in the hollow of one of the 7 holes of the candlestick with six arms. That was tied to the wall and seldom taken down with candles lighted. It was a relic from the Hartenstraat period. I had to go ashore and went with Sattva. Iwas locked up in the police quarters. The next day put on transport to Eilat to be accused, prosecuted and fined. The police had asked the judge to hold me in Eilat for a week so that they could see if other people would come to the boat, because they were sure that someone had dope. I was not to go back to the boat and warn my friends. The judge misinterpreted the request from the police and told me I had to go to the boat and stay there for a week. When I went to the transport to return to Sharm-el-Shheik, the policeofficer who had brought me, was pissed off to the limit, wanted to return to the judge and what not. But the judgement was irrevocable and three days after the search and arrest, I was back on the beach where I had left the dinghy. Sattva’s two oars were laying a little distance away, the dinghy itself on the dry, full of sand and water. Children had obviously played with it. I dragged it to the water, rinsed it and bailed it out. Then I opened the waterproof compartment to take out the big sponge to dry out the last bit of water that the bailer could not remove. The big sponge with the piece of hash in it was still there. I used it well to wipe and efficiently dry the inside, for anyone to see. I then rowed to CC and cleaned up the mess the police had left behind and made shipshape.

The girl that had seduced me some weeks before with her warning and later with her pussy was Vicky and she was 18 years old. I was 35 years of age. She seduced me good or let herself be seduced by me and she hooked me on her pussy full force. I had already studied good sex with Catharina and I was eager to sex for real. I had just discovered the hunched thrust, whereby the girl’s ass is raised on a pillow and I sit on my hunches between her wide spread legs. I insert my hard member sweetly in her licked and dripping wet cunt and slowly sweetly move it in and out. Without effort and tiring arm wrestling. Learned it from a book with pictures of positions. Very wonderful to practice. Hands free to feel her over, her tummy and breasts and also under the ass, and her sides, so sweet to be able to enjoy her shapes when the feeling from the sliding cock goes on and on.

One day a few weeks later Avi comes to the boat in a small soft inflatable dinghy. CC was still anchored in the bay after I returned from Eilat. Avi had a story to tell. He had left from Rhodos where I last saw him with a Turkish wooden boat, like the one of Peter Spinn, only bigger. An other Israeli with him and a German couple as paying passengers. He motored along the same route I had taken. Maramaris, Fetiye, Kekova, Kastelorizo, to Cyprus, Larnaca. There they loaded the boat full with tax-free goodies. TV’s, Radio cassette players, washing mashines, outboard engines, power tools, and foods, cigarettes and booze. The plan was to sell it later with a huge profit in Eilat. They had passed the Suez canal and came south hugging the coast much like I had done. Having the same seacharts we stopped at the same spots. They also ended up in the tiny harbor where I had been ashore and Glenn had played chess with the Egyptian commanding officer and his computer Boris. Avi’s engine would not start any more when he wanted to leave from there. He went ashore, tried to get help, but after much ado, the engine refused to start. The commander had him delivered to the Israeli military post on the border-line that went through the middle of the desert. From there the military brought him to Sharm el Sheik. He had to stay at the police post as he had entered the country in an unusual way and was not allowed to go anywhere untill brought to Eilat the next day in order to clear in officialy. He had seen CC in the bay for anchor and without saying a thing about it, had asked the police permission to go to the telephone to call his folks in Eilat. Night had fallen suddenly as it does in southern lattitudes. When he got permission to go out he went straight to the bar were a telephone was. From there he took a quick run to the beach where he jumped in the first dinghy he saw and peddled to CC. He greeted me nervously and after telling his story, asked me what to do. He could not leave his boat for any time at the mercy of the Egyptian military men and his three people on board did not have much food and water. I asked if anybody knew he was on board CC. He denied that anybody knew. So I told him to saty below decks and take it easy. I towed the inflatable with Sattva to the beach and returned to CC. I hoisted Sattva on deck and went through a plan of action with Avi. We slept a little and at daybreak I radioed the Navy to announce CC going for a fishing trip to the Southern tip of the desert. I was not to go passed the border, I was told. I rogered and started Volvo. Avi stayed out of sight. I steered CC swiftly past the coast to the south and greeted the patrol boat who came to say hello. Without hesitation I continued around the cape up north. After 6 hours we arrived midday at the litlle bay where Avi’s boat was anchored. We made fast, talked little, made the crew on board very happy, attached a towline and left downwind CC in front towing Avi. From his hamradio he contacted Eilat friends and he told them to come down with a big enough boat to S-e-S. To meet him there aand take over the cargo.

1981 Rooster

This year back through the Canal into the Med. Together with a few backpackers from the beach of Sharm el Sheik to Hurgada in Egypt, we had to defy the harbor military to get enough food for the good price. A trip to tell.I captained the 22 meter when the military boat came. The English girl hurt her arm and we was in a hospital so dirty that weeks later my complaints were known in Port Said.

Lost and found the dinghy, it was midnight blue those days. I went to the pyramids and rode the black stallion and the white Sheiks horse. Later I vomited in my shoe in the car going back. Saw a movie waiting for the return trip. About small double wings planes, together with MIG pilots from the Egyptian Air force.

July in Rhodos harbor, that time we went to Marmaris and Marti Hotel. August in Rhodos. September sister Marianne and her man Paul are on board. November, Larnaca, waiting for Vicky to fly to me. Did Turkish coast,

1982 Dog

In March in Cyprus again. I buy a few Ronson lighters, some small portable radios, cigarettes and watches taxfree. We go to the Turkish coast. In Adana, in Kekova and every other Turkish place we stopped I took a few of the items ashore. In restaurants we would eat and drink to our hearts desire. When th bill was presented I produced a pack of Marlboro and a Ronson lighter. That would always do the trick. Costing me about 2 dollar, we had a meal for at least ten. 10 march Fetiye, 12 Marmaris, do Rhodos Marmaris many times, in May in Kekova, Kastelorizo,Olu Deniz, June back in Marmaris

July start to go west, Greek islands, via Bozburun , Datch, Bodrun,20 July Kos, Levitha, 22 Dhonousa, 23 Delos,25 Mykonos, 26 Tinos,27 Hydra,28 Poros, 30 Aegina, august not known what happened, September 12 Corinth canal, 14 Nafpaktos, 15 Messalonki or was it Thesaloniki, 17 Lefkos,21 Kerkira, 24 from Moutos to Italy, 25 Crotone, where we tied up and went for a walk. Our first steps on Italian soil. The harbor is empty exceept for two or three boats and us. I find a small open bar that has sandwiches and I see the first esspresso machine. Order a coffee and get a thimble size cup with a black siropy liquid. It makes my hair stand straight up and after the first sip I add three sugar cubes to make it drinkable. From here we go to Scilla the 27^th. A pretty village glued to a steep mountain side, stairs as roads to climb to a small store to buy bread and cheese, olives and wine. In the Straight of Messalina, between the mainland and Sicili it is windy but close to land the sea is flat, hardly any waves. Suddenly Vicky and I see whales close by. I am shocked and more than a bit scared. They are so huge, about twenty meters, twice the sixze of the boat! One hit of a tail would sink us at once without a chance of surviving. No defence possible. The beasts swim very lazily around, and their tail stands straight out of the water for minutes, waving left and right very slowly. Then it would sink under the waves and the whale would come up a little later somewhere else,unexpectedly close to us, spray a fountain as high as the mast trhough his airhole and go down again. Some launched themselves through the surface of the water and jumped a few meters high in the air. They came down with a splash so great that it rocked the boat. Somehow they never became menacing and stayed far away enough from CC to not agravate my fear. From there to Stromboli, a small island that is just a vulcanic cone sticking without beaches or flat coastlines straight out of the sea. Then to Acciaroli, Capri, the famous summer island-resort of the stars. As the proverb goes, “First Capri, then die”. It turned out that not I but my father died shortly after. After Capri we went to Ischia, and made a stop at Ventotene.

My father died when I was in Ventotene, on 7 October. I was with a broken shaft-part stuck in Ventotene, a small Italian island. It is a very nice small harbor hacked out of the rocks by slaves in the time of Julius Ceasar, or some other emperor. The (have to find ou t who it was) emperor had his wife imprisoned or exiled here because of her sexual conduct.

I had to take a ferry to the mainland to get the part of the shaft that broke, welded. It was many a month later that I heard the date of my father’s demise. I always had an affinity with/for him, because after his heartattack, or stroke, I had a better sort of contact with him, on a spiritual level that brought his soul closer to my soul than ever before. Anyway, the part that broke was a piece of cast iron, between the propshaft and the engine, designed to brake in order to prevent greater damage to the internal parts of te engine in case the propellor was suddenly stuck. This was exactly what had happened. A rope came in the prop when going in reverse towards the jetty in Ventotene. Those were hard times, and troublesome to the max. I understood later that it was a kind of transmitted spirit message from my fathers’ soul to me…

Napoli is a huge international harbor with cargo ships from the whole world of gigantic size. I motored into and throughout the huge harbor in broad daylight untill I found a place to tie to the cay. That looked close to a Customs and Immigration or Harbor Police office building, in order to clear in. The cay is very high and to come on land I had to climb on a stairs of iron bars set in a foot-wide groove of the wall. The land is almost on the level of my spreaders. After a bit of walking past rails set in the concrete floor I find a door that says “Carabinari, Immigrationi Nautica” or something like that over the door. It looks empty and I find nobody inside. I speak no Italian, so I called in Eglish: “Hello.” After a while a person comes from another room and wipes the sleep out of his eyes. I make him understand that I have just arrived from Greece from where I last cleared out officially, from the high seas and that I wanted to enter the country officialy. He tells me I am welcome. I ask if he does not want to see my papers. He shrugs and asks why, I am already here anyway. I am surprised, for once I try to clear in as required by law, and here is an official who does not even want to see my boat registry and pasports. I ask for a rubber stamp in my passport so I can prove I have cleared in. He is willing to look for the stamp. And finds it after a long search through a few cupboards and drawers. Triumphantly he produces the stamp but he has no inkpad. So I find mine and open mine. As usual I take my own stamp and stamp his copies, as he stamps mine. We are brothers now and laughingly he lets me go. I never has such easy and frindly entrée in a country yet.

Later we sailed to Fumicino, where the river Tiber that goes through Rome runs into the Mediteranean. That trip started pretty good, staying close to land, having hardly any waves, except for a deep long swell. Only at a given moment came a “Cigarette” full speed from over the horizon towards us. No other vessels were in sight. I got a strange feeling that it might be pirates. They could enter us, kill us, and throw us over board and sail on with CC. I got a very strong feeling of fear, which I never had in my life. I took the VHF radio and called “All ships, all ships, all ships. This is Chamba Chada Sailing Yacht from Holland, approximately xx miles from Napoli, 3 miles out of the coast going west. I am approaced by a very fast going speedboat of the type Cigarette. I am suspicious as to its intentions. This is Chamba Chada on channel 16, over.” I got an answer from a voice that acknowledged my position and said he would keep is ears open for news from me. He was 10 miles out of the coast and invisible, but at the same distance from Napoli and so, only 20 minutes, or less away from me. After that conversation, the speedboat changed course away from me and disappeared over the horizon. Probably they were rich people who just wanted to have a look at my beautiful boat. Still, I was better safe than sorry. I radioed to my invisible helper and all was well. Hard wind coming from the starboard beam, working jib and reefed mainsail set and going fast. It was getting late. The wind picked up and I shortened sail and put Volvo on. Fumicino harbor came in sight, but it was getting dark now and the wind had become stormy from land. To find the red and green light buyos I strained my eyes and the hard wind made small wave smash onto the starboard bow so that spray flew on me all the time. I constantly had to clean my glasses. Salt spray can not be wiped off so easily, it has to be washed off with fresh water. Licking the salt and then wiping them with a dry piece of t-shirt and I could try to distinguish the lights again. Outside at sea the first red buoy was finaly found and kept to starboard. Then the green one was found as well and I went in between, lowered the sails about a mile out at sea. Now the land was getting visble but red lights from the back of cars were mixing with the red buoys and that was very confusing. The buoys had a certain rhythm, and every so many seconds they would go on and off. Car-brake red lights came on eratically and confused my head not a little. The wind was howling by now, and the end of the breakwaters came ever so slowly closer. The engine was churning away full power and with the headwind it looked like we moved no more than 2 knots against the storm. The breakwater went very slowly by. At last we were between the seawalls. People standing under the orange mercury lights applauded our entry. It was a relief first class, I felt elevated, exhausted and very grateful. I found a place to make fast next to a covered boatyard. It was good to shower and sleep. The next day I saw where we were. The river water flowed passsed us with considerable speed. That is why we went in so terribly slow yesterday, but in the dark we did not see that. Treetrunks and branches, bloated dead animals, plastic refuse, tennisballs, and all kind of garbage floated in the brown water that speeded by. A few days later I worked for a Frenchman who spoke no Italian, on his big steel boat. That lasted through the winter. Chamba Chada had electricity from the shore, that provided hot water, and so could run an electric blowheater. My very good French could communicate with the Frenchy and although I did not know Italian, because of my inventiveness I could communicate much better with the Italians then he. I just asked for words I needed and spoke with gestures, hand, feet, and laughter. After a few weeks I found the courage to call and we met Walter Rossi again. He immidiately came with his Mercedes to see us, he was very upset that I had not called him the day I arrived. He gave me one of his Mercedes’s to use for the duration of my stay. He showed the entrance from his yard to the catacombs under the Terme de Carracalle. He showed me his printery for fine art reproductions. We had dinner with him and his pretty wife in his house. One day I parked the car in front of a bakery, and went in to buy bread. When I came back after no more than a minute, the car door was open and Walters camera that had been between the seats was gone. I felt greatly embarrassed and ashamed. But whhen I told Walter, he laughed and told me that it was nothing. Stealing is the national pass time and I was not to worry.

Vicky and I one day drove his luxury Mercedes to a safari park near Rome, to see the wild animals. There were Giraffes and wildebeest, and elephants and buffalos. Through huge gates we entered the monkey area. Driving slowly some monkeys jumped on the car and put their hands through the half open windows. We closed them and stopped to look at them. It was fun to see them sitting on the hood, playing with each other. Then some started to pounce the windshield. Not too sweet and in order to repel them I started the window wipers. With a jet of window cleaning liquid they made three passes and stopped. The monkey closest put his mouth directly on the cleaner liquid jet nozzle and drank from it. It was clear that they wanted more. So I spurted another jet and they enjoyed it. There may have been some alcohol in it as far as I know. Anyway, the monkeys wanted more. So I kept my hand on the window wash handle until it was empty. The monkeys wanted more. But there was no more. They got angry. And angrier. So bad even that they pulled the window wiper of the car with a lot of force. Next was the Mercedes star. They pulled with all their might, clearly to show their anger. I drove away from there fast and they jumped of. For sure to attack the next car.

I went to the embassy in Rome to ask for a passport. I had travelled on an old passport that I renewed my self in Sharm-el-Sheik.

1983 pig year

in May from Italy to Holland, don’t remember with what transport, after getting a laissez-passer from the embassy. My last passport was left at the embassy in Jerusalem, 2 years before. When I came to the embassy

In Holland we lodged at Marianne’s place, got social help money and married. Met Jurjen Mikmak in Amsterdam, got a nice summer suit to marry in, Vicky with Ping An, the little Pekinese dog, we were with Marianne and Paul, in Leiderdorp. The marriage took place in the town hall, nothing special, but Marianne had mobilized the horse riding club and Vicky and I rode in a horse pulled open carriage, with driver and whip and all. It was very beautiful. A few days later we got a Dutch passport for Vicky in The Hague, straight from the Ministry. We got an old rusty station car, the headlights were falling out of its rims and with newspaper I had to stick them in place. The first gear did not work and somewhere in Limburg the battery gave up. In a gypsy camp annex car cemetery I could get another second hand battery that held out for the trip to Rome. It is far to Rome, but we made it. Somehow we had gotten credit from the Post Bank and after we sold the car for 100 dollar we left Fumicino.

Then we sailed west. To Sardinia

1985 Rat Year

This was the year of Eileen, Porto Cervo, on the north coast of Sardinia or Corsica, had to check that. Any way it was on that Fyfe that a 12-year-old seduced me, I will tell you. I was with Chamba Chada for anchor in the bay of the expensive, luxury yacht harbor and as usual I was looking for work. I helped a local Italian dive and rescue Mafia to get his Lister deck emergency diesel pump going, that was a stop and go affair. When I was present it run, when I went it stopped. I had pinched a portable VHF from an expensive luxury yacht supply store, so I could carry my communication anywhere. I was soon known as the flying Dutchman, who repaired anything. Called to a brand new boat belonging to a rich proud new owner, I was to fix the head. The bloody thing did not flush. Brand new, never used, the sea-cock was shut. When I opened it, the head flushed as it was designed to, I had to disassemble a few tubes and pipes to justify the 50 dollars I charged. It was a Sunday after all. Then came John with his zodiac to ask if I wanted to work on the Eileen. A German millionaire, owner of a transport company in Europe, rented it for the whole season. I was introduced to the man and we became friends at once. Vicky was with me most of the time. We where invited to eat with the man in his house on the shore looking out over the Mediterranean Sea. His female companion, a young glamour girl with long legs was there.

One day Vicky and I were to report early at his place. He drove us with his ugly new square box-like Mercedes Jeep, 4x4 that he demonstrated on a very steep hill. It almost fell over and it was a strange feeling. We went to a restaurant where we loaded a good amount of food and things on silver plates and pans and tureens into the car, from there to the house and through the garden to the dinghy to bring to the Eileen who was anchored close by. The food was stored in the galley, cases of champagne unpacked and put in ice, one other couples and two kids came on board, and the captain John and his crew member, a 20 year old English girl.

Vicky and I took several trips with Eileen, but the last one, with the kids and the extra couple, was the best. We took off as usual, me on the wheel, called helmsman, Vicky stewardess and deckhand, the English girl deckhand, anchor winch operator, John the captain owner, the charter with his lady and the guest couple with the two kids, a girl from 12 and a boy of 15 or so. The anchor went up with the engine pushing us head in the wind while the main went up, and the jib. Soon we were sailing along the coast in the quiet waters of the Bonifacius Straight with numerous small island and green coastline. As I was helmsman I looked out over my horizon ahead. I saw a little inflatable a few miles ahead, floating seaward. We were on an approaching course and would pass it within shouting distance. Coming closer I saw the two men in the dinghy waving their arms up and down, the international distress signal at sea. So I called the captain and pointed it out to him. Ignore it he said, we have no time for those fools. That upset me at once. I protested, and asked permission to go closer to see if we could help. The answer was a no. Captain John said he was on a charter making money and he could not bother his passengers with such stupid behavior. I then got angry and raised my voice. The charter came to listen and I asked permission to use the radio in order to call coast guard to help those in the dinghy. The two people were waving frantically by now, we were close by and passing them. The weather was not bad, they had obviously engine problems and maybe no oars and anchor with a long enough anchor line. Permission to use the radio refused. Frustrated I was cooking inside. To leave people in trouble at sea was just not done. John hit another bottle of champagne with his machete, hanging over the railing and laughingly poured the foaming liquid into his wide-open mouth. He had been drinking from the moment the anchor went up. As soon as he was out of earshot, I took my little portable VHF and called the coast guard. Thank God they replied at once and I explained that, as crewmember I could not render assistance to the dinghy at that position. A little later, when the dinghy was out of sight already I saw a coast guard boat going from the harbor in the right direction and I heard on the VHF that the dinghy was taken care off. That made me feel better, but the feeling on the Eileen, between me and the captain was spoiled. Any way we sailed on, tacking now and again, sailing along towards a place where we would anchor for the lunch that was stowed in the galley. During this trip the 12-year-old Lolita- type girl came to me and asked me what the compass was. I had to keep my course and looked at the compass and at the sails and at the captain and at the horizon constantly. The girl came to stand behind me and she put her arms around me. She held me in a lovely embrace and it was a wonderful warm feeling. She then started to kiss my neck and I asked her what she was doing. She told me that she wanted to be nice to me and so she wanted to kiss me a little. And she took my earlobe between her lips and sucked my ear so sweet and tender that it gave me goose pimples. So I asked her to stop, and she came in front of me to sit on my lap. There she sat on my thighs and she held me with one arm around my waste and put the other hand on my lower belly. That made me hotter still, and I was getting embarrassed. I called her father over and asked him if he could please hold his daughter away from me, she was sexually arousing me and I could not take that. He laughed my complains away and asked if I did not like it. He told me that the little girl had learned to please his friends that way and I was not to worry. A little later we were for anchor and the food was brought on deck. Vicky and the English girl served the guests and I was at the aft deck, which was my station after I had helped the girls to bring the food from the galley up on deck. While I was there on the aft deck, the young seductress came to me with a plate of the wonderful food from the guest table. That was for me said she and she had selected it especially for me, because she wanted to please me. Her father smiled at me while I reluctantly accepted and let her put some exquisite scampi in my mouth. Captain John did not let me close to the passengers while the passengers liked me a lot and talked to me as an equal and wanted me to be with them. The people went for a swim and the little girl came to ask if I came with her in the water. I was not in the mood to swim; I like the water mostly to carry my boat, not to go in. But she started to complain to her father that she only wanted to swim if I was coming also and so I had to go in. She stayed with me all the time and we played very nice like very good old friends in the water. She would hang on to me and not let me go one moment. I had to follow her back up on the ladder and jump with her from the boat back in the water. We played like kids. After the swim she brought me a towel to dry my back and she treated me like she was my woman. Then we took the anchor up and sailed the afternoon nicely on. The little girl absolutely wanted to sit with me and on request of her father I allowed her to be with me most of the time. Captain John was drunk by now and he kept on drinking champagne. Now and again he beheaded a bottle with his machete and made a mess of himself. Suddenly I saw land ahead, about 4-5 miles, still a good distance. I called the captain and asked him if he was aware of the land ahead. He told me to keep my course. On a big sailing like Eileen, with sails set, one cannot just change course. A few minutes later I called John again and told him we soon had to tack and go about if we would not go on the rocks. I was to keep my course and keep my fucking mouth shut. He was pissed of at my obvious good relation with the passengers and especially with the little girl who was treating me like she was my geisha, giving me massage on my back with suntan oil and brushing my hair and sitting on my lap, looking at my face with her long blond hair waving in the summer wind. John had a grudge on me and I was to do my job as helmsman and shut up. So I called the charterer and explained that we should run aground very soon if we did not tack. He assured me that he would deal with the captain and that I was to take command. Therefore, I gave the order to the two girls to stand by the backstays and the jib sheets. Ready to tack, and about we go, turning the wheel hard over, the girls did what had to be done and in no time we sailed on the new tack. John almost got a heart attack, that I had defied his orders and had to be restrained by the charterer. I felt pretty stiff in my skin, but we soon arrived at the spot where we dropped anchor for the night. The guests and the charterer Mr. Brown liked me a lot and they invited me for dinner in the cabin saloon that would take place later. John forbids me to join the party as I was only a crewmember and was not to mix with the passengers. The silly situation went so far as that I was taken by the arm to be dragged into the saloon by the girl's father and his friend in order to drink a glass with them. The girls were serving the food and I sat at the table when John the captain went crazy and chased me screaming out of the saloon. The passengers were embarrassed just like me and nobody could do anything.

This is my boat and I am the captain and you do as I say screamed the drunk captain. I retreated to the forecastle, where the crew quarters where and tried to relax, disgusted by that foolish captain. Some time later everybody went to bed and I also fell asleep in my bunk. The English girl and Vicky slept in the other two bunks and all was quiet. I was hot like a stud but making love to my girlfriend was out of the question in that small place with the other girl present. Some time later, it was almost pitch-black dark night around me, I woke up from some little hands touching me, and I found the little hot girl creeping under my blanket into my bed. She put her arms around me and whispered that she could not sleep without me. That she would stay with me forever. She touched me so sweet and then put her small exploring hands to my private parts and asked me to love her. My dick got hard, as wood and I was horny like a stud. I was confused to the highest degree and explained her that it could not be done, that she was too young, that it was wrong, that she had to grow up for such a thing and I would bring her back to her own bed. She protested, said no,no,no, and wanted me to make love to her there and then. My member stood up like a flagpole and while she held it quiet firm in her small hand, her head was on my breast and she kissed my nipples and kept on saying that she wanted me to love her. One hand around my body, the other on my dick, her mouth in my neck, even biting me a little softly, it was driving me crazy. Then I got up quietly, the two other girls Vicky and Suzy did not wake up, they had had a tiring day behind them, and I took the little hot girl up on deck where the moon was out and the water flat like oil. I whispered soft words to her to keep her relaxed, because she trembled of lust and want. My dick relaxed a little and I freed myself from her tense grip. While I brought her back to her cabin I told her all the time to relax and that it was just not possible, that she was too young and so on and so forth. That all was ok and she would go to sleep and dream sweet. And she telling me that it was OK, that her father had told her it was OK, and that she loved me and wanted to be my wife, and that I should make love to her, she putting her hand on my prick and between my legs again, and squeezing my balls tenderly. I held her hands back and prevented her as much as possible to pull me close to her. I brought her to the small cabin, where her little brother was sleeping in the other bunk. I then put her to bed but she insisted so urgent that I had to lie next to her, I could not resist, and afraid she would wake up the whole boat. Therefore, I lay down next to her, and tried not to move in the hope she would fall asleep. But oh no, she took my hand to her little hairless pussy and held me there, while again she touched my swelling prick. In desperation I then started to rub her little clit softly and moving my finger between her little lips, thinking that I could make her cumm and then I would be free to go. She started crying silently and sobbing softly without tears, from pleasure maybe while she clung to me like a barnacle to a ships hull, I held her in my arms giving her all the feeling of love and protection, comfort and warmth I could muster. She and I where clung together, united in total love, merged as one, I could feel that she was I and I was she. I had stopped touching her pussy already some time before and after a sweet long while, slowly, finally, I felt her relax and thanks God she fell asleep. A feeling of bliss, of God Holy Light had taken possession of me, I felt as if I had become Light myself, my whole body was like an electric light. Some Holy energy was come over the whole situation and I felt elevated. I could then ease out of her bed without waking her up and got back to my own bunk and finally, after jerking off that load that she had created in me and shooting it into a big wad of bathroom tissue, I too fell asleep.

The next morning I was first on deck, I never need much sleep but now I was still full of energy from that little lover girls’ administrations, and I swam ashore. It was not far, the sun was out, and I climbed up a pier and walked to some trees, and laid down in the grass to relax. I fell asleep again after I had decided for myself not to return to the Eileen. Vicky was still asleep when I left. When I woke up the charterer was standing next to me asking me to come back with him to the boat. With the promise that he would protect me from the captain and the girl, I reluctantly returned with him in the dinghy. Indeed, the girl and the captain both behaved themselves and we sailed straight back to Porto Cervo, and that was the end of that adventure. In October we are in Mahon, where Napoleon’s cook invented mahonaise, as goes the story. A wonderful protected harbor, used by the US navy. I meet Lawrence and get an Aries windvane., meet Jacoba, and help them to Barcelona.

This is the year that we are in Spain, and in

and on to the Baleares.

Looking for work, I stopped at a harbor just before Palma de Mallorca. I moored the boat along side a jetty where there where some boats on the hard. A man was standing on a ladder, working on a boat and I asked if he knew work. He came down and asked me if that was my boat that I had moored alongside. I invited him in and he looked impressed. He had a job for me he said. He was the representative of “Oberschmit Seereisen” and organized trips for German sailing students. They had to cover a distance of 300 nautical miles on the open sea in a sailing yacht. That would be part of their study to get the license “B”. License “A” was for inland and coastal waters, B for the open sea. As captain I had to sign a declaration at the end of the trip that they indeed had covered the distance. The boat he gave me to skipper was a Vauquir, 43 feet, with a Perkins 48 hp, named: “Reliance”. CC went on the hard and Vicky and I started on our first trip west. We were alone and so stopped frquently, at Valencia, Malaga and at Ceuta, the Spanish enclave at the northern tip of Morocco. Along the Marocan coast, to Cas Blanca and over to Lanzarote. Everything functioned well on board, the trips were not long, and the boat was bigger than CC so it felt comfortable to us. Then to Las Palmas, to a new yachtharbor called La Palma. There we made shipshape and waited for the first passengers to arrive. And later to Tenerife.

1986.

This year Vicky and I go for 5 month to Holland to make money, and later leave for the Atlantic.

January in Almeria and Roquetas del Mar, Almerimar, Adra, Motril. Then to Torre del Mar at the end of the month. It is terribly cold. Almost freezing. Caleta de Velez is another place we went.

February

Caleta Velez untill

March 8 we left to Almerimar and take the boat out of the water

March 12. Chamba on the hard again. Three days later we get a ride in a luxury station car, Citroen CX Break. All the way to Belgium with one night in a hotel in France. The trip was fast and nice. The car very comfortable. From Zandvliet in Belgium by train to Amsterdam and Vicky and I stay a few days on the river barge “Haastje Repje” from Jurjen Mikmak and his girlfriend, Francis de Waal. The 22^nd we move to the sweet water cruiser “Majestic” from Ernst Cancrinus, my dentist friend. That is in Aalsmeer aan de Westeinder Plas.

April

May

On the 5^th we move to Amsterdam, Java Straat one month and then to Bali Sraat. Vicky and I get our teeth fixed by Ernst in Haarlem. We get some free money from the Dutch state and work illegal for a man who sells lampshades on open markets all over the country. I drive with Vicky with a car full of lamp shades to open markets in different cities twice a week and we make money OK. June

and

July

goes by this way. In

August

we work a few days on a steel boat in a hangar for a Chinese Surinamese man called Charley Wong.

On the 26^th we move away from Holland and travel back to the boat in Almerimar. We paint her hull with Anti Fouling and she goes back in the water.

September 6 we leave Almerimar in Easterly direction. Along the coast to Almeria and San Jose, Garucha and Mazzaron.

Then Cartagena to fill up the diesel tank and water. Leave for the next stop, two boats we met in Chartagena left an hour before us, and we met them a few hours out, they were returning because of bad weather and they advised us to do the same. I went on despite their advice to a nice well-protected bay, Portman Bay. Hard howling wind gusts but nice calm water inside. The swimming is good, there are no other boats. On

September 12 we go to Torrevieja and on a Friday the 13^th we leave for Ibiza. Drop anchor next day in Espalmador Bay. Meet Chameleon with Francois.

October

Novenmber

Dece,mber

1986 Tiger

arrive Januari 17 in Tobago.

A day before we arrive I see big birds flying in the sky, a sure sign that land is near.

In Marigot Bay, visit the French side for some time, Booby, Marie, Pitchou

1987 Cat

Los Rockas swim ashore on a sandy beach, no people around. Naked with Vicky, is she pregnant already? Here is nobody as far as the eye can see. White beaches, a calm sea with a lazy breeze. Danforth anchor is on a long chain in the sand, I push a float with camera, Ping An and a towel. We walk the empty beach, here is lonely land. With the beautiful boat nearby, and my beatiful wife I soak up this paradise compaired to world of towns and cities there millions suffer smog and air pollution, moral decay, and stress. We swim back and motor to a bay where some palm leave sun shelters are on sticks forlorn on the beach. A small fishing boat hhugs the beach, a line goes to the trunk of a dead tree on the high flood line. Behind it two local fishermen sit under a palmshelter. They push their boat in the water and come alongside. They offer (illegal) lobster and fish. We pay with chocolate cake that Vicky baked in the oven of Chamba Chada.

August in Curacao and Bonaire.

In Curacao it is clear she is pregnant, we talk about abortion, we see a doctor, he finds it too late to abort, I agree, we continue with a new mood, a change is in the make, I’m not at all sure I like it. I do not see it yet, but I maybe see the change in the future somehow, and I protest. I am impossible to Vicky whom I see as the perpetrator of screwing up my life, my dream of sailing around the world in the west direction.

Vicky’s belly grows and I am embarrassed to the max. My mood swings to the lowest end of the scale, take it out often on Vicky. My hostility to the pregnancy is by her falsely translated into hostility against the new coming baby. She is Jewish to the core and cannot think different than her primitive ancestors. The Jewish way of thinking is stuck in stories of thousands of years ago, it does not make much sense today. Still, as we will see later, she finds a backward spot in Ecuador that corresponds with her old fashioned way of thinking.

1988 Dragon,

In Sint Maarten, lagoon, moored at Island Water world, Amador Victor gets born on 26 February at dusk. On board Chamba Chada are doctor Theron and the midwife Monique, who appeared mysteriously right on time before Theron's door when he walked from his office to his car on the way to us. Vicky’s labor had started and the cramps were terrible, she had to get up, go to the bath room where she could hold on to the two handlebars on either side, that seemed to relax her pains a little.The location of the boat was close to the airport, and normally the airplanes roared loud overhead, just after take-off. This special day however the gods had made the wind turn and the planes took off the other way, no noise at all. The day came to an end, the saloon lights, 12 volt went on and some oil lamps and candles. The lights were soft and dim. The labor became more intense, the midwife listened with her little trumpet to the baby through the stomach wall.”Push, push harder”, she kept urging Vicky, who was doing all she could. She listened again, looked more serious now. Turning to Jacques Theron, she tells him to cut, the baby needs more room to exit. Theron will not cut, he is a special kind of doctor, with a certain code that forbids him to destroy anything, he can only repair anything that is broken, not brake anything. The midwife takes command, a pair of scissors go swiftly cut, cut and blood starts flowing. The baby’s head now appears and Monique takes it in her hands, pulls gently. “Push, Vicky, go on, you’re doing fine Vicky, yes, push on, good girl, go on”, Bit by bit the baby is coming into the world. It is 6:30 pm. The umbilical cord is thick, blue white and red. The baby is dark blue, I worry greatly, is that normal?Purple blue is the little bundle that is now placed on the stomach of the mother. The baby does not move, not breath, just lays there. Does it live? I know nothing of all this, I wait in wonder. I look attentively at the baby, I see the mouth open a little and hear it sucks in a little air. It is like it tries the air, it tastes the air.It sucks in a lung full. Holds it in and expels it. The baby takes another breath in, and breathes out, it lives, it is starting to become independent. A short while later Monique tells me to cut the umbilical cord. She gives me the scissors. I try but it is too tough, unbelievably hard to cut. Monique takes the scissors out of my hand and she does it herself, experienced midwifes action.She handles the baby, the afterbirth, I am dizzy and do not very well witness everything. “Light”, I hear doctor Theron ask me for light, “Alex, I need good light”, says he while he stands over Vicky who lays back, her legs wide open, blood all over the place. So I find the searchlight, a handheld strong beam, like the headlamps of a car. I switch it on. “Here, shine on my hands”, says Theron as he is busy with needle and thread. He wipes away some blood and started to stitch up the cut that Monique made. I shine the light on the operation. It does not take long, maybe 4 stitches, I do not recall how many, but it was soon ready. The cleanup was swift and the baby, still covered in a pink slime was wrapped in a cloth in Vicky’s arms. It was breathing now normal. It had never uttered a sound, no crying, no slapping on the ass, no holding it upside down, nothing like you see on TV in hospitals where doctors rush, deliver, force the child with violence into the world and slap it into a traumatic fear that makes it forcefully starts to cry. No wonder the world is so full of bad people and scared souls, if life starts already violent, what do you expect from the rest of it. I know that the birth of a person can be peaceful, lovely and gentle. My son came into this world for free and without trouble. For free, because the next day, all buntings at the rigging, all flags in top, I went to the office of the marina to pay the mooring fee. For the birthday of the baby no payment was accepted, that day was free of charge. The next day I went to pay doctor Theron. We had agreed upon $200.- beforehand. I had it with a feather and a note of thanks from Vicky and me in an envelope. He took the envelope, took out the money and note, read it and handed me back the money and said:” It was such a wonderful experience, I cannot take money for that, please allow me to refuse the money.” Monique later told me that a year before she worked in the Marigot Hospital as a midwife when she got a nervous breakdown. She could not work anymore and collapsed completely She was on sick leave and needed to change her life. She left St. Martin and went to France. She got counseling and was slowly getting better, but did not know what she was going to do with her life. Certainly never touch a pregnant woman again, that she had more or less fixed in her head. After 10 or 11 month she decided to return to St. Martin, and see her friends again. Not to return to her former work but to look for something else. When doctor Theron left his office to come to Chamba Chada it was the gods that had led Monique to cross his path. Amador was the first baby she helped being born and she told me that the event had changed her life completely. The different way the birth took place gave her back her believe in mankind and from then on she has been an alternative midwife, doing birthing at homes, on boats, anywhere, but not in the classical hospital style. She thanked Vicky and me profoundly for being there and giving her back her confidence.

We did not stay there long but sailed with the baby to the south. A few month later Vicky flew to Israel to show the baby to her parents and had him circumcised. I object to that because I was never circumcised but played with my lingham when I was young and pulled back the foreskin while exploring the good feelings it gave. Doing that regularly the foreskin became wide enough to make the head of my member stick out of it and when erect it sticks out all the way. So without having the knife mutilate my rod of creation, it is clean, big and has the same insensitive power of a circumcised one. The head of the penis sticking out does not make the owner of it cumm so easy as the penis who's head is covered with foreskin. Is that why the Jewish and Moslem habit of circumcising the penis has come into being? To please the woman a little longer during the act of sexual union? Or was the argument the cleanliness, for the residue accumulating under the foreskin can lead to troubles in case the owner of the tool does not clean it every day.

1989 Snake

Now that the baby became one year and started to climb the stairs and move about, it was time to go ashore. My whole dream was destroyed and I had seen that coming a long time, my general mood was unpleasant, to say the least. I found a house in rue Fichot #9, opposite Kunta and Sylvia, in a big yard. I found the owner, Cynthia Sharp, who worked in the Philipsburg Hospital, what is now the old peoples home.

From Vicky’s sister Smadar I had got a teaspoon full of diamonds cut from the raw ones we had smuggled out of Venezuela and those I tried to sell. I went through all the jewelry shops until I ended up in the workshop of Michel Robbe. Every day I went to his shop, just to pass the time. Vicky had a job on the market, selling souvenirs, we had still some things from Jurjen Mikmak, mostly earrings and things from Bali. I had no job, no skills to get one and so I sat often for hours in Robbe’s workshop and looked at how he did it. Finally he let me start to do something, engraving maps of St. Maarten, St. Martin, on gold. Then cutting them with a saw and putting a ring on them. Soon I was soldering, filing, rolling plates and pulling wire. It took me 6 month to learn enough to work for the jewelry store Pepita as repairman.

In Robbe’s workshop, in French Atelier, was a centrifugal casting machine with an oven and wax injector, vulcanizer and rubber. All instructions were in English which Robbe did not know. So I ended up installing and using the equipment for lost wax casting. And when I had left Robbe and started for Pepita, I started buying tools for myself. And all that was needed for casting. I have continued to work with casting ever after.

1990 Horse

I sold the boat after 12 years for the price I paid for it. The money went on a unknown bank who promised high interest payment. As we were still married, Vicky also had access to the account, I found out a little later, when she left with a big amount and our son with a young Brazilian to unknown horizons. I met Michel Robbe and became apprentice goldsmith. Came to know the Atlantis ring. With the ring life started anew, although I didn’t know it consciously yet. The realization of the new age came about ten to twelve years later.

1991 Goat

When Vicky left I was devastated, shattered, ruined. I felt so terribly alone that it took me a while to get back together. I was completely finished for a while, I saw no women or girls and thought that I would never see one again. I sat working 3 hours in the morning and 3 hours in the afternoons and I cried most of the time. That was to accept the new situation more easy. Crying seems to be to wash away the past ideas and past principles.

Suddenly Mekala came into my life, to do me, very good, later I met Linda who came to live with me on 1st of January ‘92

This year ‘91 the young woman Mekala made me return to reality again. Who would believe that 18 year old, Mekala would sex me so sweet that I woke up for real. I’ll never forget how I met her. It was when I came from seeing a movie, Robin Hood, in the Sandy Ground movie place . I drove my old Subaru Leon and at the bridge was this girl asking for a ride, so I stopped and let her get in. We started talking and it came so that I asked if she wanted to spend some time with me. I had no idea of her age, or even how she looked. In the night, driving a car it is hard to see the face of a black woman. To my surprise she said yes. My last woman had been Vicky, who had left me about 18 months before. I was afraid I could still do it. And I got pretty nervous. I explained that I had not been with a woman for a long time due to my divorce and if she would not mind helping me. What would she want me to do to make the evening a success? Then she told me that it would not be tonight, but tomorrow, she had a date with a girlfriend and she was late so she asked the ride. I then drove past my house to show her where I lived and brought her to her destiny. Buy a bottle of whiskey to have home the next night she told me. The whole day I was nervous, bought not only a bottle of whiskey, but also beer, cigarettes, wine, chips, cookies, nuts, snacks, soda’s, and more. The day passed awfully slow but at last as soon as the night set in, she came. When she saw how nervous I was she made drinks, led me to the bed and made me lay down. She started to undress me, and told me to do nothing. The darling helped me out of my clothes and undressed herself also. What a sweet girl. Mekala was her name, she stroked me, massaged me and made me feel real good. My lid was growing as it should and she gave me compliments for its size. By jerking of my whole life, and fucking my former wife every day once or twice, it had become respectable in size, for a white man, that is. Now that I mention it, I remember that even my former wife had noticed on the nude beach at Orient Bay that most other men she saw naked did not have the same good size as me. Mekala took my hard penis in her mouth, sucked me sweet and tender for a while and made me come in no time like a fountain, it spurted high in the air and almost hit the ceiling, I had accumulated a load so big. “So”, she said, “now we got rid of that we can start to begin.” And indeed a few minutes later I was hard again and she inserted my Willy inside her dripping wet pussy. I was still not allowed to move, and she sat over me on her hunches and went up and down for a good while. Then she turned around and went under me. She put a pillow under her buttocks, and made me go deep inside of her. I did not have to move in and out, just press deep inside. Then she made me wriggle my bush against her bush, she helped by wriggling in tandem, the same rhythm, only so that we touched hard one moment and soft the next. Whining they call that in the Caribbean. This was so exciting that I started to feel another orgasm coming soon, and she felt it too. “Yes”, she moaned,” just so, yes, go on, just so....” My bush rubbed her clit and my member rubbed her G-spot and we came, together, in unison, and it was the best feeling I had had for years. Laughing of relief and happiness I laid next to her who now stared with glassy eyes at nothing while she fell asleep. How very pretty did she look in her satisfied innocence, it filled me with a sweet loving feeling for her and I kissed her smooth forehead and her eyes and her breasts. Some ten minutes later she woke up and told me I had done a good job, I was not old, I could still do it, she would come back soon for another go at it and if I please could bring her home. That evening I was initiated into the recreational sexual experiences of the Caribbean. There were many more to come. Especially with Linda who was going to be my woman.

It was around this time that I got the first knowledge of the ATLANTIS Ring.

I had learned jewelry making from Michel Robbe and did that at home, I had built a nice workshop behind the house. Still I did not have enough customers to make it easy and I was looking for a job. I became tourist guide with the company of “Patchi”.

Some time before I had met Linda. On my motorbike Honda Rebel 250, I came from the Cul de Sac French Saint Martin and saw her sticking up her thumb, asking for a ride. I drove on, as girls normally don’t ask rides on bikes. But in my mirror I saw her still asking, and I turned around. “Are you not afraid of bikes?” asked I. “ Oh, no”, said she and climbed on the buddy seat. I had a sissy bar on my 250 Rebel which makes it comfortable for the passenger. I drove as slow as possible and told her to squeeze her knees together to get a sure grip. It was a pleasant drive and to make it last I stopped at the Surf Club South, at the beach in Grand Case. I offered her a drink and she took an orange juice. Then she showed me that she had burned her leg on the exhaust pipe while getting of. A bit alarmed I drove quickly home to apply some cream. Linda’s friend is Jennifer, also a pretty young girl, boy, how they get me to love them. Also meet Claudette, who joins Linda and me one time sexing with me.

1992

Linda comes to live with me in Rue Fichot. I had to wait until she got away from her boy Tony, I loved her with my head, heart and soul for years to come. I get a job with Patchi, visiting tourists and welcoming them at the airport.

1993 Rooster

Linda lives with me a year now, it took long time to get her to come live by me last year. We sexed already seriously. We did our AIDS tests both, in the Marigot Hospital and continued to use condoms for another three month, I wanted it so. After our second testing was clear we did it naked, without protection, was that nice... After some time Linda asked herself why she did not get pregnant. I then explained that I did my vasectomy in ‘89, in Venezuela, Cumana. When Vicky was pregnant, I had the feeling that my dream of a world trip with the boat was becoming impossible. I did not see me going with a young child in a small boat over the oceans. And I was very pissed off. We talked about abortion, but that was also not really the solution, it was already a bit late, the doctor in Curacao was not very enthusiastic about it, neither were we, although the world trip hung in the balance, it was a difficult time and I became unruly, nasty and unfriendly. Who needs a baby on a sailing yacht? Certainly not the captain.

1994 Dog Year.

I work for Crystal Waters selling alcoholic beverages, and wines. I learn to drink and drive, to sniff cocaine and sell alcoholics and collect money for outstanding bills. What an amazing life. I have to change my little red car, that was so very practical with its big back door and down folding backseat to put boxes in, for a bigger unpractical car with a deep boot that makes loading boxes a back breaking exercise. For a representative of Seagram a little car will not do, the bosses live in a million dollar house in Red Pond Estate, near Dawn Beach, they drive BMW and Chrysler, my little Japanese does not look good enough, no matter how practical it may be. So it happens that I stop for a hitch hiker at the slope after the Friars Bay road and some other car bumps hard into my rear. Severely damaged, structural problems makes that the insurance pays the value and I get a bigger Subaru Leon. The boot full of samples and deliveries I have to install alarms and better still empty it every night as thieves empty it for me if I don’t. Linda lives with me for now. And she comforts me but also is bossy and sometimes impossible because of her secrecy. She will never say where she has been, what she will do, who her friends are.

1995 Pig Year

Canadian Mike, Michael Barrach with his boat Kwan Yin (Goddess of Mercy) are mingling with my life. The boat looks like the one I used to have, only bigger. Mike is a professional smuggler and his boat is equipped with secret compartments which were never found by custom officers. The Kwan Yin sails with compressed marijuana from St. Vincent to places not far from here where he drops his cargo by transferring it to waiting vessels. He gets paid in Natura, that is in several kilos of weed. When I met him it was on recommendation of Orlando and Glenn from Holland I believe. Anyway, I still smoked those days and the grass was good. Mike sold his grass to different dealers on the island, of which I knew a few, because I sometimes bought small amounts from them. He was with Nils and they installed a huge toploader freezer at the place in Simpson Bay to store the grass ffrozen. Just like frozen vegatables it stayes veru fresh and buyers wondered after many weeks and even month how Mike always could deliver tha same good quality. The secret of keeping grass frozen was not known by many. Then Mike heard my dream of making perfume. He was a bit of a chemical engeneer and he knew how to make perfume he said. I love the smell of frangipani and on the slopes of the rock near the fort over the hospital a lot of frangipani were having flowers. It is a little white flower with a bright yellow heart and a strong sweet fragrance, better even than jasmin. I seduced Vicky with a botttle of frangipani perfume I had bought in Cairo I Egypt one day long ago.

So Mike told me we needed a bit of glassware and a vacuumpump. We took an old refridgeration compressor from his boat to my house and I installed it in my workshop to vacuum the investment mixture of my molds before I put them in the oven. It worked wonderwell. Mike knew the Roumanian doctor Abidzjan from her husband Byron well enough to have her order the needed glass condenser and retords and other parts needed to make perfume. We would use the old compressor to suck vacuum.

The mother of all hurricanes: Luis, hits on September 5, on the same day France detonated a nuclear device in the pacific territories. Under protest of the rest of the world.

LUIS was a named tropical storm on the Atlantic Ocean that had become a hurricane, with wind Force 7 and 8. It was on a track that would lead straight over Saint Martin/Sint Maarten and it was strengthening. In the lagoon were hundreds of sailing yachts, maybe as many as 250, have to check the true numbers. A hectic activity was all over the place. People were nailing slats of wood over windows, hammering was heard over the whole island. Pick up trucks loaded with plywood hurried about. Boaties and yachties hurried to secure their boats. Concrete blocks sold as secure moorings were floated by air bags and towed by small work boats to the right spots. Anchor chain was sold by the mile, and the sky was dark, but no wind was there at all. The real true calm before storm, looking back it was menacing and threatening. Then it was unknown to me how such thing is, so I did not do much special. My house was also placed ideally. It was on the “Roque Fort” as I called it, the highest rock next to the bay, on which point is the Fort de Marigot, with old guns still in good shape, on new wooden carriers, pointing to the blue bay below. Under the guns was the small fishers beach under construction of a huge walkway, of concrete like the quay in Barcelona, boulders for mooring lines where planned later. Below the Fort was the house of the Governor. The General Hospital a little lower again, and the Roman Catholic Church had taken a big part a little down towards town. The Fire Brigade on one side and the Electricity Company on the other side of the street were my house was, next to a hotel that spread out over a lot of small cabins. The name of the Hotel was : “Le Corsair du Roi” and next to it was the old peoples home. Opposite the hotel were a few living houses, the old lady with crazy Nico and Kunta and Sylvia. The Guadaloupe lady rented upstairs room to different people, later also to the secret police I found out. She had the house right in front of mine. Hurricane LUIS approached slowly but surely. It northwestern course continued with an agonizing 4 miles an hour. It is hard to follow the thing on radio and even TV, as they give wind speed in kilometer per hour, the movement of the eye in (land)miles per hour. Sailors and air pilots use nautical miles to measure distances. When the first winds started blowing I had the most beautiful creole woman with me. Helena, whom I once had penetrated from the back on a party by Victoria, the American artist, and was presently the girlfriend of Jan Thoelke, wealthy boat owner. Just a little before the storm Jan had asked me to have her in the shelter of my home, the boat was too risky he decided. The winds started to bend trees in the yard and leaves and plastic bags started to fly around. Helena and I in the house were looking out of the open doors, late afternoon. I went out in now raging rain streaks, gusts of storm with a plastic garbage bag as raincoat. Three holes for head and hands in the garbage bag makes good protection for the cold water that tasted sometimes salty. I saw a royal palm bending so worrisome, I went out and tied it with ropes to the concrete gate so it would stay straight.

The eye of the hurricane was announced every 4 hours on the radio, the force was increasing, winds over 120 km/hr were coming our way. In the house we had put all things in plastic bags, only one little radio was out. The doors safely closed now, the fury rages outside and thunder claps explode close by with a sharp cracking after sound. Lightning as in movie films lights up a curtain of thick rain, visibility nil. The electricity stopped dead. The light is out, I fumble with the kerosene lamps. We light also a gaslight, Camping Gaz from France. Its eerie shine and sharp shadows makes me forget the storm outside for a moment. Water enters now through the closed sleeping room window. A slate of wood is partly torn of its nails and the crazy elements want to get in. The big square mattress goes up with Helena’s help against the window. We take the champagne and caviar out of the freezer, before they would spoil. We made toast on the gas stove and spent some time wondering how long it would last. In the room was a big bed on pellets which we could move to a dry spot and sit, lay and hang there while all the time I feared the roof would blow of. Said she later that It lasted so long, not me, I did not have any notion of time in the storm. I was one with the turmoil, I was greatly impressed, I was very much myself with God. Never a dull moment, fully awake and never had a fear, not a scare. Impressed I was very much, yes, laughing even with the enormous power. God’s might shaking out right over the island. It went on and on, the wind direction slowly turning full circle. The exact duration I must check. The day brought a gray world. Still cloudy and windy but it was not raining any more. Debris all over the place, devastation wherever the eye goes. Branches, broken fences, parts of roofs, garbage bags. First I inspect around my house. The roof was still good, only one gutter is down, the yard garden full of big branches from the kinep tree. Half of the big old tree had broken and missed my roof by just one foot. Hallelujah, we are still alive and well, cleaning up could start right away. The battery radio had all night long a program going on with call in telephone information but during the broadcast we heard of all the places that went incommunicado. Those were getting more and suddenly the transmitter itself was blown to silence. Now, the morning after, no radio transmitters at all were on air. After cleaning the yard some time soon after, miraculously the electricity came back and my telephone was working. I had worked for Crystal Waters and the my former boss came over to use my fax to ask for emergency generators, mobile computers and what ever the rich need to feel OK. The bosses in Canada would fly supplies over the same day. My freezer went full blast to provide frozen drinking water for the many people that came. I had frozen french fries and a big wok was in the kitchen frying away, providing for all who came. Outside was humid and very hot. The sun shone pitiless on nature’s handiwork. Some salt water that the storm had sucked out of the sea had fallen down, also on my roof and my cistern was a little bit contaminated. The gutter that had blown odd prevented the water being too bad. Not good for drinking but still clean enough for laundry. My washing mashine was turning and washing things for people almost 24 hours for days. I took my Honda Rebel on what was left of the road. Drove around the island in a sort of stoned feeling as if I was on LSD. The place looked like the pictures I saw of Hiroshima after Fat Boy had been delivered there in the big war. From all standing vegetation only bare sticks were left. Most trees broken, uprooted, slung about. Mudslides of slopes, a house slid down after a retaining wall collapsed. Roofs blown of and roof covering plates which we call zinc are everywhere. Twisted in shapes like crumpled paper, strewn about the landscape wherever one would look. The people walking to and fro the devastated supermarkets. Boxes on their head, they walk quickly away with as much as they can carry. Rams food world is devastated. The place is huge and full of food. The roof is gone, and parts of the walls as well. My sweet Honda Rebel carries me back safely, the harbor of Marigot can not by land be navigated. Seaweed is thrown on land for up to three streets far. Sand and weed is three blocks away from the sea. Up in the mountainous areas where the getthos of the poor people are the misery is total. The destruction is complete. The wooden shacks had no force whatsoever and all are gone. Few concrete floors and sticks here and there, nothing but wet clothes, broken wood, out sticking fridges and washing machines, schots en scheef. Haphazardly thrown about. People sitting dazed about and stare in space. Incomprehensible, unbelievable. I can only see and go. My bike is my heavenly horse that brings me home in peace. A trip around the lagoon was impossible, at Sandy Ground the road had disappeared completely. What I could see in Marina Royal was devastation, destruction, entangled masts of sunken and half sunken boats as far as the eye could see. The shores of the lagoon full of wrecks thrown all around the land. Masts sticking out of the water everywhere. Only a couple of boats still on their moorings. People are too dazed to do anything useful. A helicopter is in the air. On the Dutch side foolish decisions are taken. The politicians want to deal with it and stop incoming help from Holland as they play a power game. Police from Curacao blocks all roads and now that the looting is over, they start a curfew. The French side is churning away fine, planeloas of ply and tent material, drinking water and soldiers arrive and help covering houses and places that lost a roof. The Dutch side blocks the delivery of plane loads of help goods, closes down the airport, helpers are refused to enter. In the lagoon it is counted that 95 % of all the boats sunk or were thrown ashore and damaged. Also the boat of my friend the “Kwan Yin”, is thrown ashore at the Red Cross compound at the airport road. With my Subaru Leon I went to see, and it was bad. Found mister the Canadian inside the Red Cross building dispensing telephony calls, doing guard duty of a kind. He slept there as well. A carpenter was at the scene remarkably fast and in a few days the hole in the hull was being repaired. After that we got heavy jacks and started to put her upright. It was a big job, I could not be there most of the time, I was home, helping people with communications, ice, laundry, food. Linda was thinking of returning to live with me. LUIS was Gods answer to our separation, I felt it so. At the same time horrifying and destructive, it was also the only solution for the governments that could no way cope with all the getthos and illegals on the island. LUIS helped them a great bit forward. Emergency container dwellings came on the Dutch side close to the cricket field, it was a small village all right where the people that had no more home could live. The weather had become normal, sunny, hot, little breeze. I started to make gold again and Mike came around sometimes. His experiment to make hash oil resulted in a small quantity extremely strong oil, and in our arrest by the frenchpolice not long after. He had been followed using my bike and my car. I was suspected to be the brain of an organization importing marijuana and making hash oil to export on the international market. That was because Mike used my place to do his experiments. He had started it by telling me he was going to help me making perfume. He then used me, as he used doctor Abadzjef, he used Nils and whomever he met to help him with his schemes. He had brought good grass to his delivery point in the neighborhood, and got a few score pounds as payment. He sold a few pounds to smokers local, and stored the rest in big freezers at the house of I know who in Pelican area. It stayed good and customers were very astonished to get the same good quality, week after week. In my place it was weighed and bagged. I had scales for my plaster and gold and bronzes, and Mike used them all very efficiently. I saw mostly what went on, but it was not mine so I did not touch it.

1995 November 23

I get arrested and after three days in police custody in Saint Martin flown out and thrown in jail in Guadaloupe. I would stay there for 10 months.

Linda takes care of my belongings. She comes to see me every month for 6 month. I wrote her many letters, nothing was known about my destiny, I advised her to find herself a man.

1996 Rat Year

Which she did, without telling me. My hopes to be reunited were dashed when she picked me up from the airport after my release almost 11 month later and she dropped me at Bavaria bar, where the ‘October Fest’ was in full swing. Jimbo came to my rescue and let me stay with him a few weeks until, with Linda’s help, I found a shack to rent for $150. - That was at Cowboys place. High up the mountain on the slope behind his house. A bare room with an electric bulb on a wire, and a mattress on the floor and a fridge, which was carried up by Linda’s boyfriend Robby, Robert.

From the first day of the year I spend jail time, free 21 October ‘96, back to St. Maarten, 5 years restriction French side, find lodgings in a shack at Cowboy York. Meet the con artists Richard Lissenberg. Next I do a little better in the place under Cowboy’s place, cost 100 more, I pay now 250 dollar a month. Richard and Sandy are my friends. One is a drunken goldsmith, the other a swindler. I

meet Lafafa, the Haitian goldsmith in Front street. I work a little time for him, but when he takes my money from clients that I bring in, I quit and Nils takes my tools back to Cowboy.

1997 Ox

This year I go to Holland, advice of Nils, and I get all I need, a new clean passport, new teeth and money from the government and from work with Frans and Ernst. I stay away three month and when I come back I find my place unpaid by fucking Richard, who dirtied my place, with blood and shit, God only knows what he did in there. The ass hole collected money people owed me, he collected jewelry to get fixed and then sold it. He made more enemies that I can count. I move to the boat of Sandy, we have some storms, in the harbor of Bobby’s Marina. Then I get the house on Kings of the Sea road. There I install my tools, have BBQ under the tree with Sandy, and at the end of the year I meet Joy from America, half Japanese, half American, she stays at Divi hotel. We have great sex and we write letters for a few month until she comes back to find out that I am not her sought after husband.

1998 Tiger

Joy comes in February for 2 weeks.The French goldsmith Olivier comes and I go to Philipsburg, meet Christian

1999 Cat

A lot of sex this year, whore house visits to sell my gold, successful and horny. Only a bad ending at second of December the hit by the inattentive car-driver mister Brown. He hit the Rebel up front, threw me down, bike on leg, crushed badly, broken and shaved. 2 month in the Sint Maarten Medical Center where I met Bart Allers and got to know him a bit

2000 Dragon

started in the hospital, January, most of February at Nils and Alma and Gus, a curious trio.

In March or April I was home again and found a nest full of fresh eggs, present from the yard. Then Bart started to built the extra room and there was always action and activity. Big equipment took fast care of the building, Gus did some electrics and a Haitian did some stone work in the yard and the place starts to get better. A little pond made by St. Lucy Peter with fishes and waterlilies from the library pond make the place look fabulous already and it is not half ready...

After my notes I must have met Lolita this year on November 21. Marisol and another woman brought her to me. They introduced the girl to me and asked me to be her friend.

2001 Snake

Got accused by Alma, Nils and Guus of stealing a little TV that Bart had left behind. We never got back together again. I went to a voodoo priest from Africa, Ghana, who wanted money but did not remove the accusation. The TV was found back in Guus’ room. I diagnose Alzheimer by Guus.

Lolita and Marcia, also called Lea play a sexy role in this year for sure.

In September I am robbed by two bandits who where let in by Rutty Stapleton.

2002 Horse year

I got my first computer, a Macintosh Apple Power Book 1400cs, laptop, from Mitsu Ferrier, a very generous lady, and friend of Marie-France from Indiana Restaurant and bar, in Simpson Bay. I have not yet found out what it is that I can do for her, except make an Atlantis ring which she insisted she paid for anyway...the second of February I go see Ruby Bute, today Willem Alexander marries Maxima in Holland. I feel often very good, sing loud gibberish, work a little gold, write this down, listen to Bob Marley originals had some sweet people passing, Marisol and man friend, A young Haitian woman 24 who came with Linel, the car worker from next block. she bought for her new born boy an arm chain and a little ring. Marisol had repairs. Last night at Ruby’s place came Ilhan, the Turkish lady. We had nice talk nothing specific. She must take her vitamins. Brett came to finish silver lizards I cast and he made the Guavaberry Logo Head in wax that I cast successfully in silver to serve as a master for copying. February 5, too much to do, no time to write.

I met a most pretty girl-woman, named Blue Satin, she is from St. Lucia. Only once did she come here and talk a while, she is so busy that she hardly has time to see me. Linda only bothers me when she needs me, never does a thing for me, Marcia is a prostitute, will come for sex if I want, Lolita comes sometimes unexpected to play with me and as she calls it: to ”Kill me softly.” Lolita is too young to do what she does, and it scared me when I found out later. She does not know what an orgasm is and I scolded her for that . Blue Satin interests me these days for real, if only she would be interested in me... I pray that she will come to be mine one day. Amen. Our last telephone conversation she mentioned 40 dollar that she would make when she would do a lady’s hair, but if I would give her the 40 dollar she would come to me. I advised her to get the money from the lady. Later I thought that maybe she would do more than my hair for 40 dollar, so I called her to say that I had a pocket full of money, if she was interested... Wednesday at 5 she would have time, now let’s see if it works out. I do not like to pay for sex, however, if I can not get it for free, I have to. I really would like to have her as my friend and live together and eat and talk and joke and sex and show off, to do whatever it is that makes the days go by. As it looks now, she only comes for money, and it is not sure what she will do for it.

Blue Satin came, only one hour late, which is nothing by Caribbean standards, talked nice, typed a little, got a ring, a solitaire with a 5 mm CZ, kept the anklet she tried on the first time and we forgot to take off, and asked for the 40 dollars that we talked about earlier. I had given my word, so I gave it. The closest I got to her was kissing her stomach and her right breast a little, before she told me to stop it. That was the most expensive nipple I ever kissed. 40 anklet+40 cash+40 ring=120 dollar, I could buy 6 times sex for that. I must be mad, stark raving mad. I can only justify it by saying that it is third world help, and she won’t have to do any work for a day or so. Still I do not understand what came over me to give away money like that. If only I had a good friend to stop me doing things like that, a sex friend and an economic friend, and a social friend all in one, God do not forsake me, hear my plea....Amen. 7 of February I work on the three Atlantis rings and feel very tired afterwards, Eddy comes reads “my life” and makes a little wall to protect the new pond from dirty water when it rains.

Lolita comes as usual unexpected when I am alone in the late afternoon and have me cumm. She asked me to suck her puss, lick it strong, open it, let her see it. She makes me take the mirror and place it so that she has plain view into the act. She is enjoying the feeling, she may yet find out how to reach her orgasm. I bring her home afterwards on the bike, she makes me drive as slow as possible and holds me so sweet, arms all around me, it feels so good. Later I go to Soggy dollar bar and see Jacqueline from the “Rocket” and Brett, after go to Pelican to see Grace who pays for the repairs and the ring with the blue stone I made her. I could not find my yellow night glasses later in the car, where did they go??? They went on the floor of the little car, I found them the next morning. Blue Satin called to ask if I could sign residence permit papers for her, so she can get legal. I would do it for help. Help me with my life, jewelry making if you like, but surely the cleaning, the garden, clothing, cooking, and last but not at all least: sex. Good and willing sexual partnership is essential for getting my assistance in paper matters. If you want my help, I want yours.

February 9 I wake up good, start my computer and work a little, it is 7 o’clock. The coffee machine pruttles away and the smell of fresh coffee fills the house. I feed the chickens and kick the cat who meows too loud for my liking. Then I feed the cat and the bell rings.

In steps Marcia, the young black sex queen from St.Peter. With only a flimsy dress she feels me over right at the door and makes my morning member proudly stand up against her soft belly. She is in the sleeping room without losing a minute, naked and inviting. What man can resist a young willing woman at 7:30 in the morning? Not me. So I lay next to her, kiss her big soft breasts, she strokes my hair, squeezes my nipples, strokes my belly and tells me to put on my ring.

My dick ring is a marvel first class. I made it from pure silver in the right size after having experimented with different rings, curtain rod rings and other big size rings from different sources, like boat gear, fitness machines, until I found the perfect size. This one fits right over my penis, slides down to the base and there I pull some skin of the scrotum up through it. Now it is fixed well and my member swells to extra big proportions. Hard like wood, the condom rolls down over it tightly and with a little K-Y-jelly I insert it slowly inside Marcia who moans with pleasure. She likes a big size and she likes it a bit rough. So I grind and whine a good while when she announces that she has to pee. I roll away and she goes to the bathroom. When she comes back she goes on all fours and asks me to take her a bit rough, brutal, from the back, but not in the brown hole. I slip inside her slowly and deeply and hold her great brown buttocks, feel her back and squeeze her shoulders, her neck and stroke down between her shoulder blades, down to her buttocks. She likes my shaft going in and out deep and shallow, she moans and grunts a little, I feel her yoni holds me good and tight. She never had a baby and is fond of her tightness. My lingham gets the massage of heaven in her cave of love. Oh holy feeling of creation, here it comes, the pleasure is now unstoppable, reaches the climax, she knows it, moves in unison and yes, we cumm. Or maybe it is only me who cumms, but it is OK, she turns and laughs, she knows she is good, she has given me the pleasure that she knows so well to give. Wow, what a dream come true. Sweet sex in the morning, unexpected, fresh, new, honest, recreational, relaxing. No better way to start the day.

Outside the universe responds with early morning rain that feeds the plants in unity with our creative activity. A fresh copious shower for the thirsty plants and flowers in the garden. Every creature is happy. After she has left I sing, do the laundry in the washing machine, play on my flute a few melodies, defrost the refrigerator and cook breakfast. Papo came in the middle of all that to pick up the little ring I made for his Valentine lady friend. If only every day was like that, the world would be a better place for all the suffering peoples who know not how to live the good life.

Later I found that Papo took advantage of my happy mood and stole a ring while he was in the workshop. The little farth will never enter here again..

I got a call from one of the prettiest young beautiful females that I have ever seen. The sister from Junior, the young man who helped me always with my Rebel 250. Their mother works at the tax office and their father with the social affairs office. Junior is in Holland and because I am/was planning to go to Holland, she called me to give me Juni’s telephone number. I have always, from the first moment I saw her, felt a special affection for her. We had some fun on the phone, when she fooled me in believing that she had a brother that wanted to buy my bike, I then fooled her believing that I represented a fashion house looking for a model. It was a long time that I thought of her, but she is too young for me and I put her out of my mind. Now she called and I get all those feelings back again. Difficult. Her name eluded me, and she did not say it during the conversation, I remembered it only later that day, when I drove over the hill. It is Sahida. The whole day it slipped my mind .She was the first one to visit me with her mother when I was in the hospital after being hit by Mister Brown in December 1999. She gave me a cell phone while I was in the hospital. Her mother ‘s name is Sandra. However, what a blessed time I live in, one girl comes to sex me early in the morning, another calls me and talks sweet, and gives me thoughts of future fun. Wow! ! ! The whole day I wondered about her name. Should I call her brother in Holland to ask the name of his sister, or shall I wait and see if I remember it later? Questions like this I like to solve with a coin. I flip a coin, head is yes, tail is no. It was no this time, so I call not. Often I ask the flip method to answer for me, questions that can go either way. Later that night , when I drive over the hill I recall her name: it is Sahida.

Linda calls to say she has a check and will pay me one hundred dollars if I can give her the three hundred dollars difference, which I cannot. She owes me 475. So we wait until Monday. When she calls me to tell me she needs it to go to a hand surgeon in Anguilla. Asked if she ever will give me the sweet treatment again she used to give me, she answers that one day she will, but not right now. Third woman to call today, this one to offer to pay back long ago borrowed money. Wow.

My willy is getting hard now any odd time, talking in the telephone to any of the sweet girls I know, even thinking of any one them is enough to make him swell up. It is a bit worrisome, at my advanced age to be still like that. I study spiritualism, the God inside of me. I read the teachings from the Buddha and although they are not against sex, they warn for immoral behavior. As long as my love for the women I spend time with is genuine, I feel no objections to having them around and sharing pleasurable feelings. My love is for all of them, and I get crazy for the beauty of any young woman that is dressed sexy, belly button out, low waist, high tank top, they certainly know how to stir up my blood. It is called lust and to only pursue the company of a woman in order to satisfy the lust is immoral it is said. However, what about if that woman also wants to satisfy her hunger for sexy pleasure? If both partners are willing to be victim of lust, what then is the case? Is it then still immoral? Or is it the will of God to be together and have the heavenly feeling of pleasure? To create another human being is to be as close to God as is possible. That is what happens when two partners have sex. The feelings before, during and after are to me Holy, to be cherished and cultivated and understood and experienced.

Lolita takes up my stupid mind and I cannot resist to buy her a belly chain that she asked for, I pay 25 dollar. She asked for shrimps, also my favorite food, I bought for 18 dollar, uncooked big shrimps, two pounds, ate from it because she did not came back for three days until when she came only one portion was left. She loved it.

Fried it herself and ate it with gusto. Her belly chain fits just, 30 inch is not a tiny small waist at all for a young girl. Not to forget she got a baby when 13 years of age. The chain fits, with only one inch left hanging. Before I realized she was naked on the bed and asking if I wanted her so or if she should shower first. Her nipples get hard from excitement, she knows what she wants from me. Who am I to refuse? She takes my head in her hands and brings it between her legs, presses me where she wants to be sucked. No shower first, let me smell and taste the real thing. My tongue out and in, stroking and licking in and out, quick and slow, she moans and looks with a smile of innocent surprise and wonder down to my face between her legs. I turn my eyes up to see her face between her pointed breasts that stand out like two mounts Fuji in Japan. Her snow white teeth in her half open mouth visible between her lovely young titties sucks in the air and expels her breath slowly, her legs move open wide and she tries to push my head all the way inside her yoni, her juice-oozing love hole, which is impossible, my nose gets buried in her bush, my mouth kisses her pink toothless mouth that is hungry and slaving with sweet tasting juice. I drink her luscious nectar and feel the power of creation fill my heart. What to do? My member is erect and trembling to enter the source of life. Moaning she pulls me higher up and covers herself with me. I grope for the box of condoms, K-Y jelly and cock ring and bite the wrapper off a blue rubber. Roll it down my shaft and make sure it is down to the base of the bush. She lays back and waits sighing rapidly. I will try to give her an orgasm, but I am too far gone to control myself, the sweet nectar that I drank from her open flower contains so much energy that my gift cannot be held back. Her slightest touch and the tightness of the entrance to her love cave make my thoughts of going slow evaporate and as I am just about one inch in and pushing she puts her hand between her bush and mine and makes me stop. It helps, the feeling to shoot my load diminishes a little. She lets me enter again. How well she knows to prolong our pleasure!! Slowly I go in two inch and again her hand stops me from going deeper. What a girl. I cover her right nipple with my open mouth and feel the firmness. My tongue circles her nipple while I suck it, she trembles and squeezes her legs together, three more strokes and I feel me cumming, the power of creation takes place, she makes me cumm. I feel the holy gift of life has been accepted, she won this one, I congratulate her, kiss her gratefully, she basks in her victory, she did not cumm, oh no, she killed me softly again, she made me give it to her. This darling of darlings, she lives. She lets me kiss her belly a little, my surrender to the holy of holies. I adore her and slowly we get up and out of the love nest. Under the shower I soap her lithe body from top to toe and the slippery soap feeling makes me shiver of pleasure. This is the crown on the work I think when I dry her patting her backside softly with a towel. I think I’m in deep love with this young woman...

“I’ll be back tomorrow”, she yells as she walks away a little later with a man who called for her a minute after she made me cumm, and who waited for her outside. Who is he and what does she do with him? She is in charge, and not only of me, that much is clear.

Next day when she comes to have a ring made smaller and the chain of her mother repaired, she looks at me again with that measuring look, as if to say:” How many strokes will it take this time to make him cumm?” However, a lady I know long time, Isabel, enters the stage, sits down and wants to see my collection of rings, selects one and orders it for tomorrow. Lolita looks with contempt and disgust at Isabel behind her back and makes a sneering movement with her head as if to say: “Shit, what is she doing here?” I diffuse the tension between the girls, I know that Isabel would like to get a good fuck at the moment, that is why she comes here but I say that I have to be in 20 minutes in Simpson Bay, so, “Let’s get into the car”. We went in the car all three of us and I did not get it that night, neither the next as none came. Of course Isabel did not come to buy the ring I made her, that got sold later to somebody else. I can’t sleep, eat late and sleep a little, think of a lover to have, Marcia’s phone does not answer, is disconnected.

Wake up 14 February at 5 am, start writing and find in this computer nice writings by Neale Donald Walsh, conversations with God. End of February I have not seen Lolita more than once coming here. Then suddenly she is here again. She wants to go to the beach, so on the bike we went to le Gallion. We played in the water like two young lovers, it is unbelievably nice. Splashing water in the shallows, diving between her legs under water, just like we were both the same age. And there is 40 years between us...Wow, what a dream come true. Afterwards at home we showered, ate shrimps and made love before I brought her home. I love her so much that I cannot stop thinking of her every few minutes. It is time I go away from this island, things are getting out of hand, the working without having a registered business, the sexing all the girls, I’ve had it all, it’s time to go to do some different living in Holland, start over. I thank God that I have had so much love, so much sex, even if it was from young prostitutes, it was very nice, and to pay for something nice is not wrong. I am certainly a happy man here in the sun, later when I am in Holland I will see if I shall miss it or not. 27 February, Seaon calls me. She was my cleaning girl, who did my house every week, sexed me nicely, took her orgasm when I laid down. She would sit on top and ride me till she came. She left beginning of December to spent the holidays in her country Guyana. Tomorrow she’ll be here. Wow.

To get out of the country I have to un-register, and at the tax office I was stuck, for hours I waited, and now I have to pay tax over the money I got for my accident. This is a major problem, as I have no money. Linda owes me 600 dollar, the immigration office has 600 dollar of mine and my clients owe me about 500. How to get it all is the question.

Freddy who works with Cesar Saravia will take over my place while I am away. He will pay the rent and take care of the tools and workshop. If ever I come back, the place will still be there. All that is very positive.

Seaon came in at 11 am 27 February 2002, and we talked nice, about she coming with me to Holland. We send an e-mail to Bart to ask what to do for her to come with me.

Not half an hour later Lolita came. At the first moment I wondered what to do, as I wanted very much to have sex with Seaon, but I knew that Lolita also does sex any time. Quick thinking made me say to Lolita that I had a friend come over who wanted to meet her. And God thanks, they liked each other at first sight. How exactly it happened I do not remember, but in no time they were in my bedroom fondling each other. And pretty quick I was with them on the big bed. We were making love, not so much sex in the beginning, but caressing and fondling and slowly removing one piece of clothing at the time. I had put retarding cream on my dick earlier, when Seaon called to say she was coming in half an hour. That cream is called RETARDIN, and makes the lingham insensitive and hard as well. It makes that one does not ejaculate quickly. The two girls laughed and giggled to each other and Lolita asked me to fuck Seaon, she wanted to see it from the side. So I put a condom and my cock ring on and after licking Seaon's poke a little while, to get harder still, I entered her slowly and deeply. Lolita went with her head close by to see good how my dick went in and out and I asked her to hold my balls and squeeze them, which she did. Oh feeling of the Gods, what a fun. So I was banging Seaon while Lolita laid next to her kissing and fondling her breasts and licking and feeling us two having sex the wild way. The crazy cream made that I did not cumm, but kept on banging, and a little while later Lolita asked me to stop and please fuck her also like I did Seaon. I slowly slipped out of the wet poke of Seaon and Lolita then put another condom over the one I had on already. She did not want me to bang her with the same one. She is very health conscious, thanks God. Then Lolita laid down with a pillow under her little ass and her legs wide open. I licked her poke a moment and sucked her little clit hard to make her eager for me to enter, to make her wet and slippery. Slowly I pushed my member into her tight pussy. She held onto Seaon while I pushed and poked her and held her lithe body. Never did I screw her so deep and so long and so sweet. While I went in and out and stroked and squeezed her little young firm breasts and kissed Seaon, we did a real trio in the classical way. This had not happened to me in my whole life since the two girls in Amsterdam, in 1973, 29 years ago. And still that did not come close to what happened this time. After a good long session, sweaty and satisfied we went to le Gallion Beach and played in the lukewarm seawater, after we went to my place to shower and I brought them both home. Lolita had told Seaon about her man friend Duncan who paid 200 dollar for a good fuck with her and who liked to have two girls. They decided to go for him together. Lolita called him and he set the time for the meeting tonight at 8 o’clock. They should come to my place at 7 or 7:30 and take it from there. Seaon came first that night and Lolita a little later. Both were dressed up like going to an important party. She called her friend, but he did not answer his phone. After a while he still did not answer and how it happened I do not recall, but suddenly the two girls where on the bed, still dressed, but kissing and fondling each other.

Then the tops went of and they asked me to join. Lolita wanted to see how I banged Seaon and so with condom no.1 I slipped inside her. In and out and suck and lick and wriggle and bang, it was a lovely movement, and a little later Lolita wanted me inside her with condom two rolled over condom one. It was the afternoon session all over again, only better. Then she wanted to fuck me with the wooden dildo that hangs in my bathroom serving as a toilet paper dispenser. I refused, but in the crazy heat, Lolita took the wicked thing from the bathroom, put a condom on it and while she put me on all fours, sucking Seaon's puss, she slowly pushed the thing, covered with K-Y jelly, up my ass hole. Then Seaon went under me and inserted my hard member inside her pussy. She held me tight in her arms while Lolita slowly twisted the dildo inside my back hole. In no time I came like a rocket, I exploded, double much through the massage of my prostrate gland of course. With my cock ring my member stayed hard all the time, even after cumming. The dildo removed, they made me lay down, face up. My lingham stood up like the Eifel tower, awaiting to be embedded inside a soft woman's inside again. Seaon then sat over me and lowered herself on my hard throbbing member and started to go up and down. Lolita sat facing Seaon with her poke right over my mouth. The girls were kissing and loving each other while I was getting fucked by Seaon and ate Lolita’s pussy. That was the best moment of my life. After that position wore off, and Lolita was dripping wet, Seaon had climaxed with a shivering scream, and she lay with only the white of her eyes visible in a coma of bliss. Now Lolita had me enter her from the back, spoon spoon style, while she laid next to Seaon kissing and holding her. I stroked her dark brown back while I slipped inside her puss and held her small breasts while I did slow strokes in and out. Enjoying four breasts with my hands from the two girls that faced each other, I finally felt once again that blissful feeling of extasy coming when Lolita moved rhythmically with me to explode together. My last little love juice still spurted in the condom with a force that made Lolita feel it and she smiled at me turning around while I kissed her and slowly withdrew my member, dripping wet and still half erect. She touched it and said that he had done his job very well.

“Some time I will come back for more of that”, she said, while she dozed of to dreamland. We slept for half an hour . What a remarkable day. It made me feel mighty good. It lasted till 9:30 pm when we were finally too tired to continue. Warm showers and drying and more kisses and good feelings and feeling hungry. We went out to find food and I brought the two loving girls to Seaon's home where Lolita stayed to sleep with her new found lover. What a remarkable good day. Wow.

Linda keeps telling me that she will sex me before I go to Holland, so I tell her I’ll go tomorrow...She does not take the bait, yet. Also, I see her with different eyes now, and tell her openly that I have had two girlfriends at the same moment, Seaon and Lolita. Linda has lost her sex appeal and much of her beauty. Her ass still looks nice, but now that the zest is gone out of her, I am not so hot for her like before. Strange how my feelings are growing. Lolita and Seaon happened to be both hot for me one day last week of February when we happened to sex the three of us in the daytime, went to the beach and had sex again in the evening. Very amazing and never done before, spontaneously, happy, horny, unplanned, free, with fun and food, extremely good. Now Seaon and Lolita kind of compete with each other of who sex me best. I like it, but I think I feel for the first time how a woman feels about having sex for money. I am less horny, less urgent, more calculated, better observing the girl that is doing it with me, trying to see her every expression and trying very much to please her. It is better than ever, but not any more instinctive, animalistic, it is becoming sexual proficiency. It has gone into a higher realm. Today 15th of march I transferred the mill to the work room, and painted the new bench ready, soon will everything be there. To make place for my PC and printer writing desk. All is good, went shopping with Lolita and she cooked, and I worked. She says she’ll come tonight to sex me, but I do not know if that is true. Sent my letter “Truth Trips” to the papers. Got it printed in the “Today” of Saturday 16 march. Next day I was hot again, at 7 am, took a picture of my member that was hard and eager. I did my morning chores and around ten came Seaon. She started cleaning the kitchen, and when Seaon undressed a few hours later I got hard again. She invited me with wide open legs and I could not but give in to her demand. I slowly entered her and pumped deep and shallow for a good while until I proposed to go under and she on top. As the long mirror was next to us, I took the camera and shot a picture through it of her on top of me. Then she shuddered and came. I then had her sit doggie style on all fours while I entered her from the back, and took another picture, of me half way in and another one of me all the way in, I like to see those pics, wow, shots of the shooting gallery. And my shot emptied me from my toes out all the way. The rest of the day I was out of it, could hardly do a thing, because I did not drink her juice, I had not much energy. It was very good, very deep and slow and sweet. Thank you girl, you are so very good. The month of April has started and I've had so much good sex from my girlfriends, wonderful and sweet and fine. Lolita is the best, comes unexpected and stays away unexpected. She is always a surprise and I hope she is OK, I almost wanted to be her only friend, which is impossible by far. One day she came and sexed me twice, before and after lunch, it was really wonderful. I love that girl, but she is uncontrollable.

Not that I want to control her, but I would like her and me to be more in harmony. On April 10 Marcia was here and Lolita came just then, and yes, for the 3th time this year I had sex with two girls... Lolita had put some retarding cream on my lingham when she understood that Marcia was joining us in bed, because she wanted me to last long and so when we sexed I did not cumm and it went on and on and on. Both girls sat weary eyed down after the showers and the clean up, it was so good that I needed to recover for about three days.

Linda seems to smell something and is coming around more often now. She say that she’ll come the 18th of April to sex me and stay with me the whole night after work, I’m very curious to see if that is true. And indeed it was true, but after 19 April I found out that it is not out of love for me but out of fear for her attacker, who has been seen on island again. She told me that she does not want to go home in the dark, so she comes here, and leaves at first light.....

Andy is a young goldsmith from Guyana who sits in my workshop every day and helps me with a lot of things. I can get around while he is working and he’ll bring his bed in here too, to sleep here when I’m gone. He has no papers for here and an enemy of his mother wants to set immigration after him. Freddy comes here at night and sits working until about nine. He says he’ll live in the house for the time I’m gone. Very good.

Soon comes the day I go to Holland, I bought the ticket April 15.

29 April

Took the plane from Air Corse to Paris, from the airport to Gare du Nord brought there by nice people I met in the plane and took a luxury train from Paris to Luik, Belgium, Liege. There Bart came to fetch me.

30 April in Holland.

First of may , the greenest place I’ve seen for long.

1 may, visit to CWI, Center for Work and Income. A most amazing, modern building where one gets help finding work and/or income. Computerized work adds, for the area or the country, even for the whole rest of Europe.

Every day Bart and I work on the request for money for my plan for a school in SXM. Now he contacted his brother Fred who is/was speech writer for the minister president and boss of the biggest Union in the country. He knows who can put the plan for us on paper so that we surely will get a good reply. Today is 2 may and I have to open a bank account so that the cut can start paying me. It is unbelievable but true.

May 2 is come and gone, bank account is opened, visits made to friend and family of Bart, I sit and e-mail with his super fast provider, everything is instantly answered. I am very homesick for Sint Maarten and the sweet lovers I left behind. I wish I could go back as soon as possible. But I need a few more weeks. I wish I was back already.

May 3 is gone with a trip to Eindhoven, where Bart went to see the company he will work for. again visits to people, and eating good, and much, and often.

I think by mistake one day wrong and wake up Saturday 4 may early morning thinking it is Sunday. The sky is gray, a drizzle wets the land. I accompany Bart to Roermond, we pass by his family members, do little, and I play at home internet, make a fire and watch the rich TV. All is good, I wait for Monday to get in touch with the foundation that may help me getting the money for my school-plan.

Sunday one week after my departure from SXM

the sky is gray again. This Sunday I play internet on a love dating net called : “Liefde”. I type all kind of silly letters like what I sent to Queenie, and get all kind of disgusted reactions. Fun and good to find out the moral standards from these peoples, mostly very young people that play the internet. When they see that I am over 50 they are immediately scared and call me a dirty old man or a paedophile when I look or a young partner. Here the difference in age is no more than a few years,and they look strange at more than 10 years between partners, my own parents had that, and I found it then special.

Outside it rains a little, and the sky is gray and no sunlight comes through. I know that the sun will only come once I get a good fuck. How long will that take?

Sunday night I went with Bart who came with a nice lady to a place called Waldelust, a dance hall in the forest next to the German border. They also called it the mummy hall, as most people there were older, my age for sure. I did see from the three hundred people maybe two attractive women. The rest is repulsive and I know that I will not stay here a day longer than needed. These white ugly people do not appeal to me in the least and I do not feel good with them. I won’t ever find one that will make me feel horny and sexy, it is depressing to me.

Monday may 6, Bart slept out, is still not home. The sky is gray, no rain, no sun. I have seen maybe three hours sunshine last week. Later the sun tries to shine through the cloudy sky, but after a little while gives up and is gone for the day. Bart comes home, breakfasts and we call PUM, who will send me a form to fill. That depresses me a little. Time enough says Bart, and calls his brother for more information.

The murder of Pim Fortuyn took place today, 6pm local time, consternation in the land.

Most unbelievable, may 7, I wake up 6:30, look out and see blue skies and sunshine. And the sun stays the whole day, First day of eight cloudy and rainy ones. we bring the polish workman to Sittard. He broke his leg yesterday after falling from a stairs, 5 feet high!! His leg is in plaster and it hurts. After I walk in Roermond to try to get a connecting cable for this computer to a printer, no possible yet, maybe Barts brother Fred knows , we are going to see him Thursday. Then we worked on the big blue camper. took the door of and cut away the rusty parts. Installed the cupboard doors and a wooden partition.

Today may 8, sunny at waking up, will it be the second sunny day of my Dutch time? And no, as the day progressed, the grayness thickened and the sun gradually lost the supremacy. Some of the coldness went away, it went up to 20 C, but no sun. Worked a bit on the camper, called the cut, who had expected me Monday, not Wednesday, because a mistake by the lady who interviewed me first. woensdag 6 she told me to come. The 6 was Monday, Wednesday was 8. I never realized until one hour before the meeting, and called to make sure. At 5 o’clock we took off to drive to Utrecht, where we visited Fred, Barts brother. I drove the Ford diesel to there and Bart drove the way back. Utrecht is very pretty. Old like Amsterdam. We had a nice talk in Freds office with Jos, the friend and co worker, in the great house on a small ancient canal in Utrechts old center. Then we went to restaurant Ma's, where the waitress was the most pretty young woman I have seen in Holland since I arrived. I told the people at dinner my old jokes and had great good laughter from all. The waitress was 24 years old and just the type to restore my shaken trust and believe in Dutch women. God was she pretty, and what ugly are most of the others....

May 9 Thursday was Ascension Day and I was fucking sick. Had caught a cold or it was the wine from the day before, anyway we returned at 3 am the morning and went to bed. After waking up I was sick and only later at night I felt a little better. Didn’t do a thing, slept, ate a little and o, yeah, I send a letter to St.Maarten, to Sarah WW, for information that Fred needs to make the request for money. Oh, the day started with a little foggy sun, cleared up, was lightly gray but dry and clear mostly.

May 10, I wake up at 7:30, the sky is gray, as usual. I feel good and go down to clean up. Bart comes 9:30 and we drink coffee and I do my e-mails. New joke for clever women. I tell the joke to the female post delivery person and ask her the question of the week. Said I, to her: “Are you sexually abused as a child by a catholic priest? Now is the time to speak up. Don’t be afraid, you can say it now, the time of silence and fear is over.”

may 12, Saturday, no rain, no sun.

may 13, same weather, no rain, but gray sky, no sun at all, went to talk with two workers of the social service. they let me come back with more papers next day.

may 14, go to social service at the work office, get to wait again.weather clear but cold, it hurts my legs, afternoon I sleep and Rebecca calls, everything OK, in the evening I internet, chat with Jan Willem and send e-mails.

may 16 Thursday, good weather,this day a new political structure has been created by the Dutch voters who yesterday went to vote for the 2nd chamber members. I do not know the meaning of them abbreviations they use, but the murdered Pim Fortuyn party is very much bigger than before. What exactly is rechts and links, right and left,I am not sure. I hear that right has grown bigger than before. Any way, this day the sun was out and I was on the computer the whole evening with grace, a woman of 31 left by her husband and suffering. I chat with her long time and make her feel good again. It is 1:15 when I close this day and fog to bed

may 17 is here.I get a little red Volvo from Ruud so I can go around.

20, I drive to Schoonhoven to the silver day and speak to a man from Zadkine, Laurens van Rens , and a lady from the quality control, Waarborg Nederland. De keurkamer. Then I drive on to Spijkenisse where Grace lives with her family and I have a good evening. Romana, her sister made an impression on me, a free and outgoing nice woman who took Grace and me to Rotterdam for a nice talk and a cup of soup.

21 I drive from Spijkenisse to Gouda to the Waarborg and buy test waters and test needles, 84 Euros. Then on to Utrecht, sunny weather, wonderful trip. No women, no sex, and that is a stupid aspect from Holland, it is no country for me.

22 I wake up, write this down and start the day at 7 o’clock. Will work a little on the camper, want to stock the galley. On 26 Sunday I make window covers and feel that it is ready. Then I try the oil-dipstick and find mayonnaise. Oh shit, there goes my trip, think I. Oh no, say Bart, we’ll fix that in no time. I am curious. Tomorrow to Roermond and Roerdalen, see about my registry and money. My sweetest woman friend Linda called me on the phone from Saint Maarten, 8:30 pm local time. Wow, what I love that woman. Jan Willem also called, sounding extremely dull and unhappy. That's how he is. Today I wrote a letter to Lisa, Amador grandmother. Asking her to tell Vicky to reestablish contact between Amador and me. Post it tomorrow.

27,registry is done, car oil changed, mayonnaise taken out, diesel in, rinse and refill with new oil, And radiator plug-juice. All is ok after a test trip, no more water in the oil.

28, I drive to Valkenburg, see the old coal mine cafe, de feestgrot, change fuel filter of camper, all is ok now.

29, must go see if money comes...and yes, me was told at the office, to come back on Friday for the first 300 Euro 30, Thursday 8am, outside is cold, 15 c, but dry. I have not had sex since I left St. Maarten. It is extremely boring here, and I will not stay here too long. I play with myself every day, it is ridiculous, no girls, no lovers, no work, shit. I e-chat with Jan Willem, I feel fucked up here in the cold country, as soon as I have money. I go back. This afternoon, I was sick and slept a few hours with 2 Tylenol. I am now 78 kilo and took some weight loss pills, maybe that is making me feel bad.

31 may Friday I woke up at 4 am and watched TV until 5 and went to bed again. Woke up at 7:30 and started the day.Downstairs made coffee, opened the net, no news from Linda, boy do I need her love every day. Went with the big camper to Herkenbosch where I got 300 Euros, went to Roermond ABN-AMRO and the post office, sent $50.- to Amador and $50.- to Seaon, am I crazy or what?? Then put 240 Euro on my new bank account and activated my ATM card, ate new herring bought a shower hose for the car and went home. Bart slept till 5pm, we ate, talked, looked TV, went to bed at midnight.

May 14,

Holland, Monday, I put on an old blue jeans to work on the roof of the camper, and I say to myself when may I die, to get rid of all this nonsense, living, trouble, foot pain, work, material hassle?

I wish I was dead so often, it is unreal. That is why I can be a rebel, I am not afraid to die, I am more afraid to live than to die. My legs hurt. More than I can take. I cry hot tears of desperation, I see no way out. My ankles hurt. I talk about suicide.

Later I took pain pills and feel better, work on the camper with Bart, and feel no more pain. I had to call Linda and she also felt bad, cold, coughing and all that.

May 30,

one month here in the cold country. It is beautiful yes, but very boring. No women, no sex, no work, only food, and farmers. TV and inter netting. I drive the old camper for a test to Valkenburg, OK. There I see a cave bar and relax, and drive back. The old car had so much dirt in the tank that it blocked the filter somewhere in the countryside, hesitated and coughing got to a car repair place that sent me to the next where I found a new filter. That did it and I could continue.

may 31, was it Friday? On that day I got 300 Euro from the social service in Herkenbosch, cash in my hand. I put clothes in the camper, knife and fork and spoon, Cups yes, but I forgot plates...and I start

June first on my trip. First to Rijswijk, where I see Jan Willem who is visiting Holland and stays at his brothers place. On the way I called Junior, who misunderstands the meeting point in Delft and whom I miss. At Jan Willem's place we talk, his brother has a nice wife and two little kids. Dinner with asparagus and wine and drinks and more and smoke, I sleep and wake

Sunday 2 June with a slight hangover. Drive to Oegstgeest to see my mother. That was a disaster. On the way the engine started to sputter and cough. When i finely arrived, having to start a few times because the engine cut off, I parked close by the house and walked towards her. She sat with another elder woman on her balcony drinking tea. A smile of recognition came on her face when I walked towards her, but then a few seconds later, her face hardened and she fell back in her old stupid behavior. I had to make an appointment, said she, I had made a deal with the two sisters. I had to stick to the deal and I was not welcome like that... So I told her that I came from very far and could not always make appointments, that I was there now. And I waited for her to say something, and when she said nothing, I turned around and left, climbed back in the car, and drove of without any new sputtering etc... That was most possible the last time I saw her. She does not deserve to see me again, the father of her only grandsons, her own son...

I felt pretty bad for a while driving through the empty flower fields towards Haarlem and I stopped somewhere to call Ernst. He was in Athens of all places, told me to call back in two weeks. That I will do. I was surprised that his phone worked all the way to Greece, today there is no limit to technics. I drive to A’dam to see Frans Willemse. That was nice, could park right in front of his door. He was not home but Saskia and Renee let me in and told me where he was. I went there in a paradise setting in the woods of Voorthuizen. ate nice with Saskia, Rene and Frans, played biljart, slept in camper.

3 June muon. Close to a golf course and Frans was painting a house in the woods. I stayed almost a week, helping, riding a bike, reading newspaper, looking TV, world cup football in Korea and Japan, playing snooker/biljart at night in the biljart/snooker room under the house. Two times I went with Frans to the village. He steals food every time in the supermarket. It is a habit, he does not need it, he’s rich enough. He calls his girl in Buthan, and goes to India every year for at least 6 month. Gets money from the government and works 6 month in Holland painting houses.

4 Tuesday hang around

5 wed trip on bicycle

6 Thursday read papers, help Frans a little

7 Friday last night in Voorthuizen, library internet

8 sat go to Buinen, Marian not home, pass by Tynaarlo, nobody home,up to Midwolda see Han

9 Sunday see Hayo and Henkie

10 Monday at Han place

11 Tuesday last night at Hans

12 Wednesday arrive at Tynaarlo

13 Thursday breakfast with rain at Rebecca and Herman. I return to Melick, the whole day on the road, had to change fuel filter 30 km before Venlo, other wise ok.

14 Friday June

15 sat. June, I am at Barts place, we went to Germany to a very big shop where he bought food for over 100 Euro.

16 Sunday family for fathers day, Linda called me to wish me well. i love she much

17 heat wave.. muon, nothing doing, inter netting

18 Tuesday heat wave, fix push bike, go see money office, get positive answer, money will be paid next week. I e-mail round the world and asked the hospital in SXM for my unpaid bill...

June ends quietly and in July I made a special chapter, see: July in Holland. and paste it in. Also august is a special edition. later more.

July in Holland. The 9th day of this month I arrive at Aerdenhout at Ernst house in a lane of trees and huge houses, from a time that Holland was a rich place with big families and old money. Ernst welcomes me and we go to his shed where he has two boats, one wood and one plastic. I work three hours and clean a wooden rudder. Then return to Aerdenhout, drive to Zandvoort, look at the dirty North Sea and read the signs that campers are not allowed to stay during night hours. So I drive back to Aerdenhout and sleep there. Next day to Haarlem.

At the tenth day of July I find myself in the camper, on the parking of the dentist-building in the middle of the ancient city of Haarlem. Amazing to have a parking spot in the middle of the town. Within half a mile, less than a kilometer, there are shops, post office, coffee shop with internet access, telephone booth and pubs and bars, ice cream parlors and shops. I have work to do to make 9 Euro per hour. I scrape, grind and wash a painted garage, glue tiles back in place, fill up cracks and in general maintain the building where the dentists work..

Is it me that makes the good weather wherever I go or am I in such great good harmony that I fall in the right weather wherever I go?? Strangely, the weather is better than expected by the radio, whenever I go somewhere. Amen, thank you Lord...

Last night, I had taken a good painkiller, I took a walk. I met a guy from Ethiopia, named Gabriel. We went to the Irish pub where I paid a beer, for 2,10 Euro a piece, then saw through the window internet advertised opposite upstairs, it was a coffee shop. 5 Euro an hour, not cheap, but nice to have access. I called Linda and to hear her voice always makes me very happy, I was late back in bed, couldn’t sleep until about one am.

I work 2 and a half hour in the morning and 3 in the afternoon. If my legs were better I could work longer, and today is dry but cold and that hurts my legs worse than when it is hot...Ernst gives me money for 5 hours although I tell him I worked only 4. He tells me he is gone cook for me tomorrow... Dinner tomorrow guaranteed. Now I take another codeine pill and shower and make soup hot and dress up listen to the radio and read a magazine. At 6 pm I feel ok and in an hour or so I go out to the coffee shop to internet a little. I call Bart and hear that all is OK. He makes sunshine a lot of times, even here in the west the sun shines through. I drink a beer on a terrace in the last rays of the sun.I internet at the coffee shop Willy Wortel and walk a good distance.

July 11, the sky is gray as usual, lets hope it doesn’t rain. Last night I walked more than is good for my legs, they hurt and I take a good painkiller, just to forget it. Sometimes I cry from desperation, only a little moment,

In bed I am horny like I was 20 years younger, my dick is hard and it feels so good to jerk it, stroke it, put my dick ring and some cream on it to slide it through my hand. I mostly stop before I ejaculate and my dick then slowly returns to its pissing mode.Which is needed to cast my water in the toilet of the building, I make coffee and write this down in the camper. All is good.

12 July, 23:48,

Back in the camper, undress my underbody, put slippers and start to spurt my mouth full of whipped cream from a pressure can. I loved to put it on a girl’s under-beard and then lick it carefully. My guide Gabriel took me walking through town, very nice visiting Haarlem. Beautiful drink and meeting pubs, bars, cafe is common a name for a watering hole. Pretty people and good guidance, by the man from Ethiopia. He tells shady stories about his past but knows very best places to go. Visited at least 4 bars, in the Purple Pool met Patricia and Dominique, wow, low slung jeans, 21 old, and big breasts. Sweet talking, I enjoyed that girl double much. <Resist me> she translated the text <weersta mij> and I wrote my address for them. Another place had been a fish shop once, De Uiver. On the radio I hear that 6 kids got burned to death, and the killer of Pim Fortuyn still didn’t talk.The rain is light. Small winds, temp. 20c high, 14c low. Whenever the sun breaks through it is nice warm, otherwise it can be cold. Old music programs, a lady singer: “Close your eyes, give me your hand, do you feel my heart beating? Do you understand,” she sing her heart out... Love is just like the flu, you have to get it sometimes. Another voice sings “Sandy 2x, I am used to misery, when we're apart, love is ....I wonder why you left me, Sandy....”, and so on, a lamentation for a lost love. Most men beg the women, say they are helpless and he keeps wondering why she left him.....I can only think of pussy, I remember the sweet girls I run away from. Their straightforward sex and easy going I prefer greatly over the long slow preparation in Holland. In the bar : Het Melkwoud, I sat next to a person who was face a bit Mick Jagger, speaking Inner town Amsterdams. I enjoy the sweet girl behind him and she is

not Dutch...A tattoo on her upper arm, raven black hair in waves running down her firm small breasts standing proudly out in her black tank top. On the radio, traffic jams are announced hourly or more.The lady sings to make the night longer, didn’t we almost have it all. When love was giving. To make life worth living. The night we had until the morning. We almost had it all... The singer basks in the afterglow, to let it last forever, get the feeling again, oh yes, she good. The time is

0:18, July 13, 2002. I’ll sleep a little but I want to eat bread and soup and peanut butter.See you later.Yesterdays e-mail of Lillie, shaman, was nice, I had him see Hoffman-info, and he say it is anti-Semite. But I do not see it so. Hoffman exposes parts of the Talmud that are just that, and the Rabbis interpret it and keep the traditional Bull Shit alive They have lost the way to hide the things they used to. And all stories based upon these sick ideas from ancient predating macho spacemen from old, indoctrinating kids with traditions that have only resulted in hardship and suffering. The burning bush from Eve was what Moses saw. I would like so much a sweet girl to huddle and cuddle, I’m half sick of want, the rain drizzles my want out in small drops. Was I rich I would call callgirls galore and had a sweet sexy thing with her. She should be a bit pure and clean, to lick her oyster and her magenta lips. To kiss the shivering clit and suck it softly and lick towards her anus and put my finger there softly softly. Then lick back through the moist outer lips deep from where the nectar invites the smooth entrance for my tongue. Her wish to flood her cave of live. And absorb her sweet juices with my nose tip resting on her clit.Shaking my head a little, Another song on the radio, he wants to be with she, next song she is blue waltzing a lost dream. I eat smoked eel and bread and hear my favorite Canada girl in French this song, Celine Dion, love you.Que tu m’aime encore. Then a song <I’ll make it up with you> he had sorrow for what he did. The < a very nice house, with 2 cats in the yard> A song for give his partner a compliment, thank s because of you everything is easy..Bread on the table, money in the pocket, I am so rich in the old camper, typing this on the old laptop.Sting sings a mind blower for the politicians. It does not make an impact in the violent behavior.. Do me once again sings a girl who must have had it sweet and well administered, One more time she want it. And keeps repeating is when the low voice say he cant see her no more for the obligations, and now its our last day together. Don’t look back, Lets kiss and say goodbye. Oh boy, I ate and make a weak coffee before I lay down. I gone miss you sings the next one, Its gone hurt me, I can’’t lie, you find another guy, lets kiss and say goodbye, please don’t you cry, understand me and so on and so forth.

13 July 2002 I wake up late, 9:30, before I am up and about it is ten, and after coffee I start to work at 11. But that is fine, I am going to make 4 or 5 hours, see you later.....

At about three, my legs hurt so bad that I stay in bed.

I’m sorry I didn’t take the bicycle with me, now I can’t go anywhere, but lay in bed and maybe take pain pills so I can go out later... Wow, that pain is shit. Kut we say in Holland. Kut.But kut is cunt in English, the best thing I know...

I went to see Spider man movie, for 9 Euro on the balcony. It was OK, then walked around a little, internetted, drank a coffee and went to the camper to make soup. I’ll go drive out tomorrow, so I ‘I'll sleep early. Amen.

!4 July 2002, I wake around 9 and I make coffee in the house, toilet myself and disconnect the camper, clean up and move out of the parking behind van Eedenstraat 4. Direction Amsterdam. I call Peter and tell him I’ll be there in a while. So I drive the half hour highway and arrive in my old city. It is very nice to see the places I visited so often. And I drive around a bit before I find a phone to tell Peter that I have arrived. So we meet and I follow him up where Nicolette and Sabrine, 2 year old child say hello. They move out to see family and I talk a while with Peter. I see photos from his work, see the operation of his woman, she is an English teacher and supplies teachers for pupils that are all over the place. They are going in 2 weeks for 6 weeks to Australia from where she is. Around 5:30 I drive away again, to Zandvoort and I park on the boulevard, overlooking the North sea. I make mashed potato with meat still left from Bart and listen to jazz from the North Sea Festival, Gilberto Gill talks about Bob Marley’s music he loves a lot. Outside is cold and windy, inside the camper it is cozy and the mashed potato is hot and good. I relax, I am happy, only a girlfriend is missing.

I checked e-mail at Peters and Rob Lilly told me the best truth about me wanting to go out of this life, he said: “Our time is not our own.” That now is maybe the best I heard so far as response on me telling others about my death-wish and suicide ideas.

I laptop this while I stand on the parking looking out over the gray North Sea, dirty gray with white foamy rollers, also the sky is gray, almost no horizon, all is gray. Here and there a watery sunbeam gets through the cloudy sky and lights a beam of golden light on the sea, far away, out of reach.. The radio gives good music from the festival in the Hague, and I think of returning to Haarlem, maybe go to the Purple Pool bar, to talk to the girl Dominique or Patricia, if they are t here.. I’ll tell you later. Then I see the windows cloud over with condensation and remark that I put water on the cooker to make coffee, I forgot. After the coffee I go. And I drive this beautiful big car with its ancient simple technology over Holland's roads which are so smooth and well hung with name shields and direction signs. All is clearly marked. I stop in front of Ernst house and he gives me a coffee and we talk. His sister-in-law and his brother come to bring a new machine to make espresso and capuchino. We talk, I tell the tale of the Old Fox in Rhodos harbor...And my trip on the Blue Trout.

After that I drive back to Haarlem and park at Lakenkoperslaan, behind van Eedenstraat 4, connect the electric line and use my laptop...

15 July, the radio tells about the failed attempt on the life of Chirac. On the French national day a person took a shot at the president but missed. What a pity.

Men are still not emancipated, and get stress when women work and they get to rule the house.

After a shower in the house I go to internet in the Willy Wortel Bar where I met Gabriel. We went to play pool and two most beautiful dark girls came in to keep my desire alive. They from Curacao. We walk back and talk philosophy, he has some bigger problems than I. From Ethiopia, political refugee, changing his name, living in a small room.

23:13 hours, I called Linda, Andy and spoke to Alfredo and Freddy. Spoke to Bart as well. On the radio stupid things, Shaman is sending letters and I write my book. Now I will write my Money Laundry down.

16 July 2002

It is 8:42, with coffee and a banana, dressed I write this down. I played with my hard, stiff penis early, like I do every morning or and evening, but I did not ejaculate. How I wish to get some sweet sexy girl to make love with. Last fuck I had was with Linda, in the night before I boarded the plane to Paris.

A hot news item on the radio are the low Wall Street and AEX courses of the stock markets. The Euro is the same as the Dollar. On a fancy fair in Noord Holland one show is about rabbits who must perform a fuck before they are rewarded with food.

I am invited for dinner at Ernst place, Ank, his woman cooked, very high style, sophisticated, a pie first, then meat, young peas and potato wigs, pineapple and ice cream after and coffee. Beer to start and wine to drink during. Oh, yes.

Ank was not very loving to Ernst I found, she uses him to have all she wants, he is what we call a goedzak.

In Holland everybody has everything and still they want more, corruption and malcontentment reigns. The more people have, the farther they move away from each other. And they lack the education that could lead to contentment.

Every time I speak to people I talk about the observation of their thoughts and the knowledge of self, the way I learned from Osho and the way to start doing it. They hardly ever know what I talk about.

In Holland a boy of 12 years old may be skipper on a boat. If the boat has an engine of certain horsepower he must be 16 and by bigger engines and higher speeds a water driving license is needed.

I am at 16:00 hrs ready for the day, I worked 4,5 hours and I feel tired. I’m going to call Bart about dentistry, Dominique to ask if she will sex me, and check the e-mail. Now I am heating soup and ate a banana.

I am fed up waiting for sex and not getting what I like so much. After tomorrow I want to return to Melick and get my teethe done there. The painting is ready, a dentist must be in Roermond also, I want to go. Every night I walk and my legs hurt too bad. I need cool, calm and collected. My 500 Euro went to Bart, I have 35 left on my account. it is 17 July,20:35 hrs, in the camper I want to die. Amen.

Tonight is expected to be very cold, 14 C, and this is Dutch summer...Yack! My legs hurt so bad every night that I can’t go out more than one kilometer. Up and down to the end of Tempelier Straat, and that’s it.

18 July 2002 half nine, pigs may be exported again, 5 dead in Israel, 40 wounded. And the Jews still don’t understand that holding onto the past will only bring more misery.

Every where people hold on to ideas that did not work in the past and did not bring the result that they wanted in reality. The ideas about sexuality are stupid and contrary to what it should be . While people should enjoy their body and understand that it is the most wonderful, joyful and happy thing to do, they label it dirty, sinful and hide it for youngsters. At the same time they show killings, destruction and crime as if that is normal and OK.

I start at 9 o’clock to paint the last window sills and will call Bart before 12 to find out if there is a dentist for me in Roermond.

No dentist for me in his area, so I sit on the chair at 14:00 and open my mouth. Two beautiful girls fix my teeth and tell me to come back next week Thursday to fit the crown. I mailed the bills and all to Bart who knows what to do with them. I sent 50 dollar to Amador in Ecuador, he did his year OK and has a school trip coming soon. Therefore he need some cash. It is 6 pm and my knees hurt like hell, I gone lay down for a while, listen radio and read. Later more.

weather forecast: clear sky at night, temperature down to 10 C..... Friday clouds and clear, Saturday and Sunday rainy .....Yack. I am bored to death, the pain in my legs make I can’t go anywhere, so I sit in the camper and try to write, listen radio, sleep and read. Not easy without companion and TV. I must be happy to look forward to 11 august when my return trip takes off.The whole time I write my life story, until I get tired and stop to lie down.

The blackbird is singing, talking, rapping away close by. All over Holland I hear this beautiful sound. Merel is de name , I think English Blackbird. It won’t sing when caged, so it can only be in freedom. I love it. I stop the radio to hear and concentrate better. It is 9 pm.

at ten I eat and listen Radio Noord Holland. A Curacao girl died from drinking from a fruit juice with cocaine...How the drink had come in that family house was unclear.

19 July, eight o’clock news on the radio, and weather, cold, no sunshine, no real summer. Most people have vacation and are gone south to France, Spain and Italy. The dead body of Pim Fortuyn in his coffin, will be taken out of the grave to be transported to Italy for his final burial. He was a homo and said that Holland was full, so goes the joke.

Bank passes are often stolen and easy to falsify, it is now head line news.

Today I was I was in Hillegom and a sloop went into the water, but the engine had not enough power and the trip on the water never took place.I drove the camper to Amsterdam and back, drove a few hours to fill time. Was back at the parking at Eedenstraat at 10 pm.

20 July starts at 6:30, when a knock on the camper wakes me up. At second knock I get up and outside is longhair hash smoking Chris who needs help for a flat tire on his work car. He needs a crick. Then finds that the spare from his friends car does not fit. We ready the camper and load the tire to get it fixed. We drive to a gas station for a pressure can with air, then to another and to a place where he gets a new one on the rim...It takes to 8:45 before I am back at the starting point and ready to leave for Hillegom where I shall see Ernst.

On the way there I want to buy food for the weekend, because I think staying there. I drive around and around through the most beautiful surroundings, gardens galore, huge houses with gardens so full of color, it is amazing. Finally I ask the way to the shops and the second old lady who pushes a little walk-help, so she has a support and won’t fall. tells me she will direct me if I can take her little roller in the back. She mounts the passenger seat, her legs are good, it is her heart, she had three times a stroke, we arrive at the Albert Heyn of Hillegom. A fantastic shop with an abundance of delicacies where it is hard to find ordinary sardines in cans. Finally I drive to the place where the boats are. That is the end of the Oosteindervaartweg.

I park next to the Ringvaart, where small and seagoing yachts and rowing race boats go. Sloops and cruisers, some very luxury pass constantly, The sun gets through and the day starts to become quiet pleasant. Ernst arrives with his old English Range Rover pulling a trailer with a red Dragon, the Paprika. We start work on it, remove cracks and I sand her underwater hull, do a little varnishing, the sun shines, a full dozen, beautiful young half wild horses on the meadows just over the narrow Oosteindervaart look with curiosity at our activity. At 14:30 we quit and I stay alone at a corner parking and I sleep a few hours. When I wake it rains. A few lightning and rumbling skies make me feel good in the camper on the road, heating full, door ajar, window wipers regulated to the friendly summer rain. When I was reading the newspaper I started thinking of going. The earth vibes feel no good at this spot, and I long for the pleasant place in Haarlem. So around 7, it is still light, remember, I drive back, tank 20 Euro and return to the dentist parking. It is 15 minutes before 8 pm, but the dentists is busy, two people with heavy tooth pain are in the waiting room. One of them holds his face with both hands and walks around. another one is on the chair under the care of one of the dentists that rent this place. Wow!!!

I write this useless story and someone reads this, someone who must know that nothing is important. Nothing is needed, nothing is wanted. I am completely at peace, this parking has the vibes...A sort of pine tree stands over me, a vine climbs over the fence next to me, a car from a patient is next to me and the car of an assistant.

I eat Knorr macaroni with smoked sausage. Sleep a while and go to check my e-mail, at the ganja shop, only one from Amador. Walking back I call Linda and she always makes me feel so good, I told her I want her for my wife. She does not know about that. I tell her I have no other I want as wife, so she better comply. We’ll see when I return. Andy has some work, All is good, Linda is the best. I love her.

21 July 2002

Wake up at 8. make coffee and start to put water in the water tank. 4 buckets is enough to rinse kitchen things and shave. Soon I’ll be gone. 4 more days to wait for my tooth, then back to Roermond. What to do today I don’t know.

First take a shower in the house and shit on the toilet, then we’ll see. In the camper is a small warm air electric heater. In Holland we have summer and it is still cold for me. In the shower the warm water stopped slowly before I was rinsed well, so I had to rinse colder and colder, jakkes bah. The sun shines at this Sunday 9:45 am. Wait till my hair is dry, I write. Church bells sound their all drowning noise over the city. The overpowering sound is totally overlaying everything else. Still they call this country not religious. I sit typing with one hand while I hold my warm half swollen dick in the other. My prick is such a lovely part of my body, that I play with it every day, in bed and sometimes out of bed. My love muscle is out of pussy since I am in Holland, and I am very upset about it. How hard it is to find a girl that will sex for relaxation and recreation. Here one has to start a relation to get a girlfriend, it can take a long time to get a good fuck. I pray for good sex at least once before I go back to my horny home in SXM. It is one of the most disappointing things about Holland, next to the weather. Maybe these two shit facts go hand in hand. I have such good dick-rings, that I can make my dick hard like wood any time of day or night. Any girl that wants satisfaction can get my free service for satisfaction guaranteed. Only they don’t know. So sorry for them.

Around 1300 hrs I walk the street, talk to the neighbour and get a lift into town. I circle the huge church in the heart of Haarlem, next to Laurentsz Coster, who invented the book printing press with movable metal letters. I see an exposition and talk to the female gate keeper of same. About breasts. I tell people I write my book. Walk slowly in the rain, enter a coffee shop and talk with two people at the bar. Walk on in the drizzly rain, it is cold and my knees start to hurt. All I know is to look for the shelter of the camper again, My small umbrella does not keep my legs dry. I eat a portion of French fries, and help German tourists to find directions, they have a boat in the canal. But I continue towards the camper, arrive there, see that it will start as and if I want, start the warm air blower, radio and my typewriting battery driven laptop. The huge cathedral is not open at Sunday so I did not see it inside (yet). I continue to write my autobiography.

My legs/knees hurt so very much, I cannot go out anymore, eat soup and bread, and try to relax. Around 5 pm I get on to the typewriter again. cannot sit long and go out again, the pain is unbearable, I sit in the watery cold sun for a while on a bridge. See most desirable women pass by. I cannot get even one to sit with me and start a talk. Let alone to get one for sex. Holy Saint Maarten, let me in again. I called Linda to check my bike which is by Lucas. Back in the camper by 7 pm, back on the keyboard. The radio sings Dutch songs, not so good..

My legs hurt so much that I have to see if it is less in SXM, if it is a small or big difference. Today I am most of the time in the camper, and I feel fucked up. Outside is uncomfortably cold, and rain fell or will fall, the radio is not what I want, the writing is not what I want, I think of SXM, to lay with a girl and sex, and make gold castings, to feel the heat from the tropics, oh boy, the lovers from there, that is what I miss most. It happened two or three times a week!!! Do me a favor, where does that happen?? Only there. I love my girls. Linda, Lolita, Marcia, and Seaon. Outside it rains.

22 July 2002

Sleep and wake, sleep again, sweat and wake, and sleep some more. 7:30 up and coffee, boiled egg and camembert. Now in the house toilet and disconnect the electric wire and then clean up the camper and get onto the road. To Hillegom and work a little with the boats from Ernst, Good morning. 19 degrees maximum, clouds and rain and sun. Low 14 degrees.

9:13 pm, I am in front of Ernst’s house. The whole day we were in Hillegom, working nicely on the red dragon the Paprika. Around 6 we stopped and I went to the parking in Haarlem and discovered there that I had lost the key to the house. I called Ernst with that bad news, I also stepped in a dog turd, stinking one, and just before arriving a glass jar of peanut butter fell out of a cupboard and smashed in pieces, smearing the brown smear on the floor. Bad news never comes alone we say in Holland. Ernst invited me in for a coffee, hooked up my electric line and after the coffee I went in the camper. Heated water and took a wash, made dinner from a 5 minute pack of bami and tomatoes, and write my diary. The small warm air blower is churning away 500 watts of warmth, I have blinded all the windows and sit naked at my laptop. The mie, bami is still too hot to eat.

Holland has a new government. The leader of the new party that wants a change was killed 6 July , and his party therefore got more votes that it should have had, by dying he did more for his country that he could have done alive. Pim Fortuyn is his name and the party has the same name

Naked I get horny, it is nice hot in here, I feel my love muscle is cold, my nipples also, cold and hard. The radio sings what a nice day for the dead.

Before the new government was installed one of the parties had two choices for the Antilles; or become a province of Holland or get out and away from Holland and go about alone. Neither is possible as I see it. The forced way of living in Holland does not fit the tropical lifestyle at all. In Holland we must look at the recent history to understand a bit of the present work psychoses. The psychotic need to produce and consume more than more, is a left over from the big wars that ravished last century. The second world war saw armies of people working their ass off to produce weapons, and all that has to do with war and what came after. As soon as the fighting was over, the cleaning started. The rebuilding and the development of more and more. Houses, roads, cars, weapons to sell to the African nations, airplanes for tourists, fridges and washing machines, radios and videos and TV’s. The economy was and is only good if it grows. A certain forcefulness is built in in all the peoples and the whole rhythm of living is hectic, fast and foolishly unspiritual. Churches are empty, made into houses, clubs and dancings. Monasteries and other church properties are standing empty, while cars race past ever faster. Dutch people complain about cars piling up to vacation destinies, and the radio gives routes alternatives that will nibble of ten minutes. The madness is complete and they themselves do not know how rich and crazy they are.

This kind of mentality can never take over Sint Maarten. The quiet locals of African descent go about their business with a calm that the Dutch don’t know. They don’t know the cold weather that forces Dutch people inside their houses for 8 or more month a year. They don’t know the mentality that makes one go to work from 8 to 5 every day for a lifetime. And the Dutch don’t know the trees that gives fruit year long and windows that never have to close. Heat that slows one down to the basics of life. They know nothing of the inborn happiness and the apathy and the ability to accept. Never can they take back the concessions they gave the islands 50 years and more ago.

These things I contemplate. I am going to write this down for the SXM papers.

see document: new government, old society.

23 July I go with Ernst to Hillegom, we paint ready the red dragon, and tow it by trailer to Veenhuizen, a village in Noord Holland, where he has a shed, a barn, a shelter with in it, 3 dragons, one blue and two brown, one old Swedish motorboat and a 1948 Triumph... We had to take out two boats, one blue and one brown, change one wooden one for the red one and put the blue one back. As soon as we had the trailer ready and started to go the rain came. And it came hard, and with gusts and the visibility was less than one kilometer. Because last night I slept so late, I now sleep a little, and see what happens later. in camper at 7 pm. I wake at 8:45 pm, the rain has stopped. I wonder if to go drive around and check Haarlem, the key was found back in the wooden dragon in Hillegom, oh what relief. I ate an apple and think to flip a coin to see if to go or to stay. To go would mean to internet and phone Bart and Linda. To stay means to sit write, to cook and smoke. The coin flip tells me go to Haarlem... 9:15 I go.s

11 pm I’m back. spoke to Bart, Linda phone went dead, I'll call she tomorrow

eat smoked eel +bread, drink cold beer.... very good

Israel is making heavy shit, 250.000 Palestinians buried a sheik whom was killed by Israeli air attacks.

24 July 2002 Wake u with a hard member wanting to sex. I jerk off until my yogurt spurts out into a wad of paper and start my day with a prayer for me to get as soon as possible, before I leave Holland, a sweet sex woman girl partner. Amen.

But I spend the day with Ernst and his boats, it is very pleasant and not at all stressing. I laugh at various moments about the total good feeling I have. I got dinner at Ernst place and I feel very much at ease with the whole situation. The camper is hooked up to 220 volt from the garden outlet, I listen radio and type my diary, it is 19:55 and after a small sleep I will go to Haarlem to see internet at the marijuana cafe. There I drink a cup of tea and read the letter from my new friend Shaman from the USA. After I return to Aerdenhout, hook up to 220 V, write a few words on my Life story and go sleep.

26 July 2002 at 2:15 am in am in bed in my room in Melick.Bart has a porno line on satellite TV, 24 hours a day sex. I came twice already, Kleenex on the table. Just by seeing couples making love, licking and enjoying sex I become so horny, I would love to sex myself. I don’t have had any Dutch pussy since Kaatje, some 20 years ago.

Two Polish young women come to iron Barts shirts and do some cleaning. They drink coffee and the one who has a heavy cold, says yes when I ask if she wants to spend some time with me. But not now, she has a headache...Any way, it was already nice to have young women around, and Bart was with them all the time, talking and joking, he speaks a few words Polish.

empty the camper, take my clothes trough the washing machine and do a little cleaning, restore the pond pumps,and clean the dishes, piled up as usual in the sinks.

We prepare the camper for Bart. Put food, water, clothes, towels, the whole works. The camper leaves in the early afternoon with Bart looking young , happy, a summer shirt and sunglasses, looking good. I look xxx TV, jerk off and clean up. Put tools in order and take it easy.

I get Hans van de Brink visiting who will return Thursday to teach me sculpting. Clean the side room with the sawdust all over the place, fill two bags with garbage and gather empty bottles. In the afternoon I go to Roermond to look for shoes that Linda wants. They cost 90 Euro. I call her first to describe them and ask her confirmation. She wants them size 38. I eat soup that I make from green beans, tomatoes and sausage. Look TV and feel generally good, check a lot of internet, especially otoons, with a lot of OSHO.

31 July 2002

9 am, make coffee, but first go to get coffee whitener before I drink it,then deliver the letter to the social service. Then will go to buy the shoes for Linda, now look news on TV. I was in Roermond and found another shop for shoes, they had 4 different models. I wait till Bart comes back with his camera to take pics, sent them to Carol, Linda’s friend to let her decide which ones to buy. Someone called on the phone for Bart and I called him on his cell phone. He may come back tomorrow. Now I look TV, check platform shoes on internet, and do nothing. I sent the letter about Ruth Stapleton to the openbaar ministerie and hope they do something about her. What she did to me pissed me off, even until today.

Then i make sandwich and look TV and internet, see a lot of Osho and then comes Janine, with her daughter and another girl, who look for the neighbour from whom they want to rent an apartment, but he is not home. I give them tea and talk a bit. When they are gone I see a movie from the 10 force of Navaronne, and suddenly Bart walks in. Sally all fucked up, some bad feeling, she don’t answer him, they had some argument and neither gives in. He will check to send her home earlier, he say, when she sits on the table, and he in the front room. When he calls her she don't answer and the atmosphere is thick. I advice her to go sleep in the small room and sleep it off. She does not do anything and just sits there saying nothing. I try to help, Bart walks out of the room, I go upstairs to my room, there is nothing I can do. I feel pretty much embarrassed because I can’t help. We’ll see what happens tomorrow, now it’s 12:21 and I call it a day.

August 2002 in Holland

Melick 23:17, august 1

This morning came down to make coffee, Bart was fine, we went to Roermond to see Linda's shoes, photos and worm pills, Yes I saw worms in my shit this morning. It seems to come from fresh food, uncooked fish and such things. The camper does not start, I suggested ether, start spray, but Bart will not use that.

Then came Hans van de Brink, who took me to Swalmen village to do some training in his little boxing sport club. I did half hour on the bike and did the 5 exercises of the Fountain of Youth. Then to a shop of everything for art. We bought wax to sculpt and then went to his workshop where I learned to set up the making for a statue of about 25 cm high. Iron wire and wax. Of course I set up an African nude girl body. Wow, I am like God, shaping her most sexy forms, and hips and buttocks and titties. I get horny just making her. Home at 20:10 and the atmosphere with Sally was cool, if not cold. I internetted with Rob Lilly, whom I send my Money Cleaner Idea before. He likes it a lot and will help me to try get it made. After cooking and doing the dishes, I made tea for Bart and Sally who did not want to say anything, or drink it, and went to my room to write this. Good night.

2 august 2002.

At breakfast time all is fine, I don’t remember exactly what passed till 2 or 3 pm when I went with Hans to his shed to sculpt a little on the pretty statue. Home around 8pm I look at e-mail and TV, eat and Bart goes to see Janine, one of his girl friends, Sally is here. I am in my room at 11:43. Good night

3 august.2002

7:44, radio Limburg plays nice music, I suffer from a sleeping arm, a moving tooth, bad eyesight and a rainy sky outside. After a piss I start my writing and go back to bed.11:22 I wake again, go down,take second breakfast and start the day. I do some sculpting and start the second wax statue. The night is the high point of the day, I am at the neighbour for a birthday. Meet a lot of locals, they treat me as a member of the family. It is great, I am feeling very OK, and having fun, later more. now I go to sleep. Amen. 11:33.

4, Sunday,

wake as usual at 7:30, jerk off my hard dick, thinking of Linda and Lolita and Seaon and Marcia. Who will I see next week again? What will SXM have for me? What shall I be able to give the island(ers)? A little island in the ocean, peaceful and tropical, I like it better than over regulated busy and wealthy complaining Holland. A new day, A smile in my head, a good feeling in my prick, and hope to get my sweet dark darlings to make love with soon again. Will Linda be my wife or will Seaon come back to live with me?? Or will I stay free and enjoy all of them one by one and two by two? Time will tell. The whole day I am finishing the second statue, and do little. Internet a lot, chat with Grace, crazy like an onion, and watch TV with Sally at night. Go to sleep at 12:10. Amen

I want to see the doctor for my constant blocked nose, maybe he has a special anti biotic, like he had for my stomach . Yes tomorrow I go buy shoes for Linda also. She called this afternoon, the darling, I love her the best. Never had a better woman. Never. By God that’s true. If she wants it, I stay with her, see you later.I drink a beer with Ronald Rashkar, the guy that rents the place from Bart over the shed. I was with Sally and Bart in a shop and at Margot, his sister who is paralyzed in a wheelchair, married with Theo Hermans. It was a quiet day, ok weather, no rain no cold. Bart took the head of the old camper engine, it hardly brought him home when he took it to Paris. Once he arrived it did not want to start anymore. It was/is a ghost car.

5 Monday

outside I see rain and feel like not getting up, so I sleep till half the morning is gone, do nothing the hole day

6 august, Tuesday

7:33 wake and turn my other cheek, sleep another hour. I say that a smile is in my head. The radio tells about bad economy in the USA, ai,ai, what will SXM bring me now? The temperature here in Limburg is 14-15 Celsius, half from what I used to live in. Today I get Linda’s shoes and see a doctor. I also went with Bart to Swalmen and bought a pound of silicon rubber to make a mound of my statues. I packed most in two small suitcases,one that I had and one of Bart. I was on a bike to town and Theo from Margot had birthday, it was a good day again, but cold and rainy. The doctor thinks my chronic nose block is an allergy. I will check that with Hermanides in SXM. To bed at midnight. Soon fly.

7 Wednesday

starts with a nice clean shower, outside is fog, the other side of the street is invisible, so thick. I have seen now all types of weather, there was a storm with hail stones, close by here, on TV I saw children playing in the ice that fell from the sky.

Last night I packed almost everything, couldn’t find my gray pants at first.Today I called to Thalys and reserved a train ticket from Luik to Paris and called to confirm my flight with Nouvelles Frontieres. Do a lot of laundry and help Sally with many bags of clothes that this house is full with.

8 Thursday,

I start this day 1 minute after midnight.Saw a good Swedish movie about refugees last night. 22 Celsius during the day, Dutch summer.Fog in the morning, clouds in the day. We went to Venlo train station to pick up my train ticket from Luik to Paris. Every time I see a young female, I enjoy the sight, some are so sexy and it always stirs something in my heart. It is the only thing that makes me feel to live on. The beauty of the nature also, but the young females are the best.The weather is OK, dry, 23-24 c, but still no real sun. At 5pm I take a nap. I see star trek with Spock on the Enterprise. I hear radio news about Herben who stops being fraction leader. I understand that even in the Dutch politics there is bickering like children who play games of power and greed. Who can divide the pie without anyone getting angry?

That is the game.I called Linda and she still loves me, she said and she is not pregnant. She cleans the house and it is being made ready for me to return.

9 Friday,

This is my last full day in Holland. Woke at 3am, and again at 6am, and sat before the computer to write to Rob Shaman at 7am. It is nice to write my ideas to another seeker. It is also nice that I have developed the idea that Jerusalem should be destroyed in order to solve the foolish fucking violence in the middle east. If Saddam Hussein throws an atomic bomb on the place he’ll do a service to the whole world. At 8:30 I start writing this, and write a bit on my life story.

10, Saturday,

0:11 I had a nice day, Bart gave me 500 and I got 100 so I am all set to go home. I slept to 7am, the last night for a long time in Holland. Showered, and packed my two cases. Couldn't find my Atlantis ring and had to go through almost everything before it was there, just in front of me, where I had looked already ten times. Last night I jerked off, around 4am, having a hard member and seeing Lolita and Linda and Seaon in my head. Now I’ll pack my laptop, do my nails and go down to e-mail. bye ‘till in SXM. I take a train from Luik to Paris, after Bart drives me there from home.

11 Sunday,

At one am I take my laptop out of my bag at Orly airport. I sit on an orange bank with a lady asleep on my left side. A French policeman just checked me out and after looking at my ticket passed on to the next person. In 7 hours my check-in counter will open so I can get rid of my luggage. The trip from Melick to Luik went ok, with Bart and Sally and Ruuds son. Then one hour wait for the Thalys train to Gare du Nord direct, a Nigerian military student sat next to me. In the Gare du Nord he carried one of my bags to the entrance to the lines 40 and up,it was a hassle to find the right subway line to Orly. Finally I found it to be line 42, after first having gone wrong, to 43, staircase up and down, with heavy rucksack and two trolley suitcases. When I got into subway 42, it stopped some few stations before Anthony where I was to take the bus to Orly. Having to wait some 20 minutes for the next train I arrived 17 minutes too late at the gate for the connection to Orly. I came out on the street and walked to the taxi stand, passing a little bar. No taxi, no telephone, what to do? I waited, a person passed and said he would walk to the next stand and send me a taxi. He never came. I went to the little shoarma place and two boys where there eating. I asked a coffee and if I could telephone a taxi. No phone ... The boys offered to call If I knew the number. I walked back to the stand, took down the number written there, came back, wrong number, found a book, called the right number, no taxis at Saturday night. After two more tries the boys took me in their car to the airport, they where Marocan. Half the people were blacks the other half colored in the subways, no withes, In the airport it is not cold and it is light, it is ok to wait here. The trip was a bit difficult, but as usual I got help everywhere. In the airport I slept on a bank, comfortable enough, not cold and police close by, who came to check my ticket. Then time came to check in and three controls before I was boarded, and two hours delay because Orly checks the luggage very slow.

I take a plane from Paris to SXM I could be happy that there was no other strike for something. Looking at my watch we are 7 hours and ten minutes from the moment the plane started moving. 50 minutes to go. Elize is next to me and Ludovice is 8 and a half and makes a lot of fun, she travels alone and brushes the hair of a white girl, I ask her to plait me one, but she say I’m a boy, and she will cut my hair. Wow, what a darling. Elize who was sitting next to me is epileptics, and I gave her reassurance that nothing would happen, and I kept her busy when she was scared at take-off and landing.

12 I wake at night 3 o’clock and again at 5 and at 7 I finally go to shower, make coffee and see one little rooster and two gray chickens. I go see Jan Willem and Brinette is also there. The feeling between them is gone. I bring my 500 Euro to the bank after sending my story titled: “Thuisreis” to Bart. The rent is paid at least and I pay 100 dollar to Rio Grande for investment powder, that the boys finished. Andy has not been back. I drive to Linda house but she’s not home at 13:00. Back home I try to sleep and she comes with Carol. Then Carol tells that Linda many times said if only Alex was here. Then Linda say that I am her handy man, that’s all. She said that she had a lover when I asked but when she saw the pictures of Lolita at my Garuda she wanted to take them down. What is the truth? Linda shall never say what she does. After She comes give me money to buy air tickets for her mother and sister, I do that and bring her the receipt at her work. I also found her slimming program that Bart and me wrote. Then I went on to see Lucas and give him 70 dollar. Talked a while until darkness fell. I drove to Sariela address and she was home. Wow, how she fell on my neck to kiss me welcome. She came with me and took her 1 year old brother Kelly along. We stopped at Rams and bought food. Home she cooked and we talked and she will say she will come tomorrow to sex me. That I would like for sure. After dinner she washed the dishes and I dropped her home. Then I went home to sleep.

13 Tuesday

Woke up at 2 am, hard dick, I jerked but could not come. Woke again at 5, jerked, no cumm. Slept again to 6:30 and went up to close the fence where three piglets entered the yard. Made coffee, fixed 2 silver bracelets of Lucas girlfriend, cleaned the test kit and made it good, ready to test any gold item good, and wait for things to come my way. Good morning Tiger, I love you.

14 august

today I must take a anti worm pill, to kill any worm egg that left over from two weeks ago...

15 I went to Hollywood Casino, saw Yvette and Luvia’s son, both said they would come, none came. I wrote letters to the newspapers and saw Linda’s mother who came today for a few days shopping. My airco works, and I have food, Grace has 45 dollar for Andy which I shall collect, he took 50 dollar that she owed me. Saw my little tiger, who ate here, I had no time to sex her, but she’ll be back Then I will let her make me come, by sitting on top of me, instead of she lays down under, and I on top. Let her work next time, I wish she came right now, she is good. God hears my prayer ,she came, not for me but for my food. She cooks her dinner and takes it to where she lives to babysit for the landlady, she is not allowed to be out at night, she’ll be back, she likes to be with me.

16 august ,

I start the day on my knees with a plea for money. It is 6 am. Coffee and fried potato with an egg. The rooster crows loud and he has only one chicken. I play with my hard dick which would like to sex that sweet tight pussy. Soon I hope it will take place. Alexander the Prince is on Sint Maarten today. I went to the bank, got a ATM card, saw Henkie, no money, saw Cesar, plated mamas chain, did not see Lolita, but came Joel, de Haitian goldsmith. Linda, momma, April, Lucas, Trish, what a party. Still 350 to pay for the bike. In Europe floods are higher than in 150 years. Catastrophe in Germany, Thechoslovakia etc... Thank you USA for polluting the world atmosphere.

17 Saturday

I wake up and go straight on my knees and command the universe money. Then I check my stones and decide to make earrings that will sell. Then comes J.W. and takes me to the cyber cafe to take care while he does other things. I scan over 50 letters in order to publish a book with them later. The day passes nicely. The night I correct the scanned documents, until after midnight.

18 Sunday

I start early to correct more writings, Lolita comes to sex me, I make her completely white and have a nice sweet slow fuck, but cannot get her to sit on top. I finish 31 letters that now are ready. at 2 pm Joel passes by with two friends but does not stay, leaves a bottle of wine.

19 Monday at the internet cafe, scan letters, see Linda, who gives me tickets for dinner at the buffet at Port the Plaisance with her mother Rosalind and April, who is so well behaved, its unreal. Linda is a pain in my soul though, she does not want to be nice to me at all. She nags and commands like shit. I hope another man will get that shit in stead of me. After dinner drive with Rosalind and April to Lee’s, get two nameplate jobs, Anna and Suzanne.

20 Lolita comes to tell me she has her period. I bring the car back to Linda and just miss Ricky who was coming to see me, internet cafe, Back home, fix jewelry for little bar lady next to Henky, get $ 30.- go with JW to Front street shops to deliver lamps, see Steve from Guavaberry. Home at 6 pm.

25 August

Lolita came again to kill me a little.

29 Linda promised to come spend the night with me before leaving for New York, I had shrimps ready and she never came.

18 September

Lolita came last night with Anna. The two slept in the room on the carpet. The next day after breakfast they went out, I had a fight with them and in the afternoon they returned in the pouring rain. Anna came in and a car was outside with turning engine and moving window wipers. It rained cats and dogs. Lolita was still talking to the driver. I was curious and went out, opened the door and saw Angel Priest talking with her on the back seat. She came in and the girls gave me a nice experience together. I had to lay down, Anna on top, fucking me nicely, Lolita with her pussy over my face, then Anna doggie style I took her from the back, and then with a new condom I has to cumm on Lolita...What a fun. It was Angel Priest, the owner of a brothel, who gave them a lift to my place in the pouring rain, and he was smiling at the fact that I had two girls at home in that weather.

He invited me to come again to work my gold for his girls. It is now 20 September 2002,

yesterday Linda returned from her vacation in New York. She told me a bit ashamed that she spent 5000 dollars, Half for a computer., de rest for clothes and fun.

The last three weeks Lolita has come more and more often. She comes to cook and asks me after eating to lick and suck her little clitoris. She found out what pleasure that gives and she wants that now all the time. After she has cumm, she lets me in her puss to go in and out up and down for me to enjoy the feeling until I cumm. With her little breasts and tiny ass and her sexy manners, she turns me on every time. Lately she has come twice in the middle of the night to sleep with me. I am not allowed to touch her when she is tired. She is at all times in total control. She never gives herself, she does not surrender or such thing. Always in control, never let go of herself. Only when I lick her she enjoys it and for that she comes now every two days.

Today Linda will come around two pm, and we’ll see if Lolita is there too. I have no money, no gold and nothing to do. Sariela sleeps in my bed, she came last night at 2:30 and I was not allowed to touch her at all. Every time I wanted to cuddle and hold her she woke up with a sneer and pushed me away. What a tiger. Until she slept so deep that I could hold her like she was my baby, with my arms around her and her head on my breast, just like I would protect her from all evil. She is so young and small. But when she is awake, she is wild and doesn’t need protection at all.

Linda didn't come, Lolita woke up around noon, with a bad humor, grim and tight. She left sneering at me that if I had no money for sex, I wouldn’t get it. And that she could get food anywhere, she didn’t need me for that. So I wished her bon appetit and happy times, wherever she would go. An hour later she returned to say that Tuti had fresh fish for sale. So I doled out ten dollars for a kilo and she came and went into action. Outside, scaling and gutting the fish, cooking the macaroni and making the salad and frying fish, while I made a few silver items. During the cooking she came several times to ask me to kiss her pussy, she then comes to me, lift her t-shirt and pulls her panty to the side in order that I plant a kiss on her clit. She say that is to warm it up for after dinner. Then we ate and undressed and laid on the bed. On purpose I stayed out of the bedroom and soon she called out. I asked what is it, and she called again, more urgently for me to come, and with a sweet seducing voice she said that she had a warm wet pussy for me waiting. She taught me before exactly how to make her little clit come forward by pulling the skin sideways with my fingers and then licking the little pink spot. She cringes and she starts to touch her little breasts and shakes and whenever I do it not exactly right, she immediately complains and tells me to do it good. I have to stretch her hairy skin sideways to expose the bare spot where the little pink clit is and every time when I forget that she says: Open it!

Sometimes it takes a long time licking but finally she arches her back and moans loud and presses a pillow against her face, rolls over with a laugh and pulls up her legs, knees touching her breasts. She then ask me to insert my stalk in her oozing puss from the back while she enjoys the feeling from her exploded puss.

After the shower she left with another ten dollar to buy vegetables for the fish soup she would make with the three small fish in the fridge. She didn’t return. At 5 pm I walked down to the Spanish bar to call Linda. She came about 6 pm ate , showered, laid on the bed, inspected my skin and let me cuddle her fine strong body. She is still my most ideal body, wow. No sex, she didn’t give me that since the night before I went to Holland. But she let me have the car and after putting her home drove to Grand Case to talk to the girl Muna, for whom I forgot to do a thing but had charged her for it. Then to Simpson Bay to get no money from the two clients, and back home.

21 Saturday

Wake at sunrise, 6 am, coffee and at 7:30 drive to Grand Case to pick the chain to fix, so I can return it when I return the car at 11. Good morning.

That done, Linda wasn’t ready, so I could bring it later. When I did that the man from the big white car was there and he should bring her to work so I could keep the car again till Sunday. Sariela came when Bernard had come to clean his silver. I let her cook, but it was bad what she cooked. It was almost 6 pm and she wanted to buy clothes so I gave her 22 dollars and she would come back at 7 she said, but she never came. I feel so very bad that Linda doesn’t give me her love anymore and Lolita lies about coming, that I went to the whore house from Angel Priest and met Isabel, who said she would come Tuesday to fix gold things. Then I went to Defiance and met a nice 22 year old prostitute from Colombia, Angie. I think of getting her home one of these days and fucking her sweet body deep and long and nice. Lolita doesn’t know how to sex, she is too young and too small anyway, Linda doesn’t give it anymore and so, what else is there to do but jerk off or sex a young whore?

22 Sunday

start with a prayer for gold and sex, hallelujah for the god that brings money and love. Amen

23 Monday,

much rain today. Marcia Webster comes along and sees and looks how I make jewelry, she says she wants to learn the trade. I try to get in her panties, but she refuses still. I think that one of these days she may let me in though. I am on the bike in the rain to the bank, find the 100 dollar back that was never received by Rio Grande, find 300 Euro that Bart sent and I go home to put stones in the silver Jesus from Bernard. Do shopping at Food Fair where they take Euros for dollars one to one.That saves a trip to the Casino. Hubert brings a chain that he wants to sell, but it is less than 14 Karat, so I borrow him $ 20.- and will try to sell the chain for him, it is 28.5 gram of 12 or 10 K. Around 9 pm Sariela comes and makes some food. Then she is undressed on the bed and asks me to shave her pussy. I do that very nice and slow, then she lets me sex her first to lick her clit, which I call her shrimp. She loves that and takes her time to get her orgasm, then I get her permission to go into her, first from the back and I turn her to the front when I feel my orgasm coming, and we go to sleep. When she sleeps I powder her body and softly enjoy her sweet skin, stroking and holding her breasts, buttocks and legs. She sleeps and I slip once again into her and feel her around me once more, what a lovely feeling, thanks the universe for this again. I withdraw and we lay together through the night, she sleeping, I enjoying her company and hardly closing an eye. Outside it rains cats and dogs most of the time, a hurricane close by passes south from here, named Lily or Kyle.

24 Tuesday

At 6:30 I feed Lolita good food and she makes me very happy and worried as she is so uneducated, what can I do to help her,??

Saturday night I was in the whore house of Fifi, Lolita had said she got a job there, and I went in to see if that was true. Of course she wasn’t there. But Tuti was and kept giving me beers. And a pretty young woman called Dicky tried to seduce me. I told her I would get her next day.

Sunday 29 September, 3 am,

the chain of Hubert got sold with the silver guilder in the turning frame. The girl who bought it is also called Beatrix. Now my rent money is secure. I had a nice crowd by me this afternoon, when they had all gone it was 5 pm, I went to see Dicky at Fifi’s, she couldn’t come., too late. She looked less pretty in the daylight than the night before, wow, she has titties as small as my own, what I would like to get around that one a while. If only I could keep Lolita from other men...I’m going' try to get her to stay away from other men, for the safety of us both.

23 October

one month later I have succeeded in getting little Lolita to be my sole and only sex friend. Of course I cannot know what she does outside, and I think she seduces other men, but I better don’t think about it. She comes almost every day, cooks good food, makes a bit of a mess, let me lick her little clit after she has eaten, until she comes with a laugh and a pillow on her face and then lets me enter her tight vagina, with a condom and K-Y jelly on. I then may slowly fuck her sweet, while I hold her little breast and caress her face, until I cumm and we both feel very good after all that. I only have to pay her $ 150.- per month and she will not sex other man [says she]. That money is for the rent of her shack, and I know where it is. She has sold a few items and made me a few dollars so that it is not too much of an effort to keep her. I like her young power and she is a good cook after all.

22 October she had her period starting. Last month it started 14 September, 5 weeks before. I have to keep track, to know when will be next time. Today I was 4 hours in Cesars workshop, polishing and helping out a little. Maybe that is going to be regular and will he pay me something. 12 to 4 pm is good for me. I may learn how to set stones by him. Today is the second day of Lolita’s period, and I haven’t seen her. I made a deal with her to get sex every second day. Suddenly she doesn’t like sex like before. But I told her that she came into my life by seducing me and luring me into her pussy, now if she want to stay she has to give me enough of it to keep me happy. Her lovely brown skin turns me on like crazy and she makes me horny every time she undresses. Wow.

3 November 2002,

I am bored, feel no way to go somewhere, need to upgrade the bike, and am lovesick for Sariela. She has been with me several times and I have been mighty happy much of the time. The waiting in between her visits is very hard. I do go to the club of Angel Priest to sell gold to the girls again, I did not go there for 7 month or more.

15 November,

I was with Sariela at the Woman's Desk, because I thought that they would help her to see a doctor. She has been complaining about pain in her little breasts since I know her. They would not do anything because she has no Dutch papers... Then I gave her my last money to see a French doctor, his name is Thibault. When I picked her up after an hour, she said she had to go to the Hospital in Marigot next Monday to have the lumps removed. I am so afraid for her, she may have breast cancer, but maybe it is nothing so bad. I teach her to chase the sickness away by telling herself that she don’t want it. I got that from Therond....

18 November.

Tomorrow Bart is coming. Today I wait for things to happen, I did not go to see Lolita last night, she told me to get her at 1 in the morning, but my spirit guide told me not to go.

My spirit guide can be consulted in two different ways. By throwing coins for the I Ching and reading the information there, or by proposing a yes-no question and flipping a coin. Both ways work very well. So far the times it was wrong are so few, that I trust my guide.

Today I have not much to do, hardly any gold to work with and only 20 dollar to my name. I count on Bart to bring me some money.

23 November

Bart is here a few days and yesterday he sexed a woman called Rosy. We got Linda's car and fix it.

28 November

yesterday was Lolita here, cooked and gave me a little sex. Money making is the subject. If only I could get a loan of thousands of dollars, from banks that want only to give one on one. You need money to get money. Bart has good ideas en Jan Willem also. they know hoe to geld make money. JW makes geld tellers for one armed bandits and knows about interest

Later that night I went to have a beer at the little bar and after it closed 12:30, I was feeling for my girlfriend so I went there and saw her. She screamed abusively that I was drunk and I left disgusted. Went home and took the dog that she had given me as a puppy, in the car and brought it to her place, tied it there and when I was driving away, Lolita called out that she wanted to talk to me. I told her to go fuck herself and drove home. I will refuse her three times, if ever she comes back. If she insists more than three times, I will give her another chance, to behave herself normally. I must not think that she can be a girlfriend, because I know now that she is a young professional prostitute... Mitchell who heard me tell that she refused me, said that she should be happy, grateful and lucky to have a friend like me who offers a good reward for a night of her company. It is her own stupidity that makes me so angry.

2 December

shit, Lolita came again and she stayed with me pretty long, Bart and JW where here too and she made me make two silver rings and she took three gold rings from me. She went to the bedroom and was naked before the other guys had left the yard. She asked me to shave her armpits, which I did. Then she wanted me to lick her clit and while I was doing that she asked me to put a finger in her vagina. Only one she said when I put two. I had to move my finger fast in and out and when she didn’t feel enough she asked me to put the wooden dildo inside her. I did a condom on the wooden dick and with a little K-Y jelly it slid right in. But after a little while she found that too hard and I had to replace it with the finger again. Then she came, boy, she laid back, half off the bed, shaking and shivering, and she told me to enter her now. I sweetly made my love with her and I came softly and controlled. I showered, but she wanted the smell and the feeling to stay with her and she put her clothes on just like that. She promised me to let me pick her at 9pm. Because we had a deal, that if I gave her enough to pay her rent, she would spend some nights with me...I was in a deep loving mood and expected to lay with her next to me that night to continue the sweet feeling of tenderness and caring for her. I was so happy, that what later happened was a classical example of too much happiness is dangerous...Then later she called to say she had something to do so she would not be there for me at 9pm. That made me furious and I threaten with police immigration, accusing her of theft and what not. When a few telephone calls were made, I was still trembling of anger and around nine I went on the bike to her place. She came and wanted to kill me. Fighting with words and slapping me in the face, she was the real classical put. She takes advantage of me in a very nasty way and I am stupid to give her a chance. But every time she puts her naked cunt before me, how can I refuse? She is so professional with her innocent behavior and her promises. And I am so stupid to believe her every time...Now I think that I know that she is the youngest professional prostitute on the island and nothing else.

3 December,

I hear that Linda has a good boyfriend and that explains her distant behavior since I came back from Holland. I make wax rings for the 8 Atlantis rings that Bart wants for his family. Went to Lee’s to collect from Michel who works in the kitchen. Feel very upset for the fight I had with Lolita yesterday. Feel upset because I cannot have her as I would like to have her. And I feel such love for her, but it is like pearls for the swine, she doesn’t appreciate me at all. She is a very real, very young, and very professional prostitute.

4 December

I cast 8 Atlantis rings for Bart’s family, work at it most of the day. I miss Lolita a lot, but I have to forget her and let her out of my head. The I Ching tells me, My mind tells me and I have to get her out of my system. You’ll see that she comes back when I just have forgotten about her....

5 December Thursday

Bart put the new chain and pinions on the Nighthawk and it drives like new. I feel very alone, and think constantly of my little young prostitute. I must forget her and find another girlfriend. She called on a cell phone and said she thought of me. Said she would come but not now. I pray oh Universe to send me a new woman friend that will help me with work, food and sex. Let Seaon come back... I am very alone. And I don’t like it much. Now it is late afternoon, I am alone and shall work a bit to finish the rings for Bart. Three to go. Also a small ring for Santa to make. Seven o'clock go to Sergio to get some gold.

6 December

The birthday of Sint Nikolaas. Bart is a real executer, he is always doing some construction. Now he puts small tiles on my kitchen formica top. It makes a mess. All tools end up everywhere and the disorder irritates me a bit, I seem to like quiet and order, at least the order I know. It must be old age...In the night Bart comes with a woman he will sex. I take the car and go to Lee. Meet Donna with her mother. ````she is a travel agent from New York. She wants an Atlantis ring. Asks to meet in Bay Rouge tomorrow.

7 December, Saturday, I long for Sariela but she does not come Around 1 o’clock I go with Bart to Bay Rouge. Meet Donna and swim. She will call me, so I go home and wait. Am longing for Sariela. But nobody comes.

December 9, Monday

today we went to the harbor project where I got from Barts friend some things for the apple laptop, programs for repairs and photo printing and virus check. Also a printer that I must hook up rather sooner than later. Bart went to the airport to check his luggage in. He got a bit of a sunstroke yesterday and doesn’t feel so good. Would it be that he goes back to Holland where it is freezing cold right now? Minus 4 C daytime, minus 8-9 nighttime...Yacky!!!

The woman at the bar of Angel called yesterday to want a nugget ring. I did make one to bring it to her, this morning and she had bought another ring in town for 140 dollar, while mine which cost 80 she found too expensive. Women are crazy...

December 13, it’s a Friday

a new website is now made by Jan Willem, www.atlantisring.com

I pray that many people will find it and order one. Yesterday Seaon appeared before me, from Guyana. Her man Tony paid her ticket, so he has her services when he wants. She’ll come only to me for extra sex and money. Than came Linda last night with her sister Wendy who wants me to make ear hoops. And Linda say she will give me sex, the whole night of 19 to 20 December as birthday present. Hallelujah!!!! It is Friday night and I stay home alone. It is night, the TV shows stupid horror stuff, I can’t look at. Write this and read a little of my own sex stories. which make me horny and hard, I play with my dick, jerk off and cum, right in front of the computer.

December 14, Saturday

I wake as usual at 6 am . Feed the chickens and the cats and the fishes. Go into the yard and prune the bush with dead branches, enjoy the fishes and the smell of the basil bush, the magenta color of the bouganvillier and the white cat jumping and playing as if she was a doggie. Put dirty shirts in the washing machine and drink coffee.

December 15

December 16

In the afternoon came Lolita, to make up for the deal she broke she said. She cooked pork chops, and asked me to give her a massage. I like that young body so much. I put body lotion all over her legs and rubbed and stroked and massaged her soft and as sensuous as I can. She takes of her top and her pants and in no time she is naked as she used to be with me. But when I enter her a little later she says: “Sex is the only thing you always want from me.” and I answer: “It is the only thing you have to give to me.”

Jan Willem does a lot on the website, changes the front page after my new story. I want to include the 5 pointed star story as that was my first protective amulet. Here it comes:

Because my name is Alexander, which means protector, I have always been looking for [protective] things to help people with. I found protective amulets, charms, talismans. And I found out about the star of Solomon, King of the Jews, praised be His name. His star has five points, while the star of his father David is made of two triangles, and has six points. The star of David is the symbol for the Jewish peoples religion. It gives no protection, on the contrary, look what happened to Jews in all of history, and presently in Israel, nothing but trouble. But the five pointed star gives protection. In the occult science, the sorcerer stands in a five pointed star within a circle to protect him against evil from the spirits he is working with. In the book: “The secret lore of magic”, by Idries Shah, I found much explanation about the five pointed star, called the pentacle. Which was the most protective talisman, amulet or charm for most of my life. It is easy to draw or paint or even to imagine in your mind/thoughts when in a danger situation, and even when just thought about it helps. When you look around, you will see the five pointed star everywhere. The latest item that carries the star of Solomon is the European currency, look on the Euro bank notes.The star is put on the national flag of very many countries. Europe has one golden star in the blue flag for every member country and the USA has always had one for every state. Most Arabic countries have it together with a half moon, the Netherlands Antilles have one for every island, and so does Venezuela, check for yourself. Police officers or sheriffs in the USA have it as badges on their breast or hat. It is on the Texaco oil company logo, it is the Texas state logo, and most famous Heineken beer has it on every label and bottle cap. French cognac and the tourist world classifies hotel quality with stars. Every military vehicle, airplane and boat carries stars, be they American, Russian, or Chinese and many others, like Yugoslavians, Turkish, etcetera. Military officers have stars on their shoulders, the higher the rank, the more protection wanted, the more stars, generals have as many as four or five stars.... I had a pendant on a chain with a pentacle for many years, and by the way, the government building of the USA is based on the five pointed star, the Pentagon.

However, when my young years where over, I found a much better protection. Much older and more effective, more beautiful and based upon the pyramid shape. This much better protection comes from the oldest known intelligence, from the lost continent of Atlantis, and was found in an ancient Egyptian grave.

So, that was the five pointed start story.

December 18 2002

I was with Jan Willem in his Internet cafe to change and adjust the first page from the atlantisring.com website. Chatted with Linda and Bart who will send a new ATM card and a floppy drive for this laptop. Went home to make two nameplates for Linda. Decided to make myself a 23K Atlantis ring, just because the color is nicer, and I want only the best for me. Then called JW to say to make size 12 in 18K for a Mexican he chatted with. In the evening JW came and we went to count coins from his machines at Domino in Simpson Bay. Then I was home showered, and jerked off. I prepared the casting to take place later at night and went to bed. Then, after the casting around ten, rings the bell, and in comes Seaon. She decided to have me as first one to lick and fuck her poke after all the months that she had nothing. So I did it, good, slow, and moist. It took a long time for me to cumm, I had just emptied myself an hour before. But when she went on all fours, and I see that pretty backside, I came of course. Her skinny body cringed and moved and she came twice. Drained and satisfied she heard me blabbering a bit and slept. I could not sleep for quit a while, but it came after all and next day I woke early to finish the castings.

December 19

Early morning. The last day of my 57th year, I write, Seaon sleeps in my bed and I drink coffee after having fed the cats and the chickens. I see JW think the whole day to go to Lee’s, but that is on Fridays, I am two hours in the cafe, in Marks place with JW and home at ten to wait for Linda who does not come. She told me twice that she would come, she’s just no good.

December 20, my birthday

First person comes the Haitian gardener. I let him do a few little things in the yard, especially the cherry bush in the corner is now trimmed and clean. The second to come is JW with cake for breakfast with coffee. Linda calls to congratulate. I work on the cast rings from yesterday. Then calls Sariela who wants me to bring her to the doctor in Marigot. I let her come here so I have time to dress and close up. When she comes she promises me to spend the night with me if I pay her doctor, $30.-, which I do. I enjoy the ride with her behind me on the bike, she holding me and on the straight stretch she put her arm wide out as if she flies. I love the young spontaneous woman, I just love it/her, she/it. Buy plastic bags at Sosamag, talk to the owner nice. To dress against the rain that falls like cats and dogs when I have dropped Sariela at the Marigot hospital. Home I continue on the rings.

that afternoon I am at JW cafe, and drive a bit, fill the tank at French Quarter and pass by Sariela’s to see what's up. There she was, two papers in hand, from the doctor. She needs an operation to remove a lump from her breast. Two days in hospital at 612 dollar per day. I leave her there and feel very shit. Who and how is that money going to come? I decide to buy lottery tickets for her. That is the only thing I can do. I buy 5 dollar tickets, call Linda to buy 10 and later let Danielo buy 24 dollar worth. If the “Lord” has mercy I’ll win what she needs. If not, it is not my responsibility. Around 8 PM she comes and wants to go to Grand Case to buy noodles in a certain little restaurant. We go on the bike, but the place is closed. Then to Dragon City in Back Street and buy Chow Mein, eat it home. She is not feeling very well but when I offer money she let me suck her sweet pussy and she cumms fast and with a little scream. I have to cum quick she says, when I slowly churn inside her wet pussy. I take my time, she feels so nice, that little darling. Caught a cold, that gives her a slight headache and muscle pain. Outside the wind is howling. Wake up at three again, eat something and sleep till 6.

21 December

She promised sex in the early morning. I go see if that is true, after I write this down. And yes, when I laid down next to her and she woke up she remembered to give herself once again to my always eager love muscle. What a girl. After we showered, with nice warm water and then I brought her home on the bike.

Christmas is come and gone, me sick from a flu, making a bracelet for Brinette with Jan Willem and a chain for the wife of mr. Ernest Smith. Ate 26 December at JW place, very too much.

29 Sariela came and cooked, had me suck her clit and gave me to cumm in her sweet pussy. Said she would stay over night but she had to go to her grandmother.

30 she called at noon to pick her up. We went shopping for shrimps and after she cooked and we ate she slept the whole afternoon. Afterwards I brought her home. She asked me to pick her at 11 pm. So I did. I misplaced a ring from a Spanish man who lives down the road, I feel very embarrassed. Last time I know I had it was in the Chinese bar sitting next to Fox. I burn candles for Andromalius to make me find it back. Otherwise I have to make a new ring for the man. What a ridiculous thing to happen to me. I feel very crazy looking for it all over the place. I cannot see it anywhere. Why? When the candles are burned out I will go to the Chinese bar to see if it is there, but I doubt that. Sariela stayed the night so I had the last sex for the year with her. Boy I like that young whore.

31, I was home most of the day and went to Fisherman wharf and to Chesterfields to see the fireworks.

2003

January 1

it rains,

January 4

the ring from Eladio came back ok, it was hanging on a nail over my workbench. Thank you Andromalius. It was in a place where I had looked but not seen it. I bought new candles for Andromalius and put them in the Candle holders.

I made an Atlantis ring in white and yellow gold. Came Linda, who cleaned the kitchen a little, then Danielo, who fired my flare gun with a rubber bullet loud bang, by accident, he didn't know it was for real!!! Linda left to prepare for work at 8.

Then came Jan Willem when I was leaving with Danielo, and I stayed home, to check pyramid info he brought. Then it was raining outside, rings the bell and stands before me Seaon, like a dripping wet drowned pussycat, all dressed in black. She asks if she can stay by me for three month, she want to go home in April. She sleeps next to me but no touching at all, she is having her period. Cuddling is out of the question also, but why?

Sunday 5 January

Wake up fine, chicken in tree has two babies alive, four dead, drowned in the big rain from yesterday maybe. One chick is ok, the other maybe not.

Seaon wakes and is a bit far away with her mind, doesn’t say much (yet?). Wilson comes to melt powder, and Sariela comes to say hello, she cooks, eats and is too tired to give me a little bit of herself. I have to bring her home with a bag full of the food she made. Tells me to fetch her tomorrow ten am,

January 6 Monday, fix the exhaust of the bike, Seaon goes to work, I finish the white/yellow 14K gold ring to send, another white gold one and am home. Sariela was not home at ten. Seaon came in the afternoon, saw Sari in town who said she would come at 9 PM. But when 9 has come and gone, she is still invisible. Seaon is on the bed, she has an infection in her mouth, and throat and I give her raw onion. I am sad that Sariela is not been here at all. I love her a bit too much. Her body turns me on so much that I always hope she comes. But she only comes when I have money to give her, and today I didn’t have any. She smells it.

Soon the year of the horse is over and the year of the goat will start. I smell money coming because Jan Willem does not stop making the website better. He does everything to get more links to our site and talks to people to find more ways to promote it. He is good and we get ±30 hits a day, that is maybe one order a month. I need about ten orders a month to make money. May be $ 40.- profit per hit.

14 January

Seaon lives with me now a few days. She is good and says nothing when my other friends come over for sex. Seaon and Sariela together took care of me Friday, and Marcia took care of me Saturday. Sunday was a rest day, Monday also. Today Sariela cooks and says that her period has started yesterday. She’s out for a week she thinks, but on 16 and 18 January I fetch her to cook and to just have her around. I like her presence.

20 January

She is now in the holding pen of the immigration because she was picked up Saturday night in Dutch Quarter and she has no papers to prove who she is. I went there with Marcia, Gave some towels and soap, saw her, but she was so angry, she didn’t want to talk at all. A caged tiger whelp, can you imagine? I love her so much, but there is nothing I can do. Later I’ll go see her mother again, she must be able to prove that Sariela is her daughter no?

22 january

After my article: Medicine for a sick dog, Bulldog has started to behave himself a bit. My purpose in life is to help, heal and protect, improve and create. He understands now what it means to be public property. Many [gay] artists cannot carry out the message they want to (of Who they Really are). They become rude and nasty to the world, in defiance of themselves, because they cannot change.

If anybody likes to talk bad about me, I encourage him. I will diagnose and heal his ailment. Because my intentions are [Universally] good. “Who is not with me is against me”. (Bush)

Bulldog attacks people because they do not use their own name. But he has done the very same from day one! He has not used his own name ever. I did use my own name several times, in articles related to my physical body. But who cares anyway? It is not the voice, but the message, not the paper it is written on, not the person it comes from, it is the message.

Then he balks all the time that Chamba is negative. To be rude is positive, yes? To scream and disrespect others is positive, OK?

In the letter “Offensive” I explained negativity.

Many more people who know Bulldog tell me that he is [secretly] gay and that he is married and has kids has nothing to do with that. It is why he acts so overdone manly and so overly loud, who would suspect such loud, rude person of being deep down an antiman? In Amsterdam gay is fine, in Jamaica and here it must better be hidden.

Bulldog likes to drag up that I went to jail for a while.

I am proud that I went there. My soul would not be full if I had not experienced that part of life. All honest men end up in jail some time or other, because our world is based upon laws that are against the Universal Truth.

Accused of selling Marijuana [an economic, not criminal offense], I was acquitted at the trial. I never sold marijuana, not a gram. I am proud to say that I helped in a workshop to make pure and clean hashoil, the concentrated, unsurpassed high quality pure honey oil, a zillion times more potent than the regular spliff, easy to transport, free from alkaloids that are irritating throat and lungs. Without the smell of a [burning] haystack. I am super sensitive and cannot smoke, it makes me throw up and cough terrible. Pure cannabinol is [for me] the best way to enjoy marijuana. To make tea from the leaves of the plant is second best. Hash brownies are OK. The French paranoia concerning marijuana is ridiculous and the American way of treating cannabis users is straight out criminal. In the Low Lands of Europe it has been legalized for over 25 years now and I did not brake any law by Universal standards, I was victim of a wrong law.

What I experienced in jail is something he cannot even start to imagine. No book, or movie was made about it [yet] and he, being as nice and exemplary a citizen as they come, never went to jail. So bulldog, keep dragging that up, and tell the listeners that you don’t have courage. Disrespect, conceit and disdain you have, otherwise you couldn’t give it. Now approaching 60 years of age I do not use anything but food and sex, no more cadavers, dead animals, no concentrated alkaloids from the cocatree, chemicals like LSD, or Ecstasy. I still use a derivative of the poppy in tablet form, called codeine, when the body likes a little painless, dreaming and floating feeling. Coffee I use instead of amphetamine, but that’s about it. I would use nitrous oxide anytime, if I could get it.

I regularly sex with one and sometimes more than one female at the time. I enjoy the unity with a female to the max and practice Tantra. With these practices I have found the true meaning of live and the strongest and deepest experience of The Heavenly Divine.

26 January, Sunday, 2003

Yesterday I said goodbye to Sariela at the airport. I gave her an Atlantis ring in 18K with her name inside, a chain and a little thing. $30.- cash and a kiss. Today I got Marcia to visit at 7:30 early and Seaon in the house. Marcia only needed a couple of dollars for gas for the car she was driving, Seaon behaves as if we are strangers, as in fact we are. The washing machine is churning the laundry.

I came up with the idea of solar furnace when JW came up with the idea of recycling aluminum soda cans. Ordered 50 2x2inch mirrors to make a prototype oven to see how that works. Talked about a solar powered BBQ already. I think that may be a good project for here.

Then there is these days the rhetoric about Iraq and the war that USA wants to wage to disarm Saddam Hussein. Double standards from the USA. Never a mention that Israel is the aggressor in the area. Land stolen from the people that lived there, nuclear weapons in Israel, all kind of nonsense to any world citizen.

27 January monday

the washing machine water pump gave up.

28 January Tuesday

Seaon doesn’t come home anymore. The police took her off the street this afternoon. Her nephew and brother came to get her things. Not good, but not so bad as her man Tony will give the ticket.

search washing machine pump. $55.- at Kwik Bargain.

I repair the washer

31 make a fat chain for Dorothy, a lady brought here by Evelyn. I owe Caesar 114 dollar for gold. And some for Rio Grande order.

Beatrix birthday party at Holland House.

1 February the start of the year of the goat.

Sariela’s number is 001809-245-7793. Not 908 as was given me.

2 jan

Danielo came at night

5 February

Yesterday I spoke to Sariela in the phone, she asks for money for passport and says that she has no food to eat.

I feel very bad that I don’t have the money to send her. Paid for oxygen and make myself vegetable soup mix with everything in it. Enough for a few days. Was in Marigot at le Cigalon and by Cynthia.

Feel bad, but JW says that she sure has food to eat, and I should not worry for her. Would she worry for me in the same situation?

Went around the island. Bought Conversations with God 3. Found Jimbo’s place.

15 February, 03

Yesterday I spoke to Sariela, she wants me to work harder so that I can send her money. I think about her all the time. Whenever I ask the coin-flip method if I shall have another woman, it says no. All the time when I ask if Sariela will come back it says yes… Got almost a whole page in the Herald on Valentine and Love. Start to write my suicide goodbye letter, the pro’s and contra’s.

18 tuesday

Danielo comas see me sometime, talks fast but soaks up all I say on philosophy and god.

19 Wednesday

Things are OK, Marcia came to get a fuck, almost was naked before reaching the bedroom.

20 thursday

Marcia came at 3:30 nighttime and had me fuck her hard from the back, doggy style. I brought her home on the bike later.

21 Febr.

Spoke to Sariela again, she asks for money, but I don’t have any yet. At least I got her adress and I’ll try to send her a little soon.

Other news is the 1^stbook e-mail, asking me for manuscript. I sit every day to correct old letters and hope to get something in print.

Jan Willem got the PayPal system going, and one ring is ordered to be made and shipped 3 march. I have decided to send a little money to Sariela, I look at her pictures and I remember how much pleasure she gave me.

25^th

I sent 50 dollar to Sariela, she got it and said thank you. I doubt very much if she will return here. Then I went to Angel Club and met a nice young girl Belkis. The next day she had sex with me so nice, so sweet, so relaxed. I ate her pussy first and she got dripping wet, she shivered and contrascted, she moaned and growled. Then I put a banana flavored condom and my dick ring and entered her half deep. She moved so sweet with me, and I went out to put a pillow under her ass. Then I licked her shrimp a little more and entered her again. Deeper and deeper until my bush brushed her bush. We whined and whined and she enjoyed it for sure. Then of course I waited a bit before I came, but it felt so nice, She did not move and so I put my tongue on her clit again and sucked that little pussy long and good. Until she also came, with a suppressed scream and a deep moan. Wow did we enjoy that fuck. I gave her a small snake ring and a little plate “Sabora”, that means tasting good. She gave me ten-dollar and paid my beer. Four gram cost me 16 dollar, minus ten, so for 6 dollar I had a good sweet fuck. That is the way I like it…

March 1, Saturday

I think about Sariela all the time. I must be mad. Of course it is because Marcia was here on Thursday and spoke with me about her. She said that her man-friend Duncan, the most famous lawyer from the island, could help Sariela come back easily.

It is 7 AM and my little rooster is putting up a fight with one of the pearl-hens outside my window. How I wonder at their courage, they fight bravely on and on. Dancing around each other, picking at their heads, jumping high. The pearl-hen is three times bigger and my rooster chooses safety before death. The pearl-hens make a tremendous noise, a strange loud cackling, fast, loud and two-toned.

I tried to call Sariela last night, she was not there, her mother said she would be in today around three PM. I’ll try to send her $ 50. - again. Now I correct old letters for my book of “Letters from Sint Maarten”

March 4 Tuesday

Freddy was here, and I got confimation from Rio Grande that the silver is on the way.

Make all kind of waxes, three trees to cast all my stuff and the rest. As soon as 2-300 dollar come in I’ll buy stones. Red stones in silver is pretty.

Could not get Sariela out of my head yet. Got an e-mail from John, a pic of a sweet young girl looking up from his crotch with his limpish dick under her tongue. Oh the darling. What all thyey do for a couple of dollars…

Every woman become smore pretty for every day tat I have none. Maybe I should put the letters in this my life book.

Whaat can be the title? Storm in a glas water?

Shy, but bold enough to be here.

Rich without money. The winged helmet. Love on the move.

The little woman in Santo Domingo keeps flying through my head. If only she comes back, it will be nice. Making waxtrees. Listening to radio. I need a little ganja, it helps me to work better

Ten twenty, I go wash and lay down, to start at 6-7 tomorrow. Amen.

March 13.

I talk with Saddam about the Carib Independent Organisation. He wants me to make a seal. A logo, some sign that can represent the group of Carib people. Saddam wants to develop some activity in Carib Land , the little bit of land that was put aside for the few survivors after the treaty of 1901. Signed by a group of countries it was to make sure that the extermination of Caribs had to stop. All that want to be part of the organisation will get the sign of memebership, and if they have an address, they will get information about the agenda when it is made. In the planning is the building of an ice house, a walk-in freezer to preserve the catch of the fishermen on Winward Rocky Harbor, the only place the Carib fisherman can get out in the Atlantic. I am a Guest of honor of Sadam and as such I give him the advice to organise fish-farming. There are clean and pure rivers and lakes, places to farm fish for sale. He has already developed his own cocnut drying instalation and he sells coco meat to the copra factory. There are ways to use the rivers for energy. Letting it drive a waterwheel after it falls throuhg a long pipe.

I suggest a hydro driven generator to feed the satelite dish to connect straight to the Ethernet. Carib Independent Organisation, for short: CIO. I suggets to call it Carib World Organisation, or Interdependent in stead of Independent.

My feeling is good, maybe I can help Sadam to find another person to take over the house he is running now. There are about eight places in the house that I know of, where people live, some single, others together. Rents should be collected every month. However Sadam has to put the details on paper if he wants me to do something. He has a certain authority but he does not excercize it at all.

He tells me with the help of a crude map he draws, how his people are pushed from their original lands on the lee side of the island of Dominica to the windward side. They manage to grow enough food and they manage to sell abit to the rest of the island. The main road that goes around the island is from the Dominican Government. The side roads are the responsibility of the Carib Local Council. If

such an authority exists?

In my workshop a few items are ready to go.

Jan Willem asked me how he can generate more traffic into his internet café. I now think to change the front of the shop, make it inviting, like a trap, that people want to enter out of attracting suggestions. Which sort of store fronts attract most traffic?

Interesting name these days: Gore Vidal. He knows what he is writing about. Wow, if I had a taperecorder, I could speak in some stories.

Sunday March 16

Early morning I work on two silver rings when I hear the special noise of guinea fowl outside. Lately the yard gets visited by three of these turkey-like birds. A few days ago the guinea cock attacked my little rooster and almost killed it. I admire the courage of the rooster, it defended itself almost untill it went down for good. The intruder finally left to its own territory that is under the next tamarind tree where the pigs live. They are as big as turkeys, but with black feathers full of small white dots. On their head is a red comb and on each cheek they have red combs hanging down, very strabge. The noise they make is very peculiar. The males are only slightly bigger than the hens but have no difference in dress. I went out and laid a string from my balcony to the place where they usualy pass in search for food that I throw to my one or two remaining chickens. A little later the three came eating the corn I had put in the circle of the string. I pulled and they scattered. I put the trap ready e second time. Some minutes later I cought one, put him in a bag and started preparing the slaughter. I took the enormous big stainless steel Chinese chopper and a small sharp knife, a strainer and the garden hose to the little table in the yard. Then I took the bird by its legs out of the bag, and as its head was right away in the good position over the wooden table chopped it of with one clean blow. Kept the bleeding, wing flapping dying bird away from me under the table and hung it in the tree to bleed empty. Freddy came at that moment and looked in amazement how I inserted the garden hose to the headless neck of the bird, and filled it with water untill a leak sprung somewhere. Then I skinned it quickly, chopped of legs and wingtips, and gutted it. In a few minutes it was chopped in the strainer, washed, and taken inside the house. There I filled a jar with the pieces, chopped onion, garlic and ginger, put spices, turmeric and curry, and filled it up with soysauce as marinade. That went in the fridge for later. Mireilla came to pick up her earrings and asked how I caught it. I explained how it worked almost the same as the fishing I did in the days of my boat life. Then I caught fish with a line, pulling them out of the sea around me, now I pull fowl on a string out of the garden around me. Truly amazing.

Freddy worked on a ring while I filled the washing mashine and wrote on this story. When Freddy left he mentioned the $ 10,- buffet and bingo to start at 2 PM in Hollywood casino. So I hung the laundry and at 1:45 took my bike to the casino. Bought a card, ate the buffet and left the card with Freddy and Alfredo and some friends. I have no patience for bingo, or any other game of chance for thet matter. Home I worked on the silver rings and earmannikens for Sophia when I heard some noise in the yard. Five little piglets were roaming in my flowerpots and uprooting some. I went out to chase them away but when I saw that they were not afraid or shy, I thought of something else. I found a 5 meter long rope, an old rusty cast iron pan and some catfood. Put the three things in the right position and soon two piggies had their heads in the pan, eating the catfood. I pulled my rope and missed, they scattered. I replaced the rope on the pan, waited 4 meters away and in no time one piggy had his head in the pan again. This time I pulled and had him like a dog on a leash. The rope held the piggy good and I tied him to a high branch from the tree. He run and screamed, but soon understood that the harder he pulled, the tighter the rope, so he sat quiet most of the time. Then I called Sadam and Daniello to announce the capture of the piggy. It was about 25-30 kilo, as heavy as a full bucket of water. When Daniello came I proposed we go to the Chinese restaurants to sell it. So we put it in the bag and in the car. But what a surprise, when we found out that no Chinese would buy a live piglet! We went to six or seven places but everywhere it was the same. Two times the Chinaman would come to see, but never they would buy. So we took it to Saddam. His friend Tyrell, who is a fullblood Katanago, happened to be a butcher of little pigs! So the little beast was taken to behind the house for slaughter tomorrow. I had the richest hunting day in my life so far, a guinea rooster and a piggy!

Monday 17 march, 4:29 AM

Talk on the world service of the BBC is on. USA is going to attack Iraq for sure in the next coming days. I say it is because the heat will be too much for the US troops if they wait any longer, and because the USA wants Iraqi’s oil. No other reasons for going in now. The talks are like a cat circling a plate of hot milk, nobody mentions the two reasons that I put here. That North Korea is having nuclear weapons does not stir up any dust in the USA it seems, but I think, and time will tell, that as soon as the war with Iraq is in full swing, North Korea will attack US forces. With their missiles capable of hitting South Korea, Japan and the Philippines, the devastation could be enormous.

Anyway, the USA is the only true terrorist country and it has only Spain and England as friends or alleys left in the world. After years of primitively advertising gunfights, car chases and explosions on 99% of its TV programs, it is so full of people who know nothing better, that war, fighting and destruction is the only thing they know. As I have written earlier: English is a most primitive language and those who speak only English are resorting to the most primitive of all actions, which is violence and war. The English and Spanish have returned to their old fashioned way of colonialism with the USA to supply the army. It is a disgusting world we are living in, of most primitive and savage politics.

My world is nice though, chatted with Bart, went with Linda to the car inspection and Nagico insurance, she has the car on her name and now wants to insure it, but her driving license is out of date . She is so stupid that she never renewed it, now she has to do it all over again… I stopped the insurance that is on my name, it would not pay anyhow in case of an accident if she is driving.

When I was home again Leah came, took a shower and took a little sex with me. I sucked her pussy with my now expert knowledge of the female anatomy, observing her shaking, trembling and movements until she begged me to lay on my back so she could sit over me and ride my rock hard dick until she came. While she sits over me and has her hands on my shoulders, she puts her head in her neck, eyes closed and she moans. I put my thumbs on her nipples and turn them slowly while I cup her soft breasts. Next month 19 April she’ll be 21. She cumms explosively and falls on my left side, spent all the way, she draws her legs up and is done. “What about me,” I ask. She turns her face to the pillow, rests her head on her hands and sticks her ass in the air, for me to take it doggy style. I hold her sweet great backside between my hands while I enter her deep. She hurts a little, so I stay half out and half in. I let her vagina opening massage my penis head and the feeling is good. Slowly a little more, I feel the cumm is on the way, Leah moans when I enter a little too deep. I withdraw almost all the way out, only to shove in again until I cannot hold it any longer. In slow long strokes the sperm shoots in the condom. Wow, sweet ass, you did it again. God is near. Nature’s blessing follows up on me with a little shower that is just enough to dampen the dust on the roads when I drive her to the corner of the street to French Quarter.

The war of USA brutality against Iraq will go ahead in a day or two if I must believe Gunslinger Bushwhacker. I predict a nuclear strike against American interests by North Korea when it starts. The American armee will fast have to go to Korea and the war will be on two fronts I foresee. Who knows what secret communications Saddam and Kim have with North Korean technology. I see shit coming for Uncle Sam.

Here on Sint Maarten we also have a Saddam. But our Saddam is not a Hussein. He is a Carib under-chief and he runs a house with about a dozen people at the end of Davis Drive. He is also the head mechanic of Island Concrete and Danilo lives there too. He has a monkey in a cage and a lot of old cars standing around. He asked me to help him develop a logo for his government, something like “Carib Independent Organization.” I know that generators can be put in his country for free, driven by wind or water, both are plenty in their territory. A Canadian company ill install it as long as one buys the product made by it.

The idea became the Kalinago Support Foundation.

Got registered at Chamber of commerce under no. 81442 in 2006, February 9.

4th July tomorrow, 2008

I will take the operation to fuse the ankle/

The law of 5 year is hereby over ridden by 3 years, that so long after the accident the results count on. The handicap is not getting less. If I could I would reopen the case. Get the witness back and get a conviction for reckless driving on mr Brown.

I was this year in Barbados and Las Vegas. Robert Futsi invited me.

He gave me a lot of things and treated me like a king. In America we got a wheelchair and he pushed me around. Very comfortable.

Andrea has less than 100 days to go before she can indulge a bit in the good life. Linda keeps an eye on the house when I am of-island. And will clean it up good before she comes.

I work a little with the gold and silver casting. Other goldsmiths want to know how it works too.

I sit a lot with the internet, today even next to my pond in the yard. With the laptop Robert gave me.

Somehow I maintain a perfect emotional difficult life after my sailing years. The spirits are kind to me. The powers give what you need.

Darling Anie is born poor, lives poor and shall come up from it and learn to become part of the real world. As a lily with its roots in the mud, she can emerge from the decay and illiteracy if she only could.

She has given me times of great pleasure and now it becomes a needed exercise to keep in shape a little. What a wonderful piece she is, I love her badly. But it is time to find a young woman of my body type. The union is not perfect because she is big and I am not big. She needs more than I can give, she gets it from her BF now, and it is good. Better half a wife than no wife is what I say at my age. She needs to get her ID card so she can work.

Today I met a nice rabbit type girl like I am a rabbit type body. Anie is horse type woman. Karina or Carina she said was.

I asked Carina right away if she wanted to be my GF for $300-$400 a month.

She would think about it. I gave her my number.

I will start writing down my expenditures some time soon again. As if that makes it go away.

Do as little as possible. Make your surroundings beautiful.

I go plan the operation.

I think I will be able to walk again after a year of hobbling along.

In 4 hours starts the American Independence day, the national farce of a rogue nation

end of September 2008

I did the operation on my right foot ankle on Sept 1, by dr. Bocher. After 5 days in hospital he put a cast and I am home in a wheelchair and try to grow the bone together. Doing little or nothing, making pure gold, writing, looking movies from Marty and Sherri.

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That God Is Needed In Society Is Clear That God Needs Society Is Not At All Clear Does God Need Society At All

Captain Zen — Sat, 02 Aug 2008 02:53:46 GMT

That god is needed in society is clear. That god needs society is not at all clear. Does god need society at all? No, god needs nothing. But without god worship the society would fall apart. The show must go on. There is no other play possible, everybody plays its part. People in special fashioned clothes pretend they have closer contact with god than others. That is very dangerous for the people around him. They get the idea that god has left them for him. They try to hear all what he say. Nevertheless, houses of worship to this unattainable god are becoming a plague in an intellectual environment. These politics with the most impossible idea of a god are not bad for the show, but horrible for the message they proclaim. How can a free entity stay free? By not believing but knowing the god within. All other entities one then meets will recognize thy god in thee. And peace will happen. It is the snake who seldom lets go of its tail.
Good night.

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French Debt Collecting Gendarmes

Your DisplayName here! — Sun, 01 Jul 2007 05:07:15 GMT

Did you know that French Gendarmes will help you collect outstanding debts?

This happened in French Quarter, in the district of the Orleans Gendarmerie, in the last week of June 2007.

Mister G. had been told to leave the space of land of Mr. L. where he had worked for about ten years repairing cars. He left, but still had to pay $400 outstanding rent to Mr. L., for that small space of land he had worked on. Because he had some tools still to collect and garbage to clear at the spot he had rented from Mr. L., he went there with a car from Mr. A., that he was working on. Arrived at the location, as soon as he had left the car, Mr. L. took the keys from the car in which Mr. G. had come and refused to give them back to Mr.G. No matter how Mr. G. pleaded and argued , Mr. L., a very rich man compared to hard working Mr.G., refused to give him back the keys from the car in which he had come.

It is definitely not lawfull to take any property or possession of somebody who owes one money, financial disputes have to be dealt with in civil courts. Mr.G. went with the owner of the car, Mr. A., to the Gendarmerie to complain that Mr L. had taken the car he was working on. Now he could not work on the car from Mr. A. to make the money to pay Mr. L. However, the Gendarmes sided with Mr. L. who had been summoned and was present at the Gendarmerie, and did not have him give the car back. They said that Mr. L. was right to take the car and Mr. G. had to pay his debt if he wanted the car back.

The owner of the car, Mr. A. was at the Gendarmerie and wanted to file a complaint because Mr. L. had taken his car without permission. The Gendarmes refused to file the complaint for Mr. A. but had Mr. L. bring the car to the Gendarmerie parking lot to stay there until the debt was paid...

Here we see in fact that the Gendarmerie in Orleans helps a pretty rich landowner to collect outstanding rent from a hardworking poor renter.

So, anybody who has money owed him, [I do not think it must be rent especially], should therefore confiscate something of value from his debtor and let the Gendarmes keep it until the outstanding debt is paid.

Who would have thought that the courageous brave French Gendarmes could be used to collect outstanding debts?

Chamba Chada

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