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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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???
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.
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.
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.
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.
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,
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
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.
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
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.
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.
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.
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:
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
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
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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,
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 27th. 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
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.
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 22nd 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 5th 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 26th 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 13th we leave for Ibiza. Drop anchor next day in
Espalmador Bay. Meet Chameleon with Francois.
October
Novenmber
Dece,mber
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
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Joy comes in February for 2
weeks.The French goldsmith Olivier comes and I go to Philipsburg, meet
Christian
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
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.
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.
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.
18
19
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.
27
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.
28
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.
29
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.
30
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.
29
search washing machine pump. $55.- at
Kwik Bargain.
30
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?
14
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 1st book
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.
25th
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.
