Friday, January 08, 2016
www.neocounter.neoworx-blog-tools.net
www.neocounter.neoworx-blog-tools.net seems to have taken over my blogsite without my content..|I will take appropiate measures
Monday, April 28, 2008
I save a human life......
Sri Lanka, Negombo,
22-04-1995.
It is late afternoon I`ve just come back from my room after a shower, 75 laps I did in the hotel`s swimming-pool.....Can`t believe I managed that after my negative life style of the last 5/6 months in India. Tonight I`ll be on my way back to Amsterdam - if that is the wish of Lord Shiva - but now I`m freshly showered, have got my best clothes on, have an expensive hotel courtesy of AirLanka, just done 75 laps around the pool...
I need a beer cold and straight from the bottle. The pool is busy now, mostly locals, middle class Sri Lanka families with their kids. The open air bar is located right next to the bar, the atmosphere is good, some young indian ladies at the bar give me a nice smile, life is good...
The beer is cold just the way I like it. I look around to distract myself from the indian beauties who sure seem to have the hots for me. Just mere meters away from me, at the side of the pool I see a small boy in swimming shorts, lost and alone, tears in his eyes, in the middle of all these local people having fun and being merry, our eyes lock and my mind goes into a different realm, something is seriously wrong here...
I get up from my bar stool leaving the indian beauties alone, ignoring the disappointment in their eyes and walk over to this kid, not knowing why but the feeling of something bad upper most in my mind.
He looks up at me with his big brown eyes full with tears and point a bony finger down at a dark shape two meters down on the bottom of the pool, without a moment`s hestitation I jump in - forget about the nice clothes I was gonna wear on tonight`s plane to Amsterdam - .....the shape turns out to be his father and when I come up from the pool`s depth people are suddenly aware of was is happening, help to get the poor bastart out, I walk back to the bar, wed like as a fish, grin at the indian ladies and drink my ice-cold beer.
Twenty min. or so later the little family comes over to the bar, father still shaken, mother a few shades paler and the kid bearing a beaming smile, to thank me. Other people have already been ther to shake my hand and tell me what a big hero I am...
Strange end to my trip.....
22-04-1995.
It is late afternoon I`ve just come back from my room after a shower, 75 laps I did in the hotel`s swimming-pool.....Can`t believe I managed that after my negative life style of the last 5/6 months in India. Tonight I`ll be on my way back to Amsterdam - if that is the wish of Lord Shiva - but now I`m freshly showered, have got my best clothes on, have an expensive hotel courtesy of AirLanka, just done 75 laps around the pool...
I need a beer cold and straight from the bottle. The pool is busy now, mostly locals, middle class Sri Lanka families with their kids. The open air bar is located right next to the bar, the atmosphere is good, some young indian ladies at the bar give me a nice smile, life is good...
The beer is cold just the way I like it. I look around to distract myself from the indian beauties who sure seem to have the hots for me. Just mere meters away from me, at the side of the pool I see a small boy in swimming shorts, lost and alone, tears in his eyes, in the middle of all these local people having fun and being merry, our eyes lock and my mind goes into a different realm, something is seriously wrong here...
I get up from my bar stool leaving the indian beauties alone, ignoring the disappointment in their eyes and walk over to this kid, not knowing why but the feeling of something bad upper most in my mind.
He looks up at me with his big brown eyes full with tears and point a bony finger down at a dark shape two meters down on the bottom of the pool, without a moment`s hestitation I jump in - forget about the nice clothes I was gonna wear on tonight`s plane to Amsterdam - .....the shape turns out to be his father and when I come up from the pool`s depth people are suddenly aware of was is happening, help to get the poor bastart out, I walk back to the bar, wed like as a fish, grin at the indian ladies and drink my ice-cold beer.
Twenty min. or so later the little family comes over to the bar, father still shaken, mother a few shades paler and the kid bearing a beaming smile, to thank me. Other people have already been ther to shake my hand and tell me what a big hero I am...
Strange end to my trip.....
Saturday, April 26, 2008
The "DOG-CLEAN-PEOPLE", baba.
India, Trivandrum,
21-04-1995.
An indian on the beach told me this morning why his dog - a typical indian mongrel - has got a blue colored robe around his neck.
"To show the DOG-CLEAN-PEOPLE that my dog has a boss, baba, otherwise the "DOG-CLEAN-PEOPLE" will give my dog an injection, baba, not good for dog and I`ll no longer have a dog, baba".
I`ve moved to Trivandrum this morning because it is closer to the airport and I now suffer from the usual frantic worrying just before departure, will my plane be in time, do I`ve the actual flying date, will my plane make it to Sri Lanka or will the Tamil Tigers shoot it out of the sky, will the plane have enough kerosine aboard to cross over to...well, I`m sure you get the picture.
I did a desperate search for beedies - a handrolled india tabacco leave very popular among the locals - to sell at the dutch Queen`s Day once back home...though I am totally in the gray colored mists inside my f*cked-up mind what I really wanna do oncde I get back to Amsterdam after all this time.
21-04-1995.
An indian on the beach told me this morning why his dog - a typical indian mongrel - has got a blue colored robe around his neck.
"To show the DOG-CLEAN-PEOPLE that my dog has a boss, baba, otherwise the "DOG-CLEAN-PEOPLE" will give my dog an injection, baba, not good for dog and I`ll no longer have a dog, baba".
I`ve moved to Trivandrum this morning because it is closer to the airport and I now suffer from the usual frantic worrying just before departure, will my plane be in time, do I`ve the actual flying date, will my plane make it to Sri Lanka or will the Tamil Tigers shoot it out of the sky, will the plane have enough kerosine aboard to cross over to...well, I`m sure you get the picture.
I did a desperate search for beedies - a handrolled india tabacco leave very popular among the locals - to sell at the dutch Queen`s Day once back home...though I am totally in the gray colored mists inside my f*cked-up mind what I really wanna do oncde I get back to Amsterdam after all this time.
Friday, April 25, 2008
Animals in Kovalam.
India,Kovalam, 19-04-1995.
When I wake up at four o`clock in the morning, still drowsy but already desperate for a Kerala grass joint, I see a huge cockroach walking on the wall of my room.
A dark green frog hides under a table in one of the beach restaurants while half a yard away a crab desperately digs a hole in the sand trying to save itself from being stepped on by one of the many passing waiters.
In the morning I`ve breakfast and watch two black/grey colored crows tip the lid of the sugar-bowl on the table, gorging themselves on the sweet delicacy inside while a third crow, perched high on chair, keeps a look out for the restaurant`s waiters.
I guess there is no spiritual quest - or the disappointment of failure - in their animal minds, just the daily worries of getting enough food inside, necessary energy for movement and procreation...
When I wake up at four o`clock in the morning, still drowsy but already desperate for a Kerala grass joint, I see a huge cockroach walking on the wall of my room.
A dark green frog hides under a table in one of the beach restaurants while half a yard away a crab desperately digs a hole in the sand trying to save itself from being stepped on by one of the many passing waiters.
In the morning I`ve breakfast and watch two black/grey colored crows tip the lid of the sugar-bowl on the table, gorging themselves on the sweet delicacy inside while a third crow, perched high on chair, keeps a look out for the restaurant`s waiters.
I guess there is no spiritual quest - or the disappointment of failure - in their animal minds, just the daily worries of getting enough food inside, necessary energy for movement and procreation...
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Divine inspiration.
India, Kovalam,
18-04-1995.
Sketchbook at the ready I sit on the beach and wait for divine inspiration, scenes to sketch.
Actually there is so much to sketch that it would be better to say I can`t choose and wait for Lord Shiva to tell me where to lock my eyes on and start drawing...
Like the middle class families that have come by bus from Trivandrum for a family`s outing to the beach. Husband carrying a freezer with food and drinks dressed in his best suit, wife - dressed in her best sari and busy with her kids - dragging an enormous suitcase with all the necesities for a day on the Kovalam beach. It reminds me of my own childhood, but only temporarely...
The memories disappear fast in the dark and endless void - I`m sure of it - is hidden somewhere in the fast volumes of open space that make up my mind. Well, at least I got my inspiration now!!!!!!!!!!
18-04-1995.
Sketchbook at the ready I sit on the beach and wait for divine inspiration, scenes to sketch.
Actually there is so much to sketch that it would be better to say I can`t choose and wait for Lord Shiva to tell me where to lock my eyes on and start drawing...
Like the middle class families that have come by bus from Trivandrum for a family`s outing to the beach. Husband carrying a freezer with food and drinks dressed in his best suit, wife - dressed in her best sari and busy with her kids - dragging an enormous suitcase with all the necesities for a day on the Kovalam beach. It reminds me of my own childhood, but only temporarely...
The memories disappear fast in the dark and endless void - I`m sure of it - is hidden somewhere in the fast volumes of open space that make up my mind. Well, at least I got my inspiration now!!!!!!!!!!
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
A desperate spiritual search.
Kovalam, 17-04-1995.
When I left Amsterdam nearly one year and six months ago now, I felt like going on a spiritual quest, a search for myself. I remember Lord Shiva's test, sending me that dark-skinned Surinam beauty that tried so hard to make me return to Amsterdam within months of the trip, a fruitless feminine attempt to convince me of the crazyness of my search for my inner being...
Now, sitting here late into the night, hearing the waves of the on-coming tide outside, in the closed confinement of my room that I rent for a meagre 50 Rp. a night, I`m still searching desperately for an answer to my excistence, the very reason for my presence here on this planet, just a mere speck of dust in this infinite universe. And however hard I have tried I`ve found no answer......Krisna or Jesus, Jaweh or Allah, Shiva and Ganesh, Vishnu nor Manitou; they all left me alone on my spiritual and lonely quest.
All these months alone travelling around Southeast Asia, immersing myself in the hippy scene, trying to do it the Sadhu way smoking charras from the holy Chilum...
Exhausted and in sheer fustration I light yet another joint......stumbling to the bathroom to clean my mouth of cheap tabacco fumes and "expensive" Kerala grass. I see myself in the bathroom mirror, a face I hardly regocnise, hollow and covered by a long bushy beard. I think about sexy thai Hot Mommas and gently phillipino Hunting Girls.
My desperate quest a fruitless one. What a shitty time to come to that conclusion, just five days before my return trip to Amsterdam......
When I left Amsterdam nearly one year and six months ago now, I felt like going on a spiritual quest, a search for myself. I remember Lord Shiva's test, sending me that dark-skinned Surinam beauty that tried so hard to make me return to Amsterdam within months of the trip, a fruitless feminine attempt to convince me of the crazyness of my search for my inner being...
Now, sitting here late into the night, hearing the waves of the on-coming tide outside, in the closed confinement of my room that I rent for a meagre 50 Rp. a night, I`m still searching desperately for an answer to my excistence, the very reason for my presence here on this planet, just a mere speck of dust in this infinite universe. And however hard I have tried I`ve found no answer......Krisna or Jesus, Jaweh or Allah, Shiva and Ganesh, Vishnu nor Manitou; they all left me alone on my spiritual and lonely quest.
All these months alone travelling around Southeast Asia, immersing myself in the hippy scene, trying to do it the Sadhu way smoking charras from the holy Chilum...
Exhausted and in sheer fustration I light yet another joint......stumbling to the bathroom to clean my mouth of cheap tabacco fumes and "expensive" Kerala grass. I see myself in the bathroom mirror, a face I hardly regocnise, hollow and covered by a long bushy beard. I think about sexy thai Hot Mommas and gently phillipino Hunting Girls.
My desperate quest a fruitless one. What a shitty time to come to that conclusion, just five days before my return trip to Amsterdam......
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
My dairy, a life-line!
India, Kovalam,
15-04-1995.
Two days passed and I don`t remember much of them apart from a feeble and half hearted attempt to "ride" the waves again.
I didn`t get out of my room much apart from the necesary exits for food which I mostly took back to my room and ate inside.
I didn`t do much on this dairy either and have come to realise that this dairy, the stories I write down, the sketches I draw of the world around me the way I perceive it, the dates I put down every day, are my life-line to the actual realitiy.
Not the Indian Express that I usually read in the morning skipping over the dates and reading mostly world news only, though some local news stories can be hilarious, but mostly it all goes way beyond me.
Amsterdam where I`ll soon be...back home again....all of it seems way beyond me, maybe diving into this alternative hippy scene in India was not such a good idea after all.
I mean this is obviously more than just short time memory loss, this to my wesdtern trained mind, seems more like a complete back-out.
Shit, I`ve to go back to Mr. Bart Stokvis his Tae-kwondo dojo and work out like mad for the next few months after returning and hope that that will repair some of the physical and mental damage I`ve done to myself these last six months in India.
15-04-1995.
Two days passed and I don`t remember much of them apart from a feeble and half hearted attempt to "ride" the waves again.
I didn`t get out of my room much apart from the necesary exits for food which I mostly took back to my room and ate inside.
I didn`t do much on this dairy either and have come to realise that this dairy, the stories I write down, the sketches I draw of the world around me the way I perceive it, the dates I put down every day, are my life-line to the actual realitiy.
Not the Indian Express that I usually read in the morning skipping over the dates and reading mostly world news only, though some local news stories can be hilarious, but mostly it all goes way beyond me.
Amsterdam where I`ll soon be...back home again....all of it seems way beyond me, maybe diving into this alternative hippy scene in India was not such a good idea after all.
I mean this is obviously more than just short time memory loss, this to my wesdtern trained mind, seems more like a complete back-out.
Shit, I`ve to go back to Mr. Bart Stokvis his Tae-kwondo dojo and work out like mad for the next few months after returning and hope that that will repair some of the physical and mental damage I`ve done to myself these last six months in India.
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