With only a few more days to go, you do start to wonder… After almost 3 years on the “sunny side of life”, I will be returning to Europe from the Caribbean. Over the last weeks I did have and still do have quite some trouble figuring out what this means. For one thing, I certainly feel immensely privileged and eternally grateful for the experience.

I mean, how can you not? Never ever wear anything with long sleeves for the entire year? Embracing people in shorts and T-Shirts on Christmas Eve? Witnessing the change from year to year looking up to the fireworks on the other side of the bay listening to the foghorns of super yachts greeting the new year? Watching the Sportschau on a big screen while the meat is getting ready on the BBQ and Thomas is dying trying to will Borussia Mönchengladbach to stay in the Bundesliga by the power of his thoughts? Walking around at Carnival not freezing your butt off but rather sweating watching attractive butts shake like rattlesnakes? I have watched the most stunning sunsets day after day in truly magical locations. I have stood on the beach time after time enjoying ridiculously cheap beer during Happy Hour and then moved on to dinner somewhere next to the ocean. I have visited bars and restaurants that most people might only ever read about in the travel section of their newspaper. I was up close and personal with Iguanas, ostriches, frogs and a lot (and I mean a lot) of mosquitoes. I fought the elements and especially Hurricane Omar. I was able to watch most major American Sports Events at a “decent” time. I was lucky enough to get a “Behind the Scenes” Tour on the Queen Mary 2, arguably the most famous ocean liner in the world. I have lived in a house with its own pool.

I am proud to say that my feet have touched the ground in Curacao, Aruba, Puerto Rico, St.Thomas, St. John, Trinidad, Barbados, St. Lucia, Antigua, St. Maarten, Martinique and Panama. I have used the opportunity to go to New York and Florida.

I will miss many things that you will never understand or only understand if you have shared some of the experiences or have similar ones. I will list them anyway starting with the more trivial, yet not less important ones. Among them are Joey Stevens - the Caribbean Weather Man, BBC World News and BBC World Service, Ken Rosato and Kirsty Kruger of ABC Morning News, the amazing amount of commercials on American TV during prime time for all sorts of perceived illnesses that the rest of the world has yet to start worrying about, the fanfare and pride about American Sporting Events and the singing of the National Anthem along with the Fly-Bys. I will miss Sundays watching American Football and Marc’s incredible insight into that game. I will very much miss Sopranos Piano Bar in Curacao and Aruba, Duffy’s Love Shack in Red Hook St. Thomas, Delirius in St. Lucia and of course Zanzibar in Jan Thiel, Curacao. Insanely, I will miss Amstel and Piton Beer. I’m not a fish or seafood person but I will miss a nice piece of freshly caught grilled Mahi Mahi or Red Snapper. I will miss Tempura Cheesecake. I will miss giving somebody $50 dollars and it will not make a real difference to their day, but to their year. God willing, I will be back.

There are also quite a few things that do make it easier to return to the real world, but I will leave pondering about them for another time…

With that in mind, I will see what the last few days have in store for me and leave you to think about the interesting times in your life.

Enjoy

W

My dear girl-friend, the adorable Miss M from P, has an expression for my attitude and approach to being punctual and general time-keeping. She calls it “German” time. When she says that she generally refers to my ability to show up for almost anything pretty much anywhere about 30 to 45 seconds before the agreed meeting time. One of her favorite stories is us walking through London for hours supposed to meet somebody at 18:30 and showing up at the restaurant at 18:29:47 or something like that. All without seemingly ever adjusting our walking pace.

With the exception of Switzerland (where they measure you being late in seconds and milli-seconds on their atomic cuckoo clocks) living on “German” time is not easy in many places. In my (admittedly limited) experience you will be in fine in most parts of central, western and northern Europe and thankfully also the US. The rest is a different story.

When I was in Panama in December I learned that if an invitation there reads that your presence is requested at 7:00pm, this only roughly indicates the time when the lady of the house will put her hair curlers IN so she can welcome you about 2 hours later. If, like me, you operate on German time,  and you would present yourself at about 6:59:45 (give or take) you would be met with nothing but shocked expressions and (I’m reliably told this is true) you would quite possibly run into the only other person in Panama that adheres to this sort of time-keeping. Luckily for me, that person is the father of my girl-friend. For you however, if you do not know Dr. B from P, this might develop into a bigger problem.

Still what goes on in Central America is harmless and given a decade or two, one might in fact get used to it.

But then there is of course the Caribbean… Luckily for me, I went to Curacao first which is relatively European in this respect and you might end up keeping your sanity. It turns out this was just a warm-up.

Now I’m in Saint Lucia in the West Indies. They say a West Indian would be late for his own funeral; that’s only if he makes it there at all of course.

After Curacao I thought the Caribbean regard, or disregard, for timeliness was little more than a well-worn cliché. Then I came here and was soon reminded that clichés have their root in fact. I had been warned of course, but how bad could it be? As it turns out, it depends. At work it is in fact not too bad. Sure, everybody is a helluva lot more relaxed than any white dude could ever be, but looking at our meetings everybody pretty much shows up on time. Outside our work environment things change, and not for the better.

There is no malice in this tendency to tardiness, it’s just the way it is. Something trips between statement and act. ETAs are flexible, that’s generally understood.

I have no personal experience with this, but reading around, most people seem to agree that it is the worst in Trinidad and that it is undoubtedly the worst when it involves some sort of “workman”. There is even an expression for it. It is called" Trini Drift”. It is exemplified by the expression “Yeah, I’ll check yuh in ah coupla days, nah.” Days drift into weeks, weeks into months, and before you know it, you don’t even want that bathroom tiling after all. And this, my dear readers, is the point you know you have really arrived in the Caribbean…

I have found this great translation table in the LIAT magazine and as this is also supposed to be educational as well as entertaining, I have plagiarized it for you. You will need to get your ears around a slightly different kind of English, but I’m confident you can manage. Have fun!

Ah leaving now – I forgot I was meeting you

Ah get tie up in a lil traffic nah – I’m just getting dressed

Yeah, ah at de top ah de road – I’m just leaving

Yeah man, ah get held back at work – I’m in a bar

10 minutes – Universal ETA; expect arrival somewhere between half-an-hour and three hours but never ever 10 minutes

It have plenty rain in dis side boy – I’m not coming

Yuh not late til you reach – You’re already late, you’re in trouble, so delay it, have another beer

Man can only be late once – You’re already late, have another beer.

Well, I guess I can’t hold it off any longer… I will have to tell you about my new home. I don’t think I have told you yet, but as of the middle of August, I am now a resident of Saint Lucia. Saint Lucia you might wonder… where and what is that?

Well, let me tell you what I have figured out so far and also what I have plagiarized from the St. Lucia island guide.

St. Lucia lies roughly between 60 and 61 degrees West longitude and 13 and 14 degrees North latitude. It is approximately 1,300 miles southeast of Florida. St. Lucia is part of the Windward Island chain, a sub-group of islands within the West Indies. The island is 238 square miles big and it is 21 miles from its nearest neighbor Martinique. It is 24 miles north of St. Vincent and 100 miles north-east of Barbados.

I guess you will have to consult a globe or get out the old charts…

St. Lucia possesses some of the finest natural harbors in the Caribbean, and is centrally located within easy reach of the rest of the region and North America. It was as a result of this strategic location that the French and the British fought endlessly for possession of the island. St. Lucia changed hands 14 times between the two colonial powers. A tug-of-war that inspired one British historian to give St. Lucia the sobriquet (good ey?) “Helen of the West Indies”, comparing the island to Helen of Troy, a mythical Greek character whose beauty mobilized and entire navy (and Brad Pitt).

St. Lucia is 27 miles long and 14 miles wide, with a shape that is said to resemble a mango. The main language in St. Lucia is English. A French based Creole is also spoken, a result of St. Lucia’s dual British-French heritage.

The climate is tropical, with temperatures ranging from 25 to 30 degrees Celsius. Let me tell you, it feels a lot hotter though and I sweat like a pig. Depending on where you are on the island, it can rain up to 160 inches, which, as you will appreciate if you are into Victorian measurements (and maybe even if you’re not), is a lot of rain.

But enough blablabla, let me tell you what really matters. Of all the Caribbean islands I have visited so far, it is certainly the prettiest. There are stunning beaches, landscapes and views, tropical waterfalls, colorful birds and other interesting animals. The climate encourages a lush growth and everything is green. You can visit a Drive-In volcano along with sulphur springs!

There is much to discover and explore. There are nice restaurants and there is some nightlife too. Well worth a visit!

At the same time, make no mistake, this is a third world country. Poverty is a real problem. Infrastructure is a problem wherever you look. Roads, medical facilities, banking, schools, even stuff like gas stations and supermarkets are not to be taken for granted. Half the stuff you and I are used to is not available. Getting something in from the real world is ridiculously expensive because of the duties you will have to pay. If you need something done, it is not unheard of to pay a bribe. The white population is less than 4% and you really stand out. If you venture out as a single white guy, you WILL be very popular.

Right now, this part of the island is without water for the last 4 days. The hotel has a tank and it is now empty and it will become a real problem very soon. I have no idea what the normal people do.

I would talk about my new apartment and show you some pictures but then half of you would not talk to me again ever.

And so with that I will leave you today. I still hope that a few of you will come and visit me at some point. There are good times to be had!

Alright, even though it sometimes seemed like it, the Panama vacation was not only about family or wedding. There was another very important element. Sightseeing. Even in the limited time, my guide showed me a lot! Most important: The Panama canal. Seriously. If you ever go to Panama and have to decide between seeing your dying uncle and seeing the canal, ah, you better, ah, … never mind. But really, do trade everything else they might tell you is important for the canal. It is AWESOME! If you like big things you will never want to leave. You come across the canal pretty much with everything in Panama, but deservedly so. I don’t want to bore you with details, but just consider this:

They have been thinking about a canal since 1523. The first who really gave it a go where the French in 1883, who, all said and done, could not make it happen (go figure). This was however not due to lack of effort. The guy they chose had successfully built the Suez Canal and in the 6 years they really tried it 22,000 workers died, mostly from malaria and yellow fever. Apparently it is a lot harder to build a canal through the jungle than through the desert. The French finished about a sixth of the canal.

The Americans then gave it a go in 1903. Until they finished in 1914 it still cost almost another 6,000 people their lives. Overall 116 Million pounds of dynamite were used (KABOOM). Over 150 million cubic meters of earth were moved. That is a lot of dirt, if I may say so myself. The canal is 81 km long and shaves off about 20,000km of your journey compared to the voyage around the cape. You have to overcome an elevation difference of 26 meters between the 2 oceans and this is done in the giant locks. There is an own class of ships being built to the specifications of being able to pass the Panama canal locks. They are called PANAMAX ships and they can be have a maximum length of 295m and a maximum width of 32m. Most ships built these days are bigger than the maximum specifications, so since 2007 they have been working on expanding the canal (more KABOOM!). To go through one of the locks requires moving 197 million liters of water. To navigate the canal you have to have a Panamanian captain, which will usually be the pilot on board for the crossing. A canal passage takes somewhere between 8 to 10 hours, however, due to the heavy traffic it is now more like 12 hours on average. The price to go through depends on tonnage of the ship and is about $150,000 on average with the highest price paid so far at $317,000. 

They have built a visitor center at the Miraflores locks and should I ever disappear and can not be located, give the viewing platform there a look. I’ll probably stand there with my mouth open.

Somewhat related to the canal are 2 bridges. Believe me, they know about bridges in Panama. They have the Bridge of the Americas, which for decades was the only roadway connecting North & South America. And then they have the far more recent Centennial Bridge which, most importantly, was built by Germans (feel free to contact us for any large-scale project you might have). Both well worth a look and crossing if you have the time!

This brings me to the next subject you need to be aware about: Driving in Panama. Take my advice: if you can at all avoid it, do so. If not, be aware of old, young, middle-aged, male & female drivers. Also know that in Panama, a car is totaled and fully depreciated if the horn does not work. I must assume that by law you are required to use the horn nonstop. Traffic lights are merely a colorful light display. If at all possible, drive a powerful, armored 4 wheel drive car. If given a choice, I would personally go for an M1A1 Abrams Main Battle Tank. Contact the United States Marine Corps for details. That should protect you of most things that can happen to you. It probably won’t protect you against the taxis, the hundreds of people trying to sell you stuff in the middle of the road and the buses (Diablos Rojos – Red Devils). Here I can only suggest prayer, repentance and wish you good luck at the pearly gates.

Should you still be alive, there is then a lot more to see. However, I will have to tell you about it next time. Have a good night.

As you might have gathered by now, I am in Panama this week. The main reason for this trip was to attend the wedding of my girlfriend’s cousin Nereida and to also use this opportunity to meet the rest of the extended Beckford family. I had previously only met Marianela’s sister and her parents in Curacao.

Weddings work a bit different here and I guess I should tell you a bit about it.

When I had arrived last Friday after 16 hours of travel and was finally in the supposed safe haven of my hotel room, I thought this would be it for the day. Wrong. Not 3 minutes after having arrived and actually with my pants down, there is a knock on the door. Alright, pants back up and open the door to find: 5 more Beckfords welcoming me to Panama and asking me to join them upstairs in the suite of the wedding couple. This is all at about 10 at night.

Alright, change of polo shirt and up I go. In the suite, there is the wedding couple with a slightly unwell groom on the couch with a blanket around him, Marianela’s parents, the sister of the bride and her American husband (great! someone to talk about Sports with) with two small kids (who came from the US), Marianela’s sister (came from US), Marianela’s brother along with wife and small child (came from US), the cousin who now lives in Canada with wife and 4 kids ranging from 6 to 15 and various other individuals to numerous to mention. I was welcomed very warmly and 2 minutes after my arrival I had a beer in my hand. 10 minutes later I think I had “mucho gustoed” my way around the room and met everybody, had learned some new variations of my name (e.g. Wodka) and was desperately trying to remember who is who and how it all comes together. Most of this without Marianela by my side…

If you find it slightly odd that on the evening before the wedding the bride and groom are together drinking the time away in their hotel room with their family, trust me, so did I. Strangely enough, everybody in the room was in some way related to the bride and nobody was there related to the groom.

Several beers and hours later most people retired, but being eager and stupid, I joined the groom, Mari, her brother & Jared from the US to go to the casino where I swiftly departed with a sizeable sum of money. We eventually retired to our room to get some sleep for the next day.

The morning was I guess a relatively relaxed affair and during the course of the morning we meet the groom again to find he is still there on the couch with his blanket not looking too fit. Still, bride and groom are together. Again, if you are wondering at this point you need to know that the church wedding ceremony was scheduled for 7:30pm. This way everybody has all day to run errands, phone each other in panic and generally to get ready and dress up. In the early afternoon Mari went off to the hairdresser. Being a guest with no errands or phone calls to make, being able to dress myself in relatively little time and with comparatively easy hair to style, I took a nap.

Starting in the evening you would think that it gives people enough time… The wedding actually started on time with all the main participants, but trust me, if you’re from my part of the world you can only marvel at how many people showed up late for the ceremony. The priest was an old rather strict looking dude who I think did not exactly approve of that either. The ceremony was in Spanish of course so I only had a rather limited understanding of what was going on.

When it was all said and done, having no intention to boil in 30 degree celsius in a suit outside the church and also due to a minor shoe emergency we headed back to the hotel and let Mari change her shoes. Even with that detour, I think we were among the first to arrive in the restaurant. By now it is after 9pm. The room fills only slowly. God only knows where the people went in between church and party. Not being used to these kind of wedding proceedings, I had severely misjudged the whole situation. I did have lunch, but nothing since then and by 9:30 pm I am considering to eat the flower arrangement on our table.

We use the time to introduce me to 3 dozen or so more relatives and I personally use the time to try to calculate the probabilities on whether the breastsof the bride’s hot friend are real or not. Unfortunately, the research related to this is not being met with the scientific acceptance I had hoped for from Marianela. Neither are all further attempts to assess the situation later in the evening, so I cannot present you with a proper finding.

Eventually, the wedding couple arrives, there is a toast and then the buffet opens. I would at this point like to praise the Marriott in Panama for an excellent location and great food as well as and especially our server Roger, who outdoes himself in an effort to get everybody properly intoxicated throughout the evening.

At this point the band is playing and there is no more delaying it. I will have to dance. I am one of maybe 10 white guys and I’m certainly the new guy, so there is at least 50 pairs of eyes following my moves. It is not so much the dancing. I can dance with Marianela no problem. It is the music. Those of you who have been exposed to Latin music will know that all of these songs are about 13 minutes long and this is my problem. It just does not stop. Be that as it may, it turns out that my dancing skills are approved and I have to dance with Mari’s mum and various other ladies. This goes not quite so well as with Mari, but apparently still well enough for a non-Latino guy.

Well, there is not much more to it. Marianela does not catch the bouquet and I do not catch the garter. The restaurant where the party is held is also the breakfast room and I start to worry that they will not be able to reset the room. Being told to leave the worrying to others, we eventually go to bed. No casino required today.

Thank you Nereida & Alfie for letting me participate, felicitationes and all the best for your future!!!

As you might or might not know I come from a pretty small family. Apart from my parents I have 2 brothers and one uncle and that is pretty much it. My dad has some cousins and there is one sister of my grandma left. My uncle is not married and has no kids and neither my brothers or myself have any children.

As such, our family reunions are pretty civilized undertakings usually going some like this…

Me: ah, you again brother.

Brother: Yes, me.

Me: All said then, let’s eat. Formula One race starts in an hour…

About one hour and five minutes later we’re all fed and asleep on the couch with the TV on.

As you’ll probably gather from this, my social skills are somewhat lacking in this respect, especially where small children are involved.

All this is a bit different on Marianela’s side. Since Friday I have met more uncles, aunts, cousins, nieces etc. than ever before in my 34 years on this planet. I used to be really good at remembering names, but that again seems to be a thing of the past. I try to memorize the more important characters like real aunts and uncles, the godfather etc. but it is not easy. Moreover, these relatives come in all sizes and what is a bit worrying to me is that they are all doctors or of some other reputable profession. Fine, there is a lawyer too, but there usually is a black sheep in every family.

I actually have no clue what my brothers do exactly. One of them sells hoses and the other insurance I believe. Both are semi-professional gamblers. I then work in hotels in some remote location nobody has ever heard of. Nothing to brag about I guess. Where does that leave me with these people?

Here there are pneumologists or whatever lung doctors are called, gastro-enterologists or whatever stomach doctors are called, gynecologists, dentists, urologists, surgeons, pharmacologists, nose/ear/throat doctors or whatever they are called and god knows what else. At least I guess it is a good place to get sick…

The other somewhat worrying thing is that there are children (and lots of them) from about 1 to 15 years. Since moving to this side of the world, I have grown used to seeing tons of children. Everybody over here seems to start at about age 20 and then keeps going for 3-6 rounds. As this had never interfered with me in any way, I just took it for granted. That all changed a little bit. On Sunday we went to Tio (uncle) Tony’s house and he has 10 grandchildren. I believe they were all present. I’m okay with the ones from about 10 onwards, especially if they understand my language. The fact that I apparently have a funny name helps too. I can endure all the interrogation etc. The smaller ones leave me feeling uncomfortable. I have no skills that help me relate to them and they have no skills that I find interesting. I guess I better learn some magic tricks or how to let milk run through my nose or something if this is to work out properly.

I shall leave you with this thought and I will be back soon reporting on the miracle that is Panama!

And so, after a long wait and lots of planning, it was time last Friday to get up early (yawn) and make my way to the airport to find my way to Panama.

To avoid spending hours and hours in Miami Airport, I had chosen a somewhat indirect route via Puerto Rico. This also enabled me to get up half an hour later.

Well, after buying some St. Lucia souvenirs for Marianela’s parents, I boarded an half empty American Eagle turbo prop plane and true to their usual standards, American Airlines had equipped the plane with 2 very experienced flight attendants, one of which was more than just the AA brand standard grumpy. In fairness, the other one was quite cheerful.

The flight was uneventful and not quite 2 hours later we were in San Juan, Puerto Rico – Home of Bacardi. After enjoying the thrill of passing US Immigration, I strolled through the rather unexciting airport marveling at the price of alcohol before boarding the next flight to Miami, this time on a jet.

This flight was packed and it even had a movie, so the two and a half hours passed fairly quick. The one thing of notice is that like many other airlines AA now charges for checked luggage. As a consequence people try to bring the most outrageously oversized luggage into the cabin. One person who, judging from the size of her bag, was either carrying a dead donkey or maybe an ice-hockey goalie outfit, got into an argument with the senior (and when I say senior about an AA crew member I DO mean senior) flight attendant, so we all had something to watch before the movie…

It was the first time I arrived in Miami without having to go through Immigration and this is quite a nice experience. The airport as such is the same old. Endless corridors and you’ll be hard pressed to find 10 people who work there whose native language is English. I’d say a fifth of the workforce does not speak a word of English. Be all that as it may, the nice people at Google are sponsoring free internet for the holiday season. Everybody and their neighbor got this to work on their laptops, I, of course, did not. Instead I purchased what might very well be the world’s smallest pizza for $8,99 - I inhale more insects on a typical day in St. Lucia than there was meat on that pizza…

Well, I had about 4 hours to pass and luckily I had my noise-cancelling headphones and some house episodes, so no problem there.

After 4 episodes it was time to find the gate for the flight to Panama and here is a neat trick for all you vertically challenged people like me. If you want to look tall, go to the airport and find the gate for the flight to Bolivia, most likely to La Paz. All of a sudden you will be the tallest person in sight. I reveled in that for a few moments and then proceeded to my own gate to be immediately surrounded by Harlem Globetrotter types again.

This flight was also packed and there was a young lady next to me who I suspect was calling everybody she knew to tell them that she is now on the plane. I have no proof for this but from the increasingly erratic phone conversations I would guess that she eventually ran out of people to call that she knew and so proceeded to just call random people. Just when I was about to suggest a few numbers for her, she informed us that she would move to the back where her friend was sitting who presumably had a few more numbers in her phone.

This gave me some more space and I enjoyed the movie Up, which, in case you have not seen it already, I suggest you go watch as well. Very nice story.

We eventually landed in Panama where they kept us taxiing and holding for a while before being let to the gate. I managed to understand and answer the one question the Immigration lady had for me in Spanish which made me feel somewhat confident. And so, 16 hours after I left the house I was in Panama where Miss M and her friend were waiting for me. I could have been in Dubai faster, but then there would not have been a Miss M.

I will tell you all about Panama next time. Hasta Luego!

As you might or might not know, I was recently back home in Erding for some completely undeserved rest. As you probably know, it is currently autumn in the Old World of which Erding is a part. Among other things, with autumn usually comes a beautiful explosion of color in the trees and lots of leaves on the roads. However, autumn and the tree world also provide something far more important: Chestnuts.

When I was growing up, there was hardly anything more precious than a big massive pile of chestnuts. This pile had been collected over a maybe 4 week period. When I say collected I mean mostly picked up from the floor, but it also involved climbing trees, and hours of throwing something up into the tree in the hope it would dislodge some more chestnuts (or hit some other guy stronger than you taking your chestnuts). At that time the trees in our street were still very young and they would yield only a few chestnuts, so in your hunt you would cover great distances on your bike in the search for chestnut trees. All this would become the absolute center point and focus of your very existence. It would fill many afternoons and great energy would be expended doing it. Life was great.

I don’t particularly remember what ever happened to all the chestnuts. They don’t last forever and I think they eventually all ended up in the park where they would be fed to the deer. The next year you would start the whole process again from scratch. Brilliant!

Now, I don’t know exactly what, but something has happened.

The chestnut trees in my parents’ street are now quite a bit bigger and there are lots and lots of chestnuts. I could not help but notice that there were dozens of chestnuts lying around. How could this be? Where were the kids? I have been observing this over a couple of days and have to tell you that today’s children have alarmingly little or no interest in collecting chestnuts.

I do realize that collecting chestnuts is not a complex battle simulation with enhanced weapon systems and that there is also no IPhone app for collecting chestnuts, but I mean, come on! Get off your butts and collect the chestnuts! You do not have to do some lame arts and crafts project with them. Shoot them at the neighbor for all I care! But out the door you go with a bag and chestnuts it is! You do not even need friends necessarily!

Alas, it was not to be. And so, the Grinch had no choice but to collect chestnuts this year rather than to save Christmas. Yes, I was out there almost every day. At first, when I still could not believe that nobody would claim the chestnuts, I would create a little mountain of chestnuts under one of the trees. However, nobody other than dogs had so much than a passing interest. Later on I would carry them myself to the park. I mean, somebody has to do it.

I would also like to take this opportunity to apologize to some children if I have encouraged them maybe a tad too enthusiastic to collect chestnuts.

Furthermore I am exceedingly grateful and also a bit sorry to the little guy (Polish, I believe) in London’s Hyde Park (great chestnut place!) who I uninvited donated about 3 dozen chestnuts to as he was not only collecting chestnuts but had had the great foresight to bring a bag. It must have startled him a good bit to have a somewhat chubby sweating figure march up to him, grab his bag and drop in chestnuts which were produced from about every pocket. He might be mankind’s last chestnut hope.

But seriously, if you read this and have children, please send them out for the chestnuts. Trust me, its far better than Halo 3 or a stupid phone!

And so, just like that and possibly only somewhat finally, I have left Curacao. The run-up over the last 3 months initially took forever and then in the end the days went very fast… I am writing these lines from my parents’ home in Germany

I have done all the necessary running around from the tax office, to the registrar’s office to Immigration and now have got another interesting looking stamp in my passport.

I have sold my car and my TV, both at staggering losses and I have returned my beloved little apartment with its wonderful terrace to my landlord.

I have sent off a good deal of my belongings to my next destination and have left a few bits and pieces behind.

While I am glad that I’m out I also sincerely can say that I had a good time. How could I really complain about a place with eternal sunshine where it is always Happy Hour somewhere.

Sure, the place will never cease to make me shake my head, it very likely has the slowest walking people on this planet, service is generally pretty bad and a good deal of the population will have to overcome their slavery attitude problems if they ever wanna have a go at the big game.

However, it is a real nice place to be if you have a few florin to spend and don’t have to keep worrying all the time.

I think I can say that I hold no grudges against country or anyone on it, but then again, hold that thought.

There is one thing I need to make the world aware of. The world’s most useless company is located in Curacao. I have come across companies in a range of countries that generally make you wonder. Curacao actually has an abundance of these. Admittedly, I’m not too sure I would have wanted to deal with some of the companies I have worked for, but these guys really really take the cake. I am talking of course about Direct TV.

I have long known that god’s plan for me involves spending some time with each of the world’s most stupid people and in Curacao this is undoubtedly the folks at Direct TV. This people are incompetent on such a colossal scale that it beggars belief.

Seriously, I have deposited more intelligent life into a handkerchief.

Every single contact with this company on any level was difficult and sometimes retarded beyond comprehension. I have tried everything with them to help them help me: I begged, I insulted & threatened them, I tried their approach and played stupid (which as you know will not take me all that much). Nothing works. As a rule of thumb, they will tell you one thing, and then either not do it, or do the opposite. I guess in a way there is at least consistency.

Even though my mum warned me about doing this, I do hope somebody from Direct TV reads this as all my attempts of contacting them have of course failed as even their phone system is completely useless and emails and faxes are not answered either. I hope I have insulted the shit out of you Direct TV folks and would very much welcome some sort of contact. As you know, you still owe me Naf 64, which you unlawfully have taken from my bank account on June 29 and which you promised you would return over 5 weeks ago. Consistent with your policy, you have obviously not done so.

If you do that again, let it be known that I will immediately take you to court. You have also failed to pick up the receiver, which I guess now will never be resolved.

But on to more positive things. Being the Ass(t) Controller I must have left some impression other than the continuously grumpy dude, as on my various leaving parties I was positively showered with valuable gifts that will invariably improve my life. Thanks very much everybody!

I have gained many interesting and valuable experiences and have come across and experienced many situations unheard of in my part of the world. I have gained new skills and as Manager on Duty I have attracted disaster to the hotel of almost biblical proportions (see some of the previous blogs). Most importantly, I made new friends.

With that, I wish those friends and the little place that is the Curacao Marriott with its crew all the best of luck and success. In my experience you always meet twice, so be ready! Take care!