It is not often that I open an email that starts with This is an order. I don't recall that happening very often if ever.

Well actually, if you follow this blog you will know that me not remembering something is not unheard of.

But back to the subject. Obviously my interest was piqued. What could this be?

Capture the island and hand it to the British in exchange for the post of the Governor, an endless supply of Puerto Rican rum and some pretty local females?

Sabotage hotel operations in a way that would require the special services of the man from U.N.C.L.E, ah excuse me, C.U.R.A.C.A.O?

Watch all the games of upcoming Euro 2008? I was actually hoping for some sort of mixture between options 1 and 3, alas it was not to be.

As it turns out, it was the following:

Make absolutely sure to go to Duffy's Love Shack!!!

Peace and Love

God Bless John Lester

And that's it! Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiight, now what the hell does that mean?

If you know, you're smarter than me, which again might not mean all that much what with the alcohol prices here and my subsequent intake. Let me also say that the sender of the email outranks me by several levels and usually communicates in coherent sentences and has been described as a cool operator.

At this point I know 2 things: I better go to Duffy's Love Shack and also that I need to pay closer attention to events involving the Boston Red Sox. I had somewhere come across John Lester before but as it involves memory and brain activity, the chances of me remembering were, as always, slim.

However, no need to worry, Google knows everything. As such Duffy's is a hospitality establishment here on St. Thomas (www.duffysloveshack.com) and John Lester is actually Jon Lester who in turn is a pitcher for the Boston Red Sox (that is a Baseball team for all you ignorant European Cricket followers) who has recently overcome cancer and is now playing again.

Now, I do not like to lead men into battle based on such poor intelligence (and without any military training for that matter).

So, after several emails back and forth, the real orders are this (and I'm slightly paraphrasing):

Go to Duffy's Love Shack in Red Hook on St.Thomas and bring back some of the glasses they use there as we plan on introducing them in one of our outlets. You are encouraged to not just steal the glasses (which is not unheard of in this industry). Instead, you are authorized to order the drink that comes with the glass and consume it as well. Try not to make an absolute fool out of yourself like you did at the managers' Christmas party. He actually did not say or write the last thing, but I know that he was thinking it.

Be that as it may, for the next 2 days I was trying to recruit some backup for the upcoming mission. I might not have any military training, but I have read Sun Tzu and many many spy and military novels to know that is the sensible thing to do. While Duffy's is definitely somewhat of a well-known institution on the island, I could not persuade anybody to accompany me. This already gave me a sense of foreboding....

Eventually, it is Saturday night and I set off on my reconnaissance/capture mission. Red Hook, where the place is located, is on the East End of the island whereas the hotel is in the south. So, it involves a taxi ride. As I find out, I have quite underestimated the size of the island as it takes almost half an hour of admittedly very cautious driving to get me there.

Once there, I can report that the place is literally nothing more than a shack. How it survives the occasional hurricane here is beyond me. It is Saturday night about 9pm and the place is reasonably busy, but nothing out of the ordinary. While it might not be elevated, I find a place at the end of the bar with a good view of the combat zone, ah sorry, a view of the bar and dance floor. I also begin to study the cocktail menu intensely. Not every drink is in a special glass, so every move needs to be considered in the tactical environment. After a while I settle on a Hula Boola, which I order from one of the 3 bearded bar tenders.

And so it starts....  I am provided with the drink as well as a sticker that says I got laid at Duffys (which still puzzles me, because if if that really happened I'm pretty sure I would remember) and a plastic Hawaiian necklace. The drink is not bad but nothing special. The glass is mine to keep. At this point I make my second mistake (where is the first mistake you might ask, more about that in a minute). I order a Mai Tai, which as it turns out does not come in a special glass but in a paper cup. D'oh! I also realize that I won't get very far without eating anything, so I order a burger. Now let me say right here that the burger was outstanding and probably the best I have had this year. The fries that came with it were just about average, maybe not even that. But, this is obviously not part of my assignment.... So, on to the next drink. I chose a Bikinitini (yes, really). Again, the drink is nothing special, but it certainly contains a good deal of alcohol.

With nothing else to do and with possibly being the world's worst conversationalist, I observe what is going on in great detail. The 3 bearded guys behind the bar seem to know what they are doing, but there is no showmanship or anything. This I find strange. Whatever, everybody else seems to love it. God knows, in the right company I might have a real good time here.

If I put my beancounter hat on for a minute I would say the place must be the license to print money, at least during the season. There is 3 guys behind the bar, 2 servers and I guess one chef plus some sort of kitchen help. Maybe they have a cleaner. I would need some more observation to have a halfway decent revenue guess, but with the liquor prices here, I guess they are nearing retirement levels now . There seem to be no locals as guests and I guess it dies down considerably during hurricane season, so I'm not even sure if they are open all year round....

However, the most intriguing thing is the crowd... There is hardly anyone in my age group plus minus 10 years. The people are all either around 18 to 20 or above 45. The one thing they have in common is that they are all behaving like they are on SpringBreak, i.e. doing Jägermeister-Shots and so on.

While I have done so myself on numerous occasions and might get carried away on occasion (something I always regret the next day), I always find it peculiar to see people who could be made parents get absolutely shit-faced along with all the embarrassing behavior that comes with it.

Sure, there were also people who slowly and good-humoredly drank themselves into oblivion (which is what I would do and plan to continue to do), but they were a minority. For the majority it is more of a competition.

While I'm not about to join, I have to get a move on. Lots more glasses needed! How I put myself at peril for some people!

The place is somewhat at the end of the world, I'm by myself and need a taxi, and most importantly, I have some rather big plans the next day. This I consider my major mistake. I am doing this thing but I will need to get back in one piece with some precious merchandise AND I have to get up the next morning.

Very poor planning. I would not survive very long in the real mean world out there...

All this knowledge does not stop me to make my third mistake: Intrigued by the glass, I order my next drink. I don't order it by name, but just ask for whatever comes in the skull. It turns out to be the aptly named Painkiller. Well, it is pretty potent and also pretty awful. I had actually counted on having another drink in a cool shark glass (no picture, sorry), but I quickly discard the idea. Instead, I buy three more glasses and take my leave.

After some prolonged negotiations, I convince a taxi driver to take me back through the mountains for a rather sizeable amount of money. It might have taken me half an hour to get there, but I'm back in 15 minutes. If the guy would have driven any faster we would have traveled back in time. He was on the phone most of the time and performed the most hair-raising (if applicable) overtaking maneuvers imaginable. Getting out of the taxi in front of the hotel cradling my glasses, I think you could have driven a sizeable blade into me without getting a single drop of blood out of me.

Anyways, I won't be accused of not following orders and if you want to pay me for getting some beverage holders for you, just let me know. I have experience.

Well, here I am in St. Thomas in the US Virgin Islands, so why don't I tell you a little bit about the hotel and then the little US territory it is standing on?

I am temporarily based at the Frenchman's Reef Marriott and Morning Star Resort. There you go, that's quite a mouthful, innit?

Normally, I would now give you the website where you can look up pictures and stuff, but as I have recently upgraded in the pictures department I will try and provide the pictures myself, even though that probably means that the page will take 2 days to open. It also means that you all will be viewing this on screens of different sizes, so everything that looks okay on my little screen here, is likely to have moved when you look at it. It is not because I have had one too many!

The hotel might have more than its fair share of problems, but it certainly has an outstanding location with awesome views! Let's have some of that first.

Not bad, ey? As last year and also this year the main theme for some of you seems to be getting married, maybe you want to consider doing it here...

I have pondered the last half hour if I should put up this next pictures. It might just be too painful for some of you, but as this is my blog after all, tough...

These next pictures (I swear to god!) are taken from my room. Yes, yes, I know... And the cruise ships really come that close...

There is obviously a downside to it and a more sinister reason why they gave me (who can't really complain) this particular room. My room is directly beneath a restaurant, which Housekeeping management in their eternal wisdom have decided to clean at about 5:30am. For this, it seems to be of great importance to move all the available furniture (and possibly some other furniture carried in for just this very purpose) around several times. Well, certainly a few times more than really necessary. They also don't seem to make use of a mop or anything like that, but cleaning it seems is expedited with crowbars and pick-axes.

So, my dear cleaners, I know it is not really your fault that you do this at this time, but just wait until I get my hands on the old and trusted SuperSoaker 2000 (yeah baby!) again and we'll see if this can't be done some other time! (Insane half-naked German attacks cleaning crew with water gun at upscale hotel!)

And for the record, the TV and the air conditioning unit in the room are also sh#$te!!!

Nevertheless, the room does have a certain charm and attracts its fair share of visitors. Here is the most impressive so far that came by to say hello on Saturday afternoon. We must have looked at each other for a good 20 seconds from not more than an arms length. I could have patted him on the head if I had wanted or dared to. I am however proud to report that he laughed first....

There are iguanas in Curacao and Aruba, but the geezers here are decidedly bigger...

But enough about my room and the hotel, and a bit of information on St. Thomas and the US Virgin Islands. For those of you keeping notes, the islands are located at 18 degrees 20 minutes North and 64 degrees 55 minutes West, which means a little of east of Puerto Rico to you and me. They (as well as the British Virgin Islands) were discovered by ol' Chris Columbus himself on his second voyage in 1497 and comprise about 100 islands, inlets and cays.

The bigger islands (specifically St. Croix, St. Thomas and St. John for the US and also Tortola and Virgin Gorda for Britain) have been properly inhabited since around 1670 when the Danish came along. The islands have also been in the hands of the Spanish, Dutch, French and English over the years, before the United States bought them for $25 million in gold to establish a strategic presence in the Caribbean.

Most major remaining buildings of any importance were built during the Danish rule and it gives the island a slight Scandinavian feel. The fact that you drive on the left is obviously a British leftover.

The islands are all volcanic and it is very mountainous. Some lucky guys got to blast away a whole mountain a few years back to extend the airport! It really is a constant up and down here. Some of the inclines beggar belief! It is a lot more humid, green and lush than Curacao or Aruba!

The harbor here in St. Thomas is the Caribbean number one cruise ship port of call and home to a large charter yacht fleet. Here are some more pictures.

Now, where there is cruise ships, there is shopping and here its all about Jewelry, Designer Clothing, Perfume, Tobacco and of course alcohol. Good Lord!

There are no taxes on any of these goods and f%&k me, is some stuff cheap. I bought a liter bottle of Bacardi on Saturday for $7.95!!! That is only about 5 Euros or 4 Pounds in real money!!! Can you believe that? In case you need me, I'll be at the liquor store...

Well, I could go on forever here, but obviously I have a lot of drink to take care of and also I'll again be gently awakened at 5:30am by my friends above.

Before I go I have one more treat for you. You might remember from my last entry that I arrived here last Monday in the early afternoon.

The people who work for Marriott are called Associates and once a year its Associate Appreciation week, where there is usually all sorts of activities for the associates and even edible food on some rare occasions. Last week was Associate Appreciation Week. Here they kicked it off with a GSS (Guest Satisfaction Survey) Party in the Ballroom. Apparently the task was for every department to come up with something related to the GSS. Little did I know...

I arrived about 10 minutes before it was Accounting's turn... 10 minutes later I was on stage singing the GSS reggae... don't ask... and yes, Accounting won...

Yeah mon, and with that I leave you for today. There is lots more to report!

Buyaka!

Well, from the feedback I am getting from you folks it seems that you enjoy my travel stories the most. Well, that and my stories about pretty ladies, but anyway.

In a way, good for you, because I am clocking up the air miles at the moment as it seems that my somewhat ah, questionable skills are now required elsewhere...

On Monday at 4:30am I was up and out of my home of 6 weeks, room 203 of the Aruba Marriott. 

At this point I would like to thank everybody who helped shape my Aruba experience. Among them all the folks in the Accounting and Systems Department of the hotel and especially John, Sylvester & Susette (we'll win the lottery next time) as well as my Aruban "parents".

I do have to say that I wish my "dad" would relax a bit more. He seems to think that his rebel child is only out to get him drunk, which (believe it or not) is not the case. Come on Mr. V, you know that at my (and presumably also your) age, hangovers are increasingly tough to get over, so yes, we could have gone for just 2 drinks on Sunday afternoon and I would have delivered you back to the wonderful Miss E intact and reasonably coherent. Really! Well, maybe next time...

Be that all as it may, I was on the way to St. Thomas, US Virgin Islands.

Let's stop here for a minute. I am always trying to write this in a way that most people can relate to in one way or the other, but right here I am struggling quite a bit. Even though I have spent some time thinking about it, I find it hard to even construct theoretical circumstances why 99% of the people who are likely to read this, would ever fly from Aruba to St. Thomas.

In any case, if you ever do, here is some useful information I wish I'd have had....

I would not exactly consider myself a frequent flyer although I would think I am airborne more than most people. I also think I have learnt what to expect and how to behave around certain kind of travelers (this would be a whole blog entry in itself). So, some of this came to me as a surprise...

If you find yourself at Reina Beatrix Airport in Aruba pretty early in the morning and after checking in (no machines), be informed that you will first go through passport control and then through security screening. Yes, laptops go through the machine separately and you do have to take off your shoes, so please do wear decent socks (this is something that experience will teach you).

So far so good.  No surprises there, but this is where it gets interesting.

You will then (depending on where you are flying of course) clear US Immigrations in Aruba! So you do the whole picture taking and finger printing thing already in Aruba! You see, that would be good information even when you are booking your flight, as the connection time issue becomes considerable less dramatic.

Then, the first really interesting bit: At this point, you collect your luggage! Yes, your luggage! You have to collect the luggage you have checked in not 300 meters from this very point.

Next up is USDA, the always useful US Department of Agriculture who would like to take a look at your shoes etc., especially if you have been horseback riding or have visited a farm. They are also vaguely interested in if you have got a turtle or an iguana in your luggage. But of course...

After this you are allowed to man handle your luggage onto another conveyor belt and you're off to the next adventure...

Now this next one really got me and I think every single other person too. Yes, now is the time to go through security AGAIN!

I am not kidding. We might not have left the building or were even unsupervised for a minute, but it is off with the shoes, out with the laptop and everything... AGAIN!

Among the things I have also learnt is that there is no point in arguing with a government official, however not so the many American travelers. So, because of this, and the fact that for some specific reason not to be discussed here I am traveling with 2 laptops, this takes a good while longer....

Which, to be frank, is quite good really, because by the time I am done with all this, we have started boarding, so no useless sitting around.

I was really looking forward to flying American Airlines again. I don't know if you know, but they had a bit of a crisis recently due to some cabling issue or whatever and lost boatloads of money.

I really wanted to see what the CEO had to say about this. Trust me, when it comes to talking your way out of a mess, nobody does it better than airlines (well actually insurance companies do, but lets pretend we don't know this). Unfortunately, they have either discussed this already in the last issue or tried to avoid the subject. So, no entertainment there. Remember, it is now 7am and Sudoku only goes so far.

Enter the rather attractive flight attendant. She speaks flawless English, but obviously wants everybody to know that we are going to Puerrrrrrto Rrrrrrico (I'm going via San Juan, in case you're wondering).  Otherwise it's an uneventful flight and soon we are landing in San Juan, Puerrrrrrto Rrrrrrico (where the local time is the same as in Aruba).  To my surprise, the plane erupts in applause, which is something I will never understand.

Had I known about the Immigration thing in Aruba, I could have caught an earlier flight from San Juan, but so I have 2 hours to waste in San Juan Airport.

As the more dedicated drinkers among you will know, Puerto Rico is the home of Bacardi, which in turn is a beverage rather close to my heart. What you probably don't know is that there is a brand called Bacardi® 8 (Ocho), which is the Premium brand and pretty goddamn tasty as well as really hard to get in Europe (keeping all the good stuff to themselves, the misers).

If I could afford it, I would exist only on Ocho con Cola as they say in these parts. So with nothing better to do and only about 17kgs of hand luggage so far, what better time to stock up on the treasured liquid? Imagine my surprise to learn that there was not an ounce of the stuff to be found in the entire airport! I mean, come on! I walked the whole place, but to no avail. Can you imagine that? Here I am in the Fatherland of the stuff and can't get my hands on it. Give me a break! I ended up buying the normal version with the white label, but could not help to be disappointed...

Well, eventually we are on our way again. Its just a short hop of about half an hour to St. Thomas and then I have arrived at my next destination. No immigration here, so no new stamp in my passport this time.

A lovely fellow called George is there to pick me up and soon we are on the way to the hotel. Surprisingly, in St. Thomas you drive on the left! 20 minutes later we are at the hotel where I will now be for the next 3 weeks.

But enough for now. More about the island, the hotel and what I have been up to coming to this space soon. Stay Tuned!

Well, in the absence of anything else of substance to report, I will just be offering you some of my observations today.

Let me tell you that I have been watching an extraordinary amount of TV these last few weeks. Pretty much needless to say that, maybe with the exception of House MD, most of it is rubbish. Hmm, actually most of it is Sports. Baseball, Football, Nascar and Ice Hockey. On occasion even Basketball, but I don't like it.

Anyway, when you are watching a lot of American Sports coverage, you are watching hundreds and hundreds of commercials.

Which brings me to my first observation: Judging from the target audience of these commercials, most Americans who supposedly watch sports (or any TV for that matter) are in a bad way and also scared shitless.

Let me explain:

This is a guess but in the European countries I have lived in, the average person who watches popular sports seems to be male, drinks beer and other alcoholic beverages, drives a car, has some type of games console and likes to do a bit of DIY or Home Improvement.

In America, the target audience (the people who watch all the sports) seem to own or rent cars (with some insufficient car insurance plan) while at the same time being incredibly in debt and worried about retirement, in need of legal advice of all sorts, require life insurance and some sort of elaborate home protection system as well as suffering from hair loss, high cholesterol, prostate problems and, of course, erectile dysfunction.

Like I said, very scared about now and the future and not exactly healthy. I find that amazing to say the least.

I will also say that if you need being told to see a doctor if your erection lasts more than 4 hours, you should not be out unsupervised. Enough said.

Right, I got the hotel car the other day and went to the Supermarket. No big deal you say. Right. But it brings me to my next observation.

Have you ever observed how people behave when they wait to pay and then actually pay in a supermarket? Maybe its just me, but isn't it amazing how different men and women are when it comes to paying? Perhaps I'm generalizing and discriminating, but whatever.

Here is how women do it:

After having their 2 gazillion items scanned, the cashier announces the amount to be paid. This without fail always comes as somewhat of a surprise to women. I'm not smart enough to tell you why.

Anyway, so once they realize they actually won't get the stuff without handing over some sort of payment, the search for the wallet/purse starts in the handbag. Depending on the individual and the size of the handbag this can take some considerable amount of time and even produce cries of joy once the purse is actually located.

Some especially dedicated ladies then use this very moment to reorganize all the receipts accumulated over the last 6 months.

Eventually some money will exchange hands. If not paying by card, the women will invariably hand over the note requiring the most amount of change which then will of course require putting away more notes and coins in different sections of the wallet/purse/handbag.

By this time, the young guy who bags the groceries is making plans for retirement. Just when you think it might eventually be your turn, she is back to collect the receipt!

There is all sorts of variations to this. My favorites involve mobile phones and hyper-active children. In all fairness, it is never boring to watch.

Men will use all the time the women ahead of them take to calculate the approximate amount of their shopping and check their available change. Then hand over an amount requiring either no or only very little change. They will then use one of their hands to pocket the change while taking the receipt with the other hand. While they do this they already start moving away. Amazing ey?

I always try to make a point to show off our somewhat superior skills, but nobody pays attention and also it would be quite boring, albeit vastly more efficient, if everybody would be doing it the "male" way.

Okay, I do have some more observations about Drive-Ins, babies in accounting offices and some other stuff, but you'll have to excuse me now. There is beer to drink and I have some packing to do. Will be traveling again soon!

Take care and Greetings from Aruba

My original plan for this entry was to make you green with envy. It's really about time anyway...

But instead of telling you about the glorious weather and beach here, about living in a nice hotel room where other people take care of your laundry, where you are not able to cook for yourself (not that I'd want to) and have to order Room Service or about sitting at the pool doing f#%k all other than drinking strawberry daiquiris etc., I have come across something else you need to know about. And when I say need to know about, for some of you I really mean it. You can't afford not to know!

But let's back up one step. As some of you might remember from my previous entry, I am currently in Aruba on a secret mission. And while Room Service might be fun once in a while, trust me, you don't want it every night. There is also only so much diversion a hotel room or even an entire hotel can offer, so you will have to venture out once in a while. Especially if it is Stanley Cup Playoff season (that means Ice Hockey for those of you who might not follow US Sports as closely as you should) and the games are not shown on the channels available in your room and you have been to the Champions Sport Bar in your hotel 4 times in the week already.

There are plenty of dinner opportunities here in the direct vicinity of the hotel including a Tony Romas, a TGI Fridays, Benihana among many many others. Quite a few of them will show sports events. But the one place that caught my eye is located directly above the Benihana here.

It is a Hooters!!! I see the question mark in some of your faces. Well, Hooters is a restaurant chain that uses a certain concept to appeal to a certain type of customer. I am very excited! More explanations later. Believe it or not, I had never been to one before. That's not particularly surprising as in Europe they are relatively rare. There's only 2 in Germany, 3 in Austria & Switzerland and only one in the UK. I was very close to getting into one once about 10 years ago on a USA holiday, but the girlfriend at the time did not deem it a suitable dining option, what with all the sports on TV and the lovely waitresses and their very own asset structure...

Which brings us back to the concept. Nocturnal birds like owls are referred to as Hooters, presumably because of the noise they make. The company actually uses an owl in their logo.  However, certain female body parts are sometimes also referred to as Hooters and I believe this is more what the founders had in mind 25 years ago.

So, you end up with a restaurant that serves about the usual American fare (i.e. onion rings, ribs, shrimps, burgers etc.) served by pretty waitresses with big smiles in a very distinctive outfit in a place showing all sorts of sports on many many TVs. It also has a certain knack for taking the mick out of themselves, which is something I like very much in everything. As I said, it appeals to a certain type of customer. As you might have guessed by this point, I am one of them. No seriously, if you haven't been, you must go at once! Take my car!

So while I could try to tell you that I went in there last Friday for a Caesar Salad, the New York Rangers game and a drink, I don't think I would be very successful. It is partly true though. They also had Happy Hour. So, I sit there with my 2 drinks watching the game with one eye and soaking up the atmosphere and all the information with the other. You see, we hospitality folks have a bad habit of always looking for flaws or figuring out how something works.

Well, while I obviously don't know for sure, I would think the Aruba Hooters is a franchise run by what I would guess are a Filipino family, which comes maybe a bit unexpected. The kitchen is quick and puts out decent food. The whole place including the Used Beer Department (love it!) is clean and well maintained. Some of the girls are truly lovely and by luck I have chosen the section served by the prettiest one of them.  Her name is Natasha and with her wonderful smile she keeps me supplied with drinks for about the next 3 hours. During the game I proceed to befriend 2 American guys at the next table, one of which works at the local refinery. I have pretty much forgotten everything else they have told me. After the game is over I hand over a ludicrously large amount of money to the lovely Natasha and move on. Because I have lost the receipt, I can't tell you how many drinks I had exactly. I could also not remember any particularly funny behavior on my part, but supposedly I guess there must have been a lot of drinks as well as some memorable behavior on my part.

I went back there on Monday for the Boston Bruins game (really) and was immediately recognized and greeted with a big smile, which kind of tells me what sort of evening it must have been. Whatever, as long as I'm greeted like this and as long as the lovely Natasha is around I'll be more than happy to go back.

Today there is no Ice Hockey, so I'm not going, but nevertheless, you'll have to excuse me now. Room Service has just arrived and I really was out to make you full of envy after all....

Life's good, take care...

Well well well. Actually I wanted to tell you more about my holiday back home and in London.

I wanted to tell you in detail about my friend Tefo and me going to see Bayern München play Leverkusen and win in the Allianz Arena and also some facts about this amazing place.

I wanted to tell you about my reunion ten years after I finished my apprenticeship at the Platzl hotel;

I wanted to tell you about the new OBI (a German DIY chain) in Erding and about all the cool stuff you can can get there...

I wanted to tell you about my friends Julia and Wuschi and their babies and Wuschi's extraordinary attitude towards the little lady (and also how she already farts like a pro)...  

I wanted to tell you about the journey to and from London, the new restaurant at the Grosvenor House Hotel and how it must be bleeding money left right and center. How the hotel had the biggest chocolate Easter egg in town (made by their German pastry chef). How I was asked many many times by many many people when I would come back (and how that warmed my heart). About meeting many dear friends and celebrating my friend Steve's surprise birthday party and about how people like to hear my stories (even over and over again).

I wanted to tell you about my ankle and how the German Health system and Capitalism really work. And about Family lunches, Schnitzels, the journey back, being back in Curacao, having Brazilian soccer legend Romario at the hotel and god knows what else....

Alas, it is not to be... Things are happening too fast in my life and I need to try and stay on top of things...

And so, to different matters.....

Due to reasons I cannot really discuss in a forum like this, I was on the road again last week. With that I mean, that only 10 days after arriving back in Curacao I have left the country again.

The first part of the adventure was (as usual with me) the actual traveling itself. This was due mostly to the type of aircraft. For those of you who are taking notes, it was a Shorts SD3-60 and, apart from the flying contraption that took us sky-diving last year, it was the smallest plane I have ever been in.

I am happy to report though that it is perfectly capable of making small trips like the one I have just made.

And so it is that I find myself in Aruba, the westerly neighbor island to Curacao and the A of the ABC islands.

They have put me up in a nice, newly-renovated room at the Aruba Marriott Resort & Stellaris Casino (www.marriott.com/auaar) so who am I to complain? In fact, I am enjoying all the amenities the place has to offer, including the gym and the pool (bit of a sunburn actually) and I’m happy to report that the notorious ankle, which has featured in this space a couple of times over the last half year, seems to be holding up! Depending on how long I will be here (and that is the Million Dollar question at this point), I might be running a 8-minute mile again soon. With all this beach and pool and stuff, the beer belly has to go anyway.

I have decided that I really like this hotel. I have inspected most other hotels on the strip here in Aruba, with the notable exception of the Riu Palace, which takes their All-Inclusive-Guest-Only-Policy really seriously and did not let me in (cheeky buggers!). I think I am confident to report that the Marriott, somewhat unusually in my experience if I may say, is actually the nicest place to stay on the island (at least of the high rise hotels). You see, unless you include Ritz-Carltons and JW Marriott hotels, Marriotts are usually the most profitable hotels but not necessarily the nicest to look at or the most innovative.

The Hyatt here is putting up some considerable competition but due to the fact that they, just like all other hotels here with the exception of the Marriott, have incarcerated a number of parrots for people to look at and take pictures, does not get my final vote. Why in god’s name do hotels do that? Who wants a picture of a big colorful bird in a CAGE? I guess they take them out once in a while, but anyway.

Honorable mention also goes to the Westin hotel, which I liked as well, even though I can’t put my finger on why exactly.

But really, if coming to Aruba, stay at the Marriott! But enough Marriott advertising and back to the island itself.

The island is a bit smaller than Curacao and I would say it’s also drier. From what I have seen, in general it is very different to Curacao. Everything caters to the American market and there are far less Europeans. Strangely enough, I think that makes it somewhat more attractive.

There seems to be more to do and when it comes to entertainment and dining options, Aruba blows Curacao out of the water.

At this point I would like to thank Ester and Joris who were my exploring and dining companions last week and without who I would most likely have been pretty bored (though a bit fitter perhaps and definitely less hung over on Friday).

Really people, if you like steak, come here, you will not be disappointed. There is a couple of excellent places. Just bring enough money.

And if you're a Marriott associate like me and you go to the Steakhouse at the Renaissance Hotel to have a good dinner thinking you can get your associate discount, think again. They don't give it to you, the misers, using some lame Franchise excuse!

But I do bet they did not count on someone like me coming along telling everybody what tight geezers they really are. Ha! They do cook one mean steak though...

Notably, there is also Dunkin Donuts here, which is something that does not exist on Curacao. Trust me, this is of vital importance to Curacalaneans, especially the ladies in my office... Thank you for reminding me every day!

In general I would not go as far as saying the people here are friendlier or happier than in Curacao, but they all seem to be genuinely nice and happy. They are so happy in fact (or at least pretend to be) that they put that on their cars' number plates. One Happy Island.

On second thoughts they can't all be that happy really. The last few days quite a few people have been on strike here. Customs, Immigration even the Fire Department!

Be that as it may, I know what I would put instead: The island where nobody seems to know what time it is. No really, I have rarely been so popular due to the fact that one my (previously lesser thought of) skills is telling the time. Amazing! Whether it's tourists or locals, I get asked all the time.

I guess it goes to show that everybody here is a bit more relaxed... and I'm afraid that is exactly what I will do now. Relax.

So, that's it for today. With all the stuff that is going on though, there should be more soon, I promise.

Until next time, take care

Wolfi

Finally there is a new blog entry! Would you believe it? And finally I have something to write about again.

I figured that you guys might not be very interested in the budgeting and forecasting troubles that have plagued me in the time since the last entry and I did not really have the time to sit down anyway.

Now however, there is something to report and while I still don't have the time, here we go anyway.

On March 14, after almost exactly half a year away from Europe I was on my way home again to good old Germany to see family, friends, colleagues, doctors, a football game and any notable new arrivals. Apart from that there was the prospect of good food (and hopefully lots of it), drink and well deserved sleep in my own bed.

It all starts with a KLM flight from Curacao Airport to Amsterdam. This is a scheduled daily flight (9 hours) and theoretically not a just some sort of holiday shuttle. Reality looks very different. The plane is packed with tanned and sunburned Dutch people returning home after a lots of sun and booze. There is dozens of children and I guess about 10 to 15 babies.

Holidaying is clearly no easy task for a family and looking after a lot of these little critters is not easy I guess. In any case, there are the first tantrums, tears and parents losing it already on the ground. Oh joy! And I have almost 10 hours of quality time ahead of me with all of them in a flying steel tube...

Most of you know that I am not very good around children (especially little ones) at the best of times. I am also fairly sensitive to noise and in general have trouble sleeping on planes so this would be a real test.

As it turns out (not at all unexpected really), there would be almost no quiet time on the plane without one of the little bundles sharing their extended lung capacity and voice capability testing with the rest of us. You would think all this screaming takes up a lot of energy and that they would get tired after a while, but alas no. And if really, there is always some tag team partner to take over for a while.

How I wish I could kick out one of these emergency exits and throw the lot of them out. It worked very well in Indiana Jones for those of you who remember. Would be a bit windy in the cabin for a while, but still...

No really, give me snoring or even vomiting people anytime, even the dreaded talkers, I trade them all against the babies.

Whatever, eventually we make it to Amsterdam and apparently land somewhere near Holland, Amsterdam or the actual airport because after "only" about half an hour of taxiing we make it to our gate. Don't get me wrong, I actually have to admit that I do like Schiphol. It's clean and very well organized. With my five hours there I also had a chance to re-acquaint myself with European prices. I mean, EUR 6.99 for a Quarter Pounder Menu, come on!

Well, I managed to refrain from starting to drink at 8:30 am and finally caught my flight to Munich.

When I got off the flight in Munich I was delighted to see that some considerate soul had installed a TV at the baggage reclaim which was showing the Bundesliga Live Konferenz. I was not all all delighted to see Cottbus 2, Bayern München 0 but there you go.

Luggage took very long but in the end I got it and my dad was outside (3 degrees, brrrrrrrr) waiting.

Half an hour later I was home at the dining room table having Leberkäs with an Urweisse, the new product of Erdinger Weissbräu (http://www.erdinger-urweisse.de/), after that Sportschau on the couch. Aaaaah, bliss.

Then one of my brothers asks me to drive him to work, which is something I would normally only reluctantly leave the couch for. However, I'm up quickly for this one.

You see, both of my brothers have recently acquired new cars. Or should I maybe say rockets? They both now drive the BMW Z4 3.0si.  Just look at it... trust me it sounds sexy as well...

I would admit that is probably not the most fuel-efficient car you can find and that you have to be fairly bendy to get in and out. I actually recommend that you always carry a shoehorn in case you get stuck, but otherwise...

Yes baby, 265 brake horse power which will accelerate you from 0 - 100km/h in 5.7 seconds.

Being used now to automatic cars and driving 100km/h on the ring in Curacao being the high point of my week, I certainly lack the skill to do that. The weather was not too friendly towards any kind of speed testing either, so I only drop off my brother and then drive back home making only a minor detour to see what the baby can do. Phew....

After having folded my ears back in the normal position I later go out with some old friends from school. This is what I probably enjoy the most about coming home: The fact that my arrival brings together people that normally don't see each other and that I don't have to worry for one second what I might do on a particular day.

The good old Weinwirt (http://www.weinwirt-erding.de/) we go to is one of my former employers and also where one of my brothers works now.

It also brings me a new experience: Going out smoke free in Germany! Smoke-free that is until you enter the office of the boss, where I went to say a quick hello. Good Lord! I forgot my breathing gear, so I have to make it quick and retreat before the white fog engulfs me completely and suffocation is only moments away...

And so end the first 24 hours of my holiday... There is more to come... I hope I'll find the time...

Take care

Wolfi

Since seeing Top Gun and The Final Countdown, I always wanted to get on board a US Navy Aircraft Carrier. While I haven't managed to do that yet, I have done something equally cool, if not cooler.

I had a guided tour on one of the world's most prestigious cruise ships - the Queen Mary 2! 160.000 tons of ocean-going luxury!

Consider this set of circumstances:

I am now working in Curacao, not exactly around the corner from most places.

I have a good friend who is the F&B Manager on the Queen Mary 2.

The Queen Mary comes to Curacao on Boxing Day 2007.

We manage to meet up on board!

And this is how it went: After some emailing back and forth with my friend Oliver and getting some security issues out of the way, at about 8am on Boxing Day 2007 2 friends and myself board one of the most famous cruise ships around for a tour of the ship, some breakfast and some drinks.

What can I say? Amazing! Extraordinary! Outstanding! Fantastic! If you ever get a chance to do this, by all means do it. You will not regret it.

The ship is built for Atlantic Crossings and the rough weather that might come with that, but inside you would never know it.

The place has got about everything. Restaurants, Bars, Night Clubs, Ballrooms, a theatre, a cinema, a Planetarium, a Casino, a world-class spa, tons of shops, an art gallery, a library, pools, basketball courts and god knows what else.

Ah yes, about 1500 cabins for up to 3056 passengers and about 1256 crew. And all the stuff that goes with it to move such a massive piece of equipment around(i.e. engines producing 157.000 horsepower) and at the same time support a life of luxury for the people who can afford to go on such a cruise. That means massive kitchens producing around 12.000 meals a day, gigantic laundries, a desalination plant, giant storerooms to store about 160 pallets full of food and drink, an incinerator and much much more.

Under the competent guidance of my friend we had a look at most of these areas, then went for the best breakfast I can remember in a long time to keep us going for some more exploring.

On that day the ship was the highest and largest building in Curacao and offered some of the best views.

As pictures probably say more than words, I'll let you see some more.

Let's start with some restaurants and bars...

Or how about some spotless, shiny kitchens?

The store rooms were especially impressive to me. Beer anyone? Meat? Some wine maybe? Fish?

But it's too cold in here. Let's go outside!

Well, enough for now. You get the idea. You really need to go and experience it yourself. If you don't have the cash to book a cruise (www.cunard.com), you can always go and work on a cruise ship. It's just 6 months or so at a time with 14 hour days without a day off. Easy.

Oliver obviously manages it well. In case you're wondering, he is doing fine, looking well, and will be moving to Australia (of all places) in a couple of weeks.

He also seems to like standing on the left in pictures.

Oli, thanks a million for making this happen! I know we cost you a great deal of time. Please also pass our thanks onto the Provision Master whose name I managed to forget already (Bofatt?).

It was great to see you and I hope we can repeat this at some point in the future. Maybe around the pool in the sun somewhere with an Erdinger in front of us discussing the successes of Bayern München.

Safe travels at all times.