Well, I could tell you all about my boss getting sick with chicken pox and me drowning quite a bit at work, but then who wants to hear about that.

Instead, I will tell you about the consequences of the return of our IT Manager. You see, just like me this individual was sent traveling and has just recently returned. To save money however, we had merged our 2 households into one and had given up one apartment. The apartment we gave up happened to be mine. When I returned about 6 weeks ago, I had moved into her place, which is where all my stuff was anyway.

As it is a one bedroom apartment, this worked just fine until her return. Once we got news of her return though it was time to start looking for a new home.

I have made my experiences before with estate agents here as well with a local landlord. I was therefore determined to accomplish this whole task without both. There is quite a good website here that helps and as you will see in a minute, it worked out.

So as of about 2 weeks ago you can find me at Oost Jongbloed 66c. It's a brand new Mini-Resort with 12 units. I'm in the red one. 

There are 4 big upgrades from the previous place for essentially the same price:

I do have a Dutch landlord who has the added benefit of living next door, so you can grab him relatively easily to get something done, which is fantastic compared to the previous guy.

I do have a guestroom now which should be interesting to the ones of you thinking about visiting.

I have a terrace now (something I have missed very much) which is almost as good as Germany's best beergarden at my parents' house and just as well suited for drinking beer. There is even more days of sunshine and you can sit on your terrace without a shirt on Christmas Eve at 11pm to wait for Santa. I'm writing these lines on my terrace. Unfortunately I have no grass I could cut or any other plants so I will have to make do with the other dominating landscape feature which also doubles as the final upgrade:

I do have a pool now. It is so close I could throw my empty beer bottles into it without too much effort. Is that cool or what? Yes, I think so too. It also makes for a rather nice place to drink beer. After all the children have drowned that is and it is a tad more quiet. Unfortunately the little buggers seem to have intention of drowning, so for the moment I will have to put up with the critters. And of course I do not throw my empty bottles into the pool....

This would not be me and it would also not be Curacao if it were all that easy. Of course we do have a few challenges as well. None of my lights work properly, I have a broken toilet seat and no curtain in my bedroom which means it is bathed in light by about 6am. Those of you who know me, or have been lucky enough to spend the night with me know that unless I was somewhat inebriated the night before I am rather sensitive to light

More importantly, my glass sliding doors which double as the only entrance have decided that they don't really like the new occupant and have been playing up. So, if you would have been at my house Wednesday evening, you could have witnessed some rather interesting scenes:

There is my landlord, his handyman Fritz (love it!), the neighbor and myself trying to convince the doors to open in the beams of some car lights and flashlights.

During all this the 3 of them converse heatedly in Dutch. To cut a long story short, I takes about an hour to get me inside.

Well, I could tell you more, but I gotta go. The laundry is waiting and Happy Hour begins in 90 minutes.

No time to waste! More after the Housewarming (or hopefully cooling) party.

Take care!

This time I really wanted to tell you what a fantastic institution the Registrar's Office here in Curacao is, but I have now decided against it.

I have already been sort of evicted once, so I won't give them another reason just yet.

Instead, as I am in Amsterdam just now, I need to inform my fellow Germans (and all you others who might be interested) of what I have recently learned about our lovely neighbors, the Dutch.

Let me begin by saying that I think it is no secret that there is generally not a lot of love lost between the 2 countries, but that we exist in a somewhat peaceful co-existence. I had some rather violent encounters with Dutch people in the not too distant past, but it would take too long to narrate here what happened and I have come to the conclusion that the bunch we ran into at the time were just the sort of idiots of which there is no shortage in Germany either.

Growing up in Germany and in Bavaria at that you will normally form a certain picture in your mind about the Dutch. Some of that picture might among other things involve cheese, tulips, windmills, bicycles, rather odd shoes and hats as well as the color orange. I need to point out at this stage that we Germans are probably also pictured with rather funny clothes around the globe. Anyway, if you are of my generation and male the picture will most certainly involve Frank Rijkard spitting in Rudi Völler's hair as well as thousands of Dutch caravans blocking up German motorways in summer and thousands of Dutch registered cars with skis on the roof driving on our motorways like maniacs in winter. Blissfully, they seem to prefer certain Austrian ski resorts.

I think the huge number of caravans must be the most universal component of the picture in Germans' minds.

Now for decades I have lived under the impression that the picture they must have of us would involve Germans coming to invade once in a while, building the type of cars the Dutch would like to build themselves but can't and usually advance further somewhat undeservedly in international football tournaments.

If they are honest, they would also admit that they really do prefer German beer to their own brews, but who is to blame them for that, ey?

I realize that this might have been a tad naive, but quite frankly I had not given this all this much thought over the last 20 years or so.

As it turns out, I could not have been more wrong.

I don't remember exactly how this came up, but nevertheless and also very much to my surprise the thing that Germans are most associated with in Holland is ... are you ready ... DIGGING HOLES ON THE BEACH!

Yes, you read correctly. That is what we do apparently. And not only that. Once we have dug a hole, we proceed to sit in it.

When informed of this I obviously did think they were having me on....

Now please picture the following in your mind if you can:

It is a Sunday evening in Curacao and there is a well known beach bar with Happy Hour which is packed with hundreds of mostly somewhat inebriated people, most of them Dutch. In between the whole melee there is a pretty blond Dutch girl with a somewhat balding overweight German dwarf in tow asking people randomly what it is that Germans do. Without fail everyone that she asks without hesitation states Digging Holes.

Can you believe that? Even though I was there to witness it first hand, I still have trouble believing it.

Well, at least now I know and so do you.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to buy a shovel.

See you on the beach!

Well, believe it or not, but after 85 days of sleeping in hotel beds (I would be a Marriott Platinum member by now!) I am finally back in Curacao!

I have left behind Frenchman's Reef and the US Virgin Islands on June 25 after five and a half weeks. I think I can honestly say I have seen the good, the bad and the ugly there. I would especially like to thank Chris and Mark in Finance who took the risk of having me and providing me with food & shelter. I hope I did make your lives a bit easier. I also need to thank Karl Magnusson, a fellow alumni from Cesar Ritz schools in Switzerland for providing all the interesting background information and most of the social element of the trip.

Enough said. 

Being slightly retarded (lots of cheap alcohol, remember?) I managed to book my flight in a way that I would miss Germany's semi-final against Turkey at Euro 2008. Genius! Sometimes I really wonder...

Anyway, let's just say that American Airlines and the airport in St. Thomas provided some entertainment by itself. I would like to use this opportunity to compliment American Airlines on their baggage procedure in St. Thomas. As such, I was slightly scared. I only had one piece of checked luggage but it weighed far more than the allowed 25kgs. However, I had been tipped off so I will do the same to you now. Here is what you need to know about checking in luggage in St. Thomas:

When you check in, they will weigh your luggage. In my case it was 32kgs. They will then invite you to either reduce the weight or pay $50 for the first 10kgs.

What you do is that you take something out and put it in your bag pack or plastic bag or any other reasonably suited receptacle until you reach 25kgs. This will make the check-in person happy and they will put the luggage tag around it. Now the crucial point: They now hand your luggage back to you! You then proceed around the corner in the direction of Immigrations and Customs and obviously put all the stuff you have just taken out back into your bag. Brilliant!

It turned out that I had chosen a "lucky" ticket where they take you aside and do a complete check of everything you have and pat you down completely even though the scanner says you're clean. I'm glad to report that no more "In-Depth" examination was necessary... you know what I mean...

Other than that, the whole trip was pretty uneventful. Well, maybe with the exception of landing in Aruba, where its always a bit windy. The rather attractive young lady in the seat in front of me clearly is no friend of flying and she proceeded to produce all sorts of interesting noises as the little plane was buffeted around on the final approach, very much to everyone's else delight in the cabin... 

Anyway, I had 3 rather uneventful days in Aruba but was back in a very nice room with a BIG TV and a great view. Also, its always good to know that danger is not allowed in Aruba which gives you a good feeling of security.

And so, on Saturday morning, June 28, loaded with donuts (if you don't want to bring the wrath of the Curacao people on you, you better bring donuts!), I boarded a little Beechcraft plane and was back on my way to Curacao...

And so I'm back on the island as the first of the lost bunch. Just in time to see Germany lose the Euro 2008 final against Spain in a decidedly hostile environment. These Dutch folks stood like one man behind Spain and at times I was a bit worried at times with my Germany cap. Obviously Spain deserved to win and there was always Happy Hour on the beach to alleviate the pain.

I'm also back at work, where nothing much has changed. It might even be a bit crazier than before. I have survived the first 2 weeks and will probably survive some more, even though a week ago I have lost my loyal and ever resourceful assistant to another department (sigh)....

Most people I think are glad to have me back, which is nice to know. It's also good to know that there is stuff that they can't do without me...

Other than that, the real life is back as well and I have to do my own laundry and ironing, go shopping and put gas in the car (ouch!).

So, with that I leave you for today. I'm back on the road again in 10 days to go home for a very short trip. Have a good one wherever you are.

Willemstad, Curacao June 28 2008 - 11:55am: US & Dutch intelligence assets monitoring Venezuelan and Colombian air & passenger traffic report that a person fitting the description of a certain Wolfgang B from E in G (plus 10 pounds) has just set foot on Curacao again carrying large (yet legal) amounts of alcohol, tobacco, perfume, electronics as well as a big smile . Subsequent signals report that the suspect has since then been sighted at various "Hot-Spots' around the island at various levels of inebriation and dancing skills. When questioned, the local Anonymous Alcoholics group as well as the Conglomerate of Dutch Island Beauties (which for some reason seem to be partly the same individuals) expressed joy about the fact that they now don't have to provide sarcastic comments themselves anymore and that it (along with accelerating hair loss) can be left to a seasoned professional again. There was also widespread relief that the vacant smart ass position is now filled again.

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