Have one on me

Recently - weird music. Perfect for foggy Scottish afternoons spent indoors, with books and teapots, with violins and carrot cakes. I have missed Europe all along and there couldn't be a softer cushion than this country's capital. Indoors is the keyword. Southern warmer countries spend their days and nights outside, under stars and suns, enchanted by the breeze and smell of summer. Here in the north life passes by behind closed doors, spaces are created within spaces, rooms lead to other rooms and there is room for everyone. Since the sea and the sun and sky are hidden from our eyes we create and recreate them in our wide venues, with large windows and wooden doors. Its cold and wet out on the Medieval cobblestone streets but the world inside is warm and cozy. I think its time to stay.

Living in the city

.. has never been so easy.

Forest creatures

My cafe,
my hang-out spot,
my Stabquartier,
my home,
my chill-out zone,
my fun time,
my space-out time,
my bizarre conversations realm,
my inspiration,
my daydreaming,
my DIY space,
my power wraps,
my chaos,
my local sense of belonging.
I have searched for the Forest for a long long time.

2011

Mind open. Heart enlarged. Soul receptive.

Castles in the sky

Taylor Steele's unusual and beautiful documentary Castles in the Sky is an inspiring stir of culture and surfing. The 45 minute film follows A-class surfers on a spiritual and scenic journey around the coasts of Iceland, Peru, Vietnam, India and Africa. But caution - Castles in Sky is not really a film about surfing but a film about traveling “one step further”. A journey that starts in one's own psyche and awareness of the world and its rhythm. What's more moving than the photography and the music is the story told by each traveler in the beginning of each section. It's mind-bending, this conscious search for simplicity and freedom, this “unstuck” state of mind. As sincere as it sounds, this film's visual and visionary poetry gets you, makes you dreamy and initiates mental journeys to your own peaceful and drifting destinations. To your own "unstuckness".

I took the liberty to write down the stories. Had to omit number 3 in Vietnam cause I couldn't really understand what the guy is saying.

There was once a man who became unstuck in
the world. He realized that it was not his car.
He realized that it was not his job. It was not his phone,
his desk or his shoes. Like a boat cut from the tanker,
he began to drift.

There was once a man who became unstuck in
the world. He took the wind for a map.
He took the sky for a clock and he set off with no
destination.
He was never lost.

There was once a man who became unstuck in
the world. With a polaroyd camera he made pictures of
all the people he met. And then he gave all the pictures away.
He would never forget their faces.

There was once a man who became unstuck in
the world. And each person he met became a little less
stuck themselves. He traveled only with himself.
And he was never alone.

There was once a man who'd become unstuck in the world
and he traveled around like a leaf on the wind
until he reached the place where he's started out
His car, his job, his phone, his shoes.
Everything was right where he'd left it.
Nothing had changed.
And yet he felt excited to have arrived here
as if this was the place he'd been going to all along.

180° South

A ken of inspiration in days of tedious indolence.

Gone bamboo

There is a reason for this current mental state, unable to grasp reality. It's not only me, its hundreds of people out there who weren't able to return home. Anthony Bourdain explains what is it about this place that changes you, why and how have we gone bamboo.
(Part 4 is about my personal infatuation, my own going bamboo time, substitute the pig parts with the culinary veggie magic I had in Ubud, and the music.. oh that gamelan )

Is it may be the end of the road for me as well?

Gastropods

Not having time to eat, means that life has triumphed. Days start and end in a haze. No time to comb my hair, no time to read a book, no time to answer emails, no time to write, no time to lough, no time to live. Where is time? Where has it all gone? Who deprived us from our leisure? Arranging bills, ordering furniture, opening bank accounts, sub-renting rooms and taking pictures of garages. What is life? IKEA shopping. Just don't want to be here most of the time. And it's always been like that. Counterbalance all this with researching river catchments in Indonesia and deforestation rates in Costa Rica. Home work case studies: An Earth-system perspective of the global nitrogen cycle. Wake up and ask myself, what am I doing here, why did I chose this. Better never ask these questions again. Let it all go, let myself go even if it is a struggle. It is always a struggle and it shouldn't be. Search for peace and simplicity in every day's niches. A cup of tea, a warm embrace, a sunny morning. Learn the features of all gastropods, go to the beach and name them all. Bake birthday cakes at midnight. What else could I do? Please help. I'm lost again.

Housekeeping

Always fun. Sometimes dysfunctional. Never unnecessary.
Hostels.
Waiting for 15 minutes for the toilet is probably not the most amusing beginning of the day.
Listening to the girl under you on the bunk bed snore is may be not the best way to end a day.
But the community, fun and chaos are invaluable.
Considering the idea of creating a new blog with only the most bizarre, random and hilarious stuff that happens in hostels around the globe.
I am sitting in a hostel just now and the idea of this post entry actually came from my slightly hungover head. We had a party last night here at the hostel and today everyone is slow and jolly. Both management and guests seem a bit confused. Its 10:00 am and they are opening a second bottle of vodka. My food is gone. I eat other people's food. Two Australians knock on the door “Housekeeping”, enter and start searching the bed of the girl who did not make it back to the room last night.
Me, confused: “What are you doing guys?”
Aussie 1: “Housekeeping... stealing shit”
Aussie 2: “She is a she-male, man, look at all this pink stuff around here”.
Me: “Aha.. all right”
You get used to it. To the noise, to the complete absence of privacy. To hasty people, calmer people, all foreigners like you sharing a building, looking for temporary friendships, uncommitted love and a good time. Those who stay long seem to have shut down all needs and private priorities, do not mind the couple shagging on the adjacent bunk bed or the constant noise in the living room.
This is my 3rd week in a hostel and sometimes I am about to explode. They will always be necessary and they will always lead me to life-changing individuals, housemates, soul-mates and partners. They must be endured and appreciated.
I just needed a place to stay until I find home. If ever.

Walking

"It is true, we are but faint-hearted crusaders, even the walkers, nowadays, who undertake no persevering, never-ending enterprises. Our expeditions are but tours, and come round again at evening to the old hearth-side from which we set out. Half the walk is but retracing our steps. We should go forth on the shortest walk, perchance, in the spirit of undying adventure, never to return-- prepared to send back our embalmed hearts only as relics to our desolate kingdoms. If you are ready to leave father and mother, and brother and sister, and wife and child and friends, and never see them again--if you have paid your debts, and made your will, and settled all your affairs, and are a free man--then you are ready for a walk."
(Henry David Thoreau, Walking, 1862)

Check the record

Now life becomes a different story when Blondie is played in the luxury shopping mall, Arcade Fire in H&M, Jack Johnson in Sainsbury's (while I am trying to master the art of self check-in) and the evening live session on radio 2 is by Radiohead. Probably that's why I am here. In this dark medieval city, the rainiest part of the rainiest part of Europe. My first day in Edinburgh welcomed me with this book – a book I have been trying to find since I read about it on the internetnet a few years ago. To be found nowhere else, but in Princes Str. Backpacker's Hostel.

Point taken, thank you very much. The Fall in my head while wandering around this place.. I will be getting used to all this. These narrow meandering streets, all this pouring rain (I really love rainy countries, don't I), all that sexy Scottish accent, red hairs, massive churches, castles, hills and whatever else is there.
And no sorry no pics, unless you want rain photographed at various angles.

Sunrise

23 years of being here and I dare say life is one inconceivable piece of work. Today, the day when my new year starts, I have to make a big confession. I am so head over hills in love with you life that I am eager to devote myself to every turn you may take me, I will passionately satisfy every whim of yours and every unreasonable desire you may throw my way will become my road map and compass.
This last year was more or less my most bizarre one. It started in a far-away land, on a hot sunny Asian day. It was a year of novelties, new friendships, affections, discoveries, countries, cultures and directions. New, everything was new.
Now I am on the doorsteps of a new life again. My new years never start in January. Everything will always and forever begin in the September months and that's why I adore them so much. On this rainy dark September day I am almost saying goodbye to mainland Europe again. In two days time I will be away, chasing that old hunch of mine that has never misled me.
I wish myself a year full of love and positive rhythms.
I wish myself more hunches, more intuitive thinking and choices.
I wish myself trips and travels, for this is the only way I can forget about my self-identity and be at one with all of this world.
And I wish myself more of you marvelous people out there to cross my way, to change and provoke me, to inspire and share my days.
Thank you all.

p.s. Volume up on that song.

The city

Strangely, all google pictures of Edinburgh look like postcards. I wonder, whether my photographs will come out so stale and unreal. Or may be it's just the city that demands them.
I have surely memorized the adjectives from the Ed-burgh stories of so many people. Amazing. Medieval. Beautiful. Lively. Wonderful. Inspiring. Huge. Old. Picturesque. Etc. Hopefully, the historical city scape will swallow me completely as I try to sew my days together. And wait for some better, more genuine and sincere Ed-burgh shots.
"The city is alive, the city is expanding, living in the city could be demanding"
(Inner City Pressure, Flight of the Concords)

The environmentalist

Pushing away the confused scraps in my head, this morning I woke up thinking about green fields, clear skies, animals and plants.... but for the first time - in a very long time believe me - from the perspective of the study I am about to dive into.
Every time I feel like I have lost the sense of what I am doing with my life (not that my life needs anything to be done with it) I open Stopdodo (link below post) and pieces come back together.
Ah, yes, I was going to do a Master's course in Environmental Protection and Eco sciences.
True. And why was that? Intuition says, this is your way madam, better go and finish this one-year course and then ... well check out this website and get back to those beautiful places and start working.
Choosing my courses this morning felt like a privilege and I am going pro.
Remote Radar Sensing
Atmospheric Quality and Climate change
distributed GIS
Spatial Modeling
Rural Development
Waste Management
Soil composition and geology
and so much more.

And after all this and much more is done, I hope I will have caught a glimpse of what is going on with this planet and what can be done better. In the meantime, if you are may be interested in something like that check this website: Stopdodo

This homeland...

When at home, strangely beautiful things happen. New little creatures enter my life. Beautiful suns shine my way.

Dancing on the water

I am everywhere.

Phosphor

"But as longs as you feel it
I am a believer
My heart is phosphor
sea rolls, death tolls
break the surface don't break my bones"
(Future Reflections, MGMT)

A few nights ago, after the final drag, carefully washed down with an Albert Hijn red wine, her Highness smiled upon me and I sat in front of the Macbook.
And as usual, all these confused, culture-shocked feelings, thoughts, emotions poured down onto the Word sheet. I had no idea what I wrote down that night until now. I am not completely sure I understand it now either.

"I am traveling. I drift towards images and feelings. I feel the weight of the world. People have shown me that there is no spoon.
Every time I meet people who believe in the positive change my heart is filled up with so much... probably the word is love. There are people out there who know what's in store for us. They have not read it in books, heard in from conspiracy theorists or talked about it because it's hip. They know. Everything is known. Learning about it from external sources only confirms or refutes the information that we already have.
There will be a positive change. We' ll make it happen. People are talking about it and feeling it their hearts. Regardless of the pessimists or the ignorant who prefer not to mess with it, not to get involved and not to destroy their comfort zone. It is happening already.
How could otherwise be possible to travel the world, meet tens of people who feel the same way as you do, who have the same certainty about the future as you do. When we meet and talk and smile upon each other, there is electricity in the air, there is an unbreakable love bond, there is God in the air. And we barely know each other most of the time.
Within in the past two weeks I met two of these people. One in Bali and one in Breda. It took a conversation to figure out we are on same the track, looking in the same direction, searching for the rest of us out there. Once we get in touch there is no letting go and no turning back."

Visions

Senses working overtime
Trying to taste the difference 'tween the lemons and limes
The pain and the pleasure
And the church bells softly chime
(Senses working over time, XTC)

The one and a half week in Europe passed in oblivion. My weakened stomach, accustomed to light noodle soup, tons of rice and tea, had to succumb to the heavy European high-fat and -carbohydrate diet. Dutch bread, cheese, beer and smokes have been rummaging my body, filling it up quickly, inflicting unthinkable pains. Who would have thought that a year in Asia could transform my eating habits so much that een beitje gouda kaas, twee biertjes en een mooie jointje will be so painful?
But painful or not, I am enjoying every single moment of it. The smell of Europe, the sounds of the church bells, the eetcafes under the tree branches – so typically European. And so inexplicably different at the same time. Breda is a different town. New shops, new bars, new cafes. Even the people around me are different. New girls (hotter), new boys (much hotter), new hippies in the park (much weirder). The music in the park every Tuesday seems to be better. Everything is different, but I guess I am the one that has changed. I seem to be enjoying everything much more, observe much deeper, be spontaneous more often. This must be it, right? This transformational power of traveling that alters you mind set. You feel it when you slip between the landslides. When you realize that the world is so incredibly small and changing, and you catch yourself thinking big, across continents and cultures, beyond languages and nationalities.
And since there is no home, or no place that truly feels like home yet, it seems like the trip never ends. It's good to be back in Europe. My bohemian nature is waking up again.

Bali.

I wonder what is it about this island that enchants people and forces them to return and stay? There is something magical about it, captured by its very name, contaned in its flavors, sounds and colors and preserved vividly in the traveller's memories. Bali is the island of the gods, where every stone, tree or river is possessed by a spirit. The entire island is the entrancing dance floor of the Hindu, Buddhist, Muslim, Christian and pegan gods, an unearthly orgy of the deities. No other place could make you feel so .... spiritualized.
Bali is one of those places that truly catches the essence of the phrase “a clash between the east and the west”. Where we, the Westerners, seek that special exotic thrill in the faces of the Balinese, in the sounds of the Gamelan music, in the taste of arak cocktails and peanut dishes. It is the story of trade page after page. The valuable richness of the East pursued by the hungry for passion West, only to become corrupt and marketable.
Bali for me was 15 days of bliss, a bliss that may have changed my life in ways that I am still unable to grasp. Bali has its own methods of allowing certain events to take place and all what happened there feels like destiny. As if from that first moment when I became aware of the existence of the island I was moving towards it and step by step, year by year, I was making those 15 days possible. “Being at the right place at the right time” has never felt so real. Let's just say that for a second there I saw the life I want to have and I know that every step I take from now on, consciously or not, on my own account or for somebody else's sake, will be moving in this direction. Not talking about houses and cars and husbands and professional plans, but about a peace of mind and a mental state of consciousness. Not about a final destination but about an ongoing journey. And let's leave it at that.

Backwards

How do you return to normal life after being away for 18 months?
The beaches, hostels, trips and travel mates reluctantly need to make way to taxes, (un)employment, room rentals, housemates and wages. The traffic is organized, the streets are clean, the food is tasteless. Your friends talk about TV commercials and you have nothing to say. You sit in the backyard, watching the hot air balloons wondering what happened to your life, to your consistent planning, to your ambitions and desires. They have left without a trace.
You find yourself staring at an advertisement “Aruba v.a. 500 Euro” on the bus stop and drift back there. Back to the scorching heat, back to the mosquito nets, back to the rum cocktails with people from all over the world. The bag pack is empty, the bank account is empty, and your head seems to be empty. But its not. It's filled up with memories, with hellos and goodbyes in 20 different languages, with random cultural facts, city maps, with various currency exchange rates – info that was a survival necessity just a few weeks ago and now becomes completely useless.
So what can you do while sipping on a tasteless carton juice box? Sitting, waiting, wishing.
It just seems amazing how your life changes with an online booking. Select, pay, confirm and that's it, your own ticket to the other side of the world, the other type of life that used to be yours.
It is yours, all these lives are yours, they exist simultaneously, you exist in many dimensions. And when they clash you witness tiny emotional explosions. Seeing my Indonesian simcard at the bottom of my bag in Breda was the saddening but necessary collision of two worlds that will probably never meet again. But when the ceiling is high and I am drifting in that direction, all these worlds come back, all my parallel personalities seem so close and vibrant. That's why I can never stay.