Change for the naked indian guy

Yep, I gave it all. That's my good deed for the day. To that guy I'd like to say: "For the love of god, buy a shirt"

I just got back to the hotel from eating out again with my fellow surveyor. Singapore still rules, chicken satay and noodles rule, I will come back, I'm sure. I'm happy it's cloudy sometimes though. My black outfit today combined with running through the sun on a noisy smelly ship is not a good recipe. But work is going well, everything seems to be going as planned, so no worries there.

No more pictures today, sorry, I just keep forgetting to take some, with all the working and eating. So it calls for my introduction I guess, and I will bring it in a convenient question-answer format.

Q: Who the hell are you?

Uncles call me Dieter. Germans call me Dietah. Chinese people call me Dietel. Most misunderstand me at first and are like "Pieter?". No, that's not it. That's not my name.

Q: A name does not necessarily represent who you are in your inner core, young padawan. Who ARE you? Really?

Dude, seriously? I'm a tormented soul that likes long walks on the beach and crying in the dark and writing poetry and sentimental junk like that. I feel I could use a little more action and a little less boring though...

Q: Then why don't you do something about it instead of wining like a little bitch?

I'm trying, GOSH! Let me finish! That's what this blog is all about. It is about my eternal quest to being the most awesome guy ever ever, by far, in the universe. I will travel the seas and do whatever it takes to reach this goal. Well, not whatever it takes. Just whatever seems like a good idea at the time.

Q: Why is this blog in English? Are you trying to be cool or something?

Yes.

Q: I need something to mark on my calendar. When precisely will you update your blog?

Whenever I feel like it. Sometimes I will write for days in a row. Other times you won't hear from me for weeks. I'll do it as often is I want, cause cool people are just like that, you know?

Q: Why are you even writing this blog anyway? It's not like we care.

It's a therapeutic thing. I don't care if you don't care. Well, I do. But it's cool to say I don't. Besides, a talent coach might discover me and make me a billionair writer.

That's all questions for today, sorry. I need to go break the tv now, cause there's a very bad Malaysian rapband performing on.

Yogi's and hookers

So last night I was talking to some Vietnamese hookers. (Man, I always wanted to start out a blog saying that) Nice girls once you get to know them! How do you do that then? Well I just said "Got any luck tonight?" Seemed like I found the off-switch for their bullshit.

Then I like to watch them realize that their acting skills aren't quite oscar worthy yet. By the way I'm watching the oscars as I'm writing this. It's now almost 1am here in Singapore. I arrived yesterday and I finally start working again tomorrow. Luckily I had today to explore the city with my colleague.

This morning I got really hungry after slacking off lying in bed the whole time, so I went out in search for food. On this quest I suddenly heard some dude calling me. Holy crap! It was Aman the holy yogiman from India. He started out by telling me my face was very lucky. Whatever the fudge that means. I will become 83 years old and if I ever start a business, it will work out great for me. That's awesome. Then he did a magic trick and asked me for money. Yeah, didn't see that coming. He did very cunningly rephrase it as "supporting him on his journey". I guess he spent all his savings already on that fancy silk shirt. But I was a rock, I was all like "you suck, yogi bastard" and punched him square in the balls. Okay, that's a lie. But still!

Reminds me of those big African guys in the city centre, collecting change for poor students and looking like they could hurt me at the same time. Bad combination. I always gave money and died a little inside afterwards. That time's over, I'm a man now!


I like Singapore. I like that everyone is your uncle or auntie, even when they're not. I like that when you ask for a crab, you simply get a huge ugly crab, with spices that can kill an elephant. I like that it's full of trees and pretty buildings, and it's always t-shirt-and-maybe-poncho weather. I like that every cabdriver has been in Antwerp and loves diamonds. I like that when I don't want a drink I get thousands of free ice waters. It's these things that separate a new country from the ones you know. Things like the locks turning the wrong way or the trafic lights blinking before they turn red. So far my first experience outside of Europe is a good one.

I know I should introduce this little blog, but I'll do that tomorrow.