Autumn is here. The outdoor seating areas are closing. You don’t bump into anyone drinking coffee anymore. I don’t like autumn, especially not after a rather uneventful and cold summer anyway. Nothing moves, I’m bored. The only great thing about autumn is the wind.
Today it’s arriving in full force at Brombachsee. The locals are right: yes, on good weekends the lake is pretty full. But firstly, it’s still bearable compared to most other good spots. Secondly, I don’t mind at all if it gets even more crowded, the way some top dogs defend their clearing. (more…)
Topless in Ramadan
Sharm el Sheikh is located in the Bermuda Triangle between Las Vegas, the promised land and a ghost town. It’s up to you to decide which corner is closest. 2000 years ago, Moses led his people through the Sinai in search of the Promised Land. Today, two crowds of people chase up Moses’ mountain every morning. There is nothing to find except their own claustrophobia in the middle of the desert.
We wanted to go there ourselves, alone. But Mubarak sells his country as a fairy tale from the Arabian Nights. Today, robbers are called Islamists and wait just behind the last checkpoint for unbelieving individual tourists. As a result, there are hardly any hire cars, I won’t light the thorn bush in front of St Catherine’s Monastery and nobody throws the first stone. (more…)
Kitesurfing school Sharm el Sheikh
It’s not until the third day that I finally get round to kiting in Sharm el Sheikh. There is practically never any wind in Naama Bay, and when there is, there are still kites and Smurfs close together, followed by several boats. To go kitesurfing in Sharm el Sheikh, you drive 20 kilometres north to Nabq. This costs around €1.30 with the blue minibus and takes 20 to 30 minutes.
If you search the internet for kitesurfing Sharm el Sheikh, Google only spits out one page: Colona Watersports, just taken over by kite junkies. They are located on the beach in front of the Regency Plaza in Nabq. I arrive on day one and realise: calm. For the first time in a week. Back to Naama. (more…)
Smurfs on holiday
Sinai. 41 degrees. Perfect hold. Three-weather taffeta. That’s exactly what the saying would have been if a sneaky hairdresser hadn’t quietly and secretly given the lady from the 80s advert an overdose of Gard sometime in the 90s. Heat and strong winds greet us on the steps out of the aeroplane in Sharm el Sheikh. I’m beaming in the middle of the night.
Unfortunately, when we arrive at our hotel in Nama Bay, this joy has already faded. Just 10 kilometres to the south, it’s absolutely calm. We want to take a quick dip in the sea, but the hotel beaches are closed off and the public guards have a massive objection to night swimming. Three o’clock. Off to bed. (more…)
Kitesurfing on Corsica’s east coast
Everyone says kitesurfing on Corsica’s east coast is not possible. There’s never any wind and when there is, it’s too little and when there is enough, it’s completely offshore. None of that is true. I was here for 10 days in July. I was out for several hours on four days. I had a 12 and a 19 kite with me. I only used the latter. But it works.
My kitesurfing spot is about 15 kilometres north of Aleria. A wide sandy beach, no trees, but no bays either. No rocks and plenty of space. The wind forecasts from Windfinder.com are practically never right. There are no fixed times, the wind can come at any time of day and from any direction. (more…)
Freedom to the nudists!
It’s time for another verbal broadside. My target group today: make a nudist. Actually, I have nothing against nudists. I think the principle of live and let live is great, and freedom anyway. The reason for today’s attack is the fact that there are an alarming number of very covered and uptight antibodies among nudists.
The antibodies are characterised by an inspection sticker for mental freedom issued by the Thai TÜV. They are naked out of narrow-mindedness. They despise classic nudist ideas such as “In a healthy body lives a healthy mind.” Maybe that’s why the antibodies are so narrow-minded. (more…)
Corsicana
I realised that I didn’t actually spend a single day – or at least half a day – just lying on the beach on my big trip. There was always a cave to explore, a mountain to climb or a lagoon to explore. As long as there wasn’t enough wind for kiting, of course. It’s different here and it’s good.
Sometimes there is wind, but the forecasts are practically never right. In any case, there is also more wind than expected on the east side of Corsica, mostly side-onshore. I was out briefly on four out of seven days with the 19 Assault. Some fun on the water in the setting sun. Then a game of volleyball and the evening begins with a barbecue, wine and a beach fire. (more…)
Florence in the morning
On the night train to Florence, world travellers from all nations stand in the corridor. They are talking about important things. Everything is important. I feel even older than I already was on my journey. I haven’t really cared about much since I got back. A few things are really important. I try to sleep.
All the way down the burner, the wheels screech in every bend. I don’t fall asleep until long after midnight and then wake up before Florence. The train pulls out of a long tunnel. The sun rises over Florence. I spontaneously decide to skip my train to Livorno and see Florence at dawn instead. (more…)
A good story
I’m going travelling again. For the first time in many months, the web designer is also feeling the effects of the economic crisis. It’s about time, and it feels good. A friend is having a party for no reason in the foothills of the Alps. After a three-hour drive through the worst holiday traffic jam, I arrive in Kaufbeuren in the early evening. The address says it all: Schönblick.
Celebrating for no reason is good. No destination, no plan, no expectation. Everything that is: just happens. What doesn’t happen is not missed. I know no one and expect nothing. Few old rules apply today. But few in return – and perhaps precisely because of that – all the more so. My favourite: good things only happen when you don’t expect them. (more…)
Bürgerfest Regensburg: A still life
Every two years, Regensburg celebrates its citizens’ festival. Even if it is otherwise often quite contentious: for two days in June, we forget all contentious issues such as the town hall and celebrate what the festivals have to offer. There’s no forwards, there’s no backwards: the world cultural heritage site becomes a potential Domestos advertising clip.
I’ve been back in Regensburg for four months now. Nothing is planned, but everything is going well. Perhaps because good things can only happen unexpectedly, I’m enjoying the Regensburg Bürgerfest more than ever before. Good bands, lots of fine food, a bit of rain, some sunshine and quirky moments: that’s how it should be! (more…)
Neusiedl Kite Wars
We are travelling to Lake Neusiedl. To even ask the school whether Sabine can do an advanced kite course, you would actually have to pay a 4 euro beach user fee. There is no course. On to the north-north beach. Great: this year it only costs €5.50. Bugger: the revolving door now even has a guard.
The beach is packed with super-fit trouser-over-neoprene wearers. We set up. When the only good bloke on the beach launches Sabine’s kite, I don’t pay attention. He turned it towards the power zone. Sabine is torn 20 metres through the grass. If her harness hadn’t ripped when we jumped on her, she would have shredded the fence two metres away. (more…)
Louie Austen’s shoes
After a restful night with Georg on the Hohe Warte, I drive into the city centre. It’s raining. All day long. In torrents. I find my way along unknown paths, have no destination but get there. People ask me for directions. I unpack my best Viennese “ey” and say “I don’t know that either, madam.”
In front of the abortion clinic on Fleischmarkt, a lone anti-abortion activist stands in the rain with his poster. Tip to the operators: stupid address! Move to Himmelpfortgasse, then it will work out with the neighbours. The junkies in the underground at Karlsplatz are as crowded as ever, while the Naschmarkt is pleasantly empty in the rain. (more…)
Josefine Baker sings in Vienna
I’m travelling to Vienna. On the way, I find the explanation for the economic crisis. Because of it, the government is currently investing a lot of money in infrastructure measures. There are miles and miles of building sites everywhere, which means I can’t keep my business appointments in Vienna. Lost orders are paving the way through the crisis.
Knowing your way around many places in the world is great. It gives you a feeling of control over something that is becoming increasingly complex and actually uncontrollable. I could almost switch off the sat nav. The Viennese still punish every little mistake with wild honking, and I can find a parking space in front of Georg’s hotel after just three laps around the Praterstern. (more…)
All lonely at the beginning – all dense at the end
T.Raumschmiere is DJing in Regensburg. We’ve been looking forward to it for weeks. Shortly before, only I was left of us. So I’m sitting at Bismarckplatz. A husband comes over and asks: What are you doing sitting there all alone? I look round. The square is full. My table is empty. Alone, not lonely! They sit down.
Blogging is the art of walking the tightrope between pornography and irrelevance. No one is interested in boredom, and I only undress to take a shower. So: What’s there to write about on such a trivial day? And how do you save a great world travel blog from a slow death? Maybe I need a code… (more…)
Crash Boom Bang
It’s raining. I’m driving home from a customer. Suddenly the world is spinning. Wait no, that’s my car. The airbags explode. Smoke and shards. I skid 10 metres across the junction, just past a set of traffic lights and a parked BMW, into a raised flower bed. Then everything stops, only my ears are ringing.
I get out of the car and stagger through the rain. On the other side of the junction is a big BMW. It has hit me from the right at high speed. I immediately try to find a witness. After an endless 30 seconds, someone comes up to me. Yes, you had the green light. I think so too. Unless the person in front of me also crossed the junction on red, and the witness behind me did the same. (more…)
The festival
Emergency landing at ff-webdesigner. Unfortunately, I hadn’t worn my latest traditional outfit underneath. Nevertheless, I had a roast pork with free beer… Big praise to the poor, deliciously prepared pig, which will receive a worthy finish tomorrow at the end of my digestive tract – mixed with Weltenburger Urtyp Hell.Conclusion: It was worth it for me, less so for the pig. Welcome back to Regensburg! (more…)
Celebrating the new old home
I’m back in my new old home in Regensburg. After a year travelling the world and half a year on the road, it was time for a permanent home. There are strange challenges: Staying in one place. Not making new friends every day. Finishing a book and starting a new one.
A long search led me to my dream flat. I’ve been living in an art nouveau villa in Luitpoldstraße in the centre of Regensburg for four weeks now. My gas boiler has already exploded, the boiler has failed, the RCD has jumped, the couch has broken, the ceiling has fallen on my head and the walls have come crashing down. In other words: I feel very comfortable here. (more…)
Nick Stein, Radio Nikita, Bulgaria
In ancient times, there was a mostly wooden frame called a pillory in the market square of every town. Dishonourable people were exposed there in public. On the one hand, this deterred others from committing similar misdeeds and, on the other, everyone knew about the misbehaviour of the offenders being pilloried.
Today we have the internet. Everything is anonymous, villains are hard to pin down. They commit the same misdemeanours again and again and are not punished for it. So who protects the good from the bad? Me. Today. Here. My villain: Nick Stein, head of Radio Nikita, based in Bulgaria. (more…)
Snowboarding in the Pyrenees
It rains constantly on my last day in Barcelona. I play wet fashion poodle on the upmarket Passeig de Gracia. Gucci, Gabbana, Chanel, Diesel, Zara. Every shop is a welcome shelter from the rain. Whenever the rain gets heavier, I buy something. Nevertheless, I’m soaking wet in the evening.
I get up at five in the morning, pick up the car, load up and drive off towards the Pyrenees. My destination is La Molina. I found the idea of snowboarding in Spain kind of funny. The journey doesn’t bring any joy. There’s no snow at all up to 1300 metres, then it starts to snow lightly. The pistes are white, but I very much doubt whether it’s worth it. (more…)
Wow, it’s cool here
I’m finishing my Spanish course in Barcelona. It was hard to keep up and still do enough travelling. Tonight is my last night. We go into town, almost the whole course, me and Dave. The landlady of the first bar looks like a madam. The Black Sheep is packed. The first signs of the night are starting to appear and nobody knows where they’re going.
The lack of a plan irritates me a little. Our plan was to go out properly one last time in Barcelona. Dancing. You’re supposed to do what you plan, so I urge them to get going. Suddenly there are twice as many of us as before. I head off into the middle of nowhere. Everyone asks for directions at some point, but no one can tell us exactly where it is. So we settle down in a square. (more…)
From the king to the imperial masters
The days turn into nights. My journey is coming to an end. I’m still learning Spanish, but if my classes weren’t from two to six in the afternoon every day, life in Barcelona would be a lot smaller. David has organised tickets for a concert. I don’t like nasty lawyers chasing pictures. That’s why I’m christening the band of the day Kaisermeister.
In a tapas bar right on the Rambla, we eat for 20 minutes, attentively looked after by two gay waiters. The hot service comes at a hefty price. On to the concert. The beer vendors are stacked in three tiers in front of the hall. The service is fine, but we have wine. Inside, good people in rabbit skins are waiting. (more…)
Very quiet at Königsplatz
I go back to Castelldefels with Dave. The road there is still a battlefield scarred by the strongest storm ever. On the beach, the sun is shining on 8-degree water and the air is barely any colder. I’ve caught a heavy cold and realise: on my last trip, my kite stays in the bag.
The next day, Susi from Kaufbeuren sends an email to Helga, a fellow student from the old days. A day later, we’re sitting in a really cosy tapas bar in Barceloneta. I hate seafood. Even gamba heads taste great here. Then it’s off to the Barrio Gotico to a bar that I would like to make my favourite pub if it wasn’t the last few days of a long journey. (more…)
An expensive construction site Gaudi
Dave arrives on the plane from Munich around midday. A quick bite to eat and then back into town. I’m not feeling well, I’ve caught a bad cold. We drive to the Sagrada Familia. It’s just like all the other big things on my travels: bloody pathetically small.
Gaudi’s Sagrada Familia is one big building site. Cranes on the outside, 80% of the inside covered by scaffolding in wonderfully contrasting colours. The remaining 20% is shared by a plethora of vending machines (Snickers, Mars, Raider, no wafers) and the herd of Toruistas. Wow! Great echo. Off to the tower. It only costs an extra €2.50, a real bargain after the €11 entrance fee for a building site. But an hour’s wait is too long for me. (more…)
Riders on the storm
I’m going out for a wild night with a few people from the course. There aren’t many bars. We stay in the same marvellous Marmalade Bar until three o’clock. In Barcelona, you can easily meet 10 people from 20 different countries every hour. It’s a colourful mix, there are stories from all over the world.
The next morning, the world is shaking. Sure, it was a heavy night, I think. But it’s not. The house is really shaking. The predicted storm has hit Barcelona with gusts of well over 100 kilometres per hour. Morning news: four people dead, three swept into the sea, hundreds of emergencies, chaos. I take to the streets. The storm is playing roller dominoes. The longest line I saw consisted of seven overturned scooters. (more…)
Barcelona unkiteable
Windfinder was right. The wind is coming today. As soon as the course is over, I grab my board and kite and jump on the next underground train to the beach. The Barcelonians all look at me a bit stupidly. What’s going on? It’s 17 degrees, that’s warm, you can take off your polar coats!
On the beach, I don’t doubt it for a second. The wind is fully offshore, swirling all over Barcelona and changes from 0 to 50 km/h in 5-second intervals. You can see it dancing on the surface of the water, left, right, forwards, backwards. Then sand blasting into your face again and a vertical gust from above. Kiting is the most beautiful thing in the world. Especially when you can be happy about it afterwards. I stay on land. (more…)
The Author
Frank Woelky, born in 1973. Kitesurfer since 1998. Since 2006, I have been combining kitesurfing and web design on trips lasting several months off the beaten track.