Am nächsten Nachmittag kommt glatt mal etwas Wind auf in Nadi. Footballspieler starten mir den Kite, ich zieh zwei Bahnen. Für Aufkanten reicht der Wind nicht. Ich lauf am Strand zurück und etwas weiter, gehe wieder ins Wasser. Der Wind hört schlagartig komplett auf, Drachen fällt mitten in eine Seegraswiese. Den Tang aus den verhedderten Leinen rauszuzupfen dauert nur eine Stunde. Der Fluch hält an.
Am Abend lern ich noch ne nette Australierin kennen, mit der ich deutlich zulange und zuviel am Strand versumpfe, wie mir mein Schädel am nächsten Morgen rhythmisch pochend mitteilt. Mit dem Taxi geht’s zum Busbahnhof Nadi und dann weiter für 10 FJ$ über 150km an die Südküste zum Fiji Beach House. (more…)
Off to Fiji!
Early the next morning, it’s off to Fiji. Tidy up the flat, make the princess bed, do the last wash. That’s fine, I only paid half of what others would have charged. The shuttle arrives on time and takes me to the airport. Feel like I’ve been taken for a ride by the wind again. As soon as I leave, it blows like crazy.
Air Pacific doesn’t even ask for the extra $20 for kite luggage. The plane is half empty, I have a whole bench to myself. After three hours there’s a stopover on the Christmas Islands. The terminal is probably the smallest in the world. The only reason for landing large jets is that the smaller ones would run out of fuel on the way. (more…)
Kitesurfing in Hawaii at last
Another windless day passes. I’m working on a thank-you poster for all my hosts. The house and me, alone. I head to the beach again in the evening. For free, as expected. At a good Mexican restaurant, I treat myself to a club, firm and liquid. Back home again. My surfing in Hawaii has so far only taken place on the Internet. Desolate kite lulls me into a restless sleep.
The next morning I am woken by the unfamiliar sound of moving leaves. Only briefly, then it’s over. I fall asleep again. Shortly before midday it’s clear: there’s finally wind today. Not much, just enough. Once more than the forecast, so far it’s always been 5 miles less in Kailua. My last day in Hawaii. Kitesurfing at last. (more…)
Waiting for wind in Windward Oahu
My new home is just 2 kilometres from a large army base. The huge Galaxy transport planes come in every five minutes. They are flanked by small security Cessnas or Chinook helicopters. That’s what I call fear in your own country. You can’t blame the soldiers. It wouldn’t be the first time here that a president has had 2,000 soldiers barbecued for a reason for war.
Despite the proximity to the base, it’s wonderfully quiet here. But compared to Waikiki, even a jackhammer is quiet. I check the wind on the other side of the bay on the internet and after 11 weeks of almost no kitesurfing, I finally head to the Mecca of kitesurfing on Oahu, Kailua. (more…)
North Shore & relocation to Kailua
After one last reasonably unhealthy and uneventful night, I get a hire car the next morning with Ingmar, another German exchange student. My drunken English Springbreak kids have stolen my towel. I quickly pack up the rest and throw everything in the car. Off we go.
Half an hour later, we arrive in Kailua on the other side of Hawaii. The region goes by the name of “Windward”. There’s no sign of it today. It’s raining. No matter. The main thing is to get away from Honolulu. My room looked good on the internet. In reality, the house is an absolute dream. Hammock on the large terrace. Five minutes’ walk to the beach. Large bathroom. Huge living room and kitchen. (more…)
No nolulu, no cry.
The next few days are all the same. Get up, have breakfast, somehow pass the day until the evening and party until you drop again that night. There are cultural highlights such as “Waterfall” (everyone in a group of 20 has to drink until the person in front stops) and boozy football on the beach at night. I can’t remember any names. Nothing happens. I work a lot and it’s easy.
On Monday, I take the bus to the biggest shopping centre in Hawaii, Ala Moana. Unbelievable. Higher luxury density than on 5th Avenue New York. The top 50 designers in a never-ending row. I can’t find a pair of normal walking shoes anywhere, and a naughty girl stole my flip-flops the night before. (more…)
Crusade to senselessness
The days come and go. Nothing and nobody to remember. Nothing happens. The hostel is full of Germans who have met here to start a semester abroad in Hawaii. I drive around Oahu with some of them for a day in a hire car. We are offered a Mustang convertible because, once again, we don’t have the right small car. Unfortunately it’s suitable for four, there are five of us. Licked the bonnet for nothing. I feel sick from the previous evening. An American soldier had talked to me for too long on the beach about Bush and Iraq.
Oahu is a small world, smaller than I thought. Beautiful beaches on the Northshore, some snorkelling. We lose our way on the way to the beach from “Lost”. (more…)
Welcome to Springbreak Central Honolulu!
To be a bit snobbish: The flight to Hawaii with American Airlines was one of the most miserable of my life. Lousy films, no food within 5 hours, hardly anything to drink, no newspapers, musty seats. Never mind. I’m in Hawaii now. I take the shuttle to the Waikiki Beachside Hostel in the south of Honolulu. springbreak Central is 200 metres from the beach. Around 200 world travellers turn the hostel into a madhouse of excess.
The hostel offers caged accommodation with weekly cleaning for $25 a day. Morning feeding is included, each chicken provides its own grain in the evening. Eight chickens share their own kitchen, bathroom and, importantly, TV. There is free WiFi and 3 1.5 metre plasma screens in the lobby. My roommates are from England, very British. Lobster red and drunk as a skunk by eight o’clock. (more…)
Good Bye, Un-ited States of America!
Today is the day. Part one of the world tour comes to an end. 10 weeks travelling across the United States of America. Seen a lot, maybe even too much. I’m sitting at the airport in LA waiting for my flight to Honolulu. Let’s just count Hawaii as non-USA. Fortunately, the French don’t speak Italian these days either.
It was nice, exhausting, surprising and sometimes pretty dull. America is not one country. America is 50 individual countries. Each one is different, some completely different. In one country you pay $100 for one mile too much, in the next you pay nothing for 10. In one country there are no bends, in another there are no straights. (more…)
Santa Monica, Venice Beach & Viper Room
I take the bus to Santa Monica. It’s not true what everyone says: it’s fine without a car in LA. Three quarters of an hour later, I’m on the beach for the first time. Okay, I can’t find the next bus northwards. No matter. I first walk to the northern end of the Palisades, then along the beach under the Santa Monica Pier to the southern end of Venice Beach. David Hasselhoff is gone. Probably surfing around drunk on hamburgers again. We head back to Santa Monica Pier via Venice Beach Boulevard. The houses are interesting. Like bags: American Homes, Best of Volume II. At a bus stop, a drunk is shouting after two blondes. When I hand him his lost headphones, he grabs my bus ticket. (more…)
Getty Center, Luxury Shops & Beverly Hills
I haven’t managed to get a bus map of LA in two days. That makes navigation a bit difficult. Before I set off for the Getty Centre, I download the map as a PDF and take my laptop with me. On the way, I pass through UCLA University. Some of the student fraternity houses look like castles.
After the first bus I am lost despite the map. There is no stop indicated anywhere. I walk a few kilometres in circles and then walk to the Getty Center. I take the hovercraft train up into the Santa Monica Mountains. All for free. It’s fascinating what you can do with just 10 billion dollars. (more…)
Hollywood
I have the car at the airport in half an hour. Dropping it off runs smoothly. When they open the petrol cap, sand will fall out. It takes 1.5 hours to get back by bus and metro. The stations are all empty, the metro is echoing. I walk along Sunset Boulevard. No, this is definitely not the famous stretch. But I want to enjoy myself.
There’s a sign in front of a huge complex: Free Stress Test. Interesting. My first contact with Scientology. After half an hour I am enlightened: all our misdeeds are the result of unresolved past issues. Aha. And the Oscar goes to the black man with the funny glasses there. (more…)
Salt Lake City & Monster Tour To LA
The journey to Salt Lake City runs smoothly. A few more times up to over 2500 metres, down into valleys. A cowboy mountain pasture brings a longer stop. When I arrive in Salt Lake City, I quickly find the house of my new host Julie.
My car insurance is good. I want to pickle Pete Cruiser. Driving a black car across a white salt desert would be something. After 50 miles along the Salt Lake, I give up. The desert is too far away to be conquered in an afternoon. What remains is the knowledge that the world speed record was set not far away. There is a good wind on the way back. But there’s not a single access to the Salt Lake for 50 miles. I drive back annoyed, do the shopping and cook the two girls something. (more…)
In The Land of Navajo & Arches National Park
In the 80s, this Indian saying hung in every other teenager’s room: “Only when the last tree is cut down…will you realise that you can’t eat money”. This morning I wanted to visit Antelope Canyon near Page. I waited almost an hour at the entrance, I was up too early. The brochure said: $6 entrance fee. What it didn’t say was: only with a guide. This costs an additional $20. If you want to see the Upper and Lower Antelope Canyon, the price doubles. For public pictures (blog) there is an additional $35 photo licence fee.
Dear monster truck-driving Navajos! Only when you have eaten the last dollar will you realise that you can also make a fire with wood. I drive off in a huff with squealing tyres. (more…)
Grand Canyon & Lake Powell
I thought the owner of the hostel in Flagstaff was an Irish alcoholic. I mean an Irishman. When we said goodbye, he said a few words in German. Excuse me? I see. A native of northern Bavaria from Hof. The world is shrinking again. I have to move on to make it bigger.
Heading north across the Arizona steppe. With the top down, I’m amused by Boss Hoss, Jesus built my hotrod. The side canyons of the big one look much better. Crazy colours and much better light today. Constant police checks annoy me. Probably 10 times more often than in Germany. (more…)
Thunderstorm over the Grand Canyon
The Du Beau International Hostel in Flagstaff is highly recommended. Apart from the nearby railway line with trains constantly honking in fear, it is very quiet. For $19 a night, a good breakfast is included, plus free WiFi and billiards. I find a second passenger. Today we are finally travelling cheaply and individually.
We head north along the old Route 66. After an hour, we arrive at the first tributaries of the Grand Canyon. Entry for everyone is regulated with my annual pass. There is only one road to the rim. There are several viewpoints off this road. That’s about it. A thunderstorm is brewing. We stop a few times, take a few photos and reach Grand Canyon Village after another hour. (more…)
Leaving Las Vegas
Ich hab hier nix mehr verloren. Feiern tat ich daheim schon genug. Gegen 10 steh ich auf und pack mein Zeug. Peter, ein netter dänischer Designer ist deutlich mehr als ich beschädigt. Ich fahre zu Mac. Hilft immer. Dann weiter zum Hoover Dam. Guter Mittagswind am Lake Mead…öh…wo ist eigentlich mein Kiteboard? Vergessen in Las Vegas. Nach der gestrigen Nacht verzeihbar. Hätte schlimmer kommen können. Wieder zurück an der Rezeption in Las Vegas surft ein verzweifelter mexikanischer Kumpane der letzten Nacht nach Billigtickets. Hat seinen Flieger um sechs Uhr Morgens verschlafen. (more…)
Death Valley & Las Vegas
Although I let my alarm clock ring long before eight, nobody really wakes up. I wouldn’t have begrudged them that. I pack up my stuff slowly and loudly, slam the door and drive over to the Sin City Hostel right on the Strip. It’s better, cheaper, smaller, no pool and no loud booming, miserable fuck-me hip hop until after midnight.
Leaving Las Vegas. I head north-west along the Lost Highway towards Reno, to the rear entrance of Death Valley. Along the way are prisons, air force bases, a genuine desert whorehouse, Area 51, and I think ground zero of the first atomic bomb. Sand trousers whip through the desert. (more…)
Through the Mojave Desert
I spend the night in bed with two cats. When you wake up and don’t know where you are, a purr like that is really nice. In the morning I almost look like a cat myself, I’m so full of hair. But it was worth it. I drive off to Gregg’s sound selection on the local radio station KCPR.
I still don’t have any stays for the whole week. I only have two cancellations from hostels for Las Vegas. So I have to organise it in the evening when I arrive. I hate that. Always stressful. It’s gone wrong a few times and usually makes everything even more expensive. (more…)
When “topless” saves lives
Early in the morning I take the bus to the Alamo City Office. My luggage buries passengers’ feet several times. When I arrive at the car hire station, a bored Latino tells me that my reservation is at the airport. I check again. Nope, it’s right here. Airport would be 2 hours by bus. He reluctantly organises something, grumbles that he doesn’t have a car, that I haven’t printed out the voucher, that my board wouldn’t fit in this class. He obviously gained his customer service licence at a tourist camp in Afghanistan. I’ll definitely be taking a printer with me on my next trip around the world. This guy is driving me up the wall and I’m about to go for his throat. The only thing stopping me: Bush would probably give me a medal for it. (more…)
San Francisco: Haight Ashbury & Nightlife
In the morning I organise stays for the next week. It’s high time I set off early on Thursday. After two hours and 40 emails, I set off into the city. I’m still missing Haight Ashbury. By bus via Golden Gate Park to the west. If you pay attention, you can see exactly where San Francisco burnt down after the big earthquake. The most colourful Victorian houses start right behind it.
First I wander through the park, go to the De Young Museum and the Flower Conservatory. Then across Haight Street to Buena Vista Park. The bum rate in SF is generally high. In Haight Ashbury, normal people are almost outnumbered. No idea who lives in the expensive houses. It smells of weed everywhere. (more…)
Golden Gate Bridge topless
Bree, the last flatmate I didn’t know, arrived the evening before. The fog in San Francisco was so thick that her plane didn’t land until two hours later. I somehow don’t get the whole living and working in America thing. She’s just come back from a week of hiking in the Grand Canyon. Quickly chats to me for a few minutes. Goes to bed. After eight hours of sleep, she heads back to work the next morning. When does all this free time end? And how can you take anything with such a transition? And: yes, I know I need to talk to my travelling speed right now. There is one difference: I travel so fast because free travel is so expensive. Americans live so fast because free time is so expensive. I’m glad I only have to travel like this for a while. Wouldn’t want to live like that. (more…)
Flying water on Sherman Island
Scott wakes me up around 11 a.m. Kiting? Sure. Emergency restoration, quick breakfast and off to the delta behind San Francisco Bay. Our destination is Sherman Island, a very special kind of choppy shallow water spot. I’m already wide-eyed on the journey. The fog clears and the necessary temperature difference is created. The wind is getting stronger and stronger. We arrive around one o’clock after an hour’s drive. Lots of kiters between the rushes. The “real” pros have – no joke – wind turbines on their campers to generate electricity. Should be worth it here. We head to the beach. (more…)
San Francisco: Kitesurfing & Nightlife
Scott wakes me up at 8.30am. Surfing? Me? Nope…but watching, swell should be good. We drive to Ocean Beach south of Golden Gate. I see the happiest dogs in America so far. Their masters are grinning too. Don’t pick up any poo. The Pacific will be fine. The waves look mean. Only 1.5 metres but completely unpredictable. Sometimes they break like this, sometimes like this, and never in the same place. In between, rip currents everywhere, many drowned here. After my first cigarette, I exhale a few times in amazement. What, smoke comes out that long? Nope. It’s just so cold that my breath condenses. On land, I’m delighted with my long-sleeved neoprene. Hemingway says: “The coldest winter I ever experienced was the summer in San Francisco.” (more…)
San Francisco
Yes, my city. Lots of weird and crazy people. Everyone is different, some even totally different. I spent a day relaxing yesterday. After a total of 9700 miles on the bus and in the car, a day at work was real relaxation. And also an urgent top-up for the travel fund. As I said before, the boys here have pretty much the coolest flat you can imagine. And they have to work 10 hours a day for it. I’m alone in this castle all day.
The location is perfect. See the map on the left, blue dot in San Francisco. Right in the centre of everything, but nice and quiet on the 7th floor. Highway 101 runs one block through the city. This is also where the Academy of Art is located, surrounded by Asia-Aldis and bum supplies. (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.