Santa Maria!

2.5 k
views

At dawn, above the unfinished poor houses of Santa Maria, a dead dog crawls across the cobbled street in front of me with its tail between its legs. Somewhere Ennio Morricone is playing. A prairie bush blowing in the dust is the only thing missing for the perfect tombstone feeling.

Sal is a ghost town at the beginning of October. The wind statistics for October show 68% gliding wind, but unfortunately it doesn’t reach the 15 knots required for my weight class for a whole week. The luxury hotels on the outskirts of the town are only a quarter full. Locals train on the beach in the first rays of sunshine. I understand the many blonde Euro-females with their pieces of chocolate. Fishermen sit half asleep on the quay. (more…)

Tooth Temple & Pack Up

Post
#587

2609

2014

Fri

10:56

day #

2667

2.6 k
views

I spend my last few days in Sri Lanka in the lively town of Kandy. The Temple of the Tooth houses a tooth of Buddha and is the largest shrine of the Sri Lankan Buddhists. Every day, thousands of people flock to the large temple complex directly on Kandy Lake in an alcohol-free October festival atmosphere.

In front of it, dozens of traders loudly offer flowers as sacrificial offerings. Their market cries sound like a spastic tuktuk stuttering through rush hour on speed. I walk past them almost every day – and fail every time I try not to grin. (more…)

Nuwara Eliya & the end of the world

Post
#586

2309

2014

Tue

23:34

day #

2664

2.8 k
views

From Kandy, I join two fun Swiss kiters for a trip to the Sri Lankan tea centre. We take the train early in the morning to Nuwara Eliya, just 40 kilometres away by air. The journey takes five hours and runs for around 125 kilometres, constantly ascending through endless tea plantations and jungle. The open doors are my panoramic viewpoint.

At 2000 metres above sea level, Nuwara Eliya is the highest town in Sri Lanka. It was founded in the 19th century by the heat-stricken British colonial rulers, and numerous buildings still bear witness to this today. Our accommodation is an enchanted little hostel in the style of Peter Pan: a bamboo courtyard and stream garnished with tree-trunk furniture, surrounded by small two-storey huts. King Fern Cottages. Fine. (more…)

Kandy

Post
#585

2109

2014

Sun

18:54

day #

2662

2.4 k
views

Only 3 hours minivanab Kalpitiya, 1 hour tuktuk roadkill through the Colombo rush hour, 4 hours waiting at the railway station, twice being blown off the kitebag by the sound pressure of departing trains and 3 hours panoramic train into the mountains away lies Kandy, the old royal city of Sri Lanka in the foothills of the mountains at an altitude of 500 metres.

Kandy is a completely different world, one that immediately enchants me, a colourful mixture of Shangri-La and small city, chaotic, loud and quiet. The evening traffic jam is interspersed with drums and mantras from the numerous monasteries. There’s a Burger King, and right next door is the Hotel Muslim, where I cleanse myself of two weeks of British food with roti, naan, curry, fresh fruit juices and candied fruit. (more…)

Of Mad Max & Mega Downwinders

Post
#584

2009

2014

Sat

2:31

day #

2661

2.8 k
views

My three weeks in Kalpitiya are coming to an end. It was a strange time. A lot happened, but little happened. Towards the end of the season, the wind bucked more and more violently, completely overpowered to the point of sinking every second was the standard. Landing was often difficult and many kites formed intimate relationships with the trees in SriLankaKite.

On the penultimate day, we took three boats 25 kilometres out into the upper lagoon of Puttalam to Magic Island. I do the whole trip with the chiefs as a downwinder. Thanks to the narrow lagoon here, the first six kilometres are pleasantly flat water. Every now and then the kite sinks, even frontline pulling doesn’t help. There are fleas on the seaweed in the 10cm deep water, and they bite like jellyfish. (more…)

To every order its costume!

Post
#583

1109

2014

Thu

7:52

day #

2652

2.7 k
views

I have been living in the climes of my new order, Srilankakite, for some time now. Our colourful habit refers to the difficult local wind conditions. My monk brothers are adorned with the inscription “Gusty ain’t for pussy”, my nun sisters proudly wear the slogan “Size does matter” on their chests. Both remind us daily how much nature is our master here.

Our daily routine is characterised by the same meditative sequence of our monastic tasks: eat, kite, work, eat, kite, eat, drink, sleep. We perform our duties with the utmost fervour, some even claim that some of the monks have fallen victim to religious madness when it comes to “drinking”. Joining the loud music around the drinking area, their call “Arrack-Attack!” announces the next round. (more…)

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Safari anxiety

Post
#582

0509

2014

Fri

23:00

day #

2646

2.9 k
views

Everyone is afraid of something: the dentist, public toilets, spiders, the infinite vacuum in Nazi brains or coleslaw flatulence in a full lift to the 43rd floor. I’m afraid of three things: Cruises, permanent campers and safaris. Fortunately, I was able to tick off cruises and long-term campers in one go two years ago on a Philippine ferry. That leaves safaris.

The thing I’m afraid of on safaris is the people. Yes, I’ve read Tommy Jaud. But beyond that, there’s still plenty of room for socks in sandals, safari hats and fanny packs as beer belly holders. Elitist champagne breakfasts in air-conditioned safari tents at sunset. The disconnection with nature in a snow globe. And the burning question: “Karl-Heinz, why didn’t your mum ever buy you a guinea pig?”. (more…)

Kitesurfing Sri Lanka: Kalpitiya

Post
#581

0309

2014

Wed

16:46

day #

2644

3.5 k
views

The road from the airport leads 120 kilometres north to the Kalpitiya peninsula. The name is hard to remember, but it’s pure onomatopoeia. That’s exactly what you shout on the water, with a long “jaaa” at the end. The lagoon is about 400 metres by 2000 metres. The wind has been blowing non-stop at 25 knots for three days now.

After the Tamil Tigers gave up their civil war here in 2009, development began – very slowly. The houses of the Muslims living here are more than modest. There are just a few shelters. Even these are not ostentatious. In the evening, the village gathers around the fishermen on the beach. Ravens scream from the trees, followed by the muezzins in weird stereo from two minarets. Otherwise everything is quiet. (more…)

The Dubai Dress Code

Post
#580

2908

2014

Fri

2:40

day #

2639

3.8 k
views

For evening prayers, the entire Dubai airport is filled with muezzin singing from Bang&Olufsen loudspeakers. Fully veiled women and scantily clad New Arabs go to prayer. While the eternally yesterday at home consider a national referendum necessary for even the most modest mosque, here in the airport prayer room even non-believers are welcome – at least in the men’s area, but even barefoot.

I have seven hours to spare. After a cigarette at 8 o’clock in the evening, still a good 40°C, I am perfectly prepared in terms of perspiration for a classy dinner in the panorama restaurant of the Burj al Arab. If there is any “inappropriate” here, then I should fulfil it perfectly with my backpack and my 18-hour-old travel clothes. (more…)

Prosperity vs culture in Regensburg

Post
#577

0301

2014

Fri

3:36

day #

2401

4.1 k
views

I want to understand one thing: how can we, the land of poets and thinkers, be so ignorant of the battle between prosperity and culture? I want to understand even more: When and how did prosperity become the greatest enemy of culture? I thought prosperity was the breeding ground for all culture? I just don’t get it. Someone please explain it to me! Or all of you!

I’ve been a Regensburg resident for 20 years. I never gave a shit about the reputation of having the highest density of pubs in Germany. I just enjoyed life in Regensburg. By day and by night. But now our prosperity is destroying any culture outside the Grand Duchy. The gentrification of Regensburg is turning the former capital of the Holy Roman Empire of German Nations into a central cemetery. (more…)

End of a 4,000 km kite trip

Post
#576

0912

2013

Mon

23:55

day #

2376

4.4 k
views

My quarter of a year in Brazil is coming to an end. It was the strangest of all my journeys. In contrast to holidays, travelling means finding a home away from home. When I travelled, I often felt at home quickly in many places. Brazil was different. I could say that the wind simply blew me away too quickly. But that was only ever true on the water. On land, I spent longer in each place than on any of my other journeys.

Nevertheless, I felt at home in very few places. Perhaps even the Ballermann often has fewer Germans. Maybe kiters no longer really have a common spirt. Maybe my passion fruit and caipi love affair was too intense. Maybe the internet was almost always too bad to work. Maybe I just couldn’t open my eyes wide enough after a tough year. (more…)

Repeat Magic @ Galinhos

Post
#575

0812

2013

Sun

23:40

day #

2375

4.1 k
views

When travelling, it is dangerous to return to good places. Magicians can repeat tricks. But magic is unique. Most of the time, second visits are just chasing after the illusion of times gone by. People change or disappear. The magic of Galinhos is stronger: the good people stay good and the new ones blend in.

In 2,000 kilometres along the coast of Brazil, there was not a single kitespot comparable to Galinhos. I spend the last five days of my trip here. This time there are ten good kiters, the wind is blowing at 25 knots or more, much stronger than at the beginning of October. The lagoon would have room for hundreds more. But the arduous journey to get here continues to successfully deter mass tourism. (more…)

Roadtripping Brazil

Post
#574

0412

2013

Wed

22:43

day #

2371

4.2 k
views

It took me a good two months to travel 2,000 kilometres along the coast of north-east Brazil. I make the return journey in just four days travelling over two weeks. After Jeri, I stop for another five days in Ilha do Guajirú. There are only a maximum of 40 kiters on the water and the wind is constantly chopping at 25 to 30 knots, day and night. Exactly my sweet spot.

In Cumbuco I meet the shy Viking Johan again and lots of good new people at the Rolling Stone Hostel. We leave early on Saturday. On the last evening, the whole hostel goes up to the dunes to watch the sunset. Everything is quiet and peaceful up here. Down in Cumbuco, two people were shot dead by the police again last week, but this time without their hands tied. (more…)

Jijoca de Jericoacoara

Post
#573

2411

2013

Sun

16:08

day #

2361

4.1 k
views

If anyone could remember the name, they would definitely fail because of the intonation. Jijoca de Jericoacoara is difficult to reach. Like a chastity belt, 23 kilometres of sand dunes surround one of Brazil’s ten top-selling tourist hotspots. A quarter of a century ago, Forbes Magazine named Jijoca de Jericoacoara one of the most beautiful beaches in the world.

Chastity belts already required sexual contortions in the Middle Ages. It’s no different today. Late in the evening, we cross the sand dunes on the back of a jeep under a blood-red moon rising behind the dunes. The few who make it here in a hire car bring Papparazzi’s good money. Every licence plate photo emailed to the rental company brings in three Brazilian dollars a month. (more…)

Migratory birds

Post
#572

2111

2013

Thu

6:44

day #

2358

4.1 k
views

When I was little, I had a big question: Where do migratory birds fly to? The answers were quickly found and included numerous countries. I devoured all the documentaries about these destinations. Sometimes you could even see birds. Even though I was getting closer to their destinations, I was still missing one thing: their route there. So I started dreaming of flying. Even before I left the earth once, I knew what it looked like from above. I took off with the birds.

Today I am one of them. I no longer dream of flying. I fly. Early in the morning, we take a beach buggy to the starting point a good kilometre west of Jericoacoara. With the wind blowing sideways at a mild 18 knots at the start, we set off with small kites on the longest downwinder I’ve ever flown. (more…)

In The Delta Of Parnaiba

Post
#571

1711

2013

Sun

23:49

day #

2354

4.5 k
views

The Parnaiba is one of the largest rivers in Brazil. In its estuary, it divides the mainland into countless green islands over an area of 50 square kilometres. We are in the realm of crocodiles, anacondas, herons and monkeys. We travel for just under an hour in a fast motorboat through the mangroves to the last sandbank in the Parnaiba Delta. Here, the river merges with the sea under the crashing waves.

The place is more than worthy of marking the turning point of my journey. Over the past two months, I have travelled almost 1,800 km along the Brazilian coast by donkey cart, car, bus, boat and on foot. My board has made tracks in the water at 30 spots. This is as close as I will get to the equator on this trip, and nowhere will the wind blow stronger and more consistently. (more…)

Barra Grande

Post
#570

1511

2013

Fri

23:15

day #

2352

5.6 k
views

It takes us five hours to drive from Ilha do Guajirú to Barra Gande – a whopping 350 kilometres and partly on gravel roads through the deepest pampas. Both Google and Open Street Map indicated this route, and locals showed us the same way. We only learnt a day later that we could easily have saved ourselves a third of the journey by taking the new road between Jijioca and Granja.

Barra Grande is almost completely booked out due to a bank holiday. Even modest private rooms without doors quickly cost an astronomical €40 a night by Brazilian standards. So we book ourselves into a really fine luxury resort for €10 more. The house is pure hippie art, each table a painting made from carefully crafted solid wood. After the journey, we are exhausted. (more…)

Ilha do Guajirú

Post
#569

1211

2013

Tue

23:37

day #

2349

4.6 k
views

Ilha do Guajirú is the first place in Brazil where we have to search for free accommodation. “Something” takes five minutes and finds us a pousada right on the beach for very little money. The rusty compressor rattles loudly and the meal takes ages. We immediately feel at home in the Pousada Portal da Barra. There are few places in the world where you can kite in strong winds on flat water just ten metres from your room.

The wind blows mightily in Ilha do Guajirú. During the three days of our stay, it only rarely and briefly blows at less than 20 knots. During the day it always blows at 20 to 30 knots. Ilha do Guajirú is a dream for flat water kiters. Situated behind a long sandbank, the low tide reduces a long river estuary to a barely mirror-smooth space. At high tide, up to 60 kiters ride the gentle wind waves of the 300 by 1000 metre slope. (more…)

On the way to the promised land

Post
#568

0911

2013

Sat

23:07

day #

2346

4.5 k
views

A house wall in the middle of nowhere in the Brazilian pampas proclaims: “God has abandoned us”. This irritates me in two ways. Firstly, Brazilians are the Salafists among Christians. Anyone who does not attend at least three of the five weekly masses offered in each village is officially considered a pagan. Secondly, we are on our way to the promised land, and that is not possible without a God.

Our God is the wind. It certainly brings a lot of wealth to Brazil. When a wind farm is built here, a factory, roads and sometimes a whole village are built at the same time. We drive through endless forests of wind turbines. Yes, the sunset would be more beautiful without them. But if I have the choice between forests of rotary blades and sushi glowing in the dark, my choice is clear. (more…)

Flexeiras, Guajirú & Mundau

Post
#567

0711

2013

Thu

21:20

day #

2344

4.8 k
views

The next stop is the almost completely empty town of Flexeiras. It’s just before peak season and there’s nothing going on anywhere. We check into a cheap pousada right on the beach and set off straight away for Guajiru, a few kilometres to the east. The wind is much stronger here than in the slightly shaded Flexeiras. On the water in front of one of the kite accommodations, which are hopelessly overpriced as always, a dozen riders with 7 to 9 square metres are raging.

As the beach is wide and the sea quite empty, we downgrade the risk and stick to 12 and 13m² – again. With gusts well over 22 knots, this is borderline, but the hangtime is tremendous. We hurl ourselves into the lee over numerous 1.5 metre high waves and mess up even more big airs towards the shore. The view from a height of 7 metres seems endless. (more…)

Lagoinha & Paracuru

Post
#566

0511

2013

Tue

22:36

day #

2342

4.2 k
views

After five weeks of long stays, the pace of travelling is now changing. We are travelling by car for three weeks from Fortaleza to the wild west of Brazil with Ian, a Dutchman from England. From now on, we’ll be riding different kite spots every day. Our first stop is Lagoinha, a good hour west of Cumbuco.

The sticker on the windscreen prohibits driving on unpaved roads. It says nothing about beaches. So the next morning we drive a few kilometres downwind to the lagoon with good people from home. It’s not much bigger than the Tabuba pond off Cumbuco, but is surrounded by palm trees and dunes like an oasis behind the beach. The wind is too good, nobody has time for photos or films. (more…)

Complaining About Meccas: Cumbuco

Post
#565

2910

2013

Tue

10:36

day #

2335

3.4 k
views

We kiters have many reasons to grumble about Mekkas. We are the number one economic engine in many windy, poor regions of the world. I have lived in many places where kiter friends knew very well how much life is worth – but at the same time complained loudly that the evil natives would charge more than the value of a life.

The sun is burning – and that brings sunburn. If you don’t like it, use SPF100, wrap yourself in a burka, go to Spitsbergen in winter! Or just shut the fuck up! It’s not our meccas who say: “Walk in a circle around a meteorite and yodel ‘Allah u akbar'” – it’s people like you and me who just do it. Some want to give too much and others gratefully accept it. (more…)

Canoa Quebrada

Post
#564

1910

2013

Sat

23:15

day #

2325

3.2 k
views

Just a day’s journey away from the paradise of Galinhos, Canoa Quebrada is in a completely different world. Fast Internet, large supermarkets, hotels and restaurants without end. The way to the bangers on the beach is marked by a long beach buggy traffic jam full of fat people. I immediately feel like Tarzan in New York and take refuge in the quiet cemetery in the sand dunes.

I stroll along empty Broadway in the midday heat. Bar after pub after disco after bar. The frequency whispers quietly of the calm before the weekend storm of thousands of locusts from the nearby metropolis of Fortalezza. Travelling means change. In Galinhos, the pharmacist carried my forgotten mobile phone after me. Here, without exception, everyone warns me about robbery, theft and forgotten earplugs. (more…)

Those were the days, my friends!

Post
#563

1610

2013

Wed

23:06

day #

2322

3.2 k
views

Our Germanic caipirinha thirst ensured that there wasn’t a single lime left to buy in the whole of Galinhos on the day I left. Fortunately, the limeicide is not the only trace I leave behind here. The Cacimbim lagoon lies a few kilometres above Galinhos and is bordered by a steep sand dune. I write my name in the sand a few times as I pass by.

My time in Galinhos was magical. My right elbow won a Grand Slam, my left knee ran a marathon and my bum was responsible for more bombs than Al Qaeda. The calluses on my hands tell of the power of the wind. Quietly, quietly, great things have happened. I have found my words again. It’s time to move on. (more…)

Brazilian Humour

Post
#562

1110

2013

Fri

20:43

day #

2317