Tuesday, August 2, 2022


Our track within and from France

On the Move

We awoke in Venice Italy, crossed thru Slovenia, got our passports stamped and parked outside a closed camp ground. At 9pm the security guard told us “Go! Now you must go.” That was our first day in Croatia. In France, everywhere is a campground. In Croatia it is heavily regulated and the laws are enforced with lofty fines so as to corral you into the very expensive campgrounds that are everywhere in the country. Ok – I’ll pay, but this one was closed for the winter.

“Go! Now you must go.” That Slavic accent with the Yoda phrasing makes them sound like they're proficient and resigned to the trouble they are about to cause. We went. I hate driving this big rig after dark on strange roads. Fortunately, we weren’t the only campers that were being evicted, and the other guys knew our surroundings. We ended up a few KM down the road. The next day we pulled into Polidor Family Campground and ended up staying for almost 3 weeks. 

I never expected we would sit in the same place for 19 days. In retrospect I think the enormity of what we had done was finally realized and sat down squarely on my chest and forced me to reflect. Moving to Europe, navigating the bureaucracy of France, shopping and buying Encore, the stress of the title deed and the insurance, the drive to get out of the Schengen Zone to stop the clock so we could re-enter for the summer and drive to Sweden…It all finally caught up with us. We needed some time to sit still and get to know our new home / vehicle. We now had the stint to shuffle things around and perfect our storage challenges. We opened and explored all the crevices we had previously ignored and made some changes for comfort and practicality. 

The repairs and improvements have begun

The Auxiliary Transport

Our campground was in a pretty location near the sea but far from everything else. That led to the next quandary: “How do we leave the mothership and get around?” We needed a secondary mode of transportation to increase our diameter of fun. We can't fit bikes in the garage (not even folding bikes. It’s a very small garage. “Garage” is motorhome vernacular for the storage locker at the stern of the vehicle) I could mount a bike rack off the back but I don’t want to add length or to encourage thieves to take another look at us. Hence, the e-scooters were purchased. They fold and fit perfectly in the garage. What a great decision. 

Let’s Get Something Straight . . .

The name of this country isn’t anything close to Croatia. It’s actually Hrvatska. The Slavs’ pronunciation exists through something that even Wikipedia calls a phenomenon: “Liquid consonants”. It’s too detailed for this dispatch but you might find it interesting to learn how the unspellable shakes hands with the unpronounceable (paraphrased and stolen from the late great PJ O’Rourke). Croatian sounds like a cross between Russian and Italian. It’s got the staccato rhythm of the Tuscans and that drugged Slavic blur, like a tongue on Nembutal. 

Dobro means "Good". “Dobro, bro”! Nobody, and I mean nobody, thinks that joke is funny. I doubt they even know it’s a joke. They probably think I have a stutter so they pity me. But I’m not gonna stop saying it. Don’t feel bad for my nonexistent stutter, pity me because I’m such a dork.

The Latins of the Balkans

There are a bunch of loud Slovenians parked across from us. It’s happened more than once. The loud party hounds are always the Slovenians. Aleja asked me, "Do you think the Slovenians are the Latins of the Balkans?" - "Yep!" Croatia is their coastal neighbor, they come in swarms, and like the Latins they have zero control over their volume. 


The Istria is a large peninsula shaped like a shield that is shared by Italy, Slovenia and Croatia, but mostly Croatia (89%). It’s changed hands over the millennia so many times that many cultures have claimed roots to it. In addition to those named above the Austrians and Hungarians ruled it as well as the ancient Liburnians, Romans and Venetians. 

Dvigrad Ruins 

They are really something unique. This town was never destroyed, just abandoned, and since no modern villages arose nearby the photo-ops are astounding. I never tire of finding a quiet corner, focusing on a well-worn stepping stone and trying my mightiest to project myself back in time to imagine the lives of those who walked before me. 


I’ve sailed the Caribbean, the South Pacific and the waters of Indonesia (way too many laps!) and I can tell you with authority that you can’t beat the gin-colored water of Croatia. Vrsar was the first in a long line of gorgeous stops we made and we aren’t even on the Dalmatian Coast yet. There’s a reason your intolerable work colleague keeps bending your ear about Croatia. 


Humanity loves scarcity as much as it loves seafront. This might explain why people will pack themselves into a peninsula with a shoe horn. The density is dizzying and the quaint charms of these deliciously photogenic little medieval seaside towns overflows into the lively streets. Get ready – this became a recurring theme for the next month.


“You want Roman ruins? Oh, we got Roman ruins!” In 45 BC Pula became an important Roman port. Its coliseum is one the world’s best preserved and it’s Temple of Augustus, as well as the various arches and early gates are testimonies to its antiquity. This coast just keeps getting better.

“Thank You For Sharing Your Cigarette Sir”

I thought France was full of smokers. Boy was I wrong. Nothing compares to the number of smokers in Eastern Europe. That hacking cough is the default setting in this part of the world, and though it sounds like one huge covid super spreader event it’s just people slow dying of emphysema. Even though I despise the smoke and the smokers I thank the pantheon of gods for the mosquito and big tobacco or world population would be at 12 billion and you’d be scrounging for a naked corn cob to gnaw.

The Dalmatian Coast

For us, it began on a near island called Krk (Apparently, there is a shortage of vowels in this part of the world). We had a roaring good evening with our new friends Brad and Oksana Perkins who I had been stalking for many months, drooling over her photos and gleaning all I could from their social media output to best prepare for this Euro trip. I fumbled a wine glass and it exploded like a grape juice hand grenade, but with 8 hands working feverishly for an hour we got Encore back to pristine. 

We met our new friend Dominic in Starigrad and continued to meet for beers and friendly talks in Zadar & Sibenik. The latter is a strategic city beneath a protection affording hilltop fortress with a sneaky path to open water. I can imagine how in awe the ancient Illyrian felt when he realized that channel ran into a huge protected bay. It’s every maritime explorer’s dream. 


We celebrated Aleja’s birthday here. It’s a splendid little island city easily accessed as we zipped all around with those e-scooters. It’s been continuously inhabited for 2300 years. The longest rule was by The Venetians for 4 centuries. If only these walls could speak.


The world’s most complete Roman palace is the centerpiece of this incredible city. Diocletian’s grandiose edifice is more of a fortress than a palace and was large enough to be an entire city unto itself. The stone work of the sub structure is almost as perfectly fitted as the Inca masonry of Peru and 1100 years older. And what an enormous arched basement it is – vacuous and regal and built on a slant. An engineering marvel that has withstood it all, including 1700 years of remodeling.  

The palace was completed in 305 AD but Split had been inhabited by ancient Greeks and Illyrians for 600 years prior. They didn’t know it at the time but they were building sets for Hollywood and assuring a tourist revenue flow for their descendants. 

Krka National Park

We took a break from the coast and headed a little inland for some waterfall hiking in a gorgeous park and the Slovenians woke us only one time late at night. The photos are the obvious showcase for the natural beauty but the designers who crafted the walking trails of this area did a wonderful job creating a soothing stroll through nature. I highly recommend this place.


On a couple occasions as we tripped down the coast, I found myself asking “Do we really need to see another medieval city?” Anyone could forgive such a crass question after seeing as many award winning picturesque coastal towns with their walled fortresses and cobblestone streets as we did. However - The scope of Dubrovnik is astounding. It tops all the rest – even Split, and that’s saying something.

For 400 years from the 14th century to 1808 Dubrovnik ruled itself as a free state. While interviewing a local over cocktails she explained that the citizens don’t feel Croatian any more than they felt Yugoslavian. They are Dubrovniks. In fact, you even have to leave Croatia to get here since it is not connected by land to the main country. That self-determining spirit got them through once more when they were shelled for 7 months during the Croatia war of independence in 1991. You’ve seen hours of film of this city even if you haven’t been here – it was King’s Landing in Game of Thrones.

Next Up – Montenegro, Albania, Macedonia, Serbia, Kosovo

Ahh Europe! – what a wonderful continent for an extended road trip. I hope you enjoy the stories as much as we enjoy creating them.

Your man on point,

Capt Bobby

Friday, April 29, 2022

France: D Day + 78 Years


Recently on “The Bobby & Aleja Show” ….

We had lived in a vehicle together for years in South America. I’m fond of saying “We were given 2.5 years off for good behavior and allowed out of the vehicle”. We ended up in Bali and lived in a lush villa with servants in a tropical paradise. There was scant little to complain about and things were deliriously good. But eventually, the yearning for exploration becomes more than a mild itch and the mind sabotages tranquility. Inside me, complacency gave way to an urgency for adventure. Some don’t feel the clock ticking. I unfortunately do. We’ve come full circle and are now road hogs again.

Drip Drip Drip

Finding water in the winter in northern Europe to fill your fresh water tank is no easy task. Most public places shut them off so pipes don’t break. We were dirty, needed showers and had dishes to wash. My smart lady figured it out, “You know who always has water? Bomberos!” Of course, she was right. The fire fighters are public servants who are never at a shortage for water. We went to the closest fire department and they filled us up. We later learned that, as odd as this sounds, you can usually find an open spigot at a cemetery. So that’s what we’ve become: water scrounging filthies who accost fire fighters and steal H2O from the dead. I’m so proud of us. 

That is our cassette toilet. The most disgusting design flaw in Europe. When the rules of the road are built around weight you end up with a system that puts you in constant arms length contact with effluent. I love Europe but that is the biggest downfall to this lifestyle. In the USA we have enormous black water tanks on our vehicles and all dumping is done much more hygienically.

Winter In France

In hot weather you never think about your hands. We arrived in the middle of winter. Skin cracks and everything manual hurts the gnarled fingers in such cold. The last time I owned a French vehicle, it was a Jeanneau Sun Legende 41. I used to curse the French and their little hands all the time. I crawled beneath Encore to affect a minor repair to a muffler heat shield that had come partially detached. Working with steel in freezing weather sucks whatever heat remains in your naked digits “tout suite”. It was a busy parking lot and the lady who pulled in next to me was astounded to see a man half under a vehicle, lying still with his hands down his pants trying to get some feeling back in his fingers in order to finish the job. “Sacre Bleu”!

The Colombiana still finds snow and ice to be a novelty

Ahhh – The Cuisine

We went from a very inexpensive country with bad expensive wine and negligible cheese to a very expensive country with the world’s best of both and oddly the prices for both wine and cheese went down. The exhilaration I feel when viewing the cheese and wine selections in the giant Le Clerc grocery stores are on par with the vistas of Mt. Agung from Nusa Penida. 

Every French dinner setting is a still life worthy of being painted. With our friends Miguel and Marine

Raclette is my new favorite. Cheese? Yes Please!

Where do you park?

In France they have what they call Aires. It literally translates as “areas”. They are designated parking spots for motorhomes. Sometimes they are complete with a dumping and filling station, and are free. The French have embraced the “vehicle get away” because it’s a great childhood memory-maker for their kids and I think they really love their kids. Yes, every culture loves their kids but the French are a little special in this area. The nights were quiet and we always felt very safe. There were no loud roaming packs of youth. The French teens were all at home being raised correctly and we were left alone to enjoy their beautiful country. 

Faltering Eyesight

“Live like there’s no tomorrow” is a bit nihilistic for me. It leaves no room for future planning nor hope. I can’t agree with that motto. I can however subscribe to what I believe is the improved phrasing of: “Live every day as if you go blind tomorrow”. This succeeds in creating the same sense of urgency and leaves room for optimism while forcing one to savor the beauty of this spinning marble. We went from one of the world’s best examples of natural beauty to one of the world’s best examples of man-made beauty. The natural bounty of Bali and the architectural delights of France are polar opposites but equally magnificent. Plan your day so as to feed your eyes with splendid visions. Not day dreams – real vistas of splendor. France does not disappoint. 

The only trouble with France is the architecture. It's so distractingly beautiful. You're gonna step in dog poop

The Language

The French are stinking rich with letters and accent marks. They add them like fancy baubles to every word and generously pile them into their sentence construction. They lean hard into the accents though they rarely pronounce the letters. Silent “Ts” & “Xs” hang orphaned at the end of many words. The nasal murmur and soft “zzzzs” that serpentine around each phrase hypnotize and melt the cruelest of hearts. It’s narcotic. No wonder nothing gets done. I have a theory that those nasal murmurings have somehow stimulated a sinus growth spurt and their language is the reason their noses are so large. All the better to breath that delicious cheese.

The masks don't work for the Balinese because they have such diminutive noses and they don't work for the French because they have such gargantuan beaks

Ahhh – The French

The first month we were here. I constantly heard myself saying, “Look how French this is. Look how French he is. Look how French that is.” The second month I heard myself saying “Look how French we are. We are so French!”

We are from the new world, North America and South America, but inside each of us there is a Frenchie trying to rise to the surface. I imagine it’s the same for everyone. Embrace your inner Frenchie! Buy that black turtleneck, wear a beret, eat more cheese, drink more wine, kiss on the cheeks – twice!

The Schengen Zone Shuffle

As non-Europeans we are only allowed 90 days inside the Schengen Zone out of every rolling 180 days (it’s complicated. They make apps due to the complexity). We originally thought we would be dashing to Morocco but even though the borders are open, the ferries aren’t running, so we’ve changed course for our alternative escape plan. The clock won’t stop until we get to Croatia. The formula essentially becomes 88 days in the Schengen Zone (a conglomerate of 26 countries) and 92 days outside of the Schengen Zone (they count the day you exit and the day you enter). Our plans try to weigh the seasons against our allotted 88 days. The dream is to be in the north in the summer and in the south in the winter. It doesn’t always work. I’ve built multiple spreadsheets that run the gambit of our planned 5 years in Europe and in every case, we inadvertently end up in Lithuania in November or Greece in August, or some such other error of planning. This is going to be fun. But for now, let’s focus on the immediate: pour another wine and order the charcutier board. “Que sera sera”. I’m so French now!

Even in the freeze of winter we fell in love with France

Your man on point,

Blacktop Bobby

Thursday, April 7, 2022

France and the European Mission


If you had asked the 13-year-old me what I wanted to be I would have demanded: "multi-lingual international gun runner... Obviously". So, by comparison, my current life is a flat boring failure. But that kid was crazy. And in this fragmented shadow of my former vision, I've still managed to eke out some minor escapades in spite of myself. 

The Next Adventure Begins!

I had heard the rumors since childhood. Vague clues & wild myths. The legend said it actually existed and being an amateur archeologist, I had to try. Because of whispers of “a hole in the wall where the men could see it all” .... I went to France.

That’s Not True

As a non-European without residency, there are only a couple ways to buy a vehicle in Europe. I wasn’t comfortable with the Dutch or German schemes of keeping the vehicle in the name of an agent. Only the French system made sense to me. “Aleja – stop studying Italian and switch to French!” She immediately downloaded different software and I hired a law firm to build me a French company that would buy the motorhome. The company owns the vehicle, and I own the company – that is the French work around. 

Going Home

We left Asia and spent 38 days in our home countries. It had been almost 2.5 years since I’d stood on American soil (Aug 2019). It was great to see friends and family but the pandemic made it a little boring. Didn’t matter, I had hundreds of hours of research ahead of me. I composed a list of the acceptable motorhomes and built a logistical nightmare of how to shop for it. 

We aren’t on vacation. We moved to Europe!

I had lived in a motorhome for 4 years on a previous road trip and knew exactly what I wanted to make our lives easier. I became Amazon’s best customer. A man packs 4 backpacks to the point of bursting. They contain clothing, metal detectors, fishing magnets, favorite seasonings, a drone... Everything one needs to move to Europe. The real question is... What miscreant owns 4 backpacks?


We were reunited in Paris and checked into a hotel for 4 days. And so began our email campaign of writing to dealers and individuals who were selling motorhomes that fit our needs. Google Translate became our best friend as we asked questions, disqualified candidates, set up appointments and mapped our route. 

The Rendezvou with The Paisa - Ooolala

Living In A Van Down By The River

On Jan 23 we vacated the warmth and endless internet of the hotel and moved into a rented van at 2pm. By 3pm we had purchased pillows, sheets, comforters and sim cards. We had a propane heating system for the freezing nights and a way to communicate with the world. That’s how fast the transition can be made. We were ready. But before you get too jealous... This is just the start of the hunt for the big motorhome. This little van is just one transitory tool to get us there. It's 28 degrees at night. It's cold, and we are negotiating in a foreign language. The French bureaucracy, the pinch of the exchange rates, & multiple other factors conspired against us .... This is when we earn it. But isn't it wild...? Standing on the ledge of a new epic multiyear international adventure. Geronimo!

The Rental

The Challenger

We drove to Auxerre (A must see. One of my favs. We went there twice. Put it on your list) to look at a moho (the new lingo for motorhome). After 20 minutes all I could think was what a mistake I had made: “European motorhomes are crap. This thing will be unlivable in 6 months.” We waved goodbye to the cheesy con artist of a salesman and drove to our next appointment dejected and hollow.


There was another vehicle I wanted to look at in Bengy-Sur-Craon. It was for sale by a private party in the center of farm land France. When we finally pulled into the estate of Patrick and Christiane Policard, I couldn’t believe my eyes. It was a country home landscape perfected with weeping willows and palms and ancient buildings with heated floors. What dream had we stepped into? 

Before we even looked at the moho we peered through the windows of his workshop on the way to the main abode. Every tool you could imagine placed neatly in its home as the drawn outline proved. A meticulous man lived here. Those other buildings were green houses bursting with flowers and vegetables in the dead of winter. She was a miracle worker as well. We later learned they had moved onto the land in 1972 when it was a complete ruin of hundreds of years earlier and they had made it their life’s work to revive it from the ashes.

We dined together and slept parked in the rental van in their front yard. Could this be the one? We left the next day.


He spoke excellent English and that was very rare. We conversed with every other person through google translate. It’s an exhaustive process that strains your patience and occasionally fails in spite of multiple efforts. Clement had us interested in a 13-year-old Rapido with low miles that ticked all my boxes. However, it had some mechanical issues. We slept on it and in the morning, he got a breakup text from me as we drove at reckless speed the 4 hours back to the Policards. 

Encore! Close the deal

We texted them enroute and negotiated a slightly better deal. Here were the terms: “I’m going to wire you a bunch of cash and assume that you are a man of your word and actually relinquish the deed of title when it shows up in your account.” This was very atypical of me. Was I about to kill my dream with this cavalier European attitude I had somehow acquired in less than 10 days? They fed us wonderful French delicacies in their dining room again as I initiated the wire. The next morning we left to do “tourist things” with the words: “Envoyez-nous simplement un texto lorsque vous aurez l’argent et nous reviendrons” – “Just text us when you have the cash and we will come back” Who is this guy?

I used to love Chase Bank and now I will hate them forever. They cancelled my wire 4 times and caused us all undue stress and aggravation. None the less, the Policards are righteous people and when the money finally did come through, they called us and we hustled back. 

It was exhilarating to empty the rental van and move all our belongings to our new home. Feb 2 2022. The search was over in exactly 2 weeks. Wow that was fast. 

The sale of the moho had been painful for the Policards. They didn’t want to say goodbye to it but Patrick has an eye condition that has now put an end to his driving. We made the situation even more raw as we left their ex moho in their front yard and drove the rental back to Paris and returned it early. “You want to bring it back today? There is a problem? Well – you know… We cannot refund you for the unused days.” I don’t believe they’ve ever encountered such happy early returnees before. We took a very expensive taxi back to Bengy-Sur-Craon. The Policards – excellent people who we exhausted and pushed to the limit but behaved perfectly and are a shining example of the nation of France. I now love the French.

The Waiting

The French...They start work at 9. The first half hour I imagine they just reload their staplers and tune up their coffees. By 11 they are already thinking about lunch so they won't return calls after 10:59. Lunch is 2 hours, but really, it's 3 hours. Then it's 3pm and they are sleepy. Afternoons are barely productive. You have about 1.5 hours a day you can count on the French to be productive. From 9:30 to 11. That's it.

France is a leisure culture, which I salute. We should prioritize family food and socializing. But it's frustrating when you actually need someone to work in order to get your insurance and the deed to your new car. Here's a picture from the war museum. Still applies today.

Not one French person thought it odd that their postal service would take 10 days for a letter to travel 400 km (250 miles). That is insane in 2022. When we had to start over on one document, I paid the 29 Euros for guaranteed next day delivery. It never showed up. Lost forever. And when we went to the office to inquire…. A shrug and that bass mouth that no one does better than the French. You know what I’m talking about. 


Omaha Beach. It was the bloodiest because it was the best defended. The Brits and Canucks got the easier tasks. Even Utah (which was the other American landing) was super easy by comparison. Omaha was an impossible hell. It's astounding anyone survived that day. My buddy Dave Mominee had told me years ago about his uncle who had survived the D Dday landing, and I brushed it off. Then... there in the museum...i saw it! Huge! On the wall - there he was, quoted on the wall of heroes. (it’s such an odd last name that Dave is related to the few Mominees that exist worldwide) I called Dave. We talked about it. Dave had heard all the stories but no one ever sent him that pic before. He didn't know his uncle was on the quote board. Wild man. It made it real. 

That was when humble giants walked the earth. Heroes who were correct and noble with an “ahh shucks” demeanor. Now we are small and grotesque and the shine is tin and not resplendent gold. We've devolved and lost our posture. It's not the same and it probably never will be. 


Their joke of a mail system in tandem with the French bureaucracy eventually succeeded (or rather - stopped failing) and our Grey Card (title and registration) finally arrived in the mail. We were free to move around the continent!

When I was on the sailboat it was "West, always west". When I was on the Pan-American Road trip it was "South, always south". Now we are in Europe and the mandate is to chase the good weather North in the summer and South in the winter. It isn’t that simple of course because of a little immigration challenge we like to call the Schengen Zone Shuffle. More on that in the next dispatch

These are our dear friends Miguel and Marine. It's their address we used for everything. Their hospitality made it all possible. Thank you again and again. DDDD!

Your man on point,

Blacktop Bobby

Tuesday, March 22, 2022

Random Clearing House and South East Asian Wrap Up

Bobby’s Random Clearing House

We spent 2.5 years in South East Asia and not every idea I had fit cleanly into a topic thesis, or supported a through line of thought. Here are those left-over orphaned ideas and half-baked musings.  They are the underdeveloped notions that refused to sit down and wouldn’t play nice with others. Let’s just acknowledge that not everything can be an anecdote, but, for some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to abort these zygotes with the delete key. Congratulations folks, it’s another unrequested episode of Bobby’s Random Clearing House. 

Lonely Planet

I would put forth the theory that 2 people have impacted this region’s economies and futures more than any US sanctions or UN contributions or any single politician, or world event.  Tony and Maureen Wheeler are responsible for armies of youth deploying themselves throughout a hippy trail of SE Asia.  Is it a good thing that they sent millions of kids into the developing nations of tropical Asia? Maybe. I find it to be an interesting topic. If you google them, you agree.

On the topic of backpacking – I think everyone should live out of a backpack for a year. You'll stop buying things you don't need. When you have to carry it on your back you have a different criteria to judge it by. Soldiers and backpackers – humping the rock. 


Why can’t we get fitted sheets in Asia? You always get 2 flat sheets. Wrong! One night of sleep and everything is a ball of wrinkles with the mattress showing. Fitted sheets guys – it’s the simplest of solutions. Hell – all our sheets are made in Asia anyway. Just save some for yourselves, or rather - just for me when I visit. 

Embracing Bad Examples

You think China is a success story but their road map was Singapore. China is just following the example of the Chinese overlords of Singapore who left their root country and created a new one in southern Malaysia decades ago. Singapore: A perfect example of how people will relinquish personal freedoms for economic opportunities. Affluent Asians emulating the worst of the West: consumerism, ostentatious displays of wealth and shopping malls. God how I loathe the shopping mall. It’s Mission Valley on an island. Completely soulless. Apparently, all humans really want is a modern apartment complex in close proximity to a shopping mall. Why don’t we just build apartments in malls? Or does it really even matter where we live when we can order UberEATS and watch Netflix on a comfy couch? Let’s just all save ourselves a little time, take the shortcut, and move directly to the hospice bed with the colostomy bag and the VR goggles. Isn’t that the real dream? Singapore - pass. I love the Indian food but otherwise - hard pass on S’Pore. Waiting for Tobin to box my ears on this one, and the next.

The Chinese

One can graph the arc of American prosperity. You could climb the rise and descend the fall as if hiking a gentle rainbow. It starts with the depression that the second world war pulled us out of, then the booming 50’s, the globalization of the capitalist countries of the 60’s and 70’s. The decadent 80’s might have been the peak and then we began the decline, but at least our ramp up was in a manageable clump of decades and it took a long time before we got fat and lazy (as the Asians are happy to point out). Not China. They went from an agrarian society with no more than subsistence living to middle class overnight. These Chinese have gone from 0 to 60 in about 4 seconds, and it shows. You put a thrifty genotype in the middle of a food court and you get exactly one thing – exploded fat youth. The cultural reveal is more telling. They don’t know how to behave internationally. They are the equivalent of the horrible Americans who went abroad back in the 70’s. Loud and brash. Sure, they can buy it all while thinking their cash excuses their poor manners. It doesn’t. They just haven’t been middle class long enough to learn how to do it in a humble fashion. Its why old money looks down their nose at the nouveau riche.

Investors look for growth industries. Here’s a million-dollar tip - In the near future there will be CEZs: Chinese Exclusion Zones: places that Chinese people are not permitted. They will grow in popularity with the affluence and crushing number of the Chinese population. Invest now and watch your money grow! 

Reader Q & A 

Get ready! It’s that part of the show again where I answer questions I’ve collected from readers. Let’s begin!

Q:“You sure have a lot of opinions. What’s your criteria for deciding if a place sucks or not?”

A: The 4Ps: People, Place, Price, and Plates (Food) are my criteria that make or break a country or city.

Q: “I thought the best coffee in the world is supposed to come from Sumatra and Java. When I was in Bali I hated it. Do you like it?

A: I call the Indo joe “black hole coffee”, no matter how much cream you pour in, the color never changes. It’s cowboy coffee. They don’t use a filter so there is an inch of mud at the bottom and you need to dental floss after chewing your way through the grit. Just like Colombia – the good stuff gets exported. Most of what you drink “Bali style” is low grade shake. 

Q: “I don’t really know any Indo food. What’s your favorite dish?”

A: Rendang. It’s a tough cut of cheap meat seasoned with the world’s greatest spices. Don’t ask me what they are, I appreciate the mystery. I can tell you this: No one ever stops eating rendang because they get full. No chance. They quit because their jaw gives out.


Whenever a person makes a blanket statement in this ridiculous epoch of political correctness, they invite harassment. If I haven’t lost you yet, hold on tight because I suppose I’m going to push past that and type this anyway: There are exceptions, but for the most part, Asians, for me - aren’t the ideal of beauty. There – I wrote it and I’m feeling brave enough not to delete it. I also don’t like the art of Mark Rothko. I am entitled to have an opinion on matters of subjectivity, aren’t I? My blog, my opinions. You’d be hard pressed to find a leading Asian man who wasn’t a martial arts expert. I believe that’s what Chuck Norris built his career on. For the longest time he was the only white guy throwing kicks. (My mom and I had lunch with Chuck Norris. It was 1986. Ask me about it.) But regardless of my personal bias I think the objective truth is that they all have perfect lips. Pre-puckered, genetically ordained perfection, and overinflated by 30 PSI just for maximum thrill. Then pinched for a blush of color.

Speaking of lips - It used to take me 4 years to go through a tube of lip balm and since I would lose it in under 3 years, I’ve never used one up. I have almost no lips (You must now admit that “My Thin Cruel Lips” would be a terrific name for my autobiography). Aleja… well, that’s another story. There are only 2 things on a girl you can get away with calling fat: hair and lips, and Holy smacktastic whoppers if she doesn’t have gigantic lips from heaven. We now go through a tube in 3 months.

Beware Of The “Weekers”

Weekers – Those who come out for 2 weeks and think they’ve “done the country”. There are so many people who shouldn’t be allowed to travel. There ought to be a passport test or a series of infractions that could put you in front of the revocation board. Or at a minimum, these people should only be allowed to go to all-inclusive resorts where they wouldn’t be allowed past the property boundaries, which would have to be newly reinforced with barbwire. Don’t be a “weeker”.


All of this trip was spent in the developing third world. We were surrounded by poverty and there is always the guilt that accompanies that. I think I have an apt analogy to explain the difference between rich and poor. Could it be as simple as this: Rich means my phone battery is permanently on 97%. Poor means their phone battery is permanently on 7%. My worries are eliminated and they’ve got to constantly manage that final 7%. Does that resonate?

... If you aren't stubbing your toes and tripping yourself into a hospital the city planners feel as though they've failed

Living In Happy Oblivion

When you live in a foreign country, there's always this haze around the edges of the known. It’s where your true understanding takes a step into the abyss. There's a lot in my daily life that I don't understand. I just go with the flow. Every once in a while, you're confronted with the need to understand deeper: “Exactly what was this vs that? And why change it now?” But mostly I just live in happy oblivion.

Human Zoo

There is something inherently unjust in touring the world, and rewarding the primitives for perpetuating their anachronistic societies. We want them to exist in a frozen time warp; a human zoo. We don’t want modernism to take root. And what do they want? – They want material possessions. They want what every developing society wants after they meet their basic subsistence needs: mobile phones, internet, and a scooter. From The Americas to Polynesia to Asia and beyond– I’ve seen it with my own eyes.  

In terms of tourism in this country (or any country for that matter) don’t mistake acquiescence as affection, or good manners as respect. We tourists are just one more invading army that the citizens of Indonesia have had to tolerate to survive. They have been living off the crutch of other nations for so long they have never really been independent. I’m not an expert on Indonesia, but I am an expert when it comes to being a man of surplus in the developing world. Trust me; they are actors and I’m just a big dollar sign coming their way and they’ll play any part they think they can get paid for. 

So Smart!

The Most Important Word

There is a single word you should learn when visiting Bali that will vastly improve your life: “suda”. It simply means; “already”. As soon as they hear it, they mumble, “ah suda” and leave you alone. “Ya lo hice” is the Spanish equivalent but doesn’t really quite match the effect. It’s like a magic force field and they immediately bow to defeat & squirt off. “You need sarong, Bintang, transport, t shirt, chopstick… ?” “Suda!” “Ahhh suda.” Then my charitable side emerges and I give them 5,000 rupiah and they get to keep their product. I call it a 30-cent exit tax.

How To Be An American Expat

I'm a Millimeter American. That’s a Yank who has lived abroad and understands the metric system. If you want to be a true expat you need to retrain yourself to start thinking metric, not imperial. Kilos not pounds, centimeters not inches. Imperial is absolutely inferior. Why memorize fractions when you can use whole numbers? “Pass me the 11/32nd socket” vs “Pass me the 9 mil socket”. You also have to give up Fahrenheit, even though it’s superior to Celsius. Trust me, it is. You need to learn another language. Doesn’t matter which one. Once you break one code you automatically get a foothold in the others. And remember - Vocab is more important than conjugation. People are very forgiving when you try in their language. They’ll get the gist. Languages tend to swing. 

And yet so dumb!

The Massages

I miss watching their little brown toes claw into the floor as they cantilever into my back, working my lower spine. My face in the horseshoe cutout. I enjoy the anatomy lesson when she works the cables in my forearms and my fingers curl up

From Friend to Novelty

I was a dude from the neighborhood who went on this 6-year sailing trip. I was a point of pride to brag about: “I just got an email from Bobby, he made it to Fiji!” I came home only to rebuild my burned down house and then left again on a new 4-year trip. I came home for a month just to get a change of clothes and then I left again for another couple of years backpacking South East Asia. My friends have figured it out by now. This traveling thing isn’t the anomaly; living in the States is the anomaly. In order to make a real friend you have to put in the hours, and to keep a real friend you have to put in the hours. I’ve moved from friend to novelty. Now I’m the “Where’s Waldo guy” who travels constantly. I don’t share in the common struggle any longer and I’ve been moved to a different column. I’ve gradually become a “Post-American” and even though I have a perfect US accent, I’m not really on the team anymore. It’s very strange to realize that. 

A Final Quote From Skinny

My brother says: “The life of Waldo is not THE dream, it's HIS dream.  But he's living his dream... and THAT is THE dream.” – So maybe I made it after all.

Let’s Do The Numbers!

It was 28 months, 6 countries, & 1 pandemic. 0ver 10,000 miles flown, 6,000 miles driven, 400 miles sailed. One more big trip in the bag. Goodbye Asia – you were absolutely wonderful!

Your man on point,

Captain Bobby

P.S/ See ya in Europe!