This blog will shut down and permanently move to my website end of January 2024!
I hope you’ll keep following me there. Best wishes to everyone!
Blog permanently moving to website end of Jan 2024!
Leave a reply
Tag Archives: #memoirs
A Long and Painful Journey of Growth and Discovery
I’ve always had to battle challenges and adversity far larger than being transgender.
In this blog post, let’s focus on the transgender part of my story…
I was born in 1971 and grew up in a time, a conservative geographic region, and surrounded by people who never asked me why I was so unhappy and hid away in my room for days on end. When I did make attempts to try and tell them, they didn’t listen. This began when I was 3 years old…
By the time I was 5 years old, I stopped trying to tell people that I was actually a boy inside the female body they perceived. Instead, I began to wonder if there was something wrong with me. Maybe I didn’t quite belong in this world? Maybe I was just broken?
When finally, at the age of 20, I figured out that I was transgender, it was the beginning of an odyssey. This was now over 30 years ago. And the odyssey is still ongoing.
I used to say “I was born in the wrong body” to explain my situation as simply as possible to people. But, I don’t want to say “in the wrong body” anymore, because I have realized this is basically negative self-talk. There is nothing wrong with me or my body. I am not broken. My soul and my biological body were simply mismatched. Why, we’ll never know.
Well, I do have a theory (with a slight twinkle in my eye):
Since I was a kid, I like to imagine a factory high up in the heavens, where exhausted workers toil around the clock at long assembly lines. Their task is to stick souls into matching bodies before those little bodies are then put into wombs. Obviously, every now and then an assembly line worker does not pay attention. As happened in my case when he, she, or they stuck my male soul into a female body… a second of complacency which has cost me dearly my entire life.
For it has taken truly until now for me to realize that I do belong in this world. And that I have as much right as everyone else to take up space, be heard, be seen.
For the longest time, I felt as if I had to apologize for being who I am. I was terrified whenever I needed to come out at work, or in private.
It was during those days as well, that I got rejected in job interviews simply for being transgender.
And then, one time, in the year 2000, the head of human resources of a prestigious company told me after I mentioned that I am transgender, “That’s not a problem at all, Mr. Klenk. You are a very good fit. We’d like to hire you. Just don’t tell anyone else in the company that you are transgender.”
And you know, what? I actually said, “Yes, sure, I understand.”
Because I was so grateful that someone wanted to hire me.
Today, 23 years later, I am fully aware just how discriminating, and disrespectful the HR representative’s request was. And that I should have gotten up that very moment and said “NO”.
Yet, only recently, after years of work with my psychologist did it finally dawn on me that I have prioritized the needs of others my entire life.
How often was I hidden away and still am. To this day, my adoptive father thinks it’s better to not mention to anyone in his village that I am transgender. He can’t even bring himself to use the word transgender. Instead, he refers to it as “your thing.”
My adoptive mother still struggles with finding the right pronouns, 32 years after I came out to her and transitioned. She is concentrating like mad when she speaks to me but often falls back into the female form. And, to this day, she is lying to everyone she knows and only speaks to them about her daughter. When I visit and people she knows walk towards us, she grabs my arm and literally runs with me in the other direction. Because she is at a loss as to how to explain who the young man at her side is. So, to protect my mental health, since a couple years ago, I stopped visiting her.
My ex-wife and her siblings insisted throughout our entire marriage that it will be better not to mention to their parents that their son-in-law is transgender. Since it would make their parents uncomfortable and would possibly break their hearts.
What about my heart?
But you know what? I went along with all of it. Always put myself second. Always understood. And always aimed to do my best to prevent others from ever feeling uncomfortable around me and my reality. I became an amazing diplomat, regulating the feelings of others long before they even felt them.
Even after I wrote a book about my life and basically outed myself with utmost authenticity and truthfulness to the entire world, I still had abundant understanding for everyone else and did my best to never inconvenience anyone.
And I wasn’t even aware I did this to myself.
In the process, I realize now, I undermined my sense of self-worth and my self-confidence. I hurt myself. Didn’t have my own back. De-stabilized the ground I walked on. The tremors and earthquakes became stronger with every single year, until I fell more often than I stood.
I realize now, I committed the ultimate betrayal. Did the worst we can do to ourselves. Because if we don’t have our own backs 100%, if we don’t love ourselves exactly as who and how we are, we literally have nothing.
It is the loneliest we can possibly ever be. No matter how many loyal and supportive friends we have. No matter how many people we inspire.
My odyssey has thus far been chock-full of challenges and adversity. Thankfully, I never took any of these hurdles as being the end of the line. But rather as opportunities for growth and learning. So, grow I did and do. Painfully and slowly. I always will.
Nowadays, as I am in the process of – for the first time in my life – building a healthy base layer of self-confidence and self-esteem. I am beginning to truly stand up tall.
And while I have already been an active supporter and public speaker for the transgender, non-conforming, and non-binary community since as far back as 2016, it is only now that I feel true belonging – to myself, as well as to the world around me. I am allowing myself space. I am finding my place. And as I love myself more and belong more, my voice grows stronger.
Most importantly, I know – as firmly and clearly as anyone ever can – that I will never let myself be hidden away or silenced again.
Share this:
The Hazards of Traveling
Traveling. That magical word. Those moments, surreal almost in their beauty and intensity once we return home and try to hold on to them in our thoughts. And then, of course, while on the road, there is this feeling of being intensely alive. I had missed especially this vividness when finally, after 2 years of not traveling long distances during the pandemic, I was able to set out again and explore. And, as every time when I set out, I was scared.
Over the years, I’ve lived and worked on several continents. In 11 countries. These were, in chronological order: Germany, USA, Switzerland, Maldives, Belgium, Macau, Canada, Hong Kong, Malta, the Caribbean, and France.
Each one of these home bases I settled into, I used as a hub from which I travelled extensively. I love exploring.
Yet, every single time I set off to go somewhere new, to venture into the unknown, I was afraid. Even terrified at times.
It was the realization that I was about to go out of my comfort zone, to stretch my limits. A leap of faith, both scary and invigorating.
It was also knowing that I was leaving my safe zone – Zurich, Switzerland – where I know from experience, I won’t be attacked as a transgender man.
Each time, leaving this safe haven added a whole other layer of anxiety for me. The fear of not being accepted… or worse of being in mortal danger as a trans individual. I knew, I’d be far more vulnerable at any new destination, due to my lack of local knowledge. Just think of emergencies, doctor’s visits, registrations at public offices, etc.
Now, being 52 years old, I’ve seen a large portion of our planet. I am by all means a seasoned traveler. But one thing hasn’t changed: I am still often anxious. Especially as I head out. That initial push of, “Yeah it’s scary as hell, but do it anyways. It’ll be worth it, and you’ll be fine.”
Like two months ago, when I took several planes to get from Switzerland to New Zealand. During my long stopover in Doha, I was acutely aware of their state-of-the-art full body scanners and wondered how much they really show or don’t show? Was it obvious to the security personnel that there is something missing between my legs?
As I then walked through the lush, green forest inside the recently built Doha terminal, I was in awe. But, at the same time, I felt incredibly uncomfortable. Because I knew I was in one of those places on Earth where I am not allowed to exist. Where I am considered an abomination. Would they kill me if they met me in a dark alley rather than in a busy airport terminal?
When the airplane took off towards Adelaide a few hours later, I was as relieved as a drowning man coming up to the surface for a breath of much needed air.
So, you see, wherever I go, it is hard for me to completely relax. And sometimes, depending on where I am, I can’t relax at all.
I transitioned in 1996, when I was 25. But even now, 27 years later, I still sometimes feel like a criminal on the run who could be detected at any moment. Someone not welcome, under the radar, living a life of false safety which can shatter at any time.
Thus, my nervous system is always on high alert.
When you meet me on the street, however, you’ll never know I’m transgender. I am very much the man I am – inside and also on the outside. I “pass” very well as they say.
On that note: I detest the use of the words “passing” and “presenting” in relation to how a transgender person is perceived by others. It’s actually outright disrespectful and invalidating. “Passing” and “presenting” make us sound as if we are pretending to be who we are rather than actually being exactly the person we say we are, no matter how that may look to others.
People I only meet briefly on the street or whilst running an errand will never know they’ve just met a transgender man.
And it is precisely those quick everyday encounters which make me wonder: Would they still appreciate me and treasure me if they knew I am transgender? Would I still be safe around them?
Far more acute, when I am traveling or working abroad, I often wonder things like: Will the doctors in the foreign hospital still treat me well when they find out my body isn’t quite like any other male body? If I get searched by police in a dark alley, will I come out of there alive? If I’m outed in a bar in the middle of nowhere, will I be attacked? Will the woman I’ve flirted with run away in disgust when she sees me the first time without my clothes?
Especially in the USA, the Middle East, and South America, hundreds of transgender individuals get killed every year on the street simply for being who they are. So, my worries are not unfounded. And much still needs to be done for this, our beautiful planet, to truly be an inclusive world.
Share this:
On Stage with Kurt Aeschbacher at Haebse in Basel
For a second time, I had the pleasure to be invited as a guest to Kurt Aeschbacher’s talk show. This time not on television but life on stage at the Kulturhaus Haebse in Basel. It’s been – once again – a special honor and precious life experience, whilst at the same time also an opportunity to raise awareness for the transgender community and do something good.
After I published my book ‘Paralian – not just transgender’ in May 2016, I was invited to do many radio and magazine interviews. At the time, I wondered what I would do if I’d ever get approached to be a guest on a talk show.
Because, inevitably, when I watch most talk shows, they feel over the top to me, pretentious, inauthentic, disrespectful, exploitational, and wrong on so many levels.
Except Aeschbacher. He is a Swiss TV legend and hosted his own talk show, unpretentiously called ‘Aeschbacher’ for 30 years on Swiss television. I’ve always loved his shows and the way Kurt Aeschbacher dealt with his guests.
There was a lightness of being and a deep understanding. All at the same time.
There was also true curiosity, compassion, and respect. Kurt always invited four people and focused on each of them for 15 minutes in his 1-hour-long show. He led the interviews with a beautiful, subtle sense of humor, and an enormously big heart.
So, I really dreamt of one day being invited to ‘Aeschbacher.’
And then, all of a sudden, in January 2018, I received a letter from the ‘Aeschbacher’ production team, asking me if I wanted to be a guest in the show.
It was lovely. And the positive impression I had gained of Kurt Aeschbacher from a distance over the years was confirmed. He welcomed us, his four guests of the evening, with open arms at the TV studio. He told us, he didn’t want to discuss the questions with us in detail beforehand so as not to take away the authenticity. But he also said that, should we feel uncomfortable at any time, we could always choose to just not answer a question.
After the show, he approached each of us and asked us if it had been ok, and if we had felt comfortable. And all of us had felt very comfortable indeed.
Fast forward five years from spring of 2018 to now – spring of 2023.
We got back in touch this year and I was delighted to hear that Kurt Aeschbacher had decided to continue his talk show concept live on stage in a theatre in Basel after his TV show had been shut down after its successful 30-year run.
So, it was a no-brainer to say ‘yes’ when Kurt asked me if I wanted to be his guest again. This time for his matinee show ‘Sonntagsgaeste’ (Sunday Guests), which he performs together with artistic director and musician Phil Dankner, who is just as much of a good soul as Kurt.
Thus, last Sunday, on the 16th of April 2023, I found myself on stage again, live, and as always very nervous in sharing a story as personal and intimate as mine. It always feels equivalent to leaning far out of the window on the top floor of a 30-story building.
The overall concept of the talk show was still the same. Yet, far more comfortable somehow, in a stage setting which resembled a cozy living room.
The conversations between Kurt and his guests were still inspirational, delightful, entertaining, as well as educational.
As I watched the conversations with my co-guests, I learned about moulages. About incredible Ticino architects. And I was inspired by young Swiss singer ‘Elle,’ who I am sure will make all her dreams come true.
I was the last of us 4 guests.
Kurt and I chatted for 25 minutes about my life, about being transgender, and the challenges of transitioning 30 years ago, when no one was aware yet, and being trans wasn’t discussed on every news and social media channel.
We also talked about the importance of mutual respect in all of our dealings with each other, no matter if we understand one another’s journey or not.
I believe, Kurt, Phil, and I made a difference that evening. Many audience members shook my hand after the show and thanked me for giving them a better glimpse into a subject they had up until then not really understood.
Thank you, dear Kurt and dear Phil, for creating such a wonderful platform for us, the guests on stage as well as the audience, to learn more about each other and celebrate the diversity of human lives and our life experiences, together.
Share this:
Traveling in Norway for the First Time
During the last few months, I didn’t get out much except for short walks around the neighbourhood. Work was intense, and the weather was just too grey and wet for me to want to go on big excursions.
However, as soon as spring kicked off here and the days got longer, warmer, drier, and sunnier, I took a week off to go where it was still cold, grey, and wet: to the fjords of Norway.
What brought me there initially was a concert by Ludovico Einaudi I just didn’t want to miss. Then, I figured why not leave Oslo straight away and head to the area around Bergen to explore some of the far larger fjords in the west of Norway a bit.
It turned out to be an amazing trip. Each fjord I visited was more beautiful than the one before it. Especially the Naeroyfjord, with a ferry trip from Gudvangen to Flam, was absolutely, mesmerizingly beautiful and invigorating. Even more so since the sun came out for most of the day, bathing everything in a crystal clear light, enhancing the hues of white and blue all around me to an eerie brilliance.
It was my first time ever traveling to Norway or the European North in general, and I’ll most definitely be back. For hikes, road trips, and boat cruises around even more fjords. And to explore other northern countries as well.
In addition to the landscape which was almost unreal in its beauty, I loved the general atmosphere in Norway. There was a distinct politeness, calm, and relaxedness which felt like blessed relief. Time seemed to slow down and whatever stress I felt still lingering from the months of working before soon vanished without a trace.
Everything seemed so easy, quiet, accessible, and open-minded. I never quite felt anything like it anywhere else during my abundant travels through many countries around the world. It was simply enchanting.
Share this:
Suspended in Time
I’m on vacation! 2 1/2 weeks off work. Thankfully, as of this moment it still feels as if I’m suspended in time. I have all the time in the world.
In fact, this is my first vacation since beginning of 2019 that is without stress and anxiety. A vacation without existential angst… even though I’m still far from feeling steady ground under my feet again.
Nevertheless, I enjoy many a happy moment. My cat is a great teacher. He shows me how to stay in the Now.
Because often, when I see my social media feed, I get quite depressed.
Every day, there is another “congratulate Blabla for starting a new position as Blabla for this and that show.” I read it, feel happy for my colleague, but also immediately feel this deep ache radiating all the way to my core. A kind of homesickness that is incredibly hard to shake. And to be entirely honest, possibly also hurt pride.
I need to be careful not to dwell on it too much. To not get overwhelmed by sitting on the bench.
The thing is, I love working backstage, especially for circus shows. Yet, no matter how hard I’ve worked during my thus far 10 years in the business… I’ve always found it incredibly hard to get a foot in the door. I blame nepotism. So many times, my skillset and enthusiasm didn’t seem to matter when I applied for a job at a show. Managers would only hire people they already knew well…
These days, I am working in a corporate office. Admin work similar to what I am used to as a stage manager. The work is also just as fast paced and ever-changing. So that is good. Yet, I do miss being backstage running tracks in the evening. And I miss calling the show.
I’ve adapted to so many things in my life already. Yet this time, the ache remains. It feels as if I’ve lost something forever and it will leave a void I somehow cannot quite fill with anything else. Because nothing compares to the almost electrifying vividness of bringing a show to life together.
I am now stumped and quite a bit lost when it comes to figuring out where I’m headed with my life. I feel uprooted. Wanting to arrive somewhere yet not quite able to do so. Daily, I feel the ache of wanting to go backstage again to work my heart out for something burgeoning with creativity and soul.
As for hurt pride… there is the exasperating fact that everything else I’ve ever put all my energy towards has worked out for me. Except working backstage and being able to build a successful career as a stage manager. Over the years, I have been great in helping others in the industry to kickstart their career. Yet, for myself, the backstage universe seems to remain strangely out of reach.
Well, looking back over the last decade, I’ve had a good run of it, too. I worked for two amazing aquatic circus shows. One of them the largest one in the world at the time. I also got to work with a great international team on the first ever electric vehicle stunt show in the world.
So, I did manage to squeeze more than just a foot in the door every now and then over the years. And I did my best to gather as much experience as I could while I was with each show. In my last job in the industry, I even finally called the show. Meaning, I ran the show from the control booth. It’s sort of like being the bridge between everything. Keeping people safe and the spectacle flowing. Much like being a conductor for a huge orchestra. Just that in this case it’s performer cues, light, sound, special effects, props, and all kinds of things coming together. It’s like creating the same perfect Mandala every night. The timing must be just right. But still, the show will never be exactly the same.
Calling the show was something I had wanted to do for a long, long time.
Now, I seem to be completely out of the loop. As if none of these experiences ever happened. Whereas most of my former colleagues are falling neatly back into place after the pandemic. Like human puzzle pieces in a re-activated live Tetris game.
I wonder if maybe being a stage manager is just not my door? But how can something that feels so deeply invigorating and seems to fit so well to my personality and skillset be the wrong door? Maybe there are things I just cannot grasp and understand yet.
Maybe answers will await further along the road.
For now, my old street cat JoJo reminds me to count our blessings and enjoy every precious moment. To trust that, somehow, the mystery of where we’re headed will be revealed over time.
We do have a roof over our head after being homeless for a good 1 1/2 years (well JoJo was homeless for a good decade or more). Plus, it’s not just any roof. We found a gorgeous little rooftop apartment with a terrace. Our place is flooded with light. Different hues of golden sunlight find their way through our windows over the course of each day.
And I have a job. That’s not to be taken for granted.
It’s also good to have health insurance again. There are some aches and pains both JoJo and I have been struggling with that we can now take care of.
Most importantly, we are surrounded by a group of close friends whom I’ve known for decades. Many of them have always been there. No matter where I went. No matter for how long. And they’ve always accepted me for exactly who I am. We’ve grown in all kinds of different directions and yet have never grown apart.
So, JoJo and I are in a good place.
I’m relaxing into the flow as best as I can.
The person inside me who wants to have a plan would love to know about some deeper meaning in all of this. Would love to know the destination we are headed towards. And would love for it all to instantaneously make sense and feel right.
Most likely, a few years from now it really will all make sense and I’ll know why everything had to happen the way it did.
I know, it’s about the journey, not the destination. The adventurer within me appreciates that. The adventurer within is grateful for all the moments spent now in this current life situation, this current place.
Mostly, I am incredibly grateful for and happy about every second I get to spend with little, old JoJo.
Time together is always limited. I guess it is what makes the happy moments so incredibly, overwhelmingly precious.
But in our case now, I am more aware than ever before of how limited time together is. No one knows JoJo’s age. He might be anything above 10 years old. And he has FIV.
The time we have together. Friendship. Love. Supporting each other is more important than anything else. Be it human to human, or human to animal.
So, here we are, two close friends, cat and man, enjoying some last, golden autumn sunshine together.
Share this:
Featured in Podcast ‘Mis Coming Out’
For all Swiss-German and German speakers out there, here a little something to listen to on a relaxed Sunday afternoon: Marco Schaettin recently interviewed me for his fabulous podcast ‘Mis Coming Out’ (my coming out) and I told him about my life story… ☺️
Click here to get to the podcast episode.
Further information on my website.
Share this:
And Then All Changed Again
Where do I even start… well… as you know I was looking for a job and an apartment here in Montpellier. I was even looking with a friend. She has a French passport but is not registered in France at the moment. I have an EU passport. And we wanted to find something affordable together, to share. Can’t be that hard, we thought…
It’s incredible how many bureaucratic walls we ran into. This was even more surprising to us since we have both lived in multiple countries already. Neither of us has ever encountered so many bureaucratic barriers before. Anywhere.
To sum up weeks of going from Pontius to Pilatus in two sentences:
Basically, no one wanted to rent anything to us unless we had our tax revenue in France first. And no one wanted to give us a job unless we had an address in France first.
A conundrum which might have been funny had it not completely destroyed all hopes of my friend and I being able to begin a new life here in beautiful Montpellier at this time.
I pondered for a while if there was a workaround, because I really wanted to stay in Montpellier. Start a new life. New country, new city, new language, new job, maybe even a new profession. But, since I am by now already living on borrowed money, it didn’t make any sense to rent AirBnBs until I’ll be able to find a loophole in the local bureaucracy.
So, with a heavy heart, I decided to let go of Montpellier.
Immediately next came the question of where to go instead. Move onwards to maybe Spain or Portugal? But there as well I will be faced with extreme uncertainty and no idea of when and how I’ll be able to get a foot on the ground and find a roof over my head… and a job.
Instead, I have now decided to go back to the place which has already been my home twice for altogether 17 years: Zurich. In fact, each time I moved there, Zurich became my safety net after great turmoil. This will be the 3rd time. And, third time is the charm they say, isn’t it?
I have an amazing network of friends and acquaintances in Zurich. People who are close to my heart. That’s a definite plus. The climate is a definite minus. Brrrrrr.
So, onwards I go, in hopes of finding a better future. My little feline buddy JoJo and I will rent a car and drive to the Swiss border on January 10th, 2021. There, good friends will pick us up with their car. JoJo is now a registered French “cat-izen” and this will be his first ever time to cross a border as an international cat. Not bad for an old toothless street survivor.
Once in Zurich, I want to continue studying Le Francais, because I am still aiming to become fluent. And, I will begin another determined job hunt. Hopefully more successful than my last. If I can’t find anything in Zurich, in these Covid-stricken times, I might head towards other destinations after all. Malta, one of my favorite places on Earth, and a place I’ve already lived and worked in, has crossed my mind as well.
We will see. There is not much more JoJo and I can do than move forward with hope and as much confidence and positivity as we can muster.
We have roughly three more weeks here and JoJo and I both aim to enjoy our little rooftop flat which we will miss dearly. We’ll watch the golden sunsets together, and wave at our pigeon neighbors every night. I’ll miss those two love birds. So heartwarming to see them returning every single evening.
It’ll be a good Christmas. With JoJo, two love-struck pigeons, and my human friend, before she retreats to a bureaucratically friendlier locale as well. I believe a bit of French wine will be involved as well.
Merry Christmas to you all! JoJo, the pigeons, and I are sending many hugs around the world xxx
Share this:
My Book Paralian is Still Available as eBook – Only Few Print Copies Left
It’s been a long long time since I have posted about Paralian.
With Covid, and things that happened in the year before Covid, I have been so absorbed, and left to fend for my survival, I could not really (and still can’t) keep up-to-date with all social media channels.
I also realize, I want to dedicate far more time to daily life instead of spending too many hours online. If this year has taught us one thing, then it is that life is precious, and our face-to-face relationships are more than precious.
I do want to update you all on the situation of my book though.
It is still and will keep being available as ebook on Amazon and on other platforms like Kobo, Apple iBooks Store, etc.
But it has gone almost out of print. Troubador Publishing still holds a few copies.
https://www.troubador.co.uk/bookshop/autobiography/paralian/
And Amazon UK still sells printed copies of the book as well.
https://www.amazon.co.uk/s?k=paralian&ref=nb_sb_noss_2
But there can’t be more than 10 copies left. You can find and order used copies of Paralian online though.
And, once borders can be crossed again without quarantine, I also still have 30 books under my father’s bed. So, if any of you want to buy a signed paperback version at some time in the future, let me know. As soon as I have a chance to go visit my dad, I can send the book on its way to you.
I hope, one day, I’ll find an enthusiastic publisher who will pick it up and re-print it. And, I am still dreaming of having Paralian translated into other languages as well. I am so sure it will do well on the German market.
But for the moment, it is what it is. Still available, but rather low key 🙂
As for me, I am slowly getting back on my feet. Thankfully, I currently am spending the cold winter days only thirty minutes away from the Mediterranean Sea as well.
As soon as summer will come along, I’ll need to get underwater. I am missing the big blue with every pore of my body. For now, it’s just walks on the beach, inhaling the salty air and dreaming of getting my toes wet.
Best wishes to all!
Share this:
Bedouin Brothers
I’d never been to Egypt before and wasn’t quite sure what I’d find. One thing was sure though: after thirteen months of working full time while at the same time publishing my book ‘Paralian’ I was more than ready for a bit of adventure as well as relaxation.
Arriving at Lahami Bay resort three weeks ago, I found myself wrapped securely inside a miniature Germany-Switzerland – everything regulated and ordered, with hardly a trace of Egyptian culture detectable. The overall atmosphere was relaxing however and I hooked up with some old dive buddies to boot. Still, I had to almost force myself to ease into resort life and my traveler’s heart caught itself sighing deeply and counting the days. This place lacked authenticity, and the soul of the local people.
So my wife and I escaped the artificial resort world as much as we could and immersed ourselves underwater at the Housereef or dove in several times a day from the boat. The ocean was its deepest, most cerulean blue, with bits of sparkling turquoise twinkling around the edges.
Back on the boat for breaks between dives, I was delighted to discover the good-naturedness and fine sense of humor of our local boat crews. We got to talking and a few days later Hanna and I found ourselves walking along the beach late in the afternoon, sidestepping an armada of large hunting crabs, until we reached the small marina where all boats were anchored for the night. Ali, one of the captains had invited us to come over. As soon as we arrived, he introduced us to everyone and began preparing traditional hot beverages.
From then on we were with our Bedouin friends and brothers at the marina every day. We sat and listened, exchanged stories, cooked dinner together, learned how to roast, grind, and brew the most delicious Bedouin coffee. We marveled at the generosity and good humor of our hosts, even gazed up at the stars together late at night and shared our hopes and dreams.
This is how I like to travel, how I like to be. All that counts is the person. There is no judgment, no prejudice. There are no stereotypes, no boundaries, no labels – just human beings meeting each other with open hearts and minds. Intense eye-contact. Being fully invested in the moment. Individuals enjoying to learn from each other. Laughter, firm handshakes, sincerity, and a strong sense of self. May we meet again my brothers. Inshallah.
Liam Klenk 