This blog describes my search for truth: my life travels since the start of my global pilgrimage in my 18's, and what I learnt from them.
L'Âne Vert, Morocco. April 2014

The Beginning is the End

...and the end is the beginning. Being complete means being at the beginning, yet knowing that the end is not elsewhere, in space or in time.

I migrated there and I migrated back. I made my little loop, I completed a cycle. I donated The Hermit Crab to the l'Ane Vert community in Morocco and made my way back to Switzerland pulling a little cart behind me that I built by African standards: rusty iron rods and junk wheels hammered together with scrap wood and nails. I then walked, hitchhiked, took local buses, trains, and a boat to cross morocco, Spain, and France. By some miracle, my rusty cart held together until 10 minutes before getting home!

So here I am, at the starting point, without bike or crab, the same as before it even started. And yet, I have something more. Understanding of the cyclical nature of life, and the world. Birth and death is the same process. Materially, you end up just where you started, no difference. You may find that despairing, and you'd be right. The material world, stripped from spirit, is pointless and despairing. That's why we are scared of death, that's why we wear seatbelts. But if we look into this cyclical nature of life, we start to touch its underlying spiritual side. It is not pointless at all, or despairing - it is in fact rich, and beautiful, and deep beyond words. Like all of us, I am more than just my body. I am a cycle, and nothing will stop that cycle.

Thank you for listening folks, and may whatever come!

L'Âne Vert, Morocco. February 2014

I repeat, Heidi is in the kitchen! As for Spot, he thinks he's a cake

Tafedna Beach, Morocco. December 2013
Walter at l'Ane Vert

L'Âne Vert

Paradise kidnapped me! I'm living a life-changing story at the green donkey a.k.a. l'Âne Vert. It's one of these rare places where love reigns instead of money. We chill out, we chill in, we build a house, we sleep ontop of eachother, we go surfing, get high, fight Walter the Donkey, repare shit, run naked at the beach early in the morning, we even throw eggs sometimes.

In other words, life's good and we're living it!

Southern Morocco. December 2013

If only all deserts were sand...

The Crabavan is in the desert

The Crabavan is in the photo. Find it!

Essaouira, Morocco. December 2013
The Mellah, Essaouira

Meet the Mellah

That's the name of the jewish neighborhood of Essaouira. Their ceilings are literally falling on their heads, and none of these buildings are abandoned. That's where I met a funny french guy named Damien (left), who happened to notice my bike on a small sandy road. He was walking with his shaman, an old moroccan man full of wisdomness and depthity, and said, “nice bike dude!”.

On the right, here I am with Ashak, the old shaman, in his home. This is a photo of his whole home, which wasn’t hard to take considering it measures 4 square meters. Bottom line is, I spent one week in Damien’s place in Essaouira, amazing place of material poverty, inner wealth, and above all compassion.

Southern Morocco. December 2013

Interesting Conversation

- Good evening, this is the police
- Shit (very softly). Good evening.
- Are you intending to spend the night here?
- Uh, well… you see, the night came and uh…
- We can't let you spend the night on this land, there's dangerous people (always the same excuse but it's not true). Take your bike and move further on.
(I start packing my stuff to leave)
- Are you alone? No friend?
- My friends are everywhere. They include you as well as the dangerous people you talked about. That's why nothing can happen to me.
(The cops think for a moment)
- Goodbye, we wish you a pleasant night and welcome you to Morocco.

Love always prevails!

The Sahara, Morocco. November 2013

What's that?

Mimoun the Camel

Don't worry, it's a dinosaur!

Marrakesh, Morocco. November 2013
Marrakesh mint tea

Would you like some tea with your sugar? That’ll be… half of your teeth, please. Have a nice day, habdulilla!

Southern Morocco. November 2013
Kid's Goofing off in Morocco
Mid-Morocco. November 2013
Moroccan kittens

Kitty Business

I’ll do my best to make this long story look short: Three kittens were starving on a random beach. I fed them, and because they weren’t going to survive very long, took them with me in my chuckwagon. They seemed to be enjoying the ride, but in less than one hour they had peed a masterpiece onto my rug and left the half digested remainder of their last meal all over my living-area. Lesson learnt, I gave them to a family of cats on the road who I trust will take better care of them than me. May peace be with them

Northern Morocco, November 2013
Melon Farmers

Melon Farmers

These guys have so little they sleep under a tarp. And yet they filled my crabavan with fresh melons without accepting anything in return! Inner wealth and material poverty seem to go hand in hand.

Northern-Morocco. November 2013
Swiss Morocco


How strange, I got an instant of Switzerland’s scenery before going back to deserty Morocco

Deserty Morocco
Sète, Southern France. November 2013
Melon Farmers


This is the colossal boat I found after going around looking to hitch a boat for almost a week, up and down Sète’s docks. You probably agree this moment seems to be of biblical proportions.

Sète, Southern France. November 2013

Enchanted Gipsy Town

An enchanted Nomad’s Land where no rules reign and gypsies live in harmony with camels. I was greeted like a king and spent a wonderful night with this family. The least I can do is mention their names: Jino's on the left and Zaio's in the middle. The children don’t need names anymore than they need ethics!

Southern France, October 2013

I found Godzilla's birthplace. I know it's scary.

Southern France, November 2013
Moroccan kittens

Swinde Wiederhold, a german girl I met in Sète, France, who had already travelled 40 thousand kilometers on her bike. That’s the equivalent of once around the world. Respect.

Southern France. October 2013
Eastern France, October 2013

What happens when you get sick?

That question comes up from time to time. The truth is, it almost never happens. Living outside is healthy. However, this is the story of when it does happen:

I drank from a stream, as usual. After all the ugly rivers I drank from in south Asia without getting sick, what could possibly happen in a little French countryside creak? Here's what happened: as it turns out, just upstream was a giant evil chemical factory run by satan's minions. And the devil knows what could've been in that water. He could've told me, by the way. I guess that's just not what devils do. I then spent an entire night in abdominal hell, my guts' content coming out from both sides. In the morning, I was a zombie looking for any kind of help, and I had to do that by hauling around my crab home by bicycle. The good news is, I found plenty of help in a little village nearby, where the locals invited me in, treated me great, and we even jammed some blues together. Within a few days, my digestive system regained consciousness.

Eastern France, October 2013
First Downhill St-Claude

First Downhill

This is the road I had to go down to get to St-Claude. I had no spare brakes, and no idea if mine could take the 160kg load I was putting on them. Oh well, I'm alive (at the time of writing), which means it passed

Eastern France. October 2013
Switzerland, October 2013

Packing it Up

Fitting all my stuff into the Crab turned out much easier than I expected. Everything fit neatly, giving me well enough space to sleep comfortably, cook, and even do some confined-yoga!

St-Cergue, Switzerland. October 2013

Ready for the Road

After roughly one year's work, the crabavan is finished, and really excited to take the road.