Not set in exotic places, but I used to work as a rocket scientist (as you do) for Alcatel Space in Antwerp. I would drive back every Friday evening via the Channel Tunnel. I usually kept some skunk ganga in my wallet whilst in Antwerp, but would naturally remove it before driving back to the UK each Friday.

One Friday late afternoon, I arrived at the Channel Tunnel in France, drove onto the train, under the sea and off the train, to then be waved to a customs check. It was then that I remembered the stash in my wallet. I was driving a Grand Jeep Cherokee with 'Royal Crest' registration plates from Andorra... I had to empty out my pockets whilst my car and engine were searched. My wallet was on the table.... One customs guy checked over my other personal possessions and then picked up my wallet to open it. "Nothing here" shouts his mate who had been inspecting the car engine. The customs guy smiled and handed back my wallet, unopened....

It was April 1999, I was a teen, and I was in a remand cell in QRPwaiting for my court date, as I could not afford my bail. It was nothing drug related, trespassing onto a docked bumboat was my crime, which I eventually got off with probation and no permanent record.

Now, across from my cell, were the "24hr Suicide Watch Cells".

These cells held people who were awaiting their court dates for drug related crimes that carried a mandatory death penalty.

They are automatically put into 24hr suicide watch cells, because they did not want them taking their own lifes until they received their sentences. Only the state has that right. The lights in these cells were never turned off, 24/7. And there were cctv cameras watching them. They had a different colored uniform, and they were never allowed to mix with the general population.

These were not hardened criminals. They were regular boys and young men - Couriers, Dealers and Harborers. And it was hard to sleep, considering my cell was a mere meters across from them. Each night, I'd hear wailing and crying. Angry screams. These were people who were now facing their own mortality, with a spotlight on them 24 hrs a day. And after staying there a month, I observed a pattern.

The closer it got to their date, they got more cheerful. I'd hear them singing praise and worship songs. I'd hear laughter. And then they would leave their cells on day, and never return.

That experience made a huge impact on me. And that is why I never got into class A drugs. However, that made me relate to people who got into drugs on a personal level and guided my views on the legal system, politics, love and fragility of human built institutions.

Later in my life, in my late 30s, I occasionally consumed weed, Bhang, initially for religious experiences, then for my health, (trigeminal neuralgia) as I had gotten tired of going for CAT scans each month and going through a more than $700 of medicine every 2 weeks.

My personal views are this... if it grows out of the ground, go ahead. But exercise restraint and discipline. Too much of something is bad. And never get into the business of drugs. It carries a price that most will not be able to pay.

Fewa Tel wrote: ↑Mon Nov 01, 2021 6:39 am Hi Stern, I am fascinated by the 'Life and crimes of Charles Sobhraj '
I've have been a regular to S.E Asia from the early eighties, and am very endeared to Nepal, where also he operated his evil charms.
Also I stayed regularly at Bongai , near Lumpini stadium, on Rama 4 , Bangkok, where he operated close by at hotel Malaysia, years before.
I would like to know , Did you have much to do with him ,and was he the charismatic , as claimed, or did you feel uneasy in his presence.?
I would appreciate some insight into his behaviour , like did he get stoned, or drink booze with his associates ?

Hey FT.
I have tried to write down this incident a couple of times in the past 6 months - but always get into too many complicated diversions.
It is hard to tell the story without explaining the contexts. A whole bunch of them.

OK. I'll try to keep it reeally simple...

I was walking down some busy street with bright blinding lights and blaring music, right near the Malaysia Hotel (i had stayed there a month or so before on the way into Laos, but was in a quiet nearby Soi at this time) one Saturday night in Sept 1975 and bumped into Charles Sobraj and his Indian mate, and we got talking for 15/20 minutes or so. About trading.

Me - about Ivory, Puka shells and antique Balinese carved-gold rings set with uncut rubies. (from my trading experience)
He - talked about his gem selling biz. And how i would love the "special access" Burmese stones he had back up in his apartment.
"Come up come up, you must.
You are a man of world...i need a man like you...we can be partnerrrrs..."
Then i said my Good Evenings, turned on my heel and walked away.

The very very uneasy feeling slipping away with every step until it was lost in minute amongst the throngs and the shadows and the steamy Saturday night. Phew! i remember doing that

That's the guts of it, baldly stated. But i want to write it down with just a bit more flesh one day.
It's hard to describe everything about that short meeting, and the circumstances surrounding it, on short-form CEO.
It was low key, but still fairly intense. I was able to remember every minute of it a couple of years later when the story first broke public and i saw his photograph. and his Indian mate. 'Still pretty clear now, 46 years on.

I was in a pretty fully-wired, hyper alert state myself. I had just seen the end of a war, gotten Liberated, had a well packed suitcase full of valuables, and the Aussie nurse i was travelling with (we met in Bali the day before i left for Laos a couple of months prev) had gone totally psychotically mad.

So that was all very fortunate. My senses were as tightly strung as a violin's stings and i picked up the deep black soul of our Evil and extremely oily Mr Sobraj on the spot. Not so much, "charasmatic", i would say.
(^^ not jive talking - that is an accurate description of my reaction. Your senses do sharpen when you have been living deep within them for the past couple of months, as i had been. They have always been my ultimate guide anyway, one of the few things in this world that i trust)

"Evil. I am in the presence of something Evil."
Julie Clarke who coauthored the first book i read on the subject, wrote words to that effect ^^ and she felt it strongly - she had to stop visiting him in his Indian gaol during the research.
I clearly remember thinking EXactly the very same thing at the time.

(THE LIFE AND CRIMES OF CHARLES SOBHRAJ By Richard Neville and Julie Clarke)

I have never been taken by gemstones - and am not a joiner anyway, always solo - but i can understand those other, more innocent, travellers who did take up the that bright shining offer to "come up and have a look at my wonderful gems". - on those very same streets over those very same months.
And i wonder, of course - did he fishhook some of those poor innocent bastards that very same night?

and PS - I am 10,000% sure of the ID. You don't easily forget meeting such an oily Evil soul.

simon43 wrote: ↑Mon Nov 01, 2021 12:23 pm Not set in exotic places, but I used to work as a rocket scientist (as you do) for Alcatel Space in Antwerp. I would drive back every Friday evening via the Channel Tunnel. I usually kept some skunk ganga in my wallet whilst in Antwerp, but would naturally remove it before driving back to the UK each Friday.

One Friday late afternoon, I arrived at the Channel Tunnel in France, drove onto the train, under the sea and off the train, to then be waved to a customs check. It was then that I remembered the stash in my wallet. I was driving a Grand Jeep Cherokee with 'Royal Crest' registration plates from Andorra... I had to empty out my pockets whilst my car and engine were searched. My wallet was on the table.... One customs guy checked over my other personal possessions and then picked up my wallet to open it. "Nothing here" shouts his mate who had been inspecting the car engine. The customs guy smiled and handed back my wallet, unopened....

I would have been able to smell your skunk from here

ofparadise wrote: ↑Mon Nov 01, 2021 2:07 pm It was April 1999, I was a teen, and I was in a remand cell in QRPwaiting for my court date,

Now, across from my cell, were the "24hr Suicide Watch Cells".
These cells held people who were awaiting their court dates for drug related crimes that carried a mandatory death penalty.

Wow! Thanks Paradise.
- for that look into Queenstown prison.
Shudder

If you have a terror of close confinement - and have very good imagination - and want to have nightmares tonight - if you haven't already done it, i commend opening this link for a glimpse into what Hell on Earth looks like. imo.
Imagine death row in a bland bleak bock like this with with its 'bright' pukey colours and windswept empty kid's playground. I can hear the ghosts howling free thru the joint from here. Creepy all right.
QRP
( from Paradissio)

Sure, i have put myself in circumstances where things could have turned very bad with just the flick of a sixpence - but i simply can not fathom those people who choose to operate anywhere the death penalty, or even more than a few years prison, was the risk.
No matter how desperate. No matter how young and bullet proof.

Smuggling , ( be it dope, gold, gems or guns) is not only a excuse to make a quick buck, its a way of life that can grab ya.
and
I'd rather spend my time with smugglers than a "normal" traveller anyday

Note; i got out of the life the day my daughter was born, 1994, (at least the illegal side of it)
But still count some of my coworkers as best of friends

FYI:
one of my ex partners and still good friend, was in Tihar prison in Delhi with charles for a few months, before he escaped
said he could sell ice to eskimos

he lived the life


https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/107 ... g-of-nepal

phuketrichard wrote: ↑Sat Oct 30, 2021 4:02 pm I'll kick it off

back in the early 70's was working with a few friends running cigarette boats out of Freeport Bahamas to mother ships.
it was fun work and paid, dam well an the parties we had.

anyway , i flew back to Miami for a weekend and forgot about the few grams i had stashed in my wallet,
first time they ever checked my wallet, yep,
took off to a room and the head inspector came in and asked me what i was doing with the grams, told him it was a left over.
As he knew all of us, including my sister who danced at the show at resorts international, he took it from me and smiled.

got many more if this thread gets feedback

Have you got anymore stories Richard? I have really enjoyed them so far, you have led a really interesting life compared to me.
Please post some more of these exciting adventures
Great work, keep this post going looking forward to reading more

Pseudonomdeplume wrote: ↑Mon Nov 01, 2021 5:33 pm

simon43 wrote: ↑Mon Nov 01, 2021 12:23 pm Not set in exotic places, but I used to work as a rocket scientist (as you do) for Alcatel Space in Antwerp. I would drive back every Friday evening via the Channel Tunnel. I usually kept some skunk ganga in my wallet whilst in Antwerp, but would naturally remove it before driving back to the UK each Friday.

One Friday late afternoon, I arrived at the Channel Tunnel in France, drove onto the train, under the sea and off the train, to then be waved to a customs check. It was then that I remembered the stash in my wallet. I was driving a Grand Jeep Cherokee with 'Royal Crest' registration plates from Andorra... I had to empty out my pockets whilst my car and engine were searched. My wallet was on the table.... One customs guy checked over my other personal possessions and then picked up my wallet to open it. "Nothing here" shouts his mate who had been inspecting the car engine. The customs guy smiled and handed back my wallet, unopened....

I would have been able to smell your skunk from here

I absolutely agree! You could smell it a mile away!