I moved to Copenhagen, Denmark in 1974 after my big trip to Asia, wanting a change from Amsterdam. I lived there for about five years, but in-between I was on Bali for about six months … for the record: this is what caused me to leave Denmark’s winter; in my first year there I didn’t really notice, I was awfully busy with setting up my studio and organizing my new life. The next winter hit me hard, because the temperatures don’t go above 0 degrees in winter (well, that was before global warming!) and I said: nope, I will go somewhere warm for the next winter. My choice was Bali.

Family history records Bali is where I met Leesa;  we married on 7.7.77 but we only lasted one and a half years (for the above described reason). I have the story of how I went about getting Leesa to come to Australia in my book, the essay is called PASSPORT:

PASSPORT. It was 1977. When I met my future wife on Bali and asked her to join me in Copenhagen, I first had to see her folks in Australia (she was under-age). But a visa to Australia proved to be elusive. Flight to Singapore. Rush to the Australian High Commission … however: “visa applied for and rejected”. That stamp had filled my passport; off to the German Embassy: “I need a new passport”, which I picked up the next day. Back to the Australians, this time I spoke to a real person: “Please, pretty please allow me to visit the girl I madly fell in love with.” I picked up the passport the next day … with the same rejection. At the hotel a seasoned traveler said: “You’ll never get a visa with that stamp in your passport.” So back to the Germans: “I need a new passport”. When I picked it up the next day, the clerk said: “No idea how that happened; I’ve never seen anybody get a new passport the next day … let alone twice”. I said: “thank you.”  On the next plane to Kuala Lumpur. At the Australian consulate the staff were at lunch: “Come back later.” But I waited; as they returned, I picked one staffer: “You wouldn’t have anything to do with issuing visas?” “Why?” I explained. “Wait here.” Finally, I was asked into his office … a stamp loomed over my passport. Without looking up he said: “Had a problem in Singapore, did you?” I spoke passionately, desperately for what seemed like an eternity … at last he put the rejection stamp aside, picked up the visa stamp and said: “If you work in Australia (illegally, without paying taxes), I’ll come myself and boot you out of the country.” When I finally got to meet my girl’s parents, her mother pulled her aside: “Darling … this boy is serious.” The rest is history: she came to Copenhagen, we married, had a baby, it was too cold in Denmark for an Aussie girl so we went to Australia, had two more kids and divorced … yep, life, up ‘n down … all the way.