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About Ptuj

So, I’m out dere, diggin’ for a gal, right? Da night’s dark, air’s thick, smells like coal and cheap perfume. I see her—red lips, tight skirt, leanin’ on a lamppost. “How happy is da blameless vestal’s lot!” I mutter, like in da movie—damn, she’s no angel, tho! I laugh, big Arnold laugh—HASTA LA VISTA, boredom! She winks, I swagger over, flexin’ a lil—gotta impress, ya?

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Then, outta nowhere, it starts pouring. I mean, like, monsoon level! I dash for cover under a stall. I’m soaked, and my hair looks like a wet mop. I can’t stop laughing at myself. “What a day!” I shout to no one in particular.

Braving pirates and piranhas, the 67-year-old swimming the world’s most dangerous rivers