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So I just had one of the best Saturdays I have had in a long time almost completely ruined by Magic. How could this happen? What could Magic mar? My perfect saturday went something like this.

I arose at approximately 10 minutes past 8am with a slightly fuzzy head and fuzzy mouth that attending a dock BBQ the night before bequeathes. I had a lovely if sporadic chat with my wife via Skype and then ate a healthy breakfast and rode my bicycle to the gym. My ride to the gym or work is wonderful. We had a stunningly clear autumns day here on Saturday and my ride was not at all that different from this.

Media prepared earlier, been waiting to use that one. This blog entry is all about the media, multi even.

After exercising and swimming at the gym I returned home and pottered about on the internet for about an hour or so. I then went to the nearest Japanese restaurant and dined on some fine Japanese food. I learned an incredibly handy Spanish phrase. Cafe con Tardo this gets you an Espresso with a dash or milk. I engaged in some shopping, unfortunately like large sections of Asia Spanish people have small heads so finding suitable caps is hard work. Thankfully Spanish surfers have larger heads than the football players or runners.

I returned home 3pm in time to turn myself around and get ready for one of the standout epic performances of my life.

MONSTER JAM MONSTER TRUCKS!!!!

Somewhere in my childhood I developed a taste for monster trucks, probably around when I used to play with radio controlled cars. I have had a latent hankering to see a real life monster truck for at least 20 years. Seeing Monster Trucks in the Olympic Stadium in Barcelona was a dream come true. There was a reasonable posse from our boat who went to have a look. One of the Engineers took his mum who had come to visit. Another one of the Engineers took his girlfriend he had not seen for a month. Engineers always on the look out for horsepower.

We got reasonably lost on the way to the Monster Trucks. We abandoned our taxi in the heaving traffic jam which was people trying to get to the Monster Truck Jam. We scrambled up a hill gouging ourselves on thorn bushes and dodging broken bottles. We then, after getting warned not to, got in a cable car which proceeded to take us away from the stadium.

Thankfully there was a wonderful Swedish couple in our cable car who stopped us going to the panic. I had exhausted all of my social Swedish before we had left the cable car and it was another mad dash to the stadium and the monsters!

Actual panoramic photo of the stadium. Told you I was going all out.

Sensibly you might not think you can make three hours family entertainment out of 10 Monster Trucks some earth movers and a few motorcycles. Well that is where you are very wrong. The first section of the evening were a series of time trials around the oval course. Two Monster Trucks would square off and try not to destroy the track or each other.

Unfortunately Bigfoot was not in attendance but dirty old Grave Digger was there looking scary and menacing.

The highlight of the time trial section was Maximum Destruction rolling his truck and landing it upside down. There was a palpable silence and thankfully the portly driver emerged unscathed. He then proceeded to pick up a bit of the destroyed bodywork and wave it triumphantly at the crowd. He was given a bottle of champagne for his efforts.

There were a few intervals during the Monster Trucks. The first couple of intervals had a monster golf cart enter the stadium with a jet turbine which made an incredible noise and had impressive flames billowing from it’s engine.
A troupe of motorcyclists were bought out who did some very impressive jumps and tricks. But the crowd were all waiting for the main course of the evening. The freestyle. The trucks were each given 90 seconds to drive around the course doing jumps, smashing cars and doing doughnuts. They were then marked by three judges. A lot of the trucks went upside down in this section with maximum destruction coming out with half of his body kit missing only to lose all of his body kit.

Three trucks went upside down in this section with the drivers egging themselves and each other to do more and more crazy things. The crowd favourite El Toro Loco did this unbelieveable manuerve and ended up getting the most points. It was magic and not the kind which was to surface seven hours later.

With the monster trucks over I left the stadium at breakneck speed and without breaking my neck I descended the what felt like a mountain and hailed a taxi to take me home. Pausing to change my clothes I then went to Sam’s place to wait before we started an evening of his choosing. Sam is a good natured Englishman that works in our team  Being English I have latched onto him as someone to banter with in my own tongue. Strangely enough he is from Guilford where James Lovejoy was from. He also has a strange attraction to mirrors.  
Sam was eating a dinner inside with his girlfriend. What they were eating is anyones guess as the day before his water and gas had been turned off. I think they were eating kebabs. English people love kebabs. I sat down under the trees drinking cider from the local bar, the black horse. With Sam and his girlfriend ready we made our way to Marmalade bar in Raval. It turned out Sam had kludged his plumbing so he did at least have water and did not smell much.  

Marmalade bar was convivial enough. It served very passable mojitos but its real talent lay in its proximity to Barcelona’s very famous Bar Marcella. Bar Marcella has been open since 1820 and has had some famous patrons over the years including Dali, Picasso, Gaudi and Hemingway. Naturally I was quite keen to add my name to the list. What greeted me in Marcella was the very pungent smell of Absinthe and a decaying Dali’ish roof. Immediately I noticed that people were always in a hurry to leave. Sam got us a round of Absinthe and I was interested to see that Absinthe is an amber coloured liquid in its natural form. It is not until you have added molten sugar that it turns green. I think we all turned green soon after and we were soon barelleling out the door much like the people who had greeted us on our way in. 
It is worth noting that was now well after 12 my perfect Saturday was finished. With the liquid devil of Absinthe coursing through our veins we made a what turned out to be fatal decision. We would go to a bar that had been recommended by an increasingly dubious American. We would go to Magic Bar.
Up until Sunday morning I had been living in a delightful bubble believing Barcelona to be a truly cosmopolitan place with vibrant and exciting things to see and do at every corner. Magic Bar certainly sounded interesting, there was a healthy queue and we all felt anticipation and a bit queazy with excitement. That could have been the absinthe.
What greeted me was truly sad. I lasted about three minutes in Magic bar. It was a truly tragic place. I think it should have been called Anti Magic bar or Euthanasia. Deeply depraved people walking around and swaying dangerously. I wouldn’t have been surprised to have seen someone fall over dead. It turns out my amazing taste in music has give me some Bourne Identity like conditioning. Hearing Crocodile rock being played over a loud PA system was enough to make me walk out without saying goodbye and get safely into a taxi.
Sam being English stayed around to drink his free drink and mine. He lasted about half an hour before he left to get another kebab. He has photos of weird people including a chap he named Snake hips the rapist. Magic Bar what a crock. On Monday we devoted vast tracts of the day trying to understand how Magic bar stays open. Our best theory is that people go there to kill a night. If you are actually having too much fun and need to knock a night on the head. Magic bar is the place to be. Maybe you want to ditch a date or sober up? Magic bar where your dreams come true.

That was my mighty Saturday. May there be many more minus the Magic. 

  

Hola, estas bien!

For the past two weeks I have been spending more and more time with the somewhat shadowy figure of the Mexican Mafia, Hector. Hector says very little at first but now I have trouble finding spots when he is not making a noise of some description.

Hector has only been too happy to further my Spanish education with many manageable morsels. The ultimate so far has been his explanation of feminine and masculine nouns. The pro-noun el or la is put front of them and it trips up many an English speaker. Hectors  rule works very well and I can not fault it. It is quite simple.

Suppose you are a man.
Could you have carnal heterosexual abiet quite kinky relations with the object?
Yes, it is feminine.
No it is is masculine.

Upon learning this rule I looked about the room attempting to break it. Spying a roll of electrical tape I said.

El Cinta?

“No” said Hector, see its obvious characteristic. That is feminine.

I then looked at a screwdriver. He smiled and said “that it is el desarmador”

A ladder turns out to be feminine. I asked Hector about this and Hector was only too happy to demonstrate the various positions a ladder can be posed in.

Spanish truly is a language of love.

My other Hector lesson comes from a direct translation of his Argentinian tongue. Instead of saying Don’t Panic. Hector says,

“Don’t go to the Panic”

I love this. It makes panicing out as a dark place that one has to go to to experience. I think this is true and when I start to lose my head I just think “Don’t go to the Panic”

Hector even took time out to txt me “Don’t go the Panic” at a random time yesterday.

Smart man.




 

In an all to familiar cycle up until last night I had forgone traditional language lessons for full immersion Bullfighter Spanish lessons. Much the same as Cowboy Italiano, I have been learning on the job. What makes it different here is that I am working with the Mexican mafia. Martin in particular has been a great teacher because he does not speak any English. I have been learning all manner of crazy Espanol.

Cinta = Electrical Tape
gyea = Small line for guiding cables
Escalera= Ladder
Jabón = Soap

As you can imagine learning bundles of words like this with the occasional swear word makes retrofitting what I have learned back into every day life difficult. Thankfully I can also say.

Vale = Ok
Que Pasa?= Whats up?

On Friday I learned that a small suction cup or sucker is called Sopapa. Naturally adding Sopapa onto the end of Que Pasa is the best thing I could think of. Hence the title. Whats up suckers?

Thankfully last night I attended a more formal and infinitely more useful Spanish lesson. My teacher Jackie knows how difficult for English speakers to learn anything let alone another language. After being in tears at a Spanish lesson in Barcelona she vowed to learn Spanish and teach useful Spanish to gringos like myself.

After two hours of leisurely learning structure, telling stories and getting a feel for Barcelona and Spanish. I think I am ready for my second lesson. Jackie thinks I will learn quickly and is quite ready to introduce me to some of her Spanish pupils who are learning English.

Be Afraid.

PS There are probably some spelling mistakes in the Spanish above. I apologize profusely and blame Martin. 

Counting Ibiza & Palma, driving across Spain and last year in Barcelona I have lived in Spain for about two months. The difference this time is that I won’t be moving cities every couple of days, holidaying or living aboard a boat. I also shouldn’t be drinking a mojito every day like I was in Ibiza. Spain remains nicely different and endlessly friendly. As always with a protracted amount of habitation it is the little things that stand out and not what you would automatically think. Fittingly I like to call these tapas moments. 

Language

The people of Barcelona speak a dialect of Spanish called Catalans. I had a lengthy discussion with a French expat last weekend and she described Catalans as a sped up version of Spanish where words are truncated or just left out all together. To the untrained ear it sounds like everybody says mojito a lot. Maybe it is just our shipyard people. Maybe there is a guy there called mojito. Maybe hurry the hell up in Catalans is mojito?

Thanks to some networking I have the phone number of an American English teacher who teaches Spanish as well. What makes these language lessons very welcoming is that she likes to teach Spanish in bars. By ordering drinks from the bar tenders and interacting with the patrons one learns Espanol in a very relaxed setting. I will probably say mojito.

Robins Hood

Did you know Robin Hood was from Barcelona? He actually probably wasn’t, but the relaxed apologetic attitude that Barcelonians have towards theft is quite strange. People will gladly tell you to move your bag closer, or keep your phone out of sight but the criminal element is very much tolerated. No one is telling the thieves to stop stealing. My new chief stewardess had her phone stolen out of her hand on Saturday night whilst she was talking on it. Surely there is CCTV here. Surely somebody cares! bicycle salesmen and phone shops do a roaring trade in the mean time.

Interesting design choices

Barcelona is famous for the stunning architecture but there are also small design choices that are unique. There seems to be a very accepting attitude to people sleeping in public over night. Park benches are comfortable looking. Subway vents heat cold spots. It even looks like stairwells going to underground car parks have been designed so you can have a windowed spot on the ground that sleeps two.

I joined a gym last week and the first thing that greeted me when entering was a large and prominent advertisement for a local beer. The interior of the gym was cavernous and vast sections overlook the Iberian sea. This is all quite distracting, thankfully there is a large cafe/restaurant which is just as busy as the gym and sells that beer they have on the door. I have seen a strange style of swimming here that has to have been designed. It requires lying on your back and kicking sporadically, as you start to sink to the bottom you should rotate both arms simultaneously in backwards circles. It looks incredibly difficult and counter intuitive but I shall try my best to replicate it as soon as I work out how to get to the pool. The final insult is that my gym also has an art gallery inside where you can buy art after you have had a few beers and almost drowned in the pool.

The Mexican Mafia 

I am working with a few Argentinian’s who have been dubbed the Mexican Mafia. They are interesting fellows and once they have the measure of you show quite wicked flashes of humour. Naturally I find myself joking about with them a bit and here are some of our exchanges.

Sam: It is Sunday soon Hector will you be going to church?
Hector: No I do not believe in God
Me: Oh ok Hector (sensing it might be a sensitive subject)
Hector: I do not believe in God I believe in Maradona.

Mario is the second member of the Mexican Mafia. He was quite vocal in showing his displeasure at the way the All Blacks bundled the Argentinians out of the RWC. I felt remorse and consoled him telling him he should be proud of his countries achievement visualising him crying at home wracked with anguish after watching the game with his fellow country men. I should not have worried. Five minutes later a South African sat down beside us(South Africa were also put out)

Mario: hahahahaaha you lose!
SAFA: Shut up
Mario: hahahaah you loser
SAFA: We scored more points than you. Did you even watch and support your team?
Mario  No

Echoing my time starting out as a deckhand I have been largely working solo for the last two weeks. Whilst this is not ideal it is a good way to learn as you make plenty of silly mistakes and tend to make them only once. As a reward for my valiant efforts I was gifted the third member of the mexican mafia, Martin to work with. Martin is an endearingly cheeky young chap who speaks about three words of English. We have managed ok with a combination of hand signals, cowboy Italiano and shrugs. I naturally do not use ladders unless I really have to. I know Lungo is Long in Italian so with a bit of bartering I have been named El Largo Kiwi. Given some of the names given to other crew members by the Mexican Mafia I have done pretty well for myself.

Nightlife

Embarassingly and also quite sensibly I have eschewed almost all forms of the nightlife that Barcelona is renowned for. I did venture out for a crew dinner last Wednesday and was impressed by a few things. Firstly the restaurant we went to had people giving head and shoulder massages before and after your meal.

After being coerced to have a couple of drinks on the way home I was loudly ushered into a taxi and went as far away from home as I have been in Barcelona. We ended up in the shot bar. The shot bar only serves shots which I think is a great idea. I have learned that drinking shots by themselves is not that dangerous. It is when you are also drinking rounds along with or between shots that it gets a bit skeweth. This bar handily had the entire menu painted on the wall in case you had momentary reading problems.

Finally turning in the right direction I started going home. We ended up in a rock bar which was very exciting. Spanish people love to grow a lot of hair and rock out at the drop of a guitar pick. This rock bar was decorated with well, take a look for yourself.

 

That is Barcelona so far. Despite myself I have been having quite an interesting time. It might be time to actually start looking for points of discussion. Till next time.

Pretty much a year ago I began what was to be one of the hardest and most challenging periods of my working life. I actually have a large and exclamatory rant festering inside myself detailing the hardships and personalities I endured which was about to rupture last weekend. Thankfully things changed. What happened? Well I got back to Barcelona and started a new job. Not just any job mind you this is my dream job.

This new job is shrouded in secrecy. I have not writen much about my new job because,

A: I am not allowed to
B: I am not allowed to
C: I stil do not believe it is real

So given that this is probably a dream and not real I think I can write some thing about my new job and living in Barcelona. We arrived in Barcelona on Monday morning. We should have tied up my old boat at about 9:30am….. But the old girl in a show of mild protest decided to have a mechanical malfunction and we sat offshore for an hour or so pacing the decks and looking longingly at land. Thankfully after a show of engineering know how we got ourselves into port and I set about looking busy until I was given my passport and permission to leave.

I was quite anxious to see my new boat, in a show of niceness I had given about six weeks notice to my old boat and I knew my new boss had been struggling without me. After security fomaltities at the shipyard I called my new boss and we soon were aboard my new vessel. I am not allowed to show you any photos of the vessel but in a show of Spanish modesty the yard had draped this fitting drape of non non-disclosure over her.

As you can see it is quite a large Motor Yacht. I am not allowed to say how big but if you look closely you will see a small Lego man in the bottom left corner. My first impressions of my new place of work is that it is very large and there is a lot of things to be done before we leave in about five months.

I am an ETO(Electrical Technical Officer) on this boat which in addition to usual IT functions means quite a bit of electrical work. I have been wiring up plug points and fittings and although I do not have a background in this work I am very glad I spent hours racing radio controlled cars as a kid because I know my way around shrink tape and power blocks. That has not stopped me from stabbing myself with snips and screw drivers on a few occasions. To give you an idea of the amount of work we have going on. Our last estimate was we have 10 kilometers of new cabling to lay.

I may have taken a photo of some of this work strongly resembling mine.     
Obviously we have a lot of Spanish speaking workers on board and I have been learning some Espanol to add to my limited vocabulary. El Fuerte remains quite the gentlemen because these Spanish workers have all manner of inventive words which El Fuerte never taught us. It appears there will be enough interested crew to start some Spanish lessons soon. Bring it.
Other than that I have overalls to wear and it has to be said if you can not wear a man bag, wear overalls. Pockets for days Bro. My new crew is very nice and it is cool to be working with more Kiwis and some Irish. That being said if South Africa win the world cup I will probably quit.
One of my first tricks in Barcelona was to secure a bike. I payed for it at a sports store and went through a lengthy interrogation for a customer loyalty card. There are so many bikes stolen in Barcelona that shops know you will be back for another one. I enjoy riding around Barcelona, the city is made to roll upon and it seems easier to be on a bike than in a car or another motorized transport.

Please enjoy some very quick snaps I took on Saturday morning. This is some buildings on my ride to work.

My next foray into bicycle shooting will be mounting a tripod on my handlebars for video recording. Stay tuned. I might need to mount my GPS first. Much of Barcelona remains a mystery.

Thankfully my new Casa is fantastic. It is a large three bedroomed apartment in this very building.

Knowing I will have a home of sorts for a few months is very satisfying. We have a large sound system which has already been connected to the ironing board and although my room is quite small it is not a cabin! A nice surprise yesterday was finding out we have a rooftop complete with nice views, a small pool and jacuzzi.   

I have left out a section of the pool because it had two very topless women in it. Ah Spain.
Other than that I am very settled and I am proud to call Barcelona home for a while. I have plenty of things to write about and a nurturing workplace which should mean a bit more content for this very blog.  
Muchos Gracias!

That large and bountiful universe luckily provided me with a chance to rediscover Greece and actually walk about on its varied landscapes working and not working. We went back to my perfect Greek island Symi. I actually had the chance to sit in the port drinking Greek chilled water, munch on a kebab and soak up the beating sun at 4pm. For a few minutes I actually felt like an honest to goodness tourist.


From Symi we made our way to Poros and I spied my good friend David “El Fuerte”‘s boat. In typical Spanish style he suggested I forget about my guests and join him for a beer. Sadly this did not transpire immediately but it is a funny thing that universe….We dropped off our final charter of the season in Athens and what an amazing feeling that was. It has been a long year and a lot of us will be moving onto greener and unknown pastures come the end of September.
Sadly with Anna feeling unwell it took us a while to celebrate effectively. What I did do on my first real day off in a couple of months was reacquaint myself with normal life. This involved catching a taxi, walking across busy streets, buying a mac book pro and air, fighting with my bank over the phone, almost leaving my ATM card in an ATM, filling a prescription and then returning back to the boat fearing for my seemingly lost social and society graces on land.My fears were short lived.
Athens and the Greeks that inhabit it have been uniformly hospitable and friendly. The very next day we caught a taxi to the Acropolis. What greeted us at the Acropolis was the busiest tourist attraction we have ever visited. The centuries old marble made for an impromptue hill sliding course. The hectnicess of the Acropolis was unerring and I think we were about 2500 years late for the best of it.
For a country in the depths of a financial bail out, Athens felt very lively and vibrant. I couldn’t stop thinking where is the recession? and if they are in a recession they could do a couple of small things to get them out of it. Let me explain.
Service?
Getting service at a bar or restaurant is a hit or miss affair. Giving a waiter the nod is not enough, After a week in Athens I have started waving my arms like an aerobics instructor. When you finally get service you then go through a long indeterminable amount of time before your order turns up. This is compounded by a one waiter policy for a lot of places during large chunks of the day. If you go directly to the bar you will be shooed away. People in service are also taken aback when you give them a tip, a shame really.During a long stint at a bar last night I actually came up with a theory for this service. If they served tourists drinks on time everyone would be barking drunk at 8pm. If you drip feed tourists drinks they spend more money. Clever eh?
Taxis?
Having been pre warned about the interesting taxi drivers which populace Greece we expected the worse and came off not that wounded. The only thing which seemed a bit disingenuous were the rolling taxi strikes which cleaned the streets and made Athens safe to walk about in. If you are going to strike for your rights surely it is better to be missed and not gladly so.
Summer?
Officially Summer has finished with the start of September in the northern hemisphere. That doesn’t mean it is cold in Greece. It is still scorching and we tried to visit a pool bar last week for a swim. Sadly we were told the pool was closed as summer was over. Naturally we sweated off elsewhere. Maybe things would have been different if we had….
The DOM effect
Strangely many of the things I have identified as problems with service dissipate when you order a bottle of DOM. With Anna on the mend and the great Aussie Battler having had a really bad Friday we decided to go and have a nice meal at a local restaurant. With the Battler and I looking particularly antipodean we were ushered into a table far away from the view of the marina. Once we ordered our bottle of DOM we were moved to a VIP table and had non stop service for three hours. After the second bottle we started getting frozen mojitos, fruit platters and a free fawning Matridi’.
There appears to be a sliding bar of money spent in Greece which equals free stuff. We reached this bar a few times and it was a nice touch.
Beware of Business in Greece
Before we go to Greece I had at least two people tell me that Greeks are renown for being canny in business. One of these people was my old Captain Richard Dunnais so I was particularly wary of doing any sort of business. Luckily all of my business deals were simply tourist or consumer in nature but that did not stop me from witnessing a strange set of events as we tried to leave.We had three different yacht surveyors visit us in Athens before we left. They all found different things wrong with us. They all played off each other and it very nearly went pear shaped when we had to leave. There was a mercy dash to the local police station by our Chief Engineer with a crew list and passports. We could have very nearly been impounded or stuck in Athens for months because of tricky business practices.
Naturally if you are trying to encourage foreigners to invest or encourage yachts to stop by for winter or even just gather more tax these nefarious practices are not going to help your cause.
Best Moments in Athens
One of my best moments in Athens was directly after the DOM evening when Anna, the battler and myself decided to have an impromptu bow party. It was the first time I have used my decks in about two months and it was a classic session.

To say the party was intimate is perhaps grandiose. But for the umpteempth time in the past few years I found myself saying wow to myself and feeling quite blessed at what transpires when things come together.
The following Sunday we felt the earth tremor and the temperature go up a couple of notches. By jove! El Fuerte was close at hand. I ran to the bow and saw his boat coming in. He was on the bow as well but despite my best efforts to flag him down he walked around in circles talking earnestly on his radio. He may have been talking to his wife on his cell phone, my eyes could not quite make him out.
His season had finished and we had a fair few catch up drinks that evening in a funny little bar called Okio. I got to meet some of his crew and they all seemed very cool, even the Croatian lived in NZ which I could not fault him for. David got to meet some of my crew, including our larger than life Chef who was even for his standards quite skeweth. I think it was about 11:15 when I ushered the Chef out with David close behind. I am not sure what Davids plans are but I hope I will get to see him and Filip somewhere before the end of the year. Maybe we can watch a game of football.
Thats it.
That was my time in Greece. I should like to visit again, maybe next time I will be a guest on a Super Yacht. Just putting it out there. It seems to work.
I will leave you with some cowboy Greek which was provided to me by my sisters partner Vicky.
Parakalo – please
Efharisto – thankyou
Mi pouleesees ti yineka mou, parakalo- Dont sell my wife please
Kalimera – good day
Dio calamari parakalo- 2 of your squid please
Halia katastasi – awful situation(use when discussing the economy)
Pou eine ee toileta? – where is the toilet?
Ohi – no
Ohi apo piso efharisto – no, not from behind thank you
Ne – yesNe thelo bira – yes i want beer
fere bira – bring beer
Fere bira tora – bring beer now
Malaka – wanker
Malaka – friend(dependent on your delivery)
Mboro na daniso to gaitouri sas?- can i borrow your donkey?
Sadly I did not progress much further than saying Malaka a lot. But I did say it both ways.

My first impressions of Turkey were not entirely favourable.  What should have been a routine docking manoeuvre took us 2.5 hours. The marina staff seemed courageously incompetent at best. I found myself asking myself are these the people that repelled the ANZAC’s so ferociously? Obviously the ANZAC’s did not moor up in Kusadasi at 5pm on a Thursday night. Or maybe they did?

I found it equally strange that there was a large “Welcome to Turkeyyeh” sign in the Marina. The real spelling of countries in English is always different to how the perennially tongue tied English spell them.

The sour hangover which was Turkey did not abate the next afternoon when we were all given half a day off. Sadly given that I was on watch and as I love to be in front of a computer I was abandoned by the rest of the crew. I spent my day gorging myself on convenience food and muttering to myself.

We collected our charter on the Monday and travelled to Bodum. For the Turkey charter I found myself on my last night watch session as a Deckhand. Bodrum was a place I had heard much of. On my first boat we were at one point going to winter in Bodrum when we had a Turkish person interested in buying us.

What greeted me on a sheepish walk outside on deck at 9pm was a very well lit up beach side resort town. It also had some incredibly loud music wailing at me for multiple directions. It was also incredibly warm. The Greek climate had also been hot but Turkey seemed to have a far more hellish climate. A short tender ride later and I was up close with Bodrum. Our very knowledgeable Chef says Bodrum is the Cannes of Turkey. I guess it is. The music abruptly stopped at 3am, it was solemly silent and then at 5:20am there was chanting broadcast over loud speakers. This was eerie and strange even for my caffeine enhanced night watch mind.

From Bodrum we made our way to some place with Turk in the name, it appears my Greek travel habits hung about for this trip. This was the Saint Tropez of the Turkish Riviera, with exclusive waterside beach clubs and restaurants. There was also an interesting cacophony of semi passable house music, dire top forty chart music and traditional Turkish ballads. This horrible noise assaulting me kind of sums up a metaphor for the huge rapid development which hugs Turkeys extensive coast line. However……..

Turkey is incredibly beautiful. Once again thanks to my Chef who seems to always have time to take fantastic photos.

No thanks for me not knowing where these places are although the last photo is definitely…..

A heavily forested amazing place called Gochek. Although we were only there for a day or so our Boss was impressed enough to want to come back to Turkey for a month next year. Shame I won’t be here to see more.

From Gochek we started the long trip back to Athens, Greece. But that is Greece. Tune in for Greece redux soon.

Ciao!

  

Well, we all survived a pretty busy season. We are in Athens now for a week before we start our way back to the Riviera and the Monaco boat show. I have been lucky enough to score a dream job which I can not talk about at all. I am currently undergoing a lengthy vetting process which should only be a formality. Dearest friends, please refrain from any revolutionary activity for the next month or so.

Part of my vetting involved me getting in touch with my references. My first Captain was only too happy to act as a reference. One of the first pieces of advice I received in yachting was that the first job is the worst job. 2.5 years in I can safely say that my first job was in fact one of my better ones. When I mentioned in an email that I missed Richards stories that he used to tell me he replied with this amazing letter he wrote as advice to a young Captain.

Letter to a prospective young captain.

As one reaches the age of retirement, it is time to look back at one’s achievements and to draw the lesson from them. What follows may be of benefit to some, captain to be, engineer in the making and crew alike. You may think, “why should this concern me?”—but who can read the future?
Between the moment I took over the ketch TIKI and today, more than 40 years have elapsed. What happened on that bitterly cold winter in 1970 remains the purest of adventures and the dream of many a young sailor. Having no obvious qualification to take the job, my only chance—besides being the deck-hand—was to offer my contribution free of wages. I got the job merely because I happened to be there, and ever since, following my departure from the uninspiring Port-La-Nouvelle (Languedoc) where I was trapped by bad weather, every experience became vivid, intense and unforgettable. I was then at the bottom of the ladder and had received both a fast promotion and a formidable challenge: to deliver a boat to his owner in Tahiti.


At the bottom of the ladder you will join a new world that is wide open and partly unstructured, although this is quickly changing in an increasingly complex industry.


You will eventually get married, have kids, buy a home, but may be not as soon as everybody else. The niche life style that you have chosen (the yachting industry), does not easily allow one to pursue two contradictory targets: diversifying your experience by wandering from boat to boat for a decade or so on the one hand, while striving to maintain as much a normal family life as possible on the other. You will have to strike a balance between sacred commitments and maintaining your autonomy and freedom, whilst trying to retain the best of both worlds.


In order to follow your dream you will need to chart your own course and this needs navigational skills (sounds familiar?).


You will have to work under the orders of brilliant or bullying bosses, captains and owners alike, and always keep your nerve whilst developing your management skills, your own style, something you have not been prepared for (and I do not mean here the written rules of bridge management).


On a wider spectrum, you will have to make your owners happy, your guests happy, your crew happy and this will eventually make you happy too.


You will be shaped by challenges and, sometimes, ordeals and you will find out that happiness can be a frustrating quest when positive results remain unacknowledged.


Never forget that you are developing yourself through arduous, unrewarding and, sometimes, menial tasks. However futile and barbaric it may look, I am not ashamed here to say that, as a young captain, far away from any resources, I have unplugged toilets with compressed air, operated a diving compressor with elastic bands and jury-rigged a raw water cooling circuit into a closed fresh-water circuit in order to save the frozen supplies, and hence saved the charter cruise.


Along your way to the top, you will have to be creative, handy and flexible in the sense that you will not dedicate yourself to one specific job: before becoming a specialist, you have to be a generalist, accepting to help in the galley during services, opening a stabilizer kofferdam to reach a sensor, cleaning the mess caused to “your” deck by a poorly engineered repair work are common place.


Leadership


Soon you will be the captain in charge and, depending on the tonnage of the vessel you are responsible for, you will direct the crew, entertain the owner, his family and guests.
At this stage, I would like to introduce the concept of “self-effacement”, which I have made mine for years until I discovered that it had been around for a while thanks to one of the greatest Antarctic explorers, Ernest Shackleton (1874-1922) and his aptly-named, the Endurance expedition. His crew was his greatest asset (he saved them all). So must be yours. Do not be stingy with compliments for those who deserve them.

But to be self-effacing does not mean that you are discarding your principles or lowering your standards, on the contrary. Not only are you part of a team, but you should be the first one to follow your own rules. Only this way will you lead your team while being equal to all. This subtle balance is not always easy to find but once you have, it will have the merit of avoiding the trap of becoming, over the years, a prima-donna.


A prima-donna is at the centre of her art but, in our business, it is our task which is at the centre of our skills, not ourselves. Those who want to become captains because they have a strong ego will have to keep in mind that they are not performing a one man show. In other words, once you have found yourself you must forget about yourself.  This is true for everybody else onboard: the Chef who comes after dinner to collect his good marks among the guests will have to remember that he is just doing his job, even if he is often the major player in the success of a cruise (and I mean it). Since you are likely to rejoin a ready-crewed yacht before you build up your own team, you will have to un-root potential prima-donnas like weeds. 


You will eventually find your power in your communication skills, or some more mysterious impalpable alchemy called charisma. But remember the concept of “self-effacement” which is your safeguard against too much grandeur. However, be aware that by following this principle you are exposing yourself to potential challengers who can undermine your authority, and even destroy your job: a first mate, a chief engineer, a yacht manager may be a mole; whether you know it or not, there is nothing much you can do about it. Just expect the worse to happen and you will hardly be disappointed. The worse will happen because, at some point, you may have inadvertedly sent the wrong signal. One day, the owner will tell you: –“Thank you, Captain, we have had a wonderful time but, from now on, Darren will drive the boat,” and it does not matter if the boat needs more than just a driver, if you have wintered the boat yourself, if you have painstakingly done the spring refitting, catered for the crew in the absence of the Chef and joined the yacht with your own portfolio of clients. 


Do not waste time trying to be overly smart, you are not in the picture anymore. It is called “disgrace” and it hurts, but do not turn back. This may be life but this is also yachting.


You can be proud of your achievement and nobody can take it away from you.  Humble you are and humble you must remain, for at this stage, it will help you to find the shortcoming which crippled your system. Only in this way you will draw the lesson of your misfortune.


On the other hand, always consider that the renewal of your contract as Captain for another season or for another year as a gift. For the same reasons (or the lack of it) that you have been dismissed, the fact that your charter season has been a standing success, that you have beached your vessel, that you have completed a six month refitting at the best conditions or lost five meters of your bow on a collision course is not necessarily relevant. Against all odds, never despair, there is always room for hope.


Beware of the jet set life style


Straying among the rich and, sometimes, famous can be self intoxicating. Mind that champagne toasting does not become your cup of tea!
Do not focus on external gratification; be happy with your inner satisfaction.
Do not loose touch with reality. Keep being yourself or there is a risk you could become like James LeBron, the famous basketball player, who put himself before the sport. Enjoy compliments secretly, mostly when presented in a negative way:
– “Captain, don’t be such a gentleman” was my preferred one.
Do not get impressed by titles, prestige and wealth accumulation.
Once, during a flag inspection, the surveyor asked his ultimate question and the most unexpected one: “Are you jealous of your owner’s wealth?”
“Of course not,” I answered, “why should I be?”, and he seemed rightfully satisfied.
Similarly and more recently, a Chef told me:” My most difficult client is the crew”. This should not be.


“It can be lonely at the top” 


In order not to distance yourself from your crew, you will need the skills to create a workplace for professional relationships with all the aplomb that one expects from you. You will have to maintain an equilibrium which requires self-taught discipline. 

Yoga, meditation, reading and writing are private matters but sports, music, outing and laughing are good ways to stay involved with everybody. On hiring a crew, look for the right candidate who also shares similar hobbies with you and who is complementary to others. As strange as it may look, for years I have looked also for music players, chess players, tennis players and I succeeded to some extent in finding suitable candidates.

Despite everything, if you still find yourself isolated, nurture the ties with your family, stay in touch with your mentor (owner and captain alike) and your true friends.

Beware of isolationism; it keeps you cut off from real life and develops a false sense of infallibility, leading to bad decision-making, disdaining good advices. It may be that the Titanic would not have been lost if only the radio ice warning would have been taken into account by her captain! 

Whether you have planned your route alone or have not done it yourself, have the first mate to double-check it or/and vice-versa. Our culture should not discourage anyone to question the captain even if he is, respectfully, nicknamed “the Old man”. 

The downing of the Korean civil flight 007 by the Soviets over Sakhalin in 1983 would have probably not happened if only the  flight officers had done their double checking, however more complicated it may look (following this disaster, we owe it to President Reagan to have ordered the US Army to make the GPS available for civilian use).


About undue benefits and other practices.


As a young captain, I was once welcomed by the manager of a well-known north Adriatic marina and boatyard. Following a polite and friendly talk, on leaving his office, the manager offered me a crate of six bottles of a famous local wine. What a gentleman and what delicious manners I thought to myself….until I was confronted, many months later, with an invoice which was twice as high as the pro-forma invoice. The foreman in charge of the boatyard was not the least embarrassed when I protested about the bill, as he said: “Mais tu as mangé” (literally, you have eaten) and I never felt so humiliated in my life.

Ever since, when a ‘benefit’ was the rule (even in disguise), it was entered in the account book or reported. Years later in Ancona (It), I got a shock when I learnt about a substantial kickback that the first mate had sought from the water-maker dealer and fitter during my holiday leave.
This reputable Italian operator, who was by no mean at his first “transaction”, waited for my return to share his indignation, instead of passing it to our dubious project manager. This too was entered in my books, not only in number but also in writing.

There is a lesson to be learnt from these two examples, and an absolute rule: ethic teaches you that you cannot have two masters or, as we put it in French, you cannot have “le beurre et l’argent du beurre.”


Environmentally-friendly?


Again, this is not only about sticking to the written rules (Annex V of Marpol etc.).
The yacht industry has not yet developed a Green Yacht but your own rules, as modest as they may seem, will have a positive impact on our environment. Just consider the following facts:
  1. The Great Pacific Garbage Patch, a vast area of plastic, chemical sludge and debris that is twice the size of Texas (according to The National Science Foundation).
  2. Food  waste amounts to 40% of the world food production due to consumer behaviour, oversized portions, “best before” notices that are misunderstood (not an expiring date).
  3. Whilst our carbon footprint is huge (by essence, if I may) compared to the average population, our water footprint can be reduced substantially. Consider that 450 million people in 26 countries across the world do not have access to the daily ratio of 20 liters/day (UNO). Your management of water is just as important as the groundwater management performed daily by the Water Authority in France. Global warming, regular droughts (2003-2006), population increase in the PACA area are all contributing to potential water shortages.
Although not measurable, overconsumption of goods due to poor management and slack budgeting, this resulting in the low value attached to these goods and their high turnover.
Don’t be a sitting duck for environmental disasters that are waiting to happen. 


Being a captain is a complex, stressful and, sometimes, rewarding profession.

To be responsible for people, assets and uncertainties in the environment increases pressure.
Regulations and shore-based yacht management are helping us to a certain extent but it does not replace your inner compass, the search for your equilibrium resulting in your well being.
Even if we are small players we are still prone to become heroes when we should be the servants, without being servile, of the people we lead. In return, expect loyalty from those who still have a sense of honour. Just as you have a moral debt towards the owner of the yacht who employs you, you must expect the same from the crew you hired.   


As I started my eighteen year captainship for the same owner at a time yachting was a gentleman pastime, the owner’s wife was running the galley and the owner was filling everybody’s plate; even if it looks a bit paternalistic and inappropriate nowadays, it still illustrates the self-effacing concept and this is why they still deserve my respect.    


Richard Dunais       

That is an incredible letter and I would like to think the words beneficial to anyone regardless if they work aboard boats or not. If you have any fan mail for Richard please leave a comment or drop me an email and I shall pass it on.

Time to do my own writing I think. See you all soon with tales of Turkey.
In one of Asterix’s many adventures there is a joke where if my increasing addled memory recalls correctly went something like this.

Q. How much does a Grecian earn?
A. About five amphora’s a day

Bad probably incorrect jokes aside my ten day tour of Greece is a blur. Our charter guests were particularly demanding and a lot of the time I embarrassingly did not know where we were due to the chop and change, start stop nature of our trip. I drank a lot of coke, I was averaging about six cans a day towards the end.

Thankfully our Chef had time to take a few photos and these will supplement the mere minutes I had to reflect on the stunning mythical qualities of the Greek islands.

Our trip began in Athens we steamed somewhere for about three hours and anchored for the evening.
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This is the town we could see. Are you impressed with my practiced vagueness? It gets better.

From the island that is quite close to Athens we travelled in a direction for a few hours and anchored in a cove. The cove had a fantastic hilltop town which was very pretty.

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View back down from the town. Chur Chef.

This island was completely devoid of any meaningful vegetation. It turns out the crusades stripped a lot of the islands of all trees to build warships in times past. Sadly a lot of the islands have not recovered.
After the treeless island we made our way to Mykonos. It is fitting that I remember the name for Mykonos because we had terrible weather and photo opportunities were very limited. I did have a funny interaction with another yachty.

I was waiting on the dock for our guests when a bespectacled, uniformed frizzy haired fellow turned up and jumped in a tender. He was fluffing about and I asked him if he wanted me to slip his lines for him. He said, ”nah mate i have to put this fucking tent up on this fucking tender first’

I smiled with the acknowledgement nothing says “I am from Australia” better.

After a few windswept days in Mykonos we sailed past Rhodes and went to my highlight of the trip. The highlight was so large that I committed the name of the island to memory forever. 

Symi.

Symi was other worldly. There are vast sections of it which would not look out of place on mars.

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The pockets of civilisation were charming. I can’t say with any clarity what the town reminded me of. It didn’t look real. 

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Symi by night.

The real highlight for our Guests and anyone who enjoys water sports are the abundant coves and sheltered bays where you can tie up to a rock drop an anchor and while away a day water-skiing, swimming, wakeboarding, kayaking, skurfing, jet skiing and anything else water related that ends with ing.

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There were a couple of nice caves in this spot. With a satellite dish and some air conditioning I think I could make myself at home here as a hermit.
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Sadly we left Symi for more wind and an island of which the name escapes me It had an apocalypse cave of biblical importance. If you are really interested you can probably find out the name of the island quite quickly.

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It also had a fortified town on a hill surrounded by a newer town.

By now we had been on the sea for ten days and our trip was winding down. We did our drop off in Samos. Samos is incredibly close to Turkey which is where we are now.

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I guess this post reinforces the perils of travel blogging when you are working 12-15 hours a day. I saw a lot, digested little and want more.  Sounds like a coke addiction. 

The coastline of Turkey awaits and so do I. Kick off is on Sunday see you all next time.

I do not drink Coke usually but during charters I become a fully fledged coke addict. In the interests of Science I shall be tallying how many cans of coke I drink over the next 10 days.

Day One

3 Cans

In other news I started writing what happened on our last charter but we have already started a new one and things are busy.

For the record we travelled France > Corsica > Sardinia > Capri > Napoli > Athens.

Everywhere was cool. There were a lot of sand flies in Sardinia. I did 11 nights of night watch in a row and was very happy when we dropped out guests off in Capri.

From Capri we fuelled up in Naples and high tailed it to Athens we had a day to clean the boat and then we picked up our Guests this morning.

Greece is magnificent. The landscape is staggering and I stare in wonder questioning why rich people all have to be in St Tropez or Saint Barths with millions of other boats. There is no body here.

Re: My mountain of unfinished works. When I finally kick the bucket and my genetic code is travelling across the universe to be reborn like Spock in Star Trek III my unfinished works will be worth a lot of money and my children can buy a few cans of coke.

Ciao!