No, I am not going mad, we do go back to Tahiti because we need to provision and re-fuel. When we left Tahiti on Saturday, it was May Day and everything was shut. But I digress.
I wake up feeling distinctly unwell but amazingly it isn’t a hangover – I seem to have managed to avoid one of those by the skin of my teeth – no, the glands in my neck are swollen and I just feel grotty.
We get under way and Carole decides to cook kedgeree. This is the beginning of her test to see how well she can cope with sailing on a catamaran. She manages to stay in the galley long enough to prepare and half cook the meal, but not wanting to push her luck, she gets John to take over. Slowly, slowly catchee monkey, as they say. Although the crap Ecuadorian rice threatens to ruin the meal, the flavour makes up for it. Merci beaucoup.
As we sail (read motor sail for that as there is again virtually no bloody wind) back to Tahiti, I start to feel worse and eventually retire to sleep in my cabin, only being roused when we get to the fuel dock at Marina Taina by the promise of an ice cream.
Mike comes down and tells me that Rosemary and Bill are here but I just presume that he means their boat, Crazy Horse, is here in the marina. What he doesn’t make clear is that they have come down to the dock to say hello, so I miss them, which I am sad about as I haven’t seen Rosemary for ages. Why do men only ever give you half the picture when they communicate?
From the fuel dock, we literally back Jeannius around the corner to moor side-to on the dock. On the super yacht dock no less! Oh yes, in with the big boys. As Mike backs Jeannius into her parking spot, an anxious crew member on S/V Perseus whistles out to warn us that their boat is behind us. I look up in all innocence at this 120 foot monster, all polished hull and gleaming stainless steel, lean over the guard rail, smile sweetly and shout “Oh God, I’m sorry. We didn’t see you there!” He has the good grace to smile sheepishly as he looks down my cleavage. I could put my make-up on in the mirror-like shine of the blue hull.
We wait for the weather to cool down a bit then emerge to go to the supermarket. We have to walk past the super/mega yachts – only one is the usual gigantic gin palace – you know, the motor boats that never go anywhere – the rest are proper posh things with sails – and they are beautiful. Mind you, with a full crew rubbing down and polishing every surface every minute of the day, you’d expect them to be. Poor Jeannius looks like she is cowering in a corner.
We trudge along the road to the supermarket. After nearly three months of really bad food shopping facilities, you cannot begin to understand how it feels to be faced with a huge French branch of Carrefour. Talk about kids in a sweetie shop. We get most of the essentials and I wander along the shelves of pates, foie gras, truffles, oils, charcuterie, cheese and chocolate, salivating as I go. Most of it we just have to walk past as it is just so expensive. We aim to provision our store cupboard items practically to Australia. We fill up our trolley, knowing that we will have to come back tomorrow for another load.
Mike manages to find one red wine box that isn’t extortionate but I balk at the price of the white wine and just decide I will drink the odd gin and tonic instead. Carole and John, who are buying for the four of us for the next couple of weeks are not as lucky. They get to the checkout, and the sumo wrestler behind the till refuses to let them have the wine and beer because it is one minute after 7 pm. Given the way she heaves the case of beer off the conveyor belt and out of the way with one hand, it’s probably a good job that John doesn’t argue!
Walking back with the supermarket trolleys is not particularly easy as the pavements are pitted, but at least there are pavements. This has to be one of the least glamorous aspects of yachting – that and the laundry.
Back on the boat we unload and attempt to pack away the goods, then revel in a simple but lovely supper of dry cured ham, olives, smelly cheese, bread and wine.
Our position is: 17 deg 30 min S, 149 deg 49 min W
Distance so far: 6656 nautical miles
"Why do men only ever give you half the picture when they communicate?" What? You mean when they're NOT expecting you to be a mind-reader?! "Can't live with 'em; can't shoot 'em" - bless!
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