Neighbours (Poros)

 

27th June 2020 (Poros)

Not exactly a sailing diary today - when are they ever? 

I really needed to get some of the quirky details of our last 3 sets of quayside neighbours down before they faded from memory.

The first of the three was when we were at Hydra (our last ‘home’). Bearing in mind the quay there is already what we would usually think of as full - a group of 4 catamaran party boats sporting massive red yellow and blue striped Romanian flags come into the quaint peaceful dock with doof doof booming and half cut scantily clad supposedly ‘beautiful’ people dancing around on deck. There’s a monohull sized space next to us which remarkably one of these wide cats manages to wedge into. All good, they’re friendly and not actually  the doof doof boat - once the lines are tied, that immediately changes: fully cranked up, deep bass music starts to blare out - I need to sort it out straight away: I try to shout at the captain - he’s 2m away but can’t hear me over the din. When he does turn round, he is slightly apologetic and it’s immediately turned down. I didn’t realise at the time, but there is a passenger / crew make up of the boat. One of the passengers - an over made-up under dressed drunken slapper starts bawling: ‘Da music! Da music! What happened to da music’ knowing full well what happened having watched me furiously gesticulating to the captain.

With a bit of a hot head, I shouted 

‘Learn some manners’ and stormed aft. After Chez also supplied some well needed lessons in etiquette, an uncomfortable few hours commenced, with her (Maria apparently) flipping between high pitched bouts of false laughter and squawking down her phone ‘blah blah blah Serenity Now’ - anyway no drama, we leave in the morning.

So...away from there, nice day sail to Poros, Chez’s sailing homeland (where she did her Day Skipper training). Found a good spot, med moored and met our second set of notable neighbours;

Three retired guys - very friendly and all seem to have a grinning first day of the holiday glow about them. Two Scandinavian’s, and one Irish guy - all oozing wealth. That statement can be backed by something Chez overheard:

“Don’t you love it when you’re on the motorway and a BMW comes up behind you, and they think you’re just another saloon car. You ease the peddle down on the Bentley and leave them standing as you’re gently pushed back into the leather of the seat”

I’d popped down for a siesta, when they too start the music.... oh but what a difference: two of the trio are excellent musicians - one with a clarinet, one with a trumpet, and together they played soft jazz weaving in and out of different tunes with each other - notably for me ‘ Blue Moon’ - this went on for about two hours - really wonderful to hear such skills. 

....but wait! 

Once again at sundowner time, the same bloody noisy Romanian catamaran from Hydra comes alongside - seriously?! What are the chances. There’s some grudging sheepish smiles except from Maria (the slapper) - who is most definitely not pleased to see us. But she is soon once again braying like a donkey over and over again (laughing).

I’m up until 4am listening to Malibu bar, trumpet and clarinet and surprisingly little from the party boat (it’s their last night out) 

Both of theses neighbours departed the next morning - Maria now snivelling on deck (suspect the tears are end of holiday related) as their lines are dropped, Chez gleefully shouts ‘Serenity Now!’ - and the crew reply with a cheeky ‘See you next year!’

Back to peace ...ahhhhh big contented sighs all round.

The third of the quirky neighbour trio arrives mid afternoon - with a bit of side wind, Chez gives me a shout from outside ‘we might need a hand’.

By the time I’m topside, she and a Canadian lady have things under control, and a similar to our Sun Oddessy has appeared next to us. In a whisper Chez advises ‘he’s got no legs’ and sure enough, he’s gone double pirate, with a false leg on each stump.

This turns out to be Tim - a friendly, loud overly talkative ex-squaddie. 

The harbourmaster team turn up shortly after his arrival and he blatantly and expertly milks his disability to secure free electricity and mooring - ‘why not’ we agree with him once they’ve gone.

I end up having a beer on the back of his boat with him, and spend an hour or so happily listening (which is lucky as getting words in edgeways was not going to happen) about his life, his military career, the everyday trials of having no legs - they slip off when it’s hot, and he has to pull himself out of the water via the davits if he swims! But on the upside ‘in the US it’s all ‘Thanks for your service  - it’s just a licence for free beer’. He’s climbed mountains galore, BASE jumped off El Capitan, and plans to be the first solo double amputee to sail the Atlantic next year - suspect we’ll meet again. Fascinating guy - but one of those people who once they start talking it’s hard to get away.