Retiring South of the BorderChapter 8
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Retiring South Of The BorderChapter 6 free porn video
We steamed south to Lisbon where we were informed that several schools of cabinetmaking were still in business. Ellen and I stayed on board while the rest of the crew rented a villa to kick back for a while. Occasionally I caught her looking out at the city while holding herself. I could easily see that she didn't want to be alone in a strange place. I hired a security company to patrol our dock 24/7 for the duration of our stay. It seemed to make her feel more comfortable about being on board with just me around.
I paid our woodworkers to come and give us an estimate both to create a showplace of our museum and to bring our ship's accomodations up a few notches in comfort as well as quality. It would never be opulent but we certainly could improve matters. I had the carpeting replaced throughout the ship except for the kitchen, heads and engineering spaces, where rubber mats went in where it made sense. The galley tables had their tops replaced by end-grain maple, much as how a butcher's block is built. I thought about wainscotting in the passages but the risk of spreading a fire made me dubious of that idea. I cut a happy medium and scheduled fireproof sound-deadening ceiling tiles to be installed in all passageways and group crew spaces, such as the galleys and break room. I also had it done to the bridge. I approved the budget and let them loose.
We needed a yearly re-certification to keep our insurance rates low as to be welcomed in most ports. Our electronics underwent re-calibration and certification. The engines would not need major work for quite a while. The oil sumps were tested for particulates and came up fine. Since we had two mess rooms we ate out of the one that wasn't being worked on. Eventually I grew tired of sitting around on my ass smelling all the adhesives curing under the carpet. I talked Ellen into drawing a security team and seeing the sights. The city was a huge tourist destination. It only figured that there was something to draw them, and we were going to find out what it was!
Instead of wandering about blindly I resolved to let my bank balance open some doors. I hired a tour guide, car and driver to shepherd us around. We did the castle tour thing, visited the various city neighborhoods, took in several museums and ate some truly top-flight dinners. We didn't travel a quarter of the way around the world to stay at a bloody Marriott Motel. There were very few times in my life that I could justify spending over a thousand dollars a night, but we did it.
Ellen suggested that we spiff up our wardrobes. Who was I to complain? We spent enough money to feed a small Sicilian town for a year--or two.
I contracted with a top-of-the-line ship's chandler to have the china and flatware replaced on board the Jamieson before we returned to the ship. The combined changes really made a difference! The crew's breakroom had new, comfortable furniture, the mess rooms had panelled walls and sported indirect lighting, the kitchen spaces gleamed and the bridge looked like it belonged on a Princess Cruise Line ship! It had been panelled in maple and the captain's chair was replaced by a pair of futuristic-looking gizmos that I was assured were comfortable as hell. The museum was fully panelled and had red-velvet-lined display drawers for all the smaller items. It smelled wonderfully of lemon oil and the histories of the persian carpets that covered the floor (deck?). The crew wouldn't recognize the place!
After the refit we needed to get the vessel inspected. That task was taken care of over about a week's time. We passed our certifications including the fire inspection. Our zincs were fine, but we were dinged for being short on emergency supplies so I laid in a couple pallets of international MRE's, wool blankets, sheets, pillows, tarps and stretchers that could be used as makeshift bunks. This pretty well filled up the ship's bow storage.
I called the place in Vigo that had smoked the salmon for us and ordered another batch to be readied for pickup in a couple of weeks. That set the day we needed to leave. I scheduled the standard maintenance script to be completed the day before our target departure date. Now, I just had to get our thoroughly debauched crew back on deck and in some semblance of order.
I placed a call to the phone that I'd insisted Jim carry and let them know about our up-coming departure date. I didn't get too much whining ... When Wanda got back on board I let her know that her budget had just grown, and we'd appreciate some local specialties to give the voyage a bit of local flavor. She grabbed Carl and they headed out to do some damage. They came back with cases of spirits, sausages, fresh fruit and vegetables. Carl was hugging a great big goddamned flat-bottomed pan with handles. My curious look netted me a one word response--Paella! Ahhh, I understood.
Everyone seemed to appreciate the changes to the vessel. It was a hell of a lot quieter with the new carpeting and sound-deadening tiles in place. There wasn't much that could be done about the engineering spaces--those engines threw off a fine mist of oil that covered everything, but a sealed hatch separated that area from the crew space. Fred and Sid knew enough to keep it under control.
We steamed North to Vigo where we loaded the on-deck walk-in with our fresh smoked (jerked) salmon. We really packed that sucker! For dinner Carl served us a pacific rim dish much like fried rice--It had flakes of smoked salmon, shavings of vegetables and a generous decoration of chopped green onions, all in a little ginger/chicken broth. He'd benefited from the break--he was getting creative again. He called it Kedgeree and we called it good!
We headed through the straights and on to Valencia where we picked up more cases of wine, as much as we could get of the local marmalade (made from bitter oranges), cheeses and meats. Carl surprised us--He said we were having steam table done right for dinner. We sure did--Chinese hot pot! The food slicer got a workout and I think he had every burner in the place simmering away with some dipping sauce or another. I know I recognized Pho from the cracked marrow bones. He color coded the dipping sauce bowls for a relative heat index. Good idea! I sure as hell left the bright red one alone! It was messy but delicious.
We voted that the next few nights were cook's nights off. We all pitched in to clean the place back to its original pristine condition. Jim did a little baking and we all had fresh blueberry scones. When a kitchen smells clean that's a pretty reliable indicator that it is clean, as long as overriding smells like PineSol or bleach aren't covering things up. I consulted with Wanda to see if we had a few things in stock like pork tenderloins, smoked sausage or kielbasa and frozen orange juice. I made dinner that night and the next, where we all pigged out on smoked sausage, sour kraut and boiled potatoes. It wasn't calorie counting stuff but nobody complained. I can run a slicer with the best of them. We had roast beef and cheddar sandwiches on Jim's fresh bread. With some things you just can't go wrong. A little re-heated Pho liquor for dipping and you've got something. The third night we settled on pasta with marinara sauce--something we hand't had in a while.
Somehow everyone had agreed without agreeing to take the grand tour. Ellen and I laid out plots and distance estimates. We'd keep it conservative and try not to push our fuel envelope. Next stop, Barcelona. Now, Barcelona has a history almost as long as the Catholic church. We ran around loose and picked up a few things like suckling pigs for the grill and some cedar planking to make a sauna. We were running out of spare cabins! I'd heard about a dry-cured Spanish ham--Serrano--that was so well cured that it had to be shaved thin to eat, like Westphalian ham in Germany. For an unreasonable cost I procured a case of traditionally cured two-year-old hams for the larder.
Soon we left for Marseille, France's largest sea port. The port itself was pretty damned disgusting with dumped holding tanks and diesel slime everywhere. We cut our visit short and motored on. Now, Cannes was a different kettle of fish! It was a rich man's tourist city with a sense of understated elegance--sort of 'whatever you want, we've got'. It had obviously gentrified as the royalty of Europe left for less well-published locations. A new generation was taking over and it was becoming more business-like
Genoa was another old city and it was a tourism magnet. Ever heard of Genoa salami? Uh huh. That's the place. Carl ran through that place like grain through a goose buying local specialty foodstuffs. I have to admit, though--he bought the good stuff!
Lord, the cities came and went, fast and furious. We hit Viareggio, Naples, Caglian in Sardinia, Messina and Marsala on the island of Sicily. Once we got to Greece I called a halt. We stayed in Heraklion Crete for about a month. We weren't in a goddamned race.
We worked on the Sauna for most of a week then gave it a try. We experienced no burned butts or backs from exposed screw heads and called it a success. The scent of the cedar was overwhelming at first!
We were all turning into gourmands, eating well prepared dishes made from top-flight ingredients. Carl had to re-read the dietician's chapters of his CIA workbooks and started weighing portions. It was push-ups and sit-ups for us, paying for our sins. To tell the truth we ate a lot more salads.
We were in a 'target rich' environment as far as destinations went. I suggested that we stay in Greece because we'd already gotten our passports stamped. Next stop, Thessalonika. After looking at the size of the city I prayed that the next few places we hit would be small ports. After taking an english-language tour of the city I came away with one major opinion--'Nice place to visit but I wouldn't want to live there.'--Every sentence the tour guide spouted seemed to begin with After the earthquake of this, that or the other. Too much shakin' going on!
We discussed the political climate of the Eastern Mediterranean basin and collectively decided that our arms were too much of a good thing to some of the smaller countries such as Cyprus or Lebanon. I voted to return to Spain to weather over the winter. We found place that we hadn't been yet--Cadiz. They accepted the Euros which we still had aplenty and had international markets in which we could convert the rest of our gold ingots to krugerrands. We steamed West, staying well north of the African coast since reports of piracy had multiplied over the past few years.
We steamed into Puerto de Cadiz one bright winter morning in late November. After getting the ship serviced I paid for three month's dock fees and services at a guarded wharf where various yachts were already tied up. Our beat up looking destroyer-wannabe got a few odd looks and turned up noses but we didn't care--we had firepower and they had bean farts. Our cash reserves were probably better than theirs as well.
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