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compared to three of the others I am the lucky one without the 'mal-de-mer'.
I just realised I am really hungry - nothing since the bread and cheese 24 hours ago. I dare not go below in case I step on someone (or their vomit!). Maybe I should try to wake the skipper and ask if he knows the wind has increased by 10 knots since he went below - maybe I should ask him "SO WHERE THE BLOODY HELL ARE YA, MATE? I'M STARVING!
Banda Naira: I was stared at as I came ashore and kissed the ground--the locals must have thought I was one of them; a Muslim! I've got a bad chest infection and was lucky the others, Mick and Craig were able to relieve me as I was only fit for my bunk during the second half of the voyage. At one stage Mick seemed to have revived and opened a tin of stew for me and warmed it up - I'll never forget the look on his poor face as he handed it to me before he suddenly rushed to the side to throw up! As the yacht pitched and rolled I soon realised I had to lie with my head to stern to stop my body being pushed up through my skull and into my brain when we went down and wallowed into those troughs. I had to tie myself in too as it's a long way down from the top berth. In the end I was a bit delirious.
I was able to get some good food at a little guest house in the port; 'Delfika'. This proved to be the best food and accommodation I found in Indonesia, one of the rare places that served vegetables! Just a few rooms surrounding a garden with a waterfall and a parrot named Yoga who's been chained to his perch for decades. I got on well with the proprietor (and the parrot), a gentle soul named Bahri (the proprietor) who had the only computer on the island of Banda Naira--a very slow connection that sometimes took hours to log-on and up to 10 minutes to download a page! I would spend hours trying to send an email. Bahri seemed oblivious to my pleas regarding Yoga not being allowed to fly around and I tried to appeal to his religious beliefs in that Allah probably never meant for flying creatures to be tied down just for man's pleasure "You are committing a BIG sin Bahri" I said, but it made no difference. Meanwhile I'd play my whistle for Yoga, I reckon he knew the tunes by the time I left--Carrigfergus, Down by the sally Gardens, Eine Kleine Nacht Musik and Papa was a Rolling Stone.
Bahri has the contents of my iPod in his computer and I doubt he'll ever listen to that stuff--I saved the memory card after the iPod went underwater one night in Ambon when I put my trust in a drunken sailor to take me from the shore to the yacht and we all ended up in the water. Lucky we were close to shore, I've no doubt I would have survived but I'm not sure about the others who were a bit pissed! Now that conservative Muslim has my stuff in his computer; 600 songs from Beethoven to Punk and Rap and the Rolling Stones and Theodorakis, 25 Goon Shows and about 10 hours of ABC Radio National programs including programs of Science, Psychology, Books, Philip Adams interviews etc.. I wanted to clear the card so that I could use it in my camera.
I got some antibiotics for what may be pneumonia from the tiny 'obad' (chemist) but there was no info on dosage. I emailed my friend the Doctor Manolis Proheraris of Crete and he gave me the required advice--a seven day course and it cost just a dollar! On his advice I wrote the dosages on the other medications at the 'obad', doing my bit for any unfortunates, shipwrecked sailors and others, who may stagger in. I started to improve after a couple of days.
The yacht's crew are making plans to sail away for Australia; the sails have been repaired by the locals and the boat has been drying out. However, the weather is still rough outside and I am really amazed that the two female crew (they suffered most) are ready to do it all again--guess they have no option anyway as the once-a-week flight has been cancelled--again. I think I'd never get on a boat again if I'd suffered just a little of what I'd seen them go through.
LATER: I'm back in Banda Naira from the Island of Ay - poor visibility for snorkelling because of the heavy rain. Travelled out there with the French 'Balloon Man' Oliver and his pretty but more conservative girlfriend from Barcelona. She told me she lives on a yacht in Barcelona, a hulk that needs a handyman to repair - she picked the wrong man in Oliver! However, she couldn't have wished for a nicer and more attentive clown in her life - like a child with a beard! For many years he's been making his living entertaining kids with his balloons in places like Japan, making all kinds of animals with so much fun and enthusiasm.. His 'real' job is merchandising for such stars as Madonna and U2 at concerts in different parts of the world. He's also a chess champion and the word was soon about on the Island and the local schoolteacher came to play each evening.
We stayed in a nice clean house run by the Muslim mayor of the Island, a man who had several sets of clothes which he changed in the same order every day - outfits ranging from hippie beachcomber to traditional Muslim garb with headwear, the latter he would wear in the evening. It was difficult to recognise him. Oliver says he likes to be addressed as 'Monsieur le Mayor'.
There are no cars on the Island, just narrow, mostly concreted pathways, often covered in bedsheets and tablecloths where the householders dry their spices in the sun. Looking at the guest book you could see tourists were few and far between over the years. The generator came on at dusk and we would to sit around the table in front of the compulsory television as we ate our fish, cassava and rice (no variation) watching the typical Indonesian program format that everyone, adults as well as kids, find so
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