Thursday 4th August

Well I don’t suppose anyone has given much thought to the issue of whether or not I could drive the tender…or have you always assumed that yes OF COURSE I would have this skill?? Well I didn’t… I have always hopped in happily and let Pete do all the starting and stopping and steering while I go lalalala in my head and look at the scenery, holding the painter (the rope which ties the dinghy to whatever it needs to be tied to) delicately between my knees. Well today Pete channeled the Chinese Mother and told me I HAD to learn. News to me, I thought he liked being The Man while I sat delicately on the edge of the boat holding the painter… I don’t respond well to Chinese Mother Mode so I lay on the couch with my book, trembling a bit, until Pete modified his approach. I actually do want to be able to drive the tender; this means FREEDOM when we are on a mooring or anchorage and Pete wants to stay buried in his account work, or in MacGuivering things on the boat work.

So…after a brief and informative lecture and demo, off I putt-putted, in a slightly zigzag course, for the Port Vila wharf. I had just a bit of difficulty actually stopping in the right spot, but eventually there I was, shaking a bit, but…climbing the rusty rickety ladder with the painter clenched – no not between my teeth! – in my fist. I tethered the dear little boat to a bollardthingy and set off for my first solo Port Vila Experience. But...What was trickling out of my fingers and onto the ground? Could it be BLOOD? From a rusty ladder wound?? I was a bit horrified by this setback. Wounds in tropical Third World-ish countries are not funny; Pete and I have been reading our guide to Cruising Vanuatu and there are many chastening accounts and warnings. So I hotfooted it to the nearest pharmacy, disinfectant and bandaids in mind. When I walked in, the dreamy young chick looked at me vaguely and said, “Oh no…” as she watched the blood trickling. I said I needed antiseptic handwash, bandaids, and wipes, and she agreed. Now where might they be??? Lalalalalala… I found a large bottle of Aqium gel and bled all over it as we drifted towards bandaid territory. I ended up with everything I needed and then bled all over my little shoulder bag while I paid. Then what?? Well I took my first-aid items over to the icecream fridge (what else, in a pharmacy?) and washed the (not very life threatening) wounds and slapped on some bandaids. And yes I nicely disposed of the wrappings in a little bin under the cash register. My dreamy girl was fascinated.

Next stop was the Bookstop shop to get a few more thrillers for our 2XS library – I have completely run out of reading material and am feeling the failure of my Kindle very keenly. The nice (expat Australian) owner of the shop was very interested in my bloodspattered bag, especially as I was buying John Sandford and Michael Connolly. So appropriate!
After a restorative and delicious fresh lime juice at the Yacht Club I made my way back to the veggie market, which runs 24 hours most days of the week, and bought a whole backpack full of delicious items, including a big hand of darling little finger bananas for about 5o cents…

Then it was time to make my way back to the faithful tethered tender and brrrm brrm my way back to Pete… Some nice South Korean tourists stopped to giggle – surely I was not in charge of this very big motorboat?? (the 2XS tender is a small and delicate craft…) Monique was waiting for me at the rusty ladder. She had been talking to some of the ladies at the touristy market so I followed her in to the centre of the stalls. Most of the women – about twelve of them - had stopped for the day. They were sitting in a circle around a table, intent on…a card game!
I dumped my veggies in the boat and we towed it along to the nearby pontoon – easier than the rusty ladder… And then – I couldn’t get the motor to start – oh dear and oh no… Monique was very kind and supportive but she couldn’t help. I bobbled around pulling ineffectually on the cord and saying, “Bloody hell!” in slightly desperate tones. A couple of Australian women, attractive and nicely dressed, mid-forties, walked onto the pontoon and laughed. “Don’t worry, we’ve heard worse language!” they trilled. Oh good – help at hand, I thought, as The Men made their way to their tender, which was tied up just next to me on the little pontoon. I didn’t say anything, but watched, mouth agape, as they just drove off. Monique said that one of the women said, “Aren’t you going to help her?” and the men just shook their heads and drove off. This is just appalling behavior; it doesn’t matter who I was, how important or not important; surely a Rule of the Sea is that you help everyone and everyone in any sort of trouble? Anyway, it was all too silly; Monique had to go, her girls needed her, so I said, “I can row!” She was inordinately impressed and took many photos of me making my way back to 2XS – they will be ghastly photos please nobody look at them if the opportunity presents! Pete was very pleased that I got back, one way or the other, and showed me what I had done wrong (flooding the engine, ofcourse… I think Monique and I knew this but we didn’t know how to UN-flood it…)

Some of our friends and not-so-friends from the recent past are in the harbor. Infinity has arrived; oh how lovely to see it, all big and impressive with its two big masts. Hippy Party Boat! And anchored right next to it – Black Pearl, the big Glamour Yacht which was next to us at Port Moselle marina (Noumea) with the most unfriendly, snooty (Australian…) cast and crew. We strongly suspect the rude and nasty tender people to be from Black Pearl…they most certainly were NOT from Infinity