Sunday 30th December

Sunday 30^th December

So what is it like, aboard fabled Wild Oats XI?? 

Very high-tech, very schmick.  The shrouds and dagger boards are made of carbon fibre and they seem so very light and flimsy… However carbon fibre is much stronger than any other heavier substance so it all works well.  The door to the forward bulkhead is as light as a domestic cupboard door, and yet it can resist the might of the sea.  All quite amazing!

 Below decks it is like a space ship.  And not in the least comfy or cosy… I have been on racing yachts before – this is not the first time Chris has stormed into Hobart on a large winning boat – and so I know how empty these below-deck spaces are.  Usually it is like being inside an empty tin can; Wild Oats was much more salubrious.  But…not cosy or comfy.  Chris showed us the bunks right in the back of the boat, in the deep dark hold.  There are spartan bunks in the main below-deck area, but right up the back, in a hell-hole of darkness and noise, there are eight extra bunks.  He said being in there is wilder than any fairground ride you can imagine.  Nobody goes in there by choice but sometimes it is necessary to get as much weight as possible in the very back, so eight people have to get in there, lie on the bunks and – suffer!!

India #56

All drivers, whether of rickshaw, limousine, taxi, or bus, want to take you to a shop or two.  They all get a small amount of kickback if their passengers spend a few rupees.  We didn’t usually fight against this; we allowed ourselves to be led like little lambs to send a few dollars here and there – everyone has to make a living, and drivers hardly earn anything at all.  Raj took us to a silk factory in the heart of the old city.  It was just fascinating.   2,000 Muslims work here, busily producing gorgeous silk and silk products.  The first place we went to was sunk in gloom.  A power failure, apparently, but maybe these poor kids always work in the dark…. We peered through the narrow doorway and saw about 8 little boys beavering away at their looms.  Raj told us that these boys are very lucky.  They go to school in the morning and then work in the afternoon, providing much-needed income for their families.  How nice, we trilled.  When we were out of Raj’s hearing, cynical Pete muttered, “Bet you anything those boys never see the inside of a school!”         

In a large corner room of another ancient building we saw men dyeing and softening huge skeins of silk.  This got added to my ever-increasing list of Nightmare Jobs.  It was all very hot and steamy, and smelly, in the room, and the silk was so very heavy.  The men had to lower it, draped over thick wooden sticks, into cauldrons of bubbling dye, and dip and swirl it around till it acquired enough colour.  Then they had to HEAVE it out and start all over again with another huge skein.  Pete said he saw even worse dyeing tasks in Morocco.  In the leather tanneries men would be INSIDE the vats of dye, trampling the leather with their bare feet.  It wasn’t hot water, but the dye smelt absolutely toxic.  Imagine spending your day trampling poisonous substances into dye with your poor bare feet… We didn’t think any of these workers would have a very long life expectancy.       

A better, more creative and less taxing job was punching patterns into cards, for the looms.  It takes five years to get skilled enough to do this.  We were mightily impressed with the young men who sat there tap tapping away with little hammers and pointed things (awls??), reading complex patterns off a master plan and transferring each line by way of dots to a pattern card, which would then be fed into loom for the little weaver boys.

Our next stop – ofcourse – was The Shop.  We were ushered into the inner sanctum where we were invited to sit on thick mattresses covering the entire floor area.  We were offered drinks – chai, inevitably (how I longed at moments like this for a cup of weak black tea…I never did get to love chai.)  Our “host” sat back, all comfortable, plump and urbane, and commanded his minions to spread gorgeous silken things about us.  Doona covers, bedspreads, shawls, scarves, clothes, layer after layer.  I felt a bit anxious about the poor folding-wallahs who would have to put everything away, but Pete very sensibly pointed out that this is A JOB, and that the folding-wallahs are probably very grateful for every item they get to fold and put back on the shelves – a few more rupees for their families.  And everyone gets a bit of a kickback from the money people like us spend in this sort of establishment… I actually froze up a bit and couldn’t manage to buy anything at all.  (Well only three small items for my girls for Christmas…)  When I say “froze up” this is actually inaccurate – I had to spend quite a lot of time in a not very nice toilet down a murky hallway.  But no details re this!!  Vish, Mary and Pete had no such buying inhibitions.  They flung visacards about and bought some very beautiful things which should delight all and sundry.

Raj took us back to the Buddha hotel after our action-packed day with him.  He had been very helpful and courteous, and had started the day picking us up at 5.00.  He charged us the princely sum of 500 rupees ($15 approx.) for this, and I think we paid a lot more than he would usually expect to receive – people haggle very fiercely over rates for drivers.