Tu querida presencia…

After adding Orinocotoo to the wall of fame in the Belgian café in Arrecife Lanzarote, we set sail for Gran Canaria where we entered the marina late at night in between huge oil rigs which were all lit up like so many Xmas trees. 

The title of this post is of course referring to our son’s 10 day visit while we were docked in Las Palmas de Gran Canaria. But also a bit to the Comandante.

It was a Sunday evening and as we were returning from another hike, a nostalgic song produced by live voices lured us into the only pub in the middle of nowhere. The place was completely empty except for the close family of the bar owner/keeper and the local doctor whose gently weeping guitar was accompanying  the small choir.

We ordered some pints of beer and tapas, we were offered another pint and that’s when the bar keeper confided in us that the good doctor’s melancholic guitar play was only tolerated to a certain degree, this out of sympathy for his passion for music. But that he was no good really and that now  his time was up.

With these words, the barkeeper went over to the group, took hold of the guitar and immediately the whole place lit up to his  upbeat strumming. A  man started his rhythmic syncopated clapping and a lady showed off her flamenco moves while all the time trying to catch my Captain’s eye. 

As the bar keeper urged us to enter a request, the only song that came popping up in our heads was “Comandante Che Guevara” . They delivered the song with great enthusiasm, joined by the cook who had left the kitchen just to sing along with the refrain: “De tu querida presencia, Comandante Che Guevara”. They all were very elated for some reason and while singing these lines, they opened up their arms in a grand gesture towards the bulky brother of the barkeeper who was shyly smiling in his corner. When we offered them a pint in return, they explained that the brother was a comandante of the guardia civil. And as the barkeeper put the pints on their table telling them that “los amigos belgas” were offering this round, a boisterous shout reached our Belgian ears  : Nos entregan Puigdemont!” (hand over Puidgemont)

The world’s issues were never far away: the Corona virus reached the Canary Island of La Gomera and between Lanzarote and Gran Canaria and then again as we were sailing to Tenerife – where we are now – we kept receiving the same urgent PAN PAN message. A message to “all ships all ships” to be on the lookout for “ a migrant boat with 37 people on board adrift or under way from Dahla to the Spanish Coast”. We didn’t spot them. But  the thought that African people were risking their lives in rickety boats to reach Europe, while fancy pleasure yachts were leaving Europe to sail to the Carib did make us feel very guilty and uncomfortable.  But not guilty and uncomfortable enough for it to curb our enthusiasm for the upcoming Atlantic crossing. 

So in between hikes and our son’s brave but losing battle against the surf, we took time to equip O2 with a hydro-generator (the brand is watt & sea), we installed the supports for the sea anchor which is supposed to keep us safe in rough seas and we had  extra gliders added to the main sail which is now sliding up and down the 20 meter high mast like a skater on ice. All reef lines have been readjusted and can now  be single handed from the cockpit. (My Captain doesn’t really need me at all, except for entertainment perhaps. )

The fridge and freezer are fully stocked, the kindle has downloaded the top 5 books on our wishing list and audio books are available on the smartphone for rougher days when peering at a screen makes you turn green.

In other words : high time we went ! Tomorrow we set sail for Guadeloupe where friends will join us for a first taste of the Carib. See you all on the other side within 2 or 3 weeks !