Sten and Rosemarie, Sea Week and Portuguese hip-hop: a busy day
A year afloat: to the Caribbean and back
Sam and Alex Fortescue
Sat 6 Aug 2011 12:50
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38:32.04N
028:37.52W
A strong smell of smoking fish wafted across the
harbour from the nearby cannery, redolent of the inside of a mackerel packet.
The cloud lay low and rain threatened. It was time to move on. In this case,
just a four mile buzz across to the neighbouring island of Faial and the main
Azorean town of Horta. Anticipating a pleasant sail, we hoisted the main and
yanked up the hook. Almost immediately clear of the breakwater, Summer Song was
laid over on her starboard beam by about 20 knots of wind, and as we tacked
across the choppy waters, gusts of up to 30 knots came and went as they hurried
down the sides of the volcanic peaks around us. The trip took two hours and we
got pretty wet in the process.
Amazingly, as we motored slowly in to the marina,
there was a loud whistle and a 'yoo-hoo' from one of the pontoons and we made
out the forms of our Danish friends from Viveiro: Sten and Rosemarie. I gave a
distracted wave, as we were in the process of reverse parking Summer Song - no
mean feat in any conditions, but complicated in this case by tight rows of very
well tended classic boats on either side, all inhabited. Park we did, though,
and are rafted up alongside a larger boat in the south of the marina - close to
town and the unfolding excitement of Sea Week 2011.
It was delightful to see some friendly faces
marching along the jetty towards us, and we repaired directly to a cafe for
large beers. Sten had promised to meet us with refreshments on the quay as we
docked, but we failed to give him the necessary warning. We spent a jolly
afternoon catching up on a year of sailing tales and comparing notes on the
excellent local whaling museum. They have already been in the Azores for six
weeks, after sailing down from Viveiro to Baiona in the early part of the
season. Other than suntans, they are the same chirpy Sten and Rosemarie was knew
from Galicia. Before long it was 7pm and time for supper, so we parted ways with
separate cooking plans.
In our case, there were grilled squid on the menu -
cooked in olive oil, garlic and paprika. Though I say so myself, these were a
towering gatronomic triumph. Less so was the Picoese quaffing wine we'd
purchased from the winery with the stern warning that it was 'what the locals
drank'. Its chief characteristics are a low alcohol level - about 10% - and the
use of a grape more usually employed in jam making. If I used terms such as
'fruity' and 'young' and even 'slightly effervescent', you'll understand that
this was no worthy squid accompaniment. It was apparently developed as the only
grape variety that stood up to the phylloxera epidemic of the 19th century. So,
not even the fungus likes this stuff...
We have arrived here just in time for Sea Week,
which is rolling series of festivities, religious celebrations and regattas. The
girls were presented with hydrangea blooms when we checked in to the marina, and
there was a 'hip-hop' spectacle to launch proceedings last night. We rocked up
for the start at about 10am, and found the stage packed with octogenarians.
Chris suggested that this might by the 'hip' element of the entertainment, and
sure enough, they broke into a muddled rendition of Shalira's World Cup theme
tune. Four dapper looking gents sidled happily around the stage waving their
panamas, pursued by about 30 elderly women.
After we'd brought Elise around from a near swoon
with a caipirinha, the stage emptied and the main event got under way, with a
cast of literally dozens. To a vague 'round the world' theme, dancers dressed as
everything from Portuguese explorers to Indian brides and American cowgirls
capered about in a very convincing hip hop style. Many of them were not even
teenagers, but put an awesome performance worthy of Sadler's Wells.
As we toddled home to bed at midnight, a DJ took
over and we drifted off to sleep with the sound of Don Omar's many top ten hits
pumping away in the background.
Dingy approach to Horta, Faial
 Reunited with our Viveiro friends, Sten and
Rosemarie
 S&R's boat Troldand (meaning tufted duck),
immortalised on the breakwater in Horta
 So much painting goes on that there's a special 'paint disposal' bin on the
seawall
   Pico's peak peeking over the cloud this morning
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