Kiss me Quick
Volare
Wed 9 Dec 2009 16:58
running an article about live-aboards overwintering in Cagliari. It was
written by journalist and local politician Giacomo Mameli, who has also
published several books, one of which he has signed and given us as a
gift. In his piece, Giacomo allowed himself full journalistic licence and
portrayed us as cultural aesthetes in search of enlightenment, rather than
itinerant boat hippies lolling about all day in the sun, which I thought
was quite generous.
Last Sunday lunchtime we organised a barbecue in the marina. We were able
to use the permanent brick-built barbecue on the terrace overlooking the
moorings. The rain held off and it was a great success. Mario brought
along two big fish, which he had murdered only that morning with his James
Bond harpoon gun, so there was fresh grilled fish on the menu. Later that
evening, we went back to Volare where like mobsters, the guests suddenly
produced musical instrument cases, which fortunately contained only
musical instruments. We spent the rest of the evening playing together in
more or less the same key and enjoying a glass or two of Sardinian vino
rosso.
On Tuesday, we were invited by Giacomo Mameli to Perdasdefogu, his place
in the country, but unfortunately only I could go because Josie had been
struck down with a virus. We were joined by Louisa, a geologist and Gigi
(Luigi) who is an expert on caves. Giacomo lives in a remote and hilly
part of Sardinia and we were shown some spectacular views on our ramble
through the countryside. I learnt from Louisa that the whole of the island
had once been under the sea, which is hard to visualise when you’re
standing on an escarpment 1000 metres above present day sea level. All
over this region are deep fissures in the rock, which are caused by the
movement of tectonic plates. We were led by Gigi into a spectacularly
long, deep rock fissure called a brecca, where the two rock faces had
moved about two metres apart. We climbed down a series of ladders into the
depths, until we were about 30 metres below ground level and then walked
from one end to the other, a distance of about 256 metres. It felt strange
to be inside a deep crack in the rock and staring up at the trees and the
sky.
The other day I was minding my own business pottering about on deck when I
started hearing loud kissing noises from somewhere behind me. Naturally, I
assumed it was a woman on one of the other boats trying to attract my
attention, so I ignored it. Somebody has to take a stand against this type
of behaviour. But they were not discouraged and it was soon apparent that
there were several kissers involved. I could only assume that it must be a
female crew who had just reached land after a long voyage. However, this
was no excuse and I decided to ask these Jezebels to desist, but when I
turned round there was nobody to be seen. Stranger still, the kissing
carried on as loudly as ever, but with nobody in sight. Obviously, I was
relieved that my assumption had been incorrect, but I was left with a bit
of a mystery. Maybe life had become too hectic lately and I needed to slow
down? To be honest, this wasn’t a particularly credible explanation. Also,
it was ten in the morning, so it couldn’t be the Gordon’s (before you rush
to judgement). In the end, it turned out to be fish, eating weed off a
nearby boat. What they do is to swim right up to the waterline and slurp
away at the hull enthusiastically, which sounds exactly like kissing.
Phew! What a relief!