The Arabs and The Russians

So I hadn’t thought much about the fact that our next charter guests were Saudi Arabians, until my Nicoletta said to me the day before I arrived “Tiffany. The Arab women are extremely demanding and it can be quite unpleasant. This is going to be a hard charter and you will probably get very little sleep”. Oh great. And they were going to be on for 2 weeks. 2 weeks!! The only bit of good news was that they would most likely sleep at a hotel every night and only use the boat in the day (apparently this is something very common with the Arabs). I thought nah I’ll be fine, I can deal with demanding after 6 weeks of charters.  Well… nothing in this life time could prepare me for this woman.

Firstly, the day they arrive, there are 3 bags FULL just of special Arabic foods and snacks. Spices, nuts, boxes of dates, seeds, coffees, a special coffee pot and coffee cups, then also Shisha and Shisha accessories, charcoal, a special silver pot for food. Wow.

My first meeting with this woman put me off from the start. We are used to guests being at the least, polite, if not friendly. This woman was neither, especially the latter. She walked onto the boat like a diva and immediately started ordering people around pointing. She barely said hello to any of the crew or smiled. She ordered a sparkling water from me which, as I brought it to the outside lounge area, I put where she had been previously seated- she was now standing up against the side, looking at the view. She then sat at the other side of the table and yelled at me from outside in a demanding, irritated voice that would become synonymous with the trip “Excuse me?? Excuse me!!”. So I hurry outside and, not looking at me when she speaks (this also would become customary), says “Why did you being my drink and put it on the other side of the table? It must always be brought to exactly where I am sitting. Give it to me please” then glances up at me from typing on her phone and narrows her eyes. Oh my gosh. I tried to protest, saying she had not been at the table when I brought it and I apologized for putting it in the wrong place, but she just cut me off with a “Its fine, just don’t let it happen again. Now I was truly scared.

She also came with an entourage of staff. A driver, who lives in London and manages their property there and is their “PA/organizer” for anything they need there, a Saudi girl who was the maid to Madam and a Philipino nanny for the young girl. All of whom were absolutely lovely and so helpful. They taught us how madam likes things done ad would assist if we were running around like chickens without heads. They are all sooooo calm. It’s amazing. How they put up with this woman on a permanent basis is beyond me.

Over the next few days we had a lot to learn- how to brew Arabic coffee for 15mins, using 3 different spices put it at different times, how to make Turkish coffee, what different biscuits they have with each of these as well as with the red tea they also drink. Arabic coffee with a tray of assorted dates and cream, as well as sweet Arabic biscuits, in the special Arabic coffee pot, poured into the special hand painted cups, using your left hand to pour and your right hand to serve; this must be prepared by 1pm every day and served as soon as any guest walks onto the boat as a welcome drink. As they never told us when they would arrive, it was always all hands on deck, rushing around to get the snacks and coffee ready in 5mins before she started complaining about why it was taking so long. Then the Turkish coffee, served on request, with Turkish delight, and the red tea, served with more savoury biscuits like digestives. Then there was the preparation of the Shisha, which she had at 7pm every evening or on request and charcoal that you need to light for her incense. But she expects something to be done within 5mins of her request, nevermind how long the preparation time. And she will rush you to get an entire spread laid out- with Arabic coffee and dates, fruit platters, seeds and nuts that need to be on the table- also as soon as they arrive, and then 10mins later say “Please clear up this mess, can’t you see we are finished”. It was exhausting trying to make her happy. You never felt like you were on top of things.

She would walk down the passage and ask you to follow her and then literally throw a scarf or something over her shoulder “Put this away”, then point at the bed (never looking at you) “Hang those up”, “Take this outside”. Never please or thank you. And lazy. Oh my gosh. Her handbag will be 2m from her and she will call you from the other side of the room “Excuse me? Excuse me!! Can you pass my bag with my phones”. Always forgetting where she puts things and then asking us where they are, looking at us like we are completely useless if we say “I’m very sorry Madam, I’m not sure where you might have left that, we’ve had a good look and can’t seem to see it anywhere”. Only for her to discover that she left it at the hotel or something.

And they live on Arab time. Night owls. Morning shift starts at 7am, but then the children (who sleep on the boat) only wake up around 11 and then Madam and Mr only arrive at the boat at 1pm- when they have breakfast. Lunch is served around 5pm and then at 10:30pm they leave the boat for dinner. But in-between these meals are constant snacks- fruit platters, nuts, seeds, nachos, tea with savoury biscuits, Arabic coffee with sweets, Turkish coffee. It was never ending. I can’t believe how much these people ate. It was astounding. When they left at 10:30pm you were absolutely finished. But then if you worked late shift you waited up till they came home at 3:30am, often with guests, for snacks (again seeds, nuts, fruit platter, shisha) and then they stay for just half an hour then leave to go and sleep at the hotel. You get sleepy sitting in the crew mess waiting for them to get back, then as soon as someone shouts “They’re here” its panic stations and you are wide awake in 10 seconds, rushing through to light candles, put out snacks, put soft music on, before she walks on and starts complaining about where everything is. And it doesn’t matter how much you prepare in advance, you are always just never quick enough for her. It was incredibly frustrating.

I have never craved sleep so much in my life.

And always so many people! Every day they had friends over and the friends have children. Every Arab child has a nanny that travels with the family. So when Madam’s daughter wanted to invited 8 friends to the boat, it was also 8 nannies. Which made mealtimes very stressful- for us, as well as for our chef. Preparing a meal for 8 adults upstairs on the upper deck as well as different food and a table setting downstairs for all the nannies and children, with us trying to run up and down stairs, serving both parties simultaneously with numerous drink orders and requests for condiments and whatever else. I honestly felt like I was spinning most of the time. I cried 3 times in the 2 weeks from complete exhaustion and the really disrespectful ugly way this woman would talk to you. It was utterly draining. After a particularly bad day when I was feeling pretty fragile, all it took was a photo of Waffles, sent to me by my dad on whatsapp, to send me completely over the edge in a stream of tears, crying that I’d had enough of this bloody charter and I just wanted to go home to my dogs. When Nicoletta found me hiding outside the crew door, sniffing and snotting, she did all but grab me and shake me by shoulders and gave me a “pull yourself together for God’s sake!” lecture and then softened a bit and told me that it’s just one woman who we’ll never see again after a week and I shouldn’t let her get to me. That yes, she was a guest and we need to do what we can to please her, but only what is humanly possible and nothing is worth killing ourselves over, we can only do our best- as far as we can. I resolved to remember that and somehow managed to drag myself through the next week.

This charter was also the one where I did the most stress eating I’ve ever done. That, coupled with complete exhaustion (and the body’s craving for carbs. After running around like a headless chicken for 6hrs straight with Arabic coffees and trays of dates and shisha ad whatever else, a tuna salad just doesn’t do it for you) and the fact that the Arab and Lebanese sweets are to DIE for, I must have piled on around 2kg in that 2 weeks. The Lebanese sweets really are unbelievable. Mini phyllo pastries with pistachio’s or other nuts, soaked in honey. Oh my god. It was an orgasm in your mouth and pure happiness just emanated through your body as you chewed the delectable sweet. Around day 4 of stress my health campaign had gone out the window. We had zero chance to even rest in the day, nevermind for me to try and exercise. We averaged 5-6hrs sleep each a night for 2 weeks straight and IF we were lucky, we would each get maybe an hour and a half break in the day where you literally collapsed on the bed as soon as you walked into the room. I gave up trying to stick to my shake diet as it just wasn’t enough for me to go on. I was also depressed as shit so got addicted to the honey soaked Lebanese sweets as my “pick me up” when I was feeling down and tired. My hopes for having an Ibiza ‘beach ready’ body in 4 weeks’ time were now a complete dream and no longer a realistic goal. Fuck it. I had to get through this charter alive without having a complete meltdown and if this was the only way then so be it. I gave up.

I somehow managed to survive the last few days- even though we were thrown a curve ball “its my sons 20^th birthday tomorrow so I want the entire boat decorated with hundreds of balloons by tomorrow evening”. Oh God. Well somehow we managed to pull it off- running off the boat to buy balloons and decorations and bottles of helium and getting the whole crew involved at 7am to start the big setup. It was a really good effort in the end- with our chief engineer blowing the balloons up with helium and our chef and deckhand tying the ends and adding string and then the captain and Nicoletta making a giant balloon arc whilst I stuck up posters and made balloon centrepieces and god knows what else. They had about 12 birthday cakes. We had supplied 6 that all weren’t up to her standards, so she sent her driver to get another load just before the party, which she turned her nose up at aswell and then had a go at ALL of us about why are we so useless that none of us can get a grand enough birthday cake. And there were about 50 guests on board- adults, children, and nannies. It was chaos. Absolute chaos.

I’ve never been more relieved in my life when they finally left the boat. Nicoletta is pretty hard and not much gets to her, but even she cracked the one day (incredibly rare), so we wooped with joy when the car drove off into the distance and we quickly disposed with joy of anything remotely Arabic on board that would leave any reminders of the last 2 weeks nightmare.

Feeling utterly dead and in desperate need of some sleep and peace and quiet, we were dreading the next charter as they were Russians. Russians have a reputation in the yachting industry for being quite wild, and when the guests are all male, throwing massive parties where they invite loads of girls literally off the streets, onto the boat. We were expecting 5 males, hence our distress, however what an absolutely lovely surprise when we were greeted by 5 gentlemen friends in their late 40’s that just wanted to see the sites, eat good food, drink good wine and engage in conversation. About what I have no idea as it was all in Russian, but they seemed to be having a good time? It’s hard to tell with Russian men as they are quite unemotive people. The 4 who spoke no English just grunted and nodded whenever you asked them a question or brought them something and the one very cheerful man who did speak English (who was really lovely) would always order on behalf of the group. So we only ever had one person asking for things, which meant Nicoletta and I weren’t being pulled in 5 different directions and it was actually a very pleasant, relaxing charter and the guests didn’t go to bed too late.

It was also the charter where I got to see Portofino! I had heard so much about this beautiful little town so was thrilled to be able to get off and do some exploring. Pics in next blog post in the next few days!

A new boat, a new begining

Surprisingly I made it to Antibes, from Naples, with my 3 x 30kg suitcases and no travel disasters; (although a giant repack in the corner of the airport was necessary- me sitting in the middle of a small pile of my clothes and knickers next to the check in counter for Etihad airlines, getting some rather disapproving looks from other passengers). Now recently unemployed, I had been trying to find the cheapest accommodation possible in expensively renowned Antibes. After making inquiries on a yachtie website, I found something super cheap that looked too good to be true, which exactly what it is turned out to be.

I arrived at the house and had to do a double take. It was down a slightly dodgy ally with graffiti on the wall and after seeing the inside, I swear there are shacks in Khayelitsha bigger and cleaner. I entered into a tiny living room with 5 boys, barely in their 20's, all smoking dope on a grimy looking red sofa. A small cot bed was in the corner of the room with no bedding on it, and I was told that this would be my sleeping place. That, or to share the double bed in the also tiny adjacent bedroom, which also had no bed linen. I swear I could feel the bed bugs biting my ankles already. The kitchenette was half decent but the minuscule bathroom had no mirror and it was clear by the state of the toilet and shower that the place hadn't seen a cleaning product in months. There was no way I could do this. My bags wouldn't even fit in the living room. I needed a plan B.

Luckily my good friend Darrin helped me out and put me up at his friend’s place, where he was staying. This amazing boy has become my new best friend and I don't know what I'd do without him. I spent a few days relaxing and then saw some agencies, who told me I'd be lucky to find a permanent charter job mid-season and should probably settle for anything I got. As always, such positivity from the agencies. But everything always has a way of working out if you are patient, and just 2 days later I got a call about a busy 42m charter boat that needed someone to start immediately. I was relieved and happy- not just another job so soon, but a charter boat! My dreams of making lots of money from tips this season were now still a possibility! 

Darrin dress shopping with me

I was told to start the next day, so happily left with my enormous bags and arrived smiling at the boat, only to be met by a surprised captain looking nervously at all my baggage and asking why I’d brought all my things. I told him happily, with my hand extended in greeting that I was his new employee, but I was met with a baffled face saying that it was just an interview. Oh god. How embarrassing. I was about to call the agency in a blind panic, but after my short interview and the fact that they really needed someone to start straight away, I was told I could stay. 

View from upper deck aft, from our berth in Cannes

Pimped out sundeck

I was put to work straight away as guests were expected that evening. 

Toilet paper decor (yes I made this!)

My chief stew- a Romanian girl in her 30's is small and petite with dark hair but is as scary as a school teacher at times. Sweet when you are doing exactly as she says, but god help you if you don’t do it her way or worse yet try validate why you didn’t do it her way. Lesson- do it her way, no questions asked, and we get along great. The other crew consist of a French captain and gorgeous French- Italian chef, 2 Pilipino deckhands and a Ukrainian chief engineer. I was the only English first language speaker. Attempts at jokes have since proved to be futile as I am met with blank faces of non-understanding. Even daily conversation has to be broken down to very basic English, so the cheerful banter I enjoyed on my last boat was not going to happen here. 

With back to back charters lined up, we were going to be too busy to talk much anyway.

Charter number 1- the French Jews.
Our first guests arrived. 5 men, overweight, kind of untrustworthy looking and also with little English skills. Wow. Although all with wives and girlfriends, they had 20 yr old escort girls on the boat daily and often brought back more strays from the beach. We had to deal with naked parties in the Jacuzzi, demanding drunk men, girls dancing on the sofa's and used condoms in the showers and beds on a daily basis. I started wearing latex gloves when changing the bed sheets. 

Discovered under the bed, in the sheets and on the floor

The most unattractive and fattest guest of them all even tried to kiss me the one evening and invite me back to his room. It was awful! I was starting to wonder if I’d joined the right boat. Sitting with our First Officer the one night, who casually asked me if I thought they were on crack, I almost spluttered on my mouthful of tea “Probably” I said. Is this going to be the norm for the next few charters?

Charter 2- The Americans

Well thankfully it wasn't. The next charter consisted of 2 lovely American families, returning guests for 3 years who love the crew, were polite and warm and let us go to bed early and weren’t at all demanding. It was really a pleasure and they left us a very generous tip as well as giving each crew member a lovely cashmere sweater. We all sat together on the port wall in Cannes the one evening and watched the fireworks display (it happens in France all through July and August). Its all choreographed to music and is so pretty.

Things were looking up and I had settled into the boat routine. The chief stew and I rotate between each of us having a short day and a long day. On your long day you are up at 7am to serve the guests breakfast and you stay on service throughout the day, attending the guests when necessary, whilst the other girl wakes up later around 10am and cleans the cabins, then helps you serve lunch. After lunch you take a 2-3hr break and the other girl stands in on service for you. When you get back from your break, she goes on hers and then whilst you set up for dinner, she does the evening cabin turndowns. You both serve dinner then she goes to bed and you stay to clear and look after the guests until they go to bed. Then the next day you are the one that starts later and does cabins. And so it goes…

Roberto's yummy desserts- the reason my diet fails daily

The owner trip

The next lot to arrive were our Dutch owners. What a pleasure. Friendly, relaxed and informal and spend most days eating lunch and dinner off the boat, which is a blessing as we get more time to relax, even though they do stay out late so I would often find myself in the evening, sitting in the stair by the entrance to the main salon, slightly bored and tired, alone with my thoughts, comfort eating.
Now comfort eating is not what you might first picture in your head- a huge sloth of a person lying in their pyjamas in their living room, staring absent mindlessly at a soapie whilst surrounded by empty boxes of pizza, Chinese takeout and tubs of Ben & Jerry’s.

No. It can also just be that average Joe who is looking for an upper and craves some sugar (such as me). It doesn't have to do with eating masses of actual FOOD. It's not about being hungry. You aren't actually hungry at all. You just feel like something tasty, something “nice”, something that you know will give you pleasure, even if only for a minute.

Because when you're feeling miserable, you always do something to cheer yourself up, something that you know will give you a happy thought or put a smile on your face. And eating is usually a sociable occasion and is enjoyable and relaxing. So if you are not in a situation where you can  do something to take your mind off feeling down- like do some exercise, go see a friend or go shopping (i.e. when you work on a boat...) for your mind to crave something tasty when you are feeling down isn't all that ridiculous really. There's nothing else you can get an up from.

So here I am, waiting for guests to get home, exhausted from lack of sleep, miserable because I can't exercise and get off the boat, missing my friends and feeling rather lonely really. After trying to find anyone awake at 1am to talk to on Facebook or whatsapp and failing miserably, picking at some m&m's, eating a chocolate chip cookie, chewing on the crust of a piece of left over fig tart and crunching on a few Pringles, I was still craving sugar. I let out a big sigh and walked again to the cupboard that I opened about 10 times in the last hour and hadn’t changed in terms of stock. Jams, nuts, cereal, Nutella, chic chip biscuits. Hmmmmm. Chocolate and hazelnuts? One of my happy memories is one of me and my 2 best school friends always giving each other chocolate nutties as a present on birthdays. The thought made me smile as I remembered some of the silly photos we'd taken. So I grabbed a handful of hazelnuts and put them in a cup, reached up for the Nutella and took 2 big spoonful’s and added that to the cup. I mushed it all around, sat down on the stairs, let out another sigh and started eating the calorie infused concoction whilst thinking about what I was really doing with my life. Was I still enjoying what I was doing? I know I missed my family and dogs, exercise and a routine, doing anything “normal” like going to the movies, the mall, meeting a friend for a coffee, going for a walk on the beach and even having a boyfriend. I was having a Bridget jones moment.

After a few days of feeling a bit down in the dumps, I got the opportunity one morning to do something normal. I was allowed to go to the St Tropez morning market. A collision of smells sweet and savoury hit your nose as you weave in between the numerous stalls, selling everything from boutique clothing to leather purses and bags, wood products, antiques to delicious fresh food stalls. I munched on a focaccia whilst ambling along and bought a lovely tan leather handbag and little blue dress. 

St Tropez market

St Tropez port road

St Tropez has a famous ice cream parlour called Barbarac which is right on the Marina, so whilst in St Tropez, I of course had to visit that, to see for myself if this claim was true. It was definitely one of the best and had every flavour that you could think of, with people queuing around the corner!

30 July

So here I am again. Late. In a sweating anxious mess, sweat pooling in my bra between my boobs, brow furrowed as I hoped that the hairdresser that I was 15mins late for would wait for me. Especially as they had agreed to take me on after hours of begging and pleading. I hate being late. But it seems no matter how I plan my day, it's an eventuality:

After a manic and tedious top to tail clean of the boat and getting the green light to leave early to go and get some things done- namely get phone credit, MAC makeup, toiletries, see the osteopath for my shoulder and get my highlights done- I had had a super quick shower, faffed somewhat as to what to wear, but then made it out the boat by 4:45pm. I was only seeing the osteopath at 6 and the hairdresser at 6:45, so with an hour to get from Cannes to Antibes to see the osteopath, I thought I had oodles of time.

Alas not... French transport as usual (waiting 20'mins for a bus. Serves me right for being lazy. I could have walked it in 10) started me off on my downward spiral to lateness. Then service provider Orange  (who is worse than Telekom I swear) made me wait for 25 mins just to buy phone credit. Phone credit I tell you!! So after getting that at 5:45pm and bolting to MAC, I found myself again on the phone, cancelling my osteopath appointment (at the time I was meant to be there)  and letting the hairdresser know I’d be late, apologizing profusely as both seemed to just sigh and didn't seem very surprised. As a regular customer of both, I think they've succumbed to the fact that I have a problem with being on time.
The train station was its own nightmare and I should have known better. I got there and saw that I had 15mins to spare before my train, so, even though I knew it was tight and I was already late, I thought I would have time to dash across the road to monoprix to get my toiletries. If there were no queues it would be fine and I wouldn't get another opportunity to go before our  boat left the next day. Hmmmmm what if I didn't make it back and the next train was only in half an hour and I missed the hairdresser? I would die. My skunk hairdo was less than attractive and I couldn't exactly wear a hat at work. I decided to tempt fate and make a dash for it and literally ran through the train station, dodging people, dogs and almost having to frog leap over a small child that I didn't see until the last minute. I pretty much snatched and grabbed at monoprix and even though I spent 3mins trying to hunt down peanut butter, only to be told they'd run out (wtf? what large scale grocer runs out of peanut butter?), by the time I got in the queue to pay, with 8mins to go till the train, I thought I was going to be okay.

Well that was until sodding Murphy's law decided to kick me in the vagina again and an elderly lady started to take what seemed like an eternity to count out some coins to pay for her groceries. I sat there huffing and puffing and as I got to the till, then the tellers had to do a changeover. Oh god. Why in the name of all things holy! I had 2mins. Little sweat beads started forming on my forehead and the pool of moisture between my boobs started to slide down my stomach. I paid and sprinted back across the street, dodging and scooting past people and leaping down stairs. I could see my train. I actually squeaked out loud. As I flew up the stairs onto the platform, absolutely gasping for breath and almost knocking people over with my shopping bags,  all that was left to see of the train was its behind, sliding away in the distance.

Damit! 1minute! That's all I was late by! 1 min sooner and I would have made it. I wondered if I should legally change my name to Murphy and then I could make my own laws and not be subjected to this karmic unfairness. The next train was in 10mins, which wasn’t too bad. I called the hairdresser to tell them I was on my way and luckily they said nothing about leaving without me. Thank goodness. I would have had to go back to monoprix and buy and attempt to try a self-dye job. Which, knowing my luck, would have turned my hair bright orange. 

So now, sweaty and gross with shiny makeup and dripping bra, I decided I deserved a snack and a bottle of water. The last time I'd eaten was at lunch. So I looked at the vending machine and saw some crocodile haribos. Omg. I hadn't had chewy sweets in 6 weeks! I was definitely getting those, and some sour worms (for the boat, not all now I promise) and a bottle of water. And maybe some crisps. I needed something more substantial than just sugar to get me through 2 and a half hours at the hairdresser. I put in my coins and managed to get my sweets and water, but then Murphy decided to snort with laughter at me again, as when I put in my money and pressed the code for my crisps, they got stuck just before they were about to fall off. Great! So I ended up paying double. Sodd it. I was over this day now and could almost laugh about it.  I relaxed a bit on the train ride and pottered down the street from Antibes train station towards the hairdresser. As I was passing the blue lady (now 15mins late for the hairdresser) low and behold I saw that Jeffrey's was open. I had thought it would have been closed already. I absolutely had to go in. I was already late, what was another 5mins? 

Now, Jeffrey's is the international store in Antibes where you can get some fantastic British and South African products, among others. HP sauce, Mrs Balls Chutney, Crabbies, Flings, my favourite chai tea and most importantly Ouma rusks. Delicious! Last time I'd been there they hadn't had any. The thought of a nice, crunchy rusk with a cup of tea had me salivating in a moment, so I pushed open the door and was greeted by a wonderful surprise after the drama I'd received from Mr Murphy that day. A whole row of rusks! 3 rows deep! I loaded up 4 boxes and went happily to the till, smiling widely and said yes that was all, when the lady asked if I wanted anything else. Then- no. I wanted a Crabbies. I'd drink it at the hairdresser. I'm sure they wouldn't mind. Even though I was now arriving with 4 bags of shopping, so my "our boat docked late and then I missed the train" story now looked sceptical. They probably thought I didn't care I'd kept them waiting. I really did care though. I offered to pay an additional after hours fee for keeping them waiting and when they politely declined I promised to purchase an armful of products. Which I did, leaving with 2 months’ supply of hair products that set me back 140 euros, on top of the 80 euro haircut. Ouch.

Charter round 3! 

Some friends of our Dutch owners came on board for a few days. A dad with his 2 sons and all their friends, ages from 20- 28. The main guests were from Luxembourg and the friends were from all over. Nicoletta and I were scared. They seemed like a wild bunch and we were mentally preparing for 3 days of no sleep. When I was told they were having a party for 50 people the first night I thought I might throw up. But I actually got on really well with the boys. The younger lot especially and on the day they left (my night off) they invited me out for drinks. We hit this swanky nightclub in Cannes called Baoli and my guests organized a great table by the dance floor as well as bottles of vodka and god knows what else (I can’t even remember). 

I been in desperate need of a normal night out with dancing, drinking and socializing. It was an absolute hoot and I even ended up kissing one of the boys- a 21 y old from Poland. What is it with me and 21 yr olds? That’s the 4^th one in a year! I’m starting to worry about why it’s the younger men rather than the older that are interested! I had been feeling a bit bleak about my inability to stick to my diet and my growing love handles, so at least it was a good boost for my ego haha :)

My 21yr old Polish boy

The Brazilians

After walking back to the boat like a drunken sailor, stilettos in hand and stumbling into bed at 5am, waking up my Romanian stew in the process and getting shouted at, I must have slept through my alarm. I woke with a start at 8am as she barged through our bedroom door, giving me all hell for not being up and dressed and coming home drunk just 3hrs earlier when we had charter guests about to arrive. I clambered out of bed and dragged myself to the bathroom. I realized I hadn’t even changed and I’d slept in the black sequined dress I’d gone out in the night before and a full face of makeup, now so smudged I looked like I was going to a Halloween party. Great.

I managed to make myself look presentable even though I felt awful and hoped the 6 Brazilians (3 couples we were told, in their 60’s) would be an easy, relaxed charter with some early nights. 

Would I ever have such luck?

At the last minute as we arrived to fetch our guests, we were told it was now actually a full house of 12 (6 couples). As my chief stew and I scrambled around to make up the 6^th bedroom, the Brazilians started arriving. Shrieking and laughing in Portuguese and all talking at once, loudly, at the same time and asking tons of questions and all ordering at the same time, I realized this charter was not going to be what I had originally hoped. Not at all. The group turned out to be a bunch of friends in a wine club back home in Brazil. In their 60’s and some in their early 70’s yes, but they partied like 25yr olds. After a daily big rowdy breakfast, they’d start on the champagne almost immediately, up in the Jacuzzi (3 decks up). We spent most of the day traipsing up and down the 3 decks of stairs, carrying bottle after bottle champagne and cocktails. God these people could drink! Sweet and loads of fun- picture a grey haired old man that looks like Einstein dancing around in a black speedo holding a bottle of Dom Perignon- but such hard work as they wanted something every 5mins. 

We were utterly exhausted. My bum ached at the end of each day as if I’d been on the stepping machine for 2hrs at the gym. Well hopefully I’d lose some weight then. After all the nights of sugar snacking, I needed it. I’d started to get a squishy pouch where my abs used to be and my bum could now hold a pencil under it, between my bum cheek and my thigh- not good. 

We worked hard and were constantly exhausted, but the guests’ friendliness made it bearable, as did the gorgeous places we visited. We went to Corsica first and I have fallen in love with Bonifacio. A town built up on the mountain, with a cliff drop off to the sea below; it is an incredible site and nothing like I have ever seen before. 

I couldn’t wait to get off the boat and go exploring. The port lies between valley/ravine in the mountain and looks so narrow, yet can fit quite a few superyachts. 

I was lucky enough to get some time off the boat when our guests went out for dinner. SO I decided to treat myself and after a slow amble along the busy street that lines the port, went to sit and a cute little restaurant with a lovely view of the town and the sea, and had a pizza and a glass of wine. 

Kumquats from SA!! In Corsica!

I’d been craving a pizza as I hadn’t had one in about 3 months and it was delicious! I was halfway through cramming a big piece, laden with avo, into my mouth when I saw our guests walk past. The one old man stopped and waved and then came over to my little table and gave me a 50 euro note and said “Please, this is for the bill”. I protested and thanked him but said I couldn’t take it, but he insisted. How lovely of him :)  I felt so touched. And the bill only came to 3 euros- score!

Gorgeous sunset off Corsica

Corsica somewhere

After Corsica we headed to Sardinia, which, although a lot of people speak about, I wasn’t that blown away by. I felt Corsica had more character. 

Porto Chervo, Sardinia

Gorgeous blue waters in Sardinia

 

Another beautiful sunset

Two of the “main” older men, including the one who had paid for my dinner, were chatting to me on the last night whilst I worked night service. They said something that really made me feel warm and smile inside and out and made the hard work all worthwhile. They said “Tiffany, you have really made our holiday. You have been so friendly and worked so hard and we love your personality, it is open and expressive and you like to talk, like the Brazilian people. We want to give you something extra besides the tip to the crew, to say thank you”. Now this isn’t really allowed and I told them I would get in trouble and couldn’t accept anything.  But then I thought hey, I’ve worked hard, if I make a bigger effort than the others then why it is wrong to accept something for my efforts. So on the day they left, when we dropped them off in Sardinia, the men each gave me 150 and 200 euros in the way of the secret “shake your hand and pass you the money so hopefully no one see’s” way. It was so sweet and the ladies all wanted to take loads of photos and wanted our e-mail addresses and made us promise to be in touch if we ever came to Brazil and they would show us a good time which I have no doubt they would. 

The Brazilian ladies!

So it was a lovely end to a hard working charter. And the tip they left was also more than generous. So it all pays off in the end, you just have to push yourself through the hard days. 

And oh god, the hard days that were yet to come…. Wait for the Arab charter story in my next blog!!