Dinner on Florimell

Harald's catamaran Florimell and Gudrun are anchored so close together that the ancient communication technology of whistling (to make a call) and talking (to transport the message) was enough to establish that dinner would be served on Florimell tonight. The second whistle announced that dinner was ready. The third reminded me of my mum - "hurry up, dinner's getting cold" . But thanks to a freshly cleaned dinghy hull it took us no more than a hearbeat (or two) to cross the 20m gap between the two boats. There is the art of creating a truly sensational dish from a wide range of selected ingredients. And there is the other art of creating a truly satisfying dish from whatever could be found in the kitchen at a given time. Liz is on her way to mastering the first, but Harald is the jedi lord of the latter. "Noodles a lá Florimell" were a big success, especially with my hungry stomach after three swims today and hauling the dinghy onto the beach to clean the hull from weed and barnacles (I wish I could do the same with Gudrun). Another big success were Harald's stories. Here's the prototype of all adventurers. Indiana Jones could sign up for lessons. Do you know what the guy's doing to relax at home? Practicing with the ice hockey club three times a week. At age 65, crazy. All people I know stop playing volleyball long before that age, and that's not exactly a contact sport. Getting to know people like Harald (or Peter, Hermann, Tony, Antonio, Sepp ...) make the whole sailing trip so much more worthwhile. You just don't meet those types at home, or you would never get to talk so much. Meeting within the close community of an anchorage opens the way for an easy friendship across the generations. And it also opens up a whole new universe of possibilities for the future. Age as a handicap? Think again!