Travel Reference
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spend a lot of time down below in the saloon of her yacht doing pastel portraits for wealthy
clients. She invited me over to see them some time.
When the following day arrived, I decided to go by. I was staggered by her talent. She
had evidently been formally trained and, leafing through her portfolio, I felt ridiculous that
I had even shown her my trivial sketches. Hers looked like photographs; they were flaw-
less and breathtakingly accurate compared to the accompanying photo clipped next to each
masterpiece. I was suitably humbled but, at the same time, very aware that this was defin-
itely not her intention.
I used to go around my boat and on the beach in a very skimpy Speedo type swimsuit, as
did quite a few other sailors. I thought nothing of it. It was always so hot and humid that it
was the natural choice of attire. I was brown as a berry and never likely to be in better shape
as I was due to this outdoor lifestyle. Cheri casually commented that I had a nice physique,
and asked if would I be interested in sitting for her. I accepted and asked whether in turn
she would give me a few tips on portrait drawing. It was agreed that I would go around to
her boat the next afternoon for an hour, where she would do some preliminary sketches of
me, and would give me a basic lesson on my first portrait.
I hasten to say here that nothing beyond a bit of modeling with and without my Speedo
ever took place. She was as honorable a woman as one could wish to meet. I recognized
this immediately that first hour. She never said anything suggestive or provocative and was
really very professional. Unfortunately! She did however get me on the road to art and por-
trait drawing, and I enthusiastically followed up on our deal in which she would teach me
the finer points of facial dimensions and shading and lighting, and I in turn would sprawl
out on a settee bunk, assuming the various poses she requested, trying to keep as still as
possible.
One day as I was walking along my favorite windswept and wave-raked beach where I
would usually find something of interest that had washed up, I came across an old coconut
shell rolling about in the water. I picked it up and looked at it closely. I wondered what it
would look like all shined up and buffed. I took it back to the boat and cleaned off some of
the husk and began sanding it smoother and smoother, using progressively finer grit sand-
paper as I went along. I finally buffed it up with a bit of rubbing compound I had in my
tool box and was delighted with the resulting luster. The dark, chocolate colored wood was
hard as a rock and buffed up brilliantly. I wondered what I could make from shells like this
and the idea of bangles suddenly crossed my mind.
I took a small shell and, with much difficulty and a hacksaw, cut a slice about two inches
thick off from the inside. I now had a band of shell roughly the size of a woman's wrist
bangle. I sanded smooth the sides, forming a distinct wedge shape from one end to the oth-
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