Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
We made our way to the entrance of the “Bay of Blamage Bar” and, smiling shyly as visit-
ors do, went inside and sat down at an empty table. It was dark and noisy and filled with the
not unpleasant smell of cheap, French cigarette smoke and coffee. The excited babble of
sailors and local patrons was infectious, and we of Déjà vu were swept along in its foreign
ambiance.
Shortly, a tall, thin, dark-skinned man with slicked-back, dark hair and an unlighted cigar-
ette behind his big ear came over and inquired in French what we would like to order.
“Café, s'il vous plaît, monsieur,” answered Paula after a quick nod from us. Herman also
ordered a packet of the French Golouise cigarettes. The man hitched up his jeans and wide
leather belt and, with a theatrical bow, disappeared in the gloom.
Within minutes, it seemed, Paula had attracted the attention of a handful of male admirers,
and one boldly came over and asked her in French what boat she had arrived on. “Déjà vu,”
she replied, to which the admirer broke out into a broad smile and asked, “Which one mon
ami? There are so many!”
“Yes, I expect there are,” she laughed. “It's the one from South Africa.”
“Oh! That ees fantastique, so long away from 'ome, mon dieu!” He looked at us with a new
sense of respect.
“And he built the boat himself too!” Paula exclaimed, pointing to me. I looked away awk-
wardly at this blatant indulgence and tried to shrug it off.
I had been looking about the room, sipping my strong coffee, and noticing that almost all
the patrons were smoking. Paula noticed my roving eye and intuitively remarked, “Hard
to quit smoking around these people, isn't it?”
“You know, I've quit for three years, but today I would really like a smoke! In fact, one of
the Golouise would go down so well with this coffee.”
Paula turned to a table next to ours and asked an admirer for one of his cigarettes. With a
charming flourish, the sailor offered one from his pack. I hesitated only momentarily and
then accepted the crumbly, cheap non-filter. I put it between my lips, and the Frenchman
lit it with his metal lighter. I drew in heavily and closed my eyes. The tension of the day
drained out of me as I was enveloped in a cloud of nicotine-induced euphoria. I felt light
headed and found myself smiling and at ease with my surroundings.
I felt a few pangs of remorse at starting smoking again but quickly justified them by telling
myself that it would be a tug of war all through my cruising days. I had seen virtually all the
sailors smoking and could see why too. There was a lot of boredom and a lot of socializing
which were both times when a cigarette seemed so logical. I decided to just enjoy myself.
