Celebrity culture

Gstaad

Sartre famously called hell other people, and he had not even been on a boat anchored next to a gin palace during the month of August. Yachting in the Med used to be a cliché, as well as a very enjoyable pursuit. No longer. In Simi, one of the least known and prettiest of Greek islands off the Turkish coast, some friends of mine got a dose of what Sartre meant. A stink pot came into the tiny harbour and its captain was told it could not anchor next to my boat because the spot was reserved for the ferry. A large American woman emerged and using the f-word non-stop told the harbour master to get lost. Then the rather ugly gin palace, which looked like a charter, proceeded to dock where it had been told not to.

A large and menacing man, an American, stood around glaring, while an older guy, also from the States, read his newspaper saying little. After it got dark, the offensive language stopped but the generator of the stink pot did not. When my captain asked them to turn it off so my friends could get some sleep, he, in turn, was told to f— off and that was that.

Now it just so happened I was not on board, but even if I had been, I don’t think there was much I could have done about these rude slobs. The harbour master is a small man and was obviously intimidated. My captain is even smaller, so the slobs had their way. It wasn’t always like that. I wrote about a similar incident in these here pages some 25 years ago. I arrived in Mykonos on a smaller Bushido after a very rough crossing.