From Donkey to Superyacht, Ibiza 1961 (Part Two)

More about Ibiza. Ibiza was originally settled by the Phoenicians. 

"Isla Blanca" almond blossoms

It was known as “Isla Blanca” (white island) for two reasons:  one for the white painted houses, two for the almond tree blossoms covering the island in spring (as well as lemon and orange trees).   

 View of walled-in Ibiza town

Old Ibiza is a walled-in town and the main entrance is via a large, high gated door. During my four months on the island in 1961, a few more classic yachts visited, but one of them was exceptional: (like the ‘Farouk’ yacht mentioned in my earlier post of June 22) was “an ultimate superyacht”:  the Shemara.  She was owned by a famous Englishwoman, Lady Docker.  At 65m in length, Shemara was talk of the town.  

Shemara regularly cruised throughout the Mediterranean to the Baleares islands of Mallorca, Ibiza, Menorca and Formentera, and to North Africa, Monaco and Turkey.  In fact at the time of Shemara’s visit to Ibiza, Lady Docker was on the Riviera.For security and privacy reasons the yacht was at anchor rather than docked, with crew coming ashore by small tender and rowboat. Once again, it was while having my lunch at the waterfront bodega that I met (not the Commodore as described in my earlier post), but the yacht’s Chef de cuisine and hostess. 

"Shemara" today, 52 years later, waiting for retrofit

That day I decided to walk my donkey into town instead of going by bike.  The hostess was intrigued to see a donkey hitched up near the wall of the bodega entrance. Well, the donkey wasn’t actually “mine”, it came with the villa I’d rented and belonged to the owner’s daughter who lived in Barcelona. That’s why the monthly rent was only $65.Anyway, the hostess thought it was intriguing to meet an artist with a donkey.  The chef and hostess were on their way to the market for fresh produce in the old walled-in town.The hostess invited me to a party aboard the yacht the next day. 

Marquita Kwan in her 20's, a few decades before we met

My neighbour, Marquita Kwan, was a fascinating woman.  She was a former fashion model in England. She had been the one that connected me with the villa owners where I was staying, and was my closest neighbour. 

View from balcony of my rented villa that came with a donkey

Her villa was just 50 metres up the hill.  She was mother of the actress Nancy Kwan, who in those days was a famous movie star of “Flower Drum Song” renown.   Marquita was very keen on protocol and “good manners”. I persuaded Marquita to be my companion at the party.  Marquita was in her ‘50s while I was 32.  Everyone aboard the yacht thought she was my mother, in jest of course. We were amazed at the interior of the yacht. Opulent, chic, elegant, splendour would be good words to describe it.  There were a good number of guests aboard who were part of the yacht’s cruise, mostly in their 30’s-40’s. The party was being held in honour of a British aristocrat. Food was plentiful, of gourmet, delectable quality. Hard liquor, beer, wine and champagne galore.  Soon the party evolved in to a Bacchanalia. Marquita was not amused when I danced with some of the scantily-clad guests, some of whom were topless.  Marquita insisted she be taken ashore. The party lasted til the early morning, and next time I saw Marquita she berated me and focused even more on ‘manners’.

Entrance gate to the old walled-in town, Ibiza

So there is another brief snapshot of some experiences on the island of Ibiza that included invitations to visit remarkable yachts.   And all because of (a) stock market nerves of the Commodore (b) the sighting of a donkey.

Henri van Bentum

Encounter With Worried Texan and Commodore

We live at the ocean, a ten minute walk from the cruise ship terminal at Ogden Point. The Alaska season is in full gear. On our walks along the shore we occasionally meet passengers who prefer to walk rather than the costly organized shore excursions.  Myself, I just stroll, while N walks briskly.  You could say a combo of ‘Turtle and Hare’. There are a few benches where you can sit quietly and look south over Juan de Fuca Strait towards the snow-capped Olympic range (there seems to be snow year-round) and west to the ship terminal. 

 A bench, our daily walk

Yesterday while strolling along, a man with a laptop occupied one of the benches. He looked like a cruise passenger. A dog came by on a leash with its owner and sniffed or tried to sniff the fellow on the bench.  “Keep that mongrel away from me!” he shouted angrily with a southern drawl. Then he noticed my Cunard cap and gestured for me to come over. I learned he was upset because the battery in his laptop was down.  I asked why he didn’t go and use the shipboard computers.   The fellow, who was from Houston, Texas replied he couldn’t waste time;  he needed to know how his stocks on Wall Street were performing. So we moved on, leaving this unhappy and stressed out man muttering to himself.

This incident brought a flashback from 1961 when I was living on the island of Ibiza.  During a long stay to paint, I rented a bicycle. A few times each week, I rode into town  to do errands and wander at siesta time in this sleepy, walled-in city of Ibiza. 

Panoramic view of beautiful Ibiza (without 'Farouk' yacht)

Lunch would be at the picturesque waterfront bodega.  There were only six tables, with iron tables and chairs painted white, no cushions. In those days, Ibiza was still in a slumber before the jet-age onslaught.  A few sailboats were anchored amongst the fishing boats. One day a magnificent yacht moored in the harbour.  

 Woman with oranges. I took this photo in 1961.

I was having lunch at a table for two in the bodega. The place was almost full.  A gentleman approached me, dressed in navy blue jacket with yellow brass buttons, white trousers and shoes, wearing a marine cap. There was one empty seat, at my table. “Good-day, chappie.  I say, do you mind if I join you?” he asked.  I replied, “Not at all”.   

Laundry patio, inner town.  Another photo from my 1961 collection.

The dapper fellow turned out to be Commodore of the impressive yacht. When he noticed how much I was enjoying my lunch and generous serving, he remarked, “You have a very good appetite.”  He ordered a bottle of mineral water, and removed a small metal box from his pocket, took out one pill, then swallowed it. I asked if he was going to order some food.  “No, chappie. It’s my nerves.  My stomach. And this is my lunch.”  It turned out his investments on the stock market had lost some value. He thanked me for letting him join the table, and then invited me to visit the yacht; they’d be anchored for a week.“Bring some friends along”, he said. I took him up on this kind invitation a few days later.  

She suddenly appeared from nowhere. Both surprised.  HvB 1961

It turned out the yacht used to belong to the late King Farouk of Egypt.  Ebony, mahogany, malachite, silverware everywhere and yes, gold taps in the bathroom.  No more needs to be said. You see what we mean with a similarity between the two fellows?  One was very upset while sitting in paradise, the other could not enjoy a tasty lunch in a picturesque island harbour, all because of the stock market.

Henri van Bentum

The Ultimate Teacher of Patience - The Great Blue Heron, our neighbour

"Patience is my name"

Some years ago a pair of bald eagles decimated the Great Blue Heron colony in Beacon Hill Park here in James Bay, Victoria, BC.  They did it ‘Rambo’-style. So we missed those tide pool fishers, but they’re back. Great Blue Heron nests are placed high up in the trees, but ashore they appear to stand forever in the shallows, or on a rock, awaiting their meal to show up. 

The shoreline here is strewn with driftwood and logs after winter storms. One section has a quiet, pebbled beach and nearby is a bit of sandy beach, very small. That’s where visitors spend time with children or dogs, with the odd person brave enough to dip into the cold waters. The herons are far from this crowded beach.   

These prehistoric creatures stand like statues or mime performers a la Marcel Marceau. An octogenarian with time galore, this morning I decided to go and watch once again these long-beaked fishers at our shore. Years ago, we were fortunate to have a teacher who taught patience.  So now I intended to put my patience to the test.  Settling quietly on a log, I waited together with the herons. There were two, some 15 metres apart.  Standing like sentinels with alert eyes, beaks down, gazing into the tide pool, ready to catch a fish. 

Breakfast for me and my chicks

You could see, ever so slightly, a tiny movement of the beak, while their legs stayed still.  A picture of rapt attention. Over two hours, their catch was 4 fish.   

 Off home, that's it for this morning

Then the winged master of patience took flight, direction Beacon Hill Park. Thought we’d share this experience. Unlike we humans who let millions of children go hungry or perish, Great Blue Herons ensure their young do not go hungry - such is their instinct and timeless survival ritual, helped by a tremendous dose of patience.

Henri van Bentum

postscript to earlier post on "Feria del Barrilete Gigante", Guatemala

Several people got in touch after our recent post June 9 about the "Feria del Barrilete Gigante" in Sumpango and Santiago Sacatepequez, Guatemala. Each year on All Saints Day enormous, colourful and spherical kites made from tissue paper take to the skies.  People asked, "What happens to the kites afterwards?".  After the kites have delivered their messages to the ancestors and cleansed the air of negative spirits, they return to Earth.  Villagers gather the surviving kites together for the final chapter in this November 1st "Dia de los Muertos" Day of the Dead ceremony.  Then the surviving kites are burned and their ashes are scattered in the cemetery on the tombs and graves of the departed, thus coming 'full circle'.  

Henri van Bentum

"Ode to a Beetle" - A Rap

This is a song

about a noble beetle

Not by the Beatles

but those that roll dung

And that is not all

they roll it upward on a hill or plain

pushing the dung with hind legs

while on their endurance journey

 

Creating a perfect, round ball

shaped like the moon and sun

Revered in ancient Egypt

they were divine

because they pushed those balls of dung

in a very straight line

guided by forces

of Moon and Sun

No way, you say?

well, now we even know

they’re also in touch with the Milky Way

 

Did the ancient Pharaohs know

we would be doing this rap

on the dung beetle

their sacred scarab?

Henri van Bentum