Erogenous zones

After days the turtle, who is at home here, has shown herself again. "Hello Katinka!" she calls over, "as long as you don't make a mess, you can stay!" I reply, "Will abide by that. Have a great day!" "Thanks!" and she's off again. I've been anchored for six weeks now, and I'm getting to know every patch of sand and seaweed here. The anchor ground is good, and even with the sometimes fierce wind, of over 30 knots, the anchor holds very well. After the chaos on board became somehow repugnant to me, I start to clean up. I also want to have a boat like the many YouTubers who have nothing else to do but clean up their place, after all, you want to make a good impression. For me, the pressure of suffering must first grow to infinity. It becomes all the more radical for that. I fill two trash bags with old paperwork and give it a good wipe. In the end, it's not just the kitchen that shines. However, I now have the next problem that I don't want to make anything dirty anymore, because everything is so nice and tidy. A dilemma that I try to avoid by first going ashore and not even being tempted to unpack the cookware.

Oranjestad, Aruba

Pad once tidied

I wander once again through the residential areas of Oranjestad and look at how the people live here so. The destination of my tour today is the largest hardware store on the island. It lies for me as a pedestrian somewhat unfavorably, since one must cross a four-lane road, which represents so a kind of city highway. After a small detour, I finally find a place where I can cross danger minimized and nothing stands in the way of my visit. With increasing age, a visit to a hardware store, for a man, comes pretty close to a visit to a brothel. However, the erogenous zone, when visiting a hardware store, shifts from the center of the body, in the area of head and hands. There is nothing better than holding a Makita cordless screwdriver in your hands and feeling the erotic vibration of the jaw chuck when you press the start button. Because you can't keep buying a new cordless screwdriver, you like to go to the hardware store. In my case, the filter housing of our water maker is broken at the hose outlet and we need a new filter housing. 

Main Street Oranjestad, Aruba

The partly unpleasant high temperatures in a brothel, mixed with the already almost usual urinal odors of such an establishment are of course looked for in vain in a hardware store. Nevertheless, the erogenous zone of the skin makes itself felt in that, upon entering the market, the body hair stands up and a slight goose bumps form. This is not due to the expectation of things to come, rather one feels the room temperature propagated by German politicians, which is considered sufficient at 19°C, here lowered by an air conditioner. Also from the smells such a hardware store differs clearly from a pleasure house, depending on which department one is in. For example, solvents predominate in the paint department, the smell of wood in the wood department, and plasticizers are gassing out in the pipes and hoses. Only the customer restroom, usually small and cramped, is reminiscent of the aforementioned buildings. Once you have overcome the first 20 meters, you get used to the temperature very quickly. I mention this only, for all those, which have concerns, if the dwelling must be held in the winter on 19°C.. You don't have to worry about that. However, the people here are used to these extreme temperature differences. One runs here practically all year round from 30°C into 19°C cooled down rooms, therefore the vaccination is here in the Caribbean also so exemplary, because evenly prevention is everything. Well at least with the foreigners who move around in the Caribbean. Unfortunately, the happy moments in such establishments are over much too quickly and so I stand at the cash register and pull out my credit card. 

If you give everything in a hardware store.

"Have you found everything you were looking for?", I am kindly asked. "Unfortunately, no, but I have the most important thing," I replied. There is no label on an item. In today's computer age, a real challenge. Three supervisors cut their teeth. The fourth then manages to assign the item. "Thank you for shopping with us and have a nice day," they say goodbye. I step in front of a wall of 30°C and a little over 80% humidity. Outside, I check the receipt, something I never do, and am surprised to see a large amount. I start to ponder. Did I perceive a service that I didn't even notice? In the case of an unnoticed "blowjob", which may happen at my age, that would be very annoying. So I go back to the nice lady at the register and show her the amount. "Oh, that's a mistake, the computer charged them for a whole box." "Ah, the computer," I say. "Now they have to go over there and complain about it." So I go to the next lady, who in turn sends me to the first lady, who then cancels the whole transaction and starts all over again. Just like in a brothel. 

Calotropis gigantea, crown flower

The whole thing took times a flabby hour, one is also no longer the youngest. I'm on my way back and learn in my Colombian favorite bar that today is national holiday in Colombia. So I drink a beer extra and cheers Colombia. When I come to my Dinghy, two young people speak to me whether they could go times with. I do that too and look forward again to my neighbor, the turtle and a tidy Katinka. Always fair winds and keep a stiff upper lip.