I have to write about beer now. In all of the Caribbean islands, I've always tried to try the local local beer. In Barbados and St. Lucia, it was more of a watery, yellow liquid with a beer taste. The beer in Martinique came from Alsace or was brewed in the Alsatian style and therefore actually quite delicious. There was a local brewery in Bonaire, but they didn't brew or serve any beer during our stay. The Amstel Bright was touted for this, a beer from Holland that is brewed for the Caribbean and has the same watery taste. The Amstel was also available in Aruba, but there you had decent alternatives with balashi and chill. After all, the recipes are from a German master brewer.
In this respect, my expectations were not particularly high when I found the Cervezeria Puerto del Rey directly opposite the ferry terminal on the harbor promenade. To shorten the waiting time for the ferry, I stopped by and tried out the offer. First, shoes and hands are disinfected at the entrance, then you have to show your ID and the information is noted. The good woman despaired of my German ID and finally waved me through without seeing me. Hehe.
Due to the Covid-19 measures, there are very few tables in the huge dining room. The waiters, who usually carry the beers to the customers, now have to deal with the disinfection and registration of guests.
There is light and dark, I feel that Dorfbräuhaus remind. With that the plan is clear. The ferry leaves in three quarters of an hour, so I can taste both types.
The beers already look good. They are naturally cloudy and don't look like pisses. The waiter carries them to the table, well chilled. A 0.3l beer costs 1.20 CUC (or US$), a little more than one euro.
The light tastes fresh, has a fine hop note and hisses immensely at the local temperatures. The dark produces a wonderful malt note, more intense than the long-missed beer from the Rhön.
Yes, the beer is brewed here on site. I'm excited. It's the best beer I've had Sines got. Better than anything that could be bought between Portugal and Cuba.
So it is clear that I have to drag Jens to this bridal temple the next time I visit Santiago. He is also enthusiastic. We want to take beer with us. There is no bottling. Due to the Covid-19 measures, the staff is not allowed to fill the customers' take-away bottles directly from the tap. But Cubans are creative when it comes to solving problems. We get a funnel.
In the evening we enjoy the beer in our cockpit. Even if there is only a little carbon dioxide left, there is still enough taste in the delicious drink. Cheers to Germany!
I hadn't imagined it that way. Not at all. I didn't know exactly where I wanted to spend that day, but certainly not in Aruba. I would have wanted to visit picturesque islands in the South Pacific, instead I feed donkeys.
I ask Desiree if I can celebrate my birthday at the Donkey Sanctuary. I may. I also get the car from the Donkey Sanctuary as a bonus, with which I can easily do the shopping. For the transport from the marina and back, I ask one of the minibus drivers, this point of organization is done quickly. Dickie lends me his grill.
Around 4 p.m. I reach the Donkey Sanctuary and can even drive to the Visitors Center to unload. Then I have to fill the ice box and light up the grill. As a reward, I treat myself to a well-chilled can of apple cider. I am annoyed that I forgot the ribbed ones on board.
As always, it gets dark early. The grill is hot when the bus drops the guests at the door. Unfortunately, we only have a few hours because the government has ordered a curfew between midnight and five in the morning. We either have to party until five o'clock or end the party at 11 pm.
I get a wonderful birthday cake (creamy) and an apple cake, made by Anneke herself. I have to admit that my favorite is the apple pie. The cake, however, is more spectacular.
Then I have to put on a silly birthday hat. The Americans already have funny traditions. I may be able to hand in the pictures later, I pinched a birthday hat selfie.
Everyone has their instruments with them, so a vocal round is started right away. After the singing, I'm allowed to act particularly silly again. My guests got a piñata. Hopefully the part is called that too. They blindfold me first, then I can hit the part. But nothing comes out.
In any case, the audience is having a great time. Karen takes some photos and films, I have yet to ask her to take them. Johnny is next. He is not particularly successful either, the piñata withstands his blows.
Now Edward goes to work with the bat. He succeeds after only two hits and a stream of candy and small liquor bottles pours over the floor. I first set out to collect the candy. I don't need the liquor bottles. Huh? What am I writing there. Was I already drunk by then? Or am I still?
Shortly before 11 p.m. we see lights in the parking lot. We empty the last drinks and make our way to our bus. I want to pay the bus driver, but I notice that my wallet is on board. I promise him his wages for the following day. After that, I crawl onto the boat more than walk. Another piece of apple pie for the night and then I quickly go to bed.
I was happy, we had a great party. And now the number five is in front for my age. And we broke the current Corona rules by the way. Private parties are currently prohibited.
I'll line up the next morning to clean up. I would love to lie down next to this donkey. Ouch. My head. The silly birthday hat must have caused bruises.
I've been working at Donkey Sanctuary for a few months now. Of course, I come into contact with many visitors. Many are surprised by my nationality, but then really get going. People always want to know from me whether I've already eaten in a German restaurant. That wasn't the case until last night. The restaurant is located in an area where you can usually find high-priced restaurants. In addition, German cuisine is fairly well represented on board.
Jo, Stewart and Johnny made my way to the restaurant yesterday Bavaria. The only downer: I am the driver. So I'm only allowed to look at the fridges with over 100 different beers.
It seems uncomfortable at first glance. The bar, in particular, made of beer crates, makes a sterile impression. This is a result of the anti-Covid measures that are currently banning bar stools at the counter. Folk music comes out of the speakers and it hurts my ear canals. Peter from Siegen, who opened this restaurant ten years ago, explains to me with a heavy Dutch accent during his pronunciation that it is Radio Heimatmelody acts, an internet radio station from Bavaria. Every reader is asked to listen for more than a quarter of an hour.
My idea, another internet radio station from Bavaria, Rock antennato switch on was acknowledged with a smile behind the white-blue mask. His guests would expect this music. In any case, the three Americans at the table didn't look disturbed.
The menu is pretty good and represents southern Germany, from the Black Forest to the Austrian border. I can't complain about the preparation and the taste, my not so southern German sauerbraten was very tasty. Only the red cabbage wasn't my cup of tea - I was warned though. Peter explained to me that this is not traditional, it has to be sweet. OK. Stewart was more than enthusiastic about his pork knuckle. Jo had half of her goulash wrapped up, she was completely overwhelmed by the portion size. Johnny also had to have food packed up. In terms of portion size, it's really typically German here. My conclusion: I'll come back when I feel like a pork knuckle.
When it comes to Covid-19, the island is not really calm. Almost three weeks ago I wrote that the number of active cases had risen to almost 300. Mind you, we started from scratch. Today we have 1165 active cases out of a total of 1670. The first wave caused just 102 infections. On average, the number increases by around 60 cases every day.
The tourists who tested positive are only involved to a small extent; most of the infections occur locally. This is unfortunate, locals are more dangerous than tourists. Most tourists don't stay here for more than a week. They can be positive, tested negative at the airport and may not develop the symptoms until after the return flight.
The government's actions are kind of half-hearted. The bars are closed, but not all. The casinos are open. Private parties are forbidden, but tourists can gather in the hotel complex as they please. Now, as a new measure, there is a well-known measure - the curfew. It will apply from midnight to five in the morning from tomorrow so that the virus can no longer transmit locally during the night. I think it's ineffective activism that I don't care to a certain extent because I sleep during this time anyway. Good night to you!
Aruba is now in a learning process. The number of Covid-19 cases is higher than it was ever during the first wave. In June the island had no cases. On July 10th there were four cases again, the first fresh tourists from the USA were able to enter.
At some point in the past few weeks, according to my information, a bartender has returned from vacation in the Netherlands. It was tested on arrival and was negative. So he went back to work. Unfortunately, he was positive anyway. A large part of the infections are said to be due to this bar.
On August 3rd we were still with 12 cases, the first five cases were known in which the people here on Aruba were infected. On August 4, the number rose to 17 and the government announced the first tightening. On August 5, 39 new cases were reported. On August 6, another 92 cases were added. Today then 133. The total number is 279 active cases. Unfortunately this is just exploding a bit here.
The most far-reaching requirement is to wear a mask on public transport. I have no problem with that in and of itself. However, some bus drivers no longer stop at all if the passenger is waiting at the bus stop without a mask. That's annoying me, after all, nothing can happen outside. Then there is the matter of that garlic... You are pretty much at the mercy of your own breath of death.
For a few days now I've been anxiously waiting for a package from home. Jens brought it to the post office in the Netherlands almost two weeks ago.
In the late morning I received a bunch of messages on Whatsapp, all of which came from an unknown number in Aruba.
"Ho" "Hi" "My name is luis from UPS" "Can i hafe your name?" "Are you the owner of Yacht Sissi?"
"My name is Jörg and I am the owner of Sissi."
"Hi sir" "My name is Luis from UPD" "Oops" "Are you in Aruba?"
"Yes I am. I hope you have a parcel for me."
"Correct i have a transit shipment for you, but we connot delivered, customer must to picked up at Cargo Building due that the shipment is in transit." "Our location is ..." "You will not pay duties" "But our handling is" “48.86 USD”
I ask Charly to drive me to the airport. The UPS branch is located there. Later on I get a guilty conscience. I'm in the office with a face mask on and I'm allowed to wait ten minutes for Luis to finish a phone call with his girlfriend. There always has to be that much time.
But then he immediately goes to work for me. First he collects the fees. I'm paying with cash in the hope that I might speed up the process a little. The opposite is the case - Luis won't find 1.14 USD. A colleague in the back room can change. I'm allowed to sign a few papers, other pieces of paper are stamped loudly. Then Luis explains to me that these papers now have to go to customs.
He disappears for almost a quarter of an hour, then more pieces of paper have been added to the pile of paper. Then Luis explains to me that he is going to get the package. It'll be back in just 20 minutes. I now have to drive the papers and the package to customs in Oranjestad. Or. Charly has to drive me there, we've already been on our way for about an hour to pick up the package.
The port in Oranjestad is largely deserted. Nevertheless, Charly cannot find a parking space, parking is not provided there. Since I don't know where the customs are, I leave the package in the car. It drives to the gas station with Charly. A cruise ship is lying at the pier, but only part of the crew is on board. I ask the porter where customs are. He points to the neighboring building. There is a kind of cage there that I go into and knock on a tiny window.
The window opens a crack and I am asked about my request. Now I should have presented the package. However, the customs officer is satisfied with the papers and says that he believes me, I would bring the package on board. Clear! Of course!
Never in my life have I had a cider that costs six euros per glass. Every sip one euro. And it tastes really, really good. Thank you!
It's like real life. So I hardly get to write posts for the blog at the moment. So much is happening outside. At least we have wind again. The lull lasted barely two days.
I want to start with a fillet steak that is five centimeters thick on my plate. Delicious. Before that, I was incredibly disappointed in a restaurant. The actually very good meat was probably five centimeters thick at the beginning of the preparation. Then the cook cut it open like a butterfly cutlet and then fried it. A horror. Then I prefer to roast it myself.
In the meantime I have completely decrypted the Aruba bus network. Now I'm just missing a current timetable. In any case, the timetable published on the Internet does not correspond to the one actually driven. The posting schedule at the central bus station is at best the truth of a speech by Mr. Trump. Some lines are listed, but are discontinued. There is no information about a line. The number 5 bus goes to the hinterland villages several times a day. There are not even stop signs there, you just stop the bus with a wink.
The bus drivers employed by the state company Arubus like to stay in the break room at the central bus station. Occasionally, one of the drivers runs to one of the vehicles parked with the engine running (and the air conditioning system running) and drives his passengers to their destination. Then it goes back to the lounge with determination. I sent an email to the bus operator yesterday asking for a current timetable.
4.50 florins are required for travel in one of these buses - regardless of the route traveled. In addition to the large state buses, there is also a complete second bus network in Aruba. The small private buses. They drive on the same routes and keep a sign everywhere. The start stop differs only in Oranjestad.
A trip with the minibuses costs only 3 florins. However, there is a special service for 6 florins - the bus leaves its route and goes right to the front door. It is very practical. If you want, you can arrange a pickup with the driver. Then the bus arrives at the agreed location at a certain time and collects the passenger. Practically.
The small buses run every few minutes, much more often than the state competition. A downside is the quality of the transport offered. This applies to the drivers of both bus systems. It is no problem for the drivers to read and write WhatsApp while driving. In the case of private buses, there is also a strongly fluctuating hardware quality. You can get everything from the brand-new vehicle with the smell of a new car, air conditioning, comfortable seats and intact suspension to rolling rubbish that would never roll off the TÜV yard.
All drivers also have in common that they are extremely friendly. When I think of Frankfurt or even Berlin…
Now I have made most of the island accessible by public transport. It's a good feeling. I could even get an Arubus smartcard. This lowers the fare for the bus ride to a little more than 3 florins, about 1.50 euros.
With the minibuses there is thus the possibility to Donkey Sanctuary get. So far I have always been able to drive in the car with the Chapos, but it is good to know that you can do it without a car.
The donkey shown above is male, by the way. After posting some photos, I was asked about the gender of the donkeys. I would like to put it this way: The males can be distinguished very well from the females. In any case, at the feeding trough they are all pretty rabid with each other.
As long as the feeding is not running, the cats can also relax. Incidentally, I still can't manage to assign all five cats their names. Only at Sweety do I know about 100%. The cats only get their food shortly before everything is locked. This is to avoid accidentally trapping a cat.
Maybe the bad tongues were really right and I only go to the donkeys because of the cats. The donkeys simply cannot purr, the ears are not so pointed and their fur is not that soft.
In any case, the donkey cats are not only trained on whiskas. If you are hungry in between, you can get your goodies in the great outdoors.
Going to the donkeys twice a week is a nice thing. It does not have to be more often, you get quite a sweat there with your unfamiliar physical work. It gives me a nice change. When I tell an Aruban about it, he's always really happy. They already like their donkeys very much.
What the cat tastes is certainly delicious for humans. Iguanas are not only eaten in neighboring countries, there are also iguanas-based specialties in Aruba.
A few days ago, Shelley asked me if I would like a plate of iguana soup. Since I always like to add new animals to the menu, I expressed my interest. Then last night Shelley brought the soup to my boat.
It was delicious. A vegetable soup with meat inlay. The meat tastes something like frog legs or chicken. Perhaps the iguanas should not be made into soup, but fried with garlic and parsley. However, the soup was very tasty and had a pleasant hotness. Thanks!
Yesterday my outlook changed for the first time in a long time. At first glance, it looks like crazy Ami has put a mast on the back of the engine at the very back.
If you take a closer look, you will discover the British sailing yacht Aequus, which has been in the port of Oranjestad since yesterday. She sailed from St. Lucia to Aruba in five days and now has a hurricane-proof place. Before that, she was stuck in St. Lucia for three months. Occasionally there are changes even here.
I have been a regular customer at the Carniceria Central butcher for weeks. So far I have not found a better source of meat. Last but not least, they have very good prices there. Two weeks ago I noticed delicious pork belly there. Unfortunately I could not buy a large piece like you need for a crusty roast. The entire pork belly was already sliced.
The problem is that the butcher gets the meat frozen and cuts it in the frozen state. The boss promised me that I would pick up a piece for the next delivery and not cut it.
Jutta then braised the pork belly for hours in her on-board oven. Bread dumplings and cabbage were served as traditional side dishes. Delicious! Unfortunately we didn't have Franconian beer on hand, so we could have complemented the meal perfectly.
Although a beautiful crusty roast is not suspected of being a low-calorie dish, Jutta has added an apple strudel to the roast. We had a good orgy again.
And why am I writing it all down? I've written so much about food that you could gain weight while reading. Quite simply: Charly has developed an excellent technique to give the crust roast the perfect crust. That is not possible in the on-board oven. The roast would fall apart before there is even a crust. We had seen Charly's performance in Lanzarote before, now in Aruba I was allowed to see her again. The repetition was even better than the premiere. A perfect crust.
I'm about to completely ignore the cheesy sunsets. Almost every evening there is an hour of colors in all shades of yellow and red that nature has ever invented.
Every night I wonder what I've been doing all day. Every evening I do the most unpleasant work for the following day. Yesterday it was work on the bilge or the bilge pump again. The day before yesterday the freshly revived electric bilge pump stopped operating, sending out the fiercest smoke signals. With a few drops of superglue I could at least make the diaphragm of the hand pump work again. This ensured the daily shower.
Yesterday I was able to replace the broken electric pump with a replacement device. Four hours of work with too short arms in the far too deep bilge. So much sweat dripped from my chin into the bilge that there was enough liquid for a test run. The subsequent shower was absolutely necessary and led to enough water in the bilge for a second run. Note: If you do not open the sea valve of the electric pump, it only swirls the water around in the bilge.
Aruba has shut down public life so much that street cleaning is no longer carried out. This is now clearly noticeable. The streets of the city are lined with rubbish. Since the restaurants only offer takeaway, there are a lot of food containers lying around.
A little trash is added every day. Every time you go to the supermarket or to the butcher, there are new mountains of waste or hills. It's time for that to work again. My impression is that the more rubbish there is, the more is lying around.
I've shut down blogging in the past few days. It is difficult for me to always find new facets of our situation without sinking into melancholy. I have decided to only write positive contributions. Given the increasingly beautiful surroundings, this is not easy.
The limitations in life also annoy me. There is probably no one on this planet who is not annoyed. The curfew is after 9 p.m. After 9 p.m., the temperature is so pleasant that you could cycle along the beaches by bike. After 9 p.m. long walks on the beach would be a great pleasure. Before sunset I prefer to sit in the salon and avoid the heat. It’s kind of a voluntary curfew. Few people are so stupid looking for movement in the midday heat at 32 ° C in the shade.
When the sun goes down in the evening, the temperatures become pleasant and life becomes more beautiful. Then there are many positive experiences.
In the evening we almost always sit down for dinner. Dinner is food, but dinner is also enjoyment. Favorite dishes are allowed, almost compulsory.
Of course there is home cooking when I cook. I wanted goulash and potato dumplings. So I bought meat and potatoes. After only a few hours of work, the dumpling was made from raw and cooked potatoes. I was proud. Then I heated up water to make a couple of dumplings. Long story short - the local potatoes are absolutely unsuitable for dumplings, the dumplings have simply completely dissolved in the water and have become a kind of potato soup.
But I still had so much dough that I didn't want to throw away. The dough is ideal for potato pancakes. They have become very tasty and could also be consumed together with the goulash. Jutta almost threw herself into the plate. Favorite dishes.
So that we don't get so fat, Jutta promised a simple, easy dish for the next day. I was excited and was not disappointed, but would never have thought of preparing it for dinner. There was toast Hawaii. With fresh pineapple, no canned pineapple. At that point there was an unusual taste, the canned pineapples are much sweeter.
It's nice to share cooking. Then the rinsing is also divided. The Chapo even has a dishwasher, which is unfortunately broken at the moment. And on the Chapo lives Ute, who rinses clean on both boats.
It's also nice that we don't go to each other's spirits all day, but only meet for dinner. Then we play a few rounds of cards, chat, laugh and have a good time. In this way we will come with a healthy mind over time. We have good cuisine for a healthy body.
For today Jutta has forbidden me to make a dessert. So I make an appetizer. I want to bake small pizza snacks that can then be eaten cold out of my hand. I made a pizza dough. It is not a dessert.
If Jutta keeps her fingers off the pizza and eats none of it, she will have no problem with her dietary efforts. I will season the pizza so deliciously that resistance will be extremely difficult.
A walk happens to take me past the butcher shop. There I find my idea for the pizza topping - chicken curry. I collect a few chicken fillets that are cut into small pieces on board and put in a fine paprika-curry marinade. I also add chopped green peppers and the mini pizza is ready.
While the dough is still going on, I start chopping and grating the other ingredients. Onions, garlic, cheese. Pizza is a great dish, it takes hours to prepare, especially on board.
Then I shape the appetizers. I'm really hungry. I always do that when I bake pizza. So the bites are a little bigger than initially planned.
I get four trays of mini pizzas out of the dough. That means a baking time of two hours in total. The on-board oven is unfortunately not a good pizza oven. They will always taste better than dominos.
I am happy about the baking results and have to do a quality control right away. I mustn't do too much quality control, otherwise I won't be hungry for the main course afterwards. What did Jutta want to cook? I forgot it again, only had eyes for the pizza. I'm looking forward to the evening. And the sunset.
Will Jutta be able to hold back on the pizza? Perhaps I will answer the question in the not too distant future.
Life in Aruba is nice. We have a nice stay. We don't let depression eat us up.
Addendum: Jutta ate from the pizza. She also made delicious stuffed peppers. Although they were vegetarian, they were so good that I still needed a lookup. Now I'm eating around.
We met Holger two weeks ago. At that time he was anchored with his Tortuga behind the airport runway. There he had no internet and so the Corona outbreak and the consequences for all sailors initially passed him by. Although he noticed that the traffic on the quayside had completely stopped at night, he didn't know why. Holger waited alone for his crew on board. The previous crew could still fly home regularly, but the new crew could no longer enter Aruba. A real problem.
A friend of Holger is sitting on Martinique and would help him with the transfer to Germany. But he is also not allowed to go to Aruba. So Holger wants to go to Martinique. He has made himself smart, knows about the 14 days of quarantine that await him after entering the country. Nevertheless, he goes to Martinique.
We wish Holger a safe journey, perfect wind and that he made the right decision. Making decisions is not easy these days because the general conditions change so quickly and sailing boats are so slow.
When we're out sailing, decisions have to be made all the time. Most of the time, weather and weather forecast are the reason why these decisions are necessary. We can handle that.
Even if we have everything we need in Oranjestad right now, I am concerned about certain signs. There is a large motor yacht in the harbor of an old Dutchman who moved to Aruba 15 years ago. Yesterday he had large quantities of food delivered to his boat from the supermarket. He thinks people are relaxed at the moment because they still have money. That would be different in a month or two. There is practically no shop in the city center that hasn't boarded up the shop windows.
Maybe we'll move Sissi to the second marina in Aruba. The mooring fee is cheaper there and it is pretty much apart from everything. Shopping would be more difficult, but we would be far away from any stain interesting for rioters or looters. Or maybe nothing happens. On what basis should we make such a decision?
Under no circumstances should you make decisions on an empty stomach. We bought ladders from the butcher and put them in a delicious jerk tomato marinade overnight. Our big pot is full, it's a serving for five hungry people. I then had these ladders braised on the smallest flame for three and a half hours. Jutta fried piles of French fries and provided vegetables. Jens stirred a chocolate nut pudding. Together there was a big gluttony. The meat was perfectly tender and easily detached from the bones. The security guard from the marina almost jumped into the pot with the ladder. Lizards also like chocolate nut pudding. The decision is postponed, the stomach is too full for it. She can also wait a few weeks. Then we'll know more.
We now know one thing for sure: Corona makes you fat and round.
Addendum: The Tortuga is back in Aruba. Holger had to turn around due to problems.
Today is a happy day. The Chapo came to Oranjestad yesterday and it was a happy day. Today is another happy day! And today the end of a long story happened.
The story begins in Frankfurt. Almost half a year ago, Stefan, a former work colleague, asked me if he could support us with a delivery from home. I was very happy about this and asked him to send a pallet of cider. At that point we were in Portugal and tried all kinds of drinks made from apples. None of them was comparable to a real, delicious apple wine.
When we had a secure shipping address again, because we were waiting for our new sail, Stefan has the package with our Favorite parcel service sent on the way. Meanwhile in Stade the sail maker sat down on his sewing machine and sewed a fresh genoa for us. The genoa was packed and sent to our marina. At some point we could hold them in our hands. In the meantime, DHL only had to bring a pallet of cider to Lanzarote.
We were then ready to leave Lanzarote. Unfortunately, the cider was not there yet, according to tracking, it made itself comfortable in various beautiful warehouses in Spain during this time. Thankfully, Jutta and Charly of the Chapo have agreed to pick up the cider for us if it ever arrives at the marina and to sail across the Atlantic.
Charly was able to pick up the bottle at the marina office the following day. As Mr. Murphy wanted it to be, the Appler arrived in Marina Rubicon the day after we left. The Appeler disappeared into the depths of the Chapo anchor box.
While we were having fun in the Caribbean, the Chapo was still in the Canaries. We had already written off the appler internally, because we drove from Barbados to St. Lucia, the Chapos from Las Palmas to Mindelo. They were thousands of miles behind us. Jens and I spent the carnival in Martinique. Our cider survived the Carnival in Mindelo. It may also be better to carry out transoceanic cider transports with the help of Bavaria or Franconia, as the cider will then survive the long crossing more easily.
The Chapo left Mindelo, we eventually Martinique. We strolled towards Bonaire, the island with the great corals under water. Our cider was in good hands.
Then the plague came. It became increasingly clear that the Chapo could not follow its original plan to let its hitchhikers out in Barbados and then meet with us in Jamaica. That was the subject of our appointment. We would very likely have missed our planned trip to Jamaica.
Borders have been closed and sailors had and still have big problems with it. Where to enter if the boat is to be in a port outside the hurricane zone. Which country still accepts sailing boats. I sensed the favor of the hour (say bad tongues) and with the help of Ms. Rodrigues (Honorary Consul) we were able to get the Chapo to enter the otherwise closed border. Of course, only apple cider was in the foreground of our help. It wasn't at all because we had developed a friendship within the last three quarters of a year.
Thank you Stefan for sending the cider on the long journey. Thank you Jutta and Charly for not drinking it on your odyssey. Thank you Ms. Rodriguez for allowing the Appeler to enter. Two cans are now in the fridge. We'll drink to all of you afterwards!
These days it is not easy to keep a clear head. We sit around on our boat most of the time, hang out on the beach or walk through the practically deserted city center. Whatever website we open, they all know only one topic. The topic that I don't want to touch on in this article with exactly one word. Because I'm on a diet-news diet.
I got the idea yesterday afternoon when I received an email from my former colleague Uli. A diet is just right. Of course you need the right food for a diet. I go for a walk to the butcher and buy us a piece of a cow.
Then the meat grinder comes into play, this wonderful piece of mechanical technology. At 32 ° C in the shade, I don't even want to carry minced meat 750 meters from the butcher's shop to the sissi fridge, so I'd rather leave it in the shop. We have a meat grinder, so we grind ourselves. I turn the piece of cow into minced meat. There are no pictures of this process because I don't touch the camera with the cow fingers. Next time I'll have Jens take a picture.
I cut a small hill full of onions and a good portion of garlic. It doesn't really depend on the amount, it just depends on the fact that it is a large amount - based on feeling, experience and your own appetite.
Then I fry the minced meat, add onions and garlic and finally a large pack of tomatoes. A few fingers full of spicy, dried chillies from Cape Verde ensure a healthy heat, salt, pepper, oregano and a little sugar for a delicious taste. All of this is allowed to simmer on a low flame for a while.
I use the time to grate a large block of cheese from France. It seems a little bit of cheese to me, so I dig a second block of cheese out of the fridge and grate it too. Now the proportions between Bolognese sauce and grated cheese seem to be right. So I go on to the next step. I light the stove.
Minced meat, dough sheets and cheese are now carefully layered into the lasagna mold by me. To make sure everything fits into the shape in the end, I have to press it hard every now and then. Finally, I can press all the ingredients into the mold and just have to put them in the preheated oven.
Now I have time. Much time. It takes 20 minutes for the dough sheets to cook through. So I can watch a video. Animal videos are the best, because there is nothing more relaxing than animal videos if you wait for a lasagna that spreads its fragrance more intensively in the salon from minute to minute.
Then the meal is ready. This time I manage to take the mold out of the oven without causing any burns. That is rare. I'm glad. The lasagna scent in the salon becomes indescribably strong.
Jens scratches the salon table with a fork and grumbles at me because I handle the camera instead of just throwing the pasta onto the table. He is too slow. He almost jumps to my feet. I cut the freshly baked food into small portions. I think. Jens thinks I want to put him on a diet. The pieces are far too small for him.
He still complains until the plate is finally in front of him. Then he inhales the scent, scolds the temperature of the meal and starts eating. That suddenly happens very quickly. Jens had already enjoyed his first serving when I hadn't even eaten half of my plate. He takes another serving. And another serving. Jens is a Pastafari!
After dinner it is time for a little evening entertainment. The decision for a concert is easy for us, unfortunately culture always leads a niche existence on a sailing boat.
The lump of lasagna in my stomach does not want to and does not want to dissolve, after an hour Jens already speaks of a “little boy”. Who should just wash off all the dirty dishes? Regardless, the cultural enjoyment comes first.
We will probably do one or two diet days in the future. I also recommend an occasional diet. This makes life more pleasant and relaxed. And after the concert, it's best to go to bed straight away and no longer paddle around on your smartphone. Otherwise the whole diet was pointless.