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By now, we should have been on our way across the Atlantic to Barbados. Instead, I am lying flat on my back, totally out of commission, in a little harbour just 12 miles up the coast from Casablanca in Morocco. A month ago, just 2 nights out of Gibraltar, enroute to the Canaries, my back suddenly gave out on me. I became totally immobile and could barely crawl below to the stern cabin. Luckily, Anne had happened to read about this small place, Mohammedia, in a cruising magazine, and noted the coordinates, a good thing because we did not have charts for the Moroccan Coast. It was recommended over Casablanca, which is a huge, filthy commercial harbour. So Allah must have been with us. Poor Anne had to navigate on her own for over 40 hours before she managed to bring the boat safely into this tiny, but exclusive yacht club, where we are in good company, having 2 of King Hassan II's luxury yachts just across the dock from us! We haven't seen him yet, but there sure is a lot of security here, so we feel completely safe next to the Gendarmerie Royale. The price is right at CAD2.50 per day! The people here have been the kindest and most hospitable we have encountered during our 5 years away from home. Within a couple of hours, two beautiful and capable women came to my rescue; one, a Moroccan doctor, the other a Belgian kinesiologist. Diagnosis: Severely herniated disc (S1). Now, after 2 weeks of daily anti-inflammatory injections and another 2 of medication and complete rest, I am able to stand up and walk around a little bit. But I have not been off the boat for a month. The night watchman, Abdul, has brought us dinner from his home every evening. He washes the boat and helps with chores. His wife and mother do all our laundry (Anne has to save her fragile back, too!). In spite of earning only USD170.- per month for a 7 day week, he refuses to take any money from us. So we have been giving him cigarettes, beer, lots of old clothing and shoes, toiletries, medicines, etc. He says it is not him who looks after us, but Allah. It is hard to believe that this gentle, caring religion can foster such crazy fundamentalist fanatics; not in Morocco, but in neighbouring Algeria and, of course, Libya, Iran and Iraq.
When we left Greece in July, we had planned to return to some of our favourite places in Sicily, Sardinia and the Balearics and re-establish contact with friends we made there last year. But my back, which started to act up already in April, became steadily worse during the summer. So we decided to slow down and see only Malta and Tunisia on our way back out of the Med, both places which we missed on the way in last year. Since we also had a lot of maintenance and repair work to do before crossing the Atlantic, we thought Malta, being English speaking, would be a good place to have some of it done. I could rest my back and Anne could catch-up on her articles to the Norwegian Sailing Magazine, "Seilas". There isn't really much to see or do in Malta, whose main attraction really is its turbulent and violent history due to its strategic location in the Med between Europe and Africa. The churches, as well as the tourism industry have, however, made a lot out of St. Paul's shipwrecking on the island on his way to Rome as a prisoner in 60 AD. The Knights of St. John, who were given the island of Malta after they were driven out of Rhodes by the Ottoman Turks in the 1520's, still command a strong presence. In the same century, Malta staved off a tremendous assault on the island by the mighty Ottoman Empire, and can therefore take credit for saving Europe from the might of the Sultans and the Muslim faith. But what the tough islanders are best known for today, is their heroic resistance during WWII , when they were subjected to the heaviest bombing assaults ever seen, and which was to play a pivotal role in the Allied victory. "The siege" lasted three years while Hitler and Mussolini desperately tried to take the island. However, Allied forces were equally determined to hold it as a base for air force and navy blockade of German supplies to Rommel's army in North Africa, and later as a jump-off point for the American forces' invasion of Italy. For this very brave and admirable involvement, the ca. 350,000 Maltese people were awarded the George Cross, which is Britain's highest award. (Anne: I think Martin deserves an A Plus for this little history lesson!)
After spending far too much money installing mast steps (in 35 degree heat) and not getting much else done during the height of the holiday season in super-expensive Valetta, we took off for Tunisia. Again, because of my aching back, I didn't see much of the place. But I (Anne) did! First, because of a communication problem, I almost ended up in the locker. When filling out the entry forms now, I put down "writer" as my profession. Not remembering this work in French I just put "journalist". Well, this brought on a big to do with stern, uniformed and armed officials. They were clearly suspicious of foreign journalists, but relaxed when I innocently produced my harmless Seilas articles! From now on, I will say "Retired", like Martin. Complications in the Sahara Desert Despite this hoo-ha, I found the Tunisian men to be courteous and friendly, but oh, so macho. During a 1000 km. 3-day jeep safari to the Sahara desert and Tunisian Hinterlands, complete with a camel ride at sunset in the desert, I received numerous glamorous propositions. The first: To sleep in the open on the desert sand under a dark, star-studded sky with a genuine Bedouin. The second: A midnight stroll among rustling palm trees in an oasis with an authentic Berber. The third: Just an innocent drink in the bar (plus, plus) with Mohammed, our illustrious (wink, wink, pat, pat) guide! So, girls, if you want a little adventure, come to the Muslim world! Age is no deterrent! All you need is courage to travel alone! After I came back from the safari, I read in the guide book that it is impossible to spend any length of time in a Muslim country without running into problems between Muslim men and women from the Western society. When Muslim men see a foreign woman without the traditional garb, they immediately think she is fair game. The example set by tourists in the past and by Western films, means that you will not be able to avoid propositions. Islam has always had a liberal sexual ethic. The perception of woman as a lust-driven animal that must be kept under lock and key is one of the most disgusting aspects of the Arab culture. This vision of womankind explains the strict segregation of Muslim women enforced by their men. The honour of women, judged by their modesty and virginity at marriage, is a vital concern to the family, and they are protected by their separation from strange men. This division between the sexes is very visible in the Muslim Society where public areas, markets, streets and cafes are a male domain, while women are mostly seen only briefly hurrying through the streets, "invisible", covered by a large sheet (haik) in Tunisia and a full length hooded (bath!)robe, Djelliba, in Morocco. Further, the Prophet Mohammed was a sexual athlete of the first order. Arab men cannot hope to equal his performance, but they are firmly convinced that they are immeasurably more resilient lovers than western men. The Koran even cautions against celibacy and freely acknowledges sexual appetite.... I had tried to play the role of "unavailable wife" with a sick husband at home. But this obviously proved to be totally ineffective. To top it off, when I returned from the safari to the boat, accompanied by Mustafa, the chauffeur, who had expressed an interest in our voyage, he boldly proceeded to flirt with me, right in front of Martin, and even put his hand on my thigh under the table!!! He totally ignored Martin, who doesn't speak French, saying it was me he wanted and would I come to the beach with him?!! "Absolument impossible! Non, non, non!", I exclaimed, whereupon he stormed out in a tissy without even an "Au Revoir"! (Martin: I think Anne gets "Fail" in human relations!) After 3 weeks in colourful Tunisia, we left on September 16 for what we thought would be a non-stop sail of plus minus one week directly to Gibraltar. But Murphy was lurking onboard, and on the second day out, on poor Anne's birthday, no less, I was struck down by what I/we thought were kidney stones. The pain was so intense that I was cold sweating and retching so much that we didn't dare continue and turned back 50 miles (12 hours) for medical attention in Tunisia. At this time, we were already off the coast of Algeria, a country which is not safe to foreign visitors these days. In Tabarka we found good medical care at the local clinic and a quick diagnosis of urinary infection! A L G E R I A So after a few days of rest and medication, we were off again for Gibraltar. This time we got a bit further westward, although still off the coast of Algeria when Murphy struck again. But this time in the form of a full gale right smack on the nose. We were not making any headway, so it was futile to continue. We were about 30 miles away from Skigda, the nearest Algerian harbour, which we had been told was reasonably safe. So we decided to try and seek shelter there and turned around and ran with the wind until we were a couple of miles from the entrance, when Anne called up Skigda Port Control on VHF Channel 16: "This is the Canadian sail yacht NOR SIGLAR, VD3296. We are caught in a bad "coup de vent" (gale) and ask your kind permission to allow us to enter your harbour and wait for the weather to get better" Answer: "Pas de probleme, Madame! Vous etes bien venue ici a Skigda! Please proceed to the old harbour and we will send a pilot boat out to escort you in." We were relieved! Skigda is a large, commercial harbour with no facilities for yachts, so we were placed in between some huge tug boats along a rough stone and marble (yes - marble!) dock with big, black tires for fenders. Within minutes, the Port Captain, Port Police, Security, Customs and Immigration officers arrived to check us in - all very polite, businesslike and helpful. It sure is a blessing that Anne speaks French. She has saved the bacon in many such cases now. We have found it advantageous to have her handle the checking in-out procedures. Officials always are impressed when she, the woman, signs and stamps all forms as the "Owner of the Vessel", listing me as the Captain! It never fails to produce a reaction and the weirdest comments! Round the Clock Armed Surveillance Because of the problem Algeria has with Muslim fundamentalist terrorists, the port kept us under 24 hour surveillance posting four guards patrolling by the boat, armed with machine guns in combat fatigues. It was spooky, to say the least, but we were assured over and over again that the guards were "entirely for our protection". "We do not want anything to happen to you. Therefore, we take no chances"...... Therefore, we were also not allowed to leave the harbour compound. We had plenty of provisions onboard from Tunisia, so food was no problem and the port officials brought us steaming hot French baguettes every morning! But when we wanted diesel, we also needed local money, so after a day of running between a multitude of offices inside the port compound, we finally obtained a shore leave to get to the bank. We were not allowed to go alone, but were accompanied by two plains clothed policemen with guns under their jackets, who guarded us from potential evil, with flickering eyes and sweeping movements. Anne had to cover up totally with a shawl, long sleeved blouse and long skirt. Then we were driven right up to the bank entrance, so that not too many people should see us during the few steps it took to get us in and out of the bank in the open! We were also accompanied in and out of the bakery! I had also wanted a couple of post cards and a souvenir, but the time was up. Permission not granted! I guess you don't push your luck in this country... After three "peaceful" days in Skigda (previously Philippeville), the weather improved and we finally managed to complete the sail to Gibraltar, uneventfully, in four days and arrived two weeks "after schedule" on October 3. Now followed a month of intense work to repair and replace a lot of equipment to prepare Nor Siglar for the Atlantic crossing. The boat is now 11 years old so we decided to replace the rigging, although we couldn't see any apparent wear or tear on our present wires. But the rigging is the single most important part of a sailboat, and we didn't want to take any chances. We also replaced our noisy wind generator with two additional solar panels. Finally, we installed a bunch of electrical controls etc. which I don't really understand how to operate, as they are all computerized, and you all know how good I am with computers! Anyway, my back seemed better so I thought it was good enough to do a lot of this work myself. In retrospect, I am sure all the awkward and heavy duty and stressful activities of Gibraltar were what finally got me down. So I am sorry that this Christmas letter comes to you full of my misfortunes. We sincerely hope to have a better report next year, Insh-Allah, as they always say here, i.e. God Willing! Best to have him/them on your side. So with this, we wish everyone all the best for Xmas and 1997! Keep in touch and keep those letters coming! P.S. Just off the press from Martin: Good, old Anne walked right into the sex trap again today, caught peeping into the small villa on the dock, which is reserved for the Royal family and the Minister of the Interior (the real boss here in Morocco). One of the young day workers came and asked if she would like to see the inside. Yes, of course, Anne would like that very much and she admired everything, beautiful bathrooms, kitchen, etc. etc. Finally, they came to the master bedroom which had a big modern king size bed which is not common here. Anne said: "Wow! Even a western bed!" Mustafa said: "Yes! It is comfortable too! Just try it!", whereupon Anne promptly sat down on the edge of the bed. Mustafa said: "Well, try it out properly!" And then, guess what happened? He threw himself all over her and tried to kiss her! Now she finally believes the guide book which says: "A firm, but immediate slap is the only thing they understand"......
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Landfall in Valetta's Grand Harbour, Malta 
Marsamxetto Harbour in Valetta, Malta 
Old Bedford buses in the Centre of Valetta 
Happiness is RECEIVING MAIL FROM HOME!!! (Gibraltar) 
