Wednesday, 5 August 2015

Glamping and Whores in Songa Songa

After an uneventful day of sailing we arrived at Songa Songa, while I say uneventful we are talking about Adventure 9, or its unofficial name the Poseidon Plunge.


An uneventful day of sailing entails getting up at 5am to find we were 30mins too late for the tide, enlisting the help of a group of workers to help push the boat into the sea. Any later and we would have been stuck high and dry until the tide came back in. We had the wind at our backs so it was a straight reach for half the 40 mile distance. A slight mishap during the changing of the sail setting, half-filled the boat with water, but there was no capsizing for us. We stopped on a sandbank for some quick relief and carried on, passing “the drowning duo and shark bate” who were busy retying their boat back together as their out riggers had come off. They were doing this while treading water in the middle of the ocean. Apparently it took then 3hrs! 


Songa Songa

So in comparison to past days Mark and I had an uneventful days sailing. Songa Songa is a paradise island in keeping with its name. As we arrived we encountered Eben opening his bar in the lagoon of turquoise sea with white sand. The setting was magnificent; a predator was chasing a shoal of fish which were taking evasive action by jumping out of the water. This was probably the best bar in the world, the vodka was delicious even if the coke was warm. 

Mark set off to find cold mixers and I took the snorkel to see if the universe was going to supply seafood for dinner, it didn’t?

Upon Marks return he had found not only more coke which was cold, but a camp for the gas plant on the island. He had spoken with the project manager and had organised a couple of tents for us. They came with air conditioning, on suite facilities and a patio overlooking the Indian Ocean. We were glamping! Hot water and warm beds, the universe was looking after us after all. 

A trip into the local village and a bar was found and a couple of cold beers enjoyed. We were informed the establishment had no food but with a little persuasion they agreed to see what they could do. I bought the young lady who was helping us a beer for her trouble, she smiled nicely and after sending one of the other girls off for food, and she came and joined us at our table.


Jasmine and I enjoying a Cold Beer

Now my Swahili is non-existent but it soon became apparent I had made a friend for the evening, as Jasmine had taken an exceptional shine to me, all for the price of a beer, I had a look around the establishment we had entered. There were a larger group than one would expect of girls in the bar, and a number of rooms in the corner which seemed to be available by the hour. We had stumbled across a bordello. Certainly on the island for the gas plant workers whose tents we were going to sleep in that night.

After eating the food which turned out to be a local delicacy, a chip omelette, we headed back to the camp for a restful evenings sleep. The previous night we had dined with Princes and tonight with whores, this adventure was just more and more interesting, what would the universe serve up for us tomorrow?


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