“Øff?” – the more or less only word in my French vocabulary which might lead to breakfast. The lovely old lady which held (lived?) in the local cafe and creperie looked at me as if I where from a different planet. Luckily Mathias had about 2000% more than me words in his repertoar, and we ended up having our first meeting with the french kitchen, this early morning in September.
Here in L`aber Wrach met we for the first time the challenge of languages, and when not speaking the language, you`re a stranger in a very different manner. You do represent a challenge to everyone you meet, in terms of mostly communicating through body language, and to this Bretagnian woman of about 65, English was about as Greek for her as French was for us, with only German as third language. She decided to have her morning coffee together with us, and it all ended up beeing a really nice breakfast with conversations across French/Norwegian, and what we talked about neither could say, but it did`t matter. To her we represented nothing else than two overtired, happy and mostly grateful trolls who had`t seen anything but each other and water for a few days.
To others we might represent tourists, sailors, smuglers, friends, competition, walking wallets, or something reassembling aliens from a different part of the world with unknown opportunities to do what ever we want.
It was hard to leave the culinary feast the French kitchen and food supplies offered, but felt great to finally set sail across the Biscay. We waited for the weather for about two weeks and through two storms, as crossing mid September is fairly late for this area.
In La Coruna we met Alibaba, which are now in Rio, Brazil. Further we sailed to Vigo, Biona and Porto, where Mathias disembarked to continue hes journey, and I became solo-sailor.