Salad Days 08

As our work rotas were similar I found myself going ashore with Alan, the steward's boy. It was his second ship and I was rather surprised he managed number two. As junior ratings we were subject to excessive amounts of pranks and teasing. There was also another side I haven't yet touched upon. Let's just say it was common for a junior to be touched inappropriately at the most inopportune time. It was a source of amusement to watch the unsuspecting lad jump out of his skin and drop whatever he was carrying. 

Although there was never any sexual intent, we as junior ratings hadn't yet learnt that. I caught on quickly that it was done purely for reaction and the best way to stop it was by not reacting. Unfortunately Alan hadn't mastered it yet, and showed no signs of ever doing so. Anytime someone touched his bum he would always jump through the roof and the worse he reacted, the more frequently the form of teasing occurred. Alan would rant at the perpetrator but it just amplified the laughter. I decided to have a friendly word with Alan whilst we were alone.

I told him the  senior ratings were just doing it for the reaction and he should stop fuelling their mirth. He broke down saying it is a problem he has had since he could remember. It wasn't just the seamen, friends and even family members were kept at a distance. Alan had boasted about a girlfriend at home but he told me he had never had one due to his problem. He was one of the few who didn't have a liaison in Panama, citing fidelity to his girlfriend as a reason. I decided things were going to change.

We stumbled around all sorts of backstreets, completely lost. It didn't matter, the weather was nice and the buildings so colourful. Despite our youthful looks we had no problem buying beer in every bar we passed. The people were friendly and the bars were atmospheric. Only Santana and somewhat bizarrely (so I thought) Peter Frampton were recognisable names on the Jukebox that looked like it had been taken directly from the set of Happy Days. The problem was a shortage of ladies. It shouldn't have been a surprise, we were in local bars and it was still only late afternoon.

Eventually we found our way to the seaman's mission and was surprised how lively it was. I was also surprised to see quite a number of young ladies in the bar. Seaman's missions were almost without exception church run or sponsored. It didn't make them popular with seamen seeking a night on unrestrained merriment and debauchery. For one thing 'good-time girls' were not allowed. Valpo mission broke the mould, there were women and merriment. Two of the girls came over and sat with us. Alan had always been a 'sipper' when it came to drinking but his revelation to me triggered a devil-may-care attitude and he was very drunk for the first time since he joined the ship.

The girls were not slow coming forward and I kept glancing at Alan with interest. The alcohol had dulled his senses and it looked like the girl would need surgical removal from his lap. It wasn't long before the other crew members started arriving, they obviously knew of the reputation Valpo's mission had. Alan broke his duck and we staggered back to the ship arms around shoulders. I felt good, I thought I had helped cure Alan of his affliction. The reality didn't quite justify it. Alan remained jumpy but not quite as bad, it seemed in order to cure his affliction he would have to stay drunk.

In the morning a plague of beetles had descended on the ship. We had a cargo of animal feed on board and it attracted millions of beetles from who knows where. Getting them off the shipp involved a high pressure hose but it was one of the most disgusting jobs I ever had. We wore waterproofs and sea boots tied at the ankles to stop the beetles going up our trouser legs. It may not sound particularly gross but the worst part was having to walk on the knee-deep swarming mass. The crunch and squelch sent shivers down my spine but within a couple of hours they were just a bad memory.

Later that day four of us shared a taxi to Santiago. It was about 70 miles inland but remembering how cheap the ride was in Peru. I had this thing of wanting to visit the capital city and tick another off on my map of places I'd visited. In truth the ride was the best part of the idea. Up and down a series of mountains and ranges we travelled inland taking in the sights. We didn't catch a glimpse of Santiago until we came out of the Tunel Lo Prado which drilled through a mountain range west of Santiago. Then suddenly, surrounded by ranges on three sides and with the mighty Andes as a backdrop, the Chilean capital came into view. From a distance it was a sight to behold but on entering the city, our brief visit failed to do it justice.

The ride back was exciting for a different reason. It was dark, very dark, and the old taxi's headlights were inadequate considering one laps of concentration meant certain death. If that taxi ride was scary there was much worse to come back in Peru