s/v Amaris

Porto Palma

Anchored 10 knots of breeze - 90 degrees

Sailing the globe

clearing customs into Italy

 

With freshly e-mailed documentation papers for our boat we were finally allowed to enter other countries.  Hooray, France is now in our rear view mirror as to say.

 

Cody is particularly fond of showering, as is most any 16 year old i assume.  So, once again we left our anchorage nearly out of water, with our generator and water maker on.  Sadly, we also had perfect winds for the 6 mile run across the boarder into Italy where we were to clear customs into Italy.  Nonetheless, we had a wonderful morning "motor" sail.  As we pulled into the city of Maddalena on the island of I'La Maddalena we woke Cody to help with lines as we had no clue where we were tying up, where the customs dock was, or for that matter how to speak Italian to the harbormaster.  Cody begrudgingly got out of bed to help out.  Pulling into the harbor, Shawn and I had all the lines and fenders ready, and were still waiting for the boy to jump out to help.  Was he still in bed?  No-in the shower!  As another nephew says..  "OH - Barnacles"

 

As is our usual practice, I left to search out the customs office with the required documentation and passports of all aboard.  Is is NOT the practice, I was unable to find the customs office.  I entered the police office, which was at the head of the pier thinking that the Customs officer would be there as well (Maddalena is not a major port of entry).  Sadly, I was mistaken.  The chief of police however was happy to leave his desk and take me outside to point out the customs office, which of course was on the opposite side of the harbor and a block into town.  So i left for a hike across town, through restaurants, wine distributorships, salumi distributorships, and everything italian. 

 

Upon walking into the Mayor's office, I was welcomed by a beautiful lobby with offices in each of the 4 corners.  I chose one at random.  The woman inside kindly stood from her desk and pointed across the hall when i showed our passports and boat documentation.  With excitement i crossed the hall - knowing i had found the place.  Turns out, I had just found someone that spoke English - more or less.  The kind woman walked me out of the Mayor's office building and onto the street.  She pointed to a building a short walk away.  My adventure continued so it appears...

 

I entered what i leared to be indeed the customs office.  Once again the person i met only spoke Italian - and given rustic Spanish and English as communication tools we had a difficult time getting through the immigration process.  He called in a friend (Who wants to be a millionare style).  

 

After a few minutes of good sweating (it is really hot and humid here) we were graced with the presence of the friend aka translator...  with back up support.  This town was overwhelmingly wanting to support my process in clearing customs for myself and crew.  After a lot of translation and a bit of conversation, I learned they were only allowed to immigrate produce at this port...  I quickly replied that we had a teenager aboard and that he had the brains of a watermellon.  They all understood the translation.  Then they asked why i really wanted to clear in - what was the point?  Was i trying to collect stamps or see Italy.  After several more laughs, i realize that i saw a wonderful side of Italy during the process.

 

Shawn and I had a wonderful lunch in a local restaurant before buying wine offered in a used 2 liter water bottle (full of course), 200g of salumi, and 300g of olives for 13 Euros before leaving the port.

 

Anchored in Porto Palma, the other side of the world from Seattle, we sit anchored next to another American couple (well, from Texas) who report they have been directed to social security offices, welfare offices, health offices, and for that matter have had a good tour of many towns - always without success of clearing customs.  There is a sailing school across the harbor and children and adults are racing and practicing "rounding the mark" at untaken mooring bouys.....  1/2 way through our 2 liter "bottle" of wine.

 

Ah, Italy...