Popular Post Ken Gargett Posted July 14, 2014 Popular Post Posted July 14, 2014 When the going get tough, the weird turn professional. As Hunter Thompson used to say. A few days on a mate's boat have been about as weird as it gets. (apols for the length – did this over a few days and thought best not to post till I could download photos). After the Champers visits – I love the place and the people and the wines, but after about 9 days, even I was getting a smidge over fizz – although suffering a bit from withdrawal symptoms now. Getting down to my mate's boat on the Med was all a bit 'Marco Polo' – early taxis, train to Paris, race across Paris to a different station, find train, have old dear accuse me of stealing her seat (I didn't, she was in the one next to me), think old dear has gone the grope (she didn't – some dill had brought his dog on board and it got loose and came by for an unannounced nuzzle), have the ultimate destination change no less than 6 times as I head south and my friends try and figure out where best to meet, stumble off two stations early and have three taxis reject me before one will finally take me the squillion miles needed, and finally a tender to the boat. I’d forgotten how much I like this boat. Heaven. And the crew are brilliant – one morning, I was finishing a book and I coughed – possibly a leftover from the previous evening's cigars. Before I could blink, one member of the crew appears next to me and asks if I would like a strepsil. And the folded, ironed undies. And watermelon “red” cocktails to drink while watching the Qld Reds). There is only my mate Woody, his partner Gina, their son, Nick, and myself on the boat (plus, of course, all the crew, who are fantastic). First up, we meet with Robbie McEwan and his wife, great friends of Woody and they are terrific fun. Had met them before but first chance to spend a bit of time. With Robbie being one of our great athletes, I feel compelled to entice him across to the dark side of cigars. That starts with, 'oh, perhaps not, thanks anyway', to within 24 hours, 'we got any more?'. We head around to the latest trendiest bar at the waterfront at St Tropez (anywhere you'd be less likely to find me, is hard to imagine really). The waiter is a hoot. I sit there stumbling over the drinks list, with my two words of French. He is totally impassive as I dig myself deeper. He keeps waiting. Then I see him trying not to smile. Looked at him and said, 'you bastard, you speak perfect English, don't you'. 'Of course, sir'. And anyone thinking this is not the most expensive place in history – a bottle of 'Zacapa 23'? 400 Euros. Holy crap. Apparently various celebrities present. Jemima Khan, I was told, and someone called Sophie Anderson – still no idea who she is. They have a terrific couple of singers so we help out. 'Fly Me to the Moon' seems to be the song of the week. Apparently only Australians sing in bars – at least here. As a heap of people were smoking, I ask the waiter if it is okay to have a cigar (a lovely D4). Of course. So I fire up. A few minutes later, a girl about 15 sits down at the next spot and starts waving as though a thick fog of arsenic is descending. Not that she didn't see me and not that there was not any other place to sit or to move to. So wave all you want, darling! Then her mother sits down and fires up an endless parade of cigarettes, yet the daughter is only waving my smoke. So I kept going till I had scarred, burnt fingers. End up back on the boat for dinner and then Woody and I have a good yack listening to Elvis. He was telling me about last year. The boat next to them had some bloke singing and the noise was just a bit too much, too late. He leans out and asks if they would mind toning it down a bit. Just as he does, the bloke singing turns around – Tom Jones. All Woody's friends on his boat can't believe he has asked Tom Jones to pipe down and Woody is mortified. The woman running the Jones boat comes over, apologises, and says that Mr Jones would love to have them join him. Woody is still so mortified that, without thinking, 'oh no, we would not like to bother him further'. I think his friends nearly lynched him. Next day, head across to the St Tropez markets – they have a great little fish market and a good but tiny wine store. Get some wine for the boat, including the new Brad Pitt rose – have not seen it (but it actually turns out to be pretty good). Get talking to one of the locals, I assumed, who was sharing a glass with the owner. Anyway, drop the wines back on the boat and we all hop in a cab to go way around the coast to some place called 'Nikki Beach' (great concept – big open air restaurant, beach bars, fashion stuff etc – apparently, the owner has franchised it around the world and must be making even more dosh than God). The five of us sit down and the bloke at the very next table is the bloke I was talking to just before at the wine store, miles away. The chances? And how did he get there so quickly? Turns out, he is there for a friend's daughter's wedding. We get chatting with him and the friend. They mention waiting for another friend, who I know is a great pal of one of my best mates – Forrie. I mention this. “Bloody Forrie”. They all know him. Top lunch, though never been anywhere where the staff tries to pump you up to the expensive stuff more. 'Yes, that is good, but this is better'- and points to the most expensive bottle. Every time. And then he is out with the 'special' wines. They were special. So were the prices. 1,500 Euros up to 4,000!! What the hell do I look like? Anyway, said friend shows up. You might recognise him from the photo, especially if you are a fan of great chefs. Lovely bloke. Afternoon sensational. Some things not going into writing – like the very well-known, rich as Croesus, businessman (and you would never pick him) who comes every day with eight young South American friends – not sure if they are the same 8, but there was definitely a type. They could have been sisters. And the fun started. Seems dressing rooms were optional. If they are not cavorting shamelessly (yes, I could not write that with a straight face), they are buying clothes (he dropped easily 15K on clothes alone in the one arvo and at last another 5-10K on drinks/champagne, as well. Apparently, same thing every day. Good luck to him. Don't hold your breath for photos on this family site. He was a fan of Robbie so came over and had a chat. Really decent, quiet guy. All a bit Jeykl and Hyde. But fun, especially for some. Would never have picked it. Spent most of the afternoon, having a blast, chatting with everyone, drinking far too much Bacardi 8, smoking cigars and making new friends. As you can see. We headed back to the boat for dinner – the boat's chef is brilliant but dinner a touch of overkill. I must say I could have happily crashed early evening (Woody had to go back to London for a day or two, so he did). Gina and some friends keen to kick on so we end up back in the club at St Tropez and had an absolute blast. I even ended up dancing – no photos, I assure you. More singing. A lot more drinks. A parade of C list celebs, the desperate-to-be-cool, some American basketballers (I turned around at one stage and was looking into some bloke's chest – they were huge. Not often I have to crane my neck to look at someone. They were by far the nicest guys in the bar. Had a chat for a while. Sad state of affairs when the most decent people in a bar are the sports stars), Russian hookers, rich kids and so on. Then I get adopted by some bloke, probably late 20's, early 30's, who decides I am his best ever friend (possibly only one, too), because I am smoking a cigar. He has some but they were crap. He was so excited. And so monumentally drunk. But great fun. Mistake! Tells me how he has had a humidor installed into his Merc – as you do. And plans for us to spend the next day smoking cigars on his boat. God help me. But he was so pissed. He drags me away to tell me what he plans for two 'older ladies' hanging about – given how hot his Russian girlfriend was, this seemed weird – and there is no way that even between consenting adults, any of it is legal, even in Tasmania or Arkansas – possibly okay in New Zealand if you swapped the women for sheep. One of these two women turn out to be his mother. Seriously. And he turns out to be some junior form of local royalty. Those Royal families in the 18th/19th centuries really didn't get around much. Nothing changes. I end up giving him a DC (so pissed, he tried lighting it, pre-cutting) as we were having fun. Big mistake. He keeps grabbing me and kissing me (no lips, no tongue and really rather embarrassing). Anyway, it turns out that even minor royalty can't go round the club, walking up to people and saying, 'I would not sleep with you', 'you I might', 'you, no', 'you, definitely', etc etc. Imagine that. I think he might break some of the rules for qualification to FOH. Ran into him the next evening as well and he was a much nicer person sober. With much better cigars. I was the only one not in the least amused when he described waking up somewhere he had no idea where it was or how he got there and me and my cigars was all he could remember. At one stage, a bunch of girls in a corner having fun dancing on the tables and drinking Champers from stilettos. I took a few photos and they waved (and a bit more – can one say 'flashes' on a family site) but then one asked for us not to take any more pics. Which was fine. One was gorgeous, from England, and she and her friend came over and chatted. Lovely girls. No idea who she was but the friend said to me quietly, 'do you have any idea how much people pay for photos of her?' Still have absolutely no clue who she was. Anyway, finally we all head back to the boat around 3am. The one in front of us is playing Latin music (Rob will recall my dancing skills where Latin music is concerned) and Gina, Woody's partner, is from Chile, so off she goes. I go to ensure she is safe (who knows these days, though who knows what I would do if she wasn't). There are three couples dancing – it really is an exquisite boat. They wave us up – I say that I won't come up as finishing my SLR DC. They all hold up their Upmanns. They turn out to be three of the very nicest people imaginable. English was variable but my one line of Spanish saved me, as always. We had a great time. They were Mexican and Venezuelan. The owner of the boat – brand new and on its first run to test the kinks – had a number of businesses throughout South America and he had two friends with him. One runs the publishing side of things for him (and beyond bizarre, when he finds out what I do, can't believe me, as he has been asks to do a wine column for a corporate mag and has no idea – could I help?) and the other is a fishing guide out of Cabo, for blue marlin. They kept serving Laurent Perrier Rose all night. Lord knows what time it all finished but it was seriously fun. Next day or two were a smidge quieter. Though Gina insisted on taking me clothes shopping – she is fantastic at all that (indeed, the last time I bought any clothes was three-four years ago when I was on the boat). I am now the best dressed bankrupt on the Riveria. But fear not – I promise the t-shirts, feet and beanies will stay for all cigar reviews. Next day or two just relaxing on the boat but we did head off to Louis XV for lunch on my last day. I had a meeting with the head sommelier – amazing guy. Loves his job. Who wouldn't? He has a football field sized cellar with over 350,000 bottles back to 1794! A story in itself. Great lunch. Waddled back to the boat. Ever seen a credit card melt? 9
Pedro2486 Posted July 14, 2014 Posted July 14, 2014 Lifestyles of the rich and infamous Nice yarn Ken. I'll just be going back to my mundane life now
Ken Gargett Posted July 14, 2014 Author Posted July 14, 2014 Lifestyles of the rich and infamous Nice yarn Ken. I'll just be going back to my mundane life now sadly, i'm already back to mine 2
IPORTER Posted July 14, 2014 Posted July 14, 2014 Great story Ken. Great photos too. Sounds like you had a blast. more photos of the ladies please.
... Posted July 14, 2014 Posted July 14, 2014 It's quite disturbing to see how wealthy the wealthy actually are and to realize to what extent one cannot relate at all to that living standard... I say good for them and for you Ken who was able to tag along for a bit, just a bit much for me
StingMeadery Posted July 14, 2014 Posted July 14, 2014 Epic story Ken, enjoyed reading about you escapades in lifestyles of the rich and famous. Keep "sharing" those sheep brother Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk
PapaDisco Posted July 14, 2014 Posted July 14, 2014 Fabulous adventure and brilliant telling of it! How'd you manage to photoshop in that little blonde in the bikini? Very well done job that!
saintsmokealot Posted July 14, 2014 Posted July 14, 2014 Great story and nice pics! Sounds like one of the times you never forget!
Habana Mike Posted July 14, 2014 Posted July 14, 2014 Ken, living the life! Yet also puts up with Rob. I guess it's true you have to put up with the bad along with the good!
new2habano Posted July 14, 2014 Posted July 14, 2014 Ken is the Last of the International Playboy's. The man is on a hot streak like I've never seen, visiting beautiful places with beautiful women with the most expensive booze and lovely cigars. He is on a YACHT in the Riviera while I am watching Messi mess up the World Cup. I tip my hat to Mr. Spitbucket, he's living the dream. Now that I have this new view of Ken, I will become quite depressed when I see him in a REDSKINS tee shirt with EL Presidente reviewing some unworthy cigar for a man of his stature. Rob, from now on Behikes and Gran Reservas only on the deck with your finest Champagne! 4
Philski Posted July 14, 2014 Posted July 14, 2014 Mentioned earlier on El Pres's 'what to read' thread that Errol Flynn's days were long gone. I stand corrected.
polarbear Posted July 14, 2014 Posted July 14, 2014 Great Write Up How I wish to sample such a "life without compromise"
potpest Posted July 14, 2014 Posted July 14, 2014 Great trip, great writing, never knew you were such a playboy. Rick Stein was the last person I was expecting to see.
NastyPirate Posted July 15, 2014 Posted July 15, 2014 Ken, that was so much better than a TV travelogue on the T.V. Write the script and I'll find you an agent.....Need to call the movie Mr. Barefoot goes on Holiday
El Presidente Posted July 15, 2014 Posted July 15, 2014 You are the largest living Hobo on the planet Have forwarded onto the ATO (IRS) 1
Ken Gargett Posted July 15, 2014 Author Posted July 15, 2014 You are the largest living Hobo on the planet Have forwarded onto the ATO (IRS) because that is just what you need. me asking my new friends at the ATO if they have met my old mate. plus i still have photos of you - originally intended to boost the super but i could bring publication forward.
El Presidente Posted July 15, 2014 Posted July 15, 2014 because that is just what you need. me asking my new friends at the ATO if they have met my old mate. plus i still have photos of you - originally intended to boost the super but i could bring publication forward. ....blackmail is so unbecoming.....
Ken Gargett Posted July 15, 2014 Author Posted July 15, 2014 ....blackmail is so unbecoming..... and yet so effective! you can at least take note of the very wise new2habano and ensure great cigars only, from now on.
ZinZan Posted July 16, 2014 Posted July 16, 2014 Lifestyle of the rich and famous, you do have some resemblance to robin leach. Sent from my iPad using Tapatalk HD
AndrewNR Posted July 17, 2014 Posted July 17, 2014 Ken.. We can't be friends anymore.. It's not me, It's you. 1
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