Picture this, ye sorry landlubber: yer first drivin’ lesson, but yer vessel be a whopping 12 paces long, weighs more ’n ten tons o’ cannonballs, and the cursed road beneath be slicker than a whale’s backside, with tires balder than a midshipman’s chin. ARRR! That’s near what it be to wrangle a catamaran, matey! It’s like tryin’ to steer a sea serpent on a frozen pond with nothin’ but a soup spoon fer a rudder!

Arrr, catamarans be struttin’ ‘round with two hulls lashed together by a mighty plank, ye see. That gives ‘em a bounty o’ deck space broad as the seven seas, far more than any snivellin’ monohull of equal length, by thunder!

Arrr, we hauled our salty hides to these parts to hoist th’ canvas and chase Neptune’s fancy, but blast it all, first week out, th’ cursed Bora comes barrelin’ down on us like a kraken with a hangover. This scallywag of a wind be givin’ us—and Charly most of all—a chance to drop anchor and get our sea legs.

So’s Alex an’ meself can plunder a heap o’ experience with all manner of floatin’ tubs, we set our sights on charterin’. That be meanin’: we rent a bloody yacht, much like ye might lease a horseless carriage to ride across th’ land, ye lubber!

After me skipper trainin’ course, me and th’ mighty Alexandra do a quick handover o’ th’ helm in that salty port o’ Rijeka. ARRR! This week be Alexandra’s turn ta brave th’ ASA 101, 103, and 104 courses, while yours truly gets ta laze about like a fat cat o’ th’ seas an’ keep a weather eye on th’ ship’s hound.

Arrr, though this salty dog scraped through th’ SKS exam with only a few barnacles on me backside, me confidence weren’t fit for a squiffy cabin boy, let alone a proper captain to steer a mighty yacht solo. So, by thunder, I signed meself up for JoJo’s infamous skipper trainin’—hopin’ to toughen me sea legs and not end up feedin’ the fishes.

When the scurvy idea o’ sailin’ ‘round this blue marble first struck us like a cannonball to th’ mizzen, there be but one mighty kraken standin’ in our way: we ain’t got the faintest blasted clue how to wrangle a ship! ARRR! That sort o’ thing sets me timbers a-shiverin’, but Alex, the salty dog, tells me, “We got all the blasted time o’ the seven seas to learn, an’ that’s just what we be plannin’ for 2026, by thunder!”

Arrr, es gibt Landratten, die kaufen sich so’n verfluchtes schwimmendes Prunkstück und stechen einfach in See, ohne je den Hauch von Ahnung zu haben, wie man th’ Höllenschiff überhaupt in den Wind setzt! Das kann man so machen, keine Schande bei all dem Rum und Wahnsinn auf den Weltmeeren – aber für uns steifen, braven Gestalten wär das nix, wir sind dafür viel zu spiessig und halten uns brav an den Kodex! ARRR!

Me dream, ARRR, be to set sail ‘cross all th’ blasted globe in a grand land-roamin’ vessel, while me fine wench dreams of ridin’ Poseidon’s beard round th’ seven seas! So, hoist yer grog, swabs — we be plungin’ headlong into th’ dark, foamin’ depths o’ sailin’.