Spanish Customs

Pop Quiz!

You have ten minutes to complete this quiz. Good luck!

1. You are motoring late at night towards the lights of Málaga. A vessel appears off your port side, but not on your Automated Identification System. Is it:
   1. A fishing vessel trying to hide itself?
   2. The cops?
   3. Armed hijackers?
   4. The other cops?
2. A fast-moving inflatable boat pulls up and hits you with a high intensity beam. Do you:
   1. Slow down
   2. Speed up
   3. Throw up your hands and shout “Hijo de puta!” in a faux Spanish accent
   4. All of the above
3. When a heavily armed crew announces they are from Spanish Customs and asks if they can come on board. Do you:
   1. Mutter under your breath: “Where’s Marlon when we need him?”
   2. Reply: “¡Por supuesto! Mi barco, es tu barco!”
   3. Reply: “Are all Customs agents as good looking as you?”
   4. Reply: “Blow it out your shorts, pretty boy! This is sovereign US territory and we don’t take kindly to strangers pokin’ around in our business!”
4. Four men clamber out of the Zodiac and stand on the side deck. Do you:
   1. Rush below and pick up all your dirty clothes?
   2. Invite them down to the salon for a glass of Ramon Bilbao Crianza?
   3. Ask if it’s okay to grab a selfie with them?
   4. Ask them to remove their combat boots before coming into the cockpit?
5. The agents, after all, are only bureaucrats with day-old beards. When they ask you a series of routine questions and fill out forms. Do you:
   1. Tell the whole truth, no matter how incredible it might sound?
   2. Tell them what you think they want to hear, speaking in gringo Spanish?
   3. Answer each question with another question? After all that’s what consultants do.
   4. Plead the Fifth and call for a lawyer?

Scoring: for each answer award yourself the following points:

• A = 1
• B = 2
• C = 3
• D = 4

If your total is:

• 5 – 7 Congratulations! You may proceed to port.
• 8 – 12 This encounter will take longer than you hoped.
• 13-18 Time you reconsidered your attitude to life.
• > 18 You’re heading to jail, buddy!

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Position: 36°41’39.2″N 4°24’06.5″W

As a general rule we cooperate with the authorities. After all, as visitors to a foreign country it makes sense for us to go with the flow. For the most part the police here in Spain are friendly and professional. Clearly they are hired for their good looks, as much as their skills. It reminds me how corporate American misogynists hired their administrative staff back in the day. That aside, an unplanned meeting with Spanish customs authorities just off Málaga few nights ago was a first for us.

Cops

Our inaugural encounter with water-borne, would-be inspectors occurred in 2019. Sailing along Portugal’s southern Atlantic coast near Culatra, a speed boat pulled up and came splashing to a halt 100 metres off our beam. Looking us over for a few minutes they thought the better of whatever it was they had planned and bore away again. This week the chaps were serious. Very serious. Still, they were, according to Carol, straight out of central casting. A couple of them were so good looking it was hard to take the situation entirely seriously. Besides, we were tired and ready for our bunks after two nights at sea.

We had spotted their boat and figured it was a trawler without AIS. While that’s unusual these days, we find one in ten fishing boats don’t broadcast their location. Then the boat fell in line directly behind us and turned on a couple of bright lights. Now, fishing vessels at night do that all the time to attract fish, but the fact they were pointed bow on to our stern and matching our speed made us suspicious. “They’re cops”, I said, but secretly retained hope they might still be fisherfolk. The binoculars revealed little, so I went below and tended to the dishes while Carol manned the helm.

Glocks

Five minutes later, a Zodiac inflatable with five heavily armed men on board zoomed up and hit Aleta with a brilliant white searchlight. Carol, now in sharp relief, called down, “Mike!”. Nestling alongside they shouted, Aduanas! Hablar Español? Nope. Can we come on board? Given the number of Glock 9mm pistols and Uzis in their possession, how could we refuse?

What started with a lot of drama, devolved into a series of routine questions with forms that required filling out in triplicate. Carol enticed the best looking guy below and he apologetically rifled through our lockers. Once the inspections and paperwork were done, they handed us a copy, clambered back in their Zodiac, and bid us buenas noches.

Before they left, I said to the officer that spoke the most English, “I think you guys are very brave. I wouldn’t want to board strange boats in the middle of the night.” But then, perhaps they have a quota and questioning a couple of semi-retired Americans (clearly identifiable from their AIS signal) is much safer than boarding a big, sketchy Chechen motor yacht. The officer’s last words ran along the lines of, “This area from here to Gibraltar is very dangerous. One of the worst places in the Mediterranean for crime.” Nevertheless, once we’d dropped anchor and secured Aleta, we slept soundly.

Marlon – Diplomat and Schmoozer

Our first experience with Spanish Customs was in Viveiro, Galicia. The morning after our arrival three plainclothes agents pitched up with forms and questions. Their ages ranged from 35 to 65, and they looked more like members of a local darts team. Marlon took a shine to them immediately and made himself comfortable in their laps, offering the occasional conciliatory face lick. What a schmoozer.

As I answered the standard questions, boat papers, engine size, last port, next destination, etc., one of the men said to Carol, “I have to inspect the boat. Bring the dog with you.” Whereupon they went below so he could throw a toy for Marlon and pretend to take things apart. When asked for our passports, I handed over our American ones. Then I pointed out that Marlon had a French one, and that we’d like to claim asylum based on his nationality. That got a chuckle out of them.

Having charmed them all, Marlon was a little disappointed to see them go. I don’t know what he would have made of the maritime beefcake SWAT team coming on board, but I think once the helmets came off he’d schmooze them all the same. Such a pup!

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