Chapter 807 - 363: Princess Mette_3

Chapter 807: Chapter 363: Princess Mette_3

Ducking and weaving between duty-free shops and souvenir stores was not the Nassau he wanted to see.

Following Mike’s directions, he turned into a narrow alley south of Bay Street, a path parallel to the main road.

In an instant, it was as if the world had been put on mute, then switched to an entirely different audio channel.

The cruise ship terminal’s bustle was blocked out by thick stone walls, replaced by a rhythm full of life, lazy yet vibrant.

In the afternoon sun, the multi-colored Caribbean-style colonial buildings appeared particularly bright—the pink-washed walls, mint-green shutters, sky-blue balcony railings.

These high-saturation colors didn’t appear cluttered; instead, they formed a painting brimming with enthusiasm.

Above, clotheslines stretched between different balconies, hanging equally colorful clothes like flags declaring "long live life."

The scent in the air had also changed, the charred aroma of roasted conch from a metal barrel mingled with spicy notes of chili and lime juice.

The rich fragrance of goat meat stewed with thyme and allspice wafted from some unknown kitchen.

Here, the background music was no longer the old Elvis songs on repeat in the shops, but a purer sound of the Bahamas.

From an open window came the passionate, uninhibited beat of Junkanoo music.

A wild rhythm played by goatskin drums, cowbells, and brass, compelling one to sway along.

Meanwhile, beneath a shady tree, a few elderly men in white linen shirts strummed rustic guitars, singing a hoarse, story-filled Calypso folk song about the sea and love.

Locals lounged in twos and threes in the coolness of their doorsteps, playing dominoes or simply watching the street scene in silence.

When they saw Lin Yu’an’s obviously out-of-place face, there was no overbearing caution or eagerness to sell, just a look of curiosity.

Lin Yu’an, like an observer, quietly wandered through this vibrant canvas, using his keen senses to fully absorb the true soul of this island city.

He arrived at a cigar shop hidden deep in the alley, with a hand-painted wooden sign hanging at the entrance, "Graycliff Cigar Company."

The shop was small, seemingly weathered, in stark contrast to the glamorous duty-free shops on Bay Street.

He pushed open the heavy wooden door, a crisp, melodious sound emitted from the copper bell on it.

A rich aroma of premium tobacco, cedarwood, and aged rum greeted him.

It was as if he were instantly transported from the bustling Caribbean Sea to a tranquil, vintage Cuban estate.

The shop’s lighting was soft, a gray-haired man with gold-rimmed glasses, resembling an old scholar, sat quietly reading a newspaper behind a massive mahogany counter.

In the center of the shop was an open workstation, where skilled artisans were sitting, their fingers flying as they skillfully rolled carefully aged tobacco leaves into cigar works of art.

Lin Yu’an’s gaze swept over the beautifully packaged, mass-produced cigars in the counter without lingering, moving directly to the open workstation to appreciate it quietly.

His focus caught the attention of one of the oldest cigar makers. The man was dark-skinned, his face covered in wrinkles, yet his eyes were exceptionally sharp.

Stopping his work, he asked in heavily accented English, "Friend, first time watching hand-rolled cigars?"

"Yes, sir," Lin Yu’an replied politely, "I am fascinated by what craftsmanship can transform these ordinary leaves into such magnificent works of art."

This opening filled with respect evidently pleased the old man. He grinned, showing a set of tobacco-stained yet still neat teeth.

"Works of art? Haha!" He picked up a dark brown, glossy tobacco leaf, showcasing it in front of Lin Yu’an.

"This is no ordinary leaf; this is the wrapper, the face of a cigar. It determines 80% of the cigar’s flavor."

"Look at this sheen, these delicate veins, grown in Cuba’s Pinar del Río Province’s red fields, shielded by black cloth, like nurturing a baby."

"Though it didn’t grow in Cuba, its soul comes from there. This is the ’Cuban Criollo 98’ variety cultivated in Nicaragua’s Jalapa Valley."

"Jalapa’s red soil has given Cuba’s seeds a second home. The quality is absolutely on par with the leaves from Pinar del Río Province."

"And inside," he picked up several lighter-colored tobacco leaves.

"These are the binder and filler, the skeleton and soul of a cigar, determining its strength, burn, and complex layers of aroma."

"Mixing different origin, different vintage leaves into the perfect ratio, that’s our secret recipe."

At this moment, the old shop owner, who had been reading the newspaper, walked over, clearly having heard their conversation.

"Alfonso, it seems you’ve met a kindred spirit," the shop owner said with a smile, extending his hand to Lin Yu’an.

"Hello, I am the owner of this shop, you can call me Enrico, welcome to my little workshop."

"Lin Yu’an." Lin Yu’an shook hands with him.

"Are you from China?" Enrico adjusted his glasses and asked, "Looking at you, you don’t seem like an ordinary tourist."

"Yes, I am from China, also a captain, currently docked in Nassau."

"A captain? So I assume you’re looking to stock up on some fuel for your voyage?"

"That is precisely my intention." Lin Yu’an nodded.

"However, before that, I have a presumptuous request. I’m a YouTube vlogger, and my audience is very interested in this traditional craft."

"I wonder... if you would allow me to do a small segment of filming here?"

"Filming? Live streaming?" Enrico was momentarily stunned, then burst into laughter.

"Of course! Why not? I wish the whole world could see how real cigars are born, not those machine-rolled junk!"