Day 36, 11.11.2018, Puerto Montt and Santiago, Chile.
November 11th is a strange day when you live in the gap between the British Empire and a Unified Germany. The day from a churchy point of view is St Martin’s Day. In Germany this always involves an unfortunate goose being invited for dinner.
At the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month I usually try to have a two-minute silence and contemplate ancestors cut down before their time. It’s complicated by the fact I am rarely on Greenwich Mean Time. Nine minutes later on the 11th minute of the 11th hour of the 11th month all hell breaks loose as it is the start of the Carnival season in Germany. Silly costumes, terrible German jokes and singing. To be fair it is not so insensitive as it sounds as this event pre-dates WW1 by several centuries.
H and I took the ship’s tender to the pier in Puerto Montt and wandered in to town. Not much has changed since we were here four years ago. It’s a bit scruffy and even the one llama that was here last time was missing. Being Sunday, many shops were closed but there were enough tourist tat places open for H to load up. We found a hotel and had a pisco sour for old times sake. A pisco sour is made from a type of Chilean brandy with lime juice, syrup and egg-white.
H returned to the ship and I got a taxi to the airport and a flight to Santiago de Chile and the Holiday Inn at the airport. I am meeting the wife of the Chief Engineer who arrives tomorrow and will shepherd her to the ship which will hopefully will be in San Antonio on Tuesday. What can go wrong?
