Posted 16 February 2007
This is the place, the island which Joan most wanted to visit and we are delighted with it. Rather like Scotland's western isles except that here there are still fishing fleets of small boats and it is warm even though wet at times. The light here is wonderful. The clouds are generally light and the views are continually changing throughout the day. The visibility is superb. If you can see a so plain it´s sure to rain´ as they say in Swansea.
Though before saying more I should go back to our last evening in Valdivia, because just after the previous posting we went to see the evening outdoor concert. It was Les Silphides, a ballet by Bartok and the original version based on the dances of Chopin. But when we arrived at the stage it was deserted, no wonder for it had rained earlier in the day. The journey was not wasted because beached by the side of the stage were three sea lions, we had been watching them earlier feeding just off the wharf of the fish market competing with the sea birds, but thought that they were seals.
There was a notice saying the concert had been moved to the Municipal Theatre. We had no idea where that was but luckily found it at our first attempt in the impressive looking building which turned out to be the Municipal Building. The Theatre, about the size of the Swansea Grand, had just been refurbished, as usual with a great deal of wood cladding as decoration and sound correction in the interior. So instead of seeing a taster out of doors we were treated to a dress rehearsal of the program they intended to give a few days after we had left. I have often felt that the musical events that we have visited in Central and South America have been light weight, but this was certainly not. It was danced by the Municipal Ballet Company of Valdivia - think in terms of the quality of the Welsh National Opera and you have some idea of the impression they made. The Bartok version was performed in modern dance by just three dancers, the second half was performed by a full company of classical dancers.
As we left the theatre we were again intrigued by the sound of drumming. This time there were a total of 12 drummers including the core of the group we had heard the previous night. Once again they were surrounded by a huge crowd as they performed in a pedestrianize street. They were raising quite a beat. It made us think that there was also a school of drumming in Valdivia.
Straight after breakfast we made our way almost next door to the bus station. The bus was late but it arrived the moment I decided to go for a pee, and was intent on making a rapid turnround. As I walked backed a man waved to me to follow him, he seemed to know that I was going to Castro. A bus was just leaving the station and a petrified Joan was already on board with our baggage. Once I saw her I knew why I was being shepherded in that direction. All ended well as usual. Not only is Cruz del Sur, the same name as a separate company in Peru, the main bus operator in region 10 of Chile but it also owned the ferry boat boat which brought us across the water to the island. The bus of course claims priority and so bypassed the waiting traffic to board via a ´no entry´route.
On getting to Castro I left Joan at the station, as is our style,while I went on a search for a suitable hotel. The town was full of young Chilean backpackers, as had been the Lake District earlier, and so the first few places I tried were full. I then found a superb hotel Hosteria de Castro, with a large steeply sloping wood tile roof, which looked down on the fiord with a superb view from the huge windows. Yes they had a room but only for one night 48.9K, nevertheless I took it. The next day they said we could again stay but only for one night, so I decided to try a little bargaining. Certain authorised tourist hotels are allowed to sell rooms at a price in dollars to foreigners without IVA (VAT to most of you) which since it is 19% makes a considerable difference, we agreed 75USD, but ended up paying only 64USD per night since our second night was in a much smaller room.
We did a recky together that same day but found few places with a room with private bathroom, and even fewer that were prepared to take a booking for the day after. Nevertheless on mentioning in Don Miguel 20K that we were intending to stay 5 nights we were given a room with quite magnificent sea views out of two windows on adjacent sides, one overlooking the main port and fiord, the other the more sheltered mooring area. I used 15 shots this morning just to record the sunrise over the bay.
It still has a traditional feel about it, which was little diminished because a modern cruise liner comes in every night on its cruise to Puerto Montt from Puerto Natales in the far south. A journey we would like to make later, berths willing. We met an English couple briefly at the highest viewpoint in town, they had just come ashore for a few hours - a totally inadequate time to get the feel of this lovely place - only the second conversation we had had in English since setting out two weeks ago.
The wonderful side of Don Miguel is the breakfast with six people sitting around the table, coming and going as they get up or leave. The party in the kitchen atmosphere ensures that there is plenty of contact. This morning we conversed with two 60ish sisters on holiday. One, Rita Martinez now lived in Venezuela - well the Isla Marguarita 300 km offshore - whilst the other still lived in the centre of Santiago, the city where both were born. (I´ve a feeling that Mary Anne Sieghart (Times) finished the catamaran part of her trip in Central and South America there before finishing on mainland Venezuela.) Rita said she had a small printing business, not unlike Kevin, Pamela´s husband. She also introduced us to the drink of Mate, which the Korean man at the table who conversed in broken English considered as green tea. It is apparently drunk in Argentina where they had just bought it. The morning before we had spoken with the owner his wife and a Chilean holiday maker after they had realised I was prepared to have a go with Spanish. The atmosphere here is so friendly, there are certainly advantages in moving down from tourist hotels to this type of Hospedaje.
The first evening on the island I ate Curancho a local speciality bake, mussels, clams and other seafood of course but also a large piece beef, a portion of chicken and a large German sausage (and I don´t mean Frankfurter, this was smoked pork, very substantial and tasty. It´s little wonder that most Chileans are on the plump side. As I remarked from the outset in Santiago,´ Kate Moss was never here´. Their other engaging habit is taking a fourth meal in the day called ónces´ elevenses except that it is eaten after 5pm. We have taken to our daily intake of cake, torta for the gateau, and kuchen for German style cakes made with fresh fruit. One of Joan´s favorites is a donut made with dulce leche, ie condenced milk which has been caramelised - looking over my shoulder she insists that her real favorite is a tart of fresh raspberries covered with egg custard. We go to a little cake shop with two small tables and also a number of bar stools, but the real interest is that they are baking continually, so Joan gets her normal daily cookery fix. Again it´s like being in the kitchen.
Before finishing with food I will mention El Trebol in Chonchi. It´s a quiet fishing port, still with a half dozen small trawlers at the wharf, which used to be a sheltered port for the Cape Horners years ago. It was very quiet town except for their museum which was quite the best one we have seen here and is therefore on the tour routes. A large wooden house had been converted to show traditional life in a kitchen, bedroom, dining room, lounge complete with pianola and a library of piano rolls. We were delighted to find that the pottery laid out on the table was all from Stoke on Trent, a previous hometown, we too once had a set by JG Meakin, and I was very friendly via the Rugby club with the then manager of Johnson´s Ian ..., who arranged such a good send off for me, also a plate from Dunn Bennett. A doctor in the clinic where Joan worked in North Staffs Royal Infirmary was a related Dunn. Burslem and Hanley featured two of Arnold Bennett´s Five towns, though there are in fact six. Tunstall, Burslem, Hanley, Fenton, Longton and Stoke.
When we finally got to the water´s edge we spied the aforesaid restaurant but decided to look for another as it seemed to be doing no business. How wrong can you get. When we returned at 2pm it was full and we couldn´t get a table, but the atmosphere was so good and the food smelt so good that we decided to wait as advised to eat lunch an hour later. Joan had Paila Marina again, I had a huge crab claw salad, we shared an avocado salad and started with pisco sours. With lovely rolls, aoli and chilli sauces it was the best meal yet and cost us just 9K for two, with agua de la llave of course!
Yesterday, and I am writing on Friday the 16th, we went to Cucao a National Park. Which is beyond Chonchi and on the Pacific Coast. Whilst driving there we noted that the scenery on this island was very much like central Wales, it is after all called Northern Patagonia on the mainland at the same latitude. The park was simply beautiful, our first sight was of a humming bird feeding on at Fuchia flower. There were wild flowers and flowering shrubs everywhere so Joan was in her element, experimenting now with her digital camera´s close up facility, just as I had done with dawn photography that morning.
Humming birds were everywhere so although we never got a close up we learned to recognise their cry. Birds of prey flew over the wooded area. Flowers included tall white orchids. I finished of the day by lying on the beach in the bright sunlight, twice the length of Rhossilli, listening to the roar of the incoming surf.
Joan wandered off to watch the dragnet fishermen untangling their catch from the fixed net, which they said was Corvina, or Bass, of about 5kg. Joan grins on the picture they took of her holding one of the catch as though she had just caught it herself.
I looked up from my prostrate position on the sand and saw that the strong sunlight was creating a halo around her hair as she shielded me from it´s worst excesses - that would be the day we forgot to put on sunscreen.
Better was to come when we went to the the 5pm bus and found the only remaining space was standing room for the 90 mins ride directly back to Castro. We decided to wait for the next bus but to walk back to the village so as to catch it on it´s way into the park, to be sure of a seat. But we went into a cafe where a Frenchman, who has lived in Castro for 12 months, gave us some Gold Blend from his own private bottle at the small cafe and engaged us in conversation half in French, half in English. He talked of his love of nature and the very friendly low pressure life in Chiloe, where he had decided to come and live after one of his travels in southern South America. He said there was quite a community of French in Castro and many other Europeans as well. There are few European tourists here, but a lot of Chilean tourists. He said his brother had worked for 5 years in Yarmouth IOW as a barman and now worked in the same line in London, apparently was amazed by the flexibility of the labour market in England and very pleased to be given the opportunity to get more and more responsibility, which he contrasted with the lack of fluidity in France. Thatcher rules OK!
I have 10 mins to sign off but I must remember to tell you about the trip back next posting.
This is the place, the island which Joan most wanted to visit and we are delighted with it. Rather like Scotland's western isles except that here there are still fishing fleets of small boats and it is warm even though wet at times. The light here is wonderful. The clouds are generally light and the views are continually changing throughout the day. The visibility is superb. If you can see a so plain it´s sure to rain´ as they say in Swansea.
Though before saying more I should go back to our last evening in Valdivia, because just after the previous posting we went to see the evening outdoor concert. It was Les Silphides, a ballet by Bartok and the original version based on the dances of Chopin. But when we arrived at the stage it was deserted, no wonder for it had rained earlier in the day. The journey was not wasted because beached by the side of the stage were three sea lions, we had been watching them earlier feeding just off the wharf of the fish market competing with the sea birds, but thought that they were seals.
 |
| GIANT COCKLES |
As we left the theatre we were again intrigued by the sound of drumming. This time there were a total of 12 drummers including the core of the group we had heard the previous night. Once again they were surrounded by a huge crowd as they performed in a pedestrianize street. They were raising quite a beat. It made us think that there was also a school of drumming in Valdivia.
Straight after breakfast we made our way almost next door to the bus station. The bus was late but it arrived the moment I decided to go for a pee, and was intent on making a rapid turnround. As I walked backed a man waved to me to follow him, he seemed to know that I was going to Castro. A bus was just leaving the station and a petrified Joan was already on board with our baggage. Once I saw her I knew why I was being shepherded in that direction. All ended well as usual. Not only is Cruz del Sur, the same name as a separate company in Peru, the main bus operator in region 10 of Chile but it also owned the ferry boat boat which brought us across the water to the island. The bus of course claims priority and so bypassed the waiting traffic to board via a ´no entry´route.
On getting to Castro I left Joan at the station, as is our style,while I went on a search for a suitable hotel. The town was full of young Chilean backpackers, as had been the Lake District earlier, and so the first few places I tried were full. I then found a superb hotel Hosteria de Castro, with a large steeply sloping wood tile roof, which looked down on the fiord with a superb view from the huge windows. Yes they had a room but only for one night 48.9K, nevertheless I took it. The next day they said we could again stay but only for one night, so I decided to try a little bargaining. Certain authorised tourist hotels are allowed to sell rooms at a price in dollars to foreigners without IVA (VAT to most of you) which since it is 19% makes a considerable difference, we agreed 75USD, but ended up paying only 64USD per night since our second night was in a much smaller room.
The wonderful side of Don Miguel is the breakfast with six people sitting around the table, coming and going as they get up or leave. The party in the kitchen atmosphere ensures that there is plenty of contact. This morning we conversed with two 60ish sisters on holiday. One, Rita Martinez now lived in Venezuela - well the Isla Marguarita 300 km offshore - whilst the other still lived in the centre of Santiago, the city where both were born. (I´ve a feeling that Mary Anne Sieghart (Times) finished the catamaran part of her trip in Central and South America there before finishing on mainland Venezuela.) Rita said she had a small printing business, not unlike Kevin, Pamela´s husband. She also introduced us to the drink of Mate, which the Korean man at the table who conversed in broken English considered as green tea. It is apparently drunk in Argentina where they had just bought it. The morning before we had spoken with the owner his wife and a Chilean holiday maker after they had realised I was prepared to have a go with Spanish. The atmosphere here is so friendly, there are certainly advantages in moving down from tourist hotels to this type of Hospedaje.
The first evening on the island I ate Curancho a local speciality bake, mussels, clams and other seafood of course but also a large piece beef, a portion of chicken and a large German sausage (and I don´t mean Frankfurter, this was smoked pork, very substantial and tasty. It´s little wonder that most Chileans are on the plump side. As I remarked from the outset in Santiago,´ Kate Moss was never here´. Their other engaging habit is taking a fourth meal in the day called ónces´ elevenses except that it is eaten after 5pm. We have taken to our daily intake of cake, torta for the gateau, and kuchen for German style cakes made with fresh fruit. One of Joan´s favorites is a donut made with dulce leche, ie condenced milk which has been caramelised - looking over my shoulder she insists that her real favorite is a tart of fresh raspberries covered with egg custard. We go to a little cake shop with two small tables and also a number of bar stools, but the real interest is that they are baking continually, so Joan gets her normal daily cookery fix. Again it´s like being in the kitchen.
Before finishing with food I will mention El Trebol in Chonchi. It´s a quiet fishing port, still with a half dozen small trawlers at the wharf, which used to be a sheltered port for the Cape Horners years ago. It was very quiet town except for their museum which was quite the best one we have seen here and is therefore on the tour routes. A large wooden house had been converted to show traditional life in a kitchen, bedroom, dining room, lounge complete with pianola and a library of piano rolls. We were delighted to find that the pottery laid out on the table was all from Stoke on Trent, a previous hometown, we too once had a set by JG Meakin, and I was very friendly via the Rugby club with the then manager of Johnson´s Ian ..., who arranged such a good send off for me, also a plate from Dunn Bennett. A doctor in the clinic where Joan worked in North Staffs Royal Infirmary was a related Dunn. Burslem and Hanley featured two of Arnold Bennett´s Five towns, though there are in fact six. Tunstall, Burslem, Hanley, Fenton, Longton and Stoke.
When we finally got to the water´s edge we spied the aforesaid restaurant but decided to look for another as it seemed to be doing no business. How wrong can you get. When we returned at 2pm it was full and we couldn´t get a table, but the atmosphere was so good and the food smelt so good that we decided to wait as advised to eat lunch an hour later. Joan had Paila Marina again, I had a huge crab claw salad, we shared an avocado salad and started with pisco sours. With lovely rolls, aoli and chilli sauces it was the best meal yet and cost us just 9K for two, with agua de la llave of course!
Because tour parties, locally organised largely for Chilean holiday makers, were going around the museum there was a tasting of local Chiloe wines, these were made from fruits like raspberry and blackberry, the full range may show up on my photo. I´m almost ashamed to say that our preference was for the white wine made with milk, which had a parting resemblance to Baileys.
Yesterday, and I am writing on Friday the 16th, we went to Cucao a National Park. Which is beyond Chonchi and on the Pacific Coast. Whilst driving there we noted that the scenery on this island was very much like central Wales, it is after all called Northern Patagonia on the mainland at the same latitude. The park was simply beautiful, our first sight was of a humming bird feeding on at Fuchia flower. There were wild flowers and flowering shrubs everywhere so Joan was in her element, experimenting now with her digital camera´s close up facility, just as I had done with dawn photography that morning. Joan wandered off to watch the dragnet fishermen untangling their catch from the fixed net, which they said was Corvina, or Bass, of about 5kg. Joan grins on the picture they took of her holding one of the catch as though she had just caught it herself.I looked up from my prostrate position on the sand and saw that the strong sunlight was creating a halo around her hair as she shielded me from it´s worst excesses - that would be the day we forgot to put on sunscreen.
 |
| THE PACIFIC AT CUCAO NATIONAL PARK |
Better was to come when we went to the the 5pm bus and found the only remaining space was standing room for the 90 mins ride directly back to Castro. We decided to wait for the next bus but to walk back to the village so as to catch it on it´s way into the park, to be sure of a seat. But we went into a cafe where a Frenchman, who has lived in Castro for 12 months, gave us some Gold Blend from his own private bottle at the small cafe and engaged us in conversation half in French, half in English. He talked of his love of nature and the very friendly low pressure life in Chiloe, where he had decided to come and live after one of his travels in southern South America. He said there was quite a community of French in Castro and many other Europeans as well. There are few European tourists here, but a lot of Chilean tourists. He said his brother had worked for 5 years in Yarmouth IOW as a barman and now worked in the same line in London, apparently was amazed by the flexibility of the labour market in England and very pleased to be given the opportunity to get more and more responsibility, which he contrasted with the lack of fluidity in France. Thatcher rules OK!
I have 10 mins to sign off but I must remember to tell you about the trip back next posting.
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