This morning’s three hour shore excursion might have just been “something to pass the time.” As we entered the attractive port of Coquimbo, Chile, I was aware that the date of my birthday celebrations had arrived finally. Cards and presents were beginning to come in.
I enjoyed the coach trip despite the routine queuing and having to be back at the bus after a certain (usually inadequate) time. Like the day before in Valparaiso, I found myself looking at grubby graffiti infected areas which I was rather interested to be in. Political unrest, some of it nasty, had been ongoing since October last year.
The streets had people trying to make small amounts of money anyway they were able to, selling “whatever” to drivers at traffic lights, juggling on street corners, marketing souvenirs at pop-up pavement outlets etc.
There were still trolley buses at Valparaiso so reminiscent of the long since disappeared Manchester street scenes I have only seen in pictures. Coquimbo (pop. 250,000) and the nearby La Serena (200,000) were similar but much smaller towns. We were taken to whatever places of interest they had to offer. One disgruntled lady passenger (from the U.K.) complained to the Cunard representative that the “tour had been made up from nothing and that she wanted her money back!” I usually have a jaundiced view of shore excursions, most of which, actually, are very good and show you far more than one might see independently. On this occasion, I was unable to agree with the complainant; what was she expecting in such a poor and unfair country? We did stop at places of interest, including an excellent market where I bought colourful clothing which will be brilliant in the cold climes of Home.
In this part of South America, I felt a harsh reality I would find hard to come to terms with, especially at the hands of the police or military. Of course, back home, we had/have to contend with Brexit, HS2, coronavirus…and now Boris Johnson’s baby! My opinion on that subject might indeed have me left at the mercy of the Chilean authorities!
That same evening, March 1st, I had laid on a champagne reception which would take place at the most attractive Yacht Club on Deck 10 from which far reaching views could be enjoyed through the floor to ceiling windows around the circular venue. What seemed like a huge number of waiters welcomed my guests with champagne and canapes. Cards and gifts were assembled on a shelf at the entrance to the Yacht Club along with a beautifully printed table plan for Dinner at three special tables in the Britannia Restaurant which had been reserved and set up. That which could have gone terribly wrong, in fact “went like clockwork.” However, before we adjourned for said dinner, with wine mostly from Varela Zarranz winery on the outskirts of Montevideo, I had to deliver an address of sorts. I chose to (tongue-in-cheek) emphasise the importance of this day, The 50th anniversary of my 21st birthday celebrations at the Strand Palace near the Savoy and Simpson’s! Twenty six out of twenty eight invitees attended; for whatever reason, a couple (from the “Mixed Grills”) failed to show up. I had met them on the Overland to Iguassu Falls and they were enthusiastic at the time about the event I was arranging. (I would find out later that they had not been informed of the last minute change of venue for the champagne reception, although I was convinced that I had left a note in their pigeon hole. Ammended, 1st June). A bit of a pity; nevermind! The photographer appeared both in the Yacht Club as well as at the beginning of dinner in my attempt to make sure this get together is remembered for the “weeks to come.”
Inevitably, Cunard must have done quite well out of all this, but, they did do all that was humanly possible to ensure the most successful of evenings. Huge numbers of well rehearsed staff, took care of both up stairs in the Yacht Club and in the Britannia Restaurant. The traditional rendition of “Happy Birthday” by a goodly ensemble of Restaurant personnel, seemed to draw the attention of most on the lower floor of the Restaurant.
Yes, a great time was had by all, but all too soon, it was time to vacate our privileged positions at the Restaurant. Jo and I were collared by one of my guests Adrian who had found himself alone in an almost empty Golden Lion Pub (adjacent to the Restaurant). The pub pianist, complete with artificial backing band belted out pop songs which the three of us would sing along to, with all the wrong words, until the pianist’s contract was up for that evening. Even I had partaken of a small amount of champagne and a particularly good vin rose purchased the day before. Shortly afterwards, drained of energy, we adjourned to our respective staterooms; I was in bed shortly before 2 am having watched “Impossible” a BBC game show I enjoy at home sometimes.
Thanks for reading, David: 09.08 the morning after!
David's Cruise 