South America 2020

South America 2020

Winters are long and bleak in the Pacific Northwest.  With all major house projects completed, I was facing a lot of time with little to do.  Of course, the solution was to get away for a good chunk of that winter.  But where to go?  I’d done SE Asia last year.  Cheap cruises always beckoned me.  I decided to explore a few places in South America before considering myself done with that continent.

  
One goal was to drive Patagonia, the southern end of Chile and Argentina.  Another was to cruise around the south tip.  Perhaps I could put all this together in one trip.  Well, of course I could.  I had all winter.

  
Many of the world's cruise ships re-position seasonally.  In the spring, they move from the southern hemisphere and the tropics to Europe and Alaska.  In the fall, they go back.  These cruises are often very good deals, offering many days aboard for little money.  I spent months studying the options and watching for deals.

  
There wasn’t much from the west coast to South America, but there were several ships going there from Europe.  I figured visiting my sister in Spain, before sailing across the Atlantic would work well.  I was near picking one from the Mediterranean to Buenos Aires when another option showed up.

  
Norwegian cruise line had a ship going from Barcelona to Miami, then continuing through the Panama Canal, and on down to Chile.  The price for both was little more than the direct cruise and offered many more days aboard, as well as the experience of going through the canal.  So, despite my growing dislike for NCL, I booked it.

  
Cruising around Cape Horn proved a little more elusive.  There were no bargains there, especially for going solo.  Lin was not interested for a number of reasons.  But I figured my daughter Jen could be tempted.  We’d cruised together in the past and I knew this one would interest her.

  
She had reservations about the total cost though, and said that if she had to travel that far, she’d want  to see Antarctica while at it.  Princess had a ship going the right way at the right time that included Antarctica.  I decided to sweeten the pot by subsidizing her fare.  She took the deal.  It ended up costing me less than if I’d done it solo, and she got a good bargain.  Though with air fare and extras, it was still an expensive excursion for her.

  
With those parts set, I had two weeks in between cruises for the road trip in Patagonia.  A companion on that adventure would sure be convenient.  Enter Tony, who’ll I’ll introduce later.  We agreed on a shared trip so everything was falling into place.

  
I was now booked from mid-November through January 22 or so when Jen and I would disembark in Buenos Aires.  From there, I’d be on my own to see what was left to see in that part of the world while I made my way home.

  
Always eager to check things off a list, and fill in the blanks of my map, I wanted to hit the remaining countries down that way as I didn’t expect to go there again.  Uruguay is right next to Buenos Aires and a place I was interested in exploring so that would be next.

  
That left the two landlocked countries of Paraguay and Bolivia to get to.  They were right on the way home, but in no way convenient to visit.  Both countries are very poor, with little air service or tourist infrastructure.  I considered traveling by bus.  It’s possible, I guess.  The map shows a highway between them.  But a look on Google Earth shows it to be just a dirt road.  There were a few flights, but not cheap.

  
And then there was the problem of visas.  The U.S. charges residents of those countries a hefty fee to apply for a visa to visit the States.  They, in turn, retaliate by charging us the same fee.  Seems a bit self-defeating, though, as they could sure use our tourist dollars.

  
In any case, it would be $160 apiece for the visas, in addition to the hassle of getting them.  I found that Paraguay would issue the visa on arrival if I flew into the main airport in the capital of Asuncion.  That seemed like the only logical way to do that.  Bolivia, though, was not so accommodating.  I’d have to send them my passport and they wanted proof of yellow fever vaccination, or some such thing. 

  
I was about to give up on them when another idea came to mind.  Perhaps I could just slip across the border somewhere without all the hassle and expense of a visa.  It wasn’t like there was much in the country I wanted to see anyway.  So I looked into that possibility.

  
Cusco, Peru is not too far from the Bolivian border.  I’d been there a few years previously and really liked the area.  I could get to the Bolivian border by rental car from there.  Using Google Earth and street view, I explored the various border crossing options.  The town of Desaguadero seemed like the best option.  A small bridge separated the two countries there and locals seemed to be wandering back and forth unimpeded.  I saw no sign of border control, at least on the Peruvian side.  A second highway crossing a few miles away was my back-up plan.

  
Although Cusco was more or less on the way home and not terribly far from Asuncion, there were no direct or cheap flights.  I booked the best I could find.

  
The last stop would be Colombia.  I’d made a brief stop in Cali a few years back and liked it, so since it was on the way I figured visiting another city made sense.  I picked Bogota.

  
In the future, I might try traveling a little more on the fly.  But I don’t trust my ability to make lots of reservations through my phone.  I liked the security of having everything planned and reserved ahead of time.  I did it all on my home PC over a few months, so was able to handle it all carefully.  It would have been nice to have had more flexibility, but I was OK with making a plan and following it.

  
In all, I had seven airline reservations involving 13 legs.  Three cruises were set and paid for.  I had my train ticket from Madrid to Barcelona and even the reservation to visit the Sagrada Familia there which was booked well in advance.  I had 12 different hotel reservations, and three rental cars.  I’d paid for and arranged the permit to take a car from Chile into Argentina, and reserved our ferry passage in Chile where there was no other option.

  
Not wanting to trust electronics to keep all that information for me, I printed out a separate page for each reservation and kept them in order in a folder.  I had hard copies should anything happen to my phone.  And I’d learned to exploit the internet rather than using guide books.  I’d found lists of things to see in each city, edited them appropriately and printed them out.  I felt quite well organized.  But in addition to the lack of flexibility, I found a disadvantage of this approach was that reservations made long in advance are subject to change.  One hotel cancelled on me.  And three flights had itinerary changes that were not convenient.  And, of course, many of these reservations were non-refundable, so any disruption of the trip as planned would have cost me plenty.  I’ve been lucky in that respect though in almost always making good my plans.

  
Another smart thing I did before leaving was upgrade my credit card.  I got one specifically geared to travelers.  It was a little pricey, but offered the very tangible benefit of access to airport lounges.  Eric got this card first and said it worked well.  I was anxious to try it out.

  
After months of preparation, departure day finally came.  Lin dropped me at SeaTac.  I got through to the departure area quickly with time to try out the lounge access.  There were actually three or four to choose from.  The first one I found was merely a restaurant where I was granted about $20 credit towards food and drink.  I wasn’t hungry so just had a beer.  I moved on to the next one which was a full lounge.  Quite nice, with help-yourself snacking food, open bar and a very comfortable setting.  It changed my whole perspective on arriving early for a flight.  Instead of it being wasted time in an unpleasant waiting area, it was being pampered in a pleasant atmosphere.  There were newspapers, WiFi and charging outlets.  Airports needn’t be awful places.

  
My flight to LA on Alaska was fine.  Connecting internationally there is always a pain as it involves going out and finding the faraway terminal, then going through full security once again.  But I got that done in time to hit another lounge.  This time it was the Korean Air lounge.  At first, they were turning people away as though they were closed.  But I was processed in and enjoyed my visit there.

  
The long flight to Madrid was on Norwegian Airlines.  They are a low budget operation that I’d used once before and wasn’t too impressed with.  But they were my best option in this case.  I needed to check a bag, which was extra cost.  When buying the ticket, I’d found that I could book the bag, a meal and extra leg room for one reasonable price.  Those things combined to make it like a full-service airline and still a bargain.  Turned out to be a nice flight.

Emilio met me at the Madrid airport as Karen had a swim meet that day.  I got a nap at their house before she arrived late that afternoon.  Emilio made his Spanish tortilla for dinner.

  
It had been six or seven years since I’d been in Madrid.  It was nice to be back.  The next morning Karen and I took the metro downtown and joined a walking tour of the city in English.  Miguel was a good guide and even Karen learned a little more about her city.  The tour ran long and we had to run before it reached the end. 

Clara, Emilio and Karen

Back at the house, Karen’s youngest daughter Clara arrived with her family.   That would be husband Manu and daughters Alba and Leire.  It was my first time meeting Leire and I’d only met Manu briefly once before.  He was very personable and I was surprised by his ability and willingness to speak English.

  
Once again, Emilio cooked.  This time his signature paella which was delicious.  After another siesta, we watched a couple of movies on TV.  In English with Spanish sub-titles which satisfied everyone.

  
Monday morning the 18^th, we had plans to visit a nearby town.  We would be joined by Caroline, someone they’d only met recently.  Caroline is a recent college graduate from California that had just arrived to teach English for a year.  She’s a distant relative by marriage and a very nice girl.  She seemed to really appreciate having Karen as an English-speaking resource in her new world.

  
We met up at a bus station and all rode to Alcala de Henares.  As we rode, I noticed tall towers and what looked like an old city.  Must be there, I thought.  But we stayed on the bus a while longer.  Soon the driver was telling us that we were at the end of the line and must get off.  Emilio puzzled over his phone and finally announced that we must backtrack.  Karen shook her head.  Apparently in her opinion, Emilio’s sense of direction no longer lives up to his confidence in it.  After a couple more stops for him to study our location, we arrived back at the tall towers.  At least we didn’t ask anyone for directions.

  
The town was very pleasant with old stone buildings, pedestrian malls and covered porticos.  After a good stroll and checking out the cathedral and other notable buildings, we found a hearty lunch.  We bused back to Madrid and said goodbye to Caroline.

  
Tuesday morning Karen and I walked to the market and then went downtown to the Coleccion Masaveu art museum (not the Prado) which was enjoyable.  Emilio stayed behind to prepare the main meal of pig cheeks.  That may not sound that appealing, but they were delicious. 

  
That evening we drove to a theater and watched the newly released movie “Joker”.  Disturbing, but good.  The theater was nearly empty, yet we had assigned seats.  For dinner we ate at a restaurant familiar to them and had tapas.  They were excellent, especially the octopus in sweet potato.  I managed to spill wine all over my main/only pair of pants.  Thankfully it washed out.

  
Wednesday the 20^th, Karen and I took a long walk that passed by their old neighborhood among other places.  Although I’d been there many years ago, it didn’t feel familiar.  My final meal prepared by Emilio was a nice fish lunch.  It was time to go.

  
My brief and enjoyable stay in Madrid kicked off this long trip very well.  They dropped me at Atocha train station and I was off to Barcelona.

  
The train station was nice, though notably was lacking WiFi and bathrooms were hard to find.  I boarded the train and was off.  High speed rail is wonderful.  Fast, smooth and roomy with big windows and ever-changing scenery.  If only air travel could be so pleasant.

  
Interestingly, I’d ridden this route 40 years previously on my first visit to Europe.  In that case, it was an overnight train that bumped and jostled for many hours before chugging into Barcelona at dawn.  This time it was 2 ½ hours in daylight.

  
I figured out the Barcelona metro system and bought a ticket good for two days.  I probably didn’t get my money’s worth from that, but it was nice to know I could jump on it anytime it was convenient.  I found my way to the right stop and walked the few blocks to the hotel.  The room and bed were rather small, but overall, it was fine.   The location was excellent, just a couple blocks from the Rambla and amid loads of restaurants.

  
My only real visit to the city previously had been just two years ago.  Karen and Emilio had met me there the day I passed through on a cruise.  We’d seen quite a bit in those few hours and I really liked the city.

  
I checked out my neighborhood that evening.  And the Rambla which is the heart of the city for tourists.  It’s a broad walkway along a tree-lined street.  It is full of people selling and entertaining.  Also pick-pockets I’m told, but never encountered any.  In all, the city was a happening place at night.

  
The next morning, I took the metro a few stops up the hill, then climbed further up to Parc Guell.  There were lots of steps and some old viaducts mostly designed by the city’s famous architect, Gaudi.  Great view of the city from up there.  I walked all the way back, catching most of the notable architecture on the way.

                                                                Gaudi's Barcelona

  
That afternoon was my appointment to see the Sagrada Familia which seems to be the most in-demand cathedral for tourists these days.  Tickets weren’t cheap and I’d bought mine weeks in advance.  I hit my time slot and went in.  Yes, the inside was as impressive as the outside.  It is an unusual and impressive work of art.

                                                         Sagrada Familia interior

  
The food that restaurants seemed to be pushing was paella.  But since I’d recently had Emilio's there was no point trying others.  I settled for burgers and pizza.  Safe bets anywhere in the world.

  
Saturday morning, I had time before checking out so took a long walk to Montjuic.  That’s a small mountain park not far from the Rambla and the port.  It was quite a hike, but got some good views including my ship in port.  Nice to know it was there waiting for me.

  
My walk back down kept being detoured by fences, walls and roads that didn’t go where I wanted them to.  I finally made it down to street level all hot and sweaty.  Took the metro a couple of stops and got back to my room with just enough time to shower and get out.

  
Barcelona is a very nice city.  Easy to deal with and get around.  Plenty of English is spoken and prices are not bad.  Lots to see and nice pedestrian-only streets to do that by.  The weather treated me well, and no political riots erupted during my time there.  It was all good.

  
I considered a taxi to the port, but it wasn’t that far so took the metro a short ways, then walked the rest.  Check-in procedures for the ship weren’t bad and I was soon in my cabin.

  
I’d booked an ocean view room for this leg.  That means a window of some sort.  And mine was of the worst sort.  My cabin had to be the least desirable on the whole ship.  It was on the lowest passenger deck and the farthest forward.  Being at the bow where the sides of the ship are coming together, the outside wall was curved.  Since my cubic cabin was not, they had a deep window box that led to a small porthole that in turn led to a tube connecting it to the hull of the ship.  It was a peephole more than a window.

  
And being so low, it was barely above sea level.  During rough seas, the waves came into the tube and swirled around washing the window.  It was more like watching laundry in the washing machine.  Being so far forward, the ride was rougher with waves slapping the hull noisily.  And being the last cabin meant I was up against a mechanical room that had all kinds of weird sounds going on.  Fortunately, none of this bothered me much.

  
The ship was the Norwegian Star which is the same ship I’d crossed on two years previously.  So, it was familiar.  The crew was all different however.

  
It was about this time I received an e-mail from NCL (Norwegian Cruise Lines) that changes had been made to the itinerary of my NEXT cruise.  That would be between Miami and Chile.  The letter said that the two stops in Colombia were being dropped and in their place we’d be going to Grand Cayman and Limon, Costa Rica.  The curious reason given was “mechanical issues”. 

  
Hmm, I was not too happy with that since I’d been to both of the added ports and had little interest.  I’d not been to Santa Marta and Cartagena, and still haven’t.  I wondered when we’d get the full story.

  
It didn’t take too long before a little more came to light.  Conversation with passengers who’d stayed on from the previous cruise informed me that the ship had been experiencing serious problems.  Apparently one of the four engines had been taken off line due to a fire or explosion.  Several mechanics had come aboard in Venice to work on it.  They’d missed two stops on that previous cruise because of the problems.  Presumably they couldn’t go fast enough to stay on schedule with the new top speed of 17 knots.  But NCL was being totally mum on the situation.  Rumors abounded, but no one knew for sure the current situation.

  
We departed Barcelona on time for our overnight trip to the island of Majorca.  I just happened to notice two ships still in port as we pulled out.  Then I noticed those same two ships already docked in Majorca when we got there.  Interesting that we were all on the same itinerary, but also interesting that they had both passed us in the night, obviously making a faster speed.

  
After the breakfast buffet, I got off the ship and walked the fair distance to town, passing apartments and presumably vacation rentals along the way.  The main city, Palma was nice.   I walked all over and hit the usual tourist sights of castle, cathedral, etc.

                                               Palma on the island of Majorca

  
Next stop was Malaga and it was one day and two nights away.  The seas were a little rough in between.  On the second morning, it was announced that due to the conditions we’d encountered, we’d be an hour to an hour and a half late arriving.  Of course, it turned out to be just about two hours late.  Hmmm.  Max speed of the ship, I wondered?

  
Malaga is a lovely city and probably my favorite port.  I think I’d been there once with Karen 30 years previously but had no recollection.  I walked all over and enjoyed the parks and especially the castle high on the hill overlooking the city.

                                                                         Malaga

  
That night at dinner, I talked to a guy who knew the ropes about bringing booze aboard.  The cruise line makes a lot of money selling liquor and therefore doesn’t want anyone bringing their own on board.  But I learned that in the Spanish ports, the government did the security screening getting back on the ship and the cruise line therefore didn’t.  Since Spain sure didn’t mind you buying their booze and taking it onto the ship, they let it through.

  
Monday the 25^th we arrived Cadiz on time.  The city was interesting, with narrow streets and surrounded by water, but not spectacular.  Viewed nice parks, a theater and a cathedral, but the main castle was closed.

                                                            Narrow streets of Cadiz

  
Arriving back at the ship, I noticed the government security point set up right beyond the duty-free shop.  So I bought a bottle of wine and brought it through, no problem.  I felt so devious.  I made the mistake of taking it to the dining room though, where they charged me corkage.  My booze smuggler friend had been wrong on that aspect.

  
Tuesday, November 26 was a day at sea.  We arrived the next morning in Funchal.  This is the town on the island of Madeira that I’d stopped at on my previous crossing.  Madeira is part of the Azores (or is it?) but far southeast of the other islands.  It is however definitely part of Portugal.

                                                                     Funchal, Madeira

  
Funchal is a great little town on a beautiful island.  I did a full tour last time seeing the steep mountains and lush valleys.  So, this trip, I just walked the streets, found internet and had a relatively cheap beer.  Since internet service and alcohol were so overpriced on the ship, I made it my mission when going ashore anywhere to circumvent the cruise lines stranglehold on them.

  
We set sail that evening for our last stop before crossing the Atlantic.  Only that’s not exactly what happened.  At some point, the captain made a PA announcement that due to adverse weather, we were skipping Punta Delgada and proceeding directly to Miami, with a possible stop in the Bahamas.  I, and many others, didn’t hear this announcement and only much later heard of it from others.

  
I went down to check the TV monitor in the lobby and sure enough, it showed us heading southwest instead of northwest.  No further announcements or explanation were made during the entertainment that night.  No evidence or even description of the weather was given.  Very poorly handled.

  
Two issues came to mind.  I could accept the cancellation if actually necessary.   But surely this weather didn’t just appear out of nowhere.  The cancellation must have been a possibility that morning before we got off the ship.  Why didn’t they warn us that we might be missing our next and last stop before several days at sea?  The affect was that those of us who relied on land-based WiFi to communicate with the outside world had been tricked.  Family and friends expecting to hear from us the next day would not be hearing from us for a week.  Any business we were hoping to take care of would have to wait.

  
NCL could have made up for this by granting us some free internet time.  But, of course, they don’t give away anything, so that didn’t happen.

  
The second issue was the ever-present question about the condition of the ship.  Were we at full  power, or still limping along on three engines?  No word from the bridge.  “Keep them in the dark” remained the policy.  It was logical to speculate that if the ship couldn’t make full speed, then it wouldn’t be able to get to Miami on time sticking to the original schedule.  Punta Delgada was a few hundred miles out of the way, and a day in port delay.

  
Clearly, deleting that stop and chugging directly towards Miami would solve that problem.   Not to mention, the fact that this shortcut and speed reduction would save them tons of fuel.  I’m not normally a conspiracy theorist, but this sure had the feel of a cover-up.

  
One other clue added to my suspicions.  We didn’t go quite directly towards Miami but doglegged south.  There could be good reasons for that.   But one possibility was suggested by another passenger.  Another NCL ship was also crossing the Atlantic at about the same time.  The much bigger Epic was headed from the Mediterranean to Puerto Rico.  We were right on that direct course.  Could we be staying close to them due to our hobbled condition?  All speculation, of course.  NCL wasn’t saying anything.

  
The next few days were at sea with not much to report.  There are lots of activities to be sure, but it is possible to eventually get bored.  I found fewer and fewer things of interest.  I skipped the art auctions as it was all the same stuff and I knew I wasn’t going to buy anything.  I went to one bridge session but didn’t really enjoy the atmosphere there so didn’t return.  The weather warmed up so I did go to the pool a couple of times.  Some football games were on TV over the weekend, but having to watch the limited commercials repeated so frequently was unbearable.

  
In all, it was enjoyable enough, but did drag on a bit.  One thing not enjoyable was getting sick to my stomach.  That occurred after eating two meals in a row at the buffet.  Maybe just a coincidence.  I sent notice to the ship just in case and never heard anything back.  This was before the coronavirus outbreak.

  
We did stop at NCL’s private island in the Bahamas.  I’d been there once before and it held little interest.  After a little beach time and the buffet lunch, I went back to the ship.

  
We docked in Miami the next morning.  I, and many others were staying on for the next cruise.  We were to wait in the lounge while others disembarked.  My stuff was meanwhile moved to my new cabin.  Eventually, we were all sent down to process off and back onto the ship.  Most people just had their passports stamped and returned directly to the ship.  I wanted to get off and did.

  
It was a pretty good walk from the pier to anything else, but I was up for that.  I hiked the mile or two and found myself at the Bayside Marketplace.  That’s a nice area of restaurants and shops that I was familiar with.  The beer was just as expensive as on the ship, but I’d rather give someone else the money.  And it was nice that I had real telephone connectivity with Lin and others instead of through the internet.

                                                                     Port of Miami

  
Then it was back to the ship and the beginning of a new cruise.  There was a huge back-up of people trying to embark.  Fortunately, I was able to get around that.  Then my new room key did not work in my new cabin.  It seems they screwed that up for all of us returning to the ship.  After waiting in line the first time, even my second key didn’t work.  When I finally got in though, my new cabin was wonderful.  After booking another “window” room, a price drop allowed me to book a balcony cabin for just $35 more.

  
Another lifeboat drill and a bunch of new passengers.  What I wasn’t expecting was a lot of new crew.  The cruise director, general manager and entertainment troop were all different.  For the first time, it was a female cruise director.  She was from Colombia and stunningly beautiful.

  
We set sail on our revised itinerary.  The whole first day was at sea.  I was hoping for some explanation as to what the mechanical issue was that had caused us to miss those first two ports that we’d paid for.  Silly me.  NCL wasn’t volunteering any information.  Then I saw the guy who all questions and complaints were to be directed to.  I asked him when the reasons for our itinerary change might be explained to us.  His response left me dumbfounded. 

  
He essentially said that if I’d received that letter, that was all the explanation I was due or would get.  What more did I need to know?  Questioned further, he denied knowing any more and claimed ridiculously that he had no way of finding out.  The message was clear that I shouldn’t be asking such inconvenient questions.  Wow, what arrogance!  I tried not to let my growing disgust with NCL ruin the rest of the cruise.

  
First stop was Grand Cayman Island.  Been there, done that.  It has good scuba diving and nice beaches, but not much else to offer.  I went with some others from the ship to a nice beach within walking distance.  It was only locals there and very pleasant.  The weather was hot.

  
On the way back we stopped nearer town where they rented snorkel gear.  I did that for a while, but there wasn’t a great deal to see.  Off-shore a little ways though was kind of a waterborne playground setup of blow-up rafts and stuff to climb on.  I played on that until scolded away.  Perhaps just for kids or additional fee applies.

                                                           Beach on Grand Cayman

  
Next port was Limon, Costa Rica.  I’d been there only briefly more than 20 years ago, so it was essentially new to me.  But it’s not a primary hot spot for cruises and therefore didn’t have much to offer.  After walking the town, I ended up sharing a taxi with an acquaintance.  We were taken to a few outlying places of minimal interest.

  
The following day was a highlight of the cruise--transiting the Panama Canal.  We entered the locks near Colon, then spent much of the day sailing through the large lake that makes up most of the passage.  They had someone narrating things on the PA, giving history and pointing out things of interest.  That was nice.  That afternoon, we arrived at Miraflores locks near Panama City.  I’d been there from the land side just the previous year, so it was familiar to me.  Now I was viewing it all from the ship’s perspective.

                                                          Through the Panama Canal

  
We made no stop in Panama but got a good view of the capital city from the ship.  Soon we were out in open water again for a couple more sea days.  As we passed Ecuador and the equator, I was surprised at how hot it wasn’t.  The sea temperature was only in the 70s and the air likewise.  I was expecting hot and humid, but not so.

  
Our first South America stop was Salaverry, Peru.  That’s a small port that serves the larger city of Trujillo.  A bus took us from the cruise ship and dumped us at the gate to the port.  There was nothing there but buses for the expensive ship sponsored shore excursions and a few taxis.  NCL had provided no maps or information that I recall. 

                                                                 Peruvian beach

  
A few of us pooled together for a mini-van tour.  That took us for a brief stop at the town square in Trujillo.  I spent the time trying to find WiFi and contact home.  Then we went out of town a ways to a couple of native ruins.  The city was gritty and the countryside not at all pretty.  I left wondering why they chose that as a cruise stop at all.

  
Next came Lima.  Again, a bus was needed to get us out of the port, but it only dropped us outside the gate in an ugly industrial area.  And again, no information, maps or suggestions as to what to do.  A friend and I went looking for WiFi.  But it wasn’t a very conducive neighborhood.  At one point a local was cautioning us strongly against going any further down the road we were walking.  “mucho mafia” he repeated and made gestures as to being robbed and having our throats cut.

  
OK, enough warning for me.  We turned around and returned to the starting point where we grabbed a taxi.  Jen and I had been in Lima a few years previously.  I’d seen the few sights downtown and knew that Miraflores was the only other area worth visiting.  So we headed there.

  
Miraflores is on the coast at the south edge of town.  It’s definitely the nicest area and the center of tourist activity.  The weather was ideal and we enjoyed a pleasant stroll around.  We returned by Uber which was dirt cheap, but quite the ordeal.  Like many taxi drivers, he indicated that he knew where to go, but had it wrong.  When he tried to drop us at the Port Tavern instead of the actual port, we had to protest.  His second attempt got us closer, but he had to try a third time before actually delivering us to the ship.  You’d think that “cruise port” would be easier, especially since I can say that in Spanish.

  
Also of note, the driver cautioned us to keep cell phones out of sight while passing through one neighborhood.  That kind of thing only happened to me once before and it was in almost the exact same place with Jen that previous trip.  Rough city.

  
Next stop, next day was Pisco.  Well, they couldn’t dock in Pisco for some reason, so we anchored off shore near Paracas, Peru.  Fast boats took us to the dock and then buses all the way in to town this time.  And now two and a half months later, looking at my notes and the map of town, I can’t remember a thing about it.  Suffice it to say that Pisco was not a memorable place.  Unless you were going to do the expensive flight over the Nasca lines, there was no reason to be there.

                                                                   Pisco, I think

  
Back at the boat dock however in Paracas, it was nice to walk along the boardwalk where there were many restaurants and stalls selling stuff.

  
In all, I’d say that the long coast of Peru has very little going for it.  It’s cool, dry and windswept.  No palm trees or pretty vegetation.  And no nice beaches that I noticed.  The towns poor and ugly.

  
During that next day at sea, I noticed some very small boats out in the ocean.  The first thing I thought was that it must be a boat that had drifted free of a dock somewhere.  But then I saw many more.  Not close enough to verify fishermen, but that must be what they were.  Seemed so small to be beyond sight of land.

  
After that day we arrived at Arica, Chile.  This is located at the edge of the Atacama desert, the driest place on earth.  I expected a miserable dust bowl, but Arica was actually a nice place.  Rivers do bring water from the mountains to irrigate parks and trees.  The weather there was bright and sunny as expected. 

  
It was a busy little city with lots of stalls set up along the streets.  After my fill of that I took the challenging hike to the top of the barren hill and Morrow Arica.  The landscape looked like the moon with nary a weed growing anywhere.  Great view from up there.

                                                                       Arica, Chile 

  
And then came the stop at Coquimbo.  I’d spent the night there on my only other trip to Chile ten years previously so it was vaguely familiar.  Before getting off the ship, I noticed a sign in the lobby saying that it was 15 kilometers to the city center.  But I could clearly see the cross overlooking the city right near-by.  I asked at the desk and was informed that the sign was correct and that it was actually a long way around.  I didn’t think so.

  
As I was leaving the ship, I noticed “Miss Colombia” and asked her about it.  Oh, no, we are docked right in town she confirmed.  I told her of the incorrect information posted in the lobby.  She promised to look into it.  Not surprisingly, when I returned to the ship several hours later, the sign had not been changed.  I’m done giving them the benefit of the doubt.  I’ll assume it was intentional as a ploy to sell more shore excursions.

   
I walked all over Coquimbo, first trying to reach the cross on the hill.  This time a lady warned me of a dangerous neighborhood in the direction I was headed.  She suggested an alternate route which I took.  It was a vigorous climb.  I returned to town to find the usual WiFi and cheap beer.  But this time I also found a much-needed haircut.  I think it was 5 or 6 dollars.  And I walked to the seaside fortress at the other end of town.  Lots of walking in all.

                                                                       Coquimbo

  
I also bought a bottle of wine to take on board.  I knew it would be detected, but the corkage fee was less than buying the ships wine.  I’d done this at one other stop.  And despite being set up for the situation, they mishandled it both times.

  
It was on to the final destination and end of my month-long journey on the Norwegian Star.  I was ready to get off.  The port was San Antonio, Chile.  It’s a nothing town, but accessible to Santiago.  I think cruise ships used to dock regularly at the much more interesting Valparaiso, but were moved away for some reason.

  
I’d purchased the surely overpriced, but convenient, bus transfer to the Santiago airport.  The plan was to meet Tony there and fly south the same day.   So, let me introduce Tony and tell that story.

  
Tony lives and works in Santa Barbara, Calif.  Lin had lived there briefly ten years ago or so and met him.  I guess they dated briefly but mostly became bike riding buddies.  Tony is an enthusiastic bicyclist.  He’s also interested in hiking and all things outdoors.  So Lin has invited him up to stay with us a couple times in the summer so that he could enjoy our outdoor activities.  He’s borrowed one of her bikes and had a very good time here.

  
I met Tony that first year and liked him.  He’s quiet, easy-going and very easy to please.  He’s almost child-like in his enthusiasm for some things.  So last summer while he was here and I was planning, I asked if he’d be interested in joining me for any of this trip.  He quickly jumped on the driving Patagonia part.  That fell over Christmas and New Years which was perfect for him since he didn’t have family and his office was closed then.

  
Tony and I coordinated plans over the next few months.  His travel experience was limited, so he went along with whatever I recommended.  We’d first planned to drive from Santiago and back, but later realized that the good scenery didn’t start until a good 500 miles south of Santiago.  That distance could be covered in an airline flight cheaper than the gas to drive it.  So we booked flights to Puerto Montt and a rental car from there.

  
Tony flew from Los Angeles to Santiago, arriving a couple days before me.  He had a good time exploring the city on foot.  It was a very new experience for him.  Weeks prior, I’d received notification from the airline of a schedule change delaying our previously well-timed flight down to Puerto Montt.  I informed him of this but he said he’d received no notice so was abiding by the original schedule. 

  
I arrived at the Santiago airport and confirmed that the flight was indeed later in the evening.  Tony showed up early with time to kill.   The saving grace was my lounge pass.   We were able to enjoy some good food and pleasant atmosphere while waiting.

  
Now a word about smart phones, sim cards and such.  International travel brings up lots of problems and solutions when it comes to phones and how to communicate.  At one end of the spectrum, you can just seek out and use WiFi where available to do all needed communication.  Since just about every hotel has WiFi, this can work out if no problems come up.  A better option is a sim card for the country you are in.  This converts your phone into a local phone, allows free calls within the country and gives internet access almost everywhere through cell phone data.

  
But this solution involves buying the card, installing it and doing whatever it takes to activate it.  Easy for some, but a likely source of problems to some of us.  Also, a sim card is generally only good in one country.  So it becomes cumbersome if traveling through many.

  
My final option is that my phone plan gives me the option of full connectivity almost anywhere for $10 per day.  A little expensive, but totally convenient in that I don’t need to do anything.  So, I didn’t buy any sim cards, used WiFi most of the time, and used a day of phone and data when needed.  It worked out OK.  I just had to remember that I had a phone if needed, and to turn off that function when it wasn’t, to save money.  I’ve yet to see the bill though to see how it worked out.

  
In any case, on that day, we were waiting in Santiago for out evening flight.  Both the rental car agency and the hotel were expecting us much earlier than we’d be getting there.  To my surprise, I was able to reach both by phone and convey our late arrival.  No problem in both cases.  That was somewhat of a relief.

  
Anxiety was never-the-less ratcheted up again with a further delayed departure, slowness leaving the gate and an endless taxi to take-off.  I thought we’d never be on our way.  But we finally arrived Puerto Montt, tired, frustrated and anxious to reach our hotel. 

  
Car rentals in Latin America can be a time-consuming ordeal.  But this one went smoothly.  We picked up our tiny Suzuki Swift and set out for the hotel.  Tony was driving and I was trying to navigate.  I’d bought a card with data for all of South America and installed it in my Garmin GPS.  I’d been unable to test it though so was hoping it would work right.  It didn’t.  We floundered around in the dark, reading signs, using my trusty compass and navigating by wits. 

  
We arrived downtown and circled around the one-way streets a few times before locating our place to stay.  It was late and we were tired.  Fortunately, check-in at 1:00 AM went well and we were soon set for the night.

  
Being December and well south of the equator, days were long and dawn came early.  We were up and rarin’ to go.  Because of ferry schedules, our flexibility was limited.  I’d made reservations for that night at the embarkation point that was not that far away.  We’d not planned any of the details so now consulted the map.  We had all day to reach Hornopiren, so opted to loop north and see more sights on the way. 

  
We’d have loved to have found a nice coffee shop on the way out of town for a good breakfast and hot coffee.  But such is not to be found in Chile.  In fact, the country is notably devoid of American franchises of any kind.  With rare exception in big cities, there are no McDonalds, Starbucks, KFC etc. in Chile.  We found instead a little bakery and then a stand selling coffee next to where fishermen were selling fish.  It was all good despite the fact that coffee in Chile was almost always instant.  We got used to it.

  
Somewhat sated, we headed north out of town.   Not sure what I did, but the GPS came to life and provided reliable info from then on.  After a little wandering, we found the highway to Volcan Osorno.  The beautiful volcano was reflected perfectly in the large lake in front of us.  The weather was perfect with glorious blue skies.  We soon learned that this was not the usual for the region.

  
The highway took us by the volcano and some waterfalls to another picturesque lake at the end of the road.  The air was clean and the scenery beautiful.  From there, we followed a lesser road along the fjords to eventually reach our destination for the night.  The road was sometimes gravel, quite curvy and hilly.  Tony loved the challenging conditions.  I noted the numerous fish farms along the way.  I can see where all the salmon on the menus comes from.

  
Along the way we saw a sign for “pump track”.  I wouldn’t have known what that was if not for Tony.  But it’s an off-road bicycle thing that he’s totally into.  So we stopped.  The people were very friendly and it turned out to be a good place for lunch.  And Tony got to take a circuit on their pump track. 

                                                              Tony on the pump track

  
Our accommodations for the night were fine, with a shared bath.  But the small town had no restaurants to speak of.  We ended up eating in the room from our supplies of convenience store food.  Bread for Tony, cheese for me.  It rained that night.

  
In the morning, I had a paid reservation for the ferry and knew where the dock was.  But I had to pick up the actual tickets somewhere.  We set out and found the office.  It was a cumbersome affair with people taking a number and waiting to purchase or pick up the tickets.  Since I’d paid a good sum to a “fixer” to procure the tickets, I was confident that all would go smoothly.

  
I was wrong.  When my turn came, I was informed that they had no record of me.  I was offered a stand-by position on the ferry.  That wouldn’t do.  So, I invoked my $10 phone calling privileges and called the agency.  To my surprise, I got through to someone that could speak English and deal with the issue.  She said she’d take care of it and get back to me.

  
Meanwhile, I went back to the office and took another number.  When my turn came, she issued me the tickets.  Well, after all the formalities of filling out forms, showing passports and providing plate numbers.  Not sure just what had happened, but we were glad to be going with the boat.  As it turned out, the ferry was not totally full.  We could have shown up that morning with no reservation and gotten on.  But we couldn’t take that chance of being delayed a day or more.  This ferry was once a day, and the only way through.

                                                                  Boarding the ferry

  
The ferry ride was spectacular, taking about 3 ½ hours.  It proceeded down a long fjord with steep tree-covered mountains on either side.  Waterfalls poured from the hills frequently.   The terrain so rugged that no highway had been built nor one anticipated that could circumvent this ferry.  We were on the only highway to southern Chile.

  
This ferry ride was unique in that it was in two parts.  We offloaded from the boat onto a gravel road.  Our entire contingent of cars and trucks proceeded for about ten kilometers to the other side of the peninsula.  There, we drove onto another identical ferry for the second part of our transit.  This was a much shorter ride.

                                                                     Chilean fjord

  
When finally off, we were free of the confines of a ferry schedule and on our own.  Up to this point, I’d planned and reserved all accommodations, but now we’d need to find a place each night.  Fortunately, Chile is good for that.  The equivalent of roadside motels abound.  Most are called cabanas and are stand-alone structures or little duplex cabins.  Sometimes it is just rooms rented out by people with large houses.  The few bigger towns have actual commercial lodging, but for the most part we were dealing with individuals.  They all wanted cash and few did much paperwork.  And especially this far south, English was useless.

  
Speaking of English…  Despite all my travels in the Spanish speaking world, my ability with the language remains quite limited.  It’s very frustrating.  I’ve tried to cram more into my head but have reached the sad conclusion that it’s very difficult to pick up a foreign language in later years.  Most of what I know, I learned prior to high school.  How I wish I’d studied it more when I had that opportunity.  Tony’s Spanish was considerably less than mine, but he tried gamely.

  
Communication was sometimes difficult.  We both had translators on our phones and could usually decipher things in writing.  But the rapid talking was usually impossible for me to pick up.  And unlike most other places in the world, everyone there assumed that we spoke Spanish and would spit out a whole bunch of words before my gaping incomprehension became apparent.  Another frustration I found was that even after telling someone that I didn’t know much Spanish and asking them to speak slowly, it rarely helped.  Instead of using some gestures and finding simpler words, they’d just keep repeating things loudly and rapidly.  Then look annoyed that we didn’t understand.  A few would try their limited English, but that was not common.

  
We’d done little research for our road trip through Patagonia.  We knew we wanted to go as far south as we had time for, then return north through parts of Argentina and be back in time for our return flight to Santiago.  Beyond that, we had no plan.

  
The highway was mostly good.  A lot of it paved, but much gravel.  Being summer, there was lots of construction and maintenance going on.  Some of the gravel road had dust, mud or large potholes, but most of it was pretty good driving.  We probably averaged about 60 km per hour.  Towns of any size were far apart, and gas stations infrequent.  We filled up at every opportunity and never had a problem.

                                                        Scenic Carretera Austral

  
We came to the town of Chaiten, which I’d read a little about.  It sits at the base of a volcano.  That volcano was assumed to be dormant until it erupted unexpectedly in 2008.  It wiped out a good portion of the town and changed the landscape considerably.  The government declared it off-limits for tourist lodging so there wasn’t any place to stay there.  Oddly, though, we saw lots of new homes constructed right where they can be wiped out again.

  
It was dinner time, so we found a place to eat in Chaiten.  It was a pizza/burger joint themed on the volcano.  Many photos were on the walls and the owner wanted to tell us about it.  My burger would have been great if the bacon had been cooked.  Do they really eat it that way?

  
After buying a few more supplies at a grocery store, we continued down the road for another hour or two to La Junta.  It was a sleepy little town without much to offer, but it did have accommodations.  The first place we inquired though had no vacancies.  Uh-oh, we feared.  Would this be a common thing?  It turned out no.  We asked where else we might look and she directed us down the street to a place called “Museo”. 

  
We found the museum and they did have a room for us.  The place was unique, to say the least.  It was an old wooden house, as that’s what most all of the construction was around there.  It had creaky uneven floors, low ceilings and weird stairways.  It had obviously been added onto and modified many times over the decades.  A wood stove was burning to keep things warm.

   
But what made it a museum was the large amount of funky stuff on display.  There was way too much furniture and loads of other interesting items cluttering up the place.  We were shown a couple of rooms to choose from, each with their own drawbacks.  We chose the one with no windows and low ceilings.  The bathroom was nearby and the price was cheap.

  
Bear in mind that this was summer and the wood stove was going.  This part of the country seems to be either cool or cold.  The stove apparently isn’t quite adequate in the winter, so the beds were equipped with heavy blankets.  Tony counted nine layers on his bed.  Mine must have been similar.  Sleeping under such a load provided some exercise.

  
The ideal weather we’d encountered our first day out of Puerto Montt was long gone.  We were in a temperate rain forest and consequently it remained cool and cloudy with occasional rain.  It never rained hard, but never remained dry for long either.  Reminded me a little of Ketchikan, Alaska.  Everything was sure lush and green because of this however.  There were loads of rushing streams and waterfalls.

                                                                 Lots of wildflowers

  
The weather had a tendency to keep us on the move.  It never seemed nice enough to get out and explore much.  Maybe we just kept expecting it to get better further down the road.  In any case, we were covering our intended route too quickly.  We did make one stop at a place called “Hanging Glacier”.  It wasn’t too far off the highway.  We reached kind of a ranger station to find that going further would cost a healthy entrance fee and require a long hike.

  
With misty rain falling, we were trying to decide whether to do it or not, when a ranger pointed out that we could see the glacier by standing on a nearby rock.  We did, we saw, and decided to not get all wet for a closer look.  On down the road we proceeded.

                                                               Plenty of livestock

  
Further south, we detoured a little to visit the port towns of Puerto Aisen and Puerto Chacabuco.  The former was a busy place where we were able to locate a hardware store for a couple of needed items.  At the latter, I was surprised to see the Norwegian Star anchored in port.  Our paths crossed again.  And a few miles out of town we stopped at a lonely roadside waterfall, only to have a bus pull up and eject a crowd of tourists to see it also.  Yes, they were from the Star.  Damned cruisers.

  
The Andes mountain range dominates the west side of South America, running the full length of the continent.  They go as high as 20,000 feet near Santiago and make for some very high mountain passes.  What I didn’t realize is that they aren’t nearly so tall down at the south end.  They are still steep and spectacular mountains, just lower with passes that aren’t much of an obstacle. 

  
And like mountains on the west coast of North America they catch moisture on their west slope and create a dry area to the east.  As we continued down the highway we found ourselves more or less on the dry side when we reached Coihaique.  The area was still attractive, but gone was the lush greenery, replaced by pastures and some rocky hills. 

  
I didn’t mind much but Tony much preferred the wet and green.  We realized that if we were to drive all the way back north on the Argentine side, it would be pretty barren.  We studied the map and re-thought our options.

  
It was Christmas Eve and we wondered if we’d have trouble procuring a room on Christmas day.  We were well ahead of schedule and not sure how to use up our remaining days.  Coihaique being the only big town that far south, we decided to take a room there for two nights and come up with a plan.  We found an actual hotel at the edge of town.  The comfortable room with private bath and included breakfast were all welcome.

  
The town was nice as well.  In the busy downtown, a whole block seemed dedicated to Christmas wrapping.  Card tables were set up on the sidewalks and people were wrapping other peoples last minute gifts.  Many restaurants were closed for the holidays but we found one and had a good dinner.

  
Staying two nights in one place gave us a chance to do laundry… always something to deal with on long trips.  And having a balcony allowed for a good place to dry things.   Thankfully hotel management returned my shorts that the wind took and deposited below.

  
Considering our options, we figured we’d covered the best parts of the highway and that there wasn’t a whole lot more to see further south.  So we decided to spend Christmas day driving as far south as we felt like, then returning to the hotel.  With a full tank of fuel we set out that morning after breakfast.

  
We went another 100 miles or so south to a big lake.  Looked like a good turn around point, so we did.  The road was good and scenic, though not at all like the lush green mountains nearer the coast.

  
We found one point of interest along that stretch.  A gravel road took us to a parking lot and small visitor center.  Then a short hike got us to “Las Manos de Cerro Castillo” or hands of the castle hill.  It was cliffs with ancient hand prints still visible.

  
Also on the way back, the Argentine border was close by.   So we decided to go see if crossing the border was going to be a challenge.  But we found the Chilean checkpoint at the last town some distance from the border and decided against going to the trouble.  I was surprised to see a modern airport at this little border town.  It apparently served Coihaique, many miles away.

  
Tony and I split the driving, though if he’d had his way, he’d have been behind the wheel most of the time.  His enthusiasm for driving mountain roads equaled that of his zest for mountain biking.  He was thrilled that rental cars in Chile come with manual transmissions, and viewed all curves and hills as challenges for his driving skills.  Gravel was just one more obstacle to be dealt with.  That our econobox had only about twelve horsepower didn’t bother him at all.  Just added to the challenge.

  
One stretch of highway on this run had a long hill with numerous hair-pin turns.  Tony had driven down it, but the uphill climb came during my stint.  He was salivating at the chance to squeal the tires on that run a second time.  So, at his request, we stopped at the top and I got out.  He raced down and back up in pretty good time and was exhilarated.  I was happy to have not been riding along.

  
Later in the trip, I finally had to ask him to cool it.  Sliding around curves in the gravel was surely fun, but an accident out in the middle of nowhere, Argentina would be extremely inconvenient.  He agreed and slowed down.

  
Back at our nice hotel, we found good dinner again in town and slept well.  But we woke to no water at the taps.  Our man in charge apologized and provided a bucket of water for flushing.

  
Now we had to plan our return trip.  If we went east from there into Argentina, it would be like driving through Nevada.  We’d make good time with little to see.  And finding ourselves with days to kill, making good time wasn’t a priority.  So, we elected to backtrack up Hwy 7 for a ways and maybe see anything we’d missed coming south.  Then we’d cross over into Argentina and go as far north as time allowed.

  
Before leaving Coihaique though, Tony had seen an interesting cemetery that he wanted to visit.  We managed to find it again and spent a little time walking through it.  Quite interesting.  The graves were all little concrete buildings and each generally served a whole family.  They were all different, some simple and some elaborate.  It was extensive and apparently all the important people of the city were interred there.

  
Back on the highway, we returned to the lush green mountains nearer the water.  Again, rushing streams, waterfalls and challenging roads.  It really was a beautiful drive.  There was lots of livestock along the roads, often roaming free.  We didn’t see that much wildlife, with the exception of foxes.  I don’t think I’d ever seen a fox in the wild, but saw three in Patagonia.

  
We backtracked north finding one stretch of alternate route.  And we took a side spur to the sleepy little town of Puerto Cisnes.   After a good walk around, we had a tasty lunch at a place that surely doesn’t see many tourists. 

  
Tony embraced the dining experience and seemed to enjoy whatever meal was delivered.  It was rarely just what we were expecting.  And Tony doesn’t drink at all, so would often order coffee with meals.  But his favorite was hot chocolate and he found many places that served up a fine mug of that.  At one meal he ordered pizza, coffee AND hot chocolate.  The waitress looked confused.  I just shook my head.  Some things are just wrong.

  
A ways further north and it was time to go east and head for Argentina.  The highway shown on the map turned out to be a minimal dirt road winding deep into the mountains.  At one point we came upon a big pick-up truck laying on its side in the road.  Don’t see how that happened, but help was on site trying to right it.  The main attraction of this whole area was white water rafting.  There were many businesses advertising rentals and tours.  The rivers did indeed look exciting.

  
After quite a ways, we came to the cute little town Futalaufu, still in Chile.  With the accent on the last syllable, we did learn how to pronounce it, but it wasn’t easy.   We found lodging in someone’s cabana located behind their main house.  Like most, it was rustic and unique.  The guy built a fire in the wood stove for us.  Tony slept in the loft.  And like most of our accommodations, it had some kitchen supplies.  We’d bought instant coffee so were able to heat water and get ourselves going in the mornings.

                                                                     Typical Cabana

  

We set out knowing we’d be crossing the border soon for the first time and hoping all our paperwork was in order.  Soon we came to a station with a roof over the roadway.  It appeared to be a drive through border crossing as we have on the Mexican border.

  
But as we waited, the short line didn’t move and a van load of people behind us unloaded and went into the building.  Apparently, we needed to also, so did.  We lined up behind the van people and presented our paperwork to the clerk.  He, of course, asked questions in Spanish to which we mostly shrugged.  Tony, for some reason, didn’t have the exit paper with his passport that he should have.  That brought scowls.  But after much perusing and stamping, we were waved away.

  
Done, we thought, and went back to the car.  But as we were starting to drive through, the guy from a second window in the building came out and waved us over.  We’d only completed the passport side of the process, he was the customs guy and we needed his OK as well.  So back in we went and presented all the same stuff to him.  He added some more stamps and initials and we were finally cleared to go.

  
But that was just the leaving Chile half of the deal.  A couple miles down the road, we came to the Argentine border office.  This too, was just a little building along the gravel road.  We parked and went inside.  The ritual was similar, with two or three different people all looking over the paperwork and doing whatever their narrow job required.  The whole process was terribly inefficient and bureaucratic.   But our paperwork was in order so we had no problems.

  
I thought the border between the two countries were essentially on the spine of the Andes and along the continental divide.  Further north, border crossings are at high mountain passes.  Here, not at all.  We were in a valley at an elevation of only about 1000 feet.

  
The countryside gradually changed from mountains to grassy farmland.  Not too far into Argentina we were stopped at a police checkpoint.  Oh, this might not be good.  I remembered Cambodia and the need to bribe the police there.  But this was different.  The police were very polite.  They checked our paperwork and bid us a good day.

  
The first town of any size we came to was Esquel.  It was a pleasant place with wide streets.  Since we had plenty of time, we got out and had a good walk around.  The downtown was busy.  What was unusual about the city was the total lack of stop signs or traffic signals.  Every intersection was a free-for-all and it seemed to work.  What a contrast to the preponderance of 4-way stops at home.

  
We had lunch at a sidewalk restaurant.  During out time there, a wedding procession went through the main intersection twice honking and yelling.

                                                              The dry side of the Andes

  
We continued northward with not much of a plan.  Next up was the city of San Carlos de Bariloche.  It sounded vaguely familiar as a place worth visiting, but we hadn't done any research and I wasn’t at all sure.  Our initial entry to the city was through an industrial area with a road blocked off due to some minor accident.  With poor favellas on the hillside, it wasn’t at all impressive until we found our way down to the lake and downtown.  Then it looked rather nice.

  
After meandering around some, we found a hostel within walking distance of what looked to be the good part of town.  Now Argentina was in the midst of yet another financial mess.  Inflation is running rampant and the government is trying to keep things under control.  The people love foreign currency as theirs devalues daily.  But there are laws and taxes to discourage them hoarding it.  I’d heard that U.S. dollars spent well there so had brought some along. 

  
Yes, indeed the hostel would gladly take dollars and give a good rate.  The rub though was that the money had to be in almost flawless condition.  Apparently, some banks won’t take tattered bills, so everyone down the line gets pickier and pickier so as not to get stuck with a bill no one will take.  All rather silly as worn out bills spend fine in the states.

  
Anyway, I came up with the money in crisp bills.  We did get local money as well.  Oddly over the four week span that I was in and out of Argentina, I didn’t notice the inflation issue at all.

   
The city sits on a large and very scenic lake.  With mountains and trees around, it is an alpine setting.  Kind of reminded me of Lake Tahoe.  And there are lots of Germans in Argentina and this seemed to be a prime location for them.  The town had a Bavarian/Austrian vibe.  Nothing about it felt like Latin America except for the language.

  
The weather was somewhat cool and windy.  The air crisp and clean.  We walked along the lake which had nice parks and such.  An ice rink was built on stilts almost over the water, which seemed odd.  We went in for a look.  It was full of kids.   The ice was mostly puddles and the kids all wore helmets.  I see we’re not the only country gone nuts over head safety.

  
We continued checking out the attractive town.   Then finally settled on a Bavarian style restaurant for dinner.  I had a steak and a local Malbec.  Seemed appropriate for our first night in Argentina.   Both were very good.

  
Our hostel was basic and the breakfast minimal, but we decided to stay another night.  There was more to explore in the local area and we had the time to do it.  They gave us a nice tourist map of the area and suggestions as to where to go.  And that came in English, which was nice.

  
Off we went in the car.   The lake has numerous arms and inlets.  Our loop drive went by many scenic places.  We got out and took a few hiking trails.  There were huge and interesting trees.  At one location, a chair lift took us to a rocky mountain top for a spectacular view of the whole area.  Lunch we enjoyed outdoors at a small marina.

  
There were many expensive homes in the area, often built of logs.  And lots of businesses catering to tourists such as tours and boat rentals.  There was skiing nearby in winter as well, so this was the all-season vacation spot.  I imagine the rich and famous from Buenos Aires go there frequently. 

  
The following day we headed out again, north on the route of seven lakes.  The plan was to continue north a ways further then cut back west into Chile, then south to Puerto Montt.  We still had time to kill.  We could easily have driven back to Santiago, but there were too many contrary plans in place to make that work out.

  
The countryside was pretty desolate and the roads lonely.  It alternated between pavement and gravel.  The scenery was always pleasant though.  Livestock was more prevalent than other vehicles. 

  
We made one more stop in Argentina at the town of San Martin de los Andes.  It had a big public beach that many were enjoying, along with food carts and other vendors.  We walked up and down it searching for a bathroom/outhouse but there weren’t any.  Where did all those people go?  Finally found a grimy bano in the bus station a couple of blocks away.

Eventually, we reached the border crossing.  It was the same routine as previously.  A lonely outpost on either side of the border required two stops and the approval of a few bureaucrats.  We successfully processed back into Chile.

  
We were ready to stop for the night, but had a hard time finding a place to do it.  The first town of any size, Cunco, was a rough-looking place that didn’t seem to have any accommodations, if we’d dared to stay there.  The next town wasn’t that far, but the road turned out to be very winding and slow.  Finally, we arrived at Villarrica.  It looked OK with a cute downtown.  We were at the Spanish equivalent of 1^st and Main and spotted a hostel.  It was upstairs over a drugstore or something.  The girl spoke a little English and we got a basic room at a basic price.  Dinner across the street was just fine after a long day of driving.

  
In the morning, we actually found a good place for breakfast.  I forget the theme, but it had many glass display cases mounted on every available wall showing off thousands of key chains and coasters.  Different.  Also curious was how many people they had on duty.  There were at least ten people bustling around doing various preparations chores.  I assume they were expecting to get much busier.

  
Parking was not free downtown after 9:00 am.  We didn’t quite make the deadline and the parking marshal was right there to ring up our small fee.  Tony hated paying to park and grumbled about that for a while.

  
We were in the area of Chile known as the Lakes Region and there were certainly several pleasant lakes.  With time to burn still, we headed east to the lakeside town of Pucon, that looked as though it might have something to offer.

  
On the way, we turned off and went up the mountain to a ski area on the side of Vulcan Villarrica.  Being summer, it was quiet, but we walked around the lodge and even hiked up to the nearest remaining snow.  It wasn’t much of a ski area by our standards, but had a good view.  At another spot, Tony took a longer hike while I stayed with the car and caught up with my trip notes.

  
The city of Pucon turned out to be worthwhile.  With the lake and nearby ski area, it too was an all-season resort area.  The downtown was up-scale and attractive with loads of restaurants.  We parked and took a long walking tour.  The weather was perfect and we ended up eating lunch outdoors at an Arabian restaurant.  Huge sandwiches.  Found a convenient store that was a supermarket below and a full hardware store upstairs.  We bought snacks and I found tape to repair my pants.  Yes, it worked.

  
Pucon had a nice beach and with the weather so warm, I figured it was time for a swim.  Tony went walking instead.  The water was a little cool, but it felt good to enjoy one of the natural lakes of the area. 

                                                                           Pucon

  
After that, we took another walk together to the far end of the beach.  There, they were doing parasail rides, but different from how I’d seen it done elsewhere.  The boat was just a zodiac like thing that didn’t look powerful enough, but obviously was.  The pilot and paying passenger were pulled directly away from the beach and into the strong breeze.  While outbound, they let out a lot of rope and the parachute ended up quite high.  It was then cut loose and turned back in to shore.  With the wind, it got back easily, circled a bit and landed back at the starting point.  All fun to watch.

  
We’d pretty well used up the day so decided to stay another night back at the same town.  Tony didn’t want to deal with parking downtown, so we searched outside a ways.  Didn’t have much luck finding lodging.  We even parked and walked several blocks.  Many places posted signs for cabanas but when we tried, we’d find locked gates, or nobody home.  Sometimes the place just looked uninviting and sometimes they only provided a phone number to call.  We weren’t going to do that.  After quite a bit of frustration, we found a hotel that was very reasonable and more convenient.  And they had free parking.  It was an odd place with our room upstairs, around a few corners and down some long hallways.

  
The next morning was New Years eve.  We aimed south with still a couple of extra days on our schedule.  We detoured east to loop around one more lake, but by then had seen enough.  We stopped in the middle of one town to consult the map.  We didn’t even get out of the car, but while there, Johnny-on-the-spot parking guy slipped a tag under the wiper and was there to collect his ten cents or so just as we were about to pull away.  They sure get the job done, much to our annoyance.

  
A little later, we got caught in a traffic tie-up that appeared to be due to an accident up ahead.  I walked forward to investigate and people kept asking me for a report of what was going on.  They didn’t seem to grasp that I really couldn’t communicate very well with them.  Since we were just aimlessly sight-seeing anyway, we opted to go around rather than sit there indefinitely.  We ended up on about 25 miles of bad road that eventually led us back to where we were headed.  We then saw a freshly mangled small tourist bus that must have been the cause of our delay.

                                                            Another nice Chilean lake

  
We bought gas, then searched for a place for lunch.  And we got lucky.  A cute restaurant overlooked the river with a good view of the surrounding mountains.  The menu was readable and the girl spoke good English.  The place had a firehouse theme which was interesting and the food was good.  Score!

  
After that we got on the main freeway that connects Puerto Montt with Santiago.  Only it wasn’t quite a freeway since we had to pay toll.  We also got stopped in another police checkpoint.  But like the one in Argentina, the cops were polite and after checking our documents, sent us on our way.

  
We ended up in the town of Frutillar.  It was on a different bank of the same lake we’d passed the first morning of this road trip.  The town was ugly with not much going on as we searched out accommodations.  We found a rustic cabana and did business with the gruff old man that owned it.  We needed instructions on how to light the water heater and such.

  
We then set out looking for dinner, but there was nothing nearby.  Then remembering that it was supposed to be a lakeside town and we didn’t see any lake, we figured we were in the wrong part of town.  We drove down off of the bluff to find the very nice tourist area by the water.   Osorno volcano was reflected beautifully in the setting sun.

  
But it was New Years eve, getting late, and some places were closed.  We finally found a nice restaurant open.  Tony got pasta.  I saw abalone on the menu and couldn’t resist.  It won’t be found on menus in the states and I hadn’t had any in probably forty years.  Our very generous meals arrived.  The abalone was rather tough and not all that delicious.  We both had leftovers for lunch the next day.

  
We awoke January 1 to noisy birds and a crowing rooster.  We enjoyed instant coffee in the room before hitting the road again.  We looped north around the big lake, then down the east side.  Tony had done a little research and found that there was a road up to the ski area on the volcano.

  
After a couple stops along the road to appreciate the view of the lake and its very clear water, we located the small road.  It was paved all the way up and a great drive.  We stopped at one spot for a short hike before reaching the ski lodge.

  
Again, it wasn’t much of a ski area, but probably plenty for the skiing population of the region.  Oddly, I saw a carload of guys return from the mountain, removing their ski boots.  The nearest snow was way up the mountain.  It appeared they’d skied down the pumice covered mountain.

  
Back down and around the lake we arrived at the town of Puerto Varras.  Tony had read of a museum that looked interesting and we stumbled on it right away.  It was easy to find as it was a house with the bow of a boat grafted onto it protruding towards the highway.  We stopped and went in as it was run on donations only.

                                                            Museum at Puerto Varras

  
The place was the work of one man who was working upstairs.  He collected stuff, painted and added on to his house.  The construction was very haphazard and totally interesting.  I appreciate that kind of thing.  His collections included old typewriters, a stoplight, and a slew of other odd stuff.  I liked his artwork.

  
After lunch in town, we headed south again.  We were now very near Puerto Montt with still a day and a half to kill.  I opted to go to Chiloe Island and Tony agreed.  It’s a good-sized island with ferry service across a narrow strait.  The people there reportedly think of themselves as rather special, and identify more as Chiloeans than Chilenos.  The map showed a penguin colony and a lighthouse conveniently located.

  
As we neared the end of the road, we didn’t know what to expect at the ferry dock.  Remembering our earlier experience, would we be turned away for lack of a reservation?  Would we have to go wait in line and provide all sorts of documentation?  How many ferries were there per day?  Might we have to wait for one the next day?

  
All questions were soon answered.  As we approached, we were waved forward and directly onto the ramp and the waiting large ferry.  Shortly after we got on, the ramp was raised and we were off.  A guy came around with a portable credit card machine, quickly ran our charge and that was it.  What a contrast in efficiency and unnecessary paperwork.

  
On the island we drove another twenty minutes to the main city of Ancud.  A working port town, it was rather ugly.  Most buildings looked as though they hadn’t been updated or painted in 50 years.  We stopped for a walk around and found the place pretty dead.  Of course, it was New Year’s day so much was closed.

  
We then set out to find a place to stay which turned into quite the odyssey.  There were no Ramadas or Motel 6es.  Only little private hostels and cabanas.  We passed a few possibilities and ended up on a lonely road that took us a long ways out of town.  We returned, checking out all possibilities along the way.  In some cases, signs led us to nothing, in others, no one answered when we banged on the door.  Many other places just looked unpleasant.

  
We headed back in the direction of the ferry remembering accommodations along that highway.  We pulled into one rural cabana resort.  Nobody was at the office, but as we were leaving, a greasy guy wandered over.  When I asked about accommodations, he looked me over as if considering whether I met the high standards of their place or not.  He finally said that they did.

  
Very anxious to finally get settled for the night, but feeling leery of the choice, I asked if we could see the room.  He grumbled, and led us down the path.  Right before our cabin, was an angry German Shepherd tied up.  He barked viciously at us.  Tony had been bothered most mornings by birds, dogs or other noisy things.  He wasn’t thrilled with this mean dog.

  
The room was pretty shabby.  I could have gone either way on the decision to stay there or not.  Then Tony went into the bathroom and came out with one thin purple bath towel.  He asked if we’d be able to get another.  The guy shook his head no.

  
With that, Mr. easy-to-please Tony had reached his limit.  He dropped the towel and said “let’s keep looking.”  We walked away without a word.  I was surprised at his backbone there and had to laugh at the whole situation.  Fortunately, we found a much nicer place soon after that.

  
After enjoying our delicious instant coffee in the room the next morning, we headed out for the penguin colony.  Signs led us there and Tony had read up on it a little.  After driving across the beach a ways, we were waved into a parking lot.  The penguins were on small islands just off shore, so we’d be viewing them on a small boat tour.  Signs indicated we’d need to wait a while for the first one so we walked the beach and checked things out.

  
The tour was only about $10 each.  The boats were big open skiffs with outboard motors.  We were located in a protected bay with a shallow flat beach.  Our boat was rolled out by hand on its trailer and put in the water.  There was no dock.  Rather than make us wade through the water to the boat though, they had a clever solution.  Six or eight of us were led to a set of steps that led up to a platform a few feet above the sand.  This was on wheels so the same guys rolled us out to the boat where we could board without getting wet.   The process was reversed when we came back in.

                                                             Going to see penguins

  
The tour lasted 40 minutes or so and was good.  We got up close to the penguins where they lived on the rocks and swam in the water.  Other birds such as cormorants were there as well.  The water was very clean and we could see lots of bright red starfish.

  
After that, we drove out to a far end of the island to the lighthouse.  The lighthouse wasn’t too special, but the location was great.  The clouds were high enough for a good view in all directions.  Several far-away volcanoes could be seen.

  
The landscape was rolling hills with tall grass and few trees.  A cool breezed brought fresh air and a growing appetite.  It was time for lunch.

  
We headed back into town in search of food.  But like finding a place to stay, that can be elusive.  I told Tony to stop at the first Burger King he saw.  But that was, of course, a joke.  There was nothing of the sort.  What they do have is shabby food shacks or storefronts with a sign out indicating what they have to offer.  Places to eat aren’t that obvious, and then once found, most aren’t very appealing.

  
But we found one that looked good.  We went in, sat down, and waited.  And waited some more.  There were only a few customers there but they seemed to occupy all of the waitress’s time and attention.

  
When I finally caught her eye, she looked surprised and asked something to the affect of “Oh, you want to eat here?”  I avoided using any smart-ass sarcasm and indicated yes.  We waited several more minutes without her making another appearance.  Again, mild-mannered Tony had had enough and out we went.

  
This time we found nothing else for a while.  Signs would advertise a restaurant, but inevitably they’d be closed or no longer in business.  Finally, along the highway we came to a place that looked promising.  I went in to check it out and was immediately greeted by the husband and wife team that wanted to serve me.  So I waved Tony in and we sat down.  There were no other customers.

  
We learned right off that there was no menu.  They were offering the meal of the day, and that was it.  Today’s offering was merlusa, a white fish, which I’d had and liked but which Tony hadn’t been interested in.  He told me to go ahead though. 

  
I ordered my meal, and in the confusion, Tony thought he’d ordered just coffee, but I suspected they were bringing him a meal, as well.  Sure enough out came two big plates of food.  But it turned out fine as Tony discovered that he liked the fish just fine after all.

  
The island of Chiloe is famous for its old wooden churches.  I don’t remember the exact history, but I guess they were built by missionaries some three hundred years ago.  Most are still standing and being preserved today.  There are many scattered about the middle of the island.  We were headed that direction.  But after lunch, it seemed to be getting late and we were ready to just get back to Puerto Montt. 

  
We turned around and went directly to the ferry.  The process was just as quick and easy returning.  And it was a nice ferry ride to boot.

  
Puerto Montt is a good-sized city.  We were approaching it from a different direction.  Fortunately, the GPS led us right into and through the middle of town.  We had a different hotel reserved this time, in the heart of the city.  That can be convenient, or not, when you have a car to deal with.

  
We couldn’t find any place to park nearby so ended up walking several blocks back to the hotel.  And it was hard to find due to the fact that the front was boarded over with plywood.  We finally found the sign on the door.  It turned out to be a reasonably nice place in disguise.  I got access to their garage, we fetched the car and checked in.

  
Chile had had recent political problems with riots and such.  Santiago got most of the action, but apparently this city was also either hit or thought they would be.  The whole downtown area was fortified with plywood and sheet metal.  Made it look ugly and rather sinister.

  
Tony went out for a walk, but I had some business to attend to.  Back around the first of November, we got burglarized.  That coupled with the bicycle stealing event of a couple years previously, left us feeling not nearly so secure there.  Lin’s always been nervous about being home alone.  This caused her to be really paranoid.  This was two weeks before I was due to leave on a trip that I could hardly cancel or postpone.

  
So, I bought a good security camera system and got busy installing that.  It involved putting up seven cameras and running wires from all of them to the central hard drive and monitor.  She also wanted lots more motion activated lights, which I installed as well.  The whole system linked to our phones so we were getting alerts every time Radar moved about the porch or a car went down the street.  But she felt more secure.

  
Then a couple of weeks into my trip, the burglar returned.  At lease we assume it was the same guy.  It was at night when Lin wasn’t home.   She only viewed it later.  But he spent a full hour at the house walking around and looking for a way in.  Of course, she had things locked up tight then.

  
The cops were called again and they viewed the video, agreeing that it was creepy.  Lin suspected that whoever it was, was coming up from the creek across the street from us.  The property that the creek runs through belongs to the city and connects to other unoccupied properties for a good long ways.   I’ve never been down to the creek as the hillside is steep and it’s thick with berry bushes.

  
But Lin saw what looked like a trail and some drug paraphernalia nearby.  And video footage showed someone coming from there.  Police even commented that there is a big network of trails that connect to some homeless encampments elsewhere.  Great!

  
A third incident was when she found that someone had been in our attached storage building.  There was nothing worth stealing in there, but the guy had left behind two books.  This was telling because during our burglary, some things were moved around and not stolen.

  
On top of this, Radar didn’t like being left alone all day everyday and was finding ways to escape.  Always some neighbor a few blocks away would take him in and call one of the numbers on his tag.  I’m not sure he’d be smart enough to find his way home.  It always worked out fine for him and he enjoyed the adventure.  But getting hit by a car loomed in his future.

  
So Lin had to start locking him in the house during the day.  This meant coming right home after work to let him out instead or doing whatever else she might have wanted.  Needless to say, all of this was a stress and imposition on her.  I was feeling guilty and helpless to do much for her from afar.  I felt I should come home and deal with it all, but that would have been extremely costly and difficult at that point. 

  
And with Jen on her way down, and our cruise paid for, I was obligated to stay away for another three weeks at least.  But I did make the offer to return home after reaching Buenos Aires with Jen.  Lin appreciated that, and left the possibility open.

  
I decided to take the opportunity to call the Renton police from Puerto Montt and try to get some action from them on our personal crime wave.  The phone call was frustrating.  The sergeant I talked to was all about telling why nothing had gotten done and why nothing much could be done.  He challenged all my theories and nixed all my ideas.  It seemed to be my job to provide some solid proof before they’d invest any effort into trying to solve things.  Homeless people living on or passing through city property to commit crime was not something they felt any responsibility for.

  
The only helpful action I could get him to commit to was that if Lin called and requested an officer, that he could probably be talked into following the trail a ways to at least determine if anyone is living close by.  As it turned out, Lin recruited some neighbors to hack into the brush there and whatever trail had been, is now obliterated and blocked off.  So that was never done.  

  
Anyway, after butting heads with the Renton PD, I went for a walk myself around town.  It felt safe enough.  The open park-like area near the water was nice and inviting.  But the downtown area was not pleasant, looking like a war zone.  And that night loud head-banging party music from somewhere permeated the hotel room until early morning.

  
Friday the 3^rd and our road trip was at an end.  We took our trusty but under-powered car back to the airport.  It was remarkably undamaged and the return was easier than expected.  Tony and I had different flights but they were at near enough times.  We again enjoyed a visit to the available lounge before boarding.

  
We both arrived back in Santiago.  We’d be waiting an hour or two for Jen’s flight coming from Lima.  It turned out to be delayed a few minutes further.  Tony, meanwhile, went to take care of the formalities in picking up the car he was renting in his name only.  They informed him, however, that they’d run out of cars so wouldn’t be honoring his reservation.  Nice.  Fortunately, he was able to get a better deal at the next counter.

  
Jen showed up as expected, and our well-timed rendezvous of three flights went off as planned.  The three of us plus mucho luggage piled into the rental.  Fortunately, Tony had realized that a bigger car than that Swift would be necessary.

  
I plugged in the address for our reserved lodging.  I think it was set to shortest route instead of fastest and we ended up on some slow crowded city streets.  And some ugly graffiti-adorned neighborhoods.  But we eventually got to the downtown area of our rental. 

  
In seeking out a rental for the three of us, I’d found the best deal in what was an apartment rented out by a private individual.  That can be a good deal and is probably suitable for a long-term stay.  But it tends to be too much hassle for short-term. 

  
In this case, I was dealing with a guy that needed to know when I’d be there as he would have to meet me, show me in, etc.  There was no reception desk to get the key at.  I was trying to keep him updated on our arrival time.  Of course, that’s not necessary with a conventional hotel.

  
When we arrived at the location, much like in Puerto Montt, there was no place to park or even pull over.  We couldn’t read addresses so only knew approximately where the place was.  After circling the block a couple of times on the one-way streets, I just had Tony find a place to park temporarily while I went and checked it out on foot.  I found the place and called the guy.  Some confusion ensued, he promised to be right there, but it took several minutes.  Meanwhile Tony and Jen were waiting around the block in a no parking zone, wondering when I was coming back.  I was getting frustrated. 

  
But he finally showed up. A door to parking was opened and I went to fetch the others.  The apartment was nice and roomy.  We were on the fifteenth floor with a nice view of the city.  The stressful situation resolved nicely.

  
After settling in, we went for a walk about town and to eventually find dinner.  Tony had already spent a couple of days in the city, but hadn’t been to this part of town.  We went by Plaza de Armas, the center of the city.  There were tons of people there and at first I feared that some sort of political activity was getting going.  But it wasn’t at all.  Just the normal throng of locals out and about.

  
We walked several blocks along a park towards the restaurant area I remembered from my visit ten years previously.  Along the way we saw a few of the stoplights that had been disabled by rioters.  Also a long row of motorcycle cops with riot gear standing by for any trouble.

  
We arrived in Bellavista and it was as I remembered it.  Interesting restaurants and bars lined both sides of the street.  Colorful murals abounded and it had a very lively vibe.  After a short tour, we ducked into a courtyard area called Patio Bellavista.  This had five or six nice choices for eating or drinking.  No doubt some of the priciest in town, but still reasonable by our standards.  We picked one and had a good meal.  Tony wanted to walk back.  Jen and I splurged and spent about $3 on an Uber ride.  Great bargain.

                                              Colorful Bellavista neighborhood of Santiago

I’ve had a few “small world” experiences while traveling.  Finding common acquaintance with someone around the world is surprising, but not that uncommon.  Ten years ago, I visited Chile and spent a few nights in Valparaiso.  During that visit, I met a lady named Malena and we hit it off.  I’d expressed interest in returning to see her and to travel together.  She initially was all for it, then found reason to back away.  We maintained some very occasional contact over the years.  A while back she quit responding.  I figured maybe she got involved with someone.

  
Anyway, flash back forward to January 4.  Saturday morning, we all get up in Santiago with the plan of going to the very interesting city of Valparaiso for the afternoon and overnight.  Tony mentioned that he may have a date for that night.  Oh?  Yes, knowing we’d be in that city and that he’d likely have an extra night on his own, he’d checked an on-line dating site to see if there was anyone interesting.  And he had a coffee date set up for that afternoon. 

  
Remembering Malena’s tendency towards afternoon coffee, it naturally came to mind.  “Her name isn’t Malena, is it?”  Why, yes, it was.  And the age matched.  Must be the same person.  Eventually he produced a photo that was the same one I’d seen of her ten years previously.  I told him it was definitely the same gal, and that the photo was quite old.  Wow!  What are the chances?  It’s a pretty good-sized city.

  
She didn’t know I was going to be there.  And she had no way of suspecting that Tony and I had any connection.  They did meet for coffee.  He contacted her the next day but she said she had plans with her kids.  Tony reports that they wrote a few mails, and that it was he that quit writing.  In the end he never mentioned my name so she is still in the dark, as far as I know.  My diagnosis is that she likes meeting new men, but doesn’t want to get involved.

  
But backing up again, the three of us had coffee in the room, then went out looking for breakfast.  We almost settled on a Starbucks as the only option when another place opened up.  Much better.  Then we loaded up and left the apartment.

  
We had one more sight to see in the city so drove back to the Bellavista neighborhood.  We weren’t sure about parking and the security of the car with all our stuff in it, but finally left it parked on the street and hoped for the best.  We walked a few blocks back to the top of the street where the cable car and funicular can both be accessed for a ride up to the top of the hill.

  
We bought tickets for the funicular and rode on up.  From there we walked all over, got up close to the huge statue and enjoyed to great view of the whole city.  Back down, we discovered that Tony, in searching for something in the trunk had failed to latch it.  Amazingly nothing was touched.  Parking marshal was there to meet us though and collect his due.

  
As a result of the political turmoil in Santiago, several traffic lights were out of commission.  Some enterprising young men capitalized on this by appointing themselves traffic cops.  They had on fluorescent vests and stood out in the intersections directing traffic.  Then they held out their cups for tips.  Tony thought they were performing a great public service and even tipped them.  I thought they were just getting in the way and extorting drivers. 

  
There were sometimes more than one working an intersection and they didn’t necessarily coordinate.  Their actions seemed more geared towards expediting the tippers than smooth traffic flow.

 It was Saturday morning so traffic wasn’t too bad leaving Santiago.  The GPS led us to the highway.  But traffic there was quite heavy.  We slowly progressed west towards the coast.  My initial idea was to go into Vina del Mar first for lunch.  It is kind of the modern upscale sister city of Valpo. 

  
We aimed for that, but when we came over the hill, I saw a much bigger expanse of high-rises than I remembered.  It was a huge city.  Traffic was awful and it didn’t look like parking would be possible if we could locate some place to eat.   So we managed a U-turn and proceeded to Valparaiso.

  
There we got lucky.  We pulled into an industrial area to get our bearings and look at the map.  Being able to park, we got out for a look around.  And we saw a local restaurant that looked interesting.  And it was delightful.  Locals, no tourists.  It was another “meal of the day” deal with no menus.  We just had to take what came.  And a lot came.  They found us a waiter that could speak a bit of English.  The food and atmosphere were perfect.

                                                           Valparaiso restaurant

  
We again had reserved rooms in a private residence.  Valpo is a world heritage site and as such, all of the best parts are preserved.  No new hotels can be built.  Consequently, few conventional hotels exist and lodging is where you can find it.  We found our place in a very good location at the end of a small street.  Parking was tricky and turning around would not be easy.  Fortunately, we wouldn’t need to drive anywhere.  Driving the hills of that city is a fright anyway.

  
Our abode was a big and interesting old house, as are most buildings.  Our host showed us to our two rooms and gave us a handful of keys to deal with the various locks.  A wall and iron gate separated the house from the street.  Clearly crime was a concern there.  The place was funky but just right for us.  We had balconies with a great view of the fascinating city.

  
Throughout the country we’d seen some political graffiti and indication of anti-government sentiment.  But it seemed to run hottest in Valpo.  They clearly hated the president, Pinero, there.  Our host didn’t hide his sentiments that way either.

  
After settling in, Tony headed out to explore and to his eventual date.  Jen and I set out to see the sights on our own.  Due to medical issues, she wasn’t keen on a lot of long climbs and descents.  But there was no good alternative from our location.  We were at the top of a long bunch of steps that would take us down to base level.

  
At the bottom was the taxi stand and many more businesses.  We traversed the bottom of the steep hill to the next road that led up.  On the way we passed a park area that’s kind of the center of town.  Here we encountered a burning sensation in our eyes.   There were lots of people about and no sense of panic.  But many were wearing masks or otherwise covering their mouths or eyes.  It must have been tear gas or something similar lingering from some previous event.  We hurried through and got clear of it soon enough.  Never learned what it was or why it was there.

  
Soon we reached the ascensor.  This is an outdoor, public, diagonal elevator that can be used as a way to get up one of the steep hills in lieu of the long climb.  It’s cheap and well worth it.  Up we went and arrived at Cerro Concepcion, I believe.

  
This was the main tourist area with restaurants and tourist shops.  Walkways along the edge of the hill provided nice views.  We happened to run into Tony along there.  Jen and I walked all over, stopping once for a beer and then later to eat.

  
Dinner was at a pizza place where we were led up to balcony seating.  At the table next to us a group of young guys proceeded to pull out a bag of dope and roll their own joints there at the table.  They then lit up as the pizza was delivered.  No one seemed to think anything of it.  South America has surely liberalized. 

  
We took a taxi back up the hill.  That required some negotiation.  The guy was obviously very familiar with the steep hills and went screaming up them.  He almost ran over a dog, which Jen would never have forgiven him for.  He dropped us a few blocks above our place saying that he wouldn’t be able to turn around if he went further.  He had a point there.

  
While Vina was much changed from what I remember, Valpo was essentially the same.  If anything, the artwork was better than before, and the character of the place remains.  Much of the public painting around the city is obviously professionally done.  I don’t know who does it or pays for it.  Some other looks more like random graffiti.  But I like the overall effect. 

  
I have mixed feelings about the city.  The character is enticing, but it isn’t particularly friendly.  Parts are ugly and I’m sure dangerous.  I’ll try to remember only the good aspects, as I’ll probably never be back.

  
The next morning Tony and I walked up the road a ways looking for a place for breakfast.  But at 8:00 on a Sunday morning everything was dead.  Later, he went out on his own and Jen and I went looking for food.  We didn’t find much, but at the bottom of the steps we were able to get some pastry and peaches.  We then found an alternate path up through some open gates and past lots of barking dogs.

  
Soon we loaded up and headed out.  Destination was San Antonio and our next cruise ship.  With no hurry, we stuck to the coast and scenic roads as much as possible.  It took us about two hours to get there.

  
With some time to spare, we parked and took a short walk in the town.  We found a grocery store and bought some wine to take aboard.  We then found the port, though our ship and the way to get to it seemed elusive.  We finally saw others dragging luggage and confirmed that they were headed for our ship.  Tony seemed anxious to get on with his day so we took our bags and got out, losing one bottle of wine in the process.  Goodbye Tony and hello Coral Princess.

  
I’d sailed once on Princess almost 20 years previously and had a favorable impression.  I was hoping they hadn’t gone too far downhill since then.  Our embarkation procedures went very well and quickly.   Soon we were aboard and enjoying a buffet lunch.

  
Our cabin was a balcony on deck 11, port side aft.  We were happy with it.  We went to explore the ship.  It was roughly the same size as the Norwegian Star and equivalent in most ways.  I learned that Jen had bought the drink package.  I had contented myself with catching cheap beers in port and buying an occasional drink on the ship.  But when I learned what she paid and how much less it was than NCL charges, I gave way to temptation.  I didn’t get my money’s worth, but it sure was nice to just drink what you want when you wanted it without seeing a price tag.

  
Our 6:00 pm departure time came and went with us still tied up to the dock.  Finally, the captain came on with the announcement that for whatever reason we were unable to get the fuel we needed when we needed it.  We wouldn’t be fueled until later that night and then due to other circumstances wouldn’t be able to actually set sail until about 2:30 the next afternoon.  He was very apologetic. 

  
He also said that because of the delay, they would have to drop Punta Arenas from our itinerary.  However, they were crediting each of us $75 for that loss.  NCL wouldn’t be crediting anything, I knew, so that was welcome.  He went on to inform us that a big storm was raging along the coast further south and that we might be further delayed by that.  He told us what channel on the TV we could tune in to see real time weather data about that.  Again, NCL never did that.  And wave heights of ten meters certainly sounded significant to me.

  
So, my initial impression, is that these cruise lines all have problems.  But that some deal with it a lot better than others.

  
Monday morning, we were still in the port of San Antonio, but we were allowed off the ship.  Not a lot to see there, but we didn’t pass the opportunity to be on land.  It could be a while before we get there again.

   
Anyway, it turned out to be worthwhile.  We didn’t go into town as it wasn’t much, but there were loads of vendors near the dock selling all sorts of stuff.  I bought a belt.  Further down the way they were selling fresh fish.  Then beyond that there were big sea lions right on the beach.  You could walk right up to them.  I didn’t go that far, but it was a good photo op.

  
Princess offers the choice of traditional dining with the same waiter and table mates throughout the cruise, or the freestyle plan of just go when you want and sit where assigned.  We chose the traditional and the later seating.  We had a table for eight, but it was only us and another couple that ever came.

  
The other couple was nice.  Nancy and Brian from Colorado.  Slightly older than me.  We seemed to enjoy easy conversation over dinner each night.  One more couple at our table would have been better though.  Service was spotty initially, but eventually they got it worked out.  Our waiter was great and learned to anticipate our every need.

  
We did set sail on the revised schedule and the Captain announced that a stop in Puerto Montt had been added.  With that we’d be sailing down the passage east of Chiloe island in more protected waters.  The delay was giving the storm a chance to blow out.  The downside was that this came at the expense of time spent in Antarctica.  He assured us we’d still have plenty of time there and would see a lot.

  
Of course, I didn’t care about stopping in Puerto Montt since I’d recently spent two nights there, but it all made sense.  The original schedule had four days of cruising in Antarctica, so I didn’t think cutting that to two would make much difference.  In any case they seemed to be trying to come up with the best plan and they kept us informed.

  
After a day at sea, we were going through the strait that Tony and I had crossed by ferry just a few days earlier.  The captain told us of a cable strung across the strait that we would just barely fit under.  Sure enough, near the ferry crossing was a very long cable that we just fit under.  We then had to detour well south before docking in the morning.  Presumably the water was too shallow to go direct.

  
I’d seen most of what there was to see in the area and gave Jen a briefing.  I was just planning to go ashore, walk around some then return.  But it was her first visit there and she was hoping to see more.  The ship offered some tours of course.  But they were expensive.  Once on shore there were other cheaper excursions to choose from.  She got a bus tour going by the lake, waterfall and to the volcano.  Unfortunately, low clouds and rain prevented very good sightseeing.

  
Jen also had the internet package.  The service and price were both better than I’d seen on NCL.  In any case, I had contact with Lin and could access my e-mail if necessary.  That plus the booze package took away two reasons for going ashore.  But it also freed up time there.

  
I walked around the town some more, bought some socks, and got kind of wet.  We left port that evening, sailed the inside passage and broke out into the open ocean again at about 9:00 the next morning.

  
The delay tactics must have worked out well, as the sea was calm enough by then.  After a day and night at sea, we entered Beagle Passage.  This long narrow strait between islands took us mostly east towards Tierra del Fuego.  We were now well beyond the furthest south that Tony and I had reached by road.

  
The scenery in the passage was beautiful.  Mountains, trees, glaciers and waterfalls.  The area is totally uninhabited and pristine, much like areas of SE Alaska.  We’d occasionally passed other vessels.  At the end of the passage, we would have turned left to reach Punta Arenas, but since we were missing that, we turned south to wind our way through the straits of Magellan.  That eventually led us to the town of Ushuaia the next morning.

  
Ushuaia is in Argentina and bills itself as the furthest south city in the world.  There are a few villages beyond it but nothing of its size more southerly.  It was mostly settled by Germans and definitely had a German influence.  It’s other claim to fame was that it became home to a large prison.  Like Alcatraz, it was viewed as a very remote place to send the worst prisoners away for a long time.  Now it’s mostly a tourist economy that thrives on cruise ships.

  
We got off the ship there with no definite plan for the day.  As usual we were greeted by people touting their tours.  We opted for one that seemed to hit all that there was to see and do in the area.  At $100, it was about half the price of the same thing booked through the cruise line.  It didn’t leave for an hour though so we had time to walk around town.

  
Our tour took us by small bus west to a little train station.  The rail line was originally to the prison, but was long ago converted for tourism.  It had little steam locomotives and small passenger cars on a narrow-gauge track.

  
Eventually we loaded up and chugged on down the track.  We made one stop at a waterfall, then again at the end of the line.  It’s billed as “fin del mundo” or “end of the world”.  And it pretty much is.  The prison pre-dates the highway that now connects Tierra del Fuego to the mainland.  So prisoners brought there by ship were not much of an escape risk.  They had nowhere to go.

  
Our bus met us there and took us to other sight-seeing places.   Much of the area is protected park with lakes and seashore.  Very nice.  Another stop was a lodge where we got a bite to eat, followed by a pleasant walk through the woods.  Then the final stop was at a remote post office on a lake.  It billed itself as the furthest south post office in the world.  You can see how they like to exploit their position.

  
In all, it was an enjoyable tour and a good way to spend our time there.  It was back to town and back on the boat.

   
The next morning we were circling the island that is Cape Horn, the bottom end of the Americas.  You might think that the cape is named for the shape of South America down there, which does resemble a horn.  But that is not the case.  It was named by a Dutch explorer after the town of Hoorne in the Netherlands.  The Spanish may have changed that to Hornos which means oven.  That goes along with the theme of Tierra del Fuego which was named for the smoky fires early explorers saw there.  Then the English translation became Cape Horn, because Cape Oven would have sounded stupid.

  
As we circled the island and cape, many people were up on deck in the cold.  And the ships crew was up there with liquor carts.  Apparently passing Cape Horn is something you’re supposed to celebrate, even at 8:00 in the morning.

  
Anyway, we left that behind and sailed straight south across Drake Passage towards Antarctica.  This water is notoriously rough with high winds, but it was calm as could be for us.  The air temperature was in the 40s with overcast sky but good visibility.  About as nice as can be expected, I imagine.

  
After another day at sea, we neared Antarctica and saw our first iceberg.  Then eventually spotted seals, penguins and whales.  Some on board were fully equipped for this viewing with cold weather gear, expensive binoculars, cameras and tripods.  I had none of this so didn’t spend that much time up on deck trying to view and photograph the wildlife.  There was plenty to be seen and I got my fill.

  
The ship had, I think, three scientists on board with various fields of expertise.  They gave lectures in the theater most days and were on the bridge during viewing times to narrate what there was to see.  They knew all about the wildlife, geology, ecology and history of the area.  In all, they were quite good and informative.  I especially liked the guy with the extremely snooty sounding British accent.

  
I’d expected our exposure to Antarctica would simply be cruising by the peninsula and islands.  But it was much more planned than that.  We went into specific bays for good views of spectacular glaciers and other features.  And we went by a few of the scientific stations set up and occupied by various countries.  The weather remained calm with glassy smooth seas.  The temperature remained just above freezing.  Except for fog one morning, the weather was about as good as could be hoped for.

  
During our visit to one location, a contingent from the Polish station came out to the ship by small boat, came aboard, and talked a little about their life and work there.  Why Poland has an interest in Antarctica, I don’t know.  The reason they were keen to come out to the ship was apparently for the buffet.

  
We only saw a tiny fraction of Antarctica… the warmest, nearest and most inhabited part.  Yet it was extremely bleak, wild and desolate.  The vast, cold emptiness of the rest of the continent is hard to fathom.

  
I think most, like me, were satisfied with what we got to see of Antarctica.  It’s truly a luxury to get to explore such a hostile environment in such comfort.  We headed north and spend another full day at sea.

  
It was during this time that the ocean finally got a bit rough.  We didn’t get seasick, but both Jen and I had colds at this point.  We laid low and eventually recovered.

  
We next arrived at the Falkland Islands which I was anxious to visit.  I clearly remember the Falklands war in the 80s.  It was such a far-off place but made big news.  The Falklands are windswept nearly treeless islands in a cool climate.  The population is so small as to make even those two small islands one of the least densely populated places on earth.  It’s mostly sheep grazing.

  
We anchored off of Stanley, the capital and only real city.  The ship's lifeboats were used as tenders to take us ashore.   The town was not much at all.  It was very quaint and very British.  Everyone spoke English which was nice, and they drove on the left.

  
We walked around a while and saw almost all there was to see.  A museum of the war was the highlight.  In fact, war heroes and defending the island seemed to be the whole theme of the place.  Down along the water were a few parks and monuments dedicated to those that had fought for the Falklands.

  
The history, in case you forget, is that the islands have been affiliated with or part of the U.K. for a good long time.  Argentina, however, begs to differ.  Being close to them, they still claim them as part of Argentina and indeed call them the Malvinas.  I took note that within Argentina, there are big signs in various places of the country just to remind people that the Malvinas are part of Argentina.  The folks in the Falklands disagree.

  
Back in the 80s, Argentina was in the midst of political upheaval…again.  Whoever was in power decided that reclaiming the Falklands/Malvinas would be a good political move.   So, they invaded, expecting the U.K. to not care enough to defend them.  They judged Margaret Thatcher wrong.  She sent full military force down there and retook the islands.

  
The people of the Falklands are eternally grateful and loyal to the U.K.  They clearly didn’t want to be part of Argentina.  Shortly after the war, they held a vote and more than 99% of Falkland Islanders confirmed that they wanted to remain part of Britain.  Obviously, Argentina still covets the territory, but hopefully they will not be trying again any time soon.

  
We also learned that the chief export of the Falklands is fish and the primary customer is Spain.  They are concerned that Brexit will mess up that trading arrangement.

  
We’d pretty much seen it all after a couple of hours.  Jen decided to join a tour that was going out to view more penguins.  I walked around a little more, then went back to the ship.  While there wasn’t a great deal to see there, I very much enjoyed the experience of visiting the Falklands and viewing the previous conflict from their point of view.

  
One night during the cruise (I don’t remember just when) there was a minor emergency.  We were in the theater when the mic was cut and the singer tried to continue anyway.  After several seconds he was interrupted by the captain on the PA directing crew to their emergency stations. 

  
It was kind of amazing to watch.  The band quit playing and immediately left the stage.  All others working in the theater bolted for the exits.  One person was left behind to tell us that the show was over.  The captain made frequent announcements directing the crew, but also informing us that nothing was required of us.  Apparently just about all crew members have alternate duties in such a situation and they all seemed to know where to go.  Many had put on bright vests.

  
It was a fire in the engine room that had sent smoke up into the lobby area.  They quickly got it extinguished.  The captain gave us a recap the next morning, saying that one generator was now off-line but that it wouldn’t affect anything.  And it didn’t that I could tell.

  
We were also informed that four passengers had been involved in an accident while on a tour in the Falklands.  Sounds like they were flown to a hospital somewhere.  Also, one of the ships officers was hospitalized and left behind there.  If similar things had occurred on the Star, I’m sure they’d have hidden it if they’d been able, and told us nothing.

  
I’d been in touch with Lin from time to time and no new problems had occurred with our burglar.  She told me to keep on traveling rather than returning home from Buenos Aires. 

  
Also going on while I was gone, was the deal to trade my airplane.  I’d arrived at an agreement with a guy from Texas prior to me leaving.  But he’d been very slow to take care of his end of things.  I expected to never complete the deal, but to my surprise, it did finally go through at about this time.  That was a relief and put money into my bank account.  But a month and a half later, his airplane is still in my hangar and I still need to go to Texas to retrieve mine.

  
Next stop Montevideo, Uruguay.  The weather had changed dramatically.  From the cool of The Falklands, Uruguay was hot.  We docked right at the edge of Old Town, which was convenient, then picked up a walking map and covered the area worth looking at.  Back near the port, the old market had opened up.  There, we could see the huge grills filled with meat being started for the day.  The place is famous for its parilla, which is a South American grilled meat buffet.

  
We still had a few hours, so opted for a hop-on, hop-off bus tour.  The weather was nice and we could sit up top.  We didn’t have so much time as to get off many places so mainly just stayed on the bus for the narrated tour.  We got a good overall view of a city that isn’t spectacularly interesting.

  
Towards the end, we did get off at a stop where it looked like we could access the beach, walk to another stop and get back to the ship.  We took a turn planning to cut through a park, but it turned out to be a private golf club or something with no way through.  That forced us down to the busy road along the water where there was no shade.  It turned into a long hot walk.

  
We reached the next stop with not a lot of time until the next bus was due.  We’d planned to get something to eat, but decided we didn’t have time.  A nice restaurant was there so we got a cool drink and watched for the bus.  They brought us a couple little pizza squares gratis which was perfect.  I paid the bill early, and just in time, as Jen spotted our bus coming.   Out we ran and caught it.  Back on the ship, I went up and used the pool for the first time.  It was finally hot enough to enjoy that.

  
Then it was a short hop overnight to our destination--Buenos Aires.  My overall impression with Princess was very good.  Especially their honesty and with keeping us informed.  The captain especially was good and seemed very intent on making it a fulfilling trip for us.

    
It was misting rain when we got off the ship at about 10:00.  With lots of baggage, a taxi to our hotel was the only option.  Well, actually, Jen had lots of baggage.  I’d shed some of mine.  Knowing I’d need more nice clothing and winter wear for the cruises, but then wouldn’t afterwards, I’d planned to lighten my load once finished with cruise ships.  The cost of checking a bag on flights now can be more than the clothes are worth.  I’d actually bought dress shoes and a sport coat at Goodwill, which I left on the ship.  And my bigger suitcase got left behind somewhere also.

  
Jen had picked the hotel.  It was pretty nice, not expensive at all and in a great location.  We were two blocks from the iconic obelisk which denotes the center of the city.  Fortunately, our room was ready and we were allowed to check in early.  And when asked, the desk guy eagerly exchanged money for me out of his own wallet.

                                                                View from hotel room

  
After settling in, we went for a long walk about town.  First was Plaza Mayo.  Numerous important buildings surrounded the large square.  Just down from there, was a park that was along the waterway called Puerto Madero.  We walked the length of that, which had a few old ships docked there, some upscale restaurants and such.

  
Then we cut over to the San Telmo neighborhood.  That was an interesting mix of antique shops, funky restaurants, old buildings and colorful murals.  We found a good lunch there at a cute Italian place.  It was warm and humid, so after a little more sightseeing, we caught a taxi back.  It took a roundabout way, but was still very cheap.

  
My initial impression of the city was positive.  It had grand buildings and fine architecture, along with the widest street in the world.  Lots of public space, impressive monuments, and nice parks.  Prices were good, traffic not horrible, and we hadn’t encountered any dangerous-looking neighborhoods.  One ugly side was the homeless population.  There were whole families living on mattresses along the sidewalk.  Seems to be an international problem.

  
We weren’t hungry enough to go find dinner, so bought snacking food at local markets and had “dinner” in the room.  The A/C quit overnight so it got a little warm in the room.  The next morning we decided to try the hop-on hop-off bus.  There was an office right down the street.  We’d stopped at it the previous day and it was so crowded we couldn't get any information.  But it had since cleared out and the lady at the window spoke some English.  We bought tickets and were soon on our way. 

  
We’d used this concept in several cities, and it usually worked out well.  Again, we were able to sit on the upper level which was open.  This provided a great view.  The route went by some places we’d been to the day before, but well beyond that, too. 

   
The first place we got off was the area called Camanito.  This is an iconic neighborhood of Buenos Aires and well-photographed.  The place was very interesting, funky, quirky and colorful.  Odd murals and mannequins were on display.  Handicrafts and other unusual item were for sale.  It reminded me a little of New Orleans or Haight Ashbury in San Francisco. 

                                                                          Camanito

  
A few blocks over was a big old soccer stadium painted in the national colors of light blue and yellow.  They do take their soccer seriously.  We strolled all over, then boarded another bus.

  
We had to transfer buses at one place.  It was an upscale neighborhood of apartment complexes.  We found a good lunch before boarding again. Our next stop was a neighborhood called Recoletta.  The main attraction there was the cemetery.  All the who’s who of Argentina are buried there including Eva Peron.  Well, not exactly buried.  Like the cemetery I’d toured with Tony in Chile, this consisted of above ground vaults.  Only these were even bigger and more elaborate.  The place was extensive with hundreds, perhaps thousands, of unique and ornate tombs. 

                                                                     Recoletta cemetery

  
Right nearby we stumbled on a sort of art museum that was free and open.  We wandered around its various rooms and courtyards without figuring out just what it was.  Interesting though.

  
Back at the hotel, we found that the A/C was again not working.  This time, they conceded that it was broken and we were allowed to move down the hall to another room.

  
Jen was interested in seeing a Tango show.  I didn’t care too much one way or the other.  She found some online and said they were pretty expensive.  I asked at the hotel desk and they had a couple options to choose from that would pick us up right there.  So we chose one that was only $109 for the two of us including the transportation, dinner, drinks and the show.

  
That evening we dressed up a little and caught our ride at 8:00 or so.  We were taken to a large modern building which we’d actually passed earlier in the day on the bus.  We were seated at a large table with a good view of the stage and eventually joined by others.  All seemed to be visitors and not from the city.  It appeared to seat around 500 people and did fill up.

  
Wine flowed freely and the dinner was good with the exception of my steak.  The show seemed very good, though I’m not one that could judge that very well.  Lots of dramatic music and dancing.  It was well worthwhile.

  
The next day was Jen’s last.  After our hotel buffet breakfast we just walked to whatever points of interest we hadn’t seen yet.  We crossed the previously mentioned widest street in the world.  That consists of several traffic lanes on either side and a two-way bus highway in the middle.  About four different walk/don’t walk signals get you across it all.

  
We went by a fancy opera theater and thought we might do the tour there.   But the next tour in English wasn’t for two hours and cost more than we thought it was worth.  After a few parks and such, we ended up on a busy pedestrian-only shopping street.  What was interesting here was how many people were out trying to exchange money.  All along the way were mostly guys chanting “cambio, cambio, cambio”. 

  
Our last tourist act was to visit the oldest restaurant in the city called Cortinos.  We walked the several blocks.  I should add that Buenos Aires has an extensive metro system with stations right close to the hotel.  I should have made the effort to learn the system and use it.  But they didn’t make that easy so I just relied on my feet.

  
We arrived at Cortinos and a line had already formed at the door.  We hadn’t necessarily planned to eat there, but figured it must be good to attract such a line.  The person minding the door seemed to be letting more people out than in.  But eventually we were granted entrance.

  
It surprisingly wasn’t full.  They apparently just didn’t have the capacity to feed any more people at once.  And I suspect the wait staff was the reason.  The waiters all looked like they’d been working there forty years or more and weren’t moving that fast.  But we did get served reasonably quickly, the food was good and like everything else in the city, not very expensive.

  
Jen departed early that evening for her long series of flights back home.  There’s no quick way home from South America, it seems.  After that night, I moved across the street to another hotel.  I’d needed to make a separate booking anyway and that was a better deal at the time.  It was even nicer.

  
I just did more walking that day.  I found myself at the train station which was bigger and nicer than expected.  There is not much of a train system throughout the continent, but Buenos Aires is connected to several cities by rail.  I watched as about 50 people made a last-minute dash for a departing train.  They all got on and it pulled out right on time.

  
While in the neighborhood, I also stopped at the ferry terminal to buy my ticket on the boat to Uruguay.  That turned out to be much more difficult than I expected or it should have been.  But I got my ticket.

  
On the way back, I knew I’d need a bit more cash.  My new hotel would not exchange money, citing the law.  So I had to do business with one of the “Cambio” hawkers.  The first one didn’t want to mess with my measly $20.  The second guy led me a block and a half away to his wife’s dress shop to make the exchange.

  
That afternoon, I returned to the San Telmo neighborhood.  On my list of things to see or do was a house there with a recently discovered labyrinth of tunnels under it.  I did find the place, but again, the tour schedule and price had me decide it wasn’t that interesting.

  
I looked for lunch and was checking out the menu board at a restaurant.  A woman walking by took me for a tourist and asked in English if I wanted a fancy place with expensive food, or a simple place with good food.  Of course, I bit on that.  She directed me to another restaurant down the block called Disnivel.  Perhaps she was part owner.  But in any case, the meal was thin sliced flank steak cooked in a gravy with lots of onions and bell peppers, and mashed potatoes.  Excellent.

  
Following that, I wandered the neighborhood more and stopped in at the museum of modern art.  It was very cheap, air conditioned and had a bathroom, so was well worth the stop even through the art wasn’t particularly good.

  
On my last full day there, I walked a long ways back to the Recoletta neighborhood.  Starting early to beat the heat, I was too early.  The flea market there was not set up yet and the Belles Artes Museum was not yet open.  So I walked further through some parks to kill time.  I arrived back as the art museum was opening.  I’d read that it was free, but that only applied to Argentines.  Gringos must pay.

It was a nice building with impressive works.  There were paintings by Van Gogh, Manet and a few other famous names.  And it’s amazing how many people they employ just to keep an eye on everyone there.  Seems like overkill and their looming presence doesn’t enhance the experience.

  
By the time I was done there, the flea market was up and going.  Many booths were selling mostly handicrafts.  Nothing I wanted, but interesting to look at.

  
My hotel room rate didn’t include breakfast, but they did serve one.  So I went to inquire about the price and was told about $4.  Sounded great, and I planned to come back.  The place was empty.  When I returned later, it was still empty, but a different person was on duty.  She quoted me about $12, so I ate elsewhere.

  
After that, I checked out and grabbed a taxi for the short and very cheap ride to the Bucabus boat terminal.  Passed through immigration procedures and into the large waiting area.  I was surprised at the large crowd that amassed.  There were a few hundred people.

  
We all filed onto the boat and despite our numbers did not fill it.  We departed on time and it was a swift smooth ride across the very wide Rio de la Plata.

  
During my trip, I wanted to spend my remaining Argentine pesos figuring they’d be hard to get rid of any other way.  I spent a little at the snack bar.  Was going to buy liquor in the duty-free shop, but it closed just as I was getting there.  I went to the money exchange on board, but I didn’t have quite enough for their minimum. 

  
The boat pulled into the dock at Colonia del Sacramento and it took a while for us all to file off.  No immigration procedures at that end though.  Fortunately, I found an exchange that relieved me of the last of my pesos.  Unlike Europe, each country of South America has its own currency.  This meant being prepared by having some of the right cash when entering a country, then getting rid of it all when leaving.  So far, I was doing pretty well at that.

  
The bus station was more or less co-located with the ferry terminal.  I was going by bus the next day to Montevideo, so wanted to figure that out and buy a ticket while I was there.  But again, much more complicated than expected.  Two windows that I was sent to turned out to not be right.  The second, after a good wait told me that I needed to go to the bus station and she pointed outside. 

  
I went outside and looked all over.  No bus station.  I went back to her and she clarified that it was down the street a block.  I finally found it, sorted through my options and bought the ticket.   But I had one more obstacle.  The little town has two marinas and I mistakenly assumed that the ferry used the other.  I was on the opposite side of the small peninsula from where I thought I’d be, and a good deal longer walk to my hotel.  Oh well.

  
The hotel, when I got there, was a charming little place.  And it had a very welcome swimming pool which I enjoyed.  And that was, in fact, my only hotel with a pool for the trip.

  
After a refreshing dip, I went out to explore.  The little town of Colonia is the gem of Uruguay as far as I’m concerned.  The streets were wide, tree-lined cobblestones.   It was all old, well maintained, and very attractive.  The atmosphere was quiet, calm and peaceful.

  
It wasn’t big though and didn’t take too long to see most of it.  There was a lighthouse that afforded a view, a fishing pier along with numerous restaurants and boutique type hotels.  There was something like a free park/museum that was pleasant.  It was just an enjoyable place to wander around and spend time.

  
After another swim, I was ready for dinner.  And I’d decided to splurge on a parilla.  I went out about 7:00 to the restaurant I’d pre-selected only to find no customers there.  I learned that it, along with most other restaurants, wouldn’t be open until 8:00.   So, I killed some more time and got hungrier. 

  
The dinner was unfortunately somewhat disappointing.  The salads weren’t at all special.  The beef was tough and the pork dry.  I passed on the heart and blood sausage.  I got full, but the price was much higher than anything in Argentina.

  
I was amazed though at how busy the streets had become after dark.  There was now lots of traffic on the previously quiet thoroughfare.   And it was a dead-end peninsula so I don’t know where everyone would be going to or from.

  
Up early in the morning, I explored the rest of the small town including the old closed train station and a fortress.  Then enjoyed the good breakfast provided by the hotel.  Still having some time to burn, I walked another unexplored direction.  Went by the rowing club and soccer field.   Then checked out and schlepped my bag back to the bus station.

  
The bus was modern and comfortable.  It departed on time and made the two hour plus trip to Montevideo.   The scenery along the way was pleasant but not at all interesting.  Mostly flat and grassy farm land.

  
I arrived at the main transportation hub of Tres Cruces.  It would have been a long walk, so I grabbed a taxi to my hotel.  Like everything in Uruguay, it cost more than it would have in Argentina.

Actually, the hotel was an exception to that.  It was a great value and in a good location.  I was there for two nights and kind of knew ahead of time that that was probably more than needed.  It’s a nice enough city, but I didn’t feel there was much more to see after our day there from the cruise ship.  But the plan was in place and I wasn’t going to try and change it. 

  
I had time that evening for a long walk down to the water, passing some interesting architecture.   Then found dinner up by the hotel.  And that was something.  Called a hamburguesa napolitana, it was pricey at about $12.  But what a meal.  It had potato salad on one side, a green salad on the other and a pile of fries.  The burger had two big patties, sliced ham, lots of gooey cheese and some pasta sauce on all of that.  Finally, a few peas topped it off.  It was a very satisfying burger.

                                                                        Montevideo

  
For my one full day in the city, I just headed out early on foot to cover as much as my legs would allow.  There were plenty of homeless people there, as well, sleeping in doorways.  I was looking for breakfast, and there wasn’t much to be found.  Where’s a Denny’s when you need one?  I finally found a coffee and slice of quiche at a very small local place.  Good enough.

  
I saw lots of the city, but nothing unique or noteworthy.  Lunch that day was similarly generous.  I had the “ejecitivo” menu of fish.  That was plenty of fish in a nice sauce and a mountain of mashed potatoes.  Why aren’t these people fatter?

                                                            That is a lot of padlocks

  
I took another long walk that afternoon, with similar impressions.  Pleasant city…. “next.”  I wasn’t hungry enough for another of the massive meals they served, so went to a local grocery for some snacking food.  I took my apples and a couple other items to the cash register.  The clerk held up the apples, scowled at me and jabbered something in rapid fire Spanish.  I shrugged and shook my head.  She said it all again.  And I gave her my “sorry, I don’t speak much Spanish” statement.  She harrumphed disgustedly and went to weigh the apples back in the nearby produce area.  Returning with a price sticker on the bag, she showed me how it was to be done.

  
This concept was not totally unfamiliar to me.  But the last time I’d bought fruit and tried to weigh/price them at the source, I found that it was done at the register as in the states.  So I made the wrong assumption there.  Sorry.

  
I had a rental car reserved at the airport the next morning.  The hotel said that a taxi was the only way to get there.  You’d think there’d be other options, but there didn’t seem to be.  They called the cab and insured a fixed price.  For about the first time ever, it was a female driver.  And a reasonably attractive one at that.  I remembered too late that that would have been a good time to try out my newly installed, but not yet tried, Uber app.

  
The airport was not huge, but very modern.  I searched the arrivals area and didn’t see any sign of my rental company.  I asked at an info booth and was told that they had no office.  That I just needed to hang out and look for someone with the company shirt on.  Huh? 

  
So, here is a travel tip and a lesson I’ve been slow to learn.  Picking a car rental by price only can be just as foolish as doing the same with an airline flight.  Cheap off-brand companies sometimes have big disadvantages that outweigh the savings.  Here, I discovered that my company had no office and counted on rendezvousing with customers in the airport lobby. 

  
It was only then that I realized that the time I’d listed for pick-up actually meant something.  They would use that to meet up with me.  Fortunately, I’d timed it right and it was about 15 minutes before my planned time.  But I was not happy with the set-up.

  
After wandering about for a few minutes, the company representative holding my name actually found me before I noticed it.  We sat in the lobby there and filled out all forms.  He used his phone to capture images of my drivers license.  He had the routine down, but it seemed odd.  My guy spoke good English though and we got through the paperwork in a reasonable time. 

  
Then we went out to wait for a colleague to deliver the car.  That happened soon enough and I was on my way.  The rental was very cheap, so maybe all was OK.  I thought I might get dinged for airport parking, but was given a card to get me out.  I made a fool of myself trying to insert the card the wrong way, but that’s another issue.

  
Once clear of the airport, I parked to plug in my GPS and figure out where I was going.  When ready to go again, the car wouldn’t start.  All was dead.  Hmm.  I was still within walking distance of the terminal.  But there was no representative there.  I guess a $10 phone call was a possibility, but I anticipated that not going very well.

  
So, it occurred to me to try to fix the one possible thing that might be the problem that I would be able to fix.  I opened the hood and located the battery.  Checking the terminals, I found one that was actually loose.  I squished it around some and that did the trick.  I felt I’d made up for my ineptitude with the parking ticket machine.

  
Heading east, my destination was Punta del Este.  This is a well-known resort area of beaches and such.  I’d scheduled three nights there.

  
I wanted use the small roads close to the water as opposed to the faster direct highway.  This had me wandering about on gravel roads initially.  Tony would have loved it.  But the GPS kept me heading in the right direction.  I got forced up to the main highway every once in a while and that was where there would be a toll booth.

  
I didn’t need a full lunch so found a store and bought a few things including a reasonable hunk of cheese.  Then I found a spot that served well enough as a picnic area to eat my stuff.  Nice scenery, but windy.  

  
Punta del Este was a two hour drive from the airport on the main highway, but considerably longer the way I went.  As I got neared there was more to see.   The beachside town with the Greek sounding name of Piriapolis looked inviting.  I stopped to check out the expansive beach and more.  In retrospect, I probably would have preferred just staying there.

                                                                    Coast of Uruguay

  
But I continued on and as I approached Punta, I was surprised at the skyline.  It was a much bigger city than I thought with lots of high-rise buildings.  I was staying out on the peninsula though so hopefully beyond that and in more of the old city.

  
I got to my neighborhood and it was older, more established and less vertical.  But it wasn’t exactly oozing old world charm.  Heavy traffic and one-way streets didn’t keep me from eventually finding my place.  The location was great.  The place was fine, but definitely the least for the money that I encountered on the trip.

  
Punta reminded me a little of Waikiki without the palm trees.  There were loads of places to shop, eat or otherwise spend your tourist dollars.  Lots of beach, if that’s what you wanted.  But it seemed very commercial without too much to justify the interest.  The tourists all seemed to be Latin American.

  
I learned that I was just a couple of blocks from “The Fingers”.  This is a landmark there that I’d somehow failed to even know about.  I did check it out.  It’s a sculpture of giant fingers sticking up out of the sand. 

   
I’d also realized that I was going to have a problem returning my rental car due to their set-up.  They’d be meeting me at the scheduled time of 10:00, but I needed to turn the car in long before that.  Fortunately, they had an office two blocks from my hotel so I went and paid them a visit.  I rescheduled to drop the car at 8:00 AM.  I wanted earlier, but that would have incurred an after-hours fee.  Note to self… “Stay away from these no-name companies.”

  
I wandered about and checked out the fingers, which was rather cool, and nearby beaches.  Dining options included McDonalds and Burger King, but they were no bargain.  I ended up at a burger and beer joint that was satisfying.

  
In the morning, I woke early to some young people still in the streets winding up a night of partying.  I went out in search of coffee with poor luck.  The town was dead.  Finally, after walking many blocks, I returned to the golden arches which was then open.  My $2 coffee required trying to answer lots of questions, like for here or to go?  Cream, sugar?  But they were rarely asked slowly and simply enough for me to have a ready answer.

  
Back at the hotel, they eventually got breakfast put out.  I had two full days in the area.  My plan was for a road trip further east one day and beach time the other.  Since it was windy and forecast cool that day, I elected to drive first.

  
I stuck to the coast as much as possible, and it was interesting.  One town had a lighthouse, which I always like to check out.  Parked along the highway was a fluorescent pink bus with a sign on the side advertising wind/kite-surfing lessons.  I stopped, and sure enough--there was someone out on the beach learning to operate a kite.  That all looks like a lot of fun and I wish I’d given it a go when younger.  Seems to defy the laws of physics though so don’t expect it would be easy to master now.

  
My end-of-the-line destination was Cabo Polonio.  It was part of a big park.  The little research I’d done indicated that it was a long hike in to kind of a hippy commune beach area.  Sounded interesting enough.  But when I got there, I was herded to a pay parking area that served the visitor center.  I clearly couldn’t park anywhere else so it required an investment just to find out what the place was all about.  It didn’t look like I’d be able to drive any further.

  
The weather was windy and cool with rain off and on.  Not a nice day for a long hike on the beach.  So I abandoned it all and turned around.  It hadn’t developed into a very satisfying road trip.

  
On the way back, I stopped at a town called Paloma.  It was along the coast and was kind of a funky down-scale surfer place.  There were surf shops, rental cottages and such.  I toured around a little.  Gravel roads led to lots of modest homes in the woods.  I was surprised to see many with thatched roofs.  Didn’t know that was a thing in that part of the world.

  
I also had lunch there.  Getting tired of burgers and pizza, I wanted to order something different.  But dishes I could recognize, like seafood or steak, were quite expensive.  Other things had local names like “panchos” which I didn’t know and was reluctant to order.  I settled on a sandwich supreme with tomato.  That turned out to be basically a square pizza with lots of gooey cheese and some sliced tomato.  So, it was pizza again.

  
I stuck to the main highway, paid some tolls and got back to Punta.  The Uruguay coast is a mixed bag.  There is lots of beach to be sure.  Some of it nice.  There are grassy sand dunes along much of it.  But nowhere does it feel like a little slice of paradise.

  
It was hard to find a parking space back near my hotel, but I finally did.  It was still early enough so I decided to take a walk around the end of the peninsula.  That was probably three miles or so and a pleasant walk.  There were lots of beaches, a few parks, nice views, and eventually the marina.  Expensive yachts were in abundance.  Clearly there is money in Uruguay.

  
For dinner, I found a big tuna salad that was just the antidote I needed for all the pizza and burgers I’d indulged in recently.

  
The next morning was a Friday and I had nothing on the agenda except some beach time.  But I did have one thing that needed my attention.  Wanting to travel light, I had only the one pair of shoes that I wore.  I’d brought that pair of dress shoes from Goodwill, but they’d been left behind.  Now my shoes, that were hardly new at the beginning of the trip, were showing wear.  Or rather they were falling apart.  I clearly needed new shoes. 

  
With lots of shopping venues in the area I went in search of shoes.  But of course, there was no Walmart to sell me the cheapest thing from China.  Lots of searching found me some reasonable options at one place.  But I soon discovered that the largest size they carried was rather snug on me.  I sensed that the situation wouldn’t be any different elsewhere.

  
So, I bought a pair of white tennies that pinched my feet a little.  Surely, I’ll stretch them out, I figured.  My very comfortable, but disintegrating, shoes were left behind.   

  
My hotel rented out a beach chair and umbrella for $5.  I took that deal and eventually headed for the nearby water.  This day was warm and sunny so the beach was crowded.  I found a spot and set up camp.  I even had a book to read.  But I’ve never been able to enjoy a beach for more than a short time.  After a couple of dips in the water, I headed back in.  How do people enjoy a beach all day, I wonder?

                                                                Punta del Este beach

  
I ended up taking another walk to a couple things out at the end of the peninsula that I’d missed before.  I picked a cute little restaurant near the hotel only to find that they didn’t open until 8:00.  That seems to be the standard.  So, I waited and went back.  Their meal of the day was very reasonable.  It was lasagna with nothing else.  But it was unique with some layers of vegetables and I thoroughly enjoyed it.

  
So, let’s talk food of South America:  I’m afraid it was all rather non-descript and I couldn’t tell any difference one country to another.  Of course, locals would disagree vehemently and could cite variations in the cuisine.  I guess the southern countries were heavier with beef.  Peru had some exotic critters.  But all seemed to have plenty of potato, rice or other starch.  Most of it wasn’t highly spicy.  I had plenty of good meals, but nothing that strikes me as special, or particular to its country.   

  
Saturday morning, I departed early for the Montevideo airport.  The two-hour drive went fine and I arrived with time to spare.  I was still nervous about how this would all work out.  What if I didn’t connect with the car people.  How do I leave the car and catch my flight?

  
I decided to park in the lot and take care of check-in first.  I lined up at the counter before there was anyone working it.  But they soon showed up and I was able to check my bag and get my boarding pass prior to my 8:00 AM rendezvous time.

  
With a few minutes to spare, I went to a cambio to get rid of the last of my Uruguayan money.  Just as I was finishing up there, the rental car guy found me.  And he had already spotted the car in the lot somehow.  I handed him the keys and was relieved to have that totally behind me.  In the end, it worked out fine, but I didn’t like it.

  
I went through immigration and security quickly and was delighted to have time to spend in yet another lounge.  I was getting to like this.  The cappuccino machine and light breakfast items were just the antidote to everything else. 

  
The flight to Asuncion was non-stop, and under two hours.  I scored an exit row window seat so it was quite comfortable.  The weather was clear, allowing me to take in the boring scenery.  It looked to be mostly flat grassland or marsh.  I arrived before noon, and got waved up to an immigration booth where the guy there sent me back to the window where I needed to get my visa first.  Fortunately, no lines anywhere.

  
The visa guy was rather stern.  Signs dictated how the fee must be paid in American cash and how perfect the bills must be.  Fortunately, I’d foreseen this, and had crisp new bills.  I was photographed, a big sticker was applied to my passport, and lots of stamping and initialing took place.  I returned to the first guy for more processing.  And was then free to travel in Paraguay.

  
My bag was the only one left in baggage claim.  For the only major airport of the country, it was small and quiet.  I’d been unable to get local money at home so went to a cambio first thing.  They, too, commanded pristine cash.  Again, a taxi was the only viable way to town.  Don’t know how they conspire to prevent public transport from cutting into their business.

  
The ride into city center provided about the view I had expected.  It was just another poor Latin-American city.  Could have been Mexico or Venezuela.  The large Paraguay river loops around the city but is not attractive at all.

  
My hotel was well-situated and the neighborhood didn’t look all that bad.  The first guy I encountered at the hotel spoke some English, but after that no one.  I was told that I’d have to wait until the official check-in time of 2:00, though I’m sure the room was ready.  I was able to leave my bag there and he did provide me with directions to a tourist information office.

  
The tourist office gave me a little map, marked points of interest, but noted that most things would be closed since it was a weekend.  I wandered the small area that seemed to be the heart of the city.  It included a park where many were selling stuff from booths or just a blanket on the sidewalk.  I found one restaurant that looked appealing with outdoor seating.  I had a delicious and messy chicken sandwich at much better prices than I’d experienced in Uruguay.

  
Asuncion was the hottest stop on my trip.  Afternoon temperatures were about 90.  I went back to the hotel, checked in and cooled off.  And took the opportunity to wash out some clothes.  That’s a never-ending task when traveling light in a warm climate.  I can sweat up several shirts a day.  The room was a little shabby, but only about $25 per day including breakfast.

  
The only bit of the country I saw was Asuncion.  There’s no doubt some natural beauty in the country somewhere, but I doubt any other cities that provide much beyond what this capital and only big city does.  And that is not much.  The city is mostly ugly.  A few buildings have nice colonial architecture, but tended to be run-down or even vacant.  Much of the city had a poorly-maintained, if not abandoned, look to it.  Being a weekend with few people on the streets probably contributed to that vibe.

  
After breakfast in the morning, I headed out early to try and beat the heat.  I walked a long ways and hit everything on the map that looked like a point of interest.  Many turned out to be of no interest at all.  Their equivalent to our White House and Capitol buildings were attractive, but beyond that, not so much.  City parks were in poor condition.  They had workers there sweeping up fallen leaves while the sidewalks were all busted up and benches were falling apart.  Like putting lipstick on a pig, as they say.

  
For lack of any appealing alternatives, or even many unappealing, I had lunch at the same place.  I then hid out in the room for the hot part of the day.  I ventured out later to buy something for dinner.  Not many grocery options either on a Sunday. 

  
After a day of walking, the tightness of my new shoes had taken a toll.  The left one was cutting into my heel making my sock bloody.  I applied band-aids, but walking was becoming a problem.  Fortunately, I didn’t have much more of that planned any time soon.

  
This was Superbowl Sunday.  In past years I’d watched the game in Cambodia and Honduras.  Paraguay sounded like an appropriate addition to that list.  I had a TV in the room, but there was a bigger one in the hotel lobby.  I asked if it would be turned to the Superbowl that night.  I got half of a nod.

  
That evening on the street, I’d passed a sports bar that had the pre-game showing on their big screen.  I kept that in mind.  Being five hours ahead of west coast time, the game wasn’t due to start until late.  Back at the room, I tried to tune it in when the time neared.  There was soccer on about five channels and a bike race, but no American football.  I assumed that the lobby TV was on the same system.

  
I contemplated returning to the sports bar.  But it would be late at night walking back.  These streets that were only a little scary in daylight might be downright dangerous then.  I resigned to missing the game.  I tried getting live updates via my phone, but the website was down.  Oh well.

  
I needed to be back at the airport early in the morning for my next flight.  The hotel had a taxi coming for me.  It was a little late and had me concerned, but it did arrive.  I was told that the price would be less than originally quoted, which was a surprise.  It seemed to be more of an Uber-type thing than a metered taxi.  The ride seemed long and convoluted.  That would have concerned me but I had seen signs to the airport along the way.

  
By now, I had the routine down.  Check-in, immigration, VIP lounge for breakfast.  As expected, the lounge at Asuncion was not the classiest, but still a nice oasis.  And I used the WiFi there to find a site that was recapping the Superbowl.  So I was able to watch all the good plays of the game squeezed into a half hour or so.  It seems that I got to watch the big game in Paraguay after all.

  
This visit had me re-thinking travel just to scratch places off of a map.  Because that was the only reason I went to Paraguay.  The country has very little to offer and only added hassle and cost to my itinerary.  Let’s hope I remember this when contemplating a trip to visit several “stan” countries or hop around Africa.

  
I’d pretty well decided my itinerary for this trip before doing all the research on air travel.  It turned out that flight connections between Asuncion and Cusco are not so good.  It’s not that far, but there are no direct flights.  I’d have to go through either Santiago or Lima.  I’d booked through Lima.

  
But as so often happens, the airline changed things during the months between booking and flying.  I’d received notice that my flight had been cancelled and I was now routed through Bogota.  This meant a much longer day of flying and a later arrival.  I had no recourse or other good options, however.

  
One saving grace was that my flights were all on Avianca which is still a traditional full-service airline.  I hadn’t had the opportunity to pick seats though.  When I checked in, I was handed boarding passes indicating middle, middle and aisle seats for my three flights.  Oh goody. 

  
But I was pleasantly surprised on boarding the first flight to see that I was in “economy plus” or some such designation.  It had extra leg room which was welcome.  And even better was that no one showed up for the aisle seat next to me so I got to move over to that.  Got another breakfast on the flight and even watched a movie.  The five plus hours were downright comfortable.

  
Bogota is a nice airport I’d passed through once before.  And despite my international connections, my bag was checked through and there were no formalities.  Before finding my lounge, I saw a girl standing with a sign for it.  By showing her my card, she wrote me a ticket good for the optional deluxe buffet there.

  
I found the lounge and it was quite a place.  Under the main floor, it extended a long ways.  I was given directions to the buffet and bar, but could have used a map.  The buffet had some very tasty food so I enjoyed me third meal of the day.  Finding my way out of the labyrinth was equally difficult.

  
On the three hour flight back south to Lima, I did in fact have a middle seat without the extra leg room.  So that was not so happy.  The flight was late leaving the gate and slow to depart as well.  I did accept meal number four of the day though. 

  
In Lima, I did have to collect my bag, go through formalities, re-check, and go through screening again.  That kind of cut into my lounge time, but I managed to squeeze it in.  I was hardly hungry but managed to down something for meal number five of the day.

  
And it was there that it occurred to me that my rental car in Cusco might be the same setup as the one in Montevideo.  Looking at my paperwork, I saw that for location it said “meet and greet.”  It was now past my estimated arrival time.  So, I gave them a call and was surprised to reach someone quickly that did speak enough English.   I learned that my new late arrival  time would incur an overtime charge.  All things considered, I decided to pick up the car the next morning.

  
Oh, and when I re-checked my bag, I was pleasantly surprised to be handed a new boarding pass.  I got moved to first class.  When does that ever happen?  I no longer remember, but I’m guessing I may have paid some upgrade price that included the checked bag and extra room.  If not, thanks Avianca.  It was a short flight, though, so not a lot of benefit.

  
I finally arrived Cusco about 16 hours after leaving the hotel in the morning.  In three flights, I’d had five meals and crossed the equator twice.  It was raining in Cusco.  I collected my bag and got a taxi.  The traffic was very heavy and Cusco is a maze of one-way streets.  I was glad to not be driving and trying to navigate to a hotel.

  
The hotel turned out to be located in a square where a festival was going on.  There were two stages set up with live music.  Hundreds of people were moving about.  The taxi had to drop me two blocks down the hill as traffic was blocked.

  
I dragged my bag that distance in the rain over cobblestones.  Then it took me a while at the square to locate the hotel.  Glad I didn’t have to add parking to the difficulties.

  
The next morning, I needed to go pick up the car.  They had an office just down the street from the airport.  Armed with an address, I checked out and got a taxi.  Showing the driver the name of the company and the address, he nodded and drove off.  But as so often happens, he didn’t really know.  He pulled into the airport which I knew wasn’t right.  Confusion ensued.  I finally called the office and handed him the phone.  He got me there.

  
Once again, lots of paperwork and checking the car over.  This time it had several dings and scratches, so I had to make sure they were all accounted for.  Finally, I was on my way.  The plan was to get to the Bolivian border, then return to Cusco.  Then I’d enjoy whatever time I had left in the city.

  
Cusco is bigger than I’d thought.  The industrial outskirts spread out quite a ways.  Once free of the city, the countryside was nice.  Must have been the wet season as everything was very green and rivers were high.  The two lane highway was in good condition, but I soon encountered the big menace of driving in Peru.  They love speed bumps and use them all over.  Sometimes there were signs warning you and they were painted yellow.  Other times they were kept a secret.  You didn’t want to hit one at full speed though.  I managed to see them all in time.

  
On the way out of town I’d noticed the price of gas.  Doing some quick computing in my head, it seemed that it was awfully expensive.   That didn’t jive with the cheap taxis.  I later confirmed what I suspected, that they sell fuel by the gallon, not liter.  So the price was reasonable.  Colombia did as well, which is curious.

  
I was hoping that in the countryside and small towns I would see the informal cabanas and hostels that were so plentiful in Chile and Argentina.  But they don’t exist in Peru.  Maybe there’s not much call for that, but I’m guessing it has to do with who lives in those areas.  The people living outside of major cities all appear to be pretty poor.  It’s mostly people tending small farms living in very humble houses.  Putting up rental units is beyond their means and thinking.

  
Passing through one small town I found it alive with people all over the streets and town square selling everything from booths.  I parked and walked through it all.  Bought a few food items and a knife to cut them with.  Then found a pair of sandals cheap to take over for my cruel shoes if necessary.  I ended up using the knife to modify my shoes.  Cutting off the lip over the heel did the trick and made them comfortable enough.  Never used the sandals.

  
As lunchtime came, I sure didn’t see many opportunities.  There were only occasional humble villages in the midst of lots of grazing land.  But what looked like a nice restaurant appeared by the side of the road.  I stopped.  No cars were parked there and it looked dead.  But a lady selling something told me to go around the other side.

  
And sure enough, there was a waiter eager to have me as a customer.  He showed me in to a lavish buffet that looked freshly set up and untouched.  The place was empty.  I asked where were the other people.  He told me that a large group was due to arrive soon.  I balked a little at the price and he quickly offered a one plate fill-up at about half price.  Deal. 

  
I enjoyed a satisfying plate of interesting stuff.  Shortly after I sat down with that, a busload of Swedish tourists came in and lined up for the food.  Excellent timing.

  
That afternoon I stopped at a place that looked interesting.  Behind a fence I could see people in a swimming pool, which seemed out of place.  It turned out to be thermal baths.   And out front were a bunch of crude ovens that women were tending.  Signs in the area had proclaimed this the guinea pig capital of Peru. I asked and indeed they were cooking “cuy.”  

                                                                       Cuy ovens

  
I contemplated using the baths, as they were certainly cheap, but time and inconvenience had me decide against it.

  
At one point, I noticed a flapping noise coming from the front of the car.  Stopping on the highway to check it out, I found that the plastic pieces that sort of protect the bottom of the car were hanging down.  Apparently higher speed caused that to happen.  I tucked them away as best I could, but they’d eventually start flapping again.  The little fasteners were worn off (probably from speed bumps) and could no longer attach. 

  
I figured I could fix it handily with zip ties or duct tape, but had neither.  And there were no Home Depot stores to be found.  I finally appropriated some drawstring and tied them up well enough.

  
It was at one of these stops that I noticed a brand new gas station along the highway.  Since everything else in the area was so old and humble, it looked totally out of place.  Then down the road further, I noticed another almost just like it.  Then more.  They were all very new and nice with big concrete aprons.  They were of various gas companies.  Many had a tall thin building attached that seemed to be like a little truckers motel.  They came one after another along this highway for no apparent reason.  I got gas at one and felt like I might have been their only customer all day.  They all appeared to be open and hurting for business.  Curious.

  
Juliaca was the only city of any size along there and timed out well for spending the night.  Using the GPS, I was able to locate a hotel and navigate to it.  It was just starting to rain hard.  I got inside before the thunder, lightning and hail started.  It was quite a storm.

  
The hotel was cheap and in a very ugly neighborhood.  I ate at a chicken joint across the road.  That too was a good bargain.  Though in both cases language made everything a challenge.

  
In the morning, I went looking for coffee, at least, and hopefully breakfast.  Not to be found.  Even a place advertising breakfast had no coffee.  How can that be?  So off I drove.  The rest of Juliaca was equally ugly.  Many roads were unpaved and the storm had left huge puddles hiding potholes of unknown depth.  It was slow getting out of that dismal place.

  
Getting to Bolivia wasn’t my only reason for that road trip.  I’d be close to Lake Titicaca.  It claims to be the highest navigable waterway in the world and always fascinated me.  Although that claim is questionable, it is indeed a big lake up very high.  The scenery in the area is interesting and there were a few things to see. 

  
One of those attractions was the floating islands of some indigenous people.  I failed to read up on it enough and wrongly assumed the location from my map.  That had me drive way out a little peninsula that protrudes into the lake.

  
I got suspicious when the road became hard to follow and I saw no signs.  I’d also expected to see tourist buses.  It became apparent that I was not on my way to the floating islands.  But the dead-end drive was worthwhile anyway.  Locals were tending their sheep and llamas.  And there were frequent great views of the lake.  One place had a serious climb up to a rocky viewpoint.  The air was very clear with excellent visibility.

                                                         Breathtaking view... literally

  
I should mention that Cusco is at an elevation of 11,000 feet.  This road trip was about the same and sometimes higher.  I’ve never been bothered by altitude sickness but did have a headache there at times.  And curiously had a very difficult time sleeping the first few nights.

  
The high altitude made for much cooler weather than in Paraguay despite being closer to the equator.  Temperatures remained in the 60s, I think.  Another affect of altitude is how it hurts engine performance.  My rental car must have had a small motor to begin with but at those heights, it was really gutless.

  
Towards the end of this peninsula, the native farmers were looking at me like I was truly an intruder.  And I guess I was.  Life there was pretty primitive.  There were horses and carts, not tractors.  And I’d sometimes see women carrying huge bundles of stuff on their backs.  I retreated back to civilization.

  
Next stop was some native ruins called Sillustani.  This was a well developed and maintained park.  I was able to find lunch there before touring the grounds.  It was mostly huge barrel shaped things made of stone that were used for burials.  Interesting enough.

  
I’d made a reservation for two nights in the other town of any size in the region, Puno.  It was down the road a piece.  I was pleasantly surprised when approaching it to find the city nothing like Juliaca.  Puno was at the edge of the lake.  But like Valparaiso, it had outgrown its available flat area and spread up the steep hillsides.  They were treacherous roads that led down into the city.

  
I found my hotel on the narrow one-way streets.  Getting the car put away was a difficult procedure, so I had no intention of taking it out again that night.  The area was ideal with lots of restaurants and shops.  The hotel was nice and the desk people spoke some English.  Tourist areas have their advantages.

                                                                      Downtown Puno

  
By then I’d figured out that the floating islands are visited by boat from Puno.  I wanted to go check out how that worked so walked the mile plus down to the harbor area.  Many tour operators were located there and I quickly learned what I needed.

  
The next morning was my run for the border.  I extracted the car from its snug parking spot and headed for Bolivia.  Except for those gawdawful speed bumps, it was an easy and scenic drive.   

  
I arrived at my pre-selected border town and parked a few blocks from the bridge.  It was a lively town with lots going on.  People were moving goods all over, mostly on hand carts.  Small shops and vendors were selling lots of stuff.

  
As I neared the bridge separating the two countries, I saw a sign saying something to the effect of avoid fines by following border procedures.  That concerned me a little.  What procedures, I wondered.  The locals seemed to be crossing without any formalities.  Right before the bridge I did notice an official guard shack with a couple of officials standing outside.  Hmm?  While locals were crossing unimpeded, I certainly didn’t blend in with them.

  
I walked near one of the officials and made a gesture of walking with a questioning look on my face.  He kind of shrugged and clearly didn’t care what I did.  So I proceeded and soon found myself in Bolivia.  They also had a couple of officials standing around, but I got the impression I could have walked right on by.  But I’d accomplished my goal and had no reason to risk complications.  I returned to Peru.

  
My incursion of 100 yards or so into Bolivia was considerably more than my foray into North Korea, but slightly less than my visits to Laos and Burma.  I strolled around the town a while before heading back to Puno.

  
After tucking the car away, I walked down towards the water again and found my tour agent.  This time, she was away and Grandma was minding the store and baby.  Only Grandma didn’t know a word of English.  We got it figured out though and she led me towards the boats.  I got handed off to the daughter en route.  She led me across three boats and onto the fourth.  They were tied side by side.  I was the only one there.  She assured me that a group was coming soon and we’d be leaving in 10 minutes.  Yea, right.

  
A half hour later, the boat finally got under way.  It was only a ride of 20 minutes or so.  The last part was through a channel that had been cut in the reeds that grow in abundance along the shores of the lake.  It is those reeds that the islands are made of.

  
I guess that natives have been using these floating islands for hundreds of years.  It must have provided protection from invaders and access to fishing.  Those reasons have given way to being a tourist attractions now.  But they are unique and interesting.  There are many of these islands, or rafts really.  Most look small and contain only a few huts.  Some are bigger.  They are made of the lake reeds piled up.  They rot from the bottom and must constantly be replenished with fresh reeds on top.  Felt very spongy to walk on.

                                                                   Floating island

  
The residents there did handicrafts and were trying to sell us blankets and such.  I didn’t see anyone buying.  After another couple of meals and a nights sleep in Puno, it was time to head back.

  
There was plenty of traffic in Juliaca making that a slow transit again.  I took a detour for a ways that took me through the town of Lampa which was quaint and actually appealing.   Other towns, usually, were not.

                                                              Peruvian countryside 

  
One thing that impressed me in rural Peru is the appearance of the people.  Almost all of them look like they stepped from the pages of an old issue of National Geographic.  The women wore very traditional garb including colorful blankets and the little round hats.  Both men and women tended to be dark, weathered and short.  The women generally pear shaped and not at all attractive.

  
The highway went as high as 14,000 feet.  It was all that wimpy car could do to make it over the hill.  I pulled back into Cusco before dark.  The GPS helped me navigate the complex maze of the old town to the hotel I’d reserved.  It was a quirky old place overlooking the square.  Rather nice.

  
I spent a day walking the town and enjoying the feel of the place.  That included the big market full of stalls selling pig faces and things.  After seeing several juice bars, I finally found a place to order a coffee, and was amazed at what I was served.  It was a good-sized glass of hot milk and a smaller glass of espresso.  The glass of milk was full so hard to mix the two.  I managed to consume only about half of it.

  
The seating was communal on long benches.  At some point I scooted down to make room for someone and ended up too far and flipped the bench up.  I spilled coffee and nearly landed on my ass.  Good to embarrass yourself in front of strangers. 

                                                           Typical looking Peruvians

  
For lunch I had something called raclette or similar.  You get a toaster oven at your table and a tray of cheeses and other stuff.  Also a plate of boiled potatoes.  You grill some cheese to bubbling, then scrape it off onto the potato.   Different.  I ended up buying a sweater for Lin and later one for myself.   Only when I got it home did I realize that it is nearly identical to one I bought in Lima a few years ago.

                                                                            Cusco

  
The following day, I ventured out with the car again.  The one-way streets made escaping the area tricky.  I was heading up a steep hill when it became blocked ahead.  I was forced to divert onto a yet steeper hill.  The car had a manual transmission, of course, which made negotiating hills difficult.  But the wimpy engine on this car could not climb the hill in low gear.  I’d have to rev it up, let the clutch out carefully and move forward as far as I could before it bogged down.  Then stop and do it again.  It took about four goes to climb the hill.  Whew!   Backing down wasn’t much of an option.   

  
I wandered some nearby roads.  One went well up a canyon and was notable for the number of rocks on the road.  Clearly plenty of rocks let go above and fall on the road.  I wondered whether I was looking at a couple of days worth or maybe they’d accumulated over a long time and nobody removes them.  In any case, a little creepy.

  
I picked up a couple of hitchhikers.  They spoke English, which was welcome.  Both were young guys from Europe there to teach.  They seemed to enjoy what they were doing.

  
The next morning I was off to Colombia.  I set off in the car to return it to the office where I’d picked it up.  The road there was horribly busy with traffic mostly stopped.  I had only a vague recollection of where on that street the rental office was.  I also had an address, but numbers were hard to spot from the street.  I finally made a U-turn and parked to try and locate the place.  It wasn’t where it was supposed to be.  Apparently, the street changed names somewhere and the addresses repeated.  After a lot of stress, I finally found it.  My fault for not paying closer attention to where I got the car.

  
Even little Cusco airport had a lounge, so I paid it a visit.  My first leg to Lima was on a cheapo airline called Viva, I think.  No extras, hard seats, etc.  I had a window seat with no one in the two seats next to me.  When someone tried to move into the aisle seat, they were intercepted by the flight attendant.  Everyone must remain in their assigned seat or pay $15 to change.  Wow!

  
I had some time in Lima and knew where the lounge was so enjoyed that again.  The flight to Bogota arrived near dark.  There may have been public transportation options, but I didn’t want to try that when taxis were so cheap.

  
Early in this trip I switched from writing trip notes on paper to dictating them onto my phone.  Yes, I’m trying to catch up to the 21st century.  It seemed to work pretty well and saved a lot of paper.  I failed to make any more entries after Peru though, so some details from Colombia will be forgotten.  Which may coincide nicely with the reader getting tired of reading.

  
Bogota is not as high as Cusco, but at 8600 feet, still up there.  I was ready to ease on back to sea level. Temperatures only reached about 70 during the day.  It was perfect weather for all the walking I did.

  
My hotel was again in a pretty good area with lots of restaurants nearby.  It looked safe enough but I heard comments to the contrary.  I had no trouble though.  Bogota has horrible traffic and no metro system.  They do have loads of buses, some of them running on dedicated busways.  But again, I never went to the trouble of learning to use them.

  
Except for the traffic, I liked the city.  The mountains to the southeast make it easy to keep oriented and provide a nice view.  There is lots to see there and my favorite quality is that it’s all affordable.

  
Highlights were a trip up to Mount Monseratte.  This was very much like Cerro San Cristobal that we did in Santiago.  It too, had both a funicular and a cable car to the top.  Except only the funicular was running for whatever reason, so I rode that.  There was a park at the top with a church and more.  The view was spectacular. 

  
Down from there a nice walk led along the university to the heart of the city.  Along the way were many funky buildings and beautiful murals.  It’s a colorful and interesting city.  I visited the gold museum because it was on a list of things you must do.  Then came Plaza de Bolivar and a host of impressive government buildings. 

  
The square was full of people and pigeons.  I can’t resist looking in cathedrals and Bogota has many nice ones.  A few blocks away I found a great place for lunch.  It was full of locals and advertised a meal of the day.  I think it was under $6 including beverage and was excellent.

  
Leading back towards my hotel was Carrera 7.  This was a pedestrian-only street for many blocks and very interesting.  There were performers and people selling everything.  As in many cities, like businesses seem to group together.  There would be street of bathroom fixtures, and a block of wedding dresses.  Not far from my hotel was a block of florists.  Colorful and it smelled good to walk there.

                                                                     Florist shops

  
On my last day in the city, I’d pretty much seen everything close by, so signed up for a tour out to a national park.  Chicaque was not that far away, but with city traffic, it took about two hours to reach.  It was convoluted city roads to the edge of town, followed by a few miles of country road that led to the park entrance.  That had a very nice lodge made of heavy timbers.  And the furniture was all crafted of gnarly local wood.

  
From there it was 4-wheel drive jeeps down a very slow and rough trail.  At the end was another lodge called the sanctuary.  A good lunch was served there.  Nearby were spaces for tent camping.  They also rented out a treehouse and a couple of upscale camping tents.

  
Trails led all over the densely forested mountains.  The highlight for me was the included zip line.  Surprisingly I’d never done that before, except for one I’d made.  This one required a semi-strenuous hike up to the location where a single cable stretched across a good-sized valley. 

  
There didn’t appear to be a lot of slope to the cable and I wondered if momentum would carry me to the other side.  It was far enough across that you couldn’t see much what went on at the other end so I didn’t know what to expect there when my turn came. 

  
It was a thrilling ride, of course.  High above the trees and moving along rapidly.  Approaching the end, I expected to be slowing down and “caught” by someone.  But no, it had an arresting system.  My trolly thing slammed into blocks around the cable that were attached to bungees or something.  Like a jet landing on an aircraft carrier, my high speed was quickly dissipated as I came to a stop.  A ladder had to be rolled into place to allow me to unhook and get down.  It was quite a ride.

  
The trip out was a slow uphill grind in the jeeps, followed by the horrible traffic getting back into the city.  But it was nice to get out in the country, and very scenic.

  
At various places this trip I saw people working at traffic lights trying to make .  Usually they were selling stuff.  Sometimes it was washing windows.  Others tried entertaining with juggling or something.  But the one that impressed me most was a guy that I only caught a glimpse of.  He’d quickly strung a cable across the lanes of traffic, then climbed onto it and juggled.  I assume it was a long light and he had time to set-up, perform, take down and collect his tips.  Very enterprising.

  
Finally, the day had come to head home.  My midday flight left for Panama City.  Then the eight-hour-plus leg to Las Vegas.  It was OK.  I had a long layover there and was hoping to spend it in a comfortable chair in the airport lounge.  I arrived there only to learn that it would be closing soon for the night.  Bummer.  I got a quick bite and reluctantly left.

  
For the “city that never sleeps,” its airport gets mighty dead at night.  I found a quiet corner and slept a little on the floor.  I was able to hit the lounge briefly when it opened in the morning before my flight boarded to Seattle.

  
It was wonderful getting home.  Seeing Lin, familiar food, everyone speaks English.  And an almost endless supply of clean clothes.  I have new appreciation for familiar things.  Three months is a long time to be gone.  But it is still winter here and I miss the nice weather I’d been enjoying.

  

To wrap up the trip geographically:  Spain was great.  Seeing Karen and family in Madrid, but also Barcelona and the three ports of call in Spain. 

  
The two cruises on NCL weren’t bad, but they manage to piss me off with their arrogance, secrecy and ways of doing business.  Four weeks was perhaps a little too long on the same ship.

  
The two ports of northern Chile were good.  I don’t care much about Santiago.  And as I said previously, Valparaiso is a special place, but has its downsides also.

  
The road trip with Tony was great.  Southern Chile and that part of Argentina on the other side of the mountains are very scenic and relatively tourist friendly.  It was a grand adventure.

  
The cruise with Jen around the south tip of South America and to Antarctica was spectacular.  Princess did right what NCL did wrong.  The scenery down there was beautiful and the ports all very interesting. 

  
Buenos Aires was more enjoyable than I’d expected.  It’s very much worth a visit.

  
Uruguay was a bit of a disappointment.  Colonia was a charming place, but other than that, I wasn’t impressed.  It has lots of beach, but not much in the way of scenery.  And it’s expensive.

  
Paraguay.  Dismal, don’t bother.

  
Peru.  All the coastal areas I saw were not at all appealing.  Lima has very little to offer.  Cusco is a special place and the Andes are beautiful.  But it’s not an easy place to be a tourist.

  
Bolivia:  Well, I didn’t really see Bolivia.

  
Bogota was a worthwhile stop, though I was a little burnt out on travel by then.  Colombia is probably my favorite country in South America.  I’m done with the rest of the continent, but may return there one day.

   
The trip was a success in the following ways:  I managed to follow the plan without any major glitches.  I got to all those remote countries.  No lost bags, no reservation mishaps.  No problems with passports etc.  I was never a victim of crime or even got seriously cheated.  I didn’t get hurt or seriously sick.  Didn’t lose anything.  In short, there are lots of things that could have gone wrong, and none of them did.

  
Downsides:  As usual, I feel I got a superficial look at most places.  Without interacting with locals it’s hard to feel that I know a place.  This is mostly my fault.  I could have used air BnB.  I could have put more effort into Spanish.  Could have sought out more local contact.  But travel is hard work and I guess I’m content to take the easy way out a lot of the time. 

  
Cruises are obviously the easy way out and not cultural immersion by any means.  But they are a respite from the challenge of living out of a suitcase and moving every few days.  Mixing the two modes seemed to work well. 

  
South America is not a real popular tourist area and for good reason.  It’s big and spread out.  Places of natural beauty are far apart and remote.  Travel infrastructure is not very advanced.  But mostly the culture is not that diverse or interesting.  Ireland, Spain and Germany are vastly different.  Ecuador, Uruguay and Chile… not so much.  The cities are not terribly impressive or different from each other.  The food, likewise.

  
In conclusion, it was a successful trip.  I’m glad to have done it.  But in the future, I need to pursue places of more interest rather than the challenge of checking countries off of a list. 

  


The following is optional reading and self-explanatory:

Dear Princess and NCL.  I’m sending this to both of you to do with as you please.

Tale of two cruise lines

 I recently sailed from Barcelona to San Antonio, Chile on the NCL Star.  Then two weeks later took the Coral Princess from San Antonio to Buenos Aires.  The ships were similar and the service equivalent, but beyond that was a vast difference.

  
The Star was commanded by Cpt. Grltbrzt, or something like that.  His public announcements were minimal, always sounded like he was reading from a script and were heavily accented.  Cpt. Todd McBain was in charge of the Coral Princess.  He made frequent public announcements that were easy to understand and provided useful and timely information.

  
When NCL decided to skip the port of Punta Delgada, Cpt. Gravlbar waited until we’d left our last port (and opportunity to use cheap internet) to announce it.  Many of us didn’t hear this and no further information was provided.  The reason given was weather, though no evidence was provided.  Other circumstances made this sound very suspicious.  No compensation was offered, and the very inferior port of Great Stirrup Key was substituted instead of other more desirable options.  Port charges were not refunded.

  
When Princess had to cancel the stop of Punta Arenas, Cpt. McBain announced it immediately, apologized sincerely, explained the whole situation, and credited everyone $75.  The affecting weather was presented to us on the TV.  There was no suspicion of hidden motives or problems with the ship.

  
Throughout the cruise, Cpt. McBain kept us up to date on the developing itinerary.  Cpt. Gerbildik never failed to mumble warnings about using hand rails and the hazards of uneven thresholds.

  
When a minor emergency erupted on the Coral Princess, Cpt. McBain was on the PA instructing the crew and keeping the guests fully updated on what was going on.  We were reassured regularly that things were under control and that no action was required of us.  A full accounting of what had happened and its effect was presented the next morning.

  
Rumors abounded about mechanical problems on the Star.  But “mum” was the word on that.  Cpt. Grmblbum followed orders and never acknowledged anything.  If any emergency happened during my time aboard the Star, I’m sure it was covered up.  Passengers were clearly meant to be kept in the dark.

  
Two more ports were cancelled from the NCL itinerary between Miami and Chile.  Again, inferior ports were substituted.  A letter gave the reason as “mechanical issues”.  I encountered general manager Maeling and asked him when we might be given a full explanation.  His response was astounding.  I was told that that letter was all the notification that would be provided, that he knew nothing more and that NCL owed us nothing for the change.  He obviously wanted me to shut up and not ask inconvenient questions.  I should appreciate that the change was made “for my safety” after all.

  
Princess requested that guests report all illnesses arising during the cruise to the medical office.  They apparently wanted to track any outbreaks or trace any source of spreading germs.  NCL made no such request.   After eating two meals in a row at the buffet on the Star, I got sick to my stomach.  I sent an FYI message to them on this.  I got no response.

  
NCL posted some clearly wrong information in the lobby about our cruise port.  I called this to the attention of the cruise director who promised to look into it.  Six hours later, the misleading info was still there.

  
Clearly Princess, and particularly Cpt. McBain, wanted to give guests the best possible experience.  They succeeded and I felt like a valued customer.  Cpt. Grovlmutt seemed concerned only with following instructions from corporate.  “Go where we tell you, and don’t concede a thing!”  NCL, as always, was concerned only about the bottom line.  I felt like an ATM to them.

Gary D. Winn

Renton, WA

(I got an appreciative response from Princess and no reply from NCL)