Dec 11 DAY 23 Isla Mechuque

With plans thwarted for a visit to Isla Mechuque the two previous days, Mirella organized a boat trip for Bettina, Matthias (my new traveling companions) and me, and an American family, the daughter just finishing up her studies in Chile, who came the night before.

We were to set off around 9am, travel to the island(about 45 minutes away) and return after a short visit of around an hour and one-half. What we had not yet fully understood is that our passage was an arrangement of a slightly dubious nature. Three boats had been hired to take food and everything necessary to entertain fifty people for a corporate party on the isla. And our small group was an under the table arrangement between Mirella and the captain.

We set off to discover what we could in a short time and I wandered off to find an unattended museum with artifacts from life on the isla including the first TV. A photo on the wall resembled a man I had seen outside, taken perhaps thirty years prior. This collection was his labor of love.

I met up with the American family, in a woman’s home and one of the isla’s few restaurants. We had tea not far from an assortment of leaves being prepared for skin balms that were to be prepared and sold. The certificate on the wall clearly legitimatized all transactions. Heading back to the dock for the scheduled departure, I learned of the first delay.

Not far from the dock, a woman was tending to her garden and I stopped to admire it. We chatted briefly before she invited me in for some coffee. Iris had come to this island about sixty years before to teach at the school, met her husband and stayed. The life never suited her but crossword puzzles and tending to her flowers brought joy to her days. I saw Bettina and Matthias passing by and soon we were all sitting at a table with bread and honey and Iris’s husband Luis, speaking of the delinquency and danger present in the cities and clearly nostalgic for life under Pinochet. Iris’s place had changed with her husband’s arrival, she did not sit with us at the table, but a short distance away. But the harshness of their outlook did not mar a softer inner core. Upon our departure we were presented with gifts from the garden, fresh herbs, potatoes and a peony which I previously confessed to Iris to be my favorite.

It soon became clear that our leaving the island was inextricably entwined with the corporate party which would be going on until 4pm or so.

With now more time, my friends and I set off in search for lunch.

We were directed to a new wooden structure that sat high on a small hill. It was virtually bare but a woman soon presented herself and offered her only fare, a “centolla.” I wasn’t sure what we would be eating but soon she was sitting with us cutting up into manageable morsels, what resembled a spiny king crab. The meat was sweet and delectable. Our delayed departure ultimately yielded a fine affair.

With some logistics to take care of my friends and I returned to Castro for the night.