Belated birthday celebrations

Off to the real Chile; la cuñada's mother's birthplace, Calimaipu, a small fishing village west of Puerto Montt, on the Pacific, very reminiscent of the part of Devon where the Siblings grew up. No souvenir shops, lots of orange and yellow fishing boats bringing home strange sea creatures shaped like stones, which are a delicacy. Once a year, the town takes on the aspect of a wild west town, complete with whisky and whores, when the fishing fleet catches abalone, much prized, and the streets are awash with cash. (Perhaps I should clarify that this in no way resembles our home town). The rest of the year, it is slightly down at heel, a few gently crumbling wooden-shingled houses lining the streets, a sleeping dog or two, and the ubiquitous pickup trucks taking the catch to market. Then a short drive to the local beach, a long, sandy strand, with the deep blue, white-crested breakers I always associate with the Pacific. The Brothers walked there from the village, and while we waited for them to arrive, we feasted on fresh strawberries, cashews and peaches, watched la cuñada's son and grandson play in the waves, and paddled. Gulls, small raptors and other sundry avians nest in the ochre cliffs, while huge gunnera plants tumble their way down to the shore. The surf was tempting, but a stiff breeze and chilly water curbed my urge to bathe, and we wandered back up the beach to the turf and red-barked pines where the car was parked. Back then to Puerto Varas for a swim in a pool overlooking the lake, from where we could see the ash cloud still fuming out of the volcano which erupted earlier in the year. Luckily for Chile, the westerly wind blows it all towards Argentina (I suspect a plot), not so lucky for the Argentine tourist industry around Bariloche where the ash is several inches thick. I was grateful that I'd changed our original travel plan to return to Buenos Aires via Bariloche. The Other Brother "invited" the Brother and me to celebrate somewhat belatedly our respective decades, in a lovely restaurant overlooking the lake, the temperatures still in the twenties at 8pm, where we were joined later by the surgeon who replaced the Other Brother's hip, and who had spent some time in the Siblings' county town. An interesting conversation with his charming wife who teaches social work in the local university. She introduced me to a Peruvian pudding suspiro de limonea (lemon sigh), and several bottles of delicious wine were imbibed, although sadly not by wrinklitourist, for whom abstinence here is utter torture. Nonetheless a wonderful day, just like all the other wonderful days we have experienced here. La Noche Vieja will be spent en famille, at what is billed as a chaotic evening, with fireworks at midnight, then off go the Brother and I again to Santiago tomorrow morning on the final leg of our wrinklie expedition. A Happy New Year to all!