Day 1

Day 1. An experience by itself, the trip via Santiago de Chile. After 14 years without visiting (and, to be fair, without exiting the airport premises) I saw First World. Although, it is also true, in general all big metropolitan airports are 'islands' of First World in their respective contexts. Boarding the plane to Mt Pleasant (Malvi/klands) via Punta Arenas (Chile), a mid-sized 100-pax craft, it was interesting to glance people around. There seem to be several islanders amongst them (or their relatives) -British looks, forgive the classic stereotype- that blend with people from Chile itself and from other parts of the world. Interesting. Now, flying to P Arenas, bound to the South of this world... (There is only one weekly flight to the Islands, via Santiago. This is their main connection to the rest of the globe). From the plane, the sight of white Andean summits carved across by mountain rivers and blueish lakes reminds me of my personal debt with a good journey to the South (either side: that of Patagonian lamb with a superb Malbec -Argentina- or that of shrimps & crabs with Sauvignon Blanc -Chile-). Yummy.... This particular haul to P Arenas, nevertheless, still feels as a 'previous step'. The real 'shake' of expectations, anxiety and curiosity will only come when taking off to the Islands themselves: a flight that, according to my guesstimates, cannot take longer than hour and a half. And then it will be, yes, as U2 used to sing...."Until the End of the World"... And a neat story to tell...30 years ago, during the absurd war that Argentina and Britain raged against each other for the islands' sovereignity, my by then 8-year old wife wrote a letter to the Argentine soldiers in the battleground. That one who received it, Mr Brunt, kept them as a treasure which would allow him to mentally survive the horrors of trench-life, as a teenager precosciously exposed to such an extreme experience. And 30 years after he is giving back those letters to their now adult authors, probably as a part of his extensive inner processing of all those war experiences. By complete coincidence, he is doing that today (17/Nov) in a simple ceremony at the elementary school from which these kids sent these notes ... and where my wife used to attend classes as a child. She is not physically present, but her parents and her 3 children will go meet this war veteran today, exactly on the same day in which his husband is travelling to visit the Islands for the first time (and only?) ever. Both events had been planned independently from one another, yet by an irony of fate, they ended up happening on the very same day.