“I’ve got an albatross around my neck!”
How many times do we hear that idiom, know what it means, but can’t recall its origin?
Travel fleshes out whatever you’ve learned in school, seen in movies, read in newspapers, or heard on the nightly news emanating from your TV. Back in college or maybe high school, you were assigned Coleridge’s “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner,” where an old sailor narrates to a wedding guest the supernatural events of his voyage in the seas of Antarctica. His crewmates blamed him for killing an albatross, which guided them through the ice jams. So as punishment they hung the large, dead, innocent creature around this sailor’s neck to remind him of his guilt.
Students might suppose the albatross to be like the unicorn — make believe. It’s not! I saw loads of albatrosses gliding over the ocean waves while on our cruise ship as it journeyed to the fin del mundo (the end of the world.) So, a forgotten poem of 1797 came to life as I admired the large, graceful birds!
Going through the Beagle Channel reminded me of history lessons I’d learned about Darwin, a young intellect and writer, who was on the ship HMS Beagle, captained by Fitzroy. Now I saw what Charles Darwin had seen: sea lions roaring, penguins basking on the islands near the shore, a giant condor spreading its wings. Of course, Darwin back then witnessed the inhabitants of Tierra del Fuego, who lit fires along the shoreline.
A few days earlier, we had flown to Buenos Aires where we strolled the Recoleta Cemetery where Eva Peron was buried. Back in the 1970s, I attended the Broadway musical Evita and later saw Madonna as the lead in the film version. “Don’t Cry for Me Argentina” took on new meaning when our guide told us that Eva Duarte Peron’s body went missing for 17 years because it was whisked away and hidden in sundry places and finally discovered an ocean away. This new knowledge added another layer of pathos when I heard a singer belt out “Don’t Cry for Me Argentina,” after we’d seen a fast-paced tango show.
An excursion called “74 Days to Victory” in the Falklands reminded me of that war in 1982, when I didn’t even know where the Falklands — these stony islands — were located. As we heard stories of the bombing of the British naval ships and the loss of life and climbed hills to see the many memorials to the troops that kept the islands British, I realized how deep the loyalty to the crown runs among these folks who speak with a British accent, serve you tea and scones, and frequent their pubs when not shearing sheep. Suddenly, I understood this conflict between the UK and Argentina that I never understood back when it happened.
The first time I heard the word “Patagonia” was when Paul Newman and Robert Redford, starring in “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid,” planned their escape from the law. The handsome bank robbers hoped to evade U.S. lawmen and live out their days where gauchos roamed in the south of Argentina. This place, Patagonia, was a mention, a small clip in the film. I saw that western as a young co-ed back in 1969. I never pondered exactly where Patagonia was or the name’s origin: it was named by Europeans after the Big-Footed natives of the region.
Now, I’m a grandma of eight, an ARP qualifier, and one of few Americans who can say they’ve visited this land where those robbers of yore blended in with Welsh sheep farmers after disembarking in Buenos Aires in 1901.
Never was sailing from Buenos Aires, Argentina to Santiago, Chile, on my bucket list. Yet, it should have been. At the suggestion of good friends, we signed up for the two-week Princess cruise. American Airlines flew us to Miami from Raleigh-Durham International Airport. Then, we connected for our overnight flight to the capital of Argentina, which is surprisingly European in architecture. The warmth of summer in February was delightful. Through glacier fields in Chile we glided and were surprised at the German villages near Puerto Montt, Chile. Lake Llanquihue with the Orsono Volcano as a backdrop looked like Switzerland! On to horse ranches, wineries, and the capital Santiago, from which we departed after a wonderful 14 days of being entertained nightly by comedians, magicians, impressionists, singers, pianists, violinists, tango dancers and various other performers aboard the ship, which served lobster, escargot, and other wonderful delights and foreign foods I’d never eaten before while surrounded by passengers from all corners of the earth speaking their own languages.
Thoughts evoked by this trip concerned heritage and genealogy. What if my Prussian soldier great-grandfather had set sail for Chile instead of New York, or my Welsh Hopkins had ended up in Patagonia rather than Philly? Travel evokes these “what if” questions.
Not only does one consume cultural lessons and enhance one’s knowledge of history, literature, art, dance and humanities; in general, one learns so much about weather, zoology, botany, geology, mythology, religion, sports, and of course math, when you must calculate how much 50,000 pesos for a souvenir placemat is in dollars if 860 pesos equals one dollar.
I hope you, who are curious to learn and experience out-of-the-ordinary events, stick South America on your Bucket List. NC Travel in Siler City handled our arrangements and made it smooth sailing!
Carpe diem! Discover, y’all!
Chatham County resident Erika Hoffman is a retired school teacher and writer.