The last blog showed how I felt about my struggles with American bureaucracy. Well, I finally triumphed and cut the head off most of the serpents in the contest. This was achieved on Thursday October 4th when in the glittering building of the new US embassy in Nine Elms, London that Trump was so rude about, I finally got authorisation for a work visa. But there was still a sting in its tail. I had to collect the wretched thing ! This I managed, from Chancery Lane, five hours before my flight to Newport !
After this high drama it all seemed very relaxed. First, then, to Newport, but not yet to ‘come aboard’ as they say as there’s
still reams of paperwork to be gone through; but informally I chatted with the
Admiral and various colleagues and started the process of getting a Social
Security Number, the next hurdle. Coincidently I was sent a picture of the ceremony I missed.
The real point though was to have a day looking at rental properties with Susan, my ‘realtor.’ I ended up going for one on the very sought-after Bellevue Avenue where all the famous ‘Mansions’ are to be found – not because of that but because the place I saw was quirky and full of books and antiques. A daft measure of suitability perhaps but it has a nice homey-feel to it. More organisation and paperwork to come, though.
The real point though was to have a day looking at rental properties with Susan, my ‘realtor.’ I ended up going for one on the very sought-after Bellevue Avenue where all the famous ‘Mansions’ are to be found – not because of that but because the place I saw was quirky and full of books and antiques. A daft measure of suitability perhaps but it has a nice homey-feel to it. More organisation and paperwork to come, though.
I was only in Newport for a
couple of days and was taken back to Boston by another smart young man from the
Transportation section; this one was a carpenter where my first pick-up driver
was a barber, both being part of the ship-services team. They were both
articulate and interesting to chat to; I thought with people like that in it,
there can’t be much wrong with the US Navy.
Next stop was Toronto and onwards
to Vancouver. I arrived too late to get the last flight to Victoria so checked
into the airport hotel for a few hours before taking the 0615 flight the
following morning. From there to the very grand Empress hotel, where I met
colleagues in the lobby and then boarded the bus for a day at sea on HMCS
Vancouver, which was fun with the navy showing off the ship’s capacity for
steep turns.
Cherry was fond of Victoria, the
nearby Munro’s bookshop and the former Empress hotel before its recent
refurbishment where we once had a very nice dinner trying not to notice the
mice running about on the floor of the famous Durbar dining room. Other guests
were not so relaxed about this. It still feels wrong being in such places
without her, otherwise enjoyable as it is. It was the same a few days later
when I went for a walk along the seaside promenade in the Chilean resort of
Vina del Mar and came across the Cap Ducal seafood restaurant jutting out over
the rocks, into the sea and amongst the pelicans. I took a photo of the window
table that we used to use, and thought how lucky I was then not to know what
was coming, just a few years later. Further evidence, if still wanting, of the
need to make the most of what you’ve got while you’ve got it.
After what is now a third trip to
Valparaiso, I feel as though I’m beginning to know it. It’s scruffy at the
edges and covered in graffiti, the majority probably qualifying as art but
about a third just the usual unsightly mess, often on otherwise charming
buildings. Built on 35 hills, it’s full
of precipitous and idiosyncratic corners and covered in gaily painted houses,
often a mixture of wood and corrugated iron, perched on impossibly steep
slopes. Loads of artists retreats cafés and restaurants looking out over the
bay. I kept a look out for ‘our’ teahouse with a very English name, but didn’t
see it. I did though get inside the old Admiralty building and the Naval Club,
both far grander than our rather mundane British equivalents. One has to keep a
straight face, though, when hearing of
the exploits of their main naval hero (apart from Lord Cochrane, that is); he
rejoiced in the name of Arturo Prat. But I don’t think he was one.
This trip to Vina del Mar and Valparaiso was at the back end of the second round trip of the month into Uruguay and Chile courtesy of their respective navies. Montevideo is a pleasant place, not very grand and it’s hard to accept that the water it fronts is actually a river estuary, except for the brown colour of the water. Here and in Valparaiso, I was given so many books, medals and diverse momentos that they had also to get me another bag so that I could carry all the booty back to the UK. I was extremely well treated, continuously wined and dined, always short of time and sleep, with my own minder/bag-carrier and car. These were also repeat visits, but in neither place could I find the hotels we stayed in last time, but otherwise enjoyed myself hugely – and found all the chat interesting. A flavour of the proceedings can be found in the following link, courtesy of the Chilean navy…
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