After our trip up the Osorno Volcano we headed back down the zig-zagging roads towards Lake Llanquihué. This provided me with a few chances to snap some photos of the Chilean landscape from the coach as we slowly descended.
Following the road around the southern shore of Lake Llanquihué we headed for the Club Aleman restaurant where we were due to have some lunch.
Now, before we’d ascended the volcano our guide had mentioned that we were going to eat at that particular restaurant next and that the food would be vegetable soup, grilled salmon (farmed salmon being one of Chile’s main exports), and blueberry pie. I’m not a fan of blueberries. My wife really didn’t like salmon and wasn’t too keen on the idea of vegetable soup either. But here’s the thing: these were dishes being prepared by locals in the country we were visiting and our attitude is always to try it, to see what it’s like, to respect where you are. Needless to say but the reason I’m mentioning this is that this was not a sentiment shared by some of our fellow passengers.
I don’t eat salmon!
I only eat Alaskan Salmon!
Nobody mentioned we wouldn’t be able to choose our own meals!
Yes, about half a dozen decided that the food wasn’t for them so the guide said he’d phone ahead while we were at the volcano and try to get an alternative. And he did. And so it was that some people had an alternative chicken meal prepared especially for them.
We arrived at the restaurant set in vibrant green surroundings under that clear blue sky we’d been accompanied by since mid-morning. After a brief nose around the exterior where the most interesting thing was the collection of hanging pots with flowering plants in them hanging from the trees we went inside for our meal.
We were seated with two other couples, both American, one of whom we’d had dinner with one evening and had talked with a few times before during the BOGO hours on board the Star Princess; white, elderly, southern twang, pleasant enough right up until someone mentions politics, race, or religion when you grit your teeth and try to change subject; very typical for the American cruiser demographic we meet. The other couple were fresh faces to us but it turned out that they were two of the half dozen who wouldn’t touch salmon.
We ate and drank. The vegetable soup was lovely; my wife even remarked on it. The Chilean wine was gorgeous, as we’d expected. The salmon was absolutely perfect. It was so good that my wife wolfed hers down and has since started buying salmon and cooking it herself now that she knows how good it can be. The blueberry pie exceeded expectations. The pisco sour was excellent. We loved everything prepared for us at Club Aleman Molino De Agua by the shores of Lake Llanquihué.
The two fussy eaters… no. The wife picked at the chicken that had been cooked especially for her then left it. She might have finished her soup. I don’t think she finished her pie. She mentioned she wasn’t a fan of pisco sour. If that had been the end of it that would have been fine except we all left tips; the unspoken agreement was $5 per couple would say thank you and cover the frantic deliveries of the meals to forty people around tables by the friendly staff. Except the fussy couple made a big show about deliberately leaving $2.50 because one of them didn’t like her food. There was nothing wrong with it and there was nothing wrong with the service but she’d decided she wasn’t going to eat it and therefore the staff should suffer. Some people are just scum.
We had a bit of time after that to pop outside and stretch our legs plus take in some of the views of Lake Llanquihué. A road separated the restaurant from the water which wasn’t busy but when cars came around the nearby bend they were doing some speed. It’s a good thing only some of us younger, more mobile people on the excursion risked crossing to get some better photos.