A couple of weeks ago I mentioned how I had met my long lost second cousins and how we started talking about family history. I followed this up by digging up a memoir by my great aunt Della who died about 20 years ago. She grew up in Punta Arenas in Chile and described life there in the 1890s in vivid detail.
A few days ago I went to meet my second cousins, one of whom I see every 10 to 20 years (this was only the third time I have met her in my adult life) and the other I had never met (except as a baby I believe).
We talked mainly about family history, and among the things that came up were the fact that my grandfather – their uncle – had a sister who died as a baby when her parents were living in Punta Arenas, at the southern tip of Chile. Incidentally I have long been aware of a distant Argentine connection but hardly at all of a Chilean one.
By a strange coincidence a colleague at work visited the cemetery a few weeks ago on a walking tour of Patagonia. She said it is very beautiful and one of the main sights of Punta Arenas (not the most attractive city in the world, I gather).