Blog 2: Uruguay
“Not until we are lost do we begin to understand ourselves.”
Henry David Thoreau
The passage from Buenos Aires to the coastal town of Colonia del Sacramento in Uruguay was a smooth one, with the exception of one event. We termed it the “Bueno Incident”.
A much finer investment was the steak we had at a grand restaurant as we arrived in Colonia. It is a beautiful holiday town, with wonderful architecture, cars and cafes, and a breathtaking downhill view of the port and beaches. Anyway, our time in Colonia is synonymous with the sensation of steak melting in the mouth. We got talking with a lovely Argentine couple and an Australian that teaches English in Argentina, who decided that they would enlighten us unto the path of true parilla. Friday in the day, they took us to the butchers where we bought unreasonable, giant masses of (to us) unidentifiable meat. The way that a barbeque works here (and quite frankly the only way barbequing should work anywhere), is by creating a fire and letting it go out, then slowly, patiently cooking the meat upon the embers on an elevated metal grill-frame. We drank fantastic Argentine wine, and were presented with beef, pork, chorizo, blood sausage and other delicacies. The most interesting part of the evening however, was gaining an insight into Argentina and Uruguay through our new friends. We discussed everything from history to youth culture, education, employment, family life, traditions and more. It was a beautiful evening with interesting conversation and truly kind people.
Every evening in Colonia can only be described as beautiful. One memorable evening Phil and I went for a walk and caught the sunset at Puerto Viejo (the old port). It was the most beautiful sunset I have ever seen. Not only did I see the sun set, with colours I have never seen before (possibly because I had been staring at the sun so long it started playing tricks on my eyes, and possibly because it made me so emotional I had tears in my eyes that were distorting the view!), but as the sun set in front of us on one side of the pier, the moon rose directly behind us. Standing on a pier between day and night can have an extremely tranquil, yet reflective effect if you let it.
Unfortunately the beauty of Colonia contrasted and therefore brought to the foreground the ugliness I found within myself. As everybody does, I went through a difficult time last year, and unfortunately did not treat myself or the people around me in the way that they had deserved, and this was the first time I became conscious of it, and I became sad. However, it was the following day that I re-learnt that it is only ever a matter of time before life shows you something that will momentarily allow for a rest from any fears or sadness. That is all you need, and the more you remember it, the more time you will gain for rest and peace.
The next day we went to the top of the restored nineteenth century faro (lighthouse) on Plaza Mayor 25 de Mayo. The exhaustion from the drinking at the parilla the night before, and from the heat and most of all from my sadness left me feeling as though I might collapse into tears or to the ground at any moment. I did not smile or speak, but trudged on through the beautiful cobbled and green town, as though it were my desert dune green mile grave. To then climb atop a lighthouse was a daunting task. Half way up we looked down upon the town, and I sat against the cool breeze on my own. It was strange, the task that seemed so foreboding, was exactly what I needed. As I sat on my own the child´s cries in the distance turned into the laughter of many children, and my ears became accustomed to the sounds around me; the children laughing and playing, the nattering in the cafes and the birds singing. As we got to the top I tried to look past myself and take in the view. The sun was so hot. The water was glittering olive green. The church parted the tips of the trees. The people wandered aimlessly and sat around.
By now I was feeling a little better. On the way home however, we stopped at a lovely café, and sat at one of the tables on the rough brick road in the sun. I noticed that the only other customer, sitting a few tables away from us, had a large empty jug at her side, and I hoped that it used to be filled with fresh lemonade. Soon enough I was brought my very own giant jug of freshly squeezed lemonade. And it tasted exactly how I had imagined, and that was all it took and I was happy.
So it was with this new state of mind that we moved on to Montevideo. Welcome back to the urine stenched capital cities of South America. It was an unwelcome change from the tranquility and blissful ignorance of Colonia. The hostel we stayed in threatened to fall apart at the seams with every movement. There was a mammoth cockroach (possibly/ hopefully the biggest known to mankind) on the stairs, twitching it´s feelers in death after a long, fattening and blissful life. We are not a pair of picky princesses, but the shop around the corner was deemed highly unsafe by our health inspection.
I know that we did not pick a particularly nice area in the city, and others will have great experiences there, but as I sat on the roof and looked out over the city it resembled a crumbling dystopia. There is no need for any more descriptive detail, other than that everything around me is in ruins. Opposite the hostel was a small neighborhood of shanty houses, where families went about their tasks and lives the same as we do. We arrived in an evening, and the next day we stepped out of the hostel into a dusty, empty ghost town. The only sounds were the melancholy song of a traveler and the occasional raised voices of a drug addict.
The city had a strange atmosphere. Even the sights we saw seemed strange. We went to Plaza Independencia underneath which, in a strange building, lie the ashes of the country’s greatest hero, General Artigas. The giant urn is guarded by two beef eater style soldiers, and the marble walls are covered in his words. Things got even stranger in Uruguay. We decided to get somewhat off the tourist trail and briefly stop in Tacuarembó. We soon realized however, that there is no such thing as briefly stopping in Tacuarembó; it is so remote that the next bus going our way was in four days time. As soon as we drove in to the town we gulped at our mistake. The town and the little shack-like houses did not look promising, especially as we did not have any accommodation booked for the first time on our trip. Luckily there was a tourist office: unluckily, the kind and enthusiastic mustached gentleman did not speak a word of English. The place we stayed at was a little Hospedaje with one room of six beds, dusty sheets and the room hovered and buzzed with insects. We chose to laugh rather than to cry at details such as the D.I.Y bathroom with only two hot taps but no hot water. Despite this, and despite the kind man that ran the place, we stayed the last two nights in a little hotel, mainly as we were ending up with plenty of random insect bites and the storms at night dripped through the roof.
Out of all the places we have been on this trip however, I warmed to Tacuarembó the most, and we refer to it all the time. It was a charming town, with kind people, the best bakery in South America (I would bet all my Pesos), and an atmosphere of welcome and warmth.
Our trip to Uruguay ended in Salto, where the main attractions are window shopping and eating out at midnight. We stayed in a lovely hotel, by far the nicest place we have stayed and went for walks and dinners, mostly people watching and relaxing. After a few days of this pensioner holiday, we hopped on a tiny little wooden boat across the Rio Uruguay to explore more of Argentina.
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