Uruguay Day Fourteen (End)

CHUY-TREINTA Y TRES: After wandering around Brazil and Uruguay for a while, I finally catch the bus to Treinta y Tres. After two weeks of traveling around Uruguay as a tourist it was all about to end. I did not mind though because I was about to meet The Scotts, some friends that I had never yet met. (Photos below...) Breakfast At The Hotel Breakfast at the hotel is a service that you need to pay a little more for. Since the price of the room was so good, I thought I would have breakfast here too. Once I find someone to ask, they explain to me that they do not actually have what they need for breakfast. However, they are very happy to race down to the shops and buy it if I can wait. I am not in any hurry so I agree. When it arrives, breakfast is croissants and tea, sweetened by a lemon that looked very much like an orange. I asked about this similarity and was told that it was definitely a lemon, retrieved from the neighbour's tree. It smelled like one too, so I used it. Later I discover that this is a Brazilian lemon. A fruit with the appearance of a mandarin and the taste of a lemon. As a result of this particular unusual lemon, my tea now tasted quite horrible. It was warm however and on such a cold morning I was not going to stop drinking something warm just because of the taste. The croissants helped to sweeten the horrible flavour in my mouth after I had finished drinking my tea. Eating breakfast at the hotel gave me the opportunity to talk with the people who ran the place. I thought they were the owners but they quickly told me that they were just the workers here. They explained to me that there are only a few people that own the bigger things in Uruguay, and most of the people only work for them. I inquired about storing my backpack here while I looked around the town. The lady told me that it was against their policy, but she was happy to let me keep my room today until my bus at 3.30pm. There was not many guests around at the moment, but I still checked that she was sure about doing this. Once I knew she was, I thanked her graciously and headed off toward Brazil. Rich And Poor In Brazil Rather than heading directly into town and then walking over to Brazil, I decided to walk straight across the border from where I was, a number of blocks away from town. My walk took me into one section of town that was separated from the other sections of town by a large fenced paddock of grass in which horses were grazing. By the time I reached the end of this section, I had walked quite a few blocks. To return, I simply moved one street over and walked back again. This section was only a few streets wide but was very long. The most incredible sight that I saw were the houses of the rich juxtaposed against the homeless tents of the poor. Lawyers, doctors, and other such well-to-do people had multi-level houses of fine construction, surrounded by six and seven foot iron fences. In their yards of lush green grass and immaculately kept garden beds there always lay a guard dog or two. These dogs lay in the sun, watching everyone pass by but would try to eat you should you stop or return past the house too soon. Right next to these houses, with only a road separating them, were the poor people. Sometimes they were there in the block directly adjacent to the rich houses. Without a house, these people had constructed large tents made of vinyl and canvas from whatever they could find or afford at the time. These tents were their homes. Bedrooms were created by a sheet hanging between two old wooden cupboards. Chairs and tables and other items were scattered around under the shelter too, when there was room. Most of the items had been dragged from the rubbish piles, bought with money gained in whatever way was possible, or made from items found around the place. Today was a sunny day. Every colour of clothing was currently hanging out on makeshift clothes lines, drying after the rains that had turned the ground around the tents into mud. There were people both inside and outside these tent houses, chatting and joking and laughing. With only each other and little else, there was still occasion for fun and joy. One Brazilian Suburb Here there were also roughly built houses scattered around and between some of the richer places as well as forming their own sections. Unfinished and often needing repair, they belonged to people who had at least a little money. Ironically however, virtually all of these houses, as unfinished as they were, had found the money to mount and pay for a satellite television dish. The priority of television was clear. Alongside the houses of the rich, the roads were well finished and drainage was good. Everywhere else the drainage consisted only of ditches that had been dug by a backhoe. In these crude ditches the water still rested and was already stagnating. Children ran around, jumping over them, unaware of the diseases that each may have contained. As well as bicycles and Vespa style motorbikes, horses and carts were also everywhere. Some horses looked healthy and strong while others often showed sores and under nutrition, holding themselves as though they had a broken spirit. Each horse pulled a cart. Each cart carried anything from furniture to cardboard to rubbish to people. Although they were made of wood, each used different types of wheels and suspension that were used off any old vehicle available. Wandering the Streets Leaving this suburb of Brazil in Chui, I then wandered along the street looking at the shops. There was not a lot of difference between these shops and the ones that I had seen everywhere else. There were large department stores and very small boutique stores side by side. More interestingly however was how services such as hairdressers and automotive style workshops were situated right next to the retail shops. It seemed a very unusual combination. After a while of just browsing, I decided that while I was here I would like to send some postcards from Brazil. I never did, but some ladies in one of the shops told me where I could buy some. It was on the Uruguayan side of town. As I walked along, people often offered me a leaflet on discount meals or clothing stores. When I accepted them, they would first ask me which language, Brazilian or Spanish. English was never part of the question. Then they would give me a short speech on the benefits of buying from this particular place and tell me how close it was. Most of these places had people handing out papers like this because they were not actually very close to the main street at all. This was a very good way to generate more business. Should I show interest in actually visiting the place, I was told to be sure that I handed the piece of paper in when entering the store so they would get their commission. I only ever entered one store in the end. Chatting With Locals In one of these instances, a guy asks me to visit a boutique clothing store. It was not very far this time, so I agree to wander in and look around, being sure to leave my peace of paper with the people there. After I leave the place I meet the guy again who is still on the corner giving out his leaflets. He says "thank you" as I approached. This was about all that he knew in English. As a result, we end up chatting about languages and then about working in other countries and which ones you need to earn more money. He had a dream to have sufficient money to not have to work every day, although he had no idea how to achieve it. A friend of his who is busking in Spain on the streets of Barcelona is earning about 50 Euros per day, the equivalent here of over U$1000 pesos. In contrast, the guy I was talking with is currently earning about USD$3.00 per day, or U$100 pesos. I wished him well in achieving his dream, and even made a few suggestions on how he might achieve it. After our conversation finished, I wished him luck too and then continued on down the street. Free Stores Along this side of the street in Uruguay there are "Free" stores everywhere. At first I did not understand what a "Free" store was, so I looked inside. Elegant perfumes and expensive clothing and accessories, electrical goods and other items of high quality made it clear that they were actually "Duty-Free" stores. With no real reason to enter them, I decided to see what price they were asking for a Palm Pilot. This was something that I had been thinking of buying for a long time but was still not sure if I would. Most of the stores did not have anything electronic beyond a portable radio and CD player, but a few of the larger ones did. When I did find a Palm Pilot, the price was almost double that which they sell for in the United States. I had heard that the taxes in Uruguay were very high, and it seems that the "Free" stores still had a number of taxes applied to their goods. Before I Leave In the process of wandering through the stores, I meet two friendly attendants who told me the details of a cheap electronics store. When I looked, I could not find it, but I was not really searching hard. Instead, I headed to the local Internet cafe and wrote a few emails. Most of my time here however was spent chatting with the people that ran it, learning about life in Chuy and how everyone here also knows how to speak in Portuguese, the language of Brazil. Soon it is time for me to leave. I return to the hotel and pick up my backpack, chatting with the lady while I was there. When I ask for a photo of her in the doorway of her hotel she kindly agreed. The photo also included the cleaner who was walking past at the time. A Rushed Lunch Time has rushed by and now, with little time left before the bus arrives, I race over to a restaurant and order a fast meal. Not remembering that I had very little money left, and no way of getting more from Chuy, I ordered quite an elaborate meal. I ate quickly, knowing that I would not be able to finish everything that I had ordered, and annoyed at myself for buying too much. By the time the bus arrived, I was satisfied, but not finished, and offer the food and drink remaining to a man with whom I had been chatting with since arriving in the place. He thanks me and enjoys enough food for a decent meal. When I pay, it comes to the exact amount that I had in my wallet. I had no more. The bill was slightly less, but with tip it emptied every peso from my possession. My wallet was now vacant. I was glad that I had already purchased my bus ticket. Contraband Sitting on the bus, I am surprised to see the guy that I was chatting with over my meal come and sit next to me. I asked him if he was coming to Treinta y Tres too, but he said no then nodded toward a plastic bag cradled in his hand. The plastic bag was just like any other that you get from the shops. It contained another bag within and inside that was a bottle of some sort. He indicated to me to look at what was inside. I had no idea why. The urgency and secrecy in his voice indicated to me that perhaps I should do it discreetly. When I looked inside I discovered a 750ml bottle of Williams Scotch Whiskey. He looked at me satisfied that I now knew the contents of his bag and made his offer. U$30 pesos he asks me. I tell him that I do not have any money, at which he counter offers for U$10 pesos. U$30 pesos is equivalent to USD$1.00, U$10 pesos is USD$0.33. The price was ridiculous. At a price like that I considered that I probably would have bought it had I had any money, but my wallet was empty. I told the guy this, and then pulled out my wallet and showed him how empty it really was. When he saw that I was telling the truth, he wrapped up his contraband and left, his suspicious behaviour making it obvious that he was trying to smuggle the bottle off the bus. Border Crossing Only a short way outside of Chuy the bus stops at the border crossing and we all get out and retrieve our bags. After waiting around outside the guard house while the bus and those remaining onboard (without bags) are checked, the door finally opens and we enter. In here each bag gets searched for contraband and then we move on. Perhaps it was fortuitous that I did not have enough money to purchase the whiskey. Then, because I had a passport in my hand, the guard flicks through it until he sees my Uruguayan paper. I am free to go. That was the border, and because Chuy, Uruguay borders with Chui, Brazil, every road leading out of the town in both countries has these border crossings. National Roads As we journey along, the road quickly deteriorates into a rough dirt road. The dust quickly finds its way inside the bus and makes breathing uncomfortable. Every window rattles and even some seats. Fortunately it did not remain like this and eventually we found our way back onto sealed roads. The ride over the sealed roads however, was not very much more comfortable than it was on the dirt roads. There were as many bumps and ruts along these as there were before. The big difference was that there was no dust hanging in the air any more. And that was a definite bonus. After passing through many small towns on the way, and stopping at farms and houses for locals along the road, we finally arrived in Treinta y Tres at 7pm. Just as expected. Now I was here, all I had to do was find my friends, whom I had never met. My time of tourism was over and I was now about to live in Uruguay for an unknown period of time. I wondered what would happen next. --== THE END ==-- Top

Treinta y Tres, Uruguay

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