Life in a different culture
Today is the first day of our holidays. Adventure holidays. We have a lot planned for this time, Chris and I. And there is very little time to do it all too, but we will squeeze it all in.
Mountain biking, bungee jumping, whitewater rafting, hangliding, rockclimbing, trekking through the Andes mountains, surfing, and diving are all on our agenda. It is a series of about four weeks that we have lined up and should be a lot of fun.
So what is the plan?
Continue reading “A Wild Adventure Holiday”
After a day ride in a bus from Via del Mar, I am now in Concepcin, one of the other great cities of Chile. It really is nothing like Santiago, which truly is a great city. It is small, quiet, and very South American in its styling.
Finding A Home
Arriving in the bus station, I followed the advice of a local and climbed aboard the first bus going in a certain direction. Sure enough, it led me to town, and the driver directed me to the main Plaza which is the centre point for every Spanish originated town.
Without a guidebook such as Lonely Planet to show me where the cheap accommodation was, I had to guess. At first I asked people, but when they all turned out to be wrong, and led me many blocks from the centre of town, I started to simply look around for myself.
Continue reading “Adventure Touring Stage 5 – Concepcin”
Well our first stage of adventure touring was a failure. We succeeded in completing only one adventure activity, and that one was not even on our list.
So was it a complete failure? No, not at all. Our time in Salta was really awesome actually, even though it was a failure. As a time of touring and seeing the place in the two days that we had there it was fantastic, and we got to see some amazing places and landscapes. I never realised how beautiful Argentina was in certain places. There is so much more to see yet too.
Continue reading “Adventure Touring – Stage 1, Salta”
Well, by the time you read this I will be in Uruguay. I write this from my mobile as I wait to depart Argentina. What I expected to be a boat is closer to a ship, with its own gaming area, multiple levels with a lift between them, and a huge duty free shop. Quite spectacular really.
There are not many people on this overcast, cold, wintery day. It just means I didn’t need to buy my tickets until now. I am currently on the open deck, extra jacket in my arm. A largish man reclines in a deck chair near me, Cuban cigar in hand, reading his book. Others are up here with me too, taking photos and chatting in various languages.
I am going for 2 or so weeks. Partly for tourism but mainly to see some new friends. Missionaries who went to Lifeway years before I did. I will keep you informed as best I can by email. Right now it is time to leave my home of Argentina once again.
Until we talk again. Rob.
PUNTA DEL ESTE: After a number of very busy tourist days, today became a day of rest and of catching up with my journaling. There was time to go for a wander around the place and see what the point actually looked like, but with storms bringing showers over the place all day it was hard to venture too far from shelter.
Starting The Day
Today I was hoping to rise late and enjoy my bed, but the strong light from the huge curtainless windows ruined that idea. Upon rising, I headed out for my breakfast that was standard fare at all of these places. Surprisingly there was nothing waiting for me. The brochure indicated that breakfast was part of the deal, so I called the lady down and was told that breakfast was only served during the summer months.
I left the hostel and went to find some breakfast, although I still was not hungry after the large meal I had eaten last night. The first thing I noticed was that the road and ground around the hostel was wet. At first I thought it may have been the result of hosing down the pathways as is often done around here, but water was everywhere.
The strong sunlight shining down from the vivid blue sky did not hint at rain, but as I crossed the road some huge storm clouds came into view. The more I looked, the more I saw, and they were moving fast, blown along by the strong wind that had appeared today. It looked like today was going to be a slow day.
Hardly getting one block down the road, I decide to stop into the Internet place and catch up on my journaling until I grew hungry. I was already one day behind and any more could be fatal to the whole process. So after a couple of hours of writing, I emerged feeling decently hungry and ready for lunch.
A Classy Lunch
It was not lunch time just yet, but I thought if I wandered around the ring road leading right around the Point, then I would definitely find somewhere interesting to eat. The freezing temperatures, super strong and bitingly cold wind, and occasional bursts of rain made the whole walk an ordeal rather than a pleasure. I had walked a long way already and still not found anything resembling a place to eat that was open. But when another rainstorm was fast approaching just as I encountered an open restaurant I decided to take shelter inside. Although the prices were discounted 10% during winter, it was an expensive place located directly opposite the port, along the waterside.
My meal of meat and fries (a familiar theme now?) was great and extremely tasty, and the service was highly efficient and friendly. It was definitely the sort of place that I would rarely come to on my own. Wanting to take my time over my meal, and not having anyone to chat with, I dug around in my bag and found my Newsweek magazine. This provided me with some entertaining lunchtime reading as I ate my generous portions very slowly. Since this place was expensive, my idea was to eat as much of this large meal as possible and then skip dinner.
Wandering The Point
After finishing my meal and leaving a generous tip, something that I have learned to enjoy doing during my travels, I headed out toward the lighthouse. It was located in the middle of a plaza on the end of the point, and had its own character and charm. Nearby was an old church that was painted in the interesting colour of baby blue. This area was aptly named the four seas, because from here you could see the sea in all four directions down the roads.
Reaching the water’s edge again, I saw some fishermen braving the elements and the waves as they searched for their next meal. All along the ring road were massive houses and apartment complexes in multi-layered styled construction. Further toward the mainland but still on the point, the high-rise buildings were visible as they rose above everything else.
As I wandered beside the sea, the roar of the waves crashing onto the rocks next to me drowned out the sound of the wind and the cars driving past. For a moment I felt like I was the only person in the place, standing on the side and looking out into the raging sea. It was only in one particular part, but the roar in that part was deafening.
Rain Storm
A small plaza beside the road entertains me as I walk through it and admire the construction until the first signs of rain started appearing. I considered finding shelter, but the raindrops were small and light so I walked on. A few buildings later and the rain had started to grow heavier. I passed some workers who were already taking shelter, and decide that I too need to find some shelter until it passed.
My shelter results in being underneath an edge of one of the many buildings that have been closed up for winter. I did not have time to find anything better. From here I watched the rain grow stronger and heavier until it was pouring down with a drenching force. Then, with the same gradual way that it had increased in strength, the rain started to decrease until it finally stopped and the sun was shining again.
Safe to walk the streets, I left my shelter and continued on my way. Just near where I was sheltering, a set of cascading stairs had become a waterfall. I stopped to watch it for a while, amazed at how much water was pouring down them. As I started looking around the place, I could see water lying deep on the roadways and sidewalks everywhere. It had been wise to seek shelter.
Virgen de la Candelaria
Not too far down the road is the Virgen of the Candles, housed in a brick building on the rocks in the ocean. There had been a number of attempts to get electricity out to this lady so she could literally shine, but nothing looked to be very permanent. As with all Saints and Virgins, she was surrounded by thank you placards and even concrete thank you plaques formed over the rocks around her.
Returning Home
This ended my journey around the Point, as I was now back at the hostel. However, rather than return there just yet, I stopped in once again at the Internet shop to write some more in my journals. Keeping these journals current takes a lot of time.
Returning to the hostel, I caught up with Will, the Englishman that let me in the night before. We chatted together for a couple of hours, discussing the possibility of going out for a drink. By the time we had finished chatting it was already very late, so instead we both headed for bed, deciding that an early start was more productive than a late night at the bar.
Although today had been a very inactive day, I was able to catch up on all of my emails and journaling, which made it a good thing overall. Tomorrow would be my action day.
BUENOS AIRES/MAR DEL PLATA: After leaving Uruguay, I had only a few days to do all that I wanted or needed to do. From traveling south over 400 kilometers in search of the Argentine revival to catching up and saying goodbye to my friends, everything had to be squeezed into a few days.
COLONIA: By the time I woke up today, half of the day was gone. I had made the mistake of closing the wooden shutters on my doors. They were so effective that I needed to turn on my bedside light to discover it was almost 11am. Not that I really minded. I am on an easy holiday this time, no time constraints and no limits to my stays. Even so, the free bicycle from my hostel seemed like a great idea to get me around the place a little faster. (See photos below…)
Museums and Boats
First stop was the fruit shop for a banana breakfast. Then it was off to look through some of the museums that I missed yesterday. These were great old places that were more like an old house with everything on display than a museum. One place had documents and books dating back as far as the 1700’s simply sitting on open bookshelves. There were plans to record everything on microfiche and in computers in the coming months which will be their first secure records.
From here I stopped by the beach to enjoy my bananas as I sat staring out at the sea. Then it was off to the other side of town. On my way there I saw a couple of guys trying to pull a sailing boat over onto its side. It seemed somewhat strange to me at the time, but I wandered up to them on the jetty and asked if they need help. Before long I was hauling the rope along with them. Our objective was to free the yacht from the bottom of the harbour. It didn’t work while I was there. I moved on once we could not pull the boat over any further.
The Old Bull Ring
Using my trusty bike with no brakes and twisted pedals, I was able to ride the five kilometres to the other side of town and back. On this side there was not very much to see with one notable exception. There was an old Bull Ring where the matadors fought the bulls. The emphasis here is on old, as the whole place was crumbling into pieces.
Large concrete chunks that had formed part of the seating were now lying in piles underneath. The sun streamed in through the newly created gaps and illuminated the massive rusting iron structure that was supporting everything. Great cracks in the masonry were threatening to bring down whole walls, and the whole place felt completely deserted.
A sign by the trampled down fence surrounding the place indicated “no entry”. Perhaps I should have paid more attention to it, but once I had entered I discovered that I was not the only one here. A couple of tourists were just leaving, sporting their cameras on their shoulders. Some locals were also here, on the other side with their young children. Unrestrained, these children were climbing up and down the unstable seating structures and in and out of the crumbling entrances. Their parents were blissfully unaware of the dangers too as they played with a football down on the centre grass area.
The Return Home
Moving on from here, I used my vague tourist map to negotiate my way through the roads to return home. It was actually a long way, but fortunately there were a couple of stops on the way back. My first stop was at a very busy roadside shop selling Tortas Fritas. Having tasted these delights when working in the slums, I was compelled to stop and wait in line for one. It was worth the wait too. The second stop was at an old church where I sat outside and devoured my torta frita.
Almost back to my side of town, I stopped also at a motorbike shop to check the prices of a motor scooter. These useful little bikes totally inundate this place. Friends ride with friends, whole families crowd onto them, and even children are seen to be riding them too. With just enough power to get up a reasonable slope, they are often struggling under the weight as three or more persons journey together. Ranging in age from antique to modern, they also range equally in price, noise, and the smoke they emit. It seems the perfect form of transport for a small town with little traffic.
Dinner at the Drugstore
Once I returned home, it seemed that the day was done, but I still had one more thing to do. In the morning a local restaurant was recommended to me as being the best place in town. Since I had not eaten lunch, I decided to stop there for dinner. I was the only person for the entire time I was there. When I finally left, after really enjoying my dining experience, I met a guy outside who then became the only person dining in the place. Business is slow here during the winter.
The restaurant, El Drugstore, is very arty in its presentation with sections of each wall painted in bright colours of blue, yellow and red. The seats, napkins, tablecloths and decorations all reflect this same emphasis on bright colours with nothing really matching. Surprisingly, it all works very well together. The walls are covered in 70’s art pieces and outside looks the same as inside, except there are cars there with tables inside them. It is all very funky.
The meal I ordered, Tepan-yaki was a very tasty and enjoyable Japanese dish. This, with its foray of vegetables, seemed healthier than most of the local dishes which usually have no more than two vegetables. Some Dulce-De-Leche biscuits rounded off my meal for desert. Dulce De Leche is a local sweet that is something of a cross between carob and soft caramel without the stickiness. It is a national favourite in Uruguay and Argentina and highly prized as being local only to these countries, although I doubt that this is completely true.
Third World Mechanics
Leaving the Drugstore, I wandered up to two men who were trying to get an old car going. The car seemed to be from the 1920’s and was resisting their attempts. As I reached them, one of the men exclaimed in exasperation, “El tercer mundo!” Meaning, “the third world”. Perhaps he was right. It reminded me of farm mechanics, where you never have what you need but managed to make do with what you have.
A motorbike provided the light for them to work with, its fuel tank sat on the roof of the car and provided the fuel. Fencing wire was the connection between the sparking plugs and the distributor that provided the sparks. Try as they might there was no life in the old beast. Eventually the battery ran out, exhausting the mens’ hope at the same time. I wished them luck and moved on.
It took a while to get home with my limp still in action, but it was a nice feeling to be there at last. This time I will remember to leave at least one of my shutters open.
MONTEVIDEO: Well it turns out that today was just like any other lazy travel day. A little wander here, a little look there, stop for food and it was all over. Another day gone. It is amazing how fast days can disappear when you do not plan them.
So what happened? As I said, not a great deal. It was interesting to see the city come to a little bit of life though since this was now a Monday, the start of a work week. As expected, when I wandered through the Old Town section of the city there was a lot more people, although I could not say it was crowded.
Following The Water
It was around lunch time already, after rising late and taking the morning easy, that I headed toward the Port Market. This was the place to go for a decent meal of meat. To make things interesting, rather than take the same path as yesterday, I found an alternative path via the water, following it around to the port.
The Old Town section of Montevideo is build on a point, surrounded by water on three sides, and I was walking around the end of this point from one side to the other. My wanderings took me past many rough looking people warming themselves in the sun by the water’s edge. They may have been homeless, but it is hard to tell during the day. While walking I was passed a number of times by runners and joggers heading in one direction, and by fishermen on their bicycles heading in the other direction. It was not a busy pathway, but there always seemed to be people around somewhere.
It did not take long before I was near the port where I discovered the local fishing spot. Along the water’s edge were dozens of fishermen trying their luck. Some seemed to be fishing for tiny fish, while others had much bigger fishing rods and naturally appeared to be looking for something much bigger. A few fishermen had large steel nets attached to the end of a wooden stick that they would dip into the water and slowly drag back out again. The nets looked like a Chinaman’s hat turned upside down and each time would catch many tiny little bait fish which were then collected in a bucket.
Having seen enough of the fishing I continued on past the main port of Montevideo. As I passed by, I stopped to watch a giant forklift grasp a container with wide metallic arms reaching out to each end. It looked like someone trying to carry a wide sofa on their own. Within moments the container was settled onto the back of a truck and driven away. Fascinated, as I have always been by large and unusual machinery, I stayed and watched the whole process all over again with another container and truck, marvelling at the minds that had invented something like this.
Mercardo Puerto
Crossing the road, I entered into the Port Market once again. It had the same craziness that I had experienced when I was there yesterday, filled with people and action everywhere. There was one particular place that had caught my attention yesterday though, and it was to here that I wanted to return, although it took me from one end of the market to the other before I found it.
This place that was actually a proper restaurant with tables and waiter service, but where I was was actually around the back of the kitchen. Here there was a row of stools tucked in tightly against a long bench, the length of the restaurant, and most of the stools were already occupied. I made my way down the narrow ailse and sat myself on an empty stool. Looking around I realised that if the main Market area was chaos, then this was where it all started.
My position afforded me a great view of the kitchen, being only two feet away from the action. The whole kitchen was logically divided into various sections. There was one for the meat which sat on a large open fire grill, busily attened to by this chef. Another section catered only for the fish, with the salad, pastas, and fried foods all in a line. The whole area was divided into two very narrow lanes by shelving that housed the places and other items needed to run the kitchen.
There was barely enough room down these lanes for even one person to fit through comfortably, yet many times there would be two or more people that would squeeze themselves past the others, often with their hands full of hot plates and fresh food. In amongst all of this action, the table waiters from the main restaurant section would dash in to grab plates and meals, ducking and weaving as they went.
Each chef was working furiously, constantly adding more to the stove as quickly as they took it off. The dishwasher and general cleanup guy worked methodically at his job, trying to stay out of the way of the others. Only one person looked after the thirty of us sitting at the bench, and he did his job admirably. The action around me kept me entertained as I enjoyed my lunch of asado which is a large portion of cut ribs, and french fries. It occurred to me later that perhaps I should have included vegetables, but it was an effort to finish what I had already ordered.
The Movies
Satiated, I headed toward the other end of Old Town, hoping to make a tourist bus that would take me around the entire city although knowing full well that my chances were almost nill. As I expected, I was too late, and there was not a lot of time left to visit other parts of the city since I was told that many parts of this city became very dangerous at night. Rather than risk a bad move, I decided to head to the cinema instead.
I was almost too late for the film I wanted to see also, so when I discovered the doors to the cinema were locked I became very confused. Fortunately an employee arrived to open the doors, telling me that there is another cinema just around the corner where my film is playing. My ticket costs US$2.50 and includes popcorn and a drink.
The cinema was a huge old style place with a grand total of four of us watching the film. As I sat down, I sank deeply into the vinyl covered fold-up seat bottom, something reminiscent of the 70’s. Fortunately, during this film there was no intermission and for that I was grateful. However, at the end of the film, as the final credits started to roll, the projetor was turned off and the house lights came on. The movie was over, there was no doubt about it.
I stopped in at an Internet cafe for a short time and scribbled some more about my activities then ducked back in for a second film. I figured that it would be good to go out this night for once, and watching a film seemed a good way to get me to the magic hour when people started appearing. It was the same situation once again, with only a few of us watching the film until the final credits were abruptly stopped. End of film.
Night Life
It was now time to see what sort of night life was in this city. I wandered around the place for what seemed like a long time, and all I found was a movie set. Although this provided some brief entertainment watching the set being prepared so it looked like it had been raining, I did not find the night life as I was expecting. Nor did I find any people around either. There was only a couple of people walking down the main party streets. Perhaps this was because it was a Monday night, notorious for having very little action in many countries.
So after my uneventful attempt at going out without any specific directions, I returned to my hostel and watched some television before turning in for a good sleep. Tomorrow I would get up a little earlier and see if I can see the rest of this place before dark.
The day had come. We were leaving today to travel to Misiones, one of the northern-most provinces of Argentina. LIFE Argentina, the organisation we were with, had already arranged things so we could visit the people in the slums surrounding a small town in this province. We were also planning to meet the needs of an Amerindian tribe nearby. After all of this work, we would then visit the Falls of Iguazu and Paraguay. A full week indeed.
Misiones
Misiones, full of rainforest and rich red soil, was experiencing a lot of rain at the very time we were planning on arriving. Our clothes as a result needed to be carefully selected so they would not show so much dirt should they get stained by the red soil. This finger-like province was bordered by Brazil on the East and North, and Paraguay on the West, and is home to very thick jungle. This was our destination.
When I arrived at the house it was in a state of partial peace which quickly disintegrated into chaos over the ensuing hours as everybody rushed at the last minute to prepare things. Finally, seven of us left the house in two heavily ladened taxis, carrying all of the boxes and bags we would need for the journey. At the bus station we met the rest of our team. There was now nine of us.
We discovered our bus only minutes before it departed, and after a second mad rush today we had our gear loaded into the luggage compartment and were able to climb aboard. It was with pleasure that I then relaxed into the huge armchair style seats of this fully catered coach. Dinner, drinks, and a movie later and it was time to settle into a comfortable sleep, with our chair backs reclining far enough to form a slightly bent bed. I slept well.
Day Two
At six in the morning, a shake of my arm indicated that breakfast was about to be served. I roused myself and used the wet towelette to wipe the pillow creases and drool marks from my face, then sat up to see where we were. We were already in Misiones, but still had to wait until midday before reaching our destination. True to the weather report, it was raining. The view from the windows revealed forest, jungle and nothing more.
Although reading, talking and a movie occupied our time initially, as we neared our stop all of us became busy building little lapels from ribbon in the shape of a fish. These were gifts for the people, used to celebrate the 25th May, the day of the declaration of independence of Argentina. We were able to make thousands of these little things before we finally arrived at our destination.
Puerto Piray
A short drive from the bus stop and we reached our new home in Puerto Piray, a small town on the river bordering with Paraguay. All of us squeezed into the one house, unaware that it was not the owner who had offered us the use of it. The owner, when he returned a few days later, was shocked to discover nine people living in his house. He had heard a rumour and called ahead to be told it was true and that he should stay at his mums place instead.
Our first order of the day was to visit the Amerindians in a nearby settlement to talk business with the elders of the tribe. Upon arriving we gave out balloons to all of the children who were very excited by this new toy. Every time a balloon blew apart, every child in the place would let out a large wondrous exclamation of, “woooohhhhh!!!!!” The commotion of the children soon brought the elders and it was not long before the talks commenced.
As the result of these and other talks on the following three days, deals were cut with the Amerindians to provide them with the equipment they needed to restart their timber mill. Additionally, clean water, and further equipment to help them in their agricultural activities was also discussed. No promises were made, but an agreement to seek a solution to these problems was settled upon, to the satisfaction of both sides. This was the first time any agreement had been reached with this tribe. It was a very encouraging outcome.
Too Ill To Go
By the time we returned home, my body was experiencing the full effects of a high temperature fever. There was nothing for me to do but to retire to bed and sleep. Each night I slept with double blankets and covers. Underneath I was wearing full cold-weather clothing, and this seemed to be just enough to keep me warm. My temperature would rise to slightly above 39 C each night. This continued for the next three days until I was strong enough to start doing things again.
During these three days that I was ill, I remember very little of what happened. People came and they left. Only once or twice would someone stop into my room to check on me. I know there were visits to schools and slums as well as the other visits to the Amerindians, and talks about AIDS with the locals. All of it however, was a blur to me as I lay in my bed, too weak to move many times.
Heading Out Again
On May 25th, although still not well, I left the house to attend the public celebrations marking the start of freedom for Argentina. It did not last long, and I had to return home and collapse back into bed again. I tried again in the afternoon, going to a slum village deep in the forests, ferried by the local police, to attend a second official ceremony. It was a big event and took much of my strength. Undaunted, I went out again this night to a young adults class on AIDS but by now I was sorry that I had pushed myself so hard. Bed was a very welcome place to be when I finally made it there.
Wednesday
As a result of my premature efforts the day before, today I was too weak to head out in the morning again. In the afternoon I felt my strength had returned enough to go out again. This involved a short visit to the special school where we gave the children balloons of all different shapes and a drive into Eldorado, the nearest large town.
As it was our last day in Puerto Piray, we had a dinner organised with the town Mayor and other official people tonight at 9pm. It was at this dinner that I made my first public fopar in Spanish. Everything had gone really well until then. The dinner was great and conversations were good. Everyone was in high spirits when the speeches started, and each of us in the team took a turn to say something. At my turn I proceeded to explain to everyone how wonderful they were and how touched we all were by their kindness to us. The atmosphere was charged with that special emotion from genuine speeches as I told them how thankful we were for what they had done… or at least that is what I intended to tell them.
The roar of laughter around the table told me immediately that the word I had chosen for thankful was very wrong. The word I had wanted to use was “agradacidos” while what I had actually said was “graciosos”. So I ended up telling them that we were “funny” or “very graceful” because of their kind acts. At least it was not offensive to them, but it managed to pull a flush of red over my face as I realised my error. A few games of pool at one of the local clubs after dinner filled the rest of our night and we returned home early in the morning.
Puerto Iguazu
On Thursday we left for Port Iguazu and went to see the falls. They were magnificent in their beauty. Too much for words to describe. In some ways I found them to be too beautiful, too big, they were just amazing. Many photos later, we returned home. With a small town and little to do, bed was a great place to end up.
Paraguay
In the morning, on Friday, we all headed out to go shopping in Ciudad del Este, Paraguay. I had no visa for Paraguay, and my visa for Brazil had run out the day before, yet there were no problems for me to check out of Argentina. From this point on I was in no-mans land, a place of the unknown. Amazingly I was able to visit both Brazil and Paraguay without ever stopping at their border control.
Some inquiries by one of our group revealed that this whole area is considered a tourist zone and visa checks are infrequent, allowing most people to move around without concern. Unfortunately I only found this information out after returning, and was quite convinced that I was avoiding proper procedures as I evaded the border controls each time.
The events surrounding the entire escapade into Paraguay starting from leaving Argentina to the return again are worth their own space. Needless to say that this was one of the more interesting events during our journey. To travel on a motorbike between moving traffic into a city known for its corruption and avoiding border control as I went was certainly an adventure. The most exciting part of Paraguay for me was that I actually made it back into Argentina again.
Return Home
That night was another easy night, and the next day we had enough time to wander around the city of Puerto Iguazu before catching our bus back to Buenos Aires.
It was a very interesting journey for me. Much of the work for which I had gone there ended up happening without me while I lay in my bed recovering from the fever, but I was able to get out to some of the events near the end. The last few days of sightseeing were also a lot of fun and helped to make the whole trip worthwhile.
Misiones. It was a great adventure.
COLONIA-MONTEVIDEO: Today was a travel day. As such, a lazy start sees me rise just before lunch and check out of my hostel. The sun has returned today, and since I had a little time before needing to catch a bus I grabbed a bike from the hostel and took off to take some more photos of the place. After all, I really liked this little town of Colonia and since I was moving on soon, I wanted to get another look at this cute place.
Tourist Town
Little did I know that on Saturdays this little enjoyable town is transformed into a genuine tourist place. As I reached the old section of town, before me marched soldiers of old. These soldiers were actually the guys that I played football with the other day, dressed up in old colonial uniforms and marching with surprising precision. Some of these soldiers were also positioned outside all of the museums and points of interest, rifles stationed by their side.
All the reasons for which I liked being in this place, the quiet atmosphere, the friendly people, the lack of tourists during the off-season, and the feeling of not being touristy, had vanished today. I was glad of my plans to move on to Montevideo today.
The Bus Journey
I sat by my window seat on the bus and watched the scenery go by over the next two and a half hours as I headed toward Montevideo. Uruguay is a country that has a very simple and relaxed feel to it. In some places it is like time has stood still. I saw plenty of tractors and other farming equipment working the farms beside the road, but when I saw a farmer with his hand to the plow which was being pulled by a horse, I was amazed. Perhaps this was just a rare occurrence. I sat and marveled that someone would still be using something like that. Then I saw another one, right beside a farm that was using a tractor. What an incredible contrast this was.
As we neared Montevideo, we passed children playing football on the grass between the two national highway lanes. Others were playing on the side of the same highway, where the grass barely covered the ground as it sloped steeply toward the road. I was surprised that they had not lost their worn out football to the passing traffic yet. As we continued I saw official games in progress also. Children as young as five were running around the field covered in their team colours as parents and friends cheered them on from the sides.
The main highway passed right through the middle of the slums where the pain of the people living here was very evident. Houses were pushed right against the highway so all who passed could see the pitiful conditions. Rubbish was strewn everywhere and most people I saw were without shoes and wearing clothes in various states of tattered and torn. When we drove over a bridge I saw clothes filling a clothesline, and near it were makeshift shacks hiding in the shadows. To the side there were children running over rubbish piles, laughing and shouting and having fun.
Montevideo
We continued on, and soon I found myself in the bus station at Montevideo, a place that was also a shopping centre. After locating the information desk, I found out the information I needed and was soon on a local bus heading into town. Once here I found the youth hostel, met the two people that were also here and settled into my room. As luck would have it, an Irish guy, Mike, turned up at the hostel at the same time so we both decided to head out on the town.
Our destination was the Port Markets which is reputed to be the best place to eat meat in this city. We had no idea what it would be like but headed in that direction anyway. This part of the city, known as the Old City, is filled with banks and lawyers offices so on the weekend the streets are deserted. We found out later that they are also very dangerous at night, something that was very easy to believe.
After finding our way to the port, we decided to ask for directions as there was nothing resembling a market place near us. One of the people pouring out of an old nearby bar told us that we had just walked past it, but it was closed now. We were too late. There would be no meat from this place.
Another conversation with a taxi driver revealed that there was nothing nearby that offered good meat at this time of day. Perhaps at 9pm or 10pm at night, but at 6pm when we asked it was hard to find somewhere open. The drivers offered to take us to the “Shopping” (a word that has become a noun in Spanish) where in the mall there was plenty of shops offering meals of meat.
The Shopping
We declined their offer at first, but after looking around a little more we decided that this seemed to be the best idea. The taxi had a fiberglass screen between us and the driver, with thick glass that we could peer through to see where we were going. It looked more like an anti-riot taxi than what I had grown accustomed to in Buenos Aires. Perhaps this city is less safe than I had first thought.
The shopping mall looked like any other mall around the world, with its multi-level floors and a food court at the top. It was here that we found a meat restaurant from where we ordered our steaks. The meal was usual fair for Argentina and Uruguay, steak, fries, and salad which consists only of lettuce and tomato. As with every meal in these countries, we also enjoyed the bread rolls and bread-sticks too, although we discovered later that this came at an extra price. An ice-cream from the shop downstairs finished off our meal very nicely which came to a total price of US$6 each. This was actually one of my more expensive meals.
Both Mike and I were feeling very tired by now, so after a quick wander around the shopping centre we headed back to our hostel in another taxi. I must have been tired because I had to repeat the name of our street many times before the taxi driver understood. I was glad when we finally got moving though, and a quick look at our map indicated that we were heading in the right direction too which is always a good thing.
Returning Home
On the way back via the waterfront, I saw a great photo opportunity and asked the taxi driver to stop. Running across the road dodging cars and buses while trying to assemble my camera to its tripod, I was very aware that I was paying for the time I took. A couple of quick snaps and I realised that this photo opportunity was actually nowhere near as good as it first looked. Disappointed, I dodged the vehicles once more to reach my taxi, breaking the leg of my tripod on the way. Now I had ugly photos and a broken tripod and I had paid for the privilege of it all. Doh!
At the hostel, already totally worn out, I climbed the spiral staircase to my room on the top floor and happily sank into bed. It seemed to me that I had been busy all day today but done very little. Traveling days are often like that though. But at least I was now in Montevideo.
Tomorrow would reveal what this city is really like.