Montevideo

It's another sunny summer morning in Uruguay, and we have just started our five hour bus ride from the seaside village of Punta del Diablo back to the capital, Montevideo. Since it seems that I am way behind in my reports I will use the bus ride to at least get a start and hopefully post it later today after our arrival.

After the first busy days in Buenos Aires, on Sunday we took the ferry across the Rio de la Plata to Colonia and connected immediately to Montevideo by bus. Here, we found a home away from home with our Uruguayan friend Miriam, who had invited us to her place in the quiet Prado district. Once we had settled in we went for an evening walk with Miriam and her daughter Camilla in their neighbourhood and were amazed at the extensive parks and green spaces. Once again I admired the Jacaranda trees, their blossoms covering the crowns like a purple veil, sweet scent lingering in the still evening air. Houses here are well kept, and many of them speak of affluence if not outright wealth. Here, we would not have to be constantly aware of our backpacks; this is, as Miriam assured us, a safe place even at night.

Miriam operates 'Sabrozón', a small take-out restaurant in the centre of the city (Sabrozon) and is gone for much of the day, so on Monday we went exploring on our own. She had given us a quick run-down which buses we could take, and once again we bravely took the plunge into the intricate public transport system of an unknown city. Coming to Montevideo from Buenos Aires is like entering a different world. Traffic is less chaotic, sidewalks much less crowded, and it all feels much more relaxed. Unfortunately it had started to rain when we were still waiting at the bus stop to get into the city, and it only let up from time to time, just long enough to make it possible for us to dart from the 'Sabrozón' to the bank (we didn't have any Uruguayan pesos when we arrived) and back to the bus stop at the corner of San José and Andes. By the time the bus reached our stop it poured so hard that water was running down the street, carrying plastic bottles along the gutter like little boats. The corner of Miriam's street was a lake, the water almost flowing over onto the sidewalk. We were totally soaked – but at least it was a warm rain ...

Tuesday dawned clear and blue, and this time we could pursue our walking tour of the old city and along the harbour. Houses in the Ciudad Vieja (Old City) speak of the by-gone splendour of more affluent beginnings, but many of them are not kept up, the windows boarded up, grass and wildflowers growing on intricately masoned lintels. Yet we often only noticed this when we raised our eyes to the first floor or higher; at street level it all feels integrated and, for the most part, not shabby. We were amazed at the high number of street vendors, much higher than the presence of tourists would have warranted, we thought. Miriam later explained that they get their business from the passengers of cruise ships stopping in the harbour, pouring out their loads for brief shopping excursions into the ciudad vieja.

We crossed the generously laid-out Plaza Independencia with its huge monument of José Artigas, the general who led Uruguay's quest for independence from Spain and Portugal. Although quite impressive it is not really a very inviting plaza, so we found a bench in the much smaller, treed 'Plaza de Zabala' to eat our lunch of empanadas and orange juice. We ended the afternoon at the 'Plaza de la Constitución', like the Plaza de Zapalo shaded by big old trees, but much bigger. Here, we ordered a cerveza grande, a one-litre (well, 960 ml) bottle of Pilsener, listened to a busker with a large and well rehearsed repertoire mostly of Beatle songs and watched, fascinated, the 'living statue' of a woman alternating between total stillness and slow awakening, startling passers-by when she started to extend a hand or open her eyes, shifting position ever-so-slightly so that it wasn't immediately clear if one had just imagined the movement. She was a favourite especially with the children who were enchanted by this strange being. Tables with antiques and crafts along the perimeter invited to browse, but by then we had had our fill and were glad to return home.

Before we left Montevideo for an trip to the coast on Wednesday we had time to visit the impressive Botanic Gardens in the Prado district, only a few blocks from Miriam's place. Huge trees arched over the well-kept walkways, and even at that early hour it was well frequented by joggers, school classes, people reading books or papers drinking the ever-present mate, even more common here in Uruguay than in Argentina. All day people can be seen walking around with a thermos of hot water clutched under one arm, holding the mate (a cup, most often carved from a calabash gourd), with its bitter content of the same name in the other, sipping from the silver drinking 'straw', the bombilla.  

After this short excursion we once again embarked on a bus ride, first to the 'Tres Cruces' bus terminal, and from there to the coast.