Advertisement
Published: January 14th 2011
Edit Blog Post
The resort town of Punta del Este is the Cancun/Cannes of Uruguay and Argentina. The rich and thin jet here for hot days on the beach and hotter nights in the discos during the summer holidays from Christmas to Carnival. Huge high rises litter the beach and mansions are tucked into more isolated cliff tops and parks away from the center of the madness. Gypsies in gaily-colored layers, roam the main street, offering, "Let me read your palm, my love." I arrived on the cusp of the chaos. All along the coast, workers were fervently painting and getting rentals and restaurants ready for the season.
I generally avoid these types of places, opting for the funky backpacker Isla de Mujeres rather than Cancun on the Yucatan Peninsula, and tiny Antibes and genteel Nice over the swanky towers of Cannes on the French Riviera. However, a Uruguayan colleague, Fede, at my college urged me to go, and happy I was that I took his advise.
The best part of Punta was being away from it on day trips. My favorite was a fifteen-minute boat ride away on the almost-deserted, utterly peaceful, rather sacred Isla Gorriti. It was ringed with long,
empty sandy beaches, rocky points, stone remnants and old cannons of the Baterias de Santa Ana, 18c fortifications (defense from the British, Portuguese and Argentinians) and gorgeous stretches of pine that had been planted to bring the island back to life after a devastating fire. While I had most of the island to myself, a few yachts were anchored in a wide bay that had a restaurant, empty picnic huts, and day trippers playing in the sand. Nothing like having an island to myself to feel renewed.
Another great day trip was to Casapueblo, the fanciful creation of artist Carlos Paez Vilaro. On cliffs above Punta Bellena (Whale Point), he designed and hand-built a sinuous, organic, gleaming-white home/studio (and now hotel) that cascades down the cliffs. It's quirky shapes are reminiscent of Gaudi and Hunterwasser, and it was great viewing them from many angles as sculptures.
A film on Paez Vilaro's life told of his love of painting murals because they were art for the people. Not only his art, but also his life was inspiring. His son was one of the young rugby players whose plane crashed in the Argentine Andes in 1972. After an initial search,
everyone else gave up on finding the off-course plane. However, he felt strongly that his son was alive, and used extraordinary resources to continue the search on his own. Due to his perseverance, the plane was found after 10 weeks with 16 of the 45 still alive. He had written a book on his experiences, and I stood in the bookstore, crying, so touched by his faith.
For those with more time and money, there were other great day trips, such as the protected island that shelters the world's second-largest colony of southern sea lions. Further up the coast were small, exclusive communities with gorgeous homes of the ultra-rich and hotels, such as the 5-star L'Auberge, where Fede, my full-time colleague stayed. As a part-time professor and long-term traveler, I opted for a dorm bed.
To avoid the high prices and party hostels of Punta, I stayed in a fine hostel in Maldonado, a 15-minute, bus ride away. There was a nearby supermarket, a violin concert in the museum across the street, and a plaza that often seemed to have evangelists or Catholics gathered in it--not so typical for this secular country.
In fact, this was the
iconic Punta Hand in the Sand statue
Some say the drowning hand warns people of the dangerous beach nearby week before Christmas, but the only evidence of this, aside from simple creches in churches, was in the stores. Several people wisely recognized that decorations and such were nothing more than commercial ploys to get people to spend money. Some Uruguayans wanted to rename Christmas, "Family Day," which seemed a rather good idea even though I'm totally in love with Christmas lights and music. Handy thing is, I didn't get all nostalgic for home here at Christmas as I have before when traveling. There was no, "I'll be home for Christmas" to get tears rolling down my face.
Once I arrived in Maldonado, I wheeled myself and suitcase eight blocks to the hostel and caught a local bus around the corner for Punta. It was easy to see when we'd arrived, for there was the famous Hand in the Sand sculpture, an iconic symbol of Punta.. Some say the drowning hand warns people of the rough water of nearby Playa Bravo (Fierce Beach) that has claimed lives.
I hopped off the bus and walked down the spine of the thin peninsula. From this, the main street lined with upscale shops, restaurants, and a forest of high-rise hotels, I
could glimpse the Rio de la Plata on one side and the Atlantic on the other, for it was here that two officially merge.
The southern end of the island was more residential and had a beautiful lighthouse (though it was unfortunately off-limit to visitors), charming church and, at the very tip, a woman's sculpture of mermaids with a sign calling for us to keep the ocean clean, reminding us that disposable diapers and plastic bags stay around for 500 years.
Setting out to circle the peninsula, I headed north to the yacht harbor with its splashy restaurants and nightclubs. Curiously, the motor yachts here had the places of honor and were tethered to piers while the sailboats were anchored in open waters and needed dinghies to be reached.
A pod of southern sea lions had taken up residence in the harbor. These mammals have real, lion-like manes, and are huge, more the size of our California elephant seals than our sea lions. A couple of them lay snoozing on a pier surrounded by snapping photographers and a few foolish parents who took their children quite close to the beasts.
Suddenly, looking like a scene from
Jaws, a giant male swam up to the dock, lifted his head out of the water and roared. The upstart male who had been lounging with a female, jumped up in a start and lumbered away from his superior and toward the spectators. It was pretty funny watching the too-close humans run away screaming--what had they been thinking? The dominant male hefted himself next to the nonplussed female who continued to doze. Very entertaining.
The eastern, Atlantic side of the island was more to my taste with raging surf, rugged rock, and a little shrine petitioning BVM (Blessed Virgin Mary) to save fishermen from the sea. However, these great sites were always backed by high-rise hotels. It was time to get away from these profaned beaches to some more sacred ones--La Pedrera and Cabo Polonio.
Advertisement
Tot: 0.077s; Tpl: 0.013s; cc: 14; qc: 29; dbt: 0.0314s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.1mb