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Published: January 10th 2011
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Sun, moon and earth align for an eclipse at the solstice; rocks undulate and reveal their African origins; fear turns to delight in the shadow of the full moon, and I step into a deserted room and find magic, All this and more in La Pedrera, unsung heroine of Uruguay's fabulous eastern beaches.
Upon leaving the metropolis of Punta del Este, I considered La Paloma, but with its 4,000 residents, it didn't seem as inviting as the 1,000 in La Pedrera. Here in this tiny town, everyone looked me in the eyes, smiled, and returned my "buenos dias" in the streets. The fruit and veggie man took lots of time to chat, recommended the sweetest of his fruits, and let me sample his wares.
Around midnight, the night of the full moon, a white Labrador (a portly girl and easily recognized) I'd befriended earlier led me through an open door and into an empty art studio/home where I sat petting her. Soon, the owner and his friends arrived and welcomed me. We drank wine and discussed art, politics, that night's eclipse of the moon and the coming Summer Solstice. In larger cities, you just don't wander through open doors
with no one around.
Yet I knew to trust dogs and the full moon. Earlier that evening, I'd climbed down the cliffs to walk and sit among the glorious, deserted rocks. I sat listening to the waves and watching the moon rise out of the Atlantic, casting dancing diamond reflections on the water. Suddenly, a shadow reared up behind me, and I flushed with trepidation. Laughter soon replaced my fear as a big black dog circled around, jumped into my lap and wiggled and waggled all over me. Then, in a flash he was gone. I felt that I'd been touched by an angel (maybe the spirit of my departed black lab, Jenaii). I was reminded that most of our fears are phantoms and shadows, and that the real world is full of friendly dogs and people.
As wonderful as La Pedrera's dogs and people were the rocks--glorious multihued, wavy, serrated, veined, smooth, eroded and uplifted rocks linked to those of the Kalahari 400-535 million years ago, when southern Africa and South America were joined in the continent of Gondwanaland, The rocks were etched with veins of quartz which many said gave this area a vortex of spiritual
energy. I always felt energized and joyful walking among them.
I spent hours ogling at the wild shapes and taking enough photos to bore a geologist (click "next" under photos to see more rocks and town scenes). The town club house that showed yummy free movies each night also had a great display on the geology of the rocks in the state of Rocha and their links to Africa. Really, this town had everything I loved, and I felt immediately at home.
It was good to feel at home partly because the journey there had been a bit of an adventure. As usual, I didn't plan ahead, but showed up at the bus station a few minutes before the posted departure. Upon being told the bus was full, I recoiled at the thought of spending the day in the terminal, so I bought a standing-room space for the 1.5 hour journey (certainly less than the 20 hours I'd stood for Wagner's Ring Cycle in the San Francisco opera house). I politely boarded last to make sure those with seats got their spots. Standing in the front of the bus, I had a fine view of the countryside rolling
police and pot shop
enlightened Uruguay by. Then, magic/luck intervened.
A child in the very front seat got off and the young woman next to him invited me to take his place. Oh glory, a seat in the front--truly, my very favorite spot. It turns out the young woman also had a standing seat, but was more clever than I in scoring a spot. We chatted amicably the rest of the way.
An hour out, in Rocha, the capital of the state, many were booted from the bus with the promise of another bus coming to get them. Turns out, we were only supposed to have about 20 standing whereas there were about 50 smashed in the aisles. The summer holidays had arrived, but for the moment, I was protected. At the next town, my young friend pointed me toward the local bus that dipped into or near the coastal towns.
Disembarking my second bus, I followed the signs down the dirt road to the hostel that had advertised on hostel booking sites. However, I then saw a hand-lettered sign pointing to Los Tucanes Hostel. This seemed a cheaper, more adventurous proposition, so I went for it. There, I was greeted by a
whole family of elderly aunties having lunch around a card table who marveled at the fact that I was from California--I was to be a star here, "The Californian."
A young woman came up, asked how much the other hostel was going to charge me, lowered the price by 50 pesos/$2.50, and I took it. Perfect for a footloose traveler like myself. She kindly lugged my suitcase up the outdoor staircase and promised to have the room cleaned by the time I returned. As the hostel's only guest, I had the 4-bunk room to myself. Luxury! It was here that I realized that many towns have funky, cheaper hostels that are not up to the standards to be listed on booking sites or published in books.
Yet I can do funky as long as there's beauty. For years, I'd lived happily in primitive, hand-built cabins on the Kinevan Ranch in the mountains above Santa Barbara without a bathroom or hot water, and with only a chop-the-wood stove for heating and cooking. The inconvenience was more than made up for by the 800 wild acres, trails, isolation and peace.
Leaving the hostel, I walked down the town's sizzling
(35C/86F) and deserted midday main street, buying picnic supplies (well, a beer and chips) in the one grocery store. I walked to the end of the street which ended on cliffs with inviting walkways and benches, perfect for picnicking. Below the cliffs stretched the rocky point that separated huge swathes of soft, sandy beaches with surfers and waders. To the north, the beach eventually led to Cabo Polonio, my next stop. To the south, the beaches stretched to La Paloma and its lighthouse. I spent glorious days exploring.
I loved La Pedrera and would have liked to stay for a long while. However, the Summer Solstice was approaching, and I needed to be in the most magical place possible. I was off to Cabo Polonio, mythical in the minds of my South American friends. And they were right.
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