Montevideo

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J:

We've been traveling now for three months non-stop and privately we have both admitted in our weaker moments that we were starting to feel fatigued by the lifestyle. It's not that we were no longer enjoying ourselves, which we undoubtedly were, but we hadn't stayed anywhere for more than three successive nights, lived out of a suitcase, slept erratically and in flagrant disregard of circadian rhythms, often caught consecutive overnight buses and were both generally missing the comforts of home. In this frame of mind we decided to make a couple of changes to our plan, and at shunned the 36 hour bus into Uruguay in favour of a flight and decided to spend a whole week in the capital rather than exploring surrounding towns.

Arriving at Montevideo airport was quite a tonic. Everything was so beautifully clean, so brilliantly illuminated it was more celestial hospital than transport hub. After weeks in Brazilian tropical heat and humidity the fresh cool air here was a godsend. Even the floors shined - quite a departure from bus stations in Bolivia with their tramps fighting over rubbish from overspilling bins and feral dogs feasting on soiled disposable nappies. This new environment buoyed us (obviously along with news of Man Utd losing at home in the third round of the FA Cup to a League One side) and we felt reinvigorated to explore the rest of the continent. In fact it would have been perfect but for the fact that the clean white and orange design, banks of rolling news screens and circular swirling orange logo looked unerringly like an unending Thomson Reuters building. Anyway, that's enough about the airport, on to the city itself...

We spent most of our time in Montevideo wandering the streets, looking in shops and eating out. On Friday we felt it was high time for a night of partying so went out to a bar appropriately named Pony Pisador and drank and were merry and Holly tried her hand at poetry. So far, so standard. On the way home Holly kicked her big toe, unprotected by flip-flops, straight into an upturned jut of paving slab causing a fairly deep cut. It bled quite a lot, and hadn't magically healed itself by the morning so we got the hostel to call for a doctor. The doctor (or more appropriately 'medical team' - for they were a trio) arrived and set to work. The main doctor cleansed and bandaged Holly's wound, assisted by a second medic, whilst the third must have been given the job of watching the latter stages of the Arsenal vs Everton game which was on in the background. A task, I have to admit, he stuck to with admirable dedication.

Due to Holly's poorly paw, we shelved plans to cycle around the city the next day and instead caught a taxi to a market we'd been recommended. We've been to several large markets in South America - typically a bustle of brightly coloured clothing and hand-made ornaments, with stalls selling exotic smelling dishes and busy with locals and tourists alike milling around. This market was a little different - it was a car boot sale with no cars. Instead, sellers had arranged their goods all over the roads. We didn't see any arts or crafts but were spoilt for choice for second hand car wing-mirrors, shoelaces and old even old ration books. One vendor had evidently put great stock in a belief that the market for empty Nescafé jars was due for an upturn. The best find though was a single Victorian-style crutch although Holly eschewed this and continued limping around.

With our time in Uruguay coming to an end, we heard that taking a boat into Buenos Aires is the most breathtaking way to arrive in the Argentine capital. With this in mind we headed to Colonia and waited to board our ferry. And waited. And waited. Only six hours late, our ferry finally arrived and whisked us onwards. It had long since got dark, and we were shattered so slept the whole journey. We arrived in BA in a fierce storm at 4.30am but thankfully found our hostel still open. So an inauspicious start to the city although our fortunes soon improved...

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