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Published: January 30th 2011
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art deco Palacio Salvo
tallest building in South America, 1928 Christmas week was sweet in Montevideo and filled with friends old and new. Yet it was also bittersweet as I was saying goodbye to Uruguay, a grand country I'd come to love in my five weeks here. It is one of South America's hidden treasures with fabulous beaches for everyone from hippies to jet setters, a well-preserved 17c colonial town, a gorgeous spa town, and a safe, walkable, cosmopolitan capital. It shares Argentina's culture of gauchos, mate-drinkers, meaty barbecues and good wine. Equally impressive, it has one of the least corrupt, most progressive political systems and egalitarian societies in South America.
It's not only the smallest Spanish-speaking country in South America, it sits between the gargantuan countries of Argentina and Brazil. Yet it's twice as big as Portugal, which no one thinks of as a tiny country. and dwarfs the Netherlands, Belgium, and many other European countries, Even though it is diminutive in comparison to its neighbors, the people are not bothered by this and are easy-going and confident in the comfortable lives they've created.
A city college colleague from Montevideo, Fede, said that when Uruguay entered the finals in the World Cup last year, people were diving for
Christmas holiday
on Montevideo's Pocitas beach their atlases to see where the country was located. Curious that few Americans are aware of Uruguay and it's charms, given that I spoke more English here and spent more dollars (as opposed to pesos) than I had since I arrived on this continent.
Wildly popular as a beach get-away for Argentinians in the sweltering summer, Uruguay's scalloped coastal cities would be mobbed between Christmas and Carnival. Thus I visited the beaches and popular sites before Christmas when they were perfect--warm and sunny, but not too crowded. I planned to spend Christmas in the capital which wouldn't be so crowded since most people were either with their families or at the beach.
I arrived in Montevideo on Christmas Eve to find that my hostel had decided to close for the holidays--oops. They'd emailed me, but I'd been in a world wonderfully beyond electricity and electronics in Cabo Polonio. Yet it turned into a blessing in disguise as I settled into the nearby Green Hostel, run by amazing people and filled with new friends from Europe and Brazil.
The young woman who managed the Green Hostel, Carmel, had grandparents who had been freedom fighters in Algeria, but who
were then exiled from the country because they were Jews. We had fabulous conversations of justice, politics and philosophy. She then let me share her penthouse room with views from the wrought-iron balcony of the gorgeously-restored Pre-Columbian Museum (originally a huge spa complex) across the street. Magic was in the air.
I'd chosen to stay in the Cuidad Vieja, the Old Town, near the port on a peninsula that juts out into the Rio de la Plata. It was originally within the colonial town walls and its streets were lined with 18c and 19c grand palaces--some exquisitely restored, others in various stages of decrepitude. It was exhilarating living among and walking past stately mansions with carved, marble lintels and lions and fabulous details.
While most of the capital was safe, the Cuidad Viejo was a different story as lots of poor people are crammed into the run-down, unrestored mansions. Thus, many travelers were afraid to stroll about after dark and felt unsafe. However, I felt fine. I just walked briskly, nodded politely to those I met and had no problems. I think a positive attitude, trust and confidence are the best traveling companions. The alternative, fear, certainly isn't
any fun.
Many of the restored mansions now housed banks, government offices and fabulous, free museums. One of my favorites was the majestic Palacio Taranco, now the Decorative Arts Museum with the art the patron had collected and original furniture. Swiss Patrick from the hostel and I wandered around spying all the little details that made up the life of a fabulously wealthy merchant's family a couple of hundred years ago,
We spent the rest of the day exploring the very safe and walkable city, marveling at the architecture, visiting a couple more museums, strolling through leafy plazas filled with mate-drinkers and past the well-preserved and showcased Puerta de la Ciudadela, a stone gateway that was the last remnant of the original colonial city walls. Just beyond that was the Plaza Independencia, with a huge equestrian statue and an elegant, yet understated mausoleum of the country's hero, General Jose Artigas. Elegant and understated--perfect descriptors for Uruguay--except for Christmas Eve which was a riot.
The afternoon of Christmas Eve, young people, mainly guys, filled the streets of the Cuidad Vieja and got massively drunk on sweet apple cider. For the evening, they moved up to the Plaza Independencia
where they continued their unbridled drunkenness, peeing in the streets and raising havoc. It reminded me of Halloween in Isla Vista, the drunken wildness of Santa Barbara's university enclave. Clearly, these were unattached guys as Christmas Eve was when most Uruguayans were with their families. Indeed, some secular Uruguayans had proposed renaming Christmas, "Family Day."
The next day, Christmas, the city was deserted as most people were still gathered with their families. My Montevideo friend, Alicia, her ex-husband and I got together. They gave me a great car tour of places that were outside the center, including the busy beaches, the lighthouse and the gorgeous national parliament building. With Alicia's daughter, we then had a yummy Christmas dinner.
The following day, Monday, was still a holiday, and Patrick and I took a bus to the sweet botanic garden and then the amazing beaches. Like most of Uruguay's river and beach fronts, Montevideo had a coastal promenade, the Rambla. It stretched many kilometers and was backed by upscale, high-rise condos. However, I'd never seen beaches so crowded--it looked like photos of Coney Island. People sunbathed, waded in the chilly waters, ate freshly-fried, sugared bread, drank mate and people-watched. Truly
preschool gate
boys on the left, girls on the right a scene!
Uruguay is one of the most secular countries in South America. Thus, there weren't many Christmas decorations outside the commercial centers. Wherever there were Christmas trees, they were artificial. While I love the smell of pine trees, as an adult, I've felt that it was such a waste to cut down a tree that would be enjoyed for only a short time and then trashed. It was great to be in a country that shared my sentiments.
I spent a great week, visiting with friends and exploring Montevideo's sites, including the famous wrought-iron, covered Mercado del Puerto (Port Market), filled with
parrillas/barbecue restaurants and carnivores digging in, and the gaucho, Carnival (rather a big deal here) and pre-Columbian museums. Unfortunately, the beautiful Teatro Solis was closed for the holidays, but it's supposed to have fabulous acoustics. On buses and in the streets, people were friendly and open, and the city, like the country, was a joy to explore.
Not only was Uruguay beautiful and fun, it also had a strong commitment to human rights. There were posters in Montevideo noting abuses which took place there during the military dictatorship of the 70s. While the dictatorship
was not as onerous as that in Argentina or Chile, thousands had been arrested and some had disappeared.
A current problem that was being addressed was violence against women and girls. In every town, I saw a variety of posters calling for an end to this violence. While this is a problem all over the world, this was the first Latin American country where I saw a concerned campaign of education. Also, coming from Brazil, it was great to see a diminutive police presence. The police cars were cute little things, many police were on horses or bicycles and the police as friendly as the general population.
My five weeks in Uruguay had been wonderful, and I left only because I had a New Year's date across the river in Argentina. I finally said goodbye to Alicia and my hostel friends and boarded a bus to Colonia and then the ferry Sea Cat that whisked me across the huge Rio de la Plata to Buenos Aires. A new year and a new chapter in my travels were about to begin.
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