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Published: April 6th 2009
Welcome to Uruguay
A country I admittedly knew nothing about.Why indeed? I mean, does anyone really know anything about Uruguay? All I knew was that it is in South America, rhymes with Paraguay and that its football team seems to show up in the World Cup finals more often than the Scottish team manages.
The main reason we ended up in Uruguay was cost. We arrived in Buenos Aires following a thirteen hour flight from Sydney and spent a few days jet-lagged out of our minds, trying to decide how to spend the next month. Of all the destinations in (realistic) travelling distance from Buenos Aires, Uruguay was by far the cheapest. The preference would have been to travel to the very south of Argentina to see the glaciers but it seemed pretty expensive. It also sounded a bit cold to me. Also, the main tourist attraction - scrambling over ice with crampons and God knows what else - didn´t really appeal.
So Uruguay it was. The ferry journey from Buenos Aires to Colonia in Uruguay takes all of an hour. During the journey my slightly flu-ish feeling developed into a full-blown cold and by the time we arrived in our destination, capital Montevideo (pronounced MonteviDAYo, not MonteVIDeo
Ross in Montevideo
Loving the room. And the bugs. for anyone as ignorant of Uruguay as I was), all I wanted to do was sleep.
Montevideo
We had stayed in a really nice, modern and clean hostel in Buenos Aires so had trusted the staff there to book us into their affiliated hostels in Uruguay. Unfortunately, standards in the Uruguayan hostels didn´t quite match up to their Argentinian counterpart. We ended up in an unclean, six-bedroomed dorm which was so small it was more suited to two beds and which had bars on the window. Certainly not the sort of place you want to relax in when feeling a bit under the weather. We told ourselves it was only for two nights and that the hassle of moving outweighed the hassle of staying, so decided to stay put. We didn´t realise at that point, though, that the place was also crawling with bedbugs (although the signs were all there I suppose). Even Ross ended up bitten, although he had tiny little pin-prick marks on his arms. I, of course, ended up looking as though I was in the throes of the bubonic plague.
On that first day, in order to escape the depressing room, we set out
Sunday in Montevideo
The street our hostel was located on. As you can see, full of vibrance and life. to explore Montevideo. The guidebook warned it might feel a bit like a city formerly of the Eastern Bloc but that tourists should ¨look beyond¨ the bleakness to the bustling, cosmopolitan city beneath. This all sounded a bit complicated so I decided just wandering around the shops would be enough.
We stepped out of the hostel into a grey, imposing street with no form of life whatsoever. We headed down a street towards the sea in the distance. As we walked, I began to feel more and more uneasy. It was mid-afternoon, yet every shop and restaurant was closed (even MacDonalds - things were serious) and we didn´t pass another living creature. The streets were dead.
Everyone must have seen at least one Hollwood movie depicting a post-apocalyptic city - imagine walking through those quiet streets with dust creating the only movement. It was surreal.
Suddenly, a loud babble of voices broke the silence. A large group of wealthy, middle-aged Americans came storming down the street. As we discovered later, cruise ships dock in Montevideo on a daily basis so there is always at least one group of tourists in the city at any one time. Feeling
Mercado del Puerto
The building on the left houses many parrillas, or grills. slightly relieved (although also slightly irritated - wealthy, middle-aged Americans seem to have that unfortunate effect on me), we followed them down to the sea.
While it was comforting being amongst people (the sudden presence of tourist police was a particular relief), the beach was not very exciting. It seemed more like an industrial port. Noticing more closed restaurants, we suddenly clicked that it was Sunday... and that we were in a staunchly Catholic country. I was glad to find a rational explanation for what had been a bit of an unsettling experience.
Later that day, we did discover a little corner of activity with restuarants actually serving food and shops without barricades. We were impressed by Mercado del Puerto, an old market building housing a multitude of grill restuarants, called parrillas. The waiters tend to be older men in traditional outfits, all vying for customers. It´s fascinating seeing the various meats cooking on open grills in the different parrillas. The noise and smells make you feel as though you´ve entered another world. We chose a parrilla at random and ordered some pork chops. I could barely eat half of mine; I practically had an entire pig lying
Plaza in Montevideo
It does feel slightly like South America meets Communist Russia. on my plate.
Our second day in Montevideo was a shock to the system. The city came to life. People walked down the street outside the hostel. Shops opened. Restuarants cooked food. We discovered that if we had only turned left instead of walking towards the sea, we would have found a large plaza with markets and impressive buildings.
Anyway, we wandered around taking photos and visiting museums. I actually really liked Montevideo. I think the guidebook is correct: there is a grimness to the city that reminded us of Beirut (neither of us have actually been so I don´t really know where that came from), but if you look hard enough, you will find some really lovely and interesting sights. I wasn´t feeling great, so spent the two evenings asleep. Ross explored the city in the evening and apparently found some nice little pubs.
Punta del Este
The next stop on our Uruguayan tour was Punta del Este, dubbed the St Tropez of Uruguay. It is an exclusive resort, allegedly frequented by celebrities. We travelled by bus, alongside two Columbian girls who were staying at the same hostel as us. Their Spanish was - obviously -
Punta del Este: Hand Sculpture
This famous sculpture is a must for tourists to pose next to. The rain kind of thwarted our efforts. far better than ours and so they organised a taxi.
As we drove through the exclusive resort, my spirits lifted - it is large, bright and stylish. As we continued to drive, I took in the beautiful beaches and tasteful beach fronts. As we continued to drive, I began to wonder just how far away from the exclusive resort and beautiful beaches we would end up. As we drove and drove and drove, I started to suspect the Columbian girls had set us up for some sort of practical joke or drug-related crime (sorry, no need for the stereotypical comments). However, their looks of bemusement matched mine. We eventually reached the hostel which, in my view, is not based in Punta del Este.
The hostel itself was nicer than the Montevideo effort, but not by much. We were advised to get buses if we wanted to visit the resort itself (no, really?) but that the surf beach was walking distance. Well, thank God for that. I was starting to panic that I wouldn´t be able to fit in my daily surf.
That afternoon, we walked to a little stretch of shops and restaurants about a quarter of
Punta del Este
Full of the cold, soaked through and miles from anywhere. Not in the chirpiest of moods. the distance to the resort. The walk took around three hours all in. That night, we had pizza at the only local restauarant and vowed to catch the bus to the resort the next morning, with the intention of staying all day.
The next day dawned grey and wet. In fact, the rain was so heavy that the streets completely emptied and we could barely see where we were going. We got so wet just getting on and off the bus that I actually had to buy dry clothes (bear in mind I was full of the cold and we were now what felt like 350 miles from the hostel). There was nothing else for it but to go to the cinema. The rain was just too heavy to venture outside. We saw a depressing Will Smith film (Seven Pounds) and were amused by the local women at the back who were so overcome with emotion at the end that they literally could not stand up.
Punta del Este is not used to rain (it´s me - it has to be) and our hostel´s bar and food area was outdoors. This resulted in a large number of soaked,
The Balmoral
Ok so it´s not quite as fancy as THE Balmoral in Edinburgh, but it was good enough for me. disgruntled backpackers hanging around their various rooms. Everyone had wet clothes and it didn´t take long for the rooms to become really damp. Thoroughly fed up (and feeling worse and worse), I suggested we leave Punta del Este a day early if the weather didn´t clear by the morning. Ross did not need any persuasion and, when woken by rain in the morning, we packed up and returned to Montevideo.
The Balmoral
Yes, The Balmoral. Did I mention I was feeling ill? I don´t like to talk about these things much. Anyway, I decided I wasn´t going to feel better living in damp, filthy hostels with bugs crawling all over me. So, rather extravagantly, we booked ourselves into a four star hotel in Montevideo, namely The Balmoral. Given this was Montevideo and not Paris or London, the cost was less than your average travel lodge.
I literally cocooned myself in the hotel for 24 hours. I had a sauna, watched lots of reality television and ate chocolate (although the chocolate is terrible in South America so that was a bit disappointing). Ross did some further exploration of the city but I wasn´t interested by that stage. Outrageous but
Sunset in Colonia
The sunsets were as dazzling every night. true.
Colonia
Our last stop in Uruguay was Colonia, a colonial town (inspired choice of name). We had booked five nights here, much to the horror of everyone we met. We were told it was boring and worth only one or two nights.
Well, I disagree. For once we were lucky with the weather which maybe made a difference, but I loved Colonia. There is not a lot to do, but it´s a perfect place in which to relax. Wandering the cobbled streets is like stepping back in time. There are beautiful craft markets, a number of museums (some of which, admittedly, contain one room of tiles), fascinating buildings, a variety of restaurants and a nice, quiet beach. I do realise I sound like a tourist brochure.
One word of caution though: don´t go to Colonia if you dislike dogs. There are packs of dogs roaming the streets everwhere you turn. This sounds a bit sinister, but they´re generally friendly. Although I did have a bit of an incident on the beach.
One particular pack of four dogs hung out on the beach every day. I befriended the biggest one, who had bounded over to me
Leader of the Pack
My friends racing towards me after I had escaped. The black one was causing the problems. when I sat down. He lay at my feet for ages while I read my book. Problems began when his own pack came over as he had apparently decided he was my protector. The hackles went up. Worried they were going to fight (which seemed likely), I took off and sat at the other end of the beach. Of course, the four of them came racing over and started fighting over who sat closest to me. I actually had to leave the beach. Fortunately they didn´t follow me.
According to Ross, who stayed put, I had riled the four of them up so much that they started scaring old ladies who also had to leave the beach.
Other than upsetting wild dogs and old ladies, we basically did nothing in Colonia. The hostel was a little bit better than the two before, although our room reminded me of where Anne Frank hid from the Nazis. The door looked as though it could be a cupboard and the staircase was narrow and steep. That´s where the similarities end though, fortunately.
We returned to Buenos Aires feeling a bit more human than when we´d first arrived - there isn´t
Colonia Hostel
That´s me at the window. really a jet-lag issue between Uruguay and Argentina. Despite the accommodation and occasional weather problem, I really enjoyed Uruguay.
Food of the fortnight: goat. I didn´t actually realise I was eating it until after (that´s what happens when you don´t speak the language and just order anything). It wasn´t that exciting. Or dulche con leche, a sickly toffee spread that seems to be an obsession in Uruguay. Sometimes bread and toffee was the only choice for breakfast, which got a bit tiring.
Quote of the fortnight: the Glaswegian girl from Lloyds TSB to whom I spoke when phoning for the millionth time to get the bank to stop blocking my card just because I´m in a different country - ¨Uruguay? Where´s that? Next to Argentina? Oh you mean actual South America and not just Florida? Never heard of it.¨. Just about sums this entry up.
Bye.
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Claim to fame
Did you know that Uruguay won the first World Cup Tournament in 1930? neither did I till I googled it, must try and remember for the pub quiz. Seems to be the only significant famous event in Uruguay!