Wednesday, March 18, 2009

Uruguay... mi pais, mi hogar. : )
















There is a general sentiment that our weekend in Uruguay was the favorite weekend adventure of all of my friends (at least, before our adventures in Iguazu).  Uruguay, as described by Lonely Planet, is the squished grape between Brazil and Argentina, but to my friends and I, it was so much more.  ISA planned a trip by enormous boat (first class!) to Colonia, which is a small town beside the river delta.  This town is small and quiet, but has unbelievable color and plant life.  

During the afternoon, we wandered through the town, eating and taking in the sights.  My favorite part of this was relaxing on the beach.  I got everyone to hunt for mermaid's tears (glass smoothed by the sand and water flow), and it was a sight to see us all bent over hunting for little chunks of green, brown, white and the occasional blue or purple enveloped by sand.  There was a rock that looked out over the water, and while I stood on it, I met a very sweet, wrinkly and white-haired man.  His named was Alberto, if I remember correctly, and he lived partly in Buenos Aires and partly in Colonia.  He was lovely and seemed to much prefer the calm streets and friendly people in Uruguay to the busy life of BsAs.  In total, Colonia was an interesting place through which to meander, but our time in Montevideo, Uruguay's capital, was much more memorable than in Colonia.  We left the ISA group in Colonia and hopped on a bus to Montevideo.

We had hoped to experience Carnival in Montevideo because it is rumored to be one of the finer celebrations outside of Brazil, which traditionally hosts the craziest Carnival parties.  Unfortunately, this was also the weekend that a torrential downpour ensued through all of Saturday and Sunday before finally ceasing Monday morning.  Hence, the Carnival festivities were cancelled (they take place in an outdoor amphitheater).  

Nonetheless, we had an exceptional time.

We arrived late Saturday night, and I, exhausted from the three-hour bus ride, slept through that night's activities while the rest of the group of twelve or partied and danced at a nearby club.  I have become famous for the things I can sleep through, but that will be a later topic.  Sunday morning will always be one of my favorite memories from this trip because it was so relaxed but full of infinite enjoyment.  We began the morning with a ridiculous romp outside in search of food and activities for the weekend.  It just so happened that we had no idea where the nearest supermarket was, so we spent the better part of twenty minutes running through the pouring rain.  By the time we reached the nearest market (a tiny, unfriendly place) we were all human puddles.  This probably explains why the storeowner was less than pleased with us, but we found what we needed (including some *ahem* beverages) to warm us up and keep us energized for the weekend and continued on our soggy way.

When we arrived back at the hostel, we immediately sought out the kitchen and the nearest blender… with no lid.  Luckily, our daiquiri/smoothie session ensued without any spills, and we were able to enjoy delicious drinks.  While my comrades concocted the beverages, I had gone in search of playing cards.  Along with one incomplete deck (Really?  Who loses the Ace of Spades?), I stumbled across some wayward French guys who were playing guitar and piano and singing American songs.  I, being the music enthusiast that I am, of course became friends with them after I helped them remember the chords to Pink Floyd’s “Wish You Were Here.”  They of course, were more than happy to befriend the cute American girls and our companions, and the afternoon passed filled with singing, guitar playing, translating and very little card playing.  The guitarist kept trying to find music that we recognized and enjoyed, and lucky for him, we knew every song.  He was especially excited about serenading the cute American chica, my friend Kara, who was sitting next to him.  What’s not to love about the French?

 

We found out later that Kara is especially popular among all of Uruguay, not just the French passersby.  Late the same afternoon, we went exploring through the nearby streets in search of some action and an ATM.  It’s about 26 Uruguayan pesos to the American dollar, so paying 120 pesos for lunch is extremely decent.  We continued to be shocked, however, through most of the weekend at the prices.  I bought a painting for about 1,000 pesos Monday morning and had to do some quick math in the street before I felt comfortable with my purchase.  (Don’t worry, Mom.  It’s beautiful.)  After we finally encountered an ATM, we proceeded to the plaza nearby and through the streets.  The rain prevented us from doing too much, so after finding an even larger supermarket with items for Sunday dinner, we returned to the hostel.

 

During this same adventure, my friend Kara and I wandered into a bookstore while everyone else continued to the hostel.  Here, we had Uruguay Fabulous Memory #2.  We chatted for over an hour with the bookstore owner, Rauil, and even returned the next day with friends.  It was an amazing experience for me to be able to have a conversation completely in Spanish about literature and its importance in my life.  He asked Kara and I about love and humanity and hopes and dreams and a number of things that I could spend all day typing about.  He was an especially remarkable human being.

 

Sunday evening was the third great memory of the trip.  Again, I spent some time resting in my bed due to a stomachache…  However, with a dozen people to cook and organize dinner, it was easy to slip away for a break.  Dinner was a beautiful mix of asado, grilled veggies, salad, juice, mashed potatoes and bread.  It was like having Thanksgiving dinner but with the Multisa Family.  (Multi-country, ISA students…  cute, I know.  You’ll never guess who helped come up with it.)  We invited Bernie from Arizona and Humberto from Brazil to join our masses and our numbers were pleasantly raised to fourteen.  I don’t remember a meal so full of love and merriment in a long time, and it was wonderful to share the night together.  I was honored to give the toast as Mother Multisa and just as happy to join in the dishwashing post-meal.  Bernie joined me in the kitchen, so I had the opportunity to hear about his travels in South America.  He’s taking time from his job as an architect in Arizona to see S.A. for about six months.  Good luck, Bernie!

 

We went dancing after dinner till all hours of the night.  It seems that South Americans prefer to dance (and grope American girls) until they collapse from exhaustion, but I eventually had to call it a night around 5 am.  Being that checkout was at 10 am, it probably would have been better to have returned at a more American hour, but when in Uruguay… 

 

Monday, Monday, Monday…  How I loathe thee.  Usually, my good friend Garfield the Cat (Jim Davis, anyone?) would agree that Mondays are terrible because they bring the beginning of a new week of work and school and the end of a weekend of fun.  Well, this Monday began with sun opening my eyelids to greet the day and the noise of people in the street below my hostel window.  The storms and rain and grey had given way to cotton ball cloud and blue sky.  Since there were no Carnival celebrations to be had that day, we took another stroll through the streets and spent the rest of the day on the beach.  We met two friendly guys in the Uruguayan Air Force and played an energy-filled futbol americano game…  using a dead eel for one of the end zones.  He was happy to be of service, no worries.  I went for a swim in the ocean but stepped on something frightfully slippery and alive, so I retired to the sand and sun for the remaining hour or so.

After our adventures on the beach, we all went our separate ways.  Four of us, Alex, Ashley, Kara and myself, decided to wander along the beach collecting chunks of sea agate and more mermaid's tears before a dinner in one of the beach cafes.  Our meal was delightful and filled with story-telling and bonding.  By the time we meet up with the rest of the group to leave, I had no desire to leave my beloved Uruguay, but we took goodbye photos and made our way to the bus station.  Oh Uruguay, you will be missed.

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