Montevideo

I woke up very, very early and headed down to Puerto Madero to get my ferry to Montevideo. The ferry terminal was pretty busy, even for such an early hour. One of the more interesting parts of the Argentine customs system is that, unlike the Schengen countries, when you leave and come back, the counter for how long you can stay in the country (three months) is reset.

The ferry ride would have me traversing the Rio de La Plata, the body of water separating these two capitals, for about two and a half hours which would be much faster and more comfortable than the bus route. I tried to settle in for a nap, but some parents decided to give their child a fucking flute, making it impossible. I decided to listen to a podcast in the meantime as we went. I arrived at the Montevideo port, cleared customs, and headed to my hostel which was very close.

I could tell I was going to like this place. It looked like it was decorated by Salvador Dalí with a lot of surrealist art, including a mannequin that I mistook for a real person in their sitting area. I was shown my single room, stripped down, and zoned out for a little bit. 

I then headed out to their Plaza de la Independencia at the center of the city, only a few blocks from where my hostel was. It was incredibly captivating with a lot of interesting architecture. The most interesting was the Palacio Salvo. This building looked like a rocket ship. It was the tallest building in the city and was designed to be a hotel, but those plans did not work out and are now a collection of offices and private residences. 

I went to a change house and got some local currency at an ATM and headed to buy a postcard for my nephews. I do not know why they do this, but ATMs always give humongous notes. I tried purchasing a postcard with a $1000 note, which the store-owning lady was not having as she did not want to make the change. I couldn’t really blame her.

I headed to a restaurant for some lunch as I was famished. I ordered a chardonnay and a delicious pork sirloin. The weather started to change, which I was not expecting. As I had no time to lose, after lunch, I headed back to the Plaza for a walking tour.

As it started raining, I was the only one that showed up. The guide respectfully asked to be released, of which I was happy to oblige. I decided to give myself my own little walking tour.

I passed through some concrete gates and walked down a pedestrian thorofare. There was a cathedral, so I went in to get some succor from the rain. It was quiet with some soft music and the entire place was bathed in candlelight. It felt incredibly good to sit in this sanctuary.

I headed back to the walkway where I found an open post office. I went in and purchased a stamp, then walked back to the competition of the postcard purveyor and purchased one. I wrote a note to my nephews, then quickly headed back to the office as it was only minutes away from closing. The postmistress took a liking to me and asked me where I was from and how I liked Montevideo so far. I told her I was American and just got off the boat a few hours ago, but I liked it.

After this, I went to a convenience store for some cookies and a bottle of grappamiel, a Uruguian liquor made from honey picking up one for myself and for my brother-in-law. I headed back to my room to rest for a bit, but then decided to go get something to eat.

I walked back to the Plaza, then continued on around their little Rambla/Malecon/Strand that wrapped around the city for ten miles. I knew I would get some great views here, the city against the sea, but decided that would be for another day. I headed to dinner at a parilla (grill) which was delicious. They gave me a lot of food, but I made my way through. After dinner, I headed home.

The next day I woke with the full intention of accomplishing everything on my Montevido-list. I had breakfast of bread and gelatinous caramelized condensed milk known as dulce de leche. It was delectable.

My first goal for the day was to go to the Museo de la Memoria, which was one of the interrogation, torture, and murder sites of Uruguay during the Operation Condor years. I triple-checked on their website to make sure the place was open. I ordered an Uber and Roberto came and picked me up. Being paisan, I always talk to my drivers. Roberto and I had a really good convo. One of the things I noticed so far in my brief stay in Montevideo was that a lot of people were flying Russian flags; on their cars, on their houses, and on themselves. I asked Roberto what was going on. He laughed and told me that they were not Russian flags, but they were flags for the “Socialist” party, Frente Amplio. I thanked Roberto as he dropped me off at the gate to the museum.

I walked to the guard tower and got a sinking feeling that something was wrong. A female guard came out and asked me my business. I told her I was here for the museum. She said it was closed. I said the website stated differently. She shrugged her shoulder. Knowing that I was a little fucked as I was planning on using the museum’s wifi to get an Uber, I asked her if she knew any cafes nearby. She shrugged her shoulders again and abruptly ended our conversation by walking back into her little guardhouse. I would come to learn that this whole interaction would be pretty typical in Latin America. 

I turned back in the direction whence I came with Roberto and started walking. I got back out to the main street and started looking for a Starbucks. None were found. I kept my iPod out looking for different WiFi networks so that I might be able to find an open one. As I kept walking, I saw a Nissan dealership that was nice enough to let me cop some of their wifi to get an Uber. I thanked them profusely when my ride showed up.

As I opened the door to the car, Dangerous by Roxette was playing, a song that reminded me of a girl. I knew fate was smiling upon me. I met Gabriel, my driver, and had a great ride while discussing local and international politics on my way back to the Plaza de la Independencia. 

I was back in the Plaza to take another walking tour, but unfortunately, no one ever showed. This was probably due to the rain. I looked up at the man on the horse in the square, General José Artigas, and shrugged my shoulders. I noticed there were some steps under the statue, so my curious self headed over. Walking down the steps was an odd experience as I was not sure as what to expect. The chamber below contained remains and highlighted the life and times of Artigas, the liberator of Uruguay. It was even guarded by soldiers. I found it both very strange and cool at the same time. 

I headed back to the hostel to rest but more importantly dry off. I tried some of the grappamiel, which I liked very much, and took a nap. I got up again and headed out.

I walked a lot of the strand around Montevideo. It was cloudy and the sun was setting, so I took possibly the best and most dramatic photos I had taken on my journey. There was a beach but the steps and rocks leading down to them were covered in algae, so it looked very slippery. I kept walking as far as I felt safe, then continued back to my parilla for a nice dinner. 

While eating dinner, I noticed something on the news. Apparently, there was a lot of civil strife in Ecuador. It kept showing a phrase I had never seen before scrolling on the bottom of the screen. I asked my waiter if he could explain to me what it meant. He said that it meant when the government tells people not to go outside for a certain period of time. The word was toque de queda (curfew.)

On my way home from the restaurant, I decided to stop in a little bar and have something to drink. The name of the bar was the Ciudadela or Citadel. As I sat at the bar having my drink, I made a pretty interesting realization about both Spanish and English. They have a lot of common roots and are both old languages with Spanish being much older. The world being what it was when those languages started being used was full of pillage and marauding. Therefore, the best way for people to survive was to band together behind fortifications, thus a citadel. This is how all population centers started. However, what I realized is that both Ciudadela and Citadel were shortened to Ciudad and City and mean the same thing. Language is a funny thing.

Before I headed back to the hostel for my final night in Montevideo, I went back to the Plaza de la Independencia and walked around. I noticed that one of the hotels was very lively, so I went inside to have a look. I did not know it, but this was a casino hotel. I went to look and see what games they had and felt like I was back in Macau. From wall to wall at every table playing every game were Chinese men. I found this incredibly interesting. 

After the almost complete wash that was the previous day, my bar was not set too high. I woke up, had brekkie, talked with an older Norwegian woman named Joanna and then headed out. I found my way to a street fair / outdoor market like the one in San Telmo. Only, instead of having mostly tourist things, this market had everything: children’s clothing, ancient electronics, and even medical instruments. I walked around and found my father something he would like for Christmas; an airplane fashioned from bullet brass. It was pretty cool. However, it was election season in Montevideo and things were getting heated. I saw one guy get punched in the face from I imagine someone of the political opposition. Taking my cue, I got out of there before things could escalate.

I then headed towards the Mercado Porto or Port Market for lunch. And lo and behold, I stumbled onto a free walking tour. So I joined and was shown around town with two Brits and two Germans by the lovely Rocio. 

I learned many fascinating things about Uruguay. Mainly that it is unique in a lot of respect to other Latin American countries. Primarily, they allow abortions. However, people from outside the country cannot simply hop on a bus or plane and have them done. They are reserved for citizens only. Much like the ability to purchase “purposeful” amounts of marijuana for private consumption. They are the least corrupt government in the region and unlike other countries (especially the big one starting with the letter A,) they were not beholden to the Chinese. There had been a recent influx of Cubans and Venezuelans yearning to breathe more freely, with the Venezuelans making the journey of more than 3000 miles on foot. I learned that Uruguay does not have a native populous and that half the population of the country of 3 million live in Montevideo.

Historically, the English were big proponents of Uruguay breaking away from Argentina and even helped them draft a constitution. Especially after General Artigas was exiled to Paraguay for wanting them to reunite. As it turned out, as he had the rank and prestige as a general in the Spanish army, the soldiers that guarded his eternal rest were Spanish soldiers, not Uruguayos. 

Another incredibly interesting fact is the etymology of the name Montevideo. I learned that Montevideo is sort of an acronym of sorts meaning hill sixth from the right east to west. In Spanish: Monte VI De Este Oeste. 

After the tour, I decided to grab lunch at a small restaurant at the port before I hopped my boat back to Buenos Aires where I proceeded to cause an international incident. I had salmon, a half bottle of white wine, and dessert. The dessert was called candombe: outer dark chocolate shell, chocolate ice cream inside with dulce de leche with a chocolate raspberry reduction. When the waitress came by and asked how it was, I brought her close and told her it was better than sex (which it was.) She laughed, blushed then immediately took her break, leaving me to be waited on by the manager. 

As I was walking back, I noticed the hostel was right down the street from the Andes 1972 Museum. On Friday, October 13th, 1972, the Uruguayan rugby team was flying to a match when all of a sudden their plane lost altitude and crashed in the snowcapped mountains of the Andes. Many people initially survived the crash, but they were in a desolate mountain pass at nearly 12,000 ft. The provisions that the plane carried only held out for so long. They ended up doing what desperate people do, they ate some of their colleagues. I only knew this story because my parents rented the movie Alive back in the 90s and I was not allowed to watch it.

I got my bags, then headed to the port. The line was pretty long as well as customs. But it was fine. I waited for a while until it was time to board, then made my way to first-class via my $32 ticket and sipped champagne as I watched the Rio de La Plata go by on my return for my final week in Buenos Aires.