The Uruguayan countryside was very beautiful, even though there wasn't anything outrageously different or distinct to see; just a lot of rolling plains about the color of Northern California's hills in January and February (a bright, almost plastic-looking chartreuse) punctuated by small, dark semi-tropical shrubbery. Every now and then the water was just barely visible on the horizon. It was the kind of simple, hardly-touched scenery Steinbeck might exalt. Every now and then we passed a pueblo, which consisted of a small clump of even smaller brightly colored buildings falling apart with age and connected by dirt roads. The outskirts of the little villages confirmed the central role of farming in the region. It started raining not too long into the trip, which was nice inside the bus, but not so great upon arriving to Montevideo. Not unlike many big cities, the outer neighborhoods didn't show any signs of wealth. In fact, I thought I was getting ready to spend time by myself and without any contacts in South America's Baltimore at first. But the further into the city we got, the more I realized that this was going to be way safer, cleaner, and easier to get around in than Buenos Aires.
From the main bus terminal, I took a taxi to the Centro/Ciudad Vieja area of the city to find a hostel to stay in. Luckily, of the addresses I had marked, the first one I found had a bed available and ended up being a good place to stay. Just for reference to other travelers, I highly recommend hostels that are part of the Hostelling International chain. Having taken care of that, I decided to brave the wet weather and go exploring since I only had 2 days to see everything I wanted to. After about 30 minutes the steady drizzle turned into a downpour and I gave in and bought the second umbrella I've purchased in South America (because I don't check the weather forecast), but it only cost 100 Uruguayan pesos (just a little over US$4). I was able to see the Iglesia Matriz (a beautiful old church downtown), the Gurvich Museum, check out a coffeehouse (Montevideo is well-known for high-quality cafes), and see most of the downtown area before deciding that I was too drenched to do much else for the night. Especially considering that I had decided not to bring any other clothes with me for such a short trip. Lesson learned: ALWAYS carry a pair of clean, dry socks when traveling...it sucks to have to put on cold, dirty, and still damp socks the next morning.
I got an early start the next day and spent most of the morning and afternoon walking all over the city with a Chilean girl from my hostel. After walking most of the length of La Rambla (the coast-side path), we decided to head back toward the Mercado del Puerto near the hostel via small, residential streets. The smaller streets easily could have been plucked out of an older, more colorful part of San Francisco. Because the water can be used as a reference point, it would be pretty hard to get lost in the main part of Montevideo. It was well past lunch time when we got back to the Mercado del Puerto, a large ware-house like structure that's been turned into a tourist-friendly gallery of restaurants with a special emphasis on seafood. Although most of the restaurants were showy and over-priced, in one corner there was a pared-down joint that may not have been very pretty or clean, but had reasonable prices and food that probably tasted better than most of the other places. A plate of well-prepared sole, mashed potatoes, and two glasses of wine set me back about 8 dollars. I'd call that a deal. Also, I may or may not be notorious for claiming to be vegetarian and then eating fish a few times a year, especially in port cities. I always feel a little guilty about eating an animal, but if the fish is fresh, it's usually worth it (said with a malicious grin).
My lunch came from there!
After lunch, I went walking around more, checking out little shops, museums, and street vendors downtown before heading back to the hostel to try Uruguayan mate (mah-tay) and getting ready to head back to the bus station. The yerba mate is one of the few things better in Montevideo than in Buenos Aires, which makes sense because (I'm pretty sure) the drink originated as a Uruguayan custom before moving across the border. The other ways it's better? It is so much cleaner! One of the first thoughts I had when I got to Montevideo was that Buenos Aires is so disgustingly dirty and I had gotten so used to it that I was surprised not to have to worry about dodging trash, cigarettes, and dog crap. Also, drivers actually let pedestrians cross the street. When a woman slowed down and signalled for me to cross, I wanted to run up to the car and hug her. The relative politeness can be transcribed to almost any social interaction. If I asked for directions or advice about getting around the city, I was greeted with a smile and helpfulness. Even girls my age were friendly. Aside from a few friends from my classes, the only girls in Buenos Aires that have ever been nice or even talked to me have been from other countries (mainly Brazil). It was so refreshing! The men in Montevideo also seemed a little different. Although the cat-calling is also a part of their culture, it was much more subtle and the things they said were much less douchebag-y than some of the things you'd hear on the streets in BsAs (i.e. Hola Bombon; No me vas a regalar una sonrisa/un beso?; Hola amor, que rica que sos!). There was only one time that I felt at all threatened, but in the end I think it was just an older drunk man trying to entertain himself.I know that last paragraph pretty much bad-mouthed Buenos Aires, and although Montevideo was pleasant, it would have been boring had I been there much longer. The sun had just started to rise around 8 the next morning when the bus pulled into downtown Buenos Aires, and I felt like I was back "home" (a word that has become pretty transient for me). Even with all it's trash, horrible drivers, bitchy girls, and pretty-boy machistas, I love Buenos Aires, and would choose to spend five months here over Montevideo without a second thought. With less than two weeks left here, I'm getting excited to see everyone at home, but at the same time, it makes me sad to think about leaving. So, I just won't think about it until I'm on the plane.
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