Saturday Jan. 26, 2008
Since it was the height of summer holidays in South America everything was crowded and overpriced. I wasn't able to catch a ferry from Buenos Aires, Argentina to Colonia, Uruguay when I wanted to so I decided to ride there. As I left BA I got mixed-up in the complex freeway system and barely avoided a ticket for an illegal U-turn and then later on the highway I was stopped again for speeding (first time I've ever heard that motos have a SLOWER speed limit than cars), but after disputing it they also let me go.
Unfortunately, the mouth of the huge Rio de la Plata (River of Money) that dumps into the ocean between the two countries is not easy to cross by land because of a long-term paper mill dispute. Protests have kept the nearest bridge north of BA, about 290 km (180 mi), closed for over a year. The nearest open bridge that I could take was at Paysandu, 355 km (221 mi) north of BA. As it worked out, it was not only less expensive to drive there and then back down to Colonia than taking the ferry, but also very beautiful.
The countryside of Uruguay was beautiful and the people were extremely friendly, but things were noticeably pricier here. Good, clean campgrounds were easy to find so that's mostly what I did. I nearly hit a 1 m (3.28 ft) long iguana that ran very quickly across the highway in front of me.
In every town there were old vehicles that I considered classics, still being used everyday and I often felt as if I had stepped back in time to a much slower paced and friendly world.
Pulling into a beautiful yacht club campsite near a riverfront beach one evening I got stuck in the soft sand and had to get a hand, but thankfully not too many people noticed.
I learned that they like Canadians down here so much they've even named a tent and sandwich after us.
On the highway the next day, in what seemed like the middle of nowhere, I saw this beautiful old truck parked out front and stopped to take a picture. When a young woman came out of the house I asked if it was OK to take pictures and she said no problem, there were more parked out back if I like, and then went back inside. So I walked around the rather plain looking house to a three-sided, stone-walled, open-air shed with flowering vines growing up the walls and through the windows. It contained four beautiful old vehicles parked inside, three of them in excellent condition, and they all had the Narbona Bodega & Granja name on the door.
I couldn't believe the condition of these vehicles and I went back to tell the girl how much I appreciated her letting me look at them. She could see I was leering past her at the doorway in curiosity at all the antiques everywhere, so she invited me in. There I found out it wasn't a house any more, now it was a restaurant & winery (bodega). Everything was antique and she and the other woman working there told me it was all original. I looked at the menu and the prices weren't cheap, but the ambiance was beautiful. Nobody was there though and I wondered who could possibly know about this place way out here and what was keeping it alive. Her answer was US American tourists.
As I kept riding south along the bank of the river which separated Argentina from Uruguay that would eventually turn into an ocean, I marvelled at the beauty and simplicity of this very different little country.
Colonia was a nice, small city with cobblestone streets on the edge of the river. I could see the skyscrapers of downtown Buenos Aires in the far distance. That night I watched a gorgeous sunset from my campsite east of the city on the edge of the river.
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The next day I arrived in Montevideo to more beautiful architecture and beaches. But I was mostly focused on the business of getting my tourist visa for Brazil. After having visited 16 countries on my trip so far this was going to be my first visa. I never realized what was involved and was quite shocked when I learned of the requirements in Buenos Aires a short time ago. Unfortunately, the price had just doubled too and a 90 day maximum visa now cost me a whopping $114 US (US citizens paid even more) here in Montevideo. When I asked the Brazilian consulate why their requirements were so strict, they said they were just reciprocating what Canada makes their citizens go through. The people in the Brazilian consulate were not friendly and frustrating to deal with. When I asked why they charged me more than I was told in BA last week they said they didn't know what other consulates charged and that was their price (take it or leave it). I took it.
I visited the government of Canada website and looked at what we make Brazilians do to enter Canada, and sadly they were right. I hope the people who work in our consulates treat them better than I was at theirs. I'm just now learning how fortunate I've been to be able to travel so easily through so many countries and hope that our countries can all find a way to simplify travel for tourists rather than complicate it. I've learned that it's impossible to know a country and its people from what we see on the news or judging them by their government's actions. We need to visit them and live with them, even if only for a short time, to even have the slightest idea of what life is like for people in other countries.
I visited the Canadian consulate also while I was there, just to see what they treated the average person off the street like and ask them if the Brazilian's requirements were in fact legitimate. I was greeted by an intelligent, friendly and compassionate middle-age woman who knew what she was talking about and agreed that sadly Canada's requirements and policies for residents of these countries is probably more difficult and not very welcoming.
I passed quickly through the expensive city of Punta del Este looking at the crowded beaches, two cruise ships in the bay and throves of wealthy Argentineans who flocked here for summer holidays each year.
I rode closer to the Brazilian border that night before camping in the beautiful Santa Teresa national park on the ocean's edge.
Before entering Brazil the next day I visited Fortaleza de Santa Teresa, a fort begun by the Portuguese but captured and finished by the Spanish in 1762.
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