Todo Esta Tranquilo en el Capital
Trip Start
Dec 24, 2008
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3
5
Trip End
Jan 12, 2009
Montevideo, Uruguay
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Either way, we were clearheaded enough to make a very split second decision to buy tickets for an afternoon Ferry to Montevideo. Since we had a few hours to kill, we were happy to receive Neil and Kate who were nearby and wanted to bring us breakfast. Sure...why not!?!?! What I didn't realize was their carefully hatched plan to MAKE us breakfast and attempt to clean up from the prior night. Sadly for them...I had already cleaned like a MOFO and all they could do was make scrambled eggs and fresh fruit salad. Hearts of gold those two.
3PM approaching, we threw our stuff into a few bags and ran outside to hail a cab. "El Puerto de Buquebus por favor!"
The cab driver looks at me sideways....
"ah.....you want Buque-booooooooos"
"Si...Buque-booooooooooooooooos!"
Vale.
Arriving at the terminal, we were treated to the typical Argentine orgainzation system...that is to say no system at all. It is moments like these when you are reminded that regardless of that cool neighborhood over in Palermo, you are still in a third world country.
After a ridiculous amount of time in line, we finally got our tickets taken care of and boarded the "fast boat" to Montevideo. The 3 hour trip passed easily as we read and had snacks from the shipboard café. Arriving in MVD, we joined the crush to get off the boat and breezed through customs...aside from the two bananas that were taken from me! My face is now posted in every Uruguayan Police station.
Finding a Taxi, we quickly shot through the outskirts of downtown and toward our Hotel. Unfortunately, there were some ridiculous confusions caused by my using starwood points for the reservation, and we required about 90 minutes to check in. Seemed OK to my compadres though as Evan found an internet connection and Nina found a nap.
Keys in hand, we rode the elevator to the eighth floor and dropped our stuff into surprisingly adequate rooms. Go Four Points!
Tenemos Hambres...Vamos a Cenar!
It being New Year's Day, much of the city had closed down...although you get the sense that most of it is rarely open anyways. The front desk recommended Parilla El Foggon...and we obliged. Walking down lonely Avenida San Jose, we finally spotted a lone but warm rectangle of light. Aqui Esta.
Once inside, we found out where all 1.2 Million residents of Monetvideo were. Flagging down one of the frantically busy Camareros, we clearly understood the "give me a minute!" signal and waited awkwardly between rows of feasting parties. After a while, I got tired of being ignored and found the manager in the back. A minute later, we were led to a newly discovered staircase which climbed to a second and more sedate dining room on the primer piso.
Leafing through the menu was futile for my friends...it was meat all the way. After 5 out of 6 nights, I was ready for some pescado. Bad choice...the lenguada was asi-asi but the "baby beef" was awesome. Thanks for sharing guys!
Engaged in yet another tasty flan dessert (oh how I love thee), we soon began the traditional game of "Flan Jenga"...named after the 90's board game that had the players build a tower with wooden blocks so that they could, turn by turn, deconstruct it until it fell over...and...."Jenga!".
In our version, the players use their spoon to slice into the side of the flan at positive angles until one unfortunate eater knocks over the flan...and..."Jenga!"
I think I lost that night...but losing is sweet since it usually means that you've just taken a big bite.
With all that excitement, we were tired. Back to the Four Points for Eight Hours.
Waking up the next day, we headed out to explore the city. Majestic, authentic and sleepy, Montevideo seems to be a city on permanent siesta. Free of most multinational chains (except McDonalds of course) and the hastily built modern architecture that goes with it, the unique blend of classic European and Latin design gives the city center a flavor that is truly all its own.
As one walks further down Avenida 18 De Julio, you reach a main square which borders the Ciudad Vieja, where Cobbled Streets lined with dilapidated (and often abandoned) homes slope gently down to the seas. The area is often compared to Old Havana De Cuba but having never been there, the closest thing I have seen is the seaside towns of Portugal and Salvador, Bahia in Brazil.
Strolling toward the ocean, and old man stopped us and asked, "Son turistas?"
"Claro ...de los Estados Unidos." (Duh)
"Ten Cuidado aqui."
Ok...thanks for scaring us. Broad daylight...three in a group, no jewelry or exposed electronics...plus one of us dudes has a pretty menacing physique.
The other is named Evan Lauer Bloom.
What?
Making our way (safely) to the sea, we hung out on the sea wall for a bit before walking over to the area's main attraction...a totally enclosed "Meat Marketplace" where row upon row of smoky Parilla's were on the offer to hungry tourists and locals.
Chef E was in heaven the moment we walked in and we eventually picked on of the more popular spots, pulled up some bar stools and got down to business.
An hour later, we were feeling the post Parilla paralysis and we happily nudged ourselves out the door... hair, clothes (and probably even teeth) smelling like smoked meat. It's a great cologne if you are looking to pick up local chicks...or make friends with hungry dogs.
(Those two groups are not in any way related as the people down here are for the most part ridiculously good looking...like Zoolander style.)
With our meatness in full force, we headed back to centro and hailed a taxi out to Pocitos Beach, known locally as Montevideo's "Copacabana". While I quickly determined that this is an enormous stretch, the beautiful tree lined streets were a lovely frame to a decent city beach with surprisingly soft sand. Since it was the late afternoon by now, the wind had picked up a bit and we were content to sit in the sand for a few hours in our jeans and sleeves. Nina of course fell asleep in minutes while Evan and I surveyed the area and commented on how weird it was the we were actually on a river.
As evening approached, we abandoned the beach and began to explore the surrounding neighborhood. Walking up into Pocitos, we found more peaceful streets and a few shopping strips with local shops and restaurants. As the sun sank lower in the sky we found a nice pub and grabbed a table on the wooden terraza. A few bottles of the fine Uruguayan "Pilsner" on our table, we snacked on great Patatas Fritas and played cards, laughing as each dealer continued to dominate every match.
With darkness becoming a sad inevitability, we grabbed another cab and made our way back to the hotel to prepare for...you guessed it...another meal. The city still being somewhat closed down...all roads led back to El Foggon...where I did not make the same mistake twice. Beef Baby!
After some more Flan Jenga..we called it a night and hit the hay.
Waking up to a full day before our 9PM Ferry, we elected to return to Playa Pocitos for some real rays. It being a sunny Saturday, the beach was chock full with Montevidenos. We sat and read...sunned ourselves and ate Ice Cream with the locals. Great Day.
At 7PM we shook off the sand, grabbed our bags at the hotel and made the quick trip back to the Ferry building. Here we experienced another South American clusterfuck...but were lucky to have arrive dearly and been placed near the front of the line. Nina and I secured a table on the boat...while Baby Erwin stuck to regular airplane style seating and got some much needed solitude. Many other passengers weren't so lucky...since buquebus had obviously oversold the trip. Sadly...they were forced to sit on the floor and in window sills.
After a few hours, the boat began to slow and the licorice windows became dotted with orange and red lights from the port of Buenos Aires. Pulling up to the dock, the crush crowded the door...with the usual Argentine frenzy to avoid the shameful position of anything but first in line. Get over it.
We left the building...and got into the taxi line...but no...it was not a line at all. This being Argentina, nobody waits in line. We watched with disgust as party after party cut the line. Time to do as the locals do...I walked into traffic and flagged down a ride.
"Home to Palermo...and make it snappy Jack."
