Meandering across the mighty and murky mouth of the Rio de la Plata, by ferry, I made my second trip to Uruguay last month. Bakersfield’s own Taylor Hurst had been visiting, and got it in his head that three weeks in pre-summer Uruguay was a good idea. So after talking him off that ledge, he crossed over for about a week. Nicole “If you steal my rocking chair you’re going down” Contos and I met up with him in Montevideo. It’s a tame enough town, lot’s of trees. We found an old marketplace near the port that had been renovated into various eateries, and feasted on some Uruguayan asado. A local we met on a bus had insisted that their beef was better than “ours” (Argentina’s) so we had to put it to the test. Viva la Argentina! After 2 nights and a thwarted effort to mingle with the second princess of llamas, we headed east. Bussing up the Costa del Oro, we arrived in Punta Del Este, the beach resort where I would vacation each summer if I was a wealthy Argentine. Loved all the modern boxy houses. Summer is a beautiful time to be at Bikini Beach, or stalking Shakira in Jose Ignacio. We were in town just before the Christmas rush of tourists, and most establishments remained closed. We rented a small Chevy, picnicked on the coast near some caves, visited Casapueblo (designed by an architect friend of Picasso), and generally ran amuck.
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March 16th, 2010 at 09:31
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