The Barefoot Gaucho

…was obviously the idea I was going for when I showed up for the horseback riding and not well received by the real gaucho, Maceo who asked if I knew how to get on a horse, let alone ride one. We had been informed (incorrectly) by the owner of our hostel that we could “gallop, go off trail, or do whatever we want.” I received an angry scolding from Maceo after galloping off for a hundred yards down the beach (I mean, how often are you presented with a wide open stretch of Uruguayan beach on horseback?).

After talking to the girls, they said it was a machismo thing, as he had been complaining about how he was the real gaucho and these were his horses and we should all follow him, not some gringo who didn’t even bring shoes. Threatening his masculinity was not my M.O. so I relented and followed Maceo for the rest of the trip. We went across the Valizas “desert” to the nearby Cabo Polonia, a beautiful cape with a classic lighthouse. We had so much fun riding through the dunes and on beach I almost forgot it was Thanksgiving. All the restaurants in town were closed so we ended up with a nice pasta dinner with Uruguayan Malbec and of course, lots of yerba maté.

PS. I can’t begin to describe how beautiful and quiet it is out here on the Eastern coast of Uruguay. We’ve managed to preempt the tourist season here, so we are the only ones in town. Even moments when foul weather has rolled in have presented an epic, magical ambiance. This is one place I will absolutely return to.

Frogs in the Mist

Were the first things I saw stepping off the 5-hour bus ride from Montevideo to the tiny fishing village of Valizas. It was raining lightly and dozens of frogs of various sizes were the only ones about as I searched for accomodation. Hostal Valizas was literally in pieces as they were remodeling in preparation for the tourist season. I fanagled the off-season price of 200 Uruguayan Pesos ($10) and befriended Pedro, a “seventeen”(probably fourteen)-year old who chain-smoked hand rolled cigarettes.

We started talking music and we exchanged reggaeton tracks via his MP3 player. Pedro mentioned that it had been a long time since he had been able to listen because his headphones had broken. Que suerte! For a month I had been carrying around a set of extra headphones I no longer wanted or needed. Noticing two Bob Marley songs on his player, I asked if he wanted some more Bob, he did and I complied. Every time I saw him after that, he would pull out one headphone and proclaim, “Bob, reggae Buena onda ey?”

Sharing different music is one of my favorite ways to engage when traveling. Not only did I get some interesting Uruguayan reggaeton, I showed him that there was more than just the late Mr. Marley’s “Legend.” Everyone could always use a little more Bob, which is why it’s a mainstay in the Rockstar Diplomat’s toolbox and perfect for relaxing in places like this:

Anthony Bourdain is a Liar

A preface. So I’ve only taken one other stab at trying the infamous Mr. Bourdain’s dining suggestions with no success. After seeing his episode on Uruguay, I figured I couldn’t go wrong with his pick at the Mercado del Puerto. The Port Market is a tantalizing assault on the senses with racks of grilled meat sizzling throughout the day as people dine-in and purchase top choice cuts for asados in the evening (See, I can sound like a pompous ass too!).

After deferring from several other choices, we ended up at “Estancia Del Puerto”. We decided to order the mixed grill plate, which included almost everything on the parilla. The presentation was impressive, but the quality fell just short of the horrible “Argentine” steak I had in Chile (Brent knows what happened). We received a bad cut of beef (which was also overcooked), the chicken was too dry, the lamb was decent, but we were only given a tiny portion.

To make things worse they completely forgot the blood sausage and almost shot our buddy Ellory’s eye out with a champagne cork. I think it was a sign when our waiter slipped out to “go to lunch” before we were even finished. I’m convinced that due to all of their mainstream success, “Estancia Del Puerto” has been able to slack on the quality and continue to suckle at the publicity teat of Mr. Bourdain.

The Uruguay Round: 1

"Sleepy, tranquil, quaint and relaxing." These are the words that describe Montevideo in travel books about Argentina. All because pobrecito Uruguay doesn’t even get it’s own book; forever condemned to a “S. America On a Shoestring” chapter or even worse, a few pages in an Argentine travel guide.

The three-hour Ferry across the River Plate put me in Montevideo with just enough time to enjoy the sunset. The Ciudad Vieja juts out into the Atlantic, presenting an ocean view from almost any angle in the old city. Structurally and aesthetically, it doesn’t look any different than a city in Argentina, though there’s something different about the onda(vibe) here that I still haven’t put my finger on.

I met up with my 5 college friends from Buenos Aires and we headed out to ready to embibe whatever Monday in Montevideo could muster. To my surprise, the pub we ended up at had an enormous selection of beer (Chimay, Paulaner and local micros to name a few), which I had been longing for in wine-dominated Argentina.

To top it off, there was a guitar player banging out cover medleys of pop songs. He went from Bob Marley to Oasis to The Police without pause, I think he did 6 or 7 songs successively. He knew how to work it and had all the foreigners in the bar clapping and singing along. I chatted with him afterwards while he was chowing down free pub food (staple of playing bars) and he told me he only gets one gig a week so he has to work as a street cleaner to pay the bills. No one ever said being a musician anywhere was easy, even if you can win over 30 NorteAmericanos with 40 minutes of nonstop classics.