Uruguay. A friendly officer at the ferry terminal says Cómo estamos? I made it to the Promised Land, which starts on a spacious bus with not too many passengers. As I spread out on my two seats endlessly wide landscapes with wind farms to the left, and to the right the continuation of the Río de la Plata before it eventually turns into the Atlantic Ocean. The color of the water slowly changes from the infamous Buenos Aires brown to blue, by every kilometer. This is sort of a relief actually. Stylish newly built countryside villas pass by and besides them old farms in decay. The Buenos Aires area and its 12 million people craze feel like a ten-hour flight away already.
Montevideo. A rather uneventful bus station, if we don't mention the fact that one of the buses has a German sentence on it asking customers if they like the service. German? Bizarre. I jump on a cab and off to the Old Town of the city we go. Before I can ask him why Uruguay is the best country in the world, he turns the conversation to the usual things a German travelling through the world gets to hear. Germany? There is money and work there, right? I mumble something like it depends on what you do or something profoundly boring but hey, I thought it was his job to make this ride interesting. Fail. Plus, it's only a short ride and it's boiling hot. We are both in trance and he almost hits a truck.
Old Town. It's like a movie, decaying charm from the early decades of the last century. You feel it as you start walking around the narrow streets; it is such a wide sea of beautiful buildings, most of them are slowly falling apart. This is complete unexpected beauty.
And after 5 meters outside, there is the smell of weed in the air. I promise hereby, I'll keep the weed content over the next days to a minimum level because there is nothing more boring than accounts of weed smoking. Still, Uruguay has turned into one big seed of marihuana, it seems. There are two, three, four shops on one of the main drags of the Old Town alone praising the benefits of THE plant. So one cannot overlook all the things connected to it.
Plus, that smell. I wonder if this scent will go down well with the real estate people that are being called in at the moment to buy houses. Opposite of my building is an advertisement poster, in German also, to buy real estate. I won't comment now on possible effects of evil gentrification because this is just as boring as stoner accounts, plus Germany is some 10,000 kilometers away from here so let's suppose the German on these posters is nothing but real estate folklore.
One has to love this place. The feeling to it is very relaxed, the charm also lies in the fact that it's slightly hilly, and that the sea aka the river still (it's confusing but at least the color here is blue) can be seen from literally everywhere, especially from the terraces. The place I rented has one, it belongs to Camila and Francisco, a lovely Uruguayan couple renting out their whole Art Déco house from the 20s. Actually, and this is not a joke now, the house belongs to a German filmmaker. He is certainly not an evil real estate shark because filmmakers are generally flawless humanists. :) At least, he ignores the fact that Camila and Francisco have the whole place on Air BNB.
The house is a real pleasure dome: not just because of its architecture, but also because of the current inhabitants. So there are two Uruguayans, amicable, relaxed, beautiful. The hosts. There is one guy from Ecuador who is constantly stoned raving about being able to smoke weed in the park. There are three girls from Córdoba, Argentina that rent one room for the three of them. That feels a bit like girl's school. Then there is a cat hanging out on the carpet in my room constantly eyeing out the main attraction: an axolotl, some river animal from Mexico that is being held in an aquarium. I am sure that during my stay the cat will make a move on it. It will be one of those cat moves that create huge havoc in no time.
On the terrace, needless to say, huge plants of marihuana are growing up to the infinite Uruguayan skies. For the weekend, "friends from Brazil" will come over and it's going to be boom-boom-boom-shake-the-room, although Francisco is in denial and says it will be all very tranquilo. I don't care. I love big crowds the more diverse they are. And hanging out with all these Latinos plus an axolotl is quite different from what I do usually. Even more so in Montevideo, a place that I fell in love with in no time. Down by the sea/river, people hang out by the masses at nighttime, sipping Mate, all along the 15-kilometer or so Rambla of which I have only seen two kilometers so far, I guess.
One comparison springs to mind: Montevideo has this certain Lisbon-feel to it, especially if we take Buenos Aires as Madrid. BA is loud, full of attitude, calling your bluff all the time, huge, noisy. Montevideo is laid-back, charming, still happening though, and surprises on many levels. If we look at Lisbon's current development, you know what might be next here. Still, being here right now is just absolutely enchanting. And I'll make the best of the weekend that lies ahead of us. The heat is gone - yesterday's 35 degrees were knocking everybody out anyway - it is raining now and some fresh wind is blowing, which creates an even more poetical feel to this cinematic place.