The title of this is much more interesting than the story behind this post.
As I explored Colonia on my first day in town, I saw this car at least five times. I don’t know if it was the same car, or if there are many, but it kept popping up all day and finally I just took a photo.
I’m not sure why but this photo makes me smile and I just wanted to share.
After a refreshing shower, I had left my (ok, really Fred’s) apartment and wandered around Colonia alone for a few hours before I was scheduled to meet Laura.
As I explored Colonia on my own, I turned a corner and stumbled (figuratively) onto this gorgeous pier.
Here’s a wider shot of the pier. I didn’t want to get this close because I was nervous I would fall (literally) so excuse the people in the photo.
I laughed when I saw this Ravens jersey in Uruguay – the brother-in-law and his family, and by association, my sister, are huge, huge, huge Ravens fans.
After taking in the views, I realized something was missing. Can you guess?
Here’s another shot.
Did you figure it out yet?
Well, I will tell you. GUARDRAILS.
Not only were there no guardrails but as you can see in the fourth photo, the boards were pretty far apart. I lost my flip flop in between those boards more than once.
I am not good with numbers but this had to be close to, if not more, a ten foot drop into the water below. With no guardrails. Anywhere.
I took in the views for a little while, took a few photos to record my disbelief and then I headed back towards solid land to continue my exploration of this historic city.
The original email I sent home was in all lower case, and lacked punctuation, and I will keep it as such, only because it shows how I was speeding through to get an email out to let everyone know I had made it to my destination. However, I did remove totally irrelevant pieces. But, rereading this as-is makes me laugh because you could tell I was exhausted and pressed for time.
While my previous blogs about my journey thus far covered what happened after I can take a step back from the situation, here’s how it was written when I was in the middle of it!
I added hyperlinks to link back to those stories as I have written them out, after the fact, if you needed to play catch up.
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hola familia!
i have arrived in uruguay! i dont know how much free time i have of internet so here’s one long email to all of you. unfortunately i was told (after 45 minutes of aimless wandering in the airport) that i wouldnt be able to use the business class lounge and the shower unless i had another flight today.
so much for that nice shower i was dreaming of. while i slept. in a bed. in business class 🙂 i am not sure i will ever be able to fly coach on a long haul flight ever again.
i had halibut and risotto for dinner with a cheese and fruit plate for dessert. nearly all the tvs in coach were broken and mine wasnt great but i was only up for a few hours. my pillows and down comforter (yes, im totally serious) awaited me 🙂
was able to take a taxi (this is a story in itself — i felt like i was on the amazing race with a bad taxi driver. he was asking EVERYONE where to go and everyone but him seemed to know and i was racing the clock because i wanted to make the 12.30 so i wasnt sitting around all day) to the port and get on the 12.30 ferry to colonia uruguay instead of the 6.30 so i have just arrived here.
first order of business, find the info center and get a map, check and second, find out if they have wireless, check and third, let you all know i am alive.
the port where the ferry left from was puerto madero, where we had lunch last year with a and c with the big gnocci and the cheap steak with the spinach deliciousness – the restaurant was happenings, and i even saw the ice cream place we ate afterwards. i felt like i knew better than the taxi driver and i was there once.
i wasnt on the street in colonia more than a minute and saw my first stray dog. ugh
thanks to accruing a lot of american airlines miles [through a previous job], here’s how i flew down 🙂
ok off to find lodging for tonight. thanks to studying trip advisor, i already know where i want to stay, for 17 dollars a night.
ps – my sea cat ferry wound up getting put on the buque bus ferry anyway. more on why its such a scam later. it was only 3/4 full too.
pps – its SUNNY AND HOT HERE 🙂 people are in sandals, dresses, shorts and im in yoga pants and a long sleeved thermal. i need a shower asap.
ppps – boyfriend – please can you call citibank and find out when i took out money at a citibank in the airport it said i would get a charge from another bank called banelco. im not supposed to get any charges. thanks. love you all and i will check in again soon. not sure when i will be buying a phone but when i do i will send you the number. just check with your carrier to see if you will be charged if i call you from an international number.
boyfriend – also i will try to call you collect today when i can find a pay phone that is not near stray dogs.
love you all.
Now that I had a place to lay my head for the night, it was time to move on to the next order of business.
Shower, find something to eat and get Uruguayan Pesos.
The shower was so refreshing and the clean backpack I opened to retrieve my clothes and toiletries would never be so pristine and organized again.
The second two orders of business turned out to be a challenge as I arrived in between meals. Restaurants were closed until dinner and the first two cash machines I tried did not like my card.
Thankfully I would be meeting Laura in a few short hours so I was hopeful that she would be able to help my cash machine situation. In the meantime, I was ready to hit the ground running to start to explore Colonia, a UNESCO World Heritage Site.
These trees were outside of my apartment (ok, Fred’s apartment) and they pretty much lined every street in the city.
I didn’t take any photos of this but there were several tree-lined streets where old men brought out folding chairs and sat on the sidewalk. They rested and drank beers and said ‘Hola’ and ‘Como estas’ to passers-by, including me.
I had already fallen in love with Colonia but that sealed the deal.
Using two hostel booking sites, Hostel World and Hostel Bookers, I found a hostel that had great reviews. I cross checked it on TripAdvisor.com and was happy with the reviews. So I packed myself up and walked a few blocks, uphill, with my backpack, still in my airplane clothes, to the hostel.
When I arrived ten minutes later, there was a sign on the door that said ‘Lo Sentimos, No Disponible’ which translates to ‘S0rry, No Availability.’
It also meant that because I didn’t write down any backup places I would be heading back to the tourist office.
You may be asking yourself, didn’t she pack a guidebook? Oh yes, I did. But it was packed away and, blame it on the jet lag and the positive thinking that I’d get my first choice of accommodations, but I didn’t even think to cross-check places noted in the book.
At the tourist office, I resorted to emailing. One place after another quickly replied to my note stating that they were full. Getting nervous that the only place that had availability in my budget was a 45 minute bus ride away, I started to wonder why this small, colonial town was so booked to capacity on a Wednesday night and I took a step back to think.
Thinking back to my half-hearted effort to find a place while I was still in the States, I decided to send another email to a Fred who had rooms available and ranked very highly on TripAdvisor. He had only had a garden apartment (that sleeps four) available rather than a single bed. The original rate he quoted me was too steep, and provided far too much space, for my current backpacker budget and solo status, so I had politely declined.
Today was different. It was nearing 4pm, and I had to hope that if he had any space maybe he could do a little better with his price. After all, I could be there as fast as my feet would take me.
I was hot, tired and growing increasingly frustrated (my own fault) as I waited for his reply. I did not have to wait long. Fred wrote back right away with a revised price for the apartment, $80, which was 25% of his original quote. Knowing that $80 would later cover at least four nights on this adventure, I chalked the cost up to a first night splurge and the much needed confirmation that I had a place, in town!, to lay my head for the night!
With my map in my hand and my backpack on my back, I walked another ten minutes and found myself in the garden of Fred’s home.
Fred invited me inside and I was pleasantly surprised, and slightly disappointed that I didn’t have travel companions to share the large space with me!
The apartment was located on the ground floor and just up a separate staircase led to his own home.
I had a kitchen, an eating area, a private yard just off the kitchen, a bed in the ‘living room,’ two twin beds in the downstairs bedroom and a full size bed upstairs. Yes, there was even an upstairs.
For $80USD it was a very nice place to start my trip. And I did have some unexpected travel partners staying the night…the biggest beetles I had ever seen. They were harmless and stayed on the floor. I hope!
I disembarked in Colonia del Sacramento (Colonia is more commonly used as the name) and my immediate priority was to find the tourist office to get a map and figure out where I would be sleeping that night. Oh yeah, because someone (else) would have figured that out prior to arrival. But not me.
I arrived at the very modern tourist office in Colonia and was greeted by a friendly woman. She gave me a map, pointed out some highlights and confirmed that there was free wi-fi in the building. Score! Let’s get myself a room for the night!
First I emailed my family to let them know that I had arrived.
I also emailed Laura, a fellow CouchSurfer, with whom I had exchanged several emails prior to my trip. We had made plans for her to meet me as I disembarked at the ferry terminal at 8.30pm.
Because I had made the earlier ferry I wanted to let her know I would be in the arrivals area sans backpack. I was certain there would be other solo female travelers disembarking and I wanted to make this as easy as possible.
Since I didn’t have a phone or know my internet situation for the afternoon, I let her know that we would keep our 8.30pm meeting time at the ferry terminal.
Eagle-eyed readers: Uruguay is an hour ahead of Buenos Aires, so even though the ferry is an hour, you arrive two hours later than you departed.
Now that I had let my family know I was alive and I confirmed my whereabouts with Laura, I had to get down to business. Where to sleep?
In retrospect: accommodations for my first night should have been planned earlier. But, you should know that I arrived in most places without planned accommodations so this experience served as preparation for the next 50+ nights as well.
The ferry to Uruguay was a quite enjoyable ride. You may ask if I knew I wanted to start my journey in Uruguay, why didn’t I fly into Montevideo?
Here’s why. I can sleep well on flights, and there are no direct flights to Montevideo from New York. I chose to fly into Buenos Aires on a direct flight and start in Colonia. I highly suggest this option as the ferry was quite nice as was the (nearly) uninterrupted sleep.
I also suggest getting small change prior to boarding so you can get something to eat or drink on the ride over because…
Once aboard the boat to Colonia, all I wanted was an apple juice. Remember, I had basically just taken an overnight flight, raced to the ferry and finally collapsed in my seat.
Back at the airport I had been so focused on getting Argentine Pesos for the taxi that I never thought to break them into smaller bills.
I also knew I was going to Uruguay so there would be no need for Argentine Pesos until I returned sometime the following week. So I had taken out only what I knew that I needed for the taxi fare. I was left with only 100 Argentine pesos, which is about $25USD.
On board, while the concession stand took both Argentine and Uruguayan Pesos, I couldn’t get change of 100 Argentine Pesos for such a small purchase. I even offered to add a bag of chips and a banana (my standard travel fare), still no luck.
The man at the register told me to check in with the duty-free shop on board to see if they could change my bill.
I walked into the shop, which had two floors, and it was like Black Friday in there.
How much chocolate, perfume and alcohol do people need?
As soon as the announcement had come on that duty-free was open, people rushed to the doors and I didn’t think much of it. Until I had to go in and try to change money.
I could hardly get to the register because of the number of people jammed between myself and the register, I was nauseated by the overdose of perfume in the air and I was overwhelmed by the number of people who wanted to shop. I wish I took photos because I had to laugh. It was crazy in there!
I quickly gave up on mission: apple juice and went back to my seat to enjoy the view of my river crossing from Argentina into Uruguay.
I had my heart set on making the earlier ferry which in turn made me feel like I was in an episode of The Amazing Race when teams realize they have a bad taxi. I certainly didn’t have a million dollars on the line but I felt like I had enough time to realistically get to the Port.
So what if I missed the boat, literally. The alternative wasn’t all that bad. I could park myself at a cafe, have lunch and people watch for the better part of the afternoon. Though I was keen to get to Uruguay in the afternoon, especially since I still didn’t know where I was going to sleep that night.
After driving in circles and asking some construction workers, the taxi driver went to the front of the terminal and told me to get out.
When we finally made it to the port, even I knew where I was! I had eaten lunch there with the boyfriend, A and C last year. But what made me nervous was that the signage at the Port said BuqueBus. Everywhere.
I trusted the taxi driver. We said goodbye and I had thirty minutes to figure everything out, which was great. The ticket asks you to arrive ninety minutes ahead of the departure time to allow for customs and immigration at the terminal. Plus, I still had to see about changing my ticket.
I entered the BuqueBus terminal looking for the SeaCat ticket counter. No signage anywhere for SeaCat. Finally, I asked someone who had heard of SeaCat and then he told me to get into the BuqueBus line. Now I was utterly confused.
So into the line I went. When I made it to the front, I was informed to go to a different counter to change my ticket. Then I had to go back to the original line to check in. None of these lines are labeled for their particular purpose, nor does any signage say SeaCat, further confusing me, but I went along with it.
After a successful check in, I was directed to customs and immigration, where I was stamped out of Argentina by one man, who handed my passport to the lady sitting next to him, who stamped me into Uruguay. Very quick and very efficient. Before embarking, I was asked for my passport and ticket one last time. That’s right. I made it! I was on the 12.30pm BuqueBus to Colonia! I would arrive into Uruguay in one hour!
Note: It was explained to me later, in Spanish, and this is what I think I understand.
There are several operators selling tickets for the ride across the Rio de la Plata. Each company, including SeaCat, operates their own website and each has their own logo. And their own prices too. Yet they are selling the same exact service on a BuqueBus route.
One of the very few parts of my trip that was planned was a confirmed ticket on the SeaCat Ferry from Buenos Aires to Colonia, Uruguay. Hours before leaving New York I booked myself a ticket for the 6.30p ferry once I arrived in Buenos Aires the following day.
After my dash around the airport looking for the Business Class Lounge, I gave up. I knew there was a 12.30pm ferry and because my flight arrived on time, I could try to make it rather than sitting at the Port for the better part of the afternoon.
I really wanted to make the 12.30pm ferry. I have seen far too many episodes of The Amazing Race and I knew three things:
I made my way to the taxi stand inside of the arrivals area and inquired about the location of SeaCat Terminal and the man at the counter looked confused. He asked to see my ticket and shared it with others working the taxi stand that SeaCat was, in fact, operating.
This was a little unsettling as I did just book the ticket the day prior. He returned to the counter without an absolute answer but I needed to keep the process moving as a line had started to form behind me.
I was told that I needed to pay for my taxi in advance and I happily handed over my credit card but was immediately told that they only accept cash. And I had no Argentine Pesos. I was directed to the end of the line at the only ATM that was working in the arrivals area.
Thinking I could outsmart the other 20 people in line, I walked over to another ATM that had no line. It had no line because it was out of money. Of course.
As I settled into the line twenty people deep, I immediately remembered my previous trip to Argentina and the difficulties the boyfriend and I encountered each time we wanted to withdraw money and/or make change.
After what seemed like an eternity, I had Argentine pesos in hand and I paid for my taxi ride at the counter.
There was a large group of taxi drivers standing around the counter awaiting passengers. I confirmed with the man at the counter that the driver who would be assigned to me knew where he was going. He assured me he did and I was directed to my driver, who led me out to his car.
Once outside, I officially entered summertime. The sun was shining and I was inappropriately dressed in yoga pants, long sleeves and a fleece.
With my stuff in the trunk, a final confirmation in Spanish that the driver knew where he was headed, we were off! I stared out the window full of excitement and practically pinching myself that I was back in South America!
And then we stopped. We got as far as leaving the parking lot before he entered the address in his GPS.
And then we were off.
And then we stopped.
Throughout the entire drive, my driver asked other drivers, policemen and even a toll booth worker for directions.
He did not speak English but it didn’t matter. In any language, this man had no idea where the SeaCat terminal was located and now time was ticking.
Happy birthday Poppy. I love you so much and I still miss you terribly.
Today would have been my grandpa’s 83rd birthday. I miss him terribly. I miss him so much that when I start to cry that I physically hurt.
I cringe when I recall the January night when I got the call. It was absolutely horrible. I had gone to the bathroom in the middle of the night and my phone was on vibrate on the kitchen counter and I heard it going and going and going. I checked it and there were a ton of missed calls and texts with ‘call me.’ Knowing this was not good, and immediately in sheer panic mode, I had the boyfriend call my parents and once my mom confirmed that her, my dad and my sister were okay, I knew. I just knew.
I remember my blood curdling scream (which I found out later woke our upstairs neighbor) and dry heaving in the toilet. I remember sobbing on the bathroom floor and the shock I experienced while curled up on the couch for the better part of the day. I don’t remember packing but I do remember being very angry at the airport the next morning.
In just over two weeks it will be five and a half years since he left us.
It seems absolutely unbelievable to me that it’s been that long already. I guess it’s because I talk to him a lot. And not a day goes by that I don’t think of him yet I am so afraid of forgetting him.
I know he was really sick at the end and really uncomfortable but I wish he were still alive for so many reasons. I know it’s very selfish but I can’t help it. I miss him so much.
I fully credit my love of big band to my grandpa. My sister heard a tribute to Benny Goodman on her way to work this morning. How very appropriate it was today.
I love that he tried sushi even though he shuddered at the thought of eating raw fish. He would tell me he couldn’t believe the little girl that would only eat grilled cheese and chocolate milk would eat such a thing now.
I found out after he left us, that he saved all of the ‘somebody who loves me went to (place) and all I got was this tee-shirt’ tee-shirts that I bought on my travels even though he didn’t even wear tee-shirts.
I miss our hour-long phone calls a few times a week. He hated answering my questions about him, especially the one when I asked how was he feeling and if everything was okay.
Our conversations would cover the weather, the latest news stories and what I was having for dinner. They’d also go much deeper with questions about my day, how was work going and what plans I had for the week. It sounds mundane but we covered enough ground to have long conversations a few times a week. In fact, I talked on the phone more with my grandpa in one week than with other people on the phone in a whole month!
He’d also ask me where I would travel next and if it was outside the US, he would give me reasons why I shouldn’t go. Even though I knew that when I came back and visited he would be so eager to look at all of my pictures and ask loads of questions, which I loved. It wasn’t like five minutes of mindlessly flipping through photos. It was like shutting off the television and turning off all other distractions to properly look at all of my photos so he could focus and ask questions about my trip.
He’d always come up with a silly tune about life and sing a line or two. Sometimes it had no words. That one I know by heart. De diddilly de diddilly dee dee dee dee. If you were lucky enough to hear that tune in person he would usually pull on your ear while he sang to you.
He loved watching Anthony Bourdain on television, and he would be so excited to tell me if Anthony was somewhere I had been.
Apparently, he eliminated one of the choices that my parents were planning on using for my first name. It didn’t work with the nickname he had already planned for me, his first grandchild.
He loved a good piece of pie with a scoop of ice cream and a coffee for dessert. A diabetic who loved pie…
He had a sense of humor too. When we were kids and we would leave after a visit, he would always give my sister something ridiculous, like an empty toilet paper roll, and tell her to hang onto it for him until they would see each other again.
Every year on his birthday, and the day he left this world, I get a six-pack and toast him with a Sam Adams, his favorite beer.
Sometimes I wonder if our relationship would have been the same now, nearly five and a half years later. Would he still be up for hour-long phone calls a few times a week? I think so.
Happy birthday Poppy, wherever you are. I love you.
simply three cents 