Colonia del Sacramento

In an effort to take advantage of Uruguay's proximity to Bunos Aires, Lenay and I made an excursion across the Río de la Plata. I loved the idea, because filling my passport with visas has become a preocupation of mine. It's unhealthy, really. I'll spend hours on end staring at my passport, as I did with my toy passport at the festival of nations as a child. Buquebus ofers a day trip to Colonia, on the other side of the river for just over a hundred pesos, so we took the subway to the terminal. Twice actually. Yesterday we woke up late, and after rushing out the hostell door, flagged down a cab. Driving through the Recoleta barrio I asked Lenay if she remembered her passport. PASSPORT!?

SO TODAY, after doing our duediligence, waking up early, and taking our passports, Lenay and I got to the boat terminal and bought tickets. IT was perfect because the package was just a day trip, nothing complicated. Our transport was a boxy, blue, eighty meter long ferry, a cumbersome beast that lugs across the river daily. I found a chair in the main cabin, and dozed for the next three hours.

At noon I was woken by the loud speaker, anouncing the arrival of our buquebus ferry in Colnia. Lenay an I disembarked, and found our way to a moto rental center. Twenty five bucks would have gotten me a moped to rent for the whole day. Apparently, you need a drivers license to drive a moped around. Huh, didn't see that coming. South America? Really? Lenay didn't seem upset, though, and we both love to walk.

We wandered residential Colonia, found a local bistro, and ate ravioli for lunch. Around 2 PM or so, we found the local collectivo (bus) and caught a ride to the beach. The bus, however, dropped us off in the middle of rural Uruguay, in front of a condemned bullring. Seemingly pulled from a different epoch, the coliseum was crumbling in some places, and wired off with barbed wire. I imagined chained gladiators locked in mortal combat, or a matador, in all his glory, striking the coup de grace to his sworn enemy. Both to deafening applause.

We walked the beach, noticing the islands, kilometers out into the river, and the rotting wooden piers, ancient derelicts, long past their use. The tide was low, and white shells, the size of my thumbnail, were washed up in the thousands. Asking a local for directions, we were directed to another bus stop that would take us to colonial Colonia (haha). Colonia del Sacramento was founded by the Portuguese (1680) and is the oldest city in Uruguay.

We walked up la calle de suspiros (street of sighs), which still has it's original 1680 paving. Dozens of uneven pitch black stones, with seemingly lateral cleavage jutting out of the oldest street in Uruguay. Additionally, traditional colonial Portuguese houses remained, as well as the reconstructed Viceroy's house, sitting at the edge of the plaza, where the military once practiced manuevers. There are just trees and fountains covering the field now. Lenay and I found the ruins of a colonial convent. It was attached to a lighthouse, but now all that exists are its foundations.

After climbing the city wall I spied the Buquebus port, so we strolled back through the town towards our ferry. Having over an hour to spare, Lenay indulged in her love for ravioli and had it for a second time. We were led to a restaurant by a stray german shepherd. He kept following us, and after petting it for two minutes, he gratefully accompanied us through the streets. We named him Moto, so at least we could get one today.

Half an hour later the german shepherd left us amicably, and we returned to the ferry. Curling up across four seats, I fell asleep, pushing the three hour voyage out of my life, exhausted.