Montevideo and Punta del Este

Long days make for late mornings – the next day. We had ambitious plans to get up early, run back to the track, and perhaps do a workout. Instead, we slept in. Even when we woke, our sore muscles from yesterday’s exertion in the heat precluded any hope of a workout. That will have to wait until this afternoon.

Hotel Presidente offered a varied and plentiful breakfast buffet included with the room, so we tucked in to replenish calories from yesterday (likely a lot more than I burned, truth be told).

We spent a lazy morning re-packing our bags and snoozing in our room before heading to the bus station. Onward to Punta Del Este!

Valentin the guide from yesterday lamented the draw of Punta del Este. He hates the over-priced materialism that he sees in the way the city has been taken over by foreign wealth. “It’s not real Uruguay”, he explained to us on the tour. Real Uruguay or not, we were very much looking forward to experiencing this “mini Miami”.

We opted to walk from the bus stop to our hotel a mile away. (More accurately, Mindy tolerated my decision that we would walk because she’s a good sport.) As soon as we exited the bus station, we saw “La Mano” – a sculpture of a hand rising out of the beach. Burdened as we were with luggage, we turned our faces away from one of the prime tourist attractions of this idyllic beach town and marched toward our hotel. La Mano is one of the prime tourist attractions, that is, if you ignore the endless beach. Beautiful sand beaches for miles and miles on end. Mindy and I quickly noticed on our walk to the hotel that not only were the beaches beautiful, a good number of the people were, too. Everywhere we looked we saw tanned, finely toned bodies in bikinis and board shorts. As we reached the Hotel Atlantico, the front desk staff who greeted us were – not surprisingly - fit, tanned, and attractive. They showed us to a room that was perfectly suited to our beach-house mood.

The afternoon was wearing on, so we quickly changed into running clothes and figured out our route to Casapueblo – the other main reason we are here. We planned a 15km run along the beach to this hotel-restaurant that doubles as an art display, overlooking the Atlantic Ocean (technically, an estuary that feeds the ocean).

The early part of the run from our hotel followed the Punta Del Este harbour and then one of the two endless beaches.  Finding the sand too soft for comfortable running, we opted for boardwalks whenever they were available, and otherwise stuck to the road that parallels the shoreline.

For the most part we ran along the boardwalk…we did stop and enjoy the view from time to time. These stunning beaches followed the shoreline the entirety of our run to Casapueblo, and they didn’t even stop there!

Though the beaches were stunning, the running route became increasingly less so. Relegated to the sidewalk on the other side of the road, we could glance over at the now sparsely populated beach, but otherwise our attention was on the highway itself, which had few interesting distractions. Eventually, feeling that our plan to run all the way might have been a little over-ambitious, we began walking down a side road headed back toward the shoreline, hoping for a shortcut. A car drove up and we hailed the occupants, asking about Casapueblo. “Just up the hill you will see a sign to turn off. It’s a little over a kilometre down that road.” At last! With rejuvenated spirits we ran up the hill…then walked… (rejuvenated spirits only do so much after an hour of running in the hot sun). Upon cresting the hill, we returned to running until another sight caught our eye.

The fabled sunset view from Casapueblo, for sale? That’s an interesting proposition.

Shortly, we came upon crowds and tour buses, and scrambled down the steep bank for the view from the water-side.

Uruguayan hospitality surfaced again as we got to the admission gate for Casapueblo. There is a fee to get in to the restaurant-museum-hotel, but as the gatekeeeper didn't speak English, he simply waved us through. Once inside, we were shown to a washroom to  clean up post run. These washrooms were by a beautiful pool, whcih showcased an incredible view of the sunset. One of the hotel staff (not the one who had directed us here to clean up) came out and told me that this place was for hotel guests only. Then he looked at Mindy who was taking a photo of the sunset, and said: "it's fine if you want to take a picture, but this is for hotel guests only." 

I understand why they charge a fee for this view!!

The staff seemed quite perplexed as to why we would want to have dinner at the restaurant even after the sunset, but they allowed us entry nonetheless.

As the dying light ultimately faded, we called a taxi for a ride back to our hotel. Driven by the cab, it was interesting to see just how far it really was that we had run earlier.

Welcome to Uruguay!

If our brief experience in Lima revealed a crowded, dirty city full of aggressive and frantic drivers, our introduction to Montevideo presented a clean, friendly and open culture. We landed around 4:00 am local time – 2:00 am by our internal clocks. (Side note: Uruguayan regulations require that airplanes spray pesticide inside the cabin prior to landing. While this may help control the spread of Zika, it's an uncomfortable experience.)  Upon landing, we decided to forgo a hotel for what remained of the night. (It was approaching 5:00 am by the time we had collected our luggage.) We used the airport WiFi and charging stations to power up our devices and then boarded the local bus for the trip downtown.

A perk of taking the bus with the locals is the opportunity it affords to observe local behaviours. Assorted Uruguayans on their way to work smiled as they managed the obstacle course of our luggage to find seats, and drank mate ("maw-tay") tea from specially designed vessels (the vessel is also called a mate), through a spoon/straw that filters out the pulp. Every third or fourth person carried a cup of mate, along with a thermos of hot water to pour over the mix.

(Later in the day, as we were on tour, Mindy drank from our tour guide's mate(!!) to get the local flavour. We'll get more into that later, but here's the proof.)

Montevideo’s suburbs, not far from the airport, are full of well-kept houses with broad lawns and gardens. The gates that surround each home – some of which are electrified – look to be made with aesthetics as much as security in mind. (As we later learned, home invasions did have a brief spike during an economic collapse around 2002, but now Montevideo is back to being extremely safe.) Inevitably, the manicured suburbs gave way to grit as we entered the urban core. These, too, improved as we wended our way to the city centre.

Our friendly bus driver dropped us off with directions to walk three blocks to our hotel, where we dropped our bags. Now 7:00 am, we went hunting for breakfast – no easy feat in a city that seems to come alive only late in the morning. We found Independence Plaza, almost devoid of people at this early hour.

Walking through the old city, we found restaurants set in parks – all closed at this hour. Later in the day, we will have our pick of open-air seating for dinner.

We finally found a restaurant for a small sandwich and some more floral coffee, and then made our way to the Spanish Plaza so that I could catch up on some blogging, with views of:

and

One of the first things that both Mindy and I noticed about the people of Uruguay is how different they look than Peruvians. We soon learned why, and it’s not a nice story. The Europeans who originally settled Uruguay annihilated most of the native populations. Those that weren’t eradicated were pushed beyond the borders to neighbouring countries. (Terrible as that is, I won’t pretend that the North American settlement story is a whole lot better.) Ironically, this malevolent history has given rise to a welcoming present, as modern Uruguayans have no preconceived notions of what a “real Uruguayan” looks like. In a country that is starving for immigration, this “open arms” attitude will be key to their continued prosperity.

Having spent the morning wandering around the city on our own, we met the Uruguay Free Walking Tour Montevideo in Independence Plaza. It was here that we met Valentin, the guide who forced Mindy to drink from his mate. (In case that wasn't unsettling enough: after Mindy acquiesced, we learned that it is customary for Uruguayans to offer their mate to everyone they meet. Valentin shared it with another participant of our tour, and probably shares his metal mate "straw" with several people every day. Ugh. I kiss Mindy's mouth.)

Valentin's lack of knowledge about bacterial transmission through saliva did not reflect his knowledge of Uruguay and Montevideo. He was fantastic! Really, this entry was largely written by him!

To start, we learned that Uruguay was founded - and is largely still managed - by Freemasons, and this has had a significant though subtle effect on the country's development. Freemasons exalt the number 33 and so the Independence Plaza, for instance, has 33 palm trees strategically planted around the perimeter. While Uruguay had largely completed the steps toward becoming an independent country by the spring of 1825, the declaration of independence was intentionally delayed to August 25th (25th day of the 8th month). The Uruguayan flag has Freemason symbolism in it, as well, and Freemasons still dominate the political sphere.

While Freemasonry may influence the country at the symbolic level, a laissez-faire and practical attitude permeates a lot of Uruguayan legislation and behaviour. They were the second country in the world to legalize gay marriage and have enacted very progressive abortion laws. In a country that only recently parted with Catholic predominance, these are not little steps! Marijuana is a regulated substance in Uruguay; the legalization and regulation has coincided with a dramatic reduction in the use of marijuana. Progressive practicalities also gave rise rise to Uruguay's Carnaval. 

Like most of the Americas, Uruguay imported slaves from Africa and the Caribbean. The difference in Uruguay is that - without plantations, factories or the like  - there wasn't much for the slaves to do. At the height of the slave trade, Uruguayan slaves had days off to do whatever they liked. One of the things they did was host parades celebrating the traditions and heritage they had been forced to leave behind. The Uruguayan slave owners loved these parades as a distraction from tending to their cows, and so imported more slaves and assigned them to put on more parades! (We tried to go to a Carnaval performance in the evening, but we couldn't find out what time it started. The websites all said they would be updated closer to Carnaval, and even our hotel staff couldn't figure out when performances were. Classic Uruguayan, according to Valentin.)

Back to the idea of mate for a moment. There is a style of watch that has gained traction in Uruguay specifically for this reason:

The flame is to light up a burner to heat water for mate!

While Uruguayans are tolerant of pretty much everyone, Valentin explained there is one group that is still persecuted to this day: vegetarians! It is a beef-heavy culture. A coastal country, they fish, but ship most of the fish elsewhere. (To countries that know what to do with the fish, according to Valentin.) Classic Uruguayan restaurants have a grill covered with various parts of various animals - though mostly cow. As Valentin later explained the surging running and cycling culture in Uruguay, as well as anti-smoking campaigns targeting improved health, he shared a secret with us. Uruguayans don't care whether you're black or white, straight or gay, or anything else. The reason they care about vegetarians is that deep down, they're afraid vegetarians may be right!

As Uruguay is a country of immigration, it is perhaps no wonder that we stumbled upon another cultural import as we wandered the city:

I suppose it doesn't say much that this real estate is for rent.

After the tour, we returned to our hotel - finally got a room - and enjoyed the view.

Though operating on little sleep, we prepared for an exploratory run. We ran along the stunning coast-line, naturally, and came upon a memorial to the holocaust as well as the welcoming sign to the city.

Depleted from lack of sleep, hot sun, and an hour of running, we made the only logical decision - look for a track to do a workout!

Admittedly, the workout was pretty much non-existent, though the facilities were stunning!

Back at our hotel, and unable to find out details for Carnaval, we opted instead for an orchestral "festival of Mozart" at the Teatro Solis.

("Solis" is in homage to the sun, the most important emblem in Freemasonry. However, when Uruguay was still dominated by the Catholic Church, the "official story" was that this theatre was named after the first explorer to discover Uruguay. The church insisted that it be re-named "Teatro de Solis" to avoid any apparent idolization of the sun. When the Catholic Church lost prominence, the name changed back to Teatro Solis. Incidentally, the explorer Solis was reportedly killed and eaten by the natives when he first arrived in Uruguay.)

The orchestra was excellent, but the day was catching up to us. We left at intermission and walked the brightly lit Montevideo streets back to our hotel and fell into bed.

Lima: Better than the beans, for the most part

We landed in Lima, Peru, at 1:45 this morning, with stiff legs and sore bodies from the crammed Air Canada Rouge flight. Our Lima visit got off to an inauspicious start. Back in Toronto, we had verified that our luggage would be passed through this stopover in Lima, and delivered straight to Montevideo, Uruguay. We were assured this but then were also counseled to verify at Lima to be safe. The first challenge turned out to be finding someone who might be able to confirm anything about our luggage. Mindy searched for personnel while I searched for bags. Better to collect them than risk them being unattended in Lima airport overnight. 

I found the carousel for our flight’s luggage, and noticed the crowd of passengers that had collected to one side of the motionless carousel. Strange. As I approached, I saw the baggage handlers bringing the luggage in off the truck through an open door and placing it on the floor. They would periodically check tags and call out the names printed thereon. When they called my name, I felt relief that we had hung around to check.

We moved into the arrivals area and found the driver waiting for us with my name on a placard. Fun! I felt like a rock star! (Except, rock stars probably don’t take red-eye flights in crammed coach class.) Our driver – another Paul – spoke no English and we were tired, so it was a quiet drive to Minaflores along the Pacific coast. Los Girasoles Hotel was neat and clean, and so we lay down for a short night’s sleep.

…..

The “real” morning in Lima – when we woke up for the day – was much better than the wee hours of the morning when we landed. The hotel breakfast was delicious, with sweet French Toast, an assortment of cheese and breads, eggs, and juice; a proper buffet for a couple of hungry travelers. Their un-gassed mandarin oranges were more green than orange, and their bananas were the small, sweet ones.

Their tea reminded me that we are in a land with different expectations:

Coca tea tastes like a mild green tea. A quick Google search told me that this tea can be trouble to bring across the border, and it can show up in drug tests for up to three weeks. Interesting. I washed the tea down with the strong, floral coffee that seems to be common here. Leaving our bags at the hotel, we ventured forth into Minaflores to see what this most picturesque and tourist-friendly part of Lima has to offer. We had a food tour to catch, too.

We found our tour guide Luc (think “Lucy” without the y) who indicated we were waiting for one more person for the tour. After a while of waiting, the three of us – Luc, Mindy and I – went out, leaving the absent participant to her own devices. Luc has what we learned is the classic Peruvian look, and one could imagine her broad frame to be that of an Incan warrior princess of another era. Sure enough, her mother hails from Cusco, where the Incan ruins draw so many tourists. Alas, for us that will have to be another trip.

Mindy had read that this food tour was raw and unvarnished, and that it would reveal the real Lima. The unrehearsed nature of the tour certainly affirmed that, as Luc did not delve into the nuances of the Peruvian cuisine or explain the significance of the buildings and parks we passed. Instead, she seemed content to let conversation go wherever we took it. For instance, all I know of this church is that it is “a cathedral”, and that’s only because I asked.

Likewise, I have no idea why our first stop was “The Cebicheria”, though I was amused that the traditional Peruvian soup that was supposed to kick off the tour was not available because “the man who makes the soup didn’t come in today”. We had a fried fish and sweet potato dish, escaveche de pescado, along with traditional purple corn juice, instead.

The purple corn juice is very traditional and is made slightly differently at each restaurant (or food stall, cart, etc.). Luc told us that a better version would be available later in the tour.

While at the restaurant Luc took a call from her boss who informed her that the missing participant was going to meet us there, and so we waited, and waited. In the interim Luc explained that the city we were walking through had all been built since the 1950s, which was a little concerning as we walked by an apartment building condemned due to neglect. How bad can things get in sixty-odd years?

We also learned that Lima has no rail transit and only one freeway, with dedicated bus lines in the centre. For a city with a population of ten million or so residents, this paucity of transit infrastructure is a major issue.

That evening, we experienced first-hand how much said infrastructure is needed to support transit to the airport, but more on that later.

Finally, we learned that our missing companion would join us at the next stop and so we were on our way again. We found Toya, a Texan, on a street corner lecturing someone through her phone. In the three days she’s been in Lima, she’s managed to have her bank account hacked, and $6,000 was on it’s way out! Though I had grown frustrated waiting for her, Toya was a huge asset to our tour. She is a chef who has come to Lima to work in the fourteenth best restaurant in the world. (Lima also has the ninth best restaurant in the world, apparently.) With her culinary background and her engaging and enthusiastic personality, she partnered well with Luc to effectively give us a food tour with two guides.

Ceviche was next on the agenda – fish that is “cooked” through the acid effect of lime juice with ginger and chilies. Incredibly tender and delicious, ceviche is a staple in Peruvian cuisine. Toya had made some for dinner the night before and was walking us through the details of how to prepare both the fish and the accompanying sweet potato to perfection. (Admittedly, I find it a little odd to think of cooking sweet potato in orange Fanta, but I have no doubt it makes it sweet and brightly coloured.)

The fruit and vegetable market was next, where we tried local fruits: golden passionfruit, custard apple (my favourite!), and various sweet and sour fruits with names I could never pronounce.

We glanced through stalls with dozens of different types of potato (including dried potato for making flour) and mountains of fresh vegetables.

We tried a local specialty smoothie composed of a pulpy fruit that looked like a cross between an avocado and a mango, blended with evaporated milk and vanilla extract. Very tasty!

Toya enjoyed this so much she bought the ingredients for more.

A “secret” restaurant, unassuming enough that one could walk right by without noticing it, was our next stop. Filled with Peruvians, we tried traditional “home-cooking” with a cold mashed potato and chicken dish, braised beef with beans, and pickled onions. The beef didn’t do much for me, but the cold chicken and potatoes were surprisingly good! This is also where we found the better sweet corn juice, and it lived up to expectations.

The last stop was a chocolate factory, catering to tourist visits. Here we learned that, statistically speaking, the only chocolate-producing country that consumes it in quantity is Brazil. The other producers ship nearly all their chocolate to Europe, North America and Australia.

We tried pisco, the local liqueur made with a by-product of the chocolate-making process. The chocolate pisco tasted like pure drinking chocolate with a punch! Finally, we satisfied our sweet cravings with the richest ice cream, made on the premises.

Parting ways with Toya and Luc, and wishing Toya luck with her banking situation, we turned our feet to the ocean for views of the famed Miraflores coast.

We found “The Love Park”, recommended by Luc as a fitting destination for honeymoooners, which afforded further views of the steep cliffs that line the water’s edge.

As the afternoon turned to evening, we found ourselves back at the hotel, collecting our luggage and hiring a car to take us to the airport. Though we didn’t know it at the time, the set rate for the car was critical at this hour, as the traffic to the airport was merciless. Driving in Lima seems to adhere primarily to one simple rule: see if your car can fit. Will another car be dinged in the process? Not an issue – based on the condition of many cars on the road. Our driver had a car in very nice condition, which put him at a disadvantage with some of the aggressive drivers en route. When we saw a fist-fight break out between two drivers in the middle of a traffic jam, our driver quietly rolled up the windows and locked the doors.

I grew tense as the minutes ticked by and the traffic did not move. We were starting to cut it close for our flight – at least, it felt so, given that I had no idea how long it would take us to get to the airport, through check-in, security and customs. A nice little cash grab of $62 USD “gate tax”, payable in cash only (the ATM charged Mindy another $5.50 USD to access the cash), slowed our progress through the airport and did nothing to improve my mood. Eventually we got to our gate with time to spare, and settled in to wait for our flight. Although this taste of Lima brought beautiful sights, excellent food, and the entertainment of Toya the chef, I have never been so happy to leave a vacation destination as I was today, waiting in the airport to board our plane.

A newsworthy departure for our honeymoon

"Good morning wife. I love you.”

So read the text I sent to Mindy as she slept in bed beside me at the start of the day.

Last night was the most incredible night, and Mindy and I didn’t want it to end. Unfortunately, when you extend the evening to the not-so-wee hours of the next morning, it’s a sleepy start to the day! When I could no longer lie in be pretending I might fall back to sleep, I reached for my phone and began texting and emailing people. Those who had left the wedding the night before without me having the chance to say goodnight, and those who had stayed to the very end. (Who had probably gone to sleep at a more reasonable hour nonetheless; they weren’t trying to extend their weddings!)

The plans for a 10:30 breakfast had been made the night before – before we knew of our 4am bed-time. This was our last chance to see many of the people who had traveled long distances to celebrate with us, so we wiped sleep from our eyes and make-up from our faces (the latter was only in Mindy’s case). I took a first load of gifts and to the car and met my parents in the parking lot with our European guests Paul and Stella in tow. In the light of day, I showed off the sparkle of my new ring. 

“I’m MARRIED!”, I exclaimed.

While we waited for our food, Mindy and I circulated among our guests from the night before, scattered throughout the restaurant. I focused my time on a couple of tables with some of my longest-lasting friends and family, soaking in the dying moments where it still felt like my wedding. I settled in with my parents, Paul and Stella for breakfast while Mindy enjoyed the company of her closest family. Too soon, time carried on and it was time for us to pack up.

Mindy and I had the incredible fortune to have the story of our proposal picked up by local and regional news outlets back in the summer. While our wedding didn’t make the news, I managed to get some screen time on CP24 at the airport:

While waiting for our flight, the texts began coming in from people who saw this 3 seconds of fame!

Our honeymoon will take us to Peru, Uruguay and Chile. While these are safe destinations for the most part, Mindy was counseled against wearing her diamonds – just in case. For my part, I substituted my beautifully engraved gold ring for the stainless steel “sport ring” that was a gift with purchase. I can’t help but wonder if people will think I am traveling with my mistress.