It is a Monday. Things are not going according to plan. I got about 6 hours sleep, excited in the knowledge that the supervisor of Palacio Salvo, the famous (and once tallest in South America) building a few blocks from our hostel, is going to give us a rooftop tour. Following that we are supposed to be meeting up with Mauro and his wife (from Madrid) for a guided tour of the city. A pity, then, that when I wanted a shave this morning there was nothing but cold water, that the supervisor was gone by the time we got there, and that Mauro hasn't replied to my email. At least we have a hostel in Colonia Del Sacramento, even if they seem a little stuffy about details. Doesn't help it looks like it might rain today, or that we are debating where to go after Uruguay. To wing it, or not to wing it; that is the question.
Breakfast was a quarter of a watermelon, a bargain in this country, but devoid of carbohydrates that might stop Sarah and I killing each other later. We walk back up 18 de Julio and settle on lunch at The Manchester, a diner across the road that looks like it has a little character. Sure enough, the plato del dia is churrasco. I am not good at remembering all the different cuts of meat, but Im sure that its grand value for money; plato del dia has never let me down before.
Today is no exception.
Ten quid lighter for that, a good cup of coffee, some freshly squeezed orange juice and little bread rolls (they ask you if you want them here, a pleasant change from elsewhere!). No problem. Time for a little walk round some clothes shops with Sarah, followed by a hefty dander towards the Palacio Legislativo.
Ummmm.
Sometimes this happens here in Montevideo, more frequently than you might expect.
Don't we have one of these in Belfast?
Sarah still won't tell me what 'Wilsonismo' is, but she does have a scary smile when I ask.
Lots of these diners about the streets of Montevideo too.
This terrifying monolith is the home of UTE, what I gather is the Uruguayan Utilities people. It is quite scary from the outside, and made me wonder if we weren't supposed to be here, given that as we walked along the road a bus driver waved furiously at us.
That was a couple of hours ago. We are now settled with Uruguayan wine, trying to update our blogs in our own, individual ways. Ha ha ha. I have a lot of photos of graffiti to post, stay tuned.
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