A Weekend's Break

If there's anything keeping Colonia del Sacramento off the cover of travel magazines, it's probably the water. Muddy and brown aren't characteristics that tend to lure people to vacation spots. Lucky for me, as I took a trip there last weekend to get away from the crowded city. I was surprised to find such a tranquil place just an hour's boat ride from the center of Buenos Aires. I spent my first day wandering around the beautiful colonial section of town, enjoying the old cobblestone streets and picturesque houses with walls of brick exposed by crumbling plaster.

A sign in the hostel I stayed at informed me that the water, as well as being muddy, had toxic green moss in some areas. But when I went to the beach the sun was scorching, so I surrendered to the reasoning of "everyone else is doing it, why can't I?" and went for a swim. A subsequent check didn't reveal any extra limbs sprouting, so no regrets thus far. Unless there's one on my back. That's always hard to see in the mirror.

The second night ended in the early hours of the morning, sitting with an Irish traveller outside a just-closed bar and listening to him having an extended debate with a local about various political leaders in South America. It was entertaining for a while; as the Irish didn't speak Spanish the conversation went something like this:

Irish traveller: Néstor Kirchner... bien?
Uruguayan mechanic: Más o menos, sí. Sí.
Irish traveller: Uhhh... Chavez? Hugo Chavez? Bueno?
Uruguayan mechanic: (Draws his hand across his throat.) No. No me gusta.
Irish traveller: But... Castro? Castro? Bueno?
Uruguayan mechanic: (Motions putting a gun to his head and pulling the trigger.) No! Muy malo.
Irish traveller: Oh. But Chavez? Bien, no?
Uruguayan mechanic: (Repeats his previous response.)
Irish traveller: And Castro... también?
Uruguayan mechanic: (Says he should be shot.)
(Repeat x20 minutes)

When the novelty of hearing the Uruguayan's yes/no responses, and sometimes accompanying violent hand gestures, wore thin, I decided bedtime had come. I went back to the hostel and mulled over the points and counterpoints both men had presented.

And so the following day, after this late-night debate, I fell asleep on a small beach which I had reached after renting a small motor scooter and cruising out on the surrounding country roads. I sat down to read and woke up a little later to the sound of waves on the sand. If more of my weekends ended like that I would probably be a healthier, less-stressed person.