Next Stop: Unknown

Another epic day of travel brought us to Uruguay’s east coast. This time we sprung for a private 1st class carriage (still on a double decker bus though, of course). We had glam visions of a private room and chairs that folded into a queen size bed. This was not the case however, as the primary benefit of a private 1st class appeared to be a curtain partitioning our chairs from the other schmucks on he over night bus. After the bus, we took cruise liner from Buenos Aires, Argentina to Colonia del Sacramento, Uruguay. Word from the wise to other travelers: do not attempt to travel from BA to Uruguay on holy week (Easter for you American’s). As is typical for us we bought our boat ticket last minute and were required to purchase a super executive fare, complete with a champagne toast as we left dock. This came with a complimentary 100% fare pump and leather couches. Then once we got to Colonia, we discovered that every single bed within 45 kms from the ferry terminal was sold out for the night. Oops – guess this was another one of those instances where we should have booked ahead. Fortunately we had our camping gear and there were still a few spots of grass left where we could pitch a tent.

Colonia del Sacramento is a quant town with coble stone streets and tons of mom & pop style restaurants with dining areas that spill out onto the sidewalk. We enjoyed people watching – wealthy folks from Buenos Aires totting Tory Birch bags and wearing Hermes scarves dinned at cafes besides North Face clad backpackers like us. If we’d had money to burn we could have stayed for several days dining on steak and pasta, but we decided to move farther north along the coast.

Our target was Punta del Diablo via Punta del Este (Uruguay’s infamous beach town where bare buns of the rich and famous roam). The weather in April though wasn’t warm enough to entice crowds and we had the beaches entirely to ourselves.

We rented a car in Punta del Este and drove up the coast at our own pace, stopping along the way. We climbed the windy staircase at Jose Ignacio’s lighthouse, but missed out on dining at the town’s restaurant La Huella that we’d heard so much about on the Food Network. Foiled again by South America’s strange eating patterns.

Lucas and I at the top of the lighthouse in Jose Ignacio

   The staircase was cramped and steep – and traffic was flowing up and down.

Another view of the light house. It definitely was a scenic picnic spot along the route.

We didn’t really know what to expect of Punta del Diablo. A couple of German girls we’d met the week before turned us on to the place. They said it had beautiful beaches, an easy vibe and was more affordable that Punta del Este and some of the other towns farther south.  What we found was a sleepy fishing village with loamy white sand and strong waves. Most of the tourists there, and there were only a handful, were serious surfers with dreadlocks deep tans and that ubiquitous string and bead jewelry they always seem to be wearing. Prices were as good as promised and our private sea view room only set us back $45 a night.

We eked out our last three remaining days in South America walking along the abandoned beaches, eating seafood and watching the waves. Punta del Diablo was a relaxing footnote for this leg of our trip, before heading back to the US.

View from our private balcony in Punta del Diablo.

A local family watching the waves. Yes, a horse and buggy is the typical means of transport in these parts.

No, this is not an abandoned house. A scraggly bearded fisherman stared back at us through the windows.

Fishing boats like this one lined the towns coast.