Travel: Uruguay 2011

1.

Uruguay was part of my first South American trip, which involved three other countries: Argentina, Brazil, and Paraguay, and the most troublesome when it comes to visa. 

It had been more than a month since I submitted my application to the Embassy in DC, but every time I checked in with them, I got served with the same form response: Sorry, we haven't yet heard from the Immigration regarding your case.

The final week, I decided to ring more bells by composing a lengthy email petitioning for my case and spamming it to every email address of that Sorry-we-haven't-heard embassy I could get hold of. Resorted to literally begging them (not my proudest moment) to cut through some red tape (no, I didn't actually say that) and give me, a respectable citizen from a respectable country (no, I didn't say that either) a chance to visit and learn about their "wonderful" culture (yes, I did say that, shamelessly). 

That seemed to work (not sure which part though). They emailed back the next day, saying that I *MIGHT* (a big might) be able to get my visa on Wednesday. Since their office will close on Thursday and Friday in celebration of the Easter, and I'm leaving on Saturday, that left me a very small window indeed. To put it bluntly, if I fail to swing a visa on Wed, I'd be screwed in every which way! (pardon my language).

So I marched into their consular section the first thing Wed's morning. The officer on duty looked kinda out of it (probably from a pre-Easter hangover) and rattled off the usual "no news yet from the Immigration." She then suggested that maybe I should come back in the afternoon. 

Yeah, right. I gave her a smiley-winky-half-joking, gentle but firm response that I won't leave the Embassy premise until I secure my visa. 

To get my message thoroughly across, I plunked down on one of their upholstered couches (reserved for welcomed guests, obviously), whipping out my laptop and pretending to work on my dissertation. See, I'm taking my time and would have not a slightest problem in the world for an all-day sit-in (Well, don't do this in your scholarship interview and go Hey! Give me some money or I won't leave. Don't write like this either because it's not quintessential academic writing).

Anyway, this proved to be too much for the officer, who, in a bid to get me off her case, finally picked up the phone and talked to someone in Uruguay. And can you believe this? merely few minutes later, she got back and told me that she now had my authorization number so if I was kind enough to wait until the consul general, who apparently also took time to enjoy her breakfast (because, you know, she hasn't heard anything yet from the Immigration, so why hurry?), comes in to sign the visa.

 
Neato! I must've been unbelievably kind to them for the last 30 days. Still, I can't believe they made me wait the whole month for this just to see how nice I could be.

 

2.

Something juicy happened on the ferry from Buenos Aires to Colonia (Uruguay). Karen, an elegant-looking 30-something Aussie from our group got lucky. She met some guy from South Africa and they hit it off right there on the ferry's balcony. So they set a date that night. 

While others were getting ready for their afternoon sight-seeing, Karen stole to some shop (we thought Victoria Secret *wink wink*). Later on, she dressed up, putting on make-up (as they say) "with a trowel" and gosh, she looked different (yep, different good).

 
The losers of the group (i.e., the rest of us) spent the better part of our dinner second-guessing and betting on when she would come back for us or whether she'd come back at all.

But it looked like Karen didn't score any that night. Her roommate reported that she was back around 12 (not p.m.). I heard through "the grapevine" that the dinner went well but they didn't follow up with you-know-what. That seems a bit baffling.

 
If you are back from a soccer match so beat that you don't do it, we understand. 

If you are back from a THIỂU session, too excited, you self-importantly told your paramour "My teacher just made me realize that I'm at a stage in my life where English is more important than you-know-what, so I'll hit the books and we won't do it tonight", we certainly get it. 

But if you are in a vacation mood, having a nice, romantic candle-lit dinner that lasted till midnight with a guy who you like and want to do you-know-what with and you know this is your only chance since you have to leave town the next day, and then you didn't, that messed everyone up. 

So on the bus to an estancia (Uruguayan farm), everyone else took turns sneaking glances at Karen, wondering "Did she? Did she not? Why? Why not?" Enough to keep us occupied for the 5-hour trip.

3.
Our first night on the estancia, the host gathered us around and gave a little pep talk. He told us in not so many words that this is a FARM and they don't pretend to be anything else. 

So no air-con, no fridge, no microwave, no TV, no Internet, and also no electricity for the most part of the day (they use a small generator for that purpose and it's only on between 7 and 10pm). 

You were as close to the nature as it can get. You even had to scoop up water from a well outside to flush your own toilet. And if you had problems with that, suck it up! 

There were signs everywhere warning you, the ignorant city slickers, not to do something stupid that would give farm animals a good laugh. If you have trouble working a horse, read the sign "It's not the horse, it's YOU!!!" Very enlightening, isn't it!

Although this may sound tough, the farm stay turned out to be one of the trip highlights for many, especially those who were willing to rough it a little. 

The food was surprisingly tasty (the hostess is a great cook). We learned how to saddle horses, vaccinate sheep (and there were about 800 of them) and brand cows. We frolicked in cow dung (not totally a figure of speech). Trying to get the cows understand what I mean made me miss NGỌNG so much. We played badminton and volleyball to a large audience made up of dogs, pigs and ostriches, who politely faked attention.

 
We read romances and ghost stories by candlelight. We shared our travel stories, learning in due course how the host (a Uruguayan farmer to the core) met his wife - the cook (a Swiss city-born girl). As the fate had it, their paths crossed when they were on a same tour to Tibet 10 years ago (sharing the same toilet hole, me think). 

I went to bed the first day smelling like a sheep. I went to bed the next day smelling like some part of a cow. On my third, I smelled just like the farm itself.

The rough part came when we all had to pack up and leave. Nobody got misty-eyed but some said they might come back with family. 

We got loaded like cattle on the way to the slaughter house on a small truck and traveled out in the open to the Uruguay-Argentina border three hours away. 

It was bumpy, bone-cold, and harshly windy. Everyone managed to keep themselves warm with whatever on hand. Folks got real creative. 

Some used shopping bags as makeshift hoods and ended up looking like a bunch of bank robbers. One guy put both of his feet in his empty backpack and zipped it up. A girl wrapped her bikini (saved for the hot beaches in Rio later) around her neck as a chic scarf. It was so friggin' freezing, it wasn't even funny. At that point, every guy in the group wished they have their hand on that bikini (for a totally wrong reason). 

 
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