Uruguay, pulling on our heartstrings.

(February 4-8, 2009)

Our point of entry into Uruguay was the city of Salto, which was but a transition stop on our way to our first destination, Tacuarembó. We were exhausted following a long day of travel and only a few hours of restless sleep on the banana-shaped mattress of a sketchy hotel room in the border town of Concordia, Argentina, but we were quickly rejuvenated by a chance encounter with an admirable man at the Salto bus station. He approached us as we were waiting in line to buy bus tickets, and we were surprised to be spoken to in French. He explained that he had lived eight years in Belgium, and his eldest son had spent a year in Saskatchewan as part of a student exchange. That is how it all began.

Gustavo Cousin, a generous man indeed.

In his voice, we could tell he was enthusiastic to be conversing with French Canadians, and he was all excited at the thought of sharing his dear hometown of Salto. Had we had more time, we gladly would have went to visit the grapevines on his home farm, but we now had our next bus to catch at noon. Nonetheless, he still offered to personally take us in his pickup truck to visit the termas (hot springs) on the outskirts of town. ''Même si vous n'avez pas le temps de vous y baignez, au moins vous pourrez les voir. Attendez-moi ici et je passe vous chercher avec ma camionnette!''

The termas was a vast villa of warm swimming pools, tropical trees and picnic tables. A beautiful, peaceful place. Uruguay has many hot springs, which take their warm water from natural sources, 800 meters underground. We walked around the grounds and then Gustavo treated us to some good local mandarin juice, and even better conversations.

We exchanged travel experiences and at one point, we told him we were planning on spending time in Punta del Diablo, a tiny village on the east coast. Coincidentally, he told us he was soon leaving on a family vacation to his rancho in Valizas, only an hour away from Punta del Diablo. He gave us the number of his cottage, and told us we were welcomed to drop by and meet his family if we happened to make our way to the village.

When he drove us back to the bus terminal, we wanted to give him 10$ US in return (for having driven us to the hot springs, paid for our entrance and the orange juice), but he graciously refused. ''Non non, c'était mon plaisir. Mais peut-être si vous avez une pièce de monnaie canadienne, par contre, j'aimerais bien en avoir une comme souvenir''.

Señor Gustavo Cousin wanted nothing in return but a little Canadian coin keepsake. Although we both hadn't kept much Canadian money when we left, we managed to find a few scattered coins. We left him with a looney, and two quarters - an original one, and another one with a Vancouver 2010 Olympic logo. He was glowing. He gave us hugs and departed as we walked into the bus station with a perma-smile. These are the experiences we live for.

The bus ride to Tacuarembó was a highlight in itself. Among the passengers on our bus, there were a few gauchos, original Uruguayan cowboys wearing berets and baggy pants tucked into their leather boots. They really stood out in the crowd, as though they had stepped out of a western movie. The entire ride to Tacuarembó was made up of a beautiful nothingness. Aside from the occasional herd of sheep and cattle, there was nothing but fields, crops and sunflower patches. And, of course, authentic gauchos on their caballos.

Arrived in Tacuarembó, we went out on a hunt for a place to stay after the only three hotels in the city had not a single room available. Apparently, it was one of the busiest summer holiday weeks and the city was invaded by vacationing Argentines. Luckily, we kept walking a few blocks and came upon a little pensión, where we gladly took the last room available in the tiny guesthouse. We didn't stay long in Tacuarembó; the only real reason why we took the detour to the city was to see the land of the gauchos and to discover a bit of the lesser-known northern regions of Uruguay. The detour was worthwhile if only for the tranquil, untainted landscapes that made us daydream along the way.

We then took to the road again on an overnight bus in direction of Montevideo, where we arrived in the early morning hours. The modern and spotless bus station was the first of many delightful surprises to come. We had a good gut feeling about Uruguay, and we were excited to discover its capital city.

After walking around the captivating streets of Ciudad Vieja (the Old City) and enjoying a little jog along the port, we treated ourselves to a contemporary dance performance at the magnificent Teatro Solis. We were so charmed by the theatre that we returned the following day for a guided tour of its grand refined halls.

Another leisurely walk in the city revealed more artisan kiosks, more culture, and more little treasures. We were charmed by the discovery of the marvelous atmosphere that is the Mercado del Puerto. Art, music and culture all around. Exquisite craftsmanship, beautiful paintings, bongo players and musicians winding through restaurant terraces stringing folk songs on their guitars. So much heart, so many talented hands for a city of just over 1 million people. We couldn't believe how much cultural flavour could flow through a small country with a population of no more than 3 million. A third of Uruguayans live in the capital city, and we quickly became fans of Montevideanos with their friendly demeanor, their maté cups, and their spontaneous tango dancing in the streets.

We couldn't get enough of Montevideo, so much so that we delayed our departure in order to enjoy more time in the city. For exploration purposes, we rented bikes for a refreshing tour along the harbour. We stopped at an old lighthouse, wandered through a pleasant shady park, and got a kick out of observing people playing some kind of beach tennis with what looked like long wooden ping-pong rackets. On the seat of our bikes, we discovered a different side of the city, and even more reasons to be infatuated by it.