Carrasco International Airport is one of the cleanest, most modern modern, and efficient airports I’ve visited. Arriving at immigration, a sign boasted that it would take less than two minutes to pass. I scanned my passport and a camera verified my identity. It was the quickest process I’ve encountered.

Once through customs, I walked to the second floor to call an Uber. The airport felt deserted; our plane seemed to have been the only one to have arrived.

The drive to the apartment took a little over half an hour, passing through varied neighborhoods en route. Once we reached the city proper, we drove along the coast, the Atlantic Ocean just outside the driver’s side window.

After settling in, I took a nap. I hadn’t slept much on the plane (not that there was a lot of time to sleep) and the wet grey morning didn’t feel like one that was conducive to exploration. I lay down on the couch and covered myself with a blanket and set my alarm for a few hours hence.

I woke up to the rain. It was falling steadily, blown about by the wind off of the water and up the streets. I waited to see if it would stop. Now and again it would lull, and I decided to step out and explore the old quarter of the city.

From my apartment, I walked to the nearby Plaza Independencia, centered by the large monument to Artigas and flanked on one side by the Puerta de la Ciudadela, reminding me of the Washington Square arch back in New York.

I followed the pedestrian mall (almost deserted) to the Plaza de la Constitución and ducked into the Catedral de la Inmaculada Concepción y San Felipe y Santiago de Montevideo just as it started raining in force. It was sparsely attended and I silently made my way around the cathedral, admiring the architecture and the sculptures before making my way back out into the wind.

I continued through the old city to the Plaza Zabala, built on the site of an old fort. A statue of Bruno Mauricio de Zabala, the founder of the city, sits in the center. On one side sits the Palacio Taranco, a museum of decorative arts. It was closed as was much of the city, and I wondered if it was because it was a Monday or if it was because of the New Year. A number of shops and restaurants that I have contacted are closed for a week or two, and I appreciated the thoughtful and quiet start to the year.

For lunch, I ducked into the Mercado del Puerto and had empanadas at Empanadas Carolina, a small stand right by the entrance. The counter was never empty long, even if the market itself was generally quiet. Two other popular parillas boasted full counters.

There were a few older American tourists who had also come seeking empanadas and shelter from the rain. Outside, the wind continued unabated.

After lunch, I wandered the streets of the old city, admiring the street art. I found an ice cream shop with high reviews and I slowly wound my way to it, turning down streets as different things caught my eye.

The path to the water was short. On the small peninsula you could see water on both sides and I walked south to the rambles. The sea looked angry here near the mouth of the river. Just to the west lay Argentina, but the mouth was so wide that you couldn’t see it. When biking along the river in Buenos Aires, you’d think you were looking out at the sea and not a river that separates one country from the other.

Apartment buildings lined the ramblas on this side of the city, and I couldn’t help but capture their repetitive architectural simplicity.

Walking back towards the center of the old city (and towards Piwo Helados), I continued to enjoy the street art that adorns the quarter.

The ice cream was good and I enjoyed it while sitting on a cushioned bench in the cafe. There were two other tables. It was still early yet, just past noon, and when I sent a picture to my cousin Alice, she remarked at how early it was in the day, surmising that the ice cream was my first meal of the day. It was not, but would it have been so bad if it had been?

The rain had let up briefly as I left Piwo, but as I retraced my steps back towards the Plaza Independencia it picked up once again.

I walked home quickly, pausing in a grocery store to pick up breakfast and lunch foods for the short time I’ll be in the city and proceeded to edit photos while I watched the rain from my apartment.

In the afternoon, the skies cleared and the sun suddenly covered the city. I was tired and thought about taking a nap but forced myself outside. This time I walked south to the rambla and walked east, towards the beaches on the eastern shores.

I passed the Playa Ramirez on the western shore and started to cut through the city to reach the beaches on the other side of the city. Passing the Parque Jose Enrique Rodó, I was surprised to see statue of Confucius, and stopped to assign it to my memories.

At the Playa de los Pocitos, I took my shoes off and waded into the surf. The sea was much more gentle than the morning and I made sure to stay in the shallows. Just the day before I had almost been swept into the Pacific, and I wondered again at how much can change within the span of a day. How a short flight can carry you from one capital to another, and from one side of the world to the other where you can step into the Pacific one afternoon and swim in the Atlantic the next.

I had planned to eat in the neighborhood and perhaps sample the helado at Giovanni Helados Artesanales, but everything was closed. I called an Uber to drive me home.

I ate a peanut butter sandwich for lunch and rented Official Competition. I loved the film. Penelope Cruz crushes it as a famous director making a film at the whim of a rich businessman looking to leave a legacy after he’s gone, though that’s more the impetus for the film than what the film is about. Antonio Banderas and Oscar Martinez do amazing work as actors with opposing techniques cast to play the estranged brothers in the film within the film.

It was late by the time the film ended, but my body wasn’t sure of the time. Montevideo exists two hours ahead of Lima and I had “lost” two hours in the crossing. Outside, it was quiet. I stood a moment on the terrace taking in the street below, adapting to my new home, breathing in the air swept clean by the wind and the rain. 🇺🇾