micheleandtom.com

THINGS WE’RE GLAD WE PACKED

1. Tampons (I laid in an 8 month supply!)
2. Pans (We brought two All Clad pans with us, a stock pot and a frying pan.)
3. Chef’s Knife
4. Paring Knife

THINGS WE WISH WE HAD PACKED

1. Glide Floss
2. Leopard DVD (Tom could have then restored his MAC operating system in English after his hard drive died.)
3. Y Adapter (So the girls could both listen to a movie or music on one device.)
4. More US Bills (Moving and traveling require cash money.)

THINGS WE DIDN’T NEED TO PACK

1. Formal Clothes. (Everyone goes on and on about the formality of the populace in Baires, but the truth is, it’s like any other international city…unless you’re going to work or hanging out in a trendy bar, jeans and a regular shirt are SOP. I would have packed far less “nice” clothing and more t-shirts.)

THINGS WE ARE TRAVELING WITH NOW

1. Immersion Blender (pictured above). We bought this little jobby in Baires and I love it. I haven’t used an immersion blender forever, and they’ve come a long way baby. Truly, this is a power tool! We have taken it with us on our summer sojourn and we try to make smoothies most mornings, no matter where we are staying!!!

It still isn’t high season here in Punta del Diablo, Uruguay…the locals tell us that high season starts directly after Christmas and goes until about mid-February.

One waiter likened the busy season to the scene in Ibiza, only with a lot of South American visitors mixed in with the European tourists. (Not so many Americans.) Now, in mid-December, it’s still pretty deserted and the beaches and restaurants are empty; which is exactly what we wanted.

The town itself is basically built on the dunes, with the types of roads you would expect…sand and dirt! There are neighborhood dogs to keep us company on our walks…all pretty clean, happy and well behaved. There are beautiful moon rises to light our way home after eating out late (of course). There is a howling wind that keeps our temperature down, but makes us more susceptible to sun burn because we never feel hot! There is a fabulous restaurant serving us some of the best food we’ve had in South America. Oh yah! There are people from all over the world, young and old. There are a zillion stars in the sky. There are large busy anthills in the dunes.

And there is plenty of room on the beach to complete Crossfit workouts (Tom pictured above) — I know…we’re crazy!

Uruguayans are serious about their mate drinking–they take it with them everywhere.

The mate-on-the-go form executed throughout the country is characterized by tucking the thermos under the arm, and then holding the cup and sipping straw in the same hand. (It’s an advanced maneuver, one that Ian is trying to perfect.)

This one-armed technique allows you to have all of your mate necessities at hand, while still leaving an arm free. For instance, at the bus station, with all of the bags that weren’t heavy (that means all suitcases except for ours), the bus driver clutched his mate accoutrement in one hand and loaded bags with the other. You’ve gotta be impressed by that.

Unfortunately, Ian doesn’t really have the right cup for this mobile mate consumption, so we often hear, “ahhh, I burned my hand,” as we walk around Punta del Diablo.

Apologies for the break in posting over the weekend. We traveled to Punta del Diablo and the free WIFI places in this small fishing village are down, so that meant no posting!

(After a momentary freak out, we were ready to embrace a week free of the Internet…until we discovered a hostel that would let us buy some WIFI time!)

Back to the story. Just as we were “manning up” to living without the Internet, we realized that we were going to be embracing a week free of towels and sheets as well. (In truth, this is more “manning up” than I intended on this version of our journey.)

The bleeping dirtwad who owns the cabaña we are renting in town left us with no sheets or towels! When we hiked into town to call him (he lives in Montevideo), he said, “nothing I can do, I do not provide these.” Basically, their trick was to make the beds with attractive and colorful bed spreads to cover the mattresses and pillows so they appeared to be properly made (with linens). It wasn’t until we actually went to get in the bed that we realized there were no sheets or pillowcases. (Do not rent a cabin called “Lo Maximo” from Eduardo in Punta del Diablo.)

We learned about the lack of towels after washing Zelda’s scraped knee (which Ian captured beautifully in the photo above).

We currently have a two-stage solution to post-shower drying. Stage 1: We wipe ourselves semi-dry with cleaning/dish rags that we found at a local market. (Man do these rags slough off a lot of fuzz, and they are a bit water repellent…) Stage 2: We whip out my teeny tiny hair dryer and blow dry our bodies.

These two stages get us to a slightly tacky/sticky state, which is when we know it’s time to get dressed!

As analogies go, I know this is a little confusing, but stick with me!

A person tastes rabbit for the first time and says, “hmmm, that tastes like chicken.” Chicken is the meat onto which everyone projects new carnivorous experiences. As we were taking our four hour bus trip on Saturday through Uruguay toward the Brazilian border and Punta del Diablo, I often looked at the landscape and thought, “hmmmm, that reminds me of California.”

That’s when I realized that California is to travel what chicken is to new meat experiences. The golden state, which I spent most of my childhood driving through or across, has a lot of land mass with such varied terrain that it can be analogous to nearly any spot in the world.

So, that means that California is the chicken of traveling…at least for me.

What a charming city. We spent most of our time in Ciudad Vieja, which is the historic part of Montevideo (and has a little bit of that Lord of the Rings decayed antiquity theme — there are ramparts falling into the sea, gates to the city, towers…)

Ciudad Vieja has a pedestrian walkway that runs through the middle of it that is closed to traffic. From this walkway, if you look to the left or right, you can see water. The old city is pretty impressive in that it’s built on a point that is surrounded by water on three sides. There are many beautifully restored buildings here, a robust police presence due to the large amount of tourists, shops, the inevitable McDonald’s (with the tag line “me encanta”) and a nice street market. Stray but a block or two off of the pedestrian walkway though, and you feel as if you are in a different city; the streets are sparsely populated and the buildings dilapidated.

Being in Montevideo made me come to a realization about Buenos Aires — buses are killing BA. They are ridiculously and unnecessarily loud, the street noise they generate drowns out everything else, even the conversation of the person standing next to you on the sidewalk. And, they spew noxious black exhaust that hangs over the city like a pall. By contrast, Montevideo seemed insanely quiet and and the air was crisp and clear — lovely.

One note, when you are located on a point of land surrounded by water on three sides, it’s freaking windy!!

We arrived in Montevideo yesterday on the BuqueBus boat in typical Offermann-Reeves fashion: one child with a high fever, two children with motion sickness, and too many bags (although we are getting much better about over-packing).

It went downhill from there. We couldn’t find a place to get local pesos; the cab line was an hour long; there were problems finding a taxi into which we could all stuff ourselves; our cab driver freaked out about the neighborhood of our hotel and warned us twice to be careful that someone didn’t steal our bags off of the sidewalk; Zoe had dry heaves last night; the shower in our room leaked onto the entire bathroom floor today, through the wall, onto and into the carpet, over the edge of the mezzanine and downstairs (“Mom, there is water dripping downstairs!”); Zoe’s fever got worse…you get the picture.

(Of course, we still think the glass is 3/4 full because we’re not in the Tiki Lounge!)

The good news: no one stole our bags off of the sidewalk, there is a lovely complimentary breakfast at the hotel, we were moved to new rooms that don’t leak (and they’re actually nicer), Zoe is a bit perkier tonight, and Montevideo is a charming city surrounded by water…more on that last one tomorrow!

I had no idea that picking up a package in Baires would be so complicated!

Upon arriving at the central post office, the whole Offermann-Reeves clan entered a smallish room with postal clerks and a waiting area, where we took a number. When our turn arrived, we submitted our package delivery notice to the clerk, who had me sign it. She then tapped on the computer, ripped some stuff, and handed me a stub that contained a circled 6-digit package number.

Next, we were motioned into another larger waiting area. Clutching our stub, we all filed into a room that was dominated by row upon row of seated customers listening to low-quality loudspeakers blaring numbers.

We were to sit in this room waiting for our package number to be called for what they projected could be anywhere from 5 to 30 minutes.

Being on standby, anticipating our number, was uber nerve wracking. There was no board displaying the package numbers that already had been called, and when the digits were spoken over the loud speakers, they were nearly indistinguishable.

Finally, after about 15 to 20 minutes, our package came up. It was in my name, so I got to walk to the end of the room, go through a random turn style, and pass through an unmarked door. (That’s where everyone else went, so I did too.) This door led me to a small antechamber that had another unmarked door to my left, which I walked through.

I was now in the bowels of the post office. The belly of the beast was host to tons of people, and I was a bit overwhelmed. Customs work stations, postal employees retrieving packages, customers waiting for packages…had they come through the unmarked doors even though their number hadn’t been called?

After collecting my bundle of joy, I had to walk to another small area near the exit, where I scribbled my signature alongside my package number on xeroxed forms spread about on a table (very official).

That was it! I emerged, triumphant, package in hand, to the cheers of my family. Seriously, Tom said it felt a little weird to see me walk through the unmarked door…he couldn’t help but wonder if I was ever to return!

(The fruits of our labor? Receiving a fab smattering of stuffers from the stocking master, Fred Johnson!)

Tom has noticed that when he takes the girls to school on Monday morning, he can nearly always find a seat for all three of them on the bus.

Why? Because the hard living, non-sleeping Porteños have had their ass kicked by the Argentine schedule (stay up late/get up early). By Monday, almost everyone is calling in sick, or late for work, thereby freeing up valuable seating on the bus!

The poor stragglers who do manage to drag themselves to the bus on time Monday morning usually look like hell and sleep during their commute.

Actually, the evidence of the tough weekend is visible by Sunday morning, when the city is a ghost town until about 2:00 p.m. Pictured above is Las Heras, a nearby busy street, at roughly the same time mid-day on a weekday and on Sunday.

Motorcycle/Scooter helmet law in Baires requires that you have a helmet on your person, but you don’t necessarily have to wear it on your head! I know…weird.

Generally, you see these permutations:

1. Not having a helmet at all.
2. Placing the helmet on the motorcycle in between the driver’s legs.
3. Hanging the helmet on the forearm, or in the crook of the arm, while driving.
4. Placing the helmet on the crown of the head, so it looks as if would blow off in a stiff breeze.
5. Seating the helmet completely on the head, but not fastening the strap.
6. Lastly, wearing the helmet as it was designed.

Ian has a friend who wears his helmet properly, and when Ian asked why, his friend said, “Because it’s more comfortable than wearing it on my arm!”