Uraguay for a Day

by Gina Loitz (Canada)

A leap into the unknown Uruguay

I was sitting on a wharf in Uruguay, near the ferry dock, writing about my day, when something went wrong. I wasn’t supposed to be in Uruguay that day, meaning I had no real business there, except to take the ferry over from Buenos Aires, Argentina, and get that extra stamp in my passport. I was one of those travellers- the stamp savvy- - who wanted to fill the pages int their passports but who would always seem to come across some kind of trouble when trying to do so. This time was no exception.  I went to Argentina to study Spanish because I liked the sound of Argentina and then I actually heard the sounds in Argentina - and they were loud. Any city of fifteen million is going be like that.The sounds of old dirt bikes and the wheezing of city busses stopping right outside the window of my room-stay made it seem like a dump truck was driving straight through my room every hour at all hours . So I wanted to escape the noise and go across the little inlet of the Atlantic Ocean and see what was on the other side. I was thrilled, alone, and had rationed enough money for the day. Once on the other side, Colonia, Uruguay was worlds apart from the bustling streets of Buenos Aires. It was like a barren village in comparison. I leisurely strolled down the cobbled stress, took lunch at a little cafe with soothing melodies playing throughout and sat by the beach down from town to watch the sunset. Since I was alone and there is only so much you can do on foot, I was content to arrive back at the ferry terminal early for my 16:30 departure and write by a light outside at the back. The thing is, I’m horrible at math and thus at interpreting the 24-hour clock, and thought the ferry left at five thirty. I wrote until the light outside suddenly went out, leaving me in the dark without ever having seen the ferry arrive or depart, but having a sinking sensation that it had already done both. I went inside and enquired at the ticket kiosk. Se fue. It left, the woman confirmed. Ok, can I just exchange my ticket for the next one that comes? I feebly replied. No, that one is full, she said, straight-faced and unsympathetic. What I learned that day, which happened to be a Friday, was that people in Uruguay want to go into Buenos Aires to party for the weekend, and rightfully so because that city parties well…into the next day. You can be put on a waitlist, she said. Ok, thank you, but I’m from Canada and I don’t know the area and I have a room in Buenos Aires I’d just like to get back to so if there is any way you could put me at the top - Her face said there was no way, so I took a seat at the back of the terminal where the rest of the hopefuls were gathered. As the ferry began boarding she called out the names on the waitlist and as the list got longer my hope receded until my name was called and I made my way back to the ticket counter. Thank you so much! I cried out in relief. Yes, that’s three hundred pesos.”  But I already purchased my ticket for the other boat so - “Yes, but that was for the slow boat that takes three hours. This boat only takes one hour and so it costs more.  Of course, of course, uh..just let me, uh, get some more pesos together here… I fished pathetically around for the dwindling change until I had what was left in my pockets dumped onto the counter. The woman counted it until she was satisfied with the amount leaving me with ten single pesos to get me to the other side. We glided across the Atlantic at top knots and when I arrived back in Argentina I nervously approached the cabbie cue with my feeble funds, content to go as far as I could on what little remained.