I’ve got to say Uruguay is brilliant. Which isn’t saying much as we’ve only been here 24 hours and driven barely 70 miles, but I like what I’ve seen.
When you’re from Key West you can’t pass by a southernmost point without stopping for a picture and this is the southernmost point…of Brazil. Brazil on the left and Uruguay on the right.
As I explained previously the offices housing customs and immigration are located outside the towns of Chui/Chuy so the border is just a median strip separating the Portuguese from the Spanish speakers.
And of course there are the duty free shops.
We got Rusty’s exit papers from the vet in Santa Vitória where we spent the night a half hour north of Chui, then we drove to the Brazilian customs and checked out…
… before driving into town to fill up with our last tank of 30% ethanol regular gas.
In Brazil regular is $5:25 a gallon but I’m told in Uruguay it’s more like $7:20. Yesterday an Uruguayan told me it’s even more expensive nowadays in Argentina so we will see as we go. But it seemed prudent to cross the border with a full tank.
Thus far we’ve seen no sudden prices rises or shortages as has happened in other parts of the world. Brazil is self sufficient drilling in the Atlantic and adding home grown sugar cane ethanol to the mix. The war in the Middle East seems rather remote here.
Immediately the highway was nice and smooth in Uruguay but at the roundabout we turned back and stopped at the Uruguayan sports center to park and have empanadas for lunch. We like to arrive at customs relaxed and rested and not impatient. I pee last thing before I go into the offices. That’s a top tip by the way.
We had heard mixed reviews on entering Uruguay with some people saying they are strict but the previous day a German couple said it was a breeze so we had high hopes.
We were ready to give up fruits and vegetables and cheeses but we don’t throw stuff out in advance. If they inspect us or ask if we have any we never lie. If we lose stuff it’s no big deal; we’ll buy more.
It was great to be speaking Spanish again and as badly as I mangle it we could converse and they were friendly and cheerful. First they check your papers but when they figure you are good then they relax and chat.
We talked about traveling from the US and they asked about the war and I said I was glad to be away. I asked customs about Rusty’s papers and they said the agriculture inspector was at a meeting so they took a quick look at Rusty’s papers…
…and pronounced him good and waved us into Uruguay an hour after we arrived.Just look at that lovely smooth highway. With a speed limit of 55mph we bowled along merrily.Of course on side roads we got a few patches and lumps but on Highway 9 down the coast it was a lovely drive. No speed bumps even, just signs asking us to slow down passing rural schools. But they do have a few rumble strips before roundabouts and sharp corners.
The bus stops were pretty nice too with an inside seating area and a porthole to check for the arrival of the bus.Uruguay thus far looks neat and tidy.
I also observed the practice of slower vehicles pulling onto the shoulder to allow passing, so I gave it a go.Unlike in Mexico where they create a magic third lane requiring both lanes to go to the shoulder with passing in the middle, the more rational Uruguayans only pass if there’s no one coming. Going to the shoulder is just a courtesy.
The countryside is flat but with neat grazing lane and copses dotting the fields. I found it quite lovely as we rolled along at 50 mph with nary a bump.
And I spotted a lake gleaming in the afternoon sun:
This wide spot was marked as an emergency landing strip for aircraft and no parking is allowed here, reasonably enough.
And just to make everything perfect we found an open food stall, selling local products and they took Brazilian reals as we had no Uruguayan pesos yet.It made an excellent dinner Friday night at our beach camp.
The first thing we did was check online the exchange rate and established its 40 Uruguayan pesos to the dollar which is a nice round number.
Then we found a bank with an ATM and tried our luck. We decided to go for U$8,000 (which is how it’s written confusingly) or $200 US. The machine rejected that.
I also observed the practice of slower vehicles pulling onto the shoulder to allow passing, so I gave it a go.Unlike in Mexico where they create a magic third lane requiring both lanes to go to the shoulder with passing in the middle, the more rational Uruguayans only pass if there’s no one coming. Going to the shoulder is just a courtesy.
The countryside is flat but with neat grazing lane and copses dotting the fields. I found it quite lovely as we rolled along at 50 mph with nary a bump.
And I spotted a lake gleaming in the afternoon sun:
This wide spot was marked as an emergency landing strip for aircraft and no parking is allowed here, reasonably enough.
And just to make everything perfect we found an open food stall, selling local products and they took Brazilian reals as we had no Uruguayan pesos yet.It made an excellent dinner Friday night at our beach camp.
And Rusty got a break.
I don’t think they see many foreigners downtown in Castillos but they had what we needed. On Thursday we called first state bank and advised them we will be in Uruguay so our ATM cards will work in our next country but it’s always interesting trying to withdraw cash in a new country for the first time.The yellowing leaves of autumn in the southern hemisphere. We decided to get off the highway and look for a bank so Layne got to work with Google Maps and found what we needed in the town of Castillos.
The first thing we did was check online the exchange rate and established its 40 Uruguayan pesos to the dollar which is a nice round number.
Then we found a bank with an ATM and tried our luck. We decided to go for U$8,000 (which is how it’s written confusingly) or $200 US. The machine rejected that.
So then it tried 300 pesos and got my $75. Layne tried 400 pesos and got $100, so now we had 170 bucks in local currency and we’d paid a few bucks in ATM fees because we had no choice. We don’t like traveling with local cash.
At that point is was time to do some cultural investigation and Layne went food shopping across the street. “Mr Everything.” I wonder if the Secretary of State knows this is home? If he needs a bolt hole…
Rusty and I went for a walk under the states of locals shocked by the sight of a leash.
Not dangerous I said, it’s just to keep him out of traffic. Layne got some fruit and things and said she was pleasantly surprised the prices weren’t as bad as she expected.
After Castillos we took a minor road winding through the fields looking for a place to camp. Lots of places close after the summer and we also struck out but we found a spot listed as a wild camp at a beach parking lot. That sounded good so we drove through the Uruguayan countryside to check it out and hope for the best. It was getting to five o’clock and we were ready. A closed campground:
Eventually we turned off the asphalt and plunged down a dirt road for a mile and a half. We met an elderly couple collecting wood for their “asado” - barbecue grill- and they yanked us for stopping to make sure they were okay. Hell they were older than us so of course we checked on them!
You can imagine what a peaceful Friday night we spent here:
Saturday morning it was time to inspect the beach. And we had it all to ourselves.
Uruguay is not tropical; who knows where this coconut cave from:
You can see why I like Uruguay.
At that point is was time to do some cultural investigation and Layne went food shopping across the street. “Mr Everything.” I wonder if the Secretary of State knows this is home? If he needs a bolt hole…
Rusty and I went for a walk under the states of locals shocked by the sight of a leash.
Not dangerous I said, it’s just to keep him out of traffic. Layne got some fruit and things and said she was pleasantly surprised the prices weren’t as bad as she expected.
After Castillos we took a minor road winding through the fields looking for a place to camp. Lots of places close after the summer and we also struck out but we found a spot listed as a wild camp at a beach parking lot. That sounded good so we drove through the Uruguayan countryside to check it out and hope for the best. It was getting to five o’clock and we were ready. A closed campground:
Eventually we turned off the asphalt and plunged down a dirt road for a mile and a half. We met an elderly couple collecting wood for their “asado” - barbecue grill- and they yanked us for stopping to make sure they were okay. Hell they were older than us so of course we checked on them!
You can imagine what a peaceful Friday night we spent here:
Saturday morning it was time to inspect the beach. And we had it all to ourselves.
Uruguay is not tropical; who knows where this coconut cave from:
You can see why I like Uruguay.









































































