Here's an important (read: vital) fact about teaching in Argentina-- unless you possess a highly costly, highly difficult to obtain teaching visa, you generally work under the table as a 'tourist.' Almost all the teachers I know do so, and the tourist visa is only valid for ninety days. Ninety days and you'd better get the heck out of dodge; however...once you leave Argentina, there is no rule specifying how long you must be gone before entering again (unlike many countries' 3 months in-3 out policy). So, what to do when your three months run out? Head to another country for the weekend!
One could, theoretically, catch the ferry across the Rio de la Plata on a rainy May morning, and:
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What's up, Uruguay, what's up?
You'd have to spend half a day on the bus to get to Uruguay overland, but the ferry across the Rio de la Plata-- the estuary that divides Uruguay and Argentina-- takes only an hour by fast boat.
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Fast boat en route to Colonia.
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The BsAs ferry terminal by night. (As usual I forgot to take pictures on the way there).
I was advised to arrive an hour early to go through immigration for the Buquebus. Because it was a holiday weekend, and also because I'm me, I arrived much earlier and wandered around for a good while trying to the find the end of the check-in line that spiraled around like a snail. An hour later, I received my boarding pass, did a quick pivot, and was at the tail end of the equally long line for immigration. There was only one metal detector and my boat was leaving in 20 minutes, so I started to what has unkindly but accurately been described by some as, "Kerk out." The lovely elderly lady behind me assured me that she takes the ferry every weekend and the boat wouldn't leave without us. She introduced herself as Emilse, and we became fast friends as we waited for an additional hour, me bumbling along in Spanish, she gabbing about her grandkids in Baltimore. Emilse walked me through the immigration process (you get stamped out for Argentina and in for Uruguay at the same time) and insisted I sit with her on the boat.
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Seating is first-come, first-serve, with rows of reclining chairs.
I explored the boat, popping into the duty-free shop and grabbing a cortado from the concession counter. I peeked out through the cascading rain, watching as we churned through the brown, frothy water daydreaming of Willy Wonka. Soon we disembarked in the port of Colonia del Sacramento in Uruguay, and Emilse gave me a kiss and her business card as she headed off into the downpour, while I went directly out the side door to catch the waiting bus to the country's capital, Montevideo.
My bus connection was included as part of the ferry ticket, and I found a seat next to a young Uruguayan man about my age. I noticed that my seatmate, who I would soon learn was named Juan, was flipping through The Economist in English...cue an animated 2 1/2 hour conversation about politics, current world events and our travels through Asia, as we sampled the multi-flavor pack of tic-tacs he'd bought duty-free. By the end of the trip we were jotting down essential travel tips for Montevideo and Chicago respectively.
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Locks of love. Not the hair kind.
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Javier and Veronica forever.
Then we took a ride on the Subway...
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We ventured into the art gallery below, and at the risk of sounding uncultured: may I admit that I don't get modern art? I know it's 'symbolic' and supposed to provoke a strong reaction, but upon viewing an artistically arranged pile of broken glass on the floor the only impulse stirring deep within me is the urge to locate a broom.
Bas and I caught the bus back to Alex's place and as we found seats, the bus driver began motioning to me. Assuming that I was in trouble for something as usual, I reluctantly made my way to the front, where he asked where I was from. I mumbled, "los Estados Unidos," and, not wanting to distract him, headed back to my seat. At the next red light, he dug in his pocket and handed something to the employee who dispenses tickets; she walked back and passed me a card. Utterly confused, I glanced down and saw that it was an alien registration card from New Jersey. I looked up to see the driver beaming in the rear-view mirror. When I handed it back as we prepared to get off, he quickly told me how he couldn't wait to go back to New Jersey someday. As we hopped down he called, "America! My people!" and gave me a thumbs up.
That evening Alex got in touch with her Polish roots, and made delicious, hot borscht and vegetarian pierogi for everyone. As I am always such a great help in the kitchen, I was given the assignment of keeping people's wine glasses full.
The next day dawned bright and sunny, so I headed out on my own to do some exploring. I spent most of the day leisurely walking the beach and waterfront path, stopping every now and then to read a trashy novel and bask in the sunlight.
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Friendly flag
That evening, Alex and I went out for dinner at a nearby restaurant where I tried grappa-- a syrupy, pomace brandy from Italy. We treated ourselves to a mountain of appetizers as we discussed the American ex-pat lifestyle and made plans for she and some friends to come stay with me in Buenos Aires in two weeks' time.
After three nights in Montevideo, it was time to start heading back to Buenos Aires, but I wasn't done exploring Uruguay quite yet. Next stop, the charming cobblestone streets of Colonia del Sacramento...
Love from,
Kerk
One could, theoretically, catch the ferry across the Rio de la Plata on a rainy May morning, and:
What's up, Uruguay, what's up?
You'd have to spend half a day on the bus to get to Uruguay overland, but the ferry across the Rio de la Plata-- the estuary that divides Uruguay and Argentina-- takes only an hour by fast boat.
I was advised to arrive an hour early to go through immigration for the Buquebus. Because it was a holiday weekend, and also because I'm me, I arrived much earlier and wandered around for a good while trying to the find the end of the check-in line that spiraled around like a snail. An hour later, I received my boarding pass, did a quick pivot, and was at the tail end of the equally long line for immigration. There was only one metal detector and my boat was leaving in 20 minutes, so I started to what has unkindly but accurately been described by some as, "Kerk out." The lovely elderly lady behind me assured me that she takes the ferry every weekend and the boat wouldn't leave without us. She introduced herself as Emilse, and we became fast friends as we waited for an additional hour, me bumbling along in Spanish, she gabbing about her grandkids in Baltimore. Emilse walked me through the immigration process (you get stamped out for Argentina and in for Uruguay at the same time) and insisted I sit with her on the boat.
I explored the boat, popping into the duty-free shop and grabbing a cortado from the concession counter. I peeked out through the cascading rain, watching as we churned through the brown, frothy water daydreaming of Willy Wonka. Soon we disembarked in the port of Colonia del Sacramento in Uruguay, and Emilse gave me a kiss and her business card as she headed off into the downpour, while I went directly out the side door to catch the waiting bus to the country's capital, Montevideo.
My bus connection was included as part of the ferry ticket, and I found a seat next to a young Uruguayan man about my age. I noticed that my seatmate, who I would soon learn was named Juan, was flipping through The Economist in English...cue an animated 2 1/2 hour conversation about politics, current world events and our travels through Asia, as we sampled the multi-flavor pack of tic-tacs he'd bought duty-free. By the end of the trip we were jotting down essential travel tips for Montevideo and Chicago respectively.
Outside Tres Cruces (Three Crosses) bus terminal in Montevideo.
I was Couchsurfing for the weekend with a fellow American ex-pat, Alex, who had moved to South America right around the same time as myself. Two others, Bas and Parry, were crashing at her place too, and we spent the weekend chitchatting and sharing travel stories. That evening we out to a party with some other Couchsurfers in Montevideo and spent the wee hours of the morning at a British-style punk bar. At one point, I paused and realized our group included young people from America, Holland, Brazil, India, Italy, Argentina, and Uruguay. Traveling is seriously the best...
The next day, Bas and I went to check out the city center and meet a friend of his for lunch. Since it was Sunday on a holiday weekend, downtown was fairly empty, but we got the general feel.
Gate to Ciudad Vieja (Old City)
Then we took a ride on the Subway...
Psych! The steps lead down to a modern art gallery, not a subway station. Montevideo has no subway system, and the convincing maps and subway signs plastered around the city are an artistic form of protest by the residents for the city build one, already!
We ventured into the art gallery below, and at the risk of sounding uncultured: may I admit that I don't get modern art? I know it's 'symbolic' and supposed to provoke a strong reaction, but upon viewing an artistically arranged pile of broken glass on the floor the only impulse stirring deep within me is the urge to locate a broom.
Bas and I caught the bus back to Alex's place and as we found seats, the bus driver began motioning to me. Assuming that I was in trouble for something as usual, I reluctantly made my way to the front, where he asked where I was from. I mumbled, "los Estados Unidos," and, not wanting to distract him, headed back to my seat. At the next red light, he dug in his pocket and handed something to the employee who dispenses tickets; she walked back and passed me a card. Utterly confused, I glanced down and saw that it was an alien registration card from New Jersey. I looked up to see the driver beaming in the rear-view mirror. When I handed it back as we prepared to get off, he quickly told me how he couldn't wait to go back to New Jersey someday. As we hopped down he called, "America! My people!" and gave me a thumbs up.
That evening Alex got in touch with her Polish roots, and made delicious, hot borscht and vegetarian pierogi for everyone. As I am always such a great help in the kitchen, I was given the assignment of keeping people's wine glasses full.
The next day dawned bright and sunny, so I headed out on my own to do some exploring. I spent most of the day leisurely walking the beach and waterfront path, stopping every now and then to read a trashy novel and bask in the sunlight.
That evening, Alex and I went out for dinner at a nearby restaurant where I tried grappa-- a syrupy, pomace brandy from Italy. We treated ourselves to a mountain of appetizers as we discussed the American ex-pat lifestyle and made plans for she and some friends to come stay with me in Buenos Aires in two weeks' time.
After three nights in Montevideo, it was time to start heading back to Buenos Aires, but I wasn't done exploring Uruguay quite yet. Next stop, the charming cobblestone streets of Colonia del Sacramento...
Love from,
Kerk