This past Saturday was so lovely that Borko and I decided to go for a little drive.
The fact that we had rain driven by intermittent gale force winds did not deter us. After all, we would be snug inside the Land Rover. The fact that there was no sun was a positive bonus because we didn’t have to worry about getting a sunburn. The standing water on the streets were an added boon because it reduced the amount of traffic. And, the 15C temperature meant that we could dress up a bit.
Frankly, I was so stricken by cabin fever that I would’ve gone out despite a hurricane, tidal wave, or almost anything else short of another US presidential visit.
Just to keep things interesting, we decided to bring along Harry, my seven-year-old West Highland White Terrier.
Harry loves to ride in a car. When we’re moving slowly he stands in the window so that he can look out and smell all of the interesting smells. (His preference would be for us to spend three or four hours creeping through a garbage dump while he savored all of the delectable smells arising from the various stages of decay.) Of course, when the speed picks up, he prefers to watch the world racing towards us through the front window. This is usually accomplished with a cushion stretching from the dashboard to my lap, on which Harry pivots in order to look out the side or front as required.
Thus, with a full complement of indomitable explorers, we began.
The trip to Minas was unremarkable: the roads were well paved and the route clearly marked. The drizzle managed to make the scenery looked just slightly out of focus, sort of like an impressionist painting (or whatever school of painting looks like that), or like viewing the world through an old pair of glasses that is one or two prescriptions out of date. The sky was fuzzy gray, fuzzy white and fuzzy blue; the scenery was fuzzy green and fuzzy brown; and the livestock was just fuzzy.
Shortly after leaving Montevideo we passed through the grubby little town of Pando–best known for its local cottage industry, which mostly revolves around motels which rent by the hour… Having traversed its Main Street, I cannot think of any other reason to visit it.
After leaving Pando we traversed miles and miles of agricultural land. One thing that truly impressed me was the tree farming that we saw. Literally hundreds of hectares of trees have been planted along the highway for future harvesting. They were so neatly laid out with such precision, that for a few moments I thought that we’d gone through a wormhole and were in Switzerland.
The altitude gradually, ever so gradually, rose towards the big hills, or from a Floridian’s point of view, the mountains, in the East. Their outlines certainly looked like mountains to me. Although I admit that compared to the terrifying precipices and humongous gorges in Montenegro, these highlands were pretty tame.
Before we got into Minas we encountered the turn off to the Salus plant whence our bottled water comes. Borko and I speculated on whether the water came from a spring or was produced by chemically combining hydrogen and oxygen in a laboratory. Further along the road was another turn off to ANCAP plant. I have been told that ANCAP is involved in both petroleum products and cement, and couldn’t help but wonder on which one they worked so close to the pure water source at Salus.
When we finally arrived at Minas, the rain fell harder. We drove around a central part of the city in the main square looking for someplace to eat–nothing invited. We finally drove into a very nice park along a small river–they call the park Rambla– where Harry commemorated the high point of the trip by relieving himself in the park several times.
As we were getting hungry, I decided to call Santiago and see if he could suggest a restaurant. In a few minutes he called back is and told me there was a great restaurant in a vacation area called Villa Serrana, about 20 km east of Minas.
We headed there and easily found the sign along the highway. We turned right, and headed up into a hilly area on red clay roads. After four or 5 km we really were amongst what felt like mountains, they even had a huge outcroppings of native rock, which made the Borko feel as if he were back in Montenegro. The whole area was laid out in the streets and avenues, but was almost entirely empty. If a block had two buildings on it, it was crowded. There were several signs for hotels, restaurants, bars, and even a “salon de te”. But we couldn’t find any of them. After wandering around, not quite lost, for more than an hour we gave up and decided to head back to Montevideo forthwith.
Had it not been raining, I think both Minas and Villa Serrana would have been interesting places to visit. Minas would be especially good to tour by bike and Crip scooter, and I plan to do so as soon as I get a trailer to carry them behind the Land Rover. Villa Serrana may only function seasonally, and I need to investigate further before trying a return visit.
What Uruguay really needs me is that some natural wonder that works in the rain: perhaps they could discover a Mammoth Cave under Sugarloaf Mountain…
