Argentina to Uruguay

Such a simple plan. What could possibly go wrong?

Fly to Uruguay. Catch transport to the beach resort. Simple, right? 

Next thing we know, we are walking down a gravel road at midnight. 

Aerolineas Argentinas, the airline that I love to hate (for those of you who complain about Air Canada, you should try an airline with 50% of its flights late, hours long line ups, sometimes not to even opening up check in until 45 minutes before flight departure, and a government guaranteed monopoly on most routes!) delays our connection from Buenos Airies, Argentina to Punta del Este, Uruguay for no announced reason. We whisk through customs and immigration is seconds, get our bags in a couple of short minutes, and then have to go back through customs - back packs look like we are trying to smuggle in FRUIT (into a country that recently completely legalized marijuana!). Ok, after trying every credit and ATM card that we have, we conclude that the airport ATM has no cash! No problem - we have enough cash for a taxi and just enough time to make the last bus to the beach! The last bus is supposed to get to the seaside town if La Pedrera at 11 p.m.  Hey, 11:30 is close. 

But there are no taxis at the bus stop, as promised by the resort. And no taxis in the centre of town, as suggested by the bus conductor. But there are some guys barbecuing beef on the street, who point out directions and give rapid fire directions in clipped Spanish when I ask where our resort is. A couple pushing a baby in a stroller down the dimly lit road (yup, at midnight - the locals are just finishing dinner at that time!) give us further directions in pretty good English. We hike down the main highway for a while and turn off down the gravel road that should (could? Might?) be heading to our resort. At the last street light, we stop a young man with a huge fishing rod on a tiny motor bike - " a la derecho, a la derecho!" He says with a smile. Keep going straight. Next we see a glow in the distance.  When we peer through the fence, we see what looks like the swimming pool that was pictured on the Internet. "Where did you come from?" asks the incredulous owner.  "We walked" we proudly reply. "Then how about a glass of champagne on the house?" was his unexpected suggestion.

Life is good. 

We have a cute cabin just back of the beach. Two days of surfing lessons have just made us want to go back for more.  Steve even managed to high five one of the instructors while surfing by him today. Jackie had such a spectacular wipe out that her board was launched ten feet in the air, but subsequently road in three waves all the way to stepping off her board onto nearly dry sand. Most of the class is a lot younger than us - there is one cute little four year old girl who has her own wet suit, her own surf board, and a customized protective bag the same size as her little board. So cute! But I think that the instructors get a bigger kick out of seeing us older kids catch a wave!

Life is good!