Passed a poster on the street of the president of Uruguay — he looks like a friendly granddad. Seemingly he lives in a modest house in the country, drives a VW Beetle and has a dog with three legs. After a harsh Mandela-like imprisonment for years, he came to power and leads what I understand is a benign, liberal regime.
Certainly the city has a good vibe, a bit slower than Buenos Aires, sunny disposition. People young and old were walking along with a small, rounded glass in one hand holding a silver spoony thing with perforations and in the other a thermos of hot water. Nothing like a nice hot cuppa sitting in a car park with a blanket on your lap.
Talking of leaves, we took ours of Uruguay before noon, back on the boat. The immigration officer I just encountered had a slightly daunting look with Amy Winehouse type tattoos on her upper chest and knuckles — turned out to be as charming as can be.
A bunch of Mexicans were playing a raucous game of cards on the boat back, adding a bit of analogue to the digital life of cameras and phones around them. Took my leave of Damian back at the Hotel Plaza.
Saw a sepia image of it with the Graf Zeppelin flying above this morning. Also said by to Vale, who may be over in London in a while. Great trip, fine travel companions. Had a late lunch which turned out to be the best meal I ate in Argentina — coated chicken in orange and tequila sauce. Combined with some cool jazz, a bit of birdsong and a great people-watching crossroads at Borges and El Salvador everything aligned for a beautiful meal. Wandered the tree-lined streets after taking a few pics and looking for a couple of gifts for the Mrs and the Enfants Terribles.
