Montevideo

The clouds were building over the city as we seemed to circle around it.  When we woke this morning, we looked out (as we do) and felt sure that the view was that of Punta del Este.  Sure enough, that’s exactly what it was, evidenced by the white edifice on the landscape that was CasaPuelblo.  By this afternoon, though, we simply had to be approaching Montevideo – not that far from Punta del Este but as we were to discover later, a world away in some terms.

We approached our berth by sailing past containers and, above, stacks of the components for wind turbines.

Oh, and the Uruguayan Navy.

And the Zaandam, an Holland America cruise ship already in port.

With a helpful shove from a tug right beneath our verandah, we made it to our berth.

Although we had tickets for a tour, we decided to throw them in and go it alone, so as soon as we were docked, my Hero and I hot footed it along the quayside and away.

We stopped at the dock entrance though, to take photographs and pay homage to an event we last commemorated on the Oriana, as we sailed out of Buenos Aires that time.  The Graf Spee was scuttled in the Rio de la Plata and this memorial marked that event.

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We crossed the road out of the dock estate and were soon in the pedestrianised old town.

We walked though a small square with a monument with this lovely sculpture on the side facing us.  This appeared to be a “real” gaucho, unlike one we saw last evening…maybe I’ll tell you more about him later.

This part of Montevideo is pretty gritty.  The old town is undergoing some renovation but in the meantime the shabby is overriding the chic.  We knew of this from one of the lectures we’d heard on board the ship, from Terry Breen, who’d bought  property in this part of the city and who’d been able to give us a valuable insight.

As we wandered up the main street, we came across a bunch of people.  What was going on?  My hero soon got it – a wedding!  Quick, said he, she’s about to throw her bouquet!

Well, I didn’t quite catch the moment, but it’s enough to give you an idea.  It was a simple, unfussy but heartfelt celebration and the small girl who caught the bunch of roses was thrilled, believe me!

I’ll post some more specific impressions of Montevideo later, but for now, walk with us through this pedestrianised street and enjoy the calm and relaxed atmosphere here.

The remnants of a formerly grander community are still here and, in some places, are being restored.

But it’s going to take time and in the meantime, the force are out on their Segways, keeping order.

We soon approached this landmark which we recognised – the gateway to the old town there at the top of the street.

On the other side lies the newer, commercial capital city, with government offices around this grand square.

Though we were heading right across it, we spotted the theatre there on our right hand side so snapped a picture to remind us to revisit it on the way back!

We admired the various government and offical buildings as we went,

taking especial note of the man on the horse in the centre – Artigas, the founder of Uruguay and generally regarded as the “father of the nation”.

Actually, we were on a mission.  The crossroads between San Jose and Paraguay was a short distance from here, but that was where our destination lay.

I know that several of my friends will be familiar with the name Manos del Uruguay.  Well, it seemed silly not to make a small visit to the source of some of the most gorgeous knitting yarns around, wouldn’t you say?

It wasn’t a difficult choice.  In fact, I’ve seen a better selection elsewhere.  But oh my, the prices! 

Four skeins of silk blend and four more of the hand dyed chunky were soon picked out and paid for – at a quarter of the price elsewhere in the world.  What a great souvenir!

We made our way back the way we’d come, behind this family.  I noted mother’s shoes which demonstrate the trend here right now for extraordinary platform soles.  Had I not worn similarly crazy shoes in the past I might have tutted…

On our way back, we spent longer taking a closer look.  Here, in the corner of Independence Square was a small cloister typical of the slightly faded glory that seems to be characteristic of the city.

Terry had told us that this is a city of atmosphere rather than monuments and catching sight of these two soldiers – one in ceremonial dress – cross the road seemed to confirm that.

Some of the buildings are very grand when seen from a distance, but look a little more closely and all is not quite as it might seem.

Anyway, sitting with a tub of dulce de leche ice cream (is there any other sort?!), we watched the world go by a while and simply savoured the atmosphere, just to see if it’s true.

Those policemen segwayed past us again.

On our way back, we decided to pop inside the cathedral to take a look rather than walk straight past.  What lovely floors awaited us.

Though since there was a service on in a side chapel, we simply took a quick look and left.

We quite like Montevideo but after the glamour and wealthy tone of Punta del Este yesterday, today came as a little surprise.  Shabby chic doesn’t quite cut it – the shabby is there more than the chic right now, but perhaps in ten, twenty year’s time?

But one thing’s for sure, Montevideo is real.  There’s no veneer or any false front: what you see is what you get.  It’s a genuine place and that’s fine with me.

It was good to be home though.

Nice. Very nice.

We’re winding down here.  It’s always a sign that we are on the countdown to packing up when the evening entertainment is the crew show.  We smiled and thought of that day in Manila, when we were with Jane and Allan and danced the Filipino Tinikling dance as we were buying some small evening bags.  I had mine in my hand last night, too!

But today, we woke up in Punta del Este, after four days at sea.  We opened our verandah doors and breathed in the warm air and looked forward to going ashore.  A 20 minute tender ride!

Kerching!  Uruguay!!  First time we’ve stepped on Uruguayan soil and another notch on the world map for us.  Our first stop was the very “punta”, the headland where the Atlantic Ocean and the Rio de la Plata meet, in the area known as “Plazoleta Gran Bretana”.

I waited patiently for the flag to unfurl!

All photos taken, we hopped back on the bus and headed along Playa los Ingleses, spotting a shipwreck as we went.  Our guide Claudia told us there are reputedly 300 wrecks in this vicinity, but this one is a little more plain to see than the others.

Our tour was “the Art of Punta del Este” and so our next stop was the Ralli Museum.  Now, Claudia went on to explain about these museums, situated in several parts of the world and financed by the bequest of a banker by the name of Harry Recanati.  Well, we’d not heard of him before, but we had heard of the bank he sold to make his fortune: Santander.

The first exhibit to greet us on entering the cool, white building (actually, it wasn’t that cool!) was Salvador Dali’s Fire woman sculpture.  I’m not sure of the exact title and there are several sculptures on this theme of women and fire…suffice to say, this was the one which we saw here.

We enjoyed looking around this collection of mostly South American art and found the building itself interesting.

I liked the small tile motif which appeared here and there in the floor, on the stairs, in the door frame…in all kinds of surprising places.

A picture to take away?  Well, I’m not sure I could live with it every day but this one appealed to me for the apparent simplicity and of course, for the subject matter.  A couple of cows under an Ombu tree couldn’t really be anywhere else but in this part of the world.

When you look more closely,  though, this is hardly a simple painting.

Mr Uriburu, I’m not sure I have anything like your tenacity when it comes to mark making on a grand scale.  The energy and pace of those “scribbles” is amazing.  I love it.

There were three floors to the gallery and just when we were thinking we’d seen it all, we found a bit more.

Outside in the garden were some smaller bronzes, reminiscent of some we’d seen in Santa Fe a few years ago.  Not really up our street – a bit sentimental and twee.

But there was one which made me smile.  It reminded me of “Les Chuchoteuses”, a scuplture on the streets of Montreal and I took the photograph and several more whilst meandering through the garden.  It’s only now that I realise the middle woman has no clothes on.  Is that what her friends are trying to tell her, do you think?

Anyway, back on the bus and on the way to another part of Punta del Este, Claudia announced we’d be crossing a new(ish) bridge and that it would be fun.  The architect wanted to depict the shapes of the waves and designed the bridge like a roller coaster.

We drove slowly over it to get to the photo stop, but on the way back, the driver asked, did we want to experience “the emotion”?  Well, how daft can you get?  Twenty or so grown people squealing with delight on riding a bus over a bumpy bridge?!

We drove through more smart areas of Punta del Este, passing this converted water tower – now a boutique hotel – and Claudia name dropped as we went.  Zinedine Zidane owns the penthouse apartment of that development, Eva Peron stayed in that yellow house with ten chimneys during the winter months, George Bush stayed in that house over there…you get the picture.  Anyone who is anyone in South America has property here and looking around, it’s easy to see why.

We stopped for a couple of hours by one of the many, many beautiful, clean beaches and I quickly snapped a picture of this chap hawking a few clothes along the promenade.

Some were heading for a “parrillada” lunch though my hero and I felt it was a little early for that and decided to explore the main street a little further.

Many of the stores were selling beachy things and although it’s always interesting to see the variations on a deckchair the world over, these were not really what we were looking for.

We did pop into the Santander bank and get a few pesos though, because just across the street was a small supermarket.

Their Dulce de leche department was pretty extensive, too.

Not only that, but the ice cream parlour on the corner had some interesting variations.  We managed not to dribble, but it took some skill!

We’re not sure the name of this airline works in all languages.

It was time to meet up again by now, but before we did, we scooted over to the beach to take a closer look at the hand.  I think it’s fascinating that there’s an opposite one in the Atacama desert, too.

As we waited for everyone to arrive, I couldn’t resist taking a picture of this family going down to the beach for the afternoon.  I rather envied them!

But actually, we were heading somewhere interesting too.  (Don’t you love it when someone comes and plonks themselves down just as you’re taking a photo?!)

We were going to Casapueblo, home of the artist Carlos Paez Vilaro who died just a couple of years ago but whose home and art collection remains a popular place to visit.

It’s a quirky place and being there doesn’t really give a good impression of how huge it is.

We were taken to the terrace high above the Rio de la Plata to drink champagne and enjoy the view.

It was very hot, but some found a cool spot to relax.

His art was everywhere.  Simple, blue and white motifs with much pattern.

The sun features frequently, too.

We peered through windows at other parts of the building.

and wondered, how would it appear from the sea?  Probably pretty huge!

Beginning to feel rather weary from the heat and resisting any temptation to spend megabucks on rather lovely salad plates, we made our way back towards the bus, enjoying the breeze of the coastal path.

Every view in Punta del Este includes a wide sweep of sand.  Oh, and look what’s there in the bay…

home!  We give a little wave to our travelling companions but they’re probably not looking

We came out by ships tender this morning but it’s a different, private boat which takes us back.

We’re quite pleased about that, because the tenders are not so comfortable for a longer ride and we can sit up top of this one and savour the fresh air of our elegant surroundings.

Punta del Este is a very nice city indeed.

Sailing under “Code Red”

We understand.  A captive group of people in any community dreads “the bug” but, for some reason, a cruise ship is particularly vulnerable.  A GI infection can be transmitted incredibly easily and anyone responsible for maintaining health in such circumstances must fear the worst.  As a result, all precautions are taken from the start.  On this ship, we were all issued with hand sanitiser spray and encouraged to wash our hands frequently.  The crew follow the highest standards of hygiene as a matter of routine, too, but from time to time, it strikes.  About ten days ago, the Captain announced that sufficient people had reported to the ship’s medical centre that he needed to issue a “Code Red” instruction.  Suddenly, we noticed changes; surprising changes in some cases, in order to bring it all under control.

At this point, I must say we – and our friends – are all fine and thankfully, none of us have been affected.  I think the numbers are still pretty small, too.  But until we manage to go 72 hours without a new case reported, then Code Red continues.

So what’s it like being on a cruise ship in these circumstances?

Well, the first thing is, we are not at all worried about catching it!  I know that even though we wash our hands and use the sanitiser, that’s not to say we might not succumb.  But with all the action being taken, heaven knows how it has carried on for so long.  One wonders, what more could anyone do?

Sad to say, the major inconvenience from our point of view is the closure of the launderette!  The send-it-out laundry charges have been halved for the duration, but it’s not only the cost, it’s the time it takes to turn something around too.  Much easier to rinse something through in the Scrubba…but then, no iron?

My problem just now was that the chef was preparing a particularly tasty pasta dish this lunchtime and I really enjoyed it. The trouble was, I didn’t intend to wear most of it down my shirt front    I could send my shirt out to be washed, but wouldn’t have it back for a couple of days, so I just washed out the necessary bits and hung it up in the hope that it won’t be too creased to wear again.

Oh man, I’d have loved to have put a load through the machine and drier to have it fresh and clean again.

Unsurprisingly, it’s in the restaurants where the differences are most noticeable.  The tables are bare – no cruet, sugar, flower – nothing.  A roll of cutlery instead of a nicely laid place setting.  Such a shame – the atmosphere is immediately affected by such small points, too.  In between each use of the table, it’s stripped completely and sprayed with sanitiser.  The chairs, too, especially those places where we’d put our hands – on the back and underneath.

In places where there would normally be an abundance of juices, fruit and other bits and pieces to help ourselves to, there’s an empty space.

The normally groaning bread selection is empty too.  Of course these things are still available, but they are behind the counter and we have to ask for what we’d like.  No great hardship, of course, except that it’s good to be tempted by that yummy looking foccacia bread, or to get a bit more orange juice.  When it involves asking someone to go out of their way to get it for me, I think again.  Yes, I know it’s their job, but that’s not the point, is it?

Small quantities of things are out on the buffet, but these are served by a member of staff, too.  There is absolutely no “help yourself” anywhere.

Of course, additional work for the staff means that some extra pairs of hands have been brought in and all staff “fun” has been cancelled.  No Valentine’s party for them, then, which is such a shame as they are really taking the hit where Code Red in concerned.

For every door handle has to be sanitised regularly.

Every lift button

both outside and in.  And as you can see, it’s leaving a few traces behind.  Normally, this lift panel would be pristine and polished – not so right now.

The handrails have all been sanitised so much that some are losing the varnish.

Wherever we are, we are never out of sight of someone with a bucket and a cloth – and a cheerful smile, thank goodness. Even the books in the ships’s library have been carefully cleaned and each scrabble tile individually sanitised.

How is it that a bug can withstand such dedicated and thorough action?

Oh, and yes, the carpets are sprayed too.

Of course, we’re doing our bit too.  Even under “normal” conditions, we use the sanitising spray when going into any of the public rooms.  But now, in addition, members of the cast stand at the entrances to the theatre like armed guards, with sprays in hand – not really what they were expecting to do when they signed up, I’m sure!  Everyone – myself included – is using gallons of lotion because all of this stuff is so drying, but then we wash our hands again and….well.

As I walked back through the coffee shop just now, I noticed the tables are washed and left to dry.  Our hands will recover but it’ll take a while to get everything shipshape again.

And the jigsaw.  Normally, on this table leading to the coffee shop, there’s a big jigsaw underway.  People stop and put in a piece or two as they pass – or spend hours sitting working on it.

Not now.

I think, this morning we all shared the Captain’s frustration (again) as he announced that we’d gone 64 hours without any report, but last evening, sadly, there was a single new case.  So Code Red continues.

We understand Code Red, then.  We support all the actions being taken and take every opportunity to thank the staff who are doing everything they can to resolve it so we can return to “normal”.  But there’s no doubt, it is affecting us all and after twelve days of such rigorous cleaning, it’s beginning to try everyone’s patience.  But hopefully – h o p e f u l l y – all of this effort is taking effect and perhaps we have turned a corner.  Time will tell.

I think a pot of tea is needed.

The end of the world

…and the beginning of everything. 

So goes the tag line of Ushuaia, the most southerly city in the world (or is it?)

We spent the morning sailing through the Beagle Channel, between spectacular peaks in the most glorious weather.

Our Chilean pilot transferred his responsibilities to his Argentinian counterpart and buzzed off in a small boat – to where?  Nowhere we could see.  This whole landscape is deserted with not a sign of habitation anywhere.

We made the same manoeuvre to approach Ushuaia as on our previous visit, on board the P&O Oriana.  We sailed right past the port before making a tight turn and coming back in the opposite direction.

We were all looking out for wildlife, hoping that a seal might just pop his head up in time!  We’ve had plenty of distant sightings of whales, albatrosses have been buzzing the ship and swooping low and there have been cormorants a plenty.  But so far, I’ve not managed to snag a decent photograph of anything.

We berth right in the centre of Ushuaia, alongside the Ponant Lyrial, the Ocean Endeavour and the Plancius, all preparing for Antarctic expeditions, because Ushuaia is the jumping off point for such journeys.

We chose to board a slightly less adventurous vessel – the catamaran which would take us to a couple of islands in the Beagle Channel and then to the Tierra del Fuego National Park and our tour began with a brisk walk over the pier.

Off we set, travelling eastwards into the Beagle Channel, getting a grand view of Ushuaia’s airport and the Andes backdrop.

Now this was a wildlife tour so we began to look closely at anything on a beach…but these are stones!

At this point, I decided to hotfoot it upstairs, to the open deck on top of the catamaran.  Breezy?  Yes!  But this was surely the best place to be.

The obligatory flag shot.

As we approached the three small islands, the naturalist described it as “the white, guano-covered rock”.  Except that many of our group hadn’t heard the word guano before.  I’ll leave you to imagine the resultant conversation and the amazement when it was learned that fortunes had been made on such basic stuff.

I could see a few birds on the island and thankfully, they were not flying around our heads, or else I’d have scooted downstairs pretty fast!

There was a lighthouse too, solar powered now, we were told.

I caught sight of two rather pretty grey ducks.

What a fantastic morning!

Cameras were clicking non-stop, because the light and the colours were incredible.  The air is so crisp and clear, too.

We headed back around the guano covered rock for a closer look at the cormorants.

I gasped as a small storm petrel landed right in front of me – no not this close (I used my zoom) but close enough, thank you.

I gritted my teeth and took the picture.  Well, I really felt I must, all things considered!

I was more comfortable sailing by the other island.  Here, an assortment of sea lions and seals were basking in the sunshine.

It was explained several times over that a sea lion has a rounded snout and a seal has a pointy nose, but some around us still didn’t quite get it!

Mother and baby were coming out having had a dip.

But mostly, they were all just sunning themselves and doing not very much.

Having seen the wildlife, the catamaran put on a bit of speed and we zoomed straight past Ushuaia (again) and headed for the entrance to the Tierra del Fuego National Park

Getting off the catamaran was a bit precarious, but hey, we are all used to hopping on and off gangplanks and tenders now – no problem!

“zorro” doesn’t feature in my Spanish vocabulary, but we won’t feed them, whatever they are.

And as we sat waiting for our driver, there was a reminder that we are now in Argentina – the man opposite topped up his mate cup and sipped it pensively.

We had a short ride through lightly wooded areas to our next stop.  I tried to get a decent picture of the green lichen-like growths on the trees here and was going to ask what it was.  Actually, our guide beat me to it and explained it’s a form of mistletoe.

Next stop was the station, to catch the End of the World Train back to Ushuaia.

Diego was our guard, although having made this announcement, he switched on the recorded commentary and settled into his cab to play a game on his phone.

It was a bit of a “toy train”, but had actually got real historic credentials having been built to transport prisoners.

The areas cleared of trees by the prisoners were in stark contrast to the rest of the park and the pale grey, dry stumps littered the landscape in an eerie way.

We made one stop, where everyone piled out to take a picture of the engine and/or the Macarena Waterfalls.

Then, all aboard once more for the last stretch into Ushuaia.

Mind the Gap is so much more succinct, don’t you think?

Once at the station, the bus was waiting to take us back into town.

This was where it was clear to see Ushuaia developing and growing.  Many, many houses and apartments are being built to house the people who are arriving from all parts of Argentina to make their living here at the end of the world.  Mostly young, 80% are under 35 – or thereabouts (just remembering from the conversation with our guide…don’t quote me!)

My hero and I hopped off the bus in town, so we could have a wander around before making our own way back to the ship.  We wanted to see how it had changed in the intervening years.  So, after a flag shot of the Tierra del Fuego flag, we headed for the main street.

Well, in many ways, it’s the same.  There are still the same souvenir shops, the outdoor clothing stores and the cafes and bars.  But somehow along the way, it’s lost its cutesy character which was a shame.  Well, hardly surprising, though.

I quite liked the T shirt models.

We were ready for home now, really, so made our way across the busy road junction to the port.

As we did, I stopped to take a photo of the memorial to Evita.

Oh, and we had to have a photo of the “fin del mundo” sign – though quite who those people are, I have no idea!

And that was that.  We were blown back along the pier by such strong winds that at times, I thought I might blow away!  The two expedition ships had sailed for Antarctica, though the Lyrial was still there alongside Mariner.

On this occasion, we won’t sail around Cape Horn, which is an island to the south of here.  We have fond memories of rounding the Horn on Oriana, however, so didn’t feel cheated in any way.  We did, however, feel cheated a short while after leaving Ushuaia, though, when the Captain made an announcement that we appear to have a fishing net around one of our propellers and as a result, can’t make the speed necessary to include a stop in the Falkland Islands as planned.

Boo.

We knew that the weather in the Falklands is notoriously fickle and that there was a chance that we might not get there.  But the weather is fine and we’d hoped for better.  There was an air of disappointment on the ship tonight, then, and a few mutterings amongst the groups of people in the bar.  There’s nothing to be done, but it is another brick in the wall, that’s for sure.

I don’t normally write reviews but…

I know a few travellers are reading this and I thought that I’d share a rather nifty discovery that we are using for the first time on this trip. 

The Scrubba was recommended on a travel website I read late last Summer, just after we’d arrived home from our road trip.  Now, I don’t normally spend my time doing laundry when I’m on holiday, but when travelling for three weeks or more, I don’t want to bring 20+ “smalls” and for sure, it’s useful to be able to rinse a T shirt through on occasion too.  Hotel bathrooms are not really set up for laundry activities and I thought the Scrubba would be really useful.

When it arrives, it’s packed like a samosa – folded into a small triangle.  As you can tell, I haven’t been folding it up every time and actually, it’s rather easier to fit into my suitcase when it’s open and flat.

The bag’s about 30 x 60cm when open and has a fold and clip fastening at one end.

What makes it more than just a watertight bag is the nubbly surface inside, which gives the “scrubby” effect.

The instructions are clearly printed on the side, though it’s not rocket science!

There are two suggested water levels, depending on what you’re going to wash.

I stuffed T shirt, undies and socks inside and filled it to the first mark with hot water.  I added a teaspoon or so of soapy liquid (shampoo or shower gel works fine). 

As you can see, we don’t have much room in our bathroom here on board, but it’s no problem because everything is neatly contained.

I rolled the top down 3 or 4 times and clipped the clip.

Next, I had to let out the air – there’s a small valve, just like those on pool toys.

It was easy to tell when all the air was out – I got an eyeful of water!

Here’s the clever bit.  It’s still all dry, there’s no water or soap suds dripping all over the place and even my hands stay dry as I “massage” the water-filled bag.  The washing inside gets the “scrubby” effect and in just three minutes it’s done.  We have a very useful flat surface in our shower that’s perfect for doing this, but actually, it could be done on the floor with a foot!

I didn’t take a picture as I emptied the bag into the wash handbasin and photos of the “rinse and repeat” cycle didn’t seem necessary either.

About ten minutes after I began, the process was complete and the squeezed out smalls were on the line in the shower alongside the inside-out Scrubba.  Best of all, I hadn’t turned the bathroom into a wetroom or laundry!

When I packed for this trip, I hesitated before putting the Scrubba in my suitcase.  Here on the ship, there are self serve launderettes, free of charge and open all day.  Why might I want/need to handwash small items when I could just go and put them in the machine?  Well, who would have guessed that for the last week – and possibly for the next one, too – the launderettes would be closed as one of the hygiene precautions?  Suddenly, my little Scrubba is worth its weight in gold   I love it!

(I bought it on Amazon – now, there’s a surprise)