Dancing on a Tuesday
The sun was high and hot in mid-February Uruguay. We arrived by boat from Buenos Aires. The laid back vibe of S America continued its way into an even more honey-like slowness of Uruguay. We grabbed our packs from the boat and walked into the small bus station. No attendants were around. It took a minute, but I found the bus we were supposed to get on.
The bus was older but fine. The windows were cracked to allow fresh air to whip through offering smells of the blue coast off in the distance. Dusty fields held a passing horse. We arrived to our city in a little over two hours.
Getting into the city in the afternoon in the middle of summer means there is absolutely no one around. We walked all the way to the hotel. Didn’t see one taxi, bus, or Uber. It was fine. It was a small city - Montevideo.
…
When the sun went down, the city opened up its pores for all energy to seep in. Gelato lines formed; people eating and drinking happily were snapshots with a window view. A jukebox was turned up in the main park. People gathered to enjoy the night.
The music was soft with staccatos of horns. The music qualiy wasn’t particularly good. In fact is was awful. But that also added another layer of charm over the whole scene. People pressed their bodies together and swayed back and forth to the music in this trancelike summer night.
We sat down on a fountain and enjoyed our gelato while we watched.
Something so simple. So forgotten.
