Nov 15:  Montevideo to Salto


Eli checked the bus and plane schedules in the morning and the Paraguay excursion no longer looked doable.  Plus the town in Paraguay was 200 km from the border, and who knows what kind of road and how long it would take to get there.

We had breakfast and lunch at McDonalds.  Three times for me in two days.

Lance and John were robbed last night.  They walked into a quote-unquote "nightclub", and the door closed behind them and 5 guys came out with baseball bats and roughed them up.  Seems like the story changed throughout the day though...there were later versions in which they fought with and chased the robbers.  I didn't hear the full story firsthand so I don't know exactly what happened.

We had a 6-hour bus ride to Salto.  I thought it would be interesting to see the Uruguayan countryside, but there was absolutely nothing out the window.  Oh yeah, we did see some trees, and Eli revealed that she's obsessed with trees.  I said she should marry one, but stay away from those horny maples dripping sap.  ("Spit or swallow?  Neither...save it for your pancakes."  Nice one.)  We watched an Argentine movie and listened to mp3s, including a bunch of Eagles songs.  All right, I guess some of them are catchy, but I maintain my position, even though I had "Desperado" stuck in my head later in the day.

Salto is the self-proclaimed Thermal Capital of Uruguay!  I proclaim that Salto should be called Sucko.  Because it sucks.

We arrived in Salto at 6:30pm and it was very humid.  After checking in, we had dinner near the river that divides Uruguay from Argentina.

Most of the group on the riverfront.  I think Lori took the photo and John skipped dinner.

The restaurant was out of salmon so I had tuna.  First time I had it dry and in fish form, instead of out of a can.  Also much sangria again.  I seemed to be more vocal at dinner so perhaps the sangria was more potent than usual.  But it was more of a buzz than drunkenness.  I used the Internet in the hotel and went to bed shortly after 12am.


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