Swimming in Coffee

I arrived at the Buquebus terminal with my study abroad program to go to Colonia, Uruguay. As I was walking through the station, I wondered when we were actually going to get on the boat. I entered into a room with lots of cozy seats, a snack bar, and huge windows showing the open water. Surprise! We were already on the boat. I didn’t even notice it happening since there was no skinny tunnel connecting the station to the boat like there are for airplanes. For the next three hours, I ate extremely overpriced food, watched an entertaining Japanese drum band that played on the open top deck, and watched the river slowly pass by. The river, el río de la plata, is the same color as milky coffee, and it took some getting used to before I could appreciate its natural beauty. I found out that it is not brown because of contamination, but rather because it is filled with clay sediment. In only one fifth of the time that it took to get to Mendoza, we were in another country.

This part of Uruguay was covered in lush green trees and gravel paths. There were hardly any cars and I could actually hear myself think for once. There were abandoned dogs everywhere on the streets. I felt so sad for them but also wondered if they preferred being free, without a leash. I was surprised that they didn’t look sickly or mangy; they were fluffy and loveable. Our program director Mario has a home in Buenos Aires and also lives in his own bed and breakfast in Colonia. His house is overflowing with at least 10 different varieties of trees, and bursting with pink and purple flowers. There was a pretty pond with frogs and big fish, and an open field with a pavilion. This is where we ate a lunch fit for kings, including delicious foods such as hummus, homemade bread, black beans, sweet potatoes, spinach kiche, salad, meat for everyone else, and a mountain a fresh cantaloupe, grapes, and bananas. It was an old house with many pieces of furniture painted bright orange and yellow. Ivy clung snugly to the house as if it never wanted to let it go. I knew how it felt. This was paradise after crazy city life. I completely stuffed myself at lunch and then needed some time to recover. I proceeded to run around Mario’s fields and gardens barefoot until I was warm enough to jump in the pool. I got a spur stuck in my foot, but it’s okay because a girl named Amanda helped me pull it out and then we became friends. Later we walked down a long gravel path to the beach without seeing any other signs of human inhabitants. It took me a minute to convince myself to swim in the brown water, but I’m so glad I did because I love natural bodies of water 100x more than chlorinated swimming pools. They make me feel like I’m a part of something bigger than my own mind. It was very refreshing and the weather was just the right amount of warm.

We left Mario’s house and took buses to our hotels, which were all very close together. Our hotels were located in the town area, where there were visible humans. We took a historical tour with a guide who walked us around the town (which didn’t take too long since everything is so close together) and informed us about the half-demolished rock wall where the Spanish and the Portuguese fought to claim ownership of Colonia, the oldest street in Colonia named “the street of sighs” (where the legal prostitutes used to dwell), and the different style houses that were influenced by both nations fighting over the city. I couldn't understand the guide very well because she talked extremely slowly, and I forgot the first part of her sentence by the time she finished. She also had a tendency to roll her r's so much that I mentally giggled each time she used one.

After the tour, some friends and I went to Colonia Rock, a fun place for dinner and karaoke. I’ve never done karaoke in English, so this was definitely a challenge, but I couldn’t pass up an opportunity like this. Most of the songs were unfamiliar to us, and I didn’t feel comfortable guessing at the melody of a Spanish song for the first time in front of a crowd of Spanish speakers. So we went with something familiar and sang “Livin’ La Vida Loca” by Ricky Martin. Yes, yes, typical American choice, I know. But it was so much fun nonetheless. I think the key to karaoke is getting really excited about what you’re doing and making sure everyone knows you are excited. Confidence. We had a blast and even got some Uruguayans to dance! A goal I have for the future is to learn popular Latin American songs so I can sing those, too, instead of being limited to Enrique Iglesius and Ricky Martin.

The next day, I paid only 75 cents to climb the stairs to the top of the town lighthouse and enjoy a panoramic view of my surroundings. I saw almost no cars - just trees and cobblestone streets. No wonder the cars stop for pedestrians in Colonia while they don’t in Buenos Aires; no one is in a hurry or on a fast-paced schedule, and they're not racing anyone to be somewhere. After some ricotta-filled ravioli and tropical peach ice cream, we rented mopeds and cruised the streets of Colonia. It was my first time on a moped and it took me a while to master the turns. Especially because we were doubling up, and it’s harder to balance with someone on the back. I did fall one time, because I tried to avoid hitting a parked moped and overestimated the bike’s ability to make fast turns. I swerved to the side, fell off the bike and then it fell on top of me. Luckily the person in the back was able to hop off without any problems. But don’t worry Mom, in case you are reading this: I’m okay and I was wearing a helmet! It was painful, but what’s an adventure in Uruguay without a few battle scars? After this small mishap I decided to ride alone, and the moped was a lot easier to maneuver. Then we rode to a sandy beach and enjoyed the rest of our day in the water and sun.

After an amazing dinner of gnocchi with creamy vegetable sauce, chocolate cake so rich that I couldn’t finish it (which rarely happens), and wine so dangerously fruity that I could barely tell it was alcohol, my friends and I decided to sit on the rocks by the water rather than go to the only boliche (club) in Colonia. Listening to the current splash against the rocks, I thought about the purity, the gentleness, and the simultaneous ferocity of water. Sometimes it seems so delicate and peaceful while other times it wrecks ships or forms the Grand Canyon. We looked at the stars and saw different constellations than we were used to since we are on a different hemisphere, like Orion’s belt. I had an invigorating conversation with my friend Nick about the possible outcomes of the universe and how crazy it is that the stars that we see are so far away that we only see what they looked like millions of years ago due to the finite nature of the speed of light. Looking into space is like looking into a time machine. Sometimes it’s easy to look at stars like I did when I was little. Shiny specks in the sky that are pretty to look at and are smaller than my pupil. Actually looking at them, I have to accept that they are gigantic masses with burning cores that are [huge number] lightyears away. These thoughts scare me because they make me realize that I am at the mercy of these stars, but at the same time they make me excited and make me want to be a part of the stars.

We also talked about physical and mental limits of a person. At one point in time, people thought it was impossible to break a 4 minute mile. However, once one person did it, a bunch of people did it. Therefore, this “limit” was just a fabricated idea of a limit, a mental barrier, because no one had ever done it before. My question is... When does it stop? How do we know what people’s true limits are? Are limits always just based on the greatest or the longest or the fastest one human has performed? Are limits just descriptions of what people have done instead of what people can do? It seems to me like there must be some sort of concrete limit of what they can do, because it’s not like a person can run a mile in 1 second. But what is the true limit? And who decides what it is?

After another day at the beach, we headed home on our boat and watched the sun set on the Autumnal Equinox, when there is the same number of daylight hours as nighttime hours. Then we were provided with a muffly microphone discussion about constellations, which I was unfortunately unable to hear because of the sound system. I wish that I could take a piece of the tranquil atmosphere of Uruguay back to Buenos Aires with me to calm it down a notch. But alas, back to a high level of caution and wearing backpacks on your stomach while walking down the streets in 5.. 4.. 3.. 2...