BA to Colonia, Uruguay

After the tire change the bike was ready and so was I.  I loaded the bike and left the hostel before they served breakfast, arriving at the ferry terminal around 8:30 am; an hour before departure. Here I encountered an interesting system.

1.     Stand in line to have your passport and ID checked.

2.     Stand in another line to purchase your ticket and receive a receipt.

3.     Stand in another line to check in and use your receipt to receive a paper copy of your ticket.

4.     Walk upstairs and stand in line to pass customs. Walk through metal detectors (that don’t work) and receive the wand shake down (that didn’t detect the keys in my pocket).

5.     Stand in line to have passport stamped.

6.     Walk downstairs to wait in line for a customs official to give you the OK to drive your vehicle onto the boat.

 

This may be one model of an economic stimulus package.

 

            The crossing of the Rio del Plata took about 3 hours. Driving the motorcycle into Uruguayan customs I was met by several men in street clothes standing in a dirt parking lot enclosed in chain link fencing. They asked me for my papers and as soon as they say they weren’t Uruguayan or Argentine they looked at each other saying “the first one” as if to say this is going to be a long day. I was directed to park to the side while they proceeded to check papers for the cars behind me and search their contents.

            I patiently waited as about 6 cars were cleared to enter the city streets of Colonia. The 7^th car was driven by a 70 year old man traveling with his wife. A customs official was searching the back seat and had discovered what looked like two peach cobblers. I joked with a nearby customs official that they needed to confiscate the peach cobbler contraband so we could eat it. With a straight face and tone of seriousness he explained that yes, all food and animal products are contraband, and that they have a nearby trailer full of items. He walked off to check the car pulling up behind the cobblers. Then I watched as the man in his 70’s slyly handed some cash to the customs official holding the cobblers in the back seat. The cobblers disappeared back into their hiding place and the man and his wife were given permission to pass through. Pie Smugglers.

 

            Colonia is small, cute, relaxed, and clean compared to Buenos Aires. It’s also a great place to take a romantic stroll with your Honey-baby and I was missing mine.  This is a city of scooters and bikes for sure. There were several streets were 40 or 50 of them would be parked side by side.

            On my 2^nd day their I rode out into the countryside and was reminded of a cross of Sonoma County and Pennsylvania. There were small rolling hills with Holstein dairy cows and small plots of crops. The houses were typically of brick and built close to the roadside. I visited a small farm open to tourism. The owners have farmed the area for 5 generations and specialize in dairy and organic produce. I toured the milking station with capacity to handle 4 cows per round and learned how his personal milking style influenced the design. We talked quality control vs. production and of importance of having happy and healthy cows. Hurry for the good guys! His wife made me a lunch of which everything came from their farm except the salt, oil, and vinegar on the salad.