El Galope

Based on a recommendation from a fellow traveller we met weeks earlier on a bus, we headed to El Galope, a quiet hostel/horse hobby farm in the lovely rolling hills and pasture lands of southern Uruguay. What a great place Uruguay is - similar to Chile and Argentina, but more laid back, more comfortable, better organized and usually more picturesque.  Who knew?  And why weren't we informed of this earlier?

The hostel advertises its quietness.  No TV or internet.  They provide tasty homemade meals if you want, which you'll probably need since the nearest town is 7 km away.  (You can rent a bike - calling a cab is possible but pretty lazy.)  You can go horse riding, or go for a walk to nearby artisanal cheese making farms (Swiss people settled the area and it is renowned for its cheese - unlike everywhere else we've been in South America).

Hostel building

Owner's house.  Thatched roofs are big in rural southern Uruguay

Two extremely friendly boxers (and a German shepherd) come with the hostel experience

 

Yep, that's quiet and relaxing

And there's horses.  With young foals!

Here I am doing some foal-whispering

Sarah had never ridden a horse (I've only ridden maybe 3 or 4 times, the last being about 20 years ago).  Not only that, she wouldn't even feed a horse or get anywhere near one last summer when Jim, Stef and I were feeding horses.  But she agreed to try riding this time.  Together with a Dutch and a German guest, we did an "intro to riding" for about 1.5 hours.

Sarah actually brushing a horse!

The foals were very young and very curious.  They liked to investigate things and nibble/nip them - including clothes and people.  They were really interested in one of the patient boxers, and rubbed against him and nipped him - and not very gently.  The boxer was so confused it made us all laugh - he liked the attention from the horses and thought maybe they were playing, but the nips also hurt, so he ended up frozen in place, not sure what to do, while they continued to nip him and make him jump.

The riding crew.

Miguel, hostel co-owner and expert horseman.

Here Sarah is gracefully mounting the large pony (only a little assistance was necessary - in the form of a big push from Chad).  The pony is smaller than a normal horse, doesn't like to be washed or brushed, and is willful, so they named it Napoleon.

Sarah looks like she might be having fun on that gaucho-style fur-and-rope-accented saddle, right?  Wrong.  Napoleon didn't follow directions well, and all we heard from Sarah was "help... help... help..." from the moment she got on.

Miguel decided to lead Sarah and Napoleon for a bit, but Sarah wasn't liking the experience and soon dismounted for good. [Sarah: I know it's shocking to those who know me that I wasn't a horse whisperer.  But at least I tried it!  And to be fair to me, Napoleon was in a bad mood that day and later tossed Miguel off his back].

Meanwhile, I managed to get a photo from horseback while riding in formation, thank you very much.

That's right, just me and ol' Betsy.  (Betsy is not the name of the horse, which is in fact male.)

The obligatory gaucho pose - on horseback with a mate gourd.

I had a great time riding, and even managed a brief canter or two which was a first for me.  Miguel encouraged me to ride more, since I seemed to "get" riding well enough.  Cowboy Chad!

Then we went on a long walk to the artisanal goat cheese maker.  We're so country.

Inspecting the crops - but I'm not sure what I'm looking for

North America or South America, when you walk by cows, they stare at you as if you're a stranger from the big city and they're watching you from their front porch rocking chair with a shotgun across their laps - "Not from around here, are you son?  That's it, just keep on walkin'..."

Victoria used to work at a bigger cheese maker, but now has a very small herd of goats and makes a small amount of cheese for the local market.  She's extremely welcoming and happy to show you how she makes cheese.

And she has a bunch of new kids!  So cute.

The cheese making room.  She had a super-soft and a semi-soft cheese (both tasted like tart whipping cream, mmm), but I bought the aged hard cheese.  Finally, after nearly two months - real cheese!  Excellent stuff, with a slight coconut flavour.

Gotta admit, that's some nice traditional farm country

We walked in a loop that took over 2 hours - which was plenty for me, since I already had the beginnings of saddle soreness from the morning's ride.  Then a meal of cheese fondue and homemade wine from one of our hostel owners' nearby friends (formerly a professional winemaker from Spain with 30 years experience).

Uruguay just keeps getting better!

Colourful Colonia del Sacramento

Just across the Rio de la Plata from Buenos Aires is the little Uruguayan town of Colonia del Sacramento, commonly called 'Colonia'.  Strategically located, over the years Colonia has changed hands numerous times belonging variously to Spain, Portugal, and Brazil.  It is the oldest city in Uruguay and its beautiful old town, built in Portugese style, is a World Heritage Site.

We spent two relaxing nights there - there is not much to do but wander the old town and check out the beaches along the Rio de la Plata, and it was just what we needed to chill out after hectic Buenos Aires and so much Patagonian trekking before that.

There are three companies running faster catamarans and slower car ferries across the river.  We took the Colonia Express for about an hour long ride (over 40 km).  The Rio de la Plata is a huge river!

Happy to escape the general strike in Argentina!

You can't tell from this picture, but the Rio de la Plata is a gross brown colour.  This is from sediment from the interior of South America (much like the lower Fraser river in BC).

 Our first day in Colonia it was lovely and sunny, and we wandered through the old town.

The view from our room - an old tin fishing shack/occasional hang out for drunken teenage guitar players.

Looking back towards BA - on a clear day you can just barely see the tops of the skyscrapers there

Ubiquitous mate (see gourd + straw and thermos) on the beach at the edge of town.

People from Colonia (Colonians?) will tell you that they have the best sunsets in the world.  This one wasn't too shabby.

The next day we started with a visit to the very fancy Uruguay visitors' centre across the street from our hotel.  It wasn't particularly informative, but they did have a wall with cartoons depicting the chronology of the town of Colonia.  This is Colonia today:

Muchas touristas.  [Chad: I don't think the caricature of Asian tourists would fly in Canada...]

A French farmer-settler dreaming of cheese and dulce de leche.

Afterwards, we took the bus through town up to the beaches recommended by our hotel.  The bus driver dropped us off at this lonely tourist site, the Plaza del Torres or Bull Ring.  It opened in 1908 with room for 10,000 people, but only eight events were held there before the government prohibited the event in 1912.  Today it is an empty shell.  [Chad: It was built by a rich person, together with several other edificies, in an attempt to build a fancy resort area on the edge of town.  But it was never fully completed.]

And just down the road, the beach!  Lovely sand stretching for at least seven kilometres.  Not pictured: the numerous school groups kicking up sand.

Not so lovely were these new additions to the mosquito family swarming alongside the river in some still water.  No wonder they have a few warnings about not leaving standing water around!

Chad braves the brown water for a swim.  The verdict?  Thumbs up!  And not salty - definitely river.

The second night's sunset wasn't quite as nice, since it had mostly clouded over by then.

Chad's dinner, a traditional Uruguayan sandwich called a chivito.  Steak, ham, cheese, fried egg,  lettuce, tomato, palm hearts, red pepper, mayo, etc.

Like any meal, best eaten on a patio overlooking the Rio de la Plata.

The next morning was perhaps an ideal day to leave - we woke up to cloudy skies and within an hour it was pouring with rain.

Just a taste of the rivers we waded through to make it to the bus station.